Friday, May 23, 2008

the Leviathan sleeps....

I wish I could say I've been neglecting my blog because I have been asleep, but unfortunately, sleep is one of the aspects of my life that must suffer in order to accommodate other things.

So is my blog. I have been thinking of interesting posts, but unable to find the time to post them. So I'm going to make a commitment. I shall attempt to write every half hour before bed!
This is, of course, after I come back from two weeks of "vacation" read: intense training that requires an athletic cup.

I have much excitement to relate, but two scenes ought to suffice for now;
I'm sitting in a shower, literally, of money. Twenties falling around me gently.
and two
I'm realizing how difficult it is to tie your shoes with a bullet-proof vest on.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Notes on an Unnatural habitat

I've learned the new site well enough to write again and still achieve all the patrol objectives, but it still takes every ounce of self-control I posses to refrain from sending a message that runs thusly:
"Dear Boss
Whatever I did, I'm sorry.
I can change, just please take me back! (to Dell)"
Perhaps I simply dislike change, but it seems the only benefit to this new site is the classical music playing on the loudspeaker.
In a few areas there are alarms that go off constantly while you patrol them; my partner says you get used to them, a process I call "aggravated hearing loss".
So far I've evicted 7 vagrants, found one pile of human fececs, and yelled, "No, I don't have a heart! I'm on duty!"
It smells of plastic and a life-size picture of a lady gives me a heart-attack every four minutes. I'm so short on sleep I think my hair is giving me a headache.
There are a dozen tiny delights, nestled for the dedicated observer, though. The incredibly lush greenery, verdant leaves and coral-hued blossoms, are real and lovingly tended by a flock of young women that look like flowers themselves, and cradle the leaves like baby birds. The old fashioned street lamp tucked ina corner, shining merrily, aching for a man in a trench to sing in the rain. Where Dell was like an infant child, sometimes crying and needy, but soft and loving, here is more like a high maintenance girlfriend, expensive and contrived, shrill and grating, but also full of breathtaking beauty. Probably a girlfriend all messed up on coke, though, since she's banged up inside and frequently smells of human urine. Since I spend several hours a night roaming her innards, does that make me a lesbian? Since my partner doesn't (at all), what does that make him?
Sixty-odd floors a night (walking); my legs should be sick, but really it's my stomach. This place doesn't love me, I can feel it. Dell and I loved each other, she talked to me, I cared for her. I am ashamed to say, I stay at the place for the money. Perhaps it can feel that, does not love me because it knows I will leave, here to go, as they say. I apologize to her, lay my hand on the granite stonework; they're warm, I think she understands.
I also think if my partner mentions his girlfriend on more time, I may jeopardize my police career.
A new song is playing, it's an organ piece, and all I can think is, "songs to wear a flowing, skimpy nightdress to".
Every time I crouch and then stand up I want to pass out because of the heat, but I know the building and I are getting along now; she lets me open her doors with one hang, a feat that thrills me more than it should.
Someone is growing a plant in a folger's can.
To properly experience this building, lie on your back on hot cement, with your feet on a cement wall, wrap your hands around some fresh plants, and listen to the sound of church bells. (the church bells come from not only the music, but also because if you tap your fingernails on the ever present handrails in the depths of the service tunnels, they sound exactly like huge bells)

I'm happy again?

Friday, May 02, 2008

Captain Bucher's Confession

The U.S. ship PUEBLO was captured by North Korean soliders on January 23rd
and held until the United States apologized for spying on North Korea. The crew,
by all accounts, were treated civilily, but the Captain was forced to write a
confession, which was sent to the United States. In order to maintain good
spirits and send a secret message to the government, this is what he wrote. The
North Koreans never realized the humor behind it, and sent it as a sincere

A final confession in anticipation of leniency for my crew and myself for the heinous crimes perpetrated by ourselves while conducting horrible outrages against the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea for the purpose of provocating and annoying those stalwarts of peace-loving humanity. The absolute truth of this bowel wrenching confession is attested to by my fervent desire to paean the Korean People’s Army Navy, and their government and to beseech the Korean people to forgive our dastardly deeds unmatched since Attila. I therefore swear the following account to be true on the sacred honor of the Great Speckled Bird.
Following rigorous training in provacation and intrusion wherein each of my officers had to meet the overly high standards I had set for them we emerged from the bowels of San Diego harbor bent on setting records for the highest yardage gained in intrusions ever set in the standard patrol. Our first stop was Hawaii where I visited the kingpin of all provocateurs, including spies. None other than Fleet General Barney Google. He was all I had been told, sly, cunning, closed mouthed, bulbous nosed, smelling of musty top secrets and some foul smelling medicine that kept him going twenty hours a day in pursuit of the perfect spy mission. He talked haltingly with me but persuasively about our forthcoming mission. "By God, Bucher, I want you to get in there and be elusive, spy them out, spy out their water, look sharp for signs of electronic saline water traps. You will be going to spy out the DPRK. By the sainted General Bullmoose we must learn why they are so advanced in the art of people’s defense."
We entered into our assigned operating areas along the Eastern Korean Sea at latitude 39N and boldly steamed in a northerly direction to the farthest point we could. In so doing we had traversed Operation Areas Mars, Venus, and Pluto so named because like the planets, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is really far out. We knew that the lackeys of the Bowery Street Billionaires would never be satiated until we had found out all there was to know about the huge successes that the noble peace loving peoples of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea had made in the recent past. Surely we had to find out how come such a newly created government could lead its peoples so quickly into the number one position. As we went about detecting this valuable information, particularly the oceanic salinity, density, ionic dispersion rate, humpback whale counts, both low and high protoplasmic unicellular uglena and plankton counts. This information was of the highest value to our own scientists for the development of war mongering at sea when no one was looking.
Now we have come to realize just how great our crimes were and we seek the leniency of the Korean people even though we are criminals of the basest variety and deserve only swift punishment of the just Korean law. Further, we know that our crimes are greater than those of any criminals discovered this century, nevertheless we ask forgiveness and promise never to engage in such naughty acts ever again if we are forgiven. We know that our crime is merely a reflection of the dastardly policies of the Bowery Street Billionaires and we can only hope they will realize their own responsibilities for our actions; because who else could have dreamed up such a heinous and foul playing ship as Pueblo and then searched out enough arch criminals such as we to operate it. Yea, we feel it is time indeed for those really responsible for us to step forward and accept their own roles and Admit, Apologize and give Assurances that they will never again prepare another spy bag to be filled with goodies.
In summation, we who have been rotating upon the fickle finger of fate for such long languid months give our word to the Great Speckled Bird that we will heretofor in all sincerity cleanse ourselves of rottenness and vituperations. We solemnly await our return to our loved ones so that the fickle finger can be replaced by the rosy fingers of dawn and salvation. So help me, Hanna.
S/L.M. Bucher

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Samuel Johnson

The student who would build his knowledge on solid foundations, and proceed by just degrees to the pinnacles of truth, is directed by the great philosopher of France to begin by doubting of his own existence. In like manner, whoever would complete any arduous and intricate enterprise, should, as soon as his imagination can cool after the first blaze of hope, place before his own eyes every possible embarrassment that may retard or defeat him. He should first question the probability of success, and then endeavour to remove the objections that he has raised.

I hate a fellow whom pride or cowardice or laziness drives into a corner, and who does nothing when he is there but sit and growl. Let him come out as I do, and bark.

A woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.

It is more from carelessness about truth than from intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world.

I would rather be attacked than unnoticed. For the worst thing you can do to an author is to be silent as to his works.

Sir, I have found you an argument; but I am not obliged to find you an understanding.


What the hell am I going to write about?
Maybe that funny site my friend sent me? I am bitter, but despite effort, still non-asian. Probably not a man either. So what could I write about better than him?

There's a debate raging about whether polar bears are a threatened species or not. That's neat. Also kind of sad to realize one day we may have to contend with trying to convince our children that white bears existed ("Yah, right, Dad. Hands off my brownie."). Come to think of it, they are weird, aren't they? Maybe this is nature fixing a mistake? Moving on.

Apparantly the phrase, "Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo." is a complete and gramatically correct sentance. The meaning behind it is, "Bison from Buffalo, New York that harass other bison from Buffalo, are themselves harrased by other Buffalo Bison." Now buffalo looks like gibberish. You're welcome.

I have a recipe for steak sauce.
1 clove garlic
6 Tbsp Tahini
1/2 c vegetable oil
1/2 c soy sauce
1 Tbsp Mustard

Other good recipies include; Gnocchi, cottage cheese, and shredded chedder (Microwave, drain off excess water, eat) bananas chopped, mixed with cottage cheese, and my special smoothie; Bananas, blueberries, milk, and soy protein powder. I distrust eating things I can't microwave or blender.

Perhaps I could tell riddles?
What is interesting about this request;
"May I have a large container of coffee? Thank you."
other than, as one friend suggested, it is unusually polite for a coffee drinker.
Once you find the key, it's easy as pi.

Maybe writing about Kung fu? Last night we learned, "Badass Elbow Attack with bonus 'Dignity-Remover' Backfist". We followed that exercise with "Steps to make your legs go 'Euwww'". I am now convinced someone snuck into my room and sewed sandbags into my thighs.

Work is fairly exciting. I was being trained for a new site this past tuesday when "drama" occured. Interested parties can phone me for further details that probably shouldn't go on a public blog.

This marks the point where I really lose all my ideas for writing today. Thanks for reading!