Drunken Pumpkin

I’ve been thinking about Discord a lot lately. Perhaps it has something to do with seeing the Sacred Chao tattoo studio the other day. Maybe it’s because I’m going through another seasonal depression. It might even have a little something to do with Jeff’s last post. Who knows? But Discord has been on my mind as of late.

People are always afraid of conformity. Well, the intellectually minded are, anyway. But then they go out and conform a little more. I’ve seen lots of folks in punk rock garb talking about how non-conformist they are. But if I can say “Punk rock” to you, and you immediately get a picture in your head, that means they have started to conform, doesn’t it? You want to know who the real non-conformist is? A preacher in women’s underwear. Seriously, you don’t see that every day. And what is the definition of non-conformist?

I occasionally consider myself someone that doesn’t conform. Then I look at my Birkenstocks and put that particular flag back in the closet where it belongs. (although MY Birkenstocks have been soaked in my own blood. Have yours?) I try to find new and exciting ways to fail to conform. Like getting married. I’m the first person in 60 years in my family to have a wedding with a minister. No kidding. So, being socially normal is an act of rebellion to me.

The real problem with any kind of anarchy or discord is that you have to be reacting to something. You have to accept a certain set of rules in order to violate them. Nietzsche said those with the highest morality act based on their own rules without worrying about adherence or violation of some other rule set. That’s a nice thought and all, but people that act like that end up in prison. And even then, you’re listening to some guy that you’ve never met. Nuts.

I think the world can use a little more chaos, and a lot less heirarchy. But I also know that will never happen. However, I have a homework assignment for you. Leave a starlight mint on a coworkers keyboard or windshield. Let me know how that goes for you.

Tune in tomorrow for philosophical musings on what happens when a starlight mint flies off of a windshield at 50 mph. I am so not responsible for those damages.

The city I live in played host to a special viewing of the Anime Bleach: Memories of Nobody a few days ago. My wife and I don’t share Scratch’s dim view of Anime and decided to go see it.

First up, I have never read the Manga nor seen the series of Bleach. All of the characters were completely new to me. So, walking into the theater and seeing some of the Cosplayers there I had no clue what was up with them. Although, my wife was quite excited to see that a Catgirl decided to show up. As for me, I tend to share R. K. Milholland’s view on catgirls. Oh, and for those of you that don’t know what Cosplay is, it’s “Costume Play”. You can always tell you’re near some Anime/ Comic book event when you see lots of fake fur or people carrying swords taller than themselves. Just as a PSA, if you see people with fake cat ears and tails it’s probably an Anime convention nearby. If the catgirl is followed by a man in a kilt, probably a comic book or gaming convention. Or you live in Seattle, but that’s a different story.

Anyway, we went to see Bleach, and it was an okay flick. It might have been better if we knew what the heck was going on, but it was pretty neat. Truly, the excitement came from the event. To be in a giant room with a lot of people watching something that they absolutely love is pretty exciting. And more than a little funny.

If you’re familiar with Anime at all you have probably seen some character gather is Ki and do some snazzy power move. From an animation standpoint, these effects have to be a favorite, ’cause to me it looks like they just rotoscope nearly the whole frame and call it done. The fans really seem to get off on this stuff, too. Whenever one of the Soul Reapers would turn they screen white everyone in the audience would explode in applause or “ooh and ahh” like the Fourth of July. Every time the audience did that I would wonder if they knew that it was really just a cartoon. I’m guessing one in four did. I hope. I’ve met people that try to do these Ki strikes. It’s pretty fun when they pull that nonsense and nothing happens. They look so sad that their Ki wasn’t strong enough. Maybe they need to learn more Japanese and eat more raw salmon.

Anyway, the event was fun, and after the movie I was able to tell just who each of the crazies in the front row was supposed to be. And why they were carrying stuffed animals.

Remember to support local events like this, folks. Yeah, this time it’s Anime, but maybe next time it will be that new French film, and we all know what the French are like. Tune in next time for fewer catgirls and more cartoons.

Well, we’re at day three of non-smoking, again.

Although I’m quitting smoking I still find the current sentiment against smokers to be a little alarming. On the other hand I think that some of the places were smoking has been “banned” a little ridiculous.

I think that you should be allowed to smoke where ever you are not endangering the lives of others. And I meand “endangering” in a rather here and now sort of way. If you smoke around your fellow diners, for instance, you aren’t endangering them, you’re inconveniencing them.

However, if you smoke while shopping for fireworks, you are endangering your fellow man. But I don’t think there should be a ban on that, per se. Our government shouldn’t have to say, “don’t blow yourself up.” I think that anyone that walks into a fireworks outlet with a lit cigarette should get a free pint of Nitroglycerine. By the third year we wouldn’t be handing any of those out, and most neighborhoods would be much quieter.

Granted, in the fourth year, we might have a huge leap in free Nitro given out to those folks clever enough to handle high explosives safely. I still think it’s a worthwhile incentive program.

Tune in next time when I try to remember just what it was I intended to really talk about today.

I think the folks that generate spam comments are getting a little smarter.

In our first bout with Spam, almost two years ago, the comments were usually just a string of letters and a link to some porn. That wasn’t very good.

Then they wised up a little and just put up the links to the porn. I mean, we might almost leave that up. I wonder if there’s a linksharing prospect with spam porn? That might generate some quality hits.

*bunny trail*
Have you ever noticed the description on spam porn never matches the porn you end up at?

Anyway, looking at our spam box today, some of them actually look like real comments. Very innocuous real comments, but better than four screens of urls. I’m almost tempted to leave some of them in, just to build up our comment section a little. But I’d feel awful if our “top Commenter” was aldhglag. That might be a little discouraging to our actual readers that leave comments that are usually a little more appropriate than “love site, thanks for all your hard work”. And it’s that implication of hard work that tells me this person never actually looked at the site.

Spammers, keep up the good work, it keeps the Anti-Virus progammers employed. And everyone else, tune in next time when we discover just which river Jeff is at the bottom of.

It’s been a while since I spent much time in a large city. Recently, I was in Chicago while my wife did important things. Meanwhile, I walked around and got a shoe shine from some guy. But that’s a different story.

Where I live we don’t have a lot of overtly homeless people. I’m sure more than a fair number of folks spend their nights under bridges, but we don’t seem to have the hardcore homeless here. You know, the ones the ask for money in at least three different voices or shake a Starbucks cup at you. Being in Chicago brought a certain plight to my attention.

Years ago if you saw someone walking towards you apparently muttering to themselves you would either try to avoid drawing their attention, or prepare to dole out some cash for them to stop spitting on you. However, times have changed. Now if you see someone talking out loud will alone on the street it’s no big deal. It’s no big deal if their even screaming to themselves and gesticulating wildly. Chances are they’re talking to someone on their earbud cell phone. And, in the case of the screaming, their probably talking to their mother. Or, at least, my mother.

Now, in order to really know what’s going on with that guy talking to himself we have to actually pay attention to the conversation to realize that he’s complaining about the Government selling his pancreas to Guatemalan drug lords for kitty litter. And no one wants that. So, what happens? Everyone is talking on the phone, whether they have one or not, and listening to someone else’s conversation is rude. Consequently, the slightly loony homeless folks aren’t quite making quota anymore.

The real fun is that I see escelation on the horizon. In the past all you needed was a few key phrases and you were set for some cash. But these days you might need to REALLY shout “Gerald, give me back my teeth, or I’ll eat your pigeon with a rusty spoon!” instead of just muttering it to get enough for a cup of coffee out of those innocent tourists.

Me, I’m just waiting for the fake legs to come off in this war for my wallet. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so pissed at that guy that shined my shoes. Tune in next time (which will be a little more regular now) and we’ll talk some more about the homeless and new recipes for pigeon.

Happy Holiday folks. Go have a hot dog and play with fire. Remember, if you set yourself on fire make sure to send us a copy of your video.

As soon as our internet becomes more stable, or I give up on it entirely, I’ve got some reports from the field to make. But the computer I’m working on right now doesn’t like to work all that much and I grow tired of the backspace key.

stay tuned.

Really, the kittens are only here for possible inclusion on Drunken Pumpkin.

Now that we have the kittens all we need is a webcam, motion detector, and a cactus.

Since Pyrophage hasn’t posted about this yet, I thought I’d hack his account and take control.

Last week we adopted a pregnant stray cat, and the next day she had her kittens! Four of them in total — all healthy, and too cute by half. The mother’s name is Rorschach (because I’m a psychologist and she’s splotchy.)

Stay tuned - as soon as they are mobile, I’m sure we’ll have videos of kittens being strange.

-Mrs. Pyro

The world is not really a functional place these days. Long ago when things would go to hell it was common for people to protest or become poiltically active. When that happens now we call the perpetrators “hippies”, and, frankly, no one wants to be part of that great unwashed conclave.

But what do we do when we have thoughts and feelings that just make us want to burst? Well, we could be like Smoochy and howl, which certainly has its benefits, but can also tend to make you look like a hippy doing some “primal scream therapy” or suchlike. No, the modern solution is a blog or website.

Blogs are great solutions to real activism, because in one respect you are shouting your beliefs from the rooftops. When you’re on the internet anyone, and everyone, can see you. There is a certain sense of pride that one gets knowing people in India can read what was written in Indiana.

The other excellent part of blogs versus real activism is they are like putting up posters in your room. Chances are, no one else will ever see them. If you have the option of listening to some dink whine about saving his favorite molusc bar from foreclosure, or looking at Jessica Simpson naked, which one are you gonna choose? (Remember, your wife can’t really see inside your head.)

That’s right folks, blogging is the new safe activism. It used to be bitching around the watercooler, but people can see your face then and that’s just no good.

Tune in next time when I tell you about my electrical burns and insulation up my nose. Unless, of course, you want to forward me those naked pics of Jessica Simpson.

I don’t like it when my life invades DruPum all that much. However, I think I should explain the recent silence from me. It isn’t that I don’t like all of you unknown people anymore. Usually, I have to at least see someone before deciding I’d like to kick their teeth in. The problem is the recent move has left me without access to the internets. And there my troubles begin.

The new house was originally built in 1890. Obviously, they didn’t have electricity back then. Over the course of the last century my house has been “updated” by many folks. Most of them didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Now, when I plug in my computer and turn on the TV, the bathroom light goes out. So, that’s a problem that needs some fixin’.

I have a friend who is an electrician, and he’s going to do the work for me to get my house approaching code. It really was quite funny listening to him splutter over the state of my electrics. He kept asking, “Why would they do this?” And I kept telling him that I stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago.

As an example of the funhouse wiring I have we found no less than 2 breakers that had tremendous amounts of wire that terminated at wire nuts or electrical tape. That’s all, just live wires that go nowhere. And the bulk of the house (read that as all) is on one 20 amp breaker. Okay, that’s not true, my front porch light is on it’s own breaker.

So, that’s what’s going on in my neck of the woods. I’ve been playing with copper spaghetti and trying to keep my house from burning down, and I haven’t even got into the spiders yet. I don’t know what’s up with Jeff. Maybe he’s gone back to Dagoba for more Jedi training. You never know with Jeff.

Tune in next time, which I hope will be sooner, when we can discuss why Hillary really isn’t working class, even if she gets drunk with frat boys.