Archive for December, 2004

Anger Management

Friday, December 31st, 2004

“I have a right to my anger, and I don’t want anybody telling me I shouldn’t be, that it’s not nice to be, and that something’s wrong with me because I get angry.” – Maxine Waters, in Brian Lanker, I Dream a World, 1989

The man who couldn’t cry – Johnny Cash

Wednesday, December 29th, 2004

The Man Who Couldn’t Cry

Written by Loudon Wainwright III

There once was a man who just couldn’t cry

He hadn’t cried for years and for years

Napalmed babies and the movie love story

For instance could not produce tears

As a child he had cried as all children will

Then at some point his tear ducts ran dry

He grew to be a man, the feces hit the fan

Things got bad, but he couldn’t cry

His dog was run over, his wife up and left him

And after that he got sacked from his job

Lost his arm in the war, was laughed at by a whore

Ah, but sill not a sniffle or sob

His novel was refused, his movie was panned

And his big Broadway show was a flop

He got sent off to jail; you guessed it, no bail

Oh, but still not a dribble or drop

In jail he was beaten, bullied and buggered

And made to make license plates

Water and bread was all he was fed

But not once did a tear stain his face

Doctors were called in, scientists, too

Theologians were last and practically least

They all agreed sure enough; this was sure no cream puff

But in fact an insensitive beast

He was removed from jail and placed in a place

For the insensitive and the insane

He played lots of chess and made lots of friends

And he wept every time it would rain

Once it rained forty days and it rained forty nights

And he cried and he cried and he cried and he cried

On the forty-first day, he passed away

He just dehydrated and died

Well, he went up to heaven, located his dog

Not only that, but he rejoined his arm

Down below, all the critics, they loot it all back

Cancer robbed the whore of her charm

His ex-wife died of stretch marks, his ex-employer went broke

The theologians were finally found out

Right down to the ground, that old jail house burned down

The earth suffered perpetual drought


Sunday, December 26th, 2004


Alcoholic kind of mood, lose my clothes

Sunday, December 26th, 2004

Alcoholic kind of mood, lose my clothes, lose my lube. Cruisin for a piece of fun, looking out for number one. – Placebo

Sheer Anonymous Surfing Pleasure

Thursday, December 23rd, 2004

Switchproxy is a handy application for firefox and mozilla that allows you to easily switch between proxies so you can be anonymous online.

Clever jacket, stylish and with good safety design.

The Long Tail, really cool article that’s soon to be a book. Blurb: ” Editor-in-Chief of Wired, CHRIS ANDERSON says that the future belongs to those that serve the millions of untapped niche markets as well as they serve the masses. Read his manifesto to find out how unlimited shelf space and personalization can revolutionize your business.” The Long Tail Website.

Cool Egg Cup.

House of Cards – Got this on dvd. “You may think that, I couldn’t possibly comment.” I watched this on TV before and loved it. Now mine on dvd.

Urban Eyes

Thursday, December 23rd, 2004

Take some RFID chips, stick em in birdseed, feed them to pigeons and track the pigeons with CCTV cameras, allowing you to see the world like a pigeon. Interesting idea.

Blurb: “The experience is essentially about being connected to the bird, the way it experiences the common living circles. Hence acquiring the data, the images and videos directly from the net would be utterly different experience, lacking the physical connection to one’s environment and its inhabitants.”

Mama Tried

Wednesday, December 22nd, 2004

The first thing I remember knowing,
Was a lonesome whistle blowing,
And a young un’s dream of growing up to ride;
On a freight train leaving town,
Not knowing where I’m bound,
No-one could change my mind but Mama tried.
One and only rebel child,
From a family, meek and mild:
My Mama seemed to know what lay in store.
Despite all my Sunday learning,
Towards the bad, I kept on turning.
‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.

And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame ‘cos Mama tried.

Instrumental break.

Dear old Daddy, rest his soul,
Left my Mom a heavy load;
She tried so very hard to fill his shoes.
Working hours without rest,
Wanted me to have the best.
She tried to raise me right but I refused.

And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame ‘cos Mama tried.

Road Graffiti

Thursday, December 16th, 2004

This road graffiti is really sweet.

Cool coffee mug idea.

Blackboard Jungle

Tuesday, December 14th, 2004

Nice pic taken from the New York Times 2004 Year in Ideas

yeah still here

Sunday, December 12th, 2004

I’m still about. Just no time to post stuff. *yawn*