Went to a police auction.

I went to a police auction yesterday. I was pretty sure it was going to be a good people watching experience. I didn't think the things being sold would be so interesting too.
A clear acrylic bowling ball with two large red acrylic dice inside. When the ball was spun, the acrylic acted as a lens and the dice enlarged as if it were behind a magnifying glass. Awesome. Let me restate: AWESOME! The other cool thing, now don't get me wrong, there were other cool things but this is the coolest/creepiest of them all. A fridge. A new fridge. A new fridge that was used to store evidence. Ewww.
So the people were not as intersting as I thought they would be, except for one. Lots of typical auction people, I guess. There is the white trash family, the weird collector dude, the couple who either sell and install car stereos or have strange collection habits, there were the guys who resell whatever they can get for cheap, the people who left their stuff in an impounded car trying to gt it back, the creepers and collectors and people looking for a deal. The weirdest one was a guy with a large (I mean large) gold chain around his neck. Dressed in a track suit jacket and Levis, he looked like a Romanian gangster thug. He actually had a large scar on his face that ran from between his chin and lip, up into his hairline. He stood around all night til a car stereo/amp package came up. He bid til he got it, smiled big, and left to checkout. It seemed he was trying to get back his own property. He looked incredibly relieved.
I was intrigued! So being the curious cat that I am, I decided to follow him. I ran to my car and parked up the block, waiting. He walked out shortly with his recent purchase and went down the street away from me. He got to the end of the block and turned into the parking lot of a stone company. I pulled out and rolled slowly down the street. I was just getting to the driveway when a black Town Car pulled out of the driveway. The Town Car stopped at the stop sign in front of me. I looked into the empty parking lot realizing I would be following a black Town Car for a while. I tried to stay back at least a block and it didn't take long to see we were headed out of town. The further out, the further back I dropped. Fortyfive minutes into the drive, as I was telling myself for the third time to go home, the car turned into a drive way. The drive way was quickly obscured by trees.
I parked a quarter mile down the road. I sat in my car for two minutes. Stood next to my car for three miutes. Stood at the end of the driveway for four minutes. Stood looking at a multimillion dollar house for five minutes. What the fuck was I doing?
I could see through a window from where I stood the man I was following. He stood in a group of three more men. One dressed similar and the other two in suitcoats, ties loosened. They were all looking down at the car amplifier he had just bought laying on the dining table. Another man entered dressed in a suitcoat with a handful of tools. He quickly goes at the amp trying to open it. Within a minute the amp is open and from the inside is pulled a small plastic box. Another man quickly opens a hankerchief on the table. The box is opened and out is poured a small pile of sparkling stones. Diamonds.
As one suitcoated man picks up the rocks the others walk from the dining room, across the livingroom and out onto a deck. The two in tracksuits cross the deck to an outdoor bar. They are halfway when the two others in suitcoats pull ou guns and smoothly release an ounce of lead through their heads. I can feel the bounce of the report off of my face. I quickly spin around the backside of the tree. I am shaking. Sweating. And running. I get back to my car and feel like I am going to shake apart. I have to leave.
I look back at the auctioneer. "lot 126. A Sony camera and camcorder.". Oh, I didn't see that one in the preview. I think I will bid.

I was gonna..

I've seen a few of the '100 things you don't know about me' threads on the net. I was going to do one, then I realized I don't know a hundred things about myself. Whether people know them or not, there are just not a hundred things.
Some of things peoeple put out there are just not very interesting anyway. I don't care if you like Disney movies. Don't care if you can relate to Velma from ScoobyDoo. Don't care if you love Jesus. Don't care if you don't. Don't care if you sniff markers, shoot heroin, burn bums, (okay, burning bums is horrible and wrong. Sicko.), get off on pokemon, collect state spoons, or giggle every time you fart. Really don't.
Everybody has what they think is crazy, but mostly it's not. Humans (yes, you.) are either proud or ashamed of what makes them different. People who are proud of it end up with normal, uneventful lives. Peole who are ashamed of it usually go to ivy league schools and try so hard to be normal their otherwise extraordinary lives pass them by without notice. Fucking people.
Get your freak on, just don't tell me about it. I'll read it off your sleeve.

I had this idea for a skit...

It's kinda a horrible premise but I though I would bounce it before I fleshed it out any more. I think it's one I would let someone else make if they wanted to.
It would be a documentary on the great clown/mime wars. Focusing on the horrible treatment of mimes by clowns in the prison camps. Of course there would be no walls on the camp, but the mimes would pretend there was. And the clowns would just hold their hands in the gun shape. There would be the 'clowns lining up the mimes to see how many mimes a squirting flower would go through'. Mimes being herded into the showers and being sprayed with actual water. Mimes pretending to dig under the fence to escape. Clowns using mimes for experiments. Like the extreme lengths one can hide in barrels and how many times one can be 'splashed' with confetti filled water buckets before breaking into laughter.  Seeing how many mimes fit into a clown car. You get the picture. Too much right?
Maybe I could just say it is a metephor...

That last post was too serious.

I'm gonna make my own doomsday prophecy. Those jerks don't own doomsday! First I wil go down into my lab and work out the numbers using the Bible, the Mayan calender, the prophecies of Nostradamus, and the Betty Crocker Cookbook. I whip those into a galactically cool number like Apriluary elevety-first 2042. I know what you are thinking, but when I am Exaulted Lord of the Universe I can name the months anything I damn well please! Peon.
So next there needs to be some signs that the end is nigh. First, Skynet needs to go online. The Navy has just developed a laser that will stop a tank or another boat. Not long now.
Second, I will ascend to my rightful place as Master of Earth and it's suburbs. That will fulfill a bunch of prophecies. Antichrist, antibudda, anti-fill in the blank with your favorite god here.
Third. I need a super generic clincher. Like amongst political turmoil a famous person will be usurped.
Done and done. Now to get working on being declared world leader.

That last post was too serious.

Planet Green and words o' wisdom.

Every time I turn on TV lately it seems all the stations are showing shows about ghosts, the bible, UFOs or the apocalypse. When I was younger and was looking for 'answers' as it were, these shows would have interested me. The unfortunate thing is that I would gave befitted from a show that explained how things really worked. All shows about the apocalypse could be summed up in one show. Part 1) history of doomsday prophecies. Part 2) prophecies for the future. Part 3) everyone has been wrong so far, that won't change. Done.
UFO shows are all speculation and eyewitness accounts from people with troubled pasts. And the bible shows...need I say more?
My biggest problem is that they are on channels like Planet Green, Discovery Science, and History. What would really help the whole world if these shows were on a channel called Speculation, or Bullshit, or Oprah. I think back to when I was younger and searching for some direction to go with my life and how much easier it would have been if someone said "Don't believe what comes out of peoples mouths. It could just as well be coming out of their ass.". Evidence is one of the most sought after things in my life. I wish it were the same for TV producers.

Peeps part 2

It's fun giving people lives outside of their lives. I am going to do part 2 right away, it was that much fun. One who's life has been pretty exciting without me making up a life for is James Randi. I still think he has an underground lair with a great hall lined with candles and a giant throne. Above it reads 'King James The Debunker'. He is like King Arthur and Merlin rolled into one. Always near is Sir Grothe in his highly polished armour. Smoooove.
PZ Myers. I always think PZ is a bit like Don Quixote. Except the windmills really are giants but the majority of the population still sees windmills. Skeptics are represented by Sancho. We follow because we believe in him as a fighter of giants. Even the ones WE don't see. I think instead of a lance, he carries a laptop on a sling which he operates with one hand and slaps rosaries out of he hands of believers with the other. I pretend he really does that. I really do.

My (not Easter) peeps.

There are a few podcasts I listen to. I like to make up stories about what they do when they are not making podcasts. Like Richard Dawkins. Secretly I call him Saint Atheist. When he is not teaching or giving talks or writing books, I imagine him in a dim library with twenty foot ceilings. Books and artifacts from the dawn of time, shelved floor to ceiling. He hovers two inches above an old well worn leather chair. In one hand is a cup of tea. He gently puffs on a hookah packed with knowledge and truth of history.
Maybe a little over dramatic. Or is it?
I think of the Skeptics Guide To The Universe guys as a south Boston gang. Wearing hoodies and laptops connected by wallet chain. They carry baseball bats with words engraved on them. Words like 'science' and 'prove it' and 'truth' and 'moderate speculation'.
That doesn't include Rebecca Watson. I think she spends her time on skype and riding around Buffalo on a bicycle. In the basket on the front is a laptop and sandwiches.
One of my favorite podcasts is Righteous Indignation. I always imagine Tristan Swale as an artistic looking guy wearing a turtleneck and drinking bottled water with a flask of scotch. I imagine him walking around and being a running commentary of critiques. I always think Hayley Stevens is the person with the pixie voice who will punch the woo right out of a person and replace it with skepticism and fist. Mostly fist.
I know that is not how these people really are, but it's what I think of when I hear them.
That was kind of fun. Maybe next post I can do Skeptic Zone, PZ, Randi, and Dunning. Okay, not Dunning.

End times

So here are some thoughts on the End Times. For starters, the people who believe they will be saved are pretty boring people. There are only so many 'clean' jokes I can hear in one night. There are only so many 'and then I got a Bingo!' stories I can listen to and only so many bible verses I can hear before my ears actually start to swell and I have to yell "Hey, man! Harry Potter is not the devil! It's a story!".
I swear, most of these people are thinking things are going to be so much better in the next life. How about you try living this life? I heard once there are only 100,000 and some people getting pulled up to heaven in the Rapture. How many rapture believers are there? There is going to be some really disappointed people. Thnk how angry they are going to be. They would probably take that rapture bumper sticker off their car, because it would be really embarrassing still driving around. Everyone would be like "Oh snap!". I would be so pissed off!
I wonder how many End Times have been announced. The 2012 Mayan calander one is pretty funny to me. Could you imagine if everyone freaked out at the end of every calander? New Years Eve would be a drastically different holiday. It would be great if at the end of the Mayan calander some Mayan dude walked up and flipped the rock face over and under it was another 10,000 year calander. With kitties on it. And a dentist appointment already scribbled in. Dr Ramirez-2:30 teeth cleaning and whitening. That would be awesome.
Lighten up. If the world is gonna end, we arn't gonna know in advance. Unless it's a meteor. Then we should have enough time to get Bruce Willis in a spaceship. Not to save us, just so we don't have to listen to his singing. Who wants to die listening to that crap?

Here we go...

I'm waiting to get on a plane. I can see the rain pouring down on the Tarmac. I see the rain running off the wings of the plane. It is an uneasy sight to see the deluge that I will be travelling in. The announcements come across the P.A. system in a tinny foreign voice. I can't understand the language but I've been in enough airports to understand the call to board by the tone of the announcer. I always board last no matter where I am sitting. This time however, is different. I need to be on that plane as soon as possible. I wait for my section to be called. I hear the numbers, grab my bag, and stand. I take one step and hear my name. It is being spoken loudly and with authority. I turn slowly around to see the badges being held up, the other hands rest on the top of holsters. I put both hands up and forward. My thoughts coalesce the air in front of me. I hear a dull clink as the first badged hand hits my transluscent shield followed quickly by the thud of a body hitting the same. I can only back away. I know what they see is like a two way mirror. I can see them they see themselves. I see weapons being drawn. I quickly get on the jetway and break into a run. My wall disolves within seconds of changing focus. I know there is a door at the end of the jetway that opens to a spiral stairs. What is a very wet, open air stairway to the tarmac. I grab the handle and barely turn it before the wind whips it open. I am stepping two steps at a time. One hand on the railing sliding downward, one hand on the center pole holding my body in from the force wanting to push me out into the void. How I hate rain.
I hit the tarmac and my inertia pushes me to my knees. I stand, place my hands up and block the stairs. It gives me a few moments to survey my surroundings. I see an out. I run to the baggage cart, jump on, and head tothe closest hanger.
I get up to hanger and jump off the cart. I reach the man door and it is open. I can hear the voices behind me. In this rain I know they must be close if I can hear them. I step through to a comepletely empty hanger. The only thing I can do is get inside and seal the door. I put my hands up and the shield will block the entrance. I move as fast as I can across the floor to the door on the opposite wall. As I get to it I drop focus. I plunge through the door and back into the rain. I hate rain.
I get three steps before I am blind sided by someone smart enough to run around to the backside of the hanger. I slip into darkness as my head bounces off the concrete.
I hate rain...

Big plan for this year

My big plan for this year is to become famous. I've joined Twitter and started writing a blog. I'm doing it under an assumed name because I thought the mystery would help build buzz and propel me into the fame I am seeking. It's not going well so far. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy doing it and I've virtually met some great people, but no one has asked for an autograph yet. Really the reasons for doing it are nothing more than seeing if I could do it. I don't want to ride the coattails of anyone to get there either. I know famous people. I see others do that and am a little weirded out by it.
I think I may have to step this up a notch. I will start with a little more self promotion. Get a little of my art out there. Maybe have a contest like 'I am at location X. The first person to walk in and holler YEEE HAW will get a free dinner and an autograghed picture of me!'. Of course the picture will be of my profile pic. Or maybe a small part of my face and I could do the contest every week for twelve weeks. Every week a different part of my face revealed til my entire picure could be assembled to reveal that I am in fact unrecognizable to everyone.
Hmmmm...I may have to think longer about this.

Hey, I got nohing.

I got nothin' here.

Reading the news

Have you ever been reading the news and really thought by the half way mark it would stop and say "just kidding! That really didn't happen. We just made that up to screw with your head. Can you imagine if that was real? That would be totally messed up! Now for the real news..."
I read the news every day and at least once I hve to check the source to make sure it isn't from The Onion. It usually has to do with politics. It's easier to believe an earthquake/tsunami/volcano/cyclone news story than the stupidity of a single person.

Something happened a long time ago on this date

A few things did apparently. Yugi-oh was the first human in space. Not the first mammal though. Before him there was a dog, some chimps, and H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, who are not a human but really aliens. We know his because their stories are autobiographies. True fact.
Also the Civil War was started on this date 150 years ago. It was started when Kaiser Souza was assasinated. The Civil War lasted 45 years and ended when Eisenhower crossed the Rhine and took Manhatten from the Indians. Not the Native Americans, but actual people from India. They were trying to trade with the Dutch. Well known fact: Americans hate the Dutch. Because of the shoes and their old potato chips.

Phone problems=posting problems

So I've had some problems with my cell service and since I post from my phone, it makes posting a bit harder. That also explains the poor grammar. And the bad editing. And the crappy writing.
So I spend thirty minutes on the phone talking to variously accented people before I talk to a guy who says "We are updating the service in that area. Your data service should be back to normal by 9:00 tomorrow morning."
AT&T wonders why their customer service is rated low.
Plus, I've been goin' all Don Quixote on the cell towers in my neighborhood. Sancho! Let's ride!

These colors don't run.

Red, white and blue. These colors don't run. Unless they are water colors. Then they will run. I once had a watercolor I made in art class and I got it wet before I put the fixative on it and the colors ran. And holy crap do you not want to get it on a white carpet! Those colors stain is What they do. Shit! Then, your mom is all like "What the he'll! Who got patriotism on my new white carpet?" and then you will be grounded for, like, two months. I mean, no Atari or Dukes Of Hazzard or Mork And Mindy (mmmmm...Pam Dauber.) or nothin! Fuck.

I drive angry

So fuck you.

Evolution

I was thinking about evolving. I'm not sure what the best evolutionary development would be though. I think about aliens and think the idea of 'Greys' is dumb. Look at them. A good shove and their big Precious Moments heads would be bouncing off the ground. Why would a race evolve that way. Dumb. More arms would be cool. Pinball would be a different game. Four buttons. Where would the extra flippers go? Devolve to get a prehensile tail? That might be handy. Pants would need another hole. That might cause chafing. A badly chafed tail might be mildly disturbing. I bet someone would make a quality tail cream that would resolve that. Probably Aveda. Better eyesight? Night vision would be good. Although living in a big city kinda makes that pointless. It's never really dark. Better smell would not be awesome. Gas station bathrooms. Nuff said. Run faster. That would be good. But I would have to make better time than driving. So better than thirty mph. That's a contender. Better taste is right out. I've had some bad things in my mouth. I don't think I would want my taste enhanced. Better hearing wouldn't help. I spend enough time trying to tune people out. A hairy coat? I've seen dudes with that already. It's not pretty. Webbed fingers and toes? I don't live close enough to water. Chameleon color change ability? There might be something there. I don't know what I would use that for though. Except to get better college funding. (that was a bit tasteless I know.) Smarter and faster probably win the day. And a tortoise like shell. And laser eyes. Fuck yeah, laser eyes.

My big secret

So, as it is, I am relatively anonomous with the blogging and the Twitter. There are two people who know who I am and probably a few more that could guess if they bothered to hunk about it. I really don't do it for any reason other than my own amusement. Plus no one bugs me for autographs or over analyzes my work. Plus, this way I can speak my mind without it coming back to haunt me.
So that is not my only secret. I can write all about hem here because of my anonymity. Like I was in the Navy and worked on covert human testing of viagra. Explains alot about the Navy, doesn't it. I was a cat juggler on an underground circus circuit. I lay one egg a day like a chicken. I pretend to be human even though I am. I can add, subtract and divide but I can't multiply numbers. I have an aversion to sporks and will never eat KFC because of it. I like the taste of rabbit food and get high if I smoke catnip. I can't back up a vehicle unless it has a trailer attached. I speak two languages, English and a Latin/Egyptian/Cherokee hybred language the when spoken angers people enough fights will break out. I can't tell a knock knock joke without ruining it. I am in the top .001 percent in IQ. The bottom .001 perctent in social ability. I thought that was because I was smart, turns out it's because I can't chew with my mouth closed due to my homemade braces. I hate James Bond films. I also never lie. My mother is a descendant of Pope Hazelhurst II and my dad I have never seen from the front.
I have alot more, but those are the highlights. Probably.