artificial intelligence?

no doubt you, the beloved non-existant reader, have seen it. or something like it. or gotten emails including clips used to make the overall video i just watched.

i am talking about the bad day at the office video clip. it is truly funny. look it up if you have no idea what i am talking about.

my favorites are the guy who gets sprayed by the toner and proceeds to attempt to violently copy his monitor, and, without a doubt, the fella what goes out to grab a sledge to take to his desktop.

but as i was watching this video, i kinda watched the people in the peripheral. here are these almost beetle-like individuals, hunched over their keyboard, eyes squinting at tiny numbers being inputted on their screens, when, without any warning (in most cases), a cubicle near them is erupting into violence.

they all do the same thing: they leap up, look around them with eyes that have widened as if they expect to see the armageddon (or is that armaggeddon? neither one looks right) and then sort of stand there, agape, at a loss. if the tirade goes on long enough, they sort of sidle back to their desks and attempt to work whilst keeping a wary eye on the disturber. one guy has the aplomb to toss the laptop that has just bounced off the brick wall by his head back onto the offender's desk.

but what, o my beloved non-existant readers, my droogs and only friends, are the factors that lead to violence against office equipment? well, i'm not completely sure, but judging by the average size of the offenders in this clip, obesity would be one thing. and apparently you have to be male.

i do know i have been this aggravated. probably not enough to leave to get a hammer, but definitely enough to use whatever is handy. if we could all refer, briefly, to my post about the last fourth of july, while my wife (and most of my internal organs, definitely, at least, my brain and heart) was far away in points east. if you, like me, are too lazy, here's is a quick recap of the contributing factors: whiney, exhausted kids who won't shut up. a broken dvd player (broken by same whiney kids). an inability to fix said dvd player. no wife (and no sex) for two months (at the time of the "mishap", heh heh). and an ambient heat level of upwards of 90 degrees farenheit (that word doesn't look right either. oh well). all resulting in feet being stuffed rather roughly into the already-open guts of said dvd player.

but here's the rub, malchicks and ptitsas. here is the item that gives me pause: i know my mom was extremely stressed out when i was younger, being a single mom, recently divorced, trying to keep a roof over three kids' heads, basically on her own, while working full time and trying desperately to have a personal life as well. she was stretched so thin we could almost see through her at times. but the worst i ever saw (or heard) was some screaming and one broken plate.

does technology exacerbate (i actually had to look that one up, o my beloveds) our pre-existing aggravation? have we come to rely so much on computers and such that when they don't work properly, we are prone to violence? would anyone even have thought of finding a sledge to take to their computer if someone hadn't made that really funny cartoon some time ago with the duck wielding a hammer over a desktop and saying, "compute this!"? are we on some kinda handbasket/bus/slippery slope ride on skids greased by technology that is advancing and increasing so fast that our minds can't even keep up? how soon before we reach terminal velocity?

and will anyone be laughing when we do?

darth sardonic

And silicone enhancements by the breastful.

the stairs are beating the hell out of my knees. or, more accurately, lugging shit up and down the stairs is beating the hell out of my knees.

but the fact of the matter is, they are never gonna get better if i don't work them out, so off i jog to the local gymnasium to work on my "beach body".

(we interrupt this program for this special spot announcement: i am a bit flabby. i have been at least a bit flabby (sometimes alot flabby) for some time now. i haven't wanted to be at all flabby for at least a year or two. being able to frequent the beach alot is helping me to really kick the toning-up process into high gear. other than an improved outer shell, this particular model will remain yours truly, the same humble narrator that has regailed you with sarcastic and witty (but otherwise completely useless) comments and stories for many years now. and now, back to your regularly-scheduled program.)

for the first time in ever, and i mean evfuckinger, i have entered a gym on a military installation, and there were more women than men. granted, it was 9:30 (i got a late start, cut me some slack), but still.

and i realize, this is florida, but goddamn, they must hand out the implants at the checkout counter or something. "there's a two-for-one deal on the del monte peas, and if you buy another bottle of heinz catchup or similar heinz product, you get 10% off your next plastic surgery..."

now, don't get me wrong. i love breasts as much as the next bloke. maybe more. cause i am not picky about size, shape, color, or anything. i am not really even picky about enhanced, as long as they appear fairly natural (and for the record, the ones i looked at (and it was lots, i am almost ashamed to admit), within the confines of tight work-out tank tops, all appeared to be brilliantly done)(i have seen some porn where the boob jobs looked damn near painful, and i lamented the poor nba teams that would have to cancel their game for that evening due to lack of balls with which to play), but never have i seen that many in one place at one time.

and for whatever reason (most likely my conservative upbringing, and the idea that was fed to me, almost subliminally, that women don't really enjoy sex much, and certainly do not liked to be ogled or gawped at, and a gentleman would never do such a thing), i don't just blatantly look. i pretend to be studying myself very intently in the mirror, or checking out some piece of equipment i hope to try out just as soon as i am done with this piece i am occupying, all whilst enjoying the lovely bodies that surround me.

so it is quite likely, o my beloved non-existant readers (who are, it has just occured to me, almost entirely female--i might need to rethink posts like this in the future, heh heh), that my poor neck and eyes might be more sore tomorrow than my chest and arms and back.

but so far, i have to say, i am loving florida.

on a side note, i was a bit worried that the regular sun and heat and exposure to tight tanned flesh might weaken my sardonic capabilities, but as it turns out, my wife informed me the other night that i am even more saucy lately. phew! cause i was beginning to get worried.

darth sardonic

we have... part two

we have geckos (they are so cuuuute, and keep the bug population down). we have sunburns (well, ok, i do. the rest of my family, simply to spite me, got beautifully brown--however, mine is pretty much just a tan now, so i will be just getting darker and darker). we have dressers. we have sore feet and battered hands. we have this cool rug for the living room. we have our computer. yes, our computer. that's right, and it wasn't even that expensive to fix. now, if you'll excuse me, i need to go surf porn.

darth sardonic

timing is everything...

the latest edition of "my kids want to do themselves in early on in life": today, at the store, when no. 2 was getting into his car seat, i noticed it seemed very loose. i went to tighten it, pulling on the seatbelt, and it came free in my hand. no. 2 had undone both the seatbelts holding the car seats into place. god knows how long they have been like that.

prior to this little incident specifically designed to make darth's blood boil and his heart rate skyrocket, no. 2 and i stopped into starjunk's for a coffee and some kinda organic psuedo-homemade refined sugar and starches. not but a few minutes after getting comfortable, several college-age minas came in and sat not far away. many more minas entered and spread themselves about the shop. everywhere i looked, minas pibas y chicas.

as an aside, you know how i mentioned i loved summer cause the minas appear in abundance showing off loverly skin? well, it is like that all the time around here. and when my wife is sure i am checking out bikini girls, i notice her drooling a bit over the surfers' pecs. yep, we are having ourselves a time, o my beloved non-existant readers.

darth sardonic

Toothpicks pry open my eyes.

a smile more yellow than the sky.

well, o my beloved non-existants, my droogs and only friends, my long-suffering malchicks and ptitsas, i am still posting from the library.

why? you ask, as well you should.

cause, apparently, if you are a semi-braindead packer who smells a little like whiskey and alot like bo, it is a bad choice to pack the the rather heavy printer/copier/fax/scanner on top of the cpu.

so i have internet, but a computer that is so jostled and confused that it doesn't know whether to wind its ass or scratch its watch. yes, as soon as i am done posting here, i will be googling "computer repair" and "space coast" (every time i say or write "space coast" i get the crazy urge to say, "space coast, ghost to ghost"! and if you get that joke, then you are at least as big a dork as i am).

and i am feening, o my beloveds, because i haven't read any of your blogs in at least two weeks, and i haven't chatted at my usual haunts in that long either, and i haven't surfed por--err, that is to say, looked at ebay, in that long as well.

what did we ever do before the internet?

well, no. 2 is becoming a bit of a nuisance, and i must wrap this up so i might set about charging a new cpu to the moving company, so more bulletins as events warrant.

darth sardonic

we have...

we have a house. we have most of the boxes unpacked and put away (sorta). we have stairs (bets on how long before a cat/kid's toy trips your humble narrator up and he tumbles to the bottom broken, battered, and in pain?) we have a view of the atlantic from our master bedroom balcony. we have a garage (but no room to park the car yet). we have friendly neighbors who seem cool. we have an appointment for cable/internet/phone (i can't fucking wait! and my cutie librarian isn't working today, i am so sad... hahaha). we have a new computer desk (but no dressers for our bedroom as of yet). we have hardwood floors. we have a big yard. we have dirty cars. we have sandals. we have a burgeoning collection of loverly shells. we have both the kids in school all day (which means once i have settled the therapy and other medical appointments situation, yours truly, your droog and only friend, might soon thereafter find himself back in the world of the full-time employed).

more soon, i hope.

darth sardonic

space coast

live from the public library, patrick afb, fl.

a wonderful time was had with j and her recently-returned-from-parts-east hubby, c. i drank a wee bit too much, but then, it just wouldn't be a hang-out with j if i didn't, right? my wife and j and c got along famously, which pleased me to no end.

we left keller, and had a nice, though humid and hot, jaunt down to san antonio to visit a few friends before trying to press on and make up a little lost ground.

the visit with friends of ours from our time in new mexico was great, but hard.

c.w. and j.w. were good friends of ours, and then, after we moved, j.w. suffered a loss of oxygen after a routine surgery, and as a result, he is a quadrapalegic and the mental capacity of a small child.

i can remember when he was vibrant and alive and fun and could quip a quick remark that would make everyone laugh in the time it takes to think it.

i was scared to see him. i was afraid i would act strange. i was worried i would act stand-offish, and that he would, despite the loss of a greater understanding of things, would pick up on it.

but then when he saw us, and the children, his eyebrow went up, he made laughing noises (he is unable to verbalize anything other than a "hey" which he manages to use to convey all manner of wants and needs and emotions), and there was a glimmer of the old j.w., and i smiled and felt more relaxed and at ease.

we pushed on, attempting to get as close to houston as possible before i was too tired to carry on.

which is what we would have done if we hadn't left no. 2's medicine in c.w. and j.w.'s fridge.

so a quick u-turn, negotiating the highways, and popping in for our meds before heading back out. we ended up spending the night in a small town outside of san antonio named seguin.

then mad as hell and not sparing the horses across the remainder of texas, mississippi (a tangent, that may possibly offend some, but then, so might my language, some of my subject matter at any given moment, and even possibly my attitude, so here goes: like many, i am sure, we have preconcieved notions of mississippi. due, mostly, to a couple of movies: mississippi burning and ghosts of mississippi. and it seems to me that mississippi has done little to change our minds on this count. they might make a stab at coming up with a slogan for tourism: something like, "mississippi, we no longer lynch darkies" or something along those lines. (the wife and i had a good laugh over several miles as we discussed this, my initial offering was "mississippi, we no longer kill blacks" to which she replied, "it should be 'lynch' instead of 'kill'" and i said, "well i was thinking the 'n' word instead of blacks, but i just don't use that word ever." the final result was the line above.) it should be noted here that, despite our sick senses of humor, we are not advocators of hate nor of the killing of anyone based on race, religion, or creed, and are simply making an editorial comment on the lack of interest on the parts of the tourist board and governor of mississippi to change the stereotype that the rest of us have that the state is filled with white supremacists. please feel free to leave me scathing comments telling me what a prick i am.), alabama, and deep into florida.

the long and the short, o my beloved non-existants, is that we are here. still living in a suite for about a week longer, without anything but the things that we packed into our (horribly abused and mistreated, but oh, so tough) honda passport, but here.

more news soon, as my kids are beginning to be disruptive here in the library and the cute librarian (what the hell is it about librarians?!? is there some kind of requirement on the application? must be hot with cool little glasses that make you seem approachable...?) is shooting me dirty looks.

darth sardonic

gasfoodlodging

live, from j's computer, keller, tx.

compiled from notes written on a denny's napkin, needles, ca, 8:02 pm:

the first day on the road was gonna be a bust. we already knew. because my wife's final out appointment from the base wasn't until nine, after which we were meeting friends for one last lunch before set out, and then meeting her family in portland for dinner. we made it a few hours past portland before we were tired and needed gas and just decided to call it a night.

the next day, we made it to ashland, or, the last stop before we launched on what we figured would be our one possible bane of the trip, the siskiyous. we got to know ashland incredibly well. too well. like five fucking hours circling around and around waiting for the pass to open up well.

then we were forced to chain up to continue, so it was 20 miles an hour whilst the car sounded as if it was going to part out, and stopping constantly to make sure the chains weren't destroying our fenders with the unnerving buzzsaw grinding of the semi trucks driving quickly by, the noise of the chains eating a whole into the panic centers of my brain. i have a mental image of me fighting to tighten the chains on my tires when one of the links breaks on a passing truck and blood and carnage ensue...

once we leave the chains-on area, we quickly pull over, yank the chains off, chuck them disorganized into the back, and beat feet out of there, hellbent for leather.

but for some reason, our headlights aren't very bright. again, panic is eating at the joint of my skull and vertabrae as i realize i can't even be sure of which lane i am in.

"maybe the lights are really dirty..." my wife suggests helpfully.

i exit. indeed. dirty. fucking filthy, more like. a wipe with some napkins and the entire world is again brightly illuminated, and the bile taste in the back of my throat fades, and we drive like jehu south.

we arrive in sacramento at the ungodly hour of 2 am.

then into the desert. bakersfield, then across the mojave like lost pagans with the very devil biting our tails.

as night falls, las vegas, a fair hundred miles away and not visible below the horizon, casts its bright lights against the thin layer of clouds.

the siskiyous were not done with us yet. like the ghost of a recently-passed nemesis, they raised one last ugly hand from the grave to plague us one more time.

day dawns sunny and early, motel 6, needles, ca.

our tire is flat.

after getting it off, we discover half a chainlink embedded in the rubber, a full inch deep. a quick repair at the local 76, and we are off again.

the remainder of our trip to date can be described in a handful of words: long. hot. dull. dry. empty.

"i spy, with my little eye, somethiiiiiiing...brown!"

which more or less described the entire panoramic view.

more soon as we leave texas and venture into the deep south.

darth sardonic