web 5.6

Web 2.0 is nice it's fancy, but it's out of date. Web 5.6 is coming. 5.6 is going to be much more intense then 2.0 because it has grangysling in it. Imagine all that grangysling, just bubbling up from inside, what a difference that will make.
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Bumper Cars

Sometimes I wish you could play bumper cars with real cars. In a desperate search for Q tips today, I found "hot peanuts" in the door compartment. I thought about throwing them out the window, and then I worried, that If I did they would hit the ground and bounce all over the road like happy skittles from the sky. Alas, I did not throw them and hope they will still be there when I return. Alas, so will the Q tips I found.
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The Carnal nature of a push pin

Bulletin boards hate me, they are always full of disorganized layers of important information, most of which is lost on me, cause I like the pictures instead of the words. There is a collective subconscious pattern that we are all trying to follow when we put postings on bulletin boards. The pattern is based on this truth: the more important the information the more useless crap you should pile on top. This is why Google doesn't get better at its job over time.

The newest of new years

Greetings from a new year,
Something about my holiday was great this time around family friends and a steady helping of food. One thing that seems to permeate these experiences, a subtly haunting feeling always seems creeping. The clock seems determined: the passage of time like a background to the holidays, the presents are different, you no longer wait on Santa, and the feeling that yes there can in fact be something as too much food.

I couldn't tell what it was about time that persistently seemed to say, hey! time continues marching on keep up! Perhaps it was that New Years is a Holiday devoted entirely to counting down. Like we all are celebrating the steady march towards the end: prisoners doing the jail house rock. It's magical


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A snippet of the legend of The Green Bowling Ball

In some place that could or should maybe be described as a forest, or not quite a forest as it was riddled with much more shrubs than trees: perhaps we'll call it the plains; There lived a generously over sized man in a house: not quite a house perhaps because it lacked stories, and sizable meaning: let us just refer to it as a gainfully employed hut.

Without describing specifics at length, he was a mailbox of a man, slender legs, disproportionate top, and the kind of gaping mouth that could let out with as much chuckling verbiage as it could take in brandy, food, or air. The bellows of his frame though never studied in detail, were quite certainly the most ambitious set of lungs a body had ever seen. These lungs which brought power to this perpetually stirring, jumping, and rumbling creature, would surely run any small cap wind powered turbine electric companies that setup shop nearby directly into dow status in no time at all. Were they not lungs but rather brain or ambition, certainly we would be upon another twistingly entertaining century with plenty of new exciting to go around. Alas they were lungs and very good lungs that powered a heavy voice.

And so this was the man we start with. And so this is the beginning of the legend of the Green Bowling Ball.

Sprinkle Fleckies

This delicate coating of sporamza (half sporatanisoin half amzingula) has managed its way about my brain. It seems to be a side effect resulting in high seasonal joliatude, and a significant bout of personal questioning, "where the light has gone." Hiding under the mountains along with my supply of light is a good old helping of home cooked seasonality. Presents and kindly acknowledged figures of speech are found abound, "merry... and happy..., and have a great..." coat my emotions and make everything a pinker shade of .. happy.
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Mr Manly pants

R and R
Mr. Manly Pants stopped in earlier, and he took the internets down. He had hung them up earlier that week, and they were goldeny and fresh, just out of the washer. It wasn't that Mr. Pants had dirty internets, but merely that they could use a little scrubbing. So lo and behold, Manly dropped the internets into a laundry basket and tah dah fresh and clean. When Mr. Manly pants took the internets down this time, they were not so fresh and clean, but rather they had been sullied up by high bandwidth and too much blogging. Manly Pants thought about putting the internet up properly this time, and failed miserably. Good work Mr. Pants.
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