Martial Law Plans Revealed

I think it’s pretty scary how close this Onion clip is to reality.

Green Beer

I recently started training as a bartender at a little bar that opens up at 7am for all the 3rd shifters and ambitious alcoholics. Yesterday I helped open the bar, and being the day after St. Patick’s Day, we didn’t get too many customers. But we did have one regular stop in who told me a little story about his St. Patrick’s Day 14 years ago.

He was drinking green beer all day at a bar in Savannah, Georgia when he decided it was time to go. He hopped on his bicycle (non-motorized) and started toward his apartment. After traveling only a few blocks away from the bar he was hit by a drunk driver. He was rushed to a hospital and operated on. The doctors had to cut open his chest for surgery.

When he came to he was in the recovery room. A nurse came in and told him that he had given all the surgeons and nurses quite a scare. She explained to him that when the doctors cut him open they found that all of his organs were dyed green. Something they had never seen before.

Today’s Theme Song

Todd Snider – Lookin’ For A Job

Culture Jamming on the Internet- Part I

The origin of the term ‘culture jamming’ is credited to the band Negativeland, but the philosphy and aims of culture jamming go back (at least) to the 1960s with the pranks of Abbie Hoffman, Joey Skaggs and others.

Wikipedia lists the aims of culture jamming:

• To create a contrast between corporate or mass media images and the realities or perceived negative side of the corporation or media. This is done symbolically, with the “detournement” of pop iconography.
• To renew civic engagement and social connectedness through shared radical ideas.
• To reawaken a sense of wonder and fascination about one’s surrounding environment, inspired by the frequent intentional ambiguity of a specific culture jamming technique, which stimulates personal interpretation and independent thinking.

An excerpt from Negativeland’s radio broadcast, Over the Edge, sheds more light on what is meant by culture jamming:

“The cultural jammer works his secret in public, the skillfully reworked billboard with new lettering painted in the same style that the original has, turning strategic corporate elements back on themselves in a manner which is itself, invisible, directs the public viewer to a consideration of the original corporate strategy in the context of a thoughtful reaction. The studio for the cultural jammer is the world at large, his tools are paid for by others, an art with real risk. You people still painting out there – all you crazy stonecutters: Would you go to jail for your art? Well?!”

For part I I’m going to focus on some of the more well known culture jammers on the internet.

It’s been so long (and I still have nothing to say)

It’s been almost a month since my last post. Life is rather boring right now. I’ve got to start packing and cleaning my apartment. That’s the big thing right now.

Sorry to those few who have been checking back regularly only to find nothing new here to entertain. Here’s a joke:

It got crowded in heaven, so, for one day it was decided only to accept people who had really had a bad day on the day they died. St. Peter was standing at the pearly gates and said to the first man, “Tell me about the day you died.”

The man said, “Oh, it was awful. I was sure my wife was having an affair, so I came home early to catch her with him. I searched all over the apartment but couldn’t find him anywhere. So I went out onto the balcony, we live on the 25th floor, and found this man hanging over the edge by his fingertips. I went inside, got a hammer, and started hitting his hands. He fell, but landed in some bushes. So, I got the refrigerator and pushed it over the balcony and it crushed him. The strain of the act gave me a heart attack, and I died.”

St. Peter couldn’t deny that this was a pretty bad day, and since it was a crime of passion, he let the man in.

He then asked the next man in line about the day he died. “Well, sir, it was awful,” said the second man. “I was doing aerobics on the balcony of my 26th floor apartement when I twisted my ankle and slipped over the edge. I managed to grab the balcony of the apartment below, but some maniac came out and started pounding on my fingers with a hammer. Luckily I landed in some bushes. But, then the guy dropped a refrigerator on me!”

St. Peter chuckled, let him into heaven and decided he could really start to enjoy this job.

“Tell me about the day you died?”, he said to the third man in line.

“OK, picture this, I’m naked, hiding inside a refrigerator….”

And if that didn’t satisfy you, here are some blogs I discovered recently while not posting to mine: Indexed, Skull-A-Day, Say No to Crack , Post Secrets, Blank Top Chronicles, growabrain, Futility Closet, Clublife, New York Hack.

Dental High-gienist

I went to the dentist on Friday the 13th for a routine check-up and cleaning. The appointment went well– my teeth are healthy and clean. The superstitions of the day didn’t hold any weight, but it was a remarkable visit in one way: my dental hygienist was probably high on marijuana.

I can’t confirm this. I didn’t notice blood-shot eyes or smell anything strange on the woman, but she did mention smoking pot no less than five times in the course of my appointment. Not once did she suggest that I’m a user either– every reference to the illicit substance was self-directed. She said things like, “If I had to work around that many screaming children, I’d probably be going home to smoke chronic every day,” and, “If I could retire with that much money, I’d build a greenhouse to grow my own pot.” Unfortunately, most of what she said was drowned out by the scraping sound inside my skull.

Aside from references to marijuana, she also kept up a line of conversation that was somewhat surreal. She told me stories about people who use Clorox bleach to whiten their teeth, described what meth mouth looks like, and expressed an interest in checking out the local hookah bar. At one point she even said, “W-T-F?”

She’s a quirky lady to begin with– Friday even more so.

Maybe she wasn’t high. Maybe she just had too much coffee. Or maybe she was fishing for a dealer.

Somewhere, Someone is Searching for Me

I noticed that this blog had started getting search engine referrals so I went to google and ran a vanity search to see where it ranked.

One of the links google returned was for this whitepages.com page full of statistics on my last name.

I don’t know if I should be flattered or frightened.

Sticking it to the Man

On March 16th the state of Iowa raised the cigarette tax $1.00 per pack. Being a chain-smoker with limited funds, I suggested to a friend that we get some cigarettes from the nearby Indian reservation. They don’t get taxed, right?

So we made what was supposed to be a 45 minute trip to Tama, Iowa where the Meskwaki tribe has a reservation and casino. Taking the scenic by-way and a few wrong turns added a little time to the trip, but it was a nice afternoon for a countryside drive.

We passed the casino and pulled into a gas station just as a Meskwaki Nation police cruiser was leaving the pumps. This is it.

I requested a carton of Winston full-flavor kings from the attendent. He rang up the purchase.

I didn’t really know if I was getting a deal or not. I didn’t know what a carton of Winstons went for before or after the tax increase. One thing did strike me as odd though: they charged me sales tax.

While Tim was getting his smokes I went back to the car. I opened up my carton and inspected a pack. It had the Iowa tobacco tax stamp printed on the cellophane. Damn.

Today I stopped by the HandiMart just a few blocks away from where I live. They sell cartons of Winstons for $38.87.

So we failed to stick it to the man, but it was a fun afternoon road trip. Still, what am I going to do about the rising cost of cigarettes? Quit smoking?

No, I think it’s time to buy some loose tobacco and dust off the old cigarette machine.

I’m going to need a new cigarette case.

Cheating the Government for Fun and Candy

Have you ever had a watermelon tootsie roll? How about blue raspberry?

When I was kid you could get tootsie rolls in banana-berry, sour green apple, grape, smooth cherry, blue raspberry, fruit punch, pink lemonade, strawberry, and watermelon. The local drug store sold them at a penny a piece.

One day I bought a small handful of tootsie rolls while my mom was getting a prescription filled. I was charged exactly one penny for every tootsie roll, no sales tax.

“Why wasn’t there any tax?” I asked the lady at the drug store who also happened to be my neighbor.

“There’s no sales tax on purchases under ten cents.”

I walked away thinking about the possibilities.

One summer day, bored and unsupervised, my sisters and I emptied the house of all spare change and made our way down to the drug store for a sugar fix. I told my sisters about the ten cent rule. We devised our plan.

We counted out a tootsie roll for every penny in our pocket. Then, each taking turns we approached the register with nine tootsie rolls. The plan was obviously to buy them, make another trip to the candy isle for nine more, and repeat as necessary until every penny was spent. I think we each got two, maybe three turns in before the drug store clerk had had enough with our nine cent transactions.

“You kids are cheating the government!” She yelled at me as I approached her with nine more pieces.

Thinking she was merely giving us a hard time for our clever ploy, I flashed her a smile. When I saw that she was serious, I laughed out loud. We left the rest of the tootsie rolls piled up in the candy isle and went home. Our sugar fix wasn’t nearly as good as the adrenaline rush we got from cheating the government.

Wednesday Afternoon

Two weeks ago I met a girl at a party. We hit it off, talking with each other most of the night. The last conversation we had was on the dark patio, smoking cigarettes. She mentioned she was thinking about going home, and watching old movies alone. I asked her about old movies. She mentioned, again, something about going home, and watching old movies.

I don’t remember what happened. I must have said something completely random, then I probably stubbed out my cigarette, and stumbled back into the house. You see normally I am clueless, and at that time, I was also very drunk.

But the next day, I could still remember her first name, as well as two classes she’s currently enrolled in at the University. One of them has only one section, once a week.

On Monday I asked my boss for Wednesday afternoon off. When she asked why I needed it off, I was totally unprepared to give a polite lie.

“It’s embarrassing,” I told her.

She prodded a little, I just shook my head.

Word spread through the office, and soon it seemed everyone wanted to know why I was taking the afternoon off. A few people even compiled a list of Top 10 Embarrassing Reasons Andy is Leaving Early:

10. Going to purchase a 1978 Gremlin–feels it will go over well with the ladies.

9. Taking his computer to get fixed, unable to do it himself.

8. Has appointment to get his back waxed.

7. Leading a ‘Teens Against Tobacco’ meeting.

6. Has an accordion lesson.

5. Court appearance for public urination charge.

4. Doctor’s appointment for an STD.

3. Seeing tax adviser about long form filing because he is old.

2. Doctor’s appointment for enlarged prostate.

1. Paternity test, hoping to clear his good name!

They asked me which one was the closest to the real reason. I told them probably number ten, or number four, but both are pretty far off.

Wednesday afternoon I stayed home. I was afraid she might get creeped out by me, or that something might give me away. I ended up telling some of the girls at work why I took the afternoon off, and they all agreed that it wasn’t creepy, and I should have done it. Now I kind of wish that I had.