Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Stacked dead actors, stacked to the rafters

I am logging an unprecedented fourth post today, mostly in a vain attempt to somehow pack a little more living into my day.

I have to make up for lost time, you see.

1 hour and 50 minutes of lost time.

Time I will never have back. Time that I will regret not having, when I am on my deathbed and look back at my life.

I could have read a book. I could have played guitar. I could have gone to a coffee shop. I could have done so much. So much...

Instead, I spent that time watching a heaping pile of horseshit called High Crimes, subtitled, "When Good Actors Make Bad Choices."

Morgan Freeman, Ashley Judd and Jesus starred in this movie.

When I added it to my Netflix list, it was based on a Netflix recommendation. I looked at it and said, "Hmmm. A thriller with Morgan Freeman, Ashley Judd and Jesus Caviezel. How bad can it be? *click*"

Netflix allows you to rate various movies and then it makes recommendations based on what you like. Nice idea, and generally it works... but Jesus sure did pull some fancy hocus pocus on this one.

I didn't remember it from when it was in theaters, and you probably don't either. There is a reason for that.

This movie was a big bucket of ass.

I am not even going to waste my time with a synopsis of the stupid, ass-bucket plot.

Ashley Judd was atrocious. Morgan Freeman was cheesy. And the movie had the wild card of horrible acting: Amanda Peet. Surprise, surprise, she played the kooky chick again! The one where her eyes spin around in circles when her head moves too quickly, like Oscar the Grouch.

The only one who performed with any dignity was Jesus. But, hey, he's Jesus. Water-into-wine and all that "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life" stuff.

(Did you whistle it to yourself? I did.)

I should've watched reruns of Tommy Lee Goes to College. Or Iron Chef. Anything.

On a different note, The Dude Abides had a record number of visitors today. I am a bit taken aback that hundreds of people want to read about dodging hawks, dogs, reading books, running and watching ass-bucket Jesus movies.

I hope you are enjoying it. I am not sure why you would, but I hope you are.

Peace out.

Lemme get some action from the back section!

I had to turn on that goofy-ass word verification for the comments. This was because I was getting a ton of spam comments. Sorry for the inconvenience of having to type in squiggly letters to post a comment, and sorry to anyone whose comment was lost in the shuffle. Don't worry, though, they all get sent to my email address, so I see them all.

Speaking of spam, I wish there was a filter for real-life spam. I pulled a five pound load of mail from our mailbox today. There were 19 catalogs! 19!

WTF, mate?

It makes me want to brick up my mailbox and take on the US Postal Service like Kramer did.

Fuckin' A.

I'm not gonna lie. I'll not be a gentleman. Behind the boathouse, I'll show you my dark secret.

Some guy in Bellingham, Washington, murdered two sex offenders whose names and addresses he obtained from the sheriff's community notification, pursuant to Megan's Law.

One of the "victims" raped a 13 year old boy, and the other molested family members.

Interesting. That's all I have to say... Interesting.


I had not put gas in my car in almost a month, so when I just paid over $ 47 for 15 gallons of gas, I was a bit taken aback.

I may start riding the bus.


The bus?


I kill me.


I filled my hard drive before I filled my i-Pod. What a drag.

Now what am I going to do?

And why the fuck does a little, white walkman the size of a deck of cards have more storage than a desktop computer?

Oh, because I was cheap when I bought it and had no idea that I would put 11 gigs of music on the hard drive?

But still... In the process, I noted how bloated Microsoft software is.


I forgot to mention the biggest connection between me, Leo and Will Danger.

Puck Ohmsford.

In addition to their pet bass, Leo and Will got a little, cute yellow lab puppy, whom they named Puck Ohmsford. Will actually picked him out of the litter.

When they graduated, Leo brought him back to the BDC, where we lived until he was 8 (9?). Then Leo got a job as an engineer with an outlaw motorcycle gang that required him to be gone for long periods, riding free, roaming the land, administering justice with lead-pipe cruelty, getting into life-or-death breakdance competitions with other gangs, and using his knowledge of physics to stick it to the Man.

Needless to say, that is no environment for a good old yellow dog, so we started to care for Puck Ohmsford. We weaned him from the meth and booze, convinced him to give up pimpin', and start leading a healthy, yet spoiled, life of leisure as a country gentleman. He eventually got his canine law degree and started accompanying me to the office, where Joy and P. dubbed him "Business Dog."

He is now 13 years old, and retired from law with me out here in Montana. He mostly groans, eats, poops, snacks on roadkill and rolls around in God-knows-what... but he still keeps it real. If necessary, he will fly the colors and beat down suckas who front.

One day, I will dedicate a series of posts to Leo, and you'll get to see what he is like....

Ay, ya, ya, ya... yer mother swims after troop ships. Sing me another verse, worse than the other verse, and waltz me around by my willy.

That^^ song is by John Valby, a guy who wrote and sang funny, filthy songs in the 70's. My mom and dad were friends with him. My mom used to play his albums for me when I was in grade school. And that's all you need to know about my mom, me, and the development of my sense of humor.

India requested that I post this link:

The City Pool in Bozeman opened the pool to dogs on its last day of the season. They had 150 dogs there:
Click me.

There was a picture of a soggy golden retriever jumping off of a diving board into the pool, but that wasn't on their website.

As long as we are talking Bozeman news here... these are excerpts from the last week's police reports:

* Officers spoke with a woman drunk on mouthwash at a North Seventh Avenue store. The woman was removed from the store and advised not to drink mouthwash anymore.

* Court services reported a man in their office had hidden illegal drugs in his anus. The man was arrested and held on bond.

* Employees at a store on South 23rd Avenue reported that a woman was riding around on an electric cart in the store and tried to fight with employees when asked to leave.

*A store owner on North Seventh Avenue advised that a man was urinating on the soda machines outside the business.

* Deputies took a report of someone hanging eggs on fishing line from power cables over Fowler Lane.

* A deputy observed an erratic driver on Huffine Lane. The man was trying to open an ice cream bar while driving.

Just a little taste of how real we keep it in B-Town. Oh yeah.

Gimmie that - your automobile
Turn off that smokestack
And that goddamn radio
Hum... along with me...
Hum along with the T.V.

The Will Danger family came into town and breezed out in under 20 hours. They had attended a wedding in Helena on Saturday. They arrived here Sunday afternoon and left late Monday morning. They drove out from their home in Seattle, and had to be back for work and school on Tuesday morning.

Here they are, pulling up to the house. They referred to the neighborhood as "Pleasantville." I have also heard it called "Truman Show" and "Tidytown."

Even though the visit was short, it was good. I converse regularly Will, and see him sporadically, but I had not spent extensive time with his family. India and I thoroughly enjoyed all of them, and I think they had a good time, too, even though we didn't do much besides hang out.

It was nice to have visitors who were so easygoing.

Where do I begin when describing this family? I think the path of least resistance dictates that I leave Will Danger himself for last, since I know him the best, and he is an entity that frequently defies description. At least he frequently produces odors that defy description, particularly after consumption of dark beer.

Emily Danger is Will's spouse and partner in all of their danger-defying activities, including raising three kids. Will and I have long agreed that Emily Danger and my wife, India, are branches on the same philosophical tree. (I also think Mrs. Bells may be a branch on this tree.) This was the first time that I had the opportunity to really get to know her, and I liked her very much. She is smart, and makes you feel instantly comfortable. I admire the way she and Will are as a couple, and I am very impressed by the way they are raising their kids.

This is Emily Danger. It looks like she is dancing, but she isn't. I just caught her unaware, digitally capturing her ebullient nature. (India thinks I may alienate you, dear readers, when I flaunt my inner nerd and get all snooty by busting out the 25¢ words. I disagree. But I will try to rein it in with a link when anything goes over 24¢.)

When we squired the adult Dangers for a quick tour of Bozeman and a latte, Amanda Danger, the eldest Danger child, babysat her brother and sister, and watched our animals. She is in the 8th grade, and is a rare breed of teenager. Unfailingly polite (all of the Danger children referred to India and I as "Mr. Joe" and "Miss India," and said their "pleases," "thank you's"), she handled the task without complaint. Her demeanor was unbelievable, given that she had just driven ten hours with mom (Gawd!), dad (like, no way), and her little brother and sister (*eye roll*), attended a family wedding, then driven a couple hours to visit with mom and dad's friends. That is veritable Chinese Water Torture for a teenager, but she was so pleasant that I feared she might be a replicant.

Later, she and I bonded over music and Office Space. She asked me how to remove Britney Spears from her i-Pod (scoring points), and whether I would burn her copies of Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana and the Strokes (huge points). I happily obliged.
Here is Amanda Danger:

(Instead of worrying about being too erudite, I think I should be more concerned with overdoing the parenthetical asides.)

The middle Danger child is Amy Danger. What a sweetheart. She is a thoughtful, quiet 7 year-old whose primary interests this weekend were hugging dogs, petting dogs, and snuggling with cats. She stole my heart. particularlyly enjoyed observing her at meals. She would rather sculpt her food than eat it. Kind of a mini-India, except that India doesn't sculpt her food (anymore). I understand she is a bit of an internet celebrity, having been interviewed and photographed during a visit to a museum, during which she stated that she was excited about becoming famous.

Here is Amy:

Here is Amy, doing her thing:

The youngest Danger child is probably the most Dangerous. So Dangerous, in fact, that he eschews the surname "Danger," much like the only guy in ZZ-Top without a beard, the drummer, bears the last name "Beard."

We call him Willie Mac. I had a hard time believing he was only four. He seemed much older, and showed good taste by choosing Empire Strikes Back when presented with a choice of the three original Star Wars movies.

This is Willie Mac:

Which brings us to Will Danger himself.

I am not really sure where to start... Perhaps a list of facts will serve to illustrate:
-I met Will through Leo, one of my oldest friends.

-Since I have known Will, he has lived in a sailboat in the San Francisco Bay, Anchorage, Alaska, San Diego, and now Gig Harbor.

-Will and Leo lived together in college and grad school in a house slated for demolition. They performed upkeep on the house in lieu of rent. They are engineers; they can't help it.

-Leo introduced Will to the pleasures of beer. Will hasn't looked back.

-Will, a fisherman, caught a bass and brought him to this house in a coffee can. He then, in stages, bought a kiddie pool, and outfitted it with an aerator, rocks, smaller fish, crayfish and other critters to create a habitat for the bass, which he named and kept as a the living room, between their two easy chairs. At the end of the semester, he set it free in a creek. Like I said, they are engineers; they can't help it.

-Will has joined us on several ski trips. A general lack of ability does not temper his enthusiasm one bit. Neither does a twenty year old pair of skis and a banana-yellow bodysuit, both of which he wears with pride. He generally seeks out the most difficult runs on the mountain and proceeds to throw himself down them. Usually facefirst, losing skis, sunglasses and his circa-1986 headband in the process. He has no desire to ski runs that he can actually handle, instead preferring to haunt places with names like "Devil's Crotch."

-Will consistently produces the foulest odors I have ever smelled. It is unnatural.

-Will once took a dump that could not be tamed. Leo, ever valiant, stepped in and joined the battle. Will wrote a short story about the battle. And that's all you really need to know about Will. I bet you can't wait to meet Leo.
(I have requested a copy of the story from Will, which, I assure you is far funnier than anything I have ever written here. If he sends it, I will post it.)

We had a good time hanging out and talking, covering such varied topics as human euthanasia (in favor), science fiction novels, being mauled to death by a grizzly (something I declared, "not a bad way to go," a sentiment that was met with incredulity by the others), dogs, real estate, engineers and friends. Among the four adults, a total of three alcoholic beverages were consumed, none by yours truly. Although, I was pretty hopped up on the cafe lattes, like my hero Cosmo Kramer. (Is this what mature adults do? I am new to the concept. It's been a rough learning curve for me, but at least I don't wake up with a headache.)

I wish they could have stayed longer.

Just for the hell of it, here are my kids:

Scooby got tired and had to rest her head: