Vacation!!!

Hey folks!

     Well, it seems I've been forced to take a vacation from my online chatter since my computer is in the shop (again!). 

     Hopefully, I'll be back by Friday. 

Toodles,

DP

P.S.  Keep those emails coming.  It's great to hear from y'all. 

Damn the Man!

    Zounds!  It would seem I've broken several obscure laws in my great state of Wisconsin --where margarine was once illegal (yeehaa!  I hate margarine).

    Aside from that, I can't wait until Paul Cameron finds out: "In Wisconsin you are allowed to marry your house." 

    So, go to  CrazyLaws.com - Dumb Laws  and see just how guilty you are in your own state.  And, as for me, I'm going to do my best not to wake any sleeping firemen, or eat any apple-pie sans cheese. 

Truly,

DP

No Humpbacks!

    In his blog, By the way..., Hugo-nominated author John Scalzi brought up how scientists now believe that the songs of humpback whales are actually a language of some sort. 

 

    Now, I'm not going to bore you with no end of scientific jargon and mumbo-jumbo.  If you want that, go read Mr. Scalzi's blog.  You see, people!  I get my information from the inerrant word of God contained within the Bible, where bats are birds (Lev. 11:13-19), rabbits chew a cud (Lev. 11:6), and I'm pretty sure had He had the time, God would have gotten around to saying that whales are, in fact, fish.

 

    Needless to say, these fish are in American waters speaking a language all their own.  I say Get Out, humpbacks!  Either speak English --nay!  Speak American!-- or just keep swimming right on up to Canada.  We've got better things to do than learn your humpback language. 

 

    Now, what if one of these Godless "scientists" manages to figure out what these humpbacks are saying?  What do you think they're talking about? 

 

    I'm pretty sure these humpback's are spewing out the typical, whiney, hippy-Liberal talking points, such as: "Please stop hunting us to extinction!"  Or, "Please stop dumping your toxic waste and dead mobsters in our ocean." Or, "Can we have health care?  Waaa...waaa...waaa..." 

 

    I'm sorry, but I've heard enough Commie-Liberal nonsense from likes of Russ Feingold, and I don't need to hear anymore from these ungrateful fish.  You're in American waters.  I say you stop whining or leave.  These fish just hang out along the American shoreline, breeding like cud-chewing rabbits without working or paying taxes, and we're suddenly supposed to care what they have to say?   You didn't hear the spotted owl whine like this,did you?  No.  That bird took it like a true American.  In silence!

Dreams...

    So, I have a mission for all the amateur, dream-analyzing folks out there.  Let me tell you about the dream I had last night. 

    I dreamt that I was sleeping. 

    Am I the only one who thinks that's pretty dang weird?

I Am in the Wrong Line of Work...

AOL News: Top News - 1,500 Venezuelans Pose Nude in Public

1,500 Venezuelans Pose Nude in Public

Citizens Take It Off for American Photographer

By CHRISTOPHER TOOTHAKER

ap

CARACAS, Venezuela (March 20) - More than 1,500 Venezuelans shed their clothes on a main city avenue Sunday to pose for American photographer Spencer Tunick, forming a human mosaic in front of a national symbol: a statue of independence hero Simon Bolivar.

 

     I know.  It's art.  And, a knuckle-dragging oaf such as myself shouldn't be thinking about complicated things like aesthetics and whatnots.  But, you have to admit, it would be pretty dang cool stepping off an airplane in Venezuela with your camera in hand and saying something like, "I need 1,500 of your people to get naked for me right now!"  And, they agree.

     I'm pretty sure if I showed up with my little cardboard disposable camera and said something like that, I think the good folks of Venezuela would put me on the first flight out of their country.  

     So, is it that I simply need a fancier camera?  Do I start with one naked person and work my way up to the thousands?  How does a photographer achieve such power so as to get this many people to willingly do something which they would probably never think of doing?  

 

It's Party Time...

    In Assignment #103, the always curious John Scalzi would like to know five songs we would pick to get a party rolling. 

 

    This is a pretty rough one for me.  I tend to see music as important to the dynamics of a party, but it depends upon the crowd, the reason for the party, and any other number of odd little variables which may pop up.  For example, my buddy John's margarita parties have become something of a legendary affair with Jimmy Buffett, Bob Marley, and even the somewhat heavy-ended beach-party music put out by Van Halen in the days of Sammy Hagar. 

    Then, there's my niece's "Sing and Dance" parties which roll until sunrise with me playing no-end of songs on my guitar (usually it's Dave Matthews because it's just a heck of a lot of fun to play and sing). 

 

    Anyway, since this is MY party, here's what I would play to get it rolling:

• "Feelin' Alright" from Joe Cocker: Live.  I think the first few notes of this song really let you know what kind of party you've stumbled in on. 
• "We're Havin' a Party" from Southside Johnny.  I don't know why, exactly, but this one's always been a favorite of mine.  Something about it just has a way of letting me know that I am supposed to be having fun.  
• "Blister in the Sun" from The Violent Femmes.  The live acoustic version of this song has a really fun energy to it, and it gets folks clapping, dancing, and singing along.  
• "Closer to Free" from the BoDeans.  Another local Milwaukee favorite of mine.  I remember seeing these guys play weekly Thursday night gigs at the pub around the corner from my house, and they always tore it up.  In the right environment, this tune can really make people jump.
• "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window" from Joe Cocker: Live (again).  Joe Cocker's version of this song really has a HUGE sound to it.  It starts big, and just keeps rolling.  

    Of course, now that the party's going, we have to end it somehow, right?  That's a pretty tall-order when you sit down and actually think about it.  I suppose since it's my party, I'd probably have to pick up a guitar and play something like "Keep Me in Your Heart" from the late, great Warren Zevon.  But, depending upon the situation, I may just find myself forced to play "Lawyers, Guns and Money."

 

    Well, there you have it.  I hope you enjoy the list. 

 

--Dan

I Survived Another Holiday!

    For future reference, if I ever say something like, "hey!  I think a shot of Irish Whiskey would be quite yummy right about now," I want you to slap me.  Strike that!  I want you to pummel me into a drooling mess.  You have my permission, I won't press charges, and trust me, you'll be doing the world a favor. 

 

    I awoke this morning with a taste in my mouth that was suspiciously similar to the taste of a bathroom floor in a Belfast oil refinery (just don't ask me to explain how I know what an oil-refinery restroom tastes like, okay?).  And, to make matters worse, everything I put into my mouth continued to taste a hell of a lot like cheap Irish whiskey.  Coffee?  It tasted like Irish coffee (not bad).  Orange juice?  It tasted like Irish orange juice (very bad).  Toothpaste, mouthwash, battery acid: everything I put in my head served only to remind me what a damn stupid fool I was the previous night. 

 

    The good news is that I had a LOT of fun, apparently.  I remember a conversation with a school-teacher.  She asked why I was more tan than my pasty twin brother who I dragged along with me kicking and screaming.  I told her something about being in the porn industry, and the scary thing is, I think she believed me. 

 

    Then, the ubiquitous angry boyfriend wanted to pound some much-needed sense into my head.  And, when he came over to tell me that he wanted to put some lumps on my noggin for staring at his lady-friend, I had to explain that though his girlfriend is really attractive, and that he's probably a pretty lucky guy, the reason that I was staring at her had little to do with her delicate beauty, but rather, I found myself fascinated by the huge gravity-defying booger dangling from her nose.  And, the more I explained, the more he seemed fascinated by it too.  Who says I have trouble making friends?  We even sealed our new-found friendship in a drunken pact involving Kleenex and even more bad whiskey.

 

    Anyway, I seemed to have survived another St. Paddy's day.  I don't tend to tear it up on many holidays, but this one's always fun.  So is Arbor Day, but that's another story. 

 

See ya,

Dan