Archive for July, 2010


Recycled? It was barely consumed!

I hope this images is not copyrighted

Yes, I took this photo. From the sample pictures folder on my computer. Why so judgemental. It's a nice sunrise.

Is it plagiarism if you borrow from yourself?  If you are not John Fogerty, I think not.  This is a little something I posted on Facebook a while back when people actually logged onto Facebook from desktops computers and did more than say Happy Birthday, updated statuses, look at photos, and grow virtual rutabaga.  Since only one person read it, I think it is fair for me to post it again here.  I can’t very well sue myself;  I can’t afford to win or lose.

This post on the now-untrendy Facebook Notes was inspired by this blog post Here.  Perhaps I should have tagged more people than just my wife.  She didn’t read it, understandably she was very busy carrying My Three Spawn inside her distended belly.  The guy who read it was a guy (and clicked Like) worked for me at the time and I was grateful for the lonesome brown-nose.

So here it is, updated with links! And formatting!  Otherwise, it is basically the same thing I wrote many (well, 13 or 14) moons ago*.

Please, feel free to come up with your own, just replace the non-bold parts and let me know in the comment section below.  As The Wolf once said, Pretty please. With sugar on top.

A 40 Questions Meme- Where I Bare My Soul (and Bottom) to You

1. My uncle once: killed vampires for a living. Now he owns a comic book shop and doesn’t tolerate loitering.

2. Never in my life: have I knowingly sold crack cocaine to an undercover cop.

3.When I was five: I told the undercover cop I swore thought it was rock sugar.

4. High School was: not like in the movies. No unstoppable mask-wearing killer, no webcam broadcasts of a boy violating pastry, and no werewolves on the basketball team.

5. I will never forget: that time I made out with one of the Olsen twins. I can’t recall which one, though.

6. I once met: this ten year old kid last year claiming to be my son. Embarrassingly, I told him that was just impossible.

7. There’s this girl I know who: has X-ray vision. I always tell her how cold it is when she starts snickering.

8. Once, at a bar: I beat Stephen Hawking at darts. What a sore loser.

9. By noon, I’m usually: in the gym, finishing up a punishing seven-hour workout with 1,000 reverse gravity sit ups before heading to McDonald’s for a double Big Mac, supersize french fries, chocolate milkshake, and a large Coke Zero.

10. Last night: I faced down yet another pretender to my breakdancing crown at the Electric Boogaloo.

11. If only I had: one arm, I would still be the best banjo player in Southeast Asia.

12. Next time I go to church: I will save some communion wine for others, even though they were rude to me for not being a Christian and for not putting my cell phone on Silent.

13. Terry Schiavo: rest in peace.

14. What worries me most: is that my children will someday find out I’m not the strongest, smartest, most handsome man in the universe, and that I’ve never actually been off Earth technically. Those tales of intergalactic space travel? Daddy made it all up.

15. When I turn my head left, I see: my lovely wife, sleeping peacefully next to me.

16. When I turn my head right, I see: Megan Fox, hunched over the table, doing another line of coke. Geez girl, put some clothes on!!!

17. You know I’m lying when: I tell you those pleated acid wash jeans look fucking awesome on you.

18. What I miss most about the eighties: is driving around town drunk, yelling profanities at the elderly and little children, while blasting Hall and Oates on the radio.

19. If I was a character in Shakespeare, I’d be: Jason Bourne in drag.

20. By this time next year: my penis will be longer and thicker than ever, according to this very promising email.

21. A better name for me would be: Rock Harder. That way people could call me Rock, Rockman Lover, Rockity-Rock, Rocknrolla, or just Mr. Harder.

22. I have a hard time understanding: people from England, with their “jolly good” this and “bully for you” that. Learn to sprechen ze American, will ya?

23. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: run for class president, buy votes, then rob the school blind.

24. You know I like you if: I build a shrine to you in my bedroom, filled with pictures taken when you weren’t looking, your name scrawled everywhere in my blood, “Every Breath You Take” by the Police playing on constant repeat.

25. If I ever won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: Ed McMahon, for reminding me that I could already be a millionaire.

26. Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: a bunch of egotistical blowhards who would make for quite a poker game.

27. Take my advice, never: run from your problems. It looks suspicious, so just walk away casually.

28. My ideal breakfast is: a bottle of 1995 Dom Perignon mixed with Minute Maid Orange Juice, served with organic eggs benedict made with real English muffin, served on the naked body of a mute Japanese schoolgirl with attractive teeth.

29. A song I love, but do not own is: Happy Birthday to You. I sing it every time we have a dinner out. Everyone knows the words, and sometimes you get free dinner!

30. If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you wear Kevlar. It’s a tough neighborhood, but it made me the classy warrior I am today.

31. Tulips, character flaws, microchips, & track stars: are, coincidentally, the four main exports of my hometown.

32. Why won’t people: stop screaming when they wake up handcuffed to the bed? They are padded cuffs.

33. If you spend the night at my house: don’t ask me what the big feather hanging over my bed is for.

34. I’d stop my wedding for: a Klondike bar. I did, actually.  Almost got divorced on the spot.  Until she had a taste, then she understood.

35. The world could do without: all that carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Factories, stop your burning! People, less breathing! Cows, quit all that farting!!!

36. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: lick its butthole. That’s just gross. And way too kinky.

37. My favorite blonde is: my Mom.

38: Paper clips are more useful than: paper itself, according to FDR’s inaugural speech.

39. If I do anything well, it’s: fill out surveys, standardized tests, and these Apple Bottom jeans.

40. And by the way: if you read this entire list, that’s 15 minutes you aren’t getting back, you slow-ass reader you.

*When I read this again for the first time in ages, I actually laughed myself.  Not to pat myself on the back, but I just forgot it.  It might be the funniest thing I ever wrote (except for this of course) and I wonder if it was a high water mark that I will never approach.  And if that is true, then…geez, I must really suck.


Mr. 5000

Facebook is for friends that are now strangers. Twitter is for strangers that should be
your friends.

-Unknown Tweeter

Try as I may, I don’t think I could manage to mark my 5000th post on Twitter in less than 140 characters. So thank you Twitter for compelling me to break my personal blogging inertia and compose a post looking back at how I ended up at 5000 tweets.

I can still recall how I scoffed at Twitter, how inane it seemed to follow Britney’s breakfast musings or the mangling of the English language in text-ese (Wot r u tlkn bout? S’gr8! FML! LMAO) I vowed that I would rather carry a pager that use Twitter.

(Actually, a big reason I didn’t want to start was because I was sort of afraid I would like it too much. I didn’t need anymore addictions competing with McDonald’s Filet-o-Fish, Criterion edition DVDs, and black tar heroin)

But, @gnarlykitty, you were right and I was wrong. Eventually I caved in, and Twitter quickly became part of my daily routine.

(I confess to following some celebrities in the beginning out of curiosity, but the sheer banality and egotism of some of their posts left me disappointed and I soon shed most of them. Sorry, famous-Thai-singer-who-RT’s-every-single-mention, it is nothing personal.)

I became hooked on the endless trickle of links to interesting articles from the likes of TIME, The Guardian, New York Times, and Rolling Stone, as Twitter helped filled a sort of intellectual void that has existed as a dull background ache ever since I moved to Thailand: it was a real joy was discovering everyday people like me–friends and strangers–free to be themselves, enjoying healthy debates, childhood reminiscences, and crafting awkwardly amusing puns in bite-size portions.

Calling for recommendations and suggestions in the Twitter ether revealed the hidden genius of crowdsourcing, and I got a charge helping others in turn. But my appreciation of the power of this new medium crystallized with the crackdown in Iran, and in living color with our own Bangkok protests earlier this year. Instead of being an observer, I became a part of the action, posting live accounts of what I saw and what was hearing, cross-referencing and adding the voices of other concerned citizen-journalists to my timeline. I took what I was posting very seriously, trying hard to differentiate probable facts from speculation and rumor–even though I would occasionally stray into moments of gallows humor. The silver lining of that dark time was to chance to discover and make acquaintance with so many illuminating people here in Thailand and around the world.

You may have noticed I am a little hesitant to refer to people who do me the honor of adding me on Twitter as “followers.” To me, it just seems like a special word that should be reserved for Jesus, Allah, or the Buddha. (Perhaps Chairman Mao or Jim Jones or Magellan as well.) I’d prefer the term “companions” more, if we didn’t have to worry about the economy of 140 characters, but all things considered, I like “readers” as well.

Now the sting of being unfollowed by someone you think of as a friend is tempered by the fact that if someone doesn’t get or like what you have to say, it is better to part ways, and far, far outweighed by the thrilling shiver to learn people whose work you admire and respect immensely choose to follow you back.

Finally, I want to thank my wife and sons for allowing me to indulge in something that is not (just) an instrument of procrastination but an amazing conduit to a larger world with kindred souls.