Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere

I was flipping through a two month old copy of TV Guide that I just received when I had the idea to list all of the celebrities in this world whom I find to be utterly contemptible and without any shred of redeeming social value.

But then I realized it’s pretty much all of them.

I hate them all.

Every single one.

Especially you, Zach Braff. And your stupid, self-satisfied, smug thin-lipped face.

When do we commence our plans to build the giant rocket ship that will launch all of them into the fiery, burning heart of the sun?

Once that this is accomplished, maybe then I can sleep in peace…

Man, 6:15 comes damn early after you’ve been off for two weeks.

I gotta go to bed sooner than midnight.

Sent out my first shortwave radio verification last night and got a nice e-mail receipt from them this morning. Should get a nice little QSL card in a couple of weeks.

Voice of Russia World Service transmitting out of Moldova at 9665 khz.

A new era of geekdom may have begun.

I mean, hell, I’ve got Dish Network for Pete’s sake. What am I doing messing around with something as old school as radio?

We’ll see. My attention span on seemingly new and interesting things like this is generally about one week.

All aboard. Next stop - Miami. Again.

Back to Bizarro World…

No post tomorrow.

Have a fun 4th.

Now I have a machine gun.

Ho-Ho-Ho.

“Ummm, Uncle Vance?”

“I know, my boy. That’s precisely the point.”

* 145th Anniversary of the First Day of the Battle of Gettysburg. Git yer learnin’ on, yo.

Leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again.

(Thursday)

So bye bye British tourist lady. I know the £ is really strong now and tons of your friends are enjoying seeing how much value they can get for their money in the U.S., but I have to tell you that some of your European customs really aren’t appropriate here.

Like sunbathing topless in the kiddie pool while children are present.

Umm, yeah. Awkward.

Next time I call the cops.

7:30 AM. Coconut Grove.

Miami.

Florida.

Walking to the Starbucks from the hotel to get the wife a “Venti Chai Latte with Cream”.

Barrista out front sweeping the sidewalk. A woman sits at a table while her sausage dog pulls on the leash tied to the chair.

Early morning joggers listening to their iPods out running in the humidity.

A sportily dressed middle-aged fitness buff with calves the size of cannon balls walks into Shaq’s 24 hour fitness facility.

A valet rushes over and hands over the keys to a Mercedes SLK300 to a waiting businessman.

This is a nice place.

I wonder if you people know how lucky you are.

364 more days to go.

**

5 AM. Can’t sleep anymore. Just happy to be in Miami.

We went to Whole Foods and almost bought their entire produce section. Abby was so excited she started eating the grapes straight from the container while riding around in the cart.

Can’t get a good variety of fruits or vegtables on Tralfamadore.

When we got to the hotel room, she took off her clothes, ran around stark naked eating watermelon, cantaloupe, and strawberries, excitedly burbling, “Mmmmmm!”

Poor baby.

Do you want to know one of the cruelest injustices of living on a planet like Tralfamadore?

While you’re there, you pretty much live on a starvation diet ’cause there’s no food. So your stomach shrinks to accomodate.

Then you come back to a place like Miami and want to pig out, but you get stuffed on the bread platter before your main course even arrives.

One American meal is sufficient to last you the entire day.

That, my friends, is what I call cruel and unusual punishment. I tell you whut.

For you Replacements fans out there, check out this live set I found from a hard to find 1989 compilation titled “Shit, Shower & Shave”.

Those guys were funny.

P.S. We’re glad the Oakton Astros are O.K.

Stupid women driving Jeeps should not run red lights and T-Bone other Jeeps. Especially when there are little children inside.

** Photo by Abby.

I was talking to one of my colleagues.

“OK, I’ll see you at the meeting at 3:15.”

“Noooo. Didn’t you hear? That one’s been pushed back until 3:30.”

“Crap. What am I going to do for 15 minutes?”

“Perhaps we could have a magic show!” a goofy, disembodied voice suggested over the wall of my cubicle.

It was my old Navy chum, Bob.

“O.K., I’ll bite. What type of a magic show, Bob?”

“The one where I, Ooom the Omnipotent, demonstrate the greatest magic trick of all. The one I like to call, ‘The Big Pop’!”

I started to giggle.

“‘The Big Pop’? What’s ‘The Big Pop’?” I asked.

“That’s the one where I hypnotize everybody who works here and then get them to pull their heads out of their ass.”

I was going to make a joke about these supposedly “lost” Amazonians and “Krippendorf’s Tribe“, but it was lame.

So really, I got nothing.

Look! Boobies!