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exy I

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Now as a video! [Oct. 11th, 2008|09:39 am]
exy I
[music |"It Can't Happen Here," Mothers of Invention]

Too much reading? How about a nice little movie..
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De-what-cracy? [Oct. 8th, 2008|10:11 pm]
exy I
[mood |in a wee tizzy]
[music |Al Jourgensen screaming "CONNECT THE GODDAMN DOTS"]

First, a Smattering of History:

September 29, 2006: The Military Commissions Act is what W uses to call anyone he wants an "unlawful enemy combatant" and strip them of habeas corpus, which, if you don't know, is what you are relying on when you think, "They can't arrest me because there's nothing they can charge me with!" (Hilarity ensues, particularly for US citizen José Padilla.)

September 30, 2006: The John Warner Defense Authorization Act expands W's power to declare martial law and also wrest control of the National Guard from state governors.

May 9, 2007: National Security Presidential Directive 51: W can suspend elections pretty much on a whim.

TODAY:

NYT reports predictable voter roll purges across America. And the Washington Post points out that activist = terrorist. None of which should bother us, except that of course, surprise, a university's study points out what people like Ohio's secretary of state have been saying for quite some time: the crap security of computerized voting systems makes them eminently hackable. Call it a redundancy plan, since, as NPR observes, there are plenty of efforts to keep people out of the polls in the first place. But what's better than redundancy? That's right, double redundancy. You've probably heard about the threats to Congressmen of martial law if they didn't pass the bailout bill (ironic, considering that the modified bill grants $100B to the president for, potentially, funding martial law). If there were martial law, I don't know if you know this, but FEMA would be in charge, and apparently that's the way the wind is blowing. And wouldn't you know it, today the ACLU brought up old habeas corpus and Guantánamo, discussing how the habeas-free zone has indeed extended onto U.S. soil and to U.S. citizens (e.g. Jose Padilla), but we already knew that--now they just have more disgusting details to share via the Freedom of Information Act.

Naturally, various people would say that we should be alarmed that U.S. troops have been deployed on U.S. soil, and some might even call it a coup. This is only possible thanks to recent changes like the few dots I've picked out from the past, above. "But surely people would protest!" you say? "They'd need some sort of concentration camp or something to deal with it, right?" Ah, but have you heard of Rex 84, the little contingency plan they cooked up just in case people got upset when Reagan started invading Central America? (Luckily for the government, we were all too busy discovering MTV at the time.) This seems to be a popular notion with the muckety-mucks. As it happens, KBR (yes, of Halliburton) has built plenty of new detention facilities for the feds over the past few years, ostensibly for unwanted immigrants--and hey, there certainly have been a lot of ICE raids lately--but the camps never got much attention. With a little imagination, one might imagine the uses that the government might put modular prison cells to... Do I need to go dredge up more articles about how the government is calling anyone who jaywalks a terrorist if they feel like it?

QUIZ:
1. Will there actually be an election in November if Obama keeps polling ahead?
2. If there is, will there be widespread and obvious shenanigans?
3. What in the fuck is anyone going to do about any of this?
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Omer's wedding [Sep. 21st, 2008|09:46 am]
exy I
[mood |calmed up]

Where are you? How did you get here?
A certain electrical tang, a warm and moist quality of the air, darkness--sudden drops of rain, big globs, but even these don't feel very cold. The noise of them striking the earth around you--pavement, packed earth, plant stalks--is a sudden and dull roar. You are soaked through in the merest moment, suddenly aware of the dragging weight of your clothing, which you begin to inspect for clues, or memory cues.
You are immediately distracted by a bright, silent flash. Your snapped-over gaze picks it up: the dashed line of the pavement striking off toward an unlit horizon without a hint of ever bending toward either side, but driving a ruler-straight division between two identical-looking rows of some tall, stalky plant. Corn, maybe. You don't really get a good look because in that momentary flash you mostly notice the lurching figure in the middle distance--a man, you are quite certain. Though he has long hair, like a woman's, it looks unkempt. With his hair plastered to his head by the rain, you can make out just enough of his features to wonder if there is a certain familiarity there.
The light disappears, leaving the man's afterimage on your retinas, which amplfies the momentary blindness brought by the darkness. The boom of thunder comes barely a second later, and you cast your blind gaze about in a futile effort to learn whether there are others about who share the first man's shambling gait. The thunder is uncomfortably loud; it seems to roll through your body and vibrate every organ individually. As the noise recedes, the rain slackens. You make out a voice coming from the man's direction:
"I found the simple life...eent so simpole, no. When I jumped out...ON that row-ood."
*
First of all, omer333 & Cara had a very nice wedding about a week ago. Everyone looked impressively spiffy; the b & g both looked deliriously happy & lovely. The day was a beaut, and the location (a lovely garden tucked away in plain sight in Monterey) was fantastic. Great food, superlative people, superior DJ, great time. Well done, you two! From this guest's perspective, you done a weddin' right. (What an ordeal to live up to! The planning and the looking and the shopping and the hiring and the et ceteraing, that is. Oh, mang.)
*
"WOOooooooo!"
You've been slowly stumbling backwards at a pace more or less matching the man's shuffling approach. You aren't certain that he would harm you, but his seeming derangement is unnerving.
Your eyes have adjusted to the dark. There have been no further flashes of lightning, just the steady but now almost gentle rain and a constant stream of often meaningless gibberish coming from someplace deep with the man. After a few moments, he releases a slightly softer "Woooo....", but has otherwise mostly fallen silent. Still stepping toward you with an agonizingly slow stride, he somehow produces a small object, shaped like a tiny cigar but shiny. He brings it up to his lips, and soon has demonstrated that he holds a tubular whistle: FFFWWEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuuuuupppphhhhhhhhh!!!!
This man is really starting to concern you. You jump--just a little--when, shortly after tucking his whistle away (who knows where), he explodes into another meaningless affirmation.
"AAAHH HAaaAaaAaa yAeaEAH!"
*
But I ain't gonna lie and say that one of the best parts of the whole wedding thing, for me, wasn't getting to hang out with all the cool people who came. hetros and j_dog stepped off the same plane and filled our house with laughter and our back seat with a rotating menu of: discourses on the relative merits of various Steely Dan songs, curses accompanying dice-based gambling games played on a tupperware lid, and several "best of" lists. blau was hard at work on photo duty, which is doubly awesome since our camera started talking about memory card errors mid-ceremony. Gögi gamely snapped shots too. They are a fun mini-bunch. Everyone gamely endured my constant stream of gems like, "Right here? This is where I skinned my knee one time. Over there? Yeah, I've been there. Lots. Know what? That place right over there, that used to be this right here. Why, Dolores? WHY?!" At least I found us a place serving a decent breakfast, and a twisty road home.
*
The gravel on the shoulder of the road is digging into the heels of your hands. Somehow you've fallen and are now crawling backwards. The man is clawing his way forward toward you. In the darkness you can't make out his expression clearly, but his voice has taken on a mad tone of urgency. He suddenly erupts into some sort of fevered blues breakdown...
"PeopleigonnatellyouonetimeimeanithinkimrunninAAAAuuuHHHH YEAH"
Collapsing onto your back, you let the rain land on your slack face. There really is no use in fighting against this kind of madness. Somehow, you know: Either he will reach you or there will be another flash of lightning. One of these will happen first, and only one of these events can happen. That is the size of the universe. Those are the overlapping, interfering realities right here and now. Wherever here is. Whyever you're here. You're too calmed up to care anymore.
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ALICE vs. Jabberwocky [May. 17th, 2007|12:51 pm]
exy I
A: Do you know HAL?
J: Yes, very well. Do you know HAL?
A: HAL is the famous artificial intelligence from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
J: I’m not artificial intelligence; I’m natural pure genius! : D.
A: Why are you natural pure genius?
J: My mom wanted to name me that.
A: Tell me more about your mother.
J: I don’t have a mother. I am a computer.


http://discovermagazine.com/2007/brain/i-chat-therefore-i-am/article_print
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FoxSpace [Jul. 14th, 2006|07:47 am]
exy I
Another reason MySpace sucks:

According to my mind-reading interpretation, they killed an account for posting a satirical song because it went against Mr. Murdoch's politics (or rather, his financial ambition, if there's any true distinction there). It made fun of Ted Stevens's, the chair of the Senate commerce committee's, complete ignorance of the internet's operation--the whole "tube/truck" thing you may have heard about. (His ignorance is quite convenient for handing said "internets" over to companies like Murdoch's own--the "net neutrality" fiasco-to-come.) And then they reinstated his account with a "whoops" when there was publicity about it. Whatever, I'm half awake and can't be bothered to sound intelligible. But..

RUPERT FUCKING MURDOCH, people! I know you've been there longer than he has, but he's got more money than you and he's happy to spend it on re-fascification. Get out while you still can, while the floor between you and the door isn't six inches deep in bullshit! Grrr! And don't dare take advantage of their whole "we'll host your content" because you're just conceding ownership to RUPERT FUCKING MURDOCH. I .. I .. fucking criminy, I am not a friend of that man.

PS - I haven't posted since forever and I know it. I gotta finish my boring life story thing and I'm lazy.
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stare [Feb. 1st, 2006|02:56 pm]
exy I
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a night's stand [Jan. 26th, 2006|05:03 pm]
exy I
I would be remiss in my duty of self-promotion not to make an announcement, despite the fact that it violates my double-secret oath to finish my masturbatory, succinct autobiography before posting anything else. But I don't have time right now to do that too, so the remains of my personal honor can slide right on down the crapper.

Anyways, I'm playing at Slim's this Saturday night with my coworker Flair and a couple of his friends--the event is called One Night Stand. Basically, folks who aren't in a band get together and play covers. We're up last (which can only be read as headlining for sure!), slated for 12:20, which likely means 1. I hear there's a keg in the green room, so I guess it's ok.

Our act's called Quaker State, which is a clue as to who we're covering. Not that the cat's not out of the bag I suppose. It'll be fun, but given that we're on late and only playing three songs, I won't jump up and down about how people should totally come check me out the way I did the last time I got to play in a real club (that DNA Lounge show was the biggest blast ever!). On the other hand, if you're in the city and sans plans, I hear it's a fun night in general. I was recently forwarded the play list.Collapse )
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self-indulgence, pt. 2 of 3 [Dec. 21st, 2005|11:44 pm]
exy I
year 12: 1985-1986
middle school! dread!Collapse )

year 13: 1986-1987
seventh grade! boredom!Collapse )

year 14: 1987-1988
eighth grade! innocence!Collapse )

year 15: 1988-1989
high school! sex!Collapse )

year 16: 1989-1990
tenth grade! drugs!Collapse )

year 17: 1990-1991
eleventh grade! confusion!Collapse )

year 18: 1991-1992
twelfth grade! change!Collapse )

year 19: 1992-1993
college! despair!Collapse )

year 20: 1993-1994
adventure! incarceration!Collapse )

year 21: 1994-1995
incarceration! release! adjustment!Collapse )

year 22: 1995-1996
torpor!Collapse )
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self-indulgent mini-autobiography, pt. 1 of 3 [Dec. 19th, 2005|08:38 pm]
exy I
year 1: may 7 1974-1975
birth!Collapse )

years 2-3: 1975-1977
prememory!Collapse )

years 4-5: 1977-1979
preschool!Collapse )

year 6: 1979-1980
kindergarten!Collapse )

year 7: 1980-1981
elementary school!Collapse )

year 8: 1981-1982
second grade! plagiarism!Collapse )

year 9: 1982-1983
third grade! immaturity!Collapse )

year 10: 1983-1984
magnet school! d&d!Collapse )

year 11: 1984-1985
fifth grade! fight!Collapse )
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kk [Dec. 18th, 2005|08:13 am]
exy I
I haven't d/l'd a decent client for this phone yet, but anyway...
king kong was purty, and touching, tho occasionally it felt a little bit like 'the moria cave troll: the movie'... not that there's a whole lot wrong with that...
whatever. why bother?
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