Ring of Darkness

Wrapping this all up in a nice golden bough for you, so get out your hatchet, ceremonial knife, machete, mace, or preferred trauma inducing instrument of kingmaking

This goes out to you Kurtz. The jungle maybe crazy. You may not be. Though the quest for your absolute pristine white whale of perfect goodness may get you drowned. Or chopped up. Crystalline diamonds are conceptualization wraiths, vivid and bright and without substance.

Good fresh tilled earth would have told you this. So would a hobbit. Though I'm sure a scarcity of hobbits coupled with the iconoclastic rants of absolute infatuated elves contributed to your taking hold of the one ring and binding yourself to it's fate. Maybe I'll just start calling you Isildur. Maybe Saruman. He had his uber-orcs, you had montangnards. Though that's splitting hairs.

How in these tales of the ages does the PBR get morphed to an ill-fated fellowship? Well at least Conrad and Copola got their question answered. Though those are just questions posed again and again and only now recently heard again.

Maybe they had it right all those centuries ago, and it's all just about that crazy little sprig near the spring and power is absolutely corrupting... so you'd better make it's cost terrible and swift.

Sulphur Fries

Around the world there is tea steeping. In my cup too at the moment as well.
Around the world there is music playing. In my ears too at the moment as well.
Around the world there is breathing people. In my house at the moment as well.
Around the well there are lots of living moments in the world.

Tyrone Nicholas

You are somebody else. You and everyone else.
Seems to me to be a bit dissonant.
That you could be named Tyrone.
Then again so could someone else.
However, me, myself, and we are not the Tyrone.
No sir.
Not even Tyrone in the royal we.
Definately not even with green eggs and ham.
Jack or St those could not be Tyrone.
Though they can both be Nicholas.
Indeed both are. Which is quite wonderful.
That you be not Tyrone and just Nicholas.
Especially when it comes to make the money shot.
That's when I get teh confused though. OR used to.
These days I've determined Jack exists, but that St
does not. Know how... taxes. Jack pays his. St Nicholas
does not. No way he'd cross international and state
borders delivering unlimited amount of playful goods
without one form or another of the government
getting their cut.
No sir.

Orinocco Sunset

Chicken = Diet Beef

Diet Beef = Fat Happy Consumer

Fat Happy Consumer = Chicken

So, clearly one can simply equate chicken and chicken as being the same thing. However, the astute among you will not that chicken is not chicken is not chicken. Perhaps someday with advanced cloning techniques chicken is chicken is chicken. Until that august day arrives, heralding a new era of uniform, clean, wholesome, economical, and tasty fried up goodness we are living in a world of chaos. CHOAS!!!! I tell you. It makes me quiver and sad everytime I eats the McGnugget knowing that it's an amalgamation of hundreds of different chickens. Someday my dream of eatting hundreds of ground up indentical chickens shall be bourne out. Chickens come out of their shells. Just like a unix prompt... they all come from somewhere... so maybe, just maybe someday instead of init spawning them it will be a vat of industrial protoplasmic incubatory gel. Multitudes of thousands of billions of identical chickens rising forth from that primordial ooze... and onto my dinnar plate. Num num num. I eat you all my good dear chicken freinds. You so tasty with a bit of cornmeal, salt, pepper and rendered bacon-fat lard. Even more tasty as I can tell you all taste exactly teh same nows! Long live the one true chicken of culinary goodness. Through your flesh we gain everlasting life, my avian culinary friend! May you live a quick and short life, and grace my plate with your presence. It does make you wonder though... if communion is like a cloning thing, and always the same bit o' the creator, or is it more like a special little peice just for you everytime?

Words to Live By

Land into the wind. Do not piss into the wind.

Stop. Drop. Roll. In that order. Roll, drop and stop may result in injury.

Do not fixate on the horizon. Fixate on death or taxes. They don't hurt as much at higher speeds.

Don't forget your towel. A buffered analgesic is also nice. Beer nuts will smooth your landing further.

Avoid large yellow construction machinery. It ends bad for fleshies.

Between Heaven and Earth

Falling is the space between cosmos and chaos.

More after the jump.