Apple Varieties

Ballarat
Belmac
Bolero
Captain Kidd
Calville Blanc D'Hiver
Cox's Orange Pippin
Egremont Russet
Jerseymac
Laxton's Fortune
Lord Nelson
Mother
Smoothee
Spartan
Spur Winter Banana
Sturmer
Waltz
Winesap
Worcester Pearmain
Yellow Newton

WOOPSIE!

Those weren't unicorn poems! But these are!
http://lair2000.net/unicorn3/Unicorn_Poetry.html

Unicorn Poetry!

I know I haven't been on for a while, but I couldn't resist! Wonderful, adorable images of unicorns, and poetry symbolizing their love for each other. Have a great day!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/woodcreeper/sets/598206/

More Dinosaur Names!

Pork-Fu-Saurus
Triathlonotops
Styrofoamoptodont
Deankamenonychus
Vesparaptor
Viggorisholestes
Molestes
Goldblumodont Jeffosus
Acurasaurus

Hot Dinosaur Names I Bet You Didn't Know About!

Spinabifidasaurus
Rutabagasteakasaurus
Poptartodont
Olestralestes
Ibuprofenosaurus Rex
Gingkobilobarhyncus
Glucosamineandchondroitinotops
Chadpenningtonsaurus
Bageloraptor
Conanobrianschnchodavidlettermanosaur
Fructosadont
Parkinsonognathus

Sunday's coffee

Across from the World Trade Center,
I sit in a Starbucks
Sipping an iced coffee
As I look across flat hazy space
To the cross

People hustle in and out of
Century 21 clothing store
Across the street
People take pictures in front of the names
It's 93 degrees, but a dry heat like San Diego
Sweating men drag crates of bottles across the street
yelling, "cold water, one dollar."
I had wandered from the Staten Island Ferry
I rode across alone,
looked at the Statue of Liberty as I went.
When I arrived at the shores of Staten Island,
nothing was there
I turned around and went home.

At the Museum of the American Indian which colonized
an old American building
I stared at George Catlin's portraits of the Plains Indians
He had discovered on his travels, before they disappeared.
I traveled now on empty streets
but my stomach was full
of tarragon chicken salad sandwich with dried cranberries

The N R beckoned.
My iPod played appropriate music, as if someone had chosen it for the occasion.
My cell phone was almost out of batteries.

Haiku For U

Fridays are for beer
Lots and lots and lots of beer
Not for stupid work

I ate Chinese food
Instead of getting work done
Now my rear still burns

Matt wrestles farm folk
I tickle my PSP
Hobbies are super

Feeling Bloggy

I'm in the mood for a little blogging this morning, so come along with me.

I had a dream last night that my girlfriend was testing an electric scooter shaped like a Big Wheels from Tyco. She couldn't ride it well, however, because she was pregnant. I needed her to test the scooter for a section in my magazine. And then, I discovered that she was seeing someone else...

Thankfully, it was all a dream. I am in reality married to a Siberian dog-trainer, and living quite comfortably in the third-largest government-built tower in Ghuanzhou.

Some completely fake facts for you:

-Ketchup is made from rice.
-90% of all Americans have small dinosaurs living in them.
-Allentown, PA was the site of the second signing of the National Concord, a competitor to the Declaration of Independence that was unfortunately lost in a poker game near Delaware.
-Dogs speak French.
-Liquid crystal works by the magnetic alignment of the poles; the more the temperature rises, the richer the colors on your flat-screen. Try putting on air-conditioning and watch the colors fade.
-Six ounces of beef has more Vitamin A than 8 pounds of carrots.
-The word "fuck" originally derived from "fall on a duck," which was a vaudevillian term for when a magician lost all his props.
-Peking Duck is not from Peking, nor is it actually duck.
-Human hairs grow on in any area that supports hair follicles: flesh, mud, or rivers.
-The human eye has over 1 million electrical transistors.
-Jennifer Lopez ate your sister's umbilical cord.
-The United States Post Office is run by the same parent company as Target and Chick-Fil-A.
-The 30th president of the United States was Herbert L. Smith.
-The capital of Arkansas is Elvira.
-Europe is made of bark.
-Chocolate kills grandmothers.
-The World Wide Web is actually fake- a simulation of information that appears to work amazingly realistically.
-The planet Uranus doesn't exist.

Live 8 Live

This past weekend, I attended the Live 8 concert (Philly iteration) as a guest of Nokia's. They offered me two VIP passes, and accomodations in Loew's Hotel near downtown. I went, of course.

The unexpected part was the one million people crowded into a concrete column walkway that Joanna and I had to push our way through in order to make it to our "VIP" seats, invisible behind walls of The Public.

Even information assistants turned us away, saying that the solid flanks of dense human life ahead were impenetrable, and shouldn't even be approached. We said damn them, and shoved on...over and under the free-standing masses, until we reached the EMS tent at the center, the last bastion before the yards of steel barricades that separated us from our seats.

And we were refused entrance.

Eventually, two hours later, we made it in and found rows of unused seats. We sat and baked in the sun, watching Jay-Z and Stevie Wonder. And I wondered, as I entered my name into the text-message petition that threw my name up on the ticker-tape along with all the others, if 9 out of 10 people even understood what this concert was for.

At the end, we walked home exhausted through the aftermath of the throngs, on streets closed to cars and cast wide open to collect the trash of the filled.

Overall, a good experience. And we saw Al Sharpton in the Philly cheese-steak tent, so that's something.

4th Haiku

The rockets' red glare
And the bombs bursting in air
On our patio

Pinwheels spitting fire
Crazy dandruff in the sky
Bite the big hot dog

Put up the proud flag
Clown red, sea blue, bleached-blonde white
Fire up a cracker

iTunes 4.9: Podcasting and Bugs

Is it just me who has discovered that, while iTunes 4.9 has a really cool Podcasting subscription feature, it also disables smart playlists from altering themselves in-iPod?

Previously, I had a "not rated yet" smartlist that had all songs I hadn't rated. I would then rate them as I listened to them, and by doing so they'd remove themselves from the playlist. This way, every time I opened "not rated yet," I was sure to get some new tunes.

Now, these rated songs don't leave the smartlist until after I've re-synced with the Mother Mac. Don't ask me why.

I hope this gets addressed in a minor update.

Also, I am alive: I realize this is the first post in a month.

Today's LIMERICKS!

There once was a man from St. Pete
Who always would walk on his feet
His feet were so bare
That he walked them quite rare
And they flayed and bits of skin and blood flew off them and big, gaping holes spread open to reveal rotted, pus-filled cavities that eventually turned gangrenous and black.

~~~

I once met a woman named Sue
Who caught a bad case of the flu;
Her cough sounded furry
And she started to worry
But in reality, the cause was her having swallowed a small dog last week in an epileptic fit of rage that she didn't quite remember...in fact, she had been having these sorts of fits for months, but no one had told her about them, and she kept blanking out mid-day while others stood quietly by, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

~~~

I ate a young child named Bee;
I started munching on the left knee.
I ate the neck next
and then the arms
and then I had completed an unfortunate act of cannibalism that I sorely regretted.

PR HAIKU

Hey Scott, this is Joe
Can I talk for a moment?
Have you tasted RUM?

Hey Scott, if you can
Call me back later today
There's a new iPod

Scott, are you schedded
To go to E3 this year?
We have hot new games

Haik-OO!

I knocked my socks off
I knocked my socks off my face
My face fell off me

Spearmint gum chews well
Teeth grind and get so tired
I swallow my tongue

Little baby Joe...
He sleeps with his face scrunched up!
Alas, he is dead.

My award-winning Star Wars haiku

As featured on Maxim Radio, Sirius:

Chewbacca Haiku
-for Mom-

Furry headed man
Two eyes, a nose, and some teeth
You have a bowgun.

Hey Wookie furboy,
Millenium Falcon bitch,
I think I love you.

You're friends with Yoda
And you wear a bandolier.
Rock on, tall monkey.

~~~

Lando Calrissian Haiku
-for William Butler Yeats-

You ratted out Han
Caped golden afro man
But you felt bad. 'SPECT.

You won the Falcon
A gambling prize from Solo.
Surprise! Black vic'try.

Blew up the Death Star:
Fell into the Sarlacc Pit.
Billy Dee, Star man.

NEW STAR WARS MOVIE!

You heard it first:
Apparently George Lucas has one more Star Wars film up his sleeve—and this one's going to be the last. The web buzz says the plot will revolve around Anakin's final descent to the Dark Side, and his eventual transformation into the villain known as "Darth Vader." And yes, the Emperor's true identity will be revealed!

What is the name of the movie? Well, until recently, guesses were "Star Wars Episode III." But now web reports from reliable sources say "Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith." ROXOR!

And Wookies may be involved...

The release date is sometime around May 19, 2005—so mark your calendars now!

Today, I...

-Bought a Final Fantasy soundtrack compilation
-Ate a chicken salad sandwich
-Consumed two "organic maca" pills
-Wrote some copy
-Edited some copy
-Talked to random PR people
-Ate corn flakes reflectively
-Listened to music
-Will see a Yankees game
-Have thought about the future
-Sent many emails

Here's a JOKE!

A man, a man and a woman and another man were in a store looking at bacon. One man said, "that's bacon." The other man said, "that's not bacon." The woman said, "I agree, that's not bacon." The other man said, "No, that's bacon." The four people felt that it might be bacon (2 of them), and it might not be (2 of them). So one man said to another man, "agree that that's bacon." And the other man said, "I won't agree that that's bacon, because that's not bacon." And the other man said, "That is bacon." And the woman said, "No it isn't bacon." So they got angrier and angrier. And the first man killed the second man. And the woman ran away and got married with the other man. And the one man died. The man and the woman went shopping, away from the store that sold bacon. They went into a clothing store. The man said, "I like clothing." The woman said, "Me too." Then they bought some blue and green striped shirts and hats with pictures on them. When they went to pay, the cashier said, "How do you want to pay?" And the man and the woman looked down and they realized they had BACON HANGING FROM THEIR PANTS!!!

!!!

WOW!
LOL!

Hey-o, Dork Alert!

Star Wars Movie Starring Bad Actors!

I saw some UCSD alumni last night.

Some haiku about them:

UCSD folk
Gave me some free drink tickets
But I left early

My fellow alums
Were boring, staid, and drifted
In a dead art realm.

They had a showcase
Which I did not attend, though
I can imagine

SAUSAGES!

Click and sing.

Food for thought: The Future

John Cena liked my shirt.

I met John Cena at Smackdown Vs. Raw at Madison Square Garden last Monday night. We went backstage and met John Cena. I shook his hand. He said, "nice shirt." I was wearing a Fighting Whities t-shirt.

Friendly Animals

Zebra
Aardvark
Neutered lion
Small bear
Black ant
Avocado
Baby

Unfriendly Animals

Jellyfish
Tuna
Centipede
Teenager
Monkey with no arms
Metal panther
Brine shrimp

Jets Draft Wrap-up

Regarding the pre-draft trade, it was an excellent one. The Jets, to my observations, must have understood that they needed a kicker, a tight end, and a cornerback...all in the first two rounds if they wanted quality. Heath Miller and Justin Miller were players they coveted, along with Mike Nugent. Of course, Heath Miller being taken at 26 would mean they’d have to wait until deep in the 2nd to take anyone else...at which point there would be a debate on whether to take Nugent (if he were even there) or a cornerback that had fallen. Between Eric Green, Bryant McFadden, and several other CBs who were not Antrel Rolle, Pac-Man Jones or Carlos Rogers (who were all destined to go by mid-first round), the Jets recognized that the depth of the CB class could survive a bottom-of-the-2nd-round selection. Nugent, however, had to go sooner. So, the Jets dropped down to mid-2nd and got the Raider’s TE Jolley in exchange for the 26th pick.

The result? The Jets got a TE, K and CB with what were previously only 2 picks. So I’d call that maneuver brilliant.

As far as the rest of the draft goes? It’s all about special teams. Except for Sione Pouha, the 26-year-old DT, who was taken because Antajj Hawthorne tested positive for weed. They’re both 323-pound-range run-stuffers, and Pouha is a risk, but they needed a DT. Kerry Rhodes, S, has been known to block kicks. Andre Maddox, S, is a vicious hitter for return coverage. Cedric Houston is good RB depth, and he’s a Lamont Jordan-style bruiser. Joel Dreessen, the TE taken in the 6th, is also a long-snapper (Good-bye, James Dearth). Harry Williams Jr., taken in the 7th, is a prospect. Too thin, but he could be a possible KR or deep threat. I think Williams was a bit of a waste, but they must have analyzed draft depth and figured the rest of the possible picks were available in spades come undrafted free agency.

Spam Friends

Dickson B. Morpheus
Lamed I. Mythologist
Hideousness H. Hooping
Osborne H. Tucker
Stockrooms K. Watt
Waterside U. Rug
Conjectured H. Blurry

Looking for fun?

FRAME K. AMELIORATION is your guy! Born in Honduras in 1975, FRAME K. AMELIORATION has been the ambassador of good will to those with chronic illnesses for over 17 years. After receiving his degree in social sciences from Harvard, FRAME. K. AMELIORATION was an adjunct professor at William & Mary College during the Clinton years, earning the James First Honorary Tenure Association Nomination for prolonged service to a student group in the name of bettering unified discourse. He lives in Depot Station, Delaware, happily raising two children and a dog named Spoon.

Who's Today's Spam Visitor?

Pompadour J. Depressingly
Does not like visitors
His hair gets all in a twist
And he tends to yell.
If you coddle him
And indulge his tempers,
Pompadour will make a foul little pout
That he thinks is a smile
And start to blow-dry his locks
Until they take the shape of a Cadillac grill.
Ask Pompadour what his middle name is,
And in a dark impatient moment late at night,
He might lean over and whisper,
"Jurisdiction."

I stayed in a poker game

And they beat me. I let myself stay in too late, and listened to what they suggested, and let the minutes slip by way past what I had originally intended, and watched my money slip away, dollar by dollar, watched as my winnings dropped stack by stack, chips receding into themselves, and watched their smiles grow and grow as I threw in chip after frustrated chip. My edge had gone, my smile had gone, I was grinding my teeth, trying not to show my impatience. I said to them, "this is has been precipitous." And they laughed, wanting to know, what the hell did precipitous mean? And I realized I had truly fallen. I left late, waited for a train, rode home having lost how much I don't know, I had only lost 40 dollars, but the amount I was up before I went down, how many stacks...the other guy walked with 110 dollars. I had at least that much...but they called the time to leave, and I obeyed, out of what? Courtesy, chivalry, idiocy, not being tough enough, not being the chip leader and chopping their fucking heads off. I felt it when I was up...the respect, the fear, the ability to lead off on anything and throw their frustration back in their face.

In the end, it was a game. But I learned that when you have the heel to someone's face, don't pull back. Press down, and punch their nose in, and be prepared to kill, I guess. Because when you go that far, and you don't finish them off completely, they'll swear revenge on you. And they will fulfill it. Sooner or later.

Today's Spam Name

Cleveland K. Henry.
Now, that's a good one.

Cherry Blossoms

We saw the Cherry Blossom Festival in Newark yesterday. 2700 cherry blossoming trees were apparently in full pink-and-white flowering frenzy throughout the long, thin park in the middle of the sunny ghetto. We gathered at 2:30, got there at 3:40, ate some carnival-style food, and sat on the grass and watched COBU, a modern Japanese dance troupe my friend knows, perform a series of percussive traditional-fused-with-tap-dance numbers. The weather was really warm, and after a fruitless search for a bathroom that ended in abysmally abused port-o-potties near the Visitor's Center, we settled under a cool mossy patch of ground under a half-blooming cherry tree along the path. We watched the crowds, marveled at the number of Newark police that had been dispatched (including the sheriff) to ensure recreational justice, and finally decided it was time to go home to our Manhattan isle.

My friend Daron's new Japanese wife, Hana, is waylaid in Japan for the next two months getting processed so she can return to the States for good. In the meantime, he's been left alone to wander in cherry-blossom festivals and host banjo-playing Japanese dance troupes in his apartment on the weekends. So, we joined him for yakitori at Oh! Taisho restaurant on St. Marks, which happens to also serve the best potato salad in the city. I had some type of "calipori" drink, which was bright lime flavored and had the caffeinated aftereffect of a line of cocaine.

Spring has arrived-- and soon it will be summer! Until then, I must catch up on Deadwood.

Spam Names, cont'd

Frame K. Amelioration
India V. Kooky

A Chain of Flowers

And now, I leave you with:
The Museum of Jurassic Technology

Have a good weekend.

Today's Spam Names

Impersonation H. Normalcy
Douses O. Desirability
Guzzled F. Celibacy
Accompaniments J. Hauntingly

Hey everyone, new readers!

I'd like to welcome our community to Maxim Magazine, which now knows about our existence. Maxim, hello from 365(6).

Hey posters, try to be polite to our Dennis Publishing folk. No flame-threads on old issues; let's keep this to new topics only.

Mingle away!

DAVE MALLEY IS A GOD

There is a man out there. His name is Dave Malley.
And I like him more than anyone else in the world.

Why?

Why, you ask?

...

Did you just ask WHY?

Hmm.

.
.
.

Because...he has a beard.

My favorite keys on the keyboard

They are s, q, t, p, l, w, and r.

I'm on the phone right now

Right now I'm on the phone.
Now I am off the phone.
I am having lunch soon.

Scott Stein

Scott Stein
Emailed me
The other day.

He asked if he could have the website
“scottstein.com.”
he said, if I didn’t mind,
that people knew who he was now,
scott stein,
and that people needed a way to reach him now
and this was the best way to reach him,
scottstein.com.

would I mind, terribly,
if he took it?
Of course it was my decision to make,
Since I had the rights to the site already
At least, through September.
And he understood, of course it was my right.
But would I mind, if I wasn’t using it,
Since it seemed like I wasn’t using it,
Could he have it?

I thought about it.

I slept.

And I decided I’d have to keep that site forever.
Scottstein.com
Would never leave my control.

For there are other Scott Steins out there
Just waiting
waiting
Waiting to be me

another morning

Today, my stomach feels the chili peppers I ate the night before.
Today's review: Kung Fu Hustle. Stephen Chow directed a manic epic stirring up all the clichés of Hollywood and chop-socky, and made something greatly entertaining. It's old-fashioned entertainment.

I must walk to work now, for any of you reading.

You talk to me

I look away

You say something

And I’m looking away

At the corner of the room,
Where the wall and wall meet
At the top of the sky of the ceiling
I stare there, as if the wall will melt away

And then you’re done talking,
And I look at your face
And it shines back at me
And I smile
Until my cheekbones hurt
And my teeth,
My teeth slowly tilting away
As I grind them to bits,
They show themselves to you
As my lips part
And I hold your hand
And we walk in the rain

And I see the clock across the street,
The one with the thousand counting-down faces
And it’s ticking away
As we walk, a metronome.

I heard clocks are moving forward tonight.
One less hour.
Some of the clocks change automatically
Some need adjusting,
The ones that don’t get the message
From the secret senders that bring the news
Some clocks are left out in the cold,
Alone

If those clocks were never told,
They’d always be one hour behind the rest,
Ticking proudly away and never knowing
That the clocks in the know were snickering at them
Would it be better off, that ignorance?
For god’s sake, I’d step forward
And change that clock so that it would tell the time correctly.
But I don’t. I didn’t. I never did.

I wait for midnight to strike
So I can see which clocks will change;
My wristwatch, my computer,
My cable box, my microwave,
Sentry points across this miniature box of an apartment
I call my home.
Aside from their minutes being all different,
They’re all the same.

The lights are dim.
And I still wait.

The fool waits
As the clock ticks
To see if it will change.

And the answer?
Oh, yes, it changes

What did she say to me?
And where was I when she spoke

I try to stare at all four clocks at the same time, and can’t

Welcome...back

Many months have passed.
The earth has shifted.
Spring has returned.
The year is 2005...the year of the...wait a second. Someone's screaming or yelling outside my window. It sounds resentful...angry.
Welcome to New York. I'm in a very small apartment, with a sofa-bed and and a kitchen made for hobbits. It has a half-fridge, and a half-table, and a half-cutting board, and a mini-stove, and a tiny window. And the studio is mine alone...though the exposed toilet sitting downstairs in the laundry room disturbs me a little. Still, I should be glad there's even a laundry room (I hear you, jealous angry people!)

The yelling has stopped. Sometimes even New York has its limits.