Is there a man in the moon, or is he just cheese?
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Cake still, as per last entry
The moon is definately feminine. That's a scientifically proven fact. No arguing that.

That there is a man in the moon brings forth a barrage of questions, mostly of a Freudian bent.

What is the man doing in the moon? That sounds somewhat deviant if you ask me, especially if he has cheese. Some sort of fromage fetish?

What's he doing there anyway? Eating cheese and being in the moon.

Anyway, what is with band names?
Phish, Cake, Morphine, Insane Clown Posse, Nine Inch Nails, Filter...
I use to come up with band names in high school.
Konstriktor, Triassic Warriors, Close Encounters With The Third World, Julius Furbean And His Happy Parrots, Toad The Wet Sprocket...ooops, that one's not mine.

I should go to bed.
I have one view of sleeping. It's a complete waste of time. Sure, without it we would hallucinate, kill the neighbours and post weird, incoherent messages on the internet, but one third of our lives...gone in darkness.
I want to invent some way of never having to sleep. Ironic, cause I could sure do with some right now.

ONE THIRD OF YOUR LIFE WILL BE SPENT PROSTRATE WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED. (Not including blinking and microsleep)

Such a waste...

Until next time, good night.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: Cake (Pressure Chief/Comfort Eagel/Prolonging The Magic/Fashion Nugget/Motorcade Of Generosity- they've been on all day.
Joan was quizzical
Studies metaphysical
Science in the home
(Lennon/McCartney)

I'm not sure why that just came to me. I was thinking of taking a hammer to this computer- word association, too many boffins for my liking.

I owe this whole idea of creating a blog to a friend of mine, a strange little man, but a friend all the same. We wouldn't get far in life if we didn't allow ourselves to befriend strange little men. There's something very primal about it. Very instinctive. It makes me wonder about the friends of the first person who discovered that cow's milk was tasty.

"Hey, Romulus, suck on this for a while, tell me what you think".
"Sure"
"Well?"
"S'right ain't it Remus?"
"Yes, yes it is my friend"
"Tell me, why did you decide to suck on this part of the cow, Rom?"
"Dunno Remus, it just seemed...right"
"Your a strange little man Romulus...strange"

Music Community

Just thought I'd insert that link as it is my MSN Community where we talk about music, all music, whatever you like. Aaron Copland to Zappa, Appalachian Hula Dancing to Zimbabwean Panpipes, Avant Garde to Zero Regard For Sensitive Ears. Whatever, it's all music and it can all be talked about.

Back to zebra crossings. Regardless of the fact that zebras don't use them, I've never seen a zebra with completely parrallel stripes. Are they a fashion faux pas or are they the next big trend. Parrellel zebra stripes. I'm sure zebra's are just as fashion conscious and you or I, but it seems a little unnatural. I guess we as humans have plastic surgeons to iron out the things we don't like about ourselves. I'm gonna start spray-painting zebra's: it's my duty as a conservation-minded caring person.

If anybody out there ever reads this stuff, please, feel free to let me know.

Do you have kids? Stastically, you possibly do. There's a lot of children out there. I have two myself. Beautiful little girls. Sweet, loving, kind-hearted, rude, demanding. They really are quite different to adults aren't they? Such conversationalists, and not at all bogged down by the trappings of pronunciation, syntax or even tact. I love that.

This situation could happen in a million or more households around the world. All that is required is one father, one 3-4 year old daughter and a green plastic cup.

"Dad, can I have more juice please". Not a bad start.
"Ok, hold on, I'm just finishing these dishes"
"But, Dad, I need to talk to you" At this point I stop doing dishes and turn to face her.
"What sweetie"
"Daaaad"
"Yes"
"You need to get more juice" Thrusting a cup towards my face.
"Ok, just let me finish doing these few things"
"Daaaad" She takes a few steps towards me "I think I need you" I stop again and face her.
"What do you need me for?"
"I need more juice" I've wised up now, I'm going to finish what I said I would and then get her juice. Without looking at her.
"Just a minute honey" A green, plastic cup flashes before me and into a sink where I have been rinsing cooking oil off an oven tray.
"Can you get me some more juice please Daddy?"

How do their minds work? Fascinating.
This of course was a dramatic reconstruction and may not represent actual events.

Anyhow, on that note, Maxwell's Silver Hammer is a great song that Jeb Bush should use as his presidential campaign theme. Either that or 'I'm A Redneck Monkey-boy From A Place Where Nobody Could Touch Me In Compromising Places Because My Daddy Is George Bush Snr And So Is My Brother, So There'. Cause that's a cool song too.







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