"Dream On" Christian Falk feat. Robyn & Ola Salo

This one's been out for a couple of years, but I just recently rediscovered it.
Why shouldn't pop-songs occasionally speak to us?

"Ass Juice"

There's a bar in Las Vegas called the "Double Down Saloon". http://doubledownsaloon.com/

Best neighborhood bar I've ever been to. They have a massive collection of 'donated' bras hanging over the entire bar; they have maybe two or three of the saddest slot machines you've ever seen; every conceivable inch of available surface is covered in some sort of graffiti; and the last time I was there three hot strippers 'bellied' up to the bar after their shift ended. If there is (against ALL evidence) some form of 'afterlife' I want to spend the rest of mine in the "Double Down".

They advertise a house specialty called "Ass Juice". I've had it, it's not bad. Maybe a little too sweet; 'chick drink' for the tourists.

You can even buy t-shirts with their logo & a pic of a skeleton squatting over a pint glass, squirting into it with the slogan "Outa Our Ass, Inta' Your Glass."

And yeah, I got one somewhere; I wear it when I'm doing my laundry so the neighbors will give me a wider berth....



Point being; I thought I'd encountered 'ass juice'.
The dice say 'No':

Should you ever find yourself hungover, pinned down in the cold morning light, struggling over which fortified, artificially-fruit-flavored, overly-caffeinated, malt beverage to grab on your way to work, do yourself one last favor & stays the hells aways from 'JOOSE'.

I have never, in my entire life, tasted a previously manufactured, commercially sold, marketed/advertised/pimped beverage that tasted SO RIDICULOUSLY SHITTY.

It comes in several favors, I chose 'orange'. Bad move.

Imagine taking a big bite of fresh orange and then burying your nose deep in your father's/older brother's/creepy uncle's sweaty armpit.

I kid you not, that is EXACTLY the sensation. One helluva blast of citrus, and then the most sweaty socklike aftertaste you can't even try to imagine.

I have no idea how this made it into production. I am being completely serious here; if you open a can, let it sit for a moment, then take a big ol' sniff, it smells EXACTLY like sweaty old gym socks.

The aftertaste is somewhat stronger.

There've been more than a few instances in my drinking career where somebody has stated something along the lines of 'It tastes like ass!" Well, they were wrong. They have no goddamn idea what the phrase 'tastes like ass' truly means.

If you're that self-destructive, if you're that goddamn curious, if you're (like me) open to ANY new experience, well, by all means, track down a can. Just never, NEVER, EVER say I didn't give you enough of a head's up first....

Assjuice like you wouldn't believe.

[Oh, and in case you're wondering, yeah, I held my breath & shot the whole fucker in one. Taste not, want not.]

Serendipitous words....

I stubbed my toe last night on a piece of marble I use to keep the couch from shifting when I drop my fat ass onto it. After the blinding flash of pain subsided, it occurred to me the rock might make for an interesting blog subject.

As you may suspect from the pictures; yes it is indeed a piece from a headstone. No, I didn't break the headstone, but I did find it, alone, near a cemetery I was visiting years ago. (If it's a sin to take a broken headstone from near a cemetery I'm not really worried; I'm going to Hell for some better reasons than that.)

Part of the reason I felt compelled to take it (besides the obvious: it's a fucking headstone!) was that the only letters visible spelt 'ONE'.

'ONE'. For some reason that really struck me, that word, on a headstone. As in, we are all one & the same, we all are alive & will one day die; we are all one in this mortality. 'ONE' day, you too buddy....

It's like reading through some history book and coming across somebody from the 1800's with the same name as you. Kinda takes you out of yourself for a moment.

And I'm reminded of that first impression whenever I look at this hunk of marble. It's sort of a philosophical touchstone, if you will.

But the capper, what gives the thing it's real, zen-like sublimity is this; years later I found a website listing Washington State cemeteries and their occupants. Checking through the names listed for the one where I found this I realized there's only one it could have come from: 'STONE'.

expression

I found this image on one of those photo-caching websites, Flickr or Lumra, a couple of months ago. There were 2 or 3 showing pieces of found-art that'd been, um, found.

Somebody had taken the time to weave broken (or cut) pieces of galvanized chainlink fence into random patterns.

Think about that. I don't know if you've ever worked with/climbed over/cut through (ahem) galvanized chainlink fencing, but it's pretty heavy duty shit. I can't imagine how hard it was to weave, or how long it took to make this. Somebody really wanted to express something with this old piece of broken fence.

Which I guess I understand. I think the artistic urge to express oneself is inherent in everybody, to lesser or greater degrees. Something about being social animals, and needing to feel our feelings are, um, felt by others. And I suppose if the need were great enough and you found the opportunity you would find a way to weave galvanized chainlink fencing.

Either that or one night some crackhead got stuck on what seemed like a really awesome idea.

Oh, and did you notice the checkerboard pattern painted on the roof of the shed? It's the sort of pattern (not usually found in nature) that jumps out to the human eye; that rusty old shed must have been on or near an airstrip. Another form of expression, if you think about it.

Curious old world sometimes.

'Pet Shop Boys' is a pretty sweet band

and Bruce Weber was their secret weapon. that is all.

"Evolve One • Evolve All"

http://www.trojanevolve.com/

Found a coaster at the Ravenna Alehouse promoting a new campaign from Trojan Condoms. The concept is to get us to 'evolve' by using a condom every time. That's actually one of their slogans: 'evolve. use a condom every time'.

The website also sports the slogan: 'real people. evolve', and offers links to the 'Trojan Evolve Campus Comedy Tour', the 'Evolve National Tour', aka the 'Trojan Evolve Bus Tour' (featuring a bus painted with the silhouettes of what appears to be a pig evolving into a sheep-pig hybrid evolving into a man), and a 'How Evolved Are You?' quiz you can take to test your STD knowledge.

Anybody get the irony of this campaign? Evolution cannot happen without sexual reproduction, which can be a bit difficult when wearing a "jimmy hat" (a term I've never heard before but Trojan uses it on the coaster, along with the more common "love glove").

And yes, technically there is evolution in asexual reproduction from random mutations, but that's single-cell life, not the sort of complex life that evolves to the point of self-awareness & marketing campaigns & blogging.

At any rate, this is a fine example of how a little scientific knowledge can be easily misapplied in the public mind. I'm reminded of the use of the phrase, "quantum leap" to describe some great change in technology or action or policy. Strictly speaking a quantum leap represents the smallest measurable change, happening randomly; the exact opposite of what most people use the phrase for.

How evolved are you?