Author: colter

Fun Facts and Put-Downs

1.) Budget allotted the 9/11 commission to investigate one of the most horrific atrocities in American history: $15 million.

2.) Budget allotted Ken Starr and his flying monkeys during the GOP’s appallingly nasty effort to crucify Bill Clinton because he had mediocre oral sex in the Oval Office: $70 million.
Thanks for some perspective, Mark Morford

Something else I’ve noticed recently:

commie, pinko, leftist, treasonous, pot-smoking hippie, traitor, Bush-hater, environmental wacko, tree-hugger

All terms of derision for liberals. I can’t think of any similar adjectives to describe conservatives. I suspect the reason for this has less to do with liberals’ failings and more to do with conservatives’ skills at name-calling. In fact, if a liberal wanted to resort to ad hominem attacks, I’m not sure what words they would use. Imperialist? Bourgeoisie? Those just don’t have enough bite. Plus they’re too long and many people don’t know what they mean.

Former English Major Screams, Sets Hair on Fire, Runs Into Traffic

I just read this in one of my semi-spammy SitePro News emails:

“People who have certain remote spyware programs installed on their machines are literally sitting ducks.”

So people spontaneously transmogrify into waterfowl if they have remote spyware on their machines? The duck population will skyrocket. Seriously, people, we have to do something about the gross misuse of the word “literally.” It should only be used in a situation where it deactivates figurative language. You can only say “literally” if your statement is logically true. Saying that people are “literally sitting ducks” means that people are ducks. This idiocy must be stopped; it’s literally an epidemic.

Oh yeah, and the article was titled “The Ten Truth’s About Spyware.” Shoot me now.

Plog, Dog, Dogpatch, and Beard

More ploggy goodness for everyone. I took scenic Byway 7 from Harrison to Russellville and Semi-Scenic Highway 45 to Conway. Much to see and do. Such as Dogpatch. I made a separate Plog entry for Dogpatch. Hopefully more pictures will be forthcoming. I’m going to see if I can get the realtor’s permission to walk around the grounds for photos.

Here’s what I looked like for most of early June:

Redbeard Arrrrr

And here’s uncle Barry’s new puppy:

Aww puppy

When I visited Barry, the puppy (half beagle, half retriever I think) was so tired he could barely make it to the food bowl. After eating, so tired was the pooch that he decided to wet himself where he lay rather than move about. Sadly, much spanking and yipping ensued.

G Things

Anybody want a Gmail account? I’ve got some invitations to give away. Also, if anyone wants into Google’s Orkut network, let me know. It’s pretty neat; it’s like Friendster but with more features and it generally is less buggy. I’ve started communities for Incredible Moses Leroy and Linus of Hollywood. So far there are only two members for each, myself and a girl named Jamie from Indiana. She’s got good taste in music. Her livejournal is here.

I forgot to mention, last Saturday I took my first guitar lesson in 14 years. Well, maybe 12 or 13 years, but the weird part for me is that, at 28 I have now been playing guitar for half my life. I feel like I should be better than I am. So I’m taking jazz guitar lessons from Perry Israel at Romco Drums in the Heights on alternating Saturdays.

I still teach students myself, and I just recently got an email from a remarkably attractive woman by the name of Pamela Manning who is looking for lessons. We’ll probably start next week.

Clapton, with an “L”

Yet another new Plog. Aren’t you the lucky ones? All pictures from last weekend’s excursion into the depths of Bryant.

Friday my dad took me to see Eric Clapton, and I was mightily impressed. Slowhand has still got it. I went in assuming he was over-the-hill – I just wanted to see the opening act, Robert Randolph (a gospel lap steel guitar player who rocks it out like Jimi Hendrix), but Eric still has the touch. I did find it interesting that he was rocking a huge arena with several tunes by Robert Johnson (from Eric’s new album of all Johnson tunes). 70 years ago Robert Johnson was playing those same songs in some rusty juke joint not far from Little Rock. A lot can happen in 70 years I guess.

Also Saturday I bought a couple of $3 kiddie keyboards. I’ve been running them through my guitar amp with various effects and they sound awesome!! I wish I knew what brand they were so I could buy more of them.

June Came Upon Us Much to Soon

New plog finally.

I can’t believe it’s already June. I have a dentist’s appointment this month and I remember 6 months ago thinking this month was so far away.

If you’re as easily amused as I am, go to yahoo.com and search on random nouns and see which words Ebay has purchased for its sponsored link in the search results. So far I’ve found schmuck, schmendrick, proletariat, endocrine, and pansy. The resulting sentences amuse me: “find schmuck items at low prices,” “find endocrine items at low prices.”


No Wire Hangers. If you are of a certain sociopolitical bent, you might find this image amusing. Click at your own risk and know that it is an actual sign at a pro-choice rally.

And, of course, a fond farewell to our former fearless leader:

This Is Where I’m From

Slow news day for the Harrison Daily Times.

I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Shake Rag Hollow. Nor can I vouch for the relative trustworthiness of either Mr. Baughman or Mr. Snelson. Nor can I speculate as to their relationship with AmeriGas, which, off the record, seems a little suspicious.

The Frosty and Its Discontents

As some of you know, I have developed something of a milkshake addiction in recent months. Chocolate chip cookies of course being a gateway drug to heavier substances, I recently went to Wendy’s for a shake. I know they’re called “Frosties” there, but I didn’t figure that semantics would be a big issue with them. I was sadly mistaken.

I pulled up at my local Wendy’s and scanned the menu for my quarry. A young lady’s voice came crackling over the speaker,

“Welcome to Wendy’s may I take your order?”

“Yeah, do y’all have milkshakes,” I replied, as I saw no mention of the word milkshake in my admittedly cursory examination of their offerings.

“No sir, we don’t have milkshakes.”

“Oh wait, what is a Frosty? That’s a milkshake right?” I asked, noticing the Frosty was the sole item listed under the somewhat prolix heading “Frozen Dairy Dessert.”

No response.

“What is a Frosty, anyway?” I asked.

Still no response.

Some moments passed.

Clearly I had caused her a catastrophic system error, rendering her unable to function, so I capitulated.

“I’ll have a large Frosty.”

“Thank you that will be $1.63. Please drive through.”

We made our exchange, and although I sensed no tension, I had clearly exploded this girl’s worldview. No doubt she’ll spend the rest of her evening contemplating the definition of the milkshake vis á vis the Frosty, a frozen dairy dessert. What is a Frosty? What is its Platonic form? What separates it from the milkshake? What is the essence of the Frosty? Not quite food item, not quite beverage, the Frosty must reside in a culinary netherworld, seldom visited by other foodstuffs.

As I drove away, the subtle distinction of the Frosty from the milkshake was made clear to me: Frosties are served not with a straw, but with a spoon. Eureka!

Perhaps it was the warm weather, or perhaps I had so existentially wounded my server that she sought to extract her revenge on my frozen dairy dessert, but when I got home I noticed that the Frosty was leaking all around its lid. A significant portion had liquefied and was running amok. I got to the kitchen and transferred it to a cup, yet I continued to make a mess of myself. If only I had been given a straw…

Indeed, my Frosty runneth over.

The Guitar Project

Finally, it is done.

Japanese Advertising Yearbook 1958

The picture is a little bright, but you get the idea. I think I’ve mentioned before that I got a book of Japanese advertising art from 1958 at a book sale at the Arkansas Arts Center. So impressed was I with these works that I wanted to put them on a guitar. When I purchased the $150 Ibanez in Dallas in March, I knew I had the perfect instrument for the job. Through much trial and error I settled on a process whereby I scanned in my favorite ads and a matte of the guitar’s shape. I arranged the ads inside the matte shape, stretching and resizing to fit the curves of the body. Then I printed them out in four pieces onto white contact paper. Contact paper doesn’t take ink well, so I put down a layer of transparent contact paper over that. Then I cut them out and stuck them to the guitar.

I played it at the Superflux gig at Cajun’s last Saturday; hopefully soon Steve will have the pictures over at superflux.cc.