Libraries Rule

And because libraries rule, chances are you don't have to purchase my book, Reserved For Emperors. Everyone I've talked to that has filled out a purchase request form at their public library has had success. Here are just a few:

King County Library System: 3 copies, 1 checked out.
Denver Public Library: 2 copies, both checked out.
Charleston County Public Library: 1 copy, checked in.
La Crosse Public Library: 1 copy, checked in.

Most libraries have purchase request forms on their Web site these days, so it's really that easy to get a hold of my book for free. Not to mention, many libraries release new book purchasing funds in July (new fiscal year), so they probably have some collection development staff sitting around wondering what to spend the money on. Help them out.

And it doesn't stop there! Do you know of an obscure DVD your library should own? Do they not have the educational book you'd rather not buy yourself? Have you been too poor to buy the latest novel from your favorite experimental writer? Request these items, and more, from your local public library. Make sure it's not in their collection, first, then simply fill out the form and wait....

Sex Is Like The Grand Canyon

You can go see it by yourself...and it's awesome.

But it's much better if you share the experience with a loved one.

How I Got a Girl to Bark Like a Dog

Actually, it was rather easy.

I invited her up to my 2nd floor apartment, and when people walked by below, talking loudly, she asked, "Can I bark at them?"

"Of course!" I said. What gentleman would refuse a lady a good barking?

So she barked.

It kinda' freaked me out.






:: Today's blog is in honor of The Redhead, who may or may not be visiting today (because with The Redhead, you can never tell about such things).

I almost thought that I did something stupid

I was microwaving something when I almost thought that I might have put a fork in the microwave.

But fortunately, I didn't think that.

Roadnotes: Rockaway, OR 3

The following is based on events that happened on July 5th and 6th.



By the second morning here, we had settled into a morning routine, which consisted of coffee and nothing else (which is a perfect morning routine).

We go kayaking.  At first I'm confused because we only use one vehicle to get there. I'm used to the Midwest, where yo park one car at one part of the river, then drive upstream and set sail from there. It takes me a while to figure out that kayaking in an ocean is a little different. You just head out into the bay in whatever direction you want.

In the evening, I win at Scrabble despite a three bourbon handicap.

The next morning, on the drive back, NPR is drowned out by a mountain as we cruise through a tunnel.



(The answer to the last blog's challenge: I didn't walk through hot coals.)

Roadnotes: Rockaway, OR 2

The following is based on events that happened on July 3rd and 4th.



A list of firsts* from the first two days of this trip:

1. I taste crab for the first time.

2. I buy my first crabbing license ("crabbing" meaning we went out to catch crabs--the kind from the ocean).

3. I hear a recording of Chris Cornell covering** "Billy Jean".

4. I try a homemade blackberry wine.

5. I walk barefoot through hot coals, on a dare.

6. I finish my first ever porn screenplay.

7. I sit as close to the fireworks as possible. This causes the explosion to appear to happen directly above the audience, which to me makes every firework look like a quickly-descending spaceship (which has special significance to me but you'll have to pay attention to the next six months of the 100 Nights column to find out why).



* Hey kids! One item in this list isn't true. Guess the right one and you will win the pleasure of having guessed the right one!***

** Incidentally, one of my fine hosts on this trip asked the question: "Why do we call it a 'cover' when someone does someone else's song?" Does anyone know?

*** Actual pleasure will be experienced differently by each user.

Roadnotes: Rockaway, OR 1

Journal entry: July 3rd

I went camping once, in Wyoming, and we were about to go to sleep when this light just sort of...switched on. It was bright.

We couldn't see what was making the light because of the trees, so we took off, into the woods. We didn't need flashlights.

I was excited. I had been reading up on UFOs and I thought maybe we were about to see something incredible.

We made our way through trees and more trees and then we saw it: it was the moon. It was nothing more than the moon, huge on the horizon. It was the moon.



Another time, I was camping in Colorado in sub-freezing temperatures. I had gotten drunk off of a half bottle of Woodford Reserve and added a few mushrooms to that.

I wandered into the woods and found a place to pee. As I let it out, I looked up. Through the thick forest canopy I could see the stars and I knew that everything was just perfect.

But the thing is, I remember thinking that everything was perfect, but I don't actually remember what that felt like.

And now I'm on the Oregon coast. As the others prepare for bed, I step out of the house, the beautiful house with the nice deck with a view of the ocean. I step out and walk around the house until I'm out of reach of the yard light. There is very little light pollution and I look up.

The stars are out. The constellations are easy to spot.

But I'm stuck. I can't feel it.

It's not perfect for me, anymore, no matter how perfect it is.

Also, I lost at Yahtzee today. Big time.

A Blog Can Bring Down An Empire

An excerpt from Alfred Katar's journal, Production Manager for the first Death Star:

 

Of course I considered the possibility that some farmboy would throw a couple proton torpedoes down that chute and blow the whole thing up! We consider everything: cheese in the vents, parasites in the mail, an irregular muscle twitch happening to Lord Vader while he's practicing light saber--you name it, we thought of it and had a design for the Death Star that accounted for it.

Our original proposal included a fix for the "farmboy proton torpedo" scenario, but budget cuts forced us to eliminate several fixes on our Least Plausible Scenario list (the rebels alternatively could have simply melted a candy bar over exhaust port subvalve 6843 to achieve the same effect).

Still, we figured we were okay. Who would think of using proton torpedoes against the Death Star? And why would they target that particular two meter section of real estate? It just didn't make ordinary strategic sense.

However, one of the technicians posted a blog about the "farmboy proton torpedo" scenario on our internal DeathNet. I read it. It was pretty funny and completely satirical. I didn't even make him take it down--who would take a blog seriously, anyway?

How was I to know that some Internet-obsessed droid would get on board and start reading our blogs? That was the one scenario we didn't consider.



Protect the Internet. It's our only hope.

Re-education: A Definition

Kazoo :: [kuh-zoo] :: -noun


The Microsoft Word 2000 suggested replacement for the word "Kosovo".


Usage :: My father's last tour of duty before retirement was in Kazoo.

Get Rid Of Your Car

I'm not going to tell you to get rid of your car for the environment's sake, to sacrifice convenience for the well-being of the planet. I'm not going to mention the environment at all--no global warming guilt trip, no climate crisis lecture, yada yada--nothing. Because ultimately it shouldn't take that to convince you. Getting rid of your car is just plain common sense. In fact, getting rid of your car isn't a sacrifice at all. Your life will be all the better for it and I'll explain how. Don't do it for the world. Do it for yourself.

Let's begin by listing just a few things that drive you crazy. Perhaps you have a long commute. Maybe heavy traffic puts you in a bad mood. And wow, those gas prices are not going to go down (maybe another war would help!). But you have the power to leave all these troubles behind. You're not giving up anything by giving up your car unless you think you're going to miss the big ‘ol pain in the neck that the automobile is. It's weighing you down. It's restricting your freedom. And it's burning a hole in your pocket.

I know what your number one priority is, so let's talk about that first. You want to get to work and back home as fast as possible. No matter how far away your workplace is, you can get there faster in a car as opposed to any other method of transportation, right? Obviously, if you're using public transportation it'll take even longer to get to work. I won't argue that point. If there's anything we can both agree on, it's that public transportation in the United States does not work (excepting New York City) and in too many towns it is nonexistent. Anyone who depends on public transportation is doomed to a long life of waiting, whether it's for trains or buses.

So here I am, trying to tell you that everything's going to be swell if you give up your car, and you know this is not true because it will take you three transfers and two hours on the bus to get to work. Well, then...I think you may have found the solution to your problem all by yourself. You're going to have to move. Your home and workplace should be close together. They should be within walking distance of each other. It's that simple.

Yes, giving up your car means moving, but that's okay. You'll be happier in your new neighborhood. You want to know why? Because since you don't have a car, you'll choose a neighborhood that has everything you want in it, all within walking distance. You'll go to the grocery store, post office, library, restaurants, bars--you name it--all on foot. Everything will be right there, including your work. It will take time to relocate and you may also have to find a job in your prospective neighborhood but it is all worth it. You'll even save money.

I know--living in this type of neighborhood could cost you an increase in rent or force you into a higher mortgage payment. And it's normal to worry about costs like this. But before you draw any conclusions, I want you to total up all your car repairs and car payments and the money you spent on gas last year. Still think you can't afford a change in location? A better question is: how do you afford your car in the first place?

You did do the math, right? No? Okay, then, we'll do it right now. Let's assume your car payment is a reasonable $200 a month. Let's add in modest car repairs and regular maintenance of $300 every year, a pretty good insurance rate of $150 for six months, and of course $3.50 per gallon for every 30 miles you drive (let's assume you only drive 10,000 miles per year). I'm not even counting how much you spend on registering the vehicle, or even taking it to the car wash. Add all these costs up and you get a total of $4,167 per year. Is that a pretty significant portion of your salary? I thought so. Even if your rent goes up $200 a month because of your move to your new neighborhood, you still save $1,767. Could you use that money? Would you like to go to Europe? And the estimated costs I used above are fairly conservative. You might spend five, six, or even seven grand, depending on what you drive and how far you drive it. Getting rid of this vehicle will save you money, money enough that even if you rent a car once a month to go to PodunkTown to visit relatives, you're still coming out ahead of the game.

But wait--the savings don't stop there. You'll save money on health care costs, too. Why? Because you'll be healthier. You'll accomplish this by walking. You'll be in shape in no time, because you'll be exercising everyday, everywhere you go. And then you'll go in to see the doctor and the doctor will wonder how it is that you're so fit when you don't necessarily do anything but walk (by this time, you will have realized how absurd it is to drive a car to a gym in order to walk around a track for a half hour before driving home).

So now you're saving on your gym membership, too. But the benefits are not all about money. You'll be happier, whether you go to Europe or not. You'll be healthier, sure, and perhaps you'll have a little bit more money to spend, but you'll also begin to truly enjoy your community. You can't know a place until you walk it, and you'll walk through your neighborhood on a daily basis. You'll get to know it well and this will make you feel connected. It will make you feel like you are a part of the world instead of a cold, dead body in a metal shell. You'll see the world in a completely different (and natural) light.

You'll be more spontaneous. Whenever you feel like it, you will stop at a quaint shop or a tea house. You won't have to worry about where to park your car or if the car will be safe. You won't have to dig for change for the meter or buy a parking stub from one of those machines. You'll just walk right in. You'll be walking along and see some place you want to go--maybe it's a park--maybe you'll walk right by a park and decide to stroll through it on your way to get groceries. You can't cut through the middle of parks in a car. You can't cut through anything in a car. In a car, you're confined to roads, confined to linear thinking. That's why this incredible solution to so many of life's problems doesn't occur to very many people.  They're stuck on the road.  But you--you can be free.

Your whole life will be transformed. You'll forget all about the car you used to own. Maybe you'll travel to see the Pyramids. Maybe you'll just put the extra money away for an early retirement. Whatever the case, you'll be more free than you've ever been.

The Speech of Champions

Ask not what your breakfast can do for inattentiveness; ask what inattentiveness can do for your breakfast!







(The answer: char it.)

Isn't that just how the world works...

The administration gets the top floor, while telling the public that the highest viewpoint is actually lower than it is. They're trying to shut us down!











Incidentally, there is a new 100 Nights adventure up at aarondietz.us: Sluts, You Will Not Faze Me!

And that’s just one reason why I don’t answer the phone

The sequence of events:



1. I order a veggie dog at the Cyber Dog Cafe (pretty good, but nowhere near as good as CRIF Dog in New York City).



2. My phone vibrates as I'm putting condiments on the dog. I look to see who is calling. It's Lorna, a cute girl I know. (I've called Lorna a couple times to hang out, but she is always busy.)



My thoughts at the moment: Maybe Lorna wants to have my children now!



3. I don't answer the phone because I'm not rude (usually).  So I finish with my condiments and take the veggie dog outside.



My thoughts at the moment: I'll just wait for her voicemail.



4. I start eating my veggie dog and walking home, waiting for the phone to tell me that a voicemail is ready, but it doesn't happen.



My thoughts at the moment: I guess whatever she wanted wasn't a big deal.



5. Five minutes later, my phone tells me a voicemail is ready.



My thoughts at the moment: She left a voicemail after all! And since it took so long, that must mean it's a very long voicemail and that must mean that she was confessing some sort of crush on me or something, right?! And she at least maybe wants to hang out or something, right?!



6. I dial the voicemail and listen. It is no message after all! It's her phone accidentally ringing me and I can hear Lorna and another woman talking and laughing. I listen to the whole message, unable to hear what they are saying and unable to hang up because I figure at some point, Lorna will discover that her phone is on and she will say, "Hello?  Hello?"  But she doesn't even do this.  She never notices.

Reverse Psychology

Whenever I play the lottery, I don't win.



So, if I actively don't play, I might win, right?

That dang double space

I am using Performancing, which is great because I can write the blog once and post it all over hell, so that way it's very little work for me to continue posting here so that Joey Polanski can read this stuff.... However, I'm really annoyed that when I use Performancing to post here, it turns my little double spaces after periods into a space and the HTML character set code for the extra space. So then it doesn't look nice.

Sorry, Joey P. I've been trying to remember to not use double spaces after periods, but I'm just not doing a good job of it.

Who Wants Aaaaaaron to Live in Their Town?

I just graduated.



I need a job.



Want me to move to your town?  Find me a job.  What kind of job?



Here's what I'm looking for, in order of importance:



1. Something in publishing (editing, grunt-work, whatever - I don't mind putting my foot in a door).

2. If not in publishing, book-related work (like for a library).

3. If not either of the above, a nonprofit organization or otherwise benevolent purpose for doing my job.  I can be pretty happy simply doing data entry if the data is helping doctors fight cancer.  Take that, cancer!



What possible skills and knowledge do I offer said job?



1. A B.A. in Arts and Literature, focused on experimental fiction and the future of book design.

2. Experience as a freelance writer and copy editor.

3. Experience as an advisory editor of KNOCK.

4. I have been tested recently and can type over 80 words per minute with 100 per cent accuracy.

5. I know a bit about Web design and programming.  I'm not an expert, but I know my way around a MySQL database and can code in ColdFusion.  I've dabbled in other Web programming languages, and it wouldn't take me long to catch up with anything else (PHP, etc.).  I can do a Web site's layout in CSS, design a database interface, or slap RSS feed content onto a home page.

6. I actually care about the work I do.  I want it to be good.  Employers love me, as my references will indicate.

7. I can learn anything and do anything and I will do it better than about 99.9 per cent of the United States work force.  My references once again will have no trouble telling you that this is the truth.



If you think of anything that sounds like it might work, let me know.  If you'd like a copy of my resume, let me know and I'll send you one.



And I promise to start blogging again soon.  Truly.

A Quick Assessment of the Die Hard 4 Trailer

Many of you know of my (perhaps somewhat guilty) love of the Die Hard series, so of course I am excited by the new one coming out this summer.  My first impression, based on the trailer:



They're trying to go too big with this, though at first glance, I feel like they could actually succeed.  Oh my, there were some wildly awesome shots just in the trailer!



Possible problem: Two or three awesome lines have already been exposed by the trailer, as well as some great action sequences - does the movie have anything more?  My expectations have been raised.



Potential Aaron-thing: Why does the John McClane character have to rescue his daughter?  Why can't the daughter be bad-ass rescue him?  Or why can't they be working together?  I was about to have this problem with the women in Shrek 3 (I saw a sneak preview last night) until they got all bad-ass.  Good job, in THAT movie.  This could be a possible downfall of the new Die Hard.



I'm already annoyed by: the Justin Long character.  Get rid of him.  To me, he is already the Jar-Jar Binks of the Die Hard series (though I guess without him, there'd be no one to say, "You killed a helicopter...with a car").



Impossible hope: I want them to give Sammy J. a cameo, but I don't see him in IMDb, so...meh.



Possible
things that might offset Sammy J. not being in this film: Jeffrey
Wright (who is always awesome)!  And a Kevin Smith appearance, which
could go either way.



General impression: I fear the plot will lose the small-time-cop-stuck-in-big-situation charm of the Die Hard series, but the film might succeed despite this.

My book is (in) a movie!

That's right! Nobody's made a movie out of it yet, but my book recently got to be IN a movie - a short film called How To Save A Life, by Rocket Barber (also known as the Rocketman).



I think I even found a pic with the book in it already!







See that orange-ish book on top of that stack? I think that's my book! And I didn't even have to pay for product placement!



For more info. and some exciting photos taken during the shooting of the film check out this profile. And just to get you at least a little interested, here's a blurb:



When a controversial peace-nick unexpectedly hails a cab on American soil, a formidable government agency takes notice. The stranger's series of seemingly innocent interactions initiates a manhunt, resulting in a tragic and bloody shootout that forces him to reveal he's more than the insightful pacifist he seems.

They sure have messed up those food groups, huh?

I mean, back when I was in grade school, there were only four food groups.  Now they have all kinds of crazy stuff....











(Pssst - hey kids!  There is a new Dogboy adventure up as well as a new 100 Nights....)

How To Turn a Crappy Blog Into Pure Awesomeness!

1. Write crappy blog.



2. At the end of crappy blog, type "Problem solved LOL!"*



3. Problem solved LOL!























* I'm going to try very hard not to steal that phrase ever again, and if you still don't know where I'm stealing it from, check out Eexlebot's The Worst Comic Ever.

Murder was the case they (almost) gave me

Recently, I spent two days participating in a jury selection process for a murder one trial.



This is what I learned:



Peers shmeers.  The man on trial was black.  At the time that I was dismissed, there were no black people left to serve on the jury.  Maybe the jury will be fair.  Maybe not.  But if the object was to give the defendant a jury of his peers, the process failed.



All jurors are to be treated like children.  At one point, a juror asked to use the restroom.  What this means is that the entire jury panel (about 30 to 40 people at that point) was ushered into a neighboring courtroom where we proceeded to take turns using two restrooms (one for men, one for women).  The bailiff left us there for fifteen minutes, saying, "Don't leave the room until I come get you."  Problem solved LOL!



All jurors are to be treated like children who will leave their gum everywhere.  The bailiff reminded us to spit out our gum each time we entered the courtroom.  However, when I asked where a trash can was (because I had gum in my mouth), she said to put the gum in the back of my mouth.  Problem solved LOL!



Breaks shmeaks.  I wanted water (the only consumable allowed in the courtroom).  I tried my three one dollar bills in the Aquafina water dispensing machine but it wouldn't accept them.  On the change machine, there was a sign that said, "I lost one dollar bill in hear and no change came out" (misspelling not mine).  I asked to leave the juror containment room to buy water or get change.  They told me I could do so on break.  I asked when break is.  They said they didn't know.  I ended up not getting a break until lunch time.  Problem solved LOL!

Favorite Text of the Day

This, from Victoria, at 12:53am, today:

Haha n omg! OK- had2 share this

w/som-o-U! :Hey Vic? king heart 

shape bed-fur model -massage 

systm-red. Call Ron Jeremy 

310-748-81etc ONLY n LA man!

Smile, I Want You

Smiles are sexy.



Mainstream media present "sexy" as a very streamlined set of details that are then deeply tied to "status" (status = sex).



But once you break free of the media's influence on you, you are free to realize that the hottest, most sexy thing of all is a true connection with a lover.  And when you have a true connection with that lover and they smile at you...well, it is a mountain of hotness.  This has the effect of feeling good.

Seriously, why is anyone still driving?

With $4 gallons about to spring up everywhere, how can anyone afford it?













(Ally has written a guest Dogboy story here. If YOU have a Dogboy story you'd like to share, send it to: writer@aarondietz.us)

Little Miss Sunshine: Dare I Trash Such A Film?

First, thanks to all who checked in with their own opinion on the film.  Remember: all opinions are valid until they are paid for.  Now, please enjoy this paraphrased (edited) list of reviews.  My short review is at the very bottom.







Positive reviews:



Aaron (not me, a different Aaron): I liked it because it wasn't the major huge happy triumphant ending.



Ally: I liked it because the desperation was real.



Claudine: The characters were great and it required no thinking.



Dabi: In a film world filled with stupid pandering towards the lowest common denominator, Little Miss Sunshine caters to viewers who want a lot of intelligence in their humour, with a healthy dose of profanity mixed up.



Fantastic H: The characters are people that you wish you knew in real life and when the movie ends it is sad because you know you will miss them.



Jeremicah: Irresistible character building.



MickeyBlowTorch: Alan Arkin's character was priceless. I don't know too many elderly people kicked out of nursing homes for snorting heroin.



mr whatever: I like pretty much every movie that doesn't completely suck. The Matrix sequels sucked, but they didn't totally and completely suck, there were robots and kung fu and flying people in those after all. and I've

watched those more than once. Little Miss Sunshine didn't suck near to that level (acting, dialogue, story, all superior to the MAX), but then again I haven't watched it that many times. I attribute that to the fact that there weren't any robots or kung fu or flying people in Little Miss Sunshine..... Here just use this: I LIKE MOVIES! YAAAAAAAY!



Peregrine Flounder: Those characters...all have a life that seems to extend beyond the...screen, a rarity in movies these days. Everything about it was just so . . . cute.... Smart too. The performance at the pageant had me laughing and crying at the same time.



Pie Is The New Toast: I can't quite put my finger on it, but the humor was great in it.... I could relate to Olive and her father....



Rachael: I loved it. Because great character driven ensemble movies reign. Because Abigail Breslin is adorable. Because you love each character in spite of their glaring faults. Because of the ice cream scene. Because the focus of Steve Carell's eyes says more than his words. Haha, because the sound of the bus horn going non stop sounds just like my sister cat Bezor.



Redd: The characters were interesting and well-developed. All the actors nailed their performances with a great mix of humanity and humor.



Slacksploitation: Alan Arkin, Steve Carell were fucking hilarious as adult freaks.... I also really liked DeVotchka's soundtrack.... Thematically, I like the idea of authentic people sticking it to the "pretty" or "normal" people.... The people were weird, the soundtrack was quirky and expansive, proust is used -- it's a good film.



~..: LOVE LOVE LOVED IT!!!!!







Not as positive reviews:



Desi: I enjoyed watching it, but I wouldn't consider it a favorite movie. I really identified with the teenage son though.



Kerri Lynn: *in the voice of Randy jackson* It was just okay for me, dog.... Seriously, I think I would say it was a 'cute' movie. But wasn't as good as I'd hoped it would be. So I did not love it or hate it.



Sophia: It seemed like it was trying to be off-kilter and indy.... I like to feel there is a point to a film.... Mostly, I felt it was trying too hard.







Somewhat ambiguous reviews:



AC for life!: I suppose I enjoyed the drug addict grandfather.



Adam: Aaaaaaaron, YOU are Little Miss Sunshine. And that is all.



Lauren: Liked it in the movie theater, as the audience really got into it. Watched it again on DVD and couldn't figure out why I liked it the first time.







And now, finally, my review:



Aaaaaaron: In short, it was a triumph of style over substance. And I prefer substance.

I will now trash The Secret without ever having seen the movie

The Secret: stupid feel good bullshit designed to make people delusionally happy (at least, delusionally happy enough to spend their money).



I can tell you why it's stupid, because I have the book that the movie is based on. I checked it out from the library. And to further point out how stupid it is, I don't even have to read a word of the book to trash it. All I need is the copy on the cover.



The book claims that a secret "has been passed down through the ages" and that now this book will reveal it to you (for $23.95, if you're not friendly with libraries). Read on: "As you learn The Secret, you will come to know how you can have, be, or do anything you want."



The book supports this claim by stating that this "secret" was known by "some of the most prominent people in history". It lists them: Plato, Galileo, Beethoven, Edison, Carnegie, and Einstein.



This is how we know this book is already contradicting itself. If these men (apparently the secret has only been known to men) could have anything they wanted, why did Einstein struggle for most of his adult life to come up with a Unified Theory of Everything (he failed)? Why was Carnegie's reputation permanently damaged by the Homestead Incident?  Why did Edison have to try thousands of different filaments before he got his light bulb working? Why was Beethoven deaf? Why was Galileo persecuted for his heliocentric model of the universe? Why was Plato unable to stop the unjust trial that resulted in Socrates's death?



In reality, these men suffered, just like the rest of us (okay, maybe Carnegie didn't suffer that much, but the others did). I'm all for positive thinking--it helps people. It has helped me, even. But when positive thinking works, it has more to do with accepting what you have than trying to "have, be, or do anything you want."



Besides, this book has people like Neale Donald Walsh contributing to it, a man who claims to have conversations with a god that called George Bush I a "visionary."







"Life is pain.... Anyone who says differently is selling something."



         -From William Goldman's The Princess Bride

A Transcript From The Office Of CIA Agent Jones

CIA AGENT JONES: I want tamari almonds to disappear.



ASSISTANT: From the Capitol Hill area? Or all of Seattle?



CIA AGENT JONES: I don't want Aaron Dietz to be able to find tamari almonds anywhere in Seattle proper. He loves those things.



ASSISTANT: Got it.



CIA AGENT JONES: And get rid of baba ganoush, too. It's okay for restaurants to have it; just get rid of all those easy-to-make baba ganoush mixes they sell at the grocery stores.



ASSISTANT: But sir--our records indicate that Aaron Dietz only uses those once every six months or so.



CIA AGENT JONES: That's especially why it will perplex him. Besides, I checked his Google Calendar and he has a "Falafel Night" with the significant other coming up. I know he'll want to make baba ganoush.



ASSISTANT: It shall be done.

Starbullshits

I'd really like to leave Starbucks alone, but they keep pulling some pretty ridiculous bull honkey.



To be fair, they have made improvements--since I started picking on them about 18 months ago, they've doubled the percentage of Fair Trade coffee that they buy (from 3 to 6 per cent of their total supply).  So, they are improving.  They can show people statistics that support this fact.  Yet, they continue to rely on smokescreens and flashy phrases, rather than simply saying, "We're not as socially responsible as we want to be in the future."  When corporations use P.R. smoke and mirrors, I get suspicious and downright hateful.



The smoke and mirrors:



I've been told that "Starbucks offers Fair Trade coffee everyday."  While this is technically true, it is not true within the context of my question ("When is Fair Trade coffee brewed in my local store?").  I wasn't asking about the pounds of Fair Trade coffee beans you can buy (which are indeed offered every day).  I wanted to buy Fair Trade coffee brewed on a day when it is their special "Coffee of the Day".  Several friends in this effort have reported getting the same feedback when asking about Fair Trade coffee.



When I emailed them to find out when Fair Trade coffee would be the "Coffee of the Day", they wrote back (without quoting my email--they don't like to encourage an open dialogue): "Starbucks is committed to brewing Fair Trade Certified coffee as part of our 'Coffee of the Day' program."  Problem solved LOL!



A friend of mine asked about Fair Trade coffee and was told by a Starbucks store manager, "All our coffee is fairly traded."  Apparently, the manager doesn't expect consumers to know the difference between a standard (Fair Trade coffee) and a statement of opinion ("our coffee is fairly traded").



Starbucks, why must you insult the intelligence of your consumers?







Note: in case you're wondering what I did with that Starbucks gift card of mine....  It was too difficult to figure out when I would be able to purchase Fair Trade brewed coffee, so I spent the $50 gift card on a coffeemaker.  If anyone has some fun stickers I could use to put over the Starbucks logo, I'd love it if you sent them my way.

A Quick Update...

Thanks to el capitan for offering some mega mega awesome assistance that I fortunately didn't need in transferring some files off of my dead laptop.  He convinced me to do it myself, ultimately saving me hundreds of dollars.  Thanks!



In other news, there is a new Dogboy story up here, guest written by King Rusty.



And in still other news, I've been invited to write for subREVOLT, a pretty impressive site for people that are cool.  My first piece for them is up right here.  Make sure you check out their Worst Comic Ever series.  Problem solved LOL!

It's time to close the McDonald's snackhole

Open your snackhole, yum! I LOVE butt sex references in my fast food advertising, yes! I'm lovin' it!





(Image courtesy of uneasysilence.com)





Here's an email I sent to McDonald's regarding the billboard:



I live near downtown Seattle and find your billboard ad (the one that says, "Open your snackhole") a bit offensive. Surely your vast advertising budget can produce results that are not so blatantly sexual. I've spoken to numerous offended Seattle-ites, and a quick Google search found still more people that feel the same way (for example: http://www.capgunvisual.com/blog/?p=106). In my opinion, this billboard should never have been put up. I think it's time to take it down.



Thank you for your time,



Aaron Dietz



To their credit, Tina, from the McDonald's Customer Response Center did write a fairly decent email back (though of course, they have not done anything about the actual billboard).



Thank you for taking the time to contact McDonald's about our advertising.



We're sorry you were disappointed with this advertising. We take pride in producing messages that will be enjoyed. We certainly never intended for it to offend anyone. Your comments have been shared with our advertising staff and independent advertising agency who work together to develop our advertising. Please know your feedback is helpful and will be considered in the future planning of our advertising.



Again, thank you for taking the time to share your feedback with us. Your trust and confidence in our company's tradition of producing high quality advertising are important to us.





Want to bug McDonald's? Email them about advertising issues using this form (sorry, you must have cookies enabled).

This is different...

Some of you have noticed already, but in case you haven't: yes, it's true. I'm seeing someone.













However, it didn't happen in time to save these.







Let us all share a moment of silence.

Roadnotes: Portland 2 (Pictures Ahoy!)

Okay, I have a laptop now and I wanted to finish up the Portland roadnotes, so...here's what really happened in Portland, in photo-comic format.

powered by performancing firefox

I am the master of random phrases and statements

I am a tangle of knives in your toilet.



Why isn't the bus moving?



Murderball is to puppets as meatloaf is to art lovers.



"The White Haus" does not need to be explained.



Together, we can cut NASA's budget by 50 per cent by refusing to bring the astronauts home.



If you win people over with your smile, you risk losing them when you frown.



John Festaue was a briggand for love.

A Brief History of Ice Cream

Once upon a time, ice cream sucked. Yet, no one noticed because even sucky ice cream is still pretty good.



Then, Ben and Jerry changed the world. They put MEGA huge amounts of chunks in their ice cream. They also swirled their ice cream incredibly well. People suddenly could get a little of everything in every bite! Genius! The ice cream was more expensive, but it was worth it!



Then Ben and Jerry sold their ice cream company and little by little, ice cream began to suck again. For some reason, there were fewer chunks in Ben Jerry's ice cream, and the chunks didn't taste as fresh, either. The new owners even invented "Core" ice cream that was no longer swirled, but instead, required you to dip your utensil into each flavor of ice cream in order to get a taste of everything, much like the sucky old days. So, ice cream went back to sucking and still, no one noticed, because even when it sucks, ice cream is still pretty good.









Pssst...hey, kids! Re-read this blog replacing the words "ice cream" with the word "sex"!

I finally saw that film: Crap of Men

Mired in predictability and held back by male-centrism, any statement Children of Men was trying to make was not worth seeing the movie for. Did anyone expect that Michael Caine's character was NOT going to die (hence: why did they even show it?)? And it's too bad the film focuses on the white man's story of how he "helped" the woman and baby get to the boat (sure, he pushed a car during their getaway, but that's about it). The woman (played admirably by Claire Hope Ashitay) went through a lot more than he did, was way more important to humanity, and was more interesting as well, so why was the story told completely from the white guy's perspective?



One thing the film did do well was subject you to an apocalyptic world of refugee life not unlike circumstances that exist all over the world today. These scenes were enhanced by clever film-making and are commendable.



In other news (but related allegorically), I had a dream last night that a three year old was pregnant and had the baby, the first baby the Earth had seen after 18 years of complete infertility. When the baby came out, it was a little baby pig and went to join the other animals on the farm. What does it mean? What does it mean?

A Six Word Short Story and Me On Blogtalkradio!

The story:





A Leap Into The Grand Canyon





No time to talk.



Good bye.









And to catch me and several others reading some material on Deborah Leeson's Blogtalkradio show, go here: Between The Covers.



When? 6pm PST.

Lasagna Night: Damage Report

Damage report:



2 PBR's.

9 bottles of wine.

1 Half bottle of Woodford Reserve.

2 glasses of milk.





Supplies confiscated:



One box of wine glasses.

Crackers and cheese.

Garlic bread.

One loaf of nut bread.

Two black women's jackets.

One book (Letters From The Earth, by Mark Twain).

One box of cowboy band-aids.

One deck of cards.

One NES controller, customized with moo-cow applique.

One cell phone.

One iPod.

Me vs. Turner Construction

Or, Obscure Social Interest Victory Is Mine!



I win, Turner Construction. You closed a one block section of sidewalk for around 13 weeks, forcing me to cross Denny Way back and forth each time I walked to or from school. Denny Way is a busy street, so often this added five minutes onto my trip. After 13 weeks, that added up to hours of lost productivity. And that's why I sent the City of Seattle after you.



Round about week 12, I contacted the Citizens Service Bureau, at cityofseattle.net. They passed my message on to the appropriate city agency (the Street Use department of the DOT). A Planning and Development Specialist quickly contacted me to verify the location of the street closure. Then, a Street Use Inspector was sent to investigate. Soon after, Turner Construction paved that city block properly and took down the fences.



I win! And I am most impressed with the City of Seattle. I didn't even have to use the phone (all of this was accomplished over email).



Boo-yah.

Drunken Poem For Cassandra

Written and emailed while trashed, November 9, 2006.







Oh Cassandra.



Yes, I mean you.



Pretty,

pretty

Cassandra.



If I weren't autistic and a total screwup, I'd move to your neck of the woods and we would become the next fighting pop singing duo of Bulgaria.



I know that seems like a lot to just sort of assume and all...



...but relax, I'm not really serious (that I know of).



Also, I just know you will like my idea for our shows:



1. We will start out with pop songs.

me on guitar

you playing all the rest of the instruments

and singing both parts

because I never learned how to sing

(not that that stopped me before).



2. Then we will drop our instruments

rip off our skimpy outfits

only to reveal, somehow,

costumes that resemble what the Power Rangers wear,

then helmets will appear as if by magic

(again, you will have to take care of that one)

and we will fight each other in a death match

except that no one will die,

because at the core of our friendship

is everlasting life

or strawberries.



3. If it is strawberries, we will hand them out after the show, but since you don't eat strawberries I hope it is everlasting life.



(And yes, you can be the pink pterodactyl one.)











(Psst...a new Dogboy adventure is up on PointlessBanter.net...)

Bush says, "Give war a chance!"

...which I would think was pretty funny if he had meant it as a joke.

Kidnapped by Shawna Mouser!

No, this is not a story called "Kidnapped" that was written by Shawna Mouser. Shawna Mouser was the one that done kidnapped me!



Not only that, but after kidnapping me, Shawna Mouser turned me into some kind of cool being capable of hanging out with cool shmucks at a poker table! That's me, below:







I'm the fifth from the top white poker chip on the far right--you can just barely make me out. />

Speaking of making out--no, Shawna Mouser did not make out with me. Instead, Shawna Mouser chopped off my head and legs and made me have naked sex with some woman without a foot!



Here, I'll have Ralph, the illustrated boy from the LifeSavers dimension show you what I mean.







It only cost me five cents for me to have Ralph here with us today, unlike Shawna Mouser. Shawna Mouser's agent said that Shawna Mouser would cost me an arm and a leg and since I didn't have any legs left...well, you know the rest of the story.











All art by Shawna Mouser. I wish to thank Shawna Mouser for the use of her art in this blog. I also would like to thank Shawna Mouser's agent, Shawna Mouser.

My Dating Prospects, In Statistical Terms

These are the statistical odds of me finding someone I can date, as nearly as I can figure them out and without me being TOO picky:



1. First, I will limit the dating prospects to those who live on this continent. I'm no good at long distance relationships and can't afford to move overseas. According to WorldAtlas.com, that gives me a starting population of 501,500,000.



2. Next, I need to eliminate anyone under 18. I know that in some states it's technically legal for me to have sex with people younger than that, but you never know when I might want to get out the camera and THAT'S when the law gets tough. So just to be safe, no one less than 18 need apply. Various sources put the percentage of people between 14 and 22 per cent, so I am going to go with the least limiting number, which drops the number of dating prospects down to 430,818,792.



3. Naturally, I don't want to date anyone who is not into men, so after eliminating lesbians and straight men (again, using the least reasonably-limiting numbers), I am left with 219,372,928.



4. I don't want to date a regular smoker, simply because I like to cuddle with my lover while watching a movie without having to pause it while they take a smoke break. I don't mind if they have one or two on occasion, while we are drinking or whatever; I just don't like the whole dependence aspect because it's a constant interruption in an otherwise pleasant dating experience. This drops my list of dating prospects by about 20 per cent, down to 175,498,342.



5. Now it's time to get to the good stuff. My dating prospect must absolutely not watch television. Or more accurately, they must avoid commercials at all costs because COMMERCIALS ARE POISON! If they TIVO all their TV, or if they get the DVDs from the library (like I do sometimes), that's okay. And whatever they do, they must not, ever, EVER, plan their life around a TV show. If I want to do something with them, I don't want to hear, "But Such-And-Such is on at 7pm and I can't miss it!" This is a tricky thing to put a number on, but since I found that 2 per cent of households in the U.S. do not own a TV, I'm going to triple that percentage (I think that's more than fair). This drastically reduces my list of dating prospects to 10,529,901.



6. On to stupid magazines. Dating prospects should not read stupid magazines! Or really, any magazine with more than 2 per cent of its pages filled with ads. ADS ARE EVIL and anyone I hang out with regularly should not be willingly subjecting themselves to so much evil. This is another thing that's tough to put a number on, but I think it's more than fair for me to take the top 3 stupid magazines I happen to find subscriber totals for and add those figures together as the total number of stupid magazine readers out there (this is going to be a very conservative number; in reality the total is probably much higher). I come up with somewhere around 11 million North American readers, which, when averaged over the total population knocks my number down by 2 per cent, to 10,319,303.



7. And now, for soft drinks! OH NO, IT'S MORE POISON! Dating prospects should not drink soft drinks regularly. Since I found studies reporting soft drink consumption at as high as 80 per cent (those reporting having one in the last week), I think it's fair to use a number like, say, 55 per cent. I'll even knock it down to 50 per cent because I don't have a problem with the natural sodas like Hansen's. That cuts my list in half, to 5,159,652.



8. You may have predicted I was going to mention their taste in music. No bad music! Okay, sure, they can have plenty of guilty pleasures (I have an album by the Booty Boys, after all), but in general, when I go over to their home, I don't want to be subjected to hour after hour of music that I don't like. This is again a tough thing to put a number on, but I'm going to say that from personal experience, I tend to think that only about 2 per cent of the people I meet have good taste in music, so I think I'm being more than fair (even if this is not the most scientific way to calculate this) by comparing sales of Britney Spears' 2003 album, In The Zone, to Four Tet's 2003 album, Rounds, and using this data to calculate the percentage of people who like bad music. In The Zone sold about 3 million copies, and since I can't find data on Rounds I'm going to assume it sold 400,000 copies, even though there is no way on Earth it could have sold that many (I'm trying to keep this as positive as possible). This cuts my list, then, by almost 89 per cent, down to 607,018.



9. Naturally, my dating prospects must absolutely have a good sense of humor. What I mean by that is that the dating prospect should enjoy MY sense of humor, which involves Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the Autobiography of Bigfoot, and they should also know when I'm joking at least half of the time. Quirkiness is appreciated. I couldn't find any reliable data on this, so I'm going to go with my own observations about people, then bump up the number by about 20 per cent (because, as I said, I'm trying to get the most positive possible number, right?). This knocks another 50 per cent off the list, bringing it down to 303,509.



10. They must be intelligent. Intelligence is tough to measure, so even though I don't consider I.Q. tests a good indicator of intelligence, I'm going to use the I.Q. simply for lack of a better way to do this. I have a 140 to 145 I.Q. I'd like to date someone that is at least my equal in intelligence. Therefore, I don't feel like I'm using an unfair number when I make use of the percentage of people at 120 and above. While the dating prospect's actual I.Q. doesn't matter (because true intelligence is not measured by these silly tests), I'm using these numbers as a general indicator of the percentage of people who will be intelligent enough for me to date. So, at 120 and above, a person is at around the 93rd percentile, which means my list of prospects gets cut down to 21,246. Wow. Only 21,246 people in North America that I'm compatible with so far (and I am erring on the side of positivity!).



11. I love to debate, so if I am going to have any sort of relationship with someone, that person should like to debate as well. When I typed "I like to argue" into ask.com, I got 6,720 hits and I got 5,900 hits with "I don't like to argue". Using these numbers as data, I am knocking 47 per cent off my list. This brings me down to 11,313 people.



12. Oh yeah, what was I thinking? My dating prospects need to love reading. Let's just assume that all people that are literate love to read, just to be generous. That lowers my list by 3 per cent to 10,974.



13. Did I forget something? Have any suggestions? 10,974 people seems like a lot. In fact, if they are evenly distributed throughout North America, that means there are 135.7 of them in Washington state! That gives me a HUGE chance of finding my perfect mate!

I Learn To Love Myself, One Little Part At A Time

So I'm having a wank the other day and I'm looking at the little guy and suddenly, out of the blue, I think, "What a cute little penis thing!" and I kind of actually liked the little guy all of a sudden, which is a big deal because I don't have a loving relationship with my body--I mean, in addition to my penis being small, I am also neurotically skinny, and I know I'm supposed to love my body and all but I don't, so loving my penis all of a sudden is a very positive step in my life, you know?

I'm trying to watch my language these days

I've been reading a lot of feminist material lately and some of it points out how sexism is inherent in the language we use. I've particularly become aware of the swear words I use, like bitch, cunt, and motherfucker, for example. Why must my swearing call a person's gender into question? It doesn't have to, and most of the time, it shouldn't.



So, I'm trying to replace my swearing vocabulary with gender-free terms. Instead of "motherfucker" I'm trying to use "fuckhead," for example. This is tough because fuckhead has an entirely different feel to it. It practically requires me to restructure entire sentences in which swearing will be employed.



Still, I do it anyway. I say "fuckhead" because I care.

Grunting is the new hello

As I was leaving my apartment building the other day, someone was coming in the door.



"Hello," I said. (I'm friendly that way.)



In response, she grunted at me.



These young kids and their new forms of communication! It's hard to keep up sometimes.

Grunting is the new hello

As I was leaving my apartment building the other day, someone was coming in the door.



"Hello," I said. (I'm friendly that way.)



In response, she grunted at me.



These young kids and their new forms of communication! It's hard to keep up sometimes.

Three Ways to Simplify Your Life

1. When you scrub your hair in the shower, make sure to use your fingernails. If you scrub with tenacity, your hair will slide between fingernail and finger, where dirt hides, and: Wallah! Now your fingernails are clean!



2. Get rid of your socks. Buy 21 pairs of the same sock and forget about matching them when you do laundry. In fact, forget about folding them, too; just put them all in a pile in the same drawer. You save time!



3. Clip your finger and toenails after showering. If you've just taken a nice hot shower, your nails will be soft. This means that when you clip them, they will be less likely to fly all over the room and make a disgusting mess. Yay!







Incidentally, a new Dogboy adventure is up: Dogboy Fills Out An Application!

A Truth You Cannot Refute

I swear we would all be young again if we were young again.

Ooh, lookie, I did a thingie!

Only, it was a lot of work, so you have to go somewhere else to see it (it's okay - it will not hurt you, I think).

Head on over there to check it out now!

It's a choose your own adventure hypertext fiction piece I wrote in the fourth grade with a friend. You'll like it. Probably.

U.S. Citizens Vote

I'm sure you're aware of an election coming up.  That's right, there are still elections, even when we're not voting for the president.  I wanted to share some interesting numbers from 2000 and 2004.

The exit poll statistics, from CNN, for the year 2000, for the presidential election:

Republicans voting Democrat: 8 per cent
Democrats voting Republican: 11 per cent

So that's how things were in the year 2000.

Now let's look at 2004, still from CNN:

Republicans voting Democrat: 6 per cent

This I find hard to believe.  The number of Republicans voting Democrat went DOWN?  Never before this election had I ever heard a Republican say he or she would vote Democrat - but during this election I heard it from more Republicans than I can count.  They were fed up.  They were Republicans, sure, but they were sick of Bush.

Democrats voting Republican: 11 per cent

Bogus!  Democrats voted for Bush at the same rate as 2004?  No way.  I don't buy it.  Bogus.

So...what happened?  Are the exit polls simply bogus?  Are Democrats that stupid?  Do Republicans feel pressured into claiming that they are anti-Bush when in fact they are not?  (And if so, if there is that much of a consensus that Bush is evil, why is he still in office?)

I robbed a bank once!

Only, I did it in a gorilla suit, so when the coppers caught me on I-5 trying to leave town, I told them it was just a joke, which worked pretty well because really: who would rob a bank in a gorilla suit?

The cops took me back to the bank to return the money and we (the cops, the bankers, and I) all had a good laugh.  The bankers kept making me say, "Hand over the money!" in my gorilla voice.  Pretty hilarious!

Esther, the bank clerk who handed it over, made me pose for a picture with my gorilla arm around her.

I am an artiste!

Not really, but if I spell it with an "e" on the end, it definitely adds something and means even less.

So...the literary journal I work for through Antioch University Seattle is having a release party this Sunday.  Everyone is going to be there, including Reverend Redd*.  In fact, if you've wondered where Redd's been lately, he's been camping out at the venue, just to make sure he gets in (and when I say "camping out" I mean "he needs a shower").

Things that are special about this issue of KNOCK (that's the name of the literary journal) are:

1. I designed the cover (see below) and did the layout.
2. A couple excellent writers you may know from the Internet are in the issue: Vincent(!) Truman submitted a hilarious play that we accepted and Alex Vermitsky (also known as Alex) submitted three excellent pieces that made it in (you can take a peek inside the issue here).

If you're in the Seattle area this Sunday night, stop by (details here).  If you want a copy of the issue, there is information here.  If you subscribe to KNOCK, we'll give $5 of your money to the Women's Education Project.



*Reverend Redd won't actually be there. In fact, Redd is a figment of your imagination, along with Bluee and Yelloww.  Traffic lights are the great mystery.

An Interview with Todd!

I interviewed Todd and he didn't even turn me into a zombie (or give me a t-shirt)!

Aaaaaaron: Todd, first of all I'd like to say that you are one of the few writers out there that will do something quite different with each blog. That's one of the things I both admire and fear about your writing.

I don't want to start off the interview with a boring question or anything, so let's just start with this: if you were on a symbolic quest for the holy grail, what would the holy grail be, to you?

Todd: Well, mythologists like Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell theorized that the idea of "grail" in hero myths symbolized full consciousness or individuation. This would be attained once the protagonist rose from the depths of the underworld (representing the unconscious) and returned home truly self-aware for the first time in his life.

I, however, am more interested in the Holy Mail. The Holy Mail, according to a legend I am right now making up, was the last letter delivered to Christ before being nailed to the cross. Rumored to bear upon its envelope the message "YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY WON $10,000,000," this piece of mail is said to grant its possessor the ability to get others to listen to him intently for a brief period of time but then get frustrated and punch him in the face.

As this is all purely fictional, I can't really say what Jung or Campbell would've thought about it, but I will tell you this: they're both dead and I'm not so ha, fucking, ha, fucking, ha.

A: There seem to be almost dozens of dead people nowadays. If you could resurrect one as your zombie slave, who would you resurrect and why?

T: Well, this is a tough question as I'm not fully sure I believe in the existence of slaves. Were they not merely figments of our collective imagination, though, I'd have to say, "You, Aaaaaaaron."

I understand that in order to do this, I'd first have to kill you, but besides that, I don't think it'd be that big of a transition for you, as you could merely replace the zombie expression, "Braaaaaaaaaains," with your already elongated first name.

A: I'm afraid to ask this, but...as your zombie slave, what would you have me do?

T: It'd probably be a rotation of sit-ups, pull-ups, and then intensive cardio training. A big mistake people make is thinking that their zombies dont need to work out. This can lead to all kinds of problems including maggot take-over, corpse-rash and, in a worst case scenario, double-death. If there's one thing I'd like the reader to take away from this interview it's this: please, please exercise your zombies.

A: I appreciate you being thoughtful of my future needs as a zombie slave. Speaking of the future, I have a friend that can take a message to your Future Self. Anything you'd like to say?

T: I guess that depends how far in the future this self is. If, for example, he is living an hour from now, Id probably say something like, Turn off the TV and read a fucking book. Were he further in the future, like say, thirty or forty years, my message would be more along the lines of, I better not find you on that couch when I get home.

A: Ah. A message from your future self is coming back to you right now on my short wave radio. Your future self says, "Hey Aaaaaaron, you might want to get rid of the stolen radio. It's called 'evidence.' Tell young Todd to be less cool and that I'm not using reverse psychology (which is of course just a ploy - I'm using reverse psychology - yet this might also be a ploy. Or not.)." Todd, what does the word, "ploy" mean, anyway? I've never looked it up.

T: OK. Here’s a little secret. I’m not very good with words. This may seem strange, since I’m a writer, but it kind of goes along with many other things about my life. For example, I like having sex, but don’t really know how the parts are supposed to hook up. I consider myself a wife-beater, but I’m not married and don’t own one of those shirts. And I sometimes play basketball with other men just because I can lick the sweat from their glistening bodies. I guess you could say I’m the kind of guy that starts answering a question and then forgets what he was saying and just kind of rambles on and on and on and on (and so on). 

 

A: All right, speaking of sweat: I don't want to stress you out, but I simply must know: Pop quiz, hotshot. There's a bomb on a bus. If it drops below 50 miles an hour, it blows up. What do you do? What do you do?

 

T: Now, that’s a good question, and again my answer depends on how many kitties are on the bus. Were there eight or more, I’d probably throw three or four of them toward the front of the vehicle, then instruct them to crawl under the plastic panel and gnaw through the bomb’s wires. If, however, there were less than four available cats, I’d likely just chuck them at other passangers as a distraction then jump out a window.

 

A: If only the producers of Speed had employed you to look over their screenplay.  I never thought it was believable that there weren't any kittens on that bus.

 

Well, Todd, it's been a pleasure, but I have to get to an ultimate fighting matchup (my 4 year old niece's - it's her first fight so I want to be there).  My last question is this: have you any wisdom you would like to impart to your readers and the other people who got through this interview?

T: One quick thing anyone can do to significantly improve the quality of their life is to visit www.toddmayhew.com where they can access my blog, merchandise, and the new 99 cent download of the month section in which I post a new story, song or audio sketch every month. They're better than anything God could do - whether you believe in him or not. Other than that, the only advice I can give is to get yourself a Saint Bernard. They're excellent lapdogs, and can fit easily into any overhead storage compartment.

I would like everyone to see my penis on TV

...because, well, I've heard that TV adds ten pounds.

A Synopsis of David Lynch's Caligula II

David Lynch holds nothing back in this tour de force of oddities.  Naturally, the movie does not explain how Caligula (played by Bill Pullman) is alive in the first place, not to mention that he is now the new Queen of Peru during the early 1500s.  Things get more confusing when he boards Air Force One and forces the president to suck oysters out of the Secretary of State's bottom (the Secretary of State being, of course, a horse named Lucky).

However, solid performances by Haley Joel Osment (as Caligula's mother) and Luis Guzman (as the ambassador to Dimension X) provide enough entertainment to keep the viewer interested.

Caligula II is plum full of exotic scenes and wild visuals, but perhaps the most captivating sequence is a twenty minute scene featuring nothing but Caligula sitting in front of a mirror saying "Annagottadavita?" over and over.  Later, he gives a televised ballet-speech that finally incites his people to revolt against him.

In the end, Caligula dies.  Again.

Roadnotes: Denver 2

Note: the following entry is based on events that happened September 29 and 30.

My Sonicare electric toothbrush has died.  I mean, it's run out of charge.  The whole situation would not have occurred were it not for the fact that the bathroom light switch in my Seattle studio apartment also turns off the outlet in which my toothbrush is plugged into to charge.  So after being in L.A., I should have remembered to leave the light on for a few hours and I didn't.  Now I'm brushing my teeth manually (or as my friend Penelope would say: "the real man's way").

Friday I track down Scotty, who is alive, contrary to my recent thoughts on the matter.  We had lost touch over the past six months.  Sera takes the day off to hang out with me and we both wish there was a wading pool nearby (the day is warm and sunny and it is a pain to have to do something -- wading pools solve these problems).

Friday night I wander around Denver for a short time, alone, enjoying the crisp, dry air and remembering both why I miss the place and why I left.

Saturday I hang out with Trapper for most of the day.  Then we catch a couple bands at Wax Trax before moving on to my reading.  The reading goes well.  A math poem that I feared would be inaccessible read aloud ended up being the most successful piece read.  Of course, that could just mean that everything else I read was crap, but oh well.  In any case, I end up selling all of the copies of my book that I brought and that spells success, right?  Or something.  At least my bag is lighter going back to Seattle.



For those that missed the interview the other day, you can listen to it here.  You may want to skip ahead five minutes, past all the technical difficulties.  If anyone wants to edit out that stuff for me and make me a better copy, I will be most grateful.

Roadnotes: Denver 1

Note: the following entry is based on events that happened September 27 and 28.

A few days ago, checking my bag on the way to Seattle, flying Alaska, cost me an hour waiting.  In Denver, flying Frontier: two minutes.  Though, admittedly, in Denver, you walk a good 20 minutes before you get to the carousel (still, that's pretty good, I think).

Smiter picks me up in Denver and I wind up playing video games with his son (ultra-fun: they had LEGO Star Wars, you see).  Later, I discover my drink limit in high altitude has dropped to one.  Fortunately, I discover this without making a mess.

Sera graciously hosts me so that I can stay in my old neighborhood.  The next day I breakfast at Watercourse, one of the finest vegetarian restaurants in the world.  I spend the day visiting friends and haunts and in the evening I see Quinn in a play.  He plays a thug, which is not a stretch at all.

Afterward, he schools me in sword fighting (using foam swords he has from being a children's quest camp counselor), then he demonstrates his jackoff trick, which he does by pretending to masturbate under the table of a diner, even going so far as to use a creamer cup for the explosion.  I had my camera out, but I missed the money shot.

The Tropic of Random and Blah Blah

I learned how to make cashmere by sleeping with goats. Many a night, I lay by my goat lover, in the cellar of a small cottage hidden away in the Russian tundra, only to hear tell of the secrets of cashmere production through the whispy whispers of my sleepy, over-sexed companion.

Other nights, we burned cardboard remains of lime Jell-o boxes to keep warm whilst Goatie (that's what I called him) made sweet music with his slide trombone. I cooked rich soups, full of barley flowers and scraps from the vinyl clothing factory, then danced to the music wearing nothing but Scotch tape.

On special occasions, Jason Priestley dropped by, to whom we would say, "Hey, Jason Priestley!" He ignored us, for the most part, choosing to play on the monkey bars rather than engage in false conversation.

But that was before Xanax and Prozac and before the stunning legislation that moved the Tropic of Capricorn nearly 10 latitudinal degrees farther south. Now things are very different indeed.

Roadnotes: L.A. 3

I am at the airport early, with plenty of time before my flight.  When I get a water, I notice that there is a man waiting for the cashier while she stocks items a few feet away.  She stops immediately as I walk up.

The man asks for change, so she tells him that she has to help me first (in order to open the cash register, I'm assuming).  She rings up my water, then gets the guy his change.

This sets off a series of thoughts:

Was my desire to get a water really part of a larger impulse to help the universe flow smoothly?  The man may have had to wait a while for the next purchaser to come along and allow the cashier to open the register.  Am I that in tune with the cosmos?

Or maybe the girl was in tune.  She instinctively knew that she couldn't help the man, so she continued to stock items until another person arrived.  Of course, this would all imply that the man was NOT in tune, because he grew angry from the wait.  Does the wait mean you're not in tune?  No, just the anger that comes on at having to wait.  Sometimes waiting is what you are supposed to do.  It's all a matter of intricate timing, you see.

Speaking of intricate timing, the bottle of Scotch that Adam brought me as a gift way back in April (but forgot in L.A.) is finally in my possession, thanks to the kindly babysitting of Victoria and perhaps a helpful reminder from Jeremy the Great so that she wouldn't forget to give it to me.  I'm anxious to try it, but unfortunately I wind up heading out to Denver before I get a chance.

(Denver roadnotes coming up - and don't forget my reading on the 30th, if you're in the Denver area.)

Roadnotes: L.A. 2

Note: the following is based on events that occurred on Sunday, September 24.

My stomach hurts most of the day.  Nerves?  Something viral?  No idea.

I'm dehydrated, sure, but I feel way worse than usual and by the time I show up to do the Pointless Banter Show, I want to just curl up in a ball in the corner.

Not only do I not feel well, but I look a mess, too.  I decided to give myself a haircut before I came to L.A. and gouged a good bit out of the side of my head, and I borrowed a razor to shave and wound up slicing up a good bit of my neck.  What's the deal?  I'm comforted by the fact that no one really cares, and most people won't notice.

I decided it's mostly nerves because after the show I feel much better.  I don't get that nervous before readings but this was an unscripted conversation and apparently that unwound me a little.

However, Kevin and Trista were most gracious hosts, easy to talk to, and didn't even molest me once (on camera, that is).

After the show, we all meet Will and Kristen at a karaoke bar where Jeremy busts out a Rob Zombie tune in most impressive fashion (I have pictures of that - no time to upload them)....

Aaaaaaron will be on Internet TV!

I will be on Internet TV this Sunday (September 24) at 8pm PST!  To tune in and find out who the REAL Aaron Dietz is, just go to Musicplustv.com!  You will be able to IM questions for me to answer (if that be your taste, times being what they are) and the show hosts, Kevin and Trista, have threatened to "play a game with" me, whatever that means.

Also, I am traveling to Denver for a reading on September 30 at 9:30pm at the Old Curtis Street Bar (2100 Curtis Street).  Zac Tasjian, Citymouse, and I will all read, and Jason Heller and Big Al will spin some great music.  If you're in the Denver area, check it out.

Aaaaaaron has been recalled

Greetings.  I am Zorgnarf, alien inventor.  My robot,
Aaaaaaron, is malfunctioning.  He has schizorobotia and thinks he's three people
now: Aaaaaaron, Gordon, and Elda, an eighty year old seamstress.

A Profile of a Roommate

Name: Gordon Felcher Dumbhead

Profession: Apprentice Plumber

Place of birth: Murdock, Kansas.

Interests: Stealing Aaron's passwords.

Favorite color: Jealous of Aaron's blogging success.

Favorite music: Waiting for Aaron to be gone for an entire day so he can attempt to steal all of Aaron's readers.

Favorite movie: Lies about his age (he is two years older than he says).

Favorite TV show: Making shit up about himself and/or others.

Best trait: Seriously, Gordon really pissed me off with that blog the other day and I didn't even know until this morning.

The Real Me

I've been feeling guilty about this for a while now and it's time to come clean: I'm not who I've been saying I was.  I'm not Aaaaaaron.  I'm not a writer.  And I'm not cool (although many of you had already figured that one out).

I'm a plumber.  I plumb.  It's what I do.  I created this account in order to live out my fantasy life online.  I've always wanted to get lots of chicks but I'm too lazy to do anything difficult (like learn guitar, or play sports), so I figured in my fantasy life I would be this ultra-cool blogger because bloggers get chicks and all they have to do is blog, you know?

The pictures I was using are of my nephew.  He is really cool.  He goes to school and gets all these chicks and before he was 12 he could beat me at Connect Four.  My nephew knows how to play guitar.  And he is good at several sports.

No, I'm not half as cool as that little twirp.  My real name is Gordon.

It's not even Goooooordon.  Just Gordon.

So, if you want to unsubscribe or something, I won't feel bad.  I know you were only reading because you thought it was somebody cool, and not a plumber.  I want to believe that plumbers can become good bloggers, but that's quite a stretch, isn't it?  Anyway, I'll keep hoping...and blogging...and maybe someday I'll get lucky.  Thank you for listening.

This one's for you, Joey Polanski!

Joey Polanski is funny. You can be assured that he is because I have linked to him in more than one place. I don't do that because he gives me money. No. I do that because he is just that funny. You all should check him out. See? I've even linked to him from my Web site.

The Book Release Party...

The book release party, for Reserved For Emperors, was a huge success. Many of the finest names and faces in Seattle attended and Freckleface even called and offered the best toast ever by speaker phone:

"To Aaron Dietz, I wanna be just like him when I grow up--even more of a babe magnet than a pair of Converse All Stars."

The twins even color-coordinated with the book!

I took a moment to show off a painting I received from A Balanced Contradiction, as well. She's the greatest!

Also, I cooked myself a nice dinner a couple weeks ago. That really has nothing to do with the book release. I just wanted to share that.

Thanks to all those that came out (and the people who were there in spirit)! And thanks to all the congratulations and support! Thanks to C-Dawg, for all the work planning and preparing for the event!

My Book Is Now Available!

My book is finally out: Reserved For Emperors is available on lulu.com.

Aaron Dietz unleashes his first collection of blogs with over 90 pages of additional commentary! He explains why he is better than you! He tells you how to start an earthquake for free! He organizes your closet!* This book is a regular tour de force!**

* Note: Aaron Dietz does not actually organize your closet; nor does the book.

** If, by "tour," you mean "book," and if by "de force," you mean "for sale."

The book is $11.99 (plus some shipping costs), but it can be downloaded for less than $3.  If you do have it shipped - make sure to select a cheap shipping method - my first time on Lulu.com defaulted to something pretty expensive and I was glad I noticed.

I was pleased to get Erik Tosten to do the cover. Check out his work sometime. One other thing of note is that in addition to over 90 pages of supplemental material that can't be found online, this book contains two original pieces of writing that I've not published elsewhere (one of them is my first comic strip in over two decades).

Also, if you're interested in attending the small book release celebration, send me a message; it's this Saturday night.

Thank you, everyone, for encouraging me to release this book!

A Phone Conversation

Kali: James, what's up?

James: Not much. What's the dealio, K-bob?

Kali: What's the what? I don't get it.

James: I don't get it, either.

Kali: You don't "get it"? Or you don't get "it"?

James: Did you just use quotes on me? Over the phone?

Kali: What? What do you mean?

James: You just, you know, "used quotes."

Kali: Uh..."no I didn't."

James: You just "did it" again.

Kali: I did "what" exactly?

James: That.

Kali: "That."

James: ""That.""

Kali: """That"""?

James: """"That.""""

Kali: """""That"""""? Seriously?

James: """"""That."""""" "Seriously."

Kali: "Oh."

James: "Yeah."

Kali: "Sorry."

James: That's what I thought.

Kali: So, how's it, you know, "going"?

James: How's "it" going?

Kali: Yeah. "How's ""it"" "going"?"

James: Yeah....

Kali: "Yeah?"

James: ""Yeah.""

Kali: """Yeah?"""

James: No.

Why all the hot girls should want to ride the Aaaaaaron stick

Recent contest winner Adam got to choose a blog topic for me to write about. He chose, "Why all the hot girls should want to ride the Aaaaaaron Stick."

This challenged me because:

A. It implies that the "hot girls" DON'T want to ride the Aaaaaaron stick (which is of course entirely untrue).
B. Who says I WANT the "hot girls" to ride the Aaaaaaron stick (I mean, I'm fairly choosy and I like to take good care of my disease-free stick)?

(This is not to say all "hot girls" have diseases. I'm also choosy for other reasons.)

But if I must explain why the "hot girls" should want to ride my stick, then I must. And here is one reason:

I can turn ingredients lists on various food products into erotic poems. It works well with just about anything, but I particularly like those that end in "spices."

It's really much better in person, but check out Zatarain's Red Beans and Rice:

Ingredients:

enriched long grain parboiled rice

(iron phosphate,
niacin,
thiamine mononitrate and folic acid),

cooked and dehydrated red beans,

enriched wheat flour

(niacin,
reduced iron,
thiamine mononitrate,
riboflavin,
folic acid),

malted barley flour, salt,

dehydrated vegetables

(onion,
bell pepper),

soy sauce

(100 per cent soybean),

yeast extract, dextrose, soybean
oil,

thiamine hydrochloride,

natural and artificial flavors,

modified corn starch,

torula yeast,

natural
smoke
flavor,

garlic,
caramel color,

spices.