The chickens ran for cover when they saw me hauling along. The timing was off by about 25 degrees but the dwell was ok and it's a statement about how well these vans were designed that they can still run at all with the timing off. I know I can't get worse gas mileage than I am right now so maybe this will improve things on that front so we don't have to go to war with Canada for their tar sands.
Any day I learn something about my van is a good day and today I sanded off the rust covering the timing marks on the flywheel and realized what I was looking at. The Sears timing light kit I won on Ebay paid off because it allowed me to check the dwell and the tach and the points and the timing and also included a push button starter. It was the one thing I couldn't do to my van because the tools are obsolete and only antique dealers carry them. Now my back feels like an antique.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
PB&J Tryptic
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Repurposed Artwork
Panty Model Wanted ! ! ! ! (Ft Myers/Naples)
Date: 2011-11-03, 10:41AM EDT
Reply to: gigs-6ahfh-2649954215@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Need a small size female that can fit into a small size panties to be modeled. This is for a 1 month- 1/2 month venture. Outcome can produce about $2,250 at the end. No face pictures will be taken, just the panty area. I have about 200 that need to be modeled, 3 shots per panty. Please contact me if you are interested and please send a picture along with your age. I have a couple references of previous models I have used before that you may contact.
Short porn clip (Naples)
Date: 2011-10-29, 3:53PM EDT
Reply to: gigs-ncvrg-2675449190@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Need a gal for HJ video. No face shots needed! Available Sat afternoon. Naples
In need of dj for adult nudist party (naples)
Date: 2011-10-31, 10:30PM EDT
Reply to: gigs-mqcyu-2679008474@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
In need of dj for adult party don't have to be pro- must be 21 or older..
(will be working for tips only) date of party november 12th
Get Your Thinking Caps On
I should "Thank Shell Oil and ExxonMobil?" Really? Bill Whittle is one of those guys who would say Africans were better off as slaves in 1780 South Carolina because their standard of living "improved" and they learned to read the bible. Ok, Bill. He's also the kind of person who drank Nestle Quik for so long he thinks it is chocolate. Nope. Wrong again. But I have to give him credit for the polished delivery of a Muslim cleric. I can't compete with that (or with the arrogant jibes) but when it comes to social philosophy it doesn't take a genius to find faults with Bill's argument. It does take someone who is not brainwashed and that's getting harder to find lately thanks to the "talking head" approach Bill uses.
Basically, Bill is wrong to suggest corporations are good because the corporations themselves would not even suggest they are good. Bill is defending corporate collectives whose sole motive is profit. "Goodness" never enters the picture and nor should gratitude. They are not benevolent nor do they want to be. They are merely active capitalists who "capitalize" on the paradigm of supply and demand by using natural and human resources to maximize profit. Come on, Bill, you've read The Fountainhead-don't insult Ayn Rand by asking me to be gracious to British Petroleum for oil-soaked shrimp. Their deficiency in concern for social health is directly proportionate to their abundance of greed...and that's what makes them capitalists. That's not something anyone gets awards for. Does it advance society? No. People advance society IN SPITE of corporations. Societies and Corporations are on two totally different elevators.
Sir Wilfred Grenfell's motives in organizing infrastructure to improve the lives of those living on the Labrador Coast was not related to personal profit. HE IS THE ONE WHO DESERVES THANKS. He reinvested all the social equity into the society because he wanted to live in an equitable culture. The market was being exploited by fish merchants and could've gone on forever but Grenfell stepped in. He didn't compete; he completed the society and he profited because he lived in a society that was healthy. That's smart. If you want to live in an unhealthy culture that incarcerates the most people on Earth then what you do is hoard all the equity of your efforts or move to the other side of the planet with your wealth and shake your head at the crime wave that follows.
That's what Rupert Murdoch and Tony Hayward and Kenneth Lay are guilty of and my first reaction is not to thank them. Furthermore, amoebas in the water is hardly as relevant as mercury and crude oil and natural gas.
If you want to watch the video that inspired me to respond (I made this as a video response to Bill's video but he has to approve it before it is attached to his comment section) here it is:
The only "self-entitled cry babies" are the likes of Tony Hayward and Kenneth Lay who think they are entitled to five cents of every dollar that passes through their hands. That's ONE economic paradigm and it is flawed because the hoarding of wealth surpasses the health of society as a priority (as current events have illustrated). Sir Wilfred Grenfell and Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. and Sargent Shriver and others have proven there is an alternative path. Bill is NOT the voice of reason, but he plays one on T.V.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Broken Down
I'm worn down by optical night vision goggle dreams. Sig Sauer is hiring to build handguns and according to Bill Whittle I should be thankful that someone is polluting the oceans full of mercury because if they weren't then I would be forced to pollute it myself...and that would be hard. And if Steve Jobs is good then that would make Sir Wilfred Grenfell a fucking saint from heaven. Yep, I'll bet the CEO of BP stays up at nights worrying about people going without fuel for their cars. That's his main concern. "IF I don't do my job then who will deliver Dominos Pizza?" he asks as he stays overnight on his desk to ensure a steady supply of petroleum. hahaha.
The high I felt playing jazz and psuedo poetry set to music at the Press Room has been quashed by a day of ill feelings. It was 3am when I finally ate my last slice of cheese that I made by milking the pregnant rats who inhabit my van. And there is a crop of Labrador wheat growing in my seat that is set to harvest. So I slept late and the depression of masturbating to decade old blow job fantasies that I imagine I got from indifferent girlfriends has my conjunctivitis returning with a vengeance. Then I played guitar as I waited for the temp agent to call me back to confirm that I am not qualified to work the third shift calibrating night vision goggles so the police can better attack the occupy wall street folk. Nice.
And I got to watch all the rendezvous of hookers and affairs in the parking lot. One couple literally rocked the suspension on his truck as the tinted windows provided a cheap hotel room for fast noon time sex. And another couple fought with coffee in their hands. And one truck driver pissed in the field and then fell asleep in his truck while the truck next to him bounced up and down as the couple fucked in the sun. Hookers/escorts or affairs. Hard to tell. I wanted to play my guitar in peace with gloves on. Then it was a hunt for white gas because I've been using gasoline to cook my ramen noodles and it smokes like hell and when I spill it on the carpet I can hear my father saying, "That's dangerous." because I am obviously an idiot in his mind and I would normally drink gasoline if not for his sage advice. And I have adjusted my wood stove to allow for maximum wood consumption so that means sparks regularly fly on the gasoline soaked socks and rags on my filthy carpet.
I go get some glue for my Labrador Montage gift for my friend dying of cancer and get some camp fuel at Ace Hardware and some more wood at motobikes. Then a slice of pizza at Kens West End Pizza where I chat with Ken about his 14 years selling pizza and his decision to sell Brooklyn style because that's where he is from. and I tell him Kittery has a good wood fire slice joint that is competition and he is indifferent. I would've gone there but the bridge is closed.
And my neck hurts from crying in my ginger brew but the spam email song went over well.I am a better impersonator because I have no self-esteem.
I'm a few days away from taking the job hunt to Naples, Florida. I guess I am guilty of Oikophobia-a fear and hatred of ones own culture. But does that stem from my fugitive status in that culture? Hard to say. I'm not welcome and I don't want to be where I'm not welcome. But am I not welcome because I won't fit in? Or am I not welcome because fitting in means drinking whiskey and fucking a hooker in the C&J ride share parking lot while my kids are taught to hate gays and George Washington was a saint and Steve Jobs is no different than Thomas Edison. I'm not worthy to drink the same water as Steve Jobs.
The high I felt playing jazz and psuedo poetry set to music at the Press Room has been quashed by a day of ill feelings. It was 3am when I finally ate my last slice of cheese that I made by milking the pregnant rats who inhabit my van. And there is a crop of Labrador wheat growing in my seat that is set to harvest. So I slept late and the depression of masturbating to decade old blow job fantasies that I imagine I got from indifferent girlfriends has my conjunctivitis returning with a vengeance. Then I played guitar as I waited for the temp agent to call me back to confirm that I am not qualified to work the third shift calibrating night vision goggles so the police can better attack the occupy wall street folk. Nice.
And I got to watch all the rendezvous of hookers and affairs in the parking lot. One couple literally rocked the suspension on his truck as the tinted windows provided a cheap hotel room for fast noon time sex. And another couple fought with coffee in their hands. And one truck driver pissed in the field and then fell asleep in his truck while the truck next to him bounced up and down as the couple fucked in the sun. Hookers/escorts or affairs. Hard to tell. I wanted to play my guitar in peace with gloves on. Then it was a hunt for white gas because I've been using gasoline to cook my ramen noodles and it smokes like hell and when I spill it on the carpet I can hear my father saying, "That's dangerous." because I am obviously an idiot in his mind and I would normally drink gasoline if not for his sage advice. And I have adjusted my wood stove to allow for maximum wood consumption so that means sparks regularly fly on the gasoline soaked socks and rags on my filthy carpet.
I go get some glue for my Labrador Montage gift for my friend dying of cancer and get some camp fuel at Ace Hardware and some more wood at motobikes. Then a slice of pizza at Kens West End Pizza where I chat with Ken about his 14 years selling pizza and his decision to sell Brooklyn style because that's where he is from. and I tell him Kittery has a good wood fire slice joint that is competition and he is indifferent. I would've gone there but the bridge is closed.
And my neck hurts from crying in my ginger brew but the spam email song went over well.I am a better impersonator because I have no self-esteem.
I'm a few days away from taking the job hunt to Naples, Florida. I guess I am guilty of Oikophobia-a fear and hatred of ones own culture. But does that stem from my fugitive status in that culture? Hard to say. I'm not welcome and I don't want to be where I'm not welcome. But am I not welcome because I won't fit in? Or am I not welcome because fitting in means drinking whiskey and fucking a hooker in the C&J ride share parking lot while my kids are taught to hate gays and George Washington was a saint and Steve Jobs is no different than Thomas Edison. I'm not worthy to drink the same water as Steve Jobs.
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