Thursday, July 31, 2008

BAD RECEPTION..

Monday, July 28, 2008

UNDISPUTED..




russian prison camp

WHERE THE WILD THINGS WERE..















Sunday, July 27, 2008

COMFORT ZONES..


They need to make a flat version of this, as well as making it really CHEAP somehow.. but by then I think they'd look completely different..(see below)




Ghostwriter's back!!


The only nuts I back. Barbecue all the way


You know that game you played when you were young, you'd dig your heels into the ground and walk like an idiot with your toes cramped to the sky? Like you were trying to prove to the world you didn't need toes to walk?? I think this chick's trying to play that game with these on, but instead she'd fall and get a spike in the ass and puncture her intestines.

It kind of reminds me of the other day when I was walking around with a tank top and my fur hat in 90 degree New York City heat and some beef necked shithead on his lunch break thought it'd be really cool to comment on my hat. He said something like ,"What women do to look good.." or something along those lines and I said " I do what I want. Thanks for your concern."

Originally I listed a few reasons as to why I chose to wear that hat this particular day, but I decided to erase it since I am trying to break the habit of constantly justifying myself. It is a complete pet peeve when people fucking feel the need to talk to you, under ANY circumstances. Especially when the conversations branch from something I am holding or wearing. You are by default not witty, clever, OR interesting. Unless my keys fall out of my pocket or something unplanned like a city wide blackout, these are among the only times I can understand speaking to goobers. (To me, you can tell a goober the minute they open their mouth.)

I don't see anyone bothering those Hassids that wear like thick ass wool coats and 20 pound top hats, right? Nobody bothers them. Why can't people just mind their own fucking business. It's like these people are everywhere. Even today I was at Barnes and Nobles reading a magazine and some guy looks at my board and starts to ask me a series of brain numbing questions about skateboarding with like some unrelenting grin on his face. He asks me if it's hard to learn and why I started.. if he should start, who taught me, are you fucking kidding me? Get out of here. And it's not like I'm a total dick, but isn't he more of a total dick for bothering me while I'm reading? I really want to know how to make a portable paper loom. Anyway, he fucked off after I told him to ask somebody else. Good.

Whatever, I'm glad people think I'm an angry person. Cause maybe I am. But if someone kept prodding your brain with their dirty fingers, wouldn't you be a little upset?

A SELECT COLLECTION OF VALUABLE AND CURIOUS ARTS, AND INTERESTING EXPERIMENTS WHICH ARE WELL EXPLAINED, AND WARRANTED GENUINE, AND MAY BE PREPARED SAF

-ELY AND AT LITTLE EXPENSE

Rufus M. Porter (May 1, 1792 - August 13, 1884) was an American painter, inventor, and founder of Scientific American magazine.

Inventor

During much of this time, and afterwards, Porter was a prolific inventor. During 1825-1826 he published four editions of A Select Collection of Valuable and Curious Arts, and Interesting Experiments. He built a portable camera obscura that let him make silhouette portraits in less than 15 minutes. (He charged 20 cents apiece for them.) He experimented with a wind-powered gristmill, a washing machine, a corn sheller, a fire alarm, a rope-making machine, and a camera. He invented clocks, railway signals, churns, a distance measuring appliance, a horsepower mechanism, a churn, a life preserver, a cheese press, and a revolving rifle. Typical of his inability to capitalize on his genius, he sold the rights to the revolving rifle to Samuel Colt for $100; Colt eventually developed it into the famous Colt 45.

In 1825 he published A Select Collection of Valuable and Curious Arts, and Interesting Experiments Which are Well Explained, and Warranted Genuine, and May be Prepared, Safely and at Little Expense, which is a book of instructions for various domestic decorative arts, including wall, floor, and furniture painting. By the end of the nineteenth century, the preindustrial craft trades had almost totally disappeared. Industrial expansion and westward movement had largely severed American culture from early Colonial American and Native American craft roots