Pointlessly interesting question of the day:

If the only political choices were Communism, Fascism, or Anarchism (as in the Spanish Civil War, e.g.), which would you choose?

Photos by Tony G.

The Danger Cart
short version

So we took a cart, the thing Bob brought down and had been bumping around the basement, and Dave spray painted the sides with the word "DANGER." Except on one side he forgot the N. And Ryan made a mask, duct-taping the pointy end of a bleach bottle to two paper bowls. It kind of looks like a mouse. He cut out eye holes drew red flames and taped it to the front of the cart.

So then last night we took it and pushed each other to parties yelling "Danger Cart!" And then at the parties we made people come outside and see it and if they didn't seem impressed enough we said it's a danger cart.

Ancestor to the Danger Cart.

As much as I would like to, I don't know enough to retell last night's escapades through a Hellenic lens.

For Gibbons:
"He was injured, injured bad."

Who's your favorite Jesus?

• Bling Jesus
• Galaxy Jesus
• Germanic Breastplate Jesus
• All-American Jesus
• Philandering Jesus
• Rockin Hispanic Jesus
• DJ Jesus
• Bizarre Sketch Jesus
• Racing Pro-life Jesus
• Celebrity Jesus
• Active Jesus

Life at The Beat; or, The Day After I Met the Whole Sick Crew

Update:
to what extent we don't know all the words

The house is mostly back in order. The kitchen, bathroom and foyer/mail room all clean, and maybe as clean as they've ever been, and new light bulbs up and on. Thanks to those who helped and the rest of you owe us. Ryan's room is sweet and bigger than either Jared or Lee ever realized.

The place is mostly back to normal, w. classes started today and a chill party a few days ago complete with a banjo-led sing-a-long of Wagon Wheel and Who's Got the Crack (because none of us know all the words). It it feels a little empty, though, as we realize to what extent Lee really was larger than life.


A poem for the vegatarians amoung us:

Language comes from meat. Without meat,
There’s no language. It’s too obvious.

Meaty words shaped and rolled by a meaty tongue,
Such as tender, juicy or sliced, for example, would be
Meaningless without the muscles, tendons and fat
That wrap around bones. Words such as dead, lovely,
Haggard, touch, desire or satisfaction. Further,

Everyday language is overstuffed with meat.
Don’t you slander my meat. A piece of meat,
She turned down such prime meat.
          - Linh Dinh

A very merry fuck you to Gunner, Bob, etc. for graciously destroying our house after Silliman worked his ass off cleaning it up. Passive-aggressive? Yes and fuck you.

How often do you get to launch 250,000 bouncey balls on San Francisco?

Note: My sister and her friends, touring Europe last fall, bounced a dozen of these all over Paris, with one guy getting thrown out of Napoleon's tomb for talking about bouncing one off the marble.

Winter Gathering: here; this weekend.

The Beat Brothers Part Deux

Silliman: Lee's driving a Mercedes now. I'm pretty sure he's The Man. You know, not as in, "You're the man!" but-
August: Capital T, capital M The Man.
Silliman: Right.

Pause, then simultaneously

August: He bought in.
Silliman: He sold out.
August: Dude, he didn't sell out. He bought in. "Selling out" entails using a former way of life and/or friends for profit.
Silliman: He didn't buy in! He was born in! He sold his soul! That's what he sold out!

Pause.

August: I think we need to post this.
Silliman: I was thinking the same thing, and I would, but I just posted.
August: I'll do it.
Silliman: Represent me fairly.

August, typing, remembers back to the weekend Bob maced him in the face, and the words Bob spoke drunkenly to Lee Nunn during the Hunter S. Thompson weekend-o-rama ring in August's ears: "As your attorney I advise you to buy a fast car with no top."

August: I guess Lee Nunn took that advice to heart.

The Beat Brothers

Scene: The Beat, quasi-clean, after dinner.

Silliman: My transcripts have to be in Atlanta tomorrow.
August: Atlanta?
Silliman: We have two packs of cigarettes, a dozen beers, a quarter tank of gas, we're wearing sunglasses and it's dark.
August: I think we can make it.
Silliman: Hit it.

Down w/ the past

For the first time in a long time/forever, there is order and sense to the kitchen cabinets at the Beat.

Early Christmas Eve

"So I've been wearing a viking helmet and smoking cigarettes and shooting August with an airsoft gun. It practically is a party. Except all the beer bottles are empty." -- Silliman

August, after waking up from a 20-hour nap:

"I had this dream where you, me, Dan Greene, Jack Hittenger, a terrier and Tom Waits were trashing Saga. Jack was apparently feeling vindictive and kept shouting that we were doing "random acts of terrierism" and then Dan Greene hit him. Tom Waits kept talking in his weird-ass voice about how he had done this stuff for 20 years."

Indeed, what is dada?

Schnaugs

The thing about living with just August - with the rest of you off Happy Holidaying - is that one day he'll appear and be saying "what's for dinner" and give you a 20 minute discussion of Weber on Melville and then you won't see him again for days. It's weird, the sporaticness. And also his mom kinda freaked me out.


Is there any consensus on the prefered late-December holiday(s) well-wishing from the Beat? Merry X-kwananukkamas?

So not true

"Undergrad presentations are no place for experimentations in slant rhyme."
        - Dan Greene

Microsoft Office has given me an early dose of home.

Spellcheck is apparently set on appalachian mode--below is the sentence it suggested:

"With them fingers close my eyes."

Ryan, I order you to write a song.

P.S. I just spellchecked this message; spellcheck doesn't recognise itself.

Oh the void.