Thank goodness that today is Halloween! That means that tomorrow I can return to the simple-though-sickly greens that have hallmarked this site since nearly its conception. *relieved*

So because so many asked - in their hearts if not through actual words - here are the complete lyrics to Tuesday's lobster tribute, aptly entitled "A Lobster Tribute (unplugged)." And yes, unplugged actually is a part of the title. I figure most of you want the lyrics so you can begin the process of artfully deconstructing the lines and applying literary theory to the menagerie of symbols and metaphor to distilling the song to its purest essence. So. Have at....

Hello Mr. Lobster Friend
I need you today
The sky is green with melancholy
But I've heard that's your way

Hello Mr. Lobster Friend
You bring me meaning without end
I fight the fight
You set me free
You turn the morning into me

You homeless lobster
You disgust me
You turn the roses
Into the shining leaves

You drank my soda
You drank my rye
You drank the needles
That poured from my eye

Hello Mr. Lobster Man
You're singeing my brow
You indulge illuminati
You're drunken like a sow

Hello Mr. Lobster Man
You feed me with your selfish plan
You kiss the sky
And the girls you stalk
You walk your ever-pleasing talk

Hello Mr. Lobster Friend
Hello Mr. Lobster Man
Hello, Hello
Hello?

Hmm, because I'm almost immortally generous, I'm switching Vidblog Day to Tuesdays. This means that just before I go to bed I will post the next episode of Nowheresville: The Movie so you'll have every moment of Tuesday to see the new one. I know, i know. I'm too kind. Yeah, me and my not-bass-enough, geek voice (playa haters!). Soooo...

Vidblog #4: A Lobster Tribute (Unplugged)

This just in: the fires that even now ravage SoCal are now suspected to be the result of secondhand-smoke. Tobacco companies have been quick to deny that they had any knowledge that secondhand-smoke causes wildfires, but there is currently a federal commission examining evidence suggesting otherwise. Of partcular interest to the commission is a recording of a Bay Area son of CFO of R.J.R. Nabisco (one-time parent company of Winston-brand cigarettes) saying, several years back, that "This smoke is the fire!" Protests from R.J.R. publicists are defiant as they claim that the boy was a known "pothead" and it has been confirmed that he was commenting on how the thick smoke on a particular evening looked "exactly like that one guy from that 'Starsky & Hutch' show that my dad used to like... uhhh.. yeah! Michael Knight! Duuuuude...." But the commission is not dissuaded, stating that such testimony is patently ridiculous and that secondhand-smoke clearly started the fires and was known to be arsonous, pointing especially to the common knowledge that cigarette smoke contains arsenic, which committee-member Peter Ayala maintains is still a "leading cause of arson in men and women over the age of thirty five."

[special reporter status is hearby granted to ACPC IP]

Is anyone else mildly disturbed by the fact that churches actually celebrate the Reformation? As if dividing the body of Christ were something to be celebrated? Don't get me wrong. I am greatly happy with many of the doctrinal positions that came out of the Reformation, but I can't help feeling about it the same as I do about the American Revolution. Good fruit came from a wrongful act. So should we really be celebrating the fact that schism occurs in the church because sinful men would not resolve their differences? I don't think so. And neither do you.

So let's take another look at Halloween and the celebration of the colour, orange!

I awoke to red-orange light filtering through my blinds. The air was thick with fog and that smell that is familiar only to those who live near the charred remains of wildfires. I went outside to observe the sky to see if the fire was nearby and noted that it was raining ash. Twelve hours later, I am still unaware of the fire's location nor whether it is yet contained. I may not sleep tonight for after that afternoon in October in 1993, I have an earned phobia of the Santanas and the smell of smoke.

Newly inspired to continue work on my in-progress graphic novel by the prospect of creating all the art on my computer rather than messing with pencils, ink, brushes, crayons, etc., I thought I'd share a test panel with y'all. This is the first panel from the final page of the book. And is about an inch-and-a-half square when printed out. The first two show various art stages with the enlarged version being the final cut.

The One which Pisses All the People Off:
Over at MayTheLordBlessYou.com, b.d. has asked a question of those who do not consider online relationships to be "real." He wonders at how living and social individuals (as all humans are) can peruse the web created by living and social individuals and not feel real connection to these denizens of cyberspace, nor feel that they can/should foster a real relationship with these people. "What part of interactive don't they understand?" he asks.

Since a large number of people seem to feel this way - I can tell from the various reactions I get to my own webspective - I thought that I should clue you-who-disbelieve in to one of the alternative viewpoints that eschews relationship-building over the net. My own. Because, as has been well documented, while I enjoy the input of my readers and enjoy many of the opinions and insights they have to offer, I do not consider anyone that I know purely from the net as my friend. This hurts some people's feelings, but allow me to explain myself.

First, what part of interactive don't I understand? I would submit that it's not a matter of not understanding interactive, but rather a matter of understanding differently the object of our interaction. Truly, I interact on the web. And I interact to a greater degree than the majority of Americans (and likely, the majority of Canadians as well - don't wanna leave you out, b.d.). But the focus of my interaction is not with living and social individuals but with the ideas, opinions, and conceptions that those individuals convey.

Really, I don't know any of the people that I know of through the net. And I'm fine with that. I don't care to know anyone from the net (when a persona has a real, tangible (1 or + of the five senses), and individual affect on my life, that's another story). What I do care about in the net's regard are ideas, thoughts, reflections, discussions, stories, and entertainment.

The web's capacity for extreme deception* notwithstanding, it's just not the people who interest me. And when I argue a point, I'm not arguing with the person. I'm arguing with the point. Despite the fact that I use the others' nom de plumes (or perhaps, de guerres) in addressing others' ideas - such as pointing to b.d. in this post - I'm not actually speaking to a person, but to an idea. I only use names as points of reference for myself and narrative anchors for others.

In the same vein, I consider people's discussions of my content (for good or for bad) as reflective of my content rather than as reflective of my person - which the outsider quite plainly cannot know. This is actually helpful in that I do not invest too much personal feeling into the positions I forward on the site and therefore have little to lose in the case of being smartly defeated in a show of reason (as recently occurred when I plainly errored in mistaking the church's function in evangelism). I do not take personally attacks on my ideas since they are attacks on ideas rather than attacks on me. And when attacks on my person do occur, I find them only cute and amusing as it is impossible to judge my person from somewhere so remote as the keyboard below one's monitor.

B.d., your words are wise when you admonish that our words are ours and we are who we are - I actually find them related quite well to the words of one of my favourite Vonnegut novels: "We are who we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be." I think it's great advice for the most part. But it falls short for the obvious reason that I am not the me who I represent on the net and you are not the you that I see on the net.

When it comes down to it, I don't put stock in my relationships with netizens for the simple fact that to be perfectly honest: I prefer skins on my friends. And to be frank: that is something that the net alone can never offer me. So I don't seek it on the net. Instead I seek knowledge, understanding, and a different perspective. Oh yeah, and humour don't hurt none either.

*the mere fact that without exception, when people from the web meet me in real life they are shocked at how little I resemble the picture they had formed based upon the persona that inhabits this website supports this.

Strange, I've gotten a lot of hits today from email servers. It seems that somebody sent out the address of my Halloween page and so that's where they're all headed. The funny thing is that none of them are going to the party because it looks like they're all East-Coasties (save for one University of the Philipines chap(ette)). Man, I'd love to know why the interest in the page. Just cuz I'm nosey like that.

Vidblog #3: Inspired to Greatness

I doodled this up awhile ago and thought somebody might appreciate it:

Note that the spelling offers further evidence that Johnny T truly is just a construct of my imagination.
[Here's a link for those of you with jacked up screen resolutions and can't figure out how to view the image with scrollbars.]

The Seasons Are Changing - Fall Is Here!

So I'm thinking of doing a series of brief video interviews with owners of Honda Elements asking them just one question: "What was it that caused you to imagine that the Element is a nice-looking car?"

It ought to be great for chuckles.

The truth (and single lie) of the matter:

Baja Fresh - True:

After our stint at Round Table Pizza, the owner invited all the RT employees to come work at his new venture: Baja Fresh. Since I was managing the RT, the boss wanted me to transfer over as an assistant manager. After three months, I realized that Baja Fresh was not to be my future (it was a combination of my inability to get along with the store manager I was training under and the organization's all business/no play business model - us artsy types need release cuz all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy who kills people); so I gave two months' notice and moved on.

Sawdust Festival - True:

My father, the hairy potter, hocked his wares (functional, beautiful stoneware and chinese brush paintings) at the renowned Sawdust Festival for about two decades. I spent three summers working at his booth selling and wrapping for customers. Admittedly, I was an awful sales person and was too shy to properly engage potential customers. Plus, I had (and have) a tendancy to daydream in such situations.

Video Villa - True:

This job I held for one day. I was twenty and had a sixteen-year-old friend who worked at the Video Villa and recommended the job to me. I said whattheheck since I simply adored movies. Unfortunately, pr0n was huge rentable and that section had gotten out of hand because the wiley perverts who rent the stuff casre nothing for organization. So, on my first day on the job, I was asked to go behind the curtain and begin alphabetizing. Needless to say it was an education in just how Level Zed puns can actually get. Also needless to say, I never came back.

Victoria Skimboards - True:

This was my first job out of high school (I actually started there the May before graduation and worked a total of two years). I got paid only slightly more that minimum wage $5.25 at the time and by the end was making $5.75. I airbrushed boards, running stock designs, custom jobs, and experimental stuff that would make your eyes bleed unless you were overcranked on highgrade weed (which a large number of skimboarders are).

Construction (Electrician) - True:

This is the job that the most people doubt I ever had. Brandon disbelieved. Just this week, Mikey, Wendy, and LDG all said "No Way" when I spoke of the old days working on the construction lot. Yep, I was a rope-puller. I wired outlets. And I cut my hands up to kingdom come. This was 1991 and so the job was short-lived; three months later, everyone in the company save one contractor was laid off. Though the money was good, it was easily the worst job I ever had (since I'm very protective of my hands and their ability to continue creating).

Round Table Pizza - True:

I worked nearly five years in various capacities at a Round Table Pizza restaurant that was attached to a local mall (which meant six or seven thousand dollar days during Christmas). I began my time there as a delivery driver - which was really one of the coolest jobs I have ever had in my life. And I was good at it. I seem to have a natural gift with directions and geography and so remembering an address (or six) and how to most quickly arrive was no great difficulty for me. After my car's water pump fell off and its engine seized, I began working in house and moved through every possible position that could be held before finally arriving at store manager (though the most I ever managered with out the help of assistant managers was only seventeen employees). Three days after this last promotion, we received notice from Simon Debartolo that our lease would not be renewed and that we would be replaced by an Anne Taylor. *sigh* All things for good as it turns out.

Plectrum Dulcimer - False:

Though I had plenty of interaction with Plectrum - as they were boothed at the Sawdust every year - I never had the opportunity to earn a wage from the company. Regardless, I still recommend Fyrie's dulcimer music.

T-Shirt Design - True:

Yes, I indeed generated for several years a design-style for t-shirts and sold them for very little to various churches and the UCI Classics Honors Society.

Big Time Media - True:

Yeah, about three months after I began designing for the web professionally, I was conracted to freelance for Big Time Media. It was an interesting place and really the only cool thing about it was Marcella Shea, the project manager, who was in all ways, a spiffy lady. The funny thing is one day, everybody showed up to work locked out of the office and the owner yelled at them, saying she was calling the police and that they were trespassing. Needless to say, I didn't get my last paycheck.

Big Country Pottery - True:

I don't know what this was about, but it was pretty short lived. I did indeed pour slip into molds that formed cheesey pre-fab kinda pottery that women would paint flowers on. And stuff. It was a monky job and for two months, I was that monkey. Rumour has it that the biz was named after a derriere:

I saw a business at a crafts fair called "Big Country Pottery." The guy told me he had nicknamed his girlfriend's bum "Big Country", and he was lying with her and listening to"In a Big Country" on the radio when he came up with the name! He gave me a free hand lotion dispenser, which I still have.

Okay, so remember the Nine Things that Are True and One that Isn't? From way back when on the Meme Machine^TM dial? Well, we're going to revisit that idea now, but this time we're going to fucus upon ways in which I have made money! So, Nine Things that Are True and One that Isn't: the Job Edition:

1. I was hired to train for management at a faux-Mexican Grill.
2. I ran sales at the artsy/craftsy Sawdust Festival.
3. I was worked at a small independent video shoppe, Video Villa, where my chief task was to alphabetize the pr0n.
4. I was the chief airbrush artist at Victoria Skimboards (premier provider of the yet-to-become-mainstream x-game).
5. I apprenticed as an electrician in the glorious business of construction for a company that folded within three months of hiring me.
6. I was the best driver in the company at Round Table Pizza in a Simon Debartolo mall (which I later managed - the restaurant, not the mall).
7. I worked briefly at Plectrum Dulcimer in Laguna Beach preparing damper pedals for shipment (alas, I never got to work with the actual dulcimers themselves).
8. I illustrated for a series of t-shirts based in minimalistic design concepts.
9. I worked contract for now-defunct design firm Big Time Media.
10. I was employed to pour slip (liquid clay) for a company rumoured to be named after the boss's girlfriend's rear.

Your task of course is to pick out the phony.

Vidblog #2: Guten Morgen

Okay, so I think I'll make this a weekly thing. Maybe a wednesday thing. I dunno. We'll see. There's definitely something cheesey about these. And y'know? That's what I like about the idea.

Because in the last week I have run into some people who are too Christian to have fun at a Halloween party, I have created a special Halloween page on which I have reprinted my argument in favour of an understanding of holidays that divorces origin from meaning. Too many people believe that an abstract concept (such as a holiday) necessarily maintains whatever meaning it held in its conception. The article was orginally written as a defense against those who maintained that Christmas is an unholy celebration for the believer, but I think it applies just as well to Halloween and in fact, all holidays.

I crossed the rubicon this morning and defied picket lines. When accosted by one of the more belligerent protestors, I demanded he allow me buy milk for breakfast from him or get out of my way. He took one look at my glasses and realized he was dealing with a tough customer and so he backed the heck down.

I don't know what strikers are thinking. Their antics can only serve to alienate customers and create tension for future business. Union's are so very un-American anyway. If someone isn't happy with having to pay 20 bucks a month for health care, they should get another job - though I doubt they'll find a place that doesn't ask for health contributions in their benfit packages.

Anyway, here's my first go at video blogging.

Does smoking something in a hubbly-bubbly that is in great part molasses sound spooky to anyone else? I mean, tar-schmar, do we really want molasses residue in our insides.

Okay, okay. You're right, it may sound nasty on the surface, but who doesn't want to have sugary sweet innards?

Yes, it's true. Everybody's favourite holiday party is just around the corner. Last year, due to the fact that I was waylaid in Europe for three weeks of October and could not adequately promote from across the globe, the festival was smaller and not all that we've come to expect. This year, I intend to make up for that deficit. So yes, this 31st of October (a friday, I might add), the annual costumed-yet-not-remotely-associated-with-Halloween party* shall rollick and kick with effervescence and aplomb! Bring a friend. Bring yourself. Heck, bring an enemy!

[* NOTE: this is a dirty dirty lie]

Because there's a national blood crisis right now, I did my part and donated while I still can (another couple years and I'll be too well-travelled to give). I guess normally it's not supposed to hurt, but the nurse said she was sorry but all the needles in their current batch were pretty darned dull. And yes, I can personally vouch for that fact. As the only remnant evidence of the event, I now present you with The Band-Aid (yeah, it's a Barbie).

Oh yeah, and if I gave blood then you definitely should. You pansies.

I forgot to mention: I forfeited an afternoon meeting Bruce Campbell himself in order to deprive myself of precious bodily fluids for the sake of others. Those dying people better start appucheating me!