Topic: Miscellaneous
I will use a recent blog request to catapult this page out of more than a year of utter neglect. Do my bag's mundane contents imply that I have an unexciting soul?
• An underutilized date book. What few entries exist are commonly followed with a question mark to indicate their lack of urgency or my lack of confidence that they will be dealt with.
• Orbit wintermint gum
• A 2GB jump drive from Microcenter
• A crumpled wad of pay stubs
• Walgreens "Original Eye Drops." They claim to be both "original" and comparable to Visine. How contradictory. My eyes get dry at work because the computer of the person who sits across from me has a powerful fan unit that blows warm air up at me from beneath my desk. I assume my computer does the same to him. Unlike Visine, store brand eye drops are not locked up at Walgreens. I don't know why you would lock up eye drops anyway, except that maybe stoners use Visine, and they assume stoners to be shoplifters who shun generic imitations.
• Staedler pigment liner. I prefer the Papermate Flair, Ultrafine
• Sanford uni-ball ONYX. I prefer the Pilot Razor Point II
• A 2GB ipod nano
• Various medicines denoting their owner's easily upsettable stomach and sensitive sinuses
• The crumpled sheath of a folding umbrella. I have bought this same $5 umbrella from Walgreens on 3 occasions since I never have it when it rains.
• An SF novel lent to me by Nik. It's awesome. The gods' home on Mount Olympus is actually Mons Olympus on Mars.
• My bag is a fairly anonymous nylon model from Banana Republic. When I put it under my desk at work I gain pleasure from feeling its magnetic clasps bond to the side of the filing drawers.
Updated: Monday, 22 September 2008 1:25 AM CDT
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*This post is a tribute to 

Next time you're on the phone trying to read your account number or spell your name to some tired customer service representative, and you get to one of those ambiguous tonalities like "V" or "M," you should refer to the follwing rather than emabarrass yourself by exposing your repugnant subconscious or just saying 'uhh...' for a while as only vulgar anatomical terms come to mind. Plus, you'll need this if you end up in that post-apocalytic concrete bunker with nothing but your short-wave and some canned beans.
In other news, Alan Artner, Chicago Tribune art "critic," is no longer a person I want to meet and start a fight with, as I mention in my Friendster profile. I in fact met him at my part time job at the Art Institute book store, and he was nice. I still don't care for his reviews--he doesn't seem to like art that requires thinking, and he seems to uncritically praises whatever big blockbuster they put up at the Art Institute.
He is far superior to such comparable actors/characters as Schwarzenegger, Van Damme (who lied about winning a bunch of kickboxing titles, and then declined offers to enter real tournaments when invited by offended real title-holders), Stallone, and even tubby old Steven Seagal (who has real street-creds, as in opening the first accredited Aikido Dojo run by a foreigner in Japan; recognition by high-ranking Buddhist priests). Dolph is clearly a step above. He got a masters at MIT in Chemical Engineering on a fulbright scholarship, after serving in the Swedish Marines and studying on scholarship in Sweden and Sydney, Australia. He also won several major full-contact Karate championships, and turned down a professional boxing contract.
All before his movie career blossomed, seeing the creation of numerous films which proved inspirational to my grade-school self--The Punisher, Rocky IV, Universal Soldier--all the apex of that genre.