One point I should make: tomorrow I’ll be leaving for a trip up to Sweden and nearby countries such as Russia. Blogging will probably be light for the next three weeks as a result.

You know, you often hear the dis, “There’s a party in your mouth and everybody’s coming!”

It seems to me an even greater dis would be, “There’s a party in your mouth and everybody’s leaving.”

Cuz, you know… that would imply that it’s a pretty lame party. Because people keep leaving. Who wants to go to a party where people keeping walking out? Are you feeling me?

How about this one: “There’s a party in your mouth and everyone is arriving!”

Egghead scientists have managed to measure the ethereal component known as being “cool.” What makes people cool? The modern answer may surprise you.

“James Dean is no longer the epitome of cool,” Dar-Nimrod said. “The much darker version of what coolness is still there, but it is not the main focus. The main thing is: Do I like this person? Is this person nice to people, attractive, confident and successful? That’s cool today, at least among young mainstream individuals.”
…
“I got my first sunglasses when I was about 13,” said Dar-Nimrod. “There wasn’t a cooler kid on the block for the next few days. I was looking cool because I was distant from people. My emotions were not something they could read. I put a filter between me and everyone else. That, in my mind, made me cool. Today, that doesn’t seem to be supported. If anything, sociability is considered to be cool, being nice is considered to be cool.”

This is, of course, completely insane. Being cool is and should always be about distancing yourself from others. Say your grandmother comes up to you and asks you to help her cross the street; is the cool thing to do actually helping her? Of course not! You scream, “Fuck you whore!” and knock her down on the pavement. Then you take her purse. That’s what being cool is!

The current generation is so misguided.

I was just thinking of my visitation, earlier this year, to the site of the Auschwitz death camp in Poland. It is, of course, a profound and moving experience which causes one to ruminate on the dark shadows of humanity. But I was specifically recalling the rather cute English-speaking guide who took our group around. She really was a juicy little tomato.

Of course, it’s difficult to water the blossom of love in such grim surroundings. I’ve been trying to think of some come on lines that might have perked her interest. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far…

“You know, I wouldn’t mind toiling as an emaciated slave in Birkenau if you were right there with me.”

“I just want to say meeting you has been a real gas!”

“Zyklon B? More like Zyklon Wowie!”

I’m going to keep working on this. Maybe if I have these sorts of things planned out in advance, I won’t be tongue-tied when the opportunity presents itself.

Yesterday I went out to the Salton Sea, an infamous body of water in southeast California. Once billed as being comparable to the French Rivera, now the Sea is considered grotesque (due to high saline content) and the water un-swimmable. (It is safe to presume that hideous, aquatic monstrosities live just under the water’s surface, waiting until nightfall to come ashore and feast on human flesh.) I was unclear on the details of the area’s decline and found this article which gives an in depth look.

In particular, I stopped off in Bombay Beach which is a collection of track homes and campers that appears to almost be a ghost town. (I did see a few people.) The article encapsulates the town’s decline:

.. Even in Bombay Beach, a hard-luck development on the east shore, hope stirs among the few hundred residents. Rising lake levels in the 1970s turned their lakefront into a flooded junkyard, with salt-encrusted trailers and cars slowly dissolving into the ooze. But in the cold dark recesses of the Ski Inn bar, retiree Barbara La Clair sees a silver lining.

“You’re out of the smog, out of the city,” she says. “It’s a nice place for retired people. It just grows on you.” La Clair started coming in the early 1960s, camping and fishing with her husband and four daughters, and retired here in 1990. In the ’60s, she recalls, Bombay Beach had five bars and five restaurants. Campers jammed the nearby state beach four rows deep, and you had to make reservations at the boat ramp.

 “Does anyone swim in it anymore?”

“Yuck,” says Paulette, the bartender.

I also stopped off at Salvation Mountain, a hill painted with religious scripture and platitudes. It’s perhaps most famous as being a part of the movie “Into the Wild” directed by Sean Penn.

Pictures of my adventures are viewable here.

I mentioned that the other day I sat under a tree, looked up and saw a beautiful contrast between the tree flowers and the sky. Just today I lay back in the yard and observed the complex patterns of a pine tree. I feel that in the modern world we don’t spend enough time looking up. Depending on where you are you can see all sorts of things… bird’s nests, the moon, women’s underpants. That’s why I say, “Look up, America!”

I went to the park today just to lie down. I was under this tree and looked up to see a striking contrast in the colors of the the tree leaves and the clear blue sky. It reminded me a bit of some of Monet’s paintings, or some 19th century realistic art I was recently looking at – vivid, vibrant and exciting. I never would have seen this had I not decided to just chillax at the park. I wonder how much of the beauty of the world we are missing because of our modern lifestyle devoted to iPads and myfacebooks and hardcore midget snuff pornography. Is that blinding us to what’s real?

I just got an e-mail from some company that was offering to renew one of my web domains. The thing was, it wasn’t the company I actually use to take care of such matters. So I guess these guys just go through lists of websites and send e-mails to whoever owns a domain that is set to expire.

I started thinking about the people behind a company such as this. They probably think of themselves as basically good people. They don’t really ruminate on the fact that they’re making their living by essentially tricking money out of admittedly not-too-intelligent fools. I imagine they sleep okay at night.

They remind me a bit of telemarketers, or people who call you up and pester you for money for charities or politicians. They probably also think that, at the end of the day, they’re good people.

They are, in fact, utter scum. And it should be clear to any thinking person that these kinds of people should be wiped from the face of the earth, as brutally and painfully as possible. I’ve been doing a bit of thinking on this, and I think we can conclude that about 85% of humanity is fundamentally worthless and should be destroyed. Thus I’ve developed a plan by which a virus will be released into the air supply. This virus will infect heterosexual males and induce homosexual behavior on their part. Then I will release my army of Deathbots. Since the vast majority of mankind will at that point be nelly dandies, there will be very few men of the appropriate stature and stamina to be able to defend humanity. Thus my Deathbots will easily be able to wipe out about 85% of all mankind.

Now, I know what you’re saying. “Wil, why don’t you just stop after you release the virus that converts most men into homosexuals? This would doubtless result in massively lower breeding rates, and the human population would probably drop to somewhere around 15% of what it is within a generation.”

Hmmm… that’s not a bad point, actually. But… it’s just that I’ve already created the Deathbots. They’re basically hanging out in my bedroom raring to go. So I think I’m going to stick with plan A.

But, good thinking on your part.

Just yesterday I was walking along and noticed this woman with really large breasts. She had some kind of writing on her t-shirt, so I figured I could disguise gawking at her breasts as the act of trying to read her shirt. I got up close enough and was surprised to find the shirt had some sort of biblical quotation on it.

It struck me that this could be a great way for churches to spread their message. They simply adorn a gospel verse on the chests of their large breasted members and they can be assured it will be observed and observed closely. People like me would be walking along thinking, “Look at the gazumbas on that whore! I’d like to stick it right in… Hey, it says Jesus died for my sins. I should look into that.”