Sunday 30 March, 19:18. I sit next to Jeff as we listen to Robert Millet speak of inspirational spiritual things. We begin to write. The exchange involves the normal amount of rhymes and illustrations...(8 points to anyone who can guess the title of which Boyd K. Packer talk we were rhyming with below)
and then Jeff presented me with this bracket. I postured that the werewolf and zombie would combine into one terrifying undead being and defeat the swamp thing. He called the idea preposterous and forced me to choose a single victor. I did, begrudgingly, but continued to speculate on the unbeatability of a were-bie.
...so he created this.
My money's on the ninja gorgon. Who's with me?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
A History Of The Communist Party
Comrades,
It all began late in the month of September 007. Something about the phrase 'Communist Party' caught my attention one day, and I began to ponder the possibilities. Five months later, my visions of revolution became reality.
With the help of my fellow party leaders, we transformed #107 into glorious Communist Party Headquarters.
Comrade Kulish was commissioned to create the artwork, and we arranged for certain books to be burned.
Cold Wars were fought.
and The People were reeducated as necessary. If you wonder why Papa Smurf is featured on the wall, look here.
The food was modest but glorious:
We raised the Berlin wall once more (and thanks to Comrade Stephens, both Joseph Smith & Che graced it. Only in Tijuana can you find velvet paintings of both in the same frame).
Mr. Atomic also received prominent placement - behold the technological fruits of all our Cold War efforts!
A corner for interrogation was essential.
I had emailed assignments to party members. Some were asked to be agents of propaganda and reeducation. Others were to bring bread. Five received this email:
Comrades,
Yours is a very special assignment on this eve of the revolution. While you will come to the Communist Party dressed as loyal Communists of whatever flavor you choose, you will be stealthily disguising your true identity as CIA operatives. These are the details you must know:
There are five of you.
Your job is to coordinate an assassination attempt on one of the speakers for the evening. Comrade Erin Rains and Comrade Jeff Stephens are both scheduled to give impassioned, volatile speeches at approximately 21:37 and 22:42, respectively. If desired, a nerf gun is available for use and will be hidden within the south wing bathroom.
In order to find one another, you will need to initiate conversations about the hairstyles of some of Our Great Communist Leaders. You will recognize your fellow operatives when the codeword POMADE is used.
Good luck, and may the power of light and liberty be with you (secretly, of course).
Agent CompTron
Five others received this email:
Comrades,
Yours is a very, very special assignment on the eve of this revolution. It is rumored that there may be an assassination attempt on one of the two speakers - Comrade Erin Rains and Comrade Jeff Stephens - scheduled to speak at our glorious party. As KGB operatives (overt or clandestine, as you choose), it is your duty to do all you can to prevent this from happening.
There will likely be several CIA agents in attendance at the party; they must be located and prevented from doing harm to either of our noble party members. Please be vigilant as you watch for any suspicious behaviors as the capitalist spies attempt to organize their efforts. You are empowered to use the interrogation facilities as necessary. All the resources of the party are at your disposal in order to maintain the security and integrity our revolution needs.
Good night and good luck.
Comrade CompTron
This drama began to play out even before the party had begun. KGB Agents Allred and McNett created several false email addresses and sent emails to party attendees, fishing for information. One such email from a comradecomptron@gmail.com fooled many. And at the party, IDs in hand, these agents took their roles seriously, interrogating many.
Their methodology proved effective as they thwarted an assassination attempt on Sandinista Rains after her rousing speech (all en espanol). See the results:
Later, an arms race was held. This particular arms race involved arm wrestling and pullups in order to determine whose arms would be the strongest to include in a revolutionary propaganda shot.
A 2-minute hate focused our attentions before the final speech of the evening. This hate was focused on an easter peep - offensive capitalist fluff!
(Comrade Atom, on the eve of his birthday, led the hate.)
And then - the Rosenbergs spoke. Pandemonium ensued:
The party was attended by a wide cast of characters.
Mini Mao made an appearance,
as did Fidel.
Peasants of all stripes gathered,
including Comrade Bubonichkova.
Sara Elliskova embodied communism itself.
Mr. Rosenberg and Vladimir....
....and so many more.
All hail the glorious revolution!
Sharing is what communists do, and my little red heart couldn't be happier that you all shared so much Awesome with The Party.
It all began late in the month of September 007. Something about the phrase 'Communist Party' caught my attention one day, and I began to ponder the possibilities. Five months later, my visions of revolution became reality.
With the help of my fellow party leaders, we transformed #107 into glorious Communist Party Headquarters.
Comrade Kulish was commissioned to create the artwork, and we arranged for certain books to be burned.
Cold Wars were fought.
and The People were reeducated as necessary. If you wonder why Papa Smurf is featured on the wall, look here.
The food was modest but glorious:
We raised the Berlin wall once more (and thanks to Comrade Stephens, both Joseph Smith & Che graced it. Only in Tijuana can you find velvet paintings of both in the same frame).
Mr. Atomic also received prominent placement - behold the technological fruits of all our Cold War efforts!
A corner for interrogation was essential.
I had emailed assignments to party members. Some were asked to be agents of propaganda and reeducation. Others were to bring bread. Five received this email:
Comrades,
Yours is a very special assignment on this eve of the revolution. While you will come to the Communist Party dressed as loyal Communists of whatever flavor you choose, you will be stealthily disguising your true identity as CIA operatives. These are the details you must know:
There are five of you.
Your job is to coordinate an assassination attempt on one of the speakers for the evening. Comrade Erin Rains and Comrade Jeff Stephens are both scheduled to give impassioned, volatile speeches at approximately 21:37 and 22:42, respectively. If desired, a nerf gun is available for use and will be hidden within the south wing bathroom.
In order to find one another, you will need to initiate conversations about the hairstyles of some of Our Great Communist Leaders. You will recognize your fellow operatives when the codeword POMADE is used.
Good luck, and may the power of light and liberty be with you (secretly, of course).
Agent CompTron
Five others received this email:
Comrades,
Yours is a very, very special assignment on the eve of this revolution. It is rumored that there may be an assassination attempt on one of the two speakers - Comrade Erin Rains and Comrade Jeff Stephens - scheduled to speak at our glorious party. As KGB operatives (overt or clandestine, as you choose), it is your duty to do all you can to prevent this from happening.
There will likely be several CIA agents in attendance at the party; they must be located and prevented from doing harm to either of our noble party members. Please be vigilant as you watch for any suspicious behaviors as the capitalist spies attempt to organize their efforts. You are empowered to use the interrogation facilities as necessary. All the resources of the party are at your disposal in order to maintain the security and integrity our revolution needs.
Good night and good luck.
Comrade CompTron
This drama began to play out even before the party had begun. KGB Agents Allred and McNett created several false email addresses and sent emails to party attendees, fishing for information. One such email from a comradecomptron@gmail.com fooled many. And at the party, IDs in hand, these agents took their roles seriously, interrogating many.
Their methodology proved effective as they thwarted an assassination attempt on Sandinista Rains after her rousing speech (all en espanol). See the results:
Later, an arms race was held. This particular arms race involved arm wrestling and pullups in order to determine whose arms would be the strongest to include in a revolutionary propaganda shot.
A 2-minute hate focused our attentions before the final speech of the evening. This hate was focused on an easter peep - offensive capitalist fluff!
(Comrade Atom, on the eve of his birthday, led the hate.)
And then - the Rosenbergs spoke. Pandemonium ensued:
The party was attended by a wide cast of characters.
Mini Mao made an appearance,
as did Fidel.
Peasants of all stripes gathered,
including Comrade Bubonichkova.
Sara Elliskova embodied communism itself.
Mr. Rosenberg and Vladimir....
....and so many more.
All hail the glorious revolution!
Sharing is what communists do, and my little red heart couldn't be happier that you all shared so much Awesome with The Party.
008, a little late
I have meant to write a number of thrilling anecdotes over the last couple months. Realizing I'll never catch up, here's the condensed pictorial version of some 008 adventures so far:
I spent the first 19 days of the Year 008 up in the Great North (aka Monterey and Salinas). Mission: learn Arabic. Mission accomplished, thanks to an intensive program at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. I can read and write and talk now, anyways, at something of an advanced beginner level. [insert Arabic version of 'hooray' here].
Debra The Great, a fellow adventurer with an important daytime public health job, was super kind and let me crash on her couch that whole time. In our non-working, non-Arabic learning time, we enjoyed torrential rains and hurricane winds that knocked the power out but also caused some spectacular crashy waves along the coast:
We indulged in large quantities of crazy creative Salinas sushi, some excellent Chinese hot pot in San Jose, adventurous 99-ranch Asian grocery shopping (how I love thee, taro mochi), and a great Indian buffet. I see no problem with eating 3 large bowls of rice pudding for dessert.
If anyone can explain this sign to me, 42 points. We saw it on one drive along the coast and found it puzzling and delightful. Wild boar crossing?
This is a satellite view of where my truck got stuck in some mud between two fields late one night. I have truly immersed myself in the black earth of Salinas that John Steinbeck loves so much. After repeated efforts to dig, push, pull, and levitate Mazdatron and one rebuffed knock-on-a-neighboring-farm-door-to-solicit-help-effort, I finally just called AAA. The handprints from my pushing efforts still haven't washed off my truck, and that's after at least a couple more weeks of heavy rain.
Shoes I nearly lost to the sticky wet earth:
But, MazdaTron got out alive, as did I.
Leaving Monterey was sad. But I was happy to head back to friends in LA whom I hadn't seen in a month. Friends like the Maxes, who delight me constantly. In this instance, Max and Max were sharing some homemade marshmallows. Yes, you read that correctly. Unfortunately, my Marx hair is hiding Maxine in the photograph - alas!
Also, I officially retired my red fake patent leather pants from high school. Time has not been good to them, though they were good to me. Additionally, my laptop Asterix died a fiery and terribly untimely death, so I had to brave Craigslist in order to secure a new one, quickly. After several aborted attempts and a few overt scamming efforts, I finally got a new-to-me Macbook Pro from a pro-wrestler. Yup.
Little Mushy graduated from the Riverside County Sheriff's Academy at the end of January. She is armed and full of laws and statutes. 21 year olds can't rent cars, but they can rent Uhauls! I helped her move from her Moreno Valley apartment to a pseudo-rest home in Indio, where she had been assigned to work in their maximum security prison.
We did an amazing job of moving fast (even though she drove the whole 70 miles from MV to Indio with the parking brake on). Because it was a few hours before we were able to get the key to the new apartment, we used some over-the-wall, pile-it-up-on-the-lawn tactics. This was the start of the pile:
Rest home lobby? Oye.
[editor's note: Mushy has since realized that working in a prison is the worst job on earth, has since resigned and moved back out to her old Mojave Viper fake insurgent job in 29 Palms].
At the beginning of February, I had the privilege of attending a Slash concert. There are two Slashes in the world, and one of them is Todd Petersen. Todd is the best guitar player I've ever seen in my life.
A few weeks later, I had gathered together some old friends and former bandmates, and we were able to play a sweet set at Lovefest 2008. Drew on guitar, m.Tanner on lead bass, Marc the 19-yr-old from Palmdale on drums, Jonna + Brandon doing vocals, and yours truly on keys. We played Janis Joplin, Doors, Zeppelin, The Who, and Jefferson Airplane, and it was so fun. There are two Jimi Hendrixes in the world, and one of them is named Todd Petersen. Again, his guitar talents amazed and astounded and...well, yeah. Todd is every man's new man crush, and every woman's dream.
so this has been 2008...a bit late. but it's been great. let's take some time to pontificate. (rhyming with the years is something to celebrate, or imitate)
I spent the first 19 days of the Year 008 up in the Great North (aka Monterey and Salinas). Mission: learn Arabic. Mission accomplished, thanks to an intensive program at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. I can read and write and talk now, anyways, at something of an advanced beginner level. [insert Arabic version of 'hooray' here].
Debra The Great, a fellow adventurer with an important daytime public health job, was super kind and let me crash on her couch that whole time. In our non-working, non-Arabic learning time, we enjoyed torrential rains and hurricane winds that knocked the power out but also caused some spectacular crashy waves along the coast:
We indulged in large quantities of crazy creative Salinas sushi, some excellent Chinese hot pot in San Jose, adventurous 99-ranch Asian grocery shopping (how I love thee, taro mochi), and a great Indian buffet. I see no problem with eating 3 large bowls of rice pudding for dessert.
If anyone can explain this sign to me, 42 points. We saw it on one drive along the coast and found it puzzling and delightful. Wild boar crossing?
This is a satellite view of where my truck got stuck in some mud between two fields late one night. I have truly immersed myself in the black earth of Salinas that John Steinbeck loves so much. After repeated efforts to dig, push, pull, and levitate Mazdatron and one rebuffed knock-on-a-neighboring-farm-door-to-solicit-help-effort, I finally just called AAA. The handprints from my pushing efforts still haven't washed off my truck, and that's after at least a couple more weeks of heavy rain.
Shoes I nearly lost to the sticky wet earth:
But, MazdaTron got out alive, as did I.
Leaving Monterey was sad. But I was happy to head back to friends in LA whom I hadn't seen in a month. Friends like the Maxes, who delight me constantly. In this instance, Max and Max were sharing some homemade marshmallows. Yes, you read that correctly. Unfortunately, my Marx hair is hiding Maxine in the photograph - alas!
Also, I officially retired my red fake patent leather pants from high school. Time has not been good to them, though they were good to me. Additionally, my laptop Asterix died a fiery and terribly untimely death, so I had to brave Craigslist in order to secure a new one, quickly. After several aborted attempts and a few overt scamming efforts, I finally got a new-to-me Macbook Pro from a pro-wrestler. Yup.
Little Mushy graduated from the Riverside County Sheriff's Academy at the end of January. She is armed and full of laws and statutes. 21 year olds can't rent cars, but they can rent Uhauls! I helped her move from her Moreno Valley apartment to a pseudo-rest home in Indio, where she had been assigned to work in their maximum security prison.
We did an amazing job of moving fast (even though she drove the whole 70 miles from MV to Indio with the parking brake on). Because it was a few hours before we were able to get the key to the new apartment, we used some over-the-wall, pile-it-up-on-the-lawn tactics. This was the start of the pile:
Rest home lobby? Oye.
[editor's note: Mushy has since realized that working in a prison is the worst job on earth, has since resigned and moved back out to her old Mojave Viper fake insurgent job in 29 Palms].
At the beginning of February, I had the privilege of attending a Slash concert. There are two Slashes in the world, and one of them is Todd Petersen. Todd is the best guitar player I've ever seen in my life.
A few weeks later, I had gathered together some old friends and former bandmates, and we were able to play a sweet set at Lovefest 2008. Drew on guitar, m.Tanner on lead bass, Marc the 19-yr-old from Palmdale on drums, Jonna + Brandon doing vocals, and yours truly on keys. We played Janis Joplin, Doors, Zeppelin, The Who, and Jefferson Airplane, and it was so fun. There are two Jimi Hendrixes in the world, and one of them is named Todd Petersen. Again, his guitar talents amazed and astounded and...well, yeah. Todd is every man's new man crush, and every woman's dream.
so this has been 2008...a bit late. but it's been great. let's take some time to pontificate. (rhyming with the years is something to celebrate, or imitate)
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