had a dream a UFO beamed down a book of alien knowledge to my limo. the
book was in unrecognizable text, but it held all the secrets of the
universe. i was ecstatic until part of me realized it was a dream. i
refused to accept the idea and went back into it. later, i met 3 women
who said "we are you." they told me they were a few of my 'other'
selves. all of this was followed by about 2 weeks of dream-storyline
that i can't remember.
a random collection of whatever from beyond the cosmic horizon; the psychic adventures of a rambling, gambling, heavy metal beatnik.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
get some 7th dimension.
fans of extra dimensions: mr rob bryanton is here to talk about the 7th dimension in his new video clip. idea-wise, this gets very obtuse at times, so relax and try not to let your head explode.
Friday, December 9, 2011
grab some advil kids! we're getting a 6th dimension lesson today!
rob bryanton for king of the world!
Friday, November 18, 2011
"...our NOW is a moving point whithin a 5th dimensional probability space."
another outstanding piece of work from my favorite Canadian, Rob Bryanton:
Friday, October 7, 2011
How the Universe appeared from nothing
"...in the end, regardless of how the universe got to be so big, the laws of physics suggest that all of its energy, and hence all of its stuff, may add up to zero. so taken as a whole, the universe is just a strange form of nothing."
"something and nothing may well be the same thing."
"something and nothing may well be the same thing."
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Xenu my ass
just randomly found my way to this comment on some youtube video:
instagram pic of the day (from the other day):
tattoo sez: SEXY
- "Anyone who thinks that a DC8 flew aliens from dozens of planets 75 billion years ago to earth in volcanoes, is really fucked up. Get to OT3, Operating Theta 3 in Scientology, and you can hear LRH, doped up on heroin, saying in his insane voice, XENU, the galactic leader, blah, blah, bull shit. A DC8 can not fly in outer space you fucking retard! Tom Cruise is a retard for believing this bull shit. As is Katie Allen and John Travolta. Schizophrenic retards. Xenu my ass."
instagram pic of the day (from the other day):
tattoo sez: SEXY
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Harper Valley PTA
so there's this lady somewhere south of here (mrs johnson). she likes wearing her skirts up high and getting a little drunk with the boys (if you pick up what i'm puttin' down). she lost her husband. she's got a daughter in middle school.
anyway, this lady sees her daughter not even stopping to play after school. a conversation ensues. the daughter says, "i got a letter from some school board asshole types."
so mom opens the letter and basically the parent-teacher association decided that she (the mom) is kind of a slutty trollop. although it's sad the father died in that car crash (assuming), the entire whorish act to find a suitable replacement father figure for your kid is not appropriate for this stand-up Christian town.
well it just so happens (synchronicity?) that the parent-teacher association is having a meeting that afternoon. would have probably been pretty soon after school because the daughter came straight home with the letter and school ends (as far as i can remember) around 3pm or 3:15pm or something. mom decides to go to the meeting.
assuming she was already wearing her short skirt and all dolled up in the whore make-up (and probably a cut-off shirt) she heads over to the school to give them a piece of her mind. this would have been about 3:30pm or so, depending on how long her initial indignation was.
she gets to the meeting, letter in hand. the meeting itself was most likely already in-progress, since her arrival at the school wasn't until 3:45pmish.
everyone is surprised that she wore the skirt. this was an issue they really all had kind of agreed upon: slut mom should change her slut ways.
after mr schnieder was finished on the budget dissertation, mom walked from the back of the room to the blackboard and grabbed a brand new piece of chalk.
she slowly wrote out each of the names in capital letters as she threw her firebombs of hypocrisy.
"notwithstanding the foregoing, i have received your letter and would like to take this time to address a few of your members."
"BOBBY TAYLOR, how do you think everyone would take it if they knew you were always trying to get in my pants? would your wife like that? really? how many? one? more like seven, you dick."
"and your wife (DEBBIE TAYLOR) allegedly buying more ice than usual, according to LARRY KLEMCHER at the Stop N Go. CLARENCE from the tire shop swears she only gave him a massage. riiiiight. in his crotch."
"then we have MR PHIL BAKER. hey mr baker, why aren't we talking about your pregnant secretary (Patty) that you murdered and left under that freeway overpass? too soon?"
"has anyone NOT seen widow JONES' videos on youtube? makes my high skirts look like a halo."
"then of course there's MR HARPER, who didn't make this meeting since he's still sleeping off a wicked hangover after a long night of shots at Kelly's Bar."
"need i mention SHIRLEY' THOMPSON'S breath! smells like a bottle of gin took a shit and died in there!"
"and I'M not a good mother?"
"y'all can go fuck y'all selves"
[end scene]
anyway, this lady sees her daughter not even stopping to play after school. a conversation ensues. the daughter says, "i got a letter from some school board asshole types."
so mom opens the letter and basically the parent-teacher association decided that she (the mom) is kind of a slutty trollop. although it's sad the father died in that car crash (assuming), the entire whorish act to find a suitable replacement father figure for your kid is not appropriate for this stand-up Christian town.
well it just so happens (synchronicity?) that the parent-teacher association is having a meeting that afternoon. would have probably been pretty soon after school because the daughter came straight home with the letter and school ends (as far as i can remember) around 3pm or 3:15pm or something. mom decides to go to the meeting.
assuming she was already wearing her short skirt and all dolled up in the whore make-up (and probably a cut-off shirt) she heads over to the school to give them a piece of her mind. this would have been about 3:30pm or so, depending on how long her initial indignation was.
she gets to the meeting, letter in hand. the meeting itself was most likely already in-progress, since her arrival at the school wasn't until 3:45pmish.
everyone is surprised that she wore the skirt. this was an issue they really all had kind of agreed upon: slut mom should change her slut ways.
after mr schnieder was finished on the budget dissertation, mom walked from the back of the room to the blackboard and grabbed a brand new piece of chalk.
she slowly wrote out each of the names in capital letters as she threw her firebombs of hypocrisy.
"notwithstanding the foregoing, i have received your letter and would like to take this time to address a few of your members."
"BOBBY TAYLOR, how do you think everyone would take it if they knew you were always trying to get in my pants? would your wife like that? really? how many? one? more like seven, you dick."
"and your wife (DEBBIE TAYLOR) allegedly buying more ice than usual, according to LARRY KLEMCHER at the Stop N Go. CLARENCE from the tire shop swears she only gave him a massage. riiiiight. in his crotch."
"then we have MR PHIL BAKER. hey mr baker, why aren't we talking about your pregnant secretary (Patty) that you murdered and left under that freeway overpass? too soon?"
"has anyone NOT seen widow JONES' videos on youtube? makes my high skirts look like a halo."
"then of course there's MR HARPER, who didn't make this meeting since he's still sleeping off a wicked hangover after a long night of shots at Kelly's Bar."
"need i mention SHIRLEY' THOMPSON'S breath! smells like a bottle of gin took a shit and died in there!"
"and I'M not a good mother?"
"y'all can go fuck y'all selves"
[end scene]
Thursday, March 17, 2011
i think i got it
sit down. take a few slow, deep breaths while clearing your mind.
then watch Imagining the Tenth Dimension part 1 of 2 (7ish min):
watch it a couple times if necessary.
when you think you have it figured out (a bit), watch Imagining the Tenth Dimension part 2 of 2 (5 min):
after sorting it out in your head, write it down / type it out and give me a more layman's layman's kiddie version (in language a dog could understand).
until then i will work on my version. (because i think i got it, but i don't know what to do with it)
then watch Imagining the Tenth Dimension part 1 of 2 (7ish min):
watch it a couple times if necessary.
when you think you have it figured out (a bit), watch Imagining the Tenth Dimension part 2 of 2 (5 min):
after sorting it out in your head, write it down / type it out and give me a more layman's layman's kiddie version (in language a dog could understand).
until then i will work on my version. (because i think i got it, but i don't know what to do with it)
Thursday, March 3, 2011
"little redneck bars" (old myspace blogs pt 4)
this is the long winded version of the first time barb and i went 'on a date'
Mar 23, 2005
little redneck bars
So Barb and I went to this little redneck bar a couple weeks ago. I've always wanted to visit every tiny neighborhood bar in and around the city, and while it's still a goal of sorts, I think that this one gave me a good taste of about 75 percent of what's out there.
As soon as we enter the room, time stops for a second and the entire bar has to give us that who-the-fuck look. Apparently, Saturday nights are Karaoke night, brought to you by your host, the squat and corpulent Betty. She probably has some kids around my age, who were most likely off drinking heavily somewhere else. Betty likes her karaoke mic with a shit-ton of reverb too, so her slight southern drawl echoes like she's broadcasting from deep space.
I scanned the room as we sat down. There's a bar in the middle, a pool table on one side, and booths on the opposite side. The karaoke machine sat on a card table which Betty orbited like a satellite. We ordered our drinks as I noticed the gray haired guys to chubby ladies ratio was pretty even. One very denim clad patron kept giving Barb the eye. Well, some guys cant help it, but he was sitting straight to our left. Every time we looked over, he was staring right at her, like how a grizzly might focus into the river before he smacks a salmon into the air. He must have noticed us noticing him, because he finally moved to the other side of the bar, where he could face forward and glare, the way a hungry man might salivate over burgers on his grill. Betty took the mic back from some drunk guy and was slightly winded from dancing. "Even big girls deserve a dippin' now and then!" she squealed.
Pretty soon, a lady came up and asked us
Mar 23, 2005
little redneck bars
So Barb and I went to this little redneck bar a couple weeks ago. I've always wanted to visit every tiny neighborhood bar in and around the city, and while it's still a goal of sorts, I think that this one gave me a good taste of about 75 percent of what's out there.
As soon as we enter the room, time stops for a second and the entire bar has to give us that who-the-fuck look. Apparently, Saturday nights are Karaoke night, brought to you by your host, the squat and corpulent Betty. She probably has some kids around my age, who were most likely off drinking heavily somewhere else. Betty likes her karaoke mic with a shit-ton of reverb too, so her slight southern drawl echoes like she's broadcasting from deep space.
I scanned the room as we sat down. There's a bar in the middle, a pool table on one side, and booths on the opposite side. The karaoke machine sat on a card table which Betty orbited like a satellite. We ordered our drinks as I noticed the gray haired guys to chubby ladies ratio was pretty even. One very denim clad patron kept giving Barb the eye. Well, some guys cant help it, but he was sitting straight to our left. Every time we looked over, he was staring right at her, like how a grizzly might focus into the river before he smacks a salmon into the air. He must have noticed us noticing him, because he finally moved to the other side of the bar, where he could face forward and glare, the way a hungry man might salivate over burgers on his grill. Betty took the mic back from some drunk guy and was slightly winded from dancing. "Even big girls deserve a dippin' now and then!" she squealed.
Pretty soon, a lady came up and asked us
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
bunny timelapse
a classic video from my personal youtube vault. yes, the white bunny is a girl.
an excerpt from "what do bunnies do?" a documentary featuring 4 hours of 'hidden camera' bunny footage, time-lapsed down to 39 minutes.
an excerpt from "what do bunnies do?" a documentary featuring 4 hours of 'hidden camera' bunny footage, time-lapsed down to 39 minutes.
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