Iceland is MINE!

Paul Rugg and his accountant left far too soon. The frosty island nation fell into my hand today like a ripe naval orange. And all I did was respond to an unsolicited email.  This fellow in Nigeria said his dad was once Secretary of Money for all Iceland. Anyway, there was a coup and his dad died after being gored by a war reindeer. Anyway, this Nigerian guy said his dad had stashed several billion dollars in a bank on Lichen Island, which I assume is right near Iceland. He said he needs my bank routing number and account information so that he can get the money out and, in return, grant me title and deed to Iceland. I'm not sure how that works, but once I've taken possession, I can summon the war reindeer and invade Greenland which is closer to Los Angeles and which I'd rather have anyway. So, wish me luck and come visit me in Greenland. (Or Johnland. I'll have to see how much it'll cost to change the stationary. If it's too much, it'll stay Greenland.) Anyway, this is great! I'm going out now and buy fur garments.  

Rich Arons Smells

But that's because he and his Gang of Seven pals have been drawing Pepe Le Pew for AT&T.

Bale vs Hu Jintao

A volcanic actor and a pushy Chinese chairman throw down on the set, courtesy of Paul Rugg. WARNING: Do not drink liquids while listening. This is milk-out-the-nose funny.

Knee Zap

While performing a mundane household task, I felt a sharp knee pain. Sharp pains are usually serious pains, meaning some manner of stop-running injury. As my HMO is the medical equivalent of Jiffy Lube, I've decided to pay my old doctor cash for X-rays and a diagnosis.

In the meantime, I'll pretend I really did want to swim more.

Angeles Forest Run

A wee 5.1 mile run up into the hills past a reconstructed bridge, beyond the fossilized remains of the Elmer Smith bridge, across three rock-strewn streams up to the Gould campground. I said 'hi' to a bearded homeless guy who looked like Z Z Top, reading the paper as I trotted past. At a spectacular cactus patch that rose up like a hydra, I turned around. My run/walk ratio was a modest one minute running per two minutes walking. But my knees felt healthy and vibrant like knees should.

If all stays well, I'll slowly build up mileage to around 20 - 25 miles a week. Once there, I'll begin working on speed.

Meanwhile, MDW and I went car shopping on Saturday. We looked at the Rav4, Jeep Liberty, and Nissan Pathfinder. Deals abound.

Director Nathan Ruegger

Tom's son, Nathan is one of 12 finalists in the Coca Cola college film competition. Check out his short film, "Moonlight Theater."

Poetry by Geeble

Geeble, Geeble, Geeble,

Oh, Geeble, Geeble, gee,

Geeble, Geeble?

Geeble, Geeble, me!

Geeble.

(Geeble is funded by a grant from the Geeble Foundation.)

AOL Meditation Channel

Mary Pat, my extremely healthy sister, has years of experience as a dj as well as programming old and new radio. She was recently hired by AOL to cobble together a meditation channel. Here is the result. The channel premiered yesterday and I was so relaxed from listening that I forgot to post. So close your third eye and soak in the serenity.

Freakazoid DVD Season Two Box Art

Segment director Troy has alerted me to Freakazoid! season two box art. Leonard Rhombus appears on the back cover, portraying a vapor trail. Rhombus never shied away from challenging roles, often appearing as cacti, hills, and once a stagnant pool.

Internet Speculation from 1981

Think of Twitter or Facebook or some other aspect of current technology. Now imagine 28 years have passed and you've found an old news report speculating on where Twitter might be going.

h/t: Hot Air

St. George HS and the Vienna Boys

I was just contacted by an old high school chum. Oakner and I attended St. George in Evanston, Illinois through our sophomore year and hadn't spoken in geological eons. Our school name was the Dragons, and while St. George teams had suffered due to declining enrollment, underage drinking was in a boom period.

Oakner and a group of us called the "Vienna Boys" (named after a Clark Street hot dog stand and not a European choir), ran around the north side of Chicago between Clark Avenue and the lake, and from Howard Street south to Devon, having interesting and informative teenage adventures. Often we'd drink beer, ride public transportation, throw up beer, get kicked off public transportation. Once on a bus during the winter, I vomited up a half-dozen tangerine slices, still intact. I just missed an old woman's foot. She gave me a disgusted look, "If y'all can't hold yore liquor, you shouldn't drink." Great advice which I eventually followed decades later.

Oakner assured me most of the old group doesn't drink very much, if at all, and they hardly ever ride public transportation. In any case, I'll be back in Chicago this February for a cousin's wedding and can't wait to see them. At the very least see Oakner, who figured largely in many youthful events, found his way over time, met a great woman, and now runs a small restaurant out in the 'burbs.

Whatever happens, no tangerines, that's for sure. They're the devil's fruit.