bohor: (Death Valley 69)
Names have been changed to protect the innocent (and me).

MJ > Hello Bohor, Thank you for contacting Comcast Live Chat Support. My name is MJ. Please give me one moment to review your information.

MJ > I appreciate you taking the time to contact us through Live Chat support. It is our privilege to provide you an exceptional and unparalleled customer service. By the way, how are you today?

Bohor > Fine. My back's a little sore. No big deal though. And you?

MJ > I see. I think you need a back massage for relief. :-)

Bohor > I DON'T THINK THAT'S APPROPRIATE. ... Nah, I'm just kidding, that's cool. :-)

MJ > I'm doing good as well. Thank you for asking.

MJ > How may I assist you today?

Bohor > Well, I could really use a back massage, but barring that, I had a question about my bill.

And yes, it took every ounce of restraint I have not to use the phrase "happy ending" in this conversation.
bohor: (Visiting Tate)
If you didn't read my last post about the joy of my refurb-quality lumbar discs, please scan it for context.

So...I'll spare the insurance-company-scumbag rant. Suffice to say that government-run health care is a good idea precisely because they lack the competence to develop a system that's anywhere near as effective at screwing every party involved except themselves as private carriers. Civil servants simply lack the desire to fine tune the process such that the option of enduring severe physical agony seems is a favorable option to convincing an insurance agent to do their job.

Anyway, potentially bad decision: I have a bad back, and I'm still going to FurFright. My plane leaves in eight hours. Here's the logic behind the decision:
1) Nothing is refundable.
2) Torrle's going. (I won't let him not go because of me.) So my option for the next five days is to stay home alone, drive up and stay with my folks, or try to impose myself on some locals whose hearts are bigger than their brains.
3) If I'm going to spend five days lying in bed, soaking in a bath, and watching TV, it might as well be somewhere that I don't have to clean and that has better cable.
4) I might be able to exploit my ailment for pity sex sketches.

I'm adequately stocked to fend off most of the major pain, but please don't panic if you see me suddenly yelp, grimace and clutch my right side. Certain (unpredictable) positions and movements can cause the nerve to get pinched, which feels like every muscle from my right hip to my foot is cramping. Usually I just have to grit my teeth, stretch, and wait a minute or two for the pain to subside. This happens most frequently when changing from sitting to standing. Because of this, and not to be a killjoy, please please please do not pounce, pinch, surprise, sneak up on, or tickle me at this con. Anything that causes me to tense up suddenly will trigger one of those pain spasms.
- - - -
Now, with all that fun out of the way. On election day, Tuesday, November 2nd, I plan on getting literally stabbed in the back. One unique thing about that statement is that I mean the word "literally" literally. The treatment for this back problem involves sticking a large needle into the space between my vertebrae and injecting steroids directly onto the inflamed nerve and tissue. That should cause significant relief within 24-48 hours. Of course, they could also just cut the entire thing using wire clippers in which case I suspect the lack of pain (or any other sensation) would be noticeable much more quickly, though the insurance company would probably reject the claim for using a specialized tool like "wire clippers" rather than a cheaper alternative like scissors or the neurosurgeon's teeth. But I'm not bitter.
bohor: (Visiting Tate)
A disc in my back asploded like a fat guy sat on a creme-filled donut (which is essentially what actually happened). Here's one of them new-fangled polaroids:



(If hot-linking doesn't work, click here.)

Basically I've been in agony the past few weeks because spinal meringue is pressing on the nerve in my back. I currently have a prescription for "elephant-tranquilizer" strength pain-killers. It sort of works, but every once in awhile I get an overwhelming irrational hatred of how the liberal elite have turned this country has turned into a socialist welfare state. And of course, some nausea. (So needless to say, I can't wait to get off this stuff.) In a few days they're going to stab my spine with a large needle until I feel better. (Yeah, I dunno, they say it'll work and I can't really argue since I'm not that kind of doctor.)

Anyway...um...did I mention the pain-killers? If any of this is confusing or doesn't make sense or is confusing, blame them. I'll be sleeping now.
bohor: (Visiting Tate)
So I woke up this morning, showered, and was staring at my closet when a little voice inside my head said "kill zem, kill zem all, all zee radishes must be slaughtered". Fortunately another voice popped into my head and told me I should just wear my Dismemberment Plan t-shirt today. And look what happened: http://pitchfork.com/news/40029-the-dismemberment-plan-reunite/

I've never visited our nation's capital. This seems like as good an excuse as any.

A joke...

Aug. 1st, 2010 05:20 pm
bohor: (Death Valley 69)
A priest, a rabbi, a bishop, and a baptist minister, and the aborted fetus from a 17-year-old unwed mother, a semen-stained copy of "Atlas Shrugged" written in Swahili, twelve copies of Anita Bryant's Greatest Hits suspended in a vat of orange juice, a looped recording of Chinese children singing the theme from "The Brady Bunch", a life-size replica of Reagan's head being built by recovering crack addicts from rejected cheese and AIDS-tainted blood, the stunned silence of an audience of English majors after hearing George W. Bush analyze the meaning of Allen Ginsburg's Howl, and a beer tap in the shape of Sarah Palin's head filling Gulf of Mexico-shaped mugs with rancid black mayonnaise walk into a post-modernist performance art space... Get it?
bohor: (WWWD?)
A task voluntarily taken from [profile] junkshop_coyote

Music initials - Instructions:
1. Reply to this post and I'll assign you a letter.
2. List (and upload, if you feel like it) 5 songs that start with that letter.
3. Post them to your journal with these instructions.

I got a C, so in no particular order:

"Coast to Coast" by Love as Laughter. The first track of an album called Sea to Shining Sea, a song called "Coast to Coast", opens with the line "with a hundred miles, can you drive fast?" If you're going to do something like that, you better be armed with some serious earworm riffs and energetic vocals that seduce aging hipsters into singing along shamelessly while bruising their fingers on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to keep up with the barrage of drum fills. LAL delivers the goods.

"Come On! Feel the Illinoise!" by Sufjan Stevens. There were a few songs I like more, but one of the things I considered was which songs weren't simply great, but were the best songs by that artist. This song is an absolute triumph for Stevens, capturing all his creative strengths in one stunning package.

"Crest" by Stereolab. On the surface, this song really isn't that creative. A crunchy guitar grinds out the same 2-bar riff repeatedly without much variation. The rest of the band lays down an 8-bar progression on that, over which Laetitia Sadier repeatedly chants a single line without any changes in rhythm or pitch aside from the slight warbling of her French accent. For six minutes. There's a vague sense of verse and chorus, but it's really only an illusion - it's the same rhythm and the same chords, just with wordless vocal harmonies instead of the song's one lyric. So what makes it brilliant? What they somehow manage to do within such an artistic confinement with those limited materials. They use timbre and musical complexity to make the music breathe - it's almost like a magic act, except they've pulled down all the curtains to make sure you know exactly what they're doing.

"Cat Track (He Has No Balls)" by SJ Esau. Even if the lyrics weren't so oddly inspired, I'd still love this track. The meters are constantly shifting (usually between 5/8 and 6/8), yet the rhythm doesn't feel exotic or strange, but organic and natural.

"The Chairman Dances: Foxtrot for Orchestra" by John Adams. Yes, there has been some phenomenal Classical music composed in your lifetime.

If you're interested in hearing these, I've thrown them up here.
bohor: (Lambs)
01) Are you currently in a serious relationship? Well, I don't consider it "serious", but my parole officer gets all pissy when I don't call.
02) What was your dream growing up? Which one, the one where I got stabbed by the Hamburglar or the weird one?
03) What talent do you wish you had? I wish I could pay attention.
04) If I bought you a drink what would it be? A first.
05) Favorite vegetable? Utah.
06) What was the last book you read? DSM-IV.
07) What zodiac sign are you? Arise! Or something. I don't pay attention to that hippy bullshit.
08) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where. Um...I'll need one of those dolls they give to children in courtrooms.
09) Worst Habit? Procrastination. It used to be whores and blow, but my procrastination has gotten worse lately.
10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride? Only if you can fit in the trunk with the others.
11) What is your favorite sport? Football. I'm a Buffalo Bills fan, so there's not a fucking thing I can say here that will be the least bit amusing.
12) Do you have a Pessimistic or Optimistic attitude? Yes. But it's really cool 'cause they're super-duper close to finding the meds that'll stop that, but given the track record of those lying assholes I'm just going to go shave my neck with a lawnmower.
13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? Eh, probably the first hour would be polite conversation. Then I'd probably start with the meat around your shoulder. After the carcass started to smell, I'd probably turn the switch back to "Run".
14) Worst thing to ever happen to you? Some asshole got blood on my shirt while we were stuck in an elevator.
15) Tell me one weird fact about you. OK, I'll admit... I knew it was a cop. C'mon, I'm not a moron - even if he could type that quickly and had such perfect grammar, why would the Hamburglar hang out on a Buffalo Bills chat site?
16) Do you have any pets? Yes. He doesn't know it yet, but yes, yes, indeed I do.
17) What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly? Remind you that the 200 yards doesn't apply if you approach me.
18) What was your first impression of me? That time on Amazon when I used your Amex.
19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? Ugh...there's just something wrong with those people. They're like disfigured versions of the Hamburglar that I could probably pay one to come to my house.
20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? I'd make myself pretty, oh so pretty! ... Yeah, that's RIGHT. Pretty. ... I'd be really fucking PRETTY, and then you'd all be sorry. You'd all be very, VERY sorry.
21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? Partner pays better, but I generally don't have to dig a hole after being somebody's conscience.
22) What color eyes do you have? Whatever you need. I can give you a deal if you don't need a matching pair.
23) Ever been arrested? Not successfully.
24) Bottle or can soda? Not successfully. I'm good at getting it out, though.
25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? I'd put out a hit on the Hamburglar.
26) What's your favorite place to hang out at? 200 yards from elevators and McDonalds.
27) Do you believe in ghosts? Wh...wha... NO. No, I do NOT BELIEVE IN GHOSTS. I...wh...what did those little white fuckers tell you?
28) Favorite thing to do in your spare time? I like to carve shivs out of Happy Meal toys.
29) Do you swear a lot? Yeah, they require it before you're allowed to testify. Those fucks.
30) Biggest pet peeve? Questionnaires.
31) In one word, how would you describe yourself? Misunderstood.
32) Do you believe/appreciate romance? As long as I don't have to pay extra.
33) Favorite and least favorite food? Happy Meals / Elevator leftovers.
34) Do you believe in God? Of course, he's at my group sessions. Used to be three of him, actually, but then they found an old box of Haldol.
35) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you? I thought I just did. Wait, who is this?
bohor: (Broccoli room)
[livejournal.com profile] torrle and I were in the Hispanic Foods aisle at the grocery store. He saw a white bucket that was labeled in English and Spanish...

Him: "Isn't there a city in the Central Valley named Manteca?"
Me: "Yeah, near Stockton."
Him: "It means 'lard'."
Me: "Yeah, I know, I've been there."
bohor: (Visiting Tate)
Submitted a review for [an unnamed social networking site that requires users be voter approved based solely on how they look]

The review went as such:
"These pathetic morons actively, proudly discriminate against people based entirely on meaningless utterly superficial criteria such as weight and physical appearance. They bask in their lack of depth and dearth of compassion. These pathetic morons actively, proudly discriminate against people based entirely on meaningless utterly superficial criteria such as weight and physical appearance. They bask in their lack of depth and dearth of compassion. The only hope somebody such as myself would ever have of being allowed on this site is if, the shallow, soulless voting membership could ever possibly comprehend the futility of wallowing in such rampant narcissism. But clearly, grand, wholesale change like this is not going to come overnight.

The only hope somebody such as myself would ever have of being allowed on this site is if, the shallow, soulless voting membership could ever possibly comprehend the futility of wallowing in such rampant narcissism. This cannot be a grand, wholesale change. Just making the effort to get even a sliver of truly personal information, and the regulars at this site may begin to see that the people whom they have rejected are caring, feeling human beings. Maybe they'll embrace the fundamental elements, aspects, and thoughts of those they treat like so much detritus, then once they stop focusing on the shiny surface, they'll be free to search deeper within the thoughts, desires, humor, philosophy, and beliefs, rather than only going skin deep. They won't be limited to the surface, but will be able to take in the whole person, and to appreciate the deeper, more interesting human qualities... such as my enormous schlong."
bohor: (Eclipse)
...driving I-280 from Las Altos Hills to Hillsborough, especially on a night like tonight. 2:15AM, crystal clear at street level, bolting along six utterly barren, empyu lanes in each direction, with no other cars on the roadway in either direction. High, thin silver clouds diffuse the mostly-full moon so much that the sky is brighter than daylight. With urban lights on hills in the distance, close enough to recognize that we're in a city, yet far enough to remind us that we're still hell and gone from the condenceed houses and townhouses that surround us. A bank of fog hovering perfectly above lake San Andreas to the left, cruising along at 75MPH with Underworld blasting through earphones.

Absolutely perfect.
bohor: (Closing in)
...actually, no, it was only a few nights ago, I had a dream. In it, I was trying to...um...be intimate...with my bed. Not somebody on it, not the a stack of blankets, or pillows - no, the bed itself. Oh, and this was some sort of competition, in front of of an Olympic audience, including judges. I don't really remember any detail about the dream, but when I woke up, I think I was still...uh, how do I put this...going for the gold medal, I guess.

I'm not really all that proud of this dreams, or thrilled with my brain's choice of symbolism and imagery. But I'm pretty sure my attempts at deflowering the Queen of Sealy were unsuccessful given that I didn't even tear her sheet.
bohor: (Eclipse)
Surrounded by a crisp, unforgiving three AM cold, I sit at my desk, alternately staring through one window at the faint twinkles of humanity floating in the featureless void of black sky and black ground, and then through this brightly-lit artificial window, where day and night are merely artificial concepts. A window whose metaphorical transparency relegates its physical opaqueness to irrelevancy. Alone with millions of intimate strangers, I gaze in wonder at man's many feats: our ability to create, to inspire, our boundless emotional abilities, our abilities to hurt and destroy, our need to heal, and to be healed. Our ability to be as frigid as steel, and our ability to be warmer than the sun. And through all this I am humbled by this simple knowledge: that in six scant hours, as I drive to work, I will inevitably, without fail, try to shift my car from fifth gear...into fifth gear again.
bohor: (Sheer)
Man, everybody know meat don't sleep.
bohor: (WWWD?)
...I would have totally named them "The Deal", just so the first album could have be called This Is the Deal. In fact, with a name like that, all the album titles - and indeed the history of the band itself - is predetermined. Our second album, Here's The Deal, would have been slightly better than the first, but sell less. Dejected and owing thousands to the label that just dropped us, a half-empty bar in Flagstaff would witness what would unexpectedly be our final show. The resulting bootleg, Deal Me Out, would have only nine tracks, including the brief sixth track — "It's Just Four-Four, You Goddamn Mongoloid" — and the final track, "No You Fuck Off, It's My Fucking Van".

Many years later, an cred-seeking indie hipster would cite us as a major influence, correctly assuming that nobody had ever heard of us. Our former label wouldn't even attempt to contact us before cashing in by releasing What a Deal!, a compilation of our two albums, and an utterly horrendous live album called Hey! Deal With It! Finally there would be an audience sophisticated enough to worship our musical genius, who we'd be sure would carry us all the way to the peak of Not-Fucking-Poordom. After weeks of interviews where each band member made it absolutely clear that we'd never reunite for the money, we'd reunite for the money. The cocaine-fueled national tour would quickly remind listeners why they'd never heard of us before.

On the road, wallowing in empty halls and apathy, we'd enter the studio record our first album in nearly a decade, Deal of the Century. A Pitchfork review would call it "an enormous artistic vacuum that could only have spawned from the massive imploding egos of four aging rockstars who have long since exhausted what little creative energy they had". By the time 2009 rolled around, the album would be a staple in dollar bins nationwide. The band's only releases of the 21st century would be the Rhino greatest hits collection That Was The Deal — prominently featured in a predictably futile series of post-2AM television advertisements — and a massive lawsuit against their former label. The judge's only comments in dismissing the case would consist of sounds the court stenographer was unable to transcribe into text. With nothing else left to divide up except our mutual contempt and loathing for each other, we'd inevitably begin arguing over the rights to the name, spawning a few page 7 filler newspaper articles with crushingly predictable headlines like "What's the Deal with The Deal?" and "Who's Deal Is It?"

None of us would ever be heard from after that, except briefly in 2015 when a MySpace page would appear for The New Deal. Three solo acoustic demos would be posted, garnering a total of 16 "kudos" and four links to foreign pharmacies.


EDIT/ERRATA: According to rateyourmusic.com, five bands have use the name The Deal, and none ever did any of those things we were expecting.
bohor: (WWWD?)
Here's a video I stumbled across today of the band Jellyfish doing a blistering (aside from the vocals) cover of "Go Your Own Way". (That's a sentence I never thought I'd write.) Those of you who never heard of Jellyfish - probably most of you - it might be worth tracking down a copy of "Spilt Milk" and hear how it predicted the indie/baroque pop revival by fifteen years.

bohor: (Default)
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iTunes Library at Work: Bardo Pond — Test
iTunes Library at Home: Mission of Burma — Spider's Web
Nighpod in the car: Sleepytime Gorilla Museum — Powerless
Probably all-time on all players: Fleetwood Mac — Go Your Own Way
bohor: (WWWD?)
"Iron Man doesn't count as playing bass, it just comes out when it's plugged in. Some guy who's never seen a bass in his life will put his fingers on the strings and accidentally play Iron Man."
bohor: (Dan Halen Speak)
My NFL predictions aren't bad, actually. My NFL bets always outperformed my 401(k), (including, sadly, this year, when I didn't actually make any bets). Last year I predicted the Patriots would win ten games and still not make the playoffs. With the 2009 season fast approaching, I'd thought I'd share some predictions for anybody who cares. With the salary cap and the way the draft is organized, teams are more evenly matched than ever, so parity is really the dominant theme of this season.

Notable predictions, week by week: )
bohor: (Default)
So, like, there's this song that nobody else has ever heard...OK, that's not true, but it's a lesser-known song from a band that most people haven't heard of, that only appeared on a compilation album from an independent label. (Though the collection is pretty decent. You can hear a 30-second sample of the song and pick up the CD for $0.01 here.

Anyway, the end of this song has a really bizarre sample of a woman speaking in a very bizarre accent - like Tina Turner in "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome" if she was doing infomercials for a Yugoslavian psychic hotline. I entered the quote in Google...(after I figured out what the hell it was)...and eventually tracked it down to Jane Roberts, a woman who (claimed) that she was periodically 'inhabited' by an "energy personality essence no longer focused in physical reality" known only as 'Seth'. YouTube had a couple videos of Roberts speaking, including clips of her as Seth.

And the whole thing would have been moderately amusing, except while I was playing one in the background, just listening to the audio, the section from the sample came on. I watched for a couple seconds, when Roberts leaned forward, and I was sitting behind her.

(I don't even remember this. But then again, 1974, and you know...there's only so much blow a three-year-old can handle before the periodic blackouts kick in.)

bohor: (Dan Halen Laugh)
...I am reminded of this...the 30 greatest seconds ever put on film:
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