Eagles and OWLS. Rich Sees His Destiny in a Palm Tree Pattern.

[ Editor's note: I was in the middle of writing a much longer, more interesting blog about this, but it was so awesome that it actually crashed Firefox, so you will have to live with the abbreviated version. I'm sorry. ]

Behold, children... THE HAWAIIAN SHIRT!



The other day, I was lucky (?) enough to score tickets to the Eagles concert at the Staples Center here in Los Angeles. (Yes, those Eagles.) I've never been a huge fan of their music, but I don't mind it... you must remember that I was, as a child of the mid-late 70's, most certainly indoctrinated into Eagledom near to the point of being brainwashed. Even today, at times, when drifting on the edge of sleep, I'll wonder aloud why the Desperado just won't come to his senses. And, why do gay people like cowboys so much?

So, to the point: holy crap are middle-aged white people lame. I've kinda understood this for some time now, but I've never been drowned in a tsunami of it. It's a weird kind of lame, too. A lovable, huggable kind of lame. For instance, one of the older white lame-os (OWL) decided that he was going to go wild and dance in the aisle of the concert. So, dance he did. A writhing, almost seductive sort of dance, kind of like a really uncoordinated belly dancer. Of course, the security person in charge of our section of aisle (an older African-american woman) approached and asked him to sit down. So, what did Mr. Wild decide to do? Sit down? Fight the power? No. He decided to turn the seductive power of his goofy yet exotic gyrations on the encroaching authority figure. At first, she seemed angry and repeated her requests for him to resume his proper place in the sea of lameocity. Yet, he persisted. Just when I would have expected her frustration to escalate to scene-proportion levels, she... broke. Gave in to the irresistably arrhythmic quasi-mating dance of the spotted OWL. She rolled her eyes, swatted him on the shoulder, laughed couquettishly and said, "Oh, you!!! Get back to your seat!" Pwnd. So pwnd.

And, holy shit! I've never seen so many Hawaiian shirts, like, ever. What's the deal with that? I ask the question but, somehow... I know the answer. It's waiting deep in me, waiting like unimaginable horror lurks deep amongst the stars. It's waiting and it's coming. Like death and taxes, discovery of this horrible truth is imminent and unavoidable. I feel it coming. I feel it in my vague, twisted fascination with those horrid shirts. Don't all the inevitable pairings start that way? I mean, I saw Snoop and made fun of him like everyone else. "I can't believe it," I said. "How can someone so ridiculous be so famous???" This rejection quickly metamorphosed into a mocking adaptation of the object. Through use, the adaptation grew to a familiarity and the familiarity grew to a fondness. And, the kicker is, when I think about it, there was something in me, something deep inside me, all along that had a fondness for the object, for the Snoop... and for the... for the Hawaiian shirt.

I cannot deny my destiny.



( Me 15 or 20 years from now: )

Missing NY.

I've got to get back over there sometime. I don't think I've ever lived in a city for such a short amount of time and grown so attached. It's probably because, unlike lots of other cities in which I lived, NYC has a ... well, it's almost like it has a personality. I haven't quite figured out why that is yet, but I have an idea that it's got to do with the cultural and economic diversity of the city. Like other cities, it's got it's homogenous sections, but I think it's the most truly integrated and diverse cities I've visited. I also have a theory that the high level of integration is because of the extremely efficient mass transit system, but hey... who am I to theorize about mass transit and its effect on cultural integration in urban environments? Anyway, it's almost as though being a New Yorker is more important to New Yorkers than being any particular color or being rich or poor. And I miss it. New York, that is.

OMGWTFIMINAGOODMOODAGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just got the news that my cousin Chad and I are going to be transferred up to work on Spider-man the Movie 3. Holy freakin crap am I freakin happy holy crrrrrap. I love everybody and especially you, whoever you are reading this, my lovely love lovefest!

Hoo-ray! Huzzah! Hup hup and hullabaloo!

Oh and check out the videos they posted of outtakes from the development of my upcoming game, Ultimate Spider-man... pretty funny stuff... but maybe I just like it because I'm so fuckin happy right now I could just poop my pants:

Click here and goto 'Treyarch Outtakes'.

BodymassagemachineGO!

I'm back! (And verrry offended.)

Oh alright, I've emerged from my eternal cocoon of sadness. Ok, it was more like 1 day of sadness and ten or so of LAZINESS, but there you are.

Wanna see something creepy?

Check this out. There are several registered sex offenders living in my neighborhood and near people I love. Better to know, I guess...

Closed.

I don't feel like writing much of anything today. I'm tired and I'm sad and I feel like I'm once again sixteen years old.

I love you all very much and I hope that comes through in everything I do and say to you.

¡VIVA LA INDEPENDENCIA!

¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo a todos!

Although Cinco de Mayo is gaining purchase in the United States as a day of celebration, there are many misconceptions regarding the history behind the festivities. Ohhhhhh and I bet you can't guess who is going to clear that shit up for you!!!

Cinco de Mayo ("One-Fifth of May" in Mexican) is a celebration of Mexico's independence, achieved in 1847. It is a little known fact that tequila ( a form of mescal, derived from the agave plant ) is made only in the states of Jalisco and Veracruz, Mexico. The Mexican-American War of 1836 (Also known as the War of Northern aggression, not to be confused with the American Civil War, which is often called by the same sobriquet in the American South) of course resulted in the annexation of the states of Chihuahua, Durango, Zacatecas, Jalisco, Veracruz and Chinchumami by the fledgling United States of America. As is evidenced by the geostrategic positioning of these states, the US was clearly intent on securing the centers of world agave cultivation and the supply route by which the precious nectar it yields would be delivered to the United States.

Although debate still rages as to why the Mexicans were powerless to stop the annexation of their heartlands, most historians agree that their forces had been stretched too thin for too long. Still reeling from the Mexo-Salvadorean Conflict of 1834, the ragtag remnants of the Mexican army, though battle-hardened, were no match for the zeal and superior armaments of the US Army under Colonel John Higgenbottom. The Mexican government, under President Benito Juarez, stood strong in the face of the inevitable advance of the Americans and made a dramatic, last-minute strategic withdrawal to the state of San Luis Potosí, where they would regroup and bide their time until the opportunity to retake their homeland presented itself.

Their chance came early the next year when, in the first few weeks of February, the Americans mounted an ill-timed campaign to expand their already remarkable holdings in Mexico. Their objectives were the states of Oaxaca and Pincheputa, states which were (and continue to be) very wealthy due to their respective natural abundances of limes and salt mines. And this further act of aggression might have been succesful had it not coincided almost day and date with surprise Portugese invasion of Texas. Wagering that the troops garrisoned in Chihuahua (the northernmost state) would receive little or no assistance from the Texas-based US Army, Juarez moved decisively, routing the Americans from Chihuahua, cutting off the US's supply line and all hope of reinforcement, and encircling the remaining US forces. Their morale broken, the majority of American occupying forces fled to the coastal state of Besamiculo, sustaining heavy losses, but ultimately escaping to safety.

An interesting turn of events came to pass when the victorious Mexican forces in Chihuahua, under the command of Col Pedro Infante, launched a pre-emptive attack on the forces of the Emperor of Portugal, who were in the process of invading Texas. President Juarez, knowing that a Portugese-held Texas would be a continual threat to Mexico's northern borders, decided to strike while the proverbial iron was hot, flanking the Portugese Legionnaires, cutting off all avenues of retreat, and destroying them to a man. As a side note, Infante's forces, on their way to make battle with the Portugese, had become turned around and lost in the south Texas desert. As legend has it, the clouds parted near the pueblo of Sandia, exposing only Polaris, the north star, which was sufficient to guide the Mexicans to Corpus Christi, where they surprised and ultimately obliterated the Portugese in early May, 1847. This running battle lasted just under six days (thus, One-fifth of May), and secured Mexico's freedom from foreign influence for at lest 100 years.

A cogent argument can be made that the Mexican Army did, in fact, save the United States of America, even though they defeated the invading American forces. This may not appear to make much sense until one reflects that the Portugese and their emperor, Nãobatapunheta III, were in talks with and planned to support the nascent Confederate conspiracy to overthrow the US government. By eliminating the Portugese at the Battle of Corpus Christi, the Mexicans had removed a vital factor in the equation that led to the victory of the North over the South and the subsequent preservation of the Union.

It is, for this reason, that Americans and Mexicans alike celebrate this day, May 5th, which commemorates not only the end of the Battle of Corpus Christi, but the beginning of an era of self-determination for the peoples of the Western Hemisphere.

So, tonight, brothers and sisters, raise your cups together and give thanks to the selfless men and women, Mexican and American alike, that gave their lives to ensure our liberty.

God Bless America.

Dios Bendiga a Mexico.

Origins of the Beast.

So, I've been trying to find out wherein lies the genesis of the aesthetic which attracts me to women. For the most part, the problem lies in determining which came first, my young childhood crushes or a natural insinuation of some aesthetic into my pattern of likes and dislikes. Perhaps it was a link established between something that signaled good feelings or comfort and sets or a particular set of features. Whatever the case may be, it's undeniable that I am attracted to certain traits in women: darker hair, dark eyes, medium-full lips, high cheekbones, and big smiles.

Here are some of the famous girls who I crushed on while growing up:

Alyssa Milano ( from Who's the Boss ):



This was the big one. What a cutie! I think it was the first time I saw someone and was like WHOA, who is that???

Danica McKellar ( Winnie on The Wonder Years ):



Ha ha, gotta love the late 80's. She's the one that totally started my nerd fetish.

Paula Abdul ( Singer and all around hot chick )



I think I'm more into her now than I was then, because she seemed so much older than me at the time. Or, maybe that's what started my older woman fetish. Muhahahahaha. So, all I need is to find an older nerd and I'll be all set!!!

Of course, with all this talk of exterior beauty, it must be mentioned that even the most beautiful woman in the world seems extremely ugly to me unless she's a beautiful, nice and fun person on the inside. And, I'll tell you what, there are more than a few women out there who couldn't be considered traditionally beautiful who I know to be among the hottest, most beautiful people I know. It's the mind that matters... And how you shake that bootay.

Moooaaaaaaannnn.

Quick update... continuing on with my zombie infatuation, here are a couple of good links you should check out if you're at all interested:

Zombie survival test. ( Make sure to post your score in the comments! )

Santa Rosa Institute

Those bastards that don't signal.
Levelling up.
Myspace can be yourspace.

Californians look the same as people from back East, more or less. This fact led to some amount of confusion when I moved here because of the assumption that, if they looked the same, they must kind of be the same. I have, in the five years that I've been here, found this supposition to be, for the most part, false. Californians, although they look the same and speak pretty much the same language, are of a different culture than those of us from the East Coast.

I'm not sure if this has anything to do with any of that, but I used to be very frustrated by the fact that a surprisingly high number of Californians refuse to signal when turning or changing lanes. I just found out the other day that a large number of Californians refuse to signal when changing lanes because an equally large number of Californians will immediately accelerate to prevent someone ahead of them from transitioning into their lane.

This is clearly a case of cretinous behavior begetting cretinous behavior.

I do, however, feel that two things have occurred on a personal level for me:

- I no longer reserve my darkest fantasies for the non-signallers. Those are now the province of the accelerbators, as they shall henceforth be called.

- I feel as though I have reached a deeper understanding of this strange and terrible culture which surrounds me. Mayhap I have gained a level. This would make me:

Richard the Bisso
NG Human Male, North Countryman (11), Californian (2)

By teh whey, I've recently signed up with http://www.myspace.com . It's one of those community sites online that I've never liked too much, but this one is actually pretty fun and good. I've been going to it for a couple months now on the regular, so it's pretty safe to say I'm hooked. There are a lot of people I (and probably you, dear reader) know on there, so it's pretty cool to see how everyone portrays themselves when given the tools and space to do so. You should check it out... search for me by my email caballero776[at]yahoo[dot]com ...

Vaya con dios.