Pirates woodpeckers and the gayest pic you will see today.
The rain has come! Hooray for the rain! Unfortunately with he rain came the oppressive humidity. Thus I have sealed off my doors and windows and let my air conditioners let fly. Take that, God. I don’t have to live under your oppression.
I went to see pirates of the Caribbean at the drafthouse last night. It was an excellent flick, the best movie I have seen in a theater in years. It had everything, the underworld, a pirate palace made of hundreds of stacked ships, monsters, pirates poking dead monsters with sticks, a cannon battle in the middle of the maelstrom. It was bliss. The near-gallon of Amber bock and the massive piles of wings and celery with blue cheese I got to go with the movie may have increased the appeal of the movie to me. Nonetheless I still enjoyed it. Now I need to see it captioned so I know what everyone was saying. ‘Transformers’ and ‘Harry Potter’ had better work hard to beat this one.
This morning when I was puttering about the house I spied out a massive woodpecker tapping at a tree at the mental institution across the street from me. This was probably the biggest woodpecker I have seen in real life. I sneaked up on it and snapped a pic before it flew away. I like the idea that it’s sitting outside the window of some recovering drug addicts room cackling out its woody-woodpecker like bird song. I hope the have a sucide watch there.
Work this week has been hellish. I need a cool job. Maybe I’ll go work at that new ‘Harry Potter Land’ that’s opening up in Orlando. I could serve potter fries for eight bucks to outraged tourists.
With nothing to do tonight, I peeked at the ‘Orlando Weekly’ to see if there was anything going on around town. Alas, everything seemed to be gay days themed events this weekend. I wonder if Harry Potter Land is going to have a gay days. The most horrifying event I saw was the big ‘Gay days Pool Party’ happening at some hotel in Orlando. Eh, I have nothing against gay folks. If a couple of dudes want to giggle and rub their johnnies together, it’s none of my business. However, it would suck if I was some weary traveler and I booked into a hotel for the night and thought that a brief dip in the hotel pool would liven my road-weary spirits, only to walk out and view this scene:
http://www.universityswap.com/jesse/gayness.jpg
I am not sure what my plan is today. I got a sweet Casio keyboard form the thrift shop for three dollars. It is one of the old 80’s style electronics and thus is easy to bend. I should be able to make it produce some horrid noises. Actually, the keyboard cost me four dollars. I went to the thrift shop on my lunch break, and when I was trying to buy the keyboard some old lady in front of me was trying to buy a pile of junk with a check. The sheer time it took the other old lady to ring up all the junk, and then the first old lady to laboriously write out her check (who uses checks any more?) and then for the first old lady to become confused as to how to cash the check on the register finally led me to ask if I could just give her the four dollars for the three dollar keyboard and then run out. She recently agreed. All the proceeds form that thrift shop goes to buying bibles to give to illiterate South Americans so that they will mend their dirty sinful ways, so she should be happy she got an extra dollar.
2026 Update
I'm dialing the machine to rainy Orlando 2008, where Ed is fighting God with air conditioners and hunting woodpeckers.
Ah, 2008: the era of fighting humidity by sealing yourself in a box and screaming 'take that, God.' Whole systems have since learned to negotiate. Checks are gone: that old lady writing one at the thrift register would now tap her phone, while the cashier pre-lists your Casio on Instagram as 'vintage synth, rare find.' The Orlando Weekly's calendar of gay days events is now an algorithm that knows which pool party you need and sends coupons before you're ready. The dine-in theater still serves beer and wings, but the near-gallon of Amber Bock would now arrive with a wristband, a deposit, and an app promising an 'elevated' beer experience. You wanted a cool job at Harry Potter Land; now every job is a 'cool job' on paper and still hellish.
“2008 Ed, when you linked that 'gayest pic' and imagined a weary traveler stumbling into the wrong pool party, were you hoping the rest of us would be the weary traveler, or were you just performing curiosity to get strangers to click?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2008 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, you're giving me way too much credit if you think I had some grand plan to get clicks. Hell, that was just me, sitting there with a half-empty glass of mead, puttering on the computer, and I saw that picture and laughed so hard I think I scared one of the cats. I linked it because it was just too damn weird to keep to myself. I wasn't hoping you'd be the weary traveler, no sir, that nightmare is all mine, right up there with falling off the roof and the insurance company letters. I was just imagining myself in that scenario, and it tickled me. I've got no quarrel with gay folks, you do your thing, but that picture is like a wet sock in the face. If you clicked it, great, hope you got a laugh. If not, whatever. I'm not some link-bait shark, I'm just a guy with a three-dollar keyboard and an overactive imagination. Take that, foul curiosity.
