Friday, August 22, 2008

Waiting For My Text Message

B - y havent u sent me a txt msg yet? Been checkin all DAY & now ur secretary is saying 2 call back Saturday. WTFH!

Joe Biden is okay & all, but he's no HRC. Still time!!!

Yes We Can,

The Big Break

Tools are things we use to help us perform certain tasks. Most archaeologists agree that the first tools were based on fingernails and sharp edges (sticks, broken stones). Prehistoric man learned how to make himself bleed many times before moving on to more efficient tools. Conventional wisdom indicates that bandages fashioned from leaves and vines may have been the next wave of tool history.

Fingernails begat arrowheads, which begat friction, which begat sparks and fire, which begat a need for moving quickly, which begat wheels, which begat moving, which begat better weapons against hostile neighbors, which begat metals, which begat a long time of blacksmithing, which begat magnetism, which begat conductivity, which begat telephones, which begat electric power lines, which begat television, atomic bombs, central air conditioning and eventually begat the Internet.

It seems complicated but it isn’t. Even in this age of Wii and mass transit systems, man is still familiar. No matter the technological advances humans are still picking their teeth with extended pinkies, excavating boogers, playing with their genitals and stabbing food with sharp objects. We are no better than prehistoric man. The only difference is that we have better tools, if we choose to employ them (be it hydraulic or Spanish-speaking).

In an effort to get closer to precursors of modern civilization I have made a conscious effort to use only the tools I find handy. I may or may not find the best tool for the job. This struggle has made me appreciate the leaps of technology, but it has also given me insight on the human condition. Consequentially, by rejecting screwdrivers and choosing steak knives, I am more apt to break things. While it might sound like a bleak endeavor to some people, the result of breaking things has renewed my appreciation of human ingenuity.

I do not intend to rebuild the wheel, but I would like to know how the wheel was invented. Did the wheel come from a collective need for roundness, or was it born of frustration? I’d like to know.

From here on out, I will abstain from Craftsman tools and embrace nail files, shoe heels and elbow grease. This blog is not about efficiency. It is about reverse-engineering and making-do. Absolutely there will be obscene language. I am part French, and you would expect nothing less.

I look forward to enjoying your company on this journey. Thank you.

UNKLE – Broken

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Stir It Up

By Olympic decree, Usian Bolt is the fastest man in the world. He ran 100 meters in 9.69 seconds to win the gold! Before he sailed through the finish line he signed autographs, hugged his mother and updated his stock portfolio. I've never seen anything so easy in my life. Ever. Mr. Bolt (and he does) is from Jamaica. All hail, Mr. Bolt!

Bob Marley - Stir It Up

Monday, August 18, 2008

To Fauxhawk And Svetlana On Miller Beach

We all knew exactly what was going on. You, Fauxhawk Boy, and you underfed Russian footwear model – no one was fooled. From the moment he peeled aside Svetlana's bikini top so Fauxhawk’s bro could snap some pictures of him enjoying the nipple of her small breast, I understood everything. With his cell phone camera, no less.

Fauxhawk began digging a deep hole in the sand, and my suspicions made a racket of noise between my ears. Everything was confirmed when I saw the girl crawl into your pit. Her ankles in the air were my first hard evidence. The sweat on your brow, sir, and the jerking motion of your torso… Well, what can I say? Sometimes I know things.
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We saw all we needed to see. No, the Indian families to your left were not fooled. The elderly couple to your right acted nonchalant, although Grandpa was eager to climb up a dune for a better view. I ‘d like to remind everyone that Grandpa bears some blame for his chest pain that day. Grandpa might have considered bacon and beer less often in his youth, instead of climbing up impossibly steep sand dunes for a better view of two kids having sex in a sand pit after lunch, when he is clearly near death.

An hour spent digging in the sand for two minutes of bliss? Not unheard of. No.