Terrible Analogies

We’re halfway through our vacation, and as luck would have it the lodge has wireless.  It’s a five mile car ride to the lodge, but it’s well worth the trip to to quickly log in and check out what’s happening at work and to update the blog.  I feel like I’m going through withdrawals from lack of consistent posts

Anyway, here are a few pics from Sea Ranch, unedited:

The inside of the 2000 square foot home we're renting

it's a three bedroom home right above the ocean

The view outside the backyard door

Each evening the deer swing by, signaling a start to happy hour

We're surrounded by forests on one side...

...and ocean on the other.

We stopped by the Korbel winery on the way up

Korbel winery

Anyway, more to come!  Updates will resume on the 18th.

…see y’all next week!  

I’m heading out to Sea Ranch for the week.  I’m told that there’s internet access up there, but if you don’t see any new posts next week, don’t fret…I shall return on the 18th.

In the meantime, see if you can spot Jesus in my Kit Kat:

“Forget about Buddha, Allah, Jesus and Jehovah
Hurry down Doomsday, the bugs are taking over”
               – Elvis Costello: Hurry Down Doomsday 

A woman in Florida claims to have discovered the name of God spelled out in her salami.  Now, I’m not a psychiatrist, so I can’t vouch for this woman’s state of mind, but a couple things about this story instantly jumped out at me.  

1) Taking a look at the pictures, It appears to me that these “letters” spell out the word “Goo”, which happens to be the name of an amazing album by Sonic Youth.  Perhaps this particular hunk of meat was a massive fan?

B) Let’s assume that the letters do indeed spell out “God”.  Exactly what god are they referring to?  The God of thunder, war, or perhaps rock ‘n’ roll?  I have a cousin who (as the story goes) once took some PCP and LSD, declared himself “God”, then ripped out one of his own fingernails with his teeth.  Could this be the god this salami was alluding to?

Now, I’ve written about this subject before, and it amazes me what some people are willing to believe.  I can’t accept that any god, regardless of design, would deem it fit to reveal himself via the compacted innards of a tube of salami, in the wool of sheep, or even in the logo of an ice cream company.  I would think that any god, no matter the point of origin, would have better things to do with his or her time.

I mean, where’s the miracle?  Where’s the blinding light and the sound of trumpets ushering in a glorious new dawn for mankind?  I want crashing lightning, awe-inspiring ethereal angelic choirs, and Hollywood special effects.  But instead of the supernatural, we’re meant to infer that the power of (whatever) god we’re accustomed to is limited to questionable miracles and cryptic signs in our bowl of Cheerios?

Is it just me, or does this clip get funnier every time you watch it?

If there’s a more perfect metaphor for life, I’ve yet to see it…

Alright, I didn’t really ditch work, but rather got in the office at 6am so I could leave at 2:30pm and grab a quick run over at Ellie Lane in Poway.  I had only one day off this week and felt cheated because I couldn’t squeeze in a decent trail run.  Actually, I was feeling a bit depressed, moody, and under the weather.  I dunno, it’s difficult to put into words exactly how I was feeling.  Like a recovering junkie who missed his last methadone dose or a sex addict at the center of an intervention, I was just feeling…off.

So in at six, out at two, and on the mountain at three.  That was the mantra for the day, and damn if it didn’t feel great to feel the pain as I was peaking that first mountain. 

As I was wrapping up my run, my car slowly cresting over that final hill, I wondered what my time was.  My thighs felt a bit sore because of the squats I did at the gym yesterday, so I knew I wasn’t at the top of my game, but I still felt strong.  I don’t wear a watch, but I do carry an iPod shuffle.  I figured I could calculate my time via my “last played” list.

If you’re curious what I listen to when I run, here’s the amped-up random shuffle (ordered a bit):

Black Strobe: Blood Shot Eyes
Clutch: Careful With That Mic…
Combichrist: Get Your Body Beat
Disturbed: Conflict
Dope: Debonaire
Dope: Die Mother Fu**ker Die
Ice-T: Squeeze The Trigger
Marilyn Manson: This Is The New Sh*t
Mickey Avalon: So Rich, So Pretty
Mickey Avalon: Jane Fonda
Nico Vega: Living Underground
Operation Ivy: Bad Town
System Of A Down: Chop Suey!
The Tragically Hip: New Orleans Is Sinking
Tom Waits: Goin’ Out West
Velvet Acid Christ: Fun With Drugs

Huh…a little over six miles and three mountain peaks in 70 minutes.  Not bad.  Could be better, but that’ll do for a having just four hours sleep the night before.  I’ll take it.  I think the fault lies with the fact that I didn’t get to hear enough Tom Waits, and absolutely nothing by My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult (fyi: their album Confessions Of A Knife is their masterpiece.  Feel free to disagree, but you’d be wrong.)…

If you’re interested, Thrill Kill is coming to San Diego in May.  Hope to see you there…

Oh, and while I’m on a tangent, will somebody please tear me away from Ninja Town?  This is the game du-jour that currently owns me.

At first glance this game seems innocent enough, but be warned.  Like a thorazine freak you’ll be twitching to come back for more…