Speaking of NASA…

Okay NASA, what the fuck is that thing in the lower right corner of this photo from Mars Curiosity?

“It’s a twig.” LIFE

“It’s an insect leg.” LIFE


Any guesses which explanation they’ll provide—assume they even address it?

Original NASA image here.

And while we’re on the subject of things that need to be addressed, WTF is this? 


Original NASA image here.

Um…yeah. Something that looks totally out of place, is a completely different color and shape than the surrounding rock, and for all intents looks organic. Whatever, NASA. Whatever.




I’m fucking pissing myself.
You know how all of Jupiter’s moons are named after his lovers and affairs?
Yeah. NASA is sending a craft to check up on Jupiter.
You know what the craft is called?


Who’s Juno?




This is pure awesome.

Why We Look

We look because it’s there. We humans look towards violence in order to define it, to decide where we must run (or if we should stand and fight). We are fascinated by suffering. There is a cognitive bias towards the terrible. Many complain that there is not enough “happy” news. The problem is that there is happy news all around us, we just don’t notice. A baby smiling or someone offering someone else a spot on the bus doesn’t go viral because most humans experience little kindnesses and forget them. But we don’t forget violence.

We look because it’s always available. There is a moment, as you watch a violent video, that you feel you need to fast forward. ISIS fighters in front of ragged flags, knives out – fast forward to the death. Gunshots on a pier – fast forward to what thousands of live viewers saw. The destruction of culture, of lives, of futures, of belief in the decency of mankind – we look because in the end we want to see how far we’ll fall if given the impetus. We want to see how thin the spiderweb veil of sanity really is, how deep the well truly goes until we hit rancid water. And we look to feel superior and to give the amygdala that tickle of surprise we crave. Broadcasting is not new. We learned to sing so we could make others feel strange things, we learned to orate to raise the blood of soldiers, we learned to repeat horrible stories to outrage and distract. From the Lives Of Saints with a pierced St. Sebastian to the latest LiveLeak link, we need violence to feel whole. And that’s why we love these videos. We love them. We share them – “OMG” “#prayers” – we post them, the news organizations replay them over and over. They are our reward for staying out of trouble.



Some alien conspiracy theorists posit that this is the whole reason for the Roswell Crash and subsequent alien technology retrieval/exploitation.

I Can So Relate

“Bobby was enjoying this new brand of paint. The fumes were stronger than anything he had ever sniffed before, and the hallucinations seemed stronger, and wilder. Never again would Bobby see his old paint supplier, from now on he was sticking to the hard stuff like the big boy he had become.”

Most people associate Christmas day with the smell of freshly-baked cookies, or turkey and stuffing cooking in the oven. Not me. What takes me back is the smell of plastic model paint. Being a geeky child of the 60s, nothing recalls Christmas to me quite as much as building plastic models, whether they were commercial airplanes, movie monsters, anatomical displays, dinosaur skeletons, or spacecraft. And they all required painting.


Those of us who are of a certain age will undoubtedly remember many a smoky night spent on a flashing dance floor gyrating our once pert-and-perky asses to Cerrone’s 1978 classic Supernature.

The reason I bring this up is that this morning while scrolling through iTunes I ran across Cerrone’s 2010 Cerrone Symphony Variations of Supernature, essentially a symphonic 44-minute remix/augmentation/updating of the original 1978 source material that I orgasmed over when I first heard it years ago.

I’m pretty sure I’d written a review back then, but like all the rest of my posts prior to moving to Denver, it was consigned to the depths of internet hell.

Anyway, I had forgotten how good it really was.

It’s also kind of funny in that CBS’s Zoo (yeah, I watch it as ridiculous as it is because James Wolk is pretty) seems to be loosely based on the premise Cerrone explored in his music nearly 40 years ago (I can not be that old!)—that the animals will one day rise up and rebel against mankind.

While it’s not available on iTunes (WTF?), you can can still pick it up on physical media from Amazon.


From Dave at Blogography, copied in full because it was just too good not to and perfectly sums up what I’ve been feeling myself lately:

Jared Fogle, the Subway Sandwich Whore… whom I loathe, but tried to treat fairly when he was dragged to the police station for questions regarding child pornography(because, hey, innocent until proven guilty, right?) is, in fact, apparently going to plead guilty to not only possession of child pornography… but also of having sex with at least fourteen underage kids… THE SICK FUCK! What a piece of garbage. He used his millions in sandwich money to prey on innocent children… and continued to do so even after his best friend got caught producing kiddie porn for him? As much as I loathed him before, he has managed to sink even lower. Holy crap what a repugnant asshole. Fuck Jared for making me watch his idiotic commercials and listen to his pathetic lies all these years. Hope you like the sandwiches in prison, you disgusting pig.

Josh Duggar, the “Family Values” Douchebag… whom I loathe, but tried to treat fairly when he was crucified for having sexually molested five girls (including four of his sisters) as a teenager (because, hey, growing up in that dysfunctional shit-hole of a family was bound to screw him up, right?) is, in fact, not only a teen pedophile… but also an allegedly unfaithful husband who has been outed as a “Life is Short, Have an Affair” Ashley Madison member. That’s right, all the while he was dictating morals to people on how they should live their lives… he was apparently living his life contrary to his own standards. Like the fucking pathetic hypocritical piece of shit he is. As much as I loathed him before, he has managed to sink even lower. Holy crap what a repugnant asshole. Fuck Josh Duggar for making me even be aware of his parents’ idiotic clown car vagina reality show all these years. From the depths of your very own belief system, hope you enjoy rotting in hell, you disgusting pig.

George Zimmerman, the psychotic asshole that stalked and killed a kid for being Black “in the wrong neighborhood”… whom I loathe, but tried to treat fairly… as in “they-should-have-hanged-the-fucking-murdering-asshole-fairly” because HE WAS CLEARLY LYING AND GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY is, in fact…

Donald Trump, the misogynistic pile of shit (and hairspray)… whom I loathe, but tried to…

Pat Robertson, the bigoted…



I give up. I just give up. If I were to write up all the assholes, idiots, and clowns that are pissing me off today, I’d be here all week. Holy crap are there a lot of repugnant pieces of shit in my newsfeed lately. Some days I think I’d be much better off with my head stuck in the sand.

Knowing what’s going on in the world isn’t good for your sanity. Not anymore.

There are days that after reading one or two posts, I simply “mark all as read” in my newsfeed now because I just can’t.

Back to Work

OH MY GOD. I know it’s been only one day, but the place I’m going to be working at for the next month or so is about as far removed from my previous work environment as possible. I’d forgotten what it was like to work in an I.T. Department that isn’t dripping with drama and dysfunction; a department filled with people who are genuinely friendly and actually seem to like being there and enjoy what they’re doing.

And really, who can blame them? A relaxed dress code (I can wear jeans every day), an onsite cafeteria, more than adequate restroom facilities, and completely covered employee parking (something that if you don’t live in Arizona you can’t fully appreciate).

The folks I work with are helpful and encouraging; such a change from the majority of coworkers at my last place of employment. I didn’t hear a single disparaging or inappropriate comment from anyone in the department and so to my former boss I say, See bitch? It’s not like your feculent vat of toxic hellstew everywhere.”

I was initially concerned about the commute. It’s  about seven miles further each way than the one I had in Denver, but it turns out that even with it being a greater distance, it takes the same amount of time thanks to the valley’s properly sized transportation infrastructure.

My only regret is that this is slated to be only a short-term gig. But then, so was my last job in Phoenix that ended up turning permanent and lasting nearly 8 years.

We shall see. In the meantime, I’m just going to relish actually looking forward to going to work again.

Life is Weird

One of the strangest—and most unexpected—effects of being back in Phoenix is feeling the profound absence of my father. While my mom had passed before we moved to Denver and I still feel her loss, my dad died while we were there, and my involvement with his passing was minimal and long-distance (something that has caused a continued rift between myself and my sister). Being back here now it’s smacking me up the side of the head and I have to keep reminding myself that he’s no longer just a few minute’s drive away as he’d been before we left.

Ironically however, when I look into the mirror I’m seeing more and more of him staring back at me, and perhaps more disturbingly I’m finding more and more of his well-known stubbornness and general temperament rearing itself in my personality; something I’d just as soon do without if truth be told.

When I was younger I didn’t look like either of my parents, but as I’ve aged, his genes are starting to assert themselves. While I don’t resemble him completely at this age, there’s much more of him showing through than my mom, so hopefully his genes will maintain their supremacy and guard against the onset of Alzheimers that plagued Mom and so many others on her side of the family.


The surface area of the planet Mars is almost identical to the surface area of dry land on the Earth. What this means is that even if we begin human exploration in my lifetime, it will still take hundreds—if not thousands—of years to properly explore the entire planet; a commitment in time and resources I cannot see humanity making, short of being faced with its own extinction.