Archive for July, 2003

  • Rob Spectre
  • 30
  • Jul
  • 03

I was walking down by this ship restoration and repair place earlier this afternoon. The place is full of these enormous fishing trawlers and other types of ships with busy little antmen running all around them welding and spraying and such. Most of the ships are pretty alright, except for one horribly named vessel called “Capable.”

Who the shit names their ship “Capable?” Does anyone want to ride something called Capable? Why not shoot for “Magnificent” or “Awesome” or even “Pretty Alright?” Confidence is everything on the open sea, and if that is the case, I don’t think the crew aboard the H.M.S. Sufficiently Adequate are going to be the best the ocean has ever seen.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 29
  • Jul
  • 03

I went to Taco Bell after a morning of car shopping (for someone else, don’t worry – I would never let go of my baby) for a delectable meal of my favorite Grilled “Stuft” Burrito. Following the brief lunch, I decided I would take a moment to relieve myself in the establishment’s facilities. Everything was going okay until I flushed and the toilet nearly sucked my goddamn leg into the bowl.

This toilet was like a fucking fuel-air explosive (only without the dead Iraqi civilians) sucking in not only my excess fluid, but quite nearly my knee and upper thigh. Why the hell does mankind need a shitter so strong? Then suddenly it hit me… Maybe the plumbers now something about the cheese dip I don’t.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 27
  • Jul
  • 03

Well, I’ve been getting my ass handed to me at my new job at WaterFire. I walked in to volunteer and all of the sudden I end up employed. Doing production work and political writing, it promises to be a really diverse occupation, if only part-time. Last night I took a walk around the fire for, after working all day as a volunteer and rocking all night on the Shaft, the dance in my pants had very well vacated. But, it was still a serene time. It felt really good to watch the event not only with a sense of awe, but also accomplishment.

Rebuilding is quite an effort and yesterday’s show, honestly, showed very little progress. That’ll teach me to compete with the city’s biggest summer event. I think the only answer is more shows, which I’m more than willing to get hopping on right now.

I had a rather vivid nightmare of a car accident last night as well. A little too vivid.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 21
  • Jul
  • 03

Another rant about television. So, I’m watching Fox of all stations which has particularly turned god awful with the passing of The X-Files, and after the perennial favorite Simpsons and Yet Another Home Movie Show, I come across Anything For Love and become paralyzed with stupidity.

My problem with reality TV exists on a number of levels, not the least of which is the simple fact that it is not reality at all. Reality isn’t full of hot twentysomethings pulling stunts for each other’s affection. I think if they are going to refer to the genre by such a title, the proper show Fox should be fielding is Anything for Lunch.

Go on the streets of major cities, pick up about twelve homeless people, cut their hair and scrub behind their ears, and set them through challenging obstacle courses for Big Macs. You really want to see the desperate lengths humanity is willing to take? Try setting a crippled Vietnam vet in a hamster wheel with a Kansas City Strip dangling in front of his nose and watch the miracle of adrenaline take its course. Are the people on Survivor really risking it all when just a million dollars is on the line? Throw out a punch bowl of Hanta-infected rat shit, set down a dementia-stricken old lady who thinks she’s Elizabeth Taylor, a hairy-backed hippie who always refers to himself in the third person, and a philosophy major, give them bibs and forks, and tell them a coupon for a lifetime supply of sardines is at the bottom of that eleven-foot crapheap. Then you’ll know how real desperation can be.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 19
  • Jul
  • 03

A mess of Narragansetts in Southern Rhode Island are getting in quite a spat with the state governor over the installation of a casino on their federally protected land. While I certainly agree with the governor’s assessment of the casino’s danger to general social happiness, I think he went a touch overboard. Walking into any Indian territory with a mess of heavily armed white guys with the avowed intent of taking away Native American tobacco has, historically, never been such a bright idea. Doomed to repeat, I suppose.

Hey. Hug a nun. They’re nice ladies.

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