I love cilantro!

But if you happen to dislike it, or even HATE it, here's a website just for you.

Wonderful, Imaginative, Hateful Stuff that comes flying out

Tony Blogs.

Blood, love and jealousy in Canada.

Every other house in LI has one. It's just one sarcophagus after another out there.

Quilts rock! previous epigrams and epithets not-with-standing. (Thanks to SuperHAKerdee-A-T-XXXXX)


(Oh yes, in other news, I got my camera fixed. I'll try to get some interesting pictures up here again. Ones that I saw in person. So that you can see them. In picture form.)

Asa-Chang and Jun-Ray

Ways you can find angry and sloppy on the google internet search engine

by googling "sloppy lentils."

Before he was Kinski

Beatnik poet




Cassanova



Sinatra impersonator

Time traveler

Iggy pop wannabe

In celebration of all of our past lives. Dualality rocks!

To My Fellow Writers/Ski Photos

*deleted due to breakup*
This guy has the right attitude. It reminds me of the 24 hour ultra-core movie marathon in QueSLOPPYens.

I haven't written anything in 2 months. SLOPPY If I could get a page done every day I'd really get somewhere.

I remembering somebody talking about one of the professors at Sarah Lawrence talking about writing; that you shouldn't write emails because that takes away from your writing energy. Just writing this now instead SLOPPY of working on my novel is sapping my energy that couldSLOPPY otherwise be used for my novel.

SLOPPYIt doesn't really work thSLOPPYat way. This isn't work. If it was work, this blog would be betterS.LOPPY But it's as good as ISLOPPY want it to be. Especially since I'm not the only blogSLOPPYger on it anymore. After Pagoda I won't have an excuse. (Click that link to see a guy who will write me a recommendation letter; the hardestSLOPPY worSLOPPYking white-man in Korea. At leSLOPPYast South Korea.)

(It's funny. Most every teacher here is bitter about somethSLOPPYing. I guess teachers are a bitter lot. But one teacher who has been especially bitter because his photo was put up on a big poster advertising one of the classes--without his permission, mSLOPPYind you. I'm bitter because there is no photo of me SLOPPYon the PIP website. I'd be bitSLOPPYter if there was. It's just our way.)

Lo Siento.

Car seats and Chest hair.

Until a couple of days ago, Meyer's car seat was in the middle of the backseat. This is the safest position for a car seat, since yer protected on all sides, obviously. So, a couple of days ago, his car seat was in the middle and Amelia and I were putting our young human into it- adjusting the harness, giving him toys to occupy himself with, making requisite goofy faces, etc...it was a cold night, and we wanted to get home. We had just attended a small art opening in a posh Denver neighborhood. The art was done by the 11 year-old daughter and 15 year-old son of of one of the attorney's at the law firm where Amelia works. The art was gobs of paint in the forms of hearts on square and rectangular wood blocks. Some had two hearts, some three, some were festooned with bobby pins and needles and they had titles like, "scorn," or "two of a kind," or something like that- anyway, I was promised free food and wine. So, the three us looked at the hearts, ate and drank some, gawked at the prices- 45-100 dollars or so each...and finally decided to leave. Which we did. If I'm going to buy art, the artist better be old enough to drink or fight in a war...
So, back to the car seat. As we were seating him, I looked across the street, where there was a beautiful house, huge, wooden and modern, the doors and windows open, and it glittered to me like a very tiny sun. I looked to my smiling but sleepy son, and uttered to him, someday...and then I noticed a man. He was standing in front of the southern second story window. Like I said, all the lights were on and so he cast a strong, dark silhouette. He was tall and skinny, seemed to be a little younger than me, but not by much. He was staring down at us. I asked Amelia if that guy was staring down at us. She said she thought he was. It was starting to get kind of creepy. We got into the car and Amelia started to point at him as he kept staring at us. Amelia honked the horn of the car twice. The man lifted up his shirt, exposing his chest. We burst out laughing. I rolled down the window, yelled out, "Hide your shame!" and peeled out.

A couple of days later, I had to take my Dad, stepmom, her son and girlfriend to the airport. To fit all of them and their luggage, I had to take the car seat out. When I went to put it back in later that day, I couldn't get it to stay tight and safe in the middle seat of my car- the seatbelt is broken I think. I got very angry about this for some reason. Amelia told me I should put the car seat on one of the sides. So I put it in the seat behind the driver seat, where it is very secure. And it works out for us this week, cause we're moving and this configuration allows for more cargo space in my car.

From Madrid to Kiev

(That's a rockfish. I ate one Saturday night.)

There's a guy who's working on a movie about his 5000 km walk from Madrid to Kiev, as suggested offhandedly by Herzog in the book Herzog on Herzog. Called "more shoes."

Interested to see it. The dude got's devotion. Motivation. Play it on the guitar every Saturday night.

It's raining in Seoul. For some reason I wanted to eat ice cream and drink a beer. I hurt my jaw joint eating the ice cream bar I bought. Serves me right.

Anyhow, Herzog said that a 5,000 km walk on foot from, say, Madrid to Kiev would be worth more than five years of film classes. I imagine it would be cheaper too. So more power to this dude.

I invite the bloggers to more shoes too. I mean, the confederate bloggers. And if you haven't been invited to blog on Angry and Sloppy, please email me at solardriftwood at geemail to rectify the sloppiness. And poets, add your angry and sloppy poetry. Because there's nothing sloppier than poetry; and the best poetry is angry.

And those who have become confederates, please feel free to be sloppier. And damnier, angrit. That's what this is for.

The Escape Velocity of Love

Because what you must do to live your dream means doing what you must.

Welcome to the Official Pantheon, Captain Nowak.

When there's no more oil

It'll just be blood for blood.

via cursor as per usual.

The world we live in is made of candy bars and pepermint dreams

Angry and Sloppy supports turtle power 100 percent.

Here are three things that caught my eye.

#1 They should have known.

#2 We should have known....how f%#&$ing sick of them. If you can stand it, watch the whole
thing...poetry or robbery.....Yuck.

#3 the selling of Kinski--in case you have not been here...

No tomato is safe

Yertie the Turtle: Tomato Terminator

Breaking News on Not-Anna Nicole Smith

Everybody is linking to this. But just in case you missed it.

Our fallen child of space

Oh, what of our beloved astronauts? Once engraved in our great American consciousness as individuals greater than our selves—because, well they are. I guess they have always had that “edge” being both reckless adventurers and embracer of claustrophobic spaces, while chasing after the speed of sound , or orbiting the Earth all alone just to prove we are greater than a Russian dog.

Always our well groomed nerds; capable of solving the Rubiks Cube blindfolded with one hand while reciting a hundred and eight numbers of PI backwards as if the numbers were as sacred as the names of Ganesh. And let’s not forget those underground outer space experiments of psychic energy. Which gave all hope of a greater age.

Sure our money in the late 50’s and 60’s went to technology driven education instead of defending the Bible’s notion of evolution. Nor did it go towards America’s poor and disenfranchised, who would never be given the chance of being great enough material for a Tom Wolfe novel.
But now one has fallen.

And what should we now make of the billions spent on creating these apostles of the infinite?
How dare this commander of multiple hemispheres race though the highways and coastal towns of Southern Florida on her escapade with nothing more than a BB gun, set of wigs, knives and latex gloves. But perhaps we should commend her on her focus. After all not just any one would wear "a diaper during the 14-hour drive so that she wouldn't have to stop for bathroom breaks.”—unless like her we were also wonderfully in love.

We can only hope her last luxury was a good old bottle of home brewed gin to guide her on that final quest. Crazier than a Rick James fantasy and slightly more interesting than a Hollywood romance, she has forever tarnished my image of astronauts…and all for love.
Idiot…

A Celebration.

There are, or I should say, there were, many adventure/puzzle games that Lucasarts came out with in the nineties. In my uneducated opinion, they were all great. My brother, sister and I played most of them, those being Sam and Max, Day of the Tentacle, and most importantly, Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis. The king of games.
Being the classic slacker/nerd that I was back then, I loved the spectacle of Indiana Jones, and getting this game, which I’m pretty sure I bought at a Best Buy, begging my Father that I could get it, I was entranced. Finally, I could be my hero, my alter-ego of the mind.
Back then, we had out first real IBM-DOS computer, and my brother had taught himself everything about it. So, soon enough, he had it up and running, even though I think the technical specifications went beyond what our computer had…I think. We were always having trouble getting games to work on our computer, very frustrating, but console-based video games were usually not enough for us, we needed games with more substance, style...not something some giant conglomeration of a company spit out like day-old cheese.
Anyways, the best part of this game is that you have three options of gameplay- a thinking way, a team way, and a fighting way. I naturally chose the latter, wanting to get all the fightin’ action that Indiana Jones was famous for. And let me tell you, it was hard, fighting the Nazi’s in the caves at then end of the game was incredibly challenging, but in the end was totally worth it. Indiana gets the girl, saves the world, so on and so on!
The guy, whose name I forgot, who played Indian Jones’ voice, does an incredible job of voice acting. He doesn’t really sound anything like Harrison Ford, but he does a great job of imitating Indiana’s pessimistic smirks and manly one-liners. Early on in the game, you find a wad of gum to be used a tool of some sort, and every time you click on it in your inventory, he says, “Sure is gooey.” My sister and I must have clicked on that gum a million times!
So, if you like a game that has fantastic action, interesting and often mind bending puzzles and traps, great storyline and a great script, with fun voice acting and characterizations, than this game is definitely worth your time downloading.

The Fire: A Poelg

Adventure, Captain. Adventure.

There was little else left on Earth.
There was the war to end tyranny.
Many considered that a noble effort.
Tyranny, sir?




Or an attempt to unify humanity?
Unify, sir?
Like a team of animals under one whip?
I know something of those years, remember.
It was a time of great dreams,
of great aspiration.


Under dozens of petty dictator ships.
One man would have ruled eventually,
as Rome under Caesar.




Richard the Lion-Hearted, Napoleon.
I don't know if you'll like living in our time.
Then I'll have to remold it to my liking.
Please don't.
Go.
Or stay.
But do it because it is what you wish to do.
Well?
I'll stay a little longer.
How many minutes do you graciously offer?
I only meant--
This grows tiresome.
You must now ask to stay.
I'd like to stay.
Please.
Open your heart.
Will you open your heart?
Yes.
I intend to take this ship.
Do you agree?
Oh, please don't ask me--
I need your help.
You won't harm anyone?
Now you question me?
No.
Will you assist me?
Oh, please, Khan, don't ask me--
Leave me then.
Go, I say.
No.
I promise.
I'll do anything you ask.
Name-- Khan, as we know him today.
Name-- Khan Noonien Singh.
From 1992 through 1996,
absolute ruler of more than a quarter of your world,
from Asia through the Middle East.
The last of the tyrants to be overthrown.
I must confess, gentlemen.
I've always held a sneaking admiration
for this one.
He was the best of the tyrants
and the most dangerous.
They were supermen in a sense.
Stronger, braver,
certainly more ambitious, more daring.
Gentlemen, this romanticism
about a ruthless dictator is--
Mr. Spock, we humans have a streak of barbarism in us.
Appalling, but there, nevertheless.
There were no massacres under his rule.
And as little freedom.
No wars until he was attacked.
Gentlemen.
Mr. Spock, you misunderstand us.
We can be against him and admire him
all at the same time.
Illogical.
Totally.
This is the captain.
Put a 24-hour security on Mr. Khan's quarters,
effective immediately.
Ahh.
I'm sorry, Captain.
I was, um,
Lost in thought.
My door--















Adventure, Captain. Adventure.

Episode 122.78: The Orion Prevention

I have been invited to slop, but the following has prevented me.

This...thing...prevents me from doing many things.





However, I:



feel welcome.

And Orion has bugs.

There is no weekend

I...mean...


It feels like...


Well...



I mean, it feels like there was no weekend.



I mean, there is no truth.




I mean, TFIF


Discussion on the Youtube board:

(Reply) (Spam)
newforestroadwarrior (1 week ago)
Did anyone else notice the top shroud on the photocopier has been unbolted and removed?
reas11 (6 days ago)
LMAO nobodys watching the photocopier mate.

slowfalleruk (3 days ago)
newforestroadwarrior, you're spot-on! As a former Canon/Fujitsu photocopier engineer, I can confirm that this video features non-standard use of the glass plate. This glass is relatively thin and brittle and can shatter into razor-like shards; certainly not the sort of stuff to be writhing around on.
(Reply) (Spam)