Jungle Transmissions is dead. Long live Jungle Transmissions!

It's over here now:

http://jungletransmissions.tumblr.com/

The tone has changed (or will change - it's not really much of anything yet). More newsy.

See y'all over there...

Make It Better

Moon People

This was the #1 Digg this morning:

Best First Page of Any Book Ever? (click on it to read without squinting)



Turns out it's a real book. No kidding. Moon People, by Dale M. Courtney. Part One of the Moon People Trilogy, according to Dale's blog, which means that there is even more of this to cherish in the future. If you thought the first chapter was way too much to be the real deal, here's Chapter 9:



Here's Dale's bio. This is the best part:

"...two years latter my only son was born. He was a strutting buck. We named him Charles Earl Courtney. Well then we migrated to the Ormond Beach, Florida were I had a hobby of making Global Economic Equality and foreign policies for years but I never thought I would be able to use it for anything, but low and behold we went to war with Iraq and Afghanistan because of 9-11. I remember it was April 1, 2007 when President Bush came on the airway and was asking for Ideas on the Iraq and Iran problem at the time Iran had 15 British Solders hostages. Well One thing for sure I’ve always have an Idea. I’m a firm believer that a simple Idea can solve everything. Well I was lucky because my Idea worked and from there on I gave about 50 more Ideas and I’m still going."

So the question is, are they using them?

The best part of all this, of course, are the reviews on Amazon. This blog is becoming a self fulfilling prophecy with the name and all, ain't it?

"Better than the Waffle House Triple Stack."

You may remember 4 posts ago (6 months ago, haha) where I mentioned a few choice reviews of products from Amazon. Kevin just sent me this product, and the reviews are particularly good.


Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt

haha

New York Stories / Falling Apart at the Seams

Someone I used to know had this on his blog a while back and I just got around to seeing it. While I'm a dedicated procrastinator when it comes to posting new blogs, I'm equally slack at reading them. This is good though:


The Lost Tribes of New York City from Carolyn London on Vimeo.

Just about to head out to my first dodgeball game in almost two months on the DL. My dodgeball injuries include the following:

* Sprained ankle
* Shoulder fatigue
* Tennis elbow
* Possible cartilage damage in the knee
* Stress fracture of the heel
* Shaky hip due to compensation for aforementioned heel issue

So when I rock the game tonight, I'll be sporting three different braces, an Ace bandage, and two sole inserts. I've been psyching myself up all day by watching YouTube videos of little kids getting hit in the face and old clips of this short-lived WWF style dodgeball show on cable tv called Extreme Dodgeball, with characters ranging from the sidearm-wielding mime to the slow, large, beanballing sumo wrestler.

I'll let you know how it goes after my visit to the hospital.

Dropping of the ball

Well now. I wonder if anyone's around anymore. If so, hello. Welcome back. I'm sorry. The ball has been dropped in epic style.

It's been a weird winter, for a number of reasons. Without going into detail, there was some emotional rollercoastering and a lot of beer drinking. But it's spring now, or soon, and hope springs eternal. Which means it doesn't matter what season it is. But you know what I mean.

Just joined Facebook. I was a late bloomer. There are people with whom I haven't spoken in 17 years who are suddenly my friend again. There's a guy I was kind of friends with in high school although we never really hung out, and he friended me. I sent him a message asking how he was, but he never replied. There's the girl I took to the Junior Prom...she friended me. We sent a few messages back and forth, I asked her a few questions, she never answered them. There are people I couldn't have met more than three or four times who friended me. I didn't write them any messages, and they never wrote me any either. So my question is...what's the point?

If you're friends with someone, you know it. If you knew them once and haven't thought about them since, are they really officially your friend? The way I figure it, if you want to friend someone, you send them a message. Ask them how they are. Don't do this reunion thing half assed. Either you want to know them now, or you don't. But don't do it just to get your stupid numbers up. Not to be crass, but having more "friends" just seems to clog your homepage. Do I really care what Molly McHighschool's five favorite Matthew McConaughey rom-coms are?

I care a lot for the people I know. I just don't know if I know some of these knuckleheads anymore, or if I ever did.

You meet a lot of people in your life. Some stick, some don't. Life has a way for throwing you into certain situations with certain people at certain times, and it's kismet. Facebook seems to be just another way of throwing a bunch of people at your wall and seeing who sticks.

This subject keeps coming up in conversation lately. Once you get to a certain age, you realize you've whittled your life down to certain essentials. You know who you are, what you like, who you like, and unless you're looking for a life partner, you've come to terms with what/who you're into socially. At that point, you stick to the plan and do what you do and settle down. So Facebook, while interesting and somewhat addictive in terms of catching up with old friends you actually love, just kind of complexifies things.

My Xmas List

Continuing my tradition of bringing you the latest in absolutely random, useless crap, today's post is about a few things I dug up on Amazon. People review kooky items like a gallon of milk or Sheep magazine and the results are hilarious:

The Badonkadonk Land Cruiser Tank

Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl. oz.

The Relaxman Relaxation Capsule

Uranium Ore

Wedding Chapel - 10 x 18 With Wood Roof

Elk Carcass

UFO Detector

The Secret

Vaseline Uranium Opalescent Glass Rose Butter Dish (only one review, but it's quite good.)

I promise a real post is on its way real soon.

What a loser

I can't believe I haven't blogged in almost two months. Four, if you count my last real post.

Lame!

Never Get Ahead

The one, the only, Bobby Conn. They just don't make music like they did in the 90's.

Remember kids, "You're never gonna get ahead if you're givin' head to the man!"

Just Jack!

Seems the thing to do this week is to post pictures of Brownie Town, aka Jackie Brown, aka my brand new nephew Jack. His mom's doing it, his other uncle's doing it, and now it's my turn.

Here's Jack wondering why so many people are taking pictures of him:



Here's Jack trying to swim away, wondering why it was so much easier in utero:



But that was tiring, so he's learning to deal with fame. Despite the paparazzi.

idea for a Battlestar Galactica spinoff

So the series ends after Season 4, right? Is that the deal?

I think they ought to consider what might happen after BSG ends. Like maybe they could have them arrive on Earth and try to assimilate to our wacky Earth ways and have a spin-off sitcom where Lee and Starbuck platonically move into an apartment next door to a bunch of kooky friends, and they have obvious chemistry but don't hook up until the third season, and all sorts of zany fish-out-of-water craziness happens, like when they have to fly on a regular airplane for the first time, or when they’re convinced one of their neighbors is a cylon when they’re really just Canadian, and they all decide to open a pizza place called Galactica Pizzeria, and of course the cylons really do find their way to Earth and open up a rival pizza place across the street, and hilarity ensues.

the story of David Hasselhoff and the baby cuckoo's nest

In the spirit of American independence, I'd like to celebrate something even more American than fireworks, apple pie, and guns.



If you're a big fan like I am, you'll notice something interesting when you go to the Amazon site for his classic German greatest hits compilation entitled Looking For The Best. You'll see over a thousand five-star reviews in which enthusiastic writers pen outlandish, sycophantic odes to the Hoff and his music.

There are several recurring motifs in these reviews. First, the writer must attempt to misspell the Hoff's name in the most egregious way possible. Second, the review should conclude with the line, "Hot Shot City is particularly good."

So you can take a look at some of these reviews here.

My own entry is here.

On another note, in all seriousness, do yourself a favor and check out the music of Brad Paisley. James turned me on to him, and I've always despised country music, but the guy's really damn good. Witness: http://youtube.com/watch?v=8O3Plt8DyMk

Happy 4th, Mitch Buchanan! And God Bless America.

A few things to keep the lions at bay

I'm done posting Tinhole news for now. All I'll say is that after 2 months of official play, it's 50 wins for James and 60 wins for yours truly. I've been in the zone lately and whup his pale Irish ass regularly. Also, my web design classes have begun and we've purchased the rights to the www.tinhole.com domain name. Retirement, here we come.

In other news:

1. I'm an uncle!!! But I can't divulge any information until the baby mama does. So proud of her.

2. After 15 months of sleepless nights, gray hairs, endless notes, arguments, and eviction notices, the psycho meth addict neighbor upstairs is MOVING OUT AT THE END OF THE MONTH. Daddy bought her a house in the neighborhood and is letting the RISD architecture major redesign it herself. In the sage words of our landlord, "I feel sorry for the construction crew." Amen, brother!

2. The Big Apple BBQ is this weekend. Bought one of those FastPasses to avoid waiting in 35-minute lines. (Think my wife's claustrophobia has rubbed off on me.) The Salt Lick's gonna be there. If BBQ was the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the Austin, Texas-based Salt Lick BBQ would be the Mormon Tabernacle. And I'd be in the choir.

4. The Sox/Rays are new new Sox/Yankees.

5. My dodgeball team, Gingerballs, came in 4th in the Brooklyn dodgeball league. No thanks to me, as I had to bow out after the first two games of the playoffs with a hyperextended elbow. Nothing quite says "you're old" like a dodgeball injury.


Otherwise, it's kind of a weird period. Married without children. It's fun, and we have all the benefits of living together with few responsibilites. But we're noticing how many babies there are in the world. There are a lot. And they all suddenly appear out of nowhere when it gets warm or when you get married. Now that we're married, and lots of our friends are either parents or pregnant or trying, and it's warm out, it's like a world of babies. There was this tiny kid in a stroller parked in front of me on the subway the other day, and the kid just stared at me for fifteen minutes, concentrating.

New Tin

5/1/08: J 6-5

21-17 M
21-6 J
21-16 J (T)
21-20 M
21-15 M
21-15 J
21-13 M
21-18 J
21-20 J
21-17 M (T)
21-20 J

5/5/08: J 3-2

21-18 J
21-18 J
21-14 M
21-18 J
21-16 M (TT)

5/6/08: J 6-3

21-16 M
21-14 M (T)
21-2 J (T)
21-12 J
21-6 J
21-14 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-14 M
21-16 J

5/7/08: J 4-2

21-15 J (TT=M)
21-20 J (T)
21-13 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-17 M
21-10 M

5/8/08:

21-4 J
21-2 M (T)


We recently constructed a new ball which has absolutely decimated my game. This evil tin orb is faster, more unpredictable, and too new, like an insolent teenager who says "like" too much. It bounces all over the place.

Both James and I are getting better at Tinholing, but I lose all my points when it careens off the table whenever I miss, which is all the time. Witness yesterday's stunning upset, for example, as I Tinhole twice consecutively and still manage to fold. He owns me with that goddamn ball! The games I've won are largely due to me substituting the new one with the old. Check out the difference this morning, for godsakes.

We introduced Mel and Manny to the game, and they're hooked. It's the office game of the future, it really is. You're about to see Tinhole highlights on ESPN by 2010, and we'll be rich, and I'll never have to step into an office again. That means no more Tinhole, but it's worth it.

Scores

After the first 3 days of official Tinhole play, the scores look like this:


4/28/08: J 2-1

21-10 J
21-10 M
21-18 J

4/29/08: M 7-4

21-12 J
21-11 J
21-11 M
21-17 M
21-7 M
21-17 J
21-20 J
21-11 M
21-20 M
21-20 M
21-10 M

4/30/08: M 9-7

21-13 J
21-14 M (T)
21-4 M
21-16 J
21-11 J
21-18 J
21-20 M
21-8 M
21-8 M
21-15 M
21-8 J
21-13 M

21-20 J
21-19 J
21-20 M
21-12 M


Judging by the scores here, we appear to get more bored each successive day, and James is getting spanked like a redheaded stepchild. We decided to play 401-style, meaning you have to acquire exactly 21 points to win the game.

The "T" denotes a win with a successful Tinhole. We have also introduced the Tinhole Dance Rule Addendum, which specifies that whosoever accomplishes the feat must improvise a dance move while singing lyrics consisting of "Tinhole, bitch!"

So far, there has been only one.

Tinhole

You work in an office, you get bored. That's how it is. So my buddy James and I invented a game to keep us from bagging it all and taking off in a Cadillac and going on a crime spree and running from the cops across Arizona and clasping hands and gunning it over the Grand Canyon. It's called Tinhole.


Brief Tinhole Rules:


1. Find a 10'x3' conference table with a cable hole in the middle measuring 1.75" in diameter

(ours looks like this:)



2. If no hole, drill one

3. Form a tightly packed ball of tinfoil measuring 1" in diameter, slightly larger for more challenging play



4. Two players, each sitting on either end of table -- no leaning

5. Remove random crap from table, wipe surface to a sheen. Take turns shooting ball across the table using the following point system, playing to 11 or 21 points, depending on slack time:


Tinhole Point System:


1 pt: shot across hole

2 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment

3 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment off table (2 pts. if caught by opponent before hitting the floor [without leaving chair])

5 pts: Tinhole (shot in hole; extremely difficult)

-2 pts: shot off side of table without hole interference

-2 pts: inability to receive opponent's shot when in range (between sides of table)


Rule Addendums:


1. To determine first player to shoot, each player attempts Tinhole. The player with the closest shot to the hole goes first, unless a player successfully Tinholes. Upon Tinholing, that player starts the game with 5 pts and the first shot. If there is a tie, each player shoots again until there is a tiebreaker. The winner of each game goes first in the next game.

2. Players cannot gain negative points. Missed saves are therefore null and void until that player accumulates at least 2 pts. The shooter misses his turn and the blocker shoots next.

3. If the ball caroms off a player’s hand, arm, or sleeve and drops to the floor while attempting a block, it counts as a missed save, regardless of the placement or range of the ball at the time.

4. The ball may never leave the table at any time unless a bounce is caused by the hole. Failure to abide by this rule will be corrected with a severe 2 pt. penalty.


Our discovery of Tinhole makes us very happy and keeps us coming back to the office every day. But we're thinking of bagging the job anyway and taking this on the road. Next stop Beijing.

A More Perfect Union

I come across these things too late - it's a week old - but you must watch this in its entirety, particularly if you're considering watching a rerun of America's Next Top Model instead. Whether or not you're voting for him, take a look.

Assimilation

1. I was on the train back home last night and there were a bunch of assholes at the 57th stop keeping the doors open for one of their friends for an obscenely long time (#5 in the "How to Be Rude on the Subway" photo below).



It went on for awhile, and of course the train can't leave when there's an idiot holding the doors open. They do this all the time, and everyone else on the train hates it and groans and mutters to themselves (the cardinal rule for commuters in NYC is to remain anonymous), and the train conductor usually yells at them through the speaker, never to any avail. But out of nowhere I screamed "GET OFF THE TRAIN!" and the one holding the door looked at me, stopped grinning, let the doors go, and got off the train.

2. Walking to work today, I came to the corner of 2nd and 70th and saw one of those huge industrial hampers on the corner amidst a pile of trash, and there were legs sticking out of the top of it. There was stuff piled in the hamper, so I couldn't see if the legs were attached to anyone. They had some Nikes on and white socks, and jeans. Definitely human legs. There was no smell, so I figured he wasn't dead. I walked on and forgot about it until just now.

Assimilation, baby!

40/sushi

Drank a 40 for the first time in about 11 years last night. It was surprisingly refreshing. Probably because it wasn't genu-wine malt liquor, like King Cobra or Colt 45 or Crazy Horse or Ballantyne or Olde English or Mickey's or Ice Man:



It was Bud Light, which probably doesn't count. But it remained fresh for the hour and a half it took me to drink it, which runs counter to everything I remember about drinking 40s in the 90s. They were usually stale about halfway down, and if you gestured while drinking, completely undrinkable after 2/3rds. That didn't stop us.

Saw an old friend in San Francisco last week and it brought back some memories of the good ole days when we used to go up to Bobby's garage attic, drink 40s, play darts, and start trouble. One of the other regulars at The Cave, as it was called, was Kate, who wildly and coincidentally now lives about 3 blocks away from me in Brooklyn. We got together last night and decided it was time to revisit the concept of the 40. We ordered sushi and downed the heady brew and discovered, to our utter delight and amazement, that it pairs deliciously and quite perfectly with a spicy tuna roll.

I was going to wrap this post up with an insightful paragraph about the pairing of 40s and sushi and how it's an apt metaphor for the youthful abandon and tightly-wound responsibility of married life without children in NYC at age 33, but I couldn't pull it together. Sometimes 40/sushi is just 40/sushi.