dial 1 800 888 3999 (free call.)
listen to all the options.
choose the obvious one.

more companies need an option like that.

Today something exciting happened here, too!
Construction workers have found a bottle with a whole litre of nitroglycerine, and we had to leave our lab. Not that bad, because we have a longer weekend this way :-), but the question is: Why was there nitroglycerine between the walls? And why was there no Explosion till now, because who knows how long it had been there.
Why wasn’t there anyone, who had missed it? And where came it from? And what will happen with it now?
Firefighters closed all the doors next to the building, and now they want to bond it. Don’t ask me to what…
To silica gel? And then they have some kilogramms of dynamite?
I guess it is somewhat dangerous, anyhow.

I went home for the weekend, and I am curious about, if the lab will be still there or if it had come worst.

since i really like Techno Animal, it annoys me to see that their official website is a Flash infested nightmare. eg, just try to read the descriptions on the songs in the Audio section; you only get to see the descriptions when you mouseover the titles. that’s bad enough, but it isn’t even like mousing over a regular link, you have to position the pointer directly over the actual letters with no room for error. and it doesn’t even look cool enough to make up for the poor usability.

in somewhat related news, it appears that godflesh’s Messiah EP will be released on nov. 15th. sweet.

so I saw dancer in the dark tonight. I thought Bjork was just being wierd when she called it a musical snuff film in an interview.

I guess not.

I liked it, I think. I like the idea, Bjork was wonderful, but when it all got put together something was sub-par.

At least I talked the doorman out of the poster they had in the lobby.

al gore is on campus again. so, since i sit by the window in a tall building overlooking a large open area, i get to have secret service sniper rifles pointed at my head all day. if you check out the webcam that points out my window before about 13:30 local time, you can probably see the snipers walking around on the roof of Low library.

finally got my free RSA t-shirt in the mail today. what mystifies me is why they sent it to me carefully packaged in bubble-wrap. i wasn’t aware that 100% combed ring spun cotton was particularly prone to denting.

in Robert Anton Wilson’s quantum mechanical novel Schrödinger’s Cat, there is a recurring scene throughout that takes place at a party and bits and pieces of out of context dialogue from various conversations in the room mix in with the narrative, including one monologue (i think it’s being spoken by Simon Moon, but i don’t have a copy with me to check) that is either strongly garbled or drug-induced or both. a while ago, i was bored so i went through the whole book piecing together the bits of the monologue to see if i could make some sense of it. i still don’t understand it, but it is a beautiful piece of non-linear prose nonetheless:

Thee gauls simper at his tyrant power, He is ghoon with this seven-week booths and his mickeyed mausers into mistory. His eyes did seem auld glowery. Elverun, past Nova’s atoms from mayan builders to monads of goo, brings us by a divinely karmic Tao-Jones leverage back past tall chief tactics and aztlantean tooltechs to Louses in the Skidrow dimehaunts. This way the Humpy Theatre. Wet with garrison statements, oswilde shores, daily blazers, tochus culbook depositories, middlesexed villains and fumes. Fict! The most unkennedest of all. Fogt. Veiny? V.D? Wacky? His bruttus gypper. By loop Shore and Dellingersgangers, where yippies yip and doves duz nothing. to the hawkfullest convention ever. Upper guns thou wilt, marxafactors. A gnew gnu cries nixnix on your loin ardors [O my am I?] as the great Jehoover fouls his files [Seminole cowhand] with marching looter congs. What a loop in the evening, bloody fouled loop! Lawn ordures for crookbacked Dick, pig-bastchard of the world. See, it’s the stinking onion coop. Say, it’s the slimey deepsea doodler. By the wampum of capooney. O turnig on, Duke Daleyswine, lardsmayor of burning-town! They’ll chip away yore homohawks.