[dovate.com] » 2007 » July
Long ago in a world far, far away the city of Philadelphia constructed bomb shelters where its citizens could supposedly flee in case of nuclear war. Embedded here is a video tour of one of those shelters, conveniently located 1 block north of Broad & Market (otherwise known as ground zero.).
Now before you laugh at the absurd location, consider that word of imminent nuclear attack and detonation of the first bombs would probably have been separated by about 20 minutes. 20 minutes is more than enough time for our brave councilpeople to amble north to Arch street and secure themselves underground with plenty of kaopectate, salt, asprin, candy and comic books. Enjoy!
Last night I saw a commercial for the coinstar machine. You’ve probably heard of it, but in case you haven’t it works like this: You take all your loose change and throw it into the coinstar and get paper money in return. No rolling, no counting, all easy. In the commercial, the guy who goes to the machine gets a nice return then ‘splurges’ on some impulse buy.
Well I’ve got a ton of loose change and thought it sounded like a great idea, so this morning I headed over to Commerce Bank at 18 and Walnut to use their conistar-like machine to cash in. It turned out that I had like $400 in change. I was shocked!
My next thought is, what do I do with $400 found dollars? What would you do with $400 found dollars? Long story short, I bought a gun. A pink glock. I don’t really care about the color, it’s a fucking gun. If someone gives me shit for having a pink glock, I’ll just shoot them. Besides, the pink gun was 30% off and that brought it right into my budget.
So this afternoon, I was itching to shoot something. I headed over to Kelly Drive after work, walked up behind a goose and shot it execution style in the back of the head. It worked great!
This evening I’m feasting on roast goose. I love my new gun!
These messages were posted to this site and to the Resurrect Dead message board in the early hours of the morning. They came from Mt. Laurel, NJ. If you have the ability, listen:
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george herbert walker bush is cheif hellion now aND his SOViET PAls IN s&b killed JFK
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YOU! YOU MUST LISTEN TO 6250kHz!!!transmitter 6250 kHz Astrakhan Russian Federation 46′55N 47′42E 500KW OUTPUT/1605HRS/utc.
YOU! yOU MUST BROADCAST!YOU!!!
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Aghfanistan KABUL Wazir Akbar Khan Street n.º 13, Lane 4, n.º 274.—Kabul.
Tels: 70 27 70 13 and 70 27 82 69.
Most of us don’t respect the pigeon as we should. For example, did you know that the pigeon you see pecking at scraps of leftover bread in Rittenhouse Square is at that very moment listening a thunderstorm sweeping through the Colorado Rockies? I shit you not.
Pigeons perceive sound 11 octaves below middle C. Soundwaves produced at that level- or infrasound - are created by large disruptions like the ocean, or mountain storms. These waves travel thousands of miles. Pigeons are capable of perceiving them. Consider that next time one shits on you or your car.
That’s all for now.
And no witnesses. But really, come on now. Would you be a witness? I wouldn’t. Why? Someone would shoot me. If they didn’t shoot me, they’d shoot someone in my family. Fuck that.
I really don’t mean to be glib about this, but what this city needs is Batman. Vigilante justice.
Either that or we do what we’ve done elsewhere in the hemisphere and what we’re quietly doing now in Iraq. Choose a few criminal organizations, then have the state, local and even the federal government train, equip and organize them into a hegemonic force. If each neighborhood has a well established and untouchable mafia style crime organization, violence will initially spike as the war heats up, then drop off as the competition disappears. The mob has done wonders for neighborhoods like South Philly. The next mayor should work off of that model. It worked for Chile and it can work here too.
Once a monopoly of violence is established in each section of the city, this wild west shit will disappear and quality of life will improve dramatically. It’s basic political theory.
Of course, we can’t have this go on permanently. The federal government will have to step in to keep things in ultimate check. Eventually the FBI will have to dismantle these crime organizations. Fortunately by the time that’s done, the neighborhoods will have stabilized and democracy will have taken root. And that’s all for now.
As summer reaches its midpoint, it’s time for a repeat. Long after I post this crap and long after it drops off the front page, people still find it on google, read it and occasionally comment.
Almost every day I get a searcher or two looking for information on Berks County serial killer Matthias Shambacher and his disgruntled spirit at New Bethel cemetery in Kempton, PA. Last Halloween I posted a second hand ghost story about Mr. Shambacher. That story has become one of the most discussed posts on this lightly trod corner of the internet. Even if you read it when I originally posted it, check out the comments that have trickled steadily in since:
http://www.dovate.com/blog/2006/10/31/hawk-mountain-and-the-curse-of-matthias-shambacher/
Thanks to Weird NJ.
Image 1: George W. Bush struggles to stay within the prescribed lines on a paint-by-numbers style flag.
Image 2: Michael Nutter demonstrates no such deficiency.
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I’ve decided that from now on, there will be a slight change in format. During times when I’ve got nothing interesting to say or to share, I’ll just make shit up. Fortunately, I don’t have to do that today. My life has been crazy interesting over the last few weeks.
A lot of you know that you can order prescription drugs online without a doctor’s approval. That’s old news. It’s also how I’ve been rolling in oxys and the hundred dollar bills their white collar addicts trade for them. Between that business and a side thing with some pills and a local private school, I’ve been raking in the cash. You can make a killing selling meds. It’s just nuts.
What I didn’t know was that you can also buy drugs like cocaine online. Not just the coca leaves or plants, I’m talking refined and cut shit straight out of Colombia. What a crazy world! I’ve had my eye on that 15m. penthouse at the new Liberty II condos, so I thought, why they fuck not?
Some people make their $ on ebay selling antiques and shit, but my tastes are too refined to support my lifestyle doing that. I’m used to sipping Cristal in my BMW coupe. I roll with the high class. Plus if you ebay your income, need to know what you’re buying and selling. You need to develop skills and shit. I don’t have time for that. I need my cash NOW.
So that’s why I dumped half my savings into 12 kilos of Colombian coke. Everything was cool, I just shouldn’t have had it all shipped to my day job. The Fed-Ex guy was fine, but someone at work took it upon themselves to open the package. The next thing I know the FBI was dragging me out in handcuffs. I couldn’t believe it and I was pretty upset, but it looked totally cool. I like giving off that air of mystery around my colleagues.
But anyway, I can’t believe it! My business is ruined and my lawyer says I could be in a lot of trouble. I might even have to do jail time or community service. This sucks.
No time to write up my own words, so here’s an interesting old article from ABC:
Nearly six decades ago, a 21-year-old Navy fighter pilot on a mission over the Pacific was shot down by Japanese artillery. His name might have been forgotten, were it not for 6-year-old James Leininger…
…Over time, James’ parents say he revealed extraordinary details about the life of a former fighter pilot — mostly at bedtime, when he was drowsy. They say James told them his plane had been hit by the Japanese and crashed. Andrea says James told his father he flew a Corsair, and then told her, “They used to get flat tires all the time.” In fact, historians and pilots agree that the plane’s tires took a lot of punishment on landing. But that’s a fact that could easily be found in books or on television.
Andrea says James also told his father the name of the boat he took off from — Natoma — and the name of someone he flew with — “Jack Larson.” After some research, Bruce discovered both the Natoma and Jack Larson were real. The Natoma Bay was a small aircraft carrier in the Pacific. And Larson is living in Arkansas. “It was like, holy mackerel,” Bruce said. “You could have poured my brains out of my ears. I just couldn’t believe it…
…He said James told him he had been shot down at Iwo Jima. James had also begun signing his crayon drawings “James 3.” Bruce soon learned that the only pilot from the squadron killed at Iwo Jima was James M. Huston Jr.
Bruce says James also told him his plane had sustained a direct hit on the engine. Ralph Clarbour, a rear gunner on a U.S. airplane that flew off the Natoma Bay, says his plane was right next to one flown by James M. Huston Jr. during a raid near Iwo Jima on March 3, 1945. Clarbour said he saw Huston’s plane struck by anti-aircraft fire. “I would say he was hit head on, right in the middle of the engine,” he said.
Generally, I think I was a whole lot smarter when I was 18. I was reading more interesting things, having more interesting thoughts and asking more interesting questions. My brain felt like it was firing faster, brighter and smarter than it does today.
Not that I’m a dullard or anything. I’m better now at just about everything I do than I was then. I have a clearer understanding of myself and the people around me. I’m more confident, skilled and experienced. But for the most part, I feel less… something.
Which brings me to today’s bit of aged wisdom. As I slowly creep up on the ripe old age of 30 (now before you all get all on me for being ‘young’ Jesus died 33 and Jimi Hendrix at 27) something has become clear to me.
I once thought I could live a life without regret. Somehow at age 18 I thought this was possible. Now I may have felt smarter then, but this notion is bananas. I regret everything. Anytime I make a decision, I regret the infinite number of decisions that I didn’t make because I made the one I made. This makes it very hard for me to make decisions. Maybe by the time I’m 40 I’ll have this all sorted out.
In the meantime I place my faith in a quantum universe, or in the idea that somewhere out there I’ve taken every path. That’s all for now.
This has 3.3 million views, so you might have seen it already, but:
June’s search awards have been delayed by an early July vacation. The middling month’s top search terms are arranged thematically for your reading pleasure. It’s almost like poetry:
30. kangaroo mating video live
29. smoking crack with crackwhores
28. hookers at truckstops
27. the reality of reanimation experiments
26. sodomizing my girlfriend
25. shiny vagina
24. human vagina pictures
23. tall vagina eater
22. human being mating video
21. does broccoli make vagina stink?
20. elements in dust and in the human body
19. island on special spaghetti samosas were bowled at baguettes
18. close up display of real sue’s skull
17. pictures of molly pitcher catering
16. photoblog of girls in my school
15. ive being seeing shadows
14. being a good witness
13. lsd spiritual rebirth
12. pictures of someone fucking a dog
11. emo suicide
10. im insane!!!! video
9. fetal skull for sale
8. how to repel dogs off of my property with chemicals
7. short clown ghost stories
6. i saw my cleaning lady naked
5. buying meth in philly
4. are pigeons dangerous
3. arsenio hall blacklist jews
2. michael nutter grandmother jewish?
1. obama and his correlation to the number 666
The abandoned Gypsum factory near Bartram’s Garden has been demolished. Most of these photos were taken there.
Here’s a video:
Is what I thought the other evening when I saw that the street tile medium is alive, well and spreading. Look at this page and these non-Jupiter related asphalt mosaics from NYC.
Really Fucking Awesome
Is what I thought when I spotted a completely original street tile in the middle of the intersection at 19th and the Parkway across from Eakins Oval earlier this evening. I snapped a camera-phone pic for immediate public consumption.
On my way home I realized that of my colleagues, I’m the 4th person in the last 12 months who’s vacationed on the side of a remote mountain. The mountain I visited is called Devil’s Den and I spent 1 night there. There was a small farm, some animals, an old house, some amazing food and good people. All in all, my total of 8 days in Maine were great.
Lets start with the negative and work towards the positive. The singular low-point was getting pulled over for doing 72 in a 55 zone. I thought it was ok at first. It was an experience, sort of like going to a concert or a nice restaurant. I sit there, get the ticket, pay the $50-65 and have an interesting memory and a story to tell. That was until I saw $185 written across the top of it. Whatever experience this was, it was not worth $185.
My heart sank. Without really thinking, I tore the ticket up and threw it at the highway patrolman. When he asked me to step out of the car I did so without incident. Turning slowly towards him, I gave him the finger and spit in his face. There was a struggle and then a gunshot. The bullet grazed my shoulder, but the damage was incidental.
After that it was all really a blur. I managed to throw a handful of gravel in the officer’s eyes and escape – shirtless – into the woods. They sent in bloodhounds, but I used my skills in animal mind control to benevolently subdue the dogs. I survived for 3 days on insects, tree bark and the raw meat of a rabbit that I trapped with dental floss and a pocketknife. I have no idea how I got out of there. But I’m home now. If anyone asks, don’t mention any of this.
Highlights were pretty much everything else. The trip was split pretty evenly between visiting a friend in the great little city of Portland, Maine and spending time mainly alone to write, photograph and explore the coast. I loved every second of it. I also thought of 3 new potential career paths:
1. Wildlife biologist living on a remote island with other like-minded weirdoes studying the social habits and the feces of Puffins, Murres and Arctic Terns.
2. Entrepreneur, also in Maine, probably in Bar Harbor. I don’t know exactly what the business would be, but I thought of the perfect name for it: Maine-ly Crap.
3. Drifter. I’ve always wanted to be a drifter. I’d be a creative one, writing and photographing my drifting. I just wish I could figure out how this would pay for gas and fancy food.
But until then, I’m going to have to stick to my memories and the 1200+ photos I took in the last week. In related news, watch for a lot of Maine photos on the front page of this website. That’s all for now.
