This, that, and the otter

i live!!!

Ran across this group, Miss Derringer, at the Elbo Room last week. I'm really diggin' this new 1950's pop/emo goth sound. It's so emo it tickles!

They are based in LA, but if you get the chance, check them out.

There I was, innocently thinking about nothing at all, or, at least nothing that I was supposed to be thinking about at 9am when I haven't had my coffee and there's nothing circulating in my system except for natural, unadulterated blood, (which is a tragedy all in itself) when it hits me:

Telephones are really freaking strange, man!

Think about it, in the beginning, it was all about electrical signals down wires that ran and ran and ran and ran though miles and miles and inches of wiring and then got transmogrified by amplifiers and magnets and little pieces of foam back into some semblance of a voice that you can hear. And that's all fine and dandy. I mean, who doesn't understand basic electromagnetic vibratory sciences in conjunction with audio frequencies over distances? Especially this day and age.

But now? When it's all based on fiber optics or lasers and people's voices are being carried by, essentially, light? Holy Jesusey hell, batman! That's some strangeness going on. It's getting closer and closer to being able to communicate with god (take your pick which one) because prayer is essentially focusing your will on the ambivalent ether (which can be seen as invisible light... or visible light) and hoping to make a direct contact with the Mighty Dude/Dudette above. And if we can refine these optic techniques far enough.... oooh, the possibilities...

"Hello, and welcome to Deity-Phone. We appreciate your call. If you know the number of the party you are trying to reach, enter it now. If you would like to talk to the Christian god, press one. If you would like to talk to the Jewish god, press two. Para espanol, empuje numero tres. If you would like to talk to Vishnu, press four. For all other gods, or to speak with the operator, press zero.

beeeep

"You have selected the Christian God. All operators are busy at the moment, but your call will be answered in the order it came in. Please wait and enjoy our quality selection of purgatorial music..."

wait wait wait wait oh god wait wait wait wait wait wait

"Thank you for waiting, all operators are still busy. If you would like to return to the main menu, press any button."

wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait

"All of our operators are still busy. We thank you for your patience. IF you would like to return to the main menu, press any button."

beeeep


"Hello, and welcome to Deity-Phone. We appreciate your call. If you know the number of the party you are trying to reach, enter it now. If you would like to talk to the Christian god, press one. If you would like to talk to the Jewish god, press two. Para espanol, empuje numero tres. If you would like to talk to Vishnu, press four. For all other gods, or to speak with the operator, press zero.

Grumble... beeeeep

Thank you for contacting Vishnu, please stand by...

What? No... beep beeep beep...

"Um... hello?"

Vishnu?

"Yes, my child... you have reached... Vishnu"

Oh, right... um... Hi, I guess. Listen, I think I hit the wrong button.

"You do not wish to speak to the great and mighty Vishnu?"

Well, it's not that, it's just... I... uh... I'm not exactly one of your followers.

"Oh."

sorry

"No. No, really it's fine. I'm not upset. It's cool. Really."

Listen, I'm sorry. It's not personal or anything.

"Sure. whatever. You probably worship Mr. Christian god and his snotty son, don't you. Just because a guy can grow a beard, all of the sudden he's the mesiah or something..."

No, really. It's not like that.

"Oh yeah? Then why don't you want to worship me?"

Well... I'm actually an athiest. Or... I was, I guess, until this conversation. I guess I'm going to have to give that up now.

"Really? I have shown you the way of the gods, right? Right? Before you didn't believe and now that you've spoke to me, you HAVE to believe. You'll worship me, right?"

Well... no, sorry.

"But I thought you now believed in gods?"

Well, yeah, it's a little hard to doubt you when I'm on the phone with one. But I still can't worship you.

"And why not?! I'm not good enough for you?"

Nonono, I'm sure you're a fine god. It's just that... well...

"Yes...?"

You're blue.

"Racist!"

No! Nothing like that, it just...

"What? What does it matter that I'm blue?"

Um... well... when I was a kid, the Smurfs always kinda freaked me out.

"You don't want to worship me because of a children's television show?"

yes?

"Hang on, I'm re-connecting you."

click click click

"Welcome to hell. For the pit of flames, press one. To be stabbed by pitchforks, press two....."

This is what happens when you give tech writers too much time on their hands.

For everyone to come and celebrate the release of the graphic novel

Bedtime Story
Written by Jeff Scattini Illustrated by Jessa Venegas

That's right, the comic that Jessa and I have been working on for the past year has finally been printed and delivered and we're gonna celebrate it with a release party!

Come join in the excitement and see (or get for your very own) the piolet episode in a long and twiseted tale.

There will be live bands, drinks, fun, and (of course) Bedtime Story. There will also be a sneak preview of our next effort Killing Time, which takes up where Bedtime Story leaves off, but with even more surprises and twists and morbidity! (Really, what is a good graphic novel without morbidity?)

So come join us on Sunday June 4th from 6:00pm til 9:30pm!

When: June 4th 6:00pm
Where: Ireland's 32 (Geary and 3rd Ave)
Bands: Scientician, Cory Attack Plan, more
Who: Jessa, Jeff, and EVERYONE ELSE!!!!
How come: Because we can, that's why.

Hokey,

So, after reading far too many stories of companies basing hiring/firing decisions on people's personal blogs, I'm now making this a friend's only blog. I truly hate the thought that I feel the need to do this. This was supposed to be a way for me to shout at the world and who knows who might read it or care. The thought that someone could read some random bit of fluff that I'd written, find it funny, and keep reading what I write makes me happy.

But, right now, it's either this or write innocuous, idiotic posts about how happy I am with the world and how everything is just peachy keen and oh, my, my racially-diverse-but-equally-valid-lifestyle-choosing friend, you sure did have a great point about bunnies. They really are fluffy. In a non-demeaning-they-are-our-spirit-brothers-with-equal-rights kind of way.

Yeah, so for a while, until I can't take it anymore, this journal is friends only. Of course, the rest of it isn't, so there's probably more than enough in the back pages to burn me at the stake.

Cheerio, all you out there in radio-land.