robots and the future

i've turned on a new feature on blogger, which presents a word verification so that robots can't post comments anymore. Because we all know that robots really can't reach the level of media and cultural criticism at which we (us humans) reside... yet. Maybe someday when we have a Barthes 2000, then I will turn off the word verification, but until that point, you are going to need eyeballs in order to make comments.

Also, i know that everyone who reads this blog is starting to write papers and such, so i want you all to post everything you write right here. doesnt matter what the hell it is or anything. just post it. also, if you want to post music - jon im looking in your direction - please just post a link, or ask me and i can get you some server space so that you have something to link to.

is no longer idle

jijijij (1:09:17 PM): forgot to show you this:
jijijij (1:09:18 PM): In Mexico's Murders, Fury Is Aimed at Officials
jijijij (1:10:16 PM): no mention of snuff films whatsoever... poor reporting or a media filter?
jijijij (1:10:52 PM): maybe just media covering up for other media
jijijij (1:11:18 PM): or the new york times asserting its stranglehold on world media
jijijij (1:11:48 PM): underground films undermine its totalitarianism
jijijij (1:15:06 PM): or perhaps big business' total control of world media somehow produces the mindset that yearns for taboo films, and so the nytimes is in fact implicated in the murders
jijijij (1:16:41 PM): its even conceivable that the new york times and these snuff films have a symbiotic relationship
jijijij (1:22:36 PM): and by shifting the blame to the mexican police officials and portraying the murders as a nebulous result of mass-cultural problems (read: inferiority), the times is able to play into and reassert the blind ethno and geo and politocentricity of its audience base

Cuba offered doctors for Katrina, was ignored

Cuba prepared and offered to send hundreds of doctors to Luisiana to help with Hurricane Katrina's victims immediately after the storm. That offer was rejected by the US government. I learned this information not from the news, of course, but from the Cuban news through my friend in Santiago de Cuba.

The 1st Interview of Hugo Chavez in the United States - Thursday 9/22

Crook'd

"I'm sorry son but that's an illegal process there."

The boy looks away. Back to cop. Chewing something in his mouth, an unsmiling one, big aviators gaze Darth Vader at the 'son'.

"Sir it was crawling on the floor. I felt I had to crush it. But I didn't."

"Son are you sayin," the cop spitting and scorching, "you was framed? Hah! Roger Rabbit?"

The boy rubbed his head with his palm, turning to the side and squinting his eyes shut, as if pained by the question marks. This cop seemed devilish, unreal even. How had he appeared at this particular moment? Still chewing and spitting.

Cop glared. "Well?" But what question did that refer to? Thoroughly confused.

"I was just thinking..." the boy stammered, but not directed towards the cop. It was more like a child in the kitchen confronted by his mom, a line that could mean every bit of nothing you could want.

The cop didn't buy it. "Now you can't just go steppin, as you say," putting big quotating marks around the word 'steppin', "wherever you damn please. You are aware of the recent legislation?"

I hate statements posed as questions. The boy pointed his eyes into the black veiled ones of the cop for the first time, he was confused again.

"Ok." The boy started, looking sincere now but obviously still not understanding. "Well you can't arrest me here anyway."

At this the cop jumped up and down stamping his feet. He threw his hat on the ground. He stamped on it. He jumped like a cartoon monkey hands up and down and all. He stopped, ripped the glasses from his face and shoved his nose right into the nose of the boy. Two noses stuck into each other.

"And why not?" In slow drawn out overly dramatic words.

"Because this is Mexico." The boy grinned back. He stepped back, and in mockery of the stomping cop, he danced around in a circle. He hooted like an Indian and slapped his own ass.

The cop stood, vexed, and apparently trying to hold back his sudden amusement at the sight of the dancing hooter. But his amusement did not last. Nor did his vexation. A knife flares out towards the boy, straight to the stomach. No more hooting. Twisted, shoved in again, and pulled out. Cop grins maliciously as boy looks up at cop with terrorized face, hands gesturing in disbelief towards the wound. Like Caesar in a movie about Brutus.

"You're right" said the cop.

You're a bastard and I'll never forgive you. Don't bother talking to me if you see me in the street because I'll kick your ass from here to Mali. You're a whore, a spunk junkey, a goaty foot, and you have a terrible voice. Go home.

-----Original Message-----
From: Default, Guy
Sent: Thu 9/8/2005 10:26 PM
To: Otro, Man
Subject: RE: NH

Hey Man - thanks for inviting me, but i don't think i can make it this weekend, just because ive been working my ass off and havent figured out my schedule or anything. i already sort of shouted this to you outside, but i thought i would send you a message too
thanks again, have a sweet weekend in the shire