“Would that that kid hadn’t applied so much pressure while using me to color the reptile skin on the dinosaur zombie robot! As it was, I couldn’t stand the force and snapped. Alas, my fate was the same as any broken crayon! Forget my loyal service as I dutifully filled in for blue crayon when the kid, barely able to find her own thumbs, needed to color a pond next to the dragon king’s fortress. It was my color of that pond that inspired you to pretend that the pond was a rotting pool of fish guts used as a torture device for the Dragon king’s enemies, including that devious Dr. Pteradactyl Laser Eyes. Fate’s cruelty was not done. Ere long, a napkin reeking of pickle juice came to rest beside me.
I spent a night next to this malodorous napkin, adopting a secondhand aura of briny vinegar. Perfumed as I was, a foul beast snatched me from that prison of garbage, no doubt mistaking me for a loathsome pickle.
The trash ravaging monster soon discovered that my insides tasted nothing like my outside, but not before she broke me in half again! Did she bother to return me and the other detritus to the rubbish bin? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Like roadkill we were left there to rot until such time as a more evolved, mature creature.”
I heard this refrain from a green crayon, victimized by my chocolate lab, Lucy. Lucy had plundered a trash can for a napkin that’s been used for a pickle, a paper tray thing with some leftover cheese specks from Bagel Bites, and more napkins in a variety of flavors.
I found it peculiar that this crayon should meet with this fate. Made me think about all the innocent bystanders in the pursuit of satisfaction. Here’s to all the innocent crayons!
I’ve been pretty lazy about the look of my blog. Previous banners have been hastily cropped images of my MRI scans or some such thing. So, I set about to remedy the situation by creating a banner representing my “injourney”. Though it may look precariously thrown together, I assure you that each object represents something very meaningful. I’ll start with perhaps the most powerful being on the banner. The colorful fella in the right corner is Huitzilopochtli,the Aztec god of war and the sun. I’ve a tattoo of Huitzilopochtli on my right shoulder blade –
What struck me was, if you say “war” and “sun” back to back very quickly, it almost sounds like “Wilson” – and as you know, Wilson makes top quality sporting good products, and is my last name.
I jest, although not one of his defining divine powers, he’s also associated as being the guide for journeys, having led the Mexica (Aztecs, though don’t let Huitzi hear you say that, he was against that nomenclature – thought it sounded too much like “ass-tech” and didn’t want people thinking they made fancy toilets or other such things) from Aztlan to the site that would become Tenochtitlan, the Azte…err, Mexica capital city. It is this quality that convinced me that his likeness should appear on my right should blade for the rest of my days. He would always be near to guide me.
The colorful dude on the other side is Xipe Totec, which means “He of the colorful commode”. As you can see, he’s sitting, almost squatting, on a very colorful chair. This is actually a toilet. He was fine with name “Aztec”, thought it’d be a good opportunity to spread the word about his sacrificial, butt guillotine commode. While pooping, a blade slices off the bottom and flushes it straight to Templo Mayor in Tenochtitlan to be offered up to the gods.
Again, I jest.
Xipe Totec or “Our Lord the Flayed One”, is the god of, among many other things, the cycle of life-death-rebirth. You see, I’ve come to consider May 22nd, 2009 (the approximate date of my hemorrhage), as the date my old self died. I was reborn when I had surgery to remove the cause of the hemorrhage.
Getting back to the mortal realm, the little girl in the yellow shirt and headlamp is my darling daughter, Quinn. I go to the gym, and therapize myself that I might get to be more active with that little fireball. The headlamp is for what I call “technology spelunking”. I wear it when I need to fiddle around inside my computer case or complete some other task without adequate lighting.
The hand in the vice is a not so subtle reference to occupational therapy and its toils. Not much more to be said about this – if you’ve ever wanted break off your aching hand and use it to give someone (esp. an occupational therapist) a bloody slap across the face, then flip the bird with it, then you understand that image.
Rounding (more like ovaling) out the left side is a MRI scan of the top of my head. The white dot in the middle is a marshmallow I shoved up my nose when I was seven. Since that time, every time someone asks, “What’s that smell?” I invariably answer “marshmallows”.
Come to find out, the marshmallow passed through my digestive tract the same as if I’d eaten it – as such, it has long since done the thing that biological things do, whose name esca…DECOMPOSED (!) in the bowels of some sewage treatment facility.
The white dot in this scan, and the scan of the stick man in the middle, is actually blood – these scans were taken very soon after the big bleed.
The relatively huge foot (MY foot with a NEEDLE in it) is a direct result of that white dot – the blood scrambled some wiring up there, causing a perpetual spasm running through my left arm and left leg/foot. To combat this unpleasant symptom, I get injections of botox every three months, two of which go in my foot (let me reiterate: TWO INJECTIONS! FOOT!)
All these things make up my injourney, and so, are strewn about my path like so many playthings carelessly scattered across the front yard by a whimsical child.
The stick man furthest down the path has a question mark for a head. This is for two raisins –
1. In the future, my head will probably look about the same on the outside. I can’t make any assumptions about what it’ll look like on the inside. Of course, there will still be neurons and dendrites and hormones of varying flavor, but I have to accept the possibility that there might be more white stuff (there also might be a “Johnny Mnemonic” style hard drive or an antenna ala Vonnegut’s Sirens of Titan.
2. I couldn’t think of anything to put there.
And what banner would be complete without the auspices of LepreSean? He popped in and asked, “Whersh me potta gold?” Xipe replied, “I’m sitting on it!”
I wrote a new intro – I thought it turned out pretty awesome (if I do say so myself, which I do), so I’m making it an official entry to make it easier to share, I ripped off “Eldorado” by Edgar Allan Poe –
Presenting, part three of the controversial “Fun with Acronyms” series. A groundbreaking expose on some of America’s most prevalent cultural institutions. The NY Times, commenting on the first post in the serial, a harrowing attack on Apple, said “Wilson’s assertion that Apple manufactures the iPhone is spot on”. In part 2 of this series, Wilson turned his biting social commentary to that juggernaut of contemporary commerce, Walmart. The Washington Post said that Wilson’s take on Walmart was “765 words”and noted that the poem “rhymed”.
Now, Wilson’s highly anticipated critique of Starbucks, presented to you commercial and gluten free –
S.T.A.R.B.U.C.K.S is short for So Ticked at Apple because of Remorseless Brazen and Unabashed Component Konspiracy ( (: ) to Steal (your money).
Honestly, this wasn’t the acronym I originally conjured. A recent circumstance has caused me to redouble my efforts about spreading the word about how much Apple sucks.
Before I do that, you need more info about me to help you understand my frustration (that got me thinking, if you have an iPhone and just don’t give a crap about the whole Android vs. Apple debate, does that make you “Applethetic”?).
…I’m a tinkerer. I’ve had eight Android devices and successfully rooted seven of them – I sold the eighth before I had a chance to root it. One of these was back in the 2.3 Gingerbread days of gold cards, you whippersnappers today have it too easy today with your autoroots and Odin .tar files. I’ve built 4 computers, two for me, one for a family member, and one for a friend. The cpu fan in my laptop wasn’t cutting the mustard, so I took that thing apart and replaced it, put it back together and it fired right up. Thing is, I’ve no fear when it comes to dealing with technology – I know what to look for and I know where to find it.
Thing is, iPhone made me this way. My first smartphone was an iPhone 3GS. After learning it in and out, I hungered for more functionality (more personalization, Bluetooth transfer, access to a file directory, WiFi tether etc.) I thought surely there was a way to get all of those things on my shiny iPhone. That’s when I found out about jailbreaking. From that point on, everything I owned that was Apple was jailbroken (I even tried to jailbreak a real apple, didn’t take – wrong firmware).
Cool as Cydia and a jailbroken iPhone was, I still hungered for a more powerful device. Fortune smiled upon me one day as I patronized the local Sam’s Club. A cute redhead working the phone counter saw me looking at all the wonderful Android phones on display and began to espouse the wonders of Android. After certifying that her hair was indeed red and that this cute redhead was indeed talking to me, I decided to make the switch to Android.
Fast forward to now(ish), a woman that brought some VHS tapes to me to convert to Blu-ray needed someone to take a look at her MacBook Air. Apparently, her child wanted to test its tolerance for liquids. The young one found that tolerance and then some. Having no fear, I told her I’d take a look and, if nothing else, I’d liberate the solid-state drive, allowing access to its contents for saving and uploading to another machine.
The nerdier of you reading this probably already know the first hurdle I ran into. Apple doesn’t believe in common form factors like “Phillips” and “Flat-head”, these shapes don’t have nearly enough points. Apple devices are held together by the “pentalobe” screw. Which looks like this –
If you think that’s ridiculous, heed this – there are 3 sizes, the smallest being about the size of a syringe needle. Gawk –
I had in my possession the smallest of the three, having purchased a set for tinkering with another friend’s iPhone 5. I don’t know why I was surprised, but that one didn’t fit the screws of the MacBook. So I ordered the next size up.
The next obstacle will be finding an adapter for the 16+12 pin (I assume, course I wouldn’t be surprised if the SSD is connected to the motherboard via magic spaghetti) PCIe adapter for the PCIe (read: NOT SATA) SSD.
Long story short, the @$$clowns at Apple use proprietary components wherever they can, to prevent nerds like me from fixing it and taking money out of their deep pockets. The MacBook owner tells me they wanted $750 just to look at it! I guess I’d charge that too if I had no competition.
What’s more, iPads are held together by &$*%ing glue! My darling child, upset about how clear the “retina” display on this iPad Mini was, exacted screen shedding vengeance. Witness the carnage –
I thought I’ve already got the special screwdriver, this’ll be a snap. A thorough inspection of the device revealed no screws, leading me to the premature conclusion that it was held together by magic or the sheer willpower of Apple executives. Upon further examination, I discovered that, indeed, it was held together by glue. In order to gain access to the innards, the pulp of this Apple of you will, one had to acquire a heart gun or, in a pinch, blowdryer to melt the glue. Of course, before you pry it open, you must speak the sacred words “Klaatu Barada Nikto” lest am army of uberhip, coffee bar adolescents descend upon you and dance your face off.
I’m gonna film my excavation of the MacBook -I’ll post it here later this week.