tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58640313908144174632024-03-19T01:46:38.758-07:00Jim's BlogJimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-28676357509760286552015-09-22T21:12:00.001-07:002016-01-10T03:09:44.269-08:00Letter to the Professor <h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Academic Research Jimbo Style</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After doing some research for a paper with no luck I decided to reach out to my history professor. Here is a copy of my tirade . . .</span><br />
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Ok, I've attached a photo here to show that I am not bullshitting about this. I've had problems with researching ever since I started going to college last semester. I genuinely feel I am a qualifying candidate for a Nobel Prize in the category of Literacy. Allow me to explain . . .<br />
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Researching for a paper in my English 101 class last semester about the high rate of vehicle accidents on Highway 395 a few years ago. Ask anyone (and I asked several people) if they think their odds of dying in a car accident increase with speed, and they'll tell you yes. It makes sense: crash at 45mph you get an ouch; crash 75mph you get a coroner. Everyone I asked seemed to agree. I thought this was "common knowledge." Well my instructor disagreed, and told me I needed to cite something official that validates a certain point I was trying to make. Looking through WNC's database, AS WELL AS all the Google crap, I couldn't find anything for about three days! It was deep deep deep deep DEEEEEEEP in the database that I finally found a report from the NHTSA. This report however was from the mid 1990's, and not only that, the report did not contain NEW information from any NEW studies on speed/fatality ratios, instead, it referenced BACK to a study done in the NINETEEN SIXTIES! It's also worth mentioning that no matter what words I used to search, and no matter the order I arranged them in the search, nearly 100% of the results were car vs bike/pedestrian. Not at all what I was looking for.<br />
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Fast forward to English 102, taken over the summer. I wanted to write my final on how the main character of Dances With Wolves should have been Wind In His Hair, not John Dunbar, because WIHH had a much more dynamic character arc than Dunbar (he went from hating all white people to loving Dunbar as a friend and trusted member of the community, whereas Dunbar was kinda a nice guy already, so his character arc was really no surprise). The point I was trying to make in my paper, beyond who should have actually been the main character, was that the film COULDN'T have a Native American as a main character because American pop and film culture had yet to make amends for the horribly racist and shallow representations of Native Americans previously portrayed in film history. Similar to what we discussed in class a couple weeks ago about the perception of certain people's (women, black people, etc) ability to rise above the crap ONLY with the help of the white man, DWW allows the general public to absolve themselves of the guilt about the Native American genocide ONLY through the eyes of a white man. So, since my paper was, in part, about the shitty portrayal of Native Americans in film, I needed to cite some examples. I perused through dozens and dozens of articles in the library's database. I even went into the library, asked for help, found four or five PHYSICAL books specifically of Native Americans in film, looked through them for a couple of hours, and do you know what I found? JACK FUCKING SHIT! Seriously! I am not kidding you at all. I could not find a SINGLE sentence anywhere that talked about how shitty Native Americans were portrayed. In fact, I found the exact opposite! According to the research materials I found, Native Americans have actually been portrayed in a positive light! Well gee! I guess I'm just a dumb-ass. I had NO idea that displaying an entire society for nearly a hundred years in American film as hell-bent war-raging savages devoid of culture, heritage, spirituality, and craftsmanship walking around saying "how" and "yes Kemosabe" was positive and perfectly acceptable. Ya learn something everyday I guess. <br />
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Present day. Decided to do a little research on my paper before writing the abstract. Since I really don't know what the content of the paper will be until I write it, or at least have a small wealth of information on my chosen topic, it would be difficult to summarize anything. Of course, I could write the abstract first: "Here's the problem/issue being researched, why it's important, and the results," but then there's a good chance that the paper itself would end with "My research shows otherwise and I was completely wrong about everything and/or couldn't prove my point and I will be now and forever discredited amongst all academic circles for the rest of my life." So . . I start with Catherine the Great. I remember reading in chapter nine about her role in education. I figured hey, here's a powerful woman (I'm always down for that) promoting a more educated populace (always down for that, too). What's not to like about that? A prominent figure in history during a prominent era. Surely there's an expansive resource of information on this, right? Searching for Catherine the Great, enlightenment, and education, all in different variations and orders of the words, again, I find nothing! I could find plenty of info on Catherine, but nothing pertaining to enlightenment or education. I could find stuff about the Enlightenment, but nothing to do with Catherine or education. Basically, I could get one out of the three. Ok, so Catherine the Great is far too abstract an idea for a paper (Nobel prize, please?), let's try something else. AH! How about how the British were way ahead with Enlightenment ideas compared to their counterparts on the continent? I'm thinking it would be cool to delve into whether their isolation as an island-state played a bigger impact for their enlightenment; or was it their cultural attitudes towards the commoners that allowed them to get the upper-hand? We just talked about it in class, it's fresh in my mind, it's a fairly popular country with a pretty long history etc etc. Again, SURELY there must be a VASTLY EXPANSIVE amount of juicy information for me to be able to use in a paper as a legit source for research and citation purposes, right? So I start with a seemingly easy and innocent set of terms for my search: "great britain and the enlightenment." Straight forward enough, I think. What do you think? I now direct your attention to the attached file, a screenshot of my search results:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/35dFSkg8wZnJExvdw-AkhoXOdgflVjV6ubua5AKQvKcBivZMt_EFrzSDsFvfeXgRRxKt2NlBK0CEI1bqLj2Zu-OAW3m9_ivPzLOYNNBrlvQM9iMq6XXgpD2xw5LaJl8KwZduvg8sQ4l4VS_9qADyZbyN_zq6S_zge7UMpg7Qh6Y3b78CQfM1PibQVS4a70cCsyMkwxmF1WHZrW0Vd-WAIDuNUKkRtyKhFw3Hj-Zi2cyBWLUk_SUCGmZHAfb3cSOnCL5ihMViPBKniRjbbMvekn2rfaA3DwhviJL0WeTNucw52Nj-SjQLBM-MZ18_EsPkgjPjG8l58reX8TJuBBzeImXizUfmxLAV7BnZIB37R8qtVYgXj16cnp3Jww58XaFTcZMF06Rk_86ib01R7YuLlAyAnVz4FX12_GanK6oi76aN4s-RyUdyvcPkjLUBtqRaeTClLPuCB_pNSkSQdPhBT-Xh8nv9-jN8ac8Qi0fylM7h6gVeF6GYLtkEym3kf9-MxX1HCPBylJr0bQo4clF8VtLDDO1Dx4zXDzMAEYr4YAb0ANt4lxigIPp_-Z23ww=w1754-h899-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/35dFSkg8wZnJExvdw-AkhoXOdgflVjV6ubua5AKQvKcBivZMt_EFrzSDsFvfeXgRRxKt2NlBK0CEI1bqLj2Zu-OAW3m9_ivPzLOYNNBrlvQM9iMq6XXgpD2xw5LaJl8KwZduvg8sQ4l4VS_9qADyZbyN_zq6S_zge7UMpg7Qh6Y3b78CQfM1PibQVS4a70cCsyMkwxmF1WHZrW0Vd-WAIDuNUKkRtyKhFw3Hj-Zi2cyBWLUk_SUCGmZHAfb3cSOnCL5ihMViPBKniRjbbMvekn2rfaA3DwhviJL0WeTNucw52Nj-SjQLBM-MZ18_EsPkgjPjG8l58reX8TJuBBzeImXizUfmxLAV7BnZIB37R8qtVYgXj16cnp3Jww58XaFTcZMF06Rk_86ib01R7YuLlAyAnVz4FX12_GanK6oi76aN4s-RyUdyvcPkjLUBtqRaeTClLPuCB_pNSkSQdPhBT-Xh8nv9-jN8ac8Qi0fylM7h6gVeF6GYLtkEym3kf9-MxX1HCPBylJr0bQo4clF8VtLDDO1Dx4zXDzMAEYr4YAb0ANt4lxigIPp_-Z23ww=w1754-h899-no" width="640" /></a></div>
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Can you see why I'm upset?! <br />
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The first result is about religious rituals!<br />
The second result is about motherfucking CHINA! <br />
The third result is about Africa. AFRICA!!! <br />
The fourth result is about TONY GOD DAMNED BLAIR!!!!! He was born WAY WAY WAAAAY after the enlightenment! <br />
The fifth result at least has the word "enlightenment" in it, and it's the first one, even! But . . . it's about abolitionism!<br />
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First of all, I apologize for the profanity, but you seem like a pretty chill and open minded dude, and it's obvious that I'm frustrated. Besides, seeing as how you're a Raiders fan I know for a fact you have seen and heard some pretty traumatizing shit in your life. I really am at my wit's end here. I certainly don't mean to just dump all of this on you for no good reason, but I do have a good reason. Either what I am looking for does not exist (this is where I get my Nobel prize, right?), or, the more likely truth, I am terrible at researching. I just don't know what to do. I mean, I'd love to go play History Detective on PBS and travel to quaint little villages of the American north-east, delicately and thoroughly sifting through 200 year old hand written correspondences between gentleman having a civilized two year literary argument about the ramifications of industrialization versus the moral ambiguity of forced labor, but I simply don't have the time or finances for that sort of fun. <br />
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If there's one thing I've learned about writing papers in an academic context it's that you better be able to back your shit up, and that's why I went into such detail about my previous experiences. I am my own primary source in this instance. And as you can see, so far I've learned that A) unless you dig deep into the internet archives of a government website you can just walk away from a 75mph collision and collect your ten-thousand dollar settlement from a locally televised accident-injury attorney, and B) I don't know shit about Indians or film history. <br />
Anything you can do to help is greatly appreciated! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go Google "things that are blue," just so I can find some shit that's red. Thank you, sir!<br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-84859627232633918252015-08-30T19:45:00.001-07:002015-08-30T19:45:57.071-07:00I'll See You in December<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">End of Summer, Beginning of School</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> There's a slight hint of Fall in the air. A little is from silver mornings of low clouds, and a little is from an ever-so-gentle bite in the air. It comes in with the ceaseless Nevadan wind, which has picked up the last few days. And the sun, it doesn't feel as heavy lately. I know that soon, the bite will turn colder and move through me more easily. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> A new semester starts tomorrow, and I keep forgetting it's the end of Summer. It barely feels like I had one at all. More like I cheated myself out of it with a class and washing dishes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This feels like it's going to be harder than the last one. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It feels like it's going to start getting dark sooner. It feels like I'm going to be buried in books and study and writing. A solitary but not exclusive-to-me process of putting my head down and plowing through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'll see you on December 18th . . . </span></div>
Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-19709460593132662582015-06-01T13:43:00.000-07:002015-06-01T13:43:13.137-07:00Wind Storm! <h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Fences, Shingles, Water Damage, Asbestos Abatement, and Power Poles.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Wind. </span></h4>
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;"> Last February we had an absolutely <i>massive</i> wind storm here in Gardnerville, NV. It caused a lot of damage all over the area, mostly to roofs, fences, and power line poles. Our house was not spared. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were conflicting reports as to what the wind speed actually was. It was definitely the worst wind I had ever experienced. It was literally raining sand. In the video above, the main reason I stopped filming and went back inside was because Mother Nature had decided that Jimbo needed a fresh paint job on his legs, neck, and face. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">We lost a little bit of fencing. It was an easy fix. George, a landscaper down the street who has done a lot of work on the property, had this fixed in a hurry just a couple days later.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the loss of all the roofing shingles there was water damage inside the house. About 50% of the insulation and drywall in the living room had to be replaced.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">But before those repairs were done, the living room had to be treated for asbestos. This non-fun un-bounce-house was in the living room for about a week.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, a power line pole right next to our house was uprooted from the wind (as were several trees and dozens of other poles all over the area). The only thing that kept it from falling over completely were the power lines holding it up. This picture was taken the next morning. The yellow warning tape was put up by the fire department. In fact, when those guys tried to call Nevada Energy about it, they were given the same line as we were when we called about it; "Suck it up and get in line, pal!"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later that night the power company showed up to start working on replacing the pole.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">They stabilized the pole for the night with a giant claw.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's an action packed video of the pole being replaced. This is about ten hours of footage dwindled down to about fifteen minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> First of all, I would like to thank Nevada Energy for the spectacular job these lineman did when replacing the pole. The whole time I was watching them work all I could think was "hard as fucken' nails!" That really is very tough and very dangerous work. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> We actually fared out quite well compared to most of our neighbors. There was only the one panel on the fence that needed to be replaced, whereas many residents in the area lost entire fences surrounding their property. And, for as inconvenient as it was having to close off the living room for a week, and getting the roof replaced over the course of another week, we were very fortunate to have it all done so quickly. The repairs to our house took about a month from start to finish, thanks to our neighbor that hooked us up with a friend of theirs who works in construction. Most everyone else in our neighborhood however, didn't even get roofing materials delivered to their homes until about three months later. And even in the last month or so I can still see repairs being done to fences and roofs when I drive down our street. We are very fortunate, indeed. </span>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com2Gardnerville, NV, USA38.9412959 -119.7496216000000138.8918924 -119.83030260000001 38.9906994 -119.66894060000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-41790637332279137782015-05-21T12:27:00.000-07:002015-05-21T12:27:01.077-07:00I Got an "F"<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That's an "F" for FUCK YEAH!</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Read it 'n Weep it!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The last time I blogged on here was in August of 2014. As you can probably guess from the picture above, it's because I've been pretty wrapped up attending my first semester of school. Pride is normally a virtue that disgusts me, and I try my very best to not display it unless I absolutely feel I deserve to do so, and getting a 4.0 GPA is something I am not ashamed to feel proud of. It took a lot of hard work, and several things had to happen in order for this to become possible, including a shitty living situation (and my courage to use it to my advantage). Especially helpful, though, was the support and inspiration of many people who helped and encouraged me along the way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> As most of you know, May 28th 2010 was one of the worst days of my life. I lost my business and ultimately had to move in with my parents. That whole situation really fucked me all up, vaulting me into one of the worst bouts of depression I've ever faced. But going to college would not have been possible had I stayed in Sacramento driving my cab. My depression and insomnia would have continued to dictate how I was going to live, one night blending into the next with no discernible future. After a lot of sulking in my room while playing video games and watching baseball, and <a href="http://jimwalkstoseattle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">taking a really long walk</a>, I learned about response-ability. Sure, I could have put a gun in my mouth, or settled for working at the dry cleaners for the rest of my life because it was easy and I could get away with a lot of shit, but we all know that the majority of shitimum wage jobs offer no real future, nor can a person make it on their own with that kind of money. For as much as I absolutely hate living here with my parents, I knew that my job at the cleaners was not going to lead to my independence or get me laid. I could be stuck there for the rest of my life, or I can take advantage of the fact that I don't have any major bills, such as rent, to worry about. <a href="http://jimsblogon.blogspot.com/2014/03/getting-my-shit-together.html" target="_blank">So I decided it was time to get my shit together and go to school</a>. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Principles of American Constitutional Government.<br />Highlighters and Index Cards are my new best friends.</span></td></tr>
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I started in January, taking on a full-time schedule of twelve units. During the first month I attempted to continue working. Unfortunately the cleaners aren't set up for part-time work, so I was working there full-time, as well. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It got to the point where I was falling asleep on the job, which included driving a delivery route. No bueno! It was also affecting my school work. I couldn't squeeze in enough time for studying, or turn in good, solid assignments. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Not being a spring chicken anymore, and not being able to simply reduce my hours, I had to quit. Again, I took advantage of an opportunity: shitty living situation; but not having any major financial issues to face. And no, my parents are <i>not </i>rich at all. They have their own shit to deal with, and for that, I thank them for not freaking out when I quit my job, and for supporting me the entire way. They understand the big picture of what's going on with my educational goals and what's at risk, and that in the meantime sacrifices will have to be made. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I need to address a couple things real quick before I continue. For anyone that's gonna hate on me for being "lucky" to be in the situation that I'm in, thanks for playing and please try again. I never once in my life asked for my entire world to come crumbling down so I could go to school without having to work because I live with my parents. I hate it. I absolutely hate it here. The environment in this house is completely toxic and full of imbalance and impatience. Any creativity I have is completely stifled and crushed. It's amazing that I have accomplished what I have so far in this situation. And don't even get me started on the stigma that I have to live with everyday as far as women are concerned. As long as I am here I am terminally single, and that's as far as I want to get into that subject for now. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Solve for "n"? Pfft! Get fucked, pal. YOU solve for "n"!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As proud as I am with my 4.0, I also understand that as my education develops, things are only going to get more difficult. But I am prepared for that now, and in fact, I actually relish the challenge. Before my big walk, and before going to school, I did not want to do anything that was "hard to do." After those accomplishments, however, I discovered that as long as I understand and accept that my long-term goals are going to be hard to achieve, that acknowledgement will actually make it easier for me to face any challenge, whether it be self-imposed or completely out of my control. In a weird sort of way, I think that I will actually accomplish more if things are harder to do. Indeed, I need the challenge and the struggle in order to get shit done. It's kind of like getting a tattoo. You have to sit through several hours of intense pain in order to get the end result, but it's well worth it when you look down and see a fresh piece of permanent art on your skin. If only I could use this same resolve to quit smoking...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Academy Awards Section of this Post</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For My Instructors, Teachers, Professors, and a Tutor</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To Mr. Beavers: Thank you for reminding us on the last day of class to take ownership of our own success, and to not let any vultures lurking about in the real world try to take that away from us. And for reminding us to overcome excuses to "NOT TO," like showing up for class or succeeding in our goals. And thank you for sending me a personal message; "I enjoyed our time together and I wish you well. Remember, that "A" is yours, and yours alone. You own it." And thank you for taking time out of your very busy life with your family and as the Adjunct Attorney for the state of Nevada. You showed up every Monday night, the beginning of what is surely a long work week, to spend nearly three hours until almost ten o'clock at night, to teach a course that not only doesn't pay very much, but in which many of the students wouldn't even be there if it was not a requirement for a degree from WNC.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To Mr. Strange (yes, that's his real name): Thank you for making mathematics a more bearable subject for those that weren't interested, and easier for those who had difficulties. You're office was always open, and you helped us find the answers without always telling us the answers. Thank you for taking the time to send a message to the instructor of my next math class to keep an eye out for me (and probably <i>on </i>me!). Your dry, cheesy humor helped to make class go by a little faster. And thank you for playing guitar before class. It was always awesome to get out of the car and hear your acoustic echoing off the brick walls of the entrance way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To Sharre, the Tutor: Thank you so much for all of your time reading my crappy papers, and helping me to make them better. Thank you for reminding me to take a chill pill and to ease up on the arrogance when I got a grade in English that I didn't like. You showed me that when my professor ripped apart one of my papers, she went way beyond the call of duty to take that much time explaining to me what I did wrong and how I could improve. And thank you for sharing your stories of perseverance and triumph against the odds. You showed me that it is indeed possible to not let anyone hold you back when you are trying to succeed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To Peggy Meyer: (speaking of English...) Thank you for encouraging me to write with my own voice, but to always try and do better, be tighter, go bigger, and be stronger. Everything you showed us in class are tools that I will be able to use for the rest of my life. And thank you for letting me get away with so much shit. I appreciate that you understood from the get-go that writing is a strength for me. You approached my papers not just as a teacher to pointing out what I may have done wrong, but as a master lending knowledge to an apprentice whose raw skill could become a fine craft with the honing of a few skills. I will be a stronger writer because of you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Finally, Mrs. Vogl: I simply can not thank you enough for everything you have done for me. From sharing links to spoken word, newspaper articles related to the field of work I want to get into, sharing my work with professionals, being beyond flexible, suggesting that I should pursue a masters degree because you think I would make an excellent teacher, and a thousand other ways that you encouraged and supported me. I never imagined that there could be somebody more of a champion for my success than even myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For Rebbecca and Kristin</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To my cousin Rebbecca: Because of you, I have no fucking excuse. For you to get two degrees while going through all the shit you had to go through, while raising two teenage kids, supporting my sorry ass for a few months, and working full-time, is beyond fucking belief! Your success and tireless confidence remind me that I am a fucking weakling pussy-assed little bitch, and I thank you very much for it because that gives me strength every day! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To my dear friend Kristin: Because of you, I have no fucking excuse (is there an echo </span>echo<span style="font-size: x-small;"> echo </span><span style="font-size: large;">in here). From a shy, self-doubting, introvert, to a an independent field researcher whose work has been approved by the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife, and now you're on your way to Washington State University on a full-ride scholarship UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!!! Thank you for letting me bug the shit out of you for the last five months whenever I had a question, or was struggling, or needed you to look at a paper for me. But mostly, thank you for getting on my ass to get my shit together, and for helping me get through the applications for school and financial aid, and basically, making me go to school in the first place, and always encouraging me along the way. I seriously could not have done this without your help and support. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> And to my parents: Thank you for not freaking out when I had to quit my job, and for helping me out when you could. I know it's been a struggle for all of us. Not just since I've started school, but over the last four years. We have been through too many fucked-off ups-and-downs, and anything you have done to contribute to my education will be a benefit for all of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> And thank you to the rest of my cheer leaders: Stef, Lori, Jeff, Jason, Mike, and anyone else out there I may have forgotten. It helps, and I appreciate it! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">For the Rest of You</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> For anyone out there that wants to go to college but is afraid, I sincerely encourage you to NOT BE YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY and to go for it! You <i>can</i> get financial aid. You <i>can</i> juggle family and work. You are <i>not</i> too dumb. Learning in of itself is a learned skill. Very few of us can just pick up a guitar and shred away like Steve Vai and shit. You have to practice and develop your skill. Going to school and getting a degree is not always easy, but hugely beneficial. You can only open up more possibilities with a degree. Most importantly, you will feel a thousand times better about yourself. It's not easy, but I am willing to help anyone who is interested get started. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One final thought... for as much as I hate being here, I am not allowed to complain about the view....</span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-64906626543525318342014-08-31T19:41:00.000-07:002014-09-03T19:27:16.885-07:00Haircut<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">A Man, his Barber, a Haircut, and Denial of Vanity</span></h4>
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">After two and a half years of letting my hair grow, I decided it was finally time to get a haircut. </span><span style="font-size: large;">So I took the three hour drive from </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">G-Ville to Sacramento to see my old friend </span><br />
<a href="http://www.sacramentobarbershop.com/" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Anthony Giannotti; aka Anthony the Barber</a><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, you may be wondering why in the fuck I would drive three hours away just for a haircut. Simply put, Anthony's my guy. He's my barber. No other way to put it, really. Kinda like having a favorite tattoo artist, tailor, or hooker. Sometimes only certain people can do you the right way the way you like it. Before Anthony became my full time barber I would get my hair cut by a man named Ernie, one of the few barbers I've ran across that knew what a <a href="http://rockabillyrevival.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/ducktail.jpg" target="_blank">ducktail</a> was. He had a shop at the intersection of 21st and P Streets downtown, right next door to the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thepressclub" target="_blank">Press Club</a>. After he retired I don't think I saw the same barber twice in a row until I met Anthony. One day in 2008 I got a message </span><span style="font-size: large;">from Anthony </span><span style="font-size: large;">while cruising the MySpace (whew! remember that shit?). He and I shared some mutual acquaintances, both on-line and in real life. He was working at Eddy's Deluxe, another barber shop in Downtown Sacramento. His message was simple; "Hey Jimbo, come on down for a hair cut, would love to see you". Eddy's was frequented by one of my regular taxi customers, so I just considered it an indirect referral and figured what the hell, why not? I had nothing to lose by accepting Anthony's invitation. After all, I had been without an official barber for about 8 years after Ernie retired. Floating around from one great super clip cut to another. Doing anything and everything I possibly could to not end up in some shitty salon somewhere getting my hair all fucked up by some hot chick that would never sleep with me and had never heard of the Sisters of Mercy, Butthole Surfers, M.D.C etc etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can't say that my first haircut by Anthony was some memorable experience that expanded my cultural horizons or some shit. It was just a haircut. Nice and simple. BUT... I didn't have to explain to him in great detail about the history of punk rock music, where that came from, the various other sub-genres it spawned, and how the way I wanted my look and my hair was all inspired by that culture. He was a young man with a few tattoos that knew a lot about music scenes and the looks that went with them. I gave him a simple description of what I wanted and he nailed it. He understands that most men hate to be perceived as vain. That vanity makes men feel "sissy", or however you might wanna put it. But Anthony has always made me feel justified about my vanity when it comes to my hair. That distaste of vanity by the way, is in of itself vanity. I want to look cool without looking like I'm <i>trying</i> to be cool. I want to walk out of there getting offers for free blowjobs from cute chubby redheads, not laughed at by a group of Cholos. I learned after my first cut by Anthony that he <i>gets it</i>. I was relieved to have finally found a permanent barber once again. He was my guy. My barber. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually Anthony opened up his own shop in 2009. I was his first customer, something I've always kinda felt guilty about because his dad wanted to be Anthony's first customer. Had I known that I would have gladly waited. (Yup, there goes Jimbo being an asshole again.) At any rate, the last time I got my haircut by Anthony was sometime between late 2011 and early 2012. I was no longer living in Sacramento and it isn't always easy for me to get down there, especially just for a haircut. I tried getting my hair cut by someone here locally in G-Ville. It was a barber shop, not a salon, so that was promising. Older group of guys running the place, which is fine. But I wasn't really all that happy with my cut. No one ever does it short enough. But besides that, they had a sign in the window that said something about "praying for whatever the fuck blah blah blah". Yeah, not really my scene, thanks. Then I just didn't get my hair cut for a really really long time. I should make the distinction at this point that I <i>did not</i> have long hair. I just hadn't had a haircut in a really long time. There's a huge difference! Well I decided a few weeks ago that it was about that time. I was getting bored with the length, and it was kinda becoming a pain in the ass. Even though it would be an ordeal to get to Sac, I really wanted Anthony to have the honors of cutting off my long ass hippie/commie/pseudo viking warrior hair. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION!<br />
21st and X Streets, Downtown Sacramento</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I called Anthony a week ahead of my trip to Sacramento to let him know I was coming. I wanted to make sure that he was still there because one of the last times I talked with him he mentioned that he might want to get out of the barbering biz. Thank fucking Christ he's still there and still has his shop. Not only that, I found out from a friend that his business had blown the fuck up. That he had gotten <i>hugely </i>popular, and to expect a long wait unless I arrived early in the morning. I tried to get there as early as possible, but still ended up getting there about 20 minutes after opening. Boy, my friend wasn't kidding when she told me there was gonna be a long line! There had to be about 30 people ahead of me. So I said my hello's, donated beer to the fridge, put my name on the list, and dug in for the long wait with my friend <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRMX87nebaJfLlKZ_Z6yPPRjiX0ElGl_MD9IK6jBPnz_1xFmfasO4_ERHnVZrAIQEbD311eVWS-omO0LHqZDt5OZfIEiyE6kGcBjAJW8vkKeKwqogXFyYmG_Joikz-8w5QzKvQvYNBtQ/s640/IMG_3928.jpg" target="_blank">Paul</a>, who played the part of camera man for the big event (video below). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ended up waiting about three hours for my turn in the chair. Probably way too long for most people to wait for a simple cut, but for me it was well worth it. I got my hair done exactly how I like, and it</span><span style="font-size: large;"> gave me an opportunity to observe all the changes at Anthony's Barbershop. As you would expect with any small business starting out, his shop was kind of slow at first. A few regulars here and there and the occasional walk-in kept him afloat for several months, and business slowly but steadily progressed, eventually gaining enough clientele to add a second barber, Shawn. During that time I don't think I ever had to wait more than thirty minutes for my turn in the chair. I could grab a seat anywhere I wanted and shoot the shit with barbers and clients, alike. I could take my time hanging out, often over-staying my welcome. </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/r4JTKjPc7hUyz0fUZp1FEWk9rk2ySkLIYsffIli3Tgg=w629-h839-no" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="selfie with Anthony" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/r4JTKjPc7hUyz0fUZp1FEWk9rk2ySkLIYsffIli3Tgg=w629-h839-no" height="320" title="Jimbo and Anthony Giannotti" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nowadays however, things are much different at Anthony's. He now has a crew of four (maybe five) manning the chairs. As I already mentioned, the wait can be up to a few hours. But what I found rather remarkable was the make-up of the clientele. Normally when you think of barbershop culture, it's usually the same kind of person frequenting a certain style of shop. Black guys will usually got to black barbers, white guys to white barbers, old timers to an older crew etc etc. Not the case at Anthony's, as I saw just about every type of dude you can imagine waiting a very long time to get their hair cut by someone at this shop. I saw white guys, black guys, Hispanic guys, Asian guys, straight dudes, gay dudes, young men, old men, completely normal looking guys, old punk rockers, greasers, urban warriors, etc etc etc. And ohhhh yes, hipsters! Lots of those, too. But that can't really be helped, they're pretty much everywhere you go nowadays, whether you like it or not (AND I DON'T!). Now, I could be wrong about this because I don't get out much, and my perception of the world is rather skewed because of that, but it seems as though Anthony's has broken through some barriers of barbershop culture. I don't recall seeing as diverse a group of men at a barbershop before. Maybe at a salon, or a Great Super Clip Cuts, but not at a real life bonafide barbershop. And the best part is that it's not as if Anthony gave his crew a "prime directive", if you will, to "diversify for the greater good blah blah blah". It just happened that way. These young men are masters of their craft, do a good job, and are always looking for ways to improve. It's no wonder this shop's popularity has exploded.</span><br />
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<a href="http://instagram.com/anthonythebarber916" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Check out his Instagram</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other thing I observed, and I find this rather peculiar and somewhat unsettling, is that no one was talking to each other. Sure, the barbers were active in conversation with each other, but not really with their customers much. But the customers weren't talking to each other, even. <i>Not</i> <i>at all!</i> I can forgive the barbers, because if anyone has ever worked in an environment catering to the public, than you know how it is to look out and see twenty or forty people ALL WAITING ON YOU! At times like that you can become hyper-focused on your work, and having a conversation can be distracting, and even difficult to do. But here you have a group of guys hanging out together, free beer in the fridge, loud music to rock out to, and no one is engaged in any conversation. It just seemed really odd to me. Everyone seemed completely intent on their own space. And I don't just mean that everyone was staring at their phone waiting for a message from a slutty girl on Facebook. I mean that everyone had a <i>determination </i>about themselves. A certain intensity to fulfill their immediate need so they could go about their day and their lives. I tried my best to be social with the group of people waiting, but no one was having it. Maybe it's just because it's <i>me</i>. I'm fairly difficult to look at for one thing, and I'm pretty loud and obnoxious, and probably a bit too forward and engaging at times for some folks to handle. Oh well, not everyone can handle awesome, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of awesome, I'm really glad to have finally gotten my hair cut, and it was great to see Anthony again after all this time. I asked him about how and why he made the turn-around from possibly wanting to get into something else professionally to being the most popular and successful shop in town. I wish I could write verbatim what he told me, but I can't recall his exact words (there was loud music, I'd been driving all day, trying to catch up with Anthony etc etc). But the general impression is that he had done some travelling, had met some really cool people, and from that he learned a lot about himself and how to operate as a human being and as a business man. (I</span><span style="font-size: large;">f Anthony and/or Shawn would grant me a weird interview sometime, I could get into a lot more detail about all of this). </span><span style="font-size: large;">Anthony has taken to carrying the responsibility of being a good steward to his craft and profession. He's taken charge of himself and his business. He, and his business, have grown </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">a lot!</span></i><i style="font-size: x-large;"> </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I donated my hair, by the way, to <a href="http://www.locksoflove.org/" target="_blank">http://www.locksoflove.org/</a>, per Anthony's suggestion. Thank you, sir! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you enjoy the video below of my day at the shop!</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com02408 21st Street, Sacramento, CA 95818, USA38.560782800000013 -121.485554613.586942300000011 -162.7941486 63.534623300000014 -80.1769606tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-40838034093787658562014-08-02T23:49:00.000-07:002014-09-05T15:05:44.825-07:00True Crime Trading Cards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">You may remember a <a href="http://jimsblogon.blogspot.com/2014/06/off-to-new-zealand.html" target="_blank">post from a few weeks ago</a> where I mentioned my set of True Crime trading cards. I have the <i><b>entire</b> </i>collection, save two bonus cards. I'll talk more about that later on in this this article. All of the following images are scans from my personal set of cards. ENJOY!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">True Crime trading cards were published in 1992 by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eclipse_Comics" target="_blank">Eclipse Comics</a> amidst</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">controversy, as they featured serial killers, gangsters, and mass killers. It's understandable that crime victims and advocacy groups pushed to have the sales of these trading cards banned, or at least limited. Virtually none of those attempts succeeded. In fact, all the hoopla actually helped to drive sales of the cards <i><b>up</b></i>. The fear was that these cards would "glorify" murderers into a hero status, not unlike a professional athlete or other public figure. Nothing could be further from the truth however, as the reverse side of each card tells the story behind the face on the front of the card in a factual, concise, easy to read manner. No judgement is passed. No dramatized interpretations offered. Just the facts ma'am. Eclipse published several unorthodox trading card sets on a variety of topics including the Iran-Contra Scandal, Beverly Hillbillies, and Kraft Foods Negro Leagues Giveaway Cards. There's a complete index on <a href="http://www.luckymojo.com/comicswarehouse1.html" target="_blank">luckymojo.com</a>. According to that website, Eclipse went out of business in 1994.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I really can't say for sure how I initially learned of these cards. Probably from a local newscast when I was living in Sacramento. I do remember the first time I bought a set, though. It was at the Birdcage Shopping Center in Citrus Heights. I wasn't even there looking for the cards. For the life of me I can't remember who I was hanging out with at the time or what we were doing in that part of town (I rarely left downtown Sac at the time). In fact I had probably forgotten about them until I saw a few packs sitting on the counter next to a cash register inside one of those shitty little head shop stores sprinkled throughout that area. </span><span style="font-size: large;">When I saw them, I knew I had to have them. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I don't remember how much they were exactly, but they couldn't have cost too much seeing as how I was pretty poor at the time. Probably just a couple or a few bucks per tin-foiled pack of twelve. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I was immediately hooked.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up on science fiction movies and collecting Star Wars action figures when I was a kid, but I never really got into baseball cards or comic books or anything like that (now that I think about it, I did have a whole bunch of Star Wars cards). But the True Crime cards were different. The artwork, beautifully executed by Paul Lee </span><span style="font-size: large;">(see what I did there?), gives each figure weight to the crimes they were involved in, whether they be perpetrator or investigator. The images are realistic and stylish at the same time. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Lee's artwork captures the subject as if in a real life moment, or a photograph. </span><span style="font-size: large;">For the most part he makes no attempt to demonize or sanctify the subject, but it's hard to ignore the spattering of blood across the front of most of the serial killers depicted in this series.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was also never into crime dramas or mysteries as a form of entertainment. Bored me to fucking tears as a kid. That being the case, I've always had a curious fascination with the subject of murderers, especially in the case of serial killers. </span><span style="font-size: large;">These cards certainly helped to satiate my morbid curiosity. </span><span style="font-size: large;">As mentioned earlier, the information on the back </span><span style="font-size: large;">of the cards provides the collector with information about the crimes committed and the persons involved</span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Since </span><span style="font-size: large;">there's only so much room on a trading card, the text is pretty much straight to the point, highlighting only the most important details of </span><span style="font-size: large;">a particular case. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it's enough so that the </span><span style="font-size: large;">reader </span><span style="font-size: large;">isn't left with </span><span style="font-size: large;">too many questions, or feeling like there's not enough information. </span><span style="font-size: large;">You could probably imagine that by now, some of the facts have changed as new evidence has been discovered, and even some cases solved. </span><span style="font-size: large;">These cards are, after all, twenty-two years old. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The Green River Killer for example, we now know is </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Ridgway" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Gary Ridgeway</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">. He was captured in 2001 and is serving multiple consecutive life sentences in Washington state.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The excellent artwork and easily absorbed information alone were good enough for me to collect these cards. But knowing their role in the current pop culture at the time as a controversial product, and the fact that they weren't very mainstream, meant that I <i>had to have </i>them. Where I bought my first set at the Birdcage Shopping Center was pretty far away from my normal hang out zone, but luckily there was a baseball card store right down the street from my job at a tire shop in Elk Grove, CA. I went in there after work on a payday and asked if they had any. They didn't, but they could order them! I can't remember how much I paid for a full box, probably twenty five to forty bucks, but it was worth it to me. I ended up ordering several boxes over the course of a few weeks, and eventually gathered together the entire set, including the hologram card seen at the top of this page. The <i>only </i>cards I am missing from this set are two of the four bonus cards of the Rodney King beating. I have cards "A" and "D", and am missing "B" and "C" (if anyone out there can get me the two cards I'm missing, I'll make a video proclaiming that I like you and post it to the public for all the world to see). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My favorite card in the entire set is of </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pauline Parker and Juliet </span><span style="font-size: large;">Hulme. These two teenage girls fell in love and eventually murdered Parker's mother with a brick to the head. The reason I like this card so much is because a few years after collecting these I was watching a movie with a girlfriend called </span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110005/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Heavenly Creatures</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">. About halfway through the film I realized "Hey, I know what this is about! I learned about it from my True Crime Trading Cards!" I think seeing that movie helped to validate for me that these cards weren't just some novelty to be taken lightly, and that they had real world worth, because I actually learned something from them!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The timing of these cards was nearly perfect, the early 1990's. American entertainment was in mid-shift from the innocence of programs like Leave it to Beaver, Star Trek, and the Cosby Show to edgier shows like Married with Children and the Simpsons. And soon the television exploded with "reality" news and gossip shows like Inside Edition, A Current Affair, Cops, and MTV's The Real World. Americans were becoming more fascinated with, and more accepting of, "reality". Even if it was scripted to a point, or just gossip. More and more violent, sexual, and otherwise "disturbing" images were seen on mainstream tv as cable television expanded its reach to the public, thus numbing Americans to the horrors of the actual world surrounding them. And only a couple of years in the future, the horizon of the internet would come to full bloom, bringing even more content, this time from the entire world, to the American family, further disrupting the status quo of house, wife, 2point3 children, and a two car garage in a suburb. This was the beginning of the end of an era ruled by Baby Boomers since the 1950's. Although still driven mostly by analogue technology, the world was opening up, and the truth was coming out, even if it was disguised with lies, quicker cuts in the editing room, and swooshier news logos. Yet amongst all the clutter, the True Crime trading cards shine brightly, at least for me, because they are honest and they are real. The only thing that feels "missing" from them is the OJ Simpson trial. Had Eclipse not gone under, I'm sure they would have made a set of cards for that story. BUT!... <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pursuit-Justice-Simpson-Collector-Trading/dp/B0026DT5XW" target="_blank">someone else did</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, without further ado, <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/110993721072845911878/albums/6040825418940506049?authkey=CNTWybuoutaHEA" target="_blank">click here to see my entire collection</a>. The link to this album may take a bit to load, depending on your connection. And my apologies for the fuzziness of some of the text in some of the images, as the lid for my scanner isn't heavy enough to press some of the cards down completely flat. Enjoy!</span><br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-84147683644402807372014-07-17T20:25:00.000-07:002014-07-17T20:25:35.404-07:00FACEBOOK!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">Ok kids, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">per request of His Majesty's Royal Heinie, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">Warrior of the Outback Steakhouse Wasteland, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">HUMUN... er...I mean</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: large;">Swollen Goods</span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">, (</span><span style="text-align: start;">aka Mr. Goods)</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: start;">, </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and my bitchy cousin Rebbecca...</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: large;">I officially announce the official announcement of my new</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <span style="color: red;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jimbosblog" target="_blank">FACEBOOK PAGE!!!</a></span></span></span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-75243137483783775102014-07-01T14:59:00.000-07:002014-07-01T14:59:58.517-07:00Marshall's Ball Blog<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ouchmyballsblog.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">http://ouchmyballsblog.wordpress.com/</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now hold on just one second there folks! I know what you're thinking... "Oh boy! Jimbo's at it again talking about balls or pumping or cocksnot, and liberally abusing the "fuck" word with his usual complete disregard for taste and decorum again." Well.... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">YOU'RE WRONG!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The link I have directed you towards is a blog written by my friend Marshall. He was recently diagnosed with testicular cancer, and has been keeping this blog in order to keep a record of his journey through all of this for his friends and family, and I imagine, for himself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The funny thing is, well, it's not funny at all really. Let's say... peculiar. The peculiar thing is, is that one of my very very extra long time friends JUST went through all of this shit over the last year. He didn't keep a blog because that's just not really his thing. And he kinda prefers his anonymity, so in the spirit of his Germanic descent we'll refer to him from here on out as Eva Braun. Eva is done with all of his treatments and is back to work and more or less pursuing a normal life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anywhoooo... I only found out about Marshall's situation and his blog a few days ago when my sister-from-another-mister, Lori, came to visit me a few days ago. As soon as she told me about everything I knew that A) Marshall was going to beat the ever fucking living shit out of cancer, and B) his blog would be </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I finally had the chance to go through it yesterday it was everything I expected it, and him, to be. He faces this shit head on, is very honest about how he's feeling whether it be good, bad, or ugly, and somehow manages to keep a sense of humor and spirit through all of this. His posts are generally short and to the point, thoughtful and reflective, honest, humorous, easy to read. And the layout of his blog is very easy on the eyes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seriously guys, check out his blog. Marshall's a great guy (I almost kissed him once at a bar but chickened out at the last second </span><span style="font-size: large;">MAN LIPS EW!!!) and I really think you'll enjoy his writing. Especially if you, or someone you know is going through something like this, his strength, balanced by a big heart, may help you get through whatever it is you might be dealing with. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For any of my male readers out there, I guess I should take a moment to express just how important it is to check your balls. Eva told me that although testicular cancer is one of the more survivable cancers, apparently it's also a bit rare. Well, now I know TWO motherfuckers that have gotten it over the course of one year. So grope your balls, bitches! Here's an instructional video made by Marshall (he's a nurse) BEFORE he was diagnosed, ironically enough....</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/faPPKy9I0Aw?rel=0" width="480"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At this point I'd like to suggest that, if you're a fat ugly bitter piece of shit like me, you probably masturbate frequently, and that's probably just as good a time as any to inspect your balls. And Marshall, if you're out there listening, err, reading this, if I ever had to choose a man to grope my junk in a completely clinical context, I'd hope it'd be you. I WON'T KISS YOU! ... But you can touch my balls. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Lastly, I'd like to close this post by sharing another video as a shout out to Eva and Marshall, because I'm sure NO ONE has ever had THE MOST ORIGINAL IDEA ON THIS HERE PLANET EARTH to share this with you guys... Enjoy!</span><br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-66663957822480360952014-06-30T17:19:00.001-07:002014-09-05T15:07:28.117-07:00Mossberg 590<span style="font-size: large;">This is the only video you'll ever need to see of a boy and his new shotgun. After months and months of saving up I finally got one. I've wanted on for years, and now I have it! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A few tips on how to enjoy this video that I EXHAUSTIVELY worked on for several weeks...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A) </b>As is the norm for many of my posts, NSFW and NSFK (kids). I would rate this as a PG-13, or even a mild R.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>B) </b>I strongly encourage you watch this with headphones on, or via computer or tv with speakers. No, this is not some silly turd trick to get you to put headphones on and blast you with white noise. The audio plays a very important part in this </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>C) </b>Watch it ALL THE WAY THROUGH UNTIL IT ENDS! I always like to, if I can, put a little something special into or at the end of the credits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>D) </b>Enjoy! </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/EKxgIk6feZQ?rel=0" width="640"></iframe>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-43073003737185870702014-06-19T06:04:00.000-07:002014-06-19T06:04:31.273-07:00A Very Important Message<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A very important message by yours truly. A PSA, if you will. I hope you'll watch this entire video I made where I discuss a major lifestyle change. I usually do a lot of joking around or whatever, but this is in all seriousness. It's a bit lengthy, as I tend to ramble on, and go into these things shooting from the hip. It's very important to me that you all watch this, I appreciate it.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/RkWPHn-F35w?rel=0" width="640"></iframe>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-33131705200780717842014-06-17T19:20:00.000-07:002014-06-17T19:20:24.359-07:00Off to New Zealand!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaCiy0U0zlAJMKhJoV7BSicHP_5g5U-rR85AepWmYMcr4gtvnJkX5IBI2iZBHjOt9XBCDqoa50pGuoJmSNxB9uC-NOK8I32V78HW0qzj6Pf7pERcevk4zLCARf0ZZz6H66jN6Z-o90j8/s1600/New-Zealand-Flag-HD-Wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaCiy0U0zlAJMKhJoV7BSicHP_5g5U-rR85AepWmYMcr4gtvnJkX5IBI2iZBHjOt9XBCDqoa50pGuoJmSNxB9uC-NOK8I32V78HW0qzj6Pf7pERcevk4zLCARf0ZZz6H66jN6Z-o90j8/s1600/New-Zealand-Flag-HD-Wallpaper.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not me, my </span><strike><span style="font-size: large;">friend</span></strike><span style="font-size: large;"> coworker, Madaleine. She's going there on a working vacation for a few months as a nanny for a friend of her family. Funny story about where her nanny training is in a moment, but first, I'm mainly posting this.... um... post, to kinda help her out. As much as I want to punch her in the fuckhole at times, she has grown dear to me, like a little sister. She's going to be keeping a blog about her travels at <a href="http://www.maddyswildadventure.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://www.maddyswildadventure.blogspot.com/</a>. She could use some readers out there to keep her company. Please indulge. Oh, and don't be too harsh on her for her blogginess. I know you've all been spoiled by my fucking STELLAR formatting and subject matter, but she's new to doing this, so take it easy on her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's a video of her being an asshole with my handgun one day while she was helping me take video footage of my new shotgun (that'll be in another post sometime next week it'll be AWESOME)</span></div>
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<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://i1.ytimg.com/vi/OwoEwP1Ph_4/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/OwoEwP1Ph_4?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/v/OwoEwP1Ph_4?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">About her being a nanny... </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hCIhOHaURgZtr5NYQ1lfYx2vR4p-8BXpnZht4BtsBgLpXVSjF2S0sDt1rrUmEXERfUzBzOPsNOu-2Ae91G4uAqBUUutgGd-X195FgM5_DdSe-7WZX1H5LnRVUBCyVaZGcrZycblxlfU/s1600/MOV_d0607c2b_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hCIhOHaURgZtr5NYQ1lfYx2vR4p-8BXpnZht4BtsBgLpXVSjF2S0sDt1rrUmEXERfUzBzOPsNOu-2Ae91G4uAqBUUutgGd-X195FgM5_DdSe-7WZX1H5LnRVUBCyVaZGcrZycblxlfU/s1600/MOV_d0607c2b_b.jpg" height="320" width="272" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I had her over last weekend to watch a movie that I insisted she absolutely had to see before going to New Zealand.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110005/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">Heavenly Creatures</a>. It's a true story about two teenage girls in New Zealand that form a very strong bond and ultimately end up killing one of their mothers. Although </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Peter Jackson had already made several gore/horror films, this is the movie that kinda put him on the map as an outstanding director. This is also Kate Winslet's first feature film. Here's a full frontal of Kate from the movie </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0144715/?ref_=nv_sr_1" target="_blank">Holy Smoke</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even more compelling, is a video of me opening a box from Amazon when I ordered Heavenly Creatures on blu-ray...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anywhooo... The girls in the movie killed the mother in the town of Christchurch, New Zealand. And where is Madaleine's nanny school going to be when she arrives next weekend? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">YOU GUESSED IT! Christfuckingchurch New Zealand!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I first learned of Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme from collecting True Crime Trading cards back in the 1990's. Here's an actual picture of one of my actual cards</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I should do a full post on this collection that I have</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Best of luck to you on your journey, Kid! I hope you have fun! Don't drop your drawers for the first idiot you meet with a pretty accent, and hurry up and get back safely so I can continue to berate you for all the sins of your generation xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.maddyswildadventure.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://www.maddyswildadventure.blogspot.com/</a></span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-69267934065973984812014-05-28T17:31:00.001-07:002014-05-28T17:31:48.495-07:00We Woulda Humped in an Alternate Universe<span style="font-size: large;">Going down memory lane the other day, and thought I'd share these FANTASTIC photoshop jobs by my dear friend from Down Under, Piter aka: Mr Goods!</span><div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">!!!WARNING!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Some of the following images may be disturbing, </span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;">And some of them are most certainly GRAPHIC!</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">!!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">!!!PUT THE CHILDREN TO BED!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">Enjoy!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">my personal favorite!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">currently not sporting the chops</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">NOM NOM NOM!!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">this is the original. the rest can be quite disturbing. </span></td></tr>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-61968913509659777552014-05-01T19:01:00.001-07:002014-05-01T19:01:39.823-07:00Pride Nexus<span style="font-size: large;">I'm sure you folks remember the "Nexus" from the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0111280/?ref_=nv_sr_1" target="_blank">Star Trek: Generations</a>. Oh, you don't? Because you're a traitorous piece of shit? Well then, allow me to refresh your memory....</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4V05MdvVCM/U2L7FvDqmBI/AAAAAAAACBA/BRfmFin6G8c/w961-h481-no/nexus-stvii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4V05MdvVCM/U2L7FvDqmBI/AAAAAAAACBA/BRfmFin6G8c/w961-h481-no/nexus-stvii.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well today, we had a Nexus in Gardnerville. I call it the "Pride Nexus" </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ironically, I took a photo of this Nexus, with my Nexus har har har!</span></td></tr>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-63740305630614087542014-04-18T22:39:00.001-07:002014-09-05T15:07:50.246-07:00Blood Moon 2014<span style="font-size: large;">In case any of you dumb asses missed the Blood Moon last week, I took some pictures of it that you can now view here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of dumb asses...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/_359l_9Wyhg?rel=0" width="420"></iframe></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All pictures, memes, and video below were taken by yours truly. ENJOY! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's what the moon normally looks like, in case you are not familiar with it.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I used my video camera to take these shots because, although the pixel count is fairly low when using this thing for still shots, it has a much greater zoom capability compared to my dslr. 20x optical/400x digital. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first bite.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Halfway there!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ooh! Shiny! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Almost there!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iJgGZ7eDEes/U1ID4nX6hpI/AAAAAAAACAE/wfCSSCWOFcE/w1492-h839-no/07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iJgGZ7eDEes/U1ID4nX6hpI/AAAAAAAACAE/wfCSSCWOFcE/w1492-h839-no/07.JPG" height="358" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And there it is! And that bright star next to it kept showing up, too! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cA7E_RBE1Lo/U1ID5BUDSPI/AAAAAAAACAY/bS5q1Q7oN_A/w1492-h839-no/08.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cA7E_RBE1Lo/U1ID5BUDSPI/AAAAAAAACAY/bS5q1Q7oN_A/w1492-h839-no/08.JPG" height="358" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This was about the best shot I could get with Mars in frame. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UH3rp0oXWGE/U1ID5TW_DOI/AAAAAAAACAU/8O3Jf3epWZw/w1492-h839-no/09.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UH3rp0oXWGE/U1ID5TW_DOI/AAAAAAAACAU/8O3Jf3epWZw/w1492-h839-no/09.JPG" height="358" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And this was about the best shot I could get of the Blood Moon. There was some thin haze in the area, and even with the various settings pretty much maxed out for this scenario, it's still too dark to work with the equipment I have in these conditions. Still, not too shabby! I had a good time watching this go down, and taking all the pictures.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also did a little zoom test with my camera just to see what it would look like. I had the digital zoom turned on. That adds a lot of noise to the picture, but, obviously, it also allowed me to zoom in much further. It came out pretty decent actually. So I did a little editing, added some sound effects, and voila! Here's quick little video. </span></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/4xPlfOXOlVw?list=UUsHqI4GJE72Cfy-QJTIJa5g" width="640"></iframe></div>
Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-67763557889364747002014-03-20T18:40:00.000-07:002014-03-20T18:40:08.081-07:00We Woulda Humped Back in the 80's<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">8th Grade </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">High School Freshman. Absolutely Not Giving One Single Fuck.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lip Syncing Like A Boss</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of only two known pictures in the Universe of myself with my Mohawk. </span></td></tr>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-24797347423918347272014-03-05T16:04:00.000-08:002014-03-05T16:11:23.521-08:00Getting My Shit Together<span style="font-size: large;">So 2013 was a pretty odd mix of ups and downs for me. My folks got divorced, leaving my dad and I to take care of his (now) 102 year old mother, in a house that no one can afford to make the payments on yadda yadda yadda. On the other hand, I finally found a job a year ago February. And not only did I start working and making a little bit of money, the job has gone quite smoothly. Those of you that know me well, know that I have had trouble in the past keeping jobs, and have floated around from one "career" to the next, and was never really able to make anything come out of it. So far for the last year and a month I have not allowed myself to be plagued by my old habits; insomnia, always late to work, causing problems, consumed by depression, fucking off too much on weeknights, etc etc. Some of these things still happen, of course. But the key phrase is "not allowed". I feel that I have taken much greater command of myself and my life than I ever have before. Which brings us to 2014.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This year has started off great! I filed my taxes for the first time in more than ten years. And so far I haven't been approached by any IRS goons at my door with an ass-raping-grin asking me "Hey Jimbo! Great to hear from you! Say, by the way, where the fuck ya been the last ten years?" I also checked my credit for the first time in a really long time and all of my old bullshit that use to be hanging over my head is gone now. Some of you know the specifics about that, and what a huge relief it is for me to not have that burden on my shoulders anymore. I also applied for Medicaid through the Nevada Health Exchange website. Just waiting for approval, or conversely, for them to fuck everything up or whatever. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ooh! Oo! Ooh! I need to rant real quick!</b></span><br />
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<i>The following is a rant by Jimbo. Proceed with caution. You may skip this rant with no penalties incurred by scrolling down past the </i><b>"END RANT" </b><i>at the end of the rant, where you will experience a smooth transition between the last sentence of the previous paragraph before the rant, and the first sentence of the next paragraph after the rant. </i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The main reason I signed up for Obama Care is because I am a gay loving commie pinko Muslim Satanist that hates America for it's freedom. And not too mention the free government handouts that make the food and money rain down on me like Justin Bieber at a strip club. You know? Because OBVIOUSLY it's MUCH MUCH MUCH more glamorous to get a bunch of seriously shitty service for free than to have a SHIT FUCKING TON of money that I could use to just buy anything I want, like decent healthcare, or food that isn't made out of salt and flash-frozen on an assembly line alongside tires and lawn mower lubricant. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And finally, I applied for a grant to go to school! Wheeeeeeee I'm super excited about the possibilities with this! More on that in a moment, though.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The best part about all of this is that I am being very proactive. At least for me it is, anyway. I really am trying to get my shit together and am taking steps to move my life forward. Whatever issues from my past with taxes or credit or whatever that may come back to haunt me, I'm ready to face the music. In fact, I'm not even afraid of it anymore. It's all small change to me now. I should also mention that I've had help, or rather, lots of very positive and supportive encouragement with some of this (I'm talking to you, Kristin). </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">thank you!</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">SO! I'm going to start school in January 2015. Hopefully I get approved for enough grant money so that I can go to school full time </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(because I'm a 47percenter)</span><span style="font-size: large;">. Unfortunately that will probably mean I'll have to quit my job. On advice from a friend whose name I won't mention because I just mentioned her only a moment ago, it's probably best that I proceed in that fashion. According to her, it's pretty hardcore to go to school full time and have a full time job. Some people can do it. Many have in fact. My cousin is doing it right now. And KICKING ASS I Might add! I'm just not sure that I can do that myself. My job is fairly taxing on me physically. And I don't want to go to school exhausted, or have work cut into valuable homework/study time. If I can go to school full time and concentrate on JUST THAT, personally I think I'll be better off. However, even if I get very little grant money, or none at all, I'll still at least get the ball rolling and a take two classes or something, and then apply again for the grant money the following semester. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to attend <a href="http://www.wnc.edu/" target="_blank">Western Nevada College</a>. They offer an AA in management, which I think given my past work experience and everything I've learned about myself and accomplished the last couple years would be a good fit for me. And the last couple weeks I've been thinking to myself "why stop at community college"? I've been thinking that although an AA in Management would be great, because I could apply it to virtually any field of work, I'd most likely get stuck in some retail hell or something. I'm sure the money would be fine for me, but I'd really like to be a part of something bigger. I kinda like the idea of getting into some sort of civil engineering field, with emphasis on green technology if possible. (Either way, I wanna make more of the GREEN MONEY!). <a href="http://www.unr.edu/" target="_blank">University of Nevada, Reno</a> offers some pretty nice looking courses that might be right up my alley. Sooooooo... WNC also offers an AA in Construction Management. If I can get through that, then transfer to UNR and study a more field specific program, I should be a gagillionaire by the time I'm 50. And by that age, I should still be just undisgusting enough for any mid-level to high class hookers I'll have to pay for to tolerate my presence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only hesitation about all of this that I might have, is that A) I'm not by any means or stretch of the imagination a braniac, and B) I do not belong in, on, near, or around tools or mildly complex machines or situations that involve hard hats, levels, thermometers, schematics, alpha male assholes, or critical thinking/planning/solving. For example, watch the first 15 minutes of the following video, and you'll see what I'm talking about... </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">for some silly reason this video may start somewhere in the middle, you'll need to start it from the beginning. Thank you!</span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/93DXL4IZZBE" width="640"></iframe><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">With all that said, however, there's no reason that I shouldn't set my sights high for myself. As I mentioned earlier, I've learned a lot about myself the last couple of years, and what I can accomplish if I really put my head and heart into something and just go for it. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Now that I've typed way too many words to share with y'all my plans for the future</span><span style="font-size: large;">, I'd like to ask any of you </span><span style="font-size: large;">that have managed to slog through this post without setting your computer on fire so that you may never have to be infected with the internet ever again, to share with me any advice you have about going to school. Wether you did it when you were younger, or returned at a later age. Or even started at a later age. What were your experiences? What would you have done differently? Anything you wish you hadn't done, or should have done? And if any of you have had experience with getting an education in any sort of engineering/science/math based classes/degrees. Anything at all you can share, good bad or ugly, would be very helpful! There's a few of you folks out there that I'm going to email directly. The rest of you, you can leave a comment, or if you prefer you can <a href="mailto:messagejimsblog@gmail.com" target="_blank">send me an email here.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks in advance to any of you that message me, and sorry for such a long and word-y post. Until next time! </span></div>
Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-84049994926569520332014-02-04T15:30:00.000-08:002014-02-04T15:30:45.484-08:00Jimbo's Rants Backed by SCIENCE! <span style="font-size: large;">If you're not an asshole and read my <a href="http://jimsblogon.blogspot.com/2014/02/2014-super-bowl-commercial-reviews.html" target="_blank">post from yesterday</a>, then you'll enjoy this! One of my gillions of subscribers and AVID reader of my shitty blog, my friend Jason from Seattle, WA, just shared with me an article that completely supports everything I had to say about the Maserati car commercial. The best part? It's backed with SCIENCE! Science, motherfuckers! Fucking SCIENCE 'n shit, bitch!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.caranddriver.com/news/a-revving-maserati-engine-has-a-biological-effect-on-women-car-news" target="_blank">link to original article</a></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-73369874207066282612014-02-03T17:46:00.000-08:002014-09-05T15:09:47.770-07:002014 Super Bowl Commercial Reviews! <span style="font-size: large;">It's that time of year again, folks! The big day where everyone watches the "Big Game" and pigs out on shitty but awesome snack foods. You don't have to be a fan of American football to enjoy this unofficial holiday. It's kinda like Thanksgiving 2.0. Except that the yelling and screaming is directed towards the television, not relatives. And actually, the big day was yesterday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One reason a lot of people watch the Super Bowl is to see all the nifty new advertising campaigns during commercial breaks. After seeing a few of these, I felt I had to offer my thoughts on some of them. I just simply HAVE TO! So let's jump right in!</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">First up, the Maserati commercial... </span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/KmpiwU50f5w?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the first 1 minute and 9 seconds of this ad, I'm thinking "Oh great, another Ipad commercial". Or maybe it's for Nike. Or better yet, maybe it's one of those big financial firms trying to convince us that they feel genuine guilt for anal raping the face of the American economy, and by the way, "Use a black kid, so they think we're not racist". </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">This commercial pissed me off to no fucking end! First of all, it's a MASERATI, not a FUCKING IPAD! </span><span style="font-size: large;">It felt as if a really hot woman tied me up, blindfolded me, and started giving me the best handjob ever. But then when the blind was pulled off, it was actually the cable guy the whole time. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I don't need a full minute and nine seconds of drama and poetry and "avant garde" artsy fartsy bullshit. I don't need some cute little kid pretending to be wise to sell me a FUCKING MASERATI!!! All I need, is THE CAR! Show me the god damned car! And give me plenty of soundbites of that sweet roar of the engine! Seriously, if you can, listen to this on headphones. If your angry little cock doesn't get hard (that goes for you too, ladies) when that engine roars to life, then you are not human, and should be IMMEDIATELY ejected from the planet! </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Next up, teaser trailer for "Need for Speed"</span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/w_1X-w8WQ-I?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, THIS is how you show off cars! I'm sure it'll be a terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible movie. BUT, it has all I need to peak my interest. Lots of bad ass cars making bad ass sounds, a gun shot, and one cute little one-liner at the end. Perhaps the only improvement, as obvious as it sounds, would be a quick shot of a hot babe in a bikini and stripper shoes. Other than that, this ad was perfect. Didn't waste my time, and jacked me off to completion in a timely and interesting manner.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Our third entry, CHEERIOS!!!</span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/LKuQrKeGe6g?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, I thought this was adorable and funny. When that cute little girl sees dad's baby, and raises him a puppy, the look on her face is absolutely priceless! I'd hate to ever have to play poker against her, cause she'd take all my money! The reason I bring up this commercial is because there has been some people out there that got all butt hurt about seeing a bi-racial family. Probably more true to the point, a black man with a white wife. WHO GIVES A FUCK?! My God! Worrying about mixed race couples in this day and age is like worrying that there's not enough asbestos in your shitty Cheerios! FUCK OFF! </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">And now for our next installment of "Shit That Really Pisses Jimbo Off", Bud Light FUCK YEAH AMERICA GO!!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So Bud Light's "new cool twist" in hyper-tech beer dispensing technology is a "reclosable" lid? Really? What's next, Bud Light? Quantum computers? Androids? Time Travel? What innovation will you present us with next, forever defining Mankind's role in the greater expanse of the Multiverse? </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Seriously folks, IT'S BEER! No where on Earth should a man or woman crack open a cold one, take a couple drinks, and then think to themselves "Ok, that was refreshing, I'll save the rest for later". You crack open a beer, YOU DRINK THAT MOTHERFUCKER, MOTHERFUCKER! (please take care to notice the comma between the two motherfucker's, thank you)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last on the list, an ad from Subway. The sandwich shop that everyone know's is the healthiest alternative to traditional fast food, sponsored by America's finest Olympiads.</span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/79tYhiw5Tdg?rel=0" width="480"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's right folks..... WHAT THE FUCK!!! For the last decade or so, Subway's advertising campaign has been all about "healthy" fast food, ever since that fat fuck, Jared, lost like 736 pounds or some shit by eating only at Subway for however the fuck long he could stand doing that shit before ripping his tongue out. Eventually the athletes started chiming in, endorsing subway like it was fucking Jesus Christ the Almighty himself or some shit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look, I am ALL FOR Fritos topped with greasy fried cheese on my sandwich or pizza or whatever the fuck I happen to be shoveling down my foodhole at any particular given moment. And I have zero problem with Subway trying to diversify their menu choices. But for these athletes, people that supposedly represent a healthful lifestyle and should be role models for the children, to have their faces plastered all over this ad is just pure and simple BULLSHIT! Give me a fucking break! I practically live off this shitty diet of salty/fried/pre-fab crap, and look what it's done to me....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, if that ain't the epitome of athletic prowess and complete fuck-a-bility, well then I just don't know what the fuck anymore.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">PEACE OUT! </span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-35258119596460900632013-11-25T18:57:00.001-08:002013-11-25T18:57:27.505-08:00Jim Blows Huge Loads Onto several Jugs! <div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">This video is also living proof that I do not belong anywhere near a construction site. Now, whenever some handy-man type is trying to convince me to go help them build some shit, I can just show 'em this video and they'll stop bugging me!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's a video of me being a little bitch!</span><br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-68352740077548624972013-08-23T21:15:00.000-07:002013-08-23T21:15:09.818-07:00Second Hand Yosemite Smoke<span style="font-size: large;">So there's a huge fire in Yosemite right now, and the wind has blown all the smoke from it into my hood. Got some pretty good shots of the sun. They woulda been a lot better if I had a better tripod. Or if I had any inkling of an idea of what the fuck I'm doing... </span><br />
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-68991064909330082842013-08-19T18:16:00.000-07:002013-08-19T18:16:12.643-07:00Footage From My New Camera<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, I FINALLY have some footage I can share with you from my new camera! It's the Canon Vixia HF G30 (why in the fuck do they make the names of these things so long and stupid?). It's about an hour long and kinda boring, but I wanted to do a whole day's worth of shooting so I could give viewers a chance to see how nice this thing looks. Read the description in the video to find out where the highlights are, what I used to edit, etc etc. </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/tpFS4cRS6mo?list=UUsHqI4GJE72Cfy-QJTIJa5g" width="640"></iframe>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-61192069715422187172013-08-06T21:43:00.000-07:002013-08-06T21:43:12.300-07:00Just Arrived!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those of you that know me well, know that I have wanted a decent video camera for quite some time. Now I finally have one! And it's much more than just "decent". This thing is BAD ASS! Look it up, bitches!</span></div>
Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-36736866172344612722013-07-06T18:54:00.000-07:002013-07-06T18:56:34.273-07:00Video Fun Time<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This first video was made in the early 2000's and is about my great uncle, Billy Sewell who was killed in action in the Korean War, a lost scrapbook, and how it got reunited with my grandmother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This next video is from when I was in the Star Trek Adventures thingy at Universal Studios. I was about 14 or 15 years old. See if you can guess which character I play (or just read the description of the video). WARNING!!! This is painful to watch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And finally, a reeeeeeeeally boring video of me trying out and reviewing Blu e-cigs a few months back.</span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-72651769731510018212013-06-30T20:49:00.000-07:002013-06-30T20:50:06.644-07:00Some Good, Some Bad, Some Weird<span style="font-size: large;">I've put off updating on here for far too long and there's been some major changes around here in the last seven months.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Dad and Grandma getting some sun in the back yard, 5/11/13.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2013 started off with my 101 year old grandmother moving in with us. Despite her age she's in pretty good shape. Her eyesight and hearing ain't too good, but she gets around pretty well on her own and doesn't really need that much help with anything. She makes her own breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday all on her own, and doesn't suffer from mental disabilities usually associated with someone her age, such as alzheimer's or dementia or whatever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For the last few years she's had her own apartment in a senior care facility. It was a really nice place, and she had her own room. The reason she moved in with us wasn't due to a health issue or anything like that. She just simply ran out of money. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's amazing that she's 101 and doing so well health wise. Especially when you consider that she's fallen down a few times over the last few years and has even broken bones in a couple of those falls, and she's still kicking hard. However, having her here is like being in prison. It's not because she's old, or because she takes and hour and half in the kitchen to make a sandwich and tea, or because she can be a serious fucking asshole at times. I know that sounds like a dick thing to say, but I'll explain further later on in this post. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We had WEIRD PANTS FRIDAY a couple months back.<br />So I wore fishing gaiters.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first week of February</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I FINALLY GOT A JOB!!! </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(</span><i>Ann Patterson, if you're out there somewhere reading this, you'll get a kick out of this</i><span style="font-size: large;">.) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Kinda funny how I got the job. My mom had me take some of her clothes to the local dry cleaners here in town, and when I went to drop them off they had a help wanted sign in the window looking for a shirt presser. I noticed that everyone working there was a woman, so I didn't give it much thought at first. I mean, look at me... right? But then I thought about it for a second and I realized that I have to AT LEAST ask. So I asked the young girl behind the counter if any experience was needed and she told me that it wasn't necessary. So I asked for an application. She couldn't find one and walked off into the back part of the store. A moment later some dude comes out and walks up to me. Now, you have to keep in mind what I look like in this scenario. I'm wearing black sneakers, jeans, my black SF Giants hoody, Giants beanie, sunglasses, and my beard is a couple weeks grown out. I hadn't really planned on looking for work that day. Those of you that know me know that I'm a big teddy bear and a pretty nice person. But to people that don't know me, I look pretty fucking scary and dangerous. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So anyway, dude walks up to me and asks me if I've had any experience with this kind of work. I tell him no, and he asks me "Are you sure"? Uhhh, no, I have never had any experience in a dry cleaners or pressing clothes or anything like that. He looks at me strangely for a minute, as if he's skeptical about something. Not that he's skeptical of me so much, but that he doesn't trust me when I tell him I have no experience. He looks confused. Then he says, without asking me my name or to turn in an application or interviewing me in any way whatsoever, to come in Monday morning at 8am. So I said OKAY! I asked him his name, shook his hand, and went home. The whole time I never even took my sunglasses off. I wanted to ask him about what the pay and hours are and such, but at that point, when you've been out of work for a couple years and someone tells you to show up for work on such and such day and time, you don't ask questions. You just say thank you very much and get the fuck out of there! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I showed up the following Monday and started work. The guy that hired me, Mark, is some sort of regional repairman/dry cleaning expert for the company. It's a small shop owned buy a guy out of Reno that owns a few different shops in the greater northern Nevada area. It only pays minimum wage, but what the fuck, right? </span><span style="font-size: large;">I make about a couple hundred bucks a week. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I really don't have any major bills right now to speak of. For now it's mostly just spending money for smokes, food, etc etc. And everyone that works there is pretty cool.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I start at 7am, Monday through Friday, with weekends off. For those of you that know me well, I've had a serious lack of confidence with finding work due to my poor history of showing up early in the morning due to insomnia and depression etc etc. So far though, I haven't had any trouble getting to work at all. In fact, I'm usually about ten minutes early. For now, my insomnia and depression has subsided. My <a href="http://jimwalkstoseattle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">walk last summer</a> really helped me to understand that I am much more capable of dealing with adversity than I had thought before. Also, a lot of the problems I had in the past, especially with insomnia, has been due to the sort of general anxiety a lonely guy experiences when he's in his twenties and thirties. Back then, it was hard for me to sleep, because I always felt like when I went to bed I was missing out on some cool shit going on somewhere. That's not really the case with me anymore. I have no interest in "going out" or trying to hook up with a girl or any shit like that. I got too many family things going on right now, and I'm just too old anymore to give a fuck about all that stuff. I still do have occasional bouts of sleeplessness (especially with this fucking heat lately!), but I'm still able to get up early and get to work on time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So things are going well with work, and with the schedule that I have there, my current living situation, and frame of mind I have right now, I'm going to be able to save money so I can go to school sometime next (hopefully) year. There's a community college in Carson City, and they offer a degree in Management. I figure with my work experience, and getting a degree in Management, I should be able to find a work somewhere eventually that'll pay 30 to 40k a year. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, I should mention why Mark looked so confused when he hired me. He told me a couple months ago that they hire a lot of guys out of prison because they have experience dry cleaning and pressing. When he told me that, it then dawned on me that when I came in he thought I was a thug because of the way I look, and figured I went there looking for work because maybe I had done that in jail somewhere. That's why he looked at me all weird when I told him I had no experience with this before. Anyway.....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now for some weirdness/badness. My employment couldn't have come at a better time, because only two weeks after I started working my Mom decided to leave my Dad and she moved out. I guess she's not happy, doesn't feel like she's getting the emotional feedback or whatever from my dad that she thinks she's entitled to. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My Dad and I are both pissed that she left, but happy she's gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On one hand, we're happy that we don't have to deal with her day to day. She can be very difficult to live with.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On the other hand:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After making the family move from one house and one town to another over the last 35 years and having nothing to show for it (ie; do NOT own a home), after all the years of support my dad has given her financially or emotionally or whatever, after having her loser son (me) move in at the age of 38 to support, after making him last summer stop making payments on the house and filling out piles and piles of red tape paperwork so they could get a re-fi to only have the payments knocked down about 20 bucks a month, and after his 101 year old mother moves in, she decides that she's not happy and completely bails on us. Leaving my dad to take care of his loser son (me), and his ONE HUNDRED AND ONE YEAR OLD MOTHER!, in a house he can't afford on his own that's way way way upside down on the mortgage. It was completely selfish and I'm pretty pissed at her for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now it's just me, Dad, and grandma, with only one car. What makes it difficult is that somebody HAS to be here at the house at all times because of grandma. And that's what I meant when I said earlier that it's like being in a prison with her around. So my dad and I have to plan our outings accordingly. And since we only have the one vehicle, it's not like I can take off for the weekend and go visit my homies in Sacto or whatever. I pretty much have to stay home on the weekends, or at least not go too far in case there's an emergency with grandma. Luckily, my work is only five minutes away, and my boss understands the situation and that at any moment I may have to take off. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dealing with all of this is pretty frustrating, but my Dad and I are actually doing pretty well together here. We have a good rhythm going on at home. What I mostly am is lonely and bored. As I mentioned moment ago, I can't really take off for the weekend and see my friends and party or whatever. Once or twice a month my friend Paul will come visit me in the evenings when his work sends him to Reno. I really appreciate it when he makes the time to come hang out with me. We just go have dinner at a local casino, do a little gambling. Hang out, talk. Nothing too exciting, but I enjoy the time very much. He's the only friend of mine I've seen since last November when I was in Sacramento for Lori's Sagittarius party. Which is also the last time I've been able to let loose and get hammered. I'm pretty bored over here folks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sooooo, uhhhh, if you're not doing anything on the weekends, Gardnerville is only a couple hours away via a scenic drive on Highway 50. If anyone wants to come hang out for the day we can go shoot my guns, grab some lunch, do a little gambling, hang out at a coffee shop. Whatever. If you wanted to make a weekend out of it there's plenty of motels around, I just need a couple weeks or so notice so I can save up some fun money.</span>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5864031390814417463.post-78207496706192441032012-12-12T01:35:00.001-08:002012-12-12T01:35:54.830-08:00Funny Yellow Cars and Birthday Shenanigans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well God damn! It's been a while since I've updated here. Anyhow. So a couple weeks ago I finally got a job driving a cab in Carson City. A job that I just quit tonight. There simply was no money to be made. In fact, I actually lost money.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;">Compared to driving cabs in Sacramento, it's not a bad town to work. It's very small, it's the ONLY cab company in town, and there's really no bad neighborhoods or anything like that to speak of. But, as I mentioned, there's just no fucking money here at all. Most of the fares are about five bucks. And I would only get six to eight calls on a shift. Then you have to pay the cab company half of what's run on the meter, pay a five dollar lease fee, then gas the car up at the end of your shift. Most nights I ended up going home with less than what I started with. Only two times did I make more than what I started with, and it was only five or ten bucks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But that wasn't the only problem, of course. It seemed like a promising idea at first. I'd only be working three days a week, which would leave me plenty of time to focus my efforts on other shit I wanna do with my life like photography and exercise. However, getting back into this biz I found myself just going back to my old cab driving habits. Smoking too much, eating too much, and sleeping too much. On my four days off, I didn't do fuck all jack shit! What a fucking waste. I haven't been walking in weeks. And I'm suppose to be trying to work my way up to running. I've been a serious fuck off since coming home from my walking trip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So as I was sitting in my cab tonight, two hours after I had done my last call and realizing that I was just going to lose money again, I started to give more serious consideration to a suggestion made by my friend Hez to get into truck driving. I'm well suited for long haul trucking, I think. I like to work alone, I hate having a boss hovering around, I like driving, and I like road tripping. Plus, living at my parents house is actually a nice bonus in this scenario. I don't have to worry about rent, and I can use it as my home base. If I got into this line of work, what I would like to do is dump as much of my pay as possible into paying off their house. Although all that's up in the air because my folks are going through some weird refinancing shit blah blah blah.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What worries me about all this though, is that I would once again just be enslaved to my job, and STILL not doing what I would like to be working on; running and photography. I dunno. All this shit depresses the fuck out of me, and frankly, I just don't know what the fuck to do anymore. I don't have any vision or passion or desire anymore. I've basically fallen back into "I just don't give a fuck" mode. I use to be able to see the future, and then I lost it. But when I was on my walk I regained my foresight superpowers. Now that I'm back, and not walking, and under pressure to earn some sort of income, my ability to see into the future has begun to diminish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Throughout most of my childhood I had a vision in my head of a place that was misty and forested with tall trees rich in dark green. And in that vision I was 27 years old. For whatever reason, when I saw this vision, I felt it was Oregon. Fast forward a bunch of years, to the age of 27, and sure enough I move to the Pacific North West. It wasn't Oregon, it was Seattle. Close enough as far as I'm concerned. Most of Washington and Oregon look pretty much the same. And they both look exactly like what I saw in my mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward some more years, and now my vision is different. I've had this vision now for about the past ten years, give or take. Everything is faded away. And I'm all alone. None of my friends know where I am anymore. Although with this vision, there's no specific place or age. But as I get older, I feel that it's sooner than later. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of getting older, I'll be forty on the 17th of December. A couple weeks ago my friend Lori threw a b-day party for us Sagittarius folks. We have birthdays at the shittiest time of the year. Well, shitty when you're a kid anyway. My mom never threw me a birthday party when I was a kid because she said that no one would come because it's too close to the holidays and that everyone would be on vacation or outta town or whatever. Thanks mom. It's nice to know I wasn't worth it. So here's a bunch of pictures form Lori's b-day party. Most of them are of her boyfriend Brian, being a rockstar in his underwear. I forced everyone at the party to take a picture with him, because I'm a fucking dick! ENJOY! </span></div>
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Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13507722791176058070noreply@blogger.com8