The Second Side

I could put something really witty here if I wanted.

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When you stop believing in coincidence, paranoia is only a heartbeat away.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

"When You Hear the Thunder . . "

Today marks the fourth anniversary of the death of The Who bassist John Entwistle. "The Ox," as Entwistle was known, pioneered electric rock bass, and with Keith Moon formed the most devastating rhythm section in rock history. He died only one day before The Who were to launch their North American tour. If you've seen their performance in The Concert for New York City, you can tell it was going to be a major comeback. This man is in my personal Mount Rushmore.

Here is a nice eulogy delivered at his memorial service. What a cool guy he was.

The Official John Entwistle Homepage.

Now sit down, boys and girls. It's time for your motherfucking bass lesson . . .

"When you hear the thunder, think of John Entwistle . . . "

Saturday, June 24, 2006

I Fired My Muse

  • I saw a girl at the store who wore those britches that have words written across the ass. Her ass read "Juicy." What with all the wiggling and twitching, it was hard to read, and I tried not to look, honestly I did, but I like to read, and I considered the text across her bouncing butt to be a challenge, so I accepted. Really, though, is "Juicy" the word you want associated with your tushie? Sounds like something you would see the doctor for. Consider synonyms for "juicy": dank, dewey, dripping, humid, oozy, pulpy . . . okay I'll stop.
  • I'm considering marketing my own line of pants with the phrase "meaty, beaty, big and bouncy" across the ass. Anyone care to test market it for me??
  • We converted half our basement into a little movie theater. We purchased a home theater projector, painted half a wall with movie screen paint and it works pretty slick. We tested it out by watching Star Wars. What I love about that movie is that whenever I see it, I am 6-years-old again, sitting in the Sun Theater in Holdrege, Nebraska, with eyes wide open in wonder, scarcely able to believe that people could create something so awe-inspiring. Few things take me back so vividly. I'll always be grateful to George Lucas for that.
  • Al Gore recently told Larry King that the debate over global warming in the scientific community is "completely over." Well, no it isn't, but I like the tactic Al is using: simply declare the argument over. I'm going to try this with Mrs. Jimmy. "Honey, the debate is completely over." I'll let you know how it goes.
  • My girls don't like flies. They're scared of them. One entered the dining room while they ate, and Abby said, "Daddy, get the bug." Laura said, with deep conviction in her voice, "Daddy'll get it." So, chest swelling, nostrils flaring and clutching the rolled-up Sunday paper, I bravely set forth to kill a creature about one millionth my size. After several whiffs, I decided I was never going to win. So, I loudly swatted the counter and proclaimed myself the winner. The girls cheered me, and then the fly reappeared. The girls frowned and said, "Daddy, you didn't get it." This is why you don't lie.
  • Oculolinctus refers to the act of licking a partner's eyeball for sexual arousal.
  • Bizarre headline of the day: "Anna Nicole Smith's Former Stepson Dead at 67."
  • I fired my muse. I had grown too dependent on her. Her name is Cindy. Not sure how she got that name. She has long red hair. She is the subject of a painting that used to hang in our office. She sits in a boat. The look on her face is mysterious. She could be sad or angry or about to laugh. You just can't tell. She is still in the house, only in the bedroom now. She had grown unreliable, and I had grown tired of waiting for inspiration to come to me. I've shifted to the Jack London school of thought: "Don't wait for inspiration, go after it with a club." Now, in Cindy's place is a stark print of the Mary Celeste. It's a reminder to me that life is mysterious, and I love the mystery.
Have a mysterious weekend.

Monday, June 19, 2006


Check out Cosmotions for some of the coolest time-lapse gifs ever.

A Voice from the Past

Recently, while cleaning out old files and boxes, I came across this letter from my grandma, gone 6 years this November. I miss her. It was nice to talk to her again.

Mon. P.M.

Dear Tracey & Jim,

So nice to have you out here for a visit.
I saw this article in the paper and thought you might like to look at it. I wonder how our "Cornhuskers" will do now in the Big 12? I hope they keep doing good.
It's cloudy and gloomy here today, hope we get a little rain out of it.


Granma C

Sunday, June 18, 2006

A Funny Thing Happened at the Store . . .

  • I was in the checkout lane at the grocery store earlier today, and the young lady behind the counter wished me a "Happy Father's Day." Reflexively, I said, "You, too!" Then I had to explain that I didn't mean to imply that she was somebody's father.
  • I was in another checkout lane today, and when the checker was done scanning my items, she pointed to the items belonging to the lady behind me and asked if we were together. I said no, then turned to the lady and said "we must make a convincing couple." She gasped, laughed, harrumphed, hiccuped, wheezed and said "I'm much too old for you." Boy, that was much more fun than I had anticipated.
  • It seems that the Bush administration is secretly pushing a North American Superstate outside of Congressional oversight. It is being formulated in the NAFTA office in the Department of Commerce. Now we know why Congress is foot-dragging the illegal immigration issue. We'll all be citizens of the North American Union before we know it, so there's no point deporting anyone.
  • Speaking of Bush, he complimented a White House reporter on his new scarf . . . we call 'em neckties, George.
  • At a concert in Omaha, Bright Eyes singer Conor Oberst referred to President Bush as an "idiot." Wow, Conor. What astute political analysis. I'm not saying I disagree with you, but please make a better effort if you want to mix in politics. We're not all starstruck 14-year-olds.
  • Speaking of singers-who-run-their-mouths, am I the only one who feels it's time for the Dixie Chicks to come down off of their cross? I might feel sympathy if they'd said anything intelligent, but like Conor, it was just a vacuous insult. I agree that the response was overblown, but for different reasons. I found it ridiculous that they wrapped themselves in the American flag as heroines of the First Amendment over such a stupid comment. It was an offense to real martyrs of free speech who paid the ultimate price for saying things that were truly important. You're "Not Ready to Make Nice" Natalie? Fair enough, but I'm Not Ready to Give a Whooly Shit.
  • Speaking of music: I heard "Wild, Wild West" on the radio today, and took note of the lyric "heading for the 90s, living in the wild, wild west." Crickey, remember when we were "heading for the 90s"? The End of the Innocence.
  • I heard Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me" in the grocery store, and she must have re-recorded the song. She sounded like she was drunk, stoned and crying at the same time. It was very, very bad.
  • I've decided that "Won't Get Fooled Again" is the most perfect rock song ever. The evidence: Rebellious lyrics ("the hypnotized never lie"), thundering bass line, the primal scream, meaty guitar riffs, Keith Moon drum solo. I rest my case.
  • A lesbian artist in Ontario is serving up breast milk cocktails. No, really. She will interview all donors to decide the right type of glass to use to highlight the uniqueness of each woman's milk. Make mine a pina colada.
  • I saw a plump girl in the store today wearing a (too small) shirt that read "Husky Cheerleader." Honey, I'd change mascots if I were you.
  • Well, here I am. A dad. Only creatures as proud and tough as us could survive repeated (accidental) blows to the testicles. Here's to the dads.
Well, I'm off to watch a Disney movie with my family. Life is good. Have a great weekend.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

You Weren't Doing Anything Important, Anyway

At a cool blog, The Voice of the Munkey, I came across a site where you can create your own Picasso. You can see my piece of crap here.

The Welcome Wagon Rides Again!

The water must be good, because another good friend of mine has lept into the blogger pool. Defiantly Damned (that's an alias, Davis), has her own blog now. Again, feel free to stop by and say hello if you're so moved.

Monday, June 12, 2006

"Flowers Cry in the Morning"

  • Wow. Times flies. I've been busy nonstop for the last few days, and I've been remiss in keeping up with y'all, but now I'm here to make up for it. It's late. The family is in bed, and there's no one here to supervise me. I believe I'll borrow Tree's "stream-of-consciousness" blogging. Here goes:
  • I hate protesters. The obnoxious kind. I hate their chanting and yelling and cute little rhyming slogans that wouldn't withstand a ounce of logical scrutiny and their over-the-top emotionalism and downright intimidation. I don't care what their results are.
  • Although there is no science to back this up that I'm aware of, I remain convinced that putting hands on a steering wheel causes a serious rotting of the brain cells. Examples are too numerous to mention.
  • My daughter, Laura, likes to sing, and she'll just sing out any combination of words that come to mind. Yesterday morning, she suddenly sang out, "flowers cry in the morning." She's a singer and a poet!
  • Today, I was in the grocery store, and got stuck behind "can't make up her mind woman." They're just jugs of milk, lady, pick one. Then I had the thought that maybe people like that have to choose carefully, because the asshole she's married to might beat the shit out of her if she makes the wrong choice. Kind of morbid, I know, but I still wonder.
  • Well, I'm up way too late. I'll see all of you on my rounds.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

"A Rainbow of Fire."

Look at his circumhorizon arc (or rainbow). It looks like a painting.

Monday, June 05, 2006

I Need a Hoe

Today, I strolled through Menard's, looking for a hoe. They had hoes on sale, and I'm always down for a cheap hoe. I walked up and down the aisles, but couldn't find a damn hoe anywhere. Just when I thought there wasn't a damn hoe in the sto', I found an employee. He was white, with white hair and looked to be about 55. I asked him where I could find the hoes that were on sale. He gave me a blank look. "Your ad says you have hoes on sale." Still looking blankly. "No hoes today?" Finally, a look of recognition. "Oh! Hoes! You mean like a garden hoe?" he asked, pantomiming garden hoe use. "Yeah," I say, "a garden hoe." He showed me where all the hoes where. I took the cheapest one. True story.

Jim-Bob Says "Check It Out!"

My friend, Kristin, has started her own blog. Kristin is famous in Jimmy lore, for it is she who took the photo of my spandex-clad ass. So you have her to thank (or blame). Anyway, I told her we have the coolest posse on the net, so swing by and say hello when you have a minute.

Yes, Man. Uh, I Mean "Ma'am."

I'll bet the toilet lids are always down where these ladies live.