Clowning Around

Obama, Obama, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

AmbiguousClown — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 21:10:51 GMT

Today marks the end of my support for Mr. Obama. If granting Telecom companies immunity and helping Dubya cover up his crimes is Mr. Obama's new kind of politics, count me out. Shame on you, Barack Obama and your fellow 20 Democratic turncoats. This is simply more of the same spineless capitulation that has stultified the progressive agenda for a generation. You are no progressive, Barack Obama, nor will your same old kind of politics help to create any gains. Go back to that beach and work on your modeling career. Rule of law? Not in the United States. We only know how to talk a good game, and impose ourselves on others. Who's ready for a peaceful revolution? Democrats aren't going to save you, ever. They are as beyond hope as Republicans. Our Constitution appears to be beyond hope as well. It's time for a new one.

The Pope Gets Kinky

AmbiguousClown — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 14:13:59 GMT

Did you see the "Holy Father" had a private meeting with sex abuse victims? Can you imagine how cool it must be to be molested by God's personal representative himself? Yee haw! What's that you say? The Clown is going to hell? As if ...

McCaint, Sharpton & Robertson, Oh My!

AmbiguousClown — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 16:47:30 GMT

So the good Senator wants to eliminate gas taxes this summer. What is he smoking, and where can I get some? The Earth burns while Republicans fiddle. And now for something completely different and disturbing, have you seen this? http://www.wecansolveit.org/page/s/unlikelyalliance I'm not sure why this creeps me out so much, but Mrs. Clown had the exact same reaction.

Magic & Loss -- The Summation

AmbiguousClown — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 00:15:44 GMT

I love this song, and it is the best way I can describe the past several months trying to take the leap into entrepreneurship. It looks like a business transaction is eminent. Have I finally passed through the fire to the light? Magic & Loss - The Summation Lou Reed, circa 1989 When you pass through the fire, you pass through humble You pass through a maze of self doubt When you pass through humble, the lights can blind you Some people never figure that out You pass through arrogance, you pass through hurt You pass through an ever present past And it’s best not to wait for luck to save you Pass through the fire to the light Pass through the fire to the light Pass through the fire to the light It’s best not to wait for luck to save you Pass through the fire to the light As you pass through the fire, your right hand waving There are things you have to throw out That caustic dread inside your head Will never help you out You have to be very strong, ’cause you’ll start from zero Over and over again And as the smoke clears there’s an all consuming fire Lying straight ahead Lying straight ahead Lying straight ahead As the smoke clears there’s an all consuming fire Lying straight ahead They say no one person can do it all But you want to in your head But you can’t be shakespeare and you can’t be joyce So what is left instead You’re stuck with yourself and a rage that can hurt you You have to start at the beginning again And just this moment this wonderful fire Started up again When you pass through humble, when you pass through sickly When you pass through I’m better than you all When you pass through anger and self deprecation And have the strength to acknowledge it all When the past makes you laugh and you can savor the magic That let you survive your own war You find that that fire is passion And there’s a door up ahead not a wall As you pass through fire as you pass through fire Trying to remember it’s name When you pass through fire licking at your lips You cannot remain the same And if the building’s burning move towards that door But don’t put the flames out There’s a bit of magic in everything And then some loss to even things out Some loss to even things out Some loss to even things out There’s a bit of magic in everything And then some loss to even things out

Evil Clown?

AmbiguousClown — Thu, 23 Aug 2007 13:54:01 GMT

Today I have 666 profile views. That is all.

Our First Playa Adventure

AmbiguousClown — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 00:29:37 GMT

My paternal grandfather died at the ripe old age of 95 in January, so Chris and I packed up a few things and headed off to California for a long weekend. As we approached Winnemucca from Boise, I thought I'd try to find the shortcut between Winnemucca and Black Rock City. I found Jungo Road easily enough, and immediately thought that we should give it a try on the way home. Yes, I knew the road's reputation, and no, I hadn't taken ANY precautions before leaving Boise. I knew it was a risky proposition, but how many times would we have the opportunity to see the playa in winter? I somehow convinced Chris that this would be a Good Idea, and we did take minimal precautions before heading home: we told my dad where we'd be going and when to expect a call from Winnemucca, and we packed enough food and liquid to last about 3 days. We arrived in Gerlach around noon, and headed to the gas station for more specific directions. We were greeted by a friendly, mostly toothless man who told me I'd need to take the southern route that goes along the edge of the playa, because it wasn't good to head across the playa in winter. Fair enough. He mentioned that I should have at least two spares to make the trip. "Yeah yeah, I know," I thought. He mentioned that the people at the mines weren't particularly friendly, and I told him we weren't planning on asking for a tour. We were off. Our route had us hugging the edge of the playa for quite a while, and then seemed to be veering away from it, so we went back two or three miles to one ot the small BLM roads. We arrived at a place marked with a sign: NOBLES TRAIL - HOT SPRINGS "Such a scene I never wish to see again as is being enacted here, loose cattle which ... can't get (grass or water) ... are nearly crazy, those that can are running about in all directions ... bellowing. - James Berry Brown, Sept. 13, 1859. There were still plenty of cattle around, but they appear to have calmed down since then. The springs contained a lawn chair in it, so someone must still use it. But not us; too much cow shit in the immediate area, and we know enough not to mess with unfamilar hot springs around the playa. We still had a bit of a walk to the playa. It was below freezing and blowing. We crossed the railroad tracks as one of the frequent trains approached, blaring its horn as the conductor must have seen us ahead. We made our way through a gap in the barbed wire fence, paused to wave at the conductor, and continued our trek. Once there we did what any sensible virgin burners would do: we stripped off our clothes and took pictures of each other! Cold but fun, check out my profile pix if you want a peek. We continued on our way. As we snaked along the Hycroft mine, we saw a couple of signs facing the west (we were eastbound), so we stopped to take a look. This was the intersection with the access road to the mine. Here's where we get to the picture above. The yellow directional sign has been painted with "Burning" above the arrow and "Man" underneath. We thought this was great -- time for another photo! The first shot is the one with my arm raised. I'm making some kind of silly face. But, the camera jammed. It had been giving us some trouble due to the extreme conditions. As Chris tried resetting the camera, I looked over at the truck and noticed that the right rear tire was flat. Major buzz kill. I posed for the second shot, but this time I'm just standing there thinking "What now?" I break the news to Chris, then head over to the truck. Yep, it's flat. Real flat. I look at the spare and remember that it has a lock on it, the key to which I long ago lost. But it didn't matter, because the spare tire was flat, too. At this point we looked up at the mine entrance and were surprised to see some activity there. It was only about 300 yards from the truck, so we headed that way while Chris informed me in no uncertain terms that, contrary to our normal roles in interacting with people, I was to do all the talking. Thoughts of Laurel & Hardy danced in my head ("... another fine mess ..."). There were two men near the gate, one of them working furiously with a weed burner. Outside the gate sat two fifth wheel trailers and a fenced "yard" containing several slobbering, snuffling, snarling pug dogs. I approached the fellow who was watching, I explained our predicament, and he explained his -- it was cold enough that their water supply had frozen, and José, a Basque cowboy type, was working to thaw it out. The man and his wife work as security guards along the perimiter of the mine. I learned that José was the man who just might be able to help me, but I'd have to talk to him. The good news was that the mine had a tire shop, and José had the key. Soon enough, the water was flowing again. I quipped that I hadn't expected to find a Burning Man celebration out there at this time of year. José was a man of few words. "I understand you might be able to help me with a flat tire," I said. "Maybe." He finished up his task, then started using three-syllable sentences, a big improvement. "Where's the truck?" "Right down there, see? It's dirty and gray, so blends in a little." "That a Ford?" "Yes." "5-hole pattern?" "Yes." "I'll be back". With that, José drove off. The man's wife was also there, and despite the toothless man's warning, these people were just plain friendly. They probably don't get too many visitors out there. They insisted on inviting us in for coffee. There was barely enough room for us to turn around, let alone the dogs, but we were grateful for the kindness and company. It turns out that they moved out there for a six-month gig and have been there for six years now. The man explained how he used to get flat tires all the time between Sulphur & Winnemucca until he bought some kind of super high ply Toyo tires. It took about a half hour, but José finally returned and I rushed out to learn the news. "It ain't much, but it holds air." I think this was the longest sentence José spoke. I was elated. "It" was a wheel with a tire on it, all inflated and ready to go. When we reached the truck, I opened the hood and started retrieving the jack. Before I could find the jack handle, José pulled a hydraulic floor jack out of his 2006 Super Duty Ford truck. I was happy but feeling more and more stupid and inadequate. Except that José's hydraulic jack appeared to have run dry. "No problem, I have my jack," I think to myself. But of course I can't find the goddamn handle anywhere. As I start rummaging through the rear seat of the (extended cab) truck, Jose came to the rescue again with the handle from his truck. This time he allowed me the honor of jacking up the truck. I knew I had a good lug nut wrench underneath the driver's seat of my truck, not that it would have normally done me much good without a jack handle. But before I could even stand up to retrieve it, back came José with a cordless drill and the right adapter. José is undoubtedly working late this weekend, eager to get home to his family in Winnemucca. He's just putzed around with a frozen well, then helped some idiot with his truck. We're just about all finished with the truck when he asks me if he wants him to follow us to Winnemucca! With all due respect to the toothless guy in Gerlach, there is nothing unhelpful about Nevada miners. I didn't have much cash on me, so I gave José $10 and wrote him a check for an additional $20. I asked him how to return the tire and wheel once we got to Winnemucca. "It ain't worth nothin'." "I know, but you saved me, and if I return it you might be able to do the same again." He told me to drop it off at the OK Tire Store. "Just tell 'em it's a Hycroft tire." Of course we didn't take José up on his generous offer to follow us. I planned on taking it nice and slow, given the sharp rocks and the completely bald tire. In the worst case we'd be right where we'd been an hour or two before, and there was actually plenty of traffic on the road if you didn't mind hooking up with Winnemucca delinquents driving large pickups, probably stopping along the way for some donuts on the playa. As we neared Winnemucca, we finally began to relax and fired up another bowl. No more buzz kill. I remembered that Winnemucca has a Wal-Mart, so we headed that way. The tire shop was closed, but we learned it would be open bright and early on Sunday. Say what you will about Wal-Mart, but I was sure happy we didn't need to wait until Monday! The Wal-Mart is on a dead-end road, just above the main drag on the west side of town. I pulled out of the parking lot, making the right turn onto the access road. What do I see in front of me but a cop parked on the other side of the road who hits his lights. Drives behind us, spins around and stops us. Great luck. Hoping the fumes had dissipated adequately, I cracked the window just enough to hand out my license and registration. The fine officer informs me that I failed to stop at the stop sign when I made the right turn at the edge of the parking lot. You know, the one with the dead-end road to the left from which there could have been no approaching traffic. I've read horror stories of cops harassing burners on the way home from BRC, so I was just a little worried. I remember Chris straining to lean over to say something to the officer. I instinctively knew that she was doing this because she's a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman, while I have long curly hair, was wearing a tie-dye t-shirt, and probably looked like a madman by this point. I apologized to the officer, told him how tired I was from our ordeal and that we just need a hotel room for the night. I am completely shocked when he lets me off with a warning. In thirty years of driving, I believe this was my first warning. Chris gets all the credit. Anticlimactic end of story: we found a room, smoked another bowl, got up the next morning, got the new tire, and headed home without incident. Our first playa adventure! P.S. I now have a new spare tire and my own compact hydraulic floor jack. I don't know if I'll risk the short-cut again, but I'd sure love to stop by the mine and give that nice couple something nice. It's mighty tempting, but only if I get a second wheel and spare tire between now and then. P.P.S. José never did cash the check.

Gay Activists Can't Have It Both Ways

AmbiguousClown — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 18:26:16 GMT

No pun intended, of course. Ahem. NY Times reports today on backlash to the study of gay sheep. < http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/25/science/25sheep.html > Picked up by Slate's Human Nature column as well. < http://www.slate.com/id/2158015/ > The problem here is the insistence by many in the gay community that their gayness is genetic. This argument is a double-edged sword, and we are now seeing the other edge. We need to reframe the argument solely in terms of civil rights. It doesn't matter why people are gay, straight, or bisexual. What matters is that an ostensibly secular state cannot play favorites. No gay-bashing here. I am happily bisexual and started working on behalf of gay rights during California's 1978's Briggs Initiative fight. Yeah, I'm that old. -- Clown