Keyword Fun Time Super Happy Extended Edition (Humboldt Pony Girls and Shirley Temple Naked)

Regular readers know that about once a month I like to see what has drawn people to this blog, which has probably the most diverse and strange readership of all my blogs.  So, without further ado ...

Let's start with disgraced crazy Congressman Daniel Wu, the man who dressed like a tiger and sent e-mails that supposedly came from his kids.  People are interested in this cat, and here's what brought them here: daniel wu tiger; tiger wu; congressman wu tiger (which sounds like someone's real name); "david wu" tiger; +wu + tiger; congressman tiger; congressman wu fucked her (apparently someone wanted to see what kind of gal a human tiger with a drinking problem likes to sink his teeth into); and david wu in tiger (if there is a David Wu out there I feel kind of bad for him).  I wrote one post on this guy, and he's still bringing me readers.  Thanks, Crazy Congressman.  Send me an e-mail sometime (from you, not your kids).  Maybe we can do an interview.

Random searches.  These are just the ones that aren't creepy and aren't sex related that keep popping up.  They are usually so random and exact that I can't really figure out why anyone type that into a search engine.  Taco Bell now hiring Juan (did Taco Bell have some huge "Juan" hiring drive?); japanese war mouth satan open mouth tattoo (that is a mouthful of Satan); "I love nightmares"; Adam Levine bulge (looks like my mom is on the computer again); child spanking art (yes, she is back on); dolphin mall live anchor 
(I cannot imagine what this is); fight the power shirley temple (Shirley Temple comes up in a ton of searches that results in hits on my site; again -- one post does the trick);  make your teeth show when your mouth is open (I must admit that Internet has really proved helpful for people who don't understand just how their bodies work); nih male researchers in drag; pg&e gate combination lock; planet terror shooting; police use scare tactics on drug dealers; sick step vans for sale; and finally woman with open mouth makeup.  Troubling.

When it comes to sex searches, pony girls have a whole separate group of their own for searches (like Shirely Temple).  The pony sex store (located on 101 just north of the carousel!); teen ponygirl stories (I think I may write some for my Kindle publishing venture; probably a bigger seller than the starvation fetish story); spanking ponygirl (bad pony!); sex shop pony (aisle five right next to the Shirley Temple dolls); ponygirl starter kit (I am in the wrong fucking business); ponygirl puppy (you are mixing your fetishes); pony girls working; pleasure pony (this may have nothing to do with pony girls, but I'm including it with the thought that it is); humboldt ponygirl (some people come for the redwoods, some the pot, others for the pony girl -- and, yes, there is one I know of); human pony girl carry man; free sex human pony girl (can you get her with blue money?); filmy human ponies (I like my human ponies not covered in film); where can I girl human pony (you can learn that in the classroom next to the English as a Second Language room); and pony girl walking (Really?  This is what you want to see?).  There are a ton more searches for pony girl sex shops and human pony girls (instead of the alien ones).  Kind of depressing when you think about it.

Pure sex searches have their fans, too.  After all the pony girl stuff it's enough to make me feel normal.  Blood come girl lips in love (I actually like the way the words play off each other); masturbating under a bridge; artwork naked woman fucked by horse; girl masturbating under the bridge (his first search brought up the wrong results); human chick sex; humboldt county girls getting fucked (Have you seen a lot of the Humboldt County girls?  A quick trip to Southern Humboldt will cure any desire to see this sort of thing.); masturbate during labor (I bet this is the first thing ladies are thinking about during labor.  "You know, this would be a great time to rub myself."); Mickey Mouse naked; realty amateur porn (the real estate market is very known for this); and video porno teen ager al sex shop (oh, the spelling).  Thank you, perverts.

Nazis and National Socialists have gotten a lot of search hits on my blog, too.  Whats the meaning of swasticas weird (yeah, "swasticas" are weird); swastika 8 bit; nazi symbols and naked girls (I think this was me accidentally hitting up my own site); nazi slut (again, me); nazi girl art; nazi children torture sex (all the disturbing words rolled into one smooth search); naked nazi girl (back to me); national socialist pedophilia; and finally, child star nazi (that fucking Dakota Fanning comes up everywhere).

Last, but not least, are the searches that kind of give me the creeps.  Yeah, some of the sex and Nazi ones are creepy in their own right, but people are weird, so I get it.  These searches, though, just kind of send a chill down the spine.  Martyrs Doug Brunell (I've written about this film a lot, but if you've seen it the last thing you want is your name being associated in a search for it); bloom county strung folks like me up by their intestines (Wow.  Just wow.); creepy magic mountain clowns (fairly redundant search); I saw my boss dead body (This did happen to me, but why would someone else be searching for this?); lesser devil girl's high school (awesome title for a movie -- if it isn't one already); telephone "choking"; and the last one, the coup de grace: the strange case of dad's missing head.

The Internet is full of wonderfully strange shut-ins with far too much time on their hands.


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The World According to Humboldt Hippies

Seen in a park in Arcata. Poor horse.

According to some, I'm a bit harsh on Humboldt hippies.  The reality is: I'm harsh to all hippies, save a select few.  They are throwbacks to an age when hygiene and ideas weren't all that important and it was all about "vibes."  My favorite hippies lived out in the desert and got all creepy crawly.  In my opinion, Manson's happy little group also signified the "end" of the hippies.  A public, already distrustful of the longhairs who discarded their draft cards and bras, now had every reason in the world to believe all their fears.  Hippies would kill them and leave something witchy in their wake.

In Humboldt County, we've still got hippies.  They're in Eureka, Garberville, Arcata (especially Arcata) -- everywhere.  They are like Tea Party Parrots: carrying poorly worded signs, spouting nonsense, living off trust funds, and calling for the downfall of the government while living off it.  That's actually not why I dislike them so much.  It's because so many of them are so fake, in a transit period between high school and becoming insurance salesmen.  They sit on the corner with their dogs, their acoustic guitars and a plea for help.  Perhaps they sell overpriced hemp jewelry and say things like, "Have a blessed, sunny day."

And the music really sucks.

Turn on, tune in, stab repeatedly.

When I see them walking around town with baggy, patchwork pants in three different earth tones, dog at their side held in place by a hemp rope, I wonder what drew them here.  Yeah, it's the pot, the organic foods movement and the perceived liberal attitude.  I believe it's also the sense of escape.  They come to a place on the far edge of the country, a place that accepts them and their ways.  We do, of course.  We accept most people here who aren't overly violent.  Seeing them at the farmers markets doesn't even warrant a second glance.  Old people smile at them, finding them quaint.  They have forgotten about a pregnant Sharon Tate stabbed to death, her blood used as a warning and a catalyst for a race war.  No.  These youngin's are tree hugging, bong loving throwbacks, and we love it.  It's part of what makes Humboldt Humboldt.  The way I see it, though, the Manson incident isn't that far fetched or unbelievable.  Like the Tea Party Parrots, when you believe odd things, you do odd things.  Hippies belief that all is peace and love on the planet goes against every law of nature.  It's a nice pipe dream, but it leaves you open to attack and persuasion.  The actions of Manson and the government proved that.

The hippies have been credited with many things: the rise in STDs, the end of Vietnam, the popularity of patchouli.  They had their hand in all those (well, patchouli they pretty much owned).  There is one other thing they and the times they came from have been credited with that hasn't gotten as much coverage as it should have.  The rise of pedophilia in the Catholic Church.

"Let me put on a little Country Joe and the Fish."

That's right, the Catholic Church, in a study it requested on the rise of sexual abuse of children by its priest places the blame squarely in the lap of the '60s counterculture.  The permissive attitude in the country that called for free love, questioning authority and dropping acid also apparently called for priests to fuck children.  I believe that sparked the People's Park incident.  It all makes perfect sense when you see how the '60s influenced the church in so many other ways.  The tie dye robes the priests wear.  The playing of "Age of Aquarius" during Mass.  The smoking of pot.  Yes, it all makes perfect sense.

I don't dislike the hippies because they like to stab pregnant girls or inspired priests to fondle children.  No, I just really hate patchouli.

Humboldt's Internet/Telephone Outage Leaves Four Dead

I was in Garberville (much more on that later) manning an outstation.  It was hot.  I was in pain.  The odor of sweat and pot wafted through the air.  I had pulled into town with Nashville Pussy's "Struttin' Cock," which was appropriate.  Now it was after lunch (during which time I had tripped on the uneven sidewalk while walking to get a burrito) and it was hotter ... and the computer program I was using went down.  I called into the Eureka office in attempt to see if they were going through the same thing there.  All the lines were busy.  This was not good.

By the time I made it back to civilization, I learned that the Internet and phone service was out for most of the county.  I first heard it was due to solar flares.  Later it was tied to those fuckwads at AT&T.  Figures.  My cell phone is still down, though I've heard various reasons as to why.  My other phone and Internet is back up, however.  In the meantime, nobody could get through to 911, you know, in case grandma keeled over or something.  As far as I know, four people didn't die, but it's only a matter of time before one of these outages does leave someone dead.  A lot of people don't have land lines anymore.  Even if they did, and Suddenlink was their provider, they had no phone.  If you can't call out, you can't call 911.  If you can't call 911, you run the risk of dying.  Perhaps the psychotic ex, the one you have a restraining order against, comes barging in and you don't own a gun and aren't good with a blade.  Maybe you feel your chest tighten and have just enough strength to get to the front door.  Maybe you're waking up from a nap and the right side of your body has gone limp.  Maybe your kid starts going into convulsions and you don't have a car.  Either way, it's obvious Humboldt County needs some alternatives to one lone fiber optic line.  It's the equivalent of two cans and a string, and it's not working.

Hey, if I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd say between this and the chemical exposure at Kay Jewelers in the Bayshore Mall it would seem like a dry run for a terrorist attack.  At the very least, the fiber optic line is a good target for anyone looking to cripple the county.

The Internet is back.  Most phones are back up and running.  And this incident will soon be forgotten ... until it happens again in a few months.  Humboldt needs to stop relying on AT&T and start looking at other alternatives.  AT&T can't keep customers more than a few months, let alone run efficient fiber optic lines.  I got rid of the company a few years ago.  Here's to hoping the people of Humboldt decide to do the same.

Give 'Em More Rope

After the debt ceiling debate collapsed into a frenzy of masturbation climaxing in the orgasm brought on by a head trauma victim casting her vote, you'd expect there to be some sort of fall out.  We weren't rioting in the streets demanding action, but you'd have to at least hope that Americans weren't placated by the fact that a committee of 12 overpaid, corporate whore cocksuckers were overseeing the future of America's financial security.  When you don't have a riot, you find the anger in one other place: the polls.

Various polls are showing people are pissed at all elected officials, including those happily ignorant Tea Party Parrots.  I'm tempted to send them mini-nooses and razor blades with a note implying that the only thing they are good for is business at the funeral parlor.  After all, part of the reason this debate went on so long is that the Tea Party Parrots acted like little kids at the playground, unwilling to compromise and pissing their pants.  The honorable thing to do, the right thing to do, is immolation on the steps of the Capitol.  The black smoke, the stench of burning meat -- hell, I'd be roasting hot dogs on the flames.  If we won't hang them (and they won't do it themselves), the least they can do is burn.  It seems only fair.  Senior citizens were terrified of being cut off, with reason, too.  Scaring old people is something for the nightly news to do, not elected officials.  Before this all they had to worry about was Regis Philbin retiring, leaving that "hussy" Kelly to hold down the fort.

The polls, of course, mean nothing.  As a nation, we are quick to forget.  As a people, we are loathe to take action.  We're more concerned with where Tiger Woods has placed penis than we are over our financial futures.  

Of course, there's always sabotage to show your disapproval.  These elected officials have people working for them.  They buy food at restaurants.  They get their mail delivered.  Never underestimate the power of one person with the urge to right wrongs.  One man planted one logic bomb in a computer system at Bank of America which caused payroll to disappear and supervisors to lose their jobs.  Imagine the fun to be had with your representatives.

Chemicals in the Mall

There is a general complaint that nothing exciting ever happens in Humboldt County.  There is some validity to that complaint.  We have a population of pot smokers who love reggae.  How exciting could it possibly get when that is your demographic?  A bong breaks or there's a protest over homophobic lyrics or something.  Breathtaking.  Today, however, the lack of excitement reached new lows of boredom with an incident that could've been ripe with possibilities.

A hazmat team.  The Bayshore Mall.

No, Al Qaeda didn't strike.  (Though, if you folks are looking for targets, I have a list I'd like to give you.) F.Y.E., that poorly named "entertainment hub," wasn't running some kind of promo that went south.  Instead, two people near the Kay Jeweler store (jewelry for boring middle class folks) reported some kind of exposure to chemicals that left them with rashes and sore throats.  The Times-Standard, your home to stories on pedophilia, reported this around two, while KIEM (the network Jim Bernard built) mentioned that it was an exposure in Kay Jeweler to something that may have been pepper spray, and that a few people needed medical attention.

Yawn.  A chemical scare in a shopping center should always be a somewhat exciting story, but this happened with all the passion of a Masterpiece Theatre introduction.  There wasn't even any good speculation.  An angry customer spraying the display cases.  A disgruntled employee sending off a shot or two into the air ducts or swabbing the door knob to the office.  A political protest against blood diamonds.  Anything!  Instead, there is the usual collective shrug of the shoulders and the incident will be forgotten about in a week or so.  Oh, who am I kidding?  Pot.  Short term memory loss.  People have already forgotten about it.

Irritants, both organic and chemical, are great ways to send a message.  Be it hot sauce gently placed on the door to the men's room, or a piece of raw chicken hidden somewhere in a room.  They can wreak havoc and be hard to detect.  By the time anyone realizes they are there, it's too late.  Just ask Japanese subway riders.  They can tell you.  Well, some of them can.

Instead of worrying about this, though, the news is reported with little in the way of how the hazmat response was or what the cause could have been.  Accident?  Attack?  Revenge?  It doesn't merit a mention.  In fact, a chemical exposure story that brings out a hazmat team and requires medical attention (warranted or not) is reported on the same level as an announcement from the rotary club.

The exposure was probably nothing.  Not a test run for terrorists.  Not a customer pissed about being overcharged for bland jewelry.  Not an employee upset over a performance evaluation.  It was probably just a mistake.  A woman bumped her purse against a counter and some pepper spray went off.  For a moment, though, upon hearing the news, I thought something exciting could've been happening.  Not earthquake exciting or even Wayne Adam Ford exciting ("Hi.  I'd like to turn myself in.  I've been offing women.  Here's a breast."), but exciting nonetheless.  Protesters over the proposed Wal-Mart.  An out of control going out of business sale at Border's.  For a scant few seconds I thought, "Finally.  Something of interest.  The hazmat team gets to actually do something other than clean up a meth lab.  The mall gets covered in the news for something other than a store closing.  And Humboldt now possibly gets to join the ranks of places like Halabja, only on a smaller scale."  Reality came back to me, though.  Even if it were some kind of attack, our local authorities would be too dumb to realize it, and our reporters too lazy to cover it.

Eh, it's Humboldt.  Nobody cares.

Teeth Marks in the Face

Two hours of sleep.  A lot of coffee.  A ton of editing (doing my review of The Kingdom of Survival).  Job hunting.  Waffling on deleting my Facebook account.  News.  Very surreal.  Outside, earlier, I could hear the whisk of the tires of passing cars on the wet pavement.  I love that sound.

Watched Made in Britain last night with Girl.  Good, angry movie.  Tim Roth as a sixteen-year-old British skin.  Defiant.  Stubborn.  Stupid.

In my editing and writing during the wee, dark hours of the morning, I was researching the usual stuff I research.  In this case, a lot of butchered bodies so I could get my descriptions right.  I realized from reading some comments posted on them, that there are far too many people who view the autopsy table and its remnants as little more than pornography.  Should give all those single ladies out there a little shudder.

Newport Beach.  Symbolic.  A teen at the beach digs a deep hole.  The hole collapses around him and he is buried alive.  After thirty minutes he is dug out and lives to dig more holes.  Defiant.  Stubborn.  Stupid.

Last week on the early version of Today, a female newscaster said she wasn't being a "good consumer" because she hadn't seen a film in the theatre in quite some time.  When you call yourself a "consumer" you aren't being a good human.  Thanks for commodifying myself.  You saved corporations the trouble of doing it for you.  At least you know your place.

Watching the applause for the debt ceiling fiasco should've driven a point home that had been made perfectly clear in the weeks leading up to it: The people in charge play fast and loose with the futures of the people who put them there because they can.  They are not to be trusted, and they should not be employed.  But really, who is going to win the World Series?  That's the important question, right?  Blah.  If there is one collective thought running through the surprisingly empty heads of our elected officials it is: Thank God our citizens aren't Greek.