JLee posted this meme on her blog. Basically, someone e-mailed her five questions, she posted them and the answers, and then invited her readers to comment asking to receive five questions themselves, which they then posted and answered. So, if any of you want me to ask you five questions for your own blogs--or for my own edification--you should comment. Or, if you don't want your e-mail address floating around in cyberspace, e-mail me.

Anyway, JLee's questions and my answers.

1. If you could join any band (any time in history) which would you choose?
This is an interesting question. On the one hand, the obvious answer is The Smashing Pumpkins. But, on the other hand, it would suck to be Billy Corgan's bitch, even if you would get to play some of the best songs ever with him. So what band would be fun to be in but would also allow for some creative expression? Radiohead might be fun, but they don't really do badass rock guitar solos, which I'd want to do. So who, then? Weezer? The Pixies? Maybe the Stones?

2. Would you choose to be the most talented, smartest, or most handsome man in the world? (You can't say "all of the above" lol)
Definitely the smartest. Beauty fades, and talent is overrated. I mean, being the most amazing guitarist or singer or painter or whatever would be cool, but it wouldn't be important. On the other hand, being the smartest man in the world would set me up to do some really important things. Barack Obama's super smart, and he's got the whole world believing in America again. Bill Gates is really smart, and he's the biggest philanthropist the world has ever known. Intelligence opens doors that talent and good looks just can't, and it can help other people in a real, meaningful way. So I'd go with being the smartest person in the world.

3. What is your dream car?
My dream attainable car is an Infiniti G37 coupe. That thing is badass, although I think I liked the looks of the G35 a little more.

4. What pet did you have growing up?
I had two, a little black and white dog with huge ears named Penguin and a white lab named Blanca. They were friggin' awesome. Or, well, mostly Blanca was. I cried when she died.

5. Would you rather be independently wealthy or be satisfied in a career you love?
Are these two mutually exclusive? I guess it doesn't really matter--I'd choose to be independently wealthy in either case. I mean, who wouldn't? I'd live on a giant yacht and sail around the world, solving mysteries and seducing exotic women. Who'd choose some job over that?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , The Smashing Pumpkins

Hilarious:

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Funny Shit , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

Lately, I've been really into cooking. Specifically, I've been all about learning to cook new delicious things, especially given that I can count the number of recipes I know off the top of my head on one hand. And I wouldn't even need all of that hand's fingers. So, yeah, I've been trying to expand my culinary vernacular.

I started with a simple breakfast that's fairly obvious but that I had never made before. I threw some olive oil in a pan, followed that with some onions, and then added some Yukon gold potatoes. After that went for a while, I took some brats, peeled off the casing, chopped them up, and threw those in with everything else. When that was all cooked up, I put it on a plate and threw some fried eggs on top. It was fucking simple and delicious.

Then, last night, I decided to go for broke. Struck by inspiration while at the store with RPM, I bought some asparagus, blue cheese, and a big steak. When I got it all I looked in my fridge and realized that I had some bacon. So I cooked up the bacon, fried up the asparagus in the bacon grease, and made some mashed potatoes. Then I threw blue cheese and bacon in the mashed potatoes. Then I cooked the steak for about three seconds per side. I even plated the whole thing in a very attractive manner when I was done.

In the end, it was pretty good. Not excellent, though. I can definitely make some improvements when i make it again. But, still, I took a shot in the dark on dinner and it paid off. I was pleased.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

For no reason, I'm thinking about names. Actually, I'm thinking about names because I was randomly thinking of one of my favorite books, One-Hundred Years of Solitude. Those of you who've read it know that although there are maybe a hundred characters in that book, there are a grand total of about three names. There are literally somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty characters named Aureliano. It's awesome.

Anyway, that got me thinking about how I generally like the idea of repeating names through generations. I lament the fact that although my actual middle name--Ismael--has been used several times in my family, my real first name has not. In fact, my real first name is in complete wrong language. I feel like it sticks out.

Ismael isn't the only cool name in my family, either. I have relatives named Ezequiel, Catalino, Efrain, Noel, and Edel, for example. Even in Spanish-speaking countries, I think these names are pretty cool. In America, they're even cooler because they sound different. I think names like Thomas, James, and William are really boring. And who would name a kid George? I mean, that name just sucks--and not merely because of presidential associations. It's just such a boring name.

The women in my family have not fared as well as the men, in my opinion. My mom's name is Felipa, although she legally changed it to Phyllis when she became a citizen. I love my mom, but I don't like either one of those names. My aunt is named Juana. I mean, how much more generic can you get if you're, you know, Mexican? My cousins names are Gloria and Gabriela. Again, I love my cousins very much, but I'm not a fan of their names. My grandma's name is Ygnacia. Again, I'm just not that big a fan.

So, yeah. If I have daughters, it's gonna be a challenge to come up with a good, dignified name with any history in my family. But sons--they're covered. I can't wait for little Ismael Catalino Tapia to run around kicking ass and taking names.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

My feud with Charter is second only to my feud with UPS. You could say that Charter is like the General Zod to UPS's Lex Luthor. Right. Anyway, when I last tangled with my dastardly foe, I told them to go shove it because they refused to waive a stupid, made-up fee they had decided to charge me. I told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were the worst company in the history of the universe and that I would never do business with them again.

This apparently did not resonate with Charter, as I have gotten at least one piece of junk mail from them per week since I canceled my services with them. I wasn't surprised, therefore, when I opened my mailbox and found another piece of mail from Charter in there. But, upon closer inspection, I realized that it wasn't an ordinary piece of junk. For starters, this thing had my actual name on it. So I opened up the envelope. inside I found Charter's most insulting communication yet, a piece of correspondence so utterly infuriating that it is nothing short of an act of war. What did I find inside the envelope? A check. How can a check be insulting? I'll show you:

That, my friends, is how a check can be insulting. Charter claims that they owed me a refund or something, but nine cents doesn't even come close to covering what they owe me in terms of time and frustration. Hell, nine fucking cents won't even cover the cost of gas to drive to my fucking bank to deposit this motherfucker.

But this aggression will not stand, dudes. See, Charter probably sent out a fuck load of these checks, and probably assumed that most of the people that got them wouldn't cash them because, really, who gives a fuck about nine cents. Working from that assumption, they probably calculated how much these refunds are actually going to cost them and concluded that they won't cost shit. But fuck them. I'm cashing my check. I'm cashing my check with a vengeance.

So, seriously, if you got one of these fucking things, cash the fuck out of it.

You'll never beat me, Charter. You're a second-rate villain at best.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

There's no way that Barack Obama won't disappoint me. I mean, there just isn't. Let's put it this way: I'm sorta disappointed that he didn't reveal himself as the Messiah immediately after taking the oath. But, while I definitely expect more from the man than any human being can possibly deliver, I also recognize that my expectations are ridiculous. If I step back and think about it, I think that President Obama will probably be a very good president, but that he'll make some mistakes. His approval rating will fall from where it is right now, obviously. But I think--I hope, anyway--that it'll be a long time before all the good will and unity that Americans and the rest of the world showed today fades. The last time I felt like so many people were on the same side of something was in the aftermath of September 11th. It's nice to know that something good can bring everyone together, too.

But while I expect a lot from the Obama Administration, and while I think that he's going to go down as one of the best presidents, the thing I'm most excited about doesn't have anything to do with his personality but with one of his best ideas. Specifically, i hope that the divisive, ridiculous, awful politics that have marked the past few presidential terms will come to an end or will, at the very least, diminish.

Tom Brokaw was talking during the inauguration coverage about how the discourse in Washington thirty years ago was just different than it is now. There were Republicans and there were Democrats, but there wasn't the vitriol that defines the two-party system today. That's what Brokaw said, anyway--I wasn't there then, so I don't know.

But even in the short period during which I have been politically aware, things have gone from bad to worse. Bill Clinton is renowned for his ability to reach compromises, but the fact of the matter is that he was also a sleazebag. He should have resigned from office not because he had committed high crimes or misdemeanors but simply because the Presidency--with a capital "P"--is not something you drag through a sex scandal. The fact that his wife was going around accusing people of being part of a vast right-wing conspiracy didn't help.

Neither, of course, did the Congressional response to the whole thing. Just as the person who occupies the Oval Office should have enough regard for the office to keep his business in his pants, the Congress should know that the power to impeach a president should be used only in the most dire circumstances.

And, of course, things only got worse during the Bush Administration. Yes, conservatives played a huge role in that. I mean, the personalities on Fox News are very often nothing short of appalling. And Rovian political tactics . . . . well, they suck.

But Democrats are just as guilty, in my view. A few years ago, I was talking to a friend of mine, and she was telling me that a single friend of hers had met a very nice man. He was polite, successful, attractive, and he treated her well. But, my friend told me, there was a problem. She was a Democrat, and he was a Republican. "How is that a problem?" I asked. And my friend said to me "He's a Republican!" She said the word "Republican" with more hatred than I can muster even for a UPS delivery man. It didn't matter that he was great in every other way, it just mattered, to my friend, at least, that he was a Republican.

This was not an isolated incident. Many of my friends and acquaintances have expressed similar views. And what annoys me is that this view is so clearly, demonstrably false.

No person, party, or ideology has all the answers. As President Obama said today, it's not about big government or small government, safety or freedom, or left or right. It's not about finding the answer and then being smart, loud, persuasive, and numerous enough to convince everyone else. Instead, it's about working together to find the answer, and then working together to implement the answer, and then working together to find new answers to the new problems that come up as a result of the first answer. It's about working together.

I hope that all of President Obama's rhetoric about ending the divisive nature of politics is more than just rhetoric. But even if it isn't, I hope that his election and inauguration themselves are enough to make our leaders and our friends accept--or at least consider--the notion that there is more that makes us the same than that makes us different.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Philosophical Rants , Political Rants , Rants on the News

So, I had another wacky dream last night. Or, well, this morning since I just woke up from it a few minutes ago.

Anyway, in my dream, I'm in the courtroom of a judge I'm before relatively frequently--Judge R, for those familiar with where I practice. Messers. Vice and RPM were there, too. So were lots of other people, but everyone besides us and the judge was Japanese. In fact, it was as if the courtroom had been turned into a Japanese game show. The judge was wearing a shiny blue robe and his hair style changed throughout the dream from one completely ridiculous wig to another.

Anyway, so we're sitting in the gallery surrounded by these Japanese people, and the judge is calling some of them down to the counsel tables. And it's almost like Price Is Right--everyone that gets called is excited to go down, except that the court is still doing actual business and imposing sentences and whatever.

But then the really strange thing is that whenever someone would go down to the counsel table, the judge would ask the person to pick a song. Then, the court reporter would use his little court-reporter machine to play a death-metal version of the song the person named. And he'd do that throughout whatever hearing was happening--while still making an accurate transcription of the proceedings.

So then it's my turn. He calls me and asks me what song i want, and I have no idea how to respond because I'm still trying to adjust to the fact that a judge is asking me what song I'd like his court reporter to do a death-metal cover of, so I say "I'll leave that to Your Honor's discretion." The judge and the court reporter talk amongst themselves and then the court reporter starts playing a death-metal version of The Smashing Pumpkins' "Today."

At which point my brain calls it a day and jolts me awake.

What the fuck is going on with my head?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , The Smashing Pumpkins

I'm told that it was extremely cold outside today. I wouldn't know--I didn't set foot outside my apartment a single time, and it was awesome.

The days have been long and boring lately. The cold has sequestered everyone in their own homes, and no one goes out or does anything. Not that there's anything to do.

Still, I'd like to leave my house every now and then. Not today. But, you know, sometimes.

I haven't even seen anything super interesting in the news lately. It's like I'm in a blog-material drought.

I'm working on some things, though. Soon, there will be things to read. Yay.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

I'm writing this on my laptop because my desktop has been infected by approximately forty-eight distinct viruses simultaneously. Although I'm running various scans, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to have any recourse other than to wipe the hard drive and reinstall the OS. It's been years since I've had to do that, so it's sort of overdue. Things are getting really disorganized and there are way too many programs installed.

Anyway, my friend Laurie-hole (given that entirely appropriate nickname by Co-SME) was here this weekend. We hadn't seen each other in a long time, but it was good to catch up and hang out. We went out to dinner and then to some bars with everyone on Saturday, and then RPM joined Laurie-hole and I for some brunch and a walk on the frozen lake on Sunday. It was fun.

Did you hear that, Lauren? Even Laurie came to visit. But you still haven't. I'm not angry, Lauren, I'm just disappointed. And hurt. Extremely hurt.

Where was I?

Oh, right--nowhere.

I had the most fucked-up dream I've ever had last night. In my dream, I woke up in bed, in my room, in the dark. I was instantly filled with an inexplicable sense of dread and fear. I heard moving and realized, to my horror, that I couldn't move myself. Things started to go down hill from there. I started sort of panicking and I became more and more desperate to move. I became aware that I was not alone. There were flashes of light from all directions. I looked out my bedroom door and saw that there were flashes of light coming form the living room. Then I saw that there was a figure standing in my bedroom doorway, silhouetted by the flashes coming from my living room. It was short and skinny, and I could see a scary glint coming from it's giant fucking eyes. It was one of those fucking aliens you always see crazy people draw!

I started really freaking the fuck out. But, at the same time, I somehow knew that it was a dream--it was too fucking fucked up not to be. Suddenly, I couldn't see anything other than a blinding white light everywhere. And I still couldn't move. I was grasping onto something, and I started grasping tighter. Then I realized that I was touching one of the fucking aliens, and that freaked me out even more. I tried to squeeze this thing's finger so that it would at least stop touching me, but it wouldn't move its hand--it wasn't scared of me at all.

I started trying to yell for help, but I couldn't make any sound louder than a whisper. I started mouthing the word "help" and kept trying to actually put some volume behind it, but I couldn't.

Finally, I gradually realized that I was actually awake and holding my pillow extremely tight. And I think I was actually saying "help." I sat up and looked around. There weren't any strange lights. The cats were asleep on the floor. I turned on all the lights and didn't go back to sleep for about half an hour.

I think I knew all along that it was a dream, and I definitely knew that when I woke up, but it was fucking scary nonetheless. i was extremely unsettled, even after half an hour of sitting in my living room with all the lights on.

I've mentioned before that i very rarely remember my dreams, and even when I do, I seldom remember having nightmares, so this one really took me by surprise.

Anyway, that's all that's happening.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Hanging Out With My Friends

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were fairly busy days. At the beginning of the week, Wednesday in particular looked like it was going to be a bitch. You see, Wednesday was the day of a motion hearing that's been months in the making. And I really wanted to win. On top of that, I had to drive to the middle of nowhere for another fairly big hearing. Oh, and I knew that I was going to have to spend Wednesday night prepping for my trial on Thursday. Oh, and I still had to find some way to cram four client visits in there. I wasn't dreading Wednesday--in fact, I was looking forward to the hearings. But I knew that it would be a giant ball of stress.

So here's what I did on Tuesday night. I stayed up late reading. Then I had the strangest dreams. But here's the one that takes the cake. At around 4am, either while dreaming or awake, I thought about something and I just couldn't let it go. And here's what I was thinking of: why does English have the both the word "instantly" and the word "instantaneously"?

Think about it. English has lots of synonyms, but this set is completely different. We have many words that mean "big," for example, but each of those words comes from somewhere else. It's not like big, huge, large, titanic, or humongous all come from the same word in Latin or something. And here's the other thing: each of those words has a slightly different meaning. I think, for example, that something that's "humongous" is bigger than something that's merely "big." It's like "humongous" means "very big," almost.

But look at instantly and instantaneously. They come from the exact same word--instant. And they have the exact same meaning. It's not like something that happens instantly happens fast, but something that happens instantaneously happens faster. No. They both mean that this thing happens without the passage of any time at all. So why do we have both of these words? What possible function can one serve when we already have the other?

That's what kept me up Wednesday morning. Not all the things I was about to do that actually mattered, but the existence of two words at least one of which is completely worthless.

And here's my other thought about English: the letters Q and X are completely worthless. They are without worth. Each of those letters can be replaced with some combination of C, K, or S. But we keep them. Why? Why?

These things honestly bother me.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants

Those fucking fucks at UPS are at it again.

I was expecting a package today, but I knew that I wasn't going to be home in time to be here when they tried to deliver it. So I was prepared for another fight with these worthless fucks.

Here, now, is the timeline of how this shit went down.

6:58: I come home, see that UPS has left a sticker on my door, take it, and go to UPS.com to arrange to pick up my package tonight.

6:59: UPS.com has completely failed. The InfoNotice number that I am specifically told to use on the notice on my door keeps coming back as invalid. I make sure that I've typed it correctly. I have. I try again. Invalid. I try to insert the spaces that are on the notice. It comes back invalid. I try the actual tracking number provided by Amazon. It works, but the webpage says that the package is still out for delivery, which is clearly not true.

7:01: I initiate a phone call with UPS.

7:12: After eleven minutes of holding, I finally speak to a real person. Here, in abbreviated form, is our conversation:

The guy: Hello, how can I help you this evening?
Me: I'd like to get my package, please.
The guy: Ok, can I get your name?
Me: [I give him my name, address, and other information].
The guy: Alright, it looks like we made a delivery attempt tonight at 6:50. I can go ahead and set up a pickup for you. It'll be ready for you tomorrow between--
Me: No, I want to pick it up tonight.
The guy: I'm sorry, sir, but you've missed the window to set up a same-day pickup.
Me: When does that window close?
The guy: You're in the Central time zone?
Me: Yes.
The guy: Then 7pm.
Me: What time is it right now?
The guy: About 7:15, sir.
Me: And you attempted to deliver it at what time?
The guy: 6:50, sir.
Me: Ok, and I logged onto your webpage right around 7, and then called your phone number right around 7:02, and then I was on hold forever, and now I'm talking to you. So it seems to me like I missed the window you created because your webpage sucked and then you had me on hold forever. Now, make it so that I can get my package tonight.
The guy: I'm sorry, sir, but the package just isn't available tonight.
Me: It's unavailable?
The guy: Yes, sir.
Me: It's in a truck somewhere right now heading towards the UPS facility, right?
The guy: Yes.
Me: And when it gets there, there are going to be people there to unload the truck, right?
The guy: Yes.
Me: And at least one of those people is going to be sitting in the lobby of the UPS facility waiting for people to come in and claim their packages, right?
The guy: Yes, sir, but--
Me: So then it seems like my package is absolutely available, it's just that you refuse to give it to me. You're holding my property hostage!
The guy: Sir, we're not holding your property hostage. It's just that the package is not available for you to pick up tonight--
Me: That's just not true! If you're going to use words, make sure you know what they mean! The package is right there! Someone could give it to me, but you won't.
The guy: Sir, if you'll just allow me to explain how this works.
Me: Go right ahead.
The guy: The UPS facility close at six--
Me: That's not true.
The guy: The UPS facility closes at six--
Me: That's not true! I have gone to there after six and picked up packages. The door is open. There are people there. It is not closed.
The guy: It closes at six and then people are allowed inside during a very narrow window--
Me: You mean it's open?
The guy: Sir, it closes at 6.
Me: That's the second time you completely misuse a word! You're just lying to me now!

Things went downhill from there. Finally, I asked to speak to his supervisor. I was put right back on hold.

7:25: After the guy came on several times to apologize for making me wait for a supervisor so long, I finally spoke to someone. She asked how I could help, and I calmly explained that I would appreciate it if she could arrange for me to pick up my package tonight. She asked me if I realized it was after 7:00. I said that I did and that I wanted to pick it up, anyway. She said she'd call the facility and let me know. She put me on hold. Within a few minutes, she came back and said that she'd spoken to them and that my package would be waiting for me about about 8:10.

7:30: I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize. I answer, and it's the UPS guy. He asks if I just arranged to pick up a package. I said I did. He said that he had just spoken to the driver and that the driver was still in my neighborhood and could drop my package off in a few minutes if I was going to be home. I said that would be great, and thanked him.

7:36: My doorbell rings, I answer it, and I get my package.

Now, you might think that this late-in-the-game attempt at making things up to me might change my attitude towards UPS. But it does not. You see, UPS demonstrated that they have the ability to not only to sidestep their ridiculous protocols and procedures, but to actually contact a driver, find out if he's near the missed delivery location, and see if he'd be able to stop by and make that delivery. And they also clearly demonstrated that they 7:00 deadline for arranging same-day pickups is an artificial, nonsensical time limit that serves no purpose other than to make some people wait until the next day to get their packages just because they were at work.

And they also demonstrated that they have absolutely no regard for the English language or the meaning of words.

So I say again: Fuck you, UPS.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 7:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Horribly Inappropriate Things I've Said , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

As is my custom, I bought a horrible book for the flight back from Los Angeles. I find that nothing passes the time better than a ridiculous tale of international intrigue, ancient mysteries, and furtive glances. The particular book that I bought, though, was terrible even by the standards of its genre. It was The Alexandria Link by some douchebag named Steve Berry.

Still, my need to know what happens next drove me to finish the thing. When I was done, I literally wanted to throw the thing int he trash--something I've never even considered doing with any book.

But I started thinking: how hard could it be to write one of these things? Not very hard at all, apparently. Therefore, here's the synopsis to my first novel, which I hope will be the first of a series.

Adonis Stone is an ex-government operative that left his high-security-clearance intelligence job to pursue a quiet life as a professor of ancient languages and advanced computer decryption at some prestigious university in New England. But things get extremely complicated when Sophia--the daughter he hasn't spoken to in years--sends him a cryptic e-mail about Atlantis, the pyramids, and Henry Ford. Most disturbingly, however, the e-mail suggests that Sophia is in some sort of danger. We follow Stone as he has to call in favors from his old friends in the intelligence community to get to the bottom of a centuries-old mystery that ties together the Knights Templar, Ashton Kutcher, and the Aurora Borealis.

Along the way, Stone meets up with his old friend Albert Pennywinkle Worthington Smith XII, a wealthy Briton with a well-developed interest in booze, women, and centuries-old mysteries that could rock the very foundation of Western civilization. Smith also has some sort of disfigurement or disability or something. And he's known as "the Twelfth" to his friends. Imagine the possibilities. Sample passage:

Stone set his jaw as if he had finally made a decision about their next step and put the car in gear. He started driving towards the outskirts of London, careful not to draw the attention of the bobbies.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her chest still rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath after the firefight they'd just been in.
"To see a friend," he said.
"A friend? Who?" she asked. He kept his eyes on the road, his face's strong features betraying only a fraction of his weariness. She couldn't help but wonder how many other women had felt about him the way she felt right now.
"The Twelfth," he said. [Chapter break]

Anyway, so The Twelfth appears to double-cross Stone at one point, but it turns out that he was actually protecting Stone from a second conspiracy lead by anti-Semitic werewolves. But then you find out that The Twelfth was actually only protecting Stone from the second conspiracy in order to preserve his own, third conspiracy, which depended on Stone successfully figuring out the first conspiracy. Because you see, even though The Twelfth figured out the second and third conspiracies (distinguished by the notation C' and C''), he was unable to figure out the first conspiracy--even though his own plan depended on details of the first conspiracy (simply C) that he couldn't have known at the time.

In the end, Stone finds his daughter inside of Ayers Rock, only to find out not only that she's actually The Twelfth's daughter but also that she's working for the anti-Semitic werewolves because she's a werewolf herself. Or something. At that point things get really convoluted, but that's cool--I'll throw in some Christian iconography and some titties and it'll all work out.

Then, after some ground-shaking revelation, I make it clear that the secret will remain burried. That way, when readers are done reading, they'll think "Wow, that could absolutely be happening in real life--we wouldn't know!" It would go something like this:

Stone stood there, holding the Shroud of Turin--a relic that he only now was beginning to understand--and the flash drive that spelled out how the whole of Earth's history had been manipulated by unseen hands. He looked at his old friend. The Twelfth held the two other pieces of the puzzle--the dinosaur bone and Columbus's sextant.
"No one can ever know," he said.
Stone looked at Sophia. She looked back at him with a mixture of disdain and understanding. She set her jaw, indicating that she had made up her mind. He didn't care what genetics said--that woman was his daughter.
"He's right," she said.
He knew that they were right and that the world simply couldn't handle the truth of what they had uncovered. But he wondered how he could go back to his normal life now that he knew the truth. He toyed with the idea of writing a book about his experiences, but he knew that doing so would only further destabilize the relationship between all the world powers. Everyone that knew what had happened was dead. Everyone except the three of them.
He looked at The Twelfth again. Once, Stone thought he could trust him with his life. He knew better now, of course. But Stone also knew that The Twelfth would take this secret to his grave--his fortune depended on it.
As for Sophia, Stone knew that the werewolves would be back, but he also knew that Sophia would keep her word.
"Ok." He said. And he knew he'd never see either one of them again.

Oh man, I'm all excited.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit

I hadn't left the apartment all day. So I had no idea what to expect when I left to go to a show with RPM. That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was expecting that the ground would provide me with traction. Apparently, slow rain coupled with temperatures fluctuating between just below freezing and just above freezing means that the ground stops being the ground and starts being an exercise in high-school physics: for the sake of simplicity, we'll be ignoring friction in all of our calculations.

The result of this whole situation was that on literally the first step that I took outside of my building's door, I slipped and fell right on my ass. Which sucks because I had not fallen yet this year and had really hoped that things would stay that way. Now I'm paranoid that I'll fall again, but I managed to keep from having that happen in spite of the ice's best efforts to the contrary.

Anyway, the show was decent. The first band was some hillbilly punk band. They had a guitar, a stand-up bass, a mandolin, and a banjo. They were pretty "meh" as far as I was concerned.

The second band was much better. They were called either Old Panthers or Oh Panthers or something like that. Their songs were really good, up beat, rock sorts of things. With--gasp!--guitar solos and lead parts! I think it's a good sign any time you get really into a song you're hearing for the first time at a live performance, and I was definitely into a few of their songs. So that was good.

The headlining act was a band called the Buffalo Killers. They were . . . not my favorite. Their look was extremely retro. They all had really long hair and beards. It was really hard for me not to punch them. They sort of had a Neil Young wannabe sort of feel at times. Apparently they even covered one of his songs, although not one that I had heard before. In general, I was not impressed.

But it was fun, anyway. I love the High Noon Saloon.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Music Reviews , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry , Restaurant and Bar Reviews

So, I completely failed to record a Christmas carol this year. So I figured I'd do a New Year song. And my favorite New Year song, by far, is "A Long December."

So here it is. I kept it really simple and, more importantly, I think that the singing is pretty decent.

Let me know what you think.

The Lovers of Sight and Sound - A Long December

Anyway, 2008 was a great year. Mr. Vice and I started a business and didn't immediately fail. In fact, we did really well. I saw my family. I hung out with my friends almost constantly. The worst illness I had was a cold. And I'm richer now than I've ever been in my life. Which is a far cry from being rich, but I'm getting closer.

2009 promises to be an even better year. I'm excited.

I'm not making any resolutions this year, but I am setting some rather amorphous goals. First, I want to keep improving as an attorney. I have some things I'm good at and some things I'm less good at. I want to start working on the things I need to work on.

Second, I want to start saving money. As much of it as I can. My car's running great, but it's almost ten years old now. It'll die one day. And I want to buy a house eventually. So I need to start really saving up.

So, as I enter my second year as a practicing attorney--and as Here is No Why enters its fourth year as a blog--"A Long December" really sums things up: "A long December and there's reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last."

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , The Law Firm , The Lovers of Sight and Sound