The Bridge

Sunday night I watched the documentary "The Bridge" directed by Kevin Steele. For an entire year Steele and his crew which he gathered from postings on Craigslist filmed the Golden Gate Bridge. Their intent was to catch people jumping on film. They did just that.

In 2004, 24 people choose to end their lives by jumping off that bridge. There was at least one each month. It's the most popular place in the world for people to willingly end their lives. It was an amazing documentary. It wasn't gross or disturbing. It was just very, very moving.

This picture to the left was from the movie. It was taken by a photographer who was just getting some snaps of the bridge and Alcatraz. While doing this he noticed this woman climbing over the rail. He started taking pictures of her. Then he realized what she was about to do. He put aside his camera and leaned over the rail to grab hold of her jacket. He pulled her to safety. Which you can see from the footage the filmmakers got.

The sad part about this is that it's the exception to the rule. As you can see from the film most people just walk by and don't even notice there is anyone sitting on the rail. Or if they do, they just don't care. I believe if more of us would leave our bubble of self pity and hatred and fear, we could do some more jacket grabbing. Maybe we could even save someone. Maybe even ourselves.

Various Clicks And Whurs Signaling Our Demise

Sometimes I'm just not funny. Scratch that. I'm not funny most of the time. However, there is a good reason for this:

My life contains almost no drama.

I have realized that most good comedy comes from drama of some sort. "Guess what this douchbag did today" or "My girlfriends friends are such bitches" or some other such mundane crap are just not feelings that I feel. Call me heartless. Call me a robot. Fuck that! I hate fucking robots! Don't call me a fucking robot.

Yeah, I get pretty angry about the world and sometimes when I notice someone doing something insane it makes me want to smack them in the mouth but I have a hard time turning those priceless comedy fertile moments into actual giggles.

Wait.

Maybe it is just because I'm not funny. Maybe.

On a totally different note, Tuesday was Pakistan's 60th birthday. I made them a card. It took me several sweaty minutes to slap this together. Is there anything better in the world than a homespun birthday card? Yes.

The Greatest Night Of My Life???

Michelle took me out for some sushi tonight. FUCK!!! That is sooooo awesome!

Sushi is seriously fucking amazing. If you don't like sushi it is because you are an asshat. True story.

We did some Shawn storytelling. We ate a bunch of jazz. Then when I got home and checked the mail.......

THIS



It's the Dil Chahta Hai soundtrack. I've wanted to own this for years. If you haven't seen this movie then you have not seen the greatest movie ever made, Bollywood or Hollywood. It's freakin amazing. Go now and get it from Netflix.

Go you fucks.

Fucking go.

Holy Moses!

These people just had their 17th child. Fuck me. They have more children than people I know. If it turns out they are christian, I will put a plastic bag over my head until I collapse. Please don't wake me. I long for deaths sweet embrace. Long for it.

The One Where I Talk About My Feelings

I feel lonely. At one point in time it seemed that nothing would break up my group of friends. After all we had been together since high school. Over the past few years things have changed. People have surprised me. They are married with kids. They either live or will soon be living in places with names like Sunnyvale or California. I know it's all part of getting older. It's all part of time. Objects moving through space. Soon my grandmother will be dead. My brother will be who knows where. Somebody stop this crazy ass ride. I want to get off. Seriously.



Sorry if you don't laugh. We can't always be Bill Cosby. Unless we are Bill Cosby. In which case, it would probably get old being Bill Cosby. Pudding.

Don't ask why. Just embrace it. It makes me smile.

The Real "Harry" Blockbuster Of the Summer

Harry Turtledove - Settling Accounts (Book 4): In At The Death

I just got home with this. It wasn't supposed to come out until tomorrow but I guess the people at Barnes & Noble don't give a flying fucktasticle flip about that. That's fine with me.

As soon as I'm finished posting this, it's off to my bed where I will read and read and read and read until I fall asleep.

For those of you not in the know:

This is the 11th and final book in the Timeline - 191 series in which Turtledove ponders what might have happened had the C.S.A. won the Civil War.

Here is what the publisher has to say:

Franklin Roosevelt is the assistant secretary of defense. Thomas Dewey is running for president with a blunt-speaking Missourian named Harry Truman at his side. Britain holds onto its desperate alliance with the USA’s worst enemy, while a holocaust unfolds in Texas. In Harry Turtledove’s compelling, disturbing, and extraordinarily vivid reshaping of American history, a war of secession has triggered a generation of madness. The tipping point has come at last.

The third war in sixty years, this one yet unnamed: a grinding, horrifying series of hostilities and atrocities between two nations sharing the same continent and both calling themselves Americans. At the dawn of 1944, the United States has beaten back a daredevil blitzkrieg from the Confederate States–and a terrible new genie is out of history’s bottle: a bomb that may destroy on a scale never imagined before. In Europe, the new weapon has shattered a stalemate between Germany, England, and Russia. When the trigger is pulled in America, nothing will be the same again.

With visionary brilliance, Harry Turtledove brings to a climactic conclusion his monumental, acclaimed drama of a nation’s tragedy and the men and women who play their roles–with valor, fear, and folly–on history’s greatest stage.

Basically, if you are not a big time history nerd then you would probably not find this any better than eating a table spoon full of butter.

However, I care. A great deal. And now I must go crap my pants.

The Anger Ball Speaks or How To Avoid Sexually Transmitted Diseases

It has recently been brought to my attention that I may resemble a fiery ball of hate and resentment and bitterness. I promise, that is not who I am.

I'm just really crestfallen when it come to the world and the humans who seem to be in control of it. The only way I can keep from stepping in front of the frowny train and its load of sadness, worry and self-doubt is to turn my own spiral of unhappiness into salty tears of wretched morbidity for others.

Sorry.

Remember:

Happiness is not a fish that you can catch but herpes is. And you can catch it from a transient named Herbert when he asks you if you can spare some change and instead of doing like you normally do and kicking him until he passes out, you blow him behind the Piggly Wiggly just for shits and giggles.

Watch out for hobos. They will give you herpes.

The End.