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Tuesday, January 18th, 2005
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Christmas 2004. My parents also bought gifts for the family Chihuahua. Aparently my mother's the
sort of person that dresses up animals in clothing and convinces herself that they enjoy it. This is
a lapdog-sized rain slicker for when the dog has to do his business in the backyard during rainy
weather. I'm sure that wearing that thing will make urination a more comfortable ordeal for him.
The house on the corner from my parents' place wins city awards every year for best Christmas
decorations. It also keeps our city vampire-free during the entire month of December, and assists
incoming aircraft with their landing approach. I don't know, it's almost like... houses like this one
remind you it's Christmas-time every single night... whether you want to be reminded or not.
 
Ash's New Years' party, and the *Hot Ladies* from her basketball team that were in attendance.
Needless to say, mere days afterwards I finally attended one of her basketball games with Wendy as I'd
been promising to for several years. The party was a blast, as was Ash's 21st birthday party. I'd
always wondered why her parties were always so much... how do you say it? Oh, right... better
than mine, and then I noticed all the alcohol. I think that's the secret ingredient. In fact, Stacey
Parks, a teetotaler of some renown, recently came back in town from Florida and seemed far more...
jubilant somehow. Later, she told me that she'd started drinking while in Florida.
I think I'm on to something here.
Hot Pockets. Back to basics. Maybe some day I'll attempt to cook again, but for now the
newly-released 12-pack box with the revolutionary easy-open-dispense-o-lid has me hooked.
 
I spent the day hanging out with Wendy Lee, and she got into a fender bender by merging into a white
BMW that was behind her in the lane to her left, approaching quickly. I really, really want to make
some jokes about this, but being that Wendy Lee is both Asian and female... and short, and
young, and... well, gosh. It'd be hard to pull off without sounding incredibly racist/sexist/etc.
^.^
In December, I graduated from a Citizen's Police Academy course that I took here in the city of Santa
Clara. During a portion of the course, I had the opportunity to examine some specific police cases
which the media reported on with great inaccuracy. Very recently, a 22 year old guy was shot and
killed by the police here in Santa Clara. The guy was a classmate of mine from SCHS, and graduated
with me in 2001. I thought it'd be interesting to scrutinize the incident for factual discrepancies
to see how good (or bad?) of a job the media really does with these things.
This is a verbatim transcript I took of a KTVU news report on the incident, a video clip of which can
be viewed here: http://www.ktvu.com/station/4047262/detail.html
Santa Clara police are investigating a deadly confrontation involving police. It's the third such
police involved incident in the bay area this week. The most recent case happened early this morning
as officers say they tried to pull over a driver for a traffic violation. Tonight, the victim's
family is accusing police of overreacting. KTVU's Noreen Jaramillo is in Santa Clara now with the
latest. Noreen.
Well Julie, the shooting happened here near Clara Vista and Sierra Avenues... or Serra Avenues, and
this happens to be the same area, right across the street, in fact, where the victim's mother lives.
She says her son was on the way to her house when he was shot by police.
(Sue Reardon, victim's mother): "They Killed him! They murdered him!"
Sue Reardon says it was just after midnight when she heard something, looked out the window, and saw
her son, 22 year old Eric Kleemeyer, laying in the street.
(Sue Reardon, victim's mother): "I went back over to the corner, and I said 'that's my son, let me
see him, let me go to him' and they said 'no you can't go over there' and he had blood all over his
face, and he was just laying there..."
Police say it started when officers spotted an older model dodge driving recklessly down El Camino.
For two miles, officers say they tried to get the driver to stop, that is until police say the driver
rammed the car of a marked police SUV. Then, three officers involved in the pursuit opened fire.
(Lt. Jim Buchanan, SCPD): "Our policy only allows us to discharge our weapon when there's a fear
for our own lives, or to protect the lives of others."
A neighbor told me he heard nine shots, and never heard a LOUD collision. Kleemeyer's family and
friends say they don't believe he tried to hurt police.
(Sue Reardon, victim's mother): "You look at the cars, where can you see the ram marks? There's
no skid marks over there, um, there's no dents in the police car, there's no dent in his car..."
Kleimeyers mother says her son was driving on a suspended license, but did not deserve to die.
(Sue Reardon, victim's mother): "They could've done something else to stop him, instead of
shooting him! I mean, they shot him in the head, the chest, the stomach..."
The three officers involved in the shooting have been placed on administrative leave, pending the
outcome of an investigation.
My thoughts:
Now, before I saw this news report I'd gathered information from a variety of sources and formed what
I believe to be a reliable and completely factual account of what happened. My jaw literally dropped
when I watched this report. Essentially what happened is that earlier there was an unrelated fatal
accident on El Camino Blvd, and a number of officers were on foot processing the scene. Just past
midnight, the guy who wound up getting shot, Eric, drives his Dodge Dart within eyeshot of the cops
and starts doing donuts on El Camino Blvd. Now, Eric has a history of some drug use (hash, weed,
ecstasy) and has been arrested for driving recklessly, DUI, and leading the cops on a chase before.
While it hasn't yet been said whether he was intoxicated that night or not, given his history and the
fact that he was doing donuts on El Camino near the cops makes it seem like a strong possibility.
Anyhow, the cops are busy processing the scene of the fatal accident already, so they call in some
backup to pull over this guy driving recklessly in the Dodge Dart. So a black-and-white marked police
vehicle arrives and tries to pull him over, and he bolts for it. (Supposedly because he was driving
while his license was still suspended from those prior incidents, but possibly because he was
drunk/high as well and didn't want to get caught? If he was intoxicated, maybe that's why he made the
panic decision to run?) Anyhow, another police vehicle joins in the chase and they chase him for two
miles across a mixture of highway and residential streets. He starts driving toward his mother's
house, and even calls her on his cellphone during the chase to tell her what a mess he's gotten into.
Finally the police corner him on Serra Ave, and pull their vehicles up to block the road. Eric hits
the gas and tries to ram his way through the police roadblock, striking the marked police SUV on the
passenger side. The police respond by opening fire and killing the guy.
So by the textbook the officers involved did the right thing, the thing they were trained to do-
respond with deadly force to a suspect that's assaulting you with deadly force (ramming them with his
car). However, in the upcoming lawsuit by the family against the city and involved officers (which
occurs after every officer involved shooting,) the prosecution's case will hinge on appealing to the
compassion of the judge/jury ("That dodge dart was small, cop SUV's are big! So what if he rammed
him!" "He didn't even have a gun, did the cops really have to fire NINE SHOTS at him?" etc) and the
defense's case will hinge on common sense and fact ("A car ramming you is deadly force, a far more
damaging one than a bullet" "a vehicle is a deadly weapon when you run it head-on into someone" etc).
Anyhow, what really shocked me was just the appalling factual inaccuracy of the TV report. With a
police lieutenant on the scene, you have the facts... why omit them? Is it horrible form to defame
the dead? (Sure, they left out Eric's criminal record and only showed sound bytes of neighbors saying
how polite he was, but what shocked me is they completely failed to mention that he led the cops on a
CHASE altogether!) Does the media get off on sensationalizing police brutality? (The news has been
implying that this was the 3rd officer-involved fatality over the past three days in Santa Clara, when
in reality those incidents have been all over Santa Clara county... Santa Clara's last
officer-involved death was over *three years* ago!) Or is it a combination of factors, and ultimately
that playing up the drama of an incident makes for a better story?
Officers never, ever, EVER actually *WANT* to shoot a guy, certainly not some young 22 year old
guy that looks like a kid. Every time a cop pulls the trigger, he brings the animosity of the entire city down
upon himself and his department, lawsuits fly, and he faces a serious risk of losing his job. Cops are
*terrified* about having to shoot someone. The only time they'll do it is when they feel like they
have absolutely no other option.
... not to be insensitive to what happened. Frankly, I'd wonder what's wrong with the mother of this
guy if she wasn't furious at the police for shooting her son. It's her son, after all- how
could you not hate the person that took his life away from you?
I just think it's a shame that some people I know are so "out there" that they think that cops are
inhuman dogs that actually *enjoy* killing people, and not everyday Joe's like you or me that would
feel terrible about it. I'm guessing Eric's mom couldn't sleep a wink all week long, but I know that
those cops that shot him had a damned hard time, too.
It's a shitty situation, some kid got shot, and nobody's happy about it.
I was thinking earlier today about when I was working last month, and how the TV at my restaurant
was showing the news. The guilty verdict came up in the Scott Peterson case, and they announced
that he'd receive the death penalty. The restaurant was full of pampered, rich old stepford wives
that... I kid you not... actually cheered, clapped, and SQUEALED in GLEE to read that this guy
was going to be put to death. I mean, call me crazy, but it seems like a sad, solemn sort of occasion,
right? Aren't we supposed to be more civilized than the gladiatorial era, or are we still crying for blood
and vengeance? Even if Scott Peterson deserves death, it's not like it's going to bring back his wife or
child. Some people are just so... detached, and out of touch with reality that it's like they react
to it as if Bruce Willis just killed the German bad guy at the end of Die Hard. It's just theatre to
them. What was it a few years back, post-Columbine when the media was a-frenzy about how violent
videogames and movies made *CHILDREN* unable to distinguish the difference between fantasy and
reality? Oy vey.
The just-beat-the-game screen of "Police 911 2", a cops-and-robbers shootout arcade game that I beat a
few days ago at golfland:
RESULT REPORT
Time Taken To Finish The Case- 13 mins, 45 seconds
YOUR RANK- Assistant Chief
Number of Downs (times I was killed) - 11
Fellow Officers Accidentally Shot- 2
Bystanders Shot- 10
Accuracy Rate- 45.7%
YOUR POLICE APTITUDE- "C"
So, uh... maybe I shouldn't be ranting about all this stuff like I'm an... authority, or anything,
after all. ;]
-Dan
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, December 19th, 2004
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It's been over six months. This may take a while to load- nearly 1MB of photos follow. I'm
trying to elevate the patented Dan Maksim "Mega-Post" to the status of an art form.
Many things have occured. I moved out. Halloween has come and passed. Christmas lies shortly
ahead, and I'm not sure what my plans are. I yearn for my younger years where we'd all gather
around the plastic Christmas tree to attach it's branches and adorn it with festive tinsel, and
uncle Bill would make his special egg-nog out of bourbon and ice cubes. And then he'd get mad.
It came to my attention that this journal needed updating because, shockingly, I had a dozen or
so people haggle me about it, telling me how sick they were of looking at that damned Marie
Callender's appetizer platter. And so.. drumroll please...
JUNE
Presenting, the Carrow's appetizer platter. Included are egg things, chips of different colors
and I can only assume therefore are supposed to be of different flavors, or something... and, er,
shrimp things. Carrow's has certainly pulled themselves together recently- most of their
locations have undergone remodeling and it's not uncommon to see people under the age of 80
dining there now. However, the appetizer platter doesn't earn a lot of gold stars because it
makes those bumps rise on the roof of my mouth when I eat it. I think it's an allergic reaction
to something. I'd go in for an allergy test, but I have no health insurance now. I'd pay for
it, but for some reason the god-damned hospital refuses to recognize the Azerothian Gold Piece
as legal tender. (More on that later.)
I awoke early one morning to my mother asking me for my car keys. City workers needed to move
my car, she said. I assumed I was in the garbageman's way... trash pickup, something like that.
But no, they were re-paving the street. Guess where my dear mother moved my car to so that they
could get on with the paving.
...Thank you mom. For some reason, my job didn't believe me when I told them I was late because
my car was surrounded by an asphalt moat. I showed them this picture as proof. They said it
looked "doctored".
However, a local radio station was doing a promotion with our restaurant. We collected some
extra tickets to the pre-screening of Spider Man 2. When I arrived, the line around Mercado 20
stretched as far as the eye could see. They oversell these pre-screenings and hand out more
passes than they have seats, because they want to ensure a full house. My coworker Nathan spotted
me and gave me "cuts". If it weren't for him, I would've missed the flick... which was pretty
good. The cliffhanger ending left it open for a 3rd installment. I'd be happy to see *that* movie
for free as well... however, I'm becoming a little frustrated with Kirsten Dunst. This is why.
 
My sister Margie came home for a visit. It was something like her last visit before she took her
final vows to become a nun forever-and-ever-and-ever. We threw a big party for her, and it was
nice to see her.
... however, look at that. If I weren't battered by it and thus numbed to it in my childhood
years, I'd be envious. A patio full of dinner tables, hors d'oeuvres, suprise guests... *sigh*.
We share the same birthday, my sister and I- January 13th. Traditionally we'd celebrate with
a dual-party: She'd have a big slumber party and play with all of her little girlfriend's
My-Little-Ponies, have a nice big frilly pink cake, et cetera. I'd have a cupcake presented to
me at the end of the night's festivities with a single candle in it. I'd get kleenex and socks
as birthday gifts. However, my parents insisted that they loved us all equally and didn't play
favorites, despite the fact that she was the only girl. Oh, also, she used to gang up on me with
her girlfriends and dress me up in bunny-rabbit outfits, give me makeovers, and so on.
... but it's okay. I'm not... you know, bitter or anything. Nah. Or scarred. Hold on, I have
to go change my pet ferret's diaper. He keeps touching himself "there" and he doesn't care
that he's MAKING JESUS CRY.
JULY
Albertons has this great marketing strategy where they take name-brand items, and replicate them
exactly with a rip-off name and place their in-house brand next to it at a dramatically lower
price. What are you going to do, buy the Cocoa Puffs for $4.50 a box when you can get the exact
same thing with a different name for $2 less? I don't think so, man! I now own enough dried
cereal to survive me the nu-clear holocaust.
... Anyhow. Let me touch on the moving scenario briefly. Anybody close to me that cared to know
already does, but... anyway.
I was going to move out with my good friend Katie. We had an apartment all lined up, and were
ready to move in. However... I was seeing this girl, and... an awkward situation developed. o.O
Initially I tried to be OK with it, because I hated to let anything come in the way of my
friendship with Katie. We'd been good friends for several years- that's definately not
something that I find every day! However, I simply couldn't. I knew that cancelling
the move would mean trashing our friendship, but I became increasingly uncomfortable about the
idea of living with her when this was going on. So I called off the move. Katie was none too
happy with me, and told me never to call her or speak to her again. A 2+ year friendship down
the drain.
So Ashley took me out to a bar to get me liquored up. I was grateful. Boy, was she ever there
for a friend in need. =] Alcohol! What a marvelous solution to life's problems, hm?
The bar had a pornographic edition of that electronic "Photo Hunt" game where you try to spot 5
subtle difference between two nearly-identical photographs. For some reason, I didn't do quite
as well at this version as I usually do. (It must've been because I was drinking.)
When ashley drove me home and dropped me off, I stepped out of the car onto the street, and
realized... "Wow. That manhole has been in the street outside my house the entire time, and
I've never looked in there. Always wondered, though." I tried to use a claw-toothed hammer to
open the thing, but I don't think that would've worked even if I was sober.
... So we went to the garage and found a crowbar, thinking we might have better luck with that.
Somewhere along the way we lost track of our find-the-ninja-turtles objective, and I started
ranting and raving about this great videogame "Half Life" where you kill zombies with a crowbar
just like this one.
... and then it was the next morning. Come to think of it, we haven't hung out too frequently
since that night!
Anyhow! I found another roomate, and prepared to move. I decided that I'd have to sell my
beloved waterbed, because the things just aren't too portable. I instead opted for a futon.
(a decision I'd later regret... I forgot how nice heated waterbeds are during winter! >.<)
So I put an ad on craigslist, and received several immediate responses. These are the two guys
that bought my waterbed. The one on the left is holding a shot glass, because he asked for
some liquor when he arrived at my house.
... even though it's not my waterbed any more, is it weird for me to be a little disturbed and
wonder what it eventually got used for? o.O
Cathy and her beautiful little coyote, Star. I went to her birthday party on the 29th, and
haven't seen her all that much lately. Now... after I lost my friendship with Katie and moved
out with a new roomate, Scotty moved to the northern tip of California! (I know, how DARE he
without my approval! What nerve.) So... two best friends, gone. So I'm basically posting this
picture in hopes that she'll see it and it'll remind her that I do in fact exist and make her
feel horribly horribly guilty enough to hang out with me again despite the fact that
she has an overly posessive and jealous boyfriend. =)
AUGUST
So I moved out. I always wondered what it'd be like to get junk mail, and now I know. This
was my mailbox-stuffing from day one. You heard me. I received over FOURTEEN PIECES OF JUNK
MAIL after being in my new apartment for ONE... DAY. There's some conspiracy taking place.
The city must track you and send new occupants' addresses to the pennysaver, visa and credit
unions, viagra prescriptions anonymous, and the enlarge your penis foundation all
simultaneously, or something.
My parents left the area for a trip and they had asked Sarah, the girl that lives next door,
to dogsit our zany little chihuahua. Now, I'm of the opinion that my mom spoils this dog.
The photographs of him on my livejournal should lend credence ot this opinion, since it looks
like a fricking polish sausage on toothpicks. However, I realize now that she doesn't just
pamper the dog, but that the dog has actually replaced my mother-son relationship in the
household. The picture above is the instructions she gave sarah detailing the dog's care.
... that wasn't the only page.
The girl I ended up moving out with is named Kim. She works and goes to school fulltime, so
I never really see her at home. We did hang out one time, though. I was invited along to go
hottubbing under the stars at her uber-wealthy friend's house. So I found myself in this
hottub on a hillside adjacent to this mansion on the night of a meteor shower, sipping
cocktails and watching stars streak accross the sky. Late into the night we retired by falling
asleep on the roof in sleeping bags under the stars.
I couldn't help but think how nice it'd be to have a girl I loved next to me through the whole
thing, because... can you imagine a more romantic night? (Kim doesn't exactly count, as she's
my roomate and I absolutely refuse to let that kind of relationship complicate the roomate-roomate
situation.)
I got to thinking... "Hey, I've been moved out for a while now. I have my own car, my own place...
no curfew, no overbearing parents. And yet I haven't even celebrated this newfound freedom by
dating a girl and staying out into all hours of the night, or having a drunken LAN party at 3am,
or somesuch thing. Boy, am I missing out on a romantic facet of my life. It seems like ages
since I've gone on a date- and here I am in a hot tub under a sky full of shooting stars! I'm
wasting time! I need to live life to it's fullest!!"
But then Doom 3 came out and I forgot all about whatever it was that I was writing in the last
paragraph.
Feeding ducks outside my apartment. Duck poop can be a problem, so that's why this picture is
of me feeding the ducks on the grass in front of the neighboring apartments.
SEPTEMBER
My work threw a going-away party for a few coworkers who all eventually ended up returning.
I'm starting to wonder if my work is just a haven for alcoholics that're looking for an excuse
to indulge, you know? I don't remember taking this picture, either.
There was this other girl at the party who was telling me about her unsatisfactory bedroom
experiences with men. From the looks of the girl, she'd had plenty of opportunities to have a
good exeperience by now. I am utterly convinced that it is beyond men's capability to grasp
what a finesse instrument women are. Men fumble at female genetalia like a racoon trying to
get a candy bar out of a vending machine. It's reaching as hard as it can, struggling... it
can see it, it's there, but... just.. can't.. ugh.
I went to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk with a couple of friends at night. "Deep Fried Twinkies".
Apparently they do that.
  
When I moved out, I made a resolution to maintain a healthy diet. I didn't want to suffer the
malnutrition syndrome that most new bachelors seem to. So I set to work on creating my own
new signature dishes. This is the double-decker PBJ. Ingredients: Peanut Butter, Jelly, Knife,
bread thick enough to cut two slots into, plate.
 
This is my big brother Mike, who lives in San Diego. He came up for a visit to the bay area,
and I drove him around and he stayed at my place while he was in town. I was introduced to
his girlfriend Michelle, who was completely wasted when I met her. I figured she must be a
very sweet girl, but was just a little sloppy and loose-tongued because she was drunk.
First impressions aren't everything, yeah?
So then while I was driving them back home from San Francisco, they started messing around in
the back seat. Things got kind of disturbing, so I decided to intervene somehow. I aimed my
camera back towards the back seat, maneuvered into a vacant lane on the highway.... and in one
quick sequence, Slammed on the brakes, Swerved violently, screamed, and pressed the
shutter button on the camera. This is what i consider a classic "My big brother Mike messing
around in the back of my car suddenly startled to find that he's getting into a car accident"
face shot.
The one positive part of his visit is that at one point I had to drop Michelle off somewhere
in... oh... Monterey? Over an hour south of Santa Clara, at any rate. We dropped her off at
some rustic house in the boonies, and they had several painfully cute little terrier puppies!
*awwwww!* =P
...sickeningly cute, I know,
OCTOBER
I found a new nice little japenese-garden sort of park over by Deanza. I went there to meet
an online friend that'd I'd been talking to for a few weeks. It turned out that I actually
stumbled into a "fighter practice" for LARP'ers.
... for those of you that have sex on a regular basis, let me explain to you what this means.
There are people in this country that like to dress up in capes and tabbrds, and galavant about,
frolicking in the forrest (or, in worse cases, through your local community college campus) and
hit each other with big foam swords.
... I guess they were trying to make me feel included. But somehow, I just can't hold a decent
conversation with a guy named "Glondar" where I contribute much.
I filled in for some girl at work. Parked on the street. Was too tired to notice the sign the
city had posted. Street repaved. Car impounded. Work told me that I already used that excuse.
When monitors explode they make a nice click and popping sound, and then they stink really badly.
I found a replacement by buying the refurbished, used display-model 19" CRT monitor at Fry's
electronics. When I got it home, I found out that the power button doesn't work. For those of
you unfamiliar with computer hardware, imagine if you bought a flashlight with no flash.
Imagine a waterski with no water. Imagine a taco without the C or O. All you've got is "tuh".
The theatres in the Pruneyard occasionally show classic movies. In October, they showed "Back
to the Future", a movie I grew up on and watched a hundred times in my youth! I called all of
my friends, told all of my coworkers, spread the word. I must've invited 50 people. Number
of attendees?
... one.
... (it was me.)
So I don't know whether this means that people don't like the movie (which is hard to imagine!)
or whether I suck. I assumed the latter and was having a crappy time waiting for the movie to
start. Fortunately, I was able to keep occupied because there was a showcase of Delorians outside
of the theatre! It was fantastic looking at all of them, until I recognized Xarph and Sean as
the owners of one of the cars. Sean is this guy in his late 20's that my first love/girlfriend
left me for when I was 16. Now I don't hold anything against the guy, and I don't really get
worked up about it anymore since it was five years ago... but what a crappy night, huh? It
would've been nice to have *one* person come along that I invited, out of the several dozen. o.o
Well, that's my gripey crappy whiney portion, there. I think I know what my friend Scotty would
say if I were talking to him. "Aww.. I'm sorry, Dan! You know what always cheers me up? Huh? Do
ya? ... Laughing at other people's misfortune! HAHAHAHAAHA!!"
Well, SCREW YOU, Scotty. You only learned that line because you saw it in a Futurama episode...
which I GAVE TO YOU! That's right, In your FACE!
So, yeah. The experience has not left me socially devoid or anything where I hold conversations
with myself. No, definately nothing like that. =)
Ashley (the other one) came over to my apartment, and got hooked on The Sims 2. This game is
renowned for it's ability to snag girls' interest as it is essentially an elaborate, electronic
version of the game "house". The interesting thing about this game is really the character creation.
You can customize your sim's race, facial features, makeup, hair, clothing, etc etc etc right down
to the degree that you could in theory create your own little virtual clone. However, what I've
found is that people tend to create a sim that reflects their ideal of what a person *should* look
like. By the looks of her character, Ashley wishes she looked more like Paris Hilton. ;]
HALLOWEEN IN THE CASTRO
 
This was the first year that I attended "Halloween in the Castro" in San Francisco. I took some
pictures to commemorate the occasion. Also, I had no idea what to expect when I went, so for those
of you that haven't been... I hope this gives you some idea. =) Taking a train to get to SF as
we did is highly recommended, and you're sure to be crammed in amongst other costume-clad partygoers!
It's like a mini pre-party in the confines of a train carriage. We sat across from a couple dressed
as "Helliburton" and "George Bush's Pink Slip". This pretty much reflected the political alignment
of everyone in San Francisco, where we were headed. =P
I originally wanted to be Where's Waldo for halloween. I thought it was the perfect idea- hundreds
of thousands of costumed people crowded into the streets, hanging out of windows.. and one little
waldo wandering around in the throng. However, I underestimated how hard it is to find a freaking
red and white striped shirt! So I threw on some airsoft gear and went as a soldier. I just
wanted to dress up somehow.
So, being a soldier guy.. a group of CSO "girls" yelled at me to take some pictures with them. I
happily obliged. It was sort of dark, so it took me a second to realize that, er... yeah. I think
this picture was taken at the precise moment that the look of... clarity crept over my face. =p
But hey... that's San Fransisco for you.
The only female that flirted with me all night.
Damn you, other person that went as a waldo. He did make a good one, though. In total, I actually
spotted 3 Waldo's over the course of the night, although this one looked the best. Somehow, the
fact that 3 people had the same idea as me, even if they were only 3 out of 300,000, bothers me.
I thought I was more creative/unique than that.
Ipod girl with black silhouette dancing guy.
Me taunting an Abu gharib prisoner. =p This guy's costume was excellent- He was barefoot and
standing atop a cardboard box and everything. I have tons of pictures of great costumes from
the night- "The Crazy 88" from Kill Bill, the 9/11 towers, a used-tampon-buying vampire, and so on.
People that either lived or got into the apartments above that lined castro and market streets
poured out of their windows, and danced on the balcony! They rained what I assume was candy down
upon the crowd below. Women flashed their no-no parts to the cheering masses below as the chanted
for another go. I averted my eyes, of course.
This is what happens to a gas station that's unfortunately situated on the corner of castro/market
during party time. =]
... a donut/coffee shop in San Francisco at 3:30am, November 1st. A fiasco occured while in the
Castro- I'd carpooled and train'd up with Ashley, Wendy Lee, and a few others... but they all had
school exams and work early the next morning! They wanted to leave and go home merely an hourish
after arriving!
Needless to say, my life had been lacking excitement for the past few months, and I was having the
time of my life. I insisted that they go and let me fend for my own way home. =] The way I looked
at it, well... it'd be an adventure. What was the worst that could happen?
The trains out of SF were slammed as soon as the party wound down, and then service stopped until
the next morning. I found myself at a coffee shop waiting it out until the train lines started up
again at 4am. I guess I could've had more of an adventure- while at the coffee shop a homeless
guy stumbled in, saying that a bunch of vietnamese guys had mugged him and beaten him with baseball
bats. Then again, maybe that was his costume and he was in character, in which case, HAHA! Boy,
was that a good one! =)
NOVEMBER
I enrolled in a volunteer class, called the "Citizen's Police Academy"- a 12 week course in which
citizens of the City of Santa Clara hear lectures from and hang out with the SCPD to familiarize
themselves with the department, policework, and improve community relations and the public
understanding/perception of policework in general. During the course, you get to do all sorts of
fun things, including race around in a cop car, shoot fully-automatic machineguns, play with the
police canines, tour the county jail, etc.
 
One saturday, we ran a series of simulated scenarios where the class members play the role of an
officer presented with an unknown situation, or responding to a call. They said that if by the
end of the day each of us hadn't gotten killed at least once, they hadn't done their job. That
made my trigger finger awfully itchy. The Chief of police noted that I seemed a little too at
ease with that gun in my hands and behind that cruiser wheel. Maybe there is something to the whole
videogames-and-airsoft-train-kids-to-become-killers argument? ;]
 
Myself with an m4a1 Carbine with a red-dot scope. We got to toy around with everything in the
police arsenal- even the simunitions, which are basically real firearms that are loaded with paint
ammunition (That stings like a M@#*(THER#(@*ING son of a DIALATED MOUSE KIDNEY). On the indoor
firing range, they rig the target silhouettes with human faces to make the targets more "human";
to familiarize officers with the feeling of having to shoot an actual person as much as possible.
Shooting 12 gauge shotgun slugs is a blast! I wish I'd kept my target from when I was shooting
some of the guns on full-auto. The rangemaster seemed impressed. My deepest thanks go out to
counterstrike, which I played most nights while I was in high school instead of doing homework,
grand theft auto, which my parents forbid me from buying but I did anyway, and doom, which taught
me how to worship satan.
Police dogs are incredible. They instantly trace a path an individual took through a building hours
earlier, even if there are huge crowds moving around disturbing the scent trail. Boy, you do NOT
want to have one of these things coming after you! Imagine a furry little torpedo launching itself
at you, knocking you flat on your ass since you can't break your fall with your hands as they're
busy covering your groin, if you're smart.
The building that the Santa Clara Fire dept trains in and runs controlled fires through.
The "Red Man" exercise- thus called for the color of the big padded suit your target wears. Another
round of simulated scenarios, except if things get out of hand you have the option of actually
beating the crap out of your suspect with a nightstick. =p
Pictured is that one really sweet girl in the class that mostly keeps to herself and looks totally
delicate and charming all the time. I'm telling you, when you put some power (the authority of a
badge, or a gun) in the hands of someone like that... it's frightening. I hope that Wendy Lee doesn't
end up working for Lockheed & Martin. ^.^
Sarah next door is actually an avid nerdy girl! I helped her set up and throw a LAN party at her
house for her friends! Ah, it reminds me of my early days, when I was just starting... just getting
into quake 2 online deathmatches. While it saddens me to be setting her on a path which will
absolutely later entail countless wasted hours of ass-sitting and monitor-watching and mouse-clicking
and belly-expanding and romance-missing, the world needs more geeky girls, and sexual equality is
on my side! =)
Kids these days. All of her friends have such thick hair. It makes me so horribly aware of the
frightening rate at which this patch of blinding white is racing and expanding over my melon. I
can't believe that I've become my older brother. If his fate is any indication, I have about 10
months before the hairs from my head start jumping off, opening parachutes, and landing on my back
to form a rebellion that encourages my colon and testicles to turn against me.
DECEMBER
I went with a coworker friend Katherine Roy to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make pizza
from scratch! We didn't go to just any supermarket, though. Oh no, no no. We went to "Whole
Foods Market". Essentially, this is the artsy fartso foo-foo equivalent of Albertsons, but it also
has sexy young employees everywhere you look. You'd be hard pressed to find someone dateable
working at your local Albertsons or Safeway, but in this place you couldn't look in a single direction
without taking in a firm buttock or supple breast. Katherine Roy's an admirable, cultured sort
though, so I'm sure she was there for the all-natural, unprocessed, organic quality of the food.
I'm pretty sure I embarrassed her horribly by snapping a photo of our checker girl. But she was
warned. =)
Ashley with that guy at Denny's that always smiles, all the time. I wanted a picture of him, so I
handed Ashley the camera and told her to ask if she could take a picture with the guy. I figured
it'd be even *more* unnerving for him if were the one doing the asking. =)
Despite even my mention of the denny's sampler platter in my livejournal months ago,
Denny's is the devil. The F'ing devil, I tell you. The food and service is horrible, overpriced,
and they inject their employees with methamphetamines to keep them working for 24 hours a day.
Still, they do have one asset.
Smiling guy.
I was about to leave for work, when I realized that I shouldn't head out as I was supposed to sit
at home for a package delivery. With a little daredevil maneuvering I physically cornered the
UPS truck so he couldn't leave until he gave me my package. "Attempted Delivery Notice" My ASS!!!!
OWNED! =D
And now... this is why I haven't updated my livejournal. This is why I haven't been online. It's
called World of Warcraft, and it's more addictive than any drug that the CPA had familiarized me
with. It's withdrawl symptoms more severe. In fact, now that I've gotten this huge post out of
the way, I'm almost certain that the next few ones (which I hope to start doing regularly again)
will be at least in part WoW-oriented, as most of my life is lived in a virtual universe, lately.
... to give you an idea of what the gameplay is like, you're online with a million zillion other
players in this huge online world. The other night I decided to strip naked and go streaking
through Stormwind city. Some high level guy found this rude and slapped me across the face, and
challenged me to a duel. He beat me senseless with the flat of his sword. I remained defiant,
however, sitting naked in the middle of the city square, farting obnoxiously.
... this is not an exaggeration. This is something you actually DO.
Anyway, it's ruined my life. I apologize. If you know me in real life, call me. Try to hang out
with me. Something. Because I need help, and I'm dead serious about that. It is 5:58am on Sunday
morning, right now, and I don't even feel tired yet because this game has jacked my sleeping
schedule so horribly. I've only eaten one meal today. It is a complete MIRACLE that I'm managing
to churn this journal entry out at all, when... when warcraft calls. Warcraft.. war... craft.
Crafk... crack. Warcrack. I want my Warcrack. I'm coo-coo for warcrack.
 
CPA graduation. Great America was kind enough to host our graduation ceremony, and cater it to boot.
Absolutely delicious mocha something-cake of some kind, and a great DVD video presentation of all
the stuff we did in the last 12 weeks. I received a beautiful mounted graduation certificate,
although it had my middle initial misspelled. Yes... yes. That's actually possible.
I graduated from double-decker PBJ to stir fry: instant. I don't even have a big enough pan to cook
the stuff in, so I had to split the recipe in two. Almost melted the kitchen, but produced something
edible. Edible to me, that is. I'm the one that eats double-decker PBJ's, and, if I'm desperate,
Denny's sampler platters. I'm losing coherence, I'm glad I only have a couple of captions left. I
haven't played Warcrack in several hours, and I'm about to fall asleep. And I'm not used to sleeping
without my fix. I don't know how that'll go.
This is Mike from work at a party our coworkers threw. Apparently I made some kind of spectacle of
myself at the last one (The one I don't remember taking the picture at), so I made it a point to be
moderate and not drink much of anything. Mike, in my words, "is the new Dan Maksim, yeah, baby."
Notice how the people around him are keeping a cautious blast radius of a few feet away. I'll give
you one guess why.
Well, that's about it! The last piece of current events is that my roomate Kim actually found a new
apartment immediately adjacent to her school campus, so she's moving out. I talked to the
landlord and helped her get out of the lease. I don't mind, since the rent is so low that it's
incredibly easy to find a new roomie. I really, really wish I could have someone move in that
I know, and I know I like... but nobody I know has showed interest in moving so far so I'm resorting
to strangers. Right now I've all but settled on one guy, but here's a link to the craigslist ad I've
posted. If anyone gets back to me immediately with it, I'm still open. =p
Craigslist Ad
</i>(note: The ad will be removed in a few days)</i>
In parting, a helpful link for anyone shopping for the absolute cheap-ass'ist cellphone plan out there-
an online calculator that compares plans: cellphone provider calculator
Also, see my good friend, Mr. RoboDump.
-Dan
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Comments: Read 11 or Add Your Own.
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Things I should be doing at 5:04AM on the morning of June 8th, 2004:
1. Clear my name off of my old Camaro's DMV records... again. (Irksome factor- 12)
2. Apply for federal financial aid... again. (Irksome factor- 7)
3. Memorize new menu of restaurant I work at (Irksome factor- 9)
4. Update 50 days' worth of livejournal stuff (Irksome factor- 5)
Behold- The Marie Calendars Appetizer Platter! Onion rings, breaded chicken strips, mozzarella
cheese sticks, garlic bread, and chicken wings that don't make those strange, alien bumps rise
on the roof of my mouth. Also served with multiple dipping sauces!
Why the obsession with appetizer sampler platters? Experience and commercial advertising tells
us that the least healthy food is always the most tasty and satisfying. Appetizer sampler
platters are collections of all the most unhealthy, fattening, deep-fried and greasy food items
a restaurant serves. By this logic, the appetizer sampler platter is the most satisfying thing
on the menu of any restaurant it is served at. Therefore, we have a single unifying dish served
at almost every restaurant in existance that we can use to rank the overall "goodness" of that
restaurant. Currently, Marie Calendars now holds the lofty top position, and Dennys sits in
dead last. Although, even if Denny's Appetizer Sampler Platter wasn't bottom rung, they'd
probably secure last place due to the oddly large number of weird looking waitresses named
Martha and decor that makes you feel like you're dining in a room full of Max Headroom's
digital vomit.
I responded to a jury summons and reported to Santa Clara's Hall of Justice this last month.
They didn't allow cameras in the facility. The reasoning is that if anyone should take and
publish a picture which exposes the winding lines, stale ventilation, slow-brewing insanity,
and death by starvation then the number of citizens that report to jury summons would drop
significantly. I was fortunate enough to only have to wait around for 5 hours before being
dismissed.
When you enter the large "waiting room", you are immediately confronted with several
bookshelves full of unfinished jigsaw puzzle boxes. This is a demoralizing effort by the city
to either make you feel like a octogenarian to whom jury service is an exciting event, or to
jigsaw you into a blind stupor to make your memory of your time at the hall of justice clouded
and therefore less likely to discourage return visits. In fact, if it weren't for the picture I
took of the front of the building beforehand, I probably would've thought I spent the day in a
green field with dalmation puppies.
I was in Santana Row and noticed a young bird that was floating dead in a fountain. It had it's
wings outstretched as if in flight and it's feet extended out in front of it as in preperation
for a landing. I thought it was sort of bittersweet looking, so I snapped a picture. I've taken
about a zillion pictures of strange little things like this, but few make them to my
livejournal. (I'm getting my worth out of my camera.) Perhaps I should try shake my shutterbug
habit before people start likening me to the creepy kid from "American Beauty". I've already
got the caterpillar eyebrows.
  
While at Santana Row, I was treating Kathy to a lunch at Pizza Antica. I suggest the
three-cheese, broccoli and pancetta pizza to anyone that hasn't tried it yet. Topping a pizza
with these ingredients is far more tasty than it sounds... unlike anchovies, which taste
exactly how they sound.
Afterwards, we played chess, and spotted a pet-selling stand just adjacent to our table. Kathy
noticed that they were selling baby turtles that were under three inches in length, which
apparently violates federal law. Ever the duly-minded humanitarian citizen, she discreetly
dialed up the ASPCA and reported them. I wanted to stick around and take some pictures, but
unfortunately we had to leave before they could arrive. I wonder if they dispatched police
officers to the pet stand, or sent an unmarked white van full of ninja-assassins, or what.
Several times a week I've been pulling a regular hang-out routine with Katie. This entails her
driving up to see me from Santa Cruz (What a gal!) and hooking her computer up on a card table
in my bedroom so we can play PC videogames late into the night, and retire to the mini gourmet
afterwards for coffee. Just so that the novelty of this routine doesn't die down, we'd been
throwing some night photography into the mix. I've accompanied Katie to a few locales with nice
scenery so she could take delayed-exposure night shots of interesting things. I was in some of
them (holding very still). I'll have to try to get those scanned. =]
We've gone to the mini gourmet frequently enough that all the employees recognize us. I eagerly
await the day when we've become such frequent regulars where we get a Cheers-esque reception
every time we enter the front door. (think "NOOOOORM!!") Soon, we will be able to simply wink
and click our tongues cooly and order by merely saying to our waiter... "The usual". The
employees at the mini gourmet are now well known to us: Rachelle, blonde waitress woman, other
guy, and busser guy.
 
This is Dave & Busters, which is essentially bullwinkle's for grown ups. Located in the Great
Mall, this 21+ establishment allows people to dine, get silly drunk, and play the classiest
arcade games known to man in a highly intoxicated fashion all under the same roof!
D&B features a huge arcade with all of the latest & greatest "coin-ops". These are all games
that would cost no less than $1.00 to play in an ordinary arcade. There are interactive
swordfighting games, virtual-reality giant robot-fighting games, and horse-racing games, and
more. I found the horse track gaming area particularly interesting. Basically, the game
consisted of a bar area that players sit at and place electronic bets on which horse would win,
and then a race of 3d horses and jockeys commences as the players watch. Other than betting on
a particular horse, there is no interactivity to the game whatsoever. This seems very similar
to me to video-based slot machines and many other push-one-button vegas videogames. I fail to
see the appeal if there is no interactivity beyond a single press of a button...
especially if there's no cash reward to be won, as in the horse racing game at D&B! But
this goes into the highly scientific realm of videogaming theory, so I digress as such
discourse would obviously be far above the head of the average reader of this journal.
Many (all) of the games at D&B are very interesting to play drunk. To this purpose, D&B has
installed special devices in each gaming machine. The area where you would normally insert
quarters to play has been replaced with an electronic swipe-card reader that subtracts
electronic credits from your house account. On top of this console is a holder for your
alcoholic beverage. Should you not be able to peel yourself away from the videogame to purchase
more liquor (or stand up under your own power anymore), there's a call button to summon a
waiter to bring you a new alcoholic beverage so you can continue drinking and gaming
uninterrupted. This is so orgasmically hedonistic that I think I want to get married at this
place, if I can ever find a woman willing to marry the balding, beer-gutted, greasy
armpit-stain sporting computer dweeb I'm sure to be by the time I hit 30. D&B also features a
great restaurant with good food, huge bar areas, pool tables, and much more... but who cares?
They have videogames and liquor.
I invited Scotty to my house to see a movie. When he arrived, the first thing he did was clap
me on the back and say goodbye. He informed me that earlier in the day he decided on a whim to
move back to the far northern tip of California to live with his family. Initially this didn't
shock me, because Scotty's been prone to making wild decisions on a whim quite frequently-
moving to Hawaii, quitting his job, etc. (I suppose I shouldn't comment because oftentimes
these whimsical resolves were instigated by me.) However, he actually went through with it. The
next morning he drove several hours up north and is now living with his mom and sister. He got
a job at a gym the day he arrived up there, which is absolutely perfect for him. (I had more
pictures of his latest burst-eyeball-vein-caused-by-lifting-too-much-weight scenario, but I
thought I'd posted enough of those already.)
Just a disclaimer- I didn't actually hate the guy. I rib him and joke about him a lot in my
rambling writings, but he was my only close male friend and I miss him. I hope he didn't take
my talk of hating his guts and hoping he would die too seriously or moved away because of it.
That having been said, I hate his guts and hope he dies up there!
The men's bathroom in the Century Capitol 16 theatres in San Jose. I used this facility after
seeing "Troy" with Ashley, which was a fairly good epic-style war flick. They say a picture is
worth a thousand words- but for those that don't fully grasp the impact or meaning of this
picture, allow me to summarize with only seventeen of them. Being made to pee standing next
to a stranger that is also holding their genitals is evil. The urinal in itself is an
ethically iffy invention, although admittedly without it men's room quick-access times would be
damaged severely, especially at major sporting events, movies, and concerts. However, the
urinal configuration shown above is easily one of the most despicable I've seen recently.
Closely clustered, demanding nearly shoulder-to-shoulder urinator proximity- no territorial
bubble whatsoever! No vision-blocking security wall of any kind! Not even the shoulder-height
wall which doesn't even block line of vision, but provides one with a false sense of security.
This world is going straight to hell, I tell you.
For further explanation, please visit some articles on urinal etiquitte here or here.
  
 
The third weekend of May was the annual Vietnam-war-themed airsoft event. This year, "The
'Nam 4: The Tet Offensive". Attendance was lower than the previous year, but this worked
out alright as the terrain was denser and provided more cover. Even though the player count was
lower the fighting was probably more intense. For the first time in three years, I wasn't doing
combat photography. I was still staff at the event, but I'd cleared out time to be an active
combattant in the last (Sunday) scenario of the weekend. Unfortunately, due to intense
climbing/marching/etc throughout the day Saturday, I'd chafed off all the skin on my right heel
and couldn't play. *Grumble*. I haven't fought in a Vietnam game since the 'Nam 1 over three
years ago.
From left to right- The 'Nam 4 (May 2004)... Myself as the "crazed photographer that's been in
the shit for too long" at The 'Nam 2 (2002)... Myself as a "blood" in Op: Lockdown at Fort Ord
(2002)... Myself as ambassador/hostage from a Cimmerian Op (March 2001)... and me at Op: Sierra
Tango in Truckee, CA (Feb 2002).
 
Ashley's 21st birthday party at Spaghetti Factory in San Jose. In attendance were her friends,
coworkers, fellow airsoft players, and more. It made my 21st birthday seem pretty quaint in
comparison. The image of the seven glasses lined up are the receptacles that all of her hard
liquor was served in. That girl can hold her alchy. Apparently she'd had a couple of beers
before we'd sat down for dinner, too. After dinner, the entire party walked down the street in
downtown San Jose to take her to a bar to drink even further. Sadly, I had to leave and did not
witness the projectile vomiting and ensuing hilarity. Ashley is the first friend I know to
catch up with me and turn 21.
For those of you who don't know her, something tells me that in the picture to the right you
won't find it too hard to identify which one Ashley is.
 
My brother Nick's 23rd birthday party. This was also a huge blast with family and friends in
attendance which also made me feel that I must beef up my future birthday celebrations with
greater attendance and larger quantities of liquor.
There is another Maksim family with 8 children that live in Sunnyvale, and they are my cousins.
I hadn't seen them in several years, and many of them were at this party. They all used to be
knee-huggers and ankle-biters relative to me. Now even the littlest of them could probably kick
my ass. I guess that's what meat, potatoes, and an emphasis on making the varsity football team
will do to your physique. Re-acquainting with them made me realize how disconnected I've become
with those guys, but also reminded me how cool they are. I must make a greater effort to keep
in touch.
Wendy Lee was recently back in Santa Clara before flying out to Boston to work at an internship
with the Boston Globe! I've lost count of all the prestigious papers Wendy Lee has worked at at
this point. When I went to see her, the back of her vehicle was piled full of shopping bags.
Apparently when the semester ended at UC Berkeley, Wendy Lee mistook the date at which
residents of the dorms were required to clear out as one day later, and consequently ALL of her
belongings, furniture, and appliances were thrown in the trash. Apparently she had to dumpster
dive to recover everything. That's what the bags were full of.
Don't feel too bad for her, everybody. This girl's high society! She's got a prestigious career
ahead of her and all that... a little dumpster diving is a small price to pay for that
lifestyle. Besides, I'm sure she could fit in there and dig around pretty easily. =]
 
This is Ashley Kimrey (an entirely different Ashley than the utterly plastered one pictured
above). We'd been spending a good bit of time together over the past few weeks. She has
excellent taste in movies, and that's something I really admire. She's female, and her
bedroom walls are covered with "Reservoir Dogs" movie posters! That's right, you heard me-
Female!
Ashley insisted I teach her how to play chess. Usually when I've gotten this request from a
girl it's been very half-hearted, and even then merely an attempt to show an interest in
something I enjoy. However, Ashley seemed to enjoy the game intensely even though she was
getting beaten terribly as most new chess players do. You've gotta admire that resolve- most
people immediately hate anything they don't excel at. The game above was probably our 4th
together. She'd beaten me the previous game at Santana Row, although I was helping her along
the way. I decided that if she was capable of checkmating me, it was no longer time to play Mr.
Niceguy. >;]
I'd hoped to take her along to my cousin's ballet recital, and to "Oddball" in Santa Cruz over
this last wekeend... unfortunately family troubles had arisen and she was unable to. ={
This is my little cousin Katie. She's an extremely intelligent girl and has already travelled
to more foreign countries than I probably will in my entire life. She's a member of MENSA. My
aunt has made it a point to ensure she's had the best education, the widest cultural horizons,
the most diverse and dignified hobbies and interests, etc. I think it's sad that I have a 15
year old cousin that can tell me of adventures in other countries and can make me feel
uncultured. o.O
"Oddball" in Santa Cruz. A fully legal and purportedly drug-and-alcohol-free "Rave". Emphasis
in that sentance should really be on the word "purportedly". Attendance was less than packed,
but it was still quite an experience for me. I took lots and lots of pictures, and this was the
only tame one that I could post that wasn't terribly offensive or didn't include some form of
nudity. Needless to say, the costumes were interesting. The girl pictured was Cosplaying
(dressing as a movie/comic/anime persona and acting in character) as Delirium from "The
Sandman". I think the reason that many men are attracted to smaller girls is because they're
easy to pick up and toss around, as was this tiny 95lb thing. It makes even the flimsiest and
dweebiest of us feel like Ah-nuld with little to no Scotty workout regimen whatsoever.
Since I have absolutely terrifying rhythm and no motor skills whatsoever, I didn't dance much.
If I'd drunk enough alcohol to stun a small elephant, I probably would've been a little more
enthusiastic. While there I saw Stephanie for the first time in a little over a year, which was
nice. The costumes and people were all interesting and strange and wild, and I'm definately
glad I went. I'd like to thank Kathy for dragging me along by utilizing the guilt I provided
her with when I slipped and promised to go a few weeks earlier. =P The entire night was a blast
aside from some minor drama at the end, but even that was quickly resolved.
Earlier tonight, I saw Genny for a bit at a coffee shop in Campbell! It was fascinating to talk
to her. She's... this... sort of girl, heroine, Mother-Theresa type that Forrest-Gump's her way
through life. She just recently returned from a pilgrimage through Nepal, Cambodia, India, and
Sri Lanka where she was working at orphanages and teaching children English, and other
humanitarian type things. She had a ton of stories to tell! I wish I could've undergone all the
experiences she's had- they're all of the adventurous, storybook variety that you never expect
that people actually get to have in real life. Fortunately, she's a photographer so she
has about a zillion rolls of film from her travels that I hope I get to see.
I was talking about photography for a bit with Genny, and it made me think of this picture I
happened upon when researching 'Nam-era stuff for the Vietnam game last month.
--------
Passers-by stop to watch as flames envelope a young Buddhist monk, Saigon, October 5th, 1963.
The man sits impassively in the central market square, he has set himself on fire performing a
ritual suicide in protest against governmental anti-Buddhist policies. Crowds gathered to
protest in Hue after the South Vietnamese government prohibited Buddhists from carrying flags
on Buddha's birthday. Government troops opened fire to disperse the dissidents, killing nine
people, Diems government blamed the incident on the Vietcong and never admitted responsibility.
The Buddhist leadership quickly organized demonstrations that eventually led to seven monks
burning themselves to death.
I guess you must eventually become immune - the man behind the monk is still trying to find a
light for his cigarette.
--------
With any luck, I'll have some equally powerful photography from her that I'll be able to post
or write about soon.
 
Before and after pictures of my fat, overfed chihuahua at bath time. I got an adorable,
hilarious 6MB .mov clip of my dog scrambling away and getting put into his kitchen-sink
bathtub. If anyone has a place I can host it, let me know. It's worth the download. =]
To wrap up, some interesting links I've happened upon recently:
A "Point-Counterpoint" article
on www.theonion.com.
*grin*
Iraqis Paying 5 Cents a Gallon for Gas (at U.S. Taxpayers' expense)
A disturbingly enjoyable and
childish flash game involving weird nursery rhyme music that sticks in your head long after
you finish playing, and an addictive flash
game more satisfying than bop-a-mole. =]
What to Rent.com A movie rental suggestion program.
The thing actually... works... really well. At least it has for me. I've rented the only two
movies this little thing has suggested for me based on the profile I filled out, and they both
quickly became cherished favoites!
The Geek Test. I scored 25.44379% - Total Geek
How to be a Bible Apologist
(An Eight-Step Guide to Bible Literalism through Christian Apologetics)
A really, really weird russian flash game.
Live Action Tetris!! (12MB video
clip) Right click and select "Save target as".
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