Asian People Can Shoot Fire Out Of Their Hands, And Fly Also

You know how when you look back at old science fiction books and movies, a lot of the things they predicted came true (like, for example, apes taking over the planet)? Well, now every kung fu movie ever made has just been realized.

I present to you, the greatest news story I have ever read.

China kung fu monks seek apology for ninja affront

(From Yahoo!)
BEIJING (Reuters) - China's Shaolin Temple, the cradle of Chinese kung fu, is demanding an apology from an Internet user who said its monks had once been beaten in unarmed combat by a Japanese ninja, Chinese media reported on Friday.

Shaolin Temple, in the northern province of Henan, became famous in the West as the training ground for Kwai Chang "Grasshopper" Caine in the 1970s "Kung Fu" TV series.

Ninjas -- professional assassins trained in martial arts -- date back to mediaeval Japan.

"The so-called defeat is purely fabricated, and we demand the Internet user to apologise to the whole nation for the wrongs he or she did," the Beijing News said, citing a notice announced by a lawyer for the Shaolin monks.

Relations between Chinese and Japanese are sensitive at the best of times, with emotions still running high over Japan's invasion and occupation of parts of China in the first half of the 20th Century.

The Internet user, calling themselves "Five Minutes Every Day", said on an online forum last week that a Japanese ninja came to Shaolin, asked for a fight and many monks failed to beat him, the newspaper said.

"The facts that the monks could not defeat a Japanese ninja showed that they were named as kung fu masters in vain," the Internet user was quoted as saying in the post.

The Shaolin temple "strongly condemned the horrible deeds" of the user, the newspaper said.

"It is not only extremely irresponsible behaviour with respect to the Shaolin temple and its monks, but also to the whole martial art and Chinese nation," it quoted the monks as saying.

Note To Travel Writing Execs - Hire Me As A Travel Writer

Portland, Oregon is a city of contrasts.

Just kidding, I would never actually write something that trite. I think it's pretty lazy when a travel writer uses that phrase to describe a city. To be honest with you, I don't even know what "city of contrasts" means - probably nothing. Anyway, this is how I'm actually starting this blog entry...

After wandering around Portland proper for a couple of hours, I began to notice something slightly unusual. Or rather, not notice something. I had not seen a single police car or cop anywhere. (I was informed later by my friend Matt that Portland cops seem to follow him everywhere - possibly due to his Bush '04 bumper sticker.) I also noticed that every street corner boasted its own "shanty-town" of part of the city's disproportionately large homeless population. I noted to myself that these two things are probably not mutually exclusive.

However, these aren't your DC-variety "stabbing hobos," but rather something more akin to the 60's Haight-Ashbury transient population. People who, I was told on occasion while in the city, "wanted to be homeless." While I can't attest to that, they did seem more pleasant than what I've encountered here, and Portland is definitely the kind of weird (and relatively inexpensive) city where a housing-challenged individual could live pretty decently. There were a lot of people my age among that group, interestingly enough. Perhaps fellow real estate investors?

Anyway, after joining me for a snack at Voodoo Doughnut near Chinatown, where I had the "Blood-Filled Voodoo Doll" (see menu here - they were out of the Bacon-Maple Donut, otherwise I would have gotten it), the Disgruntled Girlfriend left me to my own devices in the city while she and her fellow bridesmaids received a manicure and pedicure in preparation for the next day's wedding. Having already fulfilled part of Anthony Bourdain's travel guide for the city with the donut excursion (incidently, here's a picture of the DG and I's awesome donuts - she had one with rice krispies and peanuts on top, I think)...



...I quickly made my way up the street to Old Town Pizza, the haunted local pizzeria where unsuspecting patrons used to get "Shanghaied" through a trap door and enslaved aboard merchant ships back in the 1800's. Yarrrrrr!!!! Avast ye mateys!!! I had a prosciutto pizza which was great (and advertised as being for 1-2 people - usually I am at least 2 people but even I could not finish the oversized personal pizza!), and two pints of one of the local microbrews - Widmer Hefeweizen. Sufficiently buzzed on beer (at least temporarily), I made my way to the Portland Classical Chinese Garden, to get sufficiently buzzed on caffeinated oolong tea. I'm a pretty big tea snob, and this stuff was fantastic - it was called Royal Phoenix, I think. Truly a tea of contrasts.

But Portland's not all hobos, pirates, and Chinese people - there's a lot of alcohol to be drank (drunk? drunken? dranken?) as well, and, we were just the drinkers to drink (drank?) it. The wedding reception itself was held at McMenniman's. McMenniman's has about 50 hotel/pubs in the area, all consisting of old buildings (schools, hotels, theaters, funeral parlors, etc.) that they converted into brewpubs or hotel/pubs. This particular one used to be the Kennedy School, and the reception was held in the gymnasium (we were staying in Mrs. Drew's Room - she was evidently a math teacher in that room). The hallways are lined with pictures of kids that went to this school in the early 1900's, and has kind of an eerie, ghostly feel to it, leading to the following exchange:

Disgruntled Investor: I bet this place is crazy haunted.

Disgruntled Girlfriend: It was a school, it's not like people died here!

Disgruntled Investor: You don't know that!

Having won that argument, we settled down to our complimentary booze - McMenniman's Ruby Red Ale, Hammerhead I.P.A., and their Edgefield Wines. At some point in the night (according to photographic evidence), I apparently had some of their distilled bourbon as well. Now, if I hate anything, it's to dance, but evidently I decided to do the Hammer dance ("Can't Touch This"), and probably kicked ass at it. Here's me breaking it down - note the spilled alcohol on my pants...


The previous day, we had gone to the rehearsal dinner at a Portland sports pub called On Deck Sports Bar and Grill. They had great food and tasty beer and all, but what set this place apart was its unlimited free use of their Nintendo Wii. Once drunken DI found this, he and the matron-of-honor played Wii Bowling the rest of the night. It was sweet, even though I lost every game. The DI is left-handed, and that's the excuse he will use for that (and golf). Dammit.

After On Deck, the DG and I (and the matron-of-honor and her husband) decided to pull another Bourdain and go out for some late night sushi and sake, at the Saucebox - a trendy Pan-Asian restaurant/bar. The DG and I split a giant bottle of awesome unfiltered sake, and several plates of various sushi platters. Besides a buzzed, wildly gesticulating DG accidently knocking the top half of her glass off the stem (leaving the stem unmoved - pretty amazing magic trick), luck pretty much fell on our side, as two misdirected plates of sushi ended up at our table, which we ate without having to pay for. Also, no sales tax in Oregon meant our total bill was about a quarter of what it would have been back here in D.C.

Our final day there, the DG and her parents and I went out to Multnomah Falls, the second largest continually open falls in the United States, and followed that by watching the kite surfers out on the Columbia River. These guys were clearly having a good time out there, and the DG strongly intimated that this was an activity for her. Here's a picture of one of these guys in action...


We finished up our trip with a visit to Jake's Famous Crawfish , a 110 year old McCormick and Schmidt-owned restaurant specializing in local seafood. Though a bit pricey (think McCormick and Schmidt...), it's completely worth it, as this was the best seafood I've ever had in my entire life. The top of the menu lists the local fresh catches of the day, so you can literally order something (ed. note: apologies to the Blogadier General and the Disgruntled Vegetarian here) that was happily swimming along earlier that day. Believe me when I say that that makes a huge difference in taste, as you don't get that thawed-out taste you might elsewhere. I had the Ling Cod (cilantro-lime seared) and Netarts Bay (Oregon) oysters on the half-shell, with a local Pinot Noir - all Oregon-based. The Ling Cod was a recommendation from the DG's dad, and was incredibly succulent. The oysters were so good I almost ordered them again for dessert. God those were fucking awesome oysters.

You know what, I rescind the apologies to the Blog. Gen. and the DV. They're missing out by not eating things like this. Sorry guys. The fish and oysters' personalities surely made the difference in their orgasmic taste. You can't "Boca" that.

Anyway, to sum up, like Seattle before it, I didn't want to like Portland. I've lived on the East Coast my whole life, and am strongly partial to it. It's an incredibly liberal place with a lot of tree-huggers. But dammit, Portland is pretty awesome. I could definitely live out there (maybe will someday). Shit, could the DG be right about the West Coast being the "best coast"?

Nah, but I'd still move to Portland. I could be a hobo, or pirate. Or Chinese person.

-Disgruntled A

Barbaric!!

Here it is, your moment of Disgruntled...



The Disgruntled Investor is off to Portland (Oregon) for the 47895235th wedding this year. I go for the free booze, and I stay for the...free booze. I'll be back next Wednesday, see you bitches then.

In the meantime, why not pick up a hobby, or a sport?

Nerd Alert!

Article stolen (perhaps temporarily)...

Sincerely, management

Man

There are definitely some days when the anxiety attacks hit full force.

I had a nightmare last night that my second house had fallen into a major state of disrepair and was quite dissheveled due to the laziness of my tenants. I was over there for some reason, and I walked up the stairs, only to find that one of the guys who recently moved out was back and playing an arcade-sized Pac-Man installed on the stairwell. This, I was promised, would raise my already high electric bills through the roof. Great. He then noted that the ripped up carpet upstairs wasn't his fault, but rather was due to a wrestling match the guy in the loft (incidently, the cleanest of the tenants in real life) and the girl in the second bedroom (in reality, there is no girl in the second bedroom, that I know of) had recently been involved in. I went upstairs, shaking my head, where I was greeted with the guy in the loft telling me - "She pinned me, it was her fault, I'm not paying." The girl responded, "I don't even live here!" Needless to say, I would be footing the bill(s).

I woke up, chest heaving, with the sudden urge to start yelling, "ANXIETY ATTACK ANXIETY ATTACK!!" But, that would have been pretty ridiculous.

Yesterday, the Washington Post had an article that, except for the live-in vs. investing difference, describes my real estate experiences almost perfectly. Here is the link to it, it's a good piece, one that I think speaks to the pessimism I'm trying to force out of my mind.

Bernanke is getting praised by the market for the Fed's sudden decision to lower the discount rate, but blasted by economics academics - the group Bernanke came out of - for giving in to the market. I'm not sure which one is right, but they need to lower the Federal Funds rate, which would hopefully push mortgage rates down and send buyers swarming towards my houses.

Fucking real estate, fucking bad karma.

I feel like a beer in a bear festival.

Beer Eats Man

I'm working a 10-hour day today (and for the rest of the week), so when I first saw this story on CNN, I thought the headline was "Beers Eat Man At Beer Festival." I was thinking it must have been some kind of nasty beer. Like Natural Light. Or Beast.

But, it's not "beer" it's "bear". At a beer festival. A bear at a beer festival.

Bears eat man at beer festival

BELGRADE, Serbia (Reuters) -- A 23-year old Serb was found dead and half-eaten in the bear cage of Belgrade Zoo at the weekend during the annual beer festival.

The man was found naked, with his clothes lying intact inside the cage. Two adult bears, Masha and Misha, had dragged the body to their feeding corner and reacted angrily when keepers tried to recover it.

"There's a good chance he was drunk or drugged. Only an idiot would jump into the bear cage," zoo director Vuk Bojovic told Reuters.

Local media reported that police found several mobile phones inside the cage, as well as bricks, stones and beer cans.

Paying Mortgages

From The Onion...try to guess which strategy I'm currently employing!

A Prayer For The Disgruntled

Loyal reader Mike B just emailed me this, from The Baltimore Sun, which I thought was pretty great...

The real estate investor's prayer

You're getting up in years now. You remember your paper wealth in the 1970s, when real estate investment trusts went to the moon and everybody thought the boom would last forever. It didn't. You remember the 1980s, when commercial real estate went absolutely bonkers and again you were rich, at least according to your partnership documents. You remember the housing boom of the 2000s, when home prices doubled and your rental properties churned out cash like a slot machine. Now that quicksilver, too, is slipping your grasp.

Finally you remember, too late, the real estate prayer, which a reader of The Sun sent my colleague, Laura Smitherman. He says he found it in an file from 1991, which was about the darkest hour of the last real estate crash:

DEAR GOD...Please Let There Be Just One More Real Estate Boom, And I Promise Not To &+#@ It All Away This Time!



P.S. While I love The Onion, I hate the A.V. Club and their pseudo-intellectualism that just comes across as know-it-all snarkiness. I realize a lot of people will disagree with me on that. Anyway, here's a great A.V. Club interview with D.L. Hughley, where he completely rules the interviewer at the end, after being subjected to a haranguing about "nappy-headed hos."

P.P.S. See, I go and make a gross generalization about something, and then they respond by posting this hilarious and completely non-pretentious interview with Jonah Hill, Michael Cera, and Christopher Mintz-Plasse from "Superbad." Damn you A.V. Club!!! I can't wait for that movie to come out.

The Blogadier General's Lake House

Well, as most of my readers know (since many of them were there), I spent this past weekend at the Blogadier General's lakehouse down in Radford, Virginia with the Disgruntled Girlfriend and the Disgruntled Dog. The house sits on Claytor Lake, which is a really big lake. Apparently, a few days before, someone drowned in this lake. Disturbingly, at the time we were swimming in the lake, the body had not been found.

Anyway, it was a really fun time, and thanks again to the Blog. Gen. for the invite!

So, ever since I started this blog, there has been someone clamoring to guest-blog it for a column. She has been hounding me to do this, and, since she was down at the lake with me this weekend, we decided she could write her own ridiculous review of the lake house weekend. So, without further ado...

My Trip To The Lake

By: The Disgruntled Dog


Yes, thank you Disgruntled Investor, for the introduction. This was, indeed, my first foray into the wonders of an actual vacation. You see, I spend most of my time with the Disgruntled Investor and Disgruntled Girlfriend (henceforth, the "boy" and "girl") lounging around on the sofa at home, or, if the occasion arises, catching and neutralizing the threat caused by dust. I find dust to be positively scrumptious!

So, it was a welcome surprise when the boy and girl decided to invite me along on this trip. As they found out, I do not get carsick, nor do I...nor...do...

RUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem, excuse me for that, the little ginger kid in the neighborhood was nearing my 200 feet no-enter zone, which is far too close. I must protect this house.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, I was able to ride down to this lake house (my first lake sighting as well!) on the boy's lap. He seemed to be in no discomfort from my doing this, so I took advantage of the opportunity to shift my weight around as much as possible. Again, he didn't seem to mind. (Ed. note: My legs still hurt!)

The lake house was a welcome surprise for me - there were a large number of bugs and dust to eat, and some of the best scotch I've ever had. I love scotch. Scotch, scotch, scotch (as you see, I am quite the Will Ferrell fan).

Michelob Light, I also found out, is a vastly underrated beer.

Two disappointments with the weekend:

1.) It was quite hot, and despite my repeated requests, no one threw me into the lake. I was quite hoping for that.

2.) At one point, the boys and girls went out on a floating device onto the lake, and went away. I did not like this.

But, no matter, I cleverly hid some poops throughout the house.

The people at the lake house were all friendly and entertaining, though perhaps none so much as the one they called, "Ete." (I'm fairly certain that is a pseudonym.) First of all, given the caliber of his girlfriend (she did not seem Disgruntled at all...), I can only assume that he has had a long and illustrious history of fulfilling and lasting relationships with quality girls, and this one was merely following that long line. Of this, I'm absolutely positive. Anyway, the last night there, he provided all with a rousing dance number I like to call, "He's Drunk As Shit." It was quite superb, let me say!

I decided whilst there to stay awake for as long as possible, to avoid the unfortunate occurence of missing anything happening around me. Additionally, danger was all around us, and in some cases, in the houses with us. I'm sure I heard some furious wrestling going on in a room or two. I, therefore, kept a constant vigil.

In conclusion, I would like to say that I hope, in the future, I can accompany the boy and girl on future trips to this lake house, and to other locations throughout the globe as well. They will be going to Portland, Oregon in the near future, from what I can gather, and I assume they will be taking me along. (Ed. note: Umm...) Finally, I'd like to thank the generous soul who dropped the Buffalo Wing pretzel for me to eat. Those were fucking fantastic!

I thank you, boy, for the opportunity to share my thoughts. Now, back to the window seat, for I think I see another dog across the street, and if he crosses it, I'm going to lose my fucking mind.

If I Was Eddie Vedder, Would You Like Me Any Better?

So Pearl Jam is pissed off because they feel that AT&T censored them during the rebroadcast of their recent Lollapalooza set. During a version of Pink Floyd's "Another Brick In The Wall," Vedder replaced a couple lyrics with:

"George Bush, leave this world alone"

and

"George Bush, find another home."

Now, Pearl Jam has ceased to be relevant musically since their last good album, "Yield." Eddie Vedder's voice sounds like my great-grandmother's did after 80 years of smoking - XM Radio's "Ethel" station occasionally plays Pearl Jam's cover of The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me," and the deterioration of his voice is absolutely striking in it. And, I say this as someone who thinks "Vs." and "Vitalogy" are two of the best albums of all time. They just sound like they're phoning it in now.

But more importantly, Eddie Vedder's attempts at fighting big business in the past have failed miserably (hence why you can buy Pearl Jam tickets on Ticketmaster for the same outrageous prices he used to fight). And his political proselytizing on stage has not fared much better (at an April 2003 concert, while singing "Bushwacked," Vedder impaled a mask of George W. Bush on-stage, leading to a mass walkout by concergoers).

Anyway, I bring this all up to make a couple of points. First off, with the exception of truly political rock groups like Rage Against The Machine, rock and roll bands should stick to playing escapist rock and roll and leave politics to politicians and protestors. As a "Damn Dirty Republican" (as the Disgruntled Potential Father-in-Law calls me), at this point it's a huge risk for me to go to any rock concert and hope that it doesn't devolve into a leftist political rally. I was a bit nervous about the Virgin Festival because of this, but The Beastie Boys eschewed political rants and stuck to "Brass Monkey" and "Sure Shot." The result was an awesome show that EVERYONE in the audience (including soulless right-wingers like myself) enjoyed immensely.

Conversely, if I go to see Neil Young or Manu Chao, I expect to hear some anti-Bush or anti-war (because, of course, us Repubs are "pro-war", but that's another rant altogether) propaganda, but, as I noted above, these are inherently political groups (or at least Young was back in the 60's). It doesn't mean I'm happy with it, but at least it doesn't catch me by surprise or seem out of place. By the way, Manu Chao kicks ass.

I don't understand why Pearl Jam or other inherently NON-political bands feel the need to pander to the admittedly majority liberal audience members (in most places anyway) at the risk of completely alienating the more moderate or conservative concert-goers. If I go to see Pearl Jam, I want them to shut the fuck up and play "Corduroy" or "Alive"; I could care less about their political views. If I want to go to a political rally, I'll go to one. If these groups suddenly started ranting pro-Republican, people would be pissed off too, and for good reason. It's bullshit to get bombarded with that when you just want to hear a straight-up concert. I don't get my political views from musicians, and frankly I have little to no respect for anyone who does. If someone votes for Dennis Kucinich because Marilyn Manson told them to, that person's voting rights should be immediately revoked.

Secondly, and along these same lines, it continues to amaze and sadden me that there are more anti-Bush songs than anti-Al Qaeda songs. In fact, I'd challenge someone to come up with a single one, and I'll spot you country songs. Has the entire musical establishment collectively forgotten whose sole goal is our conversion to Islam or, failing that, our eradication?? Apparently, they have. The funny thing is, I'm guessing Osama wouldn't book Green Day for their next company picnic - unless everyone wore suicide vests, that is. No one is ranting about bombing northern Pakistan at their shows. Well, almost no one.

Anyway, sorry about the rant, and I'm sure I've just lost 3/4 of my readership (and by 3/4, I mean 3 out of the 4 readers I have), but it's just bullshit, is all. Like I said above, the complete opposite of this (liberals being tricked into attending a conservative rally) is bullshit as well. I hate that good bands that I like a lot have turned on me.

So, with that out of the way, tune in tomorrow for a blog about my weekend stay at the Blogadier General's lakehouse, by a surprise guest columnist!

P.S. I like Coldplay, but hate karaoke, so this is pretty much a wash for me. Funny stuff.

Look, Up In The Sky, It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's...a Lifetime of Beatings

NZ couple to name child Superman

By Phil Mercer
BBC News

A couple in New Zealand is planning to call their newborn son Superman after officials rejected their original choice of 4Real.

Pat and Sheena Wheaton have been frustrated by rules in New Zealand banning names that begin with a number.

Mum and Dad decided to call their son 4Real after seeing an ultrasound image of him. It was then they realised that their baby was "for real".

They are considering legal action to force officials to reverse the ruling.

Name game

The name might sound more like a comedian's catchphrase or a fruit juice, but the Wheatons were deadly serious.

Sadly for them, the authorities in New Zealand did not share their enthusiasm for the unusual - their choice was rejected by the country's registrar of births, deaths and marriages.

The rules state that first names starting with a number are not allowed.

The law also advises parents to avoid names that could cause their child to be teased or made fun of.

Undeterred, the Wheatons now plan to call their newborn son Superman, but have said they will refer to him as 4Real.

The baby's family argues that if people can be known as John Williams III, for example, then why can a number not be used at the beginning of a name?

Officials in New Zealand have been involved in similar disputes before.

In the past they have had to intervene to stop parents naming their offspring Satan and Adolf Hitler.

Virgin Blogging

The best part about telling people you're going to the "Virgin Festival" is that there are a lot of people who have no idea that the "Virgin Festival" is, in fact, a concert, and not just the greatest sounding idea ever.

Anyway, here's my review of this year's Virgin Festival, held at Pimlico Raceway up near Baltimore, Maryland this past weekend. We went to the Saturday show, skipping Sunday's show for three reasons:

1.) I had seen most of those bands already;
2.) Tickets were almost $100...A DAY
3.) We guessed (correctly) that Saturday would wear us out, being 134 years old and all.

The Disgruntled Girlfriend and I had gone to last year's Virgin Fest, and besides seeing some great shows (The Who and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah especially) and some alright shows (Red Hot Chili Peppers - Flea was more interested in some chick crying in the crowd than playing awesome music), we also were able to wander around the premises a bit, checking out the freak show, the side stages, and some of the booths handing out free condoms and whatnot.

This year, however, we did not wander around at all. The reason?

It was 105 degrees out.

Last year's show was smartly scheduled for mid-September, and sported a reasonable temperature of about mid-80. This year, for some reason, they decided mid-August sounded good. People were dropping like flies, and, probably for that reason, there weren't a whole lot of drunk concert-goers there. It was just too damn hot to drink. And when it's too hot to drink (ex. if you didn't chug your beer all at once, after a couple minutes it started boiling), you know it's too hot. So, we planted ourselves at the main stage and stayed there the whole time. This meant we missed Peter Bjorn and John, and LCD Soundsystem, who I wanted to see, and a Luche Libre wrestling match, but no matter. Who we did see more than made up for it.

Amy Winehouse was there, at least physically, and phoned in a set while we waited in the water refilling station line (for about 45 minutes). She then left, found her "shooting-up vein", pulled a Belushi on a bottle of Jack, and boarded a plane for Chicago, where she likely phoned in a set at Lollapalooza. Whee.

After AW, Incubus came on stage. I like this band a lot, and they didn't disappoint, going through all of their best songs with all of the energy missing from Amy's set. However, being somewhat heterosexual, I failed to anticipate the panty-wetting reaction lead singer Brandon Boyd has on women. I was slipping around in female orgasm juice the entire set! (If that line doesn't get me on Blogger's "Blogs of Note," I don't know what will...)

After Ben Harper sang about pot for an hour and a half (I'm not complaining, it was awesome, but I don't want this posting to be too long), the Beastie Boys came on stage. I was supposed to see these guys, along with Stone Temple Pilots, Rage Against the Machine, and Jurassic 5, about 10 years ago, but Mike D broke his leg on a BMX bike or something and they had to cancel the whole show. I was pissed about it, and thought, "Well, why doesn't he just sit down during the show, goddammit!" Turns out, it's because Mike D jumps all around the stage during their shows, and they didn't want to cramp his style. As an example, here's a picture of Mike D and MCA in action I took from the crowd.



Anyway, they were much much better than the live feed we listened to on XM from the Live Earth shows, and was worth the 10 year wait. I think the picture above, by the way, is from when they were doing "Brass Monkey." Awesome.

Finally, The Police (or The Po-lice) came on, and rocked the shit out. Awesome awesome.



All in all, great show, shitty time of the year to do it. Well organized like last year, but not enough water-refilling stations and misting stations. Still we were able to tailgate beforehand, and in the extreme heat, three Miller Lights got me more fucked up than I have ever been, so that worked. One final complaint was with the scheduling of bands - the multiple stages meant some tough decisions had to be made. For example, they had two bands closing the show on Saturday - The Police on the main stage and Modest Mouse on the second stage. I love Modest Mouse, and was really looking forward to seeing them, but had to go with The Police, because, I mean, it's The Police. I think I made the right choice, but it sucked not seeing Modest Mouse. Oh well. Anyway, all in all it was worth $100 and I'll definitely be there next year as well.

Oh yeah, as promised, a bootleg picture taken of the Disgruntled Investor. Man, he's really let himself go...

Jim Cramer Loses His Shit

He does have a good point, though...

Turns Out I Am "Carbon-Neutral"

Global Warming is funny...

From the (UK) Times Online

Walking to the shops ‘damages planet more than going by car’

By: Dominic Kennedy

Walking does more than driving to cause global warming, a leading environmentalist has calculated.

Food production is now so energy-intensive that more carbon is emitted providing a person with enough calories to walk to the shops than a car would emit over the same distance. The climate could benefit if people avoided exercise, ate less and became couch potatoes. Provided, of course, they remembered to switch off the TV rather than leaving it on standby.

The sums were done by Chris Goodall, campaigning author of How to Live a Low-Carbon Life, based on the greenhouse gases created by intensive beef production. “Driving a typical UK car for 3 miles [4.8km] adds about 0.9 kg [2lb] of CO2 to the atmosphere,” he said, a calculation based on the Government’s official fuel emission figures. “If you walked instead, it would use about 180 calories. You’d need about 100g of beef to replace those calories, resulting in 3.6kg of emissions, or four times as much as driving.

“The troubling fact is that taking a lot of exercise and then eating a bit more food is not good for the global atmosphere. Eating less and driving to save energy would be better.”

...More at the link above, or, for those too lazy (aka, "low carbon emitters") to scroll up, here it is again. If this holds true, I may be the most environmentally friendly guy on the planet.

P.S. Be sure to tune in tomorrow, when I'll post my blog about the Virgin Festival. Word on the street is it may or may not include a picture of the elusive Disgruntled Investor. Because if I can't steal the Blogadier General's ideas, what can I steal?

Labels for this post: Cop, Pot Brownies, Red Wings

Tip o' the hat to The Blogadier General...

Thanks Beach!

This past weekend, as I relaxed on the lightly-trafficked beach of Oak Island, NC, I came to a realization. There was no reason to stress out about either my tenant, real estate, or financial situation. Things will inevitably work themselves out, and eventually, I'll look back on this all and laugh. Haw! Haw!

July was a really tough month, probably the hardest in terms of both landlord issues and financial concerns. The aforementioned leak at my second place redeveloped, though thankfully not creating the kind of damage from before, requiring a couple of failed attempts at fixing the leak myself, followed by me giving up and paying a plumber $150 to put in a new gasket and caulk the hell out of the shower. Also, I had two tenants in my first place who, for various reasons, paid their rent really late, causing me to have to shift some resources around to make sure my mortgage payments on the places weren't equally late. All in all, it made for a tight month, and I came really close to calling the whole NC trip off, just to be around here in case something else went wrong.

But, what I realized there on the beach was, fuck it, I handled it, just like I've been handling all of this for the past two years. As this blog has chronicled, I've had a lot of crazy shit happen that would have made most people climb a clock tower and start shooting. But, somehow, I've made it through. Who's to say I can't pull this off for another year, if needs be, heaven forbid. I've got a mammoth tax return coming my way in late January, the market's GOTTA turn around sometime, and my 5-year ARM isn't due to reset until 2010. One way or the other, those houses will be sold by the end of next summer, and then, as I said before, I'll look back on all of this and laugh. I've got major debt, six weiner tenants, and two great houses that are impossible to sell (at present), but I mean I've got a good job, I'm dating way out of my league, my dog rarely shits in the house, and I've gotten to travel around to some amazing places.

So, dammit, I can't complain.

P.S. The picture above is in no way an endorsement of Senatorial Candidate Al Franken.