everything ever.

Katrina Victims Respond to SoCal Fires

2007-10-25T21:57:00.001-07:00

In an event reminiscent of 2005’s Hurricane Katrina, several large wildfires blazed throughout southern California this week, causing nearly one million people to evacuate their properties. Southern California’s San Diego county, one of the areas hardest hit, suffered nearly one billion dollars worth of damage alone; the area contains several houses of the rich and famous, with epic mansions overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

On Thursday, several victims of Hurricane Katrina were able to empathize with these newly homeless Californians.

“It’s just… mmph… it’s just horrible. Hooo, it’s bad. Lawd, ain’t that horrible?” Victoria Jackson, 32, remarked, slapping her friend Vivian Turnbull, 30, on the shoulder.

“Mm-hmm” Turnbull agreed, as the two of them turned away and shrieked and slapped each other on the back, apparently overcome with emotion.

Katrina displaced hundreds of thousands of New Orleans residents, many of whom are just now returning to their homes. Richard Jefferson, 45, was one of those citizens.

“Hee hee hee… uh… uh huh, huh,” a coughing Jefferson said. He asked for a minute to compose himself. “Yep, those poor Malibu folks… they’re gonna have it real rough, rebuilding their homes, losing all their possessions,” a smiling Jefferson said, no doubt smiling at the hope his story and the stories of others like him give the embattled citizens of San Diego and surrounding counties.

“Well, at least they have a large stadium that they can stay in for the time being, right?” asked Jefferson. “A large, steaming hot, unsanitary, lawless stadium, but a stadium!” he said, grinning at the prospect of these people having a place to stay. When informed that Qualcomm Stadium, serving as a temporary home for those displaced by the fires, was being serviced by 1,200 volunteers and had 96 working bathrooms as well as functioning air conditioning, Jefferson’s expression turned sour.

“What… what the fuck?” he asked, before walking away.

CONGRESS DOES IT ALL NIGHT LONG BABY

2007-07-18T01:11:00.000-07:00

This is a blow-by-blow, running update of the all-night Congressional session on the topic of the Levin/Reed amendment, which would set a date for the beginning of troop reductions in Iraq, 120 days after the enactment of the act. All times EST. BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELTS

WE BEGIN at 4:10 am: John McCain has been talking about, you know, something. He seamlessly transitioned from talking about some optometrist in Baghdad to rockets in Hezbollah. And then, hilariously, his cell goes off; it has one of the generic Verizon ringtones. He looks mildly perturbed at this, and seems to have problems turning it off.

4:14 am: Hilary is up. Her eyes are less than half open, and you could generously describe her speech as "halting", or more realistically as "fucking exhausted." I hope the speeches just get more hilariously disjointed as the night goes on. Hopefully they have a pile of blow in the back to keep folks alert.

4:20 am: Hilary has been talking for six minutes and has expressed about three ideas, one of which was regarding people living in cars, or something. My mind wanders to what exactly is going on in the room off the Congressional meeting room, wherein cots have been set up so senators can take naps. First off, this seems like cheating; drink coffee, boys! Secondly, I want to see someone wake up and immediately go out to speak, preferably someone north of 70, just to see what happens. "Wha.. huh... whu... ... Iraq... support the troops... God bless... America... what time is it... the fuck am I up for?"

4:27 am: She makes the point that Bush has not paid for any of the $450 billion plus that he has asked for on the Iraq war, saying that it was put on "the American credit card." I wish my credit card had a limit that high. She is also putting me to sleep; McCain at least kept me engaged by getting important phone calls at 4:15 in the morning. The question isn't if it was a prank, but if it was a Dem or a Republican. The number was probably listed as restricted.

4:32 am: Hilary rather hilariously lists North Korea as an example of the success of diplomacy. Is "they're still crazy and want to nuke someone" success? Hilary almost forgets to recognize the next few speakers on the floor. Sen. Norm Coleman (R-Minnesota) helpfully mentions that the Senate chamber is air-conditioned. It should also be mentioned that everyone so far is well-coiffed and professionally attired. I'm 40 years younger than everyone there and wouldn't give a shit enough to be in a suit and tie at 4 am. I'd be three martinis deep and come in pajama pants and a faded Hulkamania t-shirt.

4:39 am: Coleman asks, "How did we end up here tonight making a withdrawal date before official reports regarding the Iraq war have come out?" Considering that there's been a few reports, I think his real question is just "Why are we here at 4:30 am?" He also looks like John Kerry with all the facial features pushed up and tightened. Do long faces = political success?

4:42 am: Coleman: "We are planning to go forward with a plan for withdrawal... that has not been planned." I can see where this is a problem. Hilarious Freudian slip probably caused by lack of sleep: "There is concern that there is... a Kurdistan..."

4:51 am: Sen. Bob Casey (D-Pennsylvania) takes the floor, and asks for fifteen minutes as well as a two-minute warning so that he doesn't go over his allotted time. Oh boy. Good thing I am already distracted by his unibrow. How does a senator go through the entire process of getting elected without anyone helpfully asking him to shave the thing?

4:53 am: I love when modern politicans quote politicans of yore; Coleman quoted Madison and Hamilton, and Casey quotes Lincoln. It's like saying, "My point can best be made by someone who spoke two hundred years ago and has no relation to this situation whatsoever."

4:54 am: "This government has asked our troops to referee a civil war." How many IEDs does it take for someone to foul out? Casey is currently touting the credentials of Levin and Reed, because not only does everyone who'll be voting on this not know, they also care very much.

4:58 am: His unibrow is so devestating, that both eyebrows raise when he clearly means to cock only one. He's also doing the eyes-half-open thing, and they only get more squinty when he makes a point. His entire middle of his face thus becomes one black bar.

5:05 am: Sen. John Barrasso (R-Wyoming) has asked for FIVE MINUTES. He makes the point that it's three A.M. where he's from, and that they're probably not watching. I am the only one crazy enough to do it. He also makes the point that he's a former surgeon and physician and thus is used to working these hours. He has taken two minutes of his five and not made any points. DO IT BARRASSO! "I went to Walter Reed and saw soldiers who lost a limb... and wanted to go back out and fight with their friends for freedom." Do these people really exist? The Army has never been accused of recruiting the best and brightest, but come on.

5:08 am: He is talking about going to the rodeo. I never thought you could actually hear senators tune out during a session, but it's happening right now. Barrasso wraps up, and the roll is called.

5:13 am: Hilary has changed into a lavender shawl thing. The CSPAN-2 commentator takes a moment to let viewers know that Barrasso's speech was his first on the floor. When CSPAN has to apologize for a politician speaking poorly, there's a problem. Majority leader Harry Reid calls for a procedural vote to bring everyone to the floor. WAKE THE FUCK UP GUYS

I am struggling to stay awake. I try to psyche myself up by thinking of rodeos.

After that vote, there seems to be less senators on the floor. Maybe I don't get the point of what just happened; maybe they're all killing themselves.

5:25 am: Fading... fading... screw this. Hearing a senator talk about rodeos at 5 in the morning was good enough for me.

Best sandwich ever.

2007-06-03T03:42:00.000-07:00

Oh god, it's so tasty.

YOU WILL NEED:
Two (2) pieces of bread
One large portion of may-o-nnaise
Two (2) pieces of cotto salami
Two each of slices of chedder and swiss bread
One (1) container of Old Bay seasoning.

Instructions:
1. Place the first piece of bread on the cooking surface, and then add the two pieces of salami. This bread piece will be lonely for a while; the author suggests talking to and possibly cooing to it, perhaps to the tune of "Wanted: Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi.

2. Spread that mayo and that Old Bay onto the top piece of salami. Yeah, you like that... you dirty salami.

3. Place the two pieces of sliced cheddar onto the salami. Make sure the mayo on the salami doesn't get spread too unevenly, otherwise the God of Condiments will come and wreck you.

4. After the placing of the cheddar, sprinkle Old Bay and then slather in mayo. Resist the temptation to devour the concotion immediately; eating it now would be amazing, but eating it later will be like selling 300,000 copies of your album and going "double uranium" as a result.

5. Finally, place upon the altar two pieces of Swiss cheese. Ponder the signifance of the Swiss laying claim to the only cheese that usually has holes in it, and then ponder why you're pondering that. You're probably high. You God damn hippie.

6. Double finally, lovingly spread upon these two incestuous pieces of Swiss cheese more mayo - mayo til you drop, rock rock never stop. (It's got it like that, baby. Mayo is delicious.) Make sure that you sprinkle some Old Bay seasoning in there, because they probably haven't had enough yet.

7. Extremely finally, christen the abomination with the final, curative piece of bread. Admire it. Imagine you were there when Da Vinci painted the Last Supper (with a cameo by: Judas!), or if you were there when Van Gogh looked onto the horizon and painted "A Starry Night", or if you had been a screaming eight-year-old boy when Hulk Hogan pinned Andre the Giant after a massive bodyslam in Detroit, Michigan at the Pontiac Silverdome in front of 93,000 people. Basically: It's one of a kind, and - somehow - delicious.

8. Eat it. I've had three during the time it took me to write this. Fuckin' mayo is gonna send me to an early grave.

How Delilah's is ruining my life.

2007-04-11T23:57:00.000-07:00

So Delilah's is a bar on Lincoln and Diversey. It also is wrecking me. It bulldozes through the foundations of my body and soul, and it does so on a twice-weekly basis.

I never thought that I'd patronize this place. I knew about it before. It's purposely hole-in-the wall-ish, and its clientele is 95% punk/alternative/whatever adjective you want to call it. (There's no way that I can be more specific, because as soon as I try to be some hipster is going to jump down my throat and say "No way man, the crowd at Delilah's is more post-new-wave-hardcore with a splash of Goth," and I don't to deal with it. But you know what I mean.) Anyway, even though I knew it was one of the better whiskey bars in the city (actually in America, as I'd later find out), I pretty much resolved out of hand not to go there.

Boy howdy, was I wrong.

I got dragged there by my friend Nicky when she turned 21. (Finally.) I walk in, and the place is dark, but there's a light shining behind the bar, cutting swaths through the darkness. I think the light was whispering something, too, whispering something softly. I'm pretty sure it was "alcoholism." Because the light was coming from a sign, a sign that read:

SPECIAL: $2 SHOTS OF MAKER'S MARK

Maker's Mark, to anyone who doesn't know my drinking habits very well, is essentially my own personal crystal meth. I'm helpless in the face of it. Maker's Mark led directly to me passing out on some nice gentleman's porch in New Orleans at 11 o'clock in the morning. (He was nice enough to call the cops and have them escort me back to my friend's frat. Thanks, Sigma Chi, for having such an easy-to-remember name, even when I'm out of my mind drunk.)

So ever since that night, I've patronized Delilah's religiously. It's led directly, I feel, to parts of my liver breaking off and vaporizing. I've become familiar with the bartenders, and even feel at ease with the crowd, and no longer have latent fear that they're going to turn on me at some point during the night and tear me to pieces for wearing a North Face jacket, like a group of Morrissey-loving zombies.

Hell, I would go so far to say that I feel at home there now. Two or three shots of Maker's, in fact, will have you feeling at home anywhere. The point to all this is, there are lots of bars in the world, so go try some out. Because even if they suck, they may still have a fantastic special that will put you on your ass and make that chubby probable-transvestite punked-out girl looking, if not cute, at least like a real person. So get thee to the nearest shitty corner bar!

That said, I'm still never going to Exit.

WTR Moment of the Day 10/31/06

2006-10-30T22:40:00.000-08:00

The setup: A cutting-edge piece of technology known as the Thunderhawk has been stolen from government couriers. The Thunderhawk is a device that emits sonic lasers that are "like an ultrasound, but 1000 times stronger and 100 times more accurate". It has extensive utility in fields such as medicine and engineering, but can also be used destructively, as is shown when it's used to demolish a large factory. Walker and Trivette arrive at an airfield where the thieves are attempting to escape on a jet plane with the Thunderhawk.

The moment: Walker and Trivette, along with the help of Rangers Gage and Sydney, overpower all but one of the thieves, the ringleader known as the Shiek. The Shiek retreats onto his plane and orders the pilot to fly while Walker and friends are distracted.

Seeing their plan, Walker springs into action. As the jet plane starts to move towards them as it attempts to build the speed for takeoff, Walker removes the Thunderhawk from its case and confidently powers it up. He aims it at the oncoming jet plane, and fires.

We see the space around the jetplane warp and distort. The gauges in the cockpit go haywire and alarms go off, as the Shiek angrily asks the pilot what's wrong. Walker continues to fire the laser, and when Trivette suggests they get out of the way, Walker sternly replies that the jet plane will stop.

Walker doesn't move an inch, and the Thunderhawk finally stops the jet plane, inches from Walker's face.

"Walker, Texas Ranger" Moment of the Day 1: 10/25/06

2006-10-24T23:32:00.000-07:00

The "Walker, Texas Ranger" Moment of the Day is a daily reminiscing of one of the myriad of great moments from the TV show Walker, Texas Ranger. For thorough information on the show, go to wikipedia.org and look up "Walker, Texas Ranger" to gain access to the highly informative Walker, Texas Ranger Wikipedia site, of which this writer is an editor.

Your "Walker, Texas Ranger Moment" of the Day:

The setup. A young man on an Indian reservation is framed for a murder. Meanwhile, Walker has been having hallucinations of an elderly Indian shaman.

The moment. Walker strides into an abandoned blacksmith in a ghost town where the young Indian is engaged in a standoff with police. As he tries to coax the youth to come out quietly, the Indian shaman once again reappears, and SHOOTS WALKER WITH LIGHTNING. The scene grows dark as CGI clouds appear, conducting the lightning from the shaman to Walker; we see a rift open in the clouds, and Walker is deposited upon the ground.

Groggy, Walker wakes up and looks around him. He is alright and, at first, it seems nothing has happened. But the abandoned blacksmithery is now, oddly, full of life; in the corner, a blacksmith is working at an anvil. Walker leaves the smith unnoticed. As he exits out onto the street, he sees a covered wagon roll by. Women in frocks and bonnets hustle by, and surly-looking men look at him from in front of a noisy saloon.

It is then that we realize that Walker has traveled back in time.

Child molestation! Alcoholism! The Blame Game! More!

2006-10-05T09:58:00.000-07:00

At this point, everyone's heard of the Mark Foley scandal, wherein he got drunk, IM'ed sexually explicit messages to teenage Congressional pages, and then went and voted on a bill (not necessarily in that order. And come on Mark, cybersex is so 1997.) What's interesting to me is the wave of revelations on Foley's part that occurred after everything came out in the press; namely, that Foley was a) suddenly an alcoholic, and b) suddenly molested by his priest when he was a boy. I'm surprised he hasn't come out and revealed that he's addicted to crystal meth, or that he was forced to lose his virginity to a Cambodian prostitute.

Even more to the point, on a serious note, is the amount of people who allegedly knew about some sort of indiscretion on his part but didn't see fit to cause a fuss about it. It has come out that House Republicans knew in July about apparently inappropriate emails sent out to a Louisana teen in 2005, but kept it almost wholly silent. This is, of course, disgusting. And I'm always wary of hating on the GOP, lest I create a "TEH GOP AND BUSH ARE TEH EVIL OMG HE IS TEH ANTICHRIST!" type of impression, but God Damn, Can You Believe This Shit. The guy is most likely a pedophile (pederast?) To keep this quiet in the interest of preserving party unity and shielding themselves from public scorn around election time is repulsive and, you know, probably politics as usual. Hooray.

WTR 202: Native American Mysticism in Walker, Texas Ranger

2006-09-06T14:08:00.000-07:00

Native American mysticism often plays a crucial role in Walker, Texas Ranger. Several episodes of the show are devoted almost entirely to magical happenings associated with Native American beliefs or some sort of shamanism. The most hilarious example of this is in season eight, episode four, “Way of the Warrior”. Walker inexplicably starts to hallucinate the image of an old Native American shaman everywhere he goes. Later in the episode, the shaman reappears and shoots a bolt of lightning at Walker, which transports him one hundred years into the past so that he may clear the name of a Cherokee mistakenly accused of murder.
Manifestations of ghostly Native Americans occur often in WTR. They generally either guide Walker towards the truth or encourage him in some way, as in “Final Justice” (season five, episode seven) in which Walker’s father appears to him when the episode’s villain has him tied to a fencepost; his father at first takes the form of an eagle, and then transforms into human form, striding towards his son and encouraging him not to give up hope. (It should also be noted that in this episode, the image of his father was interspersed with one of Native Americans in traditional garb dancing around a fire. This occurs often in WTR in general.) As for guides, the best example of this is in “Ghost Rider” (season five, episode three) in which a Native American who was murdered when he opposed the building of an oil site (or something) appears to Walker and leads him to clues. In this particular occasion, and on some others, the ghosts are able to be seen not only by Walker but by others, as well. (A common way for an episode of this nature to end is when the villain sees the ghost and shoots at him, giving Walker the opening he needs to fly in with a kick. This happens in this episode, as well as at the end of the WTR movie “Flashback”, when Kimble fires at the ghost of Hayes Cooper.)
Finally, note that in almost all of these episodes, Walker’s partner Trivette disparages what he often refers to as “that Cherokee mumbo jumbo” or “that Cherokee business”. Invariably, he is always made to look silly, and often makes a crack about the whole situation at the end (as in “Ghost Rider” when, as he’s handcuffing the villain, he remarks, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”)

Knees directly to the grill.

2006-08-31T19:35:00.000-07:00

So I've discovered UFC. I mean, I knew it was there, but it's kind of boring at first if you watch the wrong fights (specifically a fight between two submission guys, where someone new to the world really has no idea what's going on. What is this "half-guard" that you speak of?)

I had given it a shot, but wasn't really into it. Then I saw someone, and I still can't remember who but I believe it was on Spike's weekly UFC show on Thursdays where they show memorable matches, and I saw someone get motherfuckin' killed when he was hit with a flying knee right to the domepiece from like four feet away. And then I was hooked, and I've gotten into it more.

So this is my official endorsement. I think a lot of people can get into it if they give it a chance. And the first time you watch someone get kicked directly in the face, you will be hooked.

(Also, I'm blogging again. BE PREPARED)

On the nature of success

2006-04-10T22:47:00.000-07:00

I was reading the paper today (okay, the RedEye, so shoot me) and I saw a picture of Hugh Hefner. As I looked at Mr. Hefner, dressed in the finest silks a porn empire can buy, I found myself wondering about what being successful is.

Is Hugh Hefner successful? I think a majority of people would think so, especially men. He's rich, famous, and dates not one, not two, but three women more than fifty years his junior. He is the head of the Playboy empire, which not only includes magazines but also TV channels, Web sites, and generally is the poster-child for the Playboy reader; perhaps someday, you too can be an octogenarian and fuck models. (This latter idea, that of the Playboy lifestyle, is a separate issue that I'll get to one day.)

But what is success? What defines success? A lot of people equate success with money, and while success often translates into fiscal happiness, I don't think that having money means you're successful, even if you've earned that money. Hefner grew up a middle-class kid in Chicago (he went to Steinmetz, for chrissakes) and built a global multimedia corporation from the ground up.

Of course, he made his money off porn.

This may seem like an overly moralistic argument, but think - is this world, strictly speaking, better off because of the existence of Playboy? Certain individiuals would certainly agree with you; Playboy shareholders, the myriad finance and marketing and business people that assuredly keep the company chugging along,pubescent boys. But can we imagine a world in which Playboy could not exist? Sure.

Hefner is kind of an odd case, as I think society views him as the grandfather of porn; a genial, silk-clad, jacuzzi-reclining millionaire eccentric beyond reproach. But for him to be seen as successful because he made porn so much easier to get is a little generous. Hefner clearly has a unique skill set - after all, you don't get to be a millionaire by being an idiot. But those same qualities that granted him his wealth are qualities he could've used in another context. He's not someone who was never going to amount to anything, and he's not someone who had potential but never had the drive to use it. Possibly worse, he is someone who for whatever reasons has the ability to do monumental things, but has used them for - what?

It may seem like I'm picking on Hef, and that's not my intent - I see him as Grandpa Porno just like everyone else. But at the same time, is this how we should define ourselves? When Hef's grandchild is enjoying a life built for him decades before he was a concept in his mother's head and asks Mom why they have so much gosh-darn money, will the vivid evocation of Grandpa Hugh Hefner, Porno Patriot, inspire the kid to follow in the same epic pornographic footsteps and carry on his grandfather's great legacy? Or will the kid take the tools he's been given and use them for the greater good?

Also, while I (hopefully) have your attention, I'd like to apologize for the other few posts on this blog. I apologize not only for the lack of them, but also their quality, which is severely lacking. They are what people call "Not funny", and I freely admit that. Isn't perspective wonderful?

Deadeye Dick

2006-02-27T16:13:00.000-08:00

Cheney Claims Self-Defense in Shooting
“He was coming right for me,” VP says

WASHINGTON, D.C. (AP) – Vice President Dick Cheney claimed on Friday that the shooting of his one-time friend Harry Whittington on a Texas game ranch was a matter of self-defense. Whittington, Mr. Cheney claims, was dangerously high on PCP at the time of the incident, and Mr. Cheney feared for his life.
“I’ve never seen Harry like that,” Mr. Cheney said. “Lord knows we’ve done a lot of drugs together, but it never escalated to the point where I was afraid for him, or for me. That all changed at that ranch.”
According to reports, Mr. Cheney and Mr. Whittington indulged in what White House spokesman Scott McClellan called a “drug binge”, consuming various amounts of ecstasy, the impotency drug Viagra, cocaine, PCP or “angel dust”, and alcoholic beverages over a five-hour period. In response to allegations that Mr. Cheney had thus lied about having only “a beer at lunch”, Mr. Cheney responded, “I stand by what I said about only having one beer at lunch. One beer with a hit of dust back.”
Mr. Whittington, apparently spurred on by Mr. Cheney calling him a “pussy”, consumed three lines of cocaine off the bosom of Katharine Harris, the owner of the ranch where the incident happened, shortly before the men and their staffs donned their hunting gear. He reportedly became enraged, and shortly after the hunt began charged Mr. Cheney, screaming “You’re not in an undisclosed location now, bitch!” Cheney responded by swinging around and firing upon Mr. Whittington, hitting him in the face, neck, and chest.
Mr. Whittington is currently in an undisclosed rehabilitation clinic for what his spokesman called “exhaustion”, and Mr. Cheney is known to be armed and dangerous, a Washington, D.C. police spokesman said. Additionally, it is unknown at this time if Mr. Cheney has received innoculation against rabies, the spokesman said; if D.C. residents spot Mr. Cheney frothing at the mouth and acting in an aggressive manner, they are encouraged to call 911.

Review: "Never Been a Right Time (to Say Goodbye)

2006-01-30T20:50:00.000-08:00

The year was 1993.

WWF wrestler Bret Hart was at the top of his profession, having just won the WWF Heavyweight Championship. He was living his dream and had everything he could have realistically wanted from the WWF, but he wanted more. He was WWF Champion - but he wanted to become more than the top of the heap in the WWF, more than a big fish in a small pond. He needed to break into the mainstream.

At the same time, WWF was discussing relasing a WWF-branded album. The album, Wrestlemania: The Album, would feature some of the WWF superstars singing songs related to their on-screen characters. Native American wrestler Tatanka sang about buffalo and growing up on the reservation; patriot Hacksaw Jim Duggan sang about his love for America; and crazy man Macho Man Randy Savage sang about the planets or something, I don't know.

Hart, though, realized that this was his ticket to the top. He realized he needed something to seperate himself from his wrestling colleagues, something that could appeal to the mainstream and capitalize on his entrancing voice and rugged good looks. He needed a love ballad.

"Never Been a Right Time (to Say Goodbye)", "sang" by Bret Hart and accompanied by a lot of fucking synth, is a song that details the heartbreak Bret goes through when trying to tell his woman that it's over. I put "sang" in quotes because Hart doesn't so much sing as he does speak the lyrics, letting his backup singers do the emotional chorus. It's a bit of a tease; nothing would make me happier than hearing the Hitman croon his heart out, but we don't get it. The lyrics themselves talk about Bret being ashamed that he can't return the woman's love; that he has to leave, for her sake. That's heartfelt, man. You can't fake that.

"Never Been a Right Time", as you might suspect, soared to the top of the charts. It debuted at #6 on the Billboard Top 100, and stayed at #1 for several weeks, during which Bret lived the life of a king. His concert at the Tokyo Dome in Tokyo, Japan, drew ninety thousand people, and consisted of him singing "Never Been a Right Time" for two hours while snapping his fingers out of rhythm. His duet at the Grammys that year with Whitney Houston, with Bret collaborating on "I Will Always Love You", is a Grammy moment replayed to this day.

After the success of "Never Been a Right Time", Bret went back to wrestling, having satiated his lust for the big time. True fans of music, though, will always remember the time he spent in the spotlight.

test

2006-01-25T15:11:00.000-08:00

hmm.