I am not a blogger.

That’s just something to keep in mind while you read the random ejectus that my brain decides to slap up on this page.   What I am is somebody who can’t leave anything that whirrs, clicks, beeps or buzzes in a way it shouldn’t in one piece.  There are few things in life greater than taking something apart just to see how it works, and if it continues to function once you put it back together, so much the better!

I get a crazy buzz off fabricating objects to fill a need that I see, like the $1 camera flash diffuser, or a much-improved soldering iron rest

I am also somebody who is the proud owner of a wide streak of hatred for reality TV.  If you approach me with all the latest news on what your favorite brain-dead imaginary starlet did last night, you’ll be lucky to walk away with both eyes.  This amazing visual media should be used to tell a story, not follow the life of some zero-worth pumpkin who I’d likely rather see dead.  I’m disgusted with the way the sheep of this great country would rather shut off their brains and watch a bunch of fishermen act like petulant fifth-graders just because the camera is on them than watch something thought-provoking.

A great show by the name of Kings (among many, many others) is going away for just this reason – the turds of society can’t recognize poetry in motion when it smacks them square in the face.  Wanna see Choppas!  WANNA SEE CHOPPAS!!!!

One of the great disappointments of my time – we’ve lost MJ, Billy Mays, Ed McMahon, and Carlin… but we are still cursed by Paris Hilton and skanky greek whores whose only differentiating characteristics are being overly top-heavy.

Fuck TV.