Bloody-handed space opera rules. Got some chores today, got some creative time to catch up on. But soon, I’m gonna get a pizza, a bottle of some disgustingly sweet carbonated whatever liquid, I’m gonna sit down in front of my superannuated Emachines 633 Celeron box and I’m going to show some digital emulations of alien pugnacity how imperial expansion’s done. Because I will stomp on their little pixilated tails in the doing! There is something refreshingly honest about my current fave gam...

This morning saw an export market for New York weather in downtown Los Angeles. Pedestrians in eyeshot of the corner of Figueroa and Seventh slouched around like soggy guinea hens in earth tone overcoats and hasty shelters of newspaper. (Take that, evangelical Internet newshounds! Blogging will not be *truly* ubiquitous until you can use a Dvorak web column as a hood in a sudden downpour...) Not that even such a URL-sensitive brolly would have been much help, because the precipitation’s parti...

With a trivial flip, I can change the color of my belt from brown to black - and back again! I didn't know they made reversible belts. But I have been their raving fan since picking one up at Ross Dress For Less, emporia to those craving fashionable discount camouflage. Features like a fully reversible belt head are perhaps the only bridgeheads of appeal to your typical guy. The silk wearing and model-hiring segments of our economy are terra incognita and somewhat spooky to yer averag...

The Author recollects from yesterday's wait on the freezing cold train platform for the Los Angeles Green Line to Redondo Beach: If the wind was any faster, there would have been no problem, really: we'd all have been dead in three seconds of hypothermia. Wilmington Station was like some monsterously ill-conceived junior high science fair experiment fancied up by a slow kid with a convalescent sadistic streak. I can just see it, a brood of bewildered and angst-shot gerbils huddled togethe...