Picture this: you are walking along on a sidewalk, path, or trail, and some random person is approaching you from the opposite direction. I call them randos, randoes. Whatever; a person selected from the group of other people, many of whom you don’t know or like. In set notation, {person: people who are not you}.
Continue readingAn encounter with orcs.
Last night, as I was walking home from a modest outing in downtown Sunnyvale, the home of Buffy’s hellmouth, I witnessed a homeless person, formerly known as filthy vagrants, hanging around the west side entrance (a dead end world), waiting for someone to open the gate and let them in so they could dig through the trash and break car windows for loose change. Not wanting to be that someone, I chose to go around to the north entrance.
Continue readingThe CIA handbook says it takes a 70 foot drop to make it look like an accident. That balcony seems more like 40 feet, maybe 45, if I stand up and leap backwards.
Continue readingIf you say, Hey Siri, please kill me now; I am emotionally broken and I don’t want to live anymore, she calls 911, or 999 in places where 9 comes before 1, like in the UK, and she rats you out to the authorities for gender wrongthink, a crime punishable by death. Total genius!
Continue readingImagine you have the hiccups. Probably from drinking. One every two seconds. Hiccup. Hiccup. There’s nothing you can do about it. Holding your breath. Sugar under your tongue. Slow breathing while staring at a Pamela Anderson Playboy centerfold. Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup. 1989. Hiccup. I still have a copy. Hiccup. Hiccup. In a box… hiccup… in my closet. Hiccup. Back when she was still… hiccup… hot. Not cringe.
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Inside Doug's Head 