The Blue Drone Asks:

Sensei.
How can one be able to achieve the rank of Psychic Ninja Master when one's trait of transparency in thought and action serves more as a burden than an ability? Should one learn surreptitious, shrouded, and concealed ways? The fate of the world rests on your wise counsel.
On this I shall meditate under the Bohdi Tree as I wait for your answer, Sensei.

Naaah...Bohdi Tree is too far away, an elm will do.

On Goth Night...and other linguistic missteps.

"Schadenfreude! Schadenfreude! Ja!" was one of the running jokes at the bar, spoken in a faux "Dieter from SNL" tone... "Ja Ich bin expert in den Schadenfreude Ja". I had experienced this Schadenfreude once or twice before... pleasure from the pain of others, yes, I must admit...I am a human-drone after all, and there is a certain aspect of karmic justice within it when it involves those who have wronged you. As Mel Brooks is quoted as saying: "Tragedy is when I cut my finger, comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."
'Schadenfreude', also happens to be the name given to Goth Night at a nearby bar conveniently located on the way to my house.
Two nights ago...
I had finished tackling a crossword puzzle that WAS meant to be finished...I sipped on my 'High Life'-how it came to be known as 'The Champagne of Beers' still boggles my mind-and took two final drags off my cigarette, bent on leaving the still-empty bar to look for, how should I put it, greener pastures?
After visiting some fine establishments along the way, I decided to call it an early night and head home...but something lured me into this "Schadenfreude Goth Night"...mayhaps it was the chance for one last drink before I lay to an early slumber...mayhaps it was my restlessness.
It was dark, of course...and nobody smiles. A tall skinny pale guy stands near the stage, bad haircut, bad tattoos...he is not happy, he is not even content with his task of repeatedly hitting the electronic drum-kit in the same beat. Close to him stands another who goes through the same motions, and who, unsurprisingly looks just like him, except he has a better elecronic drum-kit. He also looks unhappy.
Strangely enough, their sadness enlightens me not. Am I not supposed to feel pleasure at their seeming displeasure? Yet it still eluded me.
I pace, lean by the bar and glance at another who nurses a drink and plays with her necklace twisting it around her fingers...dour, beaten expression in her face. She is very sad. And I am still not happy.
And why goth? Gothic perhaps, but not goth. Black lace and bad taste in clothes and music a goth does not make. I refuse to compare the people who conquered and settled large swaths of the former Western AND Eastern Roman Empires with the people who conquered...uhm, well... 'Hot Topic'! A group of helmeted barbarians dancing while wearing leather armor and swinging their maces and swords...that I'd pay money to see.
I look at the bartender. At this point I decide that I do not really need another drink. She looks tired, and very un-goth like. She is not having a good time. And I am still not happy; worse yet, I feel empathy for this service employee...and share her dissatisfaction at such a mediocre example of a "theme" night. My efforts have surely backfired. And I remember that the only people smiling were the two that relieved me of five dollars at the door. I'd been had, I'd been Schadenfreud'ed!!!
After a short time, I decide that the remainder of my night out is better spent buying some groceries at Safeway and end up dining on sweet green peppercorn salami with swiss cheese on a baguette...a pleasure, and one that did not depend on the pain of others, save the pig, the dairy cow, and the underpaid bakery employees. Now THAT is Schadenfreude.

The Blue Drone says:

It's better just to fantasize about feeding your good-for-nothing, imbecilic overseers to a pack of sex-starved baboons and hungry hyenas rather than actually doing it.
...They might give the poor beasts one serious indigestion/infection.

Upset...Angry? Me? Never!!

NOTE: This has nothing to do with current events...you know, over there...

The Blue Drone says...

Some crossword puzzles are just not meant to be finished.

El Zángano Azul dice...

Si empiezas a sentirte como 'Pepe le Pew', significa que debes desistir en tu empresa.

No, en serio, desiste...

Zidane & the Mideast Crisis...

Reading Estruendomudo's article on this Egalité, Fraternité, Liberté deal we all talk about so much in Fútbol and in other matters got me thinking, and I was forced to research the issue further. I found this while reading this morning's ever enlightening news:

A member of Lebanese Hizbollah Shi'ite group guards the entrance of the group's television station, al-Manar, following an Israeli air raid in Beirut July 13, 2006.

Do not let the caption fool you. This man is not incensed by the recent attacks in Southern Lebanon by Israel, including the airport near Beirut today. He is brandishing his AK-47 and wearing his Real Madrid jersey in indignation following the Zidane debacle in the World Cup. Yes, sports bring us together...just not in the ways we expect.

Guns in the air* : A Lebanese woman, brandishing guns, celebrates in Beirut's southern suburbs after pro-Iranian Hezbollah fighters captured two Israeli soldiers in south Lebanon.

Just as infuriated is this gentle old grandmother, who promised "To put a cap in that punk-bitch referee's ass! Inshalla!" seconds before going into this refrain:

*It go guns in the air, guns in the air

Us thugged out niggaz keep our guns in the air

Guns in the air, guns in the air

Us m.u. niggaz keep our guns in the air, what?

[n] bout to lock the whole shit down, so holla at the dog

[n] bout to lock the whole shit down, so holla at the dog

Aiyyo guns in the air, guns in the air

Us grimy-ass niggaz keep our guns in the air, what?

Terrorific!

A Lebanese citizen gestures near the ruined Qasmiya Bridge near Tyre in south Lebanon shortly after being bombed by Israeli warplanes July 12, 2006.

Now they've really got Hizbollah! There is no better way to deal with the 'terrorists' than blowing up bridges! I mean, blowing up the Terrorist Bridges of Deadly Horror!

The Qassmieh bridge is seen destroyed after Israeli warplanes targeted it, on the main north-south highway, southern Lebanon, Wednesday, July 12, 2006

God forbid not destroying those bridges! Who knows, a terrorist might just walk, drive even, over it!

Lebanese men inspect a bridge damaged by Israeli waplanes near the village of Kfar Rouman in south Lebanon, Wednesday July 12, 2006.

Those two are probably terrorists as well, trying to fix the integrated anti-semite rockets laden with explosive bacon that obviously were well hidden in the terrorist bridge!

Aw heck! Might as well enjoy the show, my taxes partly paid for it anyway...

Smoke rises after Israeli jets fired missile on the village of Rachaya Al-Fokah near Chibaa in south Lebanon

Ooooohhhh...Pretty pretty explosions. That's awesome duude!

An Israeli mobile artillery piece fires towards southern Lebanon near the Israeli army post of Zaura Wednesday July 12, 2006.

That's some Righteous Firepower!

The Blue Drone Says: Sports Edition

-On Zidane: Head Butts R Ok. I shall make bumper stickers with the phrase, get rich and ditch the Hive for good.

-On Maserati, Mazzerati or whatever his name is: He's an imbecile.

'Materazzi admitted he insulted Zidane before the France captain head-butted him, but denied calling him a ''terrorist.''
''I did insult him, it's true,'' Materazzi said in Tuesday's Gazzetta dello Sport. ''But I categorically did not call him a terrorist. I'm not cultured and I don't even know what an Islamic terrorist is.''

-On deciding a World Championship via Penalty Shootout: Stupid stupid...like deciding an NBA championship via marbles shootout, or a tied baseball game via Badminton deathmatch.

-On crybaby fútbol players who fake injuries on the field: They should each be repeatedly beaned by 98-101 mph fastballs...now that's pain bitch!

-On the MLB All-Star Game: Nobody cares about the All-Star game.

-On Kittens: kittens r so cuute! Who's a cute little kitty, yes u are!!!

Ok, maybe the last one isn't really related to sports...

Vive le Hot Dog!

Measure.

Alan could tell distance, length, height, width, inseam, you name it, by a mere cursory glance at any person, object or animal. He would hold his thumb and forefinger at precisely one inch from each other and would go on to say: "This, this is how it all got started that day when I placed these two fingers on that Westcott ruler. I was but a child, but now, as I stand 37 & 3/8ths of an inch in front of you, I can finally say that I am the Master of Measure."
His friends advised him that he should become an interior designer or a surveyor, but instead, he preferred to observe the anoles on the trees and measure their tails from afar, along with tree's height, and the width of its leaves.
Time passed and Alan realized that he could not really make a living from watching and measuring the local flora & fauna. Seeing that measuring was his only skill, he decided to travel abroad in search of fame and fortune. Unfortunately, he chose France as his destination, and it proved his undoing. Confident of his abilities he took a job as a tailor's assistant in the town of Nimes. Alas, his stroke of luck was very short lived, as he found out on the first work-day. When asked for the length of a certain piece of very expensive corduroy, he swiftly answered: "But of course, it's 3 yards and 2/5ths", which produced only blank stares from the tailor and the customer. Alan was an expert measurer, no doubt, yet he could not measure using the metric system, and for all intents and purposes, he was speaking Sanskrit to the Frenchmen.
He tried to use his fingers..."See, this is one inch, this times 36 is one yard, it's all quite easy you know".
All his efforts were in vain.
The tailor was a kind and understanding man, and tried to teach Alan the metric system, but it seemed that the very same gift that Alan had for inches, feet & yards made it impossible for him to learn about millimeters or centimeters. Many months passed, and the tailor-not being well off himself-was inevitably forced to dismiss Alan, who then wandered eastward, all the while muttering to himself: "this is one inch, it's easy...this is one inch, it's easy", over and over again, until it reached the point that his hands became atrophied in the "one inch" position. He travelled as far as Moldova, where he was eventually taken in by a group of itinerant Roma who showcased him until old age as "The Crazy Gadje with the Claw Hands".

FIN

Dead Music

In memoriam of one the best bands that is no longer around. Hefner was a quirky, funny experiment in the late 90's early 00's by some former art students from jolly old England. Compared by some to Belle & Sebastian, but not as cutesy, with a rawer sound and sometimes absurdist lyrics that usually involved vice, girls, & a bit of politics, but not necessarily in that order.
Why is it that the better bands usually dissapear when they're most needed...? Perhaps some are destined to such fates, rather than just burn out into mediocrity.
They had some of the best song titles around, among them the "Hymn Series":
-The Hymn for the Cigarettes
-The Hymn for the Alcohol
-The Hymn for the Postal Service(not the band)
-The Hymn for the Coffee

And some of the best album artwork:

Here's the video(not embeddable) for 'Christian Girls', the sound is not the best but it's still listenable...

Or watch the one for "Good Fruit" here, and thus ends my first post in English.
Yikes!

Premiados...

He aquí los premios para los ganadores del trivia de hace dos posts... Permitamos que nuestro modelo oficial, El Sr. Wittgenstein, presente oficialmente los premios:

Für die Caribische mädchen, wer einen schweriges frage antwortet hat:

"They're back, and this time they're really stewed"

Und für Morituri, wer die "Lot Lizards" wirklich kennst:

"May the Schwartz be with you"

Danke Schön Blau Dröhnen!

No no, gracias a tí Ludwig.

Algunos trapos son mejores que otros...

Dicen las voces de los aficionados al fútbol que Angola tiene oportunidad de pasar a la segunda ronda de la Copa Mundial. Aquí en el Zángano Azul les apoyamos, no por su atletismo ni por sus abilidades con el esférico. Sino porque de todas las banderas que ondean en las gradas, la bandera de Angola es la más esteticamente atractiva.

El rojo, el negro, y ese buen machete que dice "no jodas con nosotros, le metimos caña en los 80' tanto a los Sudafricanos como a sus lacayos de UNITA". No tiene comparación con las otras aburridas banderas de los demás participantes...Francia: tres barras azul, blanco, rojo...yawn! ¿Holanda, lo mismo en diferente ángulo? Bah!

Es una pena que Mozambique no pudo participar en la copa. De haber haber participado, nuestro apoyo hubiera sido incondicional, ya que su bandera supera aún a la bandera de Angola.

Veamos:

Parece bastante normal hasta el momento que te fijas en el sello oficial sobre la estrella. Sí, es un AK-47, y no sólo un AK-47, pero un AK-47 con una bayoneta, una azada y un libro, que bien podría ser la Biblia pero yo digo que es Don Quijote. Eso es una bandera de verdad.

Algunos argumentaran que es una imagen muy violenta, tomando en cuenta la turbulenta historia de Africa, y que debería ser cambiada por otros símbolos más conciliatorios. Es cierto, pero si estuviste asediado por varias décadas no por sólo uno, sino por dos regímenes de Apartheid(Rodesia y Sudáfrica) y les venciste, tienes derecho a poner lo que te venga en gana en tu bandera. Pon una cabra balanceándose sobre una pelota de fútbol, pon 'Hello Kittys', pon una mujer desnuda, pon lo que te de la gana.

Así que si quieren citar a McLusky la bandera podría ser así:

O para ser más directo al punto, podría ser así*:

*Aunque Rodesia ya no exista como Rodesia.

A final de cuentas, TODAS las banderas son sólo trapos...

Es Oficial...

Por la presente me gustaría anunciar que los nerdos de 'Star Wars' le han quitado el cetro a los 'Trekkies' en el Battle Royale de quienes son los más geek-dorkwads.

Mi evidencia: El Wookiepedia.

Que contiene artículos como este:

The Pella Compact was the council that lead the first settlers to the planet Pelagon in the Tapani Sector approximately 13,000 BBY. It continued to govern the colonies for around a thousand years before power was devolved during the Twelve Kingdoms Era. It initiated the first contact with the Herglics.

Y este:

Cari was a planet in the Caridan system.
Like all planets in the Caridan system it was destroyed by the Jedi apprentice Kyp Durron, who used the superweapon called the Sun Crusher.

Saben, creo que el Título Universal de Super-Nerd, cuyos poseedores actualmente son los aficionados de 'Dungeons & Dragons, corre imminente peligro frente a tal amenaza nerdil.

Y no se crean esto. Es fisicamente imposible, el materia en el tiempo/espacio se tornaría de adentro hacia fuera y el universo simplemente se desvanecería.

Ok, ahora tengo que seguir buscando 'Mods' para Empire at War.

Nuevos Caminos...

La vida en la colmena es a veces dura, y eso de estar esperando toda mi corta existencia para el momento en el que tenga fertilizar a la reina y estirar las 6 patas se pone algo tedioso. Conversé con el capataz de la sección 4-B y expresé mis deseos de buscar nuevos caminos, aunque fuera temporalmente, y recibí una licencia sin paga para poder explorar otros campos de pericia antes de que mi fatídico momento llegue. Así que emprendí en mi búsqueda y encontré la Asociación Americana de Acordeonistas. Siempre quise tocar un instrumento así que decidí comunicarme con ellos. Su presidenta parece ser una persona que pudiera comprender mi situacion:

From: José Torres[thebluedrone@yahoo.com]
To: Linda Soley Reed[LSReed@ameracord.com]
Subject: Accordions, Membership

Dear Ms. Reed,

Greetings, and allow me to begin this letter by congratulating you for taking the helm of an organization of such prestige as the American Association of Accordionists. I am writing to kindly ask for your consideration of my membership application to the A.A.A. All through my life, I've enjoyed the melodious sounds of the accordion, a much underrated yet beautiful instrument. Its sound is unequaled in the world of music. If you could allow an indiscretion, I've noticed that your last name is 'Reed'. Is this a coincidence? Perhaps fate that predestined you to attain your status as president of the largest association of free reed instruments in the United States. I would like to be a free reed like you as well, not one trapped in the sticky, enclosed confines of my workplace, and bellow my music for all to hear, as I am sure you do as well.

Alas, I was not born with the gift of the accordion-master-supreme, as many call it, and I have never played it before, though I've certainly danced many a Polka, Hora, and Kocek to it. I do not mean to disinform you, I am certainly gifted musically, considering my expertise in cowbell, and the one song that I memorized for the harmonica, which my neighbors enjoyed for many a forthnight. Would you be able provide personalized lessons so that I can master the magical music box of joy?

In addition to this, I could serve as an ambassador of the A.A.A. to the world. I am aware that unfortunately, the accordion has an ill-deserved reputation among certain circles. But I know that it bellows the Lord's music, I don't mean just the Jesus love. I am aware that Jews play their Klezmer using it, and and the Romani enjoy this instrument as well. I really have no problem with them people...seriously.

I have one last request, in order not to take up more of your precious time, and it involves my assistant, Reindhart. Would it be possible to take him under your wing as well, he is well adept musically(he has already mastered the maracas!). He is a very well behaved spider monkey, and he is sooo cute, much better than his predecessor Alfonso, who was my assistant during my time as Cowbell ambassador. He was an excellent cowbell player, for a macaque. Yet his habit of flinging dung at passersby, among other unsavory ones, led to his dismissal and consequently my banishment from the American Cowbell Association. I am sure you are an understanding person and will give Reindhart a chance, at least in the concertina?

I would like to thank you for your time, and hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

José Torres

P.S. Viva la Free Reed Revolución!!!

¿Entonces?

Dicen por ahí que Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi fue eliminado "with extreme fucking prejudice" y con un par de bombas de 500 libras ayer en la tarde, o en la mañana depende de dónde vivan .
El Generalissimo Bush dice que es "...a severe blow to al-Qaida and it is a significant victory in the war on terror."
Yo digo, ¿Qué importa?
Contemplemos otras opciones:
Apareció en el Guardian hace como un año un artículo(no lo pude encontrar, dammit) que sugería El susodicho Al-Quaida es más bien como un credo, o un 'fashion statement'. como decir soy "Vegan" o prefiero mi hamburguesa sin tomates, pues soy Al-Quaidista y prefiero provocar la muerte del infiel, y publicamos panfletitos como los Hare Krishnas y la gente los obtiene y se inspira con sus bonitas lecturas. Al-Qaida no existe realmente como la organización terrorista global que los estadounidenses, británicos y otros nos hacen creer.

Yo deje de creer en "Cobra" hace un tiempo ya. Pero aparentemente hay un grupo de analistas de la C.I.A. que quieren revivir sus años de infancia combatiendo el mal. Aunque hay relatos de su aparente existencia en lugares recónditos de la web.

Pero los ilustrados conocemos la verdadera y trágica historia de Zarqawi y Bin Laden. Y la realidad es que son personajes creados por dos estudiantes de drama de la universidad. Ramón de Jesús(Zarqawi) y Edwin Pérez(Bin Laden) simplemente querían perfeccionar el arte del escenario y se enlistaron para esta campaña de desinformación.
Miren no más, a pesar de la 'AKR' a su lado y la bonita caligrafía a la derecha, podemos ver que es simplemente Ramón, igual como lo recordaba cuando trabajaba part-time en Cachaco Auto Repair, siempre soñando con actuar en una telenovela de renombre. Y el supuesto Bin Laden, digo Edwin, a quien le fue asignado su nuevo alias por un mero chiste...¿Sabían que si le cambian el orden a las letras de 'Osama Bin Laden' dice: 'Old Semi Banana'? Nos han tomado el pelo todo este tiempo...grrr.

Y doble Grrr, porque se desconchufló el template. Ayuda técnica por favor...he tratado, sin éxito, de arregrarlo. De seguro fue un agente del N.S.A.

Pt. II...y mi novia.

I'm on a roll, or something.
Por petición popular(mis dos lectores) y debido a una lenta tarde en el trabajo, siento que una secuela al Trivia es justa y necesaria. Esta vez es un poco más difícil, pero no imposible. Deben identificar la persona en la foto, que de paso es mi novia, con nombre y apellido.
Super Pistas Updated:
1. Es rusa.
2. Está muerta.
3. No fue cosmonauta pero volaba.

Wait a minute... ¿Quiere decir eso que soy necrófilo? Lo que quise decir es que era mi novia platónica, sí...eso mismo. Mi verdadera novia es Morgan Fairchild, yeah, that's the ticket.

Cosas que Aprendí en Pennsylvania...Trivia.

A 'Blogger' no le viene en gana subir fotos hoy, o simplemente me odia.
Así que tendré que recurrir a mi segunda opción. El Zángano Azul hizo un viaje cultural- etnográfico este fin de semana alrededor de las verdes y fértiles colinas del centro/norte de Pennsylvania. Durante su travesía, descubrió formas de lenguaje nuevas y ha quedado atónito con estos dos términos en específico, los cuales están aparentemente relacionados a la práctica de conducir camiones por largas distancias:

- Pulling a Reefer: ¿Consumir Cannabis Sativa mientras hablas por el C.B.?

- Lot Lizard: ¿Una especie de reptil gigante que acecha en los estacionamientos?

¿Qué piensan ustedes, estimados lectores?
El primero que acierte se llevará un premio...probablemente la copia de Supernova que no he podido regalar, aunque puede que añada algo más esta vez.

UPDATE: Ganadores en la muy concurrida sección de comentarios.

Intercambiable...

Es curioso ver como las noticias reales cada vez más se parecen a "The Onion"...

No es Photoshop...

...las saqué de la página de noticias Reuters

¿Cuándo viene el próximo cometa...para que me lleve lejos de este maldito planeta?

Sacré Bleu Bourdon!

Yo quiero ser como Serge Gainsbourg cuando sea grande...



El amor es así...siempre llega en el momento menos indicado. ¿Qué hubiera sido si estos dos se hubieran conocido veinte años después?


La pareja perfecta...

He aquí otro video de Serge en tiempos mejores...aunque a la verdad que siempre fue medio feo...

Un momento para el cambio...

Creo que es un buen momento para ejecutar mi añorada invasión a Macondo y establecer mi Anti-República Anárquica del Culto a la Tocineta. ¿Quién quiere unirse a mi anti-gabinete?

-No quieren un impuesto corporativo de 4%...¿Qué se creen que esto son los 1880's?

-No quieren el impuesto sobre ventas de 5.9...¿Qué se creen que viven en Delaware?


Siempre he dicho que los Boricuas son más Republicanos-maceta-egoístas que el propio Bush o Tom Delay. Pero no se preocupen...Habrá lugar para todos en mi tiranía benevolente. Estableceré áreas designadas para éstos sujetos, separadas en cantones y estratégicamente localizadas en zonas inundables en lo que subsecuentemente se conocerá como la Mancomunidad Autónoma de Dumbfuckistan.

Also Sprach Der Blaue Drohne!