Seen in San Francisco...

Hans Blix vs. Hanz Blixxx

Various quotes from Hans Blix, U.N Chief Weapons Inspector and Hanz Blixxx, U.N. Bikini Inspector.

Dr. Hans Blix, U.N Chief Weapons Inspector	Dr. Hanz Blixxx, U.N. Bikini Inspector
"We are not coming to Iraq to harass or to insult or humiliate them."	"They call me Hanz. Let me show you why. Please accompany me to the Tiki Hut for Cristal and rub-downs."
"Not seeing something, not seeing an indication of something, does not lead automatically to the conclusion that there is nothing."	"Girl, the last time I saw curves that dangerous was when I was the 1986 World Rally Championship Series Champion."
"They said they had been surprised themselves [about finding the empty warheads]. They were in boxes, never opened -- there were bird droppings on them. But of course they should have been declared and destroyed."	"I work for the U.N... as in U-N-me are made for each other, girl."
"When we find material for chemical ammunition, we have to ask ourselves, 'Is this just one find or are there more?' When we find documents at a private house, we must ask ourselves, 'Are there more when they say there are no more documents?'"	"I declare your J. Lo perfume to be an unauthorized chemical weapon... of a most sexual nature."
"We now have been there for some two months and have been covering the country in ever-wider sweeps, and we haven't found any smoking guns."	"I declare you to be the bomb, but it would be a shame to conceal or destroy your weaponry. Care for a closer inspection?"

Well, what do you know...
Funny thing happened on the BART (subway) train this morning.

I'm sitting there, reading my paper, minding my own business, when all of a sudden...

I intercepted a Rich Gannon pass.

Then I returned it for a touchdown.

Then I aired some very expensive albeit crappy commercials on my Palm Pilot.

Then I commandeered the BART train and did some donuts / performed some "sideshow" tricks in the tunnel.

Then I set fire to some automobiles.

Then I complained a little about the "tuck rule".

Then I got off the train and exited the station, as I had arrived at my destination.

The Pill That Melts Waerts
Freshmilk, let us know how things are going.

This pill basically melts warts from the inside-out? And not necessarily warts, but more specifically skin cancer? Why would you apply a pill to a wart/skin cancer lesion? Is it a pill? I bet it's not a pill. Is it cream? Does it come in a little jar with a small plastic lid-applicator unit? With a strong smell? Or a tube? Have you considered the option of wearing foam novelty AesHandd over BKLesionHandd? Maybe you could coat the inside of the AesHandd in the cream/solvent/pill-shavings? What is your take on the doctors? Do you think they know what is going on? Have you seen their credentials or do they bumble around the office and knock things over? Do you think they are imposters, like The Fat Boys in Disorderlies? Do you think they think it's skin cancer and aren't telling you? Do you ever yell "F.U., Dex!" while flicking off the bottle of Efudex with both hands? What is your general mindset at this time?

Note: It is hard to tell how serious/worrying this condition is for you at this time, so please forgive this levity if you think it is in bad taste.

I Got Warts

Well, a wart anyway. I've had this nasty fucking wart on the pad of the mid segment of my middle finger (right hand) for about a year now. I've never had a wart before so the whole thing strikes me as fairly odd. Anyway, after two doctors, various freezings, and acid treatments, all of which were non-effective, I've been given a new drug: Efudex. I cannot find anything online that suggests it is indicated for warts, and it is most often perscribed for the treatment of skin cancer. The following is from Yahoo health:

"When Efudex is applied to affected skin, the skin becomes abnormally red, blisters form, and the surface skin wears away. A lesion or sore forms at the affected site, and the diseased or cancerous skin cells die before a new layer of skin forms. Continue using the medication until the inflammatory response reaches the stage where the skin wears away, a sore or lesion forms, and the skin cells die; your doctor will then have you stop using the medication. The usual length of treatment is from 2 to 4 weeks. You may not see complete healing of the affected area for 1 to 2 months after ending the treatment."

So this should be interesting. Due to lack of contrast with the background skin, I can't get a really good picture of the wart itself...but I have begun treatment, and the lesion should start forming soon. We can hope, anyway. I will keep you all posted as to the progress of the lesion and provide pictures when it gets intersting.

Guest Freshmilk: Celebrity Watch

Today's submission comes to the mailbag from Lief Grosch-Jackson, a good friend and all around funnyman currently residing in Seattle. Here it goes:

This afternoon I was in dowtown Seattle at a cooking store, Sur La Table. I went there to pick up a skillet I've been wanting to buy and it turns out that the only one they had was the display, which was banged to shit, so I decided to look around the store a bit while I was there. There are a small few aisles of French table linens, napkins, etc...I thought I'd get something small for Ann. I was going from the first linen aisle to the middle one and there was a bald, greyhaired older guy talking to one of the girls who worked there standing in my way. So I said excuse me and squeezed by the guy and was overpowered by the ripe smell of someone who had been boozing for a LONG TIME, the stench was fucking staggering. I murmered 'Holy Fuck' under my breath and just then the guy starts going off on this girl, "The woman told me they were going to be coming in THIS WEEK. Yes, that's right! She told me TEN PALLETTES were coming in this week. uh huh. Absolutely I'd like to talk to the manager..." Just then another customer, a woman, exclaims, "I watched you on TV when I was having labor pains and it really helped!" I peeked around the corner and it took me about 10 seconds to realize who it was. It was the fucking Frugal Gourmet! I looked at the guy and said "Are you who I think you are?" and, after he gave the woman a business card "for her scrapbook" he said "Yes, who are you?!" So I talked to the old pedophile for a minute, indulged him by saying he got me interested in cooking as a kid, and he cracked a few lame jokes about my name and that was that. My celebrity sighting for the weekend. That dude has been on a serious bender since they kicked him off PBS. Older, a little puffier, and sweet Christ....that smell! He was very gracious to me ('cause he wanted to hump me???) but my overall impression was that he is an alkie and a bona fide loudmouthed asshole.

Signed "Gentleman Meets Grill"

Get a word in edgewise

Lowbar.com is no longer a one-way street. Post your ramblings here. Or don't. See if I care.

This feature is also accessible by clicking the "Holla back" link in the left sidebar, in case you're interested. Jerk.

Hot-but-flawed insults that will wow and dazzle your peers

• You think you are too cool for school, but guess what? School just got a whole lot cooler.
  
• Your mom is so fat that I've considered the following: Something may be wrong with her metabolism.
  
• Smooth move, Ex-Lax.
  
• No shit, Sherlock.
  
• Nice driving directions for my travels into outer space, Copernicus.
  
• Nice theories regarding galvanic electricity, Georg Simon Ohm.
  
• Why don't you make like a fighter pilot and fly your F-16 fighter plane out of here, douchebag.
  
• When God was handing out brains, you thought he said "trains" and said "no thanks." While this was perhaps the proper response regarding the acquisition of additional trains -- you are many things, but lacking in the area of train-ownership is not one of them -- you are dumb as shit as a result of this misunderstanding.
  
• Hey, Mr. Pussy-Ears... the last time I checked, rock and roll ain't noise pollution.
  
• You must have skipped the day in school when they were teaching education.
  
• What you say is what you are; you're a naked booby-star. (** implies that person initiating insult is a naked booby-star, which may be undesirable)
  
• Milk, milk, lemonade, 'round the corner your breath is made.
  

Howie Art at a Bar
You all are on the mailing list anyway but I thought I'd post this up here for the throngs that visit Lowbar on a daily basis.
Pictures from the show
The funniest thing about last night was all the people trying to guess what my paintings meant. One guy thought they looked like intestinal tract depictions (he works as a x-ray technician) and one woman thought they looked like scooters (I have no idea what she was seeing). One stranger cornered me and went off on each of my paintings, telling me where I painted them and what my state of mind was. "Ok, ok in this one you're in New York and those are all New Yorkers in there. and you've arrived, you're content with yourself and who you are in this world." That got me a little freaked out. I was feeling a like John Lennon to his John Chapman. I had one lady fish out a piece of paper from the trash that I used to make a painting from and had me sign it.

Nobody likes a quitter
For the fourth consecutive year, my new year's resolution is to stop smoking cigarettes. I have experimented with various methodologies to accomplish this goal over the years, and all have astonishingly resulted in my continuing to smoke cigarettes.

In summary, the past three attempts have gone like this:

2000, Nicoderm patch: Approximately 7 days of non-smoking. Patch smell like shit. Patch make me hyper. Patch somehow make me more irritable than with no patch. Me forget to take off patch when sleepytime; me have nightmares consisting of monsters killing my loved ones. Me scared by nightmare. Me purchase 20-cigarette pack. Me smoky.

2001, Nicorette gum: Approximately 4 days of non-smoking. Gum taste like shit. Gum close up throat. Gum only effective in helping me quit gum. With no gum, me crave smoky. Me purchase 20-cigarette pack. Me smoky.

2002, Stone Cold Steve Turkey: Approximately 3 weeks(!) of non-smoking. Me consumed by manaical, cigarette-related restlessness and anxiety for first full week. Me experience surprising sense of calm for much of second week. Me convinced cigarettes had been defeated for third full week. Me celebrate kicking habit by purchasing 20-cigarette pack. Me smoky.

There were some common themes and perceptions that united all three attempts:

a) Frequent jokes consisting of: "I just quit smoking. It's going pretty well, but man... these Nicoderm patches/pieces of Nicorette gum just don't stay lit."

b) Gaining approximately 30 lbs. per non-smoking week, due to substituting 6-course meals for cigarettes.

c) Eventually convincing myself it's better to continue smoking, if only to spite those fake-coughing, "you know, you really should quit smoking" elitists who think it's their business to offer me unsolicited advice. Trust me: everyone who smokes knows how bad cigarettes are for the human body. If one lives in California and one happens to smoke cigarettes, one is forced to do it outside, where one may encounter people who don't smoke. Don't blame us; that's the law. We also know that if one is smoking a cigarette and one passes you on a city street and a little bit of our cigarette smoke wafts towards you, this is not enough smoke to cause an intense coughing fit. You've taken over the bars and the restaurants and every other indoor space in this entire state, so at least let us smoke outside without getting an earful of your obvious opinions. I don't cover my ears and pretend to be suffering from the decibel level when you are talking on your fucking cell phone, so do me a favor and stop with the coughing.

d) To successfully quit smoking, I will need stores to stop selling cigarettes.

This year, I have enlisted the aid of Commit brand nicotine lozenges. The makers of these lozenges -- world-class scientists who have obviously never enjoyed the marvelous experience of smoking delicious, delicious cigarettes -- seem to have operated under the assumption that the key allure of cigarette-smoking is a combination of:

(1) a caustic taste/burning sensation in throat that temporarily disables your ability to swallow [77% accurate]
(2) a faint peppermint flavor [11% accurate, but only for Kool or Newport smokers]
(3) uncontrollable hiccuping [0% accurate]

The instructions also mention that you should wait 15 minutes after eating to enjoy a Commit lozenge, which is the single most unrealistic thing I have ever been asked to do. Go ask your local cigarette aficionado; they will tell you that the best time to have a cigarette is immediately after a meal. Ask me to wait 15 minutes after my meal to enjoy something that's supposed to take place of my beloved cigarette, and I will ask you to speak with The Elbow. Because The Hand is busy. Busy holding the cigarette that The Mouth is smoking.

It is unfair to place all the blame on the Commit lozenge, as I am sure that the Commit lozenge's heart is in the right place. I'm also pretty sure that the Nicoderm patch and Nicorette gum intended well. I just don't think they knew what they were getting into. The cigarette-enjoyment receptors in my brain have exceptional debate skills, and each attempt to quit smoking causes them to get lippy.

Day 1: Hey, man, we think it's awesome that you're quitting smoking. We could definitely use a break. We're totally in your corner.
Day 2: Wow. These lozenges fucking suck! You know, your mom quit cold turkey. I bet you can do it without the lozenges, trust me.
Day 3: Man, that turkey dinner was delicious. Time for a smo... whoops, I forgot. My bad.
Day 4: You know, I really don't miss smoking that much, but I definitely miss those five-minute breaks where we can just go outside and think about stuff by ourselves. Isn't it funny how if you did that without smoking, people would just think you were loitering or stalking somebody or something? Man, I miss those breaks...
Day 5: Wow, I just realized something: All the great ones smoked.
Day 6: I bet if you had a cigarette right now, it would give you a huge buzz just like the first one you ever had.
Day 7: This is ridiculous. Look at the way you're acting. Would you rather be a smoker or an asshole for the rest of your life? Do everybody else a favor and just have one, you selfish bitch.
Day 8: Hey, man, listen -- just hear me out here. The Id and I have been talking, and we thought we should let you know that you look like a pussy these days. You really used to look good with a cigarette -- tougher, cooler, the way you smoked it gave you this air of intensity and a strange sense of purpose. So here's what we've been thinking: why do you have to quit completely? I mean, you could have the occassional smoke when you were out at a bar, walking home from work, after a good meal or whatever. Seriously, man, just something to think about. (Me: Can't I just buy a leather jacket?) You don't have that kind of money, dipshit.
Day 9: Fuck you. You're on your own.
Day 10: Mmmmmmm... man, that hit the spot. I told you it'd be just like the first one you ever had. By the way: nice will-power, you pathetic loser.

That's about it. I don't really have a point here, other than I just went and smoked a couple of cigarettes after one full day of non-smoking. I felt shame, but luckily my emotions were not betrayed by my outward appearance of cool toughness.