Saturday, December 31, 2005

Happy New Year!

And so another year draws to a close here at SHÄDY ÄCRES and many other places.

2005 was a year of great prosperity for this particular Finnmärck blögzine. We increased our overseas markets and more than doubled our revenue.

Our philosophy has always been that in order to be the best you can be, you need to have the courage to follow your dreams.

You have to open your heart and discover the power within, the power that comes from embracing a vision of diversity and celebration of life.

Discover your Way. Find your own voice and express yourself. Dare to truly be yourself. But not the boring, old everyday self; the really real self, which is the hero within.

What have you done to better yourself lately? Maybe you should take up martial arts in the new year, or rockclimbing. Remember, it's all about you. Nobody else. It's about optimizing your strategies and celebrating diversity, preferably with some capoeira on the side.

This is what we strive for at SHÄDY ÄCRES. And you love us for it.

The staff and management therefore wishes all our customers and retailers a Happy New Year. The rest of you can fuck off.

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Friday, December 30, 2005

About mixing poisons



Ok, so maybe it wasn't a great idea mixing gin, absinthe and red wine with Thai food and blueberry pie.

Sigh.

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Thursday, December 29, 2005

Weather report, Finnmärck.

Yes, it's a horrid -8,8 degrees outside today, and we're eating oatmeal and waiting for our respective bodies to kill off the remains of a particularly resistant RS flu virus. I had to peel a layer of skin off my nose this morning before leaving the house.

Tickets to tropical destinations can be forwarded directly to my e-mail. It's a throw-up between Cambodia and Cuba. Even the Gold Coast will do me fine.

We live approx where I've inserted the red arrow, only a bit further down, if you happen to be in the neighbourhood.

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Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Winter campaign interlude



Sorry, can't blog right now. Are going on hazardous mountain campaign.

See you in the funny papers.

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Tuesday, December 27, 2005

The year in revue

I’m tired of history. I’m sick of Europe. I’m bored with my own opinions.

Art does not impress me. I only trust science slightly more than religion. I hate the media because it’s all we have. I don’t know what courage means, or who to despise more: The victim, the executor, the architect or the bystander.

I want to overlook the obvious. I want to be able, just once, to say what I think without regard to advantage. I want to believe in good and evil even though I know I can never distinguish between them. I want to believe in destiny because the alternative is so infinitely cruel.

If I can’t be of help to those who need it, I will obstruct those who deserve it.

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Saturday, December 24, 2005

Declaration of lørve

As a drunk Norstralian, I'd like to take this moment to declare my undying fascination and love for Adam, Surly Fag, Maître and of course B1. You guys make blogging worthwhile and a whole lot more interesting. All (or a portion of) my love to you three. Hello? Four.

Please survive the holidays without much damage. I swear expensive gin makes it better, especially when mixed with Portuguese red wine. Nuff love to you.

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Friday, December 23, 2005

It's finally here: The JC PC prototype!

1: Deathbed Confession Keyboard
(w/Integrated Oil Dispenser)
Allows you to write the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Automatically administers last rites and returns you to your maker if your input is deemed inappropriate. Available in white, beige and altar wine.

2: LOOKbusy Monitor
Only shows you what you need to see at any given time, which just happens to be Jesus Christ the redeemer, all day, all week, all year. VGA cable included. Will not function without DVI cable. DVI cable not included. Look busy - Jesus is coming!

3: Wallflower* Levitating Virgin Mouse
(w/Wallflower* Bachelorette Suspension Pad)
Very efficient. Makes swift and immaculate decisions on your behalf without even conferring with you. Click, click, click.

4: Koala Cruzada Dial-up Modem
This syphilitic, tree-dwelling marsupial talks to God. To achieve a state of rapture he uses his silver fork to scoop up eucalyptus leaves, munching them down unceremoniously while speaking in tounges all over the Holy Spirit Broadband.

5: HandJOB Manual Feed Paper Tray
Contains nothing but filth. Filth!

6: Thyrod & Thystaff Scanner
Feed filth into tube while shouting obscenities. Use rubber gloves. If your right hand offends you, cut it off.

7: Auto-da-Fisher-Price (1st Communion) Hard Drive
This is the heart of the JC Personal Computer. Notice the low weight of the Angelic Shepherd Processor, which allows it to be stored on the point of a needle. Delivered with MS-GOD faith-based Operating System which functions only if and when you believe it will. Experiencing problems? Then your faith is not strong enough. Shame on you!

8: ZION Samovar Printer
I'm a little teapot, short and stout - here's my handle, here's my last known configuration. This blessed device will spit out the pages of the Book of the Lamb like there's no tomorrow, which frankly there isn't. It is conveniently mounted on a mortar shell and features a decorative menorah.

9: JHVH++ Hardcopy
Start reading, sinners.

10: Omniprez Technical Support Service
We are everywhere. Just close your eyes and pray.

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Wednesday, December 21, 2005

The method

Sara demonstrates her revolutionary "Effusioncy" technique, a combination of manifold elements:

1: Being very, very, very ill
2: Treating the symptoms
3: Drinking cold coffee
4: Studying something I wouldn't understand
5: Leafing through cookbooks
6: Reading a novel by Paul Theroux
7: Watching something Australian on TV
8: Baking a cake (duh)
9: Stealing my favorite sweater

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Woes R Us

This is what our livingroom looks like right after we düstsück (vacuum clean) it. Yes, that is Jesus Christ the redeemer you see hovering miraculously in the background.

On TV you will notice the Australian show that seems to be on all the time now that Sara "borrowed" her mother's satelite card.

In the foreground you will notice the new printer. It is used mainly for printing out cake recipes. As you can understand, we are now technologically strapped.

We are still very ill, though. You may send us flowers and chocolate if you have any to spare.

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Scanner nostalgia

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Tuesday, December 20, 2005

The hills are alive with the sound of bullshit

I got these wonderful pictures from a program I installed. They were probably intended to be soothing, but to be honest they are just freaking me out. That's why I'm sharing them with you.

I have this week off from work and have therefore chosen to become ill. Among my many delightful symptoms are cold sores, a splitting headache and a deep, penetrating hatred for all humanity. Yes, that means you.
I also saw Sinéad O'Connor on Letterman which was kind of a bummer. It's your fault that she has become so worn, you ungrateful idiots. Why couldn't you just be nice to her?


Now she looks like Debbie Harry. So fuck you.

You heard me.

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Monday, December 19, 2005

No, really?

I just saw the doctor who treated Ariel Sharon speak on CNN. He characterized the condition as a minor cerebral event.

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He elevated us to an amazing 3000!

I'm back home from Stöckfisck, and I have an announcement to make: I love this guy. Just love him.

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Sunday, December 18, 2005

God, I'll miss her

If you're wondering why Sara hasn't blogged in a while, it's because I murdered and ate her a week ago. She tasted like fjörf.

Another thing is, December is turning out to be a really bad month for SHÄDY ÄCRES, visitorwise. We get a few more Norwegian regulars, but it's still pretty lousy.

I know we have this exclusive air, but it's really OK to tell your friends about us? I mean me. Now that I ate Sara it's aaaaaaaaall me.

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The mystery of the dancing men

It just struck me now, like that other time on the bus.

I tend to think about my ancestry with such abstrac- tion. There are my parents, of course. Hello, mum and dad. There were my grandparents, all dead now. They too had parents, grandparents, great grandparents. Names connected by thin lines, branching out with geometrical precision. Every family tree is identical except for the names.

Some of the lines are quickly hidden from view: My grandfather’s father who was a "found child" and grew up with foster parents. The details are obscure to me even though I carry those people’s surname like an inherited sweater.

Other lines reach back a long way; four, five hundred years before they are severed or blurred. The facts slowly thin out, turn into guesswork and then vanish. This name probably came from that district in North Germany. These people were farmers. This branch of the family went to South America.

There’s so little to go on. It’s almost like we don’t want to remember the details, that we don’t want to look back at all the dead people. An ocean of them… Death turns it all into mathematics.

But there is another side to it. The distinction isn’t as clear as that. It’s not us on the shore and the dead people in the water. The lifetimes overlap so we get to see each other. We get to meet our parents and our children. Our hands touch. We hold hands with them, and they in turn hold hands with the others, those we never get to meet. Like paper cut-outs of dancing figures stretching endlessly in both directions.

Down through the centuries until the hands change back. Up through the centuries until the hands change forward.

I can’t explain the realization I had on that bus when I was sixteen, and I don’t know how to land this story either. It doesn't matter.

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Saturday, December 17, 2005

The Hanged Man

I’m sorry guys, but you shouldn’t even be debating this. In times of peace there is no valid argument for the death penalty, not in a civilized society.

What you have is a culture of violence that has been allowed to fester, fed with handguns and nurtured by narcotics.

What kind of state is it that allows such conditions to exist, and then has the audacity to arbitrarily assassinate its own citizens in the name of the common good? It’s medieval.

First of all, the people who are put to death, mostly underprivileged young gentlemen of color, are often innocent. And if they are not innocent, they are most likely victims of systematic social injustice. And in the rare case that they are just plain evil, they should have had treatment. And if they had treatment and it still didn’t work, they should have had some more treatment, and some sedatives probably. Any way you turn it, the state is responsible.

If an innocent citizen is put to death, the state is responsible. If social conditions are allowed to exist that drive citizens to murder each other in order to subsist, the state is responsible. If a citizen is allowed, without detection or treatment, to develop some sort of malignant, anti-social condition that makes him prone to murder, the state is responsible. If an insane or dangerous citizen is released back into society before his treatment is effective, the state is responsible.

Why? Because responsibility is inherent in - and proportional to - power. The sovereign state as a violence monopoly, a justice monopoly and a power monopoly is therefore also ultimately a responsibility monopoly. Ultimate power means ultimate responsibility.

It follows that the state is directly responsible for the basic economic, social and medical welfare of its every citizen, at the very least to a minimum, common degree of subsistence. That's the price of power: If necessary, the state has the right to levy taxes for the redistribution of wealth. The state also has the right to field vast armies and build colossal organizational structures, shift things around and do whatever the hell it wants to get the job done.

The state does not, however, have the right to blame its citizens for its own incompetence. And never, ever in a time of peace does it have the right to kill - unless it is directly to stop one citizen from harming another. In time, with better non-lethal police technology, even that will disappear.

Grow up, America. You are embarrasing your last remaining allies.

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Friday, December 16, 2005

Tukuva tugboat

I don't know what it means, but that was the name of the restaurant in my dream. They served me a pasta dish with walnuts. All the other dinner guests were in yachting outfits.

Now that I'm awake, everything is covered in snow. It seems the great white giraffe has come.

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Thursday, December 15, 2005

Return of the G.

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Der Wandervogelfänger

Not entirely successful, but you get the idea.

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Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Radiation sickness

Shit. Now there's glue all over my new scanner.

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High tech regression

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Testing the scanner II

Another unfinished project. It seems I have a lot of those floating around.

This one is an illustration I did for a children's book that my sister was trying to write a few years ago. I can't remember the story but it involved a long, perilous balloon-journey.

After the revolution I will devote myself entirely to illustrating children's books. That and of course indulging in my unspeakable bourgeois vices - that is if I have any left. I'm so fucking well adjusted these days.

Off now to do some christmas shopping. You're all getting either the Hello Kitty bowling ball or the mouse restrainer.

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Testing the new scanner

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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Independence Day Safety Committee

Monday, December 12, 2005

Clairvoyance interlude

The SHÄDY ÄCRES blögzine is currently going through a few editorial changes due to a major technology upgrade. We admonish our twelve to fourteen loyal readers to remain patient.

We will return shortly with all the information you need about non-existing Scandinavian countries, and also a lot about the Kingdom of Finnmärck.

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Friday, December 09, 2005

Blogging in a vacuum

OK, we give up.

Sara's piece about the pets and the lovedolls I personally thought was brilliant - but you didn't give it the time of day. Then I wrote a crappy poem. No response. Fine.

I tried another approach; microscope photography, which I find most times to be a hoot. You gave it a big fat nothing. Sara then upped the stakes with her thought-provoking illegal/unethical piece. Still nothing.

You didn't think much of my PowerChicks™ entry, that's fine. I can see how that would be lost on many of you. But then you didn't like Sara's ornithological exposé, either. What's not funny about that? And how in the name of Mercer can you not comment on the mouse restrainer? That thing is fucking amazing! I don't know how I've managed without it all these years.

What's wrong with you people? Do we have to put on false teeth and a chinese hat to draw you out? We're very, VERY disappointed in you.

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The ghost of christmas present II

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What exactly is a fjörf?

This is a fjörf.

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Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Finnmärck world domination imminent?

The game is afoot!

In colossal, top secret under- ground cloning facilities, the Finnmärscker state consorti- um (CleanEnergy™) has produced an unstoppable army of highly skilled and über-ambitious clones known only as the PowerChicks™.

The PowerChicks™ were originally intended as mousy secretaries and loyal civil servants. They were created from DNA illegally harvested from the remains of Dr. Ernä-Gerdä Bründthärdsen, former ambassador for gender related environment issues and traffic.

Unfortunately, the PowerChicks™ soon developed a taste for designer shoes. These inexorable organizer-clones have now burrowed a tunnel and escaped. By using their ethical feminist superpowers they have already infiltrated every corporate structure and every level of government in Finnmärck.

They apparently have only one weakness: Bad eyesight.













































































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