Looming Y2K+6 Global Computer Crisis

I write this wholly uncertain as to when my next update will be. My aging and decrepit 20GB hard drive--the one that initially came with this system and the one which houses the OS, Windows XP--is acting mighty flaky. A few days ago, for example, there was a six-hour period in which the drive would rapidly lose disk space to phantom data. After frantically trying to figure out what was going on and deleting tons of stuff to keep it afloat, I gave up secular solutions and jogged over to the nearby Buddhist temple to fetch some holy water from the holy water trough outside. After ritualistically dousing my computer and repeatedly shouting "the power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you," the drive calmed down and stopped dropping space. A later attempt to defragment the drive revealed that it is indeed corrupted (by Satan or old age--not a virus, I checked for that) and the defragmentation engine could not be activated. So, to put a long story short, these are the final days of my epic "C:\" (that's not a smiley, you DOS-illiterate simpleton, that's its name written in prompt form!).

So what next? I need to get a replacement drive. And since I'm not at all certain of my ability to essentially "xerox" the data from old drive to new drive for a clean and easy swap, I'll likely have to reinstall Windows XP. This will be a real pain the ass as it turns out that the copy of XP I've been running is, in fact, a pirated version with a fraudulent serial number that has recently been flagged by Microsoft as such! (Embarassing, I know... trust me: I'm as shocked as you are that there is pirated software on my machine.) So I'll have to get a genuine copy of XP as well, and that will be the difficult part as the vast majority of XPs in this country are entirely in Japanese.

So, Crepuscular Ray, your cozy home for football prognostication and TV Club updates, might go offline for an unknown period of time. In this event, expect updates to be done even more sporadically from my office computer.

What else to talk about ... hmm ... got paid yesterday. That was nice. Ventured outside for the first time in a while. Sunlight=wow! What else ... currently gathering boring materials together so I can forge them into mind-numbingly boring lesson plans for a fun-crushing semester. That kind of prep always puts a spring in my step.

Oh! Colleague and pal and occasional CrepRay comment contributor Elizabeth has recently moved to Tokyo and is preparing a regimen of TESOL instruction at an institution far more prestigious than mine. Sounds like a lot of pressure for her and her program to succeed, but given what I know of her character and work ethic and training, I think she's more than up to the task. I've been lucky to have had a few phone conversations with her since her arrival, and it's surprisingly enjoyable to catch up and to reexperience some of the ups and downs (but mostly ups) of transporting your life to Japan. It's also good to compare notes w/r/t living abroad in Japan--I've learned a lot about advantages and disadvantages of Japanese cell-phones and internet Skype phones. I also learned that next time I buy a spoon at a store, I should wash it before using it. I'm still a bit skeptical as to the importance of new-spoon-washing (What's next? Launder new sheets before putting them on the bed? Scrub fresh vegetables from a produce stand?), but she sounded quite certain so it's good to know. Anyhoo, we both begin our semesters next week, so good luck, Elizabeth!

But more importantly, good luck, me!

(HaHA!... whew... I hate to laugh at my own joke, but did you see how I wished myself good luck there? And explicitly placed more importance on wishing good luck to myself than to a close friend! It makes me seem more self-centered than I really am, ultimately amounting to some unexpected self-deprecating humorous irony, the kind you'll only find on Crepuscular Ray. Pretty clever, no? And some claim my sense of haha has declined due to a lack of witty companions present to help keep it sharp. Clearly not!)

What else should I mention ... important stuff ... stuff I should talk about now because I don't know when my next post will be ...

Oh yeah! Racist Survivor! No real updates on that, but seeing as how pondering the reality show accounts for 65% of my daily cognitive functions, it was inevitable that I mentally connect Racist Survivor to a column I wrote a few years back (said mental connection occurred at approximately 6:39 PM, earlier this evening). Instead of Racist Survivor, though, my column featured Activist Survivor. This column was originally written for a summer radio show I did with ole Kevin Brown, but I later turned it into a newspaper column (late August, 2001), and shortly after that it was snagged by CollegeClub.com via the U-Wire press syndicate--a definite compliment. If you're interested, here you go:

This past weekend, I was privileged enough to be invited as a contestant in Germany's new hit extreme reality television series, Der KleinWeltMachtPolitik!

The show is basically a Survivor knock-off in which contestants are stranded on a deserted island in the South Pacific where their actions and behaviors are dutifully recorded by a non-participatory film crew.

The twist is that instead of having middle class automatons fight over a million dollar piece of cheese, the German show features highly-motivated activists from all over the world. Since logic plays a pathetically small role in public debate these days, the show's premise is centered around the philosophy that the last contestant standing must—-by virtue of her or his sheer force of will-—bear the flag for the worthiest cause.

Among the contestants, there was a screeching NARAL pro-abortion activist, an anti-abortion picketer/sniper, a vegan eco-terrorist, a CEO of a worldwide oil and lumber conglomerate, a crusading transvestite, a homophobic television evangelist, an inbred spokesman from the Aryan Nations, a New Black Panther, a militant Lubavitch Hasidic Jewish Settler, a Hamas suicide-bomber-in-training, and two rifle-toting gentlemen randomly plucked from the republic formerly known as Yugoslavia who just so happened to hate each other.

So, you may ask, with all these involved activists, what was I doing there? Thanks to the inexplicable vagaries of the internet, the producers of the show had read a old column of mine and decided that I'd make a perfect addition to the diverse range of contestants. According to them, I'm the only person on Earth stupid enough to proclaim myself a "pro-apathy inactivist."

I somehow exist in the very middle of this vast spectrum of activists and cause-heads. I am the random person that everyone tries to convince or convert. I often react with hostility towards such attempts, and I publicly revel when a disgruntled and frustrated activist labels me "apathetic."

Unfortunately, my stay on the show was destined to be short lived. While everyone else sang protest songs, I was constructing a fully-enclosed bamboo outhouse. When people started shouting their rhymed clichés and waving signs, I was foraging for edible roots.

On the island, I discovered I had far more important things to worry about than abstract and trendy causes that, even if I cared, I am ultimately powerless to affect. The delicious irony is that I've always felt the same way back here in Ft. Collins.

Inevitably, the activists grew violent as their slogans and shouts failed to accomplish anything. My first night's sleep was constantly interrupted by sporadic gunfire and I could concentrate on nothing except my growling stomach. The anti-abortion fellow left his tall sign—a blown-up photograph of a bloody and dismembered fetus—at the side of the camp, and the flickering of the firelight over its surface only served to increase my hunger.

Rather than succumb to my confusing cannibalistic urges, I instead turned my efforts toward opening a coconut. I tried bashing it against everything hard, but nothing worked. Thankfully, Ahmed, the Hamas suicide-bomber, left his backpack open and I was able to swipe 10 kg of Semtex plastic explosive and a remote detonator.

That did the trick. Coconut chunks and drops of milk rained down over the entire island like manna for nearly three minutes.

Much to my surprise, this really pissed off the rest of the contestants. The conservative partisans were disgusted by my lack of respect for Ahmed's personal property. The liberals thought I stole from Ahmed because I was prejudiced against the color of his skin and his oft-maligned religion. The Vegan was irked that the explosion might have disrupted the migratory patterns of the South Pacific albatross.

As a result, I was unanimously voted off the island the next evening. The show's host extinguished my torch and told me that on this island, activism means life, and I needed to learn to find better ways to impose my worldview on others.

It was somewhat humiliating to be the first person voted off Der KleinWeltMachtPolitik!, but, overall, it was a fun and rewarding experience. How's your summer going?

***

And people act like Jayson Blair was the first putz to fabricate news stories. Hell, half my "journalism" was cockamamey bullshit plucked from my imagination. In retrospect, I think my favorite part was looking at fetus-chunks and feeling nothing but hunger. Good times.

Well, I think I'll leave you all with perhaps the greatest CG masterpiece I've laid eyes on. I've spent hours gazing on this. You owe it to yourself to spend a little time doing the same. Click to enlarge, and I'll talk to you all later! Hopefully!

The way out is through.

Salutatio:

The past few weeks have been quite interesting. And by 'interesting', I don't mean eventful, because these recent days have been the exact opposite. I mean 'interesting' in the sense that I've been pushed to psychological extremes I haven't explored since the last two years of high school. To give you an indication of what I'm talking about, I present for you September 17th, the last time I communicated face-to-face with other humans (the event was a Kobe Kaisei "Open House" function). And that was after about 12 days of isolation following my return from Bali. In the week that's elapsed since September 17th, I haven't left the apartment. Not once.

There are two reasons for this solitude: (1) a rare money shortage--spent too much in Bali, forwarded too much to my bank account in America--has had me living on rice and bread for weeks, extinguishing what little prospect for exploration I might've had, particularly of the social variety; (2) a mystery contagion, likely contracted in the tropics, has sapped me of both my vigor and ability to sleep regularly. Seriously, I can stay awake for approximately 4-5 hours max, and then I need to sleep a couple. (Wanna hear something really pathetic? These narcoleptic fits are so strong and sudden, they even claim me while I play Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for PS2. No kidding--as I game!) Even worse, when I go to sleep at night "for real" I can manage only about four hours before a hacking cough and malfunctioning windpipe rouse me from my ragged slumber.

The good news is that both of those conditions are likely at a terminal point. W/R/T $, I get paid again on Monday (yay!), and, W/R/T health, I feel like I have an upper-hand on whatever nasty illness it is that's been trying to do me in. Of course, I've thought the upper-hand was mine way back in Bali when the symptoms first appeared ... this mysterious sickness has a truly indomitable spirit that rouses me to admiration even as I am sworn to its demise. But if drastically decreased phlegm production and increased appetite (I ate two servings of rice tonight!) are any indication, I'm all-but-victorious.

Coming to Japan, the spectre of these prolongued periods of isolation was my chief concern. The last time it was like this was high school, and I think the isolation made me go a little crazy (some of you guys might remember that) and the 100% grasp on sanity I used to enjoy never quite returned. But even back then, I came to a realization: I can do this. Just keep going. One foot in front of the other. I can do this forever.

The same realization dawns again. I've discovered, when talking to myself, I am a talented and amusing conversationalist gifted with the ability to construct new words, words whose morphological integrity and contextual placement are precise enough that I am not required to explain their meanings to myself. The only misfortune is that these words are soon forgotten--little grains of sand blown through the windtunnel that lays between my ears--and never to be shared with the world! But I did preserve one word: Thurnesday. I forget how this one was created ... perhaps I was attempting to design a 10-day "metric" week, but more likely I was trying to remember what day it was.

I digress. The solitude is almost at an end, and if Japanese Homeland Security Agents are indeed monitoring me, then I will no longer have to worry about "fitting the profile of a dangerous loner." It was tough at times, but thanks to football season, internet, downloadable television, streaming television, video games, and books, I was able to come through, and come through feeling strong enough to continue doing this months or years longer if necessary. But the number one institution to which I owe most gratitude is that of my friends. To any reader who's endured text messages, phone messages, e-mails, and phone conversations with yours truly at one end, I am very appreciative. Really, I am. It's means the world to me to be able to keep in touch with my homies. Here's a song, just for you... it may look type-written, but trust me: as I type I'm singing it with my gravelly-yet-musically-sound singing voice:

ahem... [clearing my throat, disposing of phlegm, sipping water, etc.]

YOU'RE THE BEST ... AROUND! NOTHIN'S GONNA EVER KEEP YA DOWN!
CUZ YOU'RE THE BEST ... AROUND! NOTHIN'S GONNA EVER KEEP YA

DOWWWW-OH-OWWWW-OH-OWWWWWWN!

[now I'm performing the song's solo for you on my splendid air guitar ... imagine my face contorting, as if all this musical inspiration pent up inside me is threatening to explode my head... OK, here comes the chorus again...]

YOU'RE THE BEST ... AROUND! NOTHIN'S GONNA EVER KEEP YA DOWN!
CUZ YOU'RE THE BEST ... AROUND! NOTHIN'S GONNA EVER KEEP YA

DOWWWW-OH-OWWWW-OH-OWWWWWWN!

[now I'm delivering a match-ending gut-punch while the camera switches focus from me to my pretty blonde girlfriend who is applauding wildly while my sensei, Mister Miyagi, gazes on the proceedings with stoic pride.]

FIGHT, TILL YOU DROP, NEVER STOP, NO YOU CAN'T GIVE UP UNTIL YOU WIIIIIN SOMEHOW!

[now a tournament lackey is placing the sign with my name on it even higher on the winners' bracket, much to the dismay of my Cobra-Kai rivals, one of whom runs his fingers through his mullet in frustration.]

***

Enough silliness. You know the man in this picture, don't you?

Who is this man?

Here's some hints: He is a terrifying master of dark powers. He can seduce ordinarily good men into joining the forces of evil. He's the dread coach of the New England Patriots. Still don't know? Here's another picture of none-other-than BILL BELICHICK!

Darth Belichick, pictured alongside assistant coaches Tarkin and Vader. Tarkin and Vader will, in all likelihood, join Romeo Crenel and Charlie Weiss as head coaches who are shitty even though they once trained under a bona fide Jedi Master.

I put these pictures up to prepare you, the loyal Crepuscular Ray reader, for my weekly NFL picks. Last week I went 12-4, missing Buffalo, Minnesota, New Orleans, and Jacksonville. This makes me 23-9 on the season. Perhaps you're asking yourself: is that good? Well, it's three games better than anyone in CBS' Stable of Retards (I'm sorry, I mean "CBS' Football Experts"). The only sports "experts" who are predicting as well as I am are ESPN's Hoge and Yahoo!Sports' Charles Robinson (we're all three tied at 23-9). To both Hoge and Robinson I say, "Hey, good guesses, kids! Keep it up." And then wink, like role models used to do to aspiring and wonderstruck children before the facial gesture tagged them as probable pedophiles.

Now that we've established my prognosticationous brilliance, here's this week's picks:

Bills over Jets
Steelers rebound by beating Bengals
Colts over Jaguars (I see a shocking injury in this game...could it be 'the Manning'?)
Dolphins over Titans
Texans over Redskins (upset!)
Bears over Vikings (Bears will have this season's longest initial unbeaten streak)
Bucs over Panthers (another upset! Simms got a pep talk from GWB. Is that helpful?)
Lions over Pack (sorry Favre)
Ravens over Browns (but I almost picked the Browns for some reason...)
Cards over Rams
Raiders will find a way to lose this week despite having bye
Seahawks over NYG
Eagles over 49ers
Falcons over Saints

As for the big one ... you know which one I'm talking about ... Patriots are 2-0, solid, pissed about last season's playoff loss, at home, and favored to win by a touchdown. Plus, it's common knowlege that funeral bells are already tolling for Plummer, and that this next game is going to be has last before Shanahan demotes him during the bye week in favor of Cutler. Everybody knows that's what's gonna happen. Right?

Wrong.

Broncos over Patriots

Why? Let's let Hannibal Lecter and Agent Starling explain this one for us, with Jake Plummer standing in for subject of Buffalo Bill:

Hannibal Lecter: First principles, Clarice. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?
Clarice Starling: He plays inconsitent football...
Hannibal Lecter: No! That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by playing inconsistent football?
Clarice Starling: Anger, social resentment, sexual frustration...
Hannibal Lecter: No, he confuses. That's his nature. And how do we begin to confuse, Clarice? Do we seek out people to confuse? Make an effort to answer.
Clarice Starling: No. We just...
Hannibal Lecter: No. Precisely. We begin by confusing what we see every day.

So don't you see? When everything's on the line, Plummer can be trusted to do only one thing: the enigmatic thing, the confusing thing, the last thing anyone would expect. Whether that's brainlessly flinging a ball left-handed into triple-coverage, heroically worming from the pocket to rifle a 30-yard perfect strike, single-handedly losing a game no one would predict would trouble him, or single-handedly winning a game after everyone had written him off as inept--when a situation is at its most pivotal, Plummer will do exactly what will baffle the largest number of people. Very few are expecting diddly-poo from him tomorrow, but, as for me, I'll have three heaping servings of scrumptious diddly-poo*.

***

Update on Racist Survivor: Team Black lost week one, but only after sentencing a White chicken thief to a night on "Exile Island." Team Latino lost week two, but this was intentional as they sought to rid themselves of a lazy, lackwitted teammate, who, by his own admission, would've been better placed on the "Metal Team." Metal, you see, is his musical preference, but his musing might've inspired yet another idea to keep this limping and tired show alive for one more season: Why not, instead of grouping contestants by race or gender, group them according to musical preference? I'd love to see Metal-heads antagonize Classics-buffs, Hip-Hop wage war with Country Western--or just watch Emo kids drown themselves in rivers of their own achingly contrived tears of self-pity and faux-incestuous longing.

Hey! Speaking of music, I'll end this post with Josie, the lounge singer from Bali, covering Errol's most requested song. Enjoy, you magnificent and slightly-alarmist bastard!



* Might've made a mistake. Is "diddly-poo" excrement of some sort? If so, I'll pass on the three servings of scat, but thank you anyway. Not that its odor or arrangement on the plate was in any way dissatisfactory.

Yes, actually. I am ready for some football. Go team.

I came back from Bali a week ago, but it kind of feels like yesterday. This is because every day feels exactly the same. And that's because everyday I do the exact same shit: wake up around 11 AM, text message Matt or Ryan for little while, watch whatever I downloaded the night before, play video games, walk around the neighborhood at dusk, eat a meal, read or write, then take melatonin and go to sleep. Next day, repeat. I'm kind of suffering a malaise of sorts, but I'm not sure if that's because of the prison-like monotony or the complete absence of face-to-face communication with another human. It's strange how just last year I was working two jobs (IEP & windshield delivery) and waging war against CSU's graduate school. This was right after wrapping up my thesis. I remember thinking, golly gee, wouldn't it be swell to have some time to just do nothing? If an angry deity is out there designing my own personal hell, I would guess that it wouldn't be a hectic and stressful place, but rather a boring and lonely one. Oh well. School starts in a few weeks, and I'm really excited about that. Something about working a job kinda gives one's life purpose.

Wow... re-read that last sentence.

I'mturningJapaneseIthinkI'mturningJapaneseIreallythinkso.

The bright side of boredom is that it has allowed me to plumb the depths of the internet for miracle technology heretofore unknown to the yearning masses. Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly reveal to you my newest, sparkling find: TVU.

What is this assuredly wonderful innovation? Well, it's software that allows users to stream live television over the internet! This means that, with the appropriate hardware, I could connect my television to my computer, and anyone interested could discover the vast wasteland that is Japanese television! (Coincidentally, I doubt any non-Japanese person would seriously enjoy Japanese TV, which consistently airs, at any given hour, baseball games, variety shows, shopping/telethon networks, baseball games, music videos, samurai movies, and baseball games.)

But the truly inspired use of this technology is to deliver American television to the international ex-pat community (of which I am a member). Some kind and techno-savvy soul uses TVU to consistently broadcast San Francisco's ABC, NBC, CBS, and FOX channels, as well as Comedy Central, CNN, ESPN, ESPN2, and HBO over the internet. This allows me to watch primetime American television in the early hours of the morning!

Perhaps the longtime Crepuscular Ray reader is asking, wait a minute! Weren't you boasting, just a few months ago, that you have means of downloading American TV programs? Means that allow you to conveniently watch programs when you want, commericial-free and in high-definition on your windshield-sized monitor? What's the big deal about this TVU thingy?

Good question! Two advantages to watching live TVU over downloaded programs:

(1) You can see commercials on TVU. I'm serious: this is an advantage. Just when I was wondering if American culture had somehow progressed intellectually in the six months since I left, I witnessed a Taco Bell commercial featuring "Bruno", an East-European competitive eating champion who carelessly devoured a half-pound burrito before a match. Bruno's awesome hunger is sated and he is clearly satisfied, but his eating coach is livid because Bruno's act has rendered him unable to compete! This inevitably raises the question: Why did Bruno eat a huge burrito before a competitive eating match? Was it the visual and olfactorial appeal of the Taco Bell product? Was it overconfidence in his stomach capacity and eating prowess? Or was it (and this is my favorite theory) a subconscious act of rebellion against a pushy coach--the East-European competitive eater equivalent of James Van Der Beek's memorable "I don't want ... YOUR life!" stance from Varsity Blues. But then it occurs to me that it's none of these things--it's just another insultingly retarded American TV commercial, and witnessing it was like a familiar care-package from home.

(2) There are many programs that one cannot easily or quickly download. Namely, sporting events. Namely, NFL football. Namely ... BRONCOS FOOTBALL! That's right, sportsfans! As long as it's airing in San Francisco, I can catch the Denver Broncos live. How wonderful is that? I discovered and installed TVU approximately 24 hours before the Broncos' season opener, and then stayed up until 2 AM to watch the game. And how did the Football Gods reward me for my above-and-beyond ingenuity and dedication? By serving up a putrid and offensively-embarassing loss! Thanks, Football Gods! I'll never understand why Football Athiests don't believe in you or your painfully mysterious ways! Clearly you all are up there ... and laughing.

Anyway, that's TVU. Picture quality is decent, price is right (i.e. FREE!), and, for the moment, it's legal! So enjoy it while it lasts.

Now, I'm going to try my hand at NFL prognostication regarding matchups. This is something I did every week last season in e-mail exchanges with Chris, and I figured why the hell not just post it on my blog? So here you go. Last week I guessed well. 11 correct, and 5 incorrect--I underestimated the Vikings, Cardinals, Rams, Falcons, and Jaguars. If you don't belive me, check with Chris.

Here's my picks for Week 2:

Dolphins over Bills
Ravens over Raiders (who are already on the clock)
Colts over Texans
Bengals over Browns
Bears over Lions
Panthers over Vikings
Giants over Eagles (slight upset)
Falcons over Bucs
Packers over Saints (another slight upset)
49ers over Rams (yet another slight upset)
Seahawks over Cardinals
Patriots over Jets (I'm preducting this will be the most exciting game this week)
Chargers over Titans (but not a blowout as Vegas is predicting)
Cowboys over Redskins
Steelers over Jaguars

... and... last but not least:

Broncos over Larry Johnson (I'm hoping the start of 2006 mirrors the start of 2005)

Week 2 Theme: Humbled Offenses (Seahawks, Panthers, Packers, Broncos) Strike Back Huge. I'm thinking "statement games" from these four teams.

In other "sporting" news, who's excited for Survivor this season? I hear that contestants will be segregated according to popularly-held notions of race! Team Yellow, Team Reddish-Brown, Team Black, and Team White. Bringing back segregation ... who wouldn't think it's a wonderful idea? I've always wondered which race truly is the master race, and I guess we'll all soon find out as inferior races are banished one-by-one from the island. I'm predicting racists of every color will use minutiae from the reality show to fortify their ethnic stereotypes. What will be said, for example, if the Asians win a mental challenge, or if the Euros lose a dancing competition? And won't the Latinas be closely-scrutinized for any behavior resembling "fiery"? And what kind of reaction might occur if the White team scores a shady win over the Black team in a questionable challenge? I have a feeling lots of nasty history is gonna get drudged up. Another prediction? The phrase "40 acres and a mule" will angrily and sarcastically pop up at least eight times this season.

But a huge cultural double-standard will be revealed: it's fine to root for the Asian-Americans, Latin Americans, and African-Americans, but if you become a huge fan of the Anglo-American team, doesn't that automatically make you racist? Are so-called "white" people allowed to be proud of so-called "white" accomplishments? That's not socially-acceptable in reality, but maybe in reality-television. Or maybe pride garnered for Team Whitey will be tempered by historical guilt. Another prediction: the phrase "what we've done to their people" will guiltily pop up at least every other episode.

I'm actually a little eager to find out how all this will go down. I wonder if I can easily download this season of Survivor, and what it says about me as a person if I actually do.

And that's about enough babble for this post. I figure I'll end with some video footage of the last time I spent much time around people: in the lounge at the hotel I stayed at in Bali. The lounge singer, Josie, is covering Guns n Roses, and the Aussie tourists break out their best moves. I got served. Sometimes hanging out with people can be frightening.

And so I'm back...

Strange coming home to ... Japan. Nevertheless, here I am, the land of rain and humidity, downloaded television, and kind but shy people who don't speak much English.

As for Bali, I'm really glad I went. It's not always easy travelling alone, but I think I'd prefer that to hitting the road with any of you jerks. HA! Just kidding about that. Really.

Bali is a strange place ... lots of happy people live there, and lots of sad and desparate people do as well. The stark poverty line seems to be the main thing that separates Balinese/Indonesians from their (mostly Australian) guests. This economic disparity creates a strange kind of relationship dynamic whenever two people from opposite sides of the wealth distribution scale meet, but I wasn't there long enough to grow accustomed to it. Thankfully.

I did learn four things:

(1) Japan Airlines is easily the greatest carrier I've flown on. Seats are bigger, the cabin's cleaner, the attendants extremely kind (not surly). Plus, video games! I'm gonna try to fly JAL everytime I can. Their slogan should be Air Travel will always be awful. But with us, not near as awful as with anyone else. Actually, that's a pretty damn clunky slogan. There goes my career in advertising.

(2) Al-Qaeda, and even their apologists and sympathizers, suck. Universally. There's no conceivable excuse or justification for the lasting economic horror they inflicted on Bali. Part of me reminds myself, this isn't something new you learned, dummy. You already knew this--you've always hated terrorists, particularly those of the Islamic Fundamentalism stripe. But the truth is that, in the five years since 9/11, I've been growing soft. But going to Bali brought the fury back: these terrorist assholes are the worst monsters since the nazis, and forgetting that fact is foolish. The annihilation of Al-Qaeda and violent Islamic Fascism would be a tremendous boon to humanity.

All the locals told me the nightclub bombings have seriously changed Balinese culture, and not just for the better. Now they have excessive security for everything, and can look forward to regular shows of force put on by the military, such as this one:



(3) The Balinese are kind and wonderful people. Sure, most I met wanted to earn a few hundred thousand Rupiyah in nearly any conceivable fashion, but they behave this way because their culture accepts and expects it, and their economic situation (see #2) demands it. But make no mistake: shrewd and aggressive merchants, yes; lying and theiving cheats, no. It took some getting used to, but when I left I discovered I'd grown quite fond of the Balinese.

(4) Their island is quite beautiful, both in terms of scenery as well as culture. Here's a gazillion pictures I took. Click to enlarge.

My hotel: Melasti Beach Bungalows. Not too shabby.

Here's the Hindu cemetary separating my hotel from the ocean.

All the paths of glory lead but to the ... beach? Sounds good to me.

Aw! Wook at the cute widdle monkeys!

Nothing disrupts the Discovery Channel-watching experience like mysterious PSAs warning of "POTENSI TSUNAMI." Wonder what that might mean.

Ah, the sun sets over motor scooters, the vehicle of choice in Bali. Bali's kinda like Sturgis in the sense that the roads are clogged with these beasts. I once saw a family of four traveling on just one.

Bali kids playing soccer on the beach at sunset. I call this style "action photography" and proclaim myself mysteriously gifted at it.

Two more shots of the same sunset. I love sunsets, particularly on coasts facing west.
Here's some sunset footage:



Bali is 80-90% Hindu, so each morning you can find these offerings scattered all over everything: stairs, shops, roads, even taxi cabs. They're little baskets made of grass, and inside are flowers, burning incense, and quite often a Ritz cracker. From what little exposure to Hinduism I've had, I have to say I kind of like the religion. Ritz cracker offerings reflect prudent religious thought and good taste.

This is toward the middle of Bali, high up on the mountainside of an inactive volcano. That body of water is a lake.

Much of Bali is covered with beautiful, stepped rice fields.

Most of the silhouettes seen here are Balinese merchants who have likely spent all day trying to sell t-shirts, beers, fake tattoos, surf boards, or massages to Australian tourists. I think it's a nice picture.

Another sunset. I'm a sucker for sunsets, and Bali's rollicking Indian ocean makes for ideal wading leisurely digital photography.

Here's a funeral procession winding around my hotel to the cemetery that lies between hotel and ocean.

After the funeral, mourners gather and chant, meditate, and watch the sun set into the ocean. It's difficult for me to imagine a better way to say goodbye to a loved one.

After I tired of gawking at the funeral attendees, I wandered off to a deserted stretch of beach and watched my last sunset in Bali. I was on a plane a few hours later.