John Furie Zacharias
having a bad day in a strange place
Thunderstorms Anywhere

Thunderstorms in the Imajica

 The different ways I don't like you 
 in a list that may never become organized
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JfZ making a mess of the web
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Friday, July 23, 2004
Happiness is a warm gun

I want to eat Mexican
Okay fine. For whatever reason, I know most of you never even bother to click on any of the handy-fucking-dandy links I put in the blog entries, like that polar bear story, which only had two links in it.  That's okay.  Most of the time, I code the links into the story for just me alone anyway.  Just like you are right now, I know anyone likely to be reading Thunderstorms is probably too friggin' stupid to understand that oftentimes the story is totally incomplete without the information learned at the linked site.  If I didn't code links into the pages, the blog entries themselves would have to be even longer if I had to cut-and-paste everything you needed to know into them.  That's just too much baby food news for me to have to process and make anyone eat, I think.

Sucks to be Boris
Hell, I know some of you barely read the blog entry -- that's why I highlight different phrases in orange -- and most of you stupid nocturnal rodents are just relieved that I usually like to include a pretty picture with the blog entry so you don't even have to bother scanning the effin' page for highlighted words.

So what got me on this happy little rant?  Well, my usual reaction to some of the most important or horrific news stories is to lightened it up by being a smart-ass, either with some humorous satire or some angry sarcasm.  But since you don't bother to follow any of the links away from this page anyway, I'm going to put things in the JfZ information blender and then spoon-fucking-feed it to you -- like Gerber's baby food -- because that's obviously how you prefer to ingest your information and it's an excuse to tell you some of the back story on Boris the polar bear.

Back in 2002, Boris probably was not the happiest polar bear on the planet.
Instead of frolicking on some ice flow or snow pack in Alaska somewhere, he and six other polar bears were in friggin' Puerto Rico with the Suarez Brothers Circus.  All the bears were suffering and in poor health.  Carla Capalli of the Humane Society of Puerto Rico even recorded a video showing the bears drooling and swaying in 113 degree August heat, without water.

A U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) investigative team finally acted on the violations of the Marine Mammal Protection Act and one of the polar bears, Alaska, was seized by the USFWS and transferred to the Baltimore Zoo that March.

No, no.  I'm cool now.
It wasn't until November 2002 that the other six polar bears were taken away from the Suarez Brothers Circus.

The Detroit Zoo took in the female bear, Barle, and the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium in Tacoma, WA adopted the polar bears, Kenneth and Boris, who needed the root canal surgeries about which I blogged a year later.  It was the first operation ever performed in the PDZA's new $4.3 million Animal Hospital.  The remaining three male polar bears Wilhelm, Masha and Royale  went to the North Carolina Zoo, in Asheboro, N.C.  Sadly though, Royale died on the trip from San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Besides just trying to make Hygelic laugh once in while, there was another reason that this story had interested me further.  There are no coincidences, just convergent events.

You see, before I came to Florida to help my mom out, I was actually quite proud that I had helped build the Artic Ring of Life at the Detroit Zoo in 2001.  From me to you, happiness is a warm gun but, for polar bears, happiness is probably a typical Detroit winter.

Thursday, July 22, 2004
Suggest your story HERE

Listen to your mother
I know I may really regret asking YOU what you'd like me to do (see image) but, I've been busy, or distracted, or whatever lately  -- doing other things than putting up quick, humorous things for you to read at Thunderstorms.

Whether you arrived here, right now -- because you're screwing off and digitally masturbating inside the perceived privacy of your office cubicle at work, taking a break from tenaciously rounding up those pesky little dust bunnies on the floor under your bed, or just in a dorm room waiting for someone to return with more beer and you're so abso-fucking-lutely drunk you accidently typed in this web address instead of "" -- I do endeavor to have something for you to read, even though I personally think you're likely a lying weasel or a stupid pig.

So, let's see you pick something to talk about, shall we?

Here's a serendipitous example from some months ago to help you understand what I'm asking you to do.  It's very simple.  

This popped up on my TAG board (left side panel) one day:

hygelic I'm on the toilet, wirelessly reading your blog. You, sir, can put yer weed in there!
hygelic One more thing - I'm waiting for your editorial on the republican polar bear root canal surgery.

So a few days later -- since Hygelic happens to be such a good friend from way back in the d-a-y and he's just a friggin' all-around cool guy that makes me laugh when we get a chance to talk, and nowadays this blog would not even exist if it were not for his friendship and generosity -- I was compelled to end Hygelic's sojourn on the toilet with this short blog entry so other people in the house could finally use the bathroom, too.

Like Hygelic, his pungent fish fragrance filled the room

Sucks to be Boris
I think root canal surgery on polar bears (ursus maritimus) is a growth industry.  According to Rhonda Savage, a dentist near Tacoma, polar bears kept in tiny circus cages around the world develop a nervous habit of rubbing their teeth on the metal bars and excess wear can occur.  I can empathize with this as I grind my teeth at night.  Recently, one of these polar bears, a 19-year-old named Boris, went in for some dental work to take care of two problem teeth.

You'd think it would be tough performing two root canals on a 1,018-pound, meat-eating beast with 4-inch claws.  Not according to Boris' dentist, Edmund Kwan.  Not quoted as saying, "First, you just knock the bitch out like some fat, middle-aged teamster and then use a larger drill bit".

While Boris got two root canals done, it's known that his buddy, Kenneth will require five surgeries.  Dentists are salivating and rubbing their own teeth on cash registers at the prospect of a whole new growing demographic of clientele.

As many women have had their dentist fondle them while under anesthesia, Boris also had liberties taken.  With no prior consent, they drew blood and urine from him.  While this seems to be a gross violation of his privacy, Boris doesn't plan any litigation as he had no dental insurance to cover the financial cost of his procedures.

Although The News Tribune in Tacoma didn't specify if Boris was a Republican at the time of his root canal.  My personal opinion is that Boris is more likely to be a Libertarian as he certainly would devour any donkey or elephant meat given to him like a free hot wing appetizer at Hooters.  Donkeys and Elephants can eat tons of grass every day but, they get all righteous if a couple of polar bears smoke any.

Do you see how this works now?  It doesn't have to be based on a real news story. In fact, if it's not, as this one wasn't, good.  We'll make it one.  Think of it as like an anti-YCMTSU topic.  The more imaginative and creative you are coming up with a topic, the more likely it will be that I even bother to read your mindless ramblings or write something about it.

Hit [ Permalink ] right now and let the first thing that comes to your mind spew forth.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Lunacy - Gods and Monsters

 Gotta Keepon Rovin ... on Mars
Wow.  There has been so much in space-related news this month about which I wanted to discuss but, events affecting our little lives down on this pathetic spinning ball of mud have constantly seemed to change my focus.

Case in point: When Cassini-Huygens finally reached the planet Saturn after a trip of nearly a billion friggin' miles, our attention was not focussed on this awesome achievement, our gaze was not lifted to the heavens, our hearts were not light, and our imagination was not working triple shifts in the glory of exploration.

Nope.  Sadly, our collective attention was focussed upon a pathetic little sort of man likely exhibiting the signs of neurotic and paranoid mental disorders associated with a life lived in meglomania yet, in the end having nothing but a recent haircut, a cheap suit and a borrowed memo pad.  The location of the excitement was not even as spectacular as the grandeur of the ancient Roman Coliseum.  It was only a nondescript office-like court room in Baghdad.  Nonetheless, through the singular gaze of a small television camera whose non-blicking HAL-9000 vision was transmitted around the entire planet to nearly any citizen who wanted it, we all were able to drool over the spectacle and participate in the salacious game like a Roman hoping the lion would tear the wild-eyed and frightened slave to utter hunks of bloody flesh.

While I often prefer to look at events like this one with a sarcastic eye, I'm as guilty as anyone else for having this regrettable passion of baser delights.  Beyond the fiction of film, I also delight in the spectacle and the shock: in police chases viewed from the helicopter or dash camera, in Girls Gone Wild, and Las Vegas casinoes exploding in demolition.

But, if that's the case, then we must admit to ourselves that we are also stimulated by the same things rarely publicly admissable in a polite society.  I stared awestruck at the live footage from the ground when the fast moving wall cloud of gray death seemed to turn the corner and overtake New Yorkers fleeing for their lives on the street when the massive 100 story buildings of the WTC towers collapsed.  I was completely mesmerized.

We freely use terms like Shock and Awe, as if we were casually penning the title of a movie script, when in fact many fellow human beings died that night and day at the hands our military, directed by our leaders, presumably doing our bidding.  In the comfy Laz-y-Boy of our own private, modern Roman gallery, we can drool at the hunks of bloody flesh in this troubling game seemingly in which we have chosen to participate and then judge the poor bastards on the business-end of the television cameras with an orange, Cheetos-stained thumbs-down.

" Let's change the beat. " -- Jean-Baptiste Emmanuel Zorg (Gary Oldham)

Well, enough of me taking my own advice (on introspection).  I did want to point out some space-related items before our next major mass media distraction, the official release of the 9/11 report, because some very cool things are actually happening out there.  So, unlike the preceding somber introspection, it's that happy, happy Pee-Wee's Playhouse-like time where I get to be humorous and informative.  And guess what?  The only price you have to pay for this infotainment is some small endurance of me making fun of you in some sarcastic way with unusually long sentences.  So let's get started.

Typically, if right at this very moment, you're just staring blankly at your monitor after having just come from the Brittney chat room as your idea of a productive online experience, you could always just actually move your hairy, bloated index finger a few millimeters and burn a few calories by clicking through some of the handy-fucking-dandy links I bother to put in here for you in some futile hope that it might raise your bovine intelligence quotient a point or two.  Or, not.  I honestly don't care if you have read this far while mindlessly chewing your artifically nacho cheese-flavored, toasted corn chip cud.  But, for you smarter kids, here's some info for your next book report. 

I began today by mentioning Cassini-Huygens.  The mission is to go to Saturn and its moons.  Tell the stupid-looking one breathing pizza breath over your shoulder, "Saturn is that big planet with the rings."  Here are some interesting things I just recently learned about Saturn because back when I was in school, I was typically skipping science class, sitting in my friend's Bat Mobile or his brother's Jeep in the school parking lot, and passing around a fatty:

Saturn has 31 moons.  That's a bit excessive, don't you think?   Saturn has as many little moons hanging around it as Michael Jackson has potential litigants circling him during Pet the Monkey day at Wonderland.  Saturn's largest moon is Titan and it is bigger than our own moon, or even the planet Mercury.  And it has something neither of them have -- an atmosphere.  But, I guess that's like comparing Roseanne Barr, Oprah, and Wilson Phillips and saying the one can sing.  Yeah, so?

Since Titan has an atmosphere, it's the big moon to check out.  All the other moons are only road side souvenir stands selling cheap plastic keychain alligators made in China compared to this Disney franchise of a moon.  Cassini-Huygens is going to spend the next four years checking out the Saturnian system.  Cassini is the orbiter and Huygens is the probe.  If it'll help you remember which is which, just think about Starsky and Hutch go to space.  Owen Wilson is the tall, affable one with the all-american good looks and boyish charm, and Ben Stiller is, well, a troubling person to watch in any movie.  Maybe that wasn't helpful.  Think of it this way: Huygens is going to check out Titan and is leaving Cassini in the car.

Nevermind. Go back to your Brittney chat room.  Besides, Mark Kate and Ashley turned 18 this year and they're double your fantasy and twice the franchise of that iconic mouseketeer.  But, I guess if you find this space stuff interesting like I do, you can just go to JPLMe?  I'm going to the pool, floating around on my back, and watching some clouds drift by overhead.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004
YCMTSU: Planes, Trains and Bibliophiles

Drinking jet fuel at AA
Get Some Effin' Gear
I feel compelled to follow up on the entry from earlier this month, Drunken Bush God.

Pilot accused of being drunk pleads guilty to misdemeanor

Guess what?!  It's a different plastered pilot from a different commercial airline!  That's why I say, "You Can't Make This Shit Up!".

According to the AP in USA Today: "A former Virgin Atlantic Airways pilot arrested on charges of showing up drunk for work has pleaded guilty to a reduced charge.  Richard Harwell, 55, was arrested Dec. 19 at Washington Dulles International Airport, about 40 miles west of Washington, D.C. At the time, authorities said security screeners smelled liquor on Harwell's breath before the pilot was scheduled to fly 400 people to London on a Boeing 747."

That's just bloody great, eh governor?  Why not check to see if Osama bin Laden is driving the triple decker bus tour around Picadilly Circus now, hmm?

Born-Again Strip Mall Exorcist Gets Five Years

Excerpts from Court TV news by Lisa Sweetingham:

"A jury found minister Ray Hemphill guilty of felony child abuse Friday after he suffocated an 8-year-old child during an exorcism at his strip mall-based church.  Hemphill stared wide-eyed at County Circuit Judge Jean DiMotto as she read the verdict, but he did not speak or betray emotion.  DiMotto set bail at $10,000, and Hemphill was handcuffed and led from the courtroom."

Okay, so I'm satisfied.  It only took the jury 4 hours to decide.

"Terrance's mother, Patricia Cooper, and two other parishioners helped to restrain the child during the exorcism on the night of Aug. 22, 2003.  They were allowed not to testify during the trial after successfully pleading the Fifth Amendment to avoid self-incrimination.  Cooper did not return to the church after her son's death, and she sat on the opposite side of the gallery from the two female parishioners, Monica Tarver and Tamara Tolefree, who joined the defendant's family behind the defense table.  McCann has not decided whether he will charge the three women for their role in Terrance's death."

Remember what I said about the other parishioners?  Well. Hmmm. Worse.
It's uglier - go read the details.

Just in case you think I'm just picking on BACs -- this popped up as a 'related' Googlative advertisement when I searched for exorcism on The Smoking Gun:

Spirit Depossession

You can buy some cool new age stuff for this pesky little problem at Deep Trance Now.  While Spirit Depossession is listed under the Esoteric category with two of my other favorite things, Invisibility and Shape Shifting, you can get some stuff for it.  Here's part of the Deep Trance Now lowdown on Evil Spirits:

"Sometimes a deceased person may remain earthbound due to certain addiction.  A person who liked to drink, upon dying, may charge to the nearest bar.  The problem is now he doesn't have a physical body, so the only way to satisfy the urge for alcohol is by possessing someone else's body."

Holy shit do I know about this!  If only he could have done a Ghost maneuver and dropped a quarter in the pay telephone for a taxi cab for me when I was cross-eyed and drooling on myself, now that would have been great.  I'm no Demi Moore, I guess.  But maybe there was something else going on with me at the bar, like Deep Trance Now Invisibility:

"There were times when I worked in the office or at the casino and needed a break.  I'd use one of the the invisibility techniques and even though all the tables around me were crowded, no one would come to my table - as if it weren't there.  Sometimes I'd be in a room full of people and sometimes just for the fun of it, other times for some specific reason, I'd use one of the invisibility techniques and pass by unnoticed.  It would be really interesting when I'd be sitting on a couch and someone would be looking for me and be unable to see me."

That explains why I could sit belly-up to bar for hours and no one would talk to me, until I decided they could.  Either that, or I'm no Patrick Swayze.

Actually, I remember using a psychological invisibility technique to ride around Germany for free on their trains all the time.
  Here's the JfZ ride-for-free ruse.  The conductor guy would walk the entire length of the train during the time in between stops at the various towns on the route.  When I would board the train, I would immediately go to the dining car.  I'd simply scan the car for a booth where someone had just vacated it but, where the busboy hadn't yet cleared away the dishes and food.  I'd simply sit down in the 'used' booth, pull the half dozen cigarette butts that I'd bring along from my pocket and put them in the ashtray.  Then I'd light up a cigarette butt, leave it smoldering in the ashtray, pick up a fork or the coffee cup, and just stare out the window when the conductor guy walked into the dining car.  He was looking for new people.  Oftentimes, I could see in the window's reflection that he would pause and stare at me.  Common sense would cause him to deduce I must have been there quite a while so he would keep on walking.  The key was never make eye contact.  It always worked.


Monday, July 19, 2004
Monday Madness Mondo Melicious

Happy 0011 0111th Birthday

Happy Birthday, Melicious!

said the Pixel Monkey to the Geek Grrl.

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