the turkish shave

I don't know whether this is available near you, but I get one at least two times a week. It's very relaxing.

First, you get a warmed, damp towel from a steamer that softens the beard nubbins, then a swathe of aromatic shaving cream. Next, a super sharp straight razor is brought to task. Skillfully.

After the first shave, you get another warm towel, and then another lather and a second shave. Damn!

Best of all, before you leave, you're offered a Turkish coffee (the hashish of coffee) and pastries and asked about your view of current events. All listen attentively. Ask questions and trade insults. So, if you're like me, you sit around for an hour or two because these dudes are cool.

Price: $12.50 - pastries and coffee included.

live blogging obama's address to congress

7:00 nbc news states obama's current approval rating is north of 60%, of course it is. he hasn't had enough time in position.
7:02 two supreme court justices blew off the event, most notably scalia, the illegal-duck-hunting strict constructionist. stevens apparently had some bad cheesecake
7:04 here comes michelle in (satin?) purple dress - possible vikes fan? wouldn't that be a bears betrayal - should have gone with orange and black
7:05 here comes the cabinet, no not furniture though they may as well be, stick o' wood here, upholstery there.
7:05 hilary emerges, wish she'd quit doing that, emerging I mean
7:09 biden and pelosi look like hungry retards waitin' for the short bus. here, have a shit eatin' grin, nancy, i have many says paul
7:10 here comes obama, i bet he has reserved parking
7:12 i think i just saw obama just grease a palm with some stimulus money
7:13 obama kisses hilary
7:14 side camera angle indicates the size of pelosi's ass - huge, with built in shelving
7:16 does obama's tie got pink in it?
7:18 blah, blah, blah, crisis
7:19 blah, blah, blah, rebuild
7:20 blah, blah, blah, responsibility
7:22 blah, blah, blah, day of reckoning
7:23 blah, blah, blah, dilemma
7:25 blah, blah, blah, tax cut, tax credit
7:25 beer/pee break BRB
7:28 back, what'd i miss? not much, i suspect
7:29 blah, blah, blah, refinance
7;30 blah, blah, blah, nationalize the banks, eff the stockholders
7:31 can a guy get a hot dog in congress?
7:32 blah, blah, blah, significant resources required (so i refuse not to borrow from china and saudi arabia)
7:33 blah, blah, blah, i promise you, i get it
7:34 blah, blah, blah, open ended recession
7:35 God this is boring
7:36 i'm thinking about snacking on that cold porkchop
7:37 or maybe i should just wait, this sounds like a chicken every pot speech
7:39 blah, blah, blah, protectionist trade practices
7:40 ok, dude, let's wrap it up, america is having a hard time paying attention (or paying for anything else)
7:42 nothing happened in the last two minutes worth mentioning - nancy pelosi jumped up and started clapping like she was on crack but i suspect that happens a lot - health care reform is the current topic
7:45 blah, blah, blah, i suffer no illusions (good to know)
7:46 blah, blah, blah, a prescription for economic decline (re education)
7:50 jeez dude, WRAP IT UP!
7:52 might as well pee again, this noise is becoming distracting
7:55 my head is gonna 'splode!
7:57 willie pete left the room, believe he's fed up
7:58 blah, blah, blah, the obligatory statement of support
8:00 blah, blah, blah, i closed gitmo
8:01 blah, blah, blah, gonna hang with iran
8:02 this is so boring, i contemplated going for chicken - Church's has the best
8:03 much better than Popeyes
8:04 blah, blah, blah, now i plan to get really sappy
8:05 just realized i hid my weed jar but i can't remember where?
8:06 found it
8:07 should have thought of it before this started, maybe it would have been more interesting
8:08 thank God, he's done
8:09 and now, the real morons will discuss the speech, yawn ...

it's over, the speech i mean. let me know what you thought especially if you payed closer attention than me

note from mackenzie

First things first: Don't freak out. I know things look bleak. You're stocking up on shotgun shells and Dinty Moore Beef Stew, dreading the day you inevitably have to pitchfork-fight a hobo over the last piece of firewood in the Hooverville. Hell, you might even be thinking that Kanye West was wrong for once: maybe "The Good Life" isn't all that. Maybe the mass pursuit of diamond-spackled grills, champagne Jacuzzis and McMansions the size of Vatican City was not actually the happiness we totally had the right to pursue.

This past year, we learned that karma is a bitch. That Wall Street is run by Hamburglars. The government is basically too many pigs at too small a trough. That we're broke, at war(s) and, instead of dealing with it, we've chosen to watch celebrities dance, dance, dance for the bloodthirsty hordes. We torture to make ourselves feel safer, cheat each other to make ourselves richer and have generally behaved like raging assholes.

I get all that, and still I say with total and utter conviction: America is awesome. And we're awesome because we are batshit, out of our minds crazy. The French are intellectuals, the Russians are brooders and the Chinese are hard workers. Americans are crazy. Our optimism, ambition, and self-interest verges on the manic.

Think about it - we're a country of over 300 million people, and each of us is told, and honestly, earnestly believes that we're special. That we have a right to pursue happiness. There's no guarantee that happiness will ever happen. We're just cleared to chase, lunge and claw after that happiness, like an eternal dangling carrot. Our dreams matter. This is pounded into us. It is part of our collective DNA. Everyone is special. We believe it, even if it isn't true.

When we succeed, we succeed big (see: the Empire State Building, Moon landing, cheese-stuffed pizza crust). When we fail, we fail big (see: the Great Depression, Slavery, Spider-man 3). We lurch and strive and aspire to greatness. Other countries fear us (not just because we have over 7,000 tactical nukes, though how utterly crazy is that?). They fear us, mainly, because we are an experiment, and experiments can explode. Or they can go on a rampage, like Frankenstein's monster.

Frankenstein might actually be the closest cultural predecessor. America isn't a democracy where majority rules. We're an anti-tyranny-ocracy. We're terrified of tyranny, no matter what form it takes: the government, the free market, your neighbors. The mob can never fully be trusted. Don't tread on me. Get off my lawn. The forefathers had total faith in two things: "freedom" and "people are jerks." They knew that power corrupts, and so they created a system where power is like a bacon-grease slathered football: slippery.

Checks and balances, filibusters and the rule of law. Eventually, the person who's got the power will drop it. And then there's a madcap, sometimes vicious scramble. Then someone has the football again. Repeat.

I like to think of myself as a Patriot. I know that's kind of cheesy, but I've OD'd on snark recently. Sorry internet, but pure, uncut ironic disaffection has become an inadequate coping mechanism. I am not a bible-thumping, jingoistic redneck with the stars and stripes tattooed over generous man boobs. Nor am I an effete, pseudo-intellectual hipster with smooth, manicured hands who blames America for inventing cancer, earthquakes and human vices. But I am a Patriot, because this country gives me the right to be off my rocker.

Let me define my Patriotism: I think America is awesome the way the Whos in Whoville think Christmas is awesome. A Grinch can steal all the accouterments of patrio-eroticism --the flag, the eagle, the Statue of Liberty. And like the Whos, who didn't require gifts or a tree to celebrate Christmas, I will happily salute the idea that defines "America."

And that idea is basically that I get to say this: I am John DeVore and you are not. I am a right wing pinko, a militant centrist, a control freak anarchist. I believe in gun rights and gay rights. I want gays to experience the joys of divorce, and I want them to be well armed. I am a Texan, which means I'm the American equivalent of a Klingon. But I live in Queens, New York, one of the most ethnically diverse places on Earth. My local dive bar is the United Nations. I'm a half-Mexican/half-redneck, who was raised both a Catholic and a Baptist. How many countries does that happen in? It happens here like ... all the time. I'm not even the weirdest multicultural mutt out there - we elected one for president

I have dreams, and I work my ass off stumbling in the general direction of those dreams. And all I ask is this: If I tell you to get off my lawn, get off my lawn. If I don't tell you to get off my lawn, come on in! Let's drink beer and play Xbox. I am one of approximately 301,139,947 other people who all think they are special. Are we all really special? Who knows. Probably not. It's a savage world and life is cheap. But we think we are. That's what counts.

I'm not excusing our excesses and mistakes. Actions have consequences, and even America is not immune to that fundamental fact of nature. We all go down together. But we're still awesome, not down for the count. It is a dark time for the rebel alliance. But our adaptability and individuality will succeed. Each of us will succeed, alone and together. We can't count on politicians because, let's face it, they are glorified sanitation workers. Count, instead, on the Awesomeness of America: our pursuit will not be deterred or delayed. Don't call it a comeback.

Winston Churchill once wrote "Always count on America to do the right thing, after they've exhausted every other option." Well we've done everything except the right thing for a nice long stretch of time and we're, if nothing else, exhausted. Looks like we're well on our way ladies and gents!

this is so cool

Jaguar conservation has just experienced an exciting development with the first capture and collaring of a wild jaguar in the United States.

The male cat was incidentally captured by the Arizona Game and Fish Department on Wednesday, Feb. 18, in an area southwest of Tucson during a research study aimed at monitoring habitat connectivity for mountain lions and black bears. While individual jaguars have been photographed sporadically in the borderland area of the state over the past years, the area where this animal was captured was outside of the area where the last known jaguar photograph was taken in January.

The jaguar was fitted with a satellite tracking collar and then released. The collar will provide biologists with location points every three hours. Early tracking indicates that the cat is doing well and has already travelled more than three miles from the capture site.

The data produced by the collar will shed light on a little-studied population segment of this species that uses southern Arizona and New Mexico as the northern extent of its range.

“While we didn’t set out to collar a jaguar as part of the mountain lion and bear research project, we took advantage of an important opportunity,” says Terry Johnson, endangered species coordinator for the Arizona Game and Fish Department. “More than 10 years ago, Game and Fish attempted to collar a jaguar with no success. Since then, we’ve established handling protocols in case we inadvertently captured a jaguar in the course of one of our other wildlife management activities.”

The jaguar plan, which was created in consultation with other leading jaguar experts, includes a protocol for capture, sedation and handling in the event a cat was captured.

Biologists are currently working on an identification analysis to determine if the collared jaguar is Macho B, a male cat that has been photographed by trail cameras periodically over the past 13 years.

The collared jaguar weighed in at 118 pounds with a thick and solid build. Field biologists’ assessment shows the cat appeared to be healthy and hardy.

The species has been protected outside of the United States under the Endangered Species Act since 1973. That protection was extended to jaguars within the U.S. in 1997, the year after their presence in the Arizona and New Mexico borderlands was confirmed.

"We issued a permit under the Endangered Species Act to radio collar a jaguar if the opportunity presented itself," said Steve Spangle, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's Arizona field supervisor. "Gathering habitat use information and learning whether and how the cat is moving in and out of the United States may be essential to jaguar conservation at the northern edge of their range."

In 1997, a team was established in Arizona and New Mexico to protect and conserve the species. The Jaguar Conservation Team (JCT) began working with Mexico two years later, recognizing that the presence of jaguars in the United States depends on the conservation of the species in Mexico.

Trail cameras and field monitoring are carried out by the Borderlands Jaguar Detection Project, a group that works in cooperation with the JCT.

Jaguars once ranged from southern South America through Central America and Mexico and into the southern United States. By the late 1900s, jaguars were thought to be gone from the U.S. landscape, but two independent sightings in 1996 confirmed that jaguars still used Arizona and New Mexico as part of the northern most extent of its range.

Jaguars are the only cat in North America that roars. They prey on a variety of mammals, fish, birds and reptiles. Individuals in the northern population weigh between 80-120 pounds. Females breed year-round and have litters of one to four cubs that stay with their mother for nearly two years.

sometimes

Sometimes I wonder which of my friends know I smoke weed. Six? Fourteen? Maybe all of them? Do their parents also know I smoke weed and if so, will they cut me off? Ostracize me.
It's possible, I guess but 420 is an approach, not a lifestyle. You can have your cocktail and I my bud. The only difference is I can still drive. Legally. For the most part.
So, I was going to write some more, but I forgot what.

bentley

Bentley is a Gila River Apache. He drinks beer at the Spurr Lounge in Laveen, AZ. He's about 6-6 and plus three hundred. He doesn't talk much or often. He sits and drinks at the bar. Maybe plays a little pool. He drinks Bud so I always buy him one. He thanks me and smiles then drifts back to wherever his head is at at. I can't figure it. He's got to work it out on his own anyway. In the meantime, I'll always buy Bentley a beer when I see him. He seems like a good guy.

Things haven’t quite gone according to plan.

Read: The Saharan Conundrum

taylor swift

buckskin joe's running mate. she kicks sarah palin's ass. and she's actually smart. and qualified. not like sarah p. jeez, she can't see russia from wasilla. it's impossible. she lives in a town closer to canada than russia and nearer to anchorage. in a fjord. it's impossible to see russia from there. she is a fucking moron. but that's a problem rural republicans often share. that and pancake breakfasts once a year. and raccoon infestations out back in the hide room.
so i'm for taylor

buckskin joe for interim economic advisor and mr. congeniality

i was just in morongo valley california eating a plate full of grits and i can confirm that people still live there. more than one hundred in fact, perhaps two (hundred). most live in houses, others in caves, others under viaducts or in shipping containers and old army jeeps. the morongo-ites are a proud folk and steeped in tradition. burnt red-cabbage stewed onion paste sandwiches and kick-dancing are always available. and both interesting and significant, strangers are no longer ridiculed or driven from town by the traditional hand launched barrages of hard green tomatoes and flat, frisbee sized rocks. there is obviously a new easiness in the lifestyle.
politically, the townspeople pay verbal tribute to a dog named buckskin joe. he's the talk of the cafe coffeeshop. he's mentioned at safeway. very popular.
buckskin joe lives on paradise dr. he is a good natured dog, going about his business in a statesmanlike way while carefully crafting his presentation and follow up. he speaks (well, barks) clearly and only as often as necessary. also, he is very discreet.
i think we could all learn a lesson from mr. joe. we could calm down and be thankful for what's still available, like food in a bowl and fresh water. a place to bed down. good teeth and claws. being outside in the morning and again in the afternoon. needless to say there's a lot and as president, buckskin joe has vowed to deliver all and more.
i've got to point out one problem though. mr. joe cannot speak or write english, french, spanish, german or italian. he communicates by wagging his tale, snorting and occasionally, by farting. thus, it's clear he is the qualified to be politician. he possesses the tools needed to run this country.
elect buckskin joe for interim economic adviser for now and for president in 2012.

still got a job

Got fired last Tuesday from my kick-ass job at Outback for being a "Peeping Tom". It's almost like when they (the ladies) wear tight shirts, they don't expect you to do a downward visual assessment. Caution. That link is mostly for men and may offend the fairer sex.

Anyway, I headed over to the neighborhood McDonald's near my house in Guadalupe and filled out an application. I was hired on the spot. Some of my work is janitorial in nature (I clean the unisex bathroom), and the rest is pure gold. I make the fries. Hot, crispy thin-cut french fries. A definite signature McDonald's menu item. It's an honor really. I'm clearly higher up in the pecking order than that spazz that runs the drive through. He picks his nose and when he laughs it's sounds like a sheep bleating. He can't even speak Spanish. He relies on the drinks girl to take the Spanish orders. Jeez, we live in an area comprising the most dense aggregation of urban Spanish speaking people in Arizona.
Anyhow, I think I'm locked in on this job and I'll tell you why. Yesterday, the manager pulled me aside and said, "Eef, you doan clean bedder. You clean more time, no more pay." Wow, that's like an obvious vote of confidence regarding job security, right?
And while I prefer making the fries, that sense of security is more important right now, considering the looming economic depression. I'm still not destitute. I can still afford to bring beer back to the hobo camp by the Durango Curve. I can afford to eat at restaurants that offer a dollar menu. Every day, almost. Two weeks ago, I bought a Gatorade to go with my Keystone Light. Like I said. Livin' large!
TBC

Also on amazon.com, my newest release, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again". RIP DFW