Thursday, January 27, 2005

and now here is a new feature to my blog called..... something i learned on television to today Today (on television) I learned that you can't shoot out a jet plane's tires to prevent it from taking off, at least not with smaller caliber weapons. I learned this while watching The Plot to Kill Nixon on the History channel, which chronicled a mentally disturbed dude from Phlilly who tried to hijack a plane and crash it into the White House (Al Qeada style).  The guy made a pretty auspicious start when he gunned down an airport security guard to gain entrance to a Mc Donald Douglas DC-9.    But then he got kind of overzealous and shot both the pilot and co-pilot, too. Despite the fact that he had no one to fly his suicide airplane, the guy still started taxing down the runway.  It was then that the local law enforcement officers began shooting at the gigantic jet plane tires.  The sheriff they were interviewing said the bullets actually started bouncing back at them (kind of hard to believe but maybe).  The sheriff later researched and found out that jet plane tires are made up of 28 layers of steel and rubber--at least that's how these ones were put together. Anywway the hijacker dude never made it off the runway. They shot him twice in the chest through one of the plane's plexi-glass windows.   So just remember, if you ever find yourself needing to keep a jet plane from taking off, don't shoot the tires.  They won't pop, and your bullets might bounce back and hit you. 10:14:41 PM    comment [] a tentative plan to visit the burt reynolds museum in jupiter florida Last night Rachel and I got a visit from international pop- art superstar, BASK.  We were already having a party for two, so then it became a party for three. The get together quickly became a manic blabfest, with me telling stories about haunted gravestones in Savannah, cell phone confiscating judges, and one-eyed dogs playing dead in drugstore drivethroughs.  Among the stories BASK shared was his experience huffing paint as a teenager; his divorce from the wife that he never actually married; and the time he went to an afterhours party where he found himself sitting in a cold, leaf-filled jacuzzi right next to the male host who was shamelessly nude. Rachel contributed her two cents here and there, but mostly she just did her private little wiggle dance to the hip-hop music on the radio. At some point in the evening, somebody came up with the idea to take a road trip to the Burt Reynolds museum in Jupiter Florida.  The next thing you know, we were all enthusiastically planning this trip where we would all dress up as a Burt Reynolds related characters (Loni Anderson, Dom Deluise, Burt, etc.) and drive across Florida in black 78 Trans Am.  This trip also got expanded to a visit to Miami beach where we do wild south Florida clubbin. As we shaped our plans and looked on line for hotels and directions, BASK kept saying, "I'm really down for this.  Are we really gonna do this?  I'm definitely down for it." We all agreed that this was a real trip that we would really do, but of course any big plans you make at three am when you're really fucked up tend not to really happen, no matter how many times you swear its going to. Eventually we all kind of sputtered out.  I looked at the clock and it was 4:18 in the morning--I would be getting up for work in three hours.  BASK departed and Rachel and I went to bed. I asked Rachel to tell me a "secret love story," so Rachel made up this story about raccoons that lived behind a shopping center and fed each other garbage.  I fell asleep right away, but Rachel stayed awake and restless.  To occupy her mind she told herself more stories about raccoons that lived behind a shopping center.  Then, from what she tells me, she molested me in my sleep, using my inert and unconscious hand as some kind of sexual device. 7:55:00 PM    comment []

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