rafael pyton

The ancient and beautiful church in Porvoo/Borgå old town became the victim of some sick pyro last night. Colt lighter or matches? The more I try to enter this person’s mind, the more it creeps me out. Discussion with lunatic:

“Heghhegh. Think I’m gonna set fire to the old church tonight.”
“Why?”
“I dunno… I like to see things go up in flames.”
“No really, why?”
“Well… I like to burn things… my shrink says that my childhood was..”
“Cut the crap. Why?”
“You know, it’s… fun… fire up, fire up, fire up! Uh…”
“Why?”
“I like to destroy things that cost millions to rebuild…”
“But why?”
“It makes me feel powerful?”
“Shrink-talk. You can do better than that.”
“Damnit! Because I like to masturbate while watching the flames light up the dark night…”
“How nice. And why is that?”
“I’m sick! Really sick! I deserve to die!”

I can think of nothing more cowardly.

When they catch the guy, because in the end they always do, they should arrange a public hanging in a market square. After all, it would only be fair; that was the custom of the time period this church was built.

Joke of the week, and you can answer it yourself: Why do all pyromaniacs go to hell?

… and I swear on every grave in the whole wide world that I will boycott Mercedes-Benz for the rest of my life. Unless… they keep on breaking next year, when Fernando Al-Qaida drives for them. I anticipate the black smoke of 2007 McLaren with as much glee as the hate I reserve for the black smoke of the same team this year.

Because there is now simply no way the Iceman will stay with McLaren.

That said, let me return to the street fighting in Monaco. If the race had played out like it should have - irrelevant, I know - it would have been won by Kimi. He is still the fastest man in F1, and even steering the McLaren spacedog from hell he was whipping the tail of Al-Qaida like a dominatrix possessed. I felt the whole of Catalunya bleeding.
Kimi carried more fuel for the second stint, could have stayed out longer, could have put in blazing laps, could have come out again in front of Al-Qaida, could have won.

I am spraying the bubbly with Grace Kelly in heaven right now.

I don’t need to tell you how much it stings to see Al-Qaida win the Monaco Grand Prix. According to Bernie Ecclestone, he is the most bo-o-oring guy in F1; I agree, and I could add a lot more. Anyway, Al-Qaida can win every other race for all I care - but not Monaco. Yet he did. Not good.
The first GP I really remember watching on TV was when Keke Rosberg won at Monaco. His hands were badly blistered, a detail I found strangely romantic. I can never forget Senna’s magic qualifying laps around the principality. Or the time Häkkinen took the pole with one arm on the steering wheel, the other up in the air acknowledging the yellow flags.
I was in Monaco for the GP in 1996, drinking lots of cold Beck’s and eating salty peanuts while watching the race from a balcony of an apartment that belonged to some friends. It was right above the starting line. I have walked the track. I have placed bets in the casino (and lost lots of money). You see, Monaco is too special for me to have to see Al-Qaida win it.

Yes, it stings. Party at Flav’s tonight.

Sometimes I think it is MY fault that everything I like or touch turn to dust or rust, black or white, but smoke, just smoke, endless clouds of smoke. Since I have the karma of Pol Pot, this is not entirely impossible. Obviously I should try to turn this into an advantage (z.B. become a fan of Al-Qaida), but karma does not work like that.

Dudes! How is that for über-drama!? Of course, I am joking. I think…

…but I like to watch the grand prix nonetheless. Not only that, but I particularly like to watch qualifying in Monaco. For once it is not just about the car; rather, who is man enough to leave a bit of black on the armco without unsettling the champagne glasses on the other side.

And what a sweet display of driving it was. So sweet I’d like to lick the tarmac like it was a lollipop. And once again, Ol Shue took everyone else to school… on how to cheat like a champ.
Yes, master, I saw you steering into the barrier, cleverly blocking the road for everyone else on their last fast lap in the dying minutes, when you were already conviniently clinging to the chart-topper. Foxy move, I must admit. Best of all, it cost Al-Qaida the few thousands he needed…

But beware the comet Renault at the start tomorrow. I would advice Ol Shue to instantly move over to cut him off, but I don’t think Ol Shue needs advice on how to behave in a down and dirty way. Hehe. Bless.

I put my money on the Iceman. When in Monaco, gamble. That is why I’m a poor man. But ooh, don’t you just sense the very imminent crash between the German and the Spaniard? I know I do. Which is why I’ll be back tomorrow, all strutting and cocky.

The nerds return with reinforcements. Do you still remember the esthetical times of harmony when smilies were non-existent, and sentences were unpolluted, undiluted, unadulterated? Now the little cute buggers are everywhere, and it did not take long for people everywhere to catch on. Beispielweise, just about everyone I know uses them from time to time.

Imagine, a decade ago you really had to bring out your feelings with words alone… when you wrote “I am angry“, you meant it. Now when you write the same three words but put a smilie to bring up the rear, the whole meaning changes. The splendid art of sarcasm was so much more subtle in the past. The evolution of communication is in a sad state, and I don’t know whether to weep or giggle. Sniff, hihi.

There are boatloads of smilie code floating around on the net, as most nerds have no lives and plenty of spare time [Nii! Nii! That sounds like me!], but down below are the most common ones. Shoot ‘em up - open season for open code:

- smile, regular
=) - smile, another regular
- sour, sad, bad mood
:’( - tear
- joke, flirt, hint
(: - regular smile for left-handed
- surprised
:O - shout, really surprised
- laughter, big smile
- poke the tongue out
:s - confused
>:) - evil smile
>:( - angry
:} - gloating smile
:] - arrogant, cocky smile
- disappointed
:I - hmmm… contemplating
:/ - worried, suspicious
:> - sarcastic, taking the piss
:< - sad, depressed
:* - kiss
- silent
:O~ - drooling
:)~ - slurp, drool is running, talk nonstop
~~:( - burning a fuse, annoyed
:-~) - the flu
:7 - ironical
xD - bursting with laughter
8P - hot for someone/something
xP - bursting with laughter while poking tongue
:C - unhappy, depressed
?D - laughs and wonders
:DDDD - bursting with laughter
%) - crosseyed, awake for too long
|-) - sleepy
z) - dreaming
z( - nightmares
|-O - foul language, snoring
zO - snoring
*-) - contemplative
:-& - tongue in a knot, speech malfunction
:e - disappointed
:6 - bad, sour taste in mouth
:9 - licking lips
:# - don’t tell anyone
:@ - angry, screaming
or B) - sunglasses, depending on model, I guess…
B:) - sunglasses on forehead
O:) - innocent, a saint
:o) - clown, big nose
:=) - nose-hairs
:B - teeth
:-E - not quite so many teeth
:3 - cute thing or smile
< :o) - party mood
:*) - drunk or flu
%/ - hungover, krapula
Q:<> - Donald Duck
5:) - Elvis
8-| - nerd
:8) - piggy
$) - imagining money, rich
$( - no money, broke
:X - lips are sealed
:I or :Q - smoking
:)) - double chin
:))) - really fat or really happy
?) - black eye
:$ - confused
:w - lying
:v - talking
:V - shouting
:! - foot in mouth
Q:) - student
x) - twisted
x( - dead

(source: NYT-liite)

About a month ago, I finished a novel. A few weeks ago, I had it printed and bound. Yesterday I sent it to a couple of publishing companies in Finland and Sweden. Now, the gruesome 3-month waiting starts. O, it takes guts to pursue your dreams.

A short synopsis, if I may: EGOMANIA, as the novel is called, is a fictive tale about the darkest beast lurking in human psychology, egoism. It is a huge satire about a fragile person who has been lying to himself for too long, thus creating his own utopia, which he embraces with a breast full of over-the-top vulgar bravado.
Everything that happens to him takes place in the real world, but he unwittingly twists it to fit his own royal creation. In due time, however, he reluctantly starts to question certain things, and it eventually leads him into internal struggle and mystery. The heartless search for his lost identity is highly unsuccessful - all the way to the next-to-last chapter, where demonic revelation finally takes place, almost destroying him in the process. Then there is the last chapter… hehe…

Alternative synopsis: a modern version of Narcissus and Echo, and the fury/humour of the gods.

Alternative synopsis: an 8½ in finest Fellini-spirit; a book about writing a book and how big and unpredictable the waves are on the winding way towards The End.

Now, before I declare myself the hottest thing since Kerouac, bear in mind this: the big publishing companies in question get about 1000-1500 rookie manuscripts every year. Of those, they publish about 5. Yes, five. In other words, the odds are completely ridiculous and the chances are superslim to none and nada. But you can always wish me good luck. I tend to have too little of that.

If nothing else, burn rubber and pursue the dreams. I do suspect that’s what it’s all about - the relentless chase of everything you want.

It may be the gayest show on earth, but history has been made. LORDI WINS EUROVISION!!! Shit… I wrote that… in large and fat letters… and I read it… many times over… and I still can not believe it. Never, not even in my wildest or wettest dreams, could I foresee that one day Finland will win the whole shebang. It will never happen again, so you better wear a smile on your face right now and take it all in. Finland, forever the butt of jokes like “Finland, zero points, Finlande, nul points“, is suddenly on top of the kitschy lulu-land called schlager-world.

This proves that the people of Europe have a spanking great sense of humour, and that there is hope for all. Is nothing impossible anymore? Hard… Rock… Hallelujaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! [Ou jeah, that was falsetto, bigtime].

Get your freak on, man. The Arockalypse is taking place as we speak.

If you know what “bustin’ berms” means, and you like “the smell of pre-mix in the morning”, then you are welcome to read further. Things are happening in the moto world, shaking and quaking and moving and doing. God, I really wish you knew what I was talking about.

1. The American/World Supercross 2006 season is over, but it will live forever on in history. Never before have I seen such a display of god-like riding, tooth & nail fighting, stonecold hardluck but get back up and never ever ever ever say die mentality.
James Stewart, Ricky Carmichael, Chad Reed. You are heroes of infathomable proportions. For you I bow my head until my forehead is bloody and I pass out.
In terms of dark danger and titanium toughness, nothing compares. All you stick-and-ballers can go home and cry to mama; in fact, you better hide under her skirt. [My broken heart goes out to moto victims Fonseca and Marshall, paralyzed in the heat of the battle of the 2006 season].
This weekend, the American outdoors season starts, and supercross becomes motocross; even faster, hotter, tougher and more dangerous. The races should be on the internet with a week’s delay. I will be there, falling from my chair time and time again. As I said, I wish you knew what I was talking about. I wish you could feel the burning heat.

2. Remember when crazy cult figure Evel Knievel tried to jump over the fountains at Ceasar’s Palace, Las Vegas, in 1968? No. Shame on you. There’ve been three attempts to jump the fountains at Ceasar’s; only one successful, by Evel’s son in 1989. This is a legendary daredevil event; and it was taken to another level on May 4th, when the Godfather of Freestyle Motocross, Mike Metzger, BACKFLIPPED over the famous fountains. You read that right. Backflipped. A motocross bike. Over the fountains at Ceasar’s Palace. [Click the pink].
Ohmigod!
You are cold, so cold, if this pic does not leave a dent in your floor… from your jaw. No dent, no bruised jaw? Check your pulse. Be sure to call an ambulance.
Insanity, thy name is Mike Metzger.

3. I recently purchased the much touted 22-hour 5 double-disc dvd bonanza of The World’s Greatest Supercross Races from amazon.com, an epic treasure of fantastic motorcycle action from the end of the 1970s to the end of the 1980s. Once again I find myself in the same position I habitated as a young kid, rooting my guts out for the idols of my long-lost youth. Go Wardy! Some things never change. Certainly not Anaheim ‘86.

Motorcycle boy has spoken.

My favorite beatle has screwed up, again. Paul, oh Paul. Again. Was it not enough with Mull Of Kintyre and Linda McCartney and… well, just about everything you’ve done since the end of The Beatles? Don’t you force me to turn to that mean bastard John for comfort.

This time Paul is squandering his Beatles-fortune on a divorce settlement. We know that he married ex-model Heather Mills four years ago, and that they also had a baby, and we thought, hey, good for you, Paul.
However, now it turns out that Paul turned down a pre-nuptial agreement that Heather Mills proposed. Heather, you are pearly and I must love you! Paul, on the other hand, found it “unromantic“… and refused to sign it. Hey, good for you, Paul. Good for you…

It could cost you about a million pounds per week of marriage, say 150-200 million pounds, total. Paul, oh Paul. Fool, dear fool. While you were out riding the pink clouds with red roses in your eyes, the pre-nup that Heather offered you was true love, and that and nothing else is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.

“…you never give me your money, you only give me funny paper, and in the middle of negotiation, you break down…”

As a self-proclaimed guardian of beautiful language, I want to present to you my greatest enemy - IRC, internet relay chat, or the nerd jargon. I like to call it the waste basket of the world; my kryptonite.

Now, before you think I’m intolerant, let me for example tell you that I don’t even mind smilies any more. It took me years to grow used to those cute little yellow bastards, but these days I just pull a golf laugh when I see them, particularly when appropriately used. Most IRCs, on the other hand, make me violently ill.

I am sure that this is exactly what they said of beatnik writings in the 1950s… which I for one consider the pinnacle of heavy beauty today… yes, I am aware of the fact that this stance may make me seem anti-progressive. And old. We also needn’t mention that I have personally, in weak moments, used one or two of these abbreviations myself… hey, a few of these are actually legit!

That said, don’t you LOL me, because I will ESAD you. Throw fits, go nuts, hats and bats, breasts and chests.

In the great spirit of Sun Tzu, here is the enemy nerd code:

A/S/L - age/sex/location
AFAIK - as far as I know
AFK - away from the keyboard
AKA - also known as
ASAP - as soon as possible
ATM - at the moment
BBIAF - be back in a few
BBL - be back later
BRB - be right back
BTDT - been there, done that
BTW - by the way
BZ - busy
CASE - completely absurd sarcastic explanation
CU - see you
CU L8R, CUL - see you later
ESAD - eat shit and die
F2F - face to face
FAQ - frequently asked questions
FFS - for fuck’s sake
FOCL - falling off chair laughing
FUBAR - fucked up beyond all repair
FYA - for your amusement
FYE - for your entertainment
FYI - for you information
GA - go ahead
GAL - get a life
IC - I see
IIRC - if I recall/remember correctly
IMAO - in my arrogant opinion
IMCO - in my considered opinion
IME - in my experience
IMHO - in my humble opinion
IMNSHO - in my not so humble opinion
IMO - in my opinion
IOW - in other words
IRL - in real life
ISTM - it seems to me
ITRW - in the real world
JAM - just a minute
KEWL - cool
KISS - keep it simple, stupid
LOL - laughing out loud
L8R - later
NALOPKT - not a lot of people know that
NFWM - no fucking way, man
OAO - over and out
OMG, OMFG - oh my gosh, oh my god, oh my fucking god
OTOH - on the other hand
PLS - please
ROTF - rolling on the floor
ROTFL - rolling on the floor laughing
RTFM - read the fucking manual
RU? - are you?
STFU - shut the fuck up
TIA - thanks in advance
U - you
WTF - what the fuck
WTG - way to go

(source: NYT-liite)

Little town Lyttleton, Banks Peninsula, New Zealand. I want to congratulate my little brother and his girlfriend on buying their first house. Most people want their first house to be up in the hills, perhaps among palm trees, with a view to the blue sea. Most people buy a shanty in suburbia, among bad graffiti concrete, with a view to more bad graffiti concrete.

La Maison

Best congrats, dearest sheepshaggers! Exciting times, no empty rhymes. I definitely like it when people know what they want, know how to get it, and then get it. No fooling around, no messing about. Instead of no, we hear yes. You know I can’t wait to come down under and a bit to the left! OBOY, and I’m not talking cocoa!