Juice This

So I braved the mall this evening with the illustrious Space Nakji, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, if I can handle the Tokyo Subway, the Brea Mall is a piece of that stuff with frosting. Not cupcakes. That other thing. Sometimes they explode. Not penguins. ANYWAY.

While at the mall, I purchased a juicer. Not just any juicer, mind you - if I'm going to cart an appliance around in my shopping cart, it must meet Certain Standards. It must Ooze Classiness. That is why I purchased a Hello Kitty juicer. It's pink. Hello Kitty is also the handle. It has 2-speed reversible reaming action. It's safe to say that it's one of the most satisfying purchases I've made in quite some time. All told, I walked out of that place with a shirt, a Hello Kitty Juicer, and a jigsaw. It's all good, right?

You'd THINK SO, wouldn't you? ALAS, the juicer resisted herculean efforts to actually make it juice anything. Oranges were shoved at it in a fruitless (HA) attempt to get it working. Different outlets were tried. Various sections of pink plastic were pressed with varying degrees of frustration and force, all to no avail. That mouthless kitten done sold me a heap o' junk.

I will be calling the Hello Kitty help line tomorrow for further instructions.

I will, of course, provide updates as soon as they are available.

Apparently I am from a bog.

It only allows 11 characters, so you'll have to imagine that the final "O" stands for "Of the Land of the Freedom Eagle".

Shark vs. Helicopter

If a shark and a helicopter fought, who would win?

Assume that:

A) The sharks are super-intelligent
B) The sharks can set themselves on fire without injury
C) The helicopters can go under water

Discuss.

Seasonal Amnesia

It's the Christmas season, and that generally means that I get even more forgetful than usual. This is scary because I'm usually in a quasi-zombie state to begin with, so this time of year turns me into a shambling, drooling creature who can't remember a) where the pants are, and b) where the walls are.

Here are a few of the things that are on my mind these days:

• why do I have a Pizza Hut receipt from Wichita, Kansas? I have never, to my knowledge, been to Wichita.


• I've lost the key to my back door. AGAIN. The last time it happened, I had to climb through a window (AGAIN) to get in the house, so I did something I thought was fiendishly clever. I left that window unlocked, and I put a key on the windowsill. Unfortunately, I realized today that the key I'd placed there was in fact for the front door, which does me no good, seeing as how it's also secured by a chain. This was a triple blow, in that a) it was the wrong key, b) I realized that I have no backup key, and c) I am a huge dumbass.


• It doesn't matter that there are 6 hotdogs and 8 buns if you decide that you're sick of hotdogs.


• Why is frosting so good?


• Should I mail Christmas cards? I have some. I was planning on sending them out. Then The Girl made an observation that chilled my blood. She pointed out that sending Christmas cards puts you on other people's Christmas card lists. This means that I will be forced to send Christmas cards EVERY YEAR UNTIL THE DAY I DIE, or risk looking like a big jerk. So I am still undecided.


• Should I decorate the dog?

Chunk of Rat Brain Learns How to Fly Fighter Jet, Cries When Goose Dies

"It sounds like science fiction: a brain nurtured in a Petri dish learns to pilot a fighter plane as scientists develop a new breed of "living" computer. But in groundbreaking experiments in a Florida laboratory that is exactly what is happening.

The "brain", grown from 25,000 neural cells extracted from a single rat embryo, has been taught to fly an F-22 jet simulator by scientists at the University of Florida.

In the most striking experiment, the brain was linked to the jet simulator. Manipulated by the electrodes and a desktop computer, it was taught to control the flight path, even in mock hurricane-strength winds.

"When we first hooked them up, the plane 'crashed' all the time," Dr DeMarse said. "But over time, the neural network slowly adapts as the brain learns to control the pitch and roll of the aircraft. After a while, it produces a nice straight and level trajectory."

I'm not going to get into the ethics of this - mostly because that's not really the point of this blog. My main question here is what motivates a rat brain in a dish? When you train a dog, you use treats. When you train a monkey, you use bananas. Do they soak the brain in cheese dip as a reward?

Lens

I've been feeling very creative lately, but I feel as though I've sort of been neglecting my photography. I'm going to try to take more pics, and share them here, starting now. Hope you enjoy!

facets freeze

Please see the full resolution photo here.

they hung like stars

Please see the full resolution photo here.

the light was sharp

Please see the full resolution photo here.
seriously. if you don't look at any others in full res, look at this one. :)

liquid crystal

Please see the full resolution photo here.

The Space Nakji Interview

Space Nakji has been interviewed by august publications such as the Korea Times and the Hoboken HoeDown, but Gasoline Hobo has the REAL scoop on what makes this cephalopod tick. In a raw, uncensored conversation, our Chief Hobologist asks the tough questions and maybe gets a little more than he bargained for.

Gasoline Hobo: How are you today, Space Nakji?
Space Nakji: I AM GETTING FAT.

GH: Just how fat are you getting?
SN: HUGE. MY GUT IS HANGING OVER MY WAIST BAND. NONE OF MY PANTS FIT SO I JUST WRAP SCARVES AROUND MY LEGS AND HIPS. LOTS OF SCARVES. I STAPLE THEM TOGETHER. BUT NOT TO MY LEGS (OUCH).

GH: Like a sort of lazy bohemian mumu sort of thing?
SN: YES. ALSO, MY LAST HAIRCUT WAS QUITE BAD.

GH: Would you say that your terrible haircut ACCENTUATES your horrendous weight gain, or minimizes it?
SN: THE FIRST. IT SHOWS OFF HOW FAT MY NECK HAS BECOME. AND MY EARLOBES.

GH: I'm noticing that even the letters you're using have gotten larger. Do you find yourself wishing for larger chairs as well?
SN: YES! WITH WHEELS SO I DON'T HAVE TO GET UP WHEN I NEED ANOTHER COKE FROM THE RIDGE.

GH: You have to go all the way to the ridge to get a coke?
SN:YES. AND BACK AGAIN. ALSO MY EYELIDS ARE FAT. THAT'S ON ACCOUNT OF THE CHEESE. ARE YOU TAKING NOTES?

GH: Absolutely. Do your fat eyelids impair your ability to see donuts and other sugary treats? Have you considered some sort of surgery, or Clockwork Orange-type device?
SN: NO, I SEE THE DONUTS JUST FINE. IT'S WORK I CAN'T DO NO MORE. JUST CAN'T.

GH: What, looking? You can't look anymore?
SN: YAH, NO MORE LOOKING. EXCEPT AT DONUTS. COZ THEY ROUND. COKES ARE ROUND TOO. AND CHEESEBURGERS. WOW. ALL THE REALLY GOOD THINGS TO EAT IN THIS WORLD ARE ROUND. COOKIES...OK, WELL TOAST ISN'T... BUT YOU CAN MAKE IT ROUND.

GH: Do you find yourself wishing that you could still see candybars?
SN: I ALSO SEE THINGS THAT ARE LONG AND RECTANGULAR. LIKE MY FRIDGE.

GH: The one on the ridge?
SN: YES. SO FAR....YOU KNOW THAT CURE SONG? JUST LIKE HEAVEN? THAT WAS WRITTEN FOR A FRIDGE. ON A RIDGE. HENCE THE VIDEO.

GH: Have you been huffing powdered sugar, Miss Nakji? Are you HIGH RIGHT NOW?
SN: Naw man, no.

GH: You're not perhaps crying right now as a result of my Barbara Walters-esque sneak attack?
SN: What? No! My tear ducts are too fat. I wish I was high.

GH: Let's switch gears a bit. I read somewhere that you were once a professional bear wrestler. How awesome was that?
SN: Well, it was just one time. I had to wrestle a bear during my tour in 'Nam. There was only one pair of lederhosen, and the bear wanted it, so I had to fight him for it.

GH: Did you win?
SN: I'm sitting here talking to you in lederhosen, aren't I?

GH: We're on the internet. I can't see you.
SN: Shut up, minion!

GH: I see. Back to your ridge problem. If you had to choose between a band of helper monkeys and a robot chair with wheels, which would you choose?
SN: You do ask the hard hitting questions, dont you? I would choose the HELPFUL BAND OF WHEELED ROBOT MONKEYS.

GH: That is an excellent answer. Your public will love it.
SN: Well, I love my public.

GH: If you were really hungry, could you see yourself maybe eating one of your public?
SN: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

GH: I see! So zombification is not necessarily required for you to crave the sweet buttery taste of human flesh...
SN: Actually, I do think my public could probably bathe a little more often. And though I am traditionally not fond of butter, I have found that I've been eating more of it lately. Especially on toast. With grape jam.

GH: And bacon?
SN: No.

GH: I've heard rumors that bacon is involved in most of your meals. Or at least pork products of some kind. Would you care to comment?
SN: So not true. Maybe someone has been feeding me bacon in my sleep. I'd like to offer you a quote from one of my English students. I think you'll find his sentiment enlightening and intriguing. "When I can eat a horse, I eat a chicken."

GH: That's an interesting quote. Do you have any suspects for this nocturnal bacon feeding?
SN: I think it's Jesus. Jesus feeds me bacon in my sleep. He's fattening me up for the slaughter. MAYBE don't quote that part.

GH: INTERESTING. So lets explore this notion that Jesus wants to kill you and then eat you...
SN: Who said He's going to kill ME?

GH: Well, slaughter usually involves killing...
SN: Maybe He's preparing me. Maybe I'm MECHAJESUS. Like the Anti-Christ, only more Mothra.

GH: So maybe all of this weight you're gaining will eventually be replaced with some sort of holy(ish) mechanical Jesus apparatus?
SN: YES. That's all I can say. This interview is over. YOU DON'T KNOW ME!! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!