My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

tough guy poetry and manly stories of loneliness
all contents copyright Jon Rolston 2004, 2005, 2006

February 11, 2007

steam being
heat tends to rise water
being lazy
won’t even walk uphill

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My friend KR has been blogging about food for a while at Hot Lunch and you should check it out. She takes pictures of the meals and if you are into food you’ll probably get a kick out of it. I like when she takes pictures of food related signs in the New York area, although the one I borrowed from her site was taken in Providence, R.I.

More food signs from New York, KR! I love that stuff…

Jesus Loves Me, This I Know.

recorded a nice drinking song for you folks…

February 9, 2007

Banana Eats Horse!

That’s some real news…check out this video of a horse eating a snack.

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Rus Peach talks about donuts! His internet debut!

More from Silverfish & Foxing

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Start your blog post with action to entice the reader…

Rolston snuck his toes up the side of the grey dumpster, swung his body up and got his footing on the pile of garbage inside. This was a true diver’s paradise, three sixty yard dumpsters in the gated parking lot of an abandoned high school. The dumpsters were full of old giant green chalkboards, bad shag carpet,wooden chairs with the right hand arm rest forming a surface to rest your books – they didn’t stack well, arms and legs were at all angles – “this is gonna take some digging” Rolston said to himself. His whole body was alert, his feet spread wide on the uneven surface of junk, ready to leap if the pile gave way or one surface shifted. It was like gaining sea legs, but these were dumpster legs, and it took only the smell of garbage for the muscle memory to come back to him.

Right near the top of this first dumpster he saw a clock face set in a wooden case. “That might be worth some dough”, he thought and moved like the killing fields towards his quarry. This dumpster was virgin territory, unpicked. The clock’s long body slunk down into the pile out of sight. Bad news. Who knew if appendages came from the clock that would now be caught up in untold layers beneath him?

Rolston would have to look. The first obstacle was a small round table, probably from the special ed room. It was blocking off the lower two thirds of the clock. Using a long 2 x4 from an old theater production as a pry bar he hoisted up the table. He saw the multi colored channels of old chewing gum nearly lined the underside rim of the table. Dark stains showed where an eager janitor had dealt with the problem earlier. But the clock itself seemed to be resting in a smooth burrow hollowed out of the jetsam.

It was going to slide out. But the table was locked in by old filing cabinets, and the cabinets were trapped under more old tables. It was still a two man job, and Rolston was not ready to go for help. “Let’s make it a one man job” he whispered to himself and looked out across the landscape.

First he found a fulcrum. The dented silver fire extinguisher would do. He slid the 2 x4 back under the table and this time Rolston stood on the 2 x 4, raising the table again and with his hands free, he pulled the clock from the greedy angles of garbage.

It was heavy. The back side of the clock was full of loops of paper with numbers and punch holes. “Ephemera?” he thought to himself. Losing interest in the metal, wood and glass that made up the majority of the clock, Rolston unwound the separate loops of paper from cogs and wheels with the fingers of a seamstress stitching silk.

Interesting. It appeared this was a pre-digital alarm clock. It must be the master machine for all the bells and alarms that ring in a daily fashion at a high school. A closer look at the brittle paper showed indeed small boxes numbered one through sixty repeating over and over and over. And this paper was backed with foil and set on the thinnest of plastic. By punching out the minute you needed, the bell would ring. Scotch tape, dark along the edges from age, showed where bells were turned off and taken out of the schedule. The plastic backing allowed this paper to feed endlessly through the metal cogs and not break down.

“I will save our analog history!” Rolston cried out, rising from his crouch over the fallen clock, ribbons of numbers streaming from his fingers that clutched onto this moment in time.

February 8, 2007

ephemera from Silverfish & Foxing

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Dick Carlton runs an old paper shop (ephemera) not too far from my place. Nice guy, he let’s me scan things that catch my eye if I plug his shop. Just this afternoon I leaned on the old brass door handle and pushed open the old wooden door and Dick called out to me, “Got some cowboy stuff in”. He knows I can’t get enough of it. What you see up there is a page from a social calendar of Square Dances from 1958…82 pages of dances in northern California. Western wear shops, record shops and microphones for the callers are all advertised inside.

“Ankle Knockers is another new club in East Palo Alto with Ken Oburn at the helm…” is the beginning report from the San Francisco/Peninsula news. The editor, Madeline Allen, starts off her column with this bit to ponder…

“If you ever begin to wonder whether or not the Square Dance movement is growing, just make a point to attend one of the Stampedes at the Oakland Auditorium.”

Fifty years later and I don’t think you could wrangle up two Square Dances in the whole state on a Thursday night

February 7, 2007

elongated cent

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My friend Jarid sent me this penny with the seal of the Town Of Greenland, NH stamped on it. Jarid knows I grew up in Greenland so I imagine this caught his eye and he sent it along. The crazy thing is…and Jarid doesn’t know…my Dad had these made up to sell at the Centennial celebration back in the 1970’s. A quick phone call this afternoon revealed that he’d had about 500 made at a cost of 35 bucks. He sold enough to cover his cost that weekend, and at this point has about fifty left that he is slowly unloading at coin shows.

My mother pointed out that her Grandfather is the one who designed the seal that is featured on the back of the penny. It is an old Puritan Pilgrim with a gundalow in the background, a trading ship on the Great Bay in New Hampshire.

Ill have to get Jarid to tell me where he found this penny. He is living in Seattle, so if he got it up there, that’s a long way for it to travel…

February 6, 2007

Sit down and listen to a wonderful story about Doug’s grandmother

February 5, 2007

Here is a little video interview with a young lady who shares her thoughts on donuts with us.

I am putting together a few interviews as part of a class I’m taking at SF State. The class is an independent study on what donuts mean in our culture. Feel free to send me your opinions!

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February 4, 2007

Fluoridated Beer

Here in the City of San Francisco we are provided with fluoride (a toxic element) in our drinking water by the powers that be. A lot of research suggests it is a pointless exercise, in that we drink the water, not store it in our mouths. However, if in fact that fluoride is preventing cavities and not causing rising rates of autism, a dear reader we only know as KR has written in with a completely earth shattering idea:

“You need to invent fluoridated beer! Think of the marketing opportunities: toothbrush bottle-openers, mouthwash nips, beer can floss dispensers…”

I think a strong sales angle is that when a person vomits from intoxication, the fluoride will be given a second chance to coat the teeth. The tie-in market is huge, as KR has pointed out. Imagine how much fun it would be to go to the dentist if there was a bar in the waiting room and you were completely shit-faced by the time they call you in for your root canal!

I sat too long on another drink idea, the caffeinated donut. Sharp eyed reader DSM sent me this news flash.

February 3, 2007

Big news in California is 5 cent refund on bottles and cans. Was half that till a couple years ago, when they finally raised it up to 4 cents. Is this a Republican or a Democratic initiative? I think its Republican. It’s a way for poor people to help themselves instead of relying on a direct government handout. Poor people can work for a living, walking from gas station to convenience store, reaching into the garbage out front and grabbing any drink container where the neck is smaller than the body. That’s it! Non-discriminatory, (for people able to walk). And walking is good excercise.

I dedicated this month to raising 300 dollars from recycling. I want a bass guitar amp. If we figure this month to have 30 days, which it doesn’t, then I need to collect 6,000 bottles and cans. That works out to 200 a day. Every day. That might seem like a lot. I could ask a hundred people to give me two. Every day. But that would take a lot of time as well.

Curbside recycling seems the best way. Most families probably throw out 50 bottles a week that are worth a nickel each. The best part is, bottles and cans over 24 ounces are worth ten cents. The worst part is that milk, wine and spirits bottles are not included in the refund. I never drink milk, but the other two are awfully important to me.

At that rate rummaging through four peoples recycling bin once a week will take care of that daily 200. But I could get all 1,400 bottles I need every week if I went through 28 families recycling bins every Monday morning. I’d have to drive my truck. It’d take some time.

Doing all this math makes me think I should have a second goal, if I don’t get enough dough for the amp. Maybe a thirty dollar palm sander. I want to make some shelves. Thirty bucks for a sander would take only ten percent of the time to get compared to that 300 dollar amp. Maybe once I have the sander, I can make shelves and sell them. Take that money and buy an amp.

Math is so hopeful.

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February 2, 2007

Rus and I were driving down to the lumber yard in the Dodge. “You seem like the kind of guy who should have a dog,” he said to me. We were heading into Redwood City, down by the salt evaporators.

“Really? Why’s that?” I asked.

“So you can step in its shit, then get in your car and smear it all over the brake pedal. Then you turn on the heat and get the smell everywhere.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that…”

It’s tough working with Rus sometimes.

In other work news, I’ve noticed that you get on a horse and tractor the same side you get in a car. Mount from the left hand side. There are different reasons for each one. The tractor has a large arm that operates the bucket on the right hand side, (since most people are right handed), that makes it awkward to climb on from that side. Can someone remind me why we get on horses from the left hand side? And cars?

In non-work news, this superbowl sunday I am meeting with a man who has tons of home recorded records from the 1930’s and 40’s. While researching these acetate 78’s, this site came up. It is a great collection of strange records/cassettes found in thrift stores, with quicktime samples, like I tried to post yesterday, but couldn’t…

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