House color design

Click on the color swatches to change color. Works using svg overlays multiplied over the background image, and changing the svg color property.


Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock


Let’s play!


Make your move.


GoPro a Go-Go!

Make you own on Thingiverse.


The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.


Tom Waits reads The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski


Charlie Rose interviews Charlie Rose

I love this. Charlie Rose is the greatest. And this absurdist edit of Charlie Rose conversing with Charlie Rose is smashing!

My favorite part:




For the real show:

Audio archives:


Spooky Mr. Ghost


From the New York Times Opinion Pages: My Friend Leonard Cohen: Darkness and Praise

By LEON WIESELTIERNOV. November 14, 2016

 Leonard Cohen Credit Dominique Issermann

“Dear Uncle Leonard,” the email from the boy began. “Did anything inspire you to create ‘Hallelujah’”? Later that same winter day the reply arrived: “I wanted to stand with those who clearly see G-d’s holy broken world for what it is, and still find the courage or the heart to praise it. You don’t always get what you want. You’re not always up for the challenge. But in this case — it was given to me. For which I am deeply grateful.”

The question came from my son, who was preparing to present the most irresistible hymn of our time to his fifth-grade class and required a clarification about its meaning. The answer came from the author of the song, who was for 25 years my precious friend and comrade of the spirit. Leonard Cohen was the most beautiful man I have ever known.

His company was quickening in every way. The elegance and the seductiveness were the least of it. The example of his poise was overwhelming, more an achievement than a disposition, and much more than an affair of style.

He lived in a weather of wisdom, which he created by seeking it rather than by finding it. He swam in beauty, because in its transience he aspired to discern a glimpse of eternity: There was always a trace of philosophy in his sensuality. He managed to combine a sense of absurdity with a sense of significance, a genuine feat. He was hospitable and strict, sweet and deep, humble and grand, probing and tender, a friend of melancholy but an enemy of gloom, a voluptuary with religion, a renegade enamored of tradition.

Leonard was, above all, in his music and in his poems and in his tone of life, the lyrical advocate of the finite and the flawed. As he wrote to my son, who was mercifully too young to understand, he was possessed by a lasting sensation of brokenness. He was broken, love was broken, the world was broken.

But “Famous Blue Raincoat” notwithstanding, this was not the usual literary abjection, or any sort of bargain-basement Baudelaireanism. Leonard’s reputation for bleakness is very imprecise. His work documents a long and successful war with despair. “I greet you from the other side of sorrow and despair/ With a love so vast and shattered it will reach you everywhere.” The shattering of love has the effect of proliferating it.

Leonard had an unusual inflection for darkness: He found in it an occasion for uplift. His work is animated by a laudatory impulse, an unexpected and profoundly moving hunger to praise the world in full view of it. His attitude of acceptance was not founded on anything as cheap as happiness.

Leonard sang always as a sinner. He refused to describe sin as a failure or a disqualification. Sin was a condition of creatureliness, and his feeling for our creatureliness was boundless. “Even though it all went wrong/ I’ll stand before the Lord of song/ With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!”

The singer’s faults do not expel him from the divine presence. Instead they confer a mortal integrity upon his exclamation of praise. He is the inadequate man, the lowly man, the hurt man who has given hurt, insisting modestly but stubbornly (except in “I’m in Your Man,” when he merrily mocked himself) upon his right to a sacred exaltation.

Leonard wrote and sung often about God, but I am not sure what he meant by it. Whatever it was, it inspired “If It Be Your Will,” his most exquisite song. He sought recognition for his fallenness, not rescue from it. “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” He once told an interviewer that those words were the closest he came to a credo. The teaching could not be more plain: fix the crack, lose the light.

All this gave Leonard’s laughter an uncommon credibility. He put punch lines into some of his most lugubrious songs. He delighted in expressing serious notions in comically homely ways. (On ephemerality, from an unreleased early version of a song: “They oughta hand the night a ticket/ for speeding. It’s a crime.”) We laughed all the time. At the small wooden table in his kitchen the jokes flew, usually as he prepared a meal. While he was genuinely in earnest about the pursuit of truth, Leonard had a supremely unsanctimonious temperament. Whether or not darkness was to be relieved by light, it was to be relieved by lightness. Before Passover, which commemorates the biblical exodus, he sent this: “Dear bro, happy Pesach. I miss Egypt! Love and blessings, Eliezer.” Before Shavuot, which commemorates the giving of the Torah in the desert, he sent this: “Dear bro, See you at Sinai. I’ll be wearing headphones! Love and blessings, Eliezer.” The laughter of the disabused was yet another of his gifts.

Eliezer was his Hebrew name. We sometimes read and studied together, Lorca and midrash and Eluard and Buddhist scriptures and Cavafy. We could get quite Talmudic, especially with wine. In Judaism there is a custom to honor the dead by pondering a text in their memory. Here, in memory of Eliezer ben Natan ha’Cohen, is a passage on frivolity by a great rabbi in Prague at the end of the 16th century. “Man was born for toil, since his perfection is always being actualized but is never actual,” he observed in an essay on frivolity. “And insofar as he attains perfection, something is missing in him.

In such a being, perfection is a shortcoming and a lack.” Leonard Cohen was the poet laureate of the lack, the psalmist of the privation, who made imperfection gorgeous.

Leon Wieseltier is the Isaiah Berlin Senior Fellow in Culture and Policy at the Brookings Institution and the author of “Kaddish.”

Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook and Twitter (@NYTopinion), and sign up for the Opinion Today newsletter.

A version of this op-ed appears in print on November 14, 2016, on page A25 of the New York edition with the headline: Leonard Cohen’s Darkness and Praise. Today's Paper|Subscribe

Music for the new apocalypse

The first four songs on the 1981_8 disc of the 1980s survey at FLUXBLOG are a good start for the post-America America.

  •  Bad Reputation – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
         – The theme song from the TV series Freaks and Geeks
  • Takin’ a Ride – The Replacements
        – I officially love the Replacements
  • Too Young to Die – Agent Orange
        – Real Reagan-era total global thermonuclear annihilation song
  • Buried Alive – The Lyres
    – What the 2016 Presidential election result feels like

Also apropos on the disc:

  • What A Day That Was – David Byrne
  • Silent Scream – TSOL
  • Boy From New York City – Manhattan Transfer

    – Miriam-Webster defines SARCASM as “the use of words that mean the opposite of what you really want to say especially in order to insult someone, to show irritation, or to be funny.

Boy from New York City lyrics:

Ooh wah, ooh wah cool, cool kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City
Ooh wah, ooh wah c’mon kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City

He’s kind of tall
He’s really fine
Some day I hope to make him mine, all mine
And he’s neat
And oh so sweet
And just the way he looked at me
He swept me off my feet
Ooh whee, you ought to come and see
How he walks
And how he talks

Ooh wah, ooh wah cool, cool kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City

He’s really down
And he’s no clown
He has the finest penthouse I’ve ever seen in town
And he’s cute
In his mohair suit
And he keeps his pockets full of spending loot
Ooh whee, say you ought to come and see
His dueling scar
And brand new car

Every time he says he loves me
Chills run down my spine
Every time he wants to kiss me
He makes me feel so fine
Ooh wah, ooh wah cool, cool kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City

Well he can dance (He can dance, take a chance with a little)
And make romance (Romance baby, cause he’s a looker)
That’s when I feel in love
With just one glance (He’s sweet talking and cool)

He was shy
And so was I
And now I know I’ll never, ever say goodbye
Ooh whee, say you ought to come and see
He’s the most
From coast to coast

Ooh wah, ooh wah cool, cool kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City
Ooh wah, ooh wah c’mon kitty
Tell us about the boy from New York City

Written by Brian Wilson • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, BMG Rights Management US, LLC

Thank you to my friend Carolina who talked me out of moving to Belize today.