Release The Kraken!

On a chance trip to a Pennsylvania liquor store this weekend, I happened upon a new spiced rum. I'm fairly tired of the Captain, you see. And I think this new rum is the perfect antidote.


It's called The Kraken. It has fantastic packaging and a hilarious marketing campaign, which can be found in full at http://www.krakenrum.com/. This even includes encouragement to order a drink called the Kraken Bomb.

More importanly, The Kraken tastes better than Captain Morgan, and is replacing the old sea dog in my liquor cabinet. As cleverly put in the marketing material, "Named for a sea beast of myth and legend, the kraken rum is strong, rich, black, and smooth." All true.

I suggest you give it a try, so you'll be ready when The Kraken rises from the depths and sinks The Captain's ship.

Not Sure If This is a Recommendation, or Just Commentary

I have to say, I have a touch and go relationship with Massive Attack. Basically, I don’t like them much, unless someone kickass is singing on a particular track. Even those, I hate at first, until I find them stuck in my head for days.

This is the beautiful and haunting case with Flat of the Blade, off the new album Heligoland. Absent the vocals, it’s a moderately creepy track of electronica, but with Guy Garvey of Elbow adding the downright disturbing and tortured vocals, it becomes something more. Great song!

In Case You Think There's Some Grand Plan Out There, You're Wrong - No Such Plan Would Include This

The most random shit can happen just walking out your front door.

I was bringing my dog out to put in the car and run an errand. Most of Snowpocalypse had melted, but a few piles still sat on the street corners.

As I approaced my car (street parking out front), a hispanic guy walked up. From his giant Honduras keychain, I assume he was Honduran. A regular genius, me.

Guy: "'Sucse me, do you have a chovel?"

Me: "Chovel?"

Guy: "Yeah, a chovel. I gotta dig out." Guy gestures to his pickup truck, which he has driven up onto/into a large snow pile. I never did ascertain whether he needed to get the truck out or was hired to shovel the snow and just picked the dumbest parking spot in history.

Me: "Oh, uh, no. I swear. No shovel here. Sorry, man."

Guy, while beginning to walk toward me and my ferocious dog: "Oh can I pet jour dog?"

Me, while letting my dog out front a little, in order to allow her maximum conniption potential (read: BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!): "No. She will bite you."

It's about here that I noticed that this man was flamboyantly homosexual. It's no judgment one way or another, just another fact that makes this story so completely random. He was wearing jeans, a tight long-sleeve shirt, and a green scarf wrapped carefully and closely around his neck.

Guy, walking nearly into chomp-range with hand out, but deciding he wanted to keep his fingers: "Is OK, is OK. She just sense de curse, and trying to eat it."

Curse? Did this gay Honduran guy who parked on a snow bank and asked me for a shovel now tell me my dog is trying to eat a curse? I decided to continue to roll with the situation. What would you have done?

Me: "Sorry, but she doesn't want to be petted."

Guy: "Is OK, jou see. I'm cursed. She just trying to get de curse. Eat it. Chomp. See?"

At this point, the Guy lifted his shirt and turned his body to show a massive scar extending from his beltline on his back, around his abdomen, and up to his ribs.

Guy: "Jou see? I cursed. They threw me off de fourth floor. I cursed, and she sense it. She trying to eat de curse. I cursed. Is OK."

Let me mention, I know of no magical force here. My dog was behaving exactly as trained - if a person is approaching quickly, she takes it as a threat, and letting her forward is my queue for her to defend/attack/wreak havoc.

Me: "Wow, man. Um...wow."

Guy: "So yeah, is OK. I cursed, but is OK. I love it here. I love America. Is wonderful. I pay de taxes."

As the Guy delivered this little speech, he approached and shook my hand with much enthusiasm. I reigned my dog in, because I determined that this man did not to be eviscerated at that moment.

I think it is fair to say that at this point, I was completely bewildered. Let us review: a gay Honduran man drove his truck into a snow pile and was wandering my street in search of a shovel. Seeing me exit my home, he requested of such from me. Upon my denial, he attempted to approach and pet my ferocious dog. Upon a near miss with a visit to the emergency room, he informed me of his curse, exemplified by a scar that can easily be described as coming from having been cut in half, which he apparantly received after being thrown from a fourth floor window, balcony, etc. He determined that my dog wanted to eat this curse, and decided that a related topic was how much he loves America, so much that he is glad to be paying taxes.

Me, in response: "Uh, great, well, good luck, and have a good day."

Again, what would you have done?

This Is My Thesis, Man! My Closing Argument!

A million thanks to Sara for finding this - she's such a gem for remembering my distaste for her home state, as well as my fascination with ninjas in the news. Thus, I was downright giddy to receive and scribble all over the following story: