One sure way to piss off your neighbors...

Unless maybe I was one of the neighbors.  This is a house built by Mexican artist, sculptor and instigator Armando Munoz Garcia.  The woman's body interior is actual living area.  I think every neighborhood should have at least a few people like this.  Why not?

This guy also created the structure that's come to be known as "La Mona" in Tijuana.

That's not just a statue, it's a house.  He lives in there.  That's probably why she has such a big ass.  I hear that's where the kitchen and bathroom are, and he sleeps in her breasts.  There's a "library" in her head.  I read a quote from him...  "Give me enough rebar and an oxyacetylene torch and I'll line the border with giant nude Amazons."  I like the way this guy thinks.

Another very cool toy we can all start saving up for...

This is called a "seabreacher".  They're designed like dolphins or sharks, and they can travel under the surface as well as above like a regular boat.  The movements they're capable of are a lot like that of a dolphin, see a video here.  See a video of seabreachers here...  They're being custom built now, but I don't imagine it'll be long before they're being mass-produced.  I read a starting price is around $65,000 for a basic model.  I'll probably be needing one for my place here in Florida, another for my winter home in Hawaii, and another for my vacation villa in The Maldives.  :D

If you want to feel really crappy about "sort of" learning a musical instrument...

Watch THIS~ Watch Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor  By the way, the big pipe in the middle they keep showing is never used... if it were, everyone in the building would vomit immediately then bleed from the eye sockets for the next three days.

Unreasonable Doubt

Ok, I wasn't looking for a first degree murder conviction, that would have been nearly impossible to prove.  Second degree would have been nice though, and if not reporting your child missing or dead for a month isn't child neglect then what is?  And while we're on the subject, I wonder what the fine is for allowing all those people to search high and low for a month for a body she dumped in the woods?  Anyway, if this bitch is ever allowed to have children or even babysit children ever again, it's a sad statement about the toilet we're creating out of a once proud and dignified society.  I fully understand that the media attention a case like this attracts is a modern version of the old fashioned mob mentality, and our "justice system" is in place to prevent innocent people from being chased down with torches and pitchforks until cornered then stoned into something resembling strawberry jam.  However, our "justice system" seems to deserve nothing less than the vengeance and wrath that it's been denying cold-blooded lying killers like this one.  Maybe we just don't have the right charges for this kind of crime.  To take your child and dump it in the woods, either simulating a murder or covering one up, requires a very long prison sentence whether the cause of death was provable or not.  Sometimes though, society takes care of little mistakes like these.  I can only hope that there's a serial killer or two out there with some flexibility in his or her schedule and then no child in this woman's future will need to take the risk of her special maternal attention.  Frankenstein's monster would tell you that the mob that chased him down was misguided in their feelings.  I have absolutely no idea what the fuck this jury was thinking or feeling.   In a case like this one, I think even an undead monster with an abnormal brain would say that sometimes the mob is right.  

Part 2

Continued from the earlier post below...

I drove home, and pulled into my usual spot.  I could swear that I saw something move behind the big Cypress tree to my left... but I had been seeing so many things since I left work an hour ago that I just wrote it off to stress and a busy work week that had freaked me out.  I got my stuff gathered up and I headed upstairs.  On the stairs, everything changed.  As soon as the security door closed behind me, I heard this loud heavy breathing, like a dragon with asthma.  The lights in the stairwell began to flicker.  I hastened my walk up the stairs and set my bags down to find the keys.  I got my keys out of my pocket and just then the lights went out completely.  I fumbled with them for a moment, until I got one in the right position.  The breathing sound was getting closer, moving up the stairwell.  The key I had didn't work in the deadbolt, so I jammed it into the door handle and unlocked it.  I carefully grabbed the next key on the ring and threw the deadbolt over and swung my door inward.  I grabbed my bags and fell inside, kicking the door shut when I cleared.  I flew to my feet and turned the deadbolt, handle, and wuss-chain for the element of sound if nothing else.  Locks can be picked but breaking the chain isn't a quiet thing.  I leaned against the wall for two or three minutes, listening.  When I heard nothing for several minutes, I gathered the strength to put my groceries and other things away.  I twisted the cap off a beer and sat down at my computer desk.  I was about to drink the first deep gulps of my beer when a sound came from my balcony that chilled the blood in my veins to ice.  This had happened only three times in my life, once the first time seeing Friday The 13th part one in the theater where Jason comes out of the water at the end.  The second again, first time in the theater in Jaws where Ben Gardner's head comes out of the underwater hole in his boat, and the third was in college when my girlfriend gave me "The News."  This was the fourth time.  It sounded like an anaconda wrestling with a wild boar on my balcony.  It sounded like it was pushing at the sliding glass door, and though I knew the door was locked, I knew that kind of door could easily be pushed off its track.  I staggered across my living room and grabbed what I could from my "mostly decorative/functional by necessity" weapons wall on my way to my bedroom closet.  I had nowhere else to go.

I ran to the back of the walk-in closet and had the most absurd thought under the circumstances... does running into a walk-in closet violate some cosmic law?  I remember I laughed out loud as I was running.  Hysteria was beginning to set in. I reached the back and turned, my Gil Hibben Raptor in my right hand, my Gil Hibben Raven in my left, and my custom cut Klingon machete clenched firmly between my teeth as backup.  It was right then that I heard the sliding glass door slide slowly open.  There is no way to describe the terror I felt, our worst dreams and movies seem to pale into insignificance when a real, stark raving horror wraps itself around you and completely paralyzes you.  I felt this and was able to summon the last strength to assume a death-pounce crouch and I waited.  I waited for a half an hour, waiting to die basically, either galvanized by fear or fighting like a wild man.  I was hoping for the latter.  I know how to bleed myself, quickly and relatively painlessly, if need be.  I was considering this as an option as the time drew up around the hour mark.  I finally decided that death was something to be experienced to its fullest enjoyment, since we only get one and it's arguably the last entertainment we might ever get.  I decided to go out and meet whatever had been following me all night with blades in my hands and a primal scream in my throat.  I walked to the front of the closet and pushed the door open.  I saw nothing in the bedroom.  I walked slowly into the hallway, still nothing.  I carefully edged my eye around the corner to look into the living room.  You're not going to believe what I saw there.  Sitting there, right in the middle of my living room, drinking a beer, laughing and pointing at me, mocking me, it was the weekend!  Woohoo!  It's the WEEKEND!
:D