Shout Out to the Crick

So, I've probably been spending more time on Google Analytics than is good for me... it certainly is an addiction... but I came across an interesting statistic. Apparently there are several views of TBR from Johnson Creek.

At first, I thought that perhaps my life partner had been viewing TBR from the site of an clerkship. However, upon confronting my life partner, I learned that I was mistaken, as my life partner has not viewed TBR in quite some time. This confounded my befuddlement, but I plan to continue operations under the assumption that there may be some readership base from Johnson Creek.

I would like to take a moment officially welcome our JC readers and share some of their culture with our Madison-based readership.

Johnson Creek, lovingly referred to as "The Crick" by its citizens, is located in beautiful, historic south-central Wisconsin. It has been called "The Crossroads With a Future" due to its location at the intersection of Interstate 94 and State Highway 26. Johnson Creek offers a plethora of ammenities to locals and out-of-towners alike, including the UW Cancer Center and an outlet mall. The population is predominantly white (95% in 2000) and has a male-benefitting ratio of 100 females to 97 males (probably as a result of its proximity to an outlet mall).

If you like cancer, shopping, and women, the Crick is the place to be!

For further information on our brethren in Jefferson County, you can check out the Village of Johnson Creek Website.

You guys got vaginas?

Though I will not be riddling you with questions about the existence of a single herpe, or questions about which celelbutant will be the next to flash her vag, tits, or, on a good day, her vaganus, I will be commenting on the more intimate aspects of my extremely interesting life, which include, among other things, porn addictions, the art of reflecting on being drunk at ages 18-21, hating everyone, and hummus, of course. I will also be writing really long introductory sentences on a regular basis. Never fear, though, because all of these things, especially my porn addictions, are eternally linked with the namesake of this blog, the Buskus. He has been there from the start and, without a shadow of a doubt, he will be there at the end. Or whatever. Just remember to bring lots of corn oil and don't worry, I will be there in a matter of dollars.

The Way of the Sword

This afternoon, I entered my dojo for what would be the fight of my life. I tended to my trusty shinai which I had so carelessly broken by beating people over the head repeatedly. And for the last time, I donned my bogu, wrapped my tenegui around my head, and tied my men on tight. After a troubled meditation, I fought the penultimate battle of my kendo career.

My ma'ai and waza were regrettably lacking, but my ki'ia, ah my ki'ia. I could be heard bellowing for miles away as my shinai struck my opponent. I heard people muttering, "dude's got wicked ki," but only in the pauses as I caught my breath before resounding my triumphant battle cry. And my zanshin, the likes of which one won't soon forget, it was like lightning, first here, then there; "MEN," "DOOO," "KOTE, MENNNNNNNNNN," I cried as I unleashed a barrage of attacks.

When the battle was called, I stood motionless, tasting the blood in my mouth before I retracted my shinai, sonkyo'd, and bowed to my stunned opponent.

As I sat, removing my armor for the last time, I meditated on all the opponents that have fallen to my shinai. It was time for me to move on, to seek a life of peace. As I tore off my zekken, I felt as if a piece of my soul was being torn from my body. And as the final letter bearing the sole name any of my opponents ever knew me by- as that large, bold "B" was removed, my soul was parted from the armor and that way of life. I had cracked the boulder.

Now I am at peace.

-j.patrick-san, kendōka

Stamps

I purchased some stamps today at the PO, I thought I might share them with you.

Ah, jury duty. Where else can red-orange, dark teal, orange, royal blue, chartreuse, indigo, mint green, burnt umber, radiating orchid, brown, violet, and green people all be bored together for anywhere from a few hours to eight million years?

I feel like this is a message we should all remember, what better way to say it than sticking it to every letter you send out?

Other than me, though, who else on earth would ever want to purchase this stamp, except perhaps out of jest? There aren't professional jurors, right? Maybe this is the sort of thing you buy if you were a member of a particularly note-worthy case, like OJ. On the other hand, I would just get the O.J. stamp.

I immediately purchased this stamp when I saw it.

You're probably thinking to yourself, "self, why is there a picture of a white man on a black heritage stamp?" I asked that same question myself. However, if you weren't so ignorant, you would know that Charles Chesnutt (born 1858, died 1932) was an essayist and political activist. While Chesnutt may look white, he was actually of mixed race. This became an important influence during his writing. While some may argue that some of his work resmembles that of Joel Chandler Harris, I feel that it differs significantly, due to the criticisms of slavery. Other scholars have argued that his work is an example of American realism, probably thanks to his formal and often emotionless writing style.

Why can't they make cool stamps?

Is it just me, or is this weird?

I found it in an article here, but I sort of thought it was a joke or something. I'm not quite sure what to make of it, but I guess it's serious. I think the product line is silly, she basically just puts tape over hula hoops... interesting.

Hula Hoopla is based out of Madison, Wisconsin and exists for one reason: to bring the joy of hula hooping to as many people as possible.

My name is Danielle McIntosh, and I have a passion for hooping. I make hoops of all kinds: standard, water weighted, and bean filled. I also specialize in collapsible hoops, which I have taken with me in international travel.

Some people play guitar, some draw, I guess some people do hula hoops.

HHC: MadCity Cops

So I wasn't at Mifflin... I was at a wedding in the FDL. But I read an article that pissed me off.

There were ~6000 people and the cops made 438 arrests (most were "not serious" and alcohol related). That's about a 7.3% arrest/citation rate.

This just provides more evidence that Madison cops are only effective at dishing out drinking and public urination tickets and are completely incompetent when it comes to prevent murder, rape, or assaults on pharmacists.

These cops couldn't catch a fish if their lives depended on it... unless of course they were using dynamite on fish in a barrel. I'm glad I don't pay property tax to these morons.

Happy Fucking Birthday

I'd like to take a minute to congratulate our senior staff writer, Grebutron.

Way to turn 22. You've now officially been alive for as long as two 11 year olds combined.