While re-watching the newest Max Max movie, I am constantly thinking about the fact they they live in a post-nuclear wasteland where they are fighting wars over fuel.  So, then:

• Why do they drive the least fuel efficient vehicles ever invented?  Surely there is a Honda Civic or two that survived the apocalypse.
• Why do they put flamethrowers on everything? Even the war guitarist* has a flamethrower on his guitar.

That is all.

*note: war guitarist makes no practical sense but makes complete sense in the movie

Well, thanks, Internet.  I really liked this letter, (falsely) attributed to Charles Bukowski and I read it.

A scant 20 minutes of research has led me to believe that these are not his words, but I couldn’t figure out who actually said them, either.  But it’s still nicely put.

🙂

Sometimes this verse seems too melancholy and detached — sometimes not enough. But I always love it.

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me—he complains of my gab and my loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable;
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me;
It flings my likeness after the rest, and true as any, on the shadow’d wilds;
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the runaway sun;
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you.

One of my favorite parts of my business trips is an evening video chat with Katie.  There’s laughs, fun, sexy times, etc.  It’s not as good as being together in real life, but it’s still a lot of fun!