Tony #5

I just started making a new Internet radio station (streaming audio). Right now it’s just music playing from my personal collection off of my computer.

Play KMTJ - Tony’s Internet Radio Station

Click the link above and it should play in your computer’s media player. If you don’t have one, or you don’t like the one you do have, I recommend Winamp (it’s free and very good — just make sure to deselect all the free crap during download and installation).

Soon I will hopefully be adding a live DJ into the mix, different programs and schedules, and more. If you’re interested in the technical details, check out this tutorial on icecast/edcast.

~Tony

I went through some more old schoolwork and school-related things my mother has kept in storage over the years, and that I now have in my little filing box.  I found the following poem that I wrote May 1st, 1993.

I was 10 years old, and the poem is entitled “A BLUE PROTRACTOR” (…yes, in all capital letters). I have absolutely no memory of writing this poem, but the blue protractor at the end triggers a very very faint memory of drawing it.

A BLUE PROTRACTOR
by little Tony Johnson

Thinking of football
tackling opponents
catching wild horses
taking them to ranches
houses and mansions
very big things
Big Big Cheese
and Italian food
Spaghetti + meatballs
“On Top of Old Smokey”
short and fun songs
singing w/ microphones
amplifying speech
sports announcers
thousands of people
learning the world
a blue protractor.

Then I drew a pretty big protractor (actual-sized… I just traced it)… complete with angles, hash marks, and everything…. and I colored it blue with colored pencil.

In that poem I like how every line has some connection with the previous one (well…. except for perhaps the very last line, “a blue protractor”).
“Tackling opponents” involves catching them and making them stop — controlling their motion…. and the same is true with catching wild horses. You have to catch them and control their motion.

Then I also found my kindergarten yearly report from Portland Waldorf School, 1987-1988, filled out my by teacher Mrs. Ashkar (of whom I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever). Here is what she wrote to my parents (who were divorcing that year):

“Tony has managed to adjust admirably to the many changes which have happened this year!  He is a sensitive and caring child, assertive and open to the ideas of others.  Talkative and social, he takes delight in words and is learning to also honor the quieter spaces of the day. His coordination is good, both in large and small activities.

Cyndia Ashkar”

(What kind of name is “Cyndia” ?? Some hybrid between “Cynthia” and “Cindy” ?? As George Carlin would say, if he were alive, “Lady… pick a fuckin’ name!”).

So basically the gist of the yearly report card (that I get out of it anyway) is that I was a nice kid and performed well in school… but I wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

Love,
~Tony

I wrote this guide for a girl who’s moving to Portland and knows very little about the city.  I decided it could be considered valuable information to anyone planning on moving to the Rose City.

Tony’s Portland Primer
A Brief Intro to Portland — Complete with Broad Generalizations and Blatant Racism:
 
-          The city of Portland is usually divided into the 4 geographic quadrants (NW, NE, SE, SW), and also North Portland and Downtown.
-          North/south is divided by Burnside, a fairly big horizontal street going right through downtown. Bars line this street. West Burnside is far different from East Burnside.
-          And for that matter, the NW side of Burnside is starkly different from the SW side, just 50 feet or so away. NW Burnside: old homeless man balls… SW Burnside: yuppie businessmen and women.
-          East/west is divided by the Willamette River (Will-AM-ett… not Willa-MET).

-          Northwest Portland is a combination of urban/downtown area and residential area mixed in together. Then it goes up to hills to the west and industrial areas to the north.
-          People who live in NW are trendy yuppies.  The main neighborhood in NW is called The Pearl.  It’s overly expensive and the places to live are tiny for the money.
-          There’s a street called NW 23rd Ave, lined with expensive shops and gold-digger, fake/plastic women shopping… people call it Trendy-Third not Twenty-Third.
-          This is also where “First Thursday” occurs… where a bunch of artsy/trendy people walk around from gallery to gallery, milling around in the streets and blocking traffic.
-          The wealthier gay men live here.

-          North Portland is where all the black people and criminals live. (Notice I didn’t say that all the blacks were criminals — or vice versa… but yes, that is the case).
-          North Portland, which is called “NoPo” (sadly), is where you go to get shot and killed.  It’s cheaper to live there, but you won’t live there for very long either.

-          Northeast Portland is where all the rich, “hip, young” white families live.  Minorities are not allowed to live in NE due to zoning restrictions (except rich Asians with fair skin).
-          Culture, art and uniqueness do not exist in NE Portland. You are also close to North Portland, so don’t wander off too far.

-          Southeast Portland is where all the dirty, smelly hippies and “alternative types” live, and the rest of the gays (the poor ones).
-          The women of SE Portland don’t wear bras, and the men do.  Breasts sag and nipples come out to say “hi” – though you wish they hadn’t.
-          The starving musicians and artists live here, and their mediocre bands play in the dive bars.
-          The smell of marijuana is always in the air.
-          This is where “Last Thursday” occurs, where the hippies and freaks can have their monthly art-fest.
-          The farther you get away from downtown, the Hispanickier/Latinoier/Mexicannier the people get.  The brownness of people’s skin is directly proportional to the distance from downtown (and hence so is the number of children).
-          I currently live in SE Portland, close-in (for about a year and a half now).

-          Southwest Portland is where all the unhip, older, white families live. Again, due to zoning restrictions, minority (brown/black/kung fu) people are turned away from living here.
-          Nothing fun does or can happen in SW Portland (I went to elementary school there, lived there for 6 years).

-          Downtown is where the people who own suits, briefcases, and Bluetooth headsets live and work… during the day.
-          At night, downtown is where the young, cool white kids who like to bump ‘n’ grind on each other to loud black-people music go to clubs…….. to bump ‘n’ grind on each other to loud black-people music (if you feelin’ like a pimp nigga go ‘n’ brush your shoulders off).
-          I lived in downtown for 1 year.
-          Two words: mass transit/transportation.  Bus, MAX Light Rail, Streetcar, Trolley, weird ugly sci-fi Tram that goes way up in the air to the hospital university… and they are putting in another light rail line… Jesus Bus-Stoppin’ Christ.
 
That’s the city of Portland itself. Here’s a brief description of the major suburbs / surrounding cities:
 
To the South/Southwest
Lake Oswego: (pronounced “Lake Aw-SWEE-go”) – this small city has the even richer, whiter families. They don’t call it “Lake No-Negro” for nothing. I lived there with my mom and brother for 5 years, even though we were not rich (middle class / apartments).
Tigard: Some of the brown people go here (not “go ‘n’ brush your shoulders off” brown… but sombrero/taco/lots of ninos brown). I lived there for 2 years and currently work there. The turban’ed and burka’ed also live here.
 
To the West/Northwest
Beaverton/Hillsboro:  this is where most of the brown people go. Both suburbs are exactly the same, and are big, and right next to each other. So together they are one… giant…  tiny Mexico City.
 
To the North
Nothing. There is nothing here. No people. Not white, brown, black or Indian.
 
To the East
Gresham: This is where the rest of the rest of the brown people go. We have a lot of brown people here. They ran north from Mexico but found California still too hot…. and maybe too crowded and expensive (a peso doesn’t go very far in Beverly Hills).
 
 
 
And all over:  TREES….. BICYCLES….. and WHITE PEOPLE.
 
 
Then Latinos.
Then Asians
Then Blacks.
 
As for Native Americans… even though you folks on the East coast pushed them all west… and we had a bunch here to start with anyway…. we pushed them even further. So there aren’t many, and they all live far away in little reservations. (Yes, this is the mother of all zoning law restrictions).
But their names are still around:  Clackamas, Klickitat, Willamette, Tillamook, Clatsop, Tualatin, Umatilla, Walla Walla. And so are their casinos… and their AA meetings.
 

 ———————————————

I feel like I should preface this guide to Portland — well actually a preface would come beforehand… so this is more like a postface — with the following statement: I am not actually racist… just jokingly racist… which makes it okay. Jokes can’t hurt anybody’s feelings. Don’t worry, minorities don’t read my blog anyway. So this is behind-their-back joking racism, the sweetest and most harmless kind. The one possible exception to that is my friend Frank, who is only half-minority, so he can only get half-upset with me. But then again if I report him to the INS they can’t just “half-deport” him… so he better get zero-upset at me!

I’ve started working on a project that a friend and I have wanted to do for a few years now (because we’re total computer nerds)… it’s a Monopoly board game simulator, called “Monosim.”

It matches a few CPU players against each other and plays an entire game of Monopoly (thousands of turns) in less than a second. Then it will summarize the results of the game and provide various statistics on each player and each property (such as who owned what properties, how much $$ each one made in rent, # of times gone to jail, # of trips around GO, # of doubles rolled, and so on).

Each CPU player has its own strategy… its own criteria and rules for making each and every decision, like whether or not to buy a property, build a house, mortgage, roll doubles or pay $50 to get out of jail, etc. So the idea is to pit players with different strategies against each other and see who wins more games out of, say, 500,000 simulated games.

You can check it out here (note that it’s still a work-in-progress!):

> Monosim - Monopoly Simulator & Strategy Evaluator

Last time I ever go on a BLIND DATE!

Not many people know this but I am quite a talented Microsoft Paint artist/cartoonist, as you can see from the above fine work of art. You may see a slightly better version of this cartoon (where slightly = vastly) on Carolyn Main’s website in the near future (see “Stuff” section at bottom-right).

How about we start with a cute little anecdote?

A few days ago while at work I went to a customer site to fix the CEO/President’s laptop. Their company makes light fixtures for very large spaces, and their building has both a warehouse and office space.  I had to go to the bathroom (#2, as you might’ve guessed from the post title) so I went right away as soon as I got inside.

Now this wasn’t a very substantive movement I had to produce. However the toilet was dirty and they didn’t have those little toilet ring protective covers, so I used a bunch of toilet paper to cover the toilet (there’s just something unappealing about my bare ass touching someone else’s fecal remnants). So when I flushed the toilet — yes, you guessed it — it clogged up and wouldn’t flush.

Naturally I did what everyone probably does, I tried to flush it again. Of course, this almost never works. The toilet sputtered & gurgled, and filled with water to the brim. I looked around for a plunger but they didn’t have one in the bathroom. So my options were to go out to the front desk and tell the secretary I needed a plunger because last night’s dinner had blocked up their men’s toilet, or just walk away like nothing had happened and the world we live in is ideal, perfect and poopless.

Even if you don’t know me at all, you can probably guess which one I did. I washed my hands and just left the abomination in the toilet behind like a psycho ex-girlfriend. Twenty minutes later I’m in the CEO’s office fixing his laptop when he and an employee come in talking.

CEO (to employee, annoyed): “You can use the bathroom now because I cleared the massive clog someone just left in the toilet.”
Employee: “Yeah how rude is it to just leave a mess like that for someone else to clean up?”
CEO: “I went in and talked to Karl and told him ‘It was probably one of your warehouse guys; I want you to ask everyone and find out.’”

Of course I tried to act like it wasn’t me, saying things like “Yeah who would do a thing like that?”

The CEO went on about his other unpleasant bathroom experiences: “People are just disgusting. You use the toilet at the airport anymore and you usually find a giant trout floating in one bowl, and the other is covered in shit and piss and toilet paper. What’s wrong with people?”

Which brings me to the title of this post: Should I carry a plunger with me at all times?  Is it reasonable to expect a guest like myself (or even an employee) to have to tell the woman at the front desk that he needs a plunger because his huge pile of crap and toilet paper was too gargantuan for their toilet to handle? Now if they’d had a plunger in there, I would’ve gladly suctioned that turdstorm through their tiny pipes.