<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940</id><updated>2011-07-30T23:23:16.066-07:00</updated><category term='iowa'/><category term='clouds'/><category term='strange'/><category term='fuck you work google shirt'/><category term='friends family burning house Thanksgiving'/><category term='bad gas'/><category term='sunrise'/><title type='text'>Bunkagrancha</title><subtitle type='html'>Lore of the noble bunkagrancha has been passed from Father to son... &lt;br&gt;the drinking dog is prepared.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-1790815174549061692</id><published>2010-10-14T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T08:22:07.138-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sunrise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iowa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clouds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strange'/><title type='text'>Odd Coluds at Sunrise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcgFJhNCDI/AAAAAAAAAOY/XtDiuk4826E/s1600/101012sun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcgFJhNCDI/AAAAAAAAAOY/XtDiuk4826E/s320/101012sun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527922340447193138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgot I took a picture of this a couple weeks ago - probably the 2nd or 3rd strangest cloud formation I have ever seen. It looks kid of like a Flying Spaghetti Monster actually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-1790815174549061692?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/1790815174549061692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=1790815174549061692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/1790815174549061692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/1790815174549061692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2010/10/odd-coluds-at-sunrise.html' title='Odd Coluds at Sunrise'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcgFJhNCDI/AAAAAAAAAOY/XtDiuk4826E/s72-c/101012sun.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-242698496170186322</id><published>2010-10-14T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T07:56:06.920-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sunrise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iowa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clouds'/><title type='text'>101014 Sunrise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Was a little late to work this morning because I had to take some pictures of the sunrise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wish I'd been able to watch the whole sunrise, but it was not to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZnJ8_lEI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/Y9HxVFjwcpM/s1600/101014sun1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZnJ8_lEI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/Y9HxVFjwcpM/s320/101014sun1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527915228097909826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZmqGyQ_I/AAAAAAAAAOI/Vf7BfY29uPc/s1600/101014sun2.tif.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZmqGyQ_I/AAAAAAAAAOI/Vf7BfY29uPc/s320/101014sun2.tif.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527915219549045746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZmXpISmI/AAAAAAAAAOA/86R9-9IFF5E/s1600/101014sun3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZmXpISmI/AAAAAAAAAOA/86R9-9IFF5E/s320/101014sun3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527915214592821858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-242698496170186322?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/242698496170186322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=242698496170186322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/242698496170186322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/242698496170186322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2010/10/101014-sunrise.html' title='101014 Sunrise'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/TLcZnJ8_lEI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/Y9HxVFjwcpM/s72-c/101014sun1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-1106386353244040820</id><published>2010-09-30T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T14:19:16.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buck</title><content type='html'>My dad is goofy. In a good way. This morning he got up early so he could get to Wal Mart to buy something before it sold out.  Not that it was in much danger of selling out, but it's the thought that counts.&lt;br /&gt;I was just getting up to go to the can at work and heard the front door bang shut, and at that particular time of the mid morning that either means my Uncle the Boss has arrived, my dad has arrived, or some poor lost soul has dared enter to ask for directions.  In any case I felt I was justified in continuing on down the hall to the bathroom. Then I hear my dad Go "hey, are ya coming back soon?" So I stopped and turned around, cause that is a weird question. Then I notice he has a mischievous glint in his eye and one arm tucked behind his back.&lt;br /&gt;Now I had been planning on relieving myself then going to work on our phone system, but decided I didn't have to go that badly really and should see what was going on.  The phone system, if it really is screwy, can wait, obviously no one has gotten to voice mail on that particular roll-over line since last winter, so it can probably wait a little longer...&lt;br /&gt;So I meet dad back at my office and he's all excited cause he got me something.  And with my dad, you never know what the hell it will be. I mean one year I got a cheeseburger shaped mouse from his trip to China, last year he mailed me two cans of Pacific Corned Beef. (I had a Samoan acquaintance who claimed that particular type of corned beef  tasted just like island girl pussy), I've gotten strange packets of powder, oddly colored vials of liquid, hell an ipod nano even.   And there's no pint in guessing what the hell he's going to give or just what strange trip it will take your brain down.&lt;br /&gt;So, back in my office, he hands me a dvd box set. It's Buck Rogers, and I gotta admit I'd thought about buying it before but sated my urge with some torrented episodes.  So sweet, Now I have Buck Rogers. But WHY he got it for me is... so my dad.  See he got one for himself last night and got all nostalgic about it. And I can understand why. Buck Rogers was one of the only TV shows we'd try to get together and watch when I was a kid.  My dad spent a lot of time at home doing paperwork, but he tried to make time for stuff we both enjoyed. And one of those things was Buck Rogers.  Actually he reminded me of a whole nother nostalgia trip.  Back in the early 80's we had a big old full sized van that doubled as the company's van - it's what they would transport  the bulky old booths to trade shows in.  As a kid i got to travel quite a bit, mainly on the road going to trade shows.  And since my dad has that technology bug, we would usually have a power inverter with a vcr and a little tv hooked up to make the trips pass faster. Actually he had a video camera that he would bring along too. and this is back when the camera had to be tethered to the vcr. Pur first Portable vcr could last maybe an hour on battery and between the camera and vcr weighed at least 40 pounds. This reminds me there is a shitload of old family video footage on vhs stuck in his basement I should dig out and start digitizing.&lt;br /&gt;Infused with Buck Rogers nostalgia, my dad remembered a vary particular time in the 2nd company van - the Blue one with the blue shag carpet fridge shaped cooler and bed in back with the octagonal entrance (that in the end was stripped out and became the garbage scow). On a trip to the west coast my mom was driving and my dad and i were in the back watching Buck Rogers  on a 3 inch tv screen.  The episode in particular was "The Fighting 69th".  My dad wondered whatever happened to that tv - it was this funky little portable unit with RCA inputs and outputs. Truth be told, I used it to death. It survived years of torture, in the end the screen turned green before finally blanking out.   You have to remember this was the 80's we didn't even know anyone with a car phone let alone a cell phone at that time. Cassette Walkmen were taking over and CD's hadn't come out yet.  Hell, Beta had just fallen to VHS! (look it up on wikipedia if you don't remember it happening)&lt;br /&gt;Ok, back to Buck Rogers.&lt;br /&gt;The defining memory I have of TV's Buck Rogers was also because of my dad.  See if he liked something on tv he would video tape it. But he would use the old deck with the better quality that only recorded at a speed of 2 hours per tape.  2 hour gave better quality, but most recording got done in 6 hour mode. So  with a  show like Buck Rogers he would record an episode commercials and all in 2 hour, then re-record that while editing out the commercials onto a six hour tape that could hold 6 episodes. This editing process as not infallible...&lt;br /&gt;For instance, the episode "Unchained Woman".  Jamie Lee Curtis was the guest babe of the week and after Buck broke her out of prison they had to cross a deadly desert with a deranged Westworld like android after them.  Sure enough between the sassy quips and innuendo, Jamie Lee Curtis gets attacked by a giant underground sand tentacle. This led to her fine ass getting  some screen time. And somehow, on the 6 hour dub copy, the scene pauses, goes into slow motion, then backwards in slow motion then plays again.    Yep. My dad did that. As a  kid I was like "oh man dad screwed that up!" and as a teenager I was like "man, he should have done another loop!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is pretty cool. Weird, and sometimes strangely intense, but cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow... &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHG29QjqYZ8&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Buck Rogers&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-1106386353244040820?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/1106386353244040820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=1106386353244040820' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/1106386353244040820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/1106386353244040820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2010/09/buck.html' title='Buck'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-6642284660222089541</id><published>2010-09-22T11:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T11:26:15.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is how I got to where I am today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://theoatmeal.com/"&gt;The Oatmeal&lt;/a&gt; puts out some hilarious cartoons, and this one in particular struck a chord with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://theoatmeal.com/comics/computers"&gt;http://theoatmeal.com/comics/computers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Because when I stopped and thougth about it, this is how I wound up with my job: Family business + know how to use a mouse = 1 man computer department.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-6642284660222089541?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/6642284660222089541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=6642284660222089541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/6642284660222089541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/6642284660222089541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-is-how-i-got-to-where-i-am-today.html' title='This is how I got to where I am today'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-8032902126056945689</id><published>2010-09-18T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T19:55:38.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hot chick beats gorilla with shark club</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;This is the sort thing my pals and I discuss in e-mail...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="tr.sammis@gmail.com"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;              &lt;img style="width: 500px; height: 336px;" alt="http://i.imgur.com/FjNhz.jpg" src="http://i.imgur.com/FjNhz.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              “One cannot step twice in the same river.” – Heraclitus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="jbarfels@gmail.com"&gt;Friend 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i get it, it is a post-modern deconstruction of the da-da movement.  Although i can't explain the t-rex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="tr.sammis@gmail.com"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;flying saucers? no problem. Ape in a spacesuit, no problem. Using a shark as a club, no problem. Dinosaur, what the hell man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="peter@thompson-yezek.com"&gt;Friend 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;You guys have clearly not spent enough time in higher ed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    The   t-rex represents the misogynistic aspects of the modern American   Corporate imperialist system.  The dinosaur is about to devour our brave   heroin, and has set his gaze on the noble forward thinking purple ape   in a space suit.  His anguished expression and toppled posture show how   the modern political system is vacant of the vision it had in it's   former liberal golden age.  The flying saucers are actually flying away   from the mess expressing their disgust at the way the western world has   lost all respect and reverence for the fragile beasts of Nature,   obviously represented by the weaponized corpse of the shark.  So while   the woman is expressing her strength in a fight against a past that   raised hope for man (rather than human kind as a whole, again shown by   the unnatural coloration of the ape and his animal aspects) her rage is   expressed in a way that distances her from Nature and in the process   does great damage to Nature itself.  The T-Rex is the retribution of the   natural world against the inherently evil actions of the eternally   flawed and diseased human creature.  It is the righteous destruction of   humanity, which has no hope at all of ever playing a modest and proper   role in the Natural Order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    This comic is a pointed expression of the Nihilistic Eco-Apocalyptic movement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="neo.barbarian@gmail.com"&gt;Friend 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;You still aren't able to move around very much, are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="tr.sammis@gmail.com"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;That really needs to be posted somewhere for everyone in the world to 'enjoy' :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="jbarfels@gmail.com"&gt;Friend 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;Written   like at true academic, where the conflation of two mutually exclusive   narratives in adumbrating the iconography of the T-Rex can exist in the   same realm without causing massive cognitive dissonance in the mind of   the writer.  For how can a T-Rex both symbolize the misogynistic aspects   of the modern American Corporate imperialist system while also being   natures retribution against man's corrupt socio-economic systems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    It is clearly obvious that the T-Rex is attempting to position   itself in a better vantage point to view the heroine/villain mammary   regions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    I also postulate that it is a dolphin club rather than a   shark, which symbolizes the inherent bond between mammals of lesser   hair and the superiority they feel over other pilose mammals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="peter@thompson-yezek.com"&gt;Friend 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;Freind 1,&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;blockquote&gt;Written   like at true academic, where the conflation of two mutually exclusive   narratives in adumbrating the iconography of the T-Rex can exist in the   same realm without causing massive cognitive dissonance in the mind of   the writer.  For how can a T-Rex both symbolize the misogynistic aspects   of the modern American Corporate imperialist system while also being   natures retribution against man's corrupt socio-economic systems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;/blockquote&gt;Thanks, it hurt to do that, but I felt it was necessary for the proper literary expression I was working for.&lt;br /&gt;                    &lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;blockquote&gt; I also postulate that it is a dolphin club rather than a shark, which   symbolizes the inherent bond between mammals of lesser hair and the   superiority they feel over other pilose mammals.&lt;/blockquote&gt;Very nice! :)&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="peter@thompson-yezek.com"&gt;Friend 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;                          &lt;blockquote&gt;That really needs to be posted somewhere for everyone in the world to 'enjoy' :)&lt;/blockquote&gt;Go for it.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="joanna@thompson-yezek.com"&gt;Friend 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;Actually, boobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    ~John Locke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="neo.barbarian@gmail.com"&gt;Friend 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;Literally, boobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="tr.sammis@gmail.com"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;And I like boobies!         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr align="center" noshade="noshade"  width="100%" style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;h3&gt;&lt;span email="tr.sammis@gmail.com"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;Also&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    &lt;img style="width: 500px; height: 213px;" alt="http://i.imgur.com/d6nBu.jpg" src="http://i.imgur.com/d6nBu.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-8032902126056945689?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/8032902126056945689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=8032902126056945689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/8032902126056945689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/8032902126056945689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2010/09/hot-chick-beats-gorilla-with-shark-club.html' title='hot chick beats gorilla with shark club'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-5278979306747952346</id><published>2008-02-21T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T07:51:01.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Won't you gentlemen have a Pepsi?</title><content type='html'>Was listening to NPR this morning on the way to work and they were talking about the Islamic Political party in Tajikistan where they talk about issues in Dushanbe&lt;br /&gt;http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=19214821&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So either at this point you are thinking "So, the fuck what?" or you are peeling bag the fog to misty memories of Spies like Us as the dimwitted duo heads across Tajikistan on the road to Dushanbe before eventually ambushing a Russian mobile Misslie Launcher while dressed as aliens making "meep meep" noises.&lt;br /&gt;Man the summer of 1985 was pretty cool...&lt;br /&gt;I would have been 12 and I know I went to see Back to the Future ,Rambo: First Blood Part II, Rocky IV, The Jewel of the Nile, and most especially - The Goonies.&lt;br /&gt;See, I helped sort count &amp; pack somewhere in the range of a bazillion Glow in the Dark Goonies Iron On Heat Transfers - and nothing owuld stop me from seeing that movie... not a damned thing. I know i saw it over and over and over again. great show for 12 years old... still pretty fun today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also noticed Brazi and The Breakfast Club came out in 1985 - a few lears later I watched breakfast Club waaaay too many times, but Brazil - now theres a fucked up show .&lt;br /&gt;The first time i saw it was on a tv station with bad reception that showed the edit with the happy ending...  which seemed so wrong... in any version, Tuttle getting erased by the swarm of paprwork is still such a strong image... a man devoured by paperwork. If your life touches any kind of bureacracy, the scene become that much more disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn NPR for triggeirng my brain with Spies Like Us trivia!&lt;br /&gt;now I have to make up the half hour of work I just wasted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Ok so I probably wouldn't have made the connection if I hadn't watched the show a week or so ago... not like sat transfixed or anything, just had it on while playing some Civ IV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ace Tomato Company for the win!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-5278979306747952346?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/5278979306747952346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=5278979306747952346' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/5278979306747952346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/5278979306747952346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2008/02/wont-you-gentlemen-have-pepsi.html' title='Won&apos;t you gentlemen have a Pepsi?'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-2838353395298544408</id><published>2007-11-29T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T08:19:37.109-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fuck you work google shirt'/><title type='text'>The week after...</title><content type='html'>Going back to work after a 4 day weekend has been basically shitty. Nothing is  radically different aside from me not even remotely wanting to be here. Strangely the last three days have been fairly busy, but not devastatingly so. Lots to do before 2pm then very little after that. Updating websites, upgrading software packages, lots of phone calls. &lt;br /&gt;Shit like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I did find a hangar for the shirt Google Sent me. Spendy shirt from a production point of view, 6 color front, 1 color back and a 3 color sleeve (two ears of corn on one side) &lt;br /&gt;It's a pretty shirt. I shou1d go visit thier new data center in Council Bluffs someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway wanted to &lt;a href="http://www.threequestionmarks.com/blog/blog.html"&gt;include a link to a blog&lt;/a&gt; that has some weird stories, some great artsy photography and at the bottom of every page reminds us "Most of all...Don't forget, Fuck You"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-2838353395298544408?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/2838353395298544408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=2838353395298544408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/2838353395298544408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/2838353395298544408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/week-after.html' title='The week after...'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-5160949462830976180</id><published>2007-11-26T13:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T13:32:06.224-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends family burning house Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>How I survived Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>Well no trick to it really, just stay the hell away from my family. Which is pretty easy, heck I didn't even get invited to thanksgiving day feasting this year - which honestly suits me fine.&lt;br /&gt;See, the family I have in the area are mostly the same ones I see everyday at work, and when I have a day off work, for the most part, I don't want to spend it with them.&lt;br /&gt;Some years this has required going out of town, others disconnecting the phone. Or since I'm also trapped in the telecommunication stone age, just leaving my dial-up connection going for a couple days :)&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit this Turkey weekend went by in a blurrier fashion that normal. &lt;br /&gt;I know one day I rearranged my room a bit and moved a tv and wound up awake till 7am. And another day I got went to Fleet Farm and got a cart load of stuff, like lights and timers and daylight sensors and a tape measure, jigsaw, and live animal trap... and I'm pretty sure I stuffed myself at Carlos Okellys with Erik last night.&lt;br /&gt;But somewhere in there was playing Hearts with Mikey and his dad and Erik and doing shots of Russian Vodka. Sometime after that driving home I saw what seemed to be a blaze in the distance so I turned away from the road home and went to go see an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere completely engulfed in flames. Not something you see every day, or night, or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/R0s3-48LA_I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ojg61rlGSIU/s1600-h/burninhouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/R0s3-48LA_I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ojg61rlGSIU/s400/burninhouse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137261353522365426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture actually came from Erik who also saw the fire on the way home but had a camera with him... I think I got to the fire after he left, whatever I didn't get as close as he did.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway now it's Monday back to work after a 4 day weekend, and I so totally don't want to be at work. So totally I'm writing in this blog thing instead of working.&lt;br /&gt;So totally man.&lt;br /&gt;At least I have some fun to look forward to tonite. Got me a tasty looking frozen pizza to cook for the new episode of Heroes... probably the 2nd to last one of the season unless that writers strike thing gets settled. And I have a copy of BSG Razor to watch, which i somehow haven't yet. hell I even have a virgin Lego set to build.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I'll probably also have to modify the new pet door... dang thing keeps getting stuck open, which is just great for furnace time in north Iowa. Great for my natural gas company anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually next weekend could be cool too. Going to travel down to Centerville Iowa area to try and find my first friend Brandon, his wife Jenny and all their happy little pets at their new pad in the country. Apparently they just dodged a giant family related bullet. A couple weeks ago Brandons mom called and said "I'm moving in and staying till Spring" and you don't even have to know his mom to realize what an impolite imposition that is.  However if you did know Brandons mom you would classify it as "typical behavior". But as fate would have it a cat turned out to be a sticking point and at the last minute she decided to move in with someone else. Lucky Them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yet again, as much as I try to avoid my family over the holidays, some of my friends have far better reasons to avoid theirs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-5160949462830976180?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/5160949462830976180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=5160949462830976180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/5160949462830976180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/5160949462830976180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-i-survived-thanksgiving.html' title='How I survived Thanksgiving'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6abOJQ3VbM/R0s3-48LA_I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ojg61rlGSIU/s72-c/burninhouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-4400872461251259046</id><published>2007-11-06T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T17:07:46.717-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad gas'/><title type='text'>Sweet relief</title><content type='html'>Any day judged by excitement at being able to fart properly is probably not a good one.&lt;br /&gt;Yet I am happy now to fart at will.&lt;br /&gt;And Fart I must, for my gut is filled with gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fart one fart all, enjoy your flatulence while you can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-4400872461251259046?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/4400872461251259046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=4400872461251259046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/4400872461251259046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/4400872461251259046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/sweet-relief.html' title='Sweet relief'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-4558274510208559251</id><published>2007-11-06T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T11:39:16.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Expiry dates do mean something...</title><content type='html'>Having a less than joyful day after disregarding the expiry date on a bottle of mayo based tuna salad maker stuff. You know basically mayo and pickle relish... Yeah well, I saw it was past expiration and thought "damn I haven't even used half of this..." so I tried a small blob, and you know, it tasted fine. So I mixed a bunch in with a can-o-tuna and let it chill in the fridge for a while.&lt;br /&gt;Now last night was Heroes night, and I was going to bake a frozen pizza... in fact I did, but I didn't eat any of it. All I had was one tunafish sandwich then later some peanut butter. &lt;br /&gt;And when I woke up this morning I thought, "gee I have gas!" and went to take my morning piss. Then realized, thankfully before doing any damage, that the gas wasn't gas. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;So I've been living in fear of faring all day. Abusing the toilet at work... and finally eating some Wendys. Didn't have breakfast. Gut rumbbly and all.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-4558274510208559251?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/4558274510208559251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=4558274510208559251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/4558274510208559251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/4558274510208559251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/expiry-dates-do-mean-something.html' title='Expiry dates do mean something...'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-8721659341282085628</id><published>2007-11-02T08:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T11:46:09.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun site i shouldn't be viewing at work</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.erosblog.com/"&gt;http://www.erosblog.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some fun stuff there, for sure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an interesting trip getting there. My friends were mailing back and forth about strange pictures which turned into a link to &lt;a href="http://www.themishmash.com/2007/10/1-pork-brains-w.html"&gt;12 products from hell. &lt;/a&gt; That led to strange tampon cases and a discussion of condoms yielding the choice phrase "do they whinny?  or is that what the girl is supposed to do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the point I thought I'd jump in and bomb the thread with pony girl pictures, or maybe some bestiality.. I'd resort to Furry jokes if I had to, but furries are the lowest form of porn humor... it's just too easy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I got sidetracked on a Google image search (like that's never happened before) and wound up reading about some guy who was into sex with horses and was killed during one such bestial act. Not by a kick to the head or anything, but the horses unit pierced his colon and the guy died of internal bleeding - he was ass fucked to death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO by the time I get back to the email thread it had moved on to a video clip extolling the wonders of using a Dell computer for porn... &lt;a href="http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=8yVM8KljypI"&gt;http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=8yVM8KljypI&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which was pretty funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was plain to see the time for horse rape had passed so I went to close down all the tabs I'd opened then got to looking at the Erosblog one... and figured I should enshrine it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-8721659341282085628?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/8721659341282085628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=8721659341282085628' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/8721659341282085628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/8721659341282085628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/fun-site-i-shouldnt-be-viewing-at-work.html' title='Fun site i shouldn&apos;t be viewing at work'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227419084755389940.post-706065597835559540</id><published>2007-11-01T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T08:23:53.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The first post</title><content type='html'>Yes, well,  have little to say, but I figure my pals have these blog things and I should have one too... good luck seeing me post here again... ever....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7227419084755389940-706065597835559540?l=bunkagrancha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/feeds/706065597835559540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7227419084755389940&amp;postID=706065597835559540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/706065597835559540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7227419084755389940/posts/default/706065597835559540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bunkagrancha.blogspot.com/2007/11/first-post.html' title='The first post'/><author><name>TRS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07432767226885994769</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
