Enola Gay

In one's mind, tidbits of information and useless facts lie dormant for a lifetime. I could have passed through my days without thinking of the Enola Gay; ever again. I mean, I definitely think about the nuking of Japan. In fact, I would say I think about the end of WWII at least once a month. But my thoughts about the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima are typically followed by three subsequent idea paths:

1. My parent's recent trip to Japan.
2. The battle of Midway. A crucial air battle that was explained to me via a history channel marathon.
3. Girl's pantie dispensing machines that are supposedly rampant in Japan.


It saddens me to know that I think more about used underwear machines than I think about the Enola Gay. I mean, along with the Spirit of St. Louis and whatever deathtrap Amelia Earhart crashed in, the Gay is the most recognizable name in aviation history. Get your mind out of the gutter, Brett.



Speaking of the gutter, I made a new skateboard buddy. He lives mere blocks away from my place in Brooklyn. A cool cat. I linked his photo/music blog in my extremely exclusive links section. His name is David.



I'm working at the Transport Workers Union Local 100 hall in NYC. Yep, I'm working for the union. My Grandpa would be proud. "Great benefits and job security," he would say. Fortunately Grandpa, this is a temp job.