What's your sign, durtbagz?

It's funny when you look at Social Media's long tail to see it twitching in your backyard. I'm not a big fan of dark alleys and people I don't know (or worse, do, and didn't just didn't count on running into climbing out of a window) but it's amazing when you see the hops between you and not-you.

I won't bore you with the tail, but there's at least five degrees between and as many months from when it started, but at the end is a wonderful site and they had a "challenge" or contest to excite the brain (you know us; I'm always down with vapor-ware; go for it and make it up as needed).

Anyway, if you're looking for a really coolly designed messenger bag or satchel, and you don't mind laughing, then hit them up. I like how they are all "Show us your bag" (ahh the memories of my "show me your taco" t-shirt getting me "kicked in the junk" -- there's a tail for you). And while you're there, create a sign they can use on a bag for you ... the above is mine: traffic warning sign for ...

Where ya been, Tiger?

Where to begin, where to begin ... "When we last left our heroes ..."
And so begins my excuse for not blogging. Meaning how while we have been a flurry of paws and tails with our grand adventure, I've been hesitant about posting stuff (like this means more now); I mock Social Media (they "them that get get it" drew first blood and are cave-dwellers IMHO) but "it" requires what I most fear to reveal and the basic honesty and confidence to ramble on in public.

I'm a private person, as are we all, but being "a simple taco maker" with my neighbor and business partner, George, comes with a natural exposure to the public; which for me is a very questionable thing. I joke how George feels our biggest obstacle is my "pissing people off"-- I just don't get how the utility of a tool has anything to do with my expressive tolerance.

My point is that I have serious reservations on what's to come, and what's to come of it (George is "here" too--go tell him I made you cry), but I'm going to start something here. For what it's worth, while I'm not really sure what I'll be posting (well, my life is all about making friends and selling tacos); I don't feel you can clothe the social media emperor with babbling words of vague intent and so don't hesitate to tell me to go bite myself, or as one lady said, "you'll be the death of the company." (sigh, like I haven't heard that before ... right George?! Our punchline is how it would be the death of nothing of value or purpose without the both of us; you can't hurt or kill something that doesn't exist. Trust me, I'm one of the nicest people you'd ever meet, I'm kind, sincere, and honest, but I can't help throwing bait at the trolls in Tiger La-la Land--sorry.)

So here we are then. Yet one more cliff-hanger with nothing of significance said, nor eventuality imagined; and yet, somehow, I'm encouraged! BUY TACOS, YOU ASOB!

"Sometimes I still miss Twinkel-Berry"

I know what you mean, baby.

I hope it is a few years before my daughter really gets our symbolic pyre to the Captain America. It was fitting how our first cremation, among the scattered graves of the found and sometimes adopted animals, was a draped pile of our good captain mementos.

She was Lady Liberty until age six; when my English ex-wife tore that shroud from my secrete identity. Before then she had to consider things like, "it's better to die for something than stand for nothing" and other silly things a man in tights says about living in our modern age.

Years before we'd lost her precious "Twinkel-Berry" at one of my sisters' weddings; rumor has it that someone more lonely is now tending to her needs, but sad and mean thoughts still linger over this unjust loss. And tears with flowers and special tokens like rocks were not uncommon as we buried our dead; and so she was only being reflective of our losses in life.

I can't say my ex showed her when the captain died; I've felt him dieing for years, and not just because of Little Jackie Paper. And so one cold sunday morning we put the good captian to rest with a little fire and some kind words. Having suffered great pain in life, I'm jaded on mourning little losses, but her reminding me of her greatest loss of all, made me thankful for her honest innocence and how this says everything about living in America.

I know how much she misses that stupid stuffed animal and so in true captain form I told her how I hoped I always missed him like we'd miss anyone real who gave people hope, inspired great things, loved all life, and fought for something he believed. A boy can dream can't he?

SMC Social Media Club wet T-shirt contest

My business partner George and I love thrilling, good natured competition; granted this isn’t The Virgin Earth Challenge, but it's always fun exploring what we’d do on the island (see title).

Funny-nice how my/Nice Taco’s first post is: 1) totally off-topic to life in Tiger Taco la-la land, and 2) on Social Media which may actual improve peoples’ lives (or not; and we all die) … besides, as you may read in future posts, I may be the least trustworthy submitting T-shirt humph and so it makes it extra fun for me.

Concepts are without comment. I want to see how far rocks fall; besides, I get it why these are Do unto me, BFD (wink to rules), and we’ll leave a light on (as soon as we can find the switch. --tip o' hat to gapingvoid) … enjoy.
By the way, "BFD" is a tribute to (testing what tributeing means) to a cool T-shirtdesign is the one Greg Narain designed for the Web 2point2 unconference (I'm sure this will be '84ed soon!).
(I had to come back and fix these images as I nuked them from my Picasa (my bad!~)