These pages are filled with high matters which no one solicitious of the future of American culture can afford to overlook.

Yes, another moon picture from my front yard. Was hoping it would be accompanied by the ISS passing by, but with unexpected cloud cover during what would be the money shot, it didn’t happen.

Now, if the moon or space isn’t your thing, poker is. I know this because Google tells me so. The top three search words for this site are, “moon”, “space”, and, “poker”. And frankly, I can’t think of anything more fascinating to search on outside of “Pauly Uncircumcised” or “Amy Calistri Interracial”.

OK, the above is a flat out lie.

Most people find this site by searching on “hoyazo euthanized”, and “waffles cosmetic surgery”.

With that in mind, go read the latest WSOP coverage linked to below. I can guarantee you I have enjoyed an adult beverage or three with each and every writer represented. I hope that does not reflect badly on me.

Al Can’t Hang
Poker From the Rail
Dr. Pauly
Pokerati
Wicked Chops Poker
PokerNews.com
Poker Stars Blog
Ultimate Bet Blog

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At 4am Saturday morning, volunteers working with the Gainesville chapter of Veterans for Peace set up their Memorial Mile again this year along NW 8th Ave. Thousands of tombstones were placed representing the soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan since 2001.

It is a powerful and upsetting tribute. As it should be.

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Social Media reaches out to extraterrestrials for evidence of intelligent life: Earth Speaks

(Hush now. I’m mocking social media, not SETI. I gave them thousands of hours of computer time during their SETI@Home project.)

And now, here is a giant spider I found on my porch.

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A photo-heavy post. With much unnecessary rambling.

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Our mission to view the STS-125 Atlantis launch was nearly aborted when someone forgot their tickets and we had to return.

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Fifteen or so hours later, we arrived at our destination. During those 15 hours there was some driving, some Sunpass and decidedly more hip E-pass tolls, a Mexican joint that thankfully did not serve alligator fajitas, and a little beer and penny-ante poker in an only moderately disgusting room at a Super 8.

Oh. And there was a lot of not sleeping for me. I’d blame SSP’s snoring, but it’s all anxiety, baby.

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Arrival! Having slept about an hour and a half the night before, I tried desperately to channel fellow insomniac Betty, but I’m not sure she heard me. Her advice about just plowing through it helped. Insomnia will not kill me. [Select your deity] bless Betty.

But the heat? She never counselled me about heat.

Thankfully my fellow travelers were up for sitting in a darkened theater at nine o’clock in the A.M. watching Tom Hanks narrate a 3-D move about moon landings.

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Rejuvenated, my iPhone captured my sweaty gray hair and the rest of us headed towards the new launch simulator at the Kennedy Space Centers Vistor Complex. I thought it would be comparable to the simulator at Epcot (which was so unsettling that for the following two weeks I was certain its G-forces compressed my brain and aggravated some undiagnosed atrial venous malformation) so I took the “observation” option allowing me to watch, via cameras, my cohorts being subjected to the rigors of a real live honest-to-god actual launch.

You can’t blame me. We were at NASA. The building housing this simulation appeared as large as the VAB. I might have an undiagnosed AVM. Let me repeat, we were at NASA. It had to be dangerous.

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(No photo here. They made me put my camera in a locker. Total shame.)

I looked on from the one lonely theater chair they supplied for people like me as my companions were jostled around a bit making my backseat ride through the E-pass lane just south of ORD appear more harrowing. Next time, shuttle simulator at NASA, I will ride you.

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The pod bay doors are for loading and unloading only.

With time to kill, we walked through the shuttle on display at the center. I’d seen it before and it was largely uneventful. The shade, however, provided relief. Since I was unable to channel Betty, it occurred to me that I might be okay with the lack of sleep provided I stay away from the direct 95 degree blazing sun.

(The feeling just before passing out is similar to the sensation of a panic attack. When in an environment that fosters both panic AND actual fainting, the only recourse for this anxiety-attacker was to make excuses to hang out cool dark places. Which we did. After watching another well-timed IMAX 3-D movie about the ISS, I discovered yet another small theater broadcasting the live NASA feed. It came with an employee named Robert who answered questions about launch. Bonus! I asked him about the extra seven seconds added to the launch time the previous evening (alerted to this nugget of info by my iPhone as I lay awake the night before with the Kindle app). He talked of the proximity to our location to the equator, the vast distance between the IIS and the Hubble, the ridiculous amounts of fuel required to get there. Unable to understand why this wasn’t worked out before 11pm the night before, I asked, “What was it? A miscalculation?”

He said, “I guess.”

Really!)

And then it was time for the launch. The Visitors Complex was not nearly as crowded as I expected it to be and I was able to wander between the spot we staked out and the interior of a nearby building for cooling airs a couple of times before the big moment.

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I didn’t use a tripod or my crappy telephoto lens. I just hand-held my Canon Digital Rebel with a 50mm lens.

I have regrets. They are many.

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And then the crowd went wild.

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Happy campers after the launch.

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Anxiety free after the launch.

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Post not complete without the epic fail we discovered at the Space Shop.

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What a long strange trip it’s been.

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The mosquitos conspired against me. I was outside for under five minutes trying to shoot the moon tonight. There was barely enough time to set up the tripod let alone adjust the shutter speed or aperture before I was bitten no fewer than twenty times. Can’t risk West Nile or Equine Encephalitis what with the Swine flu going around. I’d surely be misdiagnosed and likely die.

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Just testing the viability of Skitch by plasq. Took this photo last year when Pablo’s parents rented a Easter Islandesque lake house. A successful test may result in more frequent photo posts. Browsers beware!

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Amanda Palmer arrives at Common Grounds in Gainesville, Florida.

Amanda plays requests and answers questions via Twitter during the show. Alas, she never told me why ants are so strong (I was thinking of you, Hula.).

Twitter begone.

The ukulele makes an appearance.

Hello Kim, of Vermillion Lies.

Amanda clutches the ukulele overhead as she moves through the crowd to the back of the venue.

Amanda Palmer and Vermillion Lies atop the bar of Common Grounds.

Signing autographs after the show.

She said she’d sign anything.

Inspecting her work.

I said she’d sign anything.

Happy fans.

I did not take these photos. I was just a cameraless happy fan that night. My friend Davis of Fastidious.org was the hard working photographer on Wednesday.

Hey, look! Davis and I are taking simultaneous photos during the first five minutes of 2009.

Here’s the full set Davis took during Amanda Palmer.

And the set Davis took the final night of Phish at the Hampton Coliseum. I looked for Pauly and Change and Neil, but didn’t see them.

And the set he took at the Dome on New Year’s Eve.

And also but plus, for lagniappe, here’s one photo I took on New Year’s Eve at the dome.

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I hate it when I prematurely close the table when I bust out of a tourney. I don’t mean to be the bitter jackass who doesn’t say, “Good luck,” to the remaining players when I’m done, I’m just clumsy.

I’ve only had time to play two of the BBT 4 games this time around. The first one was a dismal failure, but I made the final table in the second one this afternooon, busting out in 5th place. This was due in a large part to being dealt an extraordinary number of great hands and in a small part to attempting to focus on just the game. My brand new tourney rule was broken sometime during the second hour, however, when I had the NCAA scores loading on ESPN.com, Nasa TV running in another window as the ISS crossed Mexico and the Florida peninsula (I can see my house from here!), random IM chats going on, half the bottle of shiraz being gone and SSP calling from work. I’ve barely seen him in the last five days as he’s been tied up in the IT-end of our corporate move and I didn’t want to say, “Let me call you back! I have a hand! And Xavier’s about to win this! And I’m looking at shit flying around in space! I’ll get back to you!”

Incidentally, it’s been a long time since I’ve played poker with bloggers. When did they get so good?

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Awhile back Gary (GCox) and I wrote a couple of posts for Al on FullTilt about microlimit games. They’re really the only cash games I play since the UIGEA passed and I fear reloading. Much of the feedback I’ve received involves the lower limit tourneys being more profitable than the cash games and I’m inclined to believe that’s correct.

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And also but plus, the legendary AlCantHang paid a visit to the dome. He was a good sport about heading out to Payne’s Prairie for the Kepler launch after a long day of travel. He captured the historic event as a tiny bright dot on his camera and returned to the dome for shots of Soco and Rock Band. I made the terrible mistake of trying to keep up with him. I recovered four days later, memories of the subsequent poker game and barbecue a complete blur. Pablo, myself and several dome-particpants polished off the bottle of Jack. Al? He came awfully close to finishing the bottle of Southern Comfort on his own, as evidenced below.

Al explains the mysteries of life to SSP in my kitchen at 5am.

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I’ve lived and worked and laughed and cried here since 2002. This weekend we leave our idyllic location and move to a “corporate park”. I wish I could post the photos I took of real live people today because the selection below doesn’t come close to expressing what this place means to me.

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