Creative Productions, Arrangements and Operations • Art, Technology and Amusements. Software Engineer and certified FileMaker Pro developer and full-stack web developer by day, https//www.kupietz.com
Waaaaay back during the dot-com boom in San Francisco, in my carefree 20s (a much different time of my life than my carefree '50s) I used to put this up around town.
Like most of my best jokes, this was timely, and poked fun at the problems caused by the influx of dot-commers. It was done in the style of an old snake-oil remedy flyer, claiming to advertise a tonic that would solve your various economic and housing difficulties.
Look at the bottom... I was using Yahoo for email! That's how long ago this was.
I set out to do another set of AI-assisted lyric illustrations, this time all of one song in its entirety... Bob Dylan's "Visions Of Johanna".
I got a little ways into it, and it was going well, when a few times in a row the generative algorithm overemphasized cats I had added as incidental background elements in the prompt, to interesting effect. So I had the brilliant idea: let's illustrate the whole song with cats. I backtracked and started over again.
It was an instructive lesson, one that didn't turn out as well as I had hoped.
It's just hard to get a lot of variety out of the Stable Diffusion XL algorithm when the main subject is cats. Turns out, visually, cats are really not a very expressive medium. And especially…
Review: Submission to domination is enforced not solely, nor even most significantly, through blatant repression, but rather through subtle manipulations worked into the fabric of everyday social relationships. So as an uncompromising nonconformist, I'm very fashion conscious, and as the drummer of a non-hierarchical free musical punk rock collective, I spend a lot of time learning to mimic those popular cowbell-driven rhythms of seminal bands like the DKs, the Germs, FEAR, Flipper, and the like. Unfortunately, most commercially available cowbells that I found are visually bland and ideologically rootless, resulting in rhythms that meekly conformed to hierarchical nation-state control structures.
Once I bought the Pearl PCB20 Anarchy Cowbell, I finally found a solution that solves both these concerns.…
While working on a featured image for Field Report: Briefing On My Weekend, I had the idea of extending the theme to make a whole set of illustrations inspired by my travels around California's natural areas. I wound up doing a whole mess of them. These are experimental, but I like the idea and the way the experiments worked came out, so I may follow up on this. There's a lot of them, I'm going to sit with this a while and probably then cut this gallery down to a more manageable size.
Because these sprung from an effort to illustrate a post with twilight fantasy elements, you may encounter some unsettling phantoms or backwoods beasties here and there. Just make sure to keep all your fingers inside your browser windows and you should be ok.
Springtime hits hard in some quarters. I call this 'dangerous weather'—like, you've got to watch out where you're going. You might trip and fall. Somehow this always coincides with the rise of halters and midriff shirts.
Fascination, you know, is a universal feeling. I hesitate to call it an emotion, it's more than that, it's a condition, a thesis. It's strongly rooted in our biology, I think. I'm sure our closest animal relations feel it the same way we do. It's tough to know what's on a housecat's mind most of the time, but when he's gazing at that fish swimming around that bowl, I know exactly where his head is. And it's not "I'm hungry" or "how can I get that?" or "in a moment I shall execute my plan", as you might think. It's not something that rational, like when he wants something—in that case he meows, shuffles…
On a long-ago visit to the hamlet of Acton, MA with my GOAT (that's "Girlfriend Onceupon A Time"—hey, I don't mind if they call me a BOAT), the town was infested with the loudest toads I'd ever heard, so loud I initially took them to be someone hiding outside our window playing a prank. I became enamored of the idea that someone might be prowling the countryside, hiding outside people's windows just to provide this bucolic ambiance. I contemplated this idea for a solid fifteen years until, in a moment of inspiration, this bit of doggerel spontaneously emerged.
Universally condemned among my friends as not especially good, it nonetheless remains one of my personal favorites.
ODE TO A CROAKING MAN
Oh, croaking bloke beneath the moon so like a toad, it makes me swoon whence "ChirRUP!" rises like balloon which euphony just fills me with…
My god, if I knew how my little weekend of excursions was going to turn out, I would have made it an event and invited you all along. My report:
PT. 1: Cold Wind To Valhalla
On Saturday at 1430 hours I procured a late model red Chevy Cavalier. One of those self-driving models so I would be free to hang out the windows and waggle my tongue at the hoi polloi as I sped past. Although finances dictated that this would not be an extended sojourn into the greater countryside I packed for several days as a precaution. Having grilled Rick and Mike Burstein for information, I decided on a trip into Marin to locate a suitably pastoral swimming hole in which to ease away my troubles. On advice of Rick, I headed for Samuel P. Taylor State Park. Samuel P. Taylor is…
The other night I talked to my old friend Zigmo Parcheesi, the funniest man in the world. He told me he took his toddler son Max to his first movie. "Oh, yeah?" I asked. "What did you choose to scar him with?"
"Porn. We took him see some hardcore pornography. Told him we were going to show him how he was made. 'Not like that.... not like that... not like that... Yes! Like that!... No, no, not like that!... Not like that... not like that...'"
A few years ago, Zigmo moved out to the edge of the woods in northern New Jersey. I asked him, "New Jersey? have you seen the jersey devil yet?"
Without missing a beat, he said, "No, I haven't seen the jersey devil, but I have been to the mall."
Later, before getting off the phone, he told me, "If you ever…
"These checks will be held for two weeks", they said, "because they are very large and from New Jersey"
This much is true But I am now home and my cat is angry
He looks up through his sloth with narrowed eyes He querulously naiows his consternation
Tonight I will sleep the sleep of a good man but my cat will not know rest. Burring hair on his back, whiskers fanned looking out on the rooftops with disdain and contempt at spots where other cats have sat outdoor cats cats with no collars no names cats that dig through dumpsters clawing towards the smell of day-old filets skittering perhaps like a word whispered into a wind on a moonless night in a dark alley behind the bank that holds my…
O! pity the poor maligned curl-up! Its form, tho' well designed, inspires many to fear! But many a curl-up has faced a cruel and untimely fate 'neath some shoe or sneaker well-placed So it raises its hackles to have some such footwear come near!
Though 'pill bug' it's properly named, so low on the food chain, one hides behind cautious deceit! The 'pill bug's kept secret and dear! Mere 'curl-up' when others are near! Lest the higher aesthetic, they fear, of some higher predator find 'pill bug' deliciously sweet!
In the science museum on a visit, I viewed an exhibit of insects both fearsome and small. But one creature displayed, I saw not! "Unworthy of view, or forgot," so I thought, 'til chagrined I did spot In some…
In the Nov. 10, 1988 edition of Bard College school newspaper "The Bardian", for whom I occasionally wrote as a cub reporter, the Campus News section was led by my groundbreaking first full-length investigative feature article, a probe into reports of campus supernatural sightings of the ghost of late king of rock and roll Elvis Presley.
ELVIS IS EVERYWHERE
by Michael Kupietz Campus News - The Bardian, November 10, 1988
The ghost of Elvis Presley has recently been reported to be wandering the roads and buildings of the main campus of Bard, singing songs and stealing food.
It is speculated that Elvis has been attracted to our campus by the plans to name the trailer campground by Cruger village "Little Graceland", and the individual trailers "Elvis", "Priscilla", and "Lisa Marie".
Several students, security guards and maintenance people have reported seeing…
WordPress, the software this site runs on, works by allowing authors to enter web page content (sometimes officially called 'posts', as in a blog post, and which I often colloquially on this site refer to as an 'article') which it then formats nicely to display in web viewers. When you enter a post, it lets you specify a bunch of other information pertaining to it: category, some additional tags, a custom summary to show search engines, etc. Among the things it allows you to specify is a 'featured image', or 'thumbnail', an image representing that post.
You see featured images all over the site: in the backgrounds of individual pages, as tiny squares next to the menu entry for a page in the menus up top, on the "Related Posts" entries at the bottom of a lot of pages, or in…
I wonder how many of even my guitarist friends will appreciate the above photo. Maybe some of you Seattle musicians, or Ventures fans. I found a set of vintage Mosrite guitar picks on Ebay, which isn't that hard, but, I found a set including the white one, which is ridiculous.
For those not in the know, the Mosrite/Bakersfield (same pick, different branding in different decades) white .74mm guitar pick is the best guitar pick ever made, and extremely difficult to find anymore. Mosrite/Bakersfield picks were kept alive by solitary enthusiasts for 30 years because there was no substitute, selling the tooling to one another and hawking them via mail and to local guitar shops, until, in 1997, Jim Dunlop purchased the brand just to put it out of business.
I'll tell you about Texas. Back in '95, me and my friend Haley went down to his Dad's timeshare in Port Aransas, Texas, a little beach resort town about 45 minutes south of Corpus Christi, for a week of sportfishing on the gulf. So, the first night in town, we go out on the town, hit a bunch of bars. We come to this one bar, where they tell us they haven't got their liquor license yet, so, by some strange twist of Texan logic, all drinks cost $2.
So we go and have a drink. And behind the bar, there's this girl, it's not politically correct but I can only describe this girl as a "Texas honey"—pretty, curly blond hair, cowboy hat. And we're there a few minutes, and this older guy starts hassling us, making drunken accusations, saying we're with the liquor board or something, and the only…
On May 27, Christopher Hume's parents met up with my friends Dan and Wacks at Bard College, and they went down to the on-campus waterfalls on the Sawkill Creek, where Chris and I had spent so much time back in school, to scatter Chris's ashes. I was going to go but decided at the last minute not to, because I was too angry at Chris's family, for reasons I won't go into here.
My phone rang at about 9:30 that morning, and all I heard was a burst of static for a few seconds.
Later on Wacks & Dan called me from the falls. After the ceremony they had gone to the beverage distributor where we had bought so many sixes of Genesee Cream Ale way back then, bought a six of Genesee Cream Ale, brought it back to the falls to drink…
Originally posted on my old site. I'd have called this "New York After Dark", but the souvlaki guy story happened in the middle of the afternoon.
Back in the '80s & early '90s New York City was much different than it is now. Filthy, violent, and the meat packing district was a not a place you went after dark. I used to jot down my day-to-day experiences there. I truthfully didn't realize, until I collected a few of them together on this page, how, uh, bad it was. (And I'll tell you what, these are the milder stories that are fit for public consumption and won't scare my mom if she reads this site. Take me out for a beer sometime and I'll tell you some real stories.)
Looking out for the homeless
After a night of shooting on a small movie I was doing sound…
Before you read this, I should warn you. This story contains one of the grossest things I've ever heard. By the end of the story, things improve and it winds up as one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me... but if you're at all sqeamish, if you're the sort of person who just can't watch some of David Cronenberg's best movies, you really might want to skip this one.
This is all true. I swear to you. This has not been exaggerated or distorted for the sake of a good narrative... no embellishment could supersede the actual events. Although, one change I made is to divide what happened into three acts, for narrative purposes. It didn't happen that way originally, it was just one thing and then another, one long…
I was just walking home from the store, bopping down the street at 11 PM, a time that I grew up believing was a sensible time to be in bed. 1 AM used to be alien terrain, exotic, strange. 2 AM—well, that might as well have been a million o'clock. It was like the furthest frontier. The night might have gone on forever beyond that, for all I knew, ending only when the last human had decided to go to bed before we could all wake up in the daylight again.
Nowadays the small hours of the morning are familiar to me. More than familiar—ordinary, 1 AM no more mysterious than 1 in the afternoon (and probably not as mysterious as 10 AM, a time I haven't seen in many months but that somehow still fails to hold a fascination for me.)…
A few years back, my friend Al Katkowski was something of a success with his "Question Of The Day" iphone app and subsequent book. This was a question from the book.
Question of the day: When was the first time you noticed someone cheating at something?
Actually, the first person I noticed cheating would be myself. I totally figured it out on my own before ever seeing anyone else do it. I think I got my first inkling when I was 4 and tried to tell my friend Stephen Axeman I was 4 1/2, not 4, because I thought it made me sound grownup. Somehow he knew I wasn't 4 1/2! So when I turned 4 1/2, I told him again, and he said, "Yes, today you are." I never found out how he knew exactly when my half-birthday was, but it was an epiphany that mysterious means…
Look; I'm a Star Trek fan. Don't talk to me about "Picard" or "Janeway" or "Archer" or whoever. Even the movies barely qualify as "Star Trek", and they have the original cast. I'm not talking about some chick flick where they spend more time talking about feelings than getting into swashbuckling adventures with fearsome aliens on what was supposed to be a routine planetary survey of Gamma Hydra II***. I saw an entire episode of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" where Picard lives a whole secondary life in which he did nothing but drink cosmopolitans and gossip with Charlotte and Miranda. I bet he's never even once been trapped in a cavern lit by creepy red and purple klieg lights and cloned against his will by a scientist who sacrificed his essential humanity when he transferred his mind into an eternal, physically perfect android body. So why would I want…
I originally wrote this essay shortly before my 40th birthday, after which I posted it on my blog and a number of other places.
December, 2008
For the record, I was born on Dec. 11, 1968. I turned 39 last year, on Dec. 11, 2007. I can't say I thought about it much, at least at first. But a month or two ticked by, and I thought of a number. The number 40. Just as I had thought of the number 40 on December 11th of ten years previous, in 1998, it having arisen unbidden following a brief consideration of the number 30.
Nine years before that I thought about the number 21, 18 three years before that, and five years earlier still, 13.
According to conventions of the religion I was born into, I became a man at 13, amidst much fanfare from my family.…
So, last night I was standing on Mission in South of Market with my phone out, trying to find a nearby hardware store, when off in the distance, maybe a block behind me, I thought I heard a voice yell, "Stop!"
My mind went off into a daydream for a second—what if there's a thief coming my way, and I get to trip him up? But wait—what if the "thief" is actually a victim in danger, being chased by a criminal, and I'd be helping the criminal by stopping him? What should I do? I didn't have time to think more than that, though, because from a half a block away, clearly now, I heard a panicked man's voice: "Stop!"
Now, I had my phone in one hand, which is chained to my belt, and my very heavy briefcase slung over my back, so…
What's the best day of the week to take off if you work a 4 day 10 hour work day? -Jeannie F, Marin County, CA
Thursday. Trust me, being self-employed I've done a lot of experimenting.
The ideal 3-day workweek is easy: that's MWT — Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. It makes Monday easier, because you know you have the next day off. You arrive Wednesday feeling like it's Monday, except tomorrow is Thursday, which is Friday for you! Then, every week, you get a three day weekend to cap it off! It's ideal, and I recommend the MWT work schedule for everybody.
Working a 4-day workweek, especially 4 10-hour days, is more complicated. The entire dynamic changes. The ideal 4-day workweek is MTWF.
You have to think in terms of psychology: three 10 hour workdays in a row is easy to handle, it just feels like a heavy-duty, but abbreviated, 3-day…
Since they're not always clearly displayed on the front page or in every post, for convenience, this is an automated scrape of all original "featured images" (the background or front page image for a post) on the site.
An early viewer asked some questions about the art I use on my site, so I thought I would put together a page of Q&A about the site and the materials on it.
Who are you, now?
I'm Mike Kupietz. You can be forgiven for not knowing who I am. Although I do have to admit I privately hoped I'd make more of a splash. I'm a musician, artist, and by day a FileMaker consultant and web developer based, strictly due to an accident of fate, in San Francisco.
Where did you get _____ image? / Did you do all this art?
Mostly all the images on this site are my own art. There are a few public domain images on this site. As of this writing the images I didn't create are: - the poo emoji on the BS…
Having come a long way from the days related herein, I thought for a while before reposting this 26-year-old piece of writing, originally posted on my old website.
I think it has merit as a piece of my own writing and as a remembrance of someone I liked and cared about, despite how difficult he sometimes made it. But now that I'm doing things online under my real name, I do have to stop occasionally and think twice about how some of the less conventional anecdotes from my youth might be misinterpreted. I lead a very quiet life nowadays, but when you do business with people, sometimes you find yourself in an unwanted relationship with someone who loves dirt, reasonable or not, and you'll get painted as a bad guy by certain of those people only because they feel it may profit them to do…
For confused first-time visitors and other people still acclimating, here is a description of these little tabs to the left, as well as some other features of the site.
Open "Expert Mode" CLI Navigation - this give you the option to switch your browser's display to an old-fashioned terminal mode where you may browse this site, view pages and images by typing text commands. Just like how we used to browse the web back in 1978!
Open Visual Settings - This gives you controls to customize the visual display of this website to your liking: turn up or down the brightness, contrast, color temperature, hue, saturation, dark mode, and earthquake. Settings are saved per browser tab, so they will be remembered for your whole visit.
Open My Eyes - Have you ever been engrossed in your work, when you suddenly realize someone is staring at your screen, watching everything you do over your shoulder? If not, this simulates the experience.
Open Help - This help popup, silly! You just clicked it! Do you not remember?
New - Draggable elements! Several elements on this website, including these tabs, this popup message, and the "Hire Mike" badge in the lower right, can be dragged around with your mouse, to avoid them blocking content. Positions are remembered per tab, so as you navigate around the site, they will stay in the same place for your whole visit.
Enjoy!
CLI Website Navigation
Are you sure you want to switch to viewing this website in the "expert mode" command-line interface?
This will switch to a terminal emulator, load this page, and allow you to browse this website and view its contents by typing text commands.
Plus there might be, y'know, some fun stuff hidden in there. Just for geeks.