Tuesday, February 28, 2006

A Good Idea So Long As They Don't Catch Me, Part 2

Except this time they did. This lesson details the importance of vengeance being anonymous and vicious. I was walking to class in the spring of my senior year and I was late so I headed out across the drying fields. Only the top two inches of ground had unfrozen, so it was a little slick and you could end up leaving streaks of mud as you ripped off the top layer. This guy in my dorm who wasn't entirely stable came running up laughing and started kicking clods of smelly mud and grass at me. He sat there laughing and kicking shit at me for a few minutes as I tried to dodge and ended up sliding down the hill and getting thoroughly covered in rotten smelling mud and grass.

I figured that since I would have been thrown out of class to change anyway, I might as well be late but smell clean. I hiked back to my dorm and on the way I noticed a thawed pile of topsoil and rotting vegetation from the center of the plow snow drifts of the winter. I grabbed huge hunks of the stuff and marched up to the laughing jackass' room and started flinging the mud all over his room. The moron never locked his door. I went back and forth between the pile and his room a few times before taking a shower and changing and heading to class about a half hour late.

When the turd came back to find his room had been redecorated, I figured whatever, fair is fair. The dorm faculty didn't agree. They made me sweep it up. I did sweep most of it up, but I left piles in the corner underneath his laundry, behind his bookshelves and in his closet. He just tossed trash in there anyway. He didn't give a shit two days later and I figured he wouldn't.

The lesson to be learned is that if I had waited until the next fish dinner, I could have had several aquatic accomplices who would never have confessed under any duress. The target would never have known it was me and I would have had all the satisfaction in the world. Timing and execution are everything. If the target has no clue as to the motivation of the act, then they will be plagued by doubt and fear. The psychological aspect can be far more harmful than the act itself, if planned properly. To quote Ricardo Montalban, "Revenge is a dish best served cold and it is very cold in space." Meanwhile, on Fantasy Island...


Has anyone else noticed that at least half of the comments on this blog are by me? How lame is that? Can we get a quantification of the lamitude?

Monday, February 27, 2006

On Getting Dumped

I have always found it interesting to get dumped. I have been dumped via email, answering machine message and the Washington Way. For those of you not from the area, the Washington Way consists of one person deciding the relationship is over and not bothering to inform the other. In fact, they don't even return phone calls or emails to gloat in the movingonness of their life. It is pretty awesome. In the way that Michael Bay is awesome. It is definitely not Uwe Boll awesome. A dumping of that magnitude has not been seen since the summer of '97 in Waukegan, WI when James McInerney was dumped by long time girlfriend, Louisa Ramon-Perez. That was about as bad as the dumping that went on in PopRen's bathroom on the Day of the Great Porking.

I like the way breakups were handled in the movie Closer. If you don't get out all that crap, it just festers. So get angry. Yell at each other if you feel like it. Emotions are wonderful. Let them rage. You have to be honest in a break up or else the other will never know the truth and that just causes them further hurt. If you are guaranteed to never see them again, well, that’s a different story. You can let them fester and they will get over it. Or maybe not. I seem to be different than most of the guys I have met about this. Most men I know prefer the yelling.

When you have a festering wound, I have found that it is best to let it really build for about seven months and then go see the girl in question. Lay it all out and be honest about how she made you feel, but be resigned that it is over and let that soulpus just drain out, even squeezing it a bit to make sure you got it all. Then leave. It's over and you move on. That's how I roll. If you can't get the space to fester because she won't leave you alone, that is when problems happen.

If someone has decided that it is over, then the relationship is dead and can only be reborn as undead and not resurrected fully. Undead relationships are the leading cause of zombification today. You see these people everywhere. They have that dull look in their eyes and spread the unjoy around to their friends with incessant whining about the living dead inhabiting their hearts. Accept that you have to dump him/her and find someone else.

I have never tried the Regret Approach because I think it is lame. This is the old classic where the dumped says something like, “You’ll see me someday and be sad that you aren’t a part of my fantastic life.” Jeezus. We all know you’re just going to mope for a few months and watch TV and gain a few pounds until you meet someone else to bore. In fact, I have never tried any approach to win back someone who has decided they aren’t interested.

Once I am dumped, dumping or otherwise trying to end a relationship, I have discovered that I can no longer trust my motivations regarding that person. If I am the Dumper, I must watch myself carefully or I will twist the poor girl in the wind because I am a seriously awful bastard. I don’t even know how I got this way. I have never really been manipulated or deeply hurt by a girl, so I have no reason to be such a prick. I guess I have more of that dark asshole in me then previously thought.

If I am dumped, I must also watch myself in order to prevent a series of shameless Excellence Displays. We all know what these are. They are far more subtle than the New Mate Displays*, although that isn’t saying much. Excellence Displays are frequently executed in the company of the Dumper, but also in close proximity to the Dumper’s friends. You do your level best to try and look excellent and inspire feelings in the Dumper. The goal is to remind the Dumper of the reasons they liked you.

In conclusion, it is a fine line to walk between honesty and anger. I take a week or so break after each relationship to get my head straight before walking the line again. If I have decided that it would be in my best interests to remain friends with the Dumper or Dumpee, then I tend to take at least two weeks off to really realign my being. This helps prevent mixed feelings and manipulation. The hard part is finding the difference between being overly solicitous and tragically indifferent. Actually, tragic indifference is probably the most optimal route to getting laid ever. So the final lesson is: Don’t listen to a word I say on this topic because I can’t be trusted with anyone’s daughter over the age of 22. Ok, 20.

*If you don’t know what this is, get off. Just get off my** site and go play Final Fantasy XXX.

**Ok, so it’s really Blogger’s.***

***Well, Google’s I suppose.


My absence from evidence is not the evidence of my absence.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Guys and Dolls

I can't stand musicals. I liked South Park, but even that was too much for me. There is one Spanish musical called The Other Side of the Bed which is awesome and everyone should go rent it now. Paz Vega is in it and if you don't know who she is and you are a straight man, you are missing out on something awesome: her breasts. They are rather similar to Jenny Agutter's in that they refuse to be caged by clothing. Whew. But I digress.

Girls are funny creatures. I have said it before and I will say it again and again in the future. No matter who they are with, girls are always with the wrong guy. Even if it's me. Especially if it is me. When teh l4m3 described me as the hero of an unwritten Francoise Sagan novel, that was pretty awesome. I am not calling myself a stud at all. I am anything but studly. Well, that's not true. I am pretty damn studly. It really comes down to understanding the way things work. Manipulation is a naughty word for some, but not necessarily for me. As a genius, I can grok this and many other concepts. The baboons and bonobos understand that being a certain sort of guy has advantages and being another sort of guy has advantages as well. The key is knowing which type of guy to be in all situations. Some people say that this is extremely false and some people definitely play it that way. I understand and accept who I am and thus am able to know my motives in almost all things. This is always important. Without self knowledge, there is only a paralyzing stagnation in the soul. So, in conclusion, being the kind of guy that is generally at ease in the world in all situations I say this: the ladies, they love me.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Work Can Sometimes Blow...

Our ISP went down today. From Atlanta to Virginia. We are in DC. Our ISP must be in Virginia. Oh, how I loathe Virginia at times like this. And most other times. In other news, I am reposting all of my movie reviews with director's commentary over at Reviews n Stuff. dontEATnachos has an old site he has resurrected with WordPress. I will definitely be hating on WordPress soon. You know, since it is so cool and all.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Apparently I Don't Suck, Part 1

I took some decent photographs on Monday. They were all in focus and not backwards and upside down at all, like my usual attempts to collect visual logs of my excursions.

Teh L4m3 Called It!

From last week's Savage Love:
Confidential to everybody: "Pearl necklace" is out. "Cheney" is in. Pass it on.

Checking the posting date of both, I notice that teh's date is a day later than Savage Love's. This makes complete sense, given that all gay men are in constant psychic communication ala straight girls. I guess that teh l4m3 was just giving Dan Savage the boost in readership that he so desperately needs. What panache!

Radness at 4000 Wisconsin Avenue

Everybody in San Francisco, LISTEN UP BITCHES!

Night Watch is so freaking cool, I had to call my mom and smack her long distance. That movie was so neat, it inspired me to write my own crappy White Wolf crime movie script last night. This phenomenon is so awesome it sucks the awesomeness right out of you and leaves you a shattered husk of nerdy lameness, lamenting your lost imagination.

On a final note, San Francisco is one of three cities in the whole freaking country to have a theater playing the movie. It is playing at the Metreon and if you don't go see it, call me and I will rely the entire plot and quote some shit and then you will kill yourself because you have missed a great movie and had to listen to me rub it in your face. Night Watch is so ubiquitously neutronian, I have to make up words to describe how cool it is. The director and writers can probably wander around the streets of Mockba* AND GRAB HOT BABES AND JUST PORK THEM ON THE STEET because this movie is so good.

*That's Moscow to you and me, bitches, oh yeah, I'm going all kazakhy on your asses.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Further Foulness and Frozen Fluids

When I was a sophomore in college, I was taught the most lethal and hilarious revenge tactic. You need a few things: apathy(antipathy) towards target, petri dishes, bucket with lid, ability to shut the hell up and not tell a damn soul. This really works best in the winter or in hot areas. It also only works in rooms with rugs and decent gaps between door and floor. It will work well if the target is an idiot and leaves their keys hanging on a hook while showering or leaves the door unlocked while showering or hanging in the lounge.

In the morning, pee that first smelly, yellow pee into bucket(it helps to have a big meal of asparagus the previous night). Close bucket. Repeat next morning. On the thrid morning, if the pee in the bucket does not smell horribly foul, urinate in bucket again. Be careful as smaller buckets are not advisedd for this task. Perhaps I should have made that clear earlier. Oh well. As soon as the bucket of pee smells truly piss-like, get some latex/vinyl gloves and fill the thinner part(the lid) of the petri dish with the smelly pee. Place in freezer. Two discs is recommended for the average room, perhaps three. Four if you are really pissed off.

48 hours later, your pee should be pretty well frozen. The goal now is to take the discs in the petri tops over to the target's room (oh yeah, by the way, never do this to someone on your floor or, really, your building) and place the frozen discs upside down on the floor in front of the target's door. Gently tap the petri dishes so that the dish part will lift away from the frozen disc of urine. Then slide the discs under the door. For obvious reasons, do not attempt while the target is in the room. Since you will have done your homework and know the target's patterns, you know when he/she will be gone for several hours. This will allow the discs ample time to melt in the heated room. If the room is open and you are certain you can get in and out without being seen, leave the discs under beds and/or dressers, etc. Someplace out of sight. The discs melt and a foul smell exudes from the carpet. This will force the target to endure a horrific stench until they have the carpets cleaned.

Unfortunately, the piss disc has only gotten to the 'frozen disc of urine in your friend's fridge' stage in my life. However, it was absolutely hilarious. I wish I had been there to see the expression on his mom's face when he explained what was in his fridge. Sorry, bud.

A Good Idea So Long As They Don't Catch Me, Part 1

When I was in high school, there were some guys in the dorm that I didn't like. I didn't like them because they harassed me. I probably deserved it, as I took every chance to harass them. It was a Reagan-Gorbachev thing. They would yell at me for waking up with bloody noses and walking to the bathroom at three A.M. and I would walk over to their doors and bleed on the floor in front of their rooms. It was nothing close to fun, but it mollified my mean streak.

I pretty much despise fish that smells like a fish market. I find that smell nauseating. One day for lunch we were having fish filets and I took one and wrapped it tightly with paper napkins. They had adhered pretty well due to the grease coating and I walked out the door with my weapon. It was a fairly warm day in April in western Massachusetts and the target had his window open. The top part was pushed down and formed a three inch platform with the bottom part. These windows had no screens and the second floor was a tough shot from the ground. The blinds were drawn and I figured this would help my dastardly plot. It only took two carefully made tosses to get the fish filet on the window. It landed with a little wet thud and stayed up there for about a week.

I checked the window ledge every time I heard the occupants come back from class. I was outside when I heard the yells, "Goddammit, where is that fucking smell coming from? I heard tossing and turning over of many objects and more yelling as the two maroons blamed each other's dirty clothes for the pungent aroma of rotting, greasy fish filet. Which now smelled wuite foul when the wind blew right. I was laughing to myself and sitting on the rocks across the road from the window when they finally raised the blinds. The fish filet showed incredible aptitude for espionage by falling off the ledge when nudged by the rapidly rising blind. Those bastards never knew what caused the smell.

In a fantastic twofer, the freshman that lived below them had a frightening night listening to raccoons fighting over the nasty remains of my partner in crime. Don't fuck with me, you'll lose.

Oh Sweet Baby Fancypants.

The barista neglected to put any espresso in my massive mocha this morning. I had a warm chocolate milk, instead of my caffienated beverage. I shelled out four freaking dollars for a goddam chocolate MILK!?! They give this crap away free to kids in school! If it weren't assault, I'd be marching back there now and going all Incredible Bulk on that establishment. At least I have the free screening of the excellent looking Night Watch tonight.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Worst G.I. Joe Ripoff Ever Made

You know, Doom: The Movie was bad enough, but now there are just rubbing salt in my brain. These could be cool, if they didn't suck golf balls through 1/8 inch fallopial tubing.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Why is Blogger Going Nuts?

Just because leaving blogger is so cool right now, I am sticking with it. Cuz I am so cool, I know how lame I am. That's how cool I am. I stick with it, I stay the course. I am just the kind of guy who would stay married in a horrible nightmare of a relationship, just for the remote control. So, even if blogger is beating me like a red headed starlet, I remain loyal. Blogger may treat me like some kind of weirdo that consistently votes for candidates whose only agenda is using and abusing the voters' trust, I stick with it. I may be locked out of my site like a senior trying to vote in Florida, but I stick with it. It wouldn't be prudent to just up and switch leaders when the one we have has only been screwing up for five years. Hell, he hasn't really hit his stride yet. Have you noticed that no matter how badly they do fuck up, the Republican base (corporations) always comes out ahead? Clearly, Republicans know how to help out their supporters, so we should trust them with more authority and completely rearrange our governmental structure to reflect that. Who better to lead us through these difficult times, than one man with unquestioned authority and vision? Let us not forget that these people, elected Republicans, are not in the business of helping anyone. Since, they don't want to help anyone, they are by far the most unpartisan of all parties. In fact, Republicans are so unpartisan, they don't even use the word party because it contains a section of the word partisan. They refer to themselves as "the ruling class". Thus, their whole idea that the market will sort minimum wage out because people will only work for the best paying companies. This is bullshit because we all know that the companies would do everything to preserve their bottom line which means wages everywhere would drop. There would be no decent employment except for the few in management and those poor saps would get lynched by the teeming hordes of the working class, just like the earliest days of the 20th century. Mass chaos, anarchy and stock market funny business all over again. Jesus H Christ, why can't people look at the results of the Republican agenda? They are destroying our rights, our country and our planet! Dogs and cats living together! Shit, man, the next thing you know, dogs and cats will be asking for marriage rights and that is just crazy. It is Stan and Dan, not Fluffy and Fido.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, whatever teh, I'd still bang Charisma Carpenter till the coming nuclear apocalypse even if she is a bitch.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Sucker Punch!

I finally got some crickets for my tarantula, Helob. I only bought five because I was worried about the chirping driving me bonkers again. I read that crickets may be undesirable if you don't feed them. So I cut up some mandarin orange slices and put some of the juice in a dish in the terrarium for the crickets to eat. Then I dumped the crickets in and closed the lid.

Immediately, one of the crickets ran straight to Helob. He grabbed it and was munching away happily until another walked right up to him and poked him in the face. Helob stopped masticating (is that an appropriate verb here?) the cricket and I was worried that he wouldn't eat the rest of them like last time. Thankfully, this was not the case. Helob continued to eat the first cricket after the other crickets stopped harassing him. He also did his dinner dance. This is his weblaying trick where he spins in place and lays a sheet of webbing in a circle. He always does it while munching away on some hapless cricket. The next morning I could only see three crickets and they were all hiding in the furthest corner from Helob. One was even trying to dig into the dirt. Now that's comedy.

As an unrelated topic, it isn't hard to tell that this kid is related to me.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Work is Pretty Cool Sometimes...

So maybe I am settling in to my pod, but work is pretty cool right now. All three of my bosses have left for the read over at the other office and I won't see them until tomorrow, I have the window open all the way, the tunes all the way up, it is almost sixty degrees outside and I am blazing through my work while still blogging a little. If I had a fine Cuban cigar and some hooch, we could call this awesome.

In other words, EAT IT COBAGZ!1!! MY GOB ROOLZ!

As an updatey type thing, I googled "Someone relaxing" for a photo to really rub it in and my college came up as the third hit. How totally appropriate, given the experience of this genius then and now.

The Standings So Far

The 3Bulls! Header Contest is going red hot, but I still need some votes if I am to pull this off. I need all of those anonymous people, ZZorro and even canuck, and the bloggers that haven't voted, giving you the evil eye teh l4m3, to go vote for my entries numbered 9, 10, and 11. Two are Battlestar Galactica themed and extra special and one is primatologically delicious. If only Trix and Lucky Charms were delicious in such a fashion.

The Tallies:
#1 45__________#8 18
#2 45__________#9 24 A little far behind, but still worthy
#3 29__________#10 69! Just a little more!
#4 82.90!______#11 46.66 Ah! The mark of the beast!
#5 74.41!______#12 13.3
#6 24__________#13 35
#7 52.125

UPDATE: VOTE! Come on, I need this.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Dick Cheney is so evil...

I used all my good material over at the 3Bulls thread. In a related story, gmail just updated/upgraded to allow gmail chatting. This may be the worst idea ever. Now, I can see when everybody is checking their email and hassle the hell out of them. What a terrible idea. That is almost as bad an idea as hunting with your eyes closed.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Sunday Morning Coming Down

So I woke up and discovered to my apathetic reaction that we had indeed received close to fourteen inches of snow. That is pretty amazing for DC and I hauled my ass out of bed and the mancave before 10:45 to take a walk. I ventured as far as the field on the other side of the creek. Thereupon, I found some children and their father making a snowman. I thought to myself that I should not waste my day and as the power was out in the mancave and it was a fairly warm day, I could make a bigger and cooler snowman than those kids. A mood loves nothing better than making some little snot feel like crap, so I started rolling a base. Then I remembered someone I had not thought of for a while and my snowman turned into two snowmen and they were both ABOMINABLE MUTANT KILLER SNOWMEN FROM MARS!

Obligatory Winter Olympics Post

I like skiing. I like ice skating. I don't yet have the abs for snowboarding, but I had fun trying until I fell and bruised my scrotum. I think the winter Olympics are a stupid sham to allow the countries with snowy winters feel superior to the sunny, warm wintered countries. These events a huge show that tries to hide the northern and southern latitude countries' envy of those countries with warm, sunny climates. It seems like half of the so-called sports were invented by the US, so is it any surprise that we win? Talk about rewriting the game because you are a whiny snot that hates losing. In short, the winter Olympics are a crock and totally freaking lame.

The winter Olympics need something more to make me watch. Something like Fireball from The Running Man. Or machine guns that waste any poor sap that takes a tumble. Let their be real consequences for slipping on ice. "Well, gee, I totally embarrassed and disappointed my country by falling on my ass and now I'm dead, so I can't even try again next year. Boo Hoo!" or perhaps if the coaches committed seppuku if their proteges screwed up. That would be slightly interesting.

I think the real source of my attitude toward the winter Olympics is the whole Kerrigan/Harding crap. "Oh shit, she's a better fairy princess than I am, boo hoo! Hubby, club her in the leg." Actually, that isn't it either. Although, I would totally watch her get beaten out on the ice, over and over again. Only because she tried to cry her way into competition. What a hose beast.

The summer Olympics are getting irritating as well. Two on two beach flipping volleyball? Who the hell are we Jonah freaking Goldberg? Are we, as a nation, so insecure that we need to invent new categories that no one else gives a shit about to compete in? That is only slightly worse than justifying your crappy political philosophy by saying South Park agrees with you. I hear next time they are including skateboarding as the new summer sport and next winter the new event will be writing your name in the snow with your piss. Although, given the talent that would take for the women, I would probably watch that. That sounds way grosser than I meant it.

UPDATE: Blogger spell check knew Harding, but not Kerrigan. That is a little odd, but probably has to do with the President.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

The Weather Underground

In my mancave, I am suppose I am comfortable. It is still snowing outside and that is pretty cool. Not as cool as if it were Sunday night and this was happening but whatever. The fucking ghost in my apartment has flickered the lights three freaking times and I am getting pretty sick of his antics. Two or three more times and I am going Spengler on his ethereal ass. If the TV and my computer, which is apparently not full of leaves, flickered at the same time as the lights, then I would know it wasn't the ghost. So far three times and only the lights flicker.

So yeah, the weather is my hobbit hole is a little chilly and that is how I like it. It is still really dry, which is also cool. Right now, I take my victories where I can. I got a new bike the other day, which is not really new it came from some other dude. So the bicycle seat I am planning on riding in to work has been ridden by an unknown number of men. I just have to trust that none of them sweat horribly or were bitten by the Chilean Aquatic Butt Slug. Those damn Chilean butt slugs are normally fairly benign, however the aquatic species is particularly tenacious and aggressive. You know, one time I was having lunch at school and this guy sat down and started eating a huge plate of food. He then proceeded to relate his opinions of his eating habits and how they had increased. I had never met him before and neither had anyone else at the table. I wouldn't call them my friends, but I was currently being left alone by them, so I figured they were relatively safe to eat with. High school was a lot like prison, except for the showers-those were normal. If you got up from the table to get another fork or something, you had to inspect your food after returning. People were cutthroat. One time, I saw a guy trap a fly in a tub of butter and then bury it in the butter. No, wait, it was margarine. Anyway, so this guy sits down and is telling us about this tapeworm and stuff. He is going on and on about it. I ask him how he knows he has a tapeworm because I think he is an idiot and everybody else at that school is hypocondriac. He says that for the last two months he has been eating like mad. I ask him if he is doing anything new or different. Turns out this moron had been working out for about ten weeks. I then ask him if he thinks the exercise has anything to do with his increased appetite. He says maybe and then calls me 'Bob' and I say my name is Chuckles. He looks around at us and realizes that he has sat at the wrong table. So, I'm all like, what the fuck? Apparently, I then decided to emulate his storytelling style.

Anyway, my new bike is cool. It has tires that are half the width of my old ones and weighs about 2/3 of my old bike. I still have the hobo crate. I need to adjust the brakes, they are a little faster than I like. That reminds me of a nickname I had in college, well not the bike, the earlier crap. The guys in my fraternity called me Egon. I had a curly, short haircut and glasses. I was smart and had a large collection of spores, molds and fungus. I called it my fridge.

Yeah, so there's like three inches of snow outside. For DC that's something else. Maybe by morning we will have reached the predicted 14 inches.

Friday, February 10, 2006

So, I'm a grown up now, I guess

Today for work I went down to the Omni in Woodley Park to check out an exhibit hall. Work is hosting an event down there in March and we wanted to check out some new fixtures and our layout. Turns out the event was the Gathering of the Wingnuts. I just about shit myself. I spent three hours wandering around the booths and exercising great restraint. I was dressed like I belonged except for one key item. Well, two. I didn't have a visible conference registration, but I was wearing a blue dress shirt.

At first I was surprised. These are the same people that RosemaryEssmay thinks live in the real world. These people champion G.Gordon Liddy and Dick Cheney. These people have cutouts of GWB at 70% life size in their booths. For sale. If the purchase hadn't supoorted some PAC/lobbying group that wants to turn America into a theocracy, I might have bought one of those. I would have then marched out into the center of the hall, by the Lockheed Martin F22 quad booth/flight sim(Making War Like a VideoGame Since Vietnam!), tossed GWB on the ground, ripped his head off, shredded the rest of it and then pissed on the remains. As the multiple film crews taped me being forcibly removed, I would have shouted, "FREELANCE GENIUS DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM!!!!1!11!!!" and "MICHELLE MALKIN PERPETUATES BOGUS MEMES, COBAGZ!" During my press conference upon my release from jail, I would deliver a concise discourse on how the WRN crew will dominate the 3Bulls! header challenge.

As it was, I walked around and I tried really hard not to glare at them or give them the eye. I openly sneered at the GWB cutout and the boothies noticed. I worried that would start a screaming riot with cries of "BURN THE LIBERAL! DEATH TO DISSENT AND PATRIOTISM!" That would have been pretty cool actually. I would have tossed my coat and manbag aside and issued a mighty warcry. Anybody that came within reach with intent to annoy would have gotten the whole five fingers of doom across the maxilla. Yellow elephants would stampede in fear. I am a furious, funktastic ninja of responsibility and I will strike without warning, bitches. I leap from foe to for like a gazelle or maybe a leopard, clawing and gouging, slaying and slaughtering with bellows of "COBAGZ!" and "CHUNDERMUFFINZ!" perhaps even the occaisonal "LOAFWAGON!" There'd be DNA evidence everywhere. But I didn't.

Anyway. The Ex-gays and had a booth. I thought that was pretty funny, becuase it was kind of lonely looking. The RIAA had a booth space, but no presence. PopRen and I would have burned that mother to the ground and beaten the boothies with dead cats. There was even a 'stop illegal file sharing' booth with no clear name visible. The boothie was hidden behind two televisions showing movies which were both in view of a video camera. I found that hilarious. I asked her about the legality of downloading TV shows. She said that she had no idea but it probably wasn't a good idea given that it was copywrited material. I responded that they beam it everywhere for free. She offered to look it up. I said no thanks, I'll just keep doing it even if it's illegal. The ACLU had a booth. This was pretty surprising, but then it was stuck way off in the far corner and poorly lit. I wandered far and found the booth for PR. Conservatives for the legalization of marijuana. Apparently, we are at war with drugs and conservatives want small government. This reasoning follows the line that conservatives should want to stop this war and cut the funding that isn't stopping the drugs anyway. I was surprised at the logical consistency displayed by the boothie. No one was stopping by him either.

People were mostly hanging off of the two booths that were selling Malkin and Coulters books. People still can't wait to hang off either pair of balls on those two hose beasts.

Did you know that you can buy coffee that is both anti-Fair Trade and pro-Contra all at once? It is called Contra Coffee. I wonder if Oliver North drinks it. I bet he's in the commercials.

I didn't do anything vulgar or mean while I was there. I really let loose at lunch though. The bar we were eating in was packed with young dumb morons from the convention of evil, so I allowed my voice to really project and laid out a series of attacks against pretty much everything I saw in the hall. The idle chatter at the nearby tables quieted and I received dirty looks as the fools left. My coworker's hearing should return by Monday, Wednesday at the latest.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006


So, I watched Constantine last night. Keanu Reeves looked even worse than usual. If we hadn't already been through it, I would harp on this man's attempts to act. He was funny in Thumbsucker but he was playing a hippie dentist, so it fit. The movie was ok but Keanu's lack of a performance really hampered it. Stylistically, I am more than a little sick of every ambassador from hell wearing a sharp suit and looking slick while all the angels dress like mental patients. Yeah, sure the devil always dresses for the occaison, but why do the heaven sent have to be putzes? I would think they (the angel people) wouldn't be flashy or severe, but exuberant and real joie de vive-like. Basically, the tool of subtlety has been comepletely lost in Hollywood. I think it gave up the ghost when Clooney put on the bat suit.

Back to the Keanu bashing, A Scanner Darkly looks interesting, but will probably be more of a test bed for new animation styles rather than a decent movie. It may even be a neat story until Keanu wanders into frame and then proceeds to club the movie over the head and drag it out back to drown it in the kiddie pool. I wonder if there is a role he would be any good playing? I bet you that even if he were to play himself in his own biopic, he would still suck. What would that movie be called?

Whatever happened to Bill after The Lost Boys?

Take 5 Tarantula Tuesday!

Today Take 5 is totally tailoring this traditional Tarantula Tuesday Textposition!* I would like to officially resume hating Pinko Punko. Some people might ask why, why do you, Chuckles, hate Pinko Punko? What could there possibly be to hate about that bullish bastard? The reasons are few and singular. He introduced me to Take 5 candy bars. I have now eaten two in the space of three months. Until this time, I had only consumed an average of one candy bar in any given year since high school. There is no particular reason why I have been mostly celibate in my snacking, I am just weird. That and I hate crappy chocolate. I do like donuts, though. Only cake donuts though, regular Krispy Kremes make me sick and don't taste so good. I think this is related to my childhood** and my parent's denial of sugary cereals. As some of you may know, I was raised by a loving family of rocks in the steamy jungles*** of the Congo. These rocks worked for General Mills and insisted on feeding us a heart healthy heaping of cheery circular grain products. Some days I was even lucky enough to be ignored while the sugar bowl was left open on front of me. Many were the days when I mistook Mama Rock's front for her back and was quite soundly thrashed for my insolence in attempting to sweeten my morning meal.**** I often had trouble at school as well. In case you were wondering, yes, I attended the school of hard rocks.# It was a difficult transition for me. I was home schooled until I was eleven and my parents, being igneous, only taught me geology and patience.## I can't complain or shouldn't at any rate. I really learned how to argue and debate. Do you how hard it is to force an answer out of a rock? It is like milking, uh, rocks.### When I turned 16, I tried to go qualify for my driver's license, but my parents stonewalled me and I had to continue walking to school.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Take 5...They're ok I guess, but I am not buying anymore. To hell with PP and his band of vile desperados!

*Take 5 takes no responsibility for the contents of this post or this blog. Render unto PP all Take 5s now. ALL YOUR TAKE 5 BELONG TO US.
**What a whiny bitch I have become.
***Not at all similar to the steamy jungle known as teh's crotch, you dirty rats.
****You ain't been whupped til you been whupped by an inorganic, nonliving sessile mother rock.
#Oh, don't worry it will get worse.
##See? I told you.
###Rock milk is not just extremely difficult to procure, but also sweet and refreshing.
PS. Count the alliterations for a bonus nerd score!

Monday, February 06, 2006


In certain situations, I find this phrase hilarious. Especially the first one I heard it in:

Sister In Law: If you let your baby sleep on its stomach, it tends to die. In the medical profession, this is called Sub Optimal Baby Raising. Pretty much any child-rearing style that results in the death of said child is sub optimal.

I would laugh a lot more, if she didn't need to explain this to people in the ER all the time.

Bug Powder Dust

I finally saw Naked Lunch on Saturday. When I grow up I want to make movies like Cronenberg. I was only recently introduced to him when I saw eXistenZ in 1999. I really like how he twists a person's creation. He is pretty overt at times, but also subtle in a way that David Lynch isn't. David Lynch really seems to put people's insanity in the main point, but I think that Cronenberg likes to show that the insanity is in the creation. Or something. I need to see more movies by both of them. Tonight, Rabid is showing.

As a related aside, the song "Bug Powder Dust" by Bomb the Bass on the Kruder and Dorfmeister double album, The K&D Sessions, is all about Naked Lunch. After I finish Hagakure by Tsunetomo Yamamoto and A Primate's Memoir by Sapolsky, I will devour Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. Look for the long lost WEstern Thought Wednesday to reappear this week.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Totally Stealing This Post Idea

I was walking through the sandwich and wine market near work Wednesday when I saw these on the shelf.

I thought to myself, "Hey, these are just the thing for a Genius on the go." So I tried them out this morning. I was expected some form of cheeto-type snack. I was a little disappointed by the appearance of the smart puffs. Apparently, the target consumer of these alleged food items is the one person in the country who has never seen a packing peanut before. These puffs had the same consistency and basically the same flavor. (The implication that I have tasted packing peanuts is deliberate. More on that later.) I was pretty disappointed because these puffs smelled like good white cheddar cheese but their taste was flat and lifeless. They are just starch with a hint of corn and a spritzing of cheese scent.

Well, the taste wasn't that horrible. Really it was the lack of crunch and the way they quickly dissolved into a kind of goo in my mouth that I found objectionable. I like chips and the like to be crunchy and not all gooey. Still, the consistency and appearance really ruined the small bit of cheesyness to be enjoyed. It was kind of like eating fried paste with a dusting of dried cheese.

Verdict: Not all things labeled smart are.

And Now, A Little Edward Hopper for My Brother in the Big SK

Work has been interesting. I have been presented with a puzzle. I have to find a shipment of books that was sent back to the publishers and they are saying that we have not shipped them back. I sent the books ten months ago. The publishing house is a little behind the ball on this issue, but I like puzzles. I will be digging through some old emails and invoices. I suppose this is the time to point out that my boss' tendency to save all of his emails may come in handy. Good thing I filed them all on a monthly and yearly basis. Other than that, I fiddle with File Maker Pro and try to convince it to do what I want. I have almost got this database in shape.
I have been working out almost every morning for the last two weeks and my pants are feeling looser. This is nice. I want to look better naked and look good for TheDarkMan's wedding in May.
I cooked balogna pie for dinner. I actually cooked. Used two pots, two plates and no less than three spices and three forms of liquid in cooking. Salt, pepper melange and rosemary with chicken simmered in olive oil and a nice white wine with couscous(the grain, not the aboreal Australian mammal). It has been a while since I cooked, but it turned out quite well. It has been said that I only ever cook balogna pie, but those who claim it is so are just jealous of my ability to whip stuff up into awesomely edible fare.
The American version of The Office is funny, but I missed it because I was cooking. I haven't introduced anybody to the British version yet, but I have introduced someone to Coupling and that went very well.
When are you coming back? The 40k minis are getting seriously lonely.

Thursday, February 02, 2006


CAKE is one of the last great pop bands, and something for which I devote a lot of time. There is a need for good pop stars, literate ones at that, and no one can hold CAKE's jockstrap when it comes to witty reparte.

I also love the fact that CAKE has continually grown musically, something most people avoid til no one's buying their records and they release the obligatory "look - here's our Neil Young/Dylan record because we're mature now." Not a single one of CAKE's records, for better or worse, sound the same.

The same can also be said of Smashmouth. Those guys are awesome and totally innovative, in terms of indie music they lead the pack of all those wannabes like Belle and Sebastian. I can't think of even one indie group out today that hasn't been influenced by the awesomeness that is Smashmouth. When I listen to Architecture in Helsinki's album, In Case We Die, I can hear Smashmouth coming through. I am continually amazed by the musical range of sounds Smashmouth has mastered.

Pop Ren Has Weird Taste in Music

Pop Ren likes Morrissey. I am not an appreciator of him nor The Smiths. I find Morrissey to be the musical equivalent of lunesta. My eyelids start to droop after three notes and if I don't manage to resist and change the channel, I am out. If I were to accidentally flip to the All Morrissey MTV channel the affect would be rather like the comfy chair episode of The Tick. I would never wake up until by some twist of fate and prophecy, a young maiden came and woke me up with a kiss. Of course, given my penchant for falling asleep on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, every airport anywhere, metro trains and buses, random beds (or perhaps, non-random) and even bookshelves, one would think that I require no sleep aids whatsoever. One would be right. I am just saying that Morrissey is boring. Seriously boring. Boring like a drill.

A Lament for Brian Beer Pong

I weep for our species. We have lost a great blog. Brianbeerpong is no more. He was funny. He was odd. He was clearly ripping on some tool from his college or, perhaps, high school. He annoyed the shit out of AdorableNotMyGirlfriendNoMatterWhatSheThinks. She never understood him and she contributed to his demise in no small way. She does not understand Stripes either, and perhaps she even misses the point of Animal House as well. She is a misandronystic(is that even a word?) misanthrope. I hope she is happy with herself in her new life.

In Sean Penn news, he has been signed to direct Into the Wild about this guy who died trying to live in Alaska. I read about him when I was travelling to somewhere in high school. This poor bastard had little wilderness training and froze to death in a bus. He had tried to burn a tree in a fire in the bus. He couldn't cut the tree apart because he only had a machete, so he broke a window and shoved the tree through it. I guess that is the Greek quality in action. I am sure that Sean Penn will turn it into a stunning display of human fortitude and the guy will find some hippie chick and they will fall in love and fight off bears with only their hands and live happily ever after.

Get Your Ginormous Bolus Here!

As I was commuting to work this morning, I saw something I found hilarious. I wanted a picture for evidence, but both the subject and I were moving in a non-sympathetic fashion. It was a semi from the 'Bolus Freight Services' company. I nearly lost my train of thought. Images of a truck full of junk being shipped directly to teh l4m3rz (teh l4m3'5?) door danced through my head. Ahh well, sometimes it is the ephemeral thigns in life that we cling to in foolish hope that really make help ruin the rest of the day.

In other news, I was going to post some crap about Sean Penn being a dork, but I just read his brother died. You won a reprieve today Penn, just today.