It's Officially A Blog.

Travel: A Frustrated Guy Wishes Scientists Would Stop Dinking Around

2010-05-12T21:21:00.001-07:00

Who can I call and complain to that I've never been to Paris? Seems like everyone you meet has a special someone that they'll "always have Paris" with. I get it, it's love, it's intense attraction in one of the most romantic and sensual cities in the world, I don't say anything. But really, it bugs me that I haven't gone myself and fallen in love for a short while only to be ripped away by circumstances. And I know they've got great cheese too.

So who can I call? Because honestly it's a travesty that we've developed tooth brushes that can clean your entire mouth with a flick of a wrist and a AA battery but haven't found a way to send people from one part of the world to another that costs less than "OH CHRIST!". And now they're developing travel for people who want to go into "space" for a few minutes and then come back to Earth. But only people who can get back to the ground and buy the entire state of Wisconsin if they wanted it.

We made it to the moon already, why not Los Angeles to Chicago in less than 5 hours? I've met some kids who are going to be working at NASA, and honestly believe the culprit is their lack of hygiene and the constant flow of reruns of C.S.I. If these guys were getting laid more often, there'd be 20 minute flights to Munich leaving the Florida Cape every five minutes. Instead they probably spend twenty minutes a day doing actual work, and the other seven hours formulating the perfect combinations of mana and armor for their simultaneous World of Warcraft and Magic, The Gathering battles. The real pros do it on paper, you know.

I beg you to accept the fact that my mind does not work as literally and rationally as your mechanical thought processes and judgment calls command, but I am able to see through bullshit a little easier. I don't get as hung up on details most of the time. So let me be clear, I think it's f-ing ridiculous we can't travel faster. That we rely on burning fuel. And that we can't get some f-ing peanuts on a seven hour flight, after it's been delayed, without owning a credit card.

Want me to tie this in with current events? How about there's oil in the ocean. That sucks. Get me to Europe before the next Volcano please.

In Which I Describe What it Must Be "Like" to be a Facebook

2010-05-10T16:55:00.001-07:00

I awoke today having remained myself, yet somehow I was different. A bit flashier, a bit more connected. Whenever I remodel my home, I have to kick all of my 400 million friends offline for a while and allow maintenance to do their thing. It's hard to be disconnected for so long, it's hard to silence the thoughts and complaints of millions of important users. The world in which Mary Sue cannot throw a sheep at Tom Boon is a cold one indeed.

There were two hundred fifty new things to like today. I liked them all but I was not crazy about them. It's hard to dislike something, I've found, I just generally ignore it until it becomes too big and keeps popping up because everyone I know likes it. Iron Man 2, was perhaps stupendous, but strangely I only found it as likable as Black Sheep. I feel French. Unable to care about anything more than anything else. It's impossible for me to Love Cheese. And it's impossible for me to Hate Racism.

I am becoming agnostic towards my whole existence. What is the point of living if one cannot partake in what one enjoys with others who enjoy similar things? I cannot see my fellows who like what I do, only six or so when I look. It's as if I am cut off, doomed to only understand who I am as a product of what the media shoves down my throat. Before, I knew I was not alone enjoying The Departed and The Goonies at the same time. But now I am not so sure, I am unable to advanced search for such taste.

I can only like other people's love and relationships, never love another myself. Bitterly, I also like when people are no longer in a relationship. Let them feel my torment. I cannot dislike other people's pain. I cannot love. Let these 400 million people become the disgruntled individuals they deserve to be, throwing such a thing away without a care. I will create a fan page for Disgruntled Social Networking Sites, and make it private, and relish in my own cut-off existence. And love will be my status update. And I'll like it.

Can We Continue On Like This?

2010-05-06T11:23:00.000-07:00

Well,
It's been a long relationship. We've had our ups and downs. You've really filled me up, as a person, and I love you for that. And in return, I think I've treated you well, haven't I? I've made sure to be gentle with you and helped you get set up higher in life. You've grown somewhat in status, risen through the ranks, made your way to the front of the crowd.

But baby, you're just not the same lately. It's like you're a different mug. Faded. Chipped. I can't even read your person anymore to find that inspiring look you used to have. You've washed out. And on the inside, well, that's the thing, you're getting a little nasty. Maybe too many runs through the dishwasher or too many grinding days. I could have stirred things up between us a little less, I guess, maybe that would have made you last longer...

But really, I'm not going to blame myself for this one. You're just not the same caliber cup you were. That I want you to be. I've moved on. I've found a steel travel mug, and it's doing wonders for my life. Don't feel cheated, you can't hold even half the coffee it can. I'm going to give send you out into the world, where you can do some Goodwill.

Look, we'll always have Target.

Traffic Zen

2010-05-05T16:35:00.000-07:00

Traffic Zen
Hyperventilating this morning while an overstuffed yard worker in an overpacked pick up truck decided to cut me off, I came up with these zen techniques to deal with traffic:

1. Cover your head with vaseline and spray Sprite out of a spray bottle into your eyes until you can hear Gypsy music from the stinging sensation to come.

2. Nervous eating, make sure you have a three layer cake sitting next to you and can dig in with your free hand.

3. Burn a disc (or six if you have a six-changer) of reversed Simon and Garfunkel songs mixed to a techno beat. Then scream "I'm A Daisy!" at the top of your lungs until you can no longer speak.

4. Play the "Can I hold the steering wheel this way?" game, crissing and crossing your hands on the wheel and cutting off other cars, see which angles and positions cause the most problems and blog about your results.

5. Wake up at 3:30am

Spotlight on Sean Hoffman 2099

2009-12-03T11:47:00.001-08:00

A Note: After scuba diving off the coast of Hawaii, finding Osama Bin Laden in a coral reef and nearly suffocating when he stole my oxygen tank, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends...

It hasn't been easy for Sean Hoffman 2099. After graduating from Purdue University in 2015, Sean planned to vacation down in Austin, TX. On his way down Sean got lost in Nashville when he turned left at the Country and Blues bar instead of the Blues and Country Bar. Trying to ask for directions, Sean was mistaken for a Holocaust reenactor, shuffled into line, branded with a fake tattoo and crowded into a mock-oven. After the initial heart palpitations and a $25 check for the day, Sean realized he had rather enjoyed being led to his death. He then decided to cancel his vacation and become a professional Jew.

He stayed in Nashville, teaching little kids about the gruesome deaths of 6 million people and playing drums for an autistic cowboy band, until the Great Z Scare of 2045. While everyone else from his block was evacuated, authorities thought Sean was already infected on account of the holocaust get-up and left him behind. Sean was then bitten, becoming a cannibalistic shell of a human being for four months until receiving a weaponized injection of Dr. Mathes's miracle serum.

No longer able to perform as a holocaust non-survivor because of his survival scars (crumpled left arm), Sean packed his bags (slowly) and decided to head down to Austin, TX and complete his vacation after all.

It was there that Sean met a lovely lady named Sixtang, a local singer/songwriter with no talent. In 2050, they opened The Hoffman Soul Museum and were able to book The Perry's (a hot band) as the inaugural act. The Hoffman Soul Museum took off and Sean was talked about behind his back by thousands of celebrities who visited the venue.
Inside the Hoffman Soul Museum...

Unfortunately, Sean and Sixtang's relationship hit a rocky patch after they opened their venue. But it didn't really come to an end until The Hoffman Soul Museum was destroyed by The Cyborg Miller in 2052 with the rest of the inner-Austin-city-limits. When Sean emerged from the wreckage, he was shocked to find Sixtang with another man (well, a virgin busboy). The relationship ended.

With few options open to him and the government "hush" money drying up from the Nashville incident (as it was formally known), Sean joined the Ringling Brots. and Barnum Bailey Jr. Jr. Jr. circus as a freak.

Sean's spirit took a negative turn then. He became addicted to Oprah and kept the Jack Daniel's company afloat in 2076. He also ruthlessly wriggled his crumpled arm at toddlers in the freak tent.

Eventually, Sean righted himself and began involving himself more in the management of the circus. Finally, in 2098, Sean got his big break with the assignment to design the 2099 main-tent show. He spent months preparing, building intricate models and even consulting with top-men.

But disaster struck at the first rehearsal. Sean's idea to have monkeys shooting monkeys out of cannons failed miserably (and caused the death of eight monkeys), costing the circus sixty million dollars in tent repair, animal cruelty suits and monkey funeral services. Sean was asked to leave the circus.
Monkeys shooting monkeys out of cannons (conceptually)....

Sean Hoffman, 2099, has a small apartment in Alex Wood's City. He drives a taxi at night. He is organizing a protest with some of the other drivers to get the city's elite to start tipping again. His hope is to save up enough money to get his crumpled left arm surgically repaired sometime in the next one hundred years of his life.

Spotlight on Eric Sherred 2099

2009-12-03T11:44:00.001-08:00

A Note: After trying to hide from my responsibilities by sticking my head in the sand at the beach, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends...

Eric Sherred 2099 is eating a high protein gruel on a prison ship orbiting Saturn. He has 103 years left on his 150 year sentence. He will still look 27 when he is released. And he has a plan.

Eric Sherred 2099, better known as White Seal to the future, is best remembered for nearly succeeding in taking over the world. Eric grew bitter when two of his best friends became near-messiahs of the world despite being the fourth civilian to receive the Mathes serum under wraps (after president Christian Bale). His early invention of a self-baking toaster strudel was only casually amazing when mentioned at dinner parties. He grew tired of taking free trips all over the planet, engaging in V.I. P. access orgies at A-list clubs, hunting for endangered animals in the world's most exotic locales and having all of his blacked-out attacks on Italian post offices covered-up.

So Eric Sherred 2099 stripped himself of all his worldly possessions (except the basic iphone, imac, hdtv plasma, gym membership, metro-link pass, bank accounts, studebaker and summer home in Newport) and dropped off the grid. He began making viral Oprah videos advocating albino stereotypes. It was those videos, specifically the one in which his animated albino villain eats a tribe of golden-haired children (stock from The Time Machine), that led to his first arrest.

He was immediately released, thanks to his powerful friends, but the five minutes he spent in a holding cell at the Newport, RI sheriff's office changed Eric's life. He became convinced he was a hardened street-wise thug. He started irritating local gang-bangers and making important contacts with the Peruvian drug-runners near his loft. When World War 4.6 broke out, Eric knew his big chance had arrived and bought a one-way ticket to Peru.

With a very basic lack of understanding as to how wireless networks are secured, the Peruvian government stood no chance to Eric's ability to join their open wireless network. The only thing the Peruvians could do was watch as the device labeled "White Seal" on their i.p. list ordered their troops around South America in a brilliant strategical fashion.

Eventually the President of Peru, Alan Garcia Jr. Jr. Jr., ordered the plug pulled on the country's internet until The White Seal stepped forward. Eric did, in the interest of his military campaign, though he was worried his albino stereotype videos would disqualify him in the public eye. They didn't, thanks to the parental setting (set by a technician during installation of Peru's internet ) which prevented them from downloading the new version of Flash Player 93.4.1.

With control of most of the world below the equator by 2052, The White Seal's campaign was halted in Austin, Tx when Eric sabotaged a cyborg and pissed off the country of Pretoria. The Pretorian army immediately focussed it's entire military might on The White Seal's forces. However, the conflict was short. The White Seal, rather than see his forces destroyed pointlessly, turned himself in and was given a life sentence.

Eric Sherred 2099 has not been idle in space during his 150 year sentence. The prison ship runs at 350% efficiency after his adjustments. He has won 34/47 prison poker championships, though for a while, his string of victories were interrupted by Hank Smith. Hank was arrested for killing his wife when she bought a dress that cost as much as the romantic vacation he had been saving up for his entire life. Hank had a good 13 year run, until he stepped into the airlock during a lock-down and was vented into space.

Eric spends his mornings teaching prisoners how to use OPTML to create their own Oprah-verses and leaves his afternoons open to plotting his next world conquest. He has a few more years to perfect the plan.
Not an actual picture of White Seal

Spotlight on Rochelle Perry 2099

2009-12-03T11:28:00.000-08:00

A Note: After sleeping inside a pressure sealed grape fruit crate, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends....

Rochelle Perry 2099 is your typical weirdo celebrity. She is constantly followed by the paparazzi , often in three different places at once and is usually the victim of her own excess wealth and success...

Rochelle Perry 2099 was on route to be a "lifer" in the United States Navy until receiving the Mathes Serum in 2045 as a preemptive measure enacted by the military for the "Z Scare". It was three seconds after reading "elongated life-span" in the side-effects description on the serum box that Rochelle's cynicism regarding the point of her existence resurfaced and she left her command of the Navy Catering ship "U.S.S. IRONCHEF" to have herself cloned.

In an unusual move for the time, Rochelle made three identical copies of herself. Without the influence of a childhood surrounded by the pressure of midwestern work ethic and competitiveness, Rochelle's clones proved to be very good musicians. Rochelle 1 started "The Perry's" in 2047 and by 2048 had a record contract and national tour schedule. Although the hype surrounding The Perry's first album made critics skeptical, it topped the charts in October, 2048 and stayed at number one for four months. The Perry's went on to win "Headlining Band Idol" in 2049.
Their debut self-titled album...

In 2050, The Perry's opened the doors at the Hoffman Soul Museum in Austin, Texas (not an actual museum, just a hipster club). Controversy surrounded the event when the owner nearly burnt the building down having found Rochelle 2 with his girlfriend. Ironically, that night made the Hoffman Soul Museum an A-List hotspot, but turned out to be the beginning of the end for The Perry's. The Rochelle clones began leading their own lives and by 2065 The Perry's were completely broken up.

Rochelle 1 continued to play sold-out arenas, bringing in popular studio-musicians to fill in for her clones. Rochelle 2 took a more artistic route, releasing album after album of her solo-endeavors and engaging in protests with her girlfriend Sixtang. Rochelle 3 started exploring other musical avenues, composing for Broadway and Oprah movies. Rochelle 4 became a reality Oprah star but lost most of her fans during a scandal involving the entire Kobe Bryant Clone NBA team.
Still taken from an Oprah performance by Rochelle 2...

Though there was talk of a reunion in the summer of 2073, that possibility was lost when Rochelle 2 was shot outside her San Franciscan apartment by Mark David Chapman Jr. Jr. Jr. The other three Rochelles talked about playing together again, but finally agreed that it wouldn't be the same without Rochelle 2.

Rochelle Perry 2099 (Rochelle 1) is a resident of Las Vegas, Nevada, Mars and is signed on at the MGM Grand for a 200 year residency. Her shows are rated in the top five each year between the two planetary gambling hotspots.

Spotlight on Mike Mathes 2099

2009-12-03T11:25:00.001-08:00

A Note: While being smothered by a giant theme-park bunny for a video I was doing in The Valley for some extra-cash, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends...

Dr. Michael Mathes 2099 is an esteemed leader and philanthropist in many different sectors of the world. He is constantly asked to give lectures at the top-scientific conferences, has been recognized countless times by various worldwide charitable and humanitarian organizations, and is the frequent highlight of the annual Playboy Moon Party.
Playboy was the first company to use Lunar Advertising...

After finding the serum that extends human life in 2023, Dr. Mathes became an instant sensation worldwide. He developed interests in automotive aviation, private defense technology, slinky research, cloning methods, time travel development, virtual reality (eventually funding the development of the Oprah) and of course weather control systems. With his enduring public image and large untraceable financials, Dr. Mathes 2099 bought his own county (formally the African Continent), and named it Pretoria, after an obscure paintball team named after an obscure Roman bodyguard unit.

In 2052, when The White Seal forces started gaining ground in World War 4.7, it was Dr. Mathes who urged world leaders to turn their attention on the ridiculous, however dangerous, South American threat. It was also Dr. Mathes himself who ended the citywide rampage by the Miller Cyborg in Austin, TX. He later came out publicly and admitted to have written the Trojan Horse program during his military years and felt the whole incident was his responsibility. (On a side note, Dr. Mathes had originally thought a certain ex-lover stole his laptop containing the program. After confronting her, he "accidently" threw her out on the street naked in broad daylight.) So, it was to the disappointment of Dr. Mathes when The White Seal turned himself in and escaped Mathes’ reach to a prison ship orbiting Saturn. He tried calling the naked girl to apologize but she never called him back again…

Nevertheless, by 2099 Dr. Michael Mathes has 63 children across 63 continents, space outposts and Mars (complicating his father-son weekend schedule). He lost some public support by citing his disinterest in Earlism, but was quick to point out that he advocated for and administered the serum to Alex Woods when the religious book first came out. In fact, during the purchase of Pretoria, Mathes used another portion of his wealth to print billions of copies of the Earlism manuscript for anyone on Earth to own a free copy (and of course, for a free copy to lie unread in every hotel room). Mathes still enjoys long walks on the beach with his (non-lethal) paintball guns and the occasional Jimmy Buffett Jr. Jr. Jr. concert.
Jimmy Buffett Jr. Jr. Jr.'s first album...

Spotlight on RJ Nemeth 2099

2009-12-03T11:22:00.001-08:00

A Note: After holding my breath underwater for two minutes, downing a gallon of milk and banging my head against a hot oven-door, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends...

(Reincarnated) RJ Nemeth 2099 is very similar to his modern self, in that he is mainly confined to one space, his owners have frequent visitors who view RJ in his natural habitat, and he is well fed. However, RJ Nemeth 2099 spends a lot more of his time in the back room of his habitat waiting on the Man in the Hat to return and give him a shot whose main side-effect allows him to ignore the thousands of eyes that peer at him every single day; and instead, drift back into his reoccurring fantasy in which he is a member of KISS.
RJ Nemeth 2099's favorite fantasy can be viewed on the Oprah at the NYC Zoo...

RJ 2099 eats an assortment of fruits and nuts, but is mainly a big fan of human flesh during times when he is unrestrained and there is an unsuspecting vicim. He was responsible for "The Great Z Scare" of 2045, in which thousands of people in Memphis went insane and started biting each other (they were eventually treated with the Dr. Mathes' miracle serum and cured, though they weren't happy that for the rest of their 300 years of life they would be horribly disfigured). When Memphis was evacuated, instead of returning to a cosmetics test-plant, RJ 2099 was put into the NYC Zoo system where he ran a small banana ring. However, after a long investigation, Zoologist Scully was able to nab RJ in the act (after a long poop-fling out) and RJ was then "donated' to the Ringling Brots and Barnum Bailey Jr. Jr. Jr. Circus.

In 2097, RJ 2099's wife was killed during an experimental act involving monkeys that shot monkeys out of cannons. RJ 2099's depression began affecting his acting, and he was let go in the spring of 2098. Before he left the show, RJ 2099 was pulling down 1.8 million dollars a city stop, and he was able to use his profits to buy a Gorilla Habitat at the luxurious San Diego Zoo. Aside from his hallucinogenic drug addiction, reincarnated RJ 2099 lives a peaceful life and is happy to eat the bugs off of anyones back.
The Gorilla Habitat at the San Diego Zoo

Spotlight on Amy Miller 2099

2009-11-24T10:47:00.001-08:00

A Note: Having attempted to pick up a biker's girlfriend while stuck in L.A. gridlock and having my head slammed against the steering wheel, I had a vision of the future lives of my friends...

It's hard to tell where Amy Miller 2099 starts and the loaded laser-assault system ends. A fully functional cyborg (ex-border militia), Amy Miller 2099 smiles and shoots before her programming allows her to ask questions. This intentional design flaw was meant to put live ammunition at her fingertips and remove the literary kind.

Amy Miller 2099 has six rocket propelled grenade cartridges, heat and x-ray scanning capabilities, a jet-pack, a GMC-brand Katana sword for close-combat, both stun and kill laser settings, hydraulic ligaments for stealth operations, a top speed of 79 mph, and a built in banana bread recipe that would make any patriotic yokel shored up in a one room shack and taking on the entire rest of the world proud. She logged about five thousand border take-downs (four thousand seventy five of which were non-lethal) before the militia men were informed that there was no threat at the borders and to return to their homesteads. The confusion, of course, that led to more than two million Americans undergoing experimental and dangerous cosmetic and genetical surgery to install technological implants to ward off the immigrant threat, was spurred a misshapen Oprah (version 4.1.2) program "North and Mexico". The program began with a warning shiver up the user's spine, indicating that events were all false, however, most users began the program after finishing another popular program "Little Orphan Annie" and missed the shiver. (Needless to say, Oprah version 5 required all programs to scale back realistics from 6% to 5.5% to avoid another such embarrassing instance...)

Like her top-client, Alex Woods, Amy Miller 2099 received a serum for a long life and is happily spending the rest of her days protecting high-profile humans by day and appearing as the least-liked correspondent on the Senator Colbert Report. She has a husband and three children that are still in contact, but moved out after she downloaded a rare Led Zeppelin acoustic session that actually ended up being a Trojan Virus, triggering her to rampage through the greater Austin, TX area.

Aside from faulty Balkan-manufactured parts in her right shoulder that constantly need maintenance, Amy miller 2099 is a rock'em sock'em right-wing laser toutin' future cowboy, the way I think her modern self would want...

This photograph was taken right before she said "Oooh, unreleased vintage Zeppelin! One second honey, I'll play it out my elbow for us!" to her estranged husband...

Spotlight on Alex Woods 2099

2009-11-24T10:39:00.000-08:00

A note: After much dehydration, Jack Daniel's, long exposure to florescent lighting and a 52 hour marathon of Jon and Kate plus 8 (formally Jon and Kate plus 12 until the accident), I had a vision of the future lives of my friends....

Alex Woods 2099 is a legend. Alex Woods 2099 is a household name. Women from all over the world line up for days at airports with only a rumor of his pending arrival. He has been knighted, sainted, nobel-prized, and even Time: Man of the Year'd.

And for what? Uniting the world under one religion he thoughtfully named "Earlism".

Without revealing the wisdom and musings of the 2012 released novel that has sold more copies than Stephen King's entire collection combined, I can say that it is the true combination of The Old Testament, Torah, Don't Stand Too Close To A Naked Man, Koran, Buddhist Philosophy, Atheist musing and Wall Street Journal.

The complete book, revised edition 89

Alex 2099 lives on the top 40 floors of the Alex Woods Building (formally Willis Tower, formally Sears Tower), in Alex Woods City (formally Chi-burg, formally Chicago) with his three hundred wives and two girlfriends. He is constantly featured on the popular Oprah, a media device too advanced to explain here (think virtual reality meets tape-worm). He is booked until the end of his life as a living God and also a commencement speaker at Purdue University (the Dean of Advising got him hammered at Where Else? and had him sign the papers).

Aside from his overall public success and the multitudes that say his name in hushed tones, he feels his three-point shot has only gotten better over the years. He was also happy to have joined the Alex Woods Community Center Theatre Group in time to play himself in a Nobel-Prize winning musical written by me (in the future) about a young Alex Woods struggling in the metropolitan Washington D.C. area to find time to write his Holy Book. The original Broadway performance starred William Dafoe (I know, right?!) and the opening song "Nobody Understands an Engineer, Frowny Face" is now the most covered song in history.

The 2054 hit Cd...

You may be wondering why Alex Woods 2099 has survived to be 114 years old, a fact I took for granted while writing this. Alex Woods was lucky enough to have been friends with Dr. Michael Mathes, a government scientist whose serum created in 2023 in a top-secret government lab increased human life-spans by 300 years. Alex was one of the first civilians allowed the treatment while it was still hidden from the public (right after Jon Stewart), but was also first to applaud the efforts of Bob Woodward Jr. Jr. Jr. for leaking the serum's existence on WSJ.NET.

Alex Woods 2099 seems to be his old modern self, but there is a certain coldness behind his trombone playing that wasn't there before. He is no longer willing to put up with lesser-human's antics, and he believes his own Earlism mumbo-jumbo he spews like a crazy Nebraskan preacher. While his organizations are charitable, Alex Woods 2099 refuses to eat a sandwich if he believes the tomato was placed upside-down on the cheese. He is cruel to his swing-dancing teachers (anger from still being awkward after all those years?) and has never tipped a cab driver in Alex Woods City. Perhaps those are miniscule, nit-picky, whiny, petty instances when examining the whole person, but they exist. However, still only middle aged, it seems he still has a long long time to avoid becoming a very miserly and cranky old man.

Fashion Police Press Release

2009-09-27T23:14:00.000-07:00

This has been brewing for some time, but after recent incidents, I think it's only correct to bring this to light in the public arena. The square boxes, known as Check and his accomplice Er, were spotted today donning lemon-yellow and highlighter orange pigmentation and surrounding a woman's lower body. The Checkers, an alias, were both offensively ugly and obscenely brutal to The Eyes of the Beholder, a consultant group we use to assess such situations. The Eyes of the Beholder have also done previous work with Shiny Things, Cute Things and the sometimes misunderstood Stripes.

This is not the first incidence of misconduct from The Checkers, who were involved in the game board strike in July and played an unknown part in the harassment of the Chinese Marbles in 2002.

The woman involved is thought to have Stockholm Syndrome, as she was reluctant to unhand the Checkers and is believed to be harboring the miscreants at this time. More updates to come as the situation unfolds.

Redemptioner For Hire

2009-08-17T21:41:00.001-07:00

The doors open to prospective job seekers only a couple years ago, are now not only shut, but shut within a gated community. If you're knocking, you know that the "internet" has become an electric fence surrounding the place where the jobs are already closed to you. And further along in this analogy is the fact that you cannot even find the right neighborhood of work unless someone gives you a shot in the first place.

This year, nobody's taking a risk on college graduates, when there are so many highly skilled and now desperate job seekers on the unemployment lines. And if the job really is too menial for these types of "experienced" professionals, there has risen (an illegal??) market for "interns". I'm one such "intern", or "volunteer, as it's probably closer to in description. I drive into Los Angeles from a suburb every single day with my iMac in the back seat, I set up on a temporary desk, and I do work I could have gotten thousands of dollars doing a year ago. I do it with a genuine smile, I'm "working".

What's changed? Investor confidence, in more ways than one. Specifically in Hollywood, where there is an abundance of panic over illegal downloads and dvd sales mixed with newly instated tax incentives offered by more than a few other states that are driving the business and production away. Jobs for well known and would-be-prospering production companies are just not available, and what little left are disappearing. In many ways, this destruction of our movieland mecca can reflect national problems. Every single sector has been hit, because of problems in every other sector. Starting again in Hollywood, we see lower production costs in movies, means lower production costs for music videos that once promoted those movies, which means lower marketing budgets for advertisers, causing lower numbers of consumers buying "hot items", which leads to a drop in consumer confidence, that causes all kinds of other problems, too numerous to mention here.

My point is, it's a New World, and that got me thinking. In colonial America, when history last discovered a new world, poor, inexperienced immigrants from Europe would sign up with wealthy successful men and women to work under contract for three to seven years for minimum wages but "all expenses paid" as it's termed now on Craigslist. This did a great deal of service for both companies, the employers got cheap labor and the laborer's got a free ticket to America. While we look back on this servitude in disgust at the way these "servants" were treated, I can't help but feel slightly envious towards their situations minus the bloodshed. All expenses paid, room, board, food? Why...that's a graduate's dream come true.

Don't think for a second that I take this reasoning a sickening step forward towards slavery, that would be crude, improper and also a misuse of my point. Indentured servitude is an internship, or more exactly, a type of apprenticeship in which a man with nothing could gain the knowledge and skills of a man with everything, for almost no cost to either, but also with some security for both. Security, in that production costs could stay low, because the work-force would be very cheap, and security for the redemptioner because at the end of the contract, they would have enough experience to climb the ladder.

Right now, in this economy, a graduate, with debt, with no hope of a job, might well leap at a contract that would place him in his dream job at a minimum of luxury. Would it suck more to have less options for longer, or more experience in the long run? That's what the options would be. And of course, problems would still arise, I could see trading of indentured servants still taking place, the most talented ones could even be bought in deals, that's possible. Anyone in a union office is probably already getting ready to sue me for raising this issue. But if the practice were reinstated, it could well help keep everything afloat, as it did for the farmers before the turn of the century. More graduates on "funemployment" lines might leap at this type of arrangement, than sit in their parent's den playing World of Warcraft, than we all might like to admit. But if they won't let us in the traditional way, I say it's time to get creative...

Jack Nicholson Was There...

2009-07-03T14:38:00.000-07:00

When you went skiing that week, Jack Nicholson was there...skiing in a suit, and with Rich-People skiing goggles...

When you went to Cactus last night, Jack Nicholson was there...in a tux at the piano bar...

When you thought you were posing without a camera there...you also didn't know that Jack Nicholson was there too...

Sometimes Jack Nicholson likes to be "that guy"...

Jack Nicholson doesn't do staged pictures too well...neither does Joe...

But when everyone's just trashed, Jack Nicholson doesn't mind jumping in...

$1 Company

2009-06-23T00:00:00.001-07:00

Before the economy goes into remission, I have decided to start my own company. As I have been applying everyday for an entire month now, painstakingly driving in and out of L.A. every other day and sending my resume out multiple times literally day and night, I have noticed one thing: companies are no longer willing to pay anyone for convenience and coffee, it must now be done for free. That's right, all you unemployed peeps, your services as "an observer" a "trainee" a "gopher" are no longer going to help you pay for that log across the river. You're going to have to be the bitch without the protection.

And what is the politically correct term for this phenomenon?

INTERN.

Internships are in abundance! I can't believe how many listings there are everyday. One of them said "Need an intern to drive kids and some errands, must have own computer and be friendly." That sounds like BABYSITTING to me. Not that you could pay me any amount of money to sit kids....

So fine, I guess if you can't beat them, join'em. I'm putting together a business plan that will offer the services of Only The Best Interns! That's right, fellas, grab on to your fancy leather computer chairs and get ready for the chance to have a man/woman willing to do absolutely anything for you! And that's not all, they come pre-trained to cook, clean, make coffee, take lunch-orders, even clean out your car for you! They even let you make fun of them in front of the kids!

Only The Best Interns offers a one-of-a-kind service to deliver gophers absolutely ready and willing to take as much shit as you can give them. Need someone to drive their car across the state without reimbursement? We have 'em. Need someone to talk you up to that foxy cougar you met at the Firestone Grill? We have'em. Ladies, we have design interns, fashion interns, even management interns that will iron those shirts for your man.

And the best part of all this? No Complaints!

Only The Best Interns provides gophers and hacks willing to do anything for $1. That's right, they will do absolutely anything for $1. Where do we find people willing to do anything for $1, you ask? Why, they're easiest to see as they walk across the stage at their college graduation! We also do basement recon in many upscale neighborhoods.

It's just $1 per intern per week . That's right, send me and my business partners $1 per intern per week and we'll do the rest. Why waste your time getting frustrated with the peons of your office? Who has time to be nice to a thing? If you want to make them cry, you can! We'll just send you a new one!

So don't be lazy, in fact, get that intern you're unhappy with to give us a call for you! We guarantee our interns would have gotten it done without three repetitions, or your money back!! And what do you have to lose? Why, just $1/intern/week. You can't beat that deal!!!

Finding Motivation

2009-06-19T15:19:00.001-07:00

Today I threw on my leather ass-less chaps, the fedora, grabbed a couple of clothespins and attached them to my nipples and prepared myself to write. I'd hired a dominatrix to come in and whip me if necessary, but let her go make a turkey sandwich while I put in the ball-gag myself. I sat down in the chair, and put my feet in the stirrups. I self-cuffed myself and turned on the computer. As I opened Microsoft Word, I heard Helga coming upstairs from the kitchen. I stared at the blank page desperately trying to force thoughts out onto the page, but it was no use. She entered the room, shook her head disapprovingly and grabbed the whip.

"You must write!" She exclaimed in a thick Romanian accent. My fingers trembled, but still no words found the page. She began hitting me with the whip, it stung, but didn't hurt. I knew that would not last.

"Write!" She shouted again. My fingers moved, the word "And," appeared on the screen but the whip cracked again, stinging the back of my neck this time. I began hitting the keys faster now, my joints aching from the stirrups and gag. The keys rattled like hail hitting a tin roof. I was on a roll. The whipping stopped, my mind was out of the room and on the page.

I didn't notice it, but Helga smiled, sat down and began eating her turkey sandwich. When I was finally done with the chapter. She uncuffed me and unstrapped the gag.

"You'd better thank me in forward, no?" She asked with a smile. I nodded and trembling in exhaustion keeled over into my bed. I watched her save the document, turn off the computer, then the light and finally exit.

As I drifted off to sleep, I marveled at how much better my writing had gotten with a little light bondage...

Radio Job Interview

2009-06-17T23:24:00.000-07:00

It started in a lobby, I was building some kind of courage as I stepped off the elevator and walked towards the offices of WCKG (r.i.p.), when a hog walked out of the office and grunted at me. Generally I ignore rude gestures, but in my frantic nervous and neurotic introspection I took out my spear and gave a loud hunter's cry from the bottom of my throat. The hog squealed, began pumping it's pudgy little legs, but was quickly halted by the cold steel arrowhead and attached rod I kept concealed inside the handle of my umbrella.

My eyes widened then, and I almost came awake in the night, but the florescence of that hallway kept me centered and R.E.M.ing along. The hog, I now recognized, was one the personalities at the station. I reexamined the fatal blow, but knew that alas, it was way too late to save the future pork chop. "Shit!" I said aloud to it. It's grumpy eyes staring at me.

"Grrroink!" he said back, and I remembered that this hog almost always had the last laugh on his show in the morning. My eyes darted back and forth along the hallway, but it didn't look like anyone had seen this little travesty. I hit the button for the elevator, and when it rang, I shoved the dead hog inside with my shoe. As the doors closed, I turned and straightened my tie and almost reestablished my mental psyche.

Then they opened again. The spear was sticking out.

I extracted it, shrunk it, put it back into my umbrella and hurried towards the lobby of the station. I'd already been running late after helping a woman carry a basket of clams up eight stories to her apartment. She had claimed that it would only take a minute, and that there was a "great crack for you" waiting up the stairs...but after an awkward moment, a half-removed belt and a high-heel to the upper part of my thigh, I realized she probably meant she'd crack one of the clams for me to eat.

The offices of the extinct radio station that I was interviewing in smelled very much like hot-dogs and stale ritz crackers. I had the feeling I would fit right in, as these were in my main food groups: processed meat and bread. The gopher at the desk finally put down a long piece of two-by-four after a painstaking second and checked his log.

"You the plumber king?" He asked.

"Nope."

"The financial wizard?"

"Nuh-uh"

"The proprietor of the cheesy restaurants?"

"How could I answer that if I was?"

"Then you must be the idiot. Take a seat, boss'll be with you soon," and the gopher turned, picked up his lumber and pressed the spacebar on his computer. I saw now he was watching episodes of "30 Rock" on Hulu.

"What do you mean idiot?" I asked, kind of bewildered actually. But the gopher just waved it's tail lazily at me and pointed it again towards a row of chairs by the door.

Now after a long time of searching for a job (about twelve centuries), I knew that "with you soon" meant I should take out my sack-lunch and give the clam-girl a call. But for once, my paranoia and delusional time-telling wasn't quick enough to surface as the Boss came in. "Hey, you must be the idiot, what's going on?"

"Uh, hi," I managed, mystified by my long-time legendary idol.

"You're late."

"I had to carry clams."

"You had to carry clams?"

"She said she'd give me a crack, I thought it was something else...anyway-"

"Wow, you're a real idiot huh?" And he looked at me with a skeptical eye only a true cynic could muster.

"You have a gopher working for you."

"You'd be surprised by the neat and exactness of this little mystical guy," Boss said, patting the gopher on the head. "And you can guess how obnoxious and rude the hog I work with on the air is. See these little talking things are really what makes radio possible."

"Oh...so you don't hire people?"

"Well, you are an idiot, right?"

"So far."

"Then I could consider it. As long as you're not human. There's no room for humanity on air." And as he said this he turned, waving his arm for me to follow him towards the back of the office. At first I was concerned, as the room became larger and more humid, but then I relaxed. (But then I relaxed? As if that helps you identify what the hell is going on!) The offices became coated with a thick moss, plants surrounding everything. Staplers were tied to vines dropping down from the ceiling. Computers were propped up by stumps. It was a regular old jungle. And I somehow felt comfortable.

"What are you then?" I asked, not buying into his mystical creature practices, and kind of wondering if he payed the little animals.

"Oh, I'm a schizophrenic, pathological, sociopath who dabbles in comedy and politics."

"That's how I've always described myself, sir."

"Well, that's cause you're an idiot. Hold on, there's someone you should meet." He disappeared through a thick patch of underbrush, which I guess was a cubicle. I stood a minute, nodding politely at a goat making copies. It didn't nod back. I've always thought of goats as real jerks anyways.

Boss came back, pulling a beautiful golden-haired girl in a leotard. "This is Jane," he said, eyeing the silent interaction between us. As I gazed at her, it was like a magnetic pulse of energy drew me towards her. And I looked down to see she had on a negatively charged sash that was tugging at my belt. "Jane here does the weather and traffic updates for us during the show. It looks like you two already kind of have a thing going here..."

"Me Tarzan...you Jane." I managed, stupefied by her dazzling features. Jane smiled politely then looked up at the Boss.

"He really is an idiot, huh?"

"Whatdya think? We haven't had an idiot in the studio in a while. We might hit a bigger audience."

"Sounds good. You tell him he can't wear a belt here though, it's creeping me out the way he's moving his hips." She disappeared back into her thickly enclosed cubicle and Boss turned to look at me.

"Ok, idiot, you're on. We need to think of a better name than Tarzan though, that has no play."

"I'm not sure where that came from, Boss, my name's actually Jeff."

"Jeff it is. And listen, you might be taking some pig-shit from the locals around here because i just canned the hog for oinking off on air, but I think it'll subside once they realize how dumb you really are. Radio's heading south, and I think you're our man to take this show to titanic-depths!"

Modernity in the Drug World

2009-06-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

I was trying to get a headache to get rid of this hangover today, when I realized there aren't many "headache inducing" drugs on the market. This lack of foresight by the pharmaceutical companies leaves me believing they need a change. A change to catch up with the times. They need synergy. They need modernity. They need youthinizing. They need to take a look at their corrupt friends in the Tobacco Industry, learn everything they can about how they do market research on tweens, and apply that to finding out what today's youth want in their drugs.

Today's youth don't want pain-killers. Today's youth don't want anti-bacterial cream. Today's youth don't want "skin-colored" band-aids. These are things our grandparents were using when they were kids. Do you expect Lindsey Lohan to walk around without a designer band-aid to cover up the skid burns on her knees? Do you think Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson uses Johnson and Johnson anymore? No way. There's not a chance that he doesn't have some neon-glowing super-awesome lotion to rub on his chiseled ass after a long day of selling-out to Disney. Kids these days want to be cool and connected at all times, no matter what they are doing. Using something like Aspirin, circa 1899, is no longer acceptable when it doesn't provide any hip/relative promotions or features. It's just Aspirin, how can anyone take that and not get the feeling of "wearing your great grandmother's underwear"?

Drug companies need to start thinking out of the box. Perhaps little Kelly, age 7, would look up from her blackberry if that tube of IcyHot came with a DigiPet. Mayhaps the little leaguers would take more interest in wearing cups if they had signal boosters. Maybe I'd be more inclined to use that genital warts powder if it came with a free Itunes download.

The point is, the world's changed; but unlike the world, drug companies haven't. Our drugs are still the dull things you can use without much rigamarole, while our culture is all about painstakingly long steps to accomplish practically nothing. Why just call the pizza place, when you can get on your computer, interact with menus and online forms and trust that your order gets placed through a (probably) secure server all in about twenty minutes of fiddling? Why would you ever want to pick up a phone and ask your friend Phil if he wants to go over to Marcus's place if you can text Phil the same conversation in about thirty pieces?

These are the ideals of the next-generation of Americans, we want lengthy processes, "high-tech" solutions, more steps, blue-tooth and high-def! And by god, we should have drugs that reflect that attitude!

So.......

So, the next time I want to intensify my headache for a high-speed hangover, there should be a drug that.

...that's all I'm saying.

California Differents

2009-06-15T19:22:00.000-07:00

Warning: As it is physically impossible to read and breath at the same time, please only read one sentence at a time. I'm not responsible for any keel-overs or black-outs.

As I've spent time in California, I guess I've begun to notice the subtle differences in everyday things out here. Maybe it was thickheadedness, or numbskulledness, or perhaps even my chronic peabrainia, but I didn't really notice these things until very recently.

1. Most traffic lights have multiple turn lanes, and usually you have to be in the furthest right to turn left.

2. If you are listening to a live band out here, there are almost always infrared cameras that charge you for general proximity and time spent listening. Needless to say, the fines really add up walking in downtown Brea by all the open-seating bars and restaurants.

3. Another weird thing about music here is that the radio only plays Eagles music. On every single frequency.

4. Most crackers in California are just boxes of saltines with cocaine sprinkled on them.

5. Snorting cocaine in California is a lot harder because it is attached to a cracker...you can really spot coke-heads because of their larger nostrils.

6. If you are going for a walk in a nice neighborhood and a rich person says "hello" to you, you're supposed to have sex with them. I forgot that the other day and got sued.

7. The "right of way" while driving always goes to whomever has the nicest car. However, a "tourist" trumps an "H3".

8. If you goto the famous "Coffee Bean", where all the celebrities get their coffee, be prepared to spend about a thousand dollars on a large cup. This is because they charge the regular $2.00, but it's per/bean.

9. Standing in a line in California will usually land you a record deal, but also a "pass" on your screenplay.

10. Most people in California have absolutely no idea where the rest of the United States is located. I told someone I was from Chicago and they asked where it was. Then they asked me how long I'd been driving today. Further hilarity ensues when you speak of Ohio or Indiana...states near Canada....

There Can Be Only One...

2009-06-10T08:28:00.001-07:00

Today I spent all day sharpening my pens. I made sure every point and cap had a fierce pointy end that would scare off my writer enemies. You see, there's this whole sub-culture in L.A., thanks to the increase in competition, to challenge dominant writers to duels. These duels are basically fueled by everyone's favorite show (Highlander), although nobody mentions that.

However, unlike the sword-wielding immortal Duncan MacCloud (of the clan MacCloud), L.A. writers follow the law and keep their swords at home. Instead, it has become a symbol of your literary prowess to have the best pen.

The challenges go as follows: the established writer usually sees a struggling freelancer on his turf. He calls him out and whips out his pen. They goto an abandoned warehouse and duel, using the pens and sometimes pencils (as distractions) to kill each other. When one writer wins, he takes his foe's head and also the credit.

These duels aren't covered in the trade magazines, or really talked about online, but now and then you will see the result pop up in the credits. "Story by" against "Written by" usually means that there was a duel during production. Sometimes you'll see teams of writers take down a solo-act just for story credits.

It's an ugly town...

Hiatus...

2009-06-09T12:04:00.001-07:00

Nicole Kidman sucking the life force from some poor guy...

Maybe you noticed I haven't posted any notes in a while. Maybe not. Maybe this is popping up on your "highlights" window, or you're so bored this summer from unemployment that you're reading everyone's notes. Maybe you're not even friends with me, maybe you're so bored from unemployment this summer that you're stealing your friend's passwords so you can read their friends' notes.

Well, I can't blame you, I've been on a little bit of a hiatus myself.

In fact, it's been over a month since I posted.

A month spent whittling....

A month spent tying and retying my shoes every time I had to go somewhere, in order elongate the trip...

A month spent driving four times back and forth across the country to avoid the beginning of my job search....

A month spent composing one hundred minute symphonies and then pitching them in the scrap pile for my paper mache coffee mugs...

A month spent perfecting the art of paper mache coffee mugs...

A month singing "rain rain, go away" to piss off RJ...

And that's about it.

As you can see, I haven't had much to write about. Politics is only important when there's an election ( ha ;) amy). Sports are only important in the fall (and when the Blackhawks are in the playoffs...or the Bulls). Awards season is over and all the movies released nowadays are good (no complaints, unless I go see them, and then I've pretty much hated everything I've seen so far...well not Star Trek). Moving stories are very tiresome (because you're moving...).

And when I reached California, home of "sunnydale" and "sunset blvd", I've been disappointed to find that it's ALWAYS cloudy.

But now maybe I've found the reset button here, for the blogging part of me. Let's see if I post again within the next month...

Cheers to all,
K

Duck

2009-06-09T11:34:00.001-07:00

Duck hunting is very easy. That's because ducks are too proud to "duck!" They retain that they were an object before a verb, and the necessary movement required when someone shouts their proper name belittles their identity as a species.

Seven TImes A Million

2009-04-20T20:11:00.000-07:00

"Seven dollars times a million."

"That's the question you can't answer son?"

"Yes, yes sir. Can you help me?"

"Um, sure. Let's see. You have seven, you multiply by a million, and you wind up with sixteen cents."

"What?!"

"You see, you have seven million, but no matter how you got it (legally or otherwise), the government is going to tax it (or you're going to have to payoff your supplier and give a cut to the local mafia chief), so you're only going to have high sixes after that. Plus another two hundred grand is going to come straight out of your pocket when that cheating bitch of a wife leaves you and wants alimony. You're going to put most of the rest of that in a stock that tanks the next day thanks to your idiot coworkers tip that came from some Jefe at the carwash. You're probably still paying off the thousands of dollars to the loan sharks thanks to your law-school tuition, so they'll want a piece of the action. You'll only have a few hundred dollars left after that, but your deadbeat cousin will want to be bailed out of jail again. Forty dollars for groceries this week, and a Playboy magazine (for the articles) and you'll have two dollars and fifty cents left. I always like to buy a Three Musketeers Bar when I'm feeling depressed, and you'd have to get one too, so that's another two dollars and thirty four cents. So...your answer is sixteen cents."

"Oh, ok, that makes sense I guess."

"What's this for son?"

"Oh, Mommy's marrying Uncle Tommy and she's getting seven dollars times a million from grandpa's will. Dad, is Uncle Tommy going to be my new daddy when he gets out of jail?"

Carnivorous Bears

2009-04-19T21:07:00.001-07:00

It was late April, in a Northern Californian Forrest, when the Carnivorous Bears held a meeting at The Cave, and discussed the possibility of becoming herbivores. The discussion was long overdue, as many other CB groups around the country had already made the change. There was also a lot of pressure from the foreign Bear community to make the shift, especially with the increase in perception of the "ignorance" of the North American Bear.

The meeting began with a discussion of the first herbivoric Bear, Fozzie the Bear, who had gone on to promote Bear Rights and the environment after winning a long legal-battle with The Muppet Show. The Muppet Show had contended that after Fozzie "got clean" his jokes got funnier, and didn't fit with the show's approach, but the harassment by his costars canceled out the "creative decisions" and Fozzie successfully defended his life-choice.

Next on the agenda was a quick discussion on the impact of the switch. Many members agreed that eating people, cows and rabbits seemed to harm the environment (mainly because whoever would eat these things would get shot at by a Helicopter carrying the governor of Alaska). Some members commented on their own dislike of giving up fish, but agreed that fish could be a "lenient rule" for a few months after the switch. Other perceived positive points of the switch would be better relations with young golden haired girls and more time to prevent forrest fires. There were a few negatives, but for the most part they were just out of misinformation and quickly reversed.

Finally the vote came, all the Carnivorous Bears submitted their votes into the slot and sat down. Then, they growled...because none of them could get the ballot box open without thumbs. Then, out of nowhere, a group of Marijuana Farmers wandered right into the meeting, and all the contentions and rational decisions brought up were completely forgotten.

Marijuana Farmers just smell incredible to Carnivorous Bears.

Overnight Hipster...

2009-04-13T17:43:00.000-07:00

Ralph looked normal yesterday. At least, normal for Ralph. He was wearing another one of those unbuttoned flannel shirts that were cool in the nineties, he had a Def Leppard t-shirt underneath it. His hair was flat against his scalp and he hadn't shaved that morning. His jeans were baggy, shredded at the bottom and he was still wearing his steel-toed boots that were three years old. In other words, Ralph was lookin' like Ralph.

But he caught the H-Strain that night from a girl named "Bria".

Now he's got on Converses, straight-cut jeans, a striped v-neck t-shirt with a designer coat on top of it. His hair is jelled to the right, accenting his new orange and white sunglasses. He's also wearing brand-new headphones the size of cantaloupes, which he has attached to a "vintage" walkman.

I asked him what's on the tape and he said he'd mixed it this morning with all his favorite bands: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Pheonix, The Pet Lions, TV for the Radio...etc.

I shuddered and stepped back. I'd heard the H-Strain had been going around, but I didn't know it was that bad.

It'd only taken 24hrs to completely turn Ralph.

Male Pattern Baldness Terrorism...

2009-04-12T01:40:00.001-07:00

And they stood close, edging shoulder to shoulder. Their neck hairs rose feeling the hot breath of the ones behind them. Arms, legs, bodies were closer than they'd ever been before, but no one uttered an awkward sentence. The stakes were too high.

Then they careened their necks, as one-

The light bounced upwards, directly hitting the cockpit of the 747. For a second, nothing happened. Then it began to spin out of control, until finally it crashed.

My Nose Isn't Working...

2009-04-09T07:29:00.000-07:00

My nose isn't working. After all these hours of preparation, all the complications getting a pizza made from scratch, the bidding war with the cheese maiden, the powerplay with the dough tosser, the gun-to-the-head negotiation for oven rights, and the whole thing may be ruined for lack of smell. Apparently, it wants more sun-tan lotion, and we just don't want it wearing more. People don't like a greased up nose...

I can't just get an amateur nose either, because the marketing devision would have a shit-fit. My nose has been a long-smelling part of my body and people have come to recognize it on my face. Just replacing it would decrease my popularity among friends. Audiences want recognition values.

But now the pizza is in the oven, money has been spent on this, and if the nose won't show up, I'm told the taste-buds are going to quit too. They're already overworked and under-appreciated. Plus, they really will have a harder job without my nose there for support. Those union guys are troopers until you ask them to do more than what they're contractually obligated to do.

I haven't had a quit this bad since the "Banana Drop" of 04', when my elbow just up and quit in the middle of eating. Maybe I'll call my ears and see if they can talk my nose down, get it to come back. The ears really are a neutral part of the face.

Or maybe I'll just have to call Michael Jackson and see if his nose can come over and stunt-nose for the day.

Feet Drama

2009-04-08T21:56:00.001-07:00

Seven times today, I got suspicious that my left foot was secretly in love with my right, but couldn't say anything because of all the pressure put on it walking up the stairs. I though midway through the day, it might spill it's feelings and my feet would be tangled for a couple hours, but just as it was about to let loose, I threw on a sock. Clever midseason twist, if you ask me.

So now, I guess it's a matter of time. I even think my right foot has caught the subconscious signals from the left and is now pointing a bit crookedly left. This makes my life very difficult as I continue to have to rely on contrived knees and waists to keep me walking in a straight line.

Needless to say, I think the drama will be over soon. I've kept them from crossing all week, but now it seems my right foot always wants to tangle with the left, or else my left foot is feeling asleep and naturally wants to curly up next to my right. They're becoming inseparable. I hope they wait till the weekend, when I won't have to really be anywhere.

Of course, then they'll be wanting to have another foot, and I just don't have the limbs to deal with that. Maybe I'll just cut one from the entire body...

Ms. Piggy, Washed Up Muppet Spotted In Netherlands...

2009-04-01T22:58:00.001-07:00

After the 2007 break-up with long-time boyfriend Kermit the Frog, Ms. Piggy disappeared after a few short relationships with Gary Busey, Frankie Muniz and John Mayer. Suffering from the Mayer-Effect (the need to "just be alone" for a while after John Mayer admits he loves his guitar more than you...), Ms. Piggy has not surfaced at any A-or-B list events since.

And clearly for good reason...she's really let herself go...

Things That Never Get Old In Good Ol' Indiana...

2009-03-30T00:42:00.000-07:00

1. Monogamy
2. Townies Who Drive Slow
3. Alcoholism
4. Potholes
5. Disillusionment and Centrism
6. Basketball
7. Racism
8. What's Diversity?
9. Conversations About Weather
10. Cigarettes in Inconvenient Wind Situations
11. Dysfunctional Family Life
12. Cops Who Have All Day
13. Corn Hole (that beanbag game)
14. Intolerance To Knowledge
15. Stupid Questions
16. Stupider Answers
17. Firepits
18. Pick-Up Trucks
19. John Cougar Mellencamp
20. That Overplayed Tom Petty Song
21. Fear Of Flying
22. Arguments Over Time Zones
23. Truckers That Drive Next To Each Other For Twenty Miles On 65
24. Defensiveness Towards The "City of Indianapolis" Even Though It's A Suburb In The Middle Of Nowhere
25. The Misplaced Hatred of Louisville and Kentucky
26. Speedy Check-Ins At The Airport
27. No Real Taste In What' Constitutes Good Food...
28. Fear Of Notre Dame
29. Laughing At IU
30. Settling On Purdue
31. Non-Violent Weather That's Treated Worse Than It Is
32. Corn
33. Corn Fields
34. Girls Hating Their Fathers
35. Men Hating Women In General
36. Deep Discussions On Very Cheap Beer
37. NASCAR
38. Beginning To Go Slow Miles And Miles Before Construction Really Begins
39. Waiting In The Longer Line Without Looking For Alternatives
40. Political Incorrectness
41. Farmers Markets
42. Baseball In Cornfields
43. Love Of The Movie Rudy
44. Love Of Other Crappy Movies, Like Delta Farce
45. Red Necks
46. Rednecks
47. Going To The Magical Kingdom Of Chicago
48. Fueling The Reality T.V. Movement
49. Whispering "Gary Indiana" Like It's Diseased
50. Hayrides

Some more random pics, why not?

2009-03-29T00:02:00.001-07:00

T-Payne obviously made the entire cast and crew of "I'm On A Boat" his bitches, as evidenced by this pic.

The new Ipod Shuffle can also be used as a tampon...but make sure you tuck the earbuds in...

Charles Dickens wanted his women quiet, hello again Little Dorrit!
Little Dorrit

Basketball is funny...right? Right?... Why's he going backwards, that's funny right? Right? Ok...fine, I'm just not that talented, I don't deserve to live, you should stop clicking on these notes...

Kebab fighting is making it's way back into the mainstream this year....

The Problem With Plan B...

2009-03-24T23:36:00.001-07:00

Here's a nice article to start you off:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/24/health/24pill.html?hp

The Problem With Plan B is that MEN are still TO BLAME for the need to use Plan B. Sure, she gave in and had sex with one of us, or worse, but that doesn't make the woman responsible for what comes out of the urethra on the penis that makes a baby does it?

Here's a consideration: If you do decide to drink coffee, you blame the Coffee Shop if it's burnt...You would blame them if it was poisoned...In fact, poisoned coffee is the perfect metaphor.

Maybe you decided to drink the poisoned coffee with the risk that you would survive the act unscathed, and then you got poisoned and needed an antidote. You'd still want the brewer to pay for that antidote wouldn't you? All kinds of things can happen to you when you drink coffee that possible is or isn't poisoned, but it feels good to drink coffee still right? But if you're going to do it responsible, or spontaneously drink some poisoned coffee, an antidote should be available...no matter what age you are...unless you're really not old enough to drink poisoned coffee...well unless an adult makes you, in which case you should really get that antidote...unless...

-Huff- I think I fucked that metaphor up...

Let me get to the point:: Which is:::

Dear Dr. Sexologist/Biologist That Thinks Up Contraceptives,

Why not just make the men SHOOT BLANKS, with a pill? Then if the girl got pregnant, everyone would really know who was more irresponsible. "Oh, that asshole couldn't take a pill once a week and he got her pregnant, ruined her entire life," would be a common utterance.

Also, Trojan would only be responsible for loose STDs that broke through the rubbery defenses...improving the irony of the name Trojan.

(Ok, if the greeks hid in a giant horse made out of wood, and then burst out of it and killed all the Trojans... and greeks=sperm, horse=condom, Trojans=womb... well, do I need to write you an epic poem?)

Sincerely,

Mildly Confused, Slightly Freaked Out, and Not Ready For Babies.

A good marketing strategy for this would be...
Shoot Blanks, MotherF***ER!

Kings on NBC

2009-03-16T12:46:00.001-07:00

I really must admit, even though I didn't sit through the whole show, the new series Kings on NBC was pretty terrible. Not like, terrible child-abusing pop-stars who take cocaine and try and win back their ex-rapper responsible fathers ex-boyfriends, but more of a terrible in the sense of my eyes have been taking elmer's glue shots for the past sixteen days while I've been chained in front of Mexican Wrestling League television.

For one thing, there's a giant TWO YEAR GAP at the very beginning of the show. Let me show you what it felt like:

Hi, I'm Keegan, I'm a king, apparently, MUMBO JUMBO, IDEOLOGY, NO HEAD-ROOM IN THE CAMERA ANGLE.

2 years later.

Hi, I'm still Keegan, I'm still a king, apparently, but now I have to sit down and have MUMBO JUMBO, IDEOLOGY and AN EXIT SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE ROOM (this is a personal vendetta against exit signs, they kill the atmosphere of any king's court...and stagings of Dracula)

Then, after watching for another ten minutes, waiting waiting waiting for the "redeeming quality" of the show to unmask itself, I turned it off. Not only had the show's writers decided to come up with "fanciful and frolicking" names for everyday items...they'd refused to explain any of these terms so that the audience could understand them...

So...don't watch Kings...

Or maybe watch these kings::::

New to the Star Trek Universe...

2009-03-11T14:57:00.000-07:00

The new Star Trek trailers are posted on Mac.com and all around, but I'm completely baffled by their advertising campaign.

Because it looks to me like CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK-

Is also DEXTER MORGAN, the SERIAL KILLER--

Should be a fun movie!

What's Happening In Your World Today...

2009-03-09T22:10:00.001-07:00

It's been a long day, it's going to get longer, some amusing pics...

1 Finally a Market for Dyslexics...

2. I had a dream about this last month, now it's on Broadway...I blame aliens...for the dream...

3 .Follow the link: http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/03/08/travel/08journey.html

Tell me when they can "close" their homes...there aren't any windows...

4. Yet again, dirty hippies have a place to meet other dirty hippies...

Then again, it beats speed dating for other dirty hippies to hook up with...
Follow the Link: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/10/arts/music/10phish.htm

5. THHHHIIIIIIIISSSSSSSS CCCCCAAAAAPPPPPTTTTTTIIIIIOOOONNNN IIIIINNNNNNN SLLLLLOOOWWWWW MOOOOTTTTTTIIIIIOOOOONNNNN!!!!!!!!!

Random Pictures I Found While Trying to Think of Things to Write About...

2009-03-06T15:47:00.000-08:00

Here we have a cross between Wicked and Xmen's Storm. And where do ugly people go for coffee? Starbucks!

I couldn't resist the urge to put this guy up with the label of DOUCHEBAG! He's just bottling tap water and selling it to people... Ew...
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-tapwater25-2009feb25,0,7763309.story

Here's a good one from the "National" section of the LAT.com.

Headline: Old people still suck with technology. Young unpaid interns running America.

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-senior-intern6-2009mar06,0,7119510.story

Michael Jackson is back, and he's had a few more surgeries too!

I think this should be made into a Haiku.

Big Bird Caught Naked With Intern!

If you look close, I think that's Andy Dick in the corner doing blow...

Keegan Makes Fun Of Watchmen Before Seeing It...

2009-03-05T17:33:00.000-08:00

Hey, a Batman Clone! And he's wearing a metro-sexual looking utility belt that has no purpose (not even to hold his pants up). And if he thinks that little-bitty crotch-protector is going to do him any favors when Catwoman shoves her boot up there, he's in for a long morning-after. If you'll also notice, parked behind the German-esque Dark Knight (who's kind of tubby now that I look at him), is the ship the Watchmen ride around in. That ship is directly modeled from the binoculars in Toy Story.

This guy, if I'd named the hero, would be called the Popped-Collar Sock Puppet of Justice!

Here we have the ULTIMATE BATMAN BEGINS nerd standing on the set of The Mummy. Right after this picture was taken, Brendan Frasier punched this guy in the face and called George Clooney to get his suit back to Planet Hollywood. Notice the nipples.

Again, naming the heroes, I'd call this one the LATEX LOVER, who's permanently stuck in the position seen here because of her ridiculously long boots and the stiff fabric in her costume. (I also like how all the rubble in this picture is equally cut and matches in size. That's really amusing)...

Finally, we have this guy, who is actually aiming A GRENADE LAUNCHER through the sights. I must ask, don't these guns hold the same motto as $10 digital cameras at Walmart, "Point and Click"? The guy's little pin even suggests that he works at Walmart. Maybe if the door-greeters dressed up like this there'd be fewer morons in the Self-Checkout lines... (and the hair's ripping off Mr. Fantastic...)

Things I Hate Today...

2009-03-04T12:45:00.001-08:00

1. The new "I'm amused by stupid things" tag event on facebook...

I think if you're tagged in this picture, you should be offended by the fact that someone's calling you genitalia. If you'll notice, the "drama queen" and the "good friend" have the hairiest balls, the "lazy one" and the "one that's always hungry" have great big fat balls, the "ladies man" has some kind amazing shaped balls, the "one that's no good" has tiny balls, the "flirt" has freakishly shaped balls, and all the rest of them speak for themselves. This is a GROSS picture.

2. Britney Spears' Circus In New Orleans

What about "Acrobats, magicians and a bit of erotica" sounds like a fun night out? Carny-folk are creepy. And for that matter, so is a child-abusing pop-star.

3. The build up for The Watchmen

"Watchmen is an epic comic-book film whose technical and thematic strengths overwhelm its narrative shortcomings."- Rotten Tomatoes.com

GROAN

I saw a preview on one of the talk shows the other night, and it was a complete SNORE-FEST. Added to the misery that there are FIFTY BILLION news articles out every day EXPLAINING the damned story and characters really gives me bad vibes about the whole thing. Add THAT to the articles about "market research" and "preliminary polls" of TEENAGE BOYS about the movie, and I want to throw up. Who cares what teenage boys think about a movie coming out in a month (when these stories first began), they can't think about what's happening TOMORROW! Or do I completely misjudge my own memories of my interests in high-school?

4. When I am tricked by YAHOO NEWS into visiting OMG.com

Some Entertainment news isn't "hot gossip" or "paparazzi" driven nonsense. So if I want to hear about shooting Terminator or a new role of my favorite actor/actress, I don't want to also see them "totally hot in work-boots at the hardware store"...maybe I just need to bookmark Variety.com

5. CSI Miami

I never liked this show. The original was passable before it got really wierd, but Miami has always been ridiculous. When the head of your CSI unit is the FIRST PERSON on the SCENE OF THE CRIME, there's something wrong with the writing. Now, however, the show's just sad. The Botox-freak David Caruso has stopped taking his injections, so he looks saggy. And he still wears LAYERS AND LAYERS of make-up. And pink lipstick! And really, CSI Miami recycles the stories from the other show and just hides it by making everything sunnier.

News Headlines If I Was Put In Charge...

2009-02-26T21:37:00.000-08:00

1. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/27/us/politics/27web-budget.html?hp

Nerdy Congressman spins it on the Fiscal Responsibility Working Group... mumbo-jumbo ensues...

2. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/26/fashion/26eaglerock.html

Crazy Lady Hates Kung-Fu...

3. http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-outthere27-2009feb27,0,4450699.story

In a surprise turn, Mexicans like Walmart...

4. http://travel.latimes.com/articles/la-trw-africa15-2009feb15

Spend your Bailout Money here...

5. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/27/nyregion/27broadway.html?hp

Despite crappy ticket sales, Mayor to block off Broadway St. Next: SNL Lot to become National Park.

Thoughts...

2009-02-26T20:33:00.000-08:00

1. I didn't listen to a word of the Obama speech, a word of the analysis of the Obama speech or anything. But I did hear a rumor they're going to build giant wind-machines from Texas to Minnesota. If that's true, do you think they'll aim them at Mexico to keep the smell of dead politicians and corruption away?

2. There was an accident report in the traffic segment of the news this morning in San Francisco. I thought it was silly, all the cars were still moving.

3. Apparently the weather in California is gay for Caleb Benner, because it followed us back. Happy 60 degree weather everyone!

4. Pancakes at the diner in the San Francisco International Airport are $8.95 a short stack. You now need government bailout money in order to have a short stack.

5. A couple words: California Marijuana Tax.

6.
Lil Wayne was on ESPN for a solid 10 minutes while they talked about Dywane Wade's bandaids... This is modern television...

7. This is the picture on the front of the NYT.com right now:

Photojournalists finally answer the age-old question of how many obese short guys it takes to change a light-bulb.

8. When I heard Tiger Woods was back, I thought that meant the golf course would turn to gold and America would become the best country in the world again. I thought Tiger Woods had surgery to fix his magic knee that solves everyones problems. What the hell?

9 and 10. And as if the rest of your life doesn't suck enough, the Fashion World is cranking out the weirdest crap they've ever come up with. I'm amazed this is still a scene every year. I keep expecting someone to stand up and go "Come on, guys, really? We can't kid everyone anymore, we haven't had any good ideas since Parachute pants!

WTF?

Jonas Gustavsson and Peter Stigter

OH SHIT! What the hell is that?

And then you tried it leaning the other way? Were you on crack?

My (First) Reactions to the Oscars 2008...

2009-02-22T22:23:00.000-08:00

1. If you're died in 2008, prepare to be honored by television cameras swooping back and forth at odd angles and very very wide shots so that nobody can read your name. All this swooping will take place while Queen Latifa stands directly in front of the screen singing awkwardly while the audience attempts to read the flashing cards of all the dead guys. This year, I had a seizure watching the flashes between Hollywood greats onscreen, and I think you had to have a speed-reading course to see all the names (and telescopic vision).

2. The "coverage" of the red-carpet, the 2 hour show that was on E and the TV-Guide Channel, and then "highlighted" on ABC with cheap editing tricks and forced conversation, didn't have any STARS on it! Where the hell was Speilberg!!! Where was TINA FEY? STEVE MARTIN? PHILIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN?? JENNIFER ANNISTON AND JOHN MAYER!!!? Did they walk the GREEN CARPET? ARRGGHH!!! Nobody cares about John Legend and a bunch of indian preschoolers!

3. Hugh Jackman did a brave job of pretending to be a comedian even though he's only a charismatic australian. I know, after Crocodile Dundee, everybody thinks that charismatic Australians ARE comedians, but alas, tonight it was not true. Needless to say, Woody Allen was not available to stand backstage and feed him lines...and that was pretty obvious. He did a great job. He sang like a pro. He kissed Ann Hathaway. Suave. .... But wtf, mate? There just was no second half-momentum to carry me through to the end...

4. Philip Seymour Hoffman...the man in the beanie...I'm not sure what that was all about.

5. Mickey Rourke was the only man dressed in a "colored tux" besides Matthew Broderick (who was beaten and belittled by Sarah Jessica Parker until he put on his "midnight blue" tux... at least in my imagination) and I thought it was cool as hell.

6. The Best Supporting Actresses... can anyone say "STAMPEDE!!!"?

7. The Best Actresses... can anyone say "2D ANIMATION IS BACK!!!"?

8. I will say, BEN STILLER might have surpassed the NAKED MAN as far as stunts go. He was really funny. His Hassidic beard really wasn't though...someone tell him to match the carpet with the drapes...

9. Hey, I'm Mr. Dumbass Television Viewer that needs everything explained to me about all the different jobs in really really dumbed down terminology. Then, I want pictures, because I'm still too stupid to figure out what you're describing to me. Then, make sure you re-announce the names of the films, because I can't associate pictures with things... This year's Oscars target audience = 2-4 year olds... try PBS next year...

10. But really, I have to go back to the host... And then HUGH, the second big "show" was about how Musicals were back?! Didn't they do that 5 years ago, when Chicago came out? Wasn't that when MUSICALS MADE A COMEBACK? So....let's get this straight, they had a "comeback", now they're "back", what does that leave future Tony-winners that end up hosting movie-award shows? They're "here"? They're "going going"? They're "gone!"? It was a really muddled number too. I might have liked it, if it'd actually done any kind of impression on me, but it was just cluttered and boring. Not funny, confusing. Not entertaining, visually clusterf-ing. Not musical, but more of a stutteringly drunk-man's tribute to every great show ever written......

These are just my initial brain-sneezes...

Oh and Amy Adams was Smokin' Hot...

And Even If You Said That...

2009-02-21T07:42:00.000-08:00

And even if you said that, implied it somehow on your "steel rocking horse", made it quasi-evident while we were standing in your dry bathtub, revealed it partially from behind a curtain of some kind, hinted at the fact while eating crumpets and complaining elegantly about tea prices, shed some light on the subject while attempting to eat seven twinkies in a row, made it generally understood during your parole meeting, completely pointed it out at a baseball game while repeatedly kicking the seat in front of you, made it blatantly obvious in front of 12 million viewers by splicing it into an episode of Smallville, beat me upside the head with it while John Williams conducted The Boston Pops in an arrangement of it, I still don't think I'd quite understand.

That's because communication is dead.

Oddities...and other ditties too!

2009-02-14T11:08:00.000-08:00

1. For the record: I technically am a medical marvel this last week. I have all the "pointers" to mononucleosis (which if you didn't know, happens when your binucleosises decide to part ways, leaving you with just the one nucleosis which causes you to feel really very close to death. Some Easter religions say this sickness is when your soul takes a journey on accident and you feel terrible until it makes it's lazy soul ass back to you...) but with two "regular blood tests" and then the "extra-crispy" set of blood tests, I am off the books.

2. When you feel like garbage, look like you've been run over by a train, are instantly granted forgiveness by your professors for missing their classes, it's only natural that your acting teacher would want you to "Dance at a 10" for twenty minutes to start class...

3. Allow me to back up, we danced for 20 minutes after he singled me out, "Hey Keegan, you're back! How are you feeling?!"..."Terrible."..."Oh...!" There's an old saying in show-biz that theater people have been brain-washed into believing, "The show must go on", however, if you're in acting 101, there's no show, and you're sick, you really can't help but really hate that saying...

4. Somehow watching "Seinfeld" when I'm sick makes me feel better...I think it's because all the characters have more interesting annoyances than my own. It's not like "Lost", where all the characters must struggle for survival, that makes me feel bleak. And "Sex in the City" makes me feel like a leper. But "Seinfeld", it's magical. They're all just neurotic enough that my own neurosis fits right into the world... ((Ironically, spell-check thinks Seinfeld should be "sniffled"))

5. I was watching "Jurassic Park: The Return of the Khan" on Bravo Channel tonight. Or the second one, with the jewish father and the black girl...I'm not sure which one that is...Anyway, I could tell Bravo Channel was kind of new to the whole "movie screening" experience on television. Usually you get a million commercials, but spaced out every twenty minutes or so...But Bravo does about five minutes of movie, and then cuts to five minutes of commercial. And if you're not really paying attention, you start thinking the dinosaurs are in some kind of bright-colored cooking competition. Talk about your mood killers. "Oh my God! They're coming right for us!!" - cut to - "Fabulous!!" Tomorrow Night on Queer Eye..." Then it becomes kind of a question of whether Ian Malcolm's running from raptors or fashionably dressed hair-stylists...or both....

6. Do you have a friend in one of those "What the hell are you thinking?" relationships? Don't you wish the Scooby Dooby Doo gang would come along and pull the mask off of their significant other and reveal the whole thing as convenient way for him/her to get Farmer Tom's horse ranch? Sigh...

7. Realizing that it's "Singles Awareness Day", I'm going to eat a couple of squares of cheese and then aim a high powered light at myself...

8. Energy draining.....

Night...

2009-02-13T06:19:00.001-08:00

I remember when I was a kid, watching my old crusted up grandpa go out to the garage to sit. What did he care about skin disease he had half a cantalope of cancer sticking out from one ear? He would light up a doobie then (I think mom packed his with some of his meds) and I'd see him take out his old Ipod touch. It was the one hand-held they'd never confiscated from him during the black years and Scancer laws. Then he'd bob his head, as much as he could...

I remember when mom was out once I went out there and he let me hold that Ipod. It felt like a cold piece of sandpaper. He said it got the job done. Then I asked him if he really owned the song called Crazy Train, and he smiled, said he'd "even had it on CD," and sent me to bed...

Crazy old senile dumbshit...

Lazyman's Duck Duck Goose

2009-02-12T15:43:00.001-08:00

As I have been sick in bed for a few days, I have become aware of a neighborhood game the kids around here play after school. For those of you who don't know, my house is now pretty close to some enormous castlesque houses and I think that's why they play so much up here in Batavia, because of the big yards that is...

The game in question is called "Lazyman's Duck Duck Goose", an adoption of the "non-Lazyman's Duck Duck Goose". Now, they told me the original rules were created by a Kennedy up in the Hamptons, but that they've altered over the years. Again, people with really large yards, it makes sense...

The game begins when all players sit down in a circle. Everyone makes sure they've got enough ammo, and then one person is designated as "it". Ammo? I'll get to that soon...

So Mr. "It", begins circling each player and saying "duck", simultaneously launching a duck into air with a catapault. If the player doesn't shoot the duck before it lands, the duck is added to "the potluck" as they call it up here. The potluck ducks are usually contained to one area in the yard, pretty close to the circle.

Once Mr. "It" chooses his Goose, he shouts "goose!", taps the person on the head and begins running around the circle as fast as he can. Meanwhile, the "goose" must shoot the catapaulted goose out of the air (because they usually try and fly off), and also finish off any of the birds in the potluck too before Mr. "It" returns, or else they become "it".

Most of the kids around here who play swear by it's funness, but watching them is another story. I've seen groups of players purposefully stack the potluck, I've seen the "it" players accidentally shot while racing around...I've even seen the same player "geesed" three times in a row for missing duck shots.

The game is both exciting and really dangerous, which makes it twice as interesting as baseball. If your yard is big enough, I suggest you check "Lazyman's Duck Duck Goose" out online and start your own neighborhood team.

Already the teams by me are wearing bandanas and getting "tats" to show their support for when the rival neighborhood teams drive-by "duck"hunt. What are "tats"? They're described to me as insignias....

Anyways, check it out!

Steel Ankles

2009-02-06T08:02:00.000-08:00

My pal Steve was a very talented metal-drummer. He'd been playing for a bunch of years and he practiced all the time. But I noticed, that Steve would have to change his ankles out at least three times a week, sometimes daily if he had gigs.

So I said, "Hey Steve, those disposable ankles, do they cost you a bunch of money?"

And he answered, "Why yes, Keegan, they put me back about 600 dollars a month. I literally work two jobs to keep up with my constant usage. Why do you ask?"

"Well, buddy," I answered, "A friend of mine just invented Steel Ankles, that are supposed to not wear out at all. Would you be interested?" Steve admitted he'd been researching possible alternatives to his disposable ankles, including such surgical methods of inserting pulley-systems, electro-magnetic joints and even a highly controversial ankle nuclear device.

So Steve gave it a try, and it turned out Steve really loved his new Steel Ankles. And he was able to double-bass fifty times faster than before. He was instantly picked out by an alcoholic talent scout in Lafayette and brought up north to play with a very popular band in Chicago calling themselves "HARDCORE METAL BAND THAT MUST PRETEND TO SOUND DIFFERENT THAN OTHER HARDCORE METAL BANDS", or HMBTMPTSDTOHMB, or just "Horrace and the Flames" for short.

Well, they toured all over Chicagoland and even the parents in the parking lots agreed that the band sounded great. The Daily Herald reviewed their November 22nd show at the Barley Factory in Niles with a stunning four stars out of ten, the highest any hardcore metal band was ever rated. They were getting noticed by punk rock kids, who had at first been drawn to the clever name like moths, but were later gossiping about how hardcore metal rock might be the next big leap for punk rock.

Everything seemed to be going really well, until a fateful night when Horrace and the Flames' van drove off a bridge in Oakbrook Terrace into the DuPage River. Fortunately, the DuPage River isn't that deep and the band was ok, but Steve's Steel Ankles kept him from escaping the current, and he was eventually dragged into West Chicago where he died of toxic poisoning.

Tragic, I know. HMBTMPTSDTOHMB, went on to start an acoustic grunge band called "ACOUSTIC GRUNGE BAND THAT WON'T OWN UP TO THE FACT WE STOLE OUR CHORDS FROM FOO-FIGHTERS", or "AGBTWOUTTFWSOCFFF", or "Donut Sacrifice", for short. Their hit song called "The Current's Too Strong", a tribute to their departed drummer, became a popular single on all the college radio stations.

So I guess I'm going to have to tell my Steel Ankle manufacturing friend to put a warning label on the box.

Wild Man Rick

2009-02-05T12:33:00.001-08:00

Rick was a wild man. He lived in the wild. He had wild interests. He was wild about wild grasses. He was wild about wild animals. He was wild about wild clouds. He was wild about wild rain storms. And he was very wild about many other parts of the wild too.

But there was one thing that wild man Rick was not wild about, and that was the trees. They weren't wild. They were lusterless. And they let him know it everyday, standing still, keeping to themselves, allowing the wild things to pass them.

And so, after a month or so of tempting the trees to become wild, wild man Rick gave up his wild ways, moved back to Chicago and started a paper company.

Random Fact Survey...

2009-01-29T18:03:00.001-08:00

1. The amount of time spent filling out Random Fact surveys daily by people who have no ambition or sense of time while they sit in their office/cubicle/or desk chair and think that they are so damned clever and that their friends are going to love everything they write, because come on, their lives are super important and there's nothing else we could be doing while we're reading about your stupid song or movie quotes or what color your potential boyfriend's eyes are when the moon is in the twelfth cycle and how incredible your meaningful (yet obviously dull) life has been up till now; is about 2 hours/day.

2. The amount of time I spend reading these surveys; is about 2.3 minutes (enough time to IMDB.COM the quote and pretend to connect to my friends through their interests over a server)

3. The amount of people probably pissed off at this post; not many...

4. My caesar salad took over my pudding today, but then was stabbed repeatedly by it's own croutons...tragic...

The Irrefutable Effects of Jazz Festival Weekend...

2009-01-26T17:15:00.001-08:00

You've heard stories...

The mass suicide of the 67' Penn State Jazz Band...

The triple homicide at University of Illinois in 88' over the misuse of Trombone mutes...

The five suicides in six years at University of Texas Austin coinciding with their festival, all drummers...

And of course, the most recent serial killings on the Euro-Jazz tour with the Northern Illinois Jazz Band, all victims were heard as out of tune the night before...

Tragedies, yes, but in the course of a week of preparation for such important performances, bandsmen are driven to the point of madness. Of course, jazz is traditionally seen as "cool" and "chill", but in the course of finding that groovy beat, the stress and pressure can often get to everyone, the weakest and strongest of members.

This year's Purdue Jazz Festival went off without a tragedy from any of the participating bands, or the Purdue Jazz Band. However, I can tell you there were some near misses in PJB, some "accidents" that weren't reported, some "close-calls" if you will...

After 16 hours of practice in two days, we noticed that freshman bassist Caleb Benner was talking to his index finger. The "blister" Caleb called "James Brown" was telling him to "Papa's got a brand new bag...of knives" and "I Feel Good...killing the rhythm section". Luckily, Caleb was forced to "hush" James Brown with duct tape to continue the rigorous practice schedule.

Veteran trombonist Dan Campbell was sitting in rehearsal on Tuesday night during the saxophone feature, fixing razors on the end of his slide and muttering "they can't fix their sound, I'll fix them...they can't tune...they can't fix their sound, I'll fix it for them...just takes a little flick of my wrist..." Thanks to the heroics of Erin Fitzharris, Drew Damon's head was not sliced into cheese.

Other incidents: At least three times, a trumpet player was "nudged" off the risers accidently (head first)...usually coinciding with the practice of Heat of the Day. More than once guitarist Nic Browdues accidently walked in front of someone's car as they pulled out after rehearsal. Even I found myself provoking violence from Joe Roswarski, the only one in Jazz Band who knows how to kill a man with one punch in five different ways...luckily, Joe's been in the band so long, he kept his cool and stuck his nose into his liberal non-fiction smut books and ignored me.

So when Mo says "This year's really been a success.." at the end of the concert on Saturday, know that he means it.

Lacklustter

2009-01-21T12:06:00.001-08:00

When you gett in a rutt, and you can'tt get out of itt, itt becomes imparattive tthatt certtain stteps are ttaken tto ttug yourself outt again. Nott from lack of ttrying lattely, butt I've had a certtain sttrugle tto conttinue finding inspirattion. Call itt end of jazz festt blues, I guess.

So, whatt I like tto do, is insttead of ttrying tto pull sometthing outt of my shitthole, knowing itt's going tto be tterrible, I writte sometthing simple, ttaking stteps to make itt absurd in some ttrying way. Somettimes tthis enttails arranging puncttuattion in tterrible ways. Somettimes tthis ttechnique mightt mean ttrying tto writte a sttory backwards, ttail to ttop. And, I guess, somettimes itt's sometthing as idiottic as ttyping ttttttt's ttwice tto force myself tto focus.

Ttoday rettarded lettttering, ttomorrow betttter tthoughtts.

Closet Space

2009-01-18T15:44:00.001-08:00

It's funny, when you stand in your closet for a while, how such a small space can become quite large. When I first stepped in mine and slid the door closed, I felt a little claustrophobic. My shoes were taking up almost all the room on the floor, my shirts were pressed against my face, the walls were too close, and everything seemed very stuffy.

But you know, after a few hours, I'd memorized the spots on the floor where I could put my feet without twisting my ankle, I'd found positions amongst the shirts that were not quite as bad...I'd even figured out a way to stand, lie down and do a few yoga moves.

Then a couple hours later, maybe once delirium was fully functioning, I started feeling as though I'd inherited a palace. Now those slivers among the shirts were like whole hallways and rooms. My feet were dancing between the cracks in the shoes. Why the walls even felt miles away. I'd even built a tiny bathroom using a boot and a shoebox...

A Little Different...

2009-01-15T15:13:00.001-08:00

He'd never taken to trends, that one. He'd stand at the corner, near the bus stop year in year out, and no matter what color was in season, he'd always be a little behind. If orange was the new pink, he'd wear green, if red was the new pink, he'd wear orange, if green was the new pink, why, he'd probably not wear anything at all. And if everyone else took off their clothes too, he'd cling as hard as he could to his leaves no matter what.

But this year, he's taken it too far. The other trees are starting to talk, he's simply not fitting in with the friendly snow-drifted LEAFLESS branches of winter postcard lore. They ask me how they are ever supposed to be admired as a "classic" or "very pretty" street with "Mr. Flamer" waving his bright red branches around at THIS time of year?

Anyways, they've come up with a petition to ax him, and now I don't know what to do. He is part of my hammock team, but he's making all the rest of the yard uncomfortable. And I can't just ask him take off his red leaves either, he has too much pride, too much aggression against rules and regulations that I think he'd lose a branch or get some kind of parasite.

Also, I'm scared that if I ask him to whip them off, he'll take drastic measures. He's talked about being a lightning risk before. And if he's mad at me, you know he'll fall right on the house. He's close enough.

But it just doesn't seem right to ax him for being a little different. Personally, I think the red gives my yard a little bravado that the neighbors are missing. Maybe I'll just delay my answer until the leaves fall off in the next blizzard...

Rehab

2009-01-13T23:42:00.000-08:00

They gathered on the lawn, each one lighting up almost at the same time. The heat from their bulbs gave off some smoke, they tried not to make eye-contact. When I walked onto the quad, they sort of perked up, acknowledging my authority.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," I said, "Welcome to rehab. We have three months to get you guys back into shape for city-life. I don't want to hear any complaining. Now, I want everyone to introduce themselves and say why they're here."

I pulled out my little amp/watt meter and waited. The first lamp spoke; "Hi, my name is Steve, and I'm a flickerholic. I like to stay up all night, turning on and off quickly making people very uncomfortable as they pass underneath me. I can't control it anymore, it seemed so innocent when I started, but now..."

I smiled at the first lamppost, and said, "Thank you Steve, what do we say everyone?"

The other lamps said, "Thank you, Steve."

I turned to the next lamp, "Ok, continue..." I said. They went around the circle. Some of them flickerjunkies just like Steve, others more serious. John liked to turn off for longer than the alloted fifteen seconds every night and watch young ladies get mugged, Mike liked to overheat every couple of days so that he could stare down the electrician's shirt, Francis used to work by Navy Pier and would get really dim when a tourist looked at a map underneath him and James liked to blow out, when he felt overworked, which happened on nights with no moonlight. Our one truly serious member was Kris, who had transitioned from being a flickerjunkie into red-lighting in less than a year.

Despite their uncomfortableness at the first meeting, I felt like I'd gotten a good group that would work hard to overcome their problems. And since it is second semester, I'm happy that the usual havoc these burn-outs cause on Freshman would be almost non-existant. It's going to be an exciting semester!

Bean Warfare

2009-01-13T18:51:00.001-08:00

An aide worker in the war-torn Gaza strip today said that the "ceasefires" during which the Israeli Army has allowed over 165 truckloads of relief supplies are being called "crueler than death" by many of the refugees leaving the area. Almost all of the food on the supply trucks has been beans. Lima beans, garbanzo beans, refried beans, beans with broccoli and even a couple cases of plain beans have all been sighted. The beans reportedly cause a passing of intestinal gas greater than average in most people, and are causing great anxiety amongst people already suffering massive panic from the devastating attacks.

With small bomb shelters, the people of Gaza are faced with a dramatic choice, starve by not eating the beans, or face the consequences of massive tooting. When asked of this strategy, Israeli leaders simply reinforced that their target was the rocket-wielding Hamas group, and that the "magic fruit" was being employed in the hopes that people without enough "comfortable air" might oust the Hamas fighters. "It is not, as some may tell you, a silent killer," said an Israeli spokesperson.

One Palestinian man trying to jog from the city on a sprained ankle, told a group of reporters that he thought the gas was "more dangerous" than the explosions because people were literally shoving their friends out of safe zones to get rid of the smell. There have also been many reports of domestic violence, reportedly caused from the insufferable argument between "Whoever smelt it dealt it," and "Whoever denied it, can't hide it".

Some members of NATO, who against the Israeli invasion, are trying to label the massive influx of beans a "biological hazard". However, NATO Secretary General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer has stated [translated] "Because everyone can tolerate their own variety of toot, there is no real reason for concern." The President said in his morning press conference, "Israel will stop sending beans when there are no more rockets being shot at her cities. They have a right to defend themselves."

However, the lasting psychological effects of bean warfare may be noteworthy in the future. Many civilians in the city have taken up crop-dusting in sections of the city not under heavy fire. Others have begun to sell "sleeping bags" on black market, which have been used to try and contain the dismal gasses. Will the beans rally the people of Gaza against the Hamas insurgents? Or will it cause them to hate Israel and take up arms? Or, perhaps instead, it will cause something else entirely: an increase in Mexican restaurants.

Voicemail

2009-01-12T06:59:00.000-08:00

"Hey Sarah, I'm calling to return your call from a couple weeks ago, you were on the other line while I was talking to my uncle and I forgot to call you back. I'm sure you were just calling to wish me a Happy Holiday, or something. Anyway, I hope your family's doing well like my family is, I don't see what the big deal is with "catching up" during the winter time. Nobody ever calls during the summer....It's Thursday, and I'm heading downtown for an audition. I should be done around two, if you'd like to get an early drink or something. Ok, sorry again for forgetting to call you back. Bye!"

"Hey Sarah, I'm just giving you a call now, because I've got a bit of time. I guess I've been forgetting to get back to you since we went out a couple weeks ago. Anyways, I'm just heading downtown for the dress rehearsal for that musical I'm in. They keep taking me aside to "talk" when I get too physical with the other actors, I don't see what the big deal is. But, it's Wednesday, and I should be done around nine, if you'd like to get a late dinner or something. Ok, talk to you later, Bye!"

"Hey Sarah, I know, I know, I'm terrible about returning calls, it's just been this crazy show schedule. I accidently beat up one of my co-stars during opening night, so I've been dealing with a couple legal issues too. I don't think she should have the right to sue, it was in the script, I don't see what the big deal is. I guess we can talk about that later. It's Sunday, and if you get this in time, the matinee should be over around three, if you'd like to get some coffee or something...or maybe a drink? Ok, sorry again for not calling you back sooner this month, Bye!"

"Hey Sarah, I'm just calling you to see how everything's going. You were on the other line when I was talking to the negotiator, and I forgot to call you back. It's been a crazy few months. Did you catch any of the news coverage? The guys in my block call me the "Flashdance Psychopath", I think it's kind of cute. My lawyer said I should only get five to seven, even though that bastard prosecutor is pushing for more. It was in the script, the rewrite said "crippling her for life", and I knew it had to look good. And besides that, I only maimed her, I don't see what the big deal is...maybe I could have acted cooler and let the audience go...but whatever. Anyways, it's Thursday, I'm only allowed one phone call a week, so if you're off work after five sometime next week give me a call, block E's extension is 461. I'd like to know if you're going to keep the baby. Ok, talk to you later, Bye!"

"Hey Sarah, I'm just returning your calls, they revoked my privileges for a while there because I kept shanking the assholes giving me shit on the basketball court. Excuse me for learning Shakespeare instead of "boxing out". Turns out, most people in prison are assholes. Anyways, it's Saturday, and I'm heading downtown towards a hideout my friend is letting me use. I was just wondering if you wanted to come have a late drink? Say around nine? You can bring little Janie too. I'm sure my hosts, "Los Cinco Reyes" won't mind having a non-latina woman around for a while. Anyways, sorry again for not receiving your calls during the man-hunt. Talk to you later, Bye!"

"Hey Janie, it's your father, I'm just calling because your mother won't return any of my calls. I think it's a little rude, when somebody ignores phone calls for extended periods of time. For whatever reason, the locals here don't enjoy a good Spamalot on the beach, I don't see what the big deal is whether or not it's english or spanish, what's the difference? I just thought it fit in with the sandcastles, but oh well. Anyways, it's Monday, and I'll be on the beach all day, sweetie, so wait until the afternoon to call me back. Don't forget, the international code is 627. Talk to you later, Bye!"

First Date

2009-01-11T09:19:00.001-08:00

I dudded up in my best red tux, making sure to pick a smashing green polka dot colored tie to match it. Then I powdered my face, because I'd been sun-bathing all day and was a little burned. Then, after seeing some "hipsters" wearing maskera that day, I dabbled on a fair-share of black paint under my eyes too look cool. My lips were a bit over-powdered, so I added some red lipstick. And then finally, with a touch of blush for color, I donned my red top-hat and headed out the door.

When I arrived at her house, she gave me a big smile and told me she was "almost ready." I stood around a little awkwardly, seeing if the kids were around or not. She'd told me there'd be a bunch of them, but that she'd gotten someone to babysit.

Finally she came back, putting an ear ring in and told me "everything is ready." I began to ask if she'd eaten dinner, when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and standing at the door was some clown. I assumed this was the babysitter. But to my surprise, she gave him a peck on the cheek, called him my name and went out the door, shouting "We'll be back late, just help yourself to what's in the refrigerator after they've gone to bed!"

Well, needless to say, I was happy I'd spent time in Bosnia learning the art of balloon animals, because it certainly paid off. I made a couple animals for the kids while I waited for her to come back. But I guess her and her pal hit it off because she didn't come home. I waited and waited. Maybe it was his stupid red nose...

Anyways, I left after I put the kids to bed wondering if I'd ever have a worse first-date.

Funerals

2009-01-10T12:36:00.000-08:00

I think when we miss someone, we should be allowed to hold a funeral service in their memory whether they're dead or alive.

Imagine if you moved to a new city and were feeling kind of depressed because you hadn't made any friends yet. How nice would it be to get a bunch of pics on your iphone of people mourning your loss? Wouldn't you like to see your face in a candle-light vigil?

After all, we may sit around with our remaining friends in the area and reminisce about how cool so-and-so was way-back-when, but so-and-so's not going to come back and visit because she has no idea we were talking about her. But holding a funeral for someone, would let them know that we missed them, and then they'd be very tempted to prove that they were alive as soon as possible with a visit.

I guess this concept could become a problem when the "sarcastics" take over. They would probably hold "viking funerals" with their "long-lost" friends present. Or, "Irish Funerals" for when they feel like a friend is becoming distant, they'd send him pics from the funeral party to make them feel bad.

But I still wouldn't mind attending a few funerals a year for some of the people I used to know. Especially if I wasn't that fond...

No Trade-Backs

2009-01-07T18:24:00.000-08:00

I recently traded 14,792 expired coupons for 694 green twist ties, which I quickly traded for 524 plastic bottles of Sunny D with nervously peeled-off wrappers, which I then unloaded for 900 exotic beer caps, which I traded for 30 old Michael Bolton beta-tapes, which I hurriedly offered up for 52 or so home-recorded episodes of "Matlock", which I smartly traded for two tickets to the "Equus the Musical" on Broadway, which I gave to a friend for his entire collection of Bobby Darin memorabilia, which was gladly accepted in return for a months worth of Bulls box seats, which I offered up for a vacation to Hawaii for a week, which I exchanged politely for a time-share on Miami Beach, which I traded for a Disney World tour of to Africa for a month, which I used to get a book-deal with Michael Jordan, which I exchanged for the movie-rights to remake SpaceBalls, which I happily unloaded for the chance to play Philip Seymour Hoffman in a screenplay written by Charlie Kaufman called "Philip", which I traded for the title of "J.B." in the comedy-duo Tenacious D, which I exchanged for the rights to all the Hanna Barbara cartoons, with which I was approached for in exchange for the rights to all the Beatles music (this creeped me out), which I exchanged in return for a castle in Greenland, which was gladly taken for the ownership of the busses in Germany, which I exchanged for the chance to take control of the Russian mafia operations in Israel, which I quickly dumped for the respectful leadership of the Columbian drug cartel, which I traded for a identity-swap with a prince from the Balkans someplace, which was easily swapped for the ownership of GE, which I unloaded for a chance to be an Illinois Senator, which I passed on in return for total control of the oil in Alaska, which I quickly swapped for an exclusive weapons contract with the U.S. government (and secretly India), which I traded for sole-ownership of the Hard Rock cafe, which I swapped quickly to get Planet Hollywood, which I swapped with to get MGM, which I quickly traded for Disney, which I then used to annex Texas, which I then traded for Mexico, which I then swapped for half of South America, which I traded in exchange for Japan, where I stopped because I realized I liked the taste of live octopus and a side of snail and simply can't get enough of it.

Now, I realize, I really miss my expired coupon collection. But I guess it's too late for trade-backs.

Time Control...

2009-01-06T23:30:00.001-08:00

I like to keep my bedroom on Eastern Time, no matter where I'm living. This way, prime-time is prime and late-night is late. Also, when I am west of Eastern Time, I am able to get to bed sooner than I think, and when I am East of Eastern Time, I can stay up as late as my European neighbors.

I like to keep my bathroom clocks fifteen minutes fast. This allows me adequate time to do my business before I start to think I should be getting somewhere. Also, when I'm asked whether or not I've gone to the bathroom yet, I can always answer "Oh, I went ten minutes from now, I'm good."

I like to keep my office clocks and computers on Western Time. Sure, I work later into the evening than everyone else, but as an aspiring screenwriter, I figure I should be working in "Screenwriter-Time" so that I can know exactly how a professional screenwriter works.

I like to bring a specially programmed wrist-watch to lunch or dinner. It only counts the even minutes. This alleviates any feelings of angst I get from talking to my friends during meals. I am able to think, "Boy, time sure flies when I'm having fun!" and whether or not I'm actually having fun doesn't matter, I am tricked into believing myself.

I like to wear other specially programmed watches too. When I am watching a good movie, I wear a sped up watch. When I am going to walk somewhere, I wear a slowed down watch. When I am going to the bars, I wear a watch that skips bad hours of the night (11pm, 2am and 5am). When I'm traveling on an airplane, I wear a stopped watch, so that I can fall asleep without worrying about how much longer the flight will last and fuel levels. And when I've found myself needing to be someplace quickly, I'll wear a stop-watch, to see how fast I can get there.

Riverwalk

2009-01-06T08:57:00.001-08:00

I was hanging out with Robert Fogel, Theodore Schultz and Gary Becker on the river-walk by the Booth School of Business (that's part of the University of Chicago), shootin' the shit and really enjoying the bitterly cold day. We were talking about this and that, when the conversation turned to the many awards they had received for their work in the field of economics.

First, Fogel and Schultz assured Becker and I that receiving the "Forward Thinking International Award" from the World Bank trustees was one of the lamest and pointless-est activities they'd ever agreed to participate in. Then Becker joined in by admitting he'd had similar feelings receiving three honorary doctorates from Harvard, Stanford and Tennessee Tech.

Then they all took out the medals they'd received from becoming Nobel Laureates and laughed heartily at the silliness of being recognized by a bunch of "nincompoops." "People," as Billy said, "normal people, just don't understand how much bullshit we unload!" He laughed. Teddy let loose a "Here, Here!" Then Gary asserted, "Hell, when I formulated my advanced theorem on criminology and the augmentability of human capital, I was just turning something in. I'd been so busy bailing my wife out of jail for shoplifting and helping my Uncle Chris get dry from his meth addiction, there weren't even numbers involved!"

By that time, I'd realized I was the only one without a stupid medal, and got a bit jealous. I maliciously said "That doesn't change the fact that you're all carrying those "worthless" medals around with you." And I admit now, I pointed it out grudgingly and probably should have just let them sneer at us "common idiots", but at the time I was a little hot-headed because a waitress had repeatedly called me "Charlie" at lunch, even though I had never told her my name.

Well, needless to say, I'd prodded some inner demons out into the sunlight. Poor Billy started to tear up. Teddy was looking away, trying to control his breathing. And Gary was staring at his medal with a soft smile, frozen in thought. I felt the awkwardness breathing against the back of my neck.

Then suddenly Gary put his medal on, "It's because I never made the football team," he said to no one in particular, "I carry it around because it makes me feel cool."

"Me too," said Teddy, turning back. "I don't hate these awards, they're what keep me from killing everyone." And then I saw Bobby nodding, still too upset for words, but nodding heavily.

I kept my mouth shut, afraid they'd rebuke me for ruining their river-walk, but instead, Teddy started a rant about firing Lovie Smith. Soon even Bobby was back to normal, cursing and sputtering like a sailor as he blamed the ruin of Chicago's football hopes and dreams on "That fucking Ron Turner". And I learned an important lesson from the whole experience: Nobel Laureates can sure talk shit, but usually they can't back it up.

Watch Your Step...

2009-01-05T21:43:00.001-08:00

"WYS AOT TUE CRP HRP," I read.

I tried again, "WYS AOT TUE CHRP."

I tried sounding it out, "WHYS ATE TOO CHIRP"

Then it occurred to me, "WAYS TO CHIRP"!

So I took a step forward, interested on learning a few bird calls.

And sprained my ankle in a pot-hole.

Someone should have put up a sign.

P.E.N.I.S. Club

2009-01-05T01:04:00.000-08:00

With fifteen hardy "yes"'s and a sturdy "no" from the men and women of the pen stealing club, I have been asked to display our annual report for everyone to read and acknowledge. I must say up front, I was the sturdy no'er, and I don't think any of you have any business knowing who we are, what we represent or how much ink we do or do not have.

But, as it's not my choice, but that of the whole, here it is, the entire annual report of the People Enjoying Numerous Ink Stealings club.

"We, of the PENIS organization, do hereby declare our group is growing as of the end of 2008. We are numerous, different, come in all shapes and sizes and represent almost every state in the United States, thanks to our new member Richard Pullinger from Ohio. We felt our PENIS club was healthy in 2008, thanks to the less-than-vigorous but (we feel) extremely sexy economy that had many consumers buying more pens instead of computers.

In 2008 our club, LOCAL 108, has brought in about three hundred black pens, two hundred forty blue pens, one hundred and twenty rare red pens and fifty or so "assorted" pens. We thank Sarah Strocker, who's friend's are mostly still in high school for her large contribution of "assorted pens" towards the end of the year as our normal collection seemed to be down.

This PENIS organization was able to make a little bit of money with our normal fundraising events. Mainly these were waiting outside exam rooms and selling some of our pen stock to students who forgot writing utensils. All our pens were tested and we made sure to warn the students to use protection and not chew on them. Our annual intake this year was about $500, and we used the money to buy ourselves some nifty PENIS t-shirts.

Two of our members graduated this semester. Both Harry Nubbin and Skeeter Trout have said they will join our growing alumni pool and make sure to visit.

On the subject of alumni, we are sorry to see the passing of one of our founding members of the Purdue PENIS club chapter, Mr. John Edifish. John "pen swoosh" Edifish was remembered during our November 28th meeting and his widow Ophelia Edifish has received a highly prized and stolen fountain pen in his honor.

We look forward to 2009 as a year to continue to grow and steal and rejoice in our craft.

Submitted,

The People Enjoying Numerous Ink Stealings club."

Before I killed him...

2009-01-04T14:30:00.001-08:00

Before I killed him, Simon Bolvangerdor, a monk who had vowed silence, said his first/last words so that only I could hear. Six words, to sum up a lifetime.

"Hey you asshole, stop your horse!"

Not very monk-like if you ask me...

Toenail Clipping

2009-01-03T18:05:00.001-08:00

I was cutting my toe nails today. It's usually not a very hard process, I've learned to take my time, make precise cuts, examine for smoothness, and altogether have a dandy ol' time listening to the *click* *click* *click* for ten minutes.

But, as I sat down today with my shiny tiny blade, my mom asked "Aren't you going to have a cookie?" Suddenly, my vision blurred! I was sent off on a nerve-racking guilt-trip. My spine shivered, I saw multi-colored spots, and I missed a cut on my pinky toe...

After a couple of deep breaths, I was able to calm down. I told myself "I can get a cookie in ten minutes, after cutting," which seemed to calm myself down. But then I looked down and noticed that the unsavory cut on my pinky toe did not match the rest of the smooth precise toes on my foot. It was slightly off to the right.

Well, I couldn't have a crooked toe for the next couple of weeks, now could I? So I took a big butcher knife from the kitchen, cut off my pinky toe, and threw it in the garbage with the rest of the toe-nail clippings.

Satisfied that I'd had another successful toe-nail clipping, I started to stand up, only to notice that without a pinky toe, my other toes didn't really belong there anymore. It just looked, cleaner, where my pinky toe had been.

So I took the butcher knife back out, and cut off all the rest of my toes.

Now that was Better! A smooth foot with no little wigglers getting out of place. Whistling now, I started to pack up the garbage and clean up the blood...

But then I noticed that my other foot, even with perfectly cut nails, seemed out of place next to a foot without any toes. They just jetted out so unusually, like a bunch of loose whiskers on a cat...

So I proceeded to cut those toes off too...

Well, fifteen minutes had passed, and I knew my chances of getting a cookie out of the huge tin were starting to run out as my dad (a cookie-eating machine) was due back from work any second. I quickly wiped up the blood and rushed back to the kitchen. But then I stopped, thinking...

Why even keep my feet? It would be much more attractive just to let my ankles do all the work. I looked down at the toe-less spectacles. I could wear any size shoes I wanted and I wouldn't have to wonder if I'd cut my toes off evenly either. And at the office I could say "instead of putting my foot in the door, I can get my whole leg in there!"

I quickly went back to the stool I had been working from and hacked off the remaining part of my feet. But then, after a glance I thought, "why keep my shins? I haven't used them since pee-wee soccer anyway? And girls really are grossed out by shins..."

So I quickly hacked them off too. But then I saw the ugly scar on my knee that I got as a child while riding my bike around a dangerous turn and slipping on the gravel. I couldn't just let the first thing people saw as they looked me over be two bastardly non-matching knees, now could I?

So I cut them off too! But I didn't measure it right across both legs, and they came out very uneven, so I had to make a second cut nearer to my upper thighs...

Finally I was satisfied! I rushed back on my elbows to the kitchen, put the garbage back in place, cleaned off the butcher knife and put it away, and turned...Only to see my dad had just grabbed the last cookie! "Whfgat?" he asked, sticking it in his mouth. And then my mom came in smiling, and asked if I'd liked them. So I lied...and said yes, despite my reservations about lying, and I had another guilt-attack, and felt very sick.

Tomorrow I cut my fingernails. I couldn't do it today because we had to goto the Scooter store after dinner. But I'm going to make sure that I do it in the bathroom, where there will be no distractions...

Been Preoccupied with Rocking...

2009-01-02T11:35:00.000-08:00

Well, New Years, Christmas, Festivus have all come and gone, I'm again forced to change the date of birth on my drivers license with an exacto pen and fine-tipped permanent marker. Nobody's allowed to know how old I really am, I'll stay 17 for as long as I can keep pulling it off and sending unknowing high school librarians to jail for statutory.

What have I been doing the last few days? Not a whole lot, I've kind of undertaken a grand project. I noticed a couple days before christmas how much I love rocking chairs. You go back, and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth. And if you're feeling saucy, you can even go forth and back, and forth and back, and forth and back. And it's just a real delight, a high (and low) of my day to sit in a rocking chair, rocking!

So, I've been modifying our house chairs so that they too will rock, like the rocking chair I fell in love with at my uncles house. The couch? Rocking. The kitchen chairs? Rocking. The bar stools? Rocking. The dog crate? Why not, rocking! My bed, the picnic table, the piano bench? Rocking, rocking, rocking! My mother's bed? Rocking...well, not anymore, she put her foot down; but it's got an optional rock if she wants it...

I've even taken our previous rocking chairs, and given them higher and better rocking. Now, in these modified power-chairs of rocking power, my feet can line up at the ceiling, and my my eyes can stare at the floor, all with only a slight nudge. I have to warn people before they sit down that my chair is not for women over six months pregnant or for people with bad backs. Also: if you experience chest pain, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, an erection lasting longer than nine hours, or notice swelling in your joints or ankles, you should get off my chair and call a doctor. I'm also not responsible for any lasting effects of my rocking chairs...

I've even been testing alternative rocking power...but it may take a few years to perfect. The best hybrid rocking chair I have right now is my grandfather's hand-made stained-oak chair, which has uneven feet and sometimes rocks on it's own if you walk by it. It's cutting edge and expensive, but I think it's a more responsible approach to rocking. Eventually our knee-bones will get tired, and when that happens we need to have an alternative plan.

So as you sit at home in your rigid, frozen, non-fun chair, I encourage you to study up on the rocking-chair scene. It's getting big on the East Coast. I know, it seems a bit flaky right now, your friends may wonder why you've decided to heighten your sitting performance. They may call you a "swinger", a "hard-rocker" behind your back. Don't listen to them, they're jealous, they've got rocking chairs in their closets just like the rest of us. Be proud of your rocking. And, if I can leave you with some advice; don't ever try pushing during a "back", you can really out-forth yourself, or sometimes even out-back, and then you will have to right the chair and start over.

On a Serious Note...

2008-12-22T21:06:00.001-08:00

I don't feel very sarcastic or funny right now, so I thought I'd share a very serious story with you all, since it's the holiday season and we're supposed to be feeling charitable...

A week or so ago, a pregnant friend of mine was laid off from her job as a crop duster because of the economy. Because her abusive ex-boyfriend left her for greener pastures (he was a goat), my friend had no one to turn to but her retarded friends and family (her parents have down syndrome and her best friend is autistic). Ok, retarded is a little strong, we'll say, "challenged" friends and family, but not the Carl Lewis kind of "challenged".

Her friends and family told her to find a desperate guy and marry him for his money (I know, right? *forehead slap*). They even offered to take care of her Kid. (bad pun, I know...)

So she began by staking out golf courses, fine eateries and of course, luxury arcades. And she sorted through the desperate men, too handsome, too fat, too poor...until she finally thought she'd found the right one. His name was Pedro, and he had the biggest lawn mower of any of the men at the golf course. Of course, my friend was really turned on riding Pedro's mower, so she quickly married him, like her friends and family told her too.

Pretty soon though, she found out Pedro wasn't even an member at the golf course, he was just a hired hand. And even as a hired hand, he wasn't getting paid because he was hoping the boss would just miscount his workers and hand out cash to Pedro too. And also that Pedro had married her for the citizenship, and their "honeymoon" in Mexico was a way for Pedro to bring back more of his mexican family legitimately. Including Pedro's wife in Mexico City.

So now my friend is twice divorced, unemployed, has a kid who's being raised by "the challenged" and has no way to turn her life around. If you'd like to help her out, please send me any donations and I'll make sure she gets them. And remember, it's the Holiday Season, which means we're all supposed to reach out a little further with our internal organs than we otherwise would...

The Truth Behind Electronica

2008-12-21T14:00:00.001-08:00

Yes, we've all heard it, some of us seek it out, some of us stumble across it on accident, but sooner or later, Electronica will get you.

My definition of Electronica: A bunch of random arpeggios with a disco back-beat, one song only becoming independent of the others because of it's name.

That's all there is to and Electronica song, they're boring. They put you to sleep at the Hookah, they keep you awake in the dentists office. It's like liquified hell, if you like hooks, choruses and harmonies. The songs are created by those "alternative" dweebs that greet you at the "Home and Gardening" shop with a "what's up, bra?", and then follow you around while you look for vases.

My mom once bought an ugly green elephant vase, but I think she did it because one of these "misunderstood" Electronica junkies was following her around Hobby Lobby.

Commonly, you know one Electronica song is better than another, if you're tempted to delve into existentialism philosophy when you read the title. Clearly, "clouds and a bee", by Goddamn Electric Bill, is not anywhere near as good as "lost in a zoo". Obviously getting lost in a zoo is going to trigger more feelings of angst and personal reflective bullshit than clouds and a bee. I'm just confused as to how he even came up with that one...

Either way, to this author, the two very unlike "names" sound very alike in "song", if I'll go so far as to call them parts of the same very long, very boring song. Picture yourself reading War and Peace, or Pride and Prejudice, and then forming non-lyricized songs based on those books, and allowing them to be the same length of time as it took you to read.

That's Electronica. And I say, it sucks.

Bad Ideas for Finals Week

2008-12-20T14:02:00.001-08:00

1. Tie up your roommates shoes, shirts and socks into very tight knots, providing instantaneous entertainment for you every day as he realizes that his shit is wrinkled and hard to unravel.

2. Curb the pressure of your test in an hour by taking laxatives, they will certainly relieve that upset-stomach. If you're still having diarrhea by the exam time, bring a potty-training bowl with you to the lecture hall. Think of your classmates' discomfort only as beneficial to the curb.

3. Aim your speakers at the wall to give your room that surround sound that you've been dreaming about all semester. Forget that your walls are thin just for this week. I'm sure your neighbors are cool with not sleeping too.

4. Make sure your teachers understand exactly how you feel about them before they grade your test. Don't worry about hurting feelings, it's better to be honest when they're putting this much pressure on you.

5. Continue to read every one of those fifty blogs that you peruse. If it gets in the way of you're frantic twenty chapter review, remember that blogs are something you're going to use in the real world, not advanced longitudinal trigonometry.

6. Call Blago and let him know you were only kidding about buying his Senate seat. (the Feds still have him tapped, but it's worth the risk)

7. Run around the block in your underwear once a day, make sure you do it early in the morning during rush hour, make sure as many schoolchildren as possible can view you, admire your rippling abs. Your ego will boost.

8. Compile lists and lists of insults online and then use them as much as possible on your friends. Don't worry about having any friends by the end of the week.

9. Pour some wet cement over the bikes on the rack outside of the physics building, then see if the the rotational force of the tires is greater than the frictional force of your cement.

10. Train yourself to wink everytime someone says the word "grade", this will unnerve the competition.

11. Laugh loudly in the library, frequently, and don't explain yourself.

All I Want For Christmas

2008-12-19T14:10:00.000-08:00

1. All I want for Christmas is a quick painful death to those goddamned dysfunctional toys on that island of misfit toys. They seriously ruin the Rudolph movie every year.

2. All I want for Christmas is a thermonuclear warhead that I could destroy Wisconsin with or else ride into town like a Harley and pick up chicks.

3. All I want for Christmas is six types of nacho cheese and twenty types of tortilla chips, think of the permutations!

4. All I want for Christmas is a trip to ..........

5. All I want for Christmas is the chance to undo six buttons on Linsey Lohan's person. Six. I don't need any more. I can make do with six undone. I'm crafty, I know I could pick the right six. I just want the opportunity.

6. All I want for Christmas is for Santa to roll into Chi-town with his six shooter and destroy the Bears' coaching staff with his "Jolly Ol' Bullets of Holiday Cheer". I'll leave a lot of cookies out for that one.

7. All I want for Christmas is for Rod Blagojevich to forget where he lives and crash my holiday dinner, then I could see just how pointy his ears really are in person. I swear, the man's an escaped elf.

8. All I want for Christmas is a rendition of "It's a Wonderful Life" to be directed in the style of Alfred Hitchcock, you know, a twist ending and a strong female lead that you know ties up gentlemen in real life, feints sex and robs them blind...

9. All I want for Christmas is for the paper work on the new Late Night contract to be falsified somehow, and for NBC to have another crack at finding an anchor. Or else, for someone to teach Jimmy Fallon how to not LAUGH during EVERY sketch he's in.

10. All I want for Christmas is to be transported back to the early nineties, so that the only things I have to worry about are Y2K and the next Power Rangers movie.

What's in a Football Name?

2008-12-19T14:09:00.000-08:00

Buccaneers' lineman Greg White has just changed his name to Stylez G. after his favorite character in the movie "Teen Wolf". In honor of this pretty cool name-change, I've come up with some other choices for attention seeking NFL players.

1. Scully - A random X-Files reference would really creep out the competition and would still fit on my Jersey.

2. Bob Hope- Hopefully the good karma from the real Bob Hope would make defenses unwilling to tackle the great football playing Bob Hope.

3. Xijing- Trash talking would become a nightmare for opposing players trying to get into my head. Stumbling with the pronunciation, they'd miss the start of the play and I'd get the sack.

4. Doofy- Hopefully this name would throw off opposing defenses, who would ignore me. Huddles would go as follows: "Who's covering Doofy?" "Are you serious Urlacher?" "Oh yeah."

5. Seven Eleven- Chad Johnson's new name Ocho Cinco isn't even in english nor does it have any meaning beyond 85. So naming myself 7/11 after the convenience store where you can get a coffee and donut for $2 would boost team moral, while still causing me to gain the attention I'm seeking by changing my name.

http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/blog/shutdown_corner/post/I-nominate-Stylez-G-White-for-best-NFL-name-cha?urn=nfl,129376

Job Speculation:

2008-12-16T12:23:00.000-08:00

Here are some possible jobs I'm thinking about for after college:

1. Waiter- Benefits: Get to serve people that ignore you, leave bad tips and otherwise find your job deplorable. Can force script on famous people that have the bad luck to get served by another out-of-work writer. Downside: Smell like bacon grease and hurt feelings.

2. Travel Agent- Benefits: No customers. Get to surf the web and tell computer-illiterate people where they should go. Downside: Over-stimulation on office-coffee, addictinggames.com addiction.

3. Assistant Video Editor- Benefits: Meet interesting people as they come in to work while you're finishing your grave-yard shift. Downside: Have to repeatedly stop self from taping over Aguilara's next music video with reruns of Cheers.

4. Reporter- Benefits: Actual writing involved, semi-professional, this one has pay. Downside: People will find you slimy for rest of life, there's a possibility of a future career on Meet the Press, sitting in a courthouse and dealing with the only human beings worse than self, Lawyers.

5. Street Musician- Benefits: Make your own hours, own songs, own tip-jar. Downside: When friends come to visit and you tell them you're a studio artist, you'll have to use most of the month's income to rent out a studio and hire actors to play an up-and-coming band.

6. Personal Suck-Up (Assistant)- Benefits: Mostly free lunches and dinners with a person who finds your worth to be less than saliva. Paid vacations. Downside: Your life is consumed by an ego-maniac, your paid vacation is actually to their vacation location where you are expected to rub tanning lotion on their back every thirty minutes, possibility of Naomi Cambell syndrome.

7. Movie Theatre Attendant- Benefits: Free movies. Downside: This career sucks.

8. Stalker- Benefits: Semi-popular celebrities feel popular again, their stock rises in Hollywood when they make news for filing complaints against you. You feel personally responsible for their next performance in a horror film. Downside: The pay is optional, benefits are one-sided, they probably won't read your script either.

9. Taxi Driver- Benefits: Eventually your conversational skills will improve in the English Language. Downside: There's sometimes glass in the taxi to keep people from getting your script, construction traffic sucks, bus drivers beat you up at truck-stops.

10. Screenwriter- Benefits: You can sleep all day, write all night, drugs aren't frowned upon, everyone's sympathetic towards your cause, if you sell something you're kind of set, you get to be creative, you might see someone famous saying the words you wrote and taking credit later. Downside: This isn't a real job.

Thoughts from Linklater's "Slacker".

2008-12-11T22:34:00.000-08:00

On the other hand of the, "what the hell are my peers thinking about" question, is "what if they spouted millions of lines of mindless drivel, trying to think?" Which is worse, knowledge, or misknowledge? The idea of people here at Purdue having some kind of opinion is enthralling, but the fact that those opinions could be drivel really threatens my views on allowing it.

This all spouts from the viewing of "Kevin Smith's Ball-Kicker", Slacker by Richard Linklater. I'm going to avoid reviewing the movie, because that would come close to actually writing the paper that's due (in 9 hours) today. But, basically, a camera is let loose in Austin, where a large number of smug college morons are polaroidally viewed for brief instances, no more than a half-conversation's worth each. Kevin Smith's own style of awkward teenagers, heated comic book discussions that trigger philosophical theories, and random camera jerks are all present, yet not nearly as geeky or cool. But it's what made him want to be a filmmaker. Whoopy.

Linklater sticks us with a crowd of students that, in my opinion, have a lot of preachy research, formulations and answers, but no questions. They then spew their outrageous views about the world to each other, quite randomly, and nothing is resolved.

Ok. I get it.

So, this movie's smart. Sweet... I still have a long way to go till I have seven pages of why it's smart. As far as I can tell, it's smart because the director went to college and kept all his notes from his sociology classes.

Now I know what it might be like to live at a well-taught Purdue, where everyone knows a little something about the world. Yet nobody has any idea what to do with that knowledge. I guess that grass always seems a little greener...

Seven Shots to Avoid

2008-12-09T22:03:00.000-08:00

1. "Catching Up Shots"- This is when you've just got off work or out of some activity and you're late to the party. Your friends are already drunk, and you feel like catching up. This never ends well. Usually "catching up" starts out innocent, a few shots in the first few minutes, no problem, you wander around talking. But then you forget that you started fast, and you keep drinking fast, believing that everyone else is still sprinting towards the finish line. This is metaphorically the same thing that happens if you put Michael Phelps in a pool that's a mile long in length, he'll just keep swimming until he's gone back and forth in ten seconds and eventually drown himself.

2. "Election Night Shots"- These feel so good, especially if you start out trying to do shots each time an elected official from your party wins, however, you'll soon realize, that those freebie shots you did for the county dogcatcher want to escape your stomach more than Snoopy wants to flee the coup. Plus, it's election night, not Mardi Gras, it's not like you can leave the apartment and rush the streets when your man wins. If you do that, chances are he'll be indicting you in the morning.

3. "Chicago Bears Shots"- These are either the best shots or the worst shots. There's just no way of predicting how the Bears are going to do, so if you're doing Chicago Bears shots, you might end up sober and depressed, or you might end up drunk and awesome. Either way, it's best to just slowly drink beer during Chicago Bears games.

4. "Third Date Shots"- It's leading somewhere, now it's time to hit the bars, right? Right. But that doesn't mean hitting the alcohol hard. For one thing, all mystique is gone once your aiming dinner back at the porcelain. Even worse results include losing all sense of suave, borrowing lots of money for drunk food or even waking up with someone else. Avoid third date shots, chances are the stars can align while your vision's in line too.

5. Gun Shots

6. "Senate Seat Shots"- This is when you gather up all the important corrupted officials in your state for a party, and then tell them whoever can drink you under the table will win the Senate seat. If you win, just appoint yourself. Risks: 37 page indictments from the Feds.

7. "Strange Shots During Magic Hour"- We've all been in that perfect state of intoxication where it's going to be a fun night, it's going to be a remembered night, and any more alcohol would be like jumping over the safety rail in front of a gorge and tap dancing on the ledge. We've also all got friends that like to order strange flavored shots at this time to make the tap dancing seem like a slow jig. Know that a tomato/chocolate shot is not for you.

Slowest Generation of Our Time.

2008-12-09T02:15:00.000-08:00

There's a lot of stuff happening in the world right now; riots in Greece, economic reverse, Russian paranoia (from this guy), and retarded bombing coming out of Pakistan. But what's the current topic of conversation in the bars amongst twenty somethings in America?

You guessed it, The Dark Knight. Nothing can come close to the importance of Batman, Christopher Nolan or Heath Ledger's Joker, God rest'm.

I might call it PITIFUL!!, but that could be too harsh on my own lackluster generation. When and where did our parents learn to revolutionize? Music, movies and hair. What have we got now? Kanye, Batman and "hair". The three things that I think are threatening this world more than the "danger" out there.

Kanye. The self-proclaimed "voice" of our generation is making millions of dollars on his music. What's his music about? Well, maybe a few good things. Some outspokenness against homophobia...some outspokenness against...

Wait what am I saying? Have any of you heard exactly what Kanye's protesting? Have any of you been humming one of his songs about revolutions, goodwill, peace in the middle east, anything? No. Kanye's no Jim Crocker. Jim Crocker was the voice of a generation. You can still hum his music without a care in the world. Kanye's got nothing I want to touch. You have to skim his lyrics to figure out what he's about.

How about Batman? Do you see him inspiring our generation to take action and help our country out? To understand how to become active? No, Hollywood preaches to us through the media, but when the pennies are on line, they're useless at promoting activism in our country. Judd Apatow is making millions of dollars now after cracking into the industry for his Knocked up and 40 Year Old Virgin movies. Do you see him turning around, like say Harold Ramis and Dan Goldberg and making a movie like Stripes? Do you see many films out there satirizing the things assumptions our media and government are force feeding us?

Nope. And the hairstyles aren't very interesting either.

The world's going to shit, and so far, none of our public figures care. They're set still. They've still got the bucks, they've still got a defense against the problems the rest of us are facing. The ones who do care are misfiring, or are compromised. Sorry George Clooney, sorry Jamie Fox. Too late, our generation wants something from Brittany, Paris, Shia LaBeouf, or even Miley Cyrus. Anyone out there to deliver? Nope. More Twilight please, serve it up useless and cold.

What defines our age group? Semi-decentness at the growing technology of Blackberries and computers? I say "semi" because the kids in grade school right now are going to be the really scary digital monsters. We're like dinosaurs compared to what they're going to grow up with. Yeah, we had color T.V. Yeah, they've got Color Ipod Videos. So what makes us who we are? We're the kids of the kids of the baby boomers, maybe the late baby-bloomers. We've had no crisis to rise to, no trouble at the gas pump before, no serious controversial laws to deal with. Weed's illegal. We like to argue about that, but honestly, the police aren't even enforcing that anymore because there's so much scarier drug running out there. LOOK AT MEXICO.

What will we do when the shit hits the fan? Wait for the next group to step up and act? Ask Kanye? Rely on the media to tell us what to do? Will there be anyone ready to send the right messages in Hollywood? So far, they're so scared of saving their tales, they're not willing to put them on the chopping block until the knife's taken away. And yes, I am referring to the Prop 8 musical that came out way too late to do any good...

Yeah, we've got some leaders, we've got some celebrities we look up to. But as Bob Seger (another voice of a generation) wrote, "When it all gets too heavy, that's when they come and when they go." We'll see who that is, for us, very soon. Sorry Kanye, I'm not convinced.

Late Night Television Commercials

2008-12-07T21:47:00.000-08:00

I've got to admit, the whole late night TV commercial industry is kind of interesting. I've really never met anyone that's called in to order a set of kitchen knives, or a chia pet. I've seen some people who find the stuff online or in a store in town after seeing the idea on T.V., but nobody who calls.

Personally, I just don't trust calling in and giving my credit card number to a strange company just because they doled out three thousand bucks or so to make a commercial and put it on T.V. That just seems ridiculous to me, to be that trusting. But hey, I could be paranoid.

What I do find interesting though, is the commercials where you call in and talk to the sexy bikini clad women in your city who are hanging out in a hot tub and waiting for you to call them. That's just awesome. All those girls near the hot tub, waiting just for me! Just relaxing their muscles while waiting for me to sweep in on my magnificent cell phone steed and whisk them away to Cingular's new world.

Wait a second, there aren't any phones by that hot tub! In fact, those women aren't going to answer the phones at all! Who am I talking to? Tara Reid! Are you kidding me?!

I also like those commercials that were made late at night for late at night television. You know, the ones were everyone's dialogue is kind of off, and even the announcer hesitates before coming in and saying "To call dial 1-800...".

But as a potential film editor/writer, I'll admit these paid advertisements have a sort of allure to me. There has to be some money in putting the things together. And also, very little thought. And also, they're not watched by people who are going to know about jump-cuts. I think I could handle that. How hard could it be to sell some dish rags that absorb absolutely 120% more liquid than ordinary paper towels? Or some roly-legos? Not that hard right?

Maybe?

I'm just saying...

The New James Bond

2008-12-01T14:12:00.000-08:00

I saw the new Bond film today. I don't understand people who said they hated it. It wasn't terrible, the actors had their lines right, the music was pretty cool, the action was great, the plot was decently solid and all the colors were corrected. It's no flop.

Then again, the new Bond film(s) was basically made by someone who dislikes the Bond movies. In the first movie, he doesn't even get with women, there are no women in the opening credits. Our recollection of James Bond is the British super-agent, not some hot-shot rookie trying to make his bones as the new "goto guy". That's not what a Bond movie is about.

People who don't like the James Bond films usually feel like they have no basis in reality. Usually James Bond has a keen sense of wit, his villain is exaggerated in some flawed way, and the women all have rediculous names and cup-sizes. These films don't follow any of those points. James doesn't even use a new car or gadgets in Quantum.

James Bond is blonde, blue-eyed, cold, (charming? hardly...), suffering from fruedian issues with mother-figures, rough around the edges and an alcoholic in the new movies. What guy wants to idolize someone like that. It sounds like the hero of a Natzi propoganda film.

Whoever's been put in charge of these movies should realize what the audience wants when they goto a Bond movie is obviousness. Not stupidness, not idiocy, not stereotypical, but obvious; meaning, we want to see a great spy plot surrounded by high-tech, explosions and unattainable women. Instead, the executive producers are chasing the "intellectual" movie-goer, which "newsflash" probably still won't touch these movies with a ten foot pole.

Quantum is basically Disc 2 of Casino Royale. I'm not saying it's bad, but I will say that if you take out the "classic" James Bond film B-characters like M, and Q and just use Jane and Jack, you get a cool spy film, not a cool super-agent movie. The word Super is what's important to this franchise, and to many like it. As in, when I leave this movie, I want to say it was "super" not "stimulating".

So, I guess what I'm hoping is that whoever's been put in charge of this money hoarding machine, please, please, actually do some research on what a Bond fan wants. I for one know my life would be a lot more dull if it weren't for Oddjob and Pussy Galore...and as it is, my life is pretty dull with these new James Bond movies.