December 25, 2012

It's here!!! (and long)

Annual Christmas story is here, I apologize for the length of the story this year (46 pages in all). Enjoy!

That's it for this year. It's been a good one and thanks to everyone that has taken time out to waste here looking at my insane and often incoherent ramblings. In the words of Tiger, Ta Ta for now!

P.S. if the quality of the pictures is terrible, which it might be, I can't tell on my computer I'm on right now, send me an email and I can fix it, or if you want I can even just send you the pdf file for the whole thing.

December 9, 2012


Yes, it's coming. It missed the world last year, but the world will not be spared this time. Bwahahahaha!!!

I'll have a new Christmas story posted in the next couple of weeks (it's longer this year, sorry about that). 

November 19, 2012

Good posture is bad for your gas mileage

Mileage, one of those strange words that makes you wonder what it was really supposed to mean before it was highjacked and crammed into the meaning it now has. Misogynist is not someone biased against women, rather it is someone who is against marriage. That would make a whole lot of people gay-misogynists. =D

I just got out of the hospital yesterday, and I wish I could tell you it was for something super cool like trying to turn my microwave into a death ray of doom and deconstruction when someone accidentally tried to warm up a cup of soup and I happened to be standing in the path of the deathy-part of my machine fixing something-or-another. That would have been cool. Or I tried to save some baby penguins from being eaten by a giant, ferocious, but cuddly looking, polar bear when I slipped on an iceberg and when tumbling head long into the freezing cold arctic waters where I had to do epic battle with a giant quid and a great white shark, in which I won both battles by the skin of my teeth, and I heroically pulled my freezing corpse from the frigid waters I cut my hand on a rock and needed stitches. That would have been awesome. Oh no, not here, not this time, and definitely not with me. I had chest pains. Not the "Oh $%#*!! I'm having a heart attack!" chest pains, but, "HOLY $%#*!!  $%#*!! IT HURTS TO BREATH!!!!" chest pains. They're not as serious as heart attack chest pains, but they make life a lot more uncomfortable (I'm going off of how pained the other people in the emergency room that were there for chest pains looked vs. my own face. Plus they were all old and were likely there because they were having a heart attack). I'm getting better now, and in the last few days I've had as many different kinds of narcotics and I can say there are some that I like more than others. Not that anyone should really like narcotics, but if someone put a gun to my head and said "Pick a  $%#*!! narcotic that you just love and can't bare to be without!!!" I know which one I would choose. I don't really get how people can take narcotics and somewhat function in a half normal way. But you're writing a blog post right now, you say, to which I respond, "Shut the  $%#*!! up, who named you Jimminy Cricket at the last conscience meeting???" The first time this chest pain thing happened to me I was at Pam's apartment (this was while we were still dating). We had to call an ambulance, and the paramedics seemed fixated on two questions:

1) What sort of illicit drugs were you doing tonight? (directed at me)
2) Have you been hitting, kicking, and/or punching him? (rhetorically directed at Pam).

Now when you go to the hospital they have to ask you if you feel safe at home, or if anyone makes it unsafe for you. Sure, Pam might beat me, but if I like it, does that really make my home unsafe for me? =P

Swamp thing, duna nuna nuna nuna nuna, swamp thing!! I'm sad that didn't become a hit.

While in the hospital one of my nurses said he wanted to be a dentist. I had visions of "I'm a dentist and I'm okay, I pull out teeth, and I eat all day. I numb up mouths, I fill cavities, I go to the lavatory..." all singing and dancing about in tights and modified scrubs. I suggested that once he's a dentist he should dress up as the evil dentist from Little Shop of Horrors for Halloween. He was a really cool nurse, especially once he gave me drugs. Later they transfered me to the cardiac part of the hospital. I apparently had a heart 'sound' (they said it was called a murmur, but it wasn't really a murmur-I feel like my mouth is full of mush when I try and say that word) that mostly doctors only get to hear a recording of, so about every doc from the cariologologoloology department came a listened to my heart. It was kind of like being felt up by every Dick and Jane that came through. The worst part is, I'm definitely the one that's going to be paying for it too. No sir, no freebies for this hooker of medical abnormalities.

Later that night my pain went from, "OUCH, THIS REAALY HURTS TO BREATH!!!" to "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" It's really difficult to make more than one noise when you have this kind of pain-kind of like having your mother step on your catheter. They gave me 4mg of morphine. Didn't even touch the pain. Then they gave me something called dilaudid, which is a morphine derivative, but much more powerful. With morphine, when they gave me an injection, it would take about 15-30mins for me to really start to feel an effect, and it was usually fairly subtle. With this other guy though, the instant it hit my vein, my whole body felt fuzzy and warm, almost like I had wet the bed, but before it gets cold, then my ears started ringing and the world just sort of melted into the background. This stuff didn't wear off till almost 12 hours later too. A side affect not commonly advertised too, is that it can take whatever is in your stomach, and when you vomit, it will have turned into something looking like chicken soup. It might even come out your nose! There's a real trick for you, how to get bile out of your sinus cavity. I'm just glad my body's not super hyped about getting hooked on opiates/opioids etc. I don't like the way the stronger ones make me feel.

I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me. We all live in a shallow submarine. You must not weigh more then 75lbs to board this submarine. Stinking hippies.

I hate strawberry fields, even from a purely theory stand point, that song is horrible!!! Then you find out it's about shooting smack and you say, really, you couldn't have at least made this song enjoyable to listen to? The difference between morphine and heroin is (COCH2)2. That's it! If you're a really good synthetic chemist (or street dealer) this isn't that hard of a problem. Did you know meth can help fight off the flu? Not a joke. 

November 6, 2012

Where's the revolution?

It's on the dance floor with some awesome platform shoes and bell  bottom pants. The only problem is this guy showed up:

Completely threw everything out of whack. Thanks a lot Pennywise (not the band). You still give me nightmares and make me cry myself into oblivion while huddled in the corner wishing I could get you out of my head. I hate clowns.

Speaking of stupid men, today is election day in my home country, and it's the one day I can feel like I have a voice in how our government is run. Here's a list of those I voted for: Barney Fife, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Charles Manson, John Wayne Gacy, Ham Sandwich, John F. Kennedy. It was worth the hour long wait in line. If they only had something like this

that you had to pass through to get to the voting booth then things would go much quicker (the picture is the work of Joshua Hoffine and it's just amazing). Plus if you were taking too long the creepy thing under the stairs would have permission to come after you. I for sure would know who I was voting for before going to the polls. Even with all the write-ins, it didn't take that long for me to vote. The best part is now I can sit and complain about what a terrible job all the politicians are doing for the next however many years they are in office. If they didn't do a good job we should lock them in a basement with the creature under the stairs. That or force them to spend a day with Pennywise. That would be something in politics I would find worth my time to watch.

If Obama wins, I'm leaving the county; if Romney wins, I'm leaving the country. It's not political, I just want to travel. If you listen to Charles Manson long enough he's bound to say something funny.

I recently turned 32 years old. I don't feel much different, and if I did I think I would start to worry. I blame climate change for my recent gain in weight (by recent I mean the 20-40lbs I've gained over the past 2-4 years). What I'm really excited for though (besides the invention of time travel) is the next time I visit my parents I'm going to check on my twinkie. I've had this twinkie since I was a freshman/sophomore in high school. I wanted to see how long it would last before it started to mold or go rotten in some form. Last time I checked on it, four years ago, it was still looking as pristine and golden delicious as when I first stored it away (I don't even know how old it was when I put it aside for safekeeping). I've thought about doing the same thing with peeps, but I keep eating them before I get a chance to actually put them aside for future generations. It's not unhealthy to eat this kind of thing either. In fact, people that do eat that kind of stuff will most likely live longer than those who don't, unless they succumb to some form of cancer which may or may not be related to what is or isn't contained in food items such as twinkies, peeps, etc. I'm not really sure what would go under the etc. category though, twinkies and peeps are kind of in a category of their own.

 Since we're on the horror topic, Evil Dead is being remade and the new trailer looks amazing! If you ever get the chance to see Evil Dead, the Musical, do. There's nothing quite like a finale where the living dead are dancing about with the one live person left, flinging blood and guts and gore about on the audience. It's kind of like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, except without the transvestites and Tim Curry molesting everyone. It's a rocking good time for the whole family. Who says nothing good ever came from Canadia? I love maple syrup too.

As I look back on all the things I've done and could have done over the years, and thus far, I don't have too many regrets.

October 25, 2012

Hell's bathroom probably looks and smells like the DMV, but with nicer toilet paper

For the most part I am glad that I was a child in the 80's and don't have to pretend I never participated in the atrocities that were promulgated during that era. It's too bad the 80's couldn't be decimated, then again, that would be a lot of spandex to fit into one year. Billy Idol's hair would have poked out a few eyes, and a few too many people would be related to Neil Diamond if the 80's were decimated. There is one thing I do like about the 80's though, other than my wife, and that is the metal bands. Just to clarify, Bon Jovi is not metal, I'm not even sure if he's human; Van Halen doesn't fall into this category either.

Everyone keeps talking about the national deficit, the debt (it sound like 'death' when most people on the news say it) ceiling and all of the problems that come with it. Personally it just makes me want to jump in a mosh pit and get the tar beaten out of me by other people. Mosh pits really aren't that bad, I enjoyed them immensely back when I was slightly more crazy in a different direction than I am now. VECTOR! Committing crime with both direction and magnitude! I loved to go to the Warped tour back before it was infected with screamo bands that complain about how hard high school was for them (i.e. I don't even know any of their names, I despise them that much). It was awesome! Less than $30 for an entire day of rocking out and kicking it with some of the strangest people you'll ever meet. I know in Europe you have week and month long festivals that are truly stupendous, but I'm not a fan of the bands that play at the week long festivals here-mostly country and celine deon style music. The first time I jumped in the pit, the people I was with were trying to talk me out of it, telling me all kinds of horror stories of awful things that they had seen happen. Being the wonderfully responsible person that I am, I threw caution to the wind and jumped into the pit. (updated, since I left this post for awhile and when I came back I didn't have the common sense of decency to finish where I was going, but now I do) I remember my first mosh pit experience as nothing less than grand and the highlight of that summer. What I call my "first" mosh pit experience is an entire days worth of moshing, thrashing and otherwise getting knocked about. My brain now has a slight, very slight, idea of what it's like to live in the head of a boxer. The most memorable pit of that day though was while Lagwagon was playing (an awesome band, if there ever was one) and not just because they're awesome. The stage was in front of not grass, oh no, that would be for the faint of heart and the not-too-serious-concert-goer. This was in front of an asphalt patch of parking lot. While the other stages had nice soft grass and dirt to mosh on and land on when you got knocked down, this one had hard, hot, sticky asphalt. There was this big dude. I remember him to be about the size of a semi. I say this because that's what I recall him as being. He cleared out a nice area for a pit and was the only in it. Being the brilliant person that I am, I said, "Hey, there's no one else in there with him, I'll join him!' and I did. We were having a grand 'ol time moshing in the same pit together, but not actually coming into contact with one another. Then they started playing a more vigorous song, and we both got into it. That's when disaster struck. We ran head first, full on into each other. The last thought that went through my head as I suddenly noticed what was happening was, 'Gee, I'm thirsty.' That's when he hit me. It's kind of like a bug smashing into your car. They don't really collide. The car hits the big. End of story. I went flying about 10-15 feet and landing on that wonderful asphalt. The best part about it, other than I wasn't really hurt, was that he immediately stopped what he was doing and came rushing over to make sure I was okay. That's what it used to be about, and that's what life should be about, making sure we all have a good time but that we're all taken care of as well. Who says the punk scene isn't good for anything? =D

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Little Bled Biting Wood, and one day she went into the forest. There she met an evil wolf who gave her a green card. She lived happily ever after.

When I was a kid, yes I was once young though you wouldn't guess from my grey hair, which is now even more apparent since I've put on weight and let my hair grow out (interestingly enough, my left side seems to grow faster than the right-that or the last barber I went to was cross-eyes), I was confused by the Fabio commercials for fake butter. First, who wants to eat fake butter? The body has a hard enough time processing real butter, what makes you think fake butter is going to work out any better? At least real butter is gluten free. Second, the whole buffed-out-guy-wearing-an-open-shirt/vest-with-a-lady-in-something-skimpy fawning over, not each other, but fake butter, of all things. I kind of understand why that bird flew into his face, not that I condone such behavior. It wasn't until later when the Harlequin romance novel was explained to me did I understand what the commercials were trying to do. I didn't understand Harlequin romance novels, but I understood why they made the commercial the way they did. I always understood why it seemed to only run during the day and seldom later at night.

I decided that if this is what girls wanted, then it was what I was going to give them. I started to grow my hair out, walk around in open shirts and vest, and started eating fake butter (the last part wasn't easy). The part that no one ever tells you is that unlike Sampson, regardless of how long we mere mortals grow out our hair, without exercise and a personal trainer, our body will not fall into line and be a good soldier, whipping itself into that manly and masculine form. After a while I had to cut my hair and start eating real butter again. That doesn't help with your masculine figure either. Later in my childhood I took up swimming. Much like running, this will not rip you out and give you man-sized muscles. Oh no, it will make you look emaciated and like you just arrived from a third world country. Unknowing doctors will try to test you for malnutrition and have you placed under special care while social services looks into your parents/guardians for mistreatment and abuse. This is also not a good sport if you want to grow your hair out. At least once a year the entire team gets together, men with men and women with women, put on their extremely tight fitting swim suits (I have a size 0 speedo I used for competition swimming, this also didn't help with the ladies, seeing my emaciated body in all of its glory) and shave off any and all hair that is showing. Usually the women don't shave their head. Usually. The final result is a bunch of alien looking emaciated people walking around in very little clothing. It's kind of like a bad dream. Come to think of it, it was a bad dream.

I'm just glad we didn't have to swim in cream until it turned into butter and we could climb out of the pool. I wouldn't have drowned, I would just hate cream and butter even more than I already do for not giving me a Fabio body, but without the accent. 

October 2, 2012

Peninsula of Doom

If I ever own my own island I will name it the Peninsula of Doom, and it will be a happier place to be than Disneyland (plus it will have fewer pedophiles)!

My wife just bought me a donkey, and by donkey I mean banjo, and by bought me I mean she let me buy. The one thing the donkey and the banjo have in common (other than they both make horrendously awful noises that most all but country folk seem to think sounds good) is that I have no idea how to handle either one of them. Sure, you could put a bridle on a donkey and lead it around, but I can also hold a banjo and make noise with it. That doesn't mean I'm going to leap onto the back of said donkey and start riding it around as it bucks, bites and farts (yes, they do that when they buck and run; fart is not a cuss word, according to my sagely grandmother that I loving refer to as the most gansta g-ma this world has ever seen), and have a grand 'ol time as I have my head nearly tore from off the stump of flesh and bone I like to call my neck. A vampire might like that though, less work for them to do. They should have put some vampires in the Final Destination movies, that way all that gore would have gone to waist. =D

A night at the opera would be the perfect date, if I wasn't in love with my car. Queen was genius.

Halloween is coming!!! Forget Christmas, I want my holidays bloody, scary and just plain awesome. Besides the idea of a several hundred year old man keeping tabs on me all year (yes, I did stuff that dead rat in the dryer hose) and then sneaking into my house while I'm sleeping, kind of creeps me out. Not only that, but his name is an anagram of Satan, Lord of all that is unholy, wicked and evil (I probably should have capitalized all that since it's technically part of his title, but that's just me being naughty, oh yeah, who's gettin' coal this year? Not the republicans! And it's not because they haven't been naughty either, they just have gone above and beyond the normal rank-and-file naughty person so much so that they will be getting live alligators in their stalkings by this crazy old man). The only old man that should be sneaking around my house in the middle of the night for no real good reason, is me. I guess if Pam wants to she could too, but she's not an old man and thus doesn't fit into the same category. I know, I'm being sexist by not letting her participate in this farcical aquatic ceremony, but let's face it, how many women want to be compared to men? Seriously. Men are in general stinky, sweaty, smelly, gross and just plain nasty. I can say that because I am a man (or at least, I like to tell myself I am) and to prove it, I'm going to go fix something....with MY FACE!!! To be a true man you have to fix things, uncommon things, with your face. Nails need to be pounded into a board, forget the hammer, I've got my face! Axel on the car needs to be bent back so it's straight, use my face why don't you?! The neighbor's house is on fire? No problem, I'll put it out WITH MY FACE!!! The list goes on and on. I'm sure there are plenty of people reading this and rolling their eyes, to them I say, you're obviously not a real man, and open a tall one with my face.

See, women aren't the only ones obsessed with their faces, though it's for entirely different reasons. It's a miracle more men don't look like Quasimodo with all the things we can fix with our faces. I changed a faucet to our washer this last weekend, yes, it was with my face, and I'm happy to say I did not break any pipes nor have any leaks. That's another thing men do with their faces (mostly their mouths) let you know how bad they messed something up. While growing up, I think I've talked a little about this before, but I could be wrong, I 'helped' my dad with various projects around the house. One of them involved plumbing and hanging dry wall. The plumbing usually goes behind the dry wall, though I'm sure someone has done it the other way just to prove a point (go men!). While hanging up a piece of dry wall after doing the plumbing, he was pounding in a nail, there was a sudden "sploosh" sound, followed by, I'm paraphrasing here, "Raggin'! Darg mag ackfin hockle flaggin plargen fratkern mirkten hurgle!" My family is religious and all, but this was definitely not the gift of tongues. Needless to say, a good piece of dry wall was ruined, the water to the house was shut off for the next few hours, and eventually it was turned on without being followed by "SHIT!!! TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!!!!!!!" Shit is also not a cuss word, according to my aquatic grandmother, just don't say it around the other grandkids.

September 22, 2012

Big Mother and an even Bigot Father (nothing to do with my real parents)

I've come to the conclusion that Lowe's is Serbian for "big-fat-freaking-liar-whose-pants-are-perpetually-on-fire-and-will-never-be-put-out." It's amazing the way some words translate from one language to another. For example, mince meat (as in mince meat pie) in spanish is "relleno a base de fruta escarchada, frutos secos, especias, zumo de limon y grasa animal" roughly, it translates into "strange mixtures of fruit mixed with animal fat." Who doesn't like a little whipped lard to top their pie? It sounds about as unterrestrial as senselessly slaughtering large cow herds and anal probing people you abduct (nod's in the CIA's direction). I was going to look up mince meat in my German and Russian dictionaries but thought they might not play nicely and decided against it. Words have feelings too.

If you ever decide to try and resurface/fix/seal your asphalt driveway on your own you can google how to do it. As can be seen from here, it looks so easy:

A child could do this from the looks of this video. As with anything like this, backed by a corporation, a lot of the real details are missing.

1500-2000lbs of asphalt patch/repair, 75 gallons of sealer, and a month later we finally finished patching and resealing our driveway. Until we sealed it though our driveway looked like it had been patched by a one-legged pirate who had only one eye that was quickly fading and a hook for one hand (Captain Hook must always remember never to pick his nose). Luckily we were able to cover up my lovely patch work with sealer.

To put the sealer on, Pam graciously took a break from her wonderful law school homework which she was so enthralled with and couldn't put it down ever, except this one time (she's watching videos on her computer next to me right now) to help pour and spread this wonderful goo. One of us would pore and get the next area ready to be spread and poured, the other spreading the goo about the driveway in a half hazard manner that would have made Michael J Fox look good at this job. Pam decided she wanted to pour and I could spread. While only having five gallons of goo in each of the buckets of sealer, they weigh between 50 and 6.02*10^24lbs, which for someone that wrestles horses most everyday you wouldn't think would be too much of a problem. She ended up coating her foot in goo (hey, her foot's now water proof, no more fungus!! Not that she ever had foot fungus...) and I couldn't help but laugh. She had on sandals so she literally coated her foot in goo. Petroleum products are good for you, right? I mean, there's not fat, sugar, added calories or hormones and I'm pretty sure they didn't use any pesticides or fertilizers on it (It's organic too! Bad joke, but I know the chemists got it.), therefore it must be good for you! She wouldn't let me pore it on me though, I was very sad. We switched at that point, and I found out that the goo is actually really hard to pour. After several hours we finally finished. Exhausted an worn out we stripped naked in the yard and sprayed each other off with the hose (September in Michigan is REALLY cold when water from the hose is being sprayed on you). We were arrested for indescent exposure and our only defense was that we were reenacting Milton's reenactments of the Garden of Eden (Iron Butterfly forever!!) which took place in Puritan strained England in his orchard with his wife. The neighbors feigned to complain about it, but we all know they were secretly watching and waiting for the day when they would get to see him play Eve. Willem Dafoe as a woman is beyond ugly, but hilarious.

After we got out of prison (I don't care what snopes says, sagging your pants in prison is a bad idea, unless you're trying to make some extra money) I noticed that Pam still had tar all over her foot (and arm, and some on her face and hands) and jokingly I asked her if I could call her my tar baby, in humble homage to the wonderfully racist and bigoted (that looks like big toed, which is unfair to those with extra large feet) Disney movie, Song of the South, which they have locked away in their chamber of secrets. No one at Disney actually knows where this chamber exists, though it is rumored that once the true heir of Walt Disney returns he/she/it will open the chamber once again to release upon the world all of their works, including those dark pieces the current Disney franchise wishes to keep hidden and deny they ever existed. (If there's a big blank spot that follows it's because Google is being Evil, which is expressly against their working policy, just google Walt vs. Elian robot chicken and you'll find the video):

and last but not least, just because it's awesome, a new take on a beloved classic:

Mrs. Doubtfire (Recut) from Peter Javidpour on Vimeo.

The driveway is done, I'll never hire a nanny, and my feelings about W. Disney have not changed. All-in-all it's been a good week.

July 17, 2012

Video games will be death of us all, part II

In the spirit of the founding fathers of the USA, who were slave owning, women oppressing, treasonous men, I would like everyone to remember these facts on this wondrously blazingly hot day in July. One of the founding fathers didn't like the bible very much the way it is written (it hasn't changed a single bit since back then, just ask anyone who goes to a church) he rewrote it, condensing some parts while expanding others, and some things he just plain took out. That is the kind of stock we americans come from. Oooh, we can't forget those that dress up in bedsheets and burn sacred crosses at different times of the year. God bless america. =D

I love my country, but I don't subscribe to the crazy america-can-do-no-wrong-and-never-has-and-never-will point of view.

I'm in graduate school (it's nothing to brag about, just ask anyone that's been) and I even failed three of the four classes I took one semester. Do you know how much effort it takes to actually fail, not just get a low grade, but flat out fail a course? It's not hard, but it does take a lot of effort. That semester my roommate Tyler introduced me to video games, it was 2005 I think. Not that I was hiding in a closet and had no idea they existed. I loved Earthworm Jim, and would love to get a copy of it still to this day. Duke Nukem, another all time classic. I even played Pong, Frogger and Spy vs. Spy on the original Atari (several of my friends had Ataris-not the band, though that would be amusing. 'Hey Tom, what's the strange noise coming from your pocket?' aside: this was back in the day before there were cell phones that could fit in something smaller than a duffel bag. "Oh, it's just by Ataris playing loud again, though not very well..."). I learned that Civilization and Warcraft III were awesome! I also came to find out that that was all I wanted to do. So that was all that I did, all day, every day, for an entire semester. Sure, I broke up with my girlfriend (she was crazy anyway) at the time, failed three classes, and became more of a recluse than before, but was it ever fun!! (those exclamation points mean you have to yell that last phrase, that's what exclamation points mean-this is for my American readers-not that I have something super cool to say, but rather that I'm yelling. Typing ALL IN CAPS!!! has the same effect. Though our government leadership it seems are subscribing more and more to the view that if you are yelling then what you have to say must be really important. I! NEED! TO! EMPTY! MY! BLADDER! N!O!W!! see how cool and important that is?!) After I failed all my classes, terminate my relationship at the time, and cut off all social aspects of my life, I was ready to begin my career as a full blown chemist. The only problem was/is most chemists have figured out how to do well in school while also playing tons of video games. That's something not even graduate school has taught me how to do. I've unfortunately started playing them again.

I have an 'older' computer, and yes it's a macbook (not pro, this was back when you could get something less that 'pro') and yes it has the intel processor, and no it does not take me all day to look at one picture on it from the internet. Thank you Al Gore. Forget Steve Jobs, unless he comes back as a zombie that's be eating bath salts and smoking weed, then you better not forget him. In fact you should do just the oposite, and remember where he is and come back with a shovel so you can beat his head in for convincing the majority of people that it's cool to pay 6 billion times the actual cost of a lousy product that will be outdated in less than a year and that only allows you to use the software he approved. That's the american way to say thank you. I would like to say 'thank you' to a vast number of people. For some reason they won't come near me once the wind changes and they catch a whiff of formaldehyde (yes, I know what it is, literally, if I had a drawy thingy I could make a ball-and-stick picture of it for you, but alas, my magic thumbs have decided to fail me once again-maybe I need to check their batteries) and see the shovel, they won't come anywhere near me. Chickens. The pope is one scary dude, at least the current one. He and Vladimr Putin look an awfully lot a like, though Putin is supposedly younger. I'll even bet Putin has his own little Russian-commander-mobile. Too bad the KGB isn't still around officially, then he could have a KGB-mobile. It would fly, make him coffee, and even put his kids to bed for him. I want a car like that. I'll never get one though. I blew all chances of being elected pope, when...wait...sorry, my lawyer says I'm not allowed to talk about it yet. Which I probably can't talk about the other thing either. Although, if you ever get a chance to go to Murmansk, Russia I highly recommend it (pun intended). Not only do they have their nuclear naval fleet stationed there, but it's also butt-nasty cold. Not that there are many places in Russia that are not butt-nasty cold, at least up north. It is seriously like going back in time though. You can take a train from Moscow or St. Petersburg up there, and it's not too bad. We were the only people travelling on the train when we went. Just don't eat the cookies left on the table. 1) They most certainly are not free (communism is no longer running the show) and 2) they taste worse than Cheerios. That's bad.

Once we got up there though we had to register at our hotel and have our passport stamped. Whenever we went out we had to have our passport on us, and they would check to see if we were registered at a local hotel (kind of like the dog catcher checking to see if your dogs have licenses and all their shots). We went even further north from there, and I loved it. Though it was like going back in time. We were stopped at state borders where heavily armed guards would pull us off the bus and check our passports to make sure we weren't smuggling fresh baked goods. Little did they know, we had just eaten a large loaf of homemade bread and would soon deposit it beyond their quaint little post. Fools! We almost got stuck up North too because the train decided to leave an hour earlier than what we were told, and they weren't sure the next one was actually going to be coming for the next week.

My computer being somewhat old, though I do have OSX 10.6.8, the last update before having to jump to 10.7, which will also soon be obsolete when they come out with 10.8, which they very wel may have already. I stopped keeping track of apple products soon after I bought my computer and realized they're running a racket, and not the good kind that helps you win at tennis either. I can't play the new top-of-the-line computer games (I only have a dual-core CPU and 1GB of ram) so I have started playing the older versions of more popular games out now, and I must say, they are still pretty amazing. Diablo II is my current poison, that and Plants vs. Zombies. Love it! Thankfully I don't have any classes, I'm just supposed to be working on research...they never said what kind...bwahahahaha!! Maybe that's why congress and the senate don't get anything done, they're all too busy playing the latest version of mass effect and frogger? I guess I couldn't blame them that much if that's why they're not getting anything done. I would hate to be hypocrite, or is it hypochondriac? I always get the two confused!!!

June 29, 2012

The zenith of my nerd-dome

It's like Bio-dome, but with out Pauly Shore (whatever happened to him, anyway? I wonder if he a Nick Nolte and best friends...). Did you know you can get Hamlet in Klingon? I think I've mentioned that before, but it's definitely worth mentioning again...and again...and again...and again...

This past week I've been Colorado (it's not as exciting as a lot of people like to make it out to be) for a conference. This has been an amazing experience for me, and I've been overly giddy with giddiness and exciting. Okay, it hasn't been all peaches and screams, I've been missing my baby more than the hitmen miss killing people for nothing more than that's their job (that's quite a bit actually). I've seen, listened to, stalked, and even talked to such people as Rodney Bartlett, Peter Pulay, Garnet Chan, Ed Valeev, David Mazziotti, Ron Sheperd, and the biggest one of all for me...wait for it...Hiroshi Nakatsuji!!!! I've been like a kid in a candy store, just too afraid to approach the counter to buy anything. Starting about the time you read the first name, you were probably asking, who the @#$$#(&&!@#*@)#$(#*!!! are these people, and should I know who they are? The answer to that is no. If you're really bored, you can google them, I know Rodney Bartlett has a wikipedia page at least. These are all people of whom I've been reading their work, and hearing about for the past 7-10 years (I forget how long, really, isn't getting older great?) and have marveled at them from a distance. Now I've been able to marvel up close, though speaking to them is another matter entirely. With Prof. Nakatsuji, I first stared in awe at him, was introduced to him, then stared in awe as he walked away. Later he used the urinal next to me; I was greatly honored (forget the fact that it was the only one open at the time). I even had dinner with him and several other people I've admired over the years tonight. They served chocolate cake, mmmm, it was good.

Colorado is what life would be like if you lived in a oven that never turned off. Sure, there's some nice views and cool things to do. Unfortunately, if you want to actually do any of these things you have to get up at about 3am to do them. That's the only time of day it sort of cools off here (much like the only month in Minnesotta it doesn't snow is July, though I have my doubts about it not snowing even then). The other wonderful thing about living in Colorado is they're a bunch of hippies. Yes, they truly are. It might be 105 degrees (stupid units, for overseas readers) outside, but they're not going to turn on the a/c. Oh no, that wouldn't be good for the environment, the fact that they don't even have an a/c unit is beside the point. I'm all for hugging trees, eating people that hunt illegally, and chopping down the forests to save the reindeer, but come on, it's 105 out, we're all sweating buckets and the only advice you have to give is "make sure to drink lots of water." That's not a joke either, they really did that. I'll even start wearing tie dyed hemp clothes I make at home if you'll just buy and use an a/c unit, please!!! I will wear patchouli too to show my commitment to the hippy cause if needed. I can do that because Pam didn't come with me.

I'll be glad to be home soon and see my baby again.  I'll write more later, for now I need sleep.

June 21, 2012

Where have all the good horror writers gone???

There truly is nothing like having the ever-living (or ever-undead) crap scared out of you and having to sleep with the lights on for the next week. I should add one caveat to this, from reading a story or watching a movie. I'll be the first to admit that I enjoy scaring people a bit more than a probably should. My old roommate (old in both senses) Neil can attest to this fact. There was one night he came home late and was convinced I was hiding somewhere in the tiny house we were renting waiting to jump out and scare him. Granted, I did this mostly naked sometimes too, which I'm sure only added to the terror he felt. This one particular night though I was sound asleep in my bed at the back of the house and didn't even know he was home. He said it took him about 20-30 minutes to slowly and carefully make his way to the back of the house to see if I was really in bed or waiting, crammed into a tiny ball in the most unlikely hiding place available. I once squeezed myself into a closet most people would have considered to be impossible to get into, and waited patiently for about 45 minutes before someone finally had to get something out of that closet and ended up with me jumping out at them while making the most horrendous noises I could come up with at the time. I would have happily waited several more hours for that too. I've described some of my other antics in earlier posts and if you're really interested you can look through them and find one hilarious story. It also involves a closet.

When we have kids (Pam brought it up a few weeks ago. According to her I turned ghost white and quickly changed the subject. I didn't have a mirror to see myself at the time so I can neither confirm nor deny this) I plan on convincing them that monsters to live in the closets, basement, under beds, and pretty much in any dark place a spider can fit. Spiders are a type of monster after all. I'm also planning on speaking to them in english, spanish, german and russian all at the same time.

There have been a few good scary movies that have come out over the past few years (1408, The Lady in Black, to name a couple I enjoyed) though for the most part it seems horror and scary are now synonymous with super-gory and more gore. That's not scary. I can come up with my own gorefest without having to go see Final Destination XXXCIV (now competing with The Land Before Time for the most sequels of any pointlessly stupid movie to have ever been made). The first Nightmare on Elm Street, that was some scary stuff, not too mention Freddy had a wicked sense of humor. Plus the mom being pulled through the teeny-tiny door window at the end was priceless. The first Friday the 13th, I stayed away from lakes at all scout camps, especially at night. Granted there were no girls there, so I don't think we had to worry about the same thing happening, but that's not the point. They were truly scary and suspenseful. Sure they were violent, but it was to help the story. It wasn't the story. With the later installments this wasn't necessarily true anymore. Freddy vs. Jason is a good example of that.

A couple of years ago I read Salem's Lot because I love vampires and vampire stories (no, I have not been hypnotized). I had also been subjected to watching the movie Salem's Lot, which I had been told was one of the "scariest movies ever!" (Thanks dad, that was one of my first introductions to the fact that parents lie) The book is wwwwwaaaaayyyyy scarier than the movie. I would read a couple of chapters before going to bed each night, and I would lay there for about an hour after I had finished reading with my eyes open, listening, watching and waiting for my impending doom to show up as a shadowy figure at the side of my bed. I love that feeling of impending doom.

I recently went looking for another good horror story. Stephen King is okay, he just tries to put 'love' stories in his novels that really don't work. A lot of other modern authors that are men also attempt to do this. The problem is that their 'love' stories are all rigid, unrealistic and very flat. I'm not saying I could do any better, but I also don't try to write love stories. Most of these guys need to put in some time reading harlequin romance novels, written by women. This will hopefully help them to improve their 'love' story writing skills. There has to be some reason millions of women love and read them each year. 30 Days of Night, there's a scare the crap out of you movie/novel/graphic novel (a.k.a. comic book) that even has some 'romance' in it. Nothing says "I love you" more than ripping someone's heart out and eating it. Okay, maybe they didn't do that, but they could. The majority of the horror stories I've come across are either predictably stupid, or they just fail to deliver. Are there really no good ideas out there? Have they all really been used? Or is it that too much Twilight has entered the blood stream of society, killing off all good and creative ideas?

I hope it's none of the above.

Speaking of necrophilia, we went and saw Snow White and the Huntsman. It was a good movie. They had the Twilight lady in it (and compared to Charlize Theron, she was even uglier than normal), and there were several parts I was busting up laughing about (in my head). Don't worry, I won't spoil anything real about the movie if you haven't seen it. When she wakes up after eating the poison apple and she's making her grand entrance the immediate thought that ran through my head was:

Bella/Snow White: "It's okay everyone, Edward came and saved me."

I had to bite my tongue really hard to keep from laughing loudly in the theater. At the end of the movie I leaned over to Pam and said, "But now what's she going to do? She has to choose between Edward, the werewolf dude and now the Huntsman..." I'm still confused why she won't go with me to see the final Twilight movie, I think it's going to be a riot.

Did you know they still make vanilla coke? No, it's not some designer drug from the 80's that has suddenly resurfaced (at least not that I know of; I'm out of touch with the drug community). I had no idea they still made it, but found it the other day and was elated. Now I crave it...all the human blood....must control hunger....too strong....can't....must....but....won't.... AAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!! As I grow into a giant green vampire monster that smashes through the building I'm in right now (working, ha!) satiating my thirst for vanilla coke with human blood. I hear they taste about the same, especially after you dissolve a nail in the coke.  The vampire Hulk and Silver Surfer would be unstoppable. Vampire Iron Man is just funny (think hemoglobin if you don't get it). What about the Hemogoblin? He could join the ranks of the Hobgoblin and the Green Goblin, but in vampire form. Spider man, already there. Wolverine already lives forever, his fangs were just misplaced and ended up in his hands. Magneto, hahahahaha, that one's just too funny (think hemoglobin again). Why hasn't Marvel jumped on this yet? I would comment on DC heroes/villains but Superman and Aquaman are the only ones that come to mind, and who wants a vampire-fish-man?  Piranha (the original movie) already has that territory covered.

Captain America could be the vampire hero valiantly fighting against the even day-dwelling Hydra villains. It's too bad I can't draw worth a week-old dead cows back end. I ran out of steam. 

May 29, 2012

Writer's Block

I just saw the phrase "writers block" and I burst out laughing. I'll eventually explain if you didn't get it yet.

Driving down the road the other day I saw a sign that said "Blind cleaning...." again, I burst out laughing and thought of starting a business "Blind Cleaning: for those days you miss having teenagers to clean your house for you." I'm thinking the KKK might take exception to this and come a burnin' sacred crosses on my front lawn. That would be bad for business. Not to mention the city would probably fine me for not having the proper burn permits. We have a fire pit in our backyard (update: we no longer have a fire pit; the weeds had overtaken it and the only way to save it was to destroy it. We now have a bald spot on our lawn). I always imagine that when I'm ruler of the universe I will make people come and take their turn (pun intended) on a giant spit I have over the tiny fire pit in our backyard. When you're ruler of the universe you can make people do things even if you don't really have the proper equipment. That's the benefit of being ruler of the universe, that and you get to say "I have the power!" and mean it, anytime you want. If you've had to work with an editor, especially at a newspaper, you'd want to do this too. Pretty soon businesses will figure out how to outsource baby making. Who wants to live in a libertarian society now? Since we live in a 'democracy' it won't matter anyway, you'll still end up alone, but rich. I guess the up side to being single and rich is that when you have stupid ideas there's no one to stop you from doing them.

"You know, self, we should go out and have our teeth capped in gold."
"I dunno, that doesn't sound like a good idea."
"Why not?! We've got enough money to do it, plus if anything goes wrong, I can just but new teeth."
"Oh yeah, I forgot how much money we have. After we do this, let's go buy Facebook stock!!"

You ever get the urge to get up out of that thing and dance till you feel better? There really aren't good musicians any more, are there? I mean, I understand that Lady Gaga is just like totally expressing herself and being like totally liberal pushing for women's rights and stuff like that; it just feels like there's a man behind the scenes pushing all the buttons and pulling all the levers. Call me a cynic. Come on Aerosmith, relapse already!!!

I can tale you one thing, writers block has nothing to do with a cool hip place that writers like to hang out when they're not writing, or tired of slamming their fingers in the door for not having any good ideas to write about:

"Hey, Bill"
"Hey, Axel"
"WHOA! What Happened To Your Fingers??!" (you have to yell the first letter of each word)
"Oh that, it's nothing, I, uhm, I, uh, fell down the stairs and just as I did a breeze came through the house and slammed the door shut on them."
"I guess that's one of the dangers you have to live with in those old houses."
"That and the old lady we can't seem to get out of the upstairs closet."
"I think I'd be too scared with her around."
"It's not to bad, she makes us breakfast and sometimes dinner. The only bad thing is she keeps using all the hot water and then laughs manically at me as I shower in freezing cold water because I have to be at work."
"WHOA!! You have a job???!!!"
"Yeah, I know, I'm a total sellout."
"Pssshhhh. Poser."

That or you have a debate with yourself about whether you should right about the Unitary group or the Orthogonal group (no, they're not political, and they're not really a religious group either, though their followers are somewhat fanatical-if you get this joke, you have my most heartfelt and sincere apology). What's your white whale? I never have understood why that one's a classic. There's a Spanish author, I forget his name write now, but he's pretty awesome. He writes what I think are classics. There's one story where there's a family with a handicapped child; they live on a farm and milk the cow, get eggs from the chickens, etc. etc. etc.. One day the parents need to run into town so they leave him and his sister at home. When they come home he's out in the front yard looking pleased as can be. They go inside to find that his sister is hanging from the same place they hang chickens to drain the blood before eating them. A true family classic. I would like to see Disney take a crack at that one, see if they can't lovey dovey that story up. They seem to have done a pretty good job with the other fairy tails they've turned into money cows. Speaking of cows, they are not easy to tip over.

Yesterday I was accused of being a lawyer for Disney. The funny part was Pam was sitting next to me (she's in law school). I was then made cabin boy of some ship I don't recall the name of but probably could come up with it if my life depended on it, which it clearly does not at this point (put down the taser-the spell checker doesn't think taser is a word, ha! Tase the programmer and then tell him nothing really happened because there's no such thing as a taser). To overcome writers block I find a good sturdy rope and an experienced climbing companion, plus a good pair of shoes are the best. A good pair of shoes is highly underrated. I hate shoes. The problem is it gets cold, and I keep moving further north, and I am very much a cold blooded human being (keep the jokes to yourself). It was about 90 degrees last night (with Humidity, in case anyone from Arizona is reading) and I kind of liked it. It made it hard to sleep and anytime either Pam or eye bumped into each other we immediately recoiled as if we'd just touched a burning hot stove, which is what we felt like to each other. I keep telling my baby she's super hot, which she is. Branding your loved one, though, is no way to keep them from running away. Locking them in a cage first and then branding them, on the other hand, is much more effective. Thank you Stockholm for giving us your syndrome. I have a giant PJJ on my left hip, letting airport security everywhere know that if they mess with me they'll have the wrath of the PJJ ranch to mess with, yo! Ain't nobody messin' with my cattle gonna get away with it!!! (angry look with arms crossed, baggy pants and a baseball cap on sideways-yes, I'm not wearing a shirt or socks, oh the humanity) Shoes are bad. Sandals (or thongs as we used to call them) are good.

I swallowed a gold fish once. He swam in my stomach for the next year, had babies and was living very happily inside me when my wife found out and punched me in the stomach repeatedly until they stopped screaming. Did you know dead fish float? I didn't either. We have a bird. He's noisy. He thinks he sings pretty like all the birds out side, which sing like "La la lalalalala la la la la...(very pretty melody)," his comes out about like "SQUAWK!!!! SQUAWK!! SQUA SQUA SQUA SQUAWK!!!!" Sometimes I think that's probably how I sound when I sing, but I think I sound pretty so I'll keep doing it, with the windows down, driving past small children that run in terror as I pass them by. Yes, I'm more scary than the clown driving the ice cream truck very very slowly through your neighborhood, smiling with a wide grin showing all his teeth and waving as he keeps passing your house ever few minutes.

Writers block, plagiarism is the only real cure anyone has ever been able to tell me about that truly works. You think you can be blog-banned for plagiarizing? That would be pretty cool if you could. If you find anything in my blog that is plagiarized, please keep it to yourself. I try to give credit for ideas that I steal, but no one's prefect, and this is just for fun (I think...). I never did explain the joke about writer's block that I was laughing at the beginning (I'm still chuckling). The best part is, credit cards have a cut off point. If you still don't get it, I'm not explaining the punch line (though I all but did with that last comment, almost killing what I was laughing at). Jokes are never funny when you have to explain the punch line. Why is it called the punch line anyway? Do people get in line and let you punch them when you get to that part so they'll at least think somethings funny while a fist slams its way into their inner organs? I wouldn't be laughing. I do like zombies though.

Until next time, don't die and don't kill anyone. Also, don't eat anyone, especially if they're still alive.

May 27, 2012

Conjunctivitis: The reason why no one uses conjunctions any more

Conjunction junction, what's your function? There was a little too much soul and not enough funk for that show to really make it through the ages. Now it's relegated to being shown on PBS or even youtube.

A funny thing happened to me earlier this week. 1) I was attached by a roving caravan of clowns wielding bananas. Lucky for me I am a highly trained assassin skilled in the art of dismembering a man wielding a banana. If it's a woman wielding a banana I'm in trouble. It's a good thing they were all men, though I had no way of knowing either, short of dismembering or undressing them, since they were all dressed like ninjas, covered from head to tow in black cloth and salami. If I lived somewhere more humid that style of attack would be much more effective. "A man earlier today was surrounded by ninjas wearing salami. They say that it was only a matter of second before the stench over took him and claimed his life. Back to you Fred." Luckily I'm so close to the land of ice and snow that we're sometimes mistaken for really tall elves. I even have a pointy thing on my ear, which is often mistaken for a zit (though, now that I'm older, people don't point it out any more. Maybe they're more polite now that I'm older?) and my grandma tells that's where they broke me off from the paper chain when my parents decided to adopt me. My supposed real parents tell me I'm not adopted and that it's all just a viscous lie meant to hurt me. I, however, have distinct memories of when I was kid and they told me that they found me in a basketball and couldn't leave me there (apparently I was cute once), and they've been regretting it ever since. Bwahahahahahahaha!!! Little do they know this has all been a part of my plan all along to take over the world with all of its shiny things laid out to please and distract me from the ugly evilness that will be a necessity once I am made supreme ruler and have to force you earth human dirt worms into subjugation and serviness!! Feed me Seymour.

Barry White was black. Jack Black is white. Maybe they were switched at birth.

Nazi are hiding on the moon. Lizards are hiding in the center of the earth. Ice creams tastes much better when it's been purchased from the creepy old dude driving around in a run down minivan with a speaker duck taped to his roof selling the foo foo thunder bars of awesomeness out of a cooler whose ice has all melted.  If I'm ever kidnapped by aliens, maybe I'll be able to convince them to come back and get that dude off the streets. They might win the nobel prize for that. Are aliens allowed to win the nobel prize? I hope his wife never had a supposed affair with an alien, otherwise I think they might not be eligible. It's too bad W.C. Fields wasn't a mathematician. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then give up, there's no use being a damn fool about it." Aaaaaahhhhhh, inspiring children everywhere to give up. After being attacked by the meat laden ninja man, I continued on my way to the library (did you know they let you take books for free??! Serious.). I stumbled across a homeless man that turned out to be Bill Gates trying to figure out what it was like to be poor and homeless (Mitt the Twit could take some lessons). The problem was he kept getting hungry and tired of being dirty, so he'd make it about 15 minutes and have to go get something to eat and shower. A day in the life of Curt Cobain, "HELP!!!! HELP!!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!! I'M NOT DEAD YET!!!!!!!!"

I heard a man was shot while naked. It was in the South. He was also chewing on another man's face. At least he wasn't eating a pear. Who shoots someone for eating a pear??? "Uh, what does your license plate say....uh, duh." Zombies are out there. They are among us. You may not suspect them, but they're there. They're also over there and their heads are not all there. You see them driving the bus; making your morning coffee; approving your feeble attempt to buy gas; teaching your class; eating your neighbors; patrolling your streets. The worst part is, you can't tell them apart from politicians, mindlessly going about their day with one thought on their minds. EAT YOUR BRAINS!!!!! I think that's what the US government is up to, with all their state sponsored alien abductions where you magically appear in some "Secret" prison, that everyone knows about, on the other side of the planet. The only way you can travel to the other side of the planet is not by bus, train, car, bike, roller skates, boat or plane, but by super awesome and advanced alien space ship. Do you know anyone normal that's ever been to the opposite side of the planet from where you are? Exactly! Only strange people, who are suspect of either being aliens or have been abducted by aliens, or are zombies that ate all of the aliens and then took over their ship to travel to the opposite side of the planet to reek havoc, taste a different cuisine and otherwise continue being strange, have never been to the other side of the planet. I'm not sure that last sentence made any sense (it did, I just reread it), and since we're out of aspirin, I'm not going to reread, but rather summarize what was supposed to be said and was meant but might not have been said, but I'm not sure because I'm too self serving and lazy to go back and read what I just wrote because I might get a headache, which could lead to colon cancer which would lead to death, which might lead to me becoming a zombie, and let's face it, no one wants me to be a zombie. At least, I don't want me to be a zombie, not unless it comes with super powers like being able to see through superman. When I go, I want to go with my brain mostly intact, if not still attached to my body, if at all possible. Though I think I'd rather be quickly decapitated than buried alive (e.g., Curt). I wonder if you need sunlight to stay healthy, wealthy and wise?

Did you know that the reason why being out in the sun will make you age quicker is because the light coming from the sun, while it takes a measly 8 minutes/second (I forget which and don't want to convert miles to km) for the light to reach earth from the sun, it's about 100,000 years old. That's really old. That's older than the oldest person I know. Take the oldest person you know, multiply it by a billion and that's about how old the light from the sun is that's hitting your skin and causing all those years to be poured out upon you. SPF 15 doesn't mean 15 hours with the sunscreen on (and being in the sun) would be the same as one hour in the sun without it on. No, it means it's protecting you against 15,000 years of aging. People think it's hormones in the milk, beef, cheese, waffles, eggs and children that are causing us to look older and age quicker, when in reality the true culprit is the sun. Curse you sun!!! This is all a part of the plot of the plants to rise up and begin their age of ruling the planet. They stood idly by as the dinosaurs etched their mark into the geological record. When primates began their age, the plants still did nothing, assuming it was some kind of cruel joke that mother nature would tire of quickly. They wouldn't find out until much later, when a special Fox News report showed them that mother nature was taken hostage by the earliest of primates and was being held prisoner indefinitely at Guantanamo Bay-she was also claiming that she started the global warming conspiracy and that none of it's true (see, water boarding it useful). With that, they decided they'd had enough, so they called up their old friend the sun. Yes, the sun. It provides them with what they need to live and grow and breath and eat small children. They decided on a plan to make us all age super fast so we would all get old and die without having any kids. The one thing they didn't plan on was plastic surgery. That really threw a wrench in the gears of their plan (Sarah Jessica Parker is their poster child of how they've been foiled-they can only pick up HBO with their plant antennae). The plants got back together to revamp the old plan and come up with a new plan for making us age. They had the sun crank up the age thermometer, and not even Chuck Norris can save us from this one.

The moral of the story: kill all of the plants around you If you're not with us, you're against us. We'll kill all the plants in the world, showing them that we don't need them to survive. Yes, we humans can live well enough without them, and there are plenty of other things to eat, like baby whale and rhinoceros, besides plants and all their cell walliness. Yes, we humans are pretty smart and will remain on top of the world, and food chain, even if it means destroying everything else in the process. Until next time, sweet dreams.

P.S. The picture at the bottom right of this page shows me tackling an alien (legal) and preventing it from travelling back to its mothership.

May 23, 2012

That's awesome! No, that's...not even science

First, I just want to thank everyone that comes and checks out my rambling blog. I was a bit surprised to see how many people have been looking at it, though elated at the same time. Thank you.

This is the story about Mr. Chuckles and the Princess of Awesomeness. (theme song 'I'm a survivor' begins playing, thank you Donna Summers)

The boy scouts is a pretty good organization. I say pretty good because they're the ones teaching those of us that have a penchant for being dangerous, but didn't know how to really be dangerous, exactly how we can not only be dangerous but how to maximize the danger to not only ourselves but countless others as well (though most of them have a penchant for being dangerous as well). It's analogous to having a gun in a safe without the bullets in it, so that any child that wanders in really only runs the risk of poking their eye out or getting hit on the head. Then along come the boy scouts, and they not only show the kid how to load and shoot the gun, they also show him where the keys to the safe, and car are located, along with your bank account number. Sure, they'll learn some useful skills, like how to drive really fast through a crowded building, and I'm sure they'll ace their drivers license exam when they finally get out of prison and can own a car. But is that really the most efficient way to learn? With all the other people who have gone through the scouting program I respond with a resounding, YES!! Few things are more thrilling than realizing you just escaped certain death and doom at your own hands, and you no longer have eyebrows. For those who have heard about my escapades of throwing batteries and aerosol cans in the fire at scout camp, I can honestly say that was not me. I was busy hiding from the other scouts due to threats of being given a massive wedgie if they found me while they were throwing things in the fire. Oh the fun games you come up with when left to your own devices, and people think Lord of the Flies is just a demented man's way of thinking.

There is a company here in lansing that advertises for "Blind Cleaning." I imagine their moto is "For those days when you're old and retired and you miss feeling what it was like to have your children at home to do the house chores for you. Blind Cleaning Inc." I wonder if they give driving lessons as well? The small voice in the back of my head that I usually keep tied up and gagged pretty well apparently has managed to get the gag off because I can hear it saying that I'm being a little insensitive. I agree. I should tie him up with less coarse rope and make sure the gag is more secure in the future. To keep Pam from calling for the blind cleaning I am making sure to close my eyes while I clean and to break something at least once a day. We have a whole cupboard filled with fine china, so this is going to be a cinch.

The end of the world is coming and there's nothing you can do about it. Facebook stock is plummeting. It's 2012. Hostess is going out of business. Newt Gingrich has dropped out of the presidential election. There's a Fiat (not Dodge) viper coming soon. The signs are all there, if you're willing to pay attention. We're doomed, doomed, doomed, doomed, doomed. Now go! I just want to die in pieces, is that really too much to ask?

A friend and I were discussing the other day whether or not he had been abducted by aliens. He was having pain in his lower abdomen, and thought he went to see the doctor. This ended up with him having a painful experience. He said the place was really clean and shiny (the first clue something was wrong). The staff was super helpful and friendly when he first got there (alarm bells were now going off). They asked him if they could get him anything while he waited (they're now screaming). When taken into the room for his examination there was a goat sitting on a chair holding a clipboard. It asked him to get undressed and put on the robe (more alarm bells). I won't give any more details (call in the National Guard!!! the alarms are now screaming). Suffice it to say, he was anal probed and then forced to show public displays of affection with a different goat. The whole experience has him traumatized and scarred for life (not to mention scared for life). The moral of the story: There's no such thing as health care, only state sponsored alien abductions and anal probing. I guess at least with these alien abductions you don't end up in Guantanamo. Or do you....???? The truth is out there. Bigfoot's real. Aliens are among us. Blue cheese it grown in caves. The boogeyman lives under your bed. Santa Claus is real and runs a sweat (not sweets) shop at the North Pole. Lizard men are lurking on the inside of the planet, waiting and plotting to take over the world. Donald Trump is one of them. Chihuahuas are really giant rats that have been somewhat domesticated. In spanish someone from the state of Chihuahua in Mexico and the dog are really similar, and could never keep them straight. It would make some people angry (alarms bells are going off).

Wouldn't it be nice if hostess would start making jelly filled donuts again? I think that would help solve a lot of problems and help a lot of people to be less angry. Send your petitions to hostess and  let's ask them to do their part to help end world peace by making jelly donuts again for the masses. Until next time, don't die.

March 26, 2012

Run-in(s) with the law

Nobody in their right mind wants to be associated with "the man" and the oppressive omnipresence exuded by his porous frame of evil nastiness-kind of reminds me of Hollow Face in some regards, though scarier. When I drive past a policeman I try to find a penny to hold out the window as we drive by, and yell "DIRTY COPPER!!" (thank you Tyler for introducing me to that one). Completely stupid and immature, but considering my various run-ins I've had with the law, or "the man," I feel they are justified. That's not to say that I don't appreciate the job they do, I do and I think the disunited states of americana needs to raise taxes to pay them, and other public servants, closer to what they deserve for what they do. Another way to pay for it would be to get rid of the politicians ridiculous salaries, and pay them what they're worth ($1 * 10^-34) which is still being a little too generous to them. We'll see how long it takes for gas prices to fall and have them supporting such socialist (gasp!) reforms like health care for all and REALLY free education for everyone, with the stipulation that they have to do well in school.

My first run-in with "the man"came when I was just a young lad, some friends and I decided to light some matches in my parent's unfinished basement and put them on the top of the wood burning stove that was down there-if we had been thinking we would have put them in the stove and opened a window to let the smoke out. As such, I was confronted by my mom and she took me to a fire station where they gave me a nice "lesson" on why you shouldn't play with matches. I never took to it. I love fire and thinks it's one of the most amazing things, especially when you start to look at it from a chemical point of view. There's so much about it that we know absolutely nothing about. It's a very challenging process to describe at a fundamental level. What makes it even more fascinating to me is that it just comes from releasing energy in a somewhat controlled way by breaking bonds (in an uncontrolled way you get an explosion, the technical term for burning is deflagration-see my blog is informative!! Suck on that Al Gore). I've never started a large fire that has been out of control. I used to have He-man and GI Joe action figures. They all died in fires in the sandbox at the house I grew up in. It was very sad, but they all died heroically saving the lives of innocent imaginary people who imaginarily thank them each and everyday of their imaginary lives.

The next run-in with the law I had, that I can remember anyway, was when I was twenty years old and living in Mexico. No, I wasn't a mule and it happened very far from the border. I was asleep in my bed, snuggled up under three blankets and wearing a sweatshirt and two pairs of flannel pants-it was a cold 70 degree night. You know those dreams where you wake up in a cold sweat and you're terrified? It was kind of like that, except once I woke up I realized it wasn't a dream and there was literally no where to escape to. There were people smashing in the windows of our house yelling at us to come out. They don't have to identify themselves as police in Mexico apparently. I was hiding behind a wall hoping that they didn't have guns and start shooting. You had to have a key to open our doors, from the inside and outside, so smashing in the windows didn't do much but scare us. Finally someone we knew had some over and told us it was okay and to come out. I opened out front door and was looking down the barrel of a gun. I have no idea what the person holding the gun looked like, I just remember telling myself not to void my bladder. It turned out that they were looking for a pair of guys that had killed someone in a town about three-fours hours away. Personally I think they were just bored and wanted something to do. Adding insult to unnecessary injury they stole about 400 pesos from us. I love La Chota. I don't know if they ever found who they were looking for, though I do hope something nasty happened to the one that stole the 400 pesos (it's about $40 USA). They didn't pay for the windows either.

Thankfully that was the first and last run-in I had with the man in Mexico. Back in the USA I ran into plenty of officers. Amazingly, almost all of them were named Richard, at least I'm pretty sure they were. I've been pulled over somewhere between 20-30 times since I turned 21. Three of them were justified (two of those three resulting in speeding tickets). The rest of the times I was pulled over was probably because he'd just been blown off by some girl and he wanted to exercise his manhood and prove his virility at the expense of someone else. One of the better ones happened one night while I was out for a drive. While going to college in Utah (five of the most miserable years of my life) I discovered that a good way for me to blow off some steam was to go for a drive through the mountains and canyons nearby where I lived. They are some of the most beautiful areas I have ever been to in my life. While I was out driving, I realized I needed gas. I pulled into the first gas station I came across. I went inside and used the restroom first, and decided to prepay (back when $20 would fill up your tank; if you think Obama's energy policies are responsible for the high gas prices right now, you need to stop listening to the news and research the matter for yourself-yes become educated and stop regurgitating the horse shit you're being spoon fed by the man) for my tank of gas. There happened to be a piece of fuzz in the parking lot, and he seemed preoccupied playing with his gun. I finished filling up my tank and got in my car. When I got in my car and was getting ready to leave, officer Richard perked up and pulled out behind me rather quickly. I realized where this was going quickly, and when the christmas lights came shining forth, I pulled over, rolled down my window and was drumming my fingers on the side of the car waiting for him to come to my window. When he finally came up, before he could say anything I said to him, "If you pulled me over because I drove off without paying, I prepaid, and here's my receipt..." The idiot just stammered for a second and managed to finally blurt out "there's a warrant out for the arrest of the owner of this car." I just laughed at him. My dad's name was on the title of the car; he was elected official at the time, and good friends with the county sheriff. I told the officer such once I finished laughing at him. He told me he still needed to see my license and registration. I gave them to him and waited while he tried to figure out how he could justify pulling me over. He finally came back with a warning because I didn't have a license plate on the front of my car, which is a completely stupid law as not all states require it, and in-fact in Michigan, they won't even give you a second plate for your car. I can't really say what I think of that moron, other than he shouldn't have graduated from the academy.

That's not to say that all popo are dimwitted and moronic. One of my best friends is a cop. I told him he couldn't a cop since he's Jewish. His ultimate goal is to really work for the man at one of those un-namable government entities where they tell you not to tell anyone that you work for them, "for your own and the safety of your family." Plus, if we actually paid them decently it would be more competitive and the people that held those positions would be more competent and trustworthy.

While in Russia I had a very brief brush with the man, it was kind of fun, but I was also hoping I didn't end up in some dark, dank prison in the middle of nowhere. You're not supposed to take pictures of the military, police or their cars or buildings. Hold overs from the cold war era, or just extreme paranoia? I don't think there's anyway to distinguish between the two, regardless of the country you live in (good job McCarthy, you'll forever be remembered for your self-righteous idiocy). I went over with a group of people I didn't know, and still don't. Several of the girls in our group wanted their picture taken of them all together on the street, so I offered to take it. None of us really noticed that right behind where we were taking the picture was  a military compound. I'm not sure how we missed it. Right after I took their picture a very large Russian soldier came up to us, carrying his wonderfully large automatic weapon in hand. He was telling us that we needed to come with him and he needed to see the camera. I pretended like I didn't understand him and at the same time was trying to get the other people I was with to start walking very fast away from him. He didn't follow us. I think he realized that if we were spies, we would get ourselves killed all on our own. Other than that though, Russia was a pretty quiet country overall, at least where I was at and while I was there. I miss Russia and Mexico, at least in those countries they're more honest about their corruption and don't pretend that everything is ooky.

If you try to comment on this post and notice that I have to approve all comments, that's because I'm socialist and to be socialist means you censor what gets published...yeah, that's what it means.

Obama is not a brown skinned, antiwar, socialist who gives away free healthcare. That was Jesus. 

January 22, 2012


There are certain things in life that really are worthless. The bag of rocks you traded your baseball card collection for, only to find out that they didn't have gold or diamond, or more baseball cards, in them and you could only use them to throw as projectiles at the person(s) you traded your cards to for them, only then to find out that not only can they run faster than you, they can also throw farther and harder than you. Rocks fights are fun, right up until you get hit in the forehead by a rock that sends blood cascading down your face, blinding your eyes and causing you to stumble down a flight of cement stairs into a dark and damp region that you seldom go because it's "scary" and there are real live spiders down there.

Spiders are worse than vampires. Vampires can turn into bats and fly about and hypnotize you with their eyes and make you fall in love with them, all so they can feast on your tasty blood (according to them, anyway, I've never tasted human blood, except my own, and I was too busy worrying about the blood cascading down my face to notice if it tasted good or not). Spiders on the other hand, they're small, deadly, etc. etc. etc. Did you know dandelions are more deadly than the black widow? It's true, but that's mostly because she's 90+ years old and they didn't have the technology to catch her back when she murdered her husband. Besides, who wants to drown to death in a vat of dandelions? I think I'd rather...I'm not sure what, but I'd rather not die by drowning in a vat of dandelions, and then be made into dandelion wine. That's one of my favorite books too, by the way.

Spiders have an exoskeleton that puts wolverine and his adamantium to shame. They're stronger than aunts, which have been known to lift cars off of puppies that are trapped underneath them. Don't invite them to the neighborhood book club meetings though and they lose all their magical defenses. Spiders can also spit sticky silk from their back end and use it to trap you. Then they wrap you in a coffin of sticky silk, inject you with stomach acid and let it work its way through you, while you're still alive, and then they suck out your insides. Though highly unlikely, I like to think that the last part happens while you're still alive too. Besides, how many vampires do you accidentally eat a year in your sleep? Chuck Norris might be able to do this, but not me, unless I've been eating garlic. The average person swallows eight spiders a year while you sleep. That means they're in your bed and crawling on your face and in your mouth while you sleep. Vampires are more polite than to invade your personal space like that. I woke up once with one crawling on my face. I know I was still tired because I reached up with  my hand grabbed it and threw it across the room, shuddered for a few minutes and then went back to sleep. Plus, if you get bitten by a spider you don't turn into a spider, unless your name's Peter Parker (my first and last name don't share the same first letter, so my hopes and dreams of being a  super hero are shot; being a super villian is another story though). I would much rather deal with a vampire than a spider, because at the end of the day when I have to choose between living forever and feeding off of the living or a swollen bump that is painful to the touch, the former will always win.

I know I promised a Christmas story, and I almost upheld that promise too (I have two ideas for picture stories and another for a short story, without pictures by me), but at the end of the day I am the drunk of a father that comes home, bleary eyed and confused, not knowing where my paycheck went and having to tell the children they have to go to bed hungry again because they're father is a louse. After which the wife picks up a pan and starts trying to bean him over the head, because that will help him remember to come straight home from work and not stop at the bar.

"Hey Herb, didn't you say your wife told you something really important?"
"Yea she did, but for the life of me, I can't remember what..."
"Want to go get a drink while you try and remember?"
"Sure, one drink won'r kill"

The last sentence will be the epitaph on his grave, and the wife will spend the rest of her life on the run because she couldn't cook off all the blood before the coppers showed up.

Speaking of worthless, my computer is acting weird (and it's a mac, gasp!). If Steve Jobs comes back as a zombie, do you think apple will hire him again? I mean, they've already hired him twice, so why not a third? Third times a charm.

"Yea, sno-balls."
"Where's the twinkies?"
"I like sno-balls"
"I hate coconut. Not the taste, the consistency."

I'd like to have a zombie as my butler. We would have to keep him muzzled most of the time, except when salemen come around. That would make getting replacement butlers a lot easier and cheaper. We would probably have to dip them in cologne every day though. Stay away from the fruit bats as well. Keeping the kids out of the cookies would be pretty easy though, "If you sneak into the cookies again we're  going lock you with Geeves XXIV in the garage without his muzzle on, and you don't want that, now do you?" As our kid soils themself and we have to have Geeves come clean it up. We could probably even get something going with the local animal shelter. SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PETS!!!! unless you want to see them being fed to zombie butlers in the near future, and all because you were too selfish to chop off their manhood or take out their female parts. They will still love you and try to hump your face/leg when you're not paying attention.

I love my life. =D