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Pat Searsjak and Vanna White Sale

2010-11-17T18:42:00.008-06:00

Category: "Found at Sears"

S_ARS GIFT CARD

Contestant: "I'd like to buy an E... and a washer/dryer from Sears."
Pat: "Sears Sears Sears!"
Vanna: (vacant stare)

Is Your Facebook Profile As Private As You Think?

2009-10-29T09:07:00.006-05:00

Click the title for the full article.

When a question like this is asked in a headline, you know the answer is, "No, my Facebook profile is not as private as I think."

On whether or not third parties can gather data from quiz answers, Tim Sparapani, director of public policy at Facebook, said Facebook would never let that happen. Such conduct is shut down and strictly enforced. However... "He won't cite a specific case of such enforcement, but he says it has happened."

Okay, we can all rest assured.

Me: Say, police officer, have you ever stopped a murder from happening?
Cop: Oh, of course, it's my job.
Me: Cool! Please, tell me a story.
Cop: Er, um, well, I don't have a story, but I have done it.
Me: Gee, seems like it would be a memorable experience, but I'll take your word for it!

In Defense of Dunham

2009-09-17T09:42:00.016-05:00

There is much debate in the stand-up comedy community about who is and is not a shitty comedian. Larry the Cable Guy, Dane Cook, and Carlos Mencia are all obvious and popular choices for the "worst comedian" title. Another performer who often gets thrown into this debate is Jeff Dunham. I am not a fan, but I'm about to defend the man, anyway.

I don't find Jeff Dunham funny, but, at the same time, I hardly consider him a comedian. He's a ventriloquist. All modern ventriloquists tell jokes. What else are they going to talk about with a piece of cloth and wood? Telling corny jokes through puppets is a tradition that goes back to Vaudeville, and these performers were and are still called ventriloquists. Even if stand-up comedy fans hate to admit it, Jeff Dunham is a skilled ventriloquist. I may not be into ventriloquism, but many people are, and to label a ventriloquist a comedian leaves out the actual attraction (ventriloquism).

Does Dunham present himself as a comedian? Sure. Comedy is in right now, so he shifts the focus a little. Big deal. It's show business. (Cliché alert!) When Comedy Central calls, is Dunham going to go into my long rant about the difference between ventriloquists and stand-up comedians? Of course not. I do not intend to dismiss the comedy element, but anyone watching can see his passion for ventriloquism. I don't share this passion, but I respect him for putting it out there, especially when so many people turn up their noses at the craft.

I've never heard accusations of Jeff Dunham stealing jokes. I've never heard him labeled a phony or an asshole or a douchebag. I find his act to be generally harmless and based entirely around performing ventriloquism (which he's quite good at) and the jokes that go along with it. Therefore, because he is a ventriloquist first and a comedian second, because he writes his own material no matter how unfunny, I argue the sins he has made against comedy are far more forgivable than Carlos Mencia or Larry the Cable Guy.

I am officially leaving him out of all of my future conversations about shitty comedians. Jeff Dunham, you are okay in my book. But still unfunny.

Mercy

2009-09-01T17:10:00.010-05:00

No offense, nurse from "Mercy," but if you "know more" than the doctor and his residents "combined," maybe you should be a doctor.

Jackass: "I know more about law than every police officer and lawyer COMBINED!"
Me: "Oh really, what do you do?"
Jackass: "I write parking tickets."
Me: "But I'm sure you have aspirations to become, say, a police officer or lawyer."
Jackass: "Nah, writing parking tickets is my life."
Me: "Then shut the fuck up."

Second Thoughts

2008-12-09T22:47:00.003-06:00

Things you can do with the extra second of 2008:

1. Blink
2. Nap
3. Complete a Jumble
4. Spend time with family
5. Turn back clocks
6. Watch “Saturday Night Live: The Best of Jimmy Fallon”
7. Discover the meaning of life
8. Learn to play the triangle
9. Travel
10. Waste it

Life Lessons

2008-09-11T22:50:00.010-05:00

I’ve learned so many things over the years, but not as much as I’ve learned in the past year, a year of personal exploration and exploring myself. Here are a few life lessons I’d like to pass on to you, my readers, because my life is more meaningful than yours will ever be.

1. “Live every day to the fullest.” I really mean this. I was sitting on my porch the other day watching little kids playing on their scooters and solving their Rubik’s cubes, when I realized that life is too short to just sit on a porch and watch kids play with their toys. I got out of my chair swing, careful not to fall, and fell right on my face. After a visit to the emergency room, I swore to my doctor that I would never take my life for granted, to which he said, “Get out of my bar.” Inside joke.

2. “Be thankful for what you have.” This one I really mean. I may not have much, but at least I have my health, my love of children, and a three-by-eight inch scar on my forehead from that time I fell face-first onto my porch. I cherish these things because they are what make me who I am today. A pedophile.

3. “Slut it up.” I mean this one a lot, guys. Life is too short, and so should be your skirt. You ride around on your little scooter wearing your Sunday dress like you don’t even notice me, but I know you do. You're a tease. Look at me. LOOK AT ME! Yeah, you heard that one, didn’t you? Oh, what, you’re going to go cry to your mommy now? Go right ahead. I dare you.

4. “Prison is a great place to reflect.”

Pizza Huff

2008-09-04T20:56:00.005-05:00

I have a sneaking suspicion that Pizza Hut is lying to us in their recent Tuscani Pasta ad campaign. Real people, at a real Italian restaurant, are tricked into eating real Pizza Hut food, and are real impressed.

Really?

One woman says of the Bacon Mac ‘n Cheese churning in her mouth, “This is decadent.” Yeah, nothing says decadence like sprinkling some Bac-Os onto your mac ‘n cheese. Molto bene!

But we’ve all experienced it. We go to an upscale Italian restaurant, and there’s one of those waiters wandering around with a bottle of Bac-Os begging you to “Say ‘when.’”

“Whoa there, lay off my pasta, Ignacio. How about we move those babies over to my salad?”

“Sorry, sir, Bac-Os are reserved for the pasta, but perhaps I can interest you in some marinara sauce for that salad of yours.”

How Will You Die?

2008-06-29T22:21:00.012-05:00

Dear God, please let it not be like this.

I'd rather be decapitated by a Six Flags Batman roller coaster or defenestrated from a ninth story Manhattan flat than even witness this horrifying clown in person. If you think the picture is bad, the actual advertisement was animated, and I saw it moments before going to bed. Then again, who doesn't enjoy waking up in a pool of one's own sweat?

I can't help but wonder what kind of sicko created this, and far worse, who would willingly check it out. And subscription required? Sorry, I don't subscribe to killer clowns.

But if I had to die, and got to choose my death, I think I'd have to go with drowning in chocolate milk. I'd be dead from the sheer pleasure overload before a drop even hit my lungs.

Why must this election always be about race?

2008-06-07T10:50:00.001-05:00

Not to be racist

2008-06-03T16:16:00.002-05:00

I was perusing Facebook today when I stumbled upon this thought-provoking discussion topic: “Without being racist, which group/race of people do you guys consider the most annoying?”

How can you answer this question without being racist? You can’t. Even if you said something like, “Blacks annoy me at times, but you know what, I’ve learned to tolerate them and respect their athletic prowess,” you’d still be racist. In fact, I’m racist for typing that sentence, and you’re racist for reading it.

My friends and I have often criticized the preface, “Not to be racist.” As in, “Not to be racist, but Asians drive like they’re using chopsticks” or “Not to be racist, but they all look alike. You know. The Jews.” A better way to soften such a statement would be to say, “Though I am being racist, I mean no ill will—I simply hate Polacks.” Once you have admitted your racism and expressed that you mean no offense, all bets are off.

But anyway, Mexicans.

Rejected Classic Rock Song Titles

2008-05-21T15:52:00.011-05:00

Lovin', Touchin', Itchin'
~ Journey

Jack and Diane and Their Dog Willy and That Pickup Truck They All Drove Around In
~ John Cougar

I, Personally, Lack the Ability to Operate a Motor Vehicle at a Speed of 55 Miles Per Hour
~ Sammy Hagar

Who the Who are Who (Who Who Who Who Who Who?)
~ Yes

Blow Me
~ Eddie Money

This post is "Weird Al" Yankovic-approved.
(That's a lie. Even he's embarrassed by it.)

Guaranteed to brighten your day

2008-05-12T16:28:00.002-05:00

Great news everyone! 20^th Century Fox is making “Alvin and the Chipmunks 2!!!” In the sequel, Alvin and his bros meet up with their female (and I can only assume sexy) chipmunk cousins. Sounds pretty awesome, huh? That’s because IT WAS MY IDEA!!! I distinctly remember watching “Alvin and the Chipmunks” and stating in a drunken haze how great a sequel featuring female chipmunks would be. What a clever twist it would be. How my life would forever change. How it was COMPLETELY MY FUCKING IDEA!

What next, the Chipmunks are going to sing “Bad to the Bone?” I wouldn’t be surprised if Fox stole that idea from me, too. Fox, it was bad enough that you took my 35^th word and turned it into a television network (number 34: poopie. You still owe me royalties for that one, MTV!). But to take an entire plot of a movie from me... that’s dirty. You’re just lucky I have one more idea in this ol’ creativity bank that I’m about to deposit before you withdraw without my permission.

“Alvin and the Chipmunks 3” © Michael Peters, 2008

True Story

2008-05-02T08:11:00.004-05:00

While swimming in the ocean as a child, I got stung by a jellyfish. Last week, I asked a girl to pee on it. She gave me a funny look. I said, “You can never be too careful.” Long story short, we’re no longer seeing each other, and I still have a rash on my upper thigh that may or may not have been caused by a jellyfish.

For the Record

2008-03-05T09:12:00.021-06:00

As a way to get free shipping on Amazon.com, last week I purchased the Guinness World Records 2008 Calendar. Every day I am updated with some trivial feat performed by some nobody who thought said feat would make them a somebody. In a way, they were right. I’ve never been featured in a calendar, not even one made of digital photos, and certainly not one listing any of my achievements (1. Born, 2. Has yet to die.)

But at the same time, I can’t imagine that devoting one’s life to making the world’s largest surfboard or eating the most packing peanuts is very satisfying. We all want to make our mark on the world, but many of these records are closer to blemishes. For instance, I write an unremarkable blog, still hoping to nick the surface of popular culture’s face with my razor sharp wit. That goal may be unrealistic, but at least I’m not the guy who farted “O Canada” in under a minute. (Jealous!)

It just seems like a lot of time, money, and energy is wasted on creating the world’s largest this or the world’s tallest that, when that time, money, and energy could just as easily (no, more easily) be focused on creating the world’s largest food giveaway or the world’s tallest homeless shelter. I hate to end this entry on a preachy note, but quite frankly I’m just sick of getting asked for change. Does anyone even carry change anymore? And your fake limp isn't fooling me! You just walked up to me without the limp!!! Get Guinness on the phone, I just met the world's dumbest homeless person.

This concludes part 44 of Mike's 700-part series on the homeless.

Dr. Peters

2008-02-15T11:33:00.003-06:00

Today at work, I was mistakenly referred to as a doctor. “Dr. Peters,” she began her e-mail. This wasn’t meant as a joke or to slight my actual title (which I believe is officially “Ms. Peters” or “Hey Asshole”). No, this was an honest misconception.

It made me realize something. A simple addition like “Dr.” to the front of my name (or a “Ph.D.” after it) could propel my career. And I don’t mean earning the title. That would take time, money, and, worst of all, energy. I’m talking about merely adding those two letters before my name.

No one would know the difference, and I guarantee it would rarely be questioned. If asked about my education, I’d reply, “It was a bitch.” It must have been a bitch. He’s a doctor, for crying out loud, the person would internally rationalize. He or she would then enjoy a hearty chuckle, agree with the statement, and move on to more important business. As they should, I’m a doctor and don’t have time for small talk.

Anyway, I’ll be ordering my business cards soon and will have to decide if I want to change my life forever. Next time I see you, maybe I can show off my brand new Ph.D., proudly documented on a 3.5 by 2 inch piece of cardstock. After all, I'd have a right to show it off. It was a bitch to get.

My Celebrity Death List of 2008

2008-01-16T14:20:00.000-06:00

Following Blair's lead, here are my celebrity death predictions:

Oldies:
1. Gloria Stuart (Titanic)
2. Frances Bay (Happy Gilmore, etc.)

Anybody:
3. Richard Simmons
4. LeVar Burton

Unlikely Predictions:
5. Jimmy Fallon
6. (Lil') Bow Wow

Unlike Blair, I wish death upon all of these celebrities.

Wanted: A Cool Guy

2007-11-30T19:05:00.000-06:00

SWM seeks CG (cool guy). Must be cool. Has either a thin mustache, a soul patch, or an outrageously bushy beard. Nothing in between. Headwear mandatory. Unnecessarily thick glasses preferred, but not required. Open to buying me drinks. Upbeat attitude coupled with below average intelligence. Equal opportunity.

If interested, e-mail me at whatacoolguy@live.com

Poison: Open Up and Say...Ahh!

2007-11-08T00:33:00.000-06:00

I once saw a sign promoting poison awareness that prominently noted: “Not all poisons are poisonous.” For a poison awareness sign, that statement seems awfully pro-poison. Something the pro-poison council might post and try to pass off as awareness.

“Not all poisons are poisonous. Sure, they all have that smooth poison flavor. But poisonous? Preposterous.”

It’s bad enough the pro-poison council recruited Bret Michaels to promote their pro-poison agenda throughout the ‘80s and early ‘90s. Although anyone who watched “Rock of Love” knows his face has become a cautionary tale.

“Not all poisons are poisonous” also sounds like something a dumb assassin might say to cover a mistake.

Assassin: Here’s your steak and poison, um, that is to say… wine.
Victim: (Rubs hands together.) Mmm, finally. Wait… did you just say poison?
Assassin: Uh… yeah… but… not all poisons are poisonous.
Victim: Really?
Assassin: Yeah… I was referring to one of those delicious, non-poisonous poisons. I added it to your wine to make it more... winy.
Victim: Hmm. (Strokes chin.) I’m not buying this.
Assassin: Then, uh, I meant it like when a bartender says, “Pick your poison.”
Victim: And I picked wine.
Assassin: Exactly.
Victim: Well, I’m convinced. (Chugs wine.)

The victim in this scenario was dumber than the assassin.

The Batshit Insane

2007-10-12T20:12:00.000-05:00

Believe it or not, Madison simultaneously leads the nation in average IQ and percentage of mentally ill. Did you believe it? I would. Though that statistic is fabricated, it might as well be true. Madison is home to so many smart people, one has to wonder what happened to some of the people on the street.

For instance, a couple weeks ago I saw a homeless man pissing on State Street. Not off to the side, or even discreetly—I mean, pissing on State Street. My friend Blair laughed at the sight, and the man (midstream, mind you) turned, stuck out his hand, and asked for change. He wasn’t about to put on a free show.

Sometimes you don’t even have to leave your home to take a trip on the loony train. Forget television, set up a chair by your first-story window and you have your very own network of nuttiness (one not called Fox News, anyway. ZING! Take that! Man, I’m glad someone finally had the balls to slam Fox News).

Now I’m not talking about the man walking by singing the live Eric Clapton solo version of “Layla;” though oddly bold, it’s completely understandable. That version rocks. No, I’m talking about the woman who demands you open your window, and when you do, she screams at you about seeing two children sleeping outside the night before. “That’s fucked up,” she says. Fucked up indeed, lady.

So far, the craziest of the crazies I’ve experienced was a man on State Street who was either entirely self-aware or in rough fucking shape. He followed me uncomfortably close, mumbling to himself. I believe he was attempting to drown out the voices in his head. Then, for no apparent reason, he yelled, “cccccRRRRRAAAAAZZZZZYYYYYyyyyy!” Imagine Woody Allen having a stroke—that’s what this man sounded like. Then, he immediately returned to his murmur.

I can only think of two possible explanations. Either this man knew I was listening and decided to do the craziest (and most meta) possible thing he could conceive (in which case, he succeeded), or a voice in his head said something that he deemed insane. Yes, I am concluding that this mentally ill man called a voice inside his head insane. Either that or he was being playful with said voice (a slightly crazier conclusion).

To summarize: Not all crazy people are homeless, but all homeless people are crazy. Keep this in mind when taking an IQ test because the question will surely arise, and I'd like to keep our average up.

The Lonesome Elder

2007-10-08T01:05:00.000-05:00

Old couples move to Florida. Old single women move to Madison, Wisconsin. Or maybe Madison produces old single women. This is like the chicken or the egg debate, only instead of a chicken, it’s an old single woman, and instead of an egg, it’s… also an old single woman.

The Lonesome Elder’s primary habitat is on the bus, but one can also find them wandering on the sidewalk, like I did three weeks ago. My roommate Per and I were en route to a friend’s house when an elderly woman waved us down. We waited impatiently for her to hobble over to us. When she eventually neared, she cracked like an egg.

“I have spent my whole day trying to contact AT&T,” she insanely spouted as if she wanted moral support from two strangers, “So they tell me to come down to the building. Well, here I am. And look at this. There’s no handicapped entrance.” She waved her cane in the air, in case we hadn’t noticed her impairment, or perhaps it was directed toward the wretched handicapped-entrance-less building.

“I have wasted so much time,” her voice quivered. She was literally holding back tears as I tried desperately to hold back laughter. “It’s just so hard.” I was no longer able to contain myself, so I turned my head and let out a small chuckle that aurally resembled a gasp of air. I turned back to find her, blinded by anger, unaware that I was laughing on the inside and no longer the least bit concerned.

She ranted for another two minutes about AT&T, one-way streets, and possibly hard candy; I stopped listening. Finally she thanked us for our time, which we of course accepted. We lost a good three minutes of our lives, but I didn’t feel too bad. It was nothing compared to what AT&T apparently put this woman through.

The Out-of-Towner

2007-10-03T00:57:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite things about Madison is having the ability to walk to most places. No matter where one lives, he or she is guaranteed to be within two blocks of a place to eat, a place to do laundry, and a place to drink. These may even be a single place.

Walking provides my fellow residents and I with many rewards. For instance, the self-satisfaction of improving one’s health, the self-satisfaction of protecting the environment, and the self-satisfaction of self-satisfaction. But more than just satisfying oneself, walking allows the walker to encounter an array of characters. My next few posts will be about these characters.

The Out-of-Towner
Often parents of students, these people walk around astonished that a building can contain ten stories. "That building nearly scrapes the sky," they say, not realizing the sky doesn't even feel a tickle. The woman is timid and wears a sweater (even in the summer) that appears to have been knitted from several old scarves, and her male counterpart has a moustache that would make Tom Selleck say, “Dude, trim that thing.” They both are fat.

My most recent contact with this couple occurred just the other day. I was walking down the sidewalk alone when a car slowly approached me. I heard a voice murmur, “Cheap motel.” I didn't react, assuming the voice wasn't directed at me, but then I heard it again, “Cheap motel.” I looked over and saw a man who was likely an alcoholic with his wife who refused to make eye contact, embarrassed not only by her husband, but by their current predicament.

“Excuse me,” I said to the bloated man, hoping he was asking a question and not making a proposition.

“Point me in the direction of your nearest and cheapest motel,” he demanded.

I was immediately curious of his motive. The first thought that popped into my head was, This guy just convinced his wife to do anal. There were no other possible reasons for the urgency in his voice. None.

To make a long story short, I pointed him in the direction of the DoubleTree, which is certainly not cheap, but they do have beds and, I can only hope, complimentary lubricant.

Contractually Obligated Post OR Unemployment Tale (COPOUT)

2007-09-22T12:05:00.000-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and all gender opposites alike, here comes my September update, as I am legally required to write at least one entry per month. Yes, that contract I made myself sign has come back to bite me in the ass.

Since early September, I have been officially unemployed for the first time since I was 14 years old, and oh what a crazy two and a half weeks it has been. My return to Madison was bittersweet, sweet to be back, me bitter toward life. The only thing that keeps me going is the noticeable increase in homeless people, for it makes me realize I don't have it so bad, or worse, my life could be void of the laughter they provide me.

I have applied for more than half a baker's dozen of jobs, and have yet to secure any of them. "But Mike, this must be soul-crushing. Surely your soul is being crushed. Is not a person's soul crushed during times like this?" people frequently ask. Short answer, "Yes," long answer, "No."

The key is to entertain yourself, which I am fairly good at, since I know my audience so well. Below is a real question I was asked during a job application process to test my creativity, followed by my ten answers.

Rob Who?

2007-08-30T23:45:00.000-05:00

Thanks for clearing that up, Rotten Tomatoes.

Random Acts of Kindness

2007-08-18T15:57:00.000-05:00

When I was in elementary school, my classmates and I were forced to keep a log of "random acts of kindness." This simple task has made me into the model citizen you know today. However, I have been recently slipping into bad behavior. For instance, two weeks ago I bit a dog. But all that's going to change right now, as I document some of the random acts of kindness I performed throughout the last week.

1. Held the door open for a pregnant woman and resisted the urge to punch her in the stomach.
2. Donated one hundred dollars to a worthy charity, NAMBLA.
3. Wiped the blood from under a crack whore's nose after having my way with her comatose body, as it was the least I could do after what she did, and didn't do, for me.
4. Gave a pint of ice cream to a lactose intolerant homeless man.
5. Only masturbated to horse porn for five, instead of six, hours straight.
6. Helped a grandmother achieve her first orgasm.
7. Protested the unethical treatment of animals by stomping on a bunny's head in front of a first-grade classroom. This also taught many students the concept of death.
8. Wiped my ass with toilet paper instead of the shower curtain.
9. Contacted the police after the second dead body ended up on my doorstep.
10. Tutored a retard.

Fan Mail #5

2007-07-30T01:05:00.001-05:00

Question: How stupid is this?
Submitted by Garrison

You're right. It's over. Your sharp observation has slashed my spirit, like a knife slicing through a sneaker. No more fan mail. I will return to my same routine--a lack of one.

Fan Mail #4

2007-07-23T17:59:00.001-05:00

Question: If a relaxing moment turns into the right moment, will you be ready?
Submitted by Yvonne Booker

I was relaxing in the park the other day, enjoying the midday sun in the shade, when I saw an airplane fly overhead. This wasn’t any old airplane. Wait, I take that back. It was. Imagine any old airplane.

So this airplane was flying overhead and trailing behind it was one of those banners you sometimes see trailing behind any old airplane. On it was a picture of a baby. The baby was cute as a button, if the button were shaped like a cute baby. Next to the cute-as-a-baby-shaped-button baby, the banner read: “Would you abort me?”

An answer immediately entered my head—“You’re surprisingly articulate for a baby, but if you wish.” Then it hit me. The banner wasn’t encouraging us to kill this baby, like so many of us were surely thinking. It was trying to make a point. That point—killing already born babies is more trouble than it’s worth. “Get them in the womb,” the banner screamed into my head in various voices, some resembling my mother, others resembling Satan, still others resembling Satan’s mother.

Sure, killing babies may sound fun, and we’ve all thought about it from time to all the time, but we (I) have to stop and shift our (my) baby-killing sights toward fetuses… feti… fetusi. I’m tired of living my life under the tyranny of my personal credo “If it cries, it dies.” Why let it shed a single tear?

Of course I’m joking. I enjoy seeing a baby cry as I kill it. Still, the banner has changed my life. And that’s the last time a relaxing moment turned into the right moment, and by Satan, I am ready. Thanks for your question, Yvonne.

Fan Mail #3

2007-07-16T06:40:00.000-05:00

Question: "What's the next letter in the sequence: P O I U Y T R E W ?"
Submitted by Abraham G. Peters

Thanks for writing, Abe. It's always nice to hear from an ancestor. Before I answer your qwerty (hint alert!), I mean, query, I'd like to reminisce about the time we never got to spend together.

Remember that time we were celebrating the 10th anniversary of the first Thanksgiving? Your suggestion to serve Indian instead of turkey was a huge hit. Perhaps we both binged a bit too much, but thankfully we left room for some fire water.

It wasn't until my third cup of water topped with lighter fluid and a spark that you informed me what fire water actually was. Crazy Indians. I'm just glad you grabbed the gun before I took shots.

Regardless, by the end of the night, you and I were dancing around with candle shades on our heads to that song by those impious Plymouth rockers, Van Pilgrim. Arguably, though, "Hot for Preacher" is their best song from 1624. Along with the smoked redskin, we were the hit of the party.

The next day, I awoke with a hangover, a charred stomach, and diarrhea. Talk about Montezuma's revenge. I believe that was his name.

Anyway, thanks for the fond, pun-filled, historically inaccurate memory.

Now to answer your question, Q.

It's 7/7/07

2007-07-07T13:46:00.001-05:00

Happy "Who Gives A Fuck?" Day.

Fan Mail #2

2007-06-29T08:17:00.001-05:00

Question: "What offends you?"
Submitted by Sammy Jenkins of Bellevue, WA

People who use the word "faggot." Also, seeing two faggots kissing in public.

Fan Mail #1

2007-06-19T08:02:00.000-05:00

Instead of letting my spam e-mails go to waste, I thought I'd answer some as if they were written by a loyal reader of this blog.

Question: "How involved were you with the stunts and with shooting the surf footage?"
Submitted by Victoria Z. Jensen

Good questions, Victoria. Short answer to both - not at all. However, as a pretend loyal reader, I feel obligated to elaborate for you. It's the least I could pretend to do.

The story begins on my 30th birthday. The year was 1974 and Evil Knievel had just jumped Snake River Canyon. Being a child, I was wide-eyed and narrow-minded, like a racist fish. Watching his feat on the radio made me quiver with girlish glee. It was at that moment I knew I had to be a surfer.

Throughout the late '70s and early '80s, my surfing career flourished, sidetracked only once in 1983 by a brief, but psychologically damaging, "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)" overdose, a Journey journey I wish upon no one.

In 1984, I was finally born, both metaphorically and literally. This is when my stuntman career skyrocketed, like an Evil Knievel. Equipped with surprisingly sturdy fontanelles, I began strollering over speed bumps and the elderly.

I retired in 1990 after crashing my big wheel into an ice cream truck in an ill attempt to confiscate several Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers Fudge Bars. Luckily the driver took the altercation in good humor, a trait I assume is mandatory for Schwan's men.

Anyway, to answer your question, Victoria, I believe you are referring to my involvement (which amounts to somewhere between none and not at all) with the recently released penguin epic, "Surf's Up."

[SPOILER]

The penguins are CGI.

Thanks for your question, Victoria.

Sending Out an SOS

2007-06-05T15:53:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was listening to a 1980 interview with The Police on the radio. Sting was his usual pretentious self, but the thing that pissed me off the most was a comment he made about the song “Message in a Bottle.”

To start things off, like a huge ass, he talked about how much he loved his own song and, if it were a beautiful woman, how much he’d like to make sweet Tantric love to it.

Then, the interviewer pointed out that the song never reached great popularity in the United States. This observation was all it took to dial up the douchebag level.

Sting replied the song was “too sophisticated” for the American audience.

Too sophisticated?

The song is about A MESSAGE in A BOTTLE. Even if it were a metaphor for loneliness, which it very well may be, the concept is about as sophisticated as “Git-r-done” (which is a metaphor for stupidity).

Here are some of the actual lyrics to “Message in a Bottle”—

Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS
Sending out at an SOS

My puny American brain can barely penetrate this intricate lyrical structure.

Good job, Sting. You managed to combine the clichés of a message in a bottle and sending out an SOS and turn them into, at best, a clichéd metaphor.

Fuck Sting. Tantrically.

Strange Facts About You, God, and Your Mother

2007-05-28T21:56:00.000-05:00

(The facts are taken verbatim from a real brochure.)

Fact no. 1: Did you know, as strange as it may sound, that God loves You even more than your Mother loves you?

That does sound strange. Either God loves me a whole lot, or my mother doesn’t love me very much at all. I'm pretty sure my mother loves more than anyone, unless, of course, God LOVES loves me. In which case, why doesn't he return my prayer calls?

Fact no. 2: God has a Perfect Plan for your life. He wants the best for you……even better than what your Mother wants for you.

That’s right--when making decisions, rely on an invisible force over your mother’s advice based on her real life experiences. She doesn't know shit compared to God. Come back when you’re omniscient, Mom.

Fact no. 3: There is SIN in your life, and (pardon me if I say it) sin in your Mother’s life. Now I realize it’s not nice to be talking about your Mother like this, but tell me I am wrong.

You’re wrong. (Just following orders.)

Fact no. 4: God, (unlike your Mother), did more than just make you feel guilty about sin.

Good point. My mother never stops nagging me. At least God knows when to shut up--for eternity. Fuck mothers, those motherfuckers.

(Note: This brochure was written by Jews For Jesus, clearly a confused organization.)

Dio = God

2007-05-15T21:56:00.000-05:00

Top 10 Things Ronnie James Dio Can Do:

10.) Kick your ass.
9.) Kick my ass.
8.) Rock a hole in a wall.
7.) Patch that same hole… with his rock.
6.) Make walruses weep uncontrollably.
5.) Discover uncharted territory.
4.) Rediscover charted territory and claim it in his name.
3.) Fuck your mom while you watch and cheer him on.
2.) Pierce a bulletproof vest with his ejaculate.
1.) Saw a woman in half… literally. The President would later award him a Medal of Honor.

Top 10 Things Ronnie James Dio Cannot Do:

Don’t be ridiculous. He can do anything.

True dat

2007-04-28T17:01:00.000-05:00

Every time I visit MySpace, I hate myself a little more. I am also bombarded with advertisements of scantily clad women who entice me into watching their entire ad, hoping for a nipple to slip out. Here’s an example:

Almost there. A little more mental effort, and it just may pop out someday.

I did some research (that is, I Googled “true”) and found out True prides itself as a “safer online dating service.” Safer than what? Other online dating services? Or is it safer than swimming in a tank full of sharks after just receiving a severe paper cut? At the time, you think the paper cut is the worst of your worries, until you fall into that shark tank and realize your blood is acting as a beacon of deliciousness. Though the sharks may initially empathize with the paper cut, having just finished their taxes in no way unscathed, they will, unfortunately, find empathy to be but an appetizer to the palatable meal to come. You.

I think the latter may be the kind of concept they are relatively safer than, since horny singles looking for anonymous sex is hardly safe. Fun, sure, but safe, not really. To make the site sound more respectable, True’s slogan is “Live. Love. Learn.” which is followed, in smaller print, by, “If you fail to underline the u in ‘True,’ you will be considered an enemy and, accordingly, will be hunted down and shot on sight.” I'm starting to feel safer at least.

True provides many noble services, such as one that measures your bedroom compatibility with others. It begs the question, “When it comes to doing the deed, are you a distance marathoner or a Saturday-night sprinter?” I’m not quite sure what a “Saturday-night sprinter” is, but it surely has something to do with a person who frequently spends his or her Saturday nights fleeing either a mugging, a rape, or both. My score indicated I was a “Wednesday-afternoon moonwalker,” which sounds about right.

To keep things even safer, the site warns, “Married people and criminals will be prosecuted.” A final word of advice, Truester. Can I call you Truester? I can't? How about Trueman Capote? All right. Trueman, if you do not want to attract married people and criminals, it is futile to advertise on MySpace.

Reading Sucks Ass (Unless You're Reading This Blog)

2007-04-22T19:38:00.000-05:00

I recently found out that I have to read “Coming of Age in Mississippi” by Anne Moody, a 424-page book, by Wednesday for a quiz in my history class. In other words, it’s not getting read. I’d sooner read the unabridged phonebook, partly because I’m already about halfway through it, and I’m just getting to the good part (the Yellow Pages!!!).

This leaves me with three options.

Option 1: Rent the movie. I checked, and “Coming of Age in Mississippi” was not made into a film. However, the title would lend itself nicely to a southern take on “Sixteen Candles” (which I believe is set either somewhere in Illinois or on an ocean liner. I forget). Plus, to some extent, any porno. But specifically “Sixteen Man Poles.”

Option 2: SparkNotes. This option is available. The only problem is, you have to read SparkNotes. Why can't I just upload the book into my head? Clearly the technology exists and Big Brother is keeping it off the market. I blame Big Brother for most of the world’s problems, including famine, disease, and the hit CBS reality series “Big Brother.”

Option 3: Wing it. That is, go to Buffalo Wild Wings the night before and feast on wings smothered with “wild” sauce, sauce so hot, it cannot be caged and showcased for a slow child’s amusement. Surely this will make me sick enough to get out of taking the quiz. At the very least, as the advertisements lead me to believe, my head will literally explode (head being an essential component of quiz-taking).

Now I should go. Phonebooks don’t read themselves, or at least that’s what Big Brother wants you to think. I’m of course referring to the hit CBS reality series.

Like a Cybergin

2007-04-15T13:50:00.000-05:00

Cutegirl69: hey baby
Mijampet: hi?
Cutegirl69: wanna cyber
Mijampet: ok
Cutegirl69: im kissing you right now
Mijampet: nice
Cutegirl69: now my hands going down ur pants
Mijampet: hold on
Cutegirl69: whats wrong
Mijampet: fuck
Cutegirl69: what
Mijampet: wait
Cutegirl69: ok
Mijampet: hold on
Mijampet: shit
Mijampet: fuck, i came already
Cutegirl69: is this ur first time
Mijampet: of course not
Mijampet: i bang chicks via the internet all the time
Cutegirl69: ok
Cutegirl69: wanna try again
Mijampet: sure
Cutegirl69: alright, my hand is going down ur pants
Mijampet: wait
Mijampet: i didnt clean up the mess yet
Cutegirl69: i dont care
Mijampet: what?
Mijampet: sick
Cutegirl69: just forget it
Mijampet: ok
Mijampet: um
Mijampet: im rock hard
Cutegirl69: thats what i like to hear
Cutegirl69: i just pulled it out
Mijampet: my penis?
Cutegirl69: yes
Mijampet: good
Mijampet: i was worried you were stealing my wallet
Cutegirl69: now im putting it in my mouth
Mijampet: my wallet?
Cutegirl69: ur penis
Mijampet: oh alright
Cutegirl69: i want u inside me right now
Mijampet: do you have a condom?
Cutegirl69: what
Mijampet: do you have a condom?
Cutegirl69: no…
Mijampet: i had one in my wallet
Mijampet: but i seem to have misplaced it
Cutegirl69: it doesnt matter
Mijampet: where ever could my wallet be?
Mijampet: perhaps someone stole it
Cutegirl69: what r u implying
Mijampet: GIVE ME BACK MY WALLET!

Cutegirl69 signed off at 8:29:59 PM.

CHK MGNT

2007-04-09T02:11:00.000-05:00

Earlier this school year, I noticed a license plate on a car in my apartment building's parking lot. Using a high-powered telephoto lens, I was able to snap this shot from my window.

If you can't read it, I recommend reviewing the alphabet. It says "CHK MGNT." The following are the closest I have come to deciphering this mysterious code.

"Check Management"

"Chalk, Magenta"

"Chuck Morgenthal"

"Corey Haim kissed my grandma’s nasty titty."

"Douchebag"

A Reaper and a Raper

2007-03-25T02:19:00.001-05:00

Dogs: Novelty Wearing Off Of CD Featuring Humans Singing “Jingle Bells”

2007-03-21T03:18:00.000-05:00

"I thought it was funny at first, but after a while, it just gets on your nerves." - Fido

"[The singers] sort of hit the right notes, but in the end, it's just a bunch of noise." - Rover

"Bark bark bar...excuse me, I had something in my throat. This album is an ill-conceived effort." - Thaddeus T. Dog

A Correspondence

2007-03-02T18:53:00.000-06:00

Dear Mr. Porter,

Our company received your complaint and is deeply sorry for any inconvenience. As an apology, enclosed is a coupon for buy one Pizza Pocket get one free.

Sincerely,
Sadie Jenkins
Public Relations Director, Pizza Pocket

Dear Ms. Jenkins,

Buy one get one free? Gee thanks. I’m going to run out and use that right away. Since I really want to continue eating your product after I found a rat’s tail in my pizza pocket. Mmm, can’t get enough rat tail.

Sincerely,
Jeffrey Porter
Pissed off at Pizza Pocket

Dear Mr. Porter,

Our company received your complaint and is deeply sorry for any inconvenience. As an apology, enclosed is a coupon for buy one Pizza Pocket get one free.

Sincerely,
Sadie Jenkins
Public Relations Director, Pizza Pocket

Dear Sadie,

Enclosed is your coupon. It is good for shoving up your ass. That is, if your head isn’t already occupying the space.

Fuck off,
Jeffrey Porter
Fuck you

Dear Mr. Porter,

Our company received your complaint and is deeply sorry for any inconvenience. As an apology, enclosed is a coupon for buy one Pizza Pocket get one free.

Sincerely,
Sadie Jenkins
Public Relations Director, Pizza Pocket

Dear Satan,

CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT

Love,
Jeffrey Porter
Cunt hater

Better yet: ESCAPE THE RAPE APE!

2007-02-24T13:00:00.000-06:00

10 Things to Do Before I Die

2007-02-20T16:29:00.000-06:00

1.) Lift a car with my mind and/or a jack
2.) Run for president, win over the public, then slowly exhibit signs of escalating insanity, losing the election by a considerable margin
3.) Work my way up the corporate ladder by sleeping with my superiors, men or women, plus any animals, if an animal just so happens to outrank me
4.) Overcome my bathophobia, which is not a fear of baths, but rather a fear of depths
5.) Overcome my ablutophobia, which is not a fear of abluts, but rather a fear of baths
6.) Learn another language or avoid all foreigners
7.) Ride a motorcycle to the moon, sleep with some moon chicks, and then decide not to call them back the next day, even though I said I would
8.) Discover a cure for either cancer or diarrhea
9.) Flee a dictatorship
10.) Come up with a tenth thing

Bush's Homestyle Chili

2007-01-29T14:56:00.000-06:00

I believe the advertising slogan goes a little something like this:
Bush's Homestyle Chili: "It looks like homemade because it tastes like homemade."

With that logic, the following statements would also be true:
Wax fruit: "It looks like fruit because it tastes like fruit."
Human flesh: "It looks like succulent poultry because it tastes like succulent poultry."
Rabbit turds: "They look like Sixlets without the candy coating because they taste like Sixlets without the candy coating."

Back to the chili. First of all, Bush's is trying to deceive us with clever wording. "Homestyle" is not the same thing as "homemade." For instance, I could say a painting is Picasso-style, but that doesn't ensure that it is Picasso-made. Sure, it may borrow some of his cubist techniques, but we shouldn't go around saying he created the piece of work.

Also, in my opinion, Bush's Homestyle Chili looks more like vomit. And, since appearance and flavor are apparently correlated, I can only assume it tastes more like vomit.

Bush's Homestyle Chili: "Swallow what others have regurgitated."

Quote Me

2007-01-08T17:45:00.000-06:00

"You must always start a new endeavor from the beginning."

"A thought is an idea that has yet to be spoken."

"The earlier you arrive, the sooner you get here."

"Fear not courage, for courage will not bring fear, but courage."

"An apple a day keeps up a regimen of eating one apple every 24 hours."

Best Buy

2007-01-04T14:47:00.000-06:00

I’m beginning to dislike going to Best Buy, not for their prices, because I would often consider them the “best buy” for CDs and DVDs, but mainly for the layout of their store. Nowadays, when I enter a Best Buy, the DVDs are immediately pushed into my face. The entrance is the DVD section. What I want is presented to me with little to no searching.

What happened to the hunt? In the past, I was forced to wander through the store to find the DVD section. I'd carry a machete, slicing through the dense display cases, plasma screen TVs, and clientele. Once arriving, I had to map out the landscape, decode the genre system, find the appropriate genre, and locate the DVD in alphabetical order among the others. Then, if I’m lucky, I'd grasp the DVD and hold it against my body as I barreled my way up to the cash register, fending off the onslaught of locals and clearance items.

This gave me so many opportunities to change my mind. Now, with the DVDs in the entrance and the cash registers nearby, I’ve lost many of these opportunities. I’m practically handed a DVD divining rod upon entry. As a result, I rarely buy anything. I fear making a hasty decision, so I end up not making any decisions at all.

Best Buy has become an overly forward, and somewhat unattractive, girl: approachable, easy, but when it comes right down to it, a huge turnoff. I still don’t mind Best Buy for the occasional quickie, a convenient in and out, but lately, I’m considering seeing other stores.

Childhood Pictures (not pictured)

2006-12-29T03:23:00.000-06:00

Looking back on some past artwork I did as a child, I wonder if I simply lacked the skill to draw the world accurately, or if I, in fact, perceived the world as displayed in my drawings.

Trees and clouds would be indistinguishable had I not colored the trees green and left the clouds blank. As a child, I recall knowing the difference based on color. Had there been green clouds, or white leaves, I would have been totally confused as to which was which.

And not only do birds fly in a V, but each individual bird actually resembles the letter V. In my defense, though, I believe I was drawing doves and wanted to illustrate their symbolizing peace. I was a hippy as a child. That is to say, I hated bathing.

I also appear to have thought the sun smiles. I was always warned of potentially burning my retinas, so perhaps, I only drew the sun the way I assumed it looked – in extreme elation. But what does the sun have to be happy about? It’s covered with spots, it keeps getting older, and its waistline is expanding. That describes my grandpa, and he never smiles.

I also find it odd that the sun would need sunglasses, since it produces the rays and would seem unaffected by its own emission. A sun wearing sunglasses is like a radio wearing earplugs. Then again, maybe the sun just wants to look cool. Because sunglasses are cool.

In conclusion: sunglasses = cool, bathing = lame, children = stupid.

Drunk Baby

2006-12-06T23:32:00.000-06:00

You may have heard about the drunk baby that was taken to the hospital (click the title to learn more). What an unbelievable story. All I have to say is...

COOLEST BABY EVER!

Take that gays!

2006-11-07T23:15:00.000-06:00

That's for making me feel so uncomfortable while watching your porn. I mean, it sort of intrigued me at first, but only because I thought the one dude kind of looked like a hot chick. Thanks for scaring me and making me question my manhood!

That's why I voted yes in today's election, and now that the amendment has passed, our state will soon be free of gays and their gay porn featuring gays. Gay it up somewhere else, because someday Wisconsin bars are going to be gay-free! I can barely breathe with all you gays around. Stop making out and let me enjoy my Zima in peace!

Gay gay gay gay gay, gay gay gay gay, gay! Gay, gay gay gay, gay gay, gay, ironic twist!

Wonderful Spam

2006-11-04T19:10:00.000-06:00

From: Garry Begay

Subject: pearl-bearing Neo-hebrew

Body: my dearest lizzy, a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

The body is from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice."
The subject and sender are simply examples of prejudice.

Top 5 Most Overrated Saints

2006-11-01T00:34:00.000-06:00

5. St. Peter: So he planned the Last Supper. I've planned parties before. There were only like 12 or 13 guests. Try entertaining a family of 50.

4. St. Nicholas: I prefer Santa Claus. Come back when you get more presents. And what's his obsession with stockings? He must have a sick foot fetish. This guy creeps me out.

3. St. Patrick: I'd have a beer with him, but I guarantee he'd be a douche bag. With his green shirt and his popped collar. He's just looking for a lay. What a douche.

2. St. Valentine: This guy makes us look bad. Thanks for giving girls expectations. You're a douche, but in the exact opposite way Patrick is. "Here's some candy, even though all I'm really looking for is a lay." What a douche times two.

1. St. Joan of Arc: Like, totally overrated.

Artwork

2006-10-21T02:51:00.000-05:00

$999.99 (o.b.o.)

memories

2006-10-18T00:44:00.000-05:00

leave any memories u can think of that u and i had together. maybe that time we slid down the sledding hill bareass in the middle of the winter, or that time we slid down the waterslide bareass in the middle of the summer, or that time i slid my own head into my bareasshole in the middle of my ass cheeks.

it doesnt matter if u knew me a little or a lot, anything u remember! possibly our journey to the middle of africa starting in egypt, or our journey to the middle of that hot fudge sundae starting with the cherry on top, or my heads journey to the middle of my body starting at my rectum.

re-post this on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about u. its actually pretty cool (and f'in funny) to see the responses. re-post as "memories." if u dont, u will have terrible diarrhea for three days straight. perchance like that time i ate a burrito the size of my head, or that time i got e coli from that tainted head of lettuce, or that time i stuck my head up my own ass and tore my anus wide open.

BINGO!

2006-10-14T21:44:00.000-05:00

Local Commercials

2006-09-25T18:44:00.001-05:00

Here are a few thoughts on things I often hear in local commercials:

"Priced to sell..." - Isn't everything priced to sell? The entire purpose of pricing something is to sell it. One could argue that prostitutes are priced to sell, but that doesn't mean I want to buy one. (That's a lie.)

"Cleverly hidden..." - This only makes sense if we're talking about a game of hide and seek, an Easter egg hunt, or a suprise birthday party. It doesn't work for a business. If your building is hidden, that's not clever, that's just a bad location, and you probably won't be in business for long. Move!

"Look at these fat, ugly models who clearly are not professionals but rather friends, family, and/or employees of the owner!" - Verbatim from a Ragstock ad.

"I'm Matt LePay." - More like Matt LeGay, you fucking sellout. That one felt good.

Nonsensical Story: Part III

2006-09-05T18:54:00.000-05:00

I wiped off my face with my hands as I looked around, squinting from the midday sun. The disembodied voice, now embodied, walked up to me wearing nothing but a feather in his cap. That is to say, he had no cap, but appeared proud of something he had recently achieved. He extended his hand to me, helped me up and I thanked him.

“Thank you,” were my exact words.

“You’re very welcome,” the accomplished, but stark-naked, stranger said. “But I have a question.”

“Ask me anything,” I blindly said, sniffing my fingers to see if the zebra scent was offensive. It was.

“What happened to Part II?” the nude man said.

I sat there on the sidewalk, staring blankly into space. “What did happen to Part II?” I pondered while moving my lips to the inner thought, “Did I black out twixt Parts I and III?”

“I think I blacked out twixt Parts I and III,” I said to the unexplainably naked man.

I soon discovered that the unclothed man had a deep hatred for the word “twixt,” as he punched me between the eyes. Lucky for me, some remaining zebra spit softened the blow, working as a lubricant to his forceful fist. The disrobed man, his knuckles moistened by the zebra saliva, sniffed them and began to gag.

At this point, I punched him in the taint. He vomited all over my legs and fell to the sidewalk. I sniffed my legs to see if the vomit scent was offensive. To my surprise, it wasn’t. I rubbed some on my face to mask the zebra odor and walked home with a feather in my cap. That is to say, I found a stray feather and placed it in my cap.

Nonsensical Story: Part I

2006-09-02T20:36:00.000-05:00

As I was walking down the sidewalk today, I caught myself mouthing my thoughts. I thought about how insane I must have looked. Then I caught myself mouthing that thought. Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't walking, but rather sitting on the sidewalk. There was a cup in my hand filled with people's spare change. I wasn't even myself. I was homeless.

I thought to myself how insane I must look, mouthing the thought as it came to my head. Passerbys stared. One even threw his leftover cole slaw in my face. A zebra came by and licked it off. Then I woke up. It was just a crazy dream.

"Or was it?" a disembodied voice said.

I was lying on the sidewalk. There was a cup full of change sitting next to my head. And my face smelled of zebra saliva.

Movie Fact #3

2006-08-28T17:18:00.000-05:00

To remember the most important event in the history of film, remember this simple saying:

"In 1992, Columbus filmed Home Alone 2."

He was a pioneer, despite killing thousands of Native Americans by using them as stunt doubles. A paint can to the head can be surprisingly fatal.

Movie Fact #2

2006-08-24T17:59:00.000-05:00

Scientists have recently decided that "The Adventures of Pluto Nash" can no longer be considered a movie, stating that "it shares many of the same characteristics [as a movie], but upon further inspection, it's just a ball of shit."

Movie Fact #1

2006-08-19T15:12:00.000-05:00

If the main character is holding his or her badge up to the camera on the poster, the movie is probably incredibly stupid.

Red Hot Chili Pepper's Prolific List of Hit Song Subjects

2006-07-24T18:45:00.000-05:00

1. California

Bad Call

2006-07-18T15:15:00.000-05:00

Move over Comics, I've got a new favorite newspaper section - IT'S YOUR CALL!

In this section, regular people (but mostly irregular people) are able to call in, state their opinions and have them published in the paper. The reason I love it is that it shows how dumb people are, particularly people in northeastern Wisconsin.

Today a man, whose full name I won't reveal but let's call him Thomas B.... no... T. Buege, called in to complain about how many jobs are being eliminated at Kimberly-Clark. OK, fair enough. It's a valid complaint. However, he goes on to blame the layoffs on abortion.

How? you might ask. Well it's simple. If people would stop aborting their babies, there would be a rise in diaper sales, which means that Kimberly-Clark would receive more orders, thus creating a need for more jobs.

Who could ever even conceive of such ludicrous logic?
Answer: T. Buege... no... Thomas B.

Some remedies for your lingering World Cup fever

2006-07-11T03:39:00.000-05:00

- Attending local pee-wee soccer matches to boo and throw empty beer bottles at the kids with the "darker skin and funny accents."

- Overturning your neighbor's car. Fire optional, but strongly recommended.

- Lots of liquids and plenty of rest. In other words, lots of alcohol followed by blacking out.

- Headbutting your significant other in the chest.

- Realizing you're not that into the World Cup in the first place.

Superman Returns, Uninvited

2006-06-30T09:07:00.000-05:00

Having neither seen "Superman Returns" nor reading one bit of information about its plot, I'm about to sum it up right here, for free, and in less time.

Clark Kent "struggles" with his superpowers while still trying to lead a "normal" life. He tries, or tried, to do his best to help people, but the public soon turns on him, almost certainly having something to do with a story ironically printed in The Daily Planet. On top of all of this, Lex Luthor is trying to take over the world. During an attempt to foil his evil plan, Luthor pulls out some kryptonite. Thankfully, Superman overcomes and triumphs in some riduculous way, but not so much as to deny us a sequel.

If the movie were good, he would bone Lois Lane somewhere in there, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that he only kisses her once, without tongue, and in a way that screams, "Kissing you is like kissing my sister."

Oh yeah, and the movie fucking sucks. Merely speculation.

Completely Idiotic

2006-06-27T18:01:00.000-05:00

This is a real book:

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Enhancing Self-Esteem

I guess the true test is whether or not you can get past the title without crying.

Top 5 Sitcoms of My Lifetime (Thus Far)

2006-06-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

1.) Arrested Development 2003-2006 on FOX

2.) Seinfeld 1989-1998 on NBC

3.) The Simpsons 1989-present on FOX

4.) Scrubs 2001-present on NBC

5.) Strangers With Candy 1999-2000 on Comedy Central

I am not explaining my choices further than saying that they are all correct.

6-16-06

2006-06-16T04:23:00.000-05:00

I'm almost 10 days late on the Satanic bandwagon, but I've got a few things to say. Being another date that contains three 6's, I figured today would be fitting. Either way, as they say in Hell, "What the here."

Seeing the movie title "The Omen" right next to "X-Men" makes me think the first is a movie about guys who love to give hugs, while the latter is about guys who love to give kisses. Better yet, if put up against each other, they sound like competing teams in the final round of the Tic-Tac-Toe tournament, better known as the Tic-Tac-Toernament.

I do not believe there is a god, but that does not mean I worship Satan. Quite the opposite. Here's the lowdown. If there is a god, I'm on his/her side, assuming that this god was good and not evil, which, as we all know from Roman and Greek mythology and our better judgment, would seem to be completely possible. It all comes down to the fact that it doesn't matter what you believe, as long as you do the right thing.

Should the ten commandments be posted in public places? No. Why? Certain commandments unfairly require one to worship. Do I agree with over half of the commandments? Yes. It's not right to lie, cheat, steal, or kill. Is this common sense? It ought to be. If it isn't, two plaques with five rules apiece aren't going to stop a psychopath. So should the ten commandments be posted in public places? Again, no. (Disregarding all places of worship, of course.)

If Satan had a son, his name would not be Damien. It would be MySpace. He'd feed it underage girls and crappy garage bands until it grew into a monster. One by one, the monster would devour every soul until there were no survivors. MySpace would not stop until it took over the entire world. I predict that the world will end in much the same way it began - with a single community.

In Hateful Memory of My MySpace

February 21, 2004 - June 16, 2006

Priceless

2006-05-30T05:00:00.000-05:00

I usually don't like to talk about my real life, but I'm about to make an exception to describe my new summer job to you. I work in a warehouse moving stuff around with a forklift. It's almost like getting to drive a go-kart all day. As far as jobs go, it's pretty great.

Aside from that, it also doesn't entail a whole lot of work. The following is a breakdown of my average 8 hour shift (I'll be starting 12's tonight, but keep in mind that the same amount of laze still exists, if not more so, during a 12-hour night shift.) On the left is the time period and following the activity is the amount of money I make doing it. (Note that at night I make 50 cents more an hour and on Sundays the dollar amounts would be double.)

6:45-7:00 Sit in break room. Maybe start a crossword puzzle. $3.13

7:00-7:10 Walk very slowly to get a forklift checklist. Fill out checklist. $2.08

7:10-7:30 Find an order. Approve it. Punch it in to the computer. $4.17

7:30-9:55 Do actual work, but not at a very fast or strenuous pace. $30.21

9:55-10:35 Break time. Eat. Maybe do more crossword. $8.33

10:35-12:55 More actual work, but again not too difficult. $29.17

12:55-1:35 Another break. Eat some more. Maybe finish crossword. $8.33

1:35-2:30 Finish up whatever actual work is left. $11.46

2:30-2:45 Stand around. Maybe check e-mail. $3.13

Total money made doing my job - $75

Total money made doing virtually nothing - $25

Getting paid to do a crossword puzzle - Amazing.

I was going to say "priceless," but we all see that coming from a mile away.
So I'll just make it my title instead.

What?

2006-05-11T23:07:00.000-05:00

From page 61 in a collection of historical correspondence entitled Easy Solutions to Complex Problems:

May 11, 1921

My Dearest William Smith,

Pardon me for my expatiation, but as a stripling, being a mere hobbledyhoy, I possessed a passion for rustication. However, as you know, rusticate I have not, for a harridan has ensnared me in her web. Agog as rusticating may make me, I cannot deny the uxorious attitude she has caused me to develop. As I lie next to her, waiting to enter the Land of Nod, her lips glisten in the gloaming, whispering edacious words to my eager ears.

Now, rather than rusticating, I long to rapine her to a utopia. Sure, we may be parvenu, but we can always defenestrate our lifestyles and titivate ourselves with brummagem chicanery. Still, more than anything, I worry that I have become crapulous in my endeavors. Is she a martinet, and me but a buffoon? I seek succor, or at least some bonhemie.

On second thought, fuck it. Let's just get fucked up.

Fucking Psyched,
Ernie "Mother Fucking" Hemingway

Where?

2006-05-08T23:56:00.000-05:00

As a child, I always had trouble distinguishing between bands that used a geographical location for their name (e.g. Chicago, Boston, Kansas, and Alabama). In fact, I must admit that I still have this problem. Evidently the music does not even have to be similar to cause confusion. Throw in a song title like "Hotel California" or "Sweet Home Alabama" and my head nearly explodes.

"Did Alabama sing 'Sweet Home Alabama?'" I might ask myself, knowing full well it was Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Nonetheless, "Sweet Home Alabama" sounds like an Alabama song. On the other hand, "Tennessee River" and "If You're Gonna Play in Texas (You Gotta Have a Fiddle in the Band)" wouldn't immediately sound like Alabama songs, but are. Why is Alabama singing about Tennessee and Texas? It must be some kind of sick southern threeway, which makes sense, seeing as the states are all related. Yeah, I took a cheap shot at the the South.

So to anyone else who suffers from my condition, next time you hear "Carry on Wayward Son," remember that sometimes even I will credit it to Boston. There's no shame in it, aside from the shame of being an idiot. Good night.

Internet Words that Need to Stop

2006-05-01T20:21:00.000-05:00

lol, lmao, jk, AIM abbreviations in general - This is a no-brainer. Literally, people with no brain use them. I'll exclude "brb," only because if you really gotta go take a shit, you don't have time to type "I really gotta go take a shit."

woot or w00t - I'm not exactly sure of the origin, but I also don't care. It's dumb.

Any variation of the word "stalk" - Okay, we get it. Everyone looks at everyone else's sites. If I was creeped out by it, then I wouldn't have them. If you are creeped out by it, then you must have something to hide. I suggest getting off the Internet and not going out into public, because someone might look at you. I encourage everyone to look at my sites all you want. I wouldn't put anything on a site that I didn't want you to know, see or read. Stalking occurs once you are following me or standing outside my window, staring in. And even then, I wouldn't mind that much. jk

DiGiorno's

2006-04-19T17:09:00.000-05:00

It must be rough driving the delivery truck for DiGiorno's frozen pizza. I can only assume that the following situation arises on a near daily basis.

Delivery Man: "Can you sign this?"
Store Manager: "What is this?"
Delivery Man: "The slip for your delivery of DiGiorno's pizza."
Store Manager: "It's not delivery, it's DiGiorno's!"
Delivery Man: "Just sign the slip."

Just Warming Up

2006-04-12T17:15:00.000-05:00

People in general love to exaggerate things. People in Wisconsin are no different. From beer consumption to cheese production, Wisconsinites love to amplify actual amounts.

Lately, I've noticed that the weather is no different. Yes, it is getting warmer. But is it really that hot? People in Wisconsin have three attitudes that span over a range of about 40 degrees. And they are:

The top and bottom quotes continue to a higher degree for the lower and higher degrees.
And keep in mind that I am exaggerating a bit.

John Edward

2006-04-05T16:41:00.000-05:00

I was watching "The Tony Danza Show" this morning and realized a few things. First of all, I'm a very sad individual. Secondly, Tony Danza is the most awkward host in the history of talk shows. I won't even make fun of him because "The Soup" has already beat it into the ground. However, I will applaud his daily contest "Extrava-Danza." That's just plain clever.

The third thing concerns one of his guests: John Edward. He's that guy who pretends to talk to the dead and gives people false hope. What a fucking prick. How can someone be so transparently phony and yet be so successful? I'm sure the answer lies in the same place that all religious debates end up: in some kind of bull shit.

Anyway, the whole point of this is that it occurred to me that someone should repeatedly shoot John Edward in the head and be like *bang* "Stop channeling yourself!" *bang* "Stop channeling yourself!" *bang* "Stop channeling yourself!"

History of April Fool's Day: 1% Fact, 99% Fact Substitute

2006-04-01T12:38:00.000-06:00

April Fool's Day dates back to 1564, following the decision of Charles IX to move the traditional New Year's celebration from April 1st to January 1st. Charles was sick of only getting, quote, "like, two days off during the Christmas season. How queer is that shit?"

So, he used his almost certainly undeserved power to move the New Year to January 1st. "Now," he was was noted to say, "we can declare a week-long holiday to eat like pigs, sleep in, and enjoy countless orgies. Countless in the sense that I will participate in many and countless in the sense that I won't be able to keep track of how many people are involved."

His agent and accountants pointed out that he could have just as easily declared Hanukkah a national holiday, but Charles believed that the Jews, quote, "like, totally need to be oppressed, not celebrated. Anyone with half a brain knows Jesus is the son of God. Hell, he's the reason we're living in 1564. Who knows what year it would be right now if it wasn't for him. We'd, like, still be in B.C. for Christ's sake."

Following these statements, Charles IX was labeled as a "rambling lunatic" and was only invited to three of his usual two dozen orgies. Ever since, April 1st has been dedicated to his foolishness. That, and pooping in people's shoes. Which he also frequently did.

How To Succeed In NCAA Pools Without Really Trying

2006-03-26T16:33:00.000-06:00

I recently got first place in a Yahoo! Sports' NCAA Tournament Pick'em pool and would like to pass on some rules that helped me to achieve such great success.

Rule #1: Forget any and all statistics from the regular season

Statistics get in the way of making rational decisions. Look to your heart. Your heart is never wrong. Unless it tells you the wrong team, in which case I recommend frying up and eating an entire package of bacon. That'll teach that stupid heart.

Rule #2: Pick places that you have travelled to in the past

Why would I pick UConn? I've never been to Connecticut. However, I have been to Memphis and Florida. Those teams deserve priority. Go with what you know. I just made that up right now. Feel free to use it.

Rule #3: Utilize a play on words when making your selections

Want to pick Nevada because they are a "gamble"? I say go for it. Think Oral Roberts is going to win just because "oral" is in their name? Hey, at least you've got a reason. And that's the main thing. Plus, while everyone else is getting a headache trying to decide what teams to pick, you've got a big smile on your face thinking about oral sex.

Rule #4: Natural disasters provide natural motivation

The key to LSU's success: Hurrican Katrina. Hurricane Katrina may have been over six months ago, but the spirit of the people lives on. What spirit you ask? The spirit of looting. If they can steal all of that shit, then so too can they steal the NCAA championship.

Rule #5: Turn your back on your own team

Sure, it would have been nice if Wisconsin won, but let's get over ourselves. The team just wasn't good. In fact, screw all of your state's teams. Don't let pride get the best of you.

Rule #6: Stick with the teams you have heard of

Who the fuck is Monmouth? Despite being a borderline reference to oral sex, it is clear that they had absolutely no chance. Why? Because no one knows who they are (not to mention they were a 16 seed). On the other hand, I've heard of UCLA. If I've heard of them, they must be decent. Go with what you know. I just made that up right now. Feel free to use it.

Jeeves

2006-03-15T13:05:00.000-06:00

Jeeves is no longer with Ask.com, which begs the question: "Where's Jeeves?"
Ask for Kids answers the question by pretending to show what Jeeves has been up to:

Notice how it says "Here are some things he might do for fun..." Might? If these are only possibilities, where did the photos come from? Are they doctored? Answer me that Ask.com. Answer me that.

Not to mention the other subtle clues: "...he is taking a few days rest before he goes."
Could it really be any more clear?

I think there has been a conspiracy to take care of Jeeves and not in the friendly butler way he used to take care of us all. I have reason to believe that Jeeves has been murdered. Here is what I believe might have happened to him:

Jeeves was told by Ask.com that he would be receiving an island all to himself. Upon hearing the news, Jeeves immediately packed up all of his belongings, withdrew his life savings and cancelled all contact with the civilized world.

Jeeves was then transported to a remote desert island off the coast of South America. There, he was escorted off the boat when the man driving suddenly ran back onto the boat and drove away, most likely laughing maniacally.

Jeeves, befuddled by the previous event, began searching the island for a place to settle down, just for the time being. Unfortunately for him, the island contained absolutely no foliage and appeared to be suffering from a severe drought. The only water he had to work with was the salt water of the ocean, but having no way of starting a fire, drinking it would cause him to dehydrate.

For several days, he lived off of his own urine and feces, but eventually those became so dilluted from repeated digestion that eating live sand fleas was his only source of nourishment.

Then, soon after, he saw a boat in the distance. He took off all of his clothes and waved them frantically over his head.

Finally, the boat began to travel in his direction. Jeeves was ecstatic. Had he not been so malnourished, he may have gotten an erection. Instead, there was only a shriveled flap of skin where his penis used to reside.

The boat beached itself and out walked a man dressed like a pirate. The man walked up to Jeeves and said "Ye be Jeeves?" to which Jeeves responded, "I used to be..." The man took out a sword and decapitated Jeeves.

Jeeves' head lied in the sand as his eyes blinked furiously for about 8 seconds before finally coming to a rest. The pirates stole his life savings, which Ask.com had promised to them as reward for Jeeves' execution. Then they played soccer with his head.

All of this is merely speculation. Of course, we will never know for certain what happened to Jeeves. Nor will we ever know why Ask.com felt the need to keep him quiet.
If only we could ask Jeeves.

2006-03-09T14:52:00.000-06:00

Commercials, in general, are getting worse. I try to avoid them at all costs, but when I do see one, it usually fits into one of these three categories:

1. The Push - The entire commercial never stops pushing the product and doesn't really stray from traditional advertising strategies. Example: Target commercials that tend to keep the Target logo on the screen in every scene, even if they have to dye it around a defenseless dog's eye. Just look at how sad this dog is:

2. The Mush - The commercial uses lowbrow, irreverent, or random characters and jokes to get the viewer's attention. It never really directly references the product. The product is either somewhere in the background or is finally revealed at the very end. Example: PSP commercials with unfunny squirrels or hairballs talking about unfunny subjects.

3. The Tush - The commercial uses sex and/or attractive women to sell the product. The product may or may not have anything to do with sex. Example: Any of the body spray ads in which a girl fucks a guy (or a mannequin) simply for wearing their body spray.

So those are the three main categories of commercials today. All of them make me sick in different ways. However, these categories aren't hard and fast. Some commercials may be a combination while others may not fit in any of these categories. The truth is, I just sort of made them up right now. And I decided to rhyme them, because rhyming sells.

News

2006-03-08T02:55:00.000-06:00

A new study has found that students retain the commercials during Channel One News better than they remember the news itself. This may be true. I distinctly remember M & M's commercials during Channel One News when I was in middle school. However, the thing I remember the most is a much tastier morsel, who I also like to refer to as M & M.

Maria Menounos

I bet she melts in your mouth AND in your hand.

Poetry

2006-03-06T03:19:00.000-06:00

Here is a haiku describing me:
I despise haikus.
(I decided to stop after the first line when I realized I do not like haikus.)

Instead, here is a limerick describing me:
There once was a guy who despised limericks.
(I again decided to stop after the first line when I realized I also do not like limericks.)

Instead, here is a free verse poem describing me:
I despise poetry in general.

Straight Talk

2006-03-03T16:45:00.000-06:00

I can’t explain it, but I’m incredibly attracted to the opposite sex. Ever since I was about eight years old, I’ve had this uncontrollable desire for the female gender. Dare I tell anyone? How would one react? These questions keep me up all night. Some say it’s a choice, but I don’t buy that. I was born this way. People need to stop judging me for who I love and start loving me for who I am. I’m straight and proud of it.

The secret is eating me up inside. I need to let the world know, but how? Who do I tell first? I could tell my parents, but they wouldn’t understand. My dads never understand me. For now, I’ll just stay in the closet, occasionally peering out at a world full of prejudice, full of hate, when in fact the only thing I hate is keeping this a secret.

The other day, I had sex for the first time with a woman. She was just as nervous as me. Had her moms found out that we were having heterosexual sex in her bedroom, they probably would have disowned her. However, the experience confirmed my orientation. No one can tell me that what happened was wrong when it felt as if God itself meticulously designed our bodies to intertwine like two pieces of twine intertwined.

I want to marry her, but the government won’t have it. Apparently we would tarnish the word “marriage.” What is a word anyway? Some claim that words are representations of a meaning. I say words are nothing more than letters. The meaning doesn’t exist until a meaning is assigned.

So what does marriage mean? To the far left, it means the traditional joining of two members of the same sex. I say we need to expand this notion to include people of all genders, all sexual orientations. Marriage is about love, not gender. I love her and I will marry her.

Until then, we’ll just have to continue our secret romance. I long to announce our love to the world, but the world isn’t ready for our love. We’re making progress with shows featuring straight men and women dating and elimidating each other, but we need more than just the support of dimwitted reality shows.

That’s why I’m writing this entry. I need your support. We all need to come together and tell the president that we won’t stand for this discrimination anymore. Let straights get married! You hear that Mr. President? That’s the voice of a straight. A proud straight. If you don’t let us marry whom we love, I say go home to your husband and suck it.

Litter

2006-03-01T17:00:00.000-06:00

On my walk home from class, I got to thinking about how "kitty litter" and "litter of kittens" mean two completely different things, yet sound so similar. Cats poop in kitty litter. A litter of kittens would be a cat's offspring. Why are both described as litter? This term seems almost degrading to the kittens. It would be like if we called our collective children a "toilet of babies." I suggest taking a moment to picture a toilet full of babies.

Speaking of being full of it, in my last entry, I stated that the Olympics were getting good ratings. This is not true. My bad. Some events are making the Top 20, but this does not indicate good ratings for an occasion that every American used to watch. Especially when "American Idol" and "Dancing with the Stars" are beating the kitty litter out of them.

Collared

2006-02-27T12:30:00.000-06:00

It seems odd that the NAACP hasn't changed its name since "colored people" has become a derogatory term. Then I realized if it did change to the more politically correct terminology, it would be NAAAA, the National Association for the Advancement of African Americans. "N quadruple A" just doesn't have a good ring to it.

Speaking of rings, does anyone even watch the Olympics? It claims to be getting good ratings, but no one I know watches. Thus, I can only conclude that old people are watching. That, or the ex-athletes that will never have any glory of their own and must live vicariously through some Olympian they have not met much less heard of.

These are the same kinds of guys who pop their collars. A lot has been said about popping one's collar, and I don't really have anything to add to it. I think it's been established that guys who pop their collars are bags brimming with dousche. However, even after this has been established, I find it odd that it remains so rampant. Do these guys not realize that they are a joke? They deserve to be made fun of. These collared people need not advancement, but degradation.

Laundry

2006-02-26T18:06:00.000-06:00

Doing laundry sucks. It's a fairly simple task, but there's something about knowing that your clothes are being washed and/or dried that makes you drop everything you're doing. I find it almost impossible to get things done while my laundry is being washed. My mind becomes consumed with my clothes.

Luckily I only do laundry about once every two weeks. I try my best to stretch everything out, intentionally wearing my shitty clothes on the days I know I won't run into anyone, then unintentionally wearing shitty clothes on every other day. In fact, my jacket's zipper has been broken for almost three months now and I have yet to do anything about it. I've also been wearing the same shoes for longer than I can even remember.

The main point is I'm cheap. I'm cheap with my own money, and yet somehow still cheap with other people's money. My mom will give me some money to get food and I still can't spend the entire amount. If there is a deal, then that's probably what I'll be getting, even if it's not what I truly want. However, if I got what I truly wanted, I'd be unhappy with my purchase decision anyway.

Speaking of which, I have a Marketing midterm tomorrow that I have yet to study for. I've become kind of lazy lately, waiting until the last second to do things. Usually if it gets right down to the wire, I get the energy to actually complete the task though. Like today. I was down to my last pair of clean everything, so I did some laundry. How am I supposed to study when I know my clothes are in the washer and dryer?

Reflection

2006-02-25T22:05:00.000-06:00

Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and imagined what it would be like if you put a gun to your head and pulled the trigger? Would the mirror get dirty, and if so, who would clean it up? Would Windex still be streak-free with blood in the mix?

Suicide is a funny thing. Anyone who does it deserves absolutely no sympathy. And yet, this is exactly what most people that do it are looking for. Suicide is about as counterproductive as running in circles. The only difference is it's less tiring.

I wonder if a guy who sells guns has ever been like, "I can't take this job anymore," and then hung himself in the backroom. Or if a ropemaker has ever said "I've had enough" and bashed his own head in with a wrench.

I used to play the game Clue as a child, and I never fully realized how dark the game was. These characters brutally murder John Boddy (the oft unnamed man who gets offed in every game) with wrenches, ropes, knives, and revolvers while the recommended age is eight.

I guess it all begins with Looney Tunes. If anything makes a child jaded about death, it’s Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner. Wile E. Coyote must die at least ten times in every five minute short. Then again, we're not coyotes.

What's much worse are those “Bratz.” These spokescunts are so concerned with their appearances, any girl who sees them for more than three minutes will develop anorexia.

The creators of these characters ought to go take a long look at themselves in the mirror.

¿Cómo?

2006-02-23T18:28:00.000-06:00

People in the United States love to throw Spanish into their regular speech. It’s like a way of showing off or something. Frankly, it comes off as patronizing to the Spanish language. I wonder if someone in a Spanish-speaking country throws in some English every now and then. I think it might go a little something like this:

(Due to laziness, pretend that all English words are actually Spanish and vice versa)

Hombre 1: Yo man, I gotta get going.
Hombre 2: But why? I got all this salsa left.
Hombre 1: You and your salsa.
Hombre 2: Are you making fun of my salsa?
Hombre 1: I’m just saying you love it a little too much.
Hombre 2: Yeah, well, your madre loves it a little too much.
Hombre 1: Dude, did you just say “madre?”
Hombre 2: Oh dude, I did.
Hombre 1: What’s up with that?
Hombre 2: I don’t know. I guess my spanglish kicked in.
Hombre 1: I hate Adam Sandler.

Hombre 1 makes a good point. What’s up with Adam Sandler lately? His movies are god-awful. The preview for his upcoming movie “Click” about a guy who gets a remote control that can control the universe may be the worst concept ever put onto film and distributed to 3000 theatres. What if those same two hombres saw a sneak preview of “Click?” I think it might go a little something like this:

Hombre 1: Yo man, that movie sucked.
Hombre 2: Kind of like your madre.

Down, maybe; Down and Out, definitely not

2006-02-14T02:22:00.000-06:00

People love to feel down on Valentine's Day:

"It's so depressing."
"I'm so alone."
"Make that a double quarter pounder."

However, I am not one of those people. Valentine's Day should not get anyone down. It is a day invented to sell greeting cards, flowers, boxed chocolates, stuffed animals and rubbers. There is little substance to it. If you really love someone, then you don't need a day set aside to tell them.

As for those who are single, cheer up. It's just like any other day. You wake up, take a shower, go through your daily routine and cry yourself to sleep. What's so especially depressing about that? That's what you do everyday.

Not to mention that you don't have to buy all the above products. Most of the time, it's all just a tease anyway. Your wallet remains full and so should your hopes, your dreams and your heart.

You'll find someone someday. Someone who will appreciate you for who you are. Someone to laugh with, someone to watch movies and cuddle with, someone who you want to spend the rest of your life with. And that, my friend, is full of shit.

The Know, the Truth, and the Rest

2006-02-06T19:18:00.000-06:00

"The Know is spreading," states the latest AIDS awareness commercial. Really? You know what else is spreading... AIDS. "The Know" has technically been around since like the early '80s. I hope to God that it has spread to everyone by now. And if there is someone that's not in "The Know," they probably live in Africa and aren't watching "The King of Queens" on a Monday night.

AIDS commercials have become about as relevant as the Truth ads. Schools teach the kids about these risks from an early age, it seems like a waste of time, money, and effort to continue to run these ads that pretend to be trendy while delivering a message that has been so drilled into our brains that the only way for our opinion to go is in the opposite direction.

That's exactly what happens. "Don't smoke? I've heard that so many times, I find it hard to believe it's really that bad for you. I guess there's only one way to find out." Of course this doesn't apply to AIDS. No one wants AIDS. The AIDS commercial just sparked this rant.

I should look out for AIDS? Smoking is bad? Please drink responsibly? Thanks TV. I'd be lying in a gutter dying from AIDS, smoking a cigarette, and drinking whiskey straight from the bottle in a brown paper bag if it weren't for you.

I'm not being sarcastic, I talked to a guy in this exact situation on the street and he told me he doesn't watch TV. Coincidence? I think not. End poverty!

Fuck You, Shadows!

2006-02-02T15:36:00.000-06:00

One morning long ago, I rolled out of bed and opened my eyes. There was my shadow, casting on the floor. Frightened, I jumped back into bed. I pulled the cover over my head and closed my eyes tight. Eventually, I lowered the blanket just under my nose and looked at the floor where my shadow had resided. There was nothing there. I was safe. I threw the blanket off, got up, and there it was again. That damn shadow.

How do I get rid of shadows? I thought to myself. Why, by getting rid of light of course.

I got my gun and shot at the sun. This ought to put the sun out, I thought. I accidently pegged a few seagulls, but they died for a noble cause. Their shadows shrunk as they fell from the sky. Progress! Their shadows aren't as big. I must be doing something right. But I don't think I can put out the sun like this. What to do.

So I got myself a shovel and began to dig a large hole in the ground. Once the hole was complete, I installed some spikes in the bottom along with a T-bone steak. Perhaps if the sunlight wants the steak, it will rush in, paralyze itself, and I can bury it alive, I thought. Sure enough, around noon, the sunlight filled the hole. I quickly filled the hole back in. What's this? There's still sunlight. It managed to escape somehow.

"Fuck you, sunlight!" I screamed, pointing at the sun, "Stop creating shadows!"

Then I devised the perfect plan. I dug a hole with the shovel, stood at the front edge of the hole, pointed the gun to my head, and shot myself. My body fell into the hole, where upon discovering my body, some Native Americans used the excess dirt to give me a proper burial.

They prayed to my body for rain, and indeed I brought rain. From the heavens, I can now conger up clouds whenever I please. Sometimes I block out the sun to get rid of those pesky shadows, while other times I let the sunlight shine free. It no longer concerns me, since shadows don't exist up here. So why not toy with the world? And this is the story of the first Groundhog Day, or as I originally called it, Shadow Suicide Day.

A few complaints with little more than "You're dumb" to back them up

2006-01-02T14:36:00.000-06:00

- When something costs n.99, don't say that it costs n.
For example:
Idiot: The new CD by my favorite band was only 11 bucks.
Me: Really, only 11?
Idiot: Well, technically it was $11.99.
Me: So it was 12.
Idiot: 12.65 with tax...
Me: I hate you.

- No need to give drunken pictures a stupid caption. If you're drunk, the picture speaks for itself. The worst is when the caption says something to the effect of "We're TOTALLY not drunk." First of all, you are. And secondly, you're retarded. Sorry, that's an insult to retards. You're just unfunny. (Though that may be an insult to unfunny people who don't try to be funny.)

- Guys who don't mind getting naked in front of other guys aren't comfortable with their bodies, they're gay. No guy should want to see a naked man nor be naked in front of another man. There is absolutely no excuses. This isn't homophobic, it's just plain true.

- Why do people still feel the need to give a tip to someone who doesn't deserve it? Tips should have to be worked for or given as a reward for a job well done. I realize it's how they make their living, but if they are bad at making that living, then maybe they are in the wrong line of work. The only way they'll learn this is by not tipping them when they do a shitty job. If my order isn't perfect, then the tip won't be perfect.

- You're dumb.

GO, in the name of the law!

2005-11-30T16:35:00.000-06:00

Today as I was crossing the street in the crosswalk with a solid walk signal, a cop turing left, no lights or siren on, almost turned right into me. Which got me thinking: what chance do pedestrians have if the police don't even care about them?

It all goes back to the age-old rivalry: man vs. car. Clearly in a rock-paper-scissors-type matchup, car would kill man. However, one has to consider that without man, the car could not operate. So, essentially, man would kill man. Then, to complete the rock-paper-scissors trifecta, you'd have to include the cop. The cop pulls over the car, but saves the man. So isn't it ironic that the cop in my story is in the role of car rather than that of cop? What this paragraph has to do with my story is so little that after rereading it, I wonder why I am not deleting this.

Back to pedestrians. Sure, when I'm driving around, they get on my nerves sometimes. Usually, though, these are instances in which they are breaking the rules of the road in some way. In my case, I could not have been following the rules more closely, and I still felt alienated.

Plus, when are cars in Madison going to realize that pedestrians are an inevitable nuisance? Thousands of students walk to class everyday. One would think that eventually drivers would be aware of this and therefore be more understanding. Yet more and more, they seem to be oblivious to this seemingly obvious fact.

This is why I propose bridges that extend over the entire campus linking all of the buildings. It would free up the streets for the cars and would be a faster and safer way for pedestrians to get to their classes. Hell, I'll even chip in an extra fifty bucks in my tuition if they make them those moving paths you see in airports.

Badger Fans Cringe, Girls with Brown Eyes Rejoice

2005-11-13T01:00:00.000-06:00

Iowa may have won on Saturday, but the lovers of clichéd soft rock music left Camp Randall as the true winners. With less than a minute left in the fourth quarter and the Badgers trailing by ten, one heroic sound technician stepped up and took control of the situation. Here is how I imagine that the scene went:

“Alright, guys. The Badgers are down by ten. They're running out of time. We need to play a song to get the crowd energized and to get the ball into the end zone. I’ve got it! Put on ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ by Van Morrison.”

My guess, or at least hope, is that someone questioned this decision, “Sir, you do realize that the song is about nothing more than a girl who has brown eyes?” To which the head technician probably replied, “You dare to question my authority? You’re fired!” To which the guy who regularly plays the music responded, “Whatever, my mind quit years ago.” Then he hit the “Brown Eyed Girl” button.

(Please note that this is only a dramatization of what happened in reality. No one can be sure of the actual events, besides the people involved.)

With that said, who in their right mind would play “Brown Eyed Girl” during a crucial moment of a football game? Here is a list of other songs that could have been played: “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC, “Right Now” by Van Halen, “Come on Feel the Noize” by Quiet Riot, or even (though preferably not) the predictable, but functional, “The Final Countdown” by Europe. All of these are better song choices. In fact, most songs would be better choices.

But “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison? That would be like some guy trying to get his date in the mood by putting on the upbeat melodies of Kidz Bop. And even then, at least one of the kids might sing a song by Maroon 5 or something. Anyway, I realize that this analogy does not make much sense, but the point is that both musical choices are wrong for their respective circumstances.

For this reason, I blame the song for the Badgers’ loss. I do not blame the inability of John Stocco to get rid of the ball before being sacked. I do not blame the poor performance of Brian Calhoun and the offensive line. I do not even blame the sure touchdown pass that was unfortunately dropped by Brandon Williams. I place full blame firmly on “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison. No one, besides a select number of girls who love the song for one reason or another, feels pumped up after hearing this song. How could the Badgers be expected to perform?

In fact, every time I hear that song, I’m transported to one of my family members’ weddings. I honestly do not think I have ever been to a wedding that does not play “Brown Eyed Girl.” Whether or not the bride is, in fact, brown-eyed seems to be completely trivial. “Brown Eyed Girl” belongs on the dance floor of a cheap banquet hall and not in a football stadium during pivotal situations. Barry Alvarez will forever have nightmares with the soundtrack provided by Van Morrison.

Common Interests = Good, Conformity = Bad

2005-11-12T03:00:00.000-06:00

About 3 years ago, I was the biggest Family Guy fan in the world. I watched it every week. I taped about 80% of the whole series onto VHS. I laughed when it was on, and I cried when it got cancelled. Then, when I heard it was coming back, my body was filled with joy and anticipation.

Nowadays, however, I've lost my love. Why? you ask. There are a couple of reasons. First of all, everyone likes it now. There's nothing special about me being a fan of it. Family Guy used to be a way for me to gauge who I shared specialized interests with. Now, there are nearly 4,000 members in the UW-Madison Family Guy Fan Club Facebook group alone.

Not to mention, Family Guy has become topic of conversation on par with the president of the United States. The stupidest girl in my literature discussion even talks about it. I don't want to be among this new company.

Also, the show has just gone downhill, as illustrated in this picture:

If you're a true fan of the show, you should be able to admit that something has been amiss with the newest season. If you can't admit that, go watch the DVD's that you bought 3 years after the show was cancelled and check out some real genius. If you don't own the DVD's, I'll gladly lend you a VHS.

Another medium that has been ruined by conformity is movies. The Boondock Saints, Garden State, The Wedding Crashers, and Napoleon Dynamite are just a few examples. They are all great movies, but when everyone begins to talk about and quote them on a constant basis, they lose what is so great about them-their originality.

I'm not saying to stop liking things. I'm just saying stop ruining things. If you are not particularly a fan of something, admit it. Don't lie. I don't care if you don't like Family Guy. I hardly even do anymore.

And stop quoting popular movie lines. We've heard them all before. Maybe, if you just absolutely have to quote something, dig a little deeper and find a better, more unique quote.

So I ask of you, America, let's try our best to preserve the pristine nature of the things each of us love by not giving in to conformity. Together, we can be individuals.