Don't Climb Mt. Hood

Q: What do these two things have in common?

Rock Ballads

Mt. Hood

A: That's right. Both can kill.

I bring this up because it seems that in recent years there has been a spat of climbing deaths on Mt. Hood (this past week is no exception) and it has forced me to ask the hard questions:

Why do people climb this damn thing?

Is it the gently inviting slopes?

The placid forests?

The siren calls of the native Sasquatch?

Now, it seems that more and more groups of three head out to do some traipsing around on the mountain, only to fall victim to freezing temperatures and stale granola. Hubris at it's best.

Even a quick perusal of the internet will tell you that anything associated with the mountain is wrought with tragedy. Commissioned in July 1944, the munitions ship USN Mt. Hood was destroyed when a weapons magazine exploded in November. Tally? 45 dead, 327 missing, 371 injured. That's Bad News Bears, man. (I know, I know, some of you are saying that another munitions ship was comissioned in 1971 and sailed for over 20 years without mishap, but that doesn't really add anything to my point and so I choose to ignore it.)

For godsake, if you must climb that towering bitch of a rock, make sure you pack a satellite phone, or at the very least, some aged gouda, so the rescue dogs can find your ass after the avalanche.

The Soul Effect

The soul patch.

A bevy of questions and precious few answers.

What would a grown man allow himself to look this stupid? Can he possible think it is cool? More importantly, what does his significant over have to say about all of this?

The ubiquitous patch seems to be cropping up everywhere from work and TV to cable shows and tabloids. No facet of American life is immune. I fear that we are in the midst of a Renaissance of dooshy facial hair not seen since the terrible 1860s when men were too busy skipping baths to worry about facial travesties.

Bask in the glory of some Soul Patches culled from the internet. . .

Notice a trend? I sure did, and in the interests of good taste I refrain from posting more.

Not to be alarmist, but I see this as a symptom of moral decline, a weakening of the 'tough guy' fiber that made America great. I mean, seriously, what's the intended effect? A pouty insouciance? An approach me vulnerability that screams, "Hey, come and talk to me. I swing both ways. . ."?

Sadly, I think it says just as much about out women as our men. Sorry ladies, but the fact that you let your significant other wander around with such a ridiculous tuft of hair that looks like a Brazilian Wax gone bad says loads about the current state of male-female relations. Ladies, if you find yourself dating a man with a Soul Patch, you must realize that you're basically telling the world "Hey, I've given up. This is the best I can do. Sure, he's a loser who thinks pork-pie hats are cool and that SKA should be thought of as high art, but hey, that's good enough for me."

Ladies, I say to you, "Demand MORE!"

To sum up: No one looks good with a soul patch. I repeat, no one looks good with a soul patch!

Keep Firing

There are idoits and then there are assholes. It seems like America has been plagued by the latter in recent day. From what I can gather, totting a gun to work and blowing away your fellow schleps has become the new American past time. No more bowling, no more driving around and flipping people off. No, the new way to let out your pent up teenage angst and feelings of inadequacy it to take it out on innocent people by senselessly murdering them at their place of employment.

Now, let me be clear. I am in NO WAY blaming the gunmen. No. Not me. I mean,  people can only take soooooo much frustration in their lives. And look at the times we live in.  At no other time in history has there been wars waged or economic hardships endured---NOT EVER! Life is so much harder now than it was just a few years ago, I mean, only last year we were nothing but innocents watching John and Kate +8, worrying about who would win Idol and just basically living a carefree life. Then BAM! Economic meltdown, two minor conflicts in pointlessly remote regions of the world, the whole thing with Tiger. It's just too much to bare for people who think they deserve more from life. . .

Which brings me to a clip from the movie Spaceballs that has been playing through my mind ever since the incidents occurred. In it, Dark Helmet asks a questions we should be asking ourselves about everyone who works with us.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZNPxxRU4Wc

'How many asshole we got on this ship anyway?'

Far, far too many. . .

Commentator Crapola

There is an epidemic spreading across the land of the interwebs, a blight so unsightly and insidious that millions suffer from it daily without even knowing it. Am I talking about a virulent form of computer H1N1, you ask? Nah, nothing that scary, but it is an affliction that affects many and it goes by the name of Cantshutthefuckup-itis. (It's a real affliction, look it up.) It's symptoms include an inability to pass over an article without leaving a comment and a desperate need to get one up on the author.

The disease manifests itself in different ways, but here are a few of the symptoms as expressed by type.

The Grammarian

These are the 'flamers' that complain incessantly about small grammatical miscues and typos in the article. Most are so pissed you'd think they were reading the collected works of Proust instead of some two paragraph article posted by a college intern. Come on, everyone must know by now that most crap on the Web is written between the hours of 2am-4am and almost never has the benefit of a second edit (rarely even a first). Still, that doesn't stop morons from posting comments about stylistic choices that they've confused with hard and fast grammar rules. I came across one comment recently at the bottom of a computer software program review that typifies what I'm talking about. Enjoy.

". . .One would think that someone who writes for a living wouldn’t have to be told that “for free” is an improper use of the English language. The word “free” literally means “for nothing.” Thus, when you write “for free,” what you’re actually saying is “for for nothing.” The word “free” stands alone. It requires no modification. . . ."

Wow. Pretty lucid. And totally pointless. Within the context of the article, the sentence was perfectly fine and the broader ontological view of the writer was completely missed by the poster. I think the the thing that irks the most about the grammarian is that just because you can do something---here, speak English---doesn't mean that you are an expert at it. To give an example, sex. I'm sure that as a functioning gonad, the commentator has the mechanics of the act down, but the poetry? A much more elusive target. . .

The Proverbial Fucknut

A complete reliance on useless and inappropriate proverbs. How many times have we seen "may you live in interesting times" to highlight some justification for an argument or used by a desperate poster trying to be profound?

The thing that pisses off most is the incessant use of exclusively Chinese proverbs or those other linguistic atrocities committed by our greatest obese hypocrite, Ben Franklin.

Knowledge may be common for some, but who is to say that everyone is common?

Auto-Erotic Wanker

No. This isn't the grease monkey down at the local garage. This is the noodge that refers to himself when he posts, for example with the phrase, "As I have said before. . ." As if anyone was really paying attention! I hate to break the news, but people aren't running around saving the collected rants from someone who calls himself Luv2nips23.

When people start quoting themselves you know you're in for a deep dish of tasty bullshit, usually served with a steaming side of Chinese proverbs.

Wordsmith Wannbe

Comments longer than the post. So Kewl.

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Do I need one more? Maybe. Am I going to continue?

No, but I will leave you with these little nuggets. See how many you can spot the next time you're trolling through the comment section of your favorite site.

"something for everyone to consider. . ."

"think about it."

"look. . ."

If you feel so inclined, please add to the list.

Polanski not Roman, more Greek

I am sure everyone out there in fantasy land has heard all about the little international dust-up surrounding Roman Polanski. It seems the little munchkin was nabbed by the cops on his way to a film festival for some slight "youthful indiscretions" he had when he was 40.

But fear not! Celebs in Hollyweird have jumped in to save him from the long cold arm of justice. "He is innocent!" They protest. "He is a miniature treasure!" They howl. "Like a talking midget or cheap Mariachi puppet you buy in Tijuana Mexico!"

To show their support, they do what everyone everywhere does when something bad happens to someone: They signed a petition. (I hear the authorities are shitting themselves over this.) Here is a short list of the people that are out of touch with reality:

Whoopi Goldberg, Woody Allen (the irony!), Pedro Almodovar, Monica Bellucci, Guillermo del Toro, Terry Gilliam, John Landis, David Lynch, Martin Scorsese, just to name a few.

It just goes to show that you can teach moron how to make a movie, but you can't teach them right from wrong.

This brings up a tertiary point: It seems that many who are jumping on the bandwagon are doing so in response to a documentary recently released dealing with the Polanski case. The documentary alleges that the judge was biased in the case (finding Polanski guilty) because detectives "sexed-up" information. Recently, the detective in the film has surfaced to say that it was in fact he who had "sexed up" the version of events to make a more exciting movie.

"But," the Shitirati protest, "How can this be? The lens always reveals the truth!"

That may be so, but only for fat chics and Botox. It's a fucking documentary. These people are not reporters. It's entertainment. Al Gore is a doosh---And yes, people do lie on camera. As long as it isn't in court, they don't give a shit. No harm, no foul.

You know, this whole fiasco has given me a wonderful idea. I am going to start fobbing myself off as a famous director. That way, I can sleep with whomever I like, be forgiven for being a uninteresting asshole who only talks film, make boring movies for people who fancy themselves auteurs and best of all, not worry about looking like a damn garden gnome.

I Can Haz Cheezburger?

Literacy. Is it a problem? Sure.

Do people think about it much? Not really.

At least not the people over at KHNL---Live, Local, Late Breaking News.

I was flipping through the channels the other night and came across a story that I found both mind boggling and a bit disturbing. The report, compiled by the very capable people over at News 8, was investigating the low literacy rates here in Hawaii.

Believe it or not (but I am inclined to believe it), 1 in 6 adults in Hawaii is illiterate.

Nearly 16 percent! Well, exactly 16 percent.

Fairly shocking, I know, because one would guess from driving on the roads that the numbers would be far higher. The reasons for the piss poor showing, I feel, are twofold. First, the school system in Hawaii is abysmal. It's right up there with Tatoo from Fantasy Island on the Globetrotters depth chart. And two, our immigration policy isn't exactly clamoring for the best and brightest---too many family exemptions (wink, wink), if you catch my drift.

Learning to read as an adult takes time and dedication. It can really cut into the drinking-after-work-wit-dah-braddahs time, not to mention the valuable tricking-out-da-scooter-wit-da-custom-muffla-to-piss-everyone-off-in-da-neighborhood time. Let's face it, with all that partying and tricking-out, people here just aren't ready to put that much effort into learning about scribbles on a page.

And the older I get, the more I wonder if it is worth it myself.

Case in point: I was always told that learning to read helped people to develop their critical thinking skills. Evidently not, and here's why.

In the news clip I referred to above, the newscaster urges viewers to "visit the news webpage for more information on literacy programs".

Let that sink in for a moment.

Visit the webpage (by typing in the letters on a computer), to look for an article (by reading the letters on the screen), to find out information about the program (again by reading the various scribbles). BRILLIANT!

Hmmm. . .on second thought, maybe I should continue reading, but just ignore the journalists.

(Here is the link to the video. Enjoy.) http://www.khnl.com/Global/story.asp?S=10939420

Jon & Kate They Aint

Reality shows bite. Seriously. They totally suck.

Of course, I havent always thought that way. There was a time a few months ago when I was totally into all of the hoopla, where I waited with baited breath for every Spiedi appearance on I'm A Has-Been. . .Get Me Out Of Here, and stayed up late into the night watching the mind-numbing Deadliest Catch (which should be renamed to Dull, Dirty and Dangerous).

I think it was the middle of American Choppers when I had a sudden awakening about the fundamentals of the entire genre. The scene went something like this:

-------------------

The guys are fixing a motorcycle. Paul Jr. asks Paul Sr. for a wrench. We see them work. Cut To Paul Jr standing in the garage .

Paul Jr: So I turn to my father and ask for a wrench. He gives me one.

------------------

No shit sherlock. Didn't we just see that?

Now, I want to be perfectly clear. This is not a 'talent' issue---it has nothing to do with the guys on the show---but a production issue. The producers must think we are a bunch of r-tards if we can't figure out what just happened, let alone need to suffer through more lame commentary for another 45 minutes about the wrench. It makes you wonder, if the show isnt interesting enough to keep going for a full hour, shouldnt they start rethinking the subject matter?

In that vain, I have started formatting my life like a reality show. Now when I do something, I'll immediately turn to the person next to me and tell them exactly what I've just done. You should try is sometime. It makes you feel important and really annoys the crap out of everyone else.

That being said, I still watch reality TV, and while most of it bores me, there is still one show that makes me feel like this:

I love you Bear Grylls.

Qom and Get It

It's hard being a dictator these days, everyone seems to think they can just get all up in your grill and tell you off. . . .I didn't appoint myself leader to put up with this.

---Ayatollah Khamenei

[The following notes were taken from a napkin discarded by the Supreme Leader after a brunch at the fashionable Le Roi Est Mort restaurant in downtown Tehran last Friday.]

1.) No more group protests against the West.

Why did we do it? All of those years of shouting "Death to America!" has only encouraged people to protest. Dumb! Who could have guessed that they would change "Death to America" to "Death to Dictator"? We didn't see it coming. Those clever foreign news teams!

2.) No more motorcycles for the Basiji militia.

Militarily, rice burners are not that effective. I have seen this picture all too often this week.

Obviously the rider was pulled from his bike before being able to beat innocent bystanders in any meaningful way. Solution? Sidecar!

Combat Cow + Driver = Win!

Discuss with Ahme-whateverhisnameis-ajad over lunch Tuesday.

3.) Start our own social networking site.

Twitter is for dweebs. We need something where we can show oppression in a positive light. Like this:

Profile

Name: Spanky

Location: Iran

Hobbies: Taking hostages, denying the holocaust, killing fellow countrymen, blaming the West

Music: Eartha Kit, my own voice

TV shows: Anderson Cooper 360 (the talking midget fascinates me)

Job: President, (temp to hire)

Motto: Yes we can!. . .stomp out democracy.

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To all those in Iran, fight the good fight.

Chity On A Hill

Community. Who in the hell needs it?

I sure don't. Not in any sort of deep spiritual sense, anyway.

The reason I bring it up is because there has been a lot of lip service being paid about the need for greater community involvement. Americans have been bullied from the left and right in recent months to start sacrificing for the greater social good. From healthcare to jobs, the environment to morality, every social ill is being blamed on lack of community involvement.

All of this belly aching seems to me to be a campaign by the ruling classes to place their current failings squarely on the shoulders of the electorate. That's right. You heard me. All of this goody-goody take responsibility bit is just a backhanded way of abdicating any authority and responsibility for what has transpired over the last several years in the Republic. With a little pat on the back from Uncle Sam, we are now expected to lift our neighbors (and ourselves) up by the bootstraps to help make our country great again.

The idea is such a lovely little panacea, isn't it? If we all just help one another, if we all just give a little----which always becomes give a little MORE---the country will turn back the clock on pessimism and violence and fear inherent in all free societies and transform itself into some Epicurean Garden of logic and delight.

Formerly this used to only be the clarion call of the left. No longer. Conservative pundits (by no means strangers to community activism, to whit, church involvement) have been championing greater public community activism.

But do we really want to start thinking in collectivist ways? I mean, look whats its given us in the last 100 years: Bolshevism, Nazism, and Hippies. I mean seriously, the track record ain't good. And I am not just talking about rampant guitar playing, leather fringe and wafting pot smoke.

I think it was the old poet Bill VocabAppeal who warned "the world is too much with us." I tend to agree with him. Do we really want to start adding another layer of complexity to our lives? One that demands so much of us by forcing us to be our neighbors keeper?

----

Ruminating for a bit, I have to wonder if all of this isn't just an outgrowth of our loss of the frontier. The personality of the West is gone, faded into the bleak sunset of LA style greed and San Fran style intellectualism. We are now ready to chuck the true uniqueness of the American experience, our rugged individualism, for some re-branded East Coast sentimentality about government and the social contract?

I suppose my bigger question is this: Do we now live in a world with no frontiers? Are we all just living in the same mediocre milieu of the coasts? Are we nothing more than mere residents of a polis?---Forced to stare at one another without ever having to look within?

God I hope not, cause when I peer into the slack jawed grins of those simians on the cities I become frightened at what grand social experiments they have in store for me.

Been A Long TIme!

It's been a long time

since I been rick rolled

been a long time, been a long time

been a long, lonely lonely time

--Led Zepplin

Yes, dear readers, it's been a while since I have jumped on "Teh Internets" and put PC to paper and made a post. I have been remiss. I have been lazy. I've been surfing too many celebrity gossip sites (Speidi anyone?). I have lost my way.

No Longer!

As I sit here at my computer, listening to the "uuuhhs and ahhhs and oohhs" of that lyrical mastermind Robert Plant, I vow to be just as eloquent. In the spirit of my Muse I have to say:

"unnh, ohh, aaaahh eggh, goooh ooohh uuuunnh ahhhhhhh. beep. poop."

Yeah, take that establishment!

Animal Farm

Orwell was right. The Animal Farm is trying to steal our souls. 

First it was the Avian flu.  Started by those devious chickens, passed onto like-minded migratory birds, the Avian Flu became the (mu)cause celebre of the CDC just a few years ago, spreading fear and a minor panic from China to Turkey. Every bird was suspect. People were killing chickens and foregoing the spicy Kung Pao. It almost got to the point where a bird dropping a load on the car was considered a death sentence, paint be damned.  

Now were are faced with another assault from the animal kingdom. This time it's the Swine Flu. Someone got a little to close to the little piggies down on the farm in Mexico (a suspected US owned company, no less) and now the world is in an uproar.  Pretty soon we'll be laying off the other white meat (Britany Spears) and be forced to start stewing the house pets. 

Hopefully, the collective wisdom of Science will get us out of this jam. 

If not, I'm moving to the sticks, someplace with a sordid history where people fear to tread, visitors are few and far between and the medical care is superb. 

I'm headin' to Neverland Ranch. 

Cryin Shame

YOU MAKE THE CALL!

Is he:

A. Bawling

B. Hurling

C. "Balling" 

D: Making another million in book sales 

C: (Write-in Answer)________

Slow Ride, Take It Easy

Check out this sweet custom grill I saw near my place the other day.

You can only appreciate it on the close-up.

I haven't seen that much chrome on a mid-90s Ford since. . .well. . .I don't know when.  

There is something downright majestic about it, isn't there? Words fail me. I stand in awe. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Should I be concerned about this?

Or this?

Or am I just being paranoid?

(Far be it for me to criticise the all-knowing Constitutional Law Professor who currently heads our government, but I find this particular branding of leadership rather frightening.)   

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You know, I for one have never really been able to differentiate between  a Communist, Fascist, or any other -ist form of government.  Why?  I don't know. Maybe it's because I was too busy fantasizing about Molly Doak in my eighth grade government class, or maybe it's because each form of government has the propensity to devolve into a state where some arrogant shithead is telling you how to live your life---you know, for the greater good and all of that. 

Who knows. 

But I do know that New Winds are blowing upon this great land of ours. Can't you feel it, the seductive siren song to make America what it should be instead of what it is? I sure do. And in a BIG way. From clamoring commentators in the media to the weekend morons blathering on the internets, it seems there are millions who insist on ramming every naive tenant of a skewed ideology down our throats. 

And that's just fans of Chuck Norris. 

But even now they are being drowned out by the more "liberal" among us. There is such a din and cry from everyone to follow the august mantle of divine leadership that it feels like America is deteriorating into some kind of third-rate Bolshevik luncheon.   

Of course, we needn't worry too much about these developments: our anti-communist and anti-fascist muscles are the most politically developed of any modern power, and we can rest assured any hints to traditional revolutions will be immediately sniffed out by Wolf Blitzer in The Situation Room. 

No, what greets us will be a uniquely homegrown American amalgam, something that incorporates the more subtle strictures of both. To what do I refer? The Demagogue.

I use the classical definition of the term  here, as someone who leads the demos or armed populace of the city. That's right, the demagogue used physical power to influence and sway the politics of the city for his particular faction: charismatic leadership as arbiter of social change. 

 Of course, in our modern times we do not have an physically armed class ready to push through its particular agenda, but there are those who are just as dangerous---those armed with "superior knowledge," the technocrats, the lawyers, and those "in the know" about civil society---who will do everything in their power to see to it that America becomes everything she has to become. 

I, for one, just wish the colorful propaganda posters were a little more original. 

Every Extended Extra

I worry for my Johnson, I really do.  

According to a recent TV advertisement that I caught last night on TV (lucky me!), I discovered I am not nearly as "big" enough nor as "large" enough, nor as "huge" enough as I need to be in order to satisfy women of the opposite sex. 

Based on the commercials, and by my own precise calculations, I estimate that my Van Damm is approximately 123% too small for my body. That's right. You heard me. My anaconda has the length and girth of a dandelion. 

But fear not Metabomonkey! There are millions of little pills out there ready and eager to help you in your time of need.  A quick peek on the internet scrolls past brand after brand from Viagra and Cialis to Extenze and Excyte. There is even a powerful new pill from Taiwan on the balck market dubbed, Dong-B-Long.

The news heartens me somewhat. Apparently, there are millions of men just like me out there with the same problem. To whit, the same three couples that always show up on the Extenze commercials.  Most are sleazy and quite lurid in their testimonials, which gives me some comfort, but I have to say that this couple scares me. 

  

It's like watching Herman Munster talk about ballistic-doinking with some unattractive Milf from Orange County. (Wait. That's EXACTLY what it is. . .)   

I always cringe at the end when he waxes Socratic with a rhetorical question, "The increase in size? Well, that's kinda fun too." Oh really? Are we supposed to take your word for it, the word of some forty-something struggling actor who can't afford to go to K-mart to buy himself a white undershirt so he doesn't look like such a blathering doosh?

It's it that moment that I long for the slutty hotties that usually inhabit the Extenze infomercial universe.  Like this girl, who unfortunately blinks a lot while trying to talk and be coy at the same time. (Apparently it's quite difficult.)

It always feels like she just took a money-shot right before the director yelled "Action!"   

Blink. Blink. "If Extenze doesn't make you larger---." Blink. Blink. 

"Dammit, Doug! Can't you wait until AFTER the take!"

Sigh. 

I long for the 80s, when the only Johnson we had to worry about was this one. 

Up your Date

I have a confession to make: I am an update whore.  It's true. I am one of those countless sorry saps who has a compulsive need to update almost any and every piece of software he owns, hoping beyond hope that, one day, a cool new feature come along make him totally cream his jeans 

. . . Or, at the very least, provide some basic functionality that won't bitch-nuke his OS every 17 minutes.

(Ahh, there it is, the chorus of Mac users mocking me.)

I know, I know. The Mac is a "good box"----kinda like that homely girl next door whose been a tease since high school.  Sure, she'll get you off on warm summer nights, but those of you who haven't done the tango with the fiesty wench that is Windows will never know the joy of conquering her after she stomps on your Dragonbalz or the gut-wrecnhing let-down after you discover that you've contracted a raging case of malware from a late night hook-up she had with some tech grad from the Ukraine.

But I have given up on my OS. She has stomped on my heart one time too many. Now, I seek solace in pointless little affairs: the Chome browser updates, the Adobe patches, the Facebook work-arounds.  I live in a world of dreams. I sat at my computer and pray that the fonts will be a little lovlier, graphics a little brighter, applications a bit snappier. But when I check the update notes, all I find is a list of banal tech jargon telling me how the new code integrates Chink characters into 124 bit resolution or some such. . . basically, totally useless shit that's only designed for people living in Trinidad & Tobago. 

And so I find myself searching for the next fix, cruising the software sites, hoping beyond hope that one day I----

High Beams

High Beams have been on my mind lately, and no, I don't mean the  good kind, like the ones you see hanging out in the mall during summer, I mean the bad kind, like the ones that hit you as your hurtling down the road while driving home at 9.20pm at night. 

The other night I was coming back from dinner when I counted over a dozen assholes driving with their high beams on. How one can illuminate so much of the road with a bodily orifice is beyond me, but be that as it may, Hawaii has got to be the worst place in the world for high beam abuse. I mean seriously, everyone and their frickin' grandma goes driving around with their high beams on.  One in three, based on my calculations. 

It's not like we're living out in BFE. This is HONOLULU! Over a million people live here. Don't believe me? Take a look. There's development everywhere. 

And at night it looks like this.

Pretty well lit, if you ask me. 

Now, granted, maybe everyone on in Hawaii knows something I don't, like it's illegal to drive without your high beams on, or turning them off will kill everyone over 70. Who knows. Personally, I think it's because so many fuck-wits here learned to drive in third world countries, i.e. California. 

So, as I ponder the inponderables and try to figure out just what in the hell is going on, I want to point out, for the record, that the only acceptable high beams to have on while driving are these. 

The Show

Some of you may know that I have wanted to do a variety/interview show on public access for some time.  Why, you ask? For the hell of it. 

I envision some sketch comedy followed by a "classy" style talk show blending elements of Dick Cavett and Dean Lerner's Man to Man.

I think interview shows are the best formats for expressing your opinion.  Here is Dean going off about Wet Wipes during an interview with former race car driver Steve Pising.

(You can catch the entire interview HERE.)

Of course, since I am currently in Hawaii, there could be problems with the inevitable satellite delay as Dean found out when he tried to interview Glyn Nimron, the famous TV star.  

 

In the meantime, as I try to work out the whys and wherefores of the show, I ask you to keep all of your comedy skit ideas jotted down on paper.  I'm going to need them here sometime soon. . .

Excommunication

He sat up for a moment, collecting his thoughts among the flattened stalks. Looking down at his right hand, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he let out an amused breath. He could still feel the lingering sensation of the electrical shock he'd received over an hour ago as he slowly rolled the tips of his fingers against his thumb. His tongue felt alien - a lump of lead that felt unfamiliar to him as he used it for the first time in over a decade.

Pain he could handle - even enjoy sometimes if he was ready for it. Heaven knows how many times he'd had to brace himself. No, it was the sense of betrayal that still stung more than anything else. They took it back, burned up and out in one eye-watering flash of light and pain that left him no longer able to reach out to them.

Excommunicated, he felt hollow inside.

He'd been with them for over twelve years and now he was back home, unceremoniously booted out near the edge of the cornfield that bordered his home.

Unconsciously wiping his still-tingling hand against his pants as he got up, the man trundled towards the single-story farmhouse that still stood in the distance. The corner of his mouth turned up once again as he wondered what on earth he would tell his wife.

Red State Porn

I was just wondering, did anyone else hear about that Porn Survey conducted on Red and Blue States?  I want to know two things: 

1.) How can I get a job like that? 

2.) Is 'Blue State' a ephemism for balls that I dont know about?

According to ABC News (Your trusted porn source!),  "A new nationwide study of anonymized credit-card receipts (found that) states that consume the most porn tend to be more conservative and religious than states with lower levels of consumption."  

For those of you that are curious, here is a graphical breakdown of the Red and Blue states. 

(I don't know about you, but it sure looks to me like the Blue States have the Red State beat with that obvious Dong Configuration near Illinois.)

What struck me as odd about the story was the fact that the survey looked at credit-card receipts. What does this tell you? It tells you that the Red States are paying for porn!  That's right, you heard me, there are still people paying for porn in this country!  How did we let this happen? Has the electoral divide in this country become so great that Wankers living in the Blue States can't share their free-porn reasources with the Tossers in the Red?  

I call on the new adminstration in Washington to. . .uh. . .rectify the situation by enacting the No Wang Left Behind Act. 

Simply put, it would  end the great porn divide in this country and put us on par with all of those bastards in Asia enjoying the fruits of free poon.  (fruits of free poon=awesome band name)

See?! Red and Blue CAN live and work together! 

Thumbs Up! Part 2

Friends don't let friends give the thumbs up.

Someone should have smacked Hillary for this one.

I can't believe that old Bill wasn't down with that. She looks game. 

Oh. Ok. Now I get it. 

Moving onto other leaders who look like complete idiots. . .My favorite has to be Dmitry Medvedev of Russia. Simply awesome.

And here he is with Deep Purple. He is in full dweeb here. 

Here is Hugo Chavez. Strange, but it's hard to find despots giving the old smile and thumbs up.  

I guess dictators don't really need a gesture to remind people how much they are getting screwed.  (Not too good this one.  A bit off center and no big smile.)

Let's get back to the leaders of democratic societies, those gesture happy folks who know how to give a thumbs up!

Ahh, that's better. Nothing like a populist rectal-reminder to start my day! 

Thumbs Up---Way Up!

Some of you may know about my recent fascination with the "thumbs up" sign. Others of you don't.  For those of you living in the back woods, I'll give you a brief rundown: It all started several months ago when I ran across this goofy picture of our favorite drinking-buddy and steadfast Central-Asian ally, Hamid Karzai. 

My first thought was, "WTF?!"  My second thought? "Do we seriously trust this guy with our Swat Valley?"  I mean, sure, he has a funky hat and all but man. . .those pursed lips and goofy ears don't really instill that much trust in his ability to bring the cave-dwellers and democracy-haters to justice.  

I think the State Department is still under the delusion that after five years he'll turn into this guy.  

But I decided to give the K. man the benefit of the doubt. He has a tough job and maybe the thumbs up is just a way to pump himself up for the game. Here he is with Nicholas Sarkozy of France:

And the general manager of the local Arby's in Kabul. 

After the trip to Herat,  Sarkozy was spotted flashing the Karzai-gang sign when he arrived back in Paris. 

Apparently everyone who comes into contact with the Afghani leader is susceptible. Here's General Petraeus after his trip to that rustic wonderland.  

Yeah, he looks stoked.  

Welcome!

Alright, here it is, a temporary home to the future site. 

Add anything you want. videos. pics. rants. it's all good.

(but dont write about that, you know, that thing. that's just lame)