Well kids, it has been a while since my last post. Now before you get
indignant and ponder forming a mob to hunt me down, or at the very
least chase me to a windmill by exploiting my general dislike of fire
and pitchforks (just like Frankenstein’s monster). Let me enlighten
you simpletons of the circumstances that caused my absence.
As you fondly remember (you people better be fond of my work) I had a
few “fiascos” during my “holiday” “shopping” “experience”. (I like
using quotes, they make me feel pretty) Namely ones involving assault
and battery toward minimum wage teenage work drones. Now while I did
flee all 5 scenes quite quickly, (yes, 5) I apparently left an
OVERWHELMING amount of evidence as to my identity and whereabouts,
primarily a business card that had my name, picture, address, phone
number, link to this very website, and a list of my favorite movies.
(Cat from Outerspace, Disney classic) My admitting to the deeds on
the website didn’t really help. Now while I’m generally very cunning
at evading the police, even when they are attempting to handcuff me,
you can imagine my shock when Gary Sinese himself showed up with a
SWAT team to arrest me. (He is the man, suck it William Peterson)
Having dealt with Ol’ Johnny Law before, processing me took quite a
while and ending up having the FBI and NSA show up to “discuss” things
with me. After surrendering a few bits of information and agreeing to
be a part of something called “Manchurian Project Alpha”, I was only
required to spend a few months at the county jail.
Having gone to the family friendly school known as Field Kindley High
in Kansas, county jail was an amazingly tame place. I taunt a few
first timers how to make a prison shiv out of a carrot, gave a few
prison tats, and found (and subsequently lost) Jesus. (A cellmate
smuggled in a Jesus action figure) But alas the time flew by and it
was time for me to be released and to buy a few copies of Catcher in
the Rye.
Life has pretty much gotten back to normal…aside from having been “let
go” from Target due to 6 months of not showing up to work. I’m also
now required by federal mandate to wear a tracking harness.
(apparently the standard ankleband wasn’t enough, I got GPS flak
jacket) My house was burnt to the ground, methinks it was by a
teenage cashier I met several months back (apparently she wants
another scissor kick to her face). So for now I’m living with my
girlfriend on a houseboat that we got from a good friend I met in jail
who I will simply refer to as “Nighthawk”.
So now here I am once again writing via stolen WiFi. I know you
people have missed me and are eager to send me various amounts of
money so that I can finally purchase a sweet ass puma costume. So
start donating you kings and queens of sending me money.
P.S.
Nighthawk, the time is almost upon us, the highway to the danger zone
approaches.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Resolutionary Mind
Well all you faithful followers (the bribed ones don't count, you're only faithful to cash) we are now in the future. The year 2009 is now upon us and the future is quasi bright. (No more Dubya!) Aside from my normal new years tradition of altering handicapped signs to make them look like drag racer parking spaces, I find it humbling to set some resolutions each year. Now before you suffer a brain aneurysm at the thought of be becoming even more humble than I already am. (you cant spell humble without me) Fear not, I'm still as overpoweringly awesome as I always am. (just more Pius)
Being humble is something I do multiple times every year. At new years I make resolutions, during lent I give something important up (like sleep and or religion), for St. Patrick's day I give up hope in society. I also give up negative emotions each week by screaming at boxes of baby bunnies (I call them Bittens) until I've gone hoarse. I also read Curious George, he is one calming little monkey.
So for this new year I have decided to better myself by resolving to do a few things. I feel that they are each noble and endearing goals, and it is my wish NAY! my dream that it inspires others to better themselves as well. So without further delay (unless I have to pee) I present to you, my new years resolutions.
Being humble is something I do multiple times every year. At new years I make resolutions, during lent I give something important up (like sleep and or religion), for St. Patrick's day I give up hope in society. I also give up negative emotions each week by screaming at boxes of baby bunnies (I call them Bittens) until I've gone hoarse. I also read Curious George, he is one calming little monkey.
So for this new year I have decided to better myself by resolving to do a few things. I feel that they are each noble and endearing goals, and it is my wish NAY! my dream that it inspires others to better themselves as well. So without further delay (unless I have to pee) I present to you, my new years resolutions.
- Give up my cocaine addiction. Granted I don't actually have a cocaine addiction, nor have I ever used cocaine, but I feel that if I start using it and give it up before I ever actually have any enter my system, I can be a light of hope for all others who fight addictions. I'm a class bastard like that.
- Reduce the amount of devastating scissor kicks delivered to hapless teenage retail workers. After several dozen recent assault and battery charges (all cleared up after further threats of violence) I have decided that maybe I should tone down my habit of attacking retail people who have the gal to ask me if I need help finding anything. (I have my pal TomTom for that) It's not their fault they don't know not to enrage me in such a manner, it's bad parenting.
- Purchase more helium balloons. There's nothing more entertaining to me than talking after inhaling helium (except maybe having the cats meow after breathing some) So I will share the joy and just randomly pass out balloons for that purpose alone.
- Blink more. Should be pretty self explanatory, my eyes get kinda dry when I don't.
- Introduce more short people to the work of Randy Newman. (Short people got..no reason...)
Thursday, December 25, 2008
O Read All Ye Faithful
Before you faithful reader folk start complaining with comments like "Hey...two weekends have passed and you've not posted any new postings for me to read in the massive amounts of time I have since I have no life or job cause I'm a crazy person." Let me just say one thing. You shut your filthy pie holes...the ones you put pie into when eating pie. I have a life too, one that usually entails battling vicious creatures like bears and raccoons. I also spend my nights off from work writing trashy love novels under the ghost writer alias Danny Funk. (Suck it Funk, you're still on my shit list for all those stolen extra credit points from 7th grade) I also had classes with tests to study for. But I also decided to take the time to build the adventurous tale of my Christmas tale. I'm no Clark Griswald so I don't deal with mass amounts of Christmas lights. But I do deal with a Cousin Eddy type person. (He's my brother....I didn't get to choose that)
My tale starts as any other tale does (at the beginning) with teal Saturday, the day after black Friday. I was on a quest to begin the Christmas experience, and I was going to do it in style. (I do everything in style, I'm a stylish fellow) I began my adventure in the car, driving from store to store cause it is too damn cold to walk around in Minnesota during the winter. With my ABBA CD playing, I consulted my navigator Spike. He may be a cat, but he can mapquest the HELL out of anything, plus he really loves ABBA. First stop on our trip was Micheals, not as good as Hobby Lobby (I still have my hobby lobby vest from when they employed me to occupy space) but it would have to do. Upon entering the craft store, I was immediately accosted by several so called "greeters" asking me if I needed assistance. Fearing for my life, I did what any champion of freedom who loves life would do. I scissor kicked the underpaid high school teenager right in her face. Knowing I'd probably be in trouble with old Johnny Law, I decided to quickly make my way through the various aisles in the store. Naturally, I felt uneasy in a store full of crafts. Especially near anything with glitter, it is the herpes of the craft world you know. But I didn't have time to worry about such things, I was on a mission to get gifts (and to avoid the police) Having secured several gifts, aswell as a delightful nutcracker figurine, I made my way to the register. Shockingly enough the cashiers up front were in a very giving mood and told me to just take the items and go. The holiday spirit really does spread this time of year (much like syphilis during valentines day)
Hearing the sirens coming fast, I cranked up the car stereo. Spike and I decided it was time for Enya as we made our way to the next shopping experience. Best Buy's parking lot was considerably more packed than that of Micheals, which meant one thing, lack of parking spaces. So after a few minutes of circling the parking lot, I found a spot and made my way inside. Seeing one of the usual guys who stands at the front (they know not to greet me anymore) I made my way through the electornics store looking at all the swanky stuff. I wandered from section to setion. Starting in music before moving to movies and evenutally entering games where I would spend the next hour. Upon arriving there, I noticed a crowd gathered around four people playing Rock Band. When the drummer was suddenly afflicted by a drum stick stabbed through their hand, it seemed that the musical experience was at an end. But fortunately for all, I was there and ready to take charge as drummer. Armed with one good drum stick and the other half of the stick impaled in the previous drummer, I began rocking. Channeling the energy of drummers like Dave Ghrol, Don Henley, and Animal from the muppets, I went to town on those rubber drum heads. Realizing that I had promised to take Spike Borders so he can shop for books, I quickly made my way to the front of store, using the plastic drum set as a cattle guard to part the crowd ahead of me.
Safely in my car, I decided to let Spike drive, but after twenty minutes of sitting in a motionless car, I remembered that he's a cat (his legs are too short to reach the peddals) Having shifted seats we made our way to Borders so spike could do his shopping. Making sure he had his hat on, Spike ran inside leaving me to listen to the radio. (I promised him I wouldn't listen to any AC/DC without him, he's a big fan) Apparently a lot of stations play Christmas music this time of year, something that doesn't inspire fuzzy feelings in me. I blame my mom, she tends to sing Christmas songs year round (I love you mom...but you should stick to playing MY french horn) One thing led to another and and I found myself quickly leaving that hospital. (Yeah, see how vague that phrase can be?)
For the last stop on my gift acquiring quest, I decided to go to the place where I can get a discount. That's right, I went to where I work. Now, due to the fact that I would like to keep my job for the time being, I won't say where I work so that if I ever say or reveal something about them here combined with the really unlikely event that they read my blog, I won't be fired. So we'll say I work for Wal Mart (I work for Target) Now then, my initial reaction when going into Wal Mart (Target) is to hide behind displays so that customers don't see me. But realizing that I was in street clothes and not on the clock, I quickly subdued any feelings of fear of customer interaction. Wandering from aisle to aisle I periodically nodded or spoke to various fellow "team members" who didn't have the good fortune to be off the clock like me. Finally getting the last of the gifts, and having re-arranged every aisle I could (gotta make sure salesfloor folk have something to do) I made my way to the check lanes so I could make my financial trasaction. Having rung up my items, the seasonal (gonna be fired in Januaury) team member made the grave mistake of asking me "Would you like a gift receipt with that?" Blinded by pure rage, I lept over the counter and pistol whipped the hapless girl, whose driver's liscenced tells me she was the sister of the greeter who harassed me at Micheals. I hate gift receipts and never get them. If I find someone a gift, they are stuckwith it, no returns. (I even pee on them to ensure goodwill won't even take it)
Having finally completed my shopping fun, it was time to devote a good portion of my night to wrapping those items. And when I wasn't watching one of my favorite Christmas movies (especially While You Were Sleeping) I did my best battling the accursed creation known as wrapping paper. Estimating the correct size of paper for each package is a chore in itself. Combine that with my general impatient nature, and you have yourself a war zone of crumpled paper and tears. But by the time Peter finally awakens from his coma (seriously, go watch While You Were Sleeping) I had wrapped my gifts like a master gift wrapper of sorts.
Fast forward a few weeks and a few dead elves later and we come to Christmas Eve. Now in years past I generally sleep on Christmas Eve. (Except last year cause I was working for Wal Mart[Target]) But due to my work arrangments, I'm up all night, which results in me knowing if anything happens in the middle of the night. And tonight (about 6 hours ago now) I caught someone breaking into the house. My first instinct was to kill the intruder and burn the body. But I had to ask myself "What would Steve McQueen do?" The obvious answer is leave evidence that the neighbors killed the intruder. But then I thought to myself, what if its EC or Michelle, they know where I live and know I won't kill them if they decide to drop by for a visit. (Funk I'd gut you like a fish) So I decided to let things play out. And much to my surprise what appeared to be a ninja tinkering at the base of my Christmas tree. Now while this would seem odd for most people, this kinda thing is quite normal for me. (I once battled Richard Simmons in a similar occurance) So I promptly introduced the masked tree aggitator to my two lady friends, Princess Mary and Dutches Larou. (my right fist is named Princess Mary, the left is Larou) Much to my surprise he pulled a sword on me. As it turns out, it was Santa Clause and not some crazy ninja out to kill me. (Just a merry one from the north pole) So I decided to talk with him as he put stuff under my tree. Here is our conversation along with a picture I snapped of the man.
Me: So you're really santa?
Santa: Uh..yeah...why else would I do so much breaking and entry and LEAVE presents for people?
M: Good point....so I gotta ask...whats with the ninja-esque apparel, arent you supposed to be like...fat and old....and more...cuddly?
S: Yeah well, do you really think a Santa who looks like he might assassinate you makes for very good bed time stories or movies? My PR rep decided it was better to have a "jolly ol fat guy" as the Santa image.
M: Yes, yes....should I be alarmed that you are armed with a sword?
S: Yes.
M: Alarmed in what way?
S: What the hell kind of question is that...its a sword...its used to stab and cut things...where are you from anyhow?
M: Kansas.
S: Ah, explains much. I carry a sword because its how I really deal with naughty children, none of that coal shit.
M: It's because coal is rather expensive now isn't it? Not even you can escape the dying economy.
S: What the hell...no....I'm a ninja...that's how we deal with corrupt people.
M: So you are officially a ninja?
S: Who else could get into so many houses around the world, so fast, unnoticed? Definitely not a pirate.
M: Those silly drunk bastards...so do any of them get gifts for being good?
S: Nope all are judged guilty right off the bat.
M: You truly are a good man.
S: It's how I became a Saint. Anywho, I need to get going, I have a few million houses to get to.
M: I assume your sleigh is outside?
S: Hell no, I gave that thing up decades ago. I drive a 2008 Mustang GT. Traded in my 8 tiny reindeer for over 500 horsepower.
M: Makes sense to me. Also, I would like to give you a gift. Please take this cat.
S: No one has ever given me a gift...I will cherish it for all time. You truly are the noblest of all people. Merry Christmas.
M: Godspeed Santa!
And there you lovely folk have it. My Christmas tale. I hope you people were deeply moved by it, and if you weren't, than you are obviously Godless monsters who hate all that is good in this world.
Merry Christmas Everybody.
My tale starts as any other tale does (at the beginning) with teal Saturday, the day after black Friday. I was on a quest to begin the Christmas experience, and I was going to do it in style. (I do everything in style, I'm a stylish fellow) I began my adventure in the car, driving from store to store cause it is too damn cold to walk around in Minnesota during the winter. With my ABBA CD playing, I consulted my navigator Spike. He may be a cat, but he can mapquest the HELL out of anything, plus he really loves ABBA. First stop on our trip was Micheals, not as good as Hobby Lobby (I still have my hobby lobby vest from when they employed me to occupy space) but it would have to do. Upon entering the craft store, I was immediately accosted by several so called "greeters" asking me if I needed assistance. Fearing for my life, I did what any champion of freedom who loves life would do. I scissor kicked the underpaid high school teenager right in her face. Knowing I'd probably be in trouble with old Johnny Law, I decided to quickly make my way through the various aisles in the store. Naturally, I felt uneasy in a store full of crafts. Especially near anything with glitter, it is the herpes of the craft world you know. But I didn't have time to worry about such things, I was on a mission to get gifts (and to avoid the police) Having secured several gifts, aswell as a delightful nutcracker figurine, I made my way to the register. Shockingly enough the cashiers up front were in a very giving mood and told me to just take the items and go. The holiday spirit really does spread this time of year (much like syphilis during valentines day)
Hearing the sirens coming fast, I cranked up the car stereo. Spike and I decided it was time for Enya as we made our way to the next shopping experience. Best Buy's parking lot was considerably more packed than that of Micheals, which meant one thing, lack of parking spaces. So after a few minutes of circling the parking lot, I found a spot and made my way inside. Seeing one of the usual guys who stands at the front (they know not to greet me anymore) I made my way through the electornics store looking at all the swanky stuff. I wandered from section to setion. Starting in music before moving to movies and evenutally entering games where I would spend the next hour. Upon arriving there, I noticed a crowd gathered around four people playing Rock Band. When the drummer was suddenly afflicted by a drum stick stabbed through their hand, it seemed that the musical experience was at an end. But fortunately for all, I was there and ready to take charge as drummer. Armed with one good drum stick and the other half of the stick impaled in the previous drummer, I began rocking. Channeling the energy of drummers like Dave Ghrol, Don Henley, and Animal from the muppets, I went to town on those rubber drum heads. Realizing that I had promised to take Spike Borders so he can shop for books, I quickly made my way to the front of store, using the plastic drum set as a cattle guard to part the crowd ahead of me.
Safely in my car, I decided to let Spike drive, but after twenty minutes of sitting in a motionless car, I remembered that he's a cat (his legs are too short to reach the peddals) Having shifted seats we made our way to Borders so spike could do his shopping. Making sure he had his hat on, Spike ran inside leaving me to listen to the radio. (I promised him I wouldn't listen to any AC/DC without him, he's a big fan) Apparently a lot of stations play Christmas music this time of year, something that doesn't inspire fuzzy feelings in me. I blame my mom, she tends to sing Christmas songs year round (I love you mom...but you should stick to playing MY french horn) One thing led to another and and I found myself quickly leaving that hospital. (Yeah, see how vague that phrase can be?)
For the last stop on my gift acquiring quest, I decided to go to the place where I can get a discount. That's right, I went to where I work. Now, due to the fact that I would like to keep my job for the time being, I won't say where I work so that if I ever say or reveal something about them here combined with the really unlikely event that they read my blog, I won't be fired. So we'll say I work for Wal Mart (I work for Target) Now then, my initial reaction when going into Wal Mart (Target) is to hide behind displays so that customers don't see me. But realizing that I was in street clothes and not on the clock, I quickly subdued any feelings of fear of customer interaction. Wandering from aisle to aisle I periodically nodded or spoke to various fellow "team members" who didn't have the good fortune to be off the clock like me. Finally getting the last of the gifts, and having re-arranged every aisle I could (gotta make sure salesfloor folk have something to do) I made my way to the check lanes so I could make my financial trasaction. Having rung up my items, the seasonal (gonna be fired in Januaury) team member made the grave mistake of asking me "Would you like a gift receipt with that?" Blinded by pure rage, I lept over the counter and pistol whipped the hapless girl, whose driver's liscenced tells me she was the sister of the greeter who harassed me at Micheals. I hate gift receipts and never get them. If I find someone a gift, they are stuckwith it, no returns. (I even pee on them to ensure goodwill won't even take it)
Having finally completed my shopping fun, it was time to devote a good portion of my night to wrapping those items. And when I wasn't watching one of my favorite Christmas movies (especially While You Were Sleeping) I did my best battling the accursed creation known as wrapping paper. Estimating the correct size of paper for each package is a chore in itself. Combine that with my general impatient nature, and you have yourself a war zone of crumpled paper and tears. But by the time Peter finally awakens from his coma (seriously, go watch While You Were Sleeping) I had wrapped my gifts like a master gift wrapper of sorts.
Fast forward a few weeks and a few dead elves later and we come to Christmas Eve. Now in years past I generally sleep on Christmas Eve. (Except last year cause I was working for Wal Mart[Target]) But due to my work arrangments, I'm up all night, which results in me knowing if anything happens in the middle of the night. And tonight (about 6 hours ago now) I caught someone breaking into the house. My first instinct was to kill the intruder and burn the body. But I had to ask myself "What would Steve McQueen do?" The obvious answer is leave evidence that the neighbors killed the intruder. But then I thought to myself, what if its EC or Michelle, they know where I live and know I won't kill them if they decide to drop by for a visit. (Funk I'd gut you like a fish) So I decided to let things play out. And much to my surprise what appeared to be a ninja tinkering at the base of my Christmas tree. Now while this would seem odd for most people, this kinda thing is quite normal for me. (I once battled Richard Simmons in a similar occurance) So I promptly introduced the masked tree aggitator to my two lady friends, Princess Mary and Dutches Larou. (my right fist is named Princess Mary, the left is Larou) Much to my surprise he pulled a sword on me. As it turns out, it was Santa Clause and not some crazy ninja out to kill me. (Just a merry one from the north pole) So I decided to talk with him as he put stuff under my tree. Here is our conversation along with a picture I snapped of the man.
Me: So you're really santa?
Santa: Uh..yeah...why else would I do so much breaking and entry and LEAVE presents for people?
M: Good point....so I gotta ask...whats with the ninja-esque apparel, arent you supposed to be like...fat and old....and more...cuddly?
S: Yeah well, do you really think a Santa who looks like he might assassinate you makes for very good bed time stories or movies? My PR rep decided it was better to have a "jolly ol fat guy" as the Santa image.
M: Yes, yes....should I be alarmed that you are armed with a sword?
S: Yes.
M: Alarmed in what way?
S: What the hell kind of question is that...its a sword...its used to stab and cut things...where are you from anyhow?
M: Kansas.
S: Ah, explains much. I carry a sword because its how I really deal with naughty children, none of that coal shit.
M: It's because coal is rather expensive now isn't it? Not even you can escape the dying economy.
S: What the hell...no....I'm a ninja...that's how we deal with corrupt people.
M: So you are officially a ninja?
S: Who else could get into so many houses around the world, so fast, unnoticed? Definitely not a pirate.
M: Those silly drunk bastards...so do any of them get gifts for being good?
S: Nope all are judged guilty right off the bat.
M: You truly are a good man.
S: It's how I became a Saint. Anywho, I need to get going, I have a few million houses to get to.
M: I assume your sleigh is outside?
S: Hell no, I gave that thing up decades ago. I drive a 2008 Mustang GT. Traded in my 8 tiny reindeer for over 500 horsepower.
M: Makes sense to me. Also, I would like to give you a gift. Please take this cat.
S: No one has ever given me a gift...I will cherish it for all time. You truly are the noblest of all people. Merry Christmas.
M: Godspeed Santa!
And there you lovely folk have it. My Christmas tale. I hope you people were deeply moved by it, and if you weren't, than you are obviously Godless monsters who hate all that is good in this world.
Merry Christmas Everybody.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Do You Watch What I Watch?
As I sit here listening to my original Chase LP album, I can’t help but think “Wow…Bill Cosby really does like his Jell-O puddin.” Which as you can imagine, makes me think of all the various things in life I truly
love:
But mostly, I think of the this festive holiday season, and the movies commonly associated with it. And since I generally hate all of those movies, except It’s a Wonderful Life (you got your wings Clarence!), I figured I’d share with you what movies put me in a festive mood. So to do so, you’ll need a few things to truly enjoy the cinematic experience.
Now that you’ve assembled your movie watching gear and your Nerf Vulcan EBF-25 machine gun which every good boy (ME ME ME) should get for Christmas (I’m that good boy) to chase off Raccoons and unwanted visitors (like friends who claim I owe them money) It’s time to pop in that blu-ray disc of Christmassy glory.
*note: I think only two of these movies are actually on blu-ray*
Well kiddies, there you have it. A glimpse into the wide variety of films I have watched and have truly touched my heart during this time of giving…or whatever the hell time it’s called. Personally, I celebrate Kwanza.
love:
- Steve McQueen
- Wombats
- Rainy days
- The Eagles
- Rain drops on roses
- Whiskers on kittens
- And other such happy making things.
But mostly, I think of the this festive holiday season, and the movies commonly associated with it. And since I generally hate all of those movies, except It’s a Wonderful Life (you got your wings Clarence!), I figured I’d share with you what movies put me in a festive mood. So to do so, you’ll need a few things to truly enjoy the cinematic experience.
- Extra buttery popcorn (non of that lite/nonfat/low sodium shit)
- A black Santa hat, with black fuzz instead of white, (leopard print also works)
- A tranqed cat with fake antlers glued/sewn to its head
- A gallon pitcher of coffee
- A portable dvd player that continually runs a burning Yule log
- A real burning Yule log next to the dvd format
- Gummy Bears
- Box of Kleenex (some of the movies inspire so much joy in me, I cry)
- A Nerf Vulcan EBF-25 (hint hint Santa)
Now that you’ve assembled your movie watching gear and your Nerf Vulcan EBF-25 machine gun which every good boy (ME ME ME) should get for Christmas (I’m that good boy) to chase off Raccoons and unwanted visitors (like friends who claim I owe them money) It’s time to pop in that blu-ray disc of Christmassy glory.
*note: I think only two of these movies are actually on blu-ray*
- Santa Clause Conquers the Martians: The 1964 classic tale where a group of Martians kidnap Santa. With a theme song of Hooray for Santy Clause, you know it’s gold. However this movie does support the concept of pill popping. (it’s how they eat food) Don’t worry boys and girls, the good group of Martians along with the help of earth children save the day.
- Die Hard: Bruce Willis, lots of gunfire, explosions, ho ho ho now I have a machine gun, and Yippee Ki-yay mother fucker. How much more do you need.
- Mexican Santa Clause: This bit of gold was made in 1959 and revolves around the plot that Santa lives in this magical high tech fortress above the north pole. He also likes to spy on children with elaborate telescopes and what not. Also, he battles Satan. Satan employs Merlin to do his evil.
- Christmas Vacation: Hands down the best of the Vacation movies staring Chevy Chase. Cousin Eddie makes the movie perfect. Flaming cats, wild squirrels, full shitters, what else could you ask for.
- While You Were Sleeping: Don’t judge me. Even I enjoy the occasional romantic comedy. This is also the tear jerker I spoke of. Go watch it.
Well kiddies, there you have it. A glimpse into the wide variety of films I have watched and have truly touched my heart during this time of giving…or whatever the hell time it’s called. Personally, I celebrate Kwanza.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Death of a Salesman
Good morning boys and girls and James Wood enthusiasts everywhere. I know it's not been a full week yet, only been two days by my calendar, but hell I like to randomly do shit when I feel inspired/bored. I'll let you reader folk figure out which one I was for the birth of this post. Now then, in life we all have certain skills. Some people can dive head first into water, play the final fantasy games, or simply exist without purpose. I cant do any of those, but I'm a visionary like that. There are however certain skills I am very good at. Things like interpretive dance, starting fires, being electrocuted, and fighting bears. But one thing I'm good at that most people don't realize, is that I'm good at selling shit. I'm not talking about cool gadgets or products that have a useful purpose, I'm talking things that make you go "What the fuck is that and why do I need it? Also, where are your pants?"
Infomercials. I tend to watch a lot of them, it's what happens when you're up all night and there's nothing on TV. And at first, they make you want to stab yourself in the brain with a Q-Tip until you no longer feel the demons behind your eyes telling you what to do. (Everyone has those right?) But after awhile, you feel inspired, you learn the tips of the trade, and then one glorious day you decide...."hey...I could do that!" And so begins the mighty task of being able to sell completely random crap. Now, before you say "How hard can it be to sell stuff?" Remember, infomercials come in several categories, three of which are prominent. New and improved gadgets (not sure how it can be new and improved, either or people), life insurance/time share (Erik Estrada sells time share in Bella Vista Arkansas), and stuff that makes no sense (Girls Gone Wild: Loss of Self Esteem 2008).
Whether you intend to sell non-peak vacation hour at some crappy motel, or cheap porn, there are a few rules to being an infomercial sellionaire (see what did there, I made up a word...I like parentheses bubbles) The first thing you need, is a complete lack of shame. And I lost that along with common sense and admirable morals a long time ago. (stupid french) Once you have those, it time to suit up. Here's a handy check list of what you will be wearing
Now that you people have been inspired by my insightful and wisdomatic ramblings, I challenge you each and all to go out and sell something we don't need. But make sure it can cut through a steel plate and then perfectly slice a tomato unhindered.
Infomercials. I tend to watch a lot of them, it's what happens when you're up all night and there's nothing on TV. And at first, they make you want to stab yourself in the brain with a Q-Tip until you no longer feel the demons behind your eyes telling you what to do. (Everyone has those right?) But after awhile, you feel inspired, you learn the tips of the trade, and then one glorious day you decide...."hey...I could do that!" And so begins the mighty task of being able to sell completely random crap. Now, before you say "How hard can it be to sell stuff?" Remember, infomercials come in several categories, three of which are prominent. New and improved gadgets (not sure how it can be new and improved, either or people), life insurance/time share (Erik Estrada sells time share in Bella Vista Arkansas), and stuff that makes no sense (Girls Gone Wild: Loss of Self Esteem 2008).
Whether you intend to sell non-peak vacation hour at some crappy motel, or cheap porn, there are a few rules to being an infomercial sellionaire (see what did there, I made up a word...I like parentheses bubbles) The first thing you need, is a complete lack of shame. And I lost that along with common sense and admirable morals a long time ago. (stupid french) Once you have those, it time to suit up. Here's a handy check list of what you will be wearing
- Blue or purple polo shirt
- Khaki Pants
- Unnatural looking facial hair
- An awkwardly out of date microphone/head set
- Shifty eyes
- A bright silver watch (obviously I have to use gold, stupid curse of the lycan)
- Hero
- Dream weaver
- Lovable scamp
- Suspect number 3
- Lord of the dance
- Son of a bitch (my mom calls me that the most)
Now that you people have been inspired by my insightful and wisdomatic ramblings, I challenge you each and all to go out and sell something we don't need. But make sure it can cut through a steel plate and then perfectly slice a tomato unhindered.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Curse of the Pilgrim's Tomb
Happy holidays meat vessels, I’ve not really done any demographic surveys so I don’t really know what my target audience is. So until I do, I shall refer to you people as meat vessels. If you find that offensive, than you’ve got more problems than you are willing to admit and should probably seek medical help. Your self esteem issues aside, I thought that since the holidays are fast approaching (my birthday being the most jubilant of them all, Kwanza being a close second) that I’d give my input on the first holiday in this festive season, Thanksgiving. And no, I don’t like Halloween so I don’t recognize it as the start of the holiday season.
To start, lets go on a magical trip through time to the first thanksgiving. Back when people killed entire civilizations with blankets and didn’t have a need for those pesky guns. (Hey gun enthusiasts, you don’t see blanket carriers bitching about the price of quilting fabric) Those pilgrims really knew how to throw a party, they’d get rid of their normal attire of all black and belt buckles all over their bodies for….all black and belt buckles all over their bodies…..they were the first Goths really, all “I’m religiously oppressed! I’m gonna go over yonder and burn people cause they may be different.” Except that Goths don’t burn people. Anywho, our belt buckled friends invited the savage Injuns (that’s what they said back then, plus I’m part Cherokee, I can say that) and ate such things as turkey and pumpkin pie, and all the other stereotypical Thanksgiving day food items, followed of course by the Ye Olde Macy’s Parade, temporarily forgetting how they intended to forcibly take over the lands and brutalize the native Americans for a day.
Lets jump forward to now. Gone are the days of belt buckles on our hats, although it could come back into fashion, ya never know. And with the exceptions of food and the Macy’s Parade, no longer do we commit blanket warfare (woo 2nd amendment!) Instead we force small children to cover their hands in paint and make “turkey” pictures, and then recite about how we are thankful for something. Personally if I’m thankful for something, I don’t wait for one day a year to say “hey, I’m thankful!” Call me a rebel, I just do that. We have also chosen a really crappy mascot for this holiday. Compared to the other holidays, Thanksgiving gets the shaft. I mean think about it, Christmas gets Santa, Easter gets a giant bunny, St. Patrick’s day gets a drunk Irish midget, and 4th of July gets explosives (valentines day gives you a case of herpes) What does thanksgiving get? A creepy ass bird. And they are anything but pleasant creatures. I sat down with an expert on turkeys, my sister Jacquelyn Eighmy (she has a Denny’s placemat that says she’s an Avian Biologist) and she can attest that turkeys not only plot against us, but create huge balls of poop. Her words not mine.
Since we are on the subject of turkey, I would like to say, I hate turkey. I would rather have lunch with George W. Bush at the Eiffel tower than eat turkey. Call me a rebel, but I find it a rather gamey tasting creature. I also dislike potatoes and the various casseroles (its called casseroles you Minnesotan freaks, what the fuck is a hot dish? Seriously, casserole) But I do enjoy stove top stuffing and the pumpkin pie. So while the rest of you meat vessels spend hours and hours trying to make a freakish bird that you will no doubt ruin in the process, I will spend 20 minutes making a delicious pizza that will not be ruined, which I will follow up with a desert of ice cream and gummy bears.
Tune in next week for “Death of a Salesman” will I try to sell you something or will I try to recreate a famous production? You be the judge.
To start, lets go on a magical trip through time to the first thanksgiving. Back when people killed entire civilizations with blankets and didn’t have a need for those pesky guns. (Hey gun enthusiasts, you don’t see blanket carriers bitching about the price of quilting fabric) Those pilgrims really knew how to throw a party, they’d get rid of their normal attire of all black and belt buckles all over their bodies for….all black and belt buckles all over their bodies…..they were the first Goths really, all “I’m religiously oppressed! I’m gonna go over yonder and burn people cause they may be different.” Except that Goths don’t burn people. Anywho, our belt buckled friends invited the savage Injuns (that’s what they said back then, plus I’m part Cherokee, I can say that) and ate such things as turkey and pumpkin pie, and all the other stereotypical Thanksgiving day food items, followed of course by the Ye Olde Macy’s Parade, temporarily forgetting how they intended to forcibly take over the lands and brutalize the native Americans for a day.
Lets jump forward to now. Gone are the days of belt buckles on our hats, although it could come back into fashion, ya never know. And with the exceptions of food and the Macy’s Parade, no longer do we commit blanket warfare (woo 2nd amendment!) Instead we force small children to cover their hands in paint and make “turkey” pictures, and then recite about how we are thankful for something. Personally if I’m thankful for something, I don’t wait for one day a year to say “hey, I’m thankful!” Call me a rebel, I just do that. We have also chosen a really crappy mascot for this holiday. Compared to the other holidays, Thanksgiving gets the shaft. I mean think about it, Christmas gets Santa, Easter gets a giant bunny, St. Patrick’s day gets a drunk Irish midget, and 4th of July gets explosives (valentines day gives you a case of herpes) What does thanksgiving get? A creepy ass bird. And they are anything but pleasant creatures. I sat down with an expert on turkeys, my sister Jacquelyn Eighmy (she has a Denny’s placemat that says she’s an Avian Biologist) and she can attest that turkeys not only plot against us, but create huge balls of poop. Her words not mine.
Since we are on the subject of turkey, I would like to say, I hate turkey. I would rather have lunch with George W. Bush at the Eiffel tower than eat turkey. Call me a rebel, but I find it a rather gamey tasting creature. I also dislike potatoes and the various casseroles (its called casseroles you Minnesotan freaks, what the fuck is a hot dish? Seriously, casserole) But I do enjoy stove top stuffing and the pumpkin pie. So while the rest of you meat vessels spend hours and hours trying to make a freakish bird that you will no doubt ruin in the process, I will spend 20 minutes making a delicious pizza that will not be ruined, which I will follow up with a desert of ice cream and gummy bears.
Tune in next week for “Death of a Salesman” will I try to sell you something or will I try to recreate a famous production? You be the judge.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Fearfully aware
Ladies and gentleman, today I’m going to talk about something that people rarely hear me talk about. Things that scare the absolute bejesus out of me. Now, before you start crying at the knowledge that I am infact afraid of something’s in life, be assure that I have good reason to be afraid of these things. Also, I will explain why you should be afraid of them as well.
Koalas, Owls, Elmo, Raccoons, Manatees, and Mayo. These are the six things that inflict terror into me. Now don’t get me wrong, I will walk up to any of these, with the exception of mayo, and punch them right in their fury or no fury faces (manatees are obviously hairless since they are aquatic.) I am after all a champion of freedom and will defend most people (not the French) against any foe. But I feel that you my loyal (or forced) readers need to know what it is that I would combat if I had to, despite my fears
First the koala. Now before you say “Awww but they are so cute!” That kind of reaction is why you will be ripped limb from limb if you aren’t careful. Most people simply assume that the koala is a docile creature and eats only eucalyptus leaves. This is a myth. The koala is actually a voracious predator that feeds on two things. Eucalyptus and man-flesh. It’s cute cuddly appearance is how it hunts. It lulls you into a false sense of security. You bring it in close to hug it and BAM! You’ve just had your jugular ripped out by it. Also, they have two thumbs. I’ll explain what it means for an animal to have thumbs when I discuss the dangers of raccoons. Just know, two thumbs means doubly dangerous for all people in this world.
Another tree dwelling animal that is often portrayed as a good companion (thanks mostly to those abominable books and movies known as the Harry Potter series) is the owl. Those books, as well as the Winnie the Pooh series and countless other cartoons that portray owls as wise and friendly critters, ignore the fact that owls are made up of only two things. Feathers and pure uncontrolled rage. No other animal in the world is made up of such malice. I saw a documentary about it, and by documentary, I mean a stand up comedian who was from Oregon. I have a friend who lived in Oregon and can verify that they are indeed horrible creatures of anger. Personally, I’d keep my guard up around any animal that had such demonic eyes, razor sharp talons, and a head that can turn all the way around. There’s no place you can go to avoid its demonic gaze.
On the subject of children’s entertainment that has mislead the world into thinking something is alright, its time to shine the light on the true world of sesame street. Elmo is not some innocent, adorable little four year old thing. Elmo is the fucking Anti-Christ. There is no easy way to put it. He is the ender of worlds. But I would be too if I could only survive by having someone’s hand up my ass. So I cant fault him for being what he is, its his nature. But seriously, he’s a scary bastard.
As I mentioned in my explanation of why I fear and distrust koalas, animals with thumbs are incredibly dangerous and should never be underestimated. The thumb is what separates us from most animals in the simple fact that it allows us to make a fist and grab things. Fists give the ability to punch, grabbing gives the power to hold a gun or a knife. Therefore the Raccoon is a formidable foe indeed. The fact that they love to gorge themselves on fermented berries just makes it that more irrational of a beast to deal with. Do you want to have a run in with a drunken raccoon that may or may not punch you and then use a prison shank on you? I think not. And they don’t wash their food in water. If you watch the motion of their hands, they are actually scheming. Each day I prepare myself for the impending raccoon war. Will you be prepared?
Now, I know a lot of people go around saying “Save the manatee!” or “It’s a gentle sea cow.” Gentle sea cow my ass. You do not want to punch one in its manatee face. They go from gentle to death harbingers in a heartbeat. Those gentle faces hide rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. They also have the ability to control sting rays. Steve Irwin once crossed a sea cow. Years later it had its vengeance, and we know how that turned out. They however are rather dumb. I say any animal that attempts to eat a propeller blade, deserves to be made extinct. The hell with endangered species.
Finally we come to the only real thing I fear in a real sense. Mayo. Why do I fear it? It’s like kryptonite to me. it’s the one thing that can kill me, but only if used correctly, and I’m not going to divulge that little bit of info. All I know is that I’m not gonna take any risks with it. Cause if I’m dead…I seriously doubt I’ll be able to enjoy all the gummy bears I acquire by not supporting third world children.
There you have it people of a nefarious nature, the select few things that I in fact fear. I pray you spread that information so that countless lives will be saved. If we are prepared, the raccoons will not be able to overcome us. Freedom will be ours.
Koalas, Owls, Elmo, Raccoons, Manatees, and Mayo. These are the six things that inflict terror into me. Now don’t get me wrong, I will walk up to any of these, with the exception of mayo, and punch them right in their fury or no fury faces (manatees are obviously hairless since they are aquatic.) I am after all a champion of freedom and will defend most people (not the French) against any foe. But I feel that you my loyal (or forced) readers need to know what it is that I would combat if I had to, despite my fears
First the koala. Now before you say “Awww but they are so cute!” That kind of reaction is why you will be ripped limb from limb if you aren’t careful. Most people simply assume that the koala is a docile creature and eats only eucalyptus leaves. This is a myth. The koala is actually a voracious predator that feeds on two things. Eucalyptus and man-flesh. It’s cute cuddly appearance is how it hunts. It lulls you into a false sense of security. You bring it in close to hug it and BAM! You’ve just had your jugular ripped out by it. Also, they have two thumbs. I’ll explain what it means for an animal to have thumbs when I discuss the dangers of raccoons. Just know, two thumbs means doubly dangerous for all people in this world.
Another tree dwelling animal that is often portrayed as a good companion (thanks mostly to those abominable books and movies known as the Harry Potter series) is the owl. Those books, as well as the Winnie the Pooh series and countless other cartoons that portray owls as wise and friendly critters, ignore the fact that owls are made up of only two things. Feathers and pure uncontrolled rage. No other animal in the world is made up of such malice. I saw a documentary about it, and by documentary, I mean a stand up comedian who was from Oregon. I have a friend who lived in Oregon and can verify that they are indeed horrible creatures of anger. Personally, I’d keep my guard up around any animal that had such demonic eyes, razor sharp talons, and a head that can turn all the way around. There’s no place you can go to avoid its demonic gaze.
On the subject of children’s entertainment that has mislead the world into thinking something is alright, its time to shine the light on the true world of sesame street. Elmo is not some innocent, adorable little four year old thing. Elmo is the fucking Anti-Christ. There is no easy way to put it. He is the ender of worlds. But I would be too if I could only survive by having someone’s hand up my ass. So I cant fault him for being what he is, its his nature. But seriously, he’s a scary bastard.
As I mentioned in my explanation of why I fear and distrust koalas, animals with thumbs are incredibly dangerous and should never be underestimated. The thumb is what separates us from most animals in the simple fact that it allows us to make a fist and grab things. Fists give the ability to punch, grabbing gives the power to hold a gun or a knife. Therefore the Raccoon is a formidable foe indeed. The fact that they love to gorge themselves on fermented berries just makes it that more irrational of a beast to deal with. Do you want to have a run in with a drunken raccoon that may or may not punch you and then use a prison shank on you? I think not. And they don’t wash their food in water. If you watch the motion of their hands, they are actually scheming. Each day I prepare myself for the impending raccoon war. Will you be prepared?
Now, I know a lot of people go around saying “Save the manatee!” or “It’s a gentle sea cow.” Gentle sea cow my ass. You do not want to punch one in its manatee face. They go from gentle to death harbingers in a heartbeat. Those gentle faces hide rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. They also have the ability to control sting rays. Steve Irwin once crossed a sea cow. Years later it had its vengeance, and we know how that turned out. They however are rather dumb. I say any animal that attempts to eat a propeller blade, deserves to be made extinct. The hell with endangered species.
Finally we come to the only real thing I fear in a real sense. Mayo. Why do I fear it? It’s like kryptonite to me. it’s the one thing that can kill me, but only if used correctly, and I’m not going to divulge that little bit of info. All I know is that I’m not gonna take any risks with it. Cause if I’m dead…I seriously doubt I’ll be able to enjoy all the gummy bears I acquire by not supporting third world children.
There you have it people of a nefarious nature, the select few things that I in fact fear. I pray you spread that information so that countless lives will be saved. If we are prepared, the raccoons will not be able to overcome us. Freedom will be ours.
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