Thursday, August 28, 2003

Now I know there was something weird about that blackout in New York. London was plunged in darkness this afternoon. The power was only out for about half an hour, but the effects were still felt by all that live in this metropolitan area. The tubes went dark, and the buses were soon filled to capacity as people tried to goet home to loved ones during the height of the commute. Al-Qaeda had taken responsibilty for the New York blackout and had promised the people of Iraq that there would be anothe soon, and then London goes out! You read it here first once again, folks! I am so on top of this conspiracy shit, there should be a conspiracy theory about me!

Monday, August 25, 2003

Oh. My. God.

This is perhaps the grossest thing I have ever heard a person do to themselves. While perusing the Fark Forums answering the question "What would you never do again?", I came upon this entry.

It is also, unfortunately, true:

In the depths of my addiction I was concerned about my snot having wasted cocaine in it, so I saved some in a cellophane to dry and resnort later, at the advice of a friend. Changed my mind, threw it away. Weeks later, I had returned to the needle, was out of dope at the end of a binge, and was rummaging through the trash for cigarette butts because I was incapable of driving to the store for a pack. I found the cellophane. The contents had liquified......I ended up in the ICU for three days with septic shock, nearly dying from a yeast infection on my heart valves.


Scott Peterson has been getting alot of bad press recently. With his wife Laci and unborn son missing for months and then found mutilated and floating in the San Francisco Bay recently, Scott was instantly thought of as being guilty. I, myself, had published my thoughts on this case, and had also pointed an accusatory finger at Scott. Well, not everyone is so quick to jump on the "he did it!" bandwagon. Scott has someone rooting for him in his corner, and he is a celebrity with some experience in the wife-killing department. Yes, I'm talking about O.J. Simpson.

O.J. recently told the press that he understands the troubles Peterson is going through, and he sends his sympathies. He explained that Scott playing golf on the day the remains found in the Bay were identified as his wife and son as a way of "getting away from the pain".
"Scott Peterson was out playing golf, and people were saying, 'What kind of guy is this. These may be his wife's remains and he's going to play golf,"' he said.
"Well, when I got home from Chicago the week Nicole was murdered, I wanted to get on a golf course. I wanted to get away from ... all the hurt, all the pain."

"I heard that Scott Peterson had $10,000 on him when he was arrested. Well, they said I had $10,000 when I was arrested, but I had $8 or something. You never hear about it when it proves untrue," he said.
Simpson blamed the media for creating the impression that Peterson was guilty.
"They created the impression that he was fleeing, so he's guilty," the former football star and actor said. "I'm not saying the he isn't, but I don't pretend to know."

I'm sure that Peterson's defense team is really happy that O.J. went on record to draw parallels between his case and Scott's. It will really help in the long run, I think.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

When I started to write this blog, I really wanted to post on LiveJournal. Not only was the format pretty cool, but you could post pictures, have reader's comments, lots of cool stuff. Then I started to read some of the blogs on LiveJournal, and I found out something. Those people are fucking sick! Not only are there the classic depressed teenagers who feel the need to bring everyone down with their tales of suburban woe, but even some guy who ate his rabbit after it died! He described the bunny's death as "crossing the rainbow bridge". Then he cooked and ate it in the presence of his other rabbit, I guess as an object lesson. Now it's crossing his "rainbow colon".

I really wrote this post for that one joke. Pretty good, eh?

Saturday, August 16, 2003

HAHAHAHAHA! Somebody finally got what was coming to them. Two brats in Pittsbugh, PA got shot up after targeting the wrong people in a paintball drive-by. The fact that it happened immediately after shooting at kids in a playground makes it even better. Maybe there is a God...

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

Dennis Prager is an asshole.

Don't believe me? Well read this little editorial on what makes a liberal and bask in the seething hatred that will come over you when you are finished. His theory is that smart people become liberals because of naivete and narcissism. Liberals believe that all people are good at heart, so talking through problems, rather than killing people, is the way to address problems. Apparently Dennis thinks this is childlike behavior. Now, I don't really think of myself as a liberal per se, but I do think that talking through a problem first works best. I like to keep my gun by my side, not in my hand, when dealing with some issues. With Dennis I would make an exception. I understand that there are people in the world who won't listen to reason, but using force on all problems just helps to perpetuate that. If he thinks that war solves problems, let his next article explain what this last war with Saddam solved. I see alot of soldiers being killed in a war that is "officially" over and alot of pissed off Iraqis without food or water. But I am being fed my info from the conservative media, so I guess that is the best spin they could put on the clusterfuck going on in Iraq right now.

He further skips down that merry path of character assassination by saying, "The further left you go, the less you like growing up. That is one reason so many professors are on the left. Never leaving school from kindergarten through adulthood enables one to avoid becoming a mature adult. It is no wonder a liberal professor has recently argued that children should have the vote. He knows in his heart that he is not really an adult, so why should he and not a chronologic child be allowed to vote?" Ya, real mature, Poopyface!

His claims of narcissism are similar in tone. He suggests that liberals are so entwined in the luxuries of the first world that they no longer know the difference between right and wrong. The idea of letting a woman choose whether or not to have an abortion is egotistic. Likewise, liberals who want a clean separation of church and state are afraid of truth and the ideas of right and wrong. First of all, the reason that liberals want the decision of abortion put in the would-be mother's hands is because it's her fuckin' womb! You can't make choices about other people's bodies and you can't make up their minds for them. The reason that liberals want the Ten Commandments removed from public places is because there are other religions out there. Just because you believe all that bullshit, that doesn't mean you have the right to ram it down the rest of our throats. The way this guy goes on, he makes it sound like all conservatives are Christians. I happen to know alot of conservatives that are atheists. That kinda fucks up his argument.

I keep thinking that if this artice shows why smart people become liberals, then what makes people become elitist, born-again douchebags?

Friday, August 08, 2003

Get ready for another war, America. The Pentagon has revealed plans for a pre-emptive strike against North Korea in as little as 30 days. The question everyone must ask is "Is this necessary?" Well, yes it is, if you listen to the reasons put foward by the Pentagon. With a plethora of nuclear weapons in their arsenal and a long list of rogue states just waiting to buy them, North Korea has become Public Enemy #1 in the eyes of the US. Also, it is no secret that Kim Jung Il hates our guts and trash talks worse than a guest on "Jerry Springer". These reasons seem enough to warrant yet another war during Dubya's reign. If, if these weapons really exist.

Weapons of Mass Destruction are a touchy point for the Bush Administration. The fact they have used this reason again for a war is telling. I would assume they were a little more diligent about researching their facts and making sure there were no more snafu's like Iraq. But then again, they didn't do any fact-checking the first time. Another issue we need to address is the artillery on North Korea's border that is within easy striking distance of Seoul, South Korea. Given the way that North Korea has been acting, it seems likely that they will let the shells fly at their sworn enemy before they are crushed by the Yankee dogs(us). This would be bad. I don't think N.K. will roll over and play dead like Iraq, so we need to take this into account. Anyway, let's go get those guys!

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Breakdancing was a short-lived fad that was wiped out when fashion taste and gangsta rap gained in popularity in the late 80's. Although now there is a growing underground movement to bring back this lost art form, the peak for breakdancing was about 1984. During this magical year, Reagan was our king and people were asking the important question, "Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!". Amidst this trumoil arose a simple movie, Breakin'. While this movie was simply bad, it was overshadowed by it's unholy offspring, released later in the same year.

Kneel before Breakin' II - Electric Boogaloo.

Kelly(Lucinda Dickey) is getting tired of Broadway dancin' and shit, yo. Her privileged upbringing is like some great millstone around her neck. Fancy cars and good hygiene just seem so oppressive. She's a dancer, and dancers need to spread their wings. She feels the need to once again immerse herself in the seedy world of street dancing. Against all better judgement, Kelly heads to East LA and her friends Ozone(Adolfo "Shabba Doo" Quinones) and Turbo(Michael "Boogaloo Shrimp" Chambers). I shit you not. These guys' street names were even stupider than their movie names. Kelly now has the persona "Special K", which is what you think when you see her acting ability. It's so nice when "special" people get a break once in a while, like Corky on "Life Goes On".

In the five months that Special K has been traipsing around Broadway being an incompetent dancer, Ozone and Turbo have become teachers at a community center dubbed "Miracles". Not a bad feat for five months worth of work, although in real life it was six months between movie releases. Yes, you can craft and release a movie in six months, but don't expect to get alot of story out of it. Miracles is a huge yellow monstrosity that inner-city children can go to develop their inner talents, if those talents happen to be wearing atrocious outfits that would get your ass kicked in the real LA and breakdancing. Oh, yeah, and the mime guy. Can't forget the pastyfaced pedophile.

Not all is well in the inner city, however. Corporate jerks have decided that the current site of Miracles would be better suited to a strip mall. I concur. All they have to do is knock down Miracles, and the world's first Starbucks could be built. Miracles needs to come up with $200,000 in 30 days or it gets knocked down. Nowadays street thugs would just sling rocks for the money, but these guys ain't no street thugs. They're artists, and their solution must be similarly artsy fartsy. The answer? A fundraiser featuring the talented folks at Miracles. You know, with dancing and miming and whatnot.

Our beleaguered heros are fighting adversity in all sides. Not only do they need to fight asshole developers, but they also have to battle their superfoes, Electrorock! These guys were thrown into the movie because they were in the last movie. The dancefight that these two groups get into is, well...not really interesting. It does show, however, that Kelly can't breakdance either. At least Electrorock doesn't wear neon like everyone else in this movie, and that is cause enough to root for them. In a nutshell, they have no purpose being in this movie except to have yet another dancing scene showcasing the main characters' limited repertoire of dance moves. Remember, the movie was shot and released in six months. There's going to be filler in there somewhere.

Don't think that that's all there is in the personal conflict department, cuz it ain't, fool. Turbo has finally realized that he has a dick and has fallen in love with a latina that can't speak a lick of english. Ozone gives some fatherly advice in the shape of molesting a blow up doll in , you guessed it, a dance sequence! Turbo realizes after this that he and Lucia(the latina) can communicate through the "unversal language", unprotected sex and regret. Let's wish him luck.

Speacial K also has Ozone's ex all over her ass. Although the logical conclusion of this issue would be a bitchin' catfight scene, this never happens. There is no resolution to this problem, which means we have introduced another character into this movie who serves no purpose. She can't even dance. Seriously, I'm waiting for me to show up as a cameo in this flick. By the way, Ice T is in this movie as well, and he wears more studded leather than any three homosexuals on Fetish Night in the Castro.

Oh shit! Turbo stole some property in a bid to hamper the zoning crew's efforts to earn some income and fell down some stairs! Oh, wait, it was obviously a stunt double. Whew! Let's back up a bit. The city decided that the building housing Miracles is unsafe, so zoners began surveying the property. Turbo grabbed their crap and played "keep away" with the zoners until he tripped down a set of stairs. Again, there seems no need for this scene, but it does offer one benefit. When Turbo awakes from the coma he was put in by the fall, the hospital erupts into dancing. At this point, this is the longest the movie has gone without a dance number. I'm starting to really look foward to the next one, if only to drop the storyline for a couple more minutes.

We're getting to close to a resolution here, folks, I can feel it. While preparing for the fundraising shindig, bulldozers show up to raze the structure without permits. Turbo hobbles in front of the earthmovers in a rebellious move reminiscent of Tiananmen Square. This causes the developers to have a change of heart and not knock down Miracles. Does any of this make sense to you? Because I actually watched this movie, and I'm lost. Who wrote this piece of shit? They still need to raise the money for the renovations, so I'm guessing there might be another dance number before this review is through.

If you have watched this movie, you know what is coming up. A ludicrous display of neon-colored clothing, breakin' old school on a huge stage. Such a display of niche-fashion is worth $200,000, and that's exactly what Miracles needs. Who coughs up the moolah? Kelly's parents, of course. They served no other purpose in the film, so they had to come through in the end. Not like Electrorock and Ozone's ex-girlfriend, who we never see again. Wasted talent is hard to watch, but then again, the whole movie is kinda hard to stomach.

All things being equal, I love this movie. It is cheezy in such a unique way that is deserves to be in everyone's DVD collection. Oh, yeah, it's on DVD. Good luck finding it, it took me a whole weekend to trace this gem down and in the end, I got the very last copy. This was either because there was a huge demand for this movie, or a limited release. The smart money is on "limited release".

Friday, August 01, 2003

I didn't write this, but I think it deserves printing here anyway for educational purposes.
I present to you A Guide To Marathon Drinking by Chi Chi Fellipe:

When I was 17, my friends rented a cabin in my hometown for the summer. The cabin quickly became "the spot" in my tiny island community, where Dionysian parties would be held, resulting in great feats of debauchery and roof-jumping. But the one memory from that hazy summer that sticks with me to this day was the sight of a man in his late twenties, who came to the cabin one cool summer evening in order to hang out with us. From outward appearances, nothing seemed different or out of place with the man, until word spread that he was working on his 33rd beer of the day. That was not a typo. Thirty-three beers in one day. And it was only 7:30. I decided once and for all that I, too, would someday acclomplish this feat of daring consumption. Did I ever achieve 33? Shit no. The guy had about 200 lbs. over me. But I did master the art of marathon drinking.

Marathon drinking is no task for the weak willed. It takes cunning, extreme concentration, and the willingness to shut any hopes of getting some pussy out of your life for at least a few years. What seperates a marathon drinker from a normal binge drinker is pace. The normal binge drinker, in an effort to impress those in the herd, will guzzle, slurp, shotgun and shoot as much alcohol into his system as quickly as possible. This is wrong. No one has won the Boston Marathon by sprinting the entire 26 miles; it's impossible. You'd die. The same holds true with marathon drinking. You have to take it nice and slooowww...

First off, you need conditioning. Practice drinking beers at least one full year before making a marathon attempt. If your tolerance for intoxicating spirits is low, say 5 or 6 drinks, then you are either a woman or a nancy-boy. So work on finishing eight beers without puking. Eight is a pretty good starting point. People are reasonably impressed by someone who has downed 8 beers over the course of an evening. But imagine when word spreads that you've finished a case. You'll be a god among the frat-boy jock generation among whom we now reside. Gradually increase your intake until you can finish 12, or a half rack. Again, you have past another milestone. The trick now is to keep on keepin' on, as they say in AA. Stick to a twelver each day of the weekend. Quaff 12 on Friday, and another 12 on Saturday. For maintenance during this loading phase of alcohol tolerance, try on Wednesday to finish enough beers to make you wish you hadn't the following morning. No one said this was going to be easy, assclown, now do it!

Again, let me state that the marathon is not for the weak willed. A good exercise to try in the months leading up to your marathon is the "Millenium Club", or the "100 Shot Club." In this seemingly innocuous training regimen, you and whatever dumb little buddies you can drag along drink one shot glass of beer every minute for one hundred minutes. Sounds easy, huh? Let's do the math: One 1 1/2 oz. shot glass times 100 equals 150 oz. of beer. One-hundred fifty divided by 12 (the amount of ounces of beer in one can) equals to somewhere in the neighborhood of 12 and a half beers in 100 minutes, or one can of beer every 8 minutes . If you can make it all the way to 100 without puking, and still keep drinking, then you are ready for the marathon you have trained so arduously for.

Pick a day where you have absolutely nothing at all to do, preferably a weekend. Convince your dumb little buddies that you should all start drinking at a predetermined time in the afternoon, the earlier the better. Twelve noon is most appropriate and convienient. Now, start drinking. Slowly. Sip on your beers, savor the flavor. It's best if you simply sit down on a picnic table with the cooler within arms reach. Drink at least half of the beers in a case by 4:30. This is where your training comes in. You should be drunk, but not too drunk. A few notches over buzzed perhaps, but if you're already starting to suffer from the headspins, you're in serious trouble. The first half of the marathon was to prime your guts for the latter half. And the half way point is where many, many people simply lose control. They begin bragging about the amount of beer consumed, inviting dares from friends that will most certainly result in absolute failure. Keep drinking at a reasonable pace, but above all, remain focused!

Undoubtably you will have grown hungry during the tenure of your marathon, but do not eat anything substantial. Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips or a reasonable substitute work best. Now give yourself a good stretch and get ready to go, cause you're gonna finish this case of Bud, whether you like it or not. Gradually increase the speed at which you drink each beer. Begin walking around, talking to people you know. Always keep a beer in your hand, if not for convienience so much as for image. Image is vitally important. Don't go too fast or you're liable to end up blacked-out, in a pool of vomit, or unconcious with black-marker all over your face. Don't go too slow or you will lose your buzz and the desire to keep drinking. Not to mention the constant taunting of your friends, disgusted by your "pussying out at 9:30." By now, you've probably lost count. In fact, as hard as you try to think of it, you simply can't put a finger on the amount you've taken in. Success! This is almost certainly a sign that you have reached the 24-beer mark. What you do from there is up to you, but proceed with extreme caution. I myself, after a marathon drinking session, vaguely remember rowing a boat with one oar across the ocean, returning to my hometown, climbing into a car and breaking into homes at 2:30 in the morning with a morbidly obese redneck trying to score a few more drops of sweet, sweet booze. And by Jesus, the next day I was a legend!

I don't want to go all apeshit on this article(I'm working out a review of that time-honored classic Breakin' II, Electric Boogaloo), but I just wanted to mention that some of our troops are dying of a strange toxin while in Baghdad. This sickness has some interesting earmarks that point to WMDs, but the soldiers are just now contracting it. Stranger still, it seems to have it's origins with the 203rd Engineer Battalion, who had been stationed at the Baghdad International Airport recently. I know this sounds zany, but could it be posible that WMDs are being ferreted into Iraq for later "discovery"? Could one of the shipments have been damaged while being transported, and is now infecting our troops unlucky enough to have been on shift when the shipment arrived? A new Iraq conspiracy, just when I thought they were all over. Sweet!