Monday, January 30, 2006

The Greatest Movie Ever

Before discussing the greatest movie ever, let's reflect on the state of movies today. In the old days people watched movies to see a story, but with today's sensationalist media people want thrills. The success of a top-budget film today is directly proportional to the number of explosions and the volume of fake blood spilled. Of course, moviemakers still include thinly-veiled attempts at storytelling just to keep the critics complacent, but the success of the Matrix sequels and the new Star Wars movies reveals that maybe even that is becoming unnecessary.

Seeing the trend, perhaps it's time to take the next step and do away with those silly "plots" altogether. The Greatest Movie Ever is simply one long, mindless fight scene. No confusing flashbacks of troubled childhoods, no fake British accents, and certainly no love scenes ruined by bad acting. It only includes things people actually want to see: destruction, violence, killing, death, dying, and loss of life. Not even an angsty teen trashing property and eating babies. It has a really awesome-sounding title, like Fahrenheit Fatality, or $uP4r El1m1n4t3, or Bleeding Blade Slam Impact Blast. Let’s go with the last one for now.

Bleeding Blade Slam Impact Blast
stars a stereotypical tough-guy protagonist with some random gritty Germanic name like Diefül. The umlaut (dot thing) is essential. Diefül wears a monocle, an oversized trench coat, torn jeans, and the shoes of whatever brand pays us the most money. From within his trench coat he draws a vast assortment of weapons with little regard for practicality or physics. His weapons of choice include a pair of pistols, a shotgun, a rocket launcher, an ice pick, a chainsaw, a sharpened crucifix, and a brick.

The movie begins with Diefül standing in some barren post-apocalyptic landscape littered with the smoking wreckages of postmodern war machines and the charred bones of whales and llamas. A stiff breeze causes Diefül's trench coat and long hair to flap around and look really cool as an ominous chorus chants in Latin. Then following a bombastic hit from the orchestra, ninjas, robots, zombies, aliens, giant insects, and every other conceivable stereotypical antagonistic horde begin to drop from the sky all around Diefül. Mayhem ensues for two whole hours.

The movie ends with a climatic battle with a nameless arch-villain. Both he and Diefül draw lightsabers laser blades beam scimitars non-copyrighted energy-based bladelike weapons and engage in a fight that ends in their mutual deaths. And then the planet explodes.

Awesome, no?

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Feminism = Not Fair

Okay, so, in the 70's, when feminism was on the rise, women were breaking out of gender constructs and forging new notions of identity, redefining their roles in the world. You know. That stuff.

If you're a guy, can you not help but feel a little left out?

Now that feminism has sifted its way into mainstream society and the post-feminist backlash is feebly settling in, I somehow feel as though guys missed out on this whole chance to redefine themselves and are floundering in centuries-old positions. I mean, don't you wanna strike out? Break something? Fight the Man? Or Woman? Or whoever it is exactly that's holding us back? There's got to be something we could do.


Well, ok, so, like, maybe, that's not what I had in mind.


And c'mon! As if any feminists were heterosexual.



Well, I postulate that although as men there might be plenty for us to break out of, there isn't a whole lot for us to break into. While one could argue for the existance of powerful institutions which exclude men, do you suppose that many men want to join the Daughters of the American Revolution? (On a side note, does anyone? Not that I'm unpatriotic; I just don't support organizations that force essays on poor middle school children year after year.)

The solution, my friends, is clear. Regress! Try and force our patriarchial views on back upon society once again! Plowing forward culturally would be require thinking, talking about our feelings, and we might even have to ask for directions.

Scary thought, I know.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Ask Kevin!

As a selfless philanthropist as well as an absolute authority on everything there is to know (and a few things that aren't to know), I will regularly share with you a few specks of knowledge from the boundless reserve of my intellect. You may submit questions about anything in the comments section of this post, and I will answer them regularly. Obviously, this idea is completely and totally original. Our first question comes from Eric:
If the sky's blue is a refraction from the ocean and water is clear, where does the blue come from? -Eric
The blue is actually caused by the bending of light in the atmosphere. Light from the sun contains the full spectrum of light, but a gas in the upper atmosphere called Cobalt Thorium G released by the Soviet Union during the Cold War in an attempt to wipe out all non-communistic life on Earth reflects most wavelengths of sunlight back into space except for blue light and ultraviolet death rays that cause cancer. Before the Cold War the sky was actually white. The Soviet Union denied responsibility for turning the sky blue and formed a secret international communist cabal to covertly edit all photographs, paintings, and texts from before the incident. It appears that they succeeded.

There was no cancer before the incident either. It just comes to prove that, besides a certain individual, the Russians are to blame for nearly everything that is wrong with the world. Damn ruskies. God bless America!

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Three Tips: How to Write a Classic Novel

Having read enough “classic” novels for school to make my brain do anatomically impossible things, I am of course an absolute authority on them (as I am for everything). Here are a few tips should you desire to compose a classic novel and join the ranks of literature’s great minds.

Tip 1: Overstate everything. The more words you have, the more likely it is that some pompous scholar will find an unintentional metaphor or symbol in your novel, enhancing your image as a talented writer. Let’s take a look at how Charles Dickens did it.
WRONG: My name is Pip.

RIGHT: My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.
Tip 2: Make it depressing. Do you think people are really going to read your novel if it contains normal people living happy lives? No!
WRONG: Jimmy was an ordinary kid who lived a carefree life with his parents and his dog Skip.

RIGHT: Jimmy was a crippled manic-depressive transvestite with three eyes and a paralyzed left pinky. He lived in an abandoned Nazi gas chamber with his obsessive-compulsive stepfather who worked as a back-alley neurosurgeon during the day and mugged drunks at night to feed his helium addiction. Jimmy’s mother died in a freak lawn mower accident when he was just a baby.
Tip 3: Make it elaborately surreal and scientifically impossible. Many people read books to escape from reality, and your novel should do exactly that.
WRONG: Mr. Wazoo had a minor heart attack and survived. When he woke in the hospital he had a new appreciation for life.

RIGHT: As Mr. Wazoo walked by the railing, a sudden gust of wind swept him off the bridge and onto the passing train below, where the impact of his fall ruptured a fuel line and dosed him with flaming kerosene. Right at that moment an airliner crashed into the train, causing it to derail and plow through a crowded interstate highway. When he woke in the hospital he had a new appreciation for life.
And that, my friends, is how you write a novel that will stand the test of time.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Read the Fine Print

Ahh, fine print. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I mean, just think how many people would be out of jobs if contracts and laws were written in ways that normal people could understand. Most lawyers would be reduced to hobos*. Which in itself is a fun thought. And we might not even need politicians.

But it's the expression of thoughts like this that fine print apparently guards against. I was filling out the many forms required to use campus space, when I became distracted and generally bored from filling out the form. So I found myself reading the fine print without actually meaning to. Upon reading, I was shocked and ashamed to discover:
"In accordance with education code section 16564-16566, the facility user acknowledges that the school property for use of which application is hereby made will not be used for the commission of any act intended to further any program or movement, the purpose of which is to accomplish the overthrow of the government of the United States by force, violence, or any other unlawful means, and the facility user is not a communist-action organization or communist front organization required by law to be registered with the attorney general of the United States."
At first, I was horrified. But then I realized I could just move my meeting on nonconformism to the local Starbucks**.

*This statement is not meant to diminish the professional standing of lawyer-hobos.
**Starbucks does not endorse the views of either me or the meeting, but will take our money anyway.

Hey Panasonic, Fire Your Ad Guy

(Click to enlarge) Take a look at this pop-up ad and try to figure out what demographic they're trying to market this to. Hey ladies, if you buy our product, you can be like that hot chick wearing a mini-skirt and football shoulder pads. And it doesnt just come in four colors, it comes in four hot colors.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

A Dissertation on Pants

Greetings, peons (Although I'm sure you're not that kind of orc).

My name is Eric, and no, I'm not your pilot, but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night, and through much time spent meditating on the subject, I have determined myself to be less sane than everyone around me in that I am more normal than they.

But I digress. I have been admitted into the Pantheon here after the obviously awesome potshots I've taken at Kevin, Tyler, and Nader's articles. I seem to have the ability to embellish other people's ideas with deadly...accuracy or something. But now that the pleasantries are out of the way, please direct your attention to the rest of this drivel, Mr. Bond.

Something I can't seem to grasp well is the concept of fashion. Sure, fancy clothes may make you look nice (sometimes), but some trends just appear to be downright ridiculous and in some cases, painful. Take pants, for example. A noble article of clothing that suffers from the English language (what is one unit of "pant" exactly?). The mighty pant(s) has an important job in that while worn correctly, the wearer experiences greatly decreased social awkwardness. However what seems to be "in" is the abuse of certain denim breeds of pants. People will often pay hundreds of dollars for a pair of pants (is that one or two pant units?) that appear(s) to have already been run over by various vehicles bearing heavy loads or left dangerously close to a paper shredder of an executive who is in danger of having his cooked books discovered. Why do people buy something that has obviously already been ruined? (albeit professionally) For the same reason people buy Urban Assault Vehicles and 8 bathroom plantation houses they cannot afford, but that's straying from the rant at hand.

Another article of fashion I would like to point out is certain high-heeled shoes. I refer to them as "pizza-slice" shoes because they are about the same size as a smallish slice of pizza and because they have a deadly point at the toe end that could easily pierce the skin with enough force. I know (or don't know, whichever) why people would buy the shoes (Hummer, 8 bathrooms, etc.), but why would anyone actually wear something like that? If you have to run the risk of disfiguring the half of each foot in order to fit into a multi-hundred dollar pair of pizza slices made out of some form of pleather or, in the case of hundreds of dollars more, the skin of a dead animal, then why bother? It brings up images of the original (un-Disney'd) version of Cinderella in which the three stepsisters chop off portions of their feet in order to fit their foot in the glass pizz-...*ahem* slipper.

Well that's my first piece of madness (or wisdom) and I hope (or don't) that you still (or never) have/had your sanity (or lack thereof) .

I realize now that in a stunning display of hypocrisy, my post is equal to or bigger than Nader’s juggernaut, but I’m sure that it’s entirely not my fault, and is obviously someone else’s.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

The Steak to End All Steaks

I've noticed, with my unparalleled powers of observation, that (I am the only sane and intelligent person in the entire world, but that's another story. As I was saying,) restaurants these days go to incredible lengths to come up with "signature" and "house special" dishes that are supposed to distinguish them from other restaurants as unique and classy. As much as I love it when a restaurant serves me their house special, USDA-select, 7oz. cut of top filet mignon, fresh-cut and trimmed, marinated in soy sauce, sesame, fresh garlic, asian spices and ginger and then slowly and craftfully char-grilled over a dead-tree fire while being glazed with their signature homemade sesame teriyaki seppuku sauce and topped with sautéed fresh New York-style acid trip mushrooms and bleu anthrax cheese crumbles, I wouldn't mind a plain old steak either.

One thing I admire about ethnic restaurants (REAL ethnic restaurants - not the Americanized nonsense) is that they occupy the other end of the spectrum, often neglecting to offer any description of their dishes at all beyond the titles. In Chinese restaurants I sometimes see "Seafood Mystery" on the menu, or the even more enigmatic "Double Happiness." It keeps me guessing. Once at a Korean restaurant I found on the menu - literally - a dish titled "???" with no other descriptives. Now that's what I call bold restaurant entrepeneurship. If I were Donald Trump, I would hire the owner of that restaurant without question. But I wonder if anyone actually orders the ???. I mean, how would you even tell the waiter you want it? "I'd like to try the question marks, please. Extra crispy."

The government beams these thoughts into my head from its mind control towers to distract me from questioning its policies. Well actually Nader thought it up, but he doesn't count.

Monday, January 16, 2006

God Bless... Everyone?

Why exactly must God bless America, anyway? Did we win a bid for a 10-year exclusive publishing right to His blessing? Has God ever on an off-chance blessed Canada by accident? It is awfully close to America, and I wouldn't blame Him for the mistake. In fact, given Canada's relative peacefulness and environmental friendliness, I would wager that Canada deserves to be blessed more than we do. Being an omnipotent being, I'm sure it's well within God's power to bless everyone instead of just us.

But what exactly does His blessing do, anyway? It doesn't seem to help me much when I sneeze. In fact, more often than not I just go right on sneezing after somebody invokes God's blessing upon me. Maybe I'm allergic to it. Or perhaps His blessing is like an antibiotic and becomes less effective over time, especially when overused. Considering how often we bless each other and America, I can imagine that most strains of bacteria and virii have become resistent to it.

Americans do seem to have an unhealthy obsession with blessing their country. Perhaps the FDA should do a study to see if it's addictive. Let's compare a marijuana user to a patriot. (Click to enlarge, or don't - I understand)












Once your eyes stop burning you may note that they do appear quite similar. Perhaps we're on to something here. Maybe in another decade or two we'll see Blessoderm patches to help people fight their addictions.

Maybe we ask God to bless us as compensation for our employment as world police. Without us to free other nations, the dictators, Communists, and filthy heathens would rule the world! That, and we're just so much better than the rest of the world. I mean, we gave birth to the nuclear bomb, Wal-Mart, plastic surgery, and MTV - all things that have benefitted the entire world. I'm sure it says in the Bible somewhere that if it weren't for America the world wouldn't exist. God bless America.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

But Mom, Everyone Has One

I'll take a cue from Tyler today -as much as I deplore his taste in music, clothing, and tofu- and rant about everyone's favorite packaged culture shop computer company: The Glorious Empire of Apple.

Apple charges far too much for their crap. I love my iConform, but it cost me 300 of my hard-earned birthday gift dollars. Now see, I like to be smart when it comes to my money. Being the son of not one, but TWO accountants makes you stingy (in an awesome way). Now, buying the iConform along with the Apple super-expensive (and overrated) dock with the speakers shaped like the ghosts from Pac-Man will alone cost over 500 bucks. God bless America.

iTrip? There's nothing trippy nor i about it. Get a real FM transmitter for half the price that is separately wired so you can plug into not just your iConform but (gasp) other items as well. Want to hook your ancient CD player up to listen to in your car? Non-iTrip FM transmitter! Tape player? Well I have no idea why you would have one, but yes! Maybe your friend has a ripoff MP3 player made by another company? Done! Buy different.

Want a case so your precious, delicate iConform doesn't get stratched (OH NO!) or damaged? First off I believe that Apple intentionally makes these things out of plexiglass and whipped cream just so they're fragile enough to warrant the purchase of an expensive case. You could be a mindless tool like most iConform owners and dish out 30+ bucks to buy a piece of plasticized jelly that they call a case, or you could be smart like me and just shove it in one of those cloth bags that come with sunglasses. Heck, I know somebody who uses a baby sock to protect her iConform. It works.

How about those computer docks? They sure do look fantastic until you see that they'll cost you hundreds of dollars. Why don't we fight the man for once? Would it absolutely kill you if you had to use the wall charger and computer cable separately? And if you must have the speakers, you could just buy a standalone model and save yourself another hundred bucks. You won't look nearly as cool as the other conformist hacks with their UFO-shaped speakers, but you'll be hundreds of dollars richer.

To quote Apple's own marketting savants: THINK DIFFERENT.

-Nader, whose post was hijacked revised to be awesome by Kevin

Give Hitler A Ride

I found this Picture of the Week (top, click to enlarge) in a history book under the "World War II Propaganda" section. The government encouraged citizens to conserve fuel so it could be used for the war effort. I couldn't help but imagine this situation still applying today, so behold my modernized version (bottom, click to enlarge). God bless... nevermind.

Things That Suck

Wow, late posts are habits that catch on rather fast.

Anyway, fog machines really suck.
Huge fog machines are the trademark of mediocre DJ's. When DJ's use fog machines to fill the entire room with fog, that's like admitting that they can't use their lighting system very well and would rather suffocate their audience than try. And, because its cheaper and less dangerous than distrubuting actual drugs, the asphyxiating effect of filling the room with not air can convince many people that the music is actually good (like estacy in raving, only dumber).

So DJ's out there: spend more time on music and less money on fog fluid.

-Tyler

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Press CTRL + C to Make Your Computer Explode

At the library today I picked up this amazing and informative -if somewhat dated- book written in 1981 about how to care for your computer. 1981, back when if you used a computer, you were a computer operator.

Here's an excerpt from the section titled "Dangerous Keys" on page 107:

"When using the CRT, one essential recommendation applies: don't hit keys that might cause great damage, such as wiping out a file. Typically, the most dangerous keys are the "control" keys. Control keys are generally special keys, but may also refer to the simulaneous striking of the CTRL key together with another key. Sometimes, hitting the wrong control key can result in catastrophic damage, such as wiping out a program or file. In such cases, the "control" key should be clearly labeled in order to avoid inadvertent use."

Once again, "don't hit keys that might cause great damage." Wow. This cartoon (click to enlarge) was thoughtfully provided to illustrate the point. Zounds.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

The Sand/Zombie/Physics Game

One of the most awesome games EVER. Just mess around with water, sand, salt, and oil along with plants, wax, and fire. ZOMBIES TOO!

Remember to play only when you have no work to do, or else you'll never do it.

-Nader

Music of the Week!

I'm sick, so contemplate this.
The 12-track set features Regis on vocals along with guests like Steve Tyrell (who also produced the album), Regis's wife Joy, and even the Donald himself: Donald Trump, who teams with Regis in a sensational version of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."
-Tyler

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Those Damned Liberals Stole My Girlfriend

Are you tired of meeting people who don't agree with you? I sure know that I am. Especially when it comes to the opposite sex. I mean, political affiliations are so much more important than silly little things like personality, interests, and intellect when it comes to finding a date. Now that I've found this, I can finally stop wrapping my head in cellophane before entering a crowd of strangers. (Click to enlarge)

I came across this the other day when I stumbled on some random guy's blog. At first I thought it was joke but -much to my horror- I found that it was quite real. I browsed around the site and couldn't help but to notice the carefully balanced combinations of race and gender in each "sample" picture (seen to right). The people in the pictures are also young, attractive, and well dressed. Now I don't mean to stereotype my conservative friends here, but for a dating website that uses hatred of liberalism as its primary marketting ploy, the pictures seem just slightly unrealistic. So in the interest of science, I went to the "newest photos" page that contains actual, non-staged photos submitted by users. I took note of the twelve photos there and found the following:

Of the twelve people pictured...
  • One was a woman, ten were men, and one was an American flag.
  • One of the seven men who were not wearing hats did not have a receding hairline.
  • Two were posing with firearms in hand.
  • One was holding up anti-liberal picket signs.
  • Four were overweight.
  • One was not caucasian.
  • One appeared to be younger than 30.
  • Two were smiling.
Again, I mean no offense to my conservative friends. I'm simply reporting what I saw. For science. God bless America.

Monday, January 09, 2006

How Not To Be A Sociopath

I hope you're having a wonderful(ly terrible) Doom and Gloomday. I interrupt the usual cancer-related bad news to instead bring you the breathtakingly inspirational story of John Ausonius, the Laser Man, which Nader was kind enough to point out to me but too lazy to write about himself. This Swedish serial killer (how often do you hear that?) may not seem like anything out of the ordinary (for a serial killer) at first, excepting that he's Swedish, but take note of his track record when it comes to, well, killing people. He shot thirteen victims, four of them in the head and many of them multiple times in the chest, and only managed to kill ONE. He does not deserve the title of serial killer. Serial injurer? No. Serial failure.

Our serial killers are clearly superior to their European counterparts. God bless America.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Picture of the Week III: Return of the Picture

This one is a real doozy. Glen(da) is pictured at the center, with Satan to his left and what appears to be Richard Nixon to his right. "He loved women so much he dared to dress like one!" Gee whiz. If you didn't guess, this movie was made in the 1950's, back when this sort of thing was an interesting plot twist. (Click to enlarge)

Out of time?

Today in my venerated column, the subject of contention shall be: Time.

It occurred to me one day as I was walking along at around noon, and I happened to notice that the sun was at some insane angle that was most certainly not what one would expect for noon. Instead of directly above me, the sun insisted on being somewhere else. Now, I was under the impression that time had something to do with where the sun is, correct? Why should we let the machines tell us when to live our lives? Make a stand, my honorable readers! Fight the power!

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Nader on the News: 1/7/06

Good morrow fine sirs. I'm Nader, the militantly moderate of this here blog. Today's issue is with the recent Sago Mine tragedy.

Explosion in mine, mine collapses, 13 miners trapped. Already not fun to listen to. Time passes, OH LOOK! Looks like the ratio of alive to dead is 12/1! Then Oops. Messed up the fraction. Turned out to be the inverse. (12/1)^(-1). 12 dead, 1 alive.

This reveals the immense necessity for fast information in today's society. It might be too recent to be sure, but the demand for knowledge exceeds its creation. People are left without or with too much hope, and results can be crushing. This does not mean that all information should be withheld, but the term "but it's not confirmed yet" would be VERY nice to add to the end of a statement.

Granted, since the miners died of CO poisoning, it could be assumed that the communication was true at a time, before their lungs surrendered to the carbon monoxide.

Unanimously, this was a tragedy and rescue crews did what they could. This could have all been prevented by meeting safety regulations, but the mine did not.

Slow down Industry, you move too fast. I am a great lover of capitalism, capitalism works where every other economy type does not. However, rampant necessity for profit and the true American policy of laziness endangers the lives of people who NEED to be protected in order to not die on the job. Look at the shuttle explosion several years ago. "OOPS! LOOKS LIKE WE DIDN'T WORRY ENOUGH ABOUT THE INTEGRITY OF THE SHUTTLE! LOL" Is not an excuse, the damage was obvious and maintenence could have saved the workers aboard. The Sago Mine incident also exhibits the losses caused by the haste of business caused by the need for money and profit. The mine had many obvious and previously known issues which endangered the lives of the miners working inside. The saddest part? We need it. Less safety = more risk = more productivity = more profit. Sure, a giant scandal or incident could totally destroy your company, but beforehand there would be a massive influx of money. The deaths were tragic albeit necessary as a victory of probability in today's capitalist world. Socialists would complain about the evil fat capitalist pig sucking the lifeblood of the workers, but Communism wouldn't be much different. If safety was taken too far into the extremes, the people would suffer from a lack of product, and having an equal system promising equal goods to all would only exacerbate the situation by massively increasing demand by turning the good into a required quota, driving the workers even harder and dropping the security standards far lower. The Sago Mine tragedy was a depressing product of desperate demand but was an unavoidable cost of the need of the people to be supplied with coal in order to power homes and light barbecues. Safety regulations must be increased, but coal prices will increase in turn. It is good to know that the incident, however tragic, will increase awareness of dangerous jobs and hopefully increase the amount of funds directed towards decreasing the probability of the tragedy occuring again. Human lives are more important than lower prices.

Sadly, Fred Phelps and his fundamentalist cronies are going to protest at the funeral of the miners, blaming their deaths on homosexuality. Sure, God will kill straight men because of gay people! That totally makes sense! From what I see, Fred's saying that God is targeting non-gays because they let gays exist, but is totally letting the gay people off! Sure, that logic works. The man has no taste and is a malignant growth on the face of humanity. It sickens me that he actually can gain followers to join in his spreading of hatred. Last time I checked, Jesus was a pretty mellow, peaceful guy. He's looking down on you from heaven and shaking his head, Fred.

So that is the first issue of Nader on the News. Have a good night America. Or wherever.

Monday, January 02, 2006

Is It That Day Already?

I woke up this morning to heavy rain and fog, and turned on the TV to see that part of California in a state of emergency. I thought today could only be Doom and Gloomday, and I was correct. For those of you just joining us, Doom and Gloomday was once called Monday, but that name is obsolete. This lovely Doom and Gloomday, note that deodorant may cause cancer.

Those who shaved at least three times a week and applied deodorant at least twice a week were almost 15 years younger when diagnosed than women who did neither

Well, it looks like the French are far ahead of us on this one.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Have a Mediocre New Year!

I'd wish you a happy new year, but stastically speaking, that's highly improbable. Heck, even mediocre is a stretch, but I'm feeling generous. Let us take a moment to reflect on this past year, this two thousand and fifth year of the Common Era.

The Year in Review: 2005 at a Glance
  • Stuff blew up.
  • Hurricane. The Big One.
  • People blew stuff up.
  • Earthquake. The Big One.
  • People blew other people up.
  • Tsunami. The Big One.
  • People got blown up and died.
  • Flu pandemic brewing. The Big One.
  • People got blown up and lived.
  • Iran wants weapons. The Big One.
  • Stuff blew up.
And the Rolling Stones still aren't dead yet.

So It's Late/Stupid

Yes, I know I missed my deadline. I'm sorry for any trauma this may have caused to those people whose lives revolve around my posts, which I'm sure includes all of you.

Apparently the force of Kevin's words are not powerful enough, as the demagogue constantly feels the need to supplant his posts with pictures and childish illustrations.

In the sights today is a news post from the disgustingly popular British music website NME. Specifically, this one. It deals with a recent statement by the drummer of the Scottish fashion show, cultural institution and erstwhile rock band Franz Ferdinand. The drummer was apparently attacked by knife-wielding denizens of his hometown and now refuses to leave his home. I am honestly in serious conflict over whether to attack the drummer for being so generally insipid or the website for actually reporting this. So as to perpetuate the illusion of freedom of thought, I'll leave that up to you.

Picture of the Week, Take Two

I would come up with some long, elaborate political anecdote about how this is a microcosm of the state of our country, but that requires effort that I'm not ready to exert at this festive hour. (Click to enlarge)