I got not lot tuh say

I started school Monday night (not the MLS – instead, IT: Network Security). Very fast-paced. Very info-intensive. Very time consuming: 6-10PM Mon-Thurs. Very bloody interesting. Hah-lay-loo.In other news,

The Pumpkin-Carving God

I wish it had laser blasters for eyes…but I suppose being able to barrel roll will suffice. (Thanks, Dodo.)

Watch Control Room, pronto…and keep in your head that two and a half years have passed since we started this retarded war.

I got not lot tuh say

Someone was complaining to me about another guy

and this was his complaint:

“He’s a thinker, you know.”

Comments

I have been telling you this for years. Maybe this is why we never dated. I like ’em shallow, superficial, and only giving deep thoughts to sports. 😉

Posted by: Bean

tis true. the thinkers of the world are happier together. but it does carry a stigma; i always thought more for men than women, but apprently being a contempletive man and not a man of action carries its own.

Posted by: rubigimlet

Someone was complaining to me about another guy

Halloween Party Debacle

I’ve not much time.

History

Current Situation:
PETITION

WHEREAS, on October 15th, 2005, Tan Nguyen and Jennifer Brock-Nguyen (the “Hosts�) held an annual party wherein certain prizes and accolades were given out to various guests with regard to guest costume design;

WHEREAS, the returning Group Champions (the “Champs�) arrived to the party as Troop 69, a troop of degenerate Brownies and Girl Scouts;

WHEREAS, the challenging Group (the “Agate Group�) arrived to the party as Refrigerator Magnet Poetry;

WHEREAS, upon the awards announcement, the prize for Best Group was awarded to the Agate Group instead of the Champs, despite the Agate Group’s obviously sloppy and hasty execution of an otherwise quite creative costume idea and despite the Champs setting the bar for Best Group in years’ past with such costumes as Poynt’d Styk, The Other Holidays, Communist Sperm and Characters from Clue®, a bar which the Agate Group clearly failed to surpass;

WHEREAS, it has come to the attention of certain Champs that the initial vote was a split vote, with Jennifer Brock-Nguyen voting for the Champs and Tan Nguyen voting against the Champs,

WHEREAS, it has come to the attention of certain Champs that one possible reason Mr. Nguyen voted against the Champs was that several members of the Agate Group helped Mr. Nguyen in setting up for the Halloween Party;

WHEREAS, it has come to the attention of certain Champs that another possible reason Mr. Nguyen voted against the Champs was that, as witnessed by Mrs. Jennifer Brock-Nguyen, several members of the Agate Group “guilt-tripped� Mr. Nguyen into voting for them as Best Group 2005 in exchange for stated help in setting up Halloween Party. Additionally, Mrs. Brock-Nguyen witnessed further “guilt-tripping� by the Agate Group due to their bruised egos from 2004’s Halloween Party, wherein the Agate Group left the party too early to be considered for Best Group;

WE THE UNDERSIGNED, due to the reasons above, demand a complete recall and recount be conducted with regards to the voting procedure and outcome in this matter. At the very least, the undersigned hope to make it clear to Mr. Nguyen that this type of favoritism and neighborhood cronyism will not be tolerated at future events that he hosts.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the undersigned have executed this document on this 18th day of October, 2005.

Jennifer Balmer
Jon Balmer
Doug Doty
Jesika Doty
Maggie Doty
Ryan Moore
Laura Moore
Ryan Olson
Jason Preu
Sarah Jacobson-Preu

Pictures Forthcoming So That You, The Reader, May Come To Your Own Decision.

In other news,

I want one.

I need some.

I’m Straight Outta Compton. (Thanks, Bean. I scored perfect.)

Halloween Party Debacle

Getting this year’s Halloween costumes prepped

i had never before sewn from a pattern.
i had never before sewn from a pattern with kittens around.
i had never before sewn from a pattern with kittens around to a David Bowie soundscape.
now i have.

In other news,

Graphic novels—pumped-up comics—are to many in their teens and twenties what poetry once was, before bare words lost their cachet. The nineteen-sixties decided that poet types would thenceforth wield guitars; the eighties imposed percussive rhythm and rhyme; the two-thousands favor drawing pens. Like life-changing poetry of yore, graphic novels are a young person’s art, demanding and rewarding mental flexibility and nervous stamina. Consuming them—toggling for hours between the incommensurable functions of reading and looking—is taxing. The difficulty of graphic novels limits their potential audience, in contrast to the blissfully easeful, still all-conquering movies, but that is not a debility; rather, it gives them the opalescent sheen of avant-gardism.

Speaking of graphic novels…The Fountain is soon to be released, which is nice, because I haven’t been pumped in a while about anything going on in comix. (Aronofsky is a champ.)

Getting this year’s Halloween costumes prepped

KC – You overachiever you!

(to the tune of ‘One Love’, by the immortal Bob Marley)

One Hun, Murders
Do you like to feel that you have to hide all night?
Hear the children spraying (One Hun)
Hear the children slaying (Murders)
Sayin’ give thanks and praise to the Lord so we don’t get killed tonight
Sayin’ leaders of the city can’t you make it right?

Let them all pass all their dirty remarks (One Hun)
There is one question I’d really like to ask (Murders)
Is there a place for the reactionary
Who has hurt his community just to prove himself?
Believe me

One Hun – Dred Murders
Let’s bug the fuzz to do something right
As it was in the beginning (One Hun)
So shall it be in the end (Murders)
Give thanks and praise to the Lord and so our caps don’t get peeled tonight
One more thing

Let’s get together to fight this East Side Armageddon (One Hun)
So when you’re driving in the city you don’t come to harm and doom (Murder)
An end to this war would be manna from heaven
Cause there ain’t nowhere to hide from an AK-47

Sayin’ One Hun, Murder
Let’s get together and hide all right
I’m pleading to KCPD (One Hun)
Oh Lord (Murder)

Give thanks and praise to the Lord and we don’t get shot tonight
Let’s get together and make this right


(Couldn’t resist)

KC – You overachiever you!

We got this in the mail yesterday

That’s great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane –
Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn –
world serves its own needs, don’t misserve your own needs. Feed it up a knock,
speed, grunt no, strength no. Ladder structure clatter with fear of height,
down height. Wire in a fire, represent the seven games in a government for
hire and a combat site. Left her, wasn’t coming in a hurry with the furies
breathing down your neck. Team by team reporters baffled, trump, tethered
crop. Look at that low plane! Fine then. Uh oh, overflow, population,
common group, but it’ll do. Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its
own needs, listen to your heart bleed. Tell me with the rapture and the
reverent in the right – right. You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright
light, feeling pretty psyched.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

Six o’clock – TV hour. Don’t get caught in foreign tower. Slash and burn,
return, listen to yourself churn. Lock him in uniform and book burning,
blood letting. Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate. Light a candle,
light a motive. Step down, step down. Watch a heel crush, crush. Uh oh,
this means no fear – cavalier. Renegade and steer clear! A tournament,
a tournament, a tournament of lies. Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives
and I decline.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide. Mount St. Edelite.
Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Breshnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs.
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic,
slam, but neck, right? Right.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine…fine…

(It’s time I had some time alone)

Comments

we got the same damned thing. i loved it.

Posted by: sparrowsfall@mac.com

We got this in the mail yesterday

To Hell With the Devil

According to the polling data, about 5 percent of Americans say they don’t believe in God, and only another 5 percent—my 5 percent—aren’t sure. But almost the whole other 90 percent subscribe to some flavor of (Christian) faith—most of those say that the Bible is literally true, and a good 30 percent believe that it was dictated by God.

And whether they are strict scriptural literalists or not, a huge supermajority of Americans believe in—what else to call it?—magic: 61 percent think the world was created in six days, 70 to 78 percent say that hell and the Devil and angels exist, 81 to 85 percent believe in Heaven. If opinion polling had existed in the Middle Ages, it’s hard to imagine that the numbers would have been much higher.

For practical reasons—reasons both of politics and civility—it ordinarily behooves our tiny minority of reality-based infidels to keep quiet about our astonishment that most of our fellow citizens are in thrall to fantastic medieval fever dreams, just as it behooves secular minorities in Islamic countries to keep their modern sentiments to themselves. In countries like ours, the Iraqs and Afghanistans and USAs, liberals need to pick their battles.

I have never been cool. Does that make me cool? Doubtful. The only cool people I know of are Johnny Depp and Miles Motherfucking Davis. Actually, I may have been cool for about 20 minutes once. But no one was around to witness it.

Last night I had a dream about a Chipman Middle School reunion and I recognized a few people 18 years after the fact but the vast majority I didn’t. I did recognize this one girl named Maureen (and I keep wanting to say her last name was Dowd, but I know I didn’t go to middle school with Maureen Dowd) and I talked with her for a bit and when I looked in the mirror I had turned into a Filipino with spikey hair and that was odd so I decided to leave since I didn’t really have much to say to these people anyway but on the way out I ran into a huge group of all my old friends from that time: Jared Westermeyer, Joe Litchford, Wilbur Robinson, Ken Hillard, Matt Whitely, Arthur Gomez, Dennis Tuazon, Allen Beroya…the whole lot of ’em (and even some from my years in Dunedin, FL – Greg Oreste, John Koch, Joey Longano, Archie Higgins, Ryan Foster) and they had all aged appropriately. I recognized Joe right away and Dennis, only because I’ve seen recent photos, but it took me a sec to recognize Jared. I recognized Greg, too. And then there was a TV camera filming the reunion so I decided to go back inside and catch up but I woke up before my dream imagination got a chance to put fake histories in these guys’ mouths so I have no idea how they fared.

Last night we also had to go to a funeral for the mother of Sa Rah’s older brother’s best friend. She was killed in a car wreck last Friday. None of what I’m about to write should be taken as dishonoring the memory of the woman involved (because I have a feeling she herself would consider my observation worthy), but there are several things I learned from this funeral:
1 – If anyone who speaks at my funeral, ESPECIALLY THE OFFICIATING HOLY PERSON, uses ‘Footprints in the Sand’ as sermon fodder, I want them to be torn asunder. God would want it that way. Well, the Old Testament God would and at times requiring a tearing asunder, that’s to whom I defer.
2 – If anyone who speaks at my funeral, ESPECIALLY THE OFFICIATING HOLY PERSON, uses my death as an opportunity to unabashedly evangelicize since they obviously need something to say to fill up their allotted speaking time, I want them to be pebbled. What’s “pebbled”? It’s the more annoying version of being stoned to death. Being pebbled won’t actually kill you, it’ll just bug the holy hell out of you and that is similar to being talked to like this for 40 minutes” “Oh yes, so-and-so was a great woman. How do I know? Her friends told me! Now I want to talk to you about Christ the Life…(40 minutes later)…and Jesus made this woman great. Amen.” Don’t get me wrong, folks. Everyone who reads this knows I’m no fan of religion and no believer in holy writ – but that’s not the issue. The issue is this (and my lovely wife said it best last night): Everything that this Reverend went on and on about last night should have been subtextual. The fact that you, and everyone else, is in a holy space for this particular ceremony implies more than a little something about the religious bent of the deceased. Does this mean that no religiously-themed speech is tolerable? No. But the occasion is hardly the time for a bloody sales pitch. Completely disrespectful.
3 – If anyone sings/plays music at my funeral, it better be these guys:
[broken link – jpp :(]

or these guys:

To Hell With the Devil

i haven’t felt this aware on a monday morning in i don’t know how long

and despite mudslides and earthquakes in guatamala, despite earthquakes and landslides in pakistan and indian, despite poor foo-foo’s on-again-off-again appendicitis, despite amber’s brother nearly killing himself in a drunk-driving accident then running from the cops and climbing on top of a barn threatening to throw himself off…

despite all that…

i feel all right with the world.

here’s why:
we spent our weekend like this:

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

we also watched a helluva flick entitled born into brothels. highly recommended times 100.

in other news,

bean sends bb! one more reason to hate bloody wal-mart.

Comments

Actually, you can’t blame Wal-Mart for that. The employee is the responsible party for contacting the police. It doesn’t say that the employee was doing this under the guidance of Wal-Mart.

Posted by: scoville

true, true…

Posted by: jdoublep

i haven’t felt this aware on a monday morning in i don’t know how long

Ethical Dilemma

This test only has one question, but it’s a very important one. By giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand ethically.
The test features an unlikely, completely fictional situation in which you will have to make a decision. Remember that your answer needs to be honest, yet spontaneous. Please scroll down slowly and give due consideration to each line.
You are in New Orleans, Louisiana to be specific. There is chaos all around you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding. This is a flood of biblical proportions.
You are a photojournalist working for a major newspaper, and you’re caught in the middle of this epic disaster. The
situation is nearly hopeless. You’re trying to shoot career-making photos. There are houses and people swirling around you…some disappearing under the water. Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury.
Suddenly you see a man floundering in the water. He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris.
You move closer…somehow the man looks familiar. You suddenly realize who it is.
It’s George W. Bush!
At the same time you notice that the raging waters are about to take him under … forever.
You have two options:
You can save the life of G.W.Bush, or …you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo, documenting the death of one of the world’s most powerful men.
So here’s the question, and please give an honest answer:

 
Would you select high contrast color film, or would you go with the classic simplicity of black and white?

Comments

This joke never gets old.

Posted by: Bean

Ethical Dilemma