Sunday, May 21

Hey folks!

It's been a good week and a good day. Why? Because I got to hang out with Neal and that's the best time ever. We drafted Magic Friday night at the Den and Neal won and I got 4th, because we're hot shit. Then we went to Shitty Smitty's today at noon, for what I thought was a sealed deck tournament, but it turned out to be a Type I constructed deck tourney for 3.50. (Enter long magic rant that nobody will enjoy or understand but me:) Since it was so friggin cheap, we decided to play anyway even though we didn't have set Type I decks. We grabbed some decks we already had and played and Neal got 5th and I got 2nd! All I can say is woot, we are some fantastical magical bitches in a matchup. There were only 11 kids there so the prizes were only a pack for 5th and three packs for 2nd, but considering the winning deck was insanely pricey and everyone else came in prepared and we weren't, I think we rocked.

The only problem is that Smitty, the store owner, is an anal douchebag. Seriously, he's so anal about the rules. It wasn't even a sanctioned tournament, it was just casual! So he yelled at me for not tapping my lands 90 degrees (they were tapped like 60 & nobody cares!!), and after a game I was putting the lands back into my deck spread apart and he yelled at me for stacking. Since I'd be shuffling for the next 10 minutes anyway waiting for others to finish their matches, it was just him being anal and bitchy. My opponent, kids next to me and kids across the table all backed me up that it was a moot point, and Smitty got so pissed off he started swearing at me and us, ("FUCK YOU GUYS!!") and threatened to kick me out of his store, ("If you don't like it you can GET OUT of my STORE!). He also yelled at us for watching other games after we were done and waiting for the next match to begin, and not staying in our "assigned seats." Smitty and his store are a joke amongst players b/c he has no people skills or business skills, and I almost got kicked out because of my sarcasm and pointing out his lameness to Smitty.

So after the tourney, we went to Neal's house and spent the next 20 minutes drawing a picture of Smitty's School Bus, with Smitty as the bus driver yelling "Stay in your assigned seats!" and shaking his fist vehemently. The bus had run into a kid who was saying in his dying breaths, "but I tapped my mana correctly...". The bus was also on fire. One kid in the back was on fire yelling "I have to PEE!" (b/c Smitty has no bathroom in his store). The next kid up was saying "I want to leave!" another kid said, "this chair hurts my spine" (b/c Smitty's chairs are cheap). We drew two magic cards, labeled "same magic card" with one at 8.00 and one at 12.00, b/c I noticed that Smitty charged those prices for a magic card and I laughed at his lack of competency in establishing a price for his cards. There were cards spewn about labeled "Expensive magic cards--(Smitty doesn't know where they are)" b/c Smitty is very disorganized, just has piles of cards, and when I requested to see some cards he couldn't find them, insisting, "I know where they are, I just can't find them." Once, we saw a Black Lotus on top of one of these piles. For those of you who don't know, a Black Lotus is THE best, most expensive card out of the 6000 cards printed and sells for $750 on ebay. The fact that it was just sitting there --unprotected!-- next to uncommons is the pinnacle of Smitty's incompetence. After seeing if the Den would hang it up (denied) we posted it on Smitty's door. He was closed b/c he has shitty shitty hours and just leaves whenever he wants, randomly. I wonder what he'll think?///////////////////////-----------------------BOOYAH!! Well now my enter key stopped working so it's all cluster-fucked. Anway, I leave next Saturday for Anchorage, Alaska and then I'll be transported all over the place. If you want to contact me write me an old fashioned letter like the pioneers used to do: My Name SAGA HC 52 Box 8855 Indian, AK 99540. Have a great summer/fall. I'll miss a lot of you. ~Peace out, wiggas.

Thursday, May 11

Barfy barfy barf. I have a tummy ache. Perhaps I should get a gerbil.

I have a dentist appointment (I hope they don't do a cavity search) at two, then an Empire State College meeting with my advisor at three. La-dee-frickin'-dah.

I went to Alfred to see James and Killian Monday, which was really fun. It was James' birfday. James = 23/as old as my grandpa, but we love him anyway.

It is cold and wet outside. Maybe I should put some pants on. There is quite the breeze goin' on.

I'm also supposed to go sharpen ye old chainsaw, then finish cutting up that massive tree today. If I don't do something fun soon I'm going to start dressing like the Village People and torching the houses of maidens. I wish I had a megaphone, doo dah day. I need to go play outside or inside with my friends.

I'm going to miss Halloween this year because I fly back from Alaska on the 31st of Octoberfest. What a major nutjob. And I was doing so well planning my costume out too. Regardless, I'm still dressing up and robbing folks of their candy. I like chocolate now. I used to not.

I hope Alaska isn't cold like how it is outside now. Yesterday was hot like the 70's, and now it's 62 and feels colder. I was told in the mornings it's in the 50's then heats up a bit. If I have to spend the next five months in cold 50 degree weather, I'll have no choice but to wear a hat. Insane in the membrane. Demons!


Thursday, May 4

Top Reasons I am Awesome:1.) Because2.) Shut up3.) I don't have to explain myself to you.So, I was at Alfred from Friday to Tuesday. It was hot dog weekend so drinking was prominent throughout the community. I didn't have much to drink though, not that people believed me. I remained sober so as to pick on drunks. AJ didn't have a cigarette so he wanted to fight someone. I was like, "Okay, let's go." After I beat his ass the first two rounds he became very apologetic for "underestimating" me, yet grew internally angry. I was slightly afraid of how pissed off he was that I was kicking his ass. Round three was actually close, but I decided to tap out when he got ahold of my neck and told me he could break it. I didn't know we were going all out, wtf? I was fighting so as to not cause death, just pain. Whatever. In the end, he complained for the rest of the night because he had rug burns all over him from head to toe and some bruises, while I went unscathed. I am always underestimated. In the end, it was too tiring to continue so we celebrated with waffles and beer.Josh and Dustin's friend Jeremiah (Jerry) came up too. He's an amazing musician and a good guy so that was fun. He played his guitar, god-like, but he also is proficient at drums, piano and the trumpet. It was sweet just chilling in their apartment having him perform for us any song we wanted. It was our own little concert for free. Jerry is seriously great. And when I say great, I mean awesome.Josh ended up having a terrible weekend. The following is an unbiased explanation:The girl he's been pursuing for the last six months kept giving him I-don't-knows to his askings out, then just started dating his friend (we'll call him Fucktard) Friday. What a slap. I don't know if it's the indirectness or what that's most bothersome. If she had said, "I'm never going to date you" plainly, that would be fine. But leading someone on blows. Then there's the fact that Fucktard totally ignored Josh when he clearly knew Josh's feelings for her... Inconsiderate, bastardly, required beat-down material. The week before Josh had asked kindly if there was anything going on between those two to Fucktard, and Fucktard flipped out (now we know Josh's worries were justified). Then there's the fact that said girl's brother is Josh's best friend. The night they hooked up, her brother almost had to get hospitalized for overdrinking and the whole time Josh stayed at the apartment to look after him. Josh is a good guy: he means well and he'll take a bullet for you. It would be nice to know that the good guy got the girl for once. I think it has to do with being less aggressive. To get a girl, being their friend doesn't work. Girls are too dumb and they never consider dating you seriously. You have to be direct and forward, and you can't worry about stepping on other guys's toes to win her. Fuck that. (Mind you, my advice on how to get girls shouldn't be taken seriously as it has not been personally tested, but I still have my theories.)Everyone in that apartment has had a horrible year relationship-wise. It's drama. It's heartache. It's depression-inducing. It almost makes me feel good that I've avoided relationships. Even the few times I do get involved, it comes back to fuck with me.So one night, freshman year, I made out with some attractive girl visiting for the day. She wanted to have done more(me), but I didn't want a one-night-stand deal, so it ended at making out. I don't really know how I made it happen, but I suspect that my utter lack of sleep was responsible. Lack of sleep causes you to act drunk/not be your normal self. Said girl was here last weekend. Awkward moments like that suck. Except it wasn't too awkward, because she is a total horndog so she spent all her time trying to get various people to sleep with her, instead of talking to me. Should I mention that she is married and has a one-year-old and she's 18? Sure! That's a fun fact!I lost my motorcycle key. That was neat. I was stranded there an extra two days. Luckily, my dad had the key number so it was easy to make a new one. Were it not for that, I would still be in Alfred to this very day.The weekend was good. Not overwhelming, but good. I enjoy seeing my friends. The group really isn't the same without Bob, Derek and Christian. Mark and Nick live across campus. So the apartment is now Josh, Brian, Dustin, Dave, James and Killian. Honestly, it's just nowhere near as fun at Alfred as it once was, with Bob, Derek, Brian, Mark, Nick, Dustin, and Christian at Tefft.======================================================================================I'm tired.I'm supposedly driving my bike up the 7.5 hr drive to Vermont tomorrow. It's going to be cold, a long drive, and sucky. 7.5 hrs is way too long on a bike. My thoughts drive me crazy. I don't like to be stuck forced by myself for extended periods of time. I need music. In a car, it's totally different because it's relaxing, easy, and musically jammin'. On a bike it's windy, loud, and tiring. I mean, I'm all for riding on a warm, sunny day--but long road trips in the cold suck ass. The fact that I'm tired now and unexcited about going doesn't help either. I should be excited. Neal is as fun a person as anyone I know, but I'm not. It makes me feel bad inside. And I'll only see Caitlin for a day.Seriously, what the hellish waste am I doing? What I really want is to just sleep in tomorrow and relax, but there's a time pressure because Caitlin leaves Thursday and pretty soon school's over anyway. This would be far more rewarding if at the end of the road trip there was a cash prize. But I'm pretty sure there isn't. This only furthers my depression. I'm masochistic for my friends.=================================I think my self-esteem is bipolar. Sometimes, like now, I don't feel like I'm interesting at all and I don't understand why people are happy. Usually I repress this side and don't show it to anyone. I'd doubt if anyone knew how I was. One time I thought about buying "The Power of Positive Thinking," but then I thought, "what the hell good will that do?" Other times I'm hyper and giddy and silly and love being me and love other people. It's things like this that convince me my brain chemistry is retarded. Or maybe there's a shrunken leprechaun controlling my brain and he just likes to fuck with me. It should be one or the other. Not both.I'm fucking tired. Fuck this. I hope I feel better in the morning.As always, leave a comment if you like Ding-dongs,~Peace

Wednesday, May 3

Fuck this shit, I'm moving to ALASKA!

You heard right, bitches. Polar bear country, the North Pole, the Tundra...has anything ever called your name so strongly? Of course not! Everybody wants to live in Alaska, but I'm beating you all to it. Some girl called me up (because I gave her my number) and after I blew her away with my impressive-style interviewing skills for about an hour on the phone, she's goes off on a tangent complimenting me and all my answers and says she's just going to give me the opening (there were 2 left) because I'm such a cool guy. So I'm like, "Sure, whatever, toots." After I hear cheering in the background (I guess I was so cool they put me on speakerphone), we say our goodbyes and part ways.

So when do I leave, you ask? Later this month. Apparently they want me there like a hero. So my summer of college classes gets delayed until the fall, and instead of hanging out with all the cool people from high school, I'll be hanging out with Muskrats and Mooses.

I only work 4 days a week, with one day a week of "educational activities" such as white water rafting and parasailing. And I get 900 bucks a month, with food and housing paid. But really, there isn't housing. I sleep in tents and cabins. Woopty-friggin-do!

So yeah, I'll leave May 27th for Anchorage and won't return until October 31st. This means I'll have to get in some serious hanging-out time with all my friends returning from college in the next three weeks. This means YOU (providing you're my friend). Otherwise, bugger off stranger. I don't want no weirdos stalking me! Unless you're hot. I would also prefer it if you were female. Optimally, you should be a Chinese Immigrant. If this is the case, stalk me all you like. Unless I tell you to stop. But if you keep stalking me, I secretly won't mind, even though I might say otherwise. And if you tell all your hot college girl friends to stalk me, I wouldn't mind that either. Especially, if they are part ninja or part pirate. But don't do it if you don't want to. Seriously. I can do alright on my own.

Anyways, farewell assassins! Good luck finding me in Alaska! (It's the ultimate hideout).

Cpjunkie6: hey Roberto!
Cpjunkie6: what's goin on, buddy?
Cpjunkie6: i just got done with my shift

Robertotunison: yo
Robertotunison: who is this?
Cpjunkie6: um
Cpjunkie6: your worst enemy
Robertotunison: thats unfortunate
Cpjunkie6: yes
Cpjunkie6: yes it is
Cpjunkie6: who's the icon?
Robertotunison: me
Cpjunkie6: you think you're so cool with those aviators don't u?
Robertotunison: yeah, looking like lenny kravitz
Cpjunkie6: or...lenny from the Simpsons!
Robertotunison: ...
Robertotunison: yeah
Cpjunkie6: you're very agreeable tonight, aren't you?
Robertotunison: i suppose
Cpjunkie6: is something wrong?
Robertotunison: no
Cpjunkie6: did you eat a goldfish?
Robertotunison: god i wish
Cpjunkie6: did you see a rusty mailbox?
Robertotunison: but who is this?
Cpjunkie6: did your hat fall in the toilet?
Robertotunison: i recieved a rusty trombone
Cpjunkie6: oh no!
Cpjunkie6: i hate when that happens
Cpjunkie6: and it happens all the time
Cpjunkie6: did you receive it while assuming the position?
Cpjunkie6: you don't have to answer that
Robertotunison: hell yes i did
Robertotunison: but who is this
Cpjunkie6: you don't know
Robertotunison: like, how would i know you
Robertotunison: i really dont
Robertotunison: casey?
Cpjunkie6: haha
Cpjunkie6: quit reading the profile
Cpjunkie6: you're an astute learner
Cpjunkie6: props, man. props.
Robertotunison: but how do i know you?
Cpjunkie6: i used to live nearby
Robertotunison: is that so?
Cpjunkie6: and i would observe your behaviors with powerful binoculars
Cpjunkie6: and i was feeling chipper so i thought i'd give ya a ring
Cpjunkie6: in IM form
Robertotunison: ah ha
Cpjunkie6: i hope you're not too busy
Robertotunison: nope
Cpjunkie6: b/c all i do is distract people
Robertotunison: not at all
Cpjunkie6: good
Robertotunison: ehhh, i need to leave
Cpjunkie6: mooooo!
Cpjunkie6: i mean, nooooo!
Robertotunison: but seriously, how are we related?
Cpjunkie6: not by blood
Cpjunkie6: trust me
Cpjunkie6: i would know

Robertotunison: as i know
Cpjunkie6: we can talk again sometime
Cpjunkie6: when i'm feeling equally mysterious
Cpjunkie6: or on a whim
Cpjunkie6: or when i'm drunk
Cpjunkie6: anyways, you should probably get back to your Cartoon Network
Robertotunison: hah
Cpjunkie6: later dude
Robertotunison: or my gov
Cpjunkie6: gov sucks
Cpjunkie6: when are your finals?
Robertotunison: dont play this shit, i need to know who you are
Robertotunison: tuesday
Cpjunkie6: cool
Robertotunison: i have a com136 exam tomorroa
Cpjunkie6: you can celebrate at Ruby Tuesdays
Cpjunkie6: eww

Robertotunison: an i had a calc exam tomorrow
Cpjunkie6: you had it tomorrow?
Cpjunkie6: interesting
Robertotunison: i had it today
Robertotunison: silence
Cpjunkie6: never!
Cpjunkie6: i work on a symbiotic verbalist relationship
Robertotunison: is that so, i work on logos based relationships
Robertotunison: so, what is your relation to me
Cpjunkie6: i'm more of a Legos person
Robertotunison: hmm, how unfortunate
Cpjunkie6: i have no relationship to you
Cpjunkie6: although we probably have stuff in common
Robertotunison: no, but there is a relation, one that is prompted by you instant messaging me
Cpjunkie6: like, I ate a hamburger once
Robertotunison: one that is based on my ignorance of who you are
Cpjunkie6: hamburgers are delicious
Cpjunkie6: i would eat one now, but i'm full of ravioli
Cpjunkie6: if you find out who i am, will you stop talking to me?

Robertotunison: hah
Robertotunison: maybe
Cpjunkie6: b/c seriously, I need a break
Robertotunison: yeah, i seriously need to leave
Cpjunkie6: Tom&Jerry will do that to a man
Robertotunison: hah
Robertotunison: hells ya
Robertotunison: frisbee?
Robertotunison: drmcninja?
Cpjunkie6: i like frisbee
Robertotunison: myspace?
Cpjunkie6: ultimate frisbee
Robertotunison: yeah
Robertotunison: you play
Robertotunison: ?
Cpjunkie6: yeah
Robertotunison: is that how you know me?
Cpjunkie6: no
Robertotunison: damn
Cpjunkie6: Dr McNinja?
Cpjunkie6: is that a real doctor?
Cpjunkie6: sounds like a cool guy

Robertotunison: uhh, if thats how you knew me, you would know
Robertotunison: oh he is
Cpjunkie6: i wish i had a ninja for a doctor
Cpjunkie6: you're a clever clever guy
Cpjunkie6: just like my friend Ted
Robertotunison: you are a royal ass
Cpjunkie6: yeah, I'm familiar with the comic
Cpjunkie6: i'm just messin with you
Robertotunison: yeah
Cpjunkie6: i like to think that more parts of me are royal, not just my ass
Cpjunkie6: but thanks for noticing!

Robertotunison: yeah
Robertotunison: peace
Cpjunkie6: peace
Robertotunison is away at 1:05:53 PM.

If you're wondering, no I don't have any idea who this guy is. I was bored. And yes, he was correct in guessing I found his screen name from Dr. McNinja. Props to him! Somehow, Roberto kept his temper and stayed classy--how unfortunate. Anywho, I'm out.


Monday, May 1

I bring good news!

wait...wait, wait, wait...

Okay, I was lying.

~the incarnation of jazz

Thursday, April 20

A pirate walks into a bar and the bartender says, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What happened, you look terrible!"
"What do you mean?" the pirate replies, "I'm fine."
The bartender says, "But what about that wooden leg? You didn't have that before."
"Well," says the pirate, "We were in a battle at sea and a cannon ball hit my leg but the surgeon fixed me up, and I'm fine, really."
"Yeah," says the bartender, "But what about that hook? Last time I saw you, you had both hands."
"Well," says the pirate, "We were in another battle and we boarded the enemy ship. I was in a sword fight and my hand was cut off but the surgeon fixed me up with this hook, and I feel great, really."
"Oh," says the bartender, "What about that eye patch? Last time you were in here you had both eyes."
"Well," says the pirate, "One day when we were at sea, some birds were flying over the ship. I looked up, and one of them shat in my eye."
"So?" replied the bartender, "what happened? You couldn't have lost an eye just from some bird shit!"
"Well," says the pirate, "I really wasn't used to the hook yet."

Wednesday, April 19

Small Thoughts

-I don't have enough panda blood in me.

this is what panda blood looks like:

-my dog is old

-I'm going to Vermont tomorrow to see Neal and Caitlin on my bike. I should probably look up directions. Or pack something.

-I don't have HIV because I'm genetically superior to Africans.

-I am a coward. Like the dog, Courage. But I am not a cartoon. Or a dog.

-I hate Snoop Dogg. Eminem and Ludacris is where it's at. Also, Dr. Dre.

-Children's songs make a great addition to any music compilation. I have a playlist that it is physically impossible to listen to without laughing. I created it and I think it shows what I'm all about. I love it!

-Some children's show characters--like Elmo, Barney, and the teletubbies--stir up much more hatred than joy. Others, like Big Bird or Cookie monster, are all about pure joy.

-Today, I was a lumberjack. I sang myself a lumberjack tune I made up. It goes like this:

I am a lumberjack!
Hear me roar!
Chop Chop Chop!
Chop to the floor!
Split you bastard
do what I say!
I chop this wood till I'm old
or gray!

Lumberjacks! Lumberjacks!
with pancakes for breakfast
Everyone likes a lumberjack!
and pancakes for lunch!

Roar Roar Roar!
Lumberjack power!
I've been splitting wood
For over an hour!

Fuck this shit
this wood is dumb!
Where's my oxen
when you need 'em?

-Muscles beat out fiestiness any day of the week.

-Except Thursdays.

-I want to build myself a Wheel of Adjectives. When I get an apartment, I will hang it on my wall. It will include words like: super, awesome, extreme, mega-sick, ultra-cool, fabulous, fantastic, supreme, orgasmic, and dumb.

-Kazoos suck.

-I'm always in search of food. Foodstores are my hidden enemy.

-A boolay boolay boolay!!!!

-I enjoy the Dunkin Donuts commercial that insinuates donuts promote hard work and better efficiency. Because clearly, they do the opposite. If I was a donut, that's what I'd do.

-I also saw Scrubs and Teachers today. They fit my style and I enjoy them greatly.

-My family is strange but still boring. If I didn't have to know them, I would choose not to. Also, all my cousins are 5-10 years older than me, and the only one younger is 9 years younger. Also, all of my cousins are female, my aunts are way too talky, and my uncles are too serious. Consequently, the people they associate with also suck. I bring this up because I was forcibly attending a "Lilac Party" today. Yes. It was called that. There wasn't a face in the room that didn't need a good uppercutting. The food was good though.

-PT-141, "For the couple who has been together a long time and has just let sex fall by the wayside as a natural consequence of the stresses of life, this could be a good way to get it back in the relationship," he said. I think inhaling your sex drive is a good step towards the roboticizing of humans. Hooray for robots!

-Seriously, what the hell. If they come out with a product to fix every genetic fallibility of humans, how am I supposed to stay superior? Anti-aging creams, hairloss products, hair dyes, Viagra, Valtrex...the list goes on. Pretty soon, diseased, balding old people will be as good at sex as ME and I cannot let this happen!

-I should go to bed.

Sunday, April 16

This is my favorite theorem.

I have another message for all you mothers out there:

Lastly, I would have to say I am an acceptable drunk. I mean, drunks usually are not as easy to deal with as normal, fully-conscious adults are, but I think the amount of joy I brought to others surpassed the negativity.

Joy I brought to others-
-dancing by myself
-falling off the trampoline/inability to get back up
-stupid comments I said
-remembering names of others
-setting gummy worms on fire/eating them
-I remember a couple occasions where people around me collapsed from laughter and I'm pretty sure I was responsible...I just don't know what I did.

Negativity I brought upon others-
-throwing banana peppers at random people who didn't know me
-demanding money from some girl I didn't know because she didn't know my name
-apparently I was repetitive in my conversation material to Brian
-knocking over cups in Beer pong?? (I have no memory of this)

Acceptable Behavior-
-peeing in the appropriate receptacle instead of in wastepaper baskets
-not whipping out my cock and running around with it
-not driving
-not starting fights
-not harassing/"hitting on" the pretty girls...or any girls for that matter. Flirting is a delicate and ancient art which should be designated for only sober, coherent, skillful people. Or the good-looking.

Honestly, I was doing alright for most of the night. I could walk, talk, go undefeated in ping pong, win at video games, foosball, say witty things and generally stay in control of my actions. That's when Mr. Boston (aka the 100 proof death liquid) entered my life. I recall several, or possibly all, people saying it was a bad idea to finish it. I think I was the ONLY one who thought it was a good idea to finish it. So I did. It was awful and terrible and there was a lot. Needless to say, after this my night became a haze until I eventually woke up with the thought, "I don't remember going to sleep!?"

Anyway, I don't mean to condone drinking, but seriously...what does anyone need TWO kidneys for? Really. One brain is stomach, one heart, one liver. I mean, what if we had two of everything? What if I had TWO penises? You see what I mean? It's unnecessary. Not necessarily worthless...but it's not required to live.

Getting hopelessly gone is about risk-taking. It's about being able to make a complete ass of yourself in front of your friends and total strangers as well. Many people are not prepared to take that risk, so they drink only moderately if at all. We all want to be a little cautious. Noone wants to wake up hearing stories of how you peed on the dog while giggling or how you punched a drunk girl in the face because she was making fun of your beard, but that's a risk I'm prepared to take. In the middle of the night I recall kicking--what turned out to be--Hillary in the chest out of confusion. I thought it was just a mass of blankets and I was cold and wanted a blanket, but when it groaned I realized there must be a person there so I did not get the blanket.

There's obviously an embarrassment factor and the risk of being a jerk or annoying, but throughout the night there was a group of people surrounding me (by choice) wherever I went, so I think that is testament alone that I wasn't too bad. And when the following morning, as people start waking up and I sit quietly eating my Dirty Rice Mix, most of the conversation revolves around things you allegedly did...coupled with laughter...I'd say that's a good thing.

I've yet to figure out why I never get a hangover or throw up, because I've definitely had plenty more than I should be able to handle. I think it's genetics. More and more, I'm getting the feeling that my parents were once totally crazy alcoholics in college, and as their tolerance went up, a super durable set of genetics for kidneys was developed which I later inherited (through the process of reproduction). I hope this is the case. The other possibility is that I am Superman. That would SUCK because once people found out, they would be slipping kryptonite in my drinks as a practical joke, and I would later die. KRYPTONITE DEATHS ARE THE WORST!!!

Tuesday, April 11

End of the World?

It was 12 hours before Cameron would either face serious complications that would change her forever. Or be dead. Or forced to make a decision for human kind.

Cameron didn’t know this of course. Very few people knew anything was happening at all in fact. Though it concerned everyone, the public was certainly not allowed this knowledge. Only those on the inside knew the irrefutable evidence that spelled the end of mankind at all. And they weren’t ready to reveal it yet. There were no underground fortresses that the rich and powerful could retreat to. It was one of those unavoidable Apocalypses predestined from the beginning of time, starting with the generation of a star many galaxies away.

Movies about the end of the world always had a way around it. There was always a hidden solution that, through the actions and brainpower of one man, could save mankind. How many alien invasions had been stopped against all odds in the movies? How many natural disasters had domino-ed out of control because of human irresponsibility, only to result in the partial yet surmountable devastation of our planet? Movies always had a solution. The questions of how mankind would end usually stemmed from aliens or people, and sometimes mother nature, but despite her bad rep., our mother doesn’t really want the destruction of everyone. Sometimes she punishes with a tsunami, hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards, earthquakes. Every now and then she has an ice age or a volcanic eruption, but she generally looks out for her children on the whole, no matter how badly we mistreat her.

Movies were made this way because they were exciting. They were built on a level on which we could identify. People felt so empowered that if disaster struck, they could assume the role of the hero and save the world. Movies often created a scenario spawned from human arrogance to get us mad about the current events that each movie goer--individually--was not responsible, then allowed them to picture themselves saving the day, winning the girl, and receiving countless gratitude from everyone. Even if the audience didn’t see themselves as the hero, they at least agreed there was a hero. Then they left the theater and went about their lives.

If men went out each night and just gazed at the stars, they would realize how insignificant they really were. The sky alone belittles you, then compound the thousands of stars you can see, the trillions you can’t...the galaxies and black holes outnumber each man, woman and child at least 100 to 1. Gazing out at the Universe was enough to capture the curiosity of minds like Galileo, but pretty soon, humans realized it was just too much to handle. That’s why we sleep indoors. That’s why we wait for our favorite television programs to start at half-hour intervals, our lights turned on, our microwaves heating up some processed prepackaged foods, only to be interrupted with a cell phone call from a same-age friend. Once our alarms tell us to wake up, we consume our store-bought food, or not, visit our favorite web sites, shower and brush our teeth. Some of us floss and apply make-up, tweeze eyebrows and shave, make to-do lists and finally, once we’re good and ready–we leave the house. Leaving the house takes a lot of energy. How can you face the world without preparing? That’s insane.

If we’re lucky enough to live in a community of same-wage, same-jobbed workers, our timing might coincide so that we see our neighbors getting into their cars. We take pleasure in waving hello to our neighbors––interacting. The hand wave proves to your neighbors that you are a success. You go out and do things. You see the world. Sometimes, we’ll pass them on the road in a traffic jam, at a stop light, or see their car at a gas station. If not, the same people will be back in their cubicles or offices the next day. We can say hello to them.

If someone’s talented enough, hard work can let them advance their way through the ranks to one day get the reward of a large, fancy office with big glass windows overlooking the sunny horizon. You get to see the other man-built buildings--some bigger, some smaller. You learn to recognize landmarks so that you can point them out to visitors of your mighty palace. You look down at pedestrians marching the Madison Avenue below like ants. And you laugh at how small they look.

Do ants laugh at how big we are? They shouldn’t, right? They should recognize that they are inferior because they are smaller. They might laugh at how big we are. They might laugh at how complicated we make our lives when it is so very simple. You look for a leaf and bring it back. No, they don’t laugh. Ants are too busy running their path to help the colony and help the queen. Their lives are simple, but busy. Ant researchers consider ants productive. Ants are very productive...always running, always following organized lines and paths. Every ant has a job to do, and every ant does it as fast as the next ant.

We agree that ants are productive, as a colony. Therefore, it’s logical to say that the colony is a product of the individuals. Therefore, every ant is productive. But what can a single ant do in the course of its lifetime? Deliver bits of food from one spot to another? How many ants have you squished in your lifetime, just to enjoy its stopped movement? Got ants in your house? Just go to the store and buy some ant killer product. In the meantime, enjoy squishing and stomping as many as you can. Be sure to yell in frustration at their number, or at least grunt, “stupid ants” as your shoe compresses them against your tiled floor.

Over the course of their lifetime, an entire colony does nothing but build an anthill. They manage to sustain their life and reproduce to ensure another generation of ants. They eat and sleep and shit and eat, and when it’s all over, they’ve paved the way for at least as many organisms. So goes the life of the hardworking, successful ant. We’re not even mentioning the unsuccessful ants. Those are generally the ants that find themselves beneath your Nike sneaker or, getting so caught up in their mission to fetch more pieces of potato chip, they fail to notice the impending footsteps of joggers in the park. Squish. Not even so much as that. A squished ant is so insignificant, it does not even make a sound when it is squished. (Try to listen for it next time. It doesn’t exist.)

You, the astute reader, probably think I’m about to point out that humans are just like ants. Sure, we’re on a different scale of importance than them, but we’re on a scale nonetheless. We’re better than all other forms of life, so that means we’re kickass, right? I know, we are kickass. We’re better than any other organism we know of in almost any measurable trait. So what if we can’t lift six times our body weight like an ant? That’s not important. We can’t fly? Not important. We can’t breath underwater? Not important. The important thing is that we’re smarter. That’s why we’re the best. The most advanced. The most significant of EVERYTHING that ever lived. If you wanted to be a jerk, you could start getting ahead of me: “But we’re not as significant as EVERYTHING, Mr. Author. What about people that lived before us? Some people were more important than we are.”

I was getting to that. Only one man can fill the title of “Most Significant Man Ever to Live.” Everyone else that has ever existed is inferior. Who was the most significant man? To win this honor, they must have accomplished a lot, been a super-genius, had contact with all the current technology, all the right people, received the best education, and paved the way for future generations. He must have worked his whole life, preferably a LONG life, to make a difference for as much of mankind as possible. His innovations and contributions would have been years ahead of his time, not a few months ahead of the next leading scientist....Did I say scientist? Were scientists the most significant? Inventors? World Leaders? War generals?

No one has ever been so superior to clearly, indisputably be labeled “THE” best. We break it down and say so-and-so was “one of” the best, or “the leader...a leader... in the the time.” And this is good enough. Everyone can’t be the best. We can only do what we can do.

We were born into a certain part of the world in a certain culture, with a certain amount of money, with a certain amount of possessions. We were born with a certain family, living next to certain neighbors, near a certain school where we would befriend certain people. Our family teaches us the language of the area, then we are educated and trained according to our upbringing to meet societal and family standards. Sometimes we are born into an inner-city ghetto, raised by Tibetan monks or orphaned and forced into prostitution before we are teenagers. Sometimes we are raised by the King of Qatar. We’re generally born male or female, healthy or diseased, Asian or African, with the genes that determine whether we’ll be 6'3" or 4' 11". It’s fun to see how different we are--how we’re all born into different lives. From afar, we’re all the same.

Ants actually have several jobs. They aren’t all food gatherers. Some nurture the young, some protect the colony from invaders. Some reproduce with the Queen to father the entire next generation. Ants are born into their roles of Queen, Soldier, Worker, Nurturer, different sizes and everything, just like us.

But who cares about their different jobs? Ants are just ants. You wouldn’t know anything about their hierarchy unless you saw it on Animal Planet anyway. Who cares about foreign affairs that aren’t on the news? Who cares about anything your community isn’t talking about? If it doesn’t affect your life, there’s no point. You’ll work your nine to five shift, if you’re lucky enough to have a job, you’ll go home and deal with your personal life. That’s all you have time for. You fill your niche in society the same as every other living organism there ever was.

So why am I telling you all this? Why do you want to hear that people aren’t so great after all? Why do you want to hear that you’re not different from other organisms, or that you’re less important than other people around you? All your life you’ve been told that you are special. That you are unique and you have something to offer that no one else can. Maybe you were skeptical, but most people accept it because it’s easiest. It’s fun to believe we’re interesting and different, ignoring the fact that even if you’re one in a million, there’s still seven thousand people just like you. You don’t want to hear this. You shouldn’t want to hear this. Nobody wants to have their life torn down by somebody and told it counts for nothing because in 100 years they will be dead. In a thousand years, a hundred thousand, in a billion years....what will our life’s accomplishments have meant? Since there’s nothing to do about it, the only thing to do is ignore it. We do what we can do. The rest is immaterial.

Remember Cameron? She was 12 hours away from saving humanity. But how could she? What were the circumstances? An exploding sun had directed a planet–not an asteroid but a planet–the size of Jupiter to a collision course with Earth. No number of missiles or atomic bombs could divert it’s path as it hurtled at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour through space. Fact was, Cameron didn’t know she was 12 hours from saving humanity and she would never get the opportunity to. No one would. In 12 hours, Earth would be a lumped addition on a slowed but steadily rocketing planet. All life would be instantly ended. Soon Earth would no longer be a part of the Milky Way, the galaxy we considered “our” galaxy. Would it still be the Milky Way without Earth in it? No. Without people, there would be no names. Every accomplishment ever made by humans would be erased like a bulldozed ant hill. Billions of years later, when other intelligent life forms mastered space travel in a way we never could and warped through space rifts as easily as British munch down scones for breakfast visited the Milky Way, they would ascertain that there were no conditions for life forms and that there never were. Not in this galaxy. They would leave as fast as they had come. There was nothing to see here. They would never know that once, a long, long time ago, there was.

Like this:

Saturday, April 8

I don't know whether I'm pissed off at MySpace or not. Facebook, Xanga and Myspace suck the life out of you. Well they can. I have a force shield that protects my soul from the inherent evils of these sites. People love egocasting. Talking about themselves and broadcasting it in an 'innocent' way. And everybody naively thinks that the only people watching their profiles on these sites are their peers.

Wrong, dildo-face.

Now consider that many employers look up your name on these sites as part of their background checks. Sexual predators? Love these sites. "You love such and such a band too? And you're a sucker for men in top hats? Meet me at the candy shop at 5:00!" Myspace is a heavenly wealth of information:

MySpace knows their users basic info, name, email, age, etc. Then it also knows their friends, their friends data, their favorite bands, the way they speak, who they like, who they don't. Heck it can probably run a simple algorithm and figure out your favorite words (assuming you use MySpace). A more complex algorithm and it can probably imitate they way you talk.

You think the basic questions "favorite books, movies, music" are for your friends to get to know you better? Bullshit. They're for marketing companies. They gather the information from the 60 million visitors on Myspace, even knowing your relationships with all your friends. The friendly get-togethers at the 7-11 parking lots of the early 90's are now conducted on everyone's personal computers after school, on a PUBLIC medium. Marketers are gathering their data to offer you products that define you to a T. Good? Creepy? Nobody that uses Myspace or facebook likely cares, but it would be refreshing if kids today were aware.

Because it might be my space or your space, but it's their data in the end...

That being said, I'd like to encourage anyone interested in this topic to read this paper. It's a paper that gets you to think about motives behind simply being a part of the sites. Myspace really is a genius company. Everyone loves Tom, the Myspace figurehead. Even people without friends can see the profiles of Tom to get accustomed to it and are encouraged to do more. Being a part of Myspace lets you in on culture. It's being with your friends. Commenting rewards both the commentor and the commented. The more you comment, the more people think about you and click back to your profile. Popularity and the 'coolness factor' goes up. Myspace rewards you for putting effort into the site. With customization, learning isn't just for nerds anymore. Myspace rolls with youth culture, the 14-24 year olds. Music is going to be huge in terms of funding for Myspace in the future. I could go on but I'll try to stop myself.

Another thing, not all "friends" are friends and no one bats an eye if someone collects hundreds of people. It's more like a process of namaste - I acknowledge your soul and you acknowledge mine. Where language inflation turns "okay" into "good" and "good" into "great," acquaintances are now listed as friends. This bugs me.

"While many did not come to Friendster to get laid (just as they say they don't go to bars to get laid), places where large numbers of hott singles hang out are bound to attract other singles, regardless of whether or not they want to admit that they're looking for sex. Friendster was a free site where people could meet other interesting people; at the same time, rejection was OK because no one was actually looking to meet someone. Sex is still the reason why people use the site..."

hahaha. I just thought this was amusing in that many people are posting ads of themselves masked as Myspace pages to increase their networking. I think in several respects, subconcious or not, the above quote isn't so far off from the truth.

Saturday, April 1

Today's topic is speed dating! *cheers*

No, I'm not talking about the the inevitable dating that occurs after a long night of hitting the pipe. Fun as that is, this is better. Speed dating is the process of meeting people rapidly. You pay a fee to enter a room chalk full of chairs. The girls circulate to the next chair when the timer goes off. Your amount of time is short, usually 4 minutes or less, to sell yourself and learn about them as well. What kinds of questions do you ask? Do you go for the things that are important to you? Or, do you go for a silly question looking for a laugh?

More and more, research is showing that first impressions all you need. This isn't cause for anxiety if you go to one of these. Quite the opposite. The scenario is so strange and silly, the environment is instead smiley and fun! While some dates (like blind dates)focus a lot of time on one person, speed dating focuses little time on lots of people. Before you get to know someone, it's time to switch to the next person! If your curiousity is picqued, you can look them up later; if not, they're gone before you know it. Speed dating parties can be found in every major city because statistics have shown it's better than watching Cartoon Network.

But you parry: "4 minutes? 4 minutes is not enough time to sell yourself. And who wants to sell themself, prostitutes aside?"

Maybe you think the idea of a four minute pitch is insane. You'd rather drink green tea and sing kumbaya with Bill O'Reilly than have streams of crazed singletons giving you four-minute pitches. If they want to just talk to you, ask three questions, or show you pictures of their pet python for four minutes, ok. But pitching is not a contact sport, nor is it suitable for "speed".

True. True. Many newcomers panic at the idea of selling themselves in so little time. How can you begin to let the potential investors understand your net worth? That is why I bring pamphlets.

Pamphlets are the best way to sell anything. Hands down. Except for hiring Chef Tony or Chuck Norris for an infomercial. But those are expensive. Pamplets are a cheap and easy alternative.

Many programs offer pamphlet-creating options(just it). Now all you need to do is highlite your best points. Be sure to use bullets (both star and triangle varieties) and pictures to illustrate your points. Pictures show how beautiful you are, and doctored photos with celebs always help. A well-made pamphlet gives you a professional-looking presentation. Be sure to bring extras to hand out to those interested. It's like a business card, but with lots of info on it. Either way, it's free--minus printing costs--advertising, and aids the presentation seven or eight fold (some research points to as much as nine-fold!!!)

Hear what people had to say about speed dating! (Quotes from

“Painless and not-creepy!” — Diane in Toronto
“It was so much fun - the people were really cool and NORMAL! — Barb in Schaumburg
“What a clever, non-threatening way to meet people. A blast!”— Lisa in Chicago

Here are some key conversation starters for your few minutes, if you attend a speed dating party. They're the questions you need the answers to.

1.)Are you that guy?

2.)Are you a liar?

3.)Can you handle a big woman? (would you want to?)

4.)Are you a sex-crazed lunatic? (why not?)

5.)Why did you sit there? Why don't you sit over there? (point to far-off location)

6.)Do you admit to having any children?

7.)How great is your hatred for trees?

8.)On a scale of 1-30, how anecdotal is your answering machine message?

9.)How often do you engage in car accidents?

10.)Do you play the piano, or any other forms of non-violence, on weekends?

11.)Are you so desperate that you have to come to these things on a weekly basis, only to find that nobody is meant for you and you're doomed for a life of miserable self-cooked meals?

12.)Does your husband/wife think you're grocery shopping like mine does?

13.)Are you living a life under false pretenses?

14.)When was the last time you did anything about the Joe Rogan situation?

15.)Are you a millionaire? and if not, please leave.

16.)Would you be offended if I told you you were unattractive and unworthy of my attention?

17.)Are you, like me, currently in violation of your parole for a crime you allegedly committed? Even if it was something as simple as armed robbery?

18.)You're that person from America's Most Wanted, aren't you? Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.
Some non-questions to say when the timer begins:

1.)You're not Angolina Jolie. Next!

2.)I do not accept hand shakes. I only accept high fives.

3.)If there weren't so many Jews around here, I'd slap you.

4.)Guess my name and win a prize! (ensure your name tag is not your real name for added fun!)

5.)I think I'm in love with Interviewee #38....(Then have your eyes glaze off dreamily. Do not respond to any questions or comments offered by current subject for entire session)

Has anyone ever tried speed or dating? I am new to both. But in all honesty, I can tell you that I already tried speed dating and met someone, actually several someone's!! It was great and if you are a loser like I was, you should try it!! Speed dating is the best thing since home cooked bread and Oreos.

~peace, as always

note: this post was made on April Fool's Day. Any and all statements made here may be false.

Thursday, March 30

I heard some reporter on the News Hour with Jim Lehrer complaining about Pirates over in Africa yesterday. Pirates make me really happy. These particular Pirates were stealing food from the Red Cross...hungry bastards. So I was thinking about Pirates, because that's what I do, and I realized the reason Pirates have beards is because shaving on a boat is dangerous! In fact, the earliest Pirates who tried to shave on ships probably killed themselves when a big wave hit the ship. As the path of surviving, non-shaving Pirates dichotomized from the dead, clean shaven ones, eventually only the beardedness prevailed. That is why Pirates have beards. I, on the other hand, have no such excuse.

I bring all this up because today, as I was walking through Wegmans, somebody mistook me for a Pirate. This mistake really made me step back from life and assess what went wrong. I think it was the eye patch. It might have been the wooden leg.

I'm trying to decide what I want to be for this Halloween when I go trick-or-treating. I figure it's best to take advantage of my non-huge build and pretend to be a child. With the help of a mask, it should be doubly easy, what with the manly man-beard hidden away. I know it may seem a little early to be thinking about Halloween seven months in advance, but Halloween is fantastic. You learn lessons about life like the importance of begging. And the importance of threats, 'cause hey, if they don't Treat, I'm going to Trick.

Good tricks are usually toilet papering, egging of property, slashing tires, and the all-powerful flaming bag-o'-poo. Human or dog poo works well, as long as there are clear indicators (like corn) that it was actually poo. Diarrhea works well too.

Since it's not suspicious-looking when you're wearing a mask, Halloween is my number one day for burglaries and crimes against humanity! (I like to practice Chinese Water torture on store clerks.) Halloween is basically the celebration of poverty(begging), starting with children from a very young age, right? People are just confused. Society praises Robin Hood for stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but hate the poor when they do it for themselves.

If you have any suggestions for my Halloween costume, I'll be taking them from now until October.


Monday, March 27

Why I Should Never Get Administrator Privileges

Everyone who's anyone has heard of the facebook. Well I created a group called, "I heart Naps" back from the start with the description "because who doesn't like naps? for realz." and put up a nifty picture that says I heart naps. Since napping is so enjoyable, the group grew to 188 members. Seeing as I only know about 30 people in Alfred, that's a considerable amount.

So what did I do? I simply changed the description:

"Naps" is codename for "masturbation."

hahaha. I thought this was very funny. 188 people now voluntarily joined a group to support playing with themselves...without knowing it! I'm so clever! This is why I shouldn't have power; I abuse it.

I'm interested to see whether anyone else notices and if anyone will leave or join the group now that its true purpose has been revealed! I don't think anyone will notice for a while because the group is so old and boring, but I got a good laugh and that's all that matters. And perhaps someone else will notice and get a good laugh too, and comment to their friends, who wouldn't know, and they would get a laugh. Laughs all around! I am the bringer of mirth.

Perhaps you'll be able to see the page here. If not, please let me know.

What do you think of all this? Leave me a memo!

love y'all

Sunday, March 26

Joke Time! (I find it's best to pause between each joke)

Anytime I see something screech across a room, and latch onto someone's neck, and the guy screams and tries to get it off, I have to laugh, because what is that thing?
As we were driving, we saw a sign that said "Watch for rocks." Marta said it should read "Watch for pretty rocks." I told her she should write in her suggestion to the highway department, but she started saying it was a joke, just to get out of writing a simple letter. And I thought I was lazy.
Children need encouragement, so if a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way, he develops a good, lucky feeling.
Contrary to what most people say, the most dangerous animal in the world is not the lion, or the tiger, or even the elephant. It's a shark, riding on an elephant's back, just trampling and eating everything they see.
Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.
I believe in making the world safe for our children, but not for our children's children, because I don't think children should be having sex.
I can still recall old Mr. Barnslow, getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to that old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped, he'd yell, "Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!" We all thought he was crazy, but then, we had some growing up to do.
I guess of all my uncles, I liked Uncle Caveman the best. We called him Uncle Caveman because he lived in a cave, and because sometimes he'd eat one of us. Later on, we found out he was a bear.
I think a good gift for the president would be a chocolate revolver, and since he's so busy, you'd probably have to run up real quick and hand it to him.
I think Superman and Santa Claus are actually the same guy, and I'll tell you why: Both fly, both wear red, and both have a beard.
I wish I had a kryptonite cross, because then you could keep both Dracula and Superman away.
If I ever opened a trampoline store, I don't think I'd call it Trampoland, because you might think it was a store for tramps, which is not the impression we are trying to convey with our store. On the other hand, we would not prohibit tramps from browsing or testing the trampolines, unless a tramp's gyrations seem to be getting out of control.
If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.
If you go through a lot of hammers each month, I don't necessarily think it means you're a hard worker. It may just mean that you have a lot to learn about proper hammer maintenance.
In weightlifting, I don't think sudden, uncontrolled urination should automatically disqualify you.
It's easy to sit there and say you'd like more money, and I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy, just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money.
It's too bad that whole families have to be torn apart by something as simple as wild dogs.
Laurie got offended that I used the word "puke", but to me, that's what her dinner tasted like.
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned out warehouse. "Oh no," I said, "Disneyland burned down." He cried and cried, but I think that deep down he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.
The memories of my family outings are still a source of strength to me. I remember we'd all pile into the car - I forget what kind it was - and drive and drive. I'm not sure where we'd go, but I think there were some trees there. The smell of something was strong in the air as we played whatever sport we played. I remember a bigger, older guy we called "Dad". We'd eat some stuff, or not, and then I think we went home. I guess some things never leave you.
The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe, but the stupid man will just lay down on some seaweed, and roll around until he's completely draped in it. Then he'll stand up and go, "Hey, I'm Vine Man."
We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients, but we can't scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.
When Gary told me he had found Jesus, I thought, Yahoo! We're rich! But it turned out to be something different.
When you go for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.
Whenever someone asks me to define love, I usually think for a minute, then I spin around and pin the guy's arm behind his back. Now who's asking the questions?
You know one thing that will really make a woman mad? Just run up and kick her in the butt. P.S.: this also works with men.
The next time I have meat and mashed potatoes, I think I'll put a very large blob of potatoes on my plate with just a little piece of meat. And if someone asks me why I didn't get more meat, I'll just say, "Oh, you mean this?" and pull out a big piece of meat from inside the blob of potatoes, where I've hidden it. Good magic trick, huh?
I wish I lived back in the old west days, because I'd save up my money for about twenty years so I could buy a solid-gold pick. Then I'd go out West and start digging for gold. When someone came up and asked what I was doing, I'd say, "Looking for gold, ya durn fool." He'd say, "Your pick is gold," and I'd say, "Well, that was easy." Good joke, huh.
A funny thing to do is, if you're out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a poisonous snake, tell him you're going to go for help, then go about ten feet and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him about who's going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That's why it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke.
I bet a fun thing would be to go way back in time to where there was going to be an eclipse and tell the cave men, "If I have come to destroy you, may the sun be blotted out from the sky." Just then the eclipse would start, and they'd probably try to kill you or something, but then you could explain about the rotation of the moon and all, and everyone would get a good laugh.
These are my favorite of the Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy. I've read them before but they're great and if you're not familiar with Jack Handy's Deep Thoughts, you should be. What you should do, honestly, is just go to that site and there's about twice as many. I selected the thoughts in the upper 30% to save you time if you're ultra lazy or if you have troubles clicking on links. Many of his jokes are formulaic, but it works. You've got to respect a master of his trade.


I am not lame for copying and pasting. CPing is what Casey does best! I am a champ!

Thursday, March 23

I feel like cutting off someone in public. Hard. Then if they feigned madness, I would know they were lying but give them the finger anyway in Japanese! If they thought they were tough or anything like that, I could always outrace them to safety in my 89' Civic. Or, on a whim, I could get out of my car and fist fight them. Except fist fights are for pussies. When he got out of his car, I would step on the gas and he would try to dodge my car while I tried to hit him. If he won at this game it wouldn't matter, because I could always send a pack of zombies over to his house when he was sleeping. Strong zombies. I would get his address by asking his family, who I would probably know because I'm popular and famous. If I didn't know his family, I would have to kill him right then because the zombies sure as hell wouldn't be able to find him without my help.

My English teacher from Alfred was this feminist champion who graded everything like we were in fourth grade like she was. She underlined words and wrote comments like, "put your thesis at the end of this paragraph," "well put," or "let's do it anal after class." She was hot but she gave me bad grades, especially on the papers I didn't turn in, so I didn't. If I was taking Mythology like Mr. Freeman, she would have graded this paper about Oedipus similarly. The paper, if you haven't seen it, is stunningly glorious like Aquafresh Toothpaste.

While you're at it, go download The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny fourteen more times to your computer. At the least. It kind of reminds me of a quick post I devised before I knew of its existence. Lemon Demon paints a better battle picture than I. I was a playhouse doodler eating crayons and he was Michaelangelo. I'd link to it, but I'm lazy. I'd be sitting on the couch right now if it weren't so far away. Also, then I'd be further from the computer and squinting. I would not typing either, because my arms aren't long enough to stretch from the living room to this room, oddly enough. One day they will be. And on that day I'll be able to enter the Long Man-Arms Competition and practically walk through to the finals and possibly win, if Billy Mays is having a bad enough day. But this is real life; it's not some Oxyclean Commercial where all the dirt is rubbed away. Sometimes you lose and you've got to accept it.

I laughed 'till I cried.

well, I just got an email of which I shall respond to because it's from my favorite pen pal I've ever had. Oh, and Kate sent me one too.


Monday, March 20

Three key things:

1.)I uppercutted a nun yesterday. It felt good because I hadn't done so in a while. And, as always, it was rewarding.

2.)I often fantasize about punching a cat. Not a kitten--a cat. But now that you mention it, punching a kitten would be nice. Square in the face would be optimal.

3.)I was wondering at what age you become uncool. It's cool to be in your 20's. It's cool to be almost 20. If you're in your teens, everyone younger than you is no longer cool. But despite this, I think all coolness ceases to exist at about 35. At this age, you can no longer act young or hip or get drunk on weekends at parties. You no longer have a chance with pretty floosies, so you better darn well be married by then. If not, the best thing to do is mope around, hanging out in bars with creepy Harley men who want to beat up people who don't act right. But me-I'm still cool. I will continue to be cool even after everyone considers me otherwise. I'll agree with them outwardly (that I'm uncool), because that's what someone cool would do, but deep down I'd know I'm still cooler than them, and I could beat them in backgammon if I wanted.

2 Weekend quotes from lunch:

Hobbit: Mary was crazy. She started talking about marriage after about a month of dating. I have the mentality of a 16 year old; I still giggle when someone says 'fart' or 'poopy'.
Joleen: Those words are funny! It doesn't mean you're immature!
James: "Dustin takes masturbation more seriously than having sex with a girl. He puts a lot more effort into it! Dustin knows it's true."
Dustin: continues eating his apple
James: "See that look? That's the look of acknowledgement!"
Dustin: "It's not necessarily that I masturbate too much--it's that I just broke up with my girlfriend and now I don't have a girlfriend to have sex with so that's not even an issue anymore."
Hobbit: "But did she break up with you because you jerk off too much?"
Dustin: "You know...I asked her that..."

I spent the weekend in Alfred. It was obviously great. I didn't wear green because I am a mutt without Irish in me. haha. Mutt. James and I were beer pong champions. Team Arab! booya. We only lost one game but it was the first game for us. We weren't warmed up. Besides, losing is better than winning sometimes. Like when you want to drink the beer. But once we got warmed up we were unstoppable and everyone lost to us. It was good to laugh at the losers who dared oppose our skills, but it was unfortunate because it meant I did not get close to drunk. James however, did. Two and a half beers makes him drunk. I'm serious. Silly James.

I did not drink on St. Pattie's day when everyone got extremely drunk though, because although my kidney's deserve punishment, since selling my right kidney on the black market for a bag of rock, I've decided to be a little more cautious. One girl was vomitting hardcore for an hour, but that is to be expected. It was her first time. What a noob.

I love everybody in Alfred though. Well, not everyone. But I love my friends from Alfred. Bob and AJ also came up and they're always hilarious, Bob a hundred times more so than anybody else. James tried not returning me, but he eventually did drive me back. It was a good deed on his part.

Today, I hung out with Neal. But he leaves tomorrow for 10 days in Hawaii. What a jerk. He's skipping four days of school to stay in Hawaii longer. We didn't hang out much because he was busy fulfilling his mother's wishes and delivering applications, but we did hang out some. I decided to visit him in late April in Vermont, since he and Caitlin have been wanting me to go since the dawn of time. And he agreed to go with me to Europe in August. That should kick ass. I might have to kill some bums to help finance the trip, or millionaires if we're on top of our game, but it'll work. The glass is half full. I'm not taking a trip to Negative Town. For example, I'll cut down on expenses by buying a one-way ticket instead of a round-trip. It's bound to work.

I don't know where I'd like to visit. I'd like to pick on the British for speaking succinctly, or the French for being rude and snobbish, or the Swedes for their cheese, or the Finish for living in Finland, or the Italians for being Italian. While I'm there though, I think I could get significantly closer to my life goal of Dragon punching at least one person of every nationality. I'll make sure Neal reminds me. Whatever I do, I'm not going to do what tourists do. I hate tourists. Taking in what the country presents to them as truth. Walking the tourist path. To see a country is not to see its landmarks or to buy souveniers that say "I went to Paris and all I got was this stupid shirt," to eat fancy cousine, or visit tourist attractions. It's to just wander the streets. I think Europe is a worse place to live, generally, than the US anyways by far, but it would be fun to see. It's good for everyone to travel in their life sometime and witness different cultures. I've lived in Japan and China, and even seen exotic places like Canada, and I just think it's worthwhile.
For the record, I hate two-part questions with a yes or no answer. If I agree with one part of the question, but disagree about the second part of the question, what do I do? It drives me nuts. Example: "Do you like Nachos and long walks on the beach?" Hell yes I like nachos, but hell no to long walks! What am I supposed to answer?! And since when do they go together? I try to rationalize it by weighing whether I like nachos more than I dislike long walks, but it sucks balls (and not in a good way). Some whoop-di-doo robot program will see I've checked yes to that question, and give me results accordingly, oblivious to the fact that the question is flawed like a villain from a fairy tale. It frizzles my tizzle. Whatever that means. So, if you are some web designing, diabolically sinister questionaire writer, quit it with the two part questions and I'll quit sending you nasty emails with virus attachments from an untraceable IP address and photoshopped but convincing photographs of your mom doing unkind things to goats.

In other news, I think a cougar is following me. And not in a good way.

ha. I totally steal lines from Canadians.


Wednesday, March 15

I had a dream last night where I was just sitting at a table in the library next to Angelina Jolie and two children. AJ and I were having a conversation, and the two children (girls about 11) were talking about kissing people with alcohol breath or something. After a while, I wasn't paying attention to the kids, and they just start booing incessantly, for no apparent reason. Then I look up and see Brian Long walking by. He doesn't notice, so I start booing directly at him. Then he turns, sees us, and joins in with the booing. (We aren't booing angrily, we're just doing it for kicks.) Then we all stop booing simultaneously, and he says "what's up guys?" in his really cheery/goofy Brian J. Long voice. Then, all I can think of is him doing Beaker impressions. Then I think, "I wish I had seen the Muppets from Space Movie."

Besides being jealous that Brian got to dish out the humor in my dream in his brief appearance, I noticed I was dreaming involving a celebrity. Besides Jackie Chan, Angelina Jolie is the only celeb to have entered my dreams that I can recall, and I have a pretty good recollection of my dreams. So while I'm a little concerned that Hollywood is making its appearance inside my subconscious, I'm a bit relieved that at least it was cool people. Jackie Chan is totally cool. Angelina is cool because although she makes 30 million a year, she uses her power to fight for something she believes in: children's starvation or AIDS. Also, she captured Brad's heart, and I think that's a feat we all wish we were capable of.

I was walking around in Lowe's today thinking how much I love shopping for toilet seat covers. When I look at one, the thing that comes to my head is, "now THIS would be a good product to shit on." Looking for products to take a dump on is fun!

I'm off to Alfred tomorrow where I'll be until the weekend or whenever James feels like returning me. It should be a good time. I feel like binge food shopping for needless things like cakes and raw cookie dough to munch on. James is the only person I know who I'll visit, see a cake lying around and ask, "what's the occasion?" He replies, "Why would there be an occasion? You mean because of the cake? You don't need a reason to have cake!!" The American mindset is that cakes are for celebrating birthdays or something festive. James just likes cake. And he eats it every day. I find that admirable.

On the down side, I got a "you suck" talk from keith, a text from Derek and an IM from Sully asking if I'll be at the party, for keith's parents are constantly in Mexico, probably recruiting for their landscaping business (though they deny this). For once I'm actually too cool for them. I mean, I love socializing and/or being drunk around those guys, but I think Alfred will be more fun. It's just too bad I can't do both.

By the way, a passing grade for restaurant inspection is a minimum of 85. One of our Tim Horton's in Canandaigua got a 69 last week. I guess they were hoping George W. would stop by there yesterday during his visit, which he didn't. He was too preoccupied with telling people at The Pines (our upscale/millionaire retirement homes) about Medicare, which they were all too rich to take interest in, or with hugging J-Mac, a local autistic kid getting a movie deal because he scored 20pts in 4 minutes in the only 4 minutes he ever played. He never made the basketball team so he only got playing time because of pity. (Pity is the same reason I got playing time on varsity soccer though, so I guess I shouldn't be too bitter.) Asha told me this, but I ate there again today anyway.

Moral of the story: if I die, blame Canada.


Monday, March 13

I am not wise for I am far too young, but I do think more frequently than the average hamster. Maybe when I'm 60 I'll be able to dish out advice like attitude adjustments from Hulk Hogan. Until then, here are some common sense thoughts I've come up with and for you to think about:

1.)Wealthy people are polite because they're rich.

2.)People lie because they don't like the truth.

3.)If you're looking for something, it's easier to find it.

4.)Bean curd pie is delicious!! Actually, it's awful. I just said that so some totally ADD person would stop midsentence, bake himself a bean curd pie and eat it.

5.)When you forget you're looking for something, you're surprised when you find it.

6.)Happiness comes in ounces; pain comes in pounds.

7.)Look at yourself in the mirror often to make sure you are who you think you are, because sometimes you aren't.

8.)Sometimes it's not good to walk a mile in someone's shoes: I did that once and I totally destroyed a midget's shoes.

9.)Once, a guy created a cream called "Anti-bitch cream." However, it failed to reach market because the man's wife started yelling at him.

10.)If you strap a laser to the front of your car, you can aim better at the people you are running over.

11.)Whenever you start thinking you're high and mighty, just remember you started off as a squirt. All it takes to end you is a squirt...of hydrochloric acid.

12.)The key to understanding a person is to understand their memories.

13.)Have you ever tried to rank yourself, and things around you, as part of the world's population?

14.)Bright clear skies are most deceiving. Some exist merely for shock value.

15.)People thrive on routines in life because routines comfort us.

16.)Good looks are too often wasted on ugly people.

17.)Daytime TV is incentive to get a job. Or to get cable.

18.)The real world is a figment of our lack of imagination.

19.)If you're unhappy, the good news is you can always change your mind.

20.)Exercise would appeal to us more if we were crippled.

21.)The path less traveled is usually chosen when lost.

22.)A penny saved is a penny...who cares about pennies these days? But, I think the old phrase was something like: a penny saved is a penny you don't have to earn.

23.)If you think the world makes sense, consider this: we need a license to fish, but any old schmuck can have a baby.

24.)Don't put off 'till later what you can put off 'till much later.

25.)The British are a ridiculous race of which there are no winners.

26.)Chuck Norris doesn't go hunting because hunting implies the possibility of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

27.)Sometimes there is nothing so funny as a joke. If you are the joke, at least you're funny. If you are the joke because you take yourself too seriously, being conceited is being topical.

comments are always welcome like rich men to a strip club,

bean. curd. pie?? Seriously. WTF?!

Saturday, March 11

I've heard of this thing called, "tagging." Once tagged by someone, the idea is you complete a series of questions about yourself, then proceed to tag some other people. However, seeing as I have no coworkers or fellow blogger friends who interact with me on this here blog, it is safe to say I will not get tagged. Therefore, I am tagging myself! Eat it, fools. No tag-backs.

Four jobs I've had:
1. Official Beer Taster
2. Ski instructor
3. Bunker Supervisor and Lawn/field Care Manager
4. Subway whore

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. I don't like to watch movies more than thrice.
2. Unless there are special circumstances.
3. But I like the comedy and action sorts.
4. The recently released porno starring your mom.

Four Places I have lived:
1. Canandaigua, NY
2. Osaka, Japan (2 years)
3. Beijing, China (1 year)
4. Alfred's and Buffalo's campuses

Five Shows I love:
1. Family Guy
2. Aqua Teen Hunger Force
3. Seinfeld
4. Simpsons (not as much as I used to)
5. Conan O'brian

Four highly-touted TV shows I don't enjoy:
1. Survivor (not deadly enough)
2. American Idol (the votes are blatantly rigged)
3. The OC (I saw some episodes and the script was horrendous)
4. Nanny 911 (British bitches bossing badly-behaving brats)
5. there are hundreds of shows that should go on this list

Four books I'd recommend to my friends, anytime:
1. Perks of Being a Wallflower
2. Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus
3. I Like Being Killed
4. Brain Sex

Four places I have vacationed:
1. Toronto.
2. various Carribean Islands.
3. 44 of the states
4. China.

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. some sort of meat sandwich
2. Spaghetti w/ balls
3. something Chinese
4. Lasagna

Four sites I visit daily:
1. My blog
2. Yep.
3. That's about it.
4. I don't have routine site checks.

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. In Alfred/visiting any of my friends
2. At one of DJ Sutle's house parties/any party
3. My girlfriend's house/any girl's house
4. Australia/any distant place

Four of my favorite qualities:
1. honest (except when playin' around)
2. socially adaptive (I have really varied friends)
3. easy going (I find good in almost everybody)
4. I make the atmosphere comfortable with my magic

And I'm tagging:
1. your mom
2. your dog

In other news...
Gagne and I saw the Canandaigua Academy play, Music Man, starring Isaac Tayrien and Mrs. Drake's ridiculously cute daughter, and it was quite good. Our high school always puts in enormous amounts of time and effort into these productions, and we have a very strong theater program and talented actors. Few in the Rochester area can even touch Isaac's skills. And I saw several of my old classmates. Venessa is having a baby in October! And soo many people looked amazing. Seeing beautiful people makes me want to work out constantly so I can look like Arnold but much weaker. Anyway, I'll see people again tomorrow at Wegmans and possibly hijack my way into seeing it again, but tomorrow isn't Isaac, so it won't be as good. We'll see if Ben, Adam and crew convince me or not.

Friday, March 10

Cancerous fools always seem tough. I think of Lance Armstrong, or his wife Sheryl Crow. They're everybody's idol (isn't Lance...dreamy?), but not everybody can be those people. Not everybody beats cancer. Three of my grandparents didn't (the fourth died of the plague). I'm sick of people saying tearfully, "but I know he/she will make it through this and beat cancer....because Johnny/Susan is a fighter." Maybe they are, maybe not. I don't think your teary-eyed opinion is the reliable, non-biased one for me. I saw on Dateline yesterday a father who claimed his three-year-old was a fighter, and thus would beat his lethal disease. That's sad and all, but these people are deluding themselves. You can't know if they're a fighter or not, especially a mentally challenged one at three years of age. I've never heard of someone say, "Yeah, this cancer is going to beat him because he's not a fighter. He just sits there and takes it. In fact, he's a little bitch." Nobody does that for some reason. Nobody admits that they're fucked. I do. I'm sure hope helps the mind and increases their chance of survival, but on the other hand...face reality. People die. Children die. Eventually, everything dies. There's nothing you can do about it unless you are Chuck Norris.

All I ever hear is, "so-and-so's a fighter." What about the rest of the people? Don't non-fighters (pacifists) ever get cancer? If not, then pacifism is the way to go. The true way to beat cancer is to be the pacifist, the non-fighter, the closet-geek who gets his teeth punched in and his lunch money stolen by the fighters of this country. Don't worry; they'll get theirs. Just you wait. Remember, that's why God invented religion.

Mark always makes me laugh. His mom has breast cancer, and his whole family eventually gets killed by cancer, so his stance is that eventually he'll get it. He knows he's fucked. And that I can respect. Me: same thing. I'm fucked. I'll probably get cancer if I live to be old, but who wants to be old anyway? Nobody.

Only the good die young, right? That would explain why all the old people I know are creepy, smelly, clingy, grouchy bastards. If you can't take care of yourself, Darwinism says you die. If you were nice, people take care of you. If you were a bastard who beat your kids and everyone hates you--you get abandoned. That's the way it should be. And society shouldn't say, "Oh, you don't visit your parents? That's so sadly awful!" and guilt-trip you. You just say, "That's right. They were jerks and don't deserve my attention." Then punch the guilt-tripper in the face. I say, if parents were more worried about their future, they would either work harder to ensure they don't become reliant on their children later on, be nicer to their kids, or actually do some parenting. Some people are innocently born a cancer to society. Bad parenting is doing crap for this country. Not that this is a personal issue; I'm just saying what you already know.

Another thing: this computer only saves pictures in .bmp or .art so I can't post pictures. That's why this site is so ruthlessly boring and devoid of funny pictures between the clutter of text. However, I have good things to look forward to tomorrow, so I should stop complaining.

All in all, this post was a worthless diatribe. I guess I was primarily perturbed by the delusional father who adamantly proclaimed his retarded infant was a fighter, until I got side-tracked while stuck in my Maddox mindset, of whom Caitlin is justifiably prone to reminding me I am not. Thanks, Caitlin. I need those reminders. "And now for something completely different: A dead parrot."

~adios, bored patrons

Thursday, March 9

Word, y'all.

The sole purpose of this post is to express my intense love affair with a woman, a metaphorical woman by the name of This is a fantastic comic and everyone will like it (I recommend the current story over the archives). It has everything I ever wanted in a comic about ninjas and tells the story about the rivalry between Pirates and Ninjas. Dr. McNinja is this drunk Irish Ninja Doctor with problems and skills. He enjoys high fives. He enjoys high fives with animals. There's even Lumberjacks and Gorillas! Seriously, don't go another day without adding the Dr. McNinja elixir of happiness to your recipe of joy in the lunchtime that is the present. You'll thank me later. Or more probably, enjoy it but say nothing. But at least you'll enjoy it. I want to spread happiness like the Black Plague massacreing Europe in 1347. Especially the French. Dirty bastards. Jean-Claude Van Damme can stuff his acting in a box and mail it to the North Pole, which is equally nonexistant. (Jean-Claude, if you're reading this, I'm actually a fan. I was kidding.) For the rest of you, Jean-Claude really is a douchebag.

~Peace, y'all.

Monday, March 6

Ahh. I just had a wonderful conversation with Neal. Conversations make me feel alive. I guess that's what I miss most about life. I've been so wrapped up in my own thoughts. All the time, no ideas coming from anywhere but me. And it works pretty well for I have a pretty logical brain that assesses situations from many angles, but sometimes it just can't compare with a different point of view. It's that comment you wouldn't suspect; the unforseen joke; the words of someone living a different life. Examples:

(referring to caitlin...)
Nealblind: we both think we are smarter than each other
Cpjunkie6: hmm... you should have a series of games
Nealblind: don't say anything
Nealblind: okay
Nealblind: no
Cpjunkie6: and the winner gets to wear a shirt that says, "i'm with stupid"
Nealblind: find a metal girl
Cpjunkie6: one made of Bronze?
Nealblind: no
Nealblind: one with bronze
Nealblind: piercings
Cpjunkie6: haha, i'll make that my plan B
Cpjunkie6: plan A being find one without bronze piercings
Cpjunkie6: but thanks for your support
Nealblind: that is quiter's talk
Cpjunkie6: haha
Nealblind: there are plenty of those

I get a kick out of Neal. He humors me while being humorous and serious at the same time. His large words frighten me though, like hedonistic, misogynistic and poogas. I learned how dumb people feel, gripped by the firm hand of ignorance. I used to use big words without realizing it back when I read constantly, and kids daily would say, "stop acting smart with your big words," or some crap like that. Problem solved, because I've forgotten my vocabulary. I love exercising my humor, or saying things that people say, "that's so quotable," (this happens often when I am under the influence). But I also love hearing it from others. I also love how he doesn't use the word "lol" in AIM-speak. It's too high school girlish. Don't get me wrong, I'm pro high school girls, but lol should not be used by a man more than necessary. And it's rarely necessary. An actual laugh will suffice. And never use lol when you're not actually laughing. That's abuse of the word.

I surf blogs for interesting reading material. Here's your blog quote of the day brought to you by a bubbly high school girl, and the letter J.

i love the weather man
he's my buddy
we tell each other everything
he doesn't often have anything
interesting to say
except things like
"small chance of rain today"
"hurricane *enter name* will hit *enter state,city,country* next wednesday"
so you see
he isn't very entertaining
and I often feel like hurting him
so he will stop telling me the weather
and do something interesting for once
but somehow
i don't think thats gonna happen anytime soon

Well, that's enough of my ramblings. I haven't rambled for a couple weeks, so you had to know it was coming. As always, I try keeping the reading full of content for all sorts of psychologically unstable people. Sometimes it's stories, sometimes it's updates on cool happenings, sometimes it's editorials, sometimes it's just stuff I find interesting.

The best part of running your own business--if you're not concerned about how many customers you get, you can do whatever you want.


Saturday, March 4

Spell check cleared: no errors. Jeremy looked at his watch with a satisfied sigh and read over his last piece once more. He wanted it to be perfect: anti-depressing and to reflect who he was. Suicide notes were often done quickly and with little thought, scribbled down in the last moments of someone’s miserable life. Apologetic. Pathetic. People walked in to a sight depressing enough and suicide notes were rarely the highlight of one’s day. Jeremy wanted to be different. He read:

Hey! What’s up guys? Hope everyone’s doin’ fine. You’re probably wondering about the body that lies beside this note. I didn’t kill that guy, that’s me. I swear it wasn’t me; it was the one armed man! I don’t want you guys to think I died depressed because I’m not. In fact I’m having a pretty good day. Which is why I’m motivated enough to do something most people can’t, through lack of motivation or whatever, bring themselves to do. And you’d probably agree that a lot of people should kill themselves to make the world a better place. I’ve always wondered why people who are depressed and at their wits end, find the motivation to kill themselves. Seems like they’d be too apathetic about it, or whatever... You’ve probably got questions, and I’ll be happy to answer them for you. Most suicide noters don’t do a nice job. They seem to always leave their friends and relatives with unanswered questions: Why did he do it? Why now? Why not ten years ago? My goal is to answer all your questions. I hope I’ve thought of everything, because I will not be answering any more.

Why did I do it? Well, I haven’t yet, but I’m all gung-ho about it, so I’ll write as if it already happened. It all happened when I was watching a rerun of Survivor–I realized how awful and bad network television was. I never much liked television, but I was compelled, probably by the same force that makes customers repeatedly go to Walmart for their shopping needs, to keep watching week after week. Finally, my television broke. Without television, I got bored out of my skull, and asked myself, “what else can I do with my Saturday afternoons?” Suicide was the answer that stuck in my mind.

How’s the wife and kids? (I’m asking you that.) I hope they’re fine. As much as I support the intention behind the suicide of dead-beat dads and parents who beat their kids, I think parents should do what they’re capable of to help those less fortunate (their kids can’t even rent R-rated movies). Being the considerate guy I am, I did this guilt-free. I don’t have any wives or kids. At least not legitimate ones. Thus, I’m not leaving anybody who needs me. At thirty-six, I figured it’d be a good time to die, before I got desperately old and started dishing out cheesy pick-up lines to hookers. I have standards you know.

Thirty-six is a good age for suicide. I’ve outlived many greats like Elvis, John Belushi and Mitch Hedberg. (Alright, not Elvis, but cut me a break. I can't compete with THE KING.) I’ve outlived children who died from drug habits, alcohol poisonings and all those kids who ate marbles and asbestos. It’s survival of the fittest. I liked it better when cave-men ran the earth. They consistently died before the age of 40, before they needed wheelchairs, before they needed a health care program, and before they elected jackass Presidents into office. Sometimes unfortunately, they died after their wives caught them cheating with the cave-girl next door. Sometimes it was directly related.

The best part of life is often childhood. You get to run around with no job or worries. Your primary goal is to grow-up so you can gain more responsibilities and become responsible. Kids, listen up: it’s not good to be responsible. Every time there’s a problem, somebody always asks, “who’s responsible for all of this?” I can say I lived through that part happily. And teenager-ing was fun, and college, and my twenties. I’ve had a good time.

Many people die with no more to offer the world. I die with much more to offer it. It’s good to die when you’re on top of the world instead of the bottom. People think, “Wow, we were robbed of years more of his talent” (like John Belushi and many real-world greats). When you’re at the bottom, nobody really cares, or if they do it’s pity. I get to go out on my own terms and I think that’s why I’m better than you.

Many people die sick, senile, or unexpectedly. I’m not going to let Death grab me by surprise through some freak car accident, in a hostage situation while I’m at Denny’s eating my Grand Slam, or with a sudden attack of Cancer. No. Death is my bitch. I leave whenever I want to.

As for my method of death, I went with the pistol-six shooter. Cow-boyish and conventional, but nonetheless an effective means of accomplishing your goal. I hope you don’t think me unoriginal for going with a gun, but the other means didn’t appeal to me. Let me explain:

I thought of jumping off a high building. Those last few moments of skydiving and free-falling must be exhilarating, especially when you know you have no parachute. It would be a rush and a sweet way to go, but what about the negatives? Who knows how many people change their mind about suicide while they’re plummeting to their doom? I didn’t want to be one of those people. Also, those get a lot of negative publicity from the media. And if I landed on somebody, I could kill them and get a ticket for vehicular, no human-body-cular manslaughter. It would also be a bitch to clean up. And what if my suicide note flew off when I was flying through the air? Noone would get to read the cool thoughts I had before my death. So I ruled this one out.

I thought of drowning myself, but drowned bodies are bloated, blue and freaky as hell. Also, I like breathing air. It’s worked pretty well for me. I couldn’t see myself consciously trying to fill my lungs with water. Carbon monoxide, second hand smoke and marijuana smoke: yes. But not water. It’s just not satisfying. I could see myself trying to do it and each time holding my breath. There had to be something better.

I thought of killing myself with a drug overdose. Many greats have gone out that way. You’d experience the joy of drugs until you went into a coma. People always warn you about drugs and how dangerous they are. But people do them anyways. There must be reasons greater than the negatives. And hey, if you decided you’re going to die anyways, fuck your health. Who dies healthy? This is why my coroner’s report might find lots of marijuana in my body, but finally conclude my death was indeed caused by the bullet to the head. Drug OD’s always leave the possibility of being rescued when someone stumbles in for a visit, and that would just look bad. Finally, drugs are more of a woman’s wussy way out. Women try to kill themselves with drugs all the time. Men use guns. This is why guys are 78% more likely to be successful in killing themselves. Women, if you are complaining about inequality in the work force, you’ve got to prove you can do things as well as us men, starting with suicide.

I thought of hanging, but that is sooooo pre-1900's. I thought of spontaneously combusting, but figured it was just too difficult for an amateur like myself. I thought of dousing myself in barbeque sauce, visiting a killer bee-farm with my sling-shot and fleeing like a little girl.

Then, I started thinking creatively. I thought of killing myself in a real-world game of Frogger on Interstate 84 at rush hour. I would build myself a beautiful green frog costume and go at it! I realized, of course, that I am far too nimble and quick to not dodge cars and I’d get to Level 43 before I got a game-over when cops showed up, stopped traffic and tried to convince me to go away in their police-vehicle. If it was Frogger, I could help my goal by placing a bottle of Crystal on each side of the Interstate. Each time I made it across, I’d take another few swigs of high-quality alcohol. I figured I would get effed up enough to get splattered before I finished two bottles. It would be unique, exciting and fun. Frogger has always been a great game to me. This was looking promising. I came really close to choosing this one.

But then I started thinking about others. I would probably wreck someone’s car. I mean, not as much as a deer would, because I’m not a Sumo wrestler, but they’d probably have to mess with insurance, and that’s never fun for anybody. Also, unless I got hit by a large Semi, a Toyota Tundra, or a Ford Escape-like vehicle, the “accident” could end up hurting someone. Lastly, it might ruin someone’s day. I’m not out to ruin anybody’s day, so I decided against this.

I settled with the six-shooter as the most effective, safest way to die. You can’t argue with results. Also, I’m going to play a game of Russian Roulette. I’ll see how far I get and see if you can beat my score!! I could set a world record. Who knows?

Jeremy finished contentedly, imagining how someone would react to all of this, took a sip of Mt. Dew and took another big hit of Mary Jane that sent him coughing. He was high and loved it. He looked at his unpaid bills stacked on the coffee table and the words in red Sharpee he had written on them: “HAHA, BITCHES!! SUCK IT!!” He started laughing. He wouldn’t have to pay his bills! It was his one little way of stickin’ it to the man. He had maxed out his Capital One Platinum, VisaGold, MasterCard and several others with evil satisfaction. When the sales clerk apologetically said, “Your card is maxed, sir,” he had smirkingly responded, “Haha...sweet! Try this one.”

He looked around his completely baren apartment. ALL of his stuff had been donated to his friends, family or charities over the last week Credit card collectors couldn’t repossess his belongings. He was sticking it to evil credit companies who ruined thousands of people’s lives with their hidden charges, looks-too-good-to-be-true interest rates, and other immoral nonsense. He counted his six silver bullets with the word “Lucky” inscribed on it. Lucky was his nickname in high school. You think you get away from it, but in the end you never do. He inserted bullet one with maniacal snickering, closed it and gave it a spin. He bent down and wrote on his note once more:

Well, it’s time to let the games begin! Here goes bullet one!

He placed the barrel against his dome and took another hit from his bong. He shuddered, gritted his teeth, squinted his eyes and squeezed.

“Okey dokey.” He wrote again. “Looks like I was too tough for one bullet. Time for round two...”


“I’m not dead yet, but I’m going to persevere. Wish me luck with round three!!”

He took a smaller hit and inserted bullet three. “Here goes nothing!” He jerked the trigger.

“I’m well on my way to a success with round four. Cheers, everyone!”

With an inserted fourth bullet in the chamber, he squeezed.

“Looks like I’m getting a high score after all!! Not many people have lived through four rounds of this game. Here goes round freaking’ five!!! It’s totally insane!”

He was certain he would die now as he gave the revolver a spin.

Eyebrows raised. His jaw dropped. “Wow,” he wrote down. “I can’t believe I didn’t die that time! Death is jerkin’ me around. I’m starting to think my gun is broken, but it shouldn’t be. If it isn’t, these are the last words I’ll write as a living individual like yourselves. I’m going out with a bang! Final Round. Round Six...”
He placed in the sixth bullet and gave it a spin, though he didn’t see the point. Habit. With closed eyes and a mouthful of smoke, his finger squeezed the trigger....

In the year 2006 I resolve to:
Blame Canada.