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Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
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6:09 pm - stereotype, monotype, are you my type?
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this is a video by a tobacco dipping redneck who accuses president obama of the following things:
1. not being an american
2. being "a nigger/jew"
3. banning flavored smokeless tobacco
his orginal video was taken down but thankfully saved by the folks at ED.
being the occasional* enjoyer of smokeless products myself, i just want to say, "thanks a lot asshole."
every time this country takes a step forward, there's always at least one guy like this to remind the north why the civil war wasn't worth fighting for. sherman should have burned this place to the ground and then said, "nah, you keep it."
here's the best part. the new FDA ban is on candy flavored cigarettes that are clearly marketed towards kids. his flavored dips are safe. the best part? his precious "whiskey flavored copenhagen" that he thinks obama should be "inpeached" over? yeah. that's already been discontinued as a flavor. before the ban. because it didn't sell. because it tastes like shit.
also, impeach means bring up charges, not remove from office. i learned that in elementary school. why don't people get that?
*by that i mean almost daily, and when i'm out i usually rush to the store. i can't help it, i have to live up to at least one southern white male stereotype since i don't hunt or fish, hate football, love hockey & soccer, almost never vote republican, and for some reason don't hate black people.
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| Monday, November 16th, 2009
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1:22 pm - ...you're fat and your books suck dick
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i could have lived to be 100 and would have never needed to click on this ONTD post, a Q&A with fattie boombalattie. the ipecac came precisely upon starting a question with "Dearest Stephenie." behind that email is a 900 pound horned frog who buys her shirts at hot topic and locks herself in the closet while she fucks her hairbrush. and not the handle, we're talking bristle-in.
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| Wednesday, November 11th, 2009
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7:38 pm - nobody i know calls them cigarette burns, fyi.
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Tyler was a night person. While the rest of us were sleeping, he worked. He had one part time job as a projectionist. See, a movie doesn't come all on one big reel. It comes on a few. So someone has to be there to switch the projectors at the exact moment that one reel ends and the next one begins. If you look for it, you can see these little dots come into the upper right-hand corner of the screen. That's the cue for a changeover. He flips the projectors, the movie keeps right on going, and nobody in the audience has any idea. Why would anyone want this shit job? Because it affords him other interesting opportunities.
Like splicing single frames of pornography into family films.
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| Friday, October 2nd, 2009
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2:39 pm - a tale of two metrics
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one of my favorite bands that gets no love from rock and roll radio is metric. i was shocked to hear them on the radio yesterday and actually used shazam to make sure it was actually them getting airtime on an actual honest to god terrestrial fm station.
i went home to find the song on youtube, and eventually limewire. the first result was this performance on dave:
if you actually watched that, and it's the first time you ever saw/heard metric, that was one of the worst, most boring performances they've given.
compare that to a performance of the same song on craig:
that's the metric i remember. what gives?
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| Thursday, October 1st, 2009
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9:13 am - Writer's Block: Agree to disagree
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Absolutely. You save that for playing Barney in government class. Pretty simple: if you're one of those Glenn Beck Rush Limbaugh Tea Party Birther Motherfuckers, you're an idiot whose mother should have aborted you with a rusty coat hanger. That's how much I care about tolerating your fucktarded opinion.
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| Friday, September 18th, 2009
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2:30 pm - fall season round one
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finally watched the first episode of Community. besides knowing every punchline ahead of time (because NBC no longer actually sells commercials and instead runs at least 9,001 promos for every 30 minutes of new content) and generally finding fault with every aspect of the premise, i think it has potential.
which means NBC will kill it as soon as people realize it's any good. i predict that it will last for only as long as they have current episodes in the can. this is what NBC does.
sigh.
first and foremost. you go to a community college for two years. you don't get a b.s. there. seems like an easy concept to grasp. (i do realize that there are third rate two-year colleges across alabama though, where you can finish your last two years on saturdays with a fake faulkner degree in "not getting your drool on the table.") but there were numerous references to getting a b.s. degree, being there 4 years, etc.
here's the premise. jeff is a lawyer who lost his license because his undergrad degree was bogus. so to get his law degree back he has to get a real degree "that's not an email attachment." then he can be a lawyer again. it's such a great concept that i LITERALY shit my pants. no i mean i LITERALLY shit my pants it's so funny.
i wanted this show to be great. all the characters are straight out of the AUM Freshman Facebook (in the original sense of the word, not that AUM actually has one, AUM doesn't have anything): there's the 30-ish failure at his original career going back for a second degree, the hippie girl who didn't grow up and decided to finally go to college at 28, the token foreigner/taliban, the former high school quarterback who still wears his letterman jacket, the old ass man who's only there for shits and giggles, the middle-aged mom who reminds you constantly about babysitters and having to be back home, and the kid who dropped out of school because of a drug overdose and this is the only place she could get into college. I can almost see each of them sitting in front of Goodwyn Hall. almost. the only thing it's missing is a bunch of air force assholes who are quick to point out that they already know all the answers because they spent the last 8 years at maxwell defending the military's internet from al qaeda.
the verdict: i won't wait for it to come on like I wait for CBS Monday to get here, but I'll check it out a couple more times unless/until it starts to suck balls.
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| Monday, September 7th, 2009
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11:17 am - imagining things, or "fuck the people who work and need rest"
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our neighborhood has changed drastically over the last couple years. we don't really have students nearby, but we were used to having a lot of the "just outta college" types, the ones who still party like it's a sophomore year kegger. those i can handle because, generally speaking, they make noise at night and sleep late. now we're infested with the kind of people who wake up early and do yard work, a special kind of evil created by satan in order to torture insomniacs. on top of that, there's a subdivision across the road being built by people who only work from the crack of dawn until around noon.
every saturday and sunday as soon as the sun comes up, i've been woke up by two things: the sound of a tool cart pulled and rattling every few minutes, and the sound of BANG BANG BANG from a hammer. that plus the occasional saw. i thought the turd behind us had a tool cart. today i decided to ask him politely to not make so much fucking noise, at least until afternoon. when i went out back to piss the guy off, he had no tool cart and only seemed to be piddling with a wooden storage room.
it turned out that the tool cart i heard intermittently was some stupid soccermom jogging while towing her brat in a plastic wagon. that explained why the sound came and went, as she ran laps around the block waking everyone up with the grinding of plastic wheels on pavement (that aren't supposed to spin that fast). that, and the often catch-up dragging of the wheels, the kind of sound made when a yuppie doesn't realize she's no longer in the sorority, needs to grow the fuck up, and raise her child. i'm almost positive the bitch was wearing one of those clip-on ipod shuffles too. sure, annoy the piss out of us but enjoy your lady gaga while you jog and ignore your child.
the backyard turd's still not off the hook though. he's trying to set a record for building the world's tiniest storage room in the longest amount of time possible. i come from a family of carpenters, and we could have built that piss ass little thing in an afternoon, without even trying. instead, every weekend my bedroom window is treated to the sounds of once-an-hour sawing and twice-an-hour hammering. i could sleep through the sound of constant work, but this lazy fucker works just long enough to wake me up, piss me off, and get me back asleep. rinse and repeat. i've been turning the air down a few degrees every saturday morning to provide some form of constant noise between my window and his pitiful efforts. the main things is, anyone who starts that kind of work so early on a saturday is pure evil that not even buckets of holy water could deter.
i've also reserved a special place in hell for "weedeater guy." this fellow works for a rental company here and had been spending early weekend mornings clearing an open house nearby for fall occupancy. let's just disregard the fact that the guy is clearing the entire lot with a weedeater. it's his technique that earns him the privilege of having the weedeater operated on his bare ass for an hour or three. you can almost make a ZZ Top or Jackyl song from his rhythm. ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ - ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ! move a couple steps. ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ - ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ! daddy never taught him how bad that is on a weedeater. he also never taught him how to be courteous at 6:30 on a saturday morning. again, i could probably handle a constant ZZZ for a couple hours. he'd also probably finish quicker too. but NO! this guy is out for revenge on those errant blades of grass! luckily his time seems to be done, but not before one final cacophonous visit, bringing with him an entire crew and a diesel truck to haul off limbs. said diesel truck idled outside our window for an entire saturday morning until i finally went out to wage war. by the time i was awake, they were leaving, of course.
i almost makes me want to wait until near-dark to cut grass, or get up super early and do it. almost.
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| Tuesday, August 25th, 2009
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11:38 am - recipe for success
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 + 
i know i'm not the first person to do this, but the results are too good not to pass on. i had a couple of drinks at a new bar here in town that were made with tang and grain alcohol, and i figured this would taste better. it did.
we were suckered into going to the grand opening night where huge ass drinks were 6 bucks. the next night we went to check out their food menu, and our huge $6 drinks were replaced with $5 drinks the size of coffee cups. the good ole bait and switch. we asked about it and were told "that's only on wednesdays." so fuck them, i just saved a fuckton by making it myself, and better.
pretty simple. measure to the 1 quart line, pour and shake. that makes the tang a little stronger than it calls for, but it's easy and helps mask the foul smell of georgia moon. the recipe for "whiskey tang" i kept finding was 1 part whiskey to 5 parts tang drink, already made. fuck that dilution. i wanna my orange drank scrong.
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10:43 am - bastards!
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what should have been a post where i gushed about how much i enjoyed inglourious basterds turned into this
( Read more... )
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| Friday, August 21st, 2009
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10:13 am - Writer's Block: On the Airwaves
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WFUK-TV
and i would run nothing but promos for NBC's upcoming Fall season since i can't get enough of the same 30 second clips of the same fucking tv shows EVERY COMMERCIAL BREAK that i'm not going to watch anyway
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| Tuesday, August 18th, 2009
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9:27 am
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| Monday, August 10th, 2009
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9:08 pm - dear santa
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| Wednesday, August 5th, 2009
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8:46 pm - brian wilson sums up what i was like as a teenager.
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"Lately, I'd been depressed and preoccupied with death...Looking out toward the ocean, my mind, as it did almost every hour of every day, worked to explain the inconsistencies that dominated my life; the pain, torment, and confusion and the beautiful music I was able to make. Was there an answer? Did I have no control? Had I ever? Feeling shipwrecked on an existential island, I lost myself in the balance of darkness that stretched beyond the breaking waves to the other side of the earth. The ocean was so incredibly vast, the universe was so large, and suddenly I saw myself in proportion to that, a little pebble of sand, a jellyfish floating on top of the water; traveling with the current I felt dwarfed, temporary. The next day I began writing "'Til I Die", perhaps the most personal song I ever wrote for The Beach Boys...In doing so, I wanted to re-create the swell of emotions that I'd felt at the beach the previous night."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcUeSDMll5s
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