Monday, March 21, 2005

The winner for the what the hell are you thinking award goes to...
Not many people think of all things. Those are supposed to be words of wisdom. Building on that, I decided to make a small list of people who I wonder what the fuck they were thinking, and make my guess on which one would be the winner in a fictional contest. I do not remember what possesed me to do this, but hell, it seemed like a great idea at the time. Here I go:
Alfred Nobel- created dynamite, but then got really mad when people used it to blow each other up. Next in line is the inventor of napalm. In reality, it was supposed to be food coloring.
The men who gave in to Ghandi's demands- Ok, so a leader is starving himself and getting thousands of others to do the same. Why bother stopping them? They starve to death, no more resistance fighters.
People who stay up for long periods of time- Really, what does this prove? That you are capable of going without sleep? Big deal. I hope it causes long term brain damage.
Daredevils- Do I even need to explain this one?
The Wachowski(?) Brothers- Matrix one was pretty good, not excellent, but good. So why ruin it with two sequels that no one not on acid can understand?
Hogzilla's killer- If I ever see a pig that big, I will run like hell in the other direction.
Well, that is all I can think of. And the winner is... know what, you people pick. I will tell mine later, I want to hear what you guys think.
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Friday, March 4, 2005

Were cartoonists in the eighties/ nineties fighting communism?
I was recently told that I shouldn't be on this site because I don't cover anime of any kind (more on that later). Too shut this crybaby pussy up, and to spread a theory that I have had for... 3 years now. See, the way I figure it, the eighties and early nineties had some... interesting cartoons on the tele. One of my old faves was the Adventures of Sonic The Hedgehog, or the Sonic SatAM to the elite. If you have seen it, just scroll down until I break the page, if not, here is the basic premise. Evil Dr. Robotnik took over the world of Mobius, which is inhabited by humanoid animals based off of woodland critters. Since Robotnik is corrupting the planet with his evil machines. He took most of the population and turned them into robots using his kickass Roboticizer machine. Well, the critters that fight him are a band of scruffy freedom fighters led by a super fast hedgehog named Sonic. To get Sonic and freinds, the good Dr. uses his patented dumbashell goons called SWATbots. And then the fun begins.

I first thought of the communism thing when I watched the show a few weeks ago. I felt nostalgic and it was just a twenty minute download so what the hell, right? I noticed that:
- Sonic is blue, the color of America, whereas Robotnik is red, the color of communist Russia
- Robotnik is a big dumb lameass whose evil world domination plots fail all the time thanks to the good BLUE guys.
- Robotnik's SWATbots and robotic Mobians are all alike, mindless, subservient, and bowing to Robotnik completly, much like Communist USSR.
- Americans/ Mobians, are individualistic and couargeous, whereas the Russians/Robots are dumb as shit, conformists, and cowardly.
- Robotnik wishes all people to be the same and serve him. Mobians want to remain free.
- Robotnik destroys all that is good and healthy, whereas Mobians are good for all.

Oh man! I can't believe how much I rule. Do myself and yourself a favor and tell all about what those cartoons were really about.
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Thursday, March 3, 2005

My family is fucking nuts.
Well, my older sister and my nephew just left town yesterday. SAfe to say, if anyone is curious as to why I am so mean and uncaring, they need look no further than the people i come from. In their own way, two people have really helped my outlook on life in just seven days. That is sarcastic case you didn't notice.
Sister Sally- My older sister. I swear to God that she is bi polar. There can be no other explanation for it. At the goodbye dinner, she was sweet as pie for the most part, until I wondered aloud why mmyself and my nephew couldn't just wait out front. She starts screaming and ranting and raving about how I disrespect her and all other women. Remind you that this woman has been out of contact for five years. Nice. Just come down here and threaten a minor for wondering why we need to follow you around to the destination we all would have been at anyways. Well done.
Dad. On the flip side, you have our father. Dad kept me from crushing Sally, and Sally from slapping me. Dad is a little like Henry Kissinger without the low voice or the hideous face. Keeps the peace, and if all else fails, talks sense into the combatants afterwards. Kept me from killing at least two people over the week.
Now that is just the two that saw me most this past week. Now, I am related to some interesting people: raging alcoholics, heroine addicts, angsty punk NAZIs, bi polar women, and a whole shit load of criminals. I njust one year, we have had a cousin hijacking a car, a kid facing a severe identity crisis, a small civil war, a massive argument starting from too few chips at a get together, and some scary near death calls. And people wonder why I call the mpussies when they whine about their families.
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Thursday, February 24, 2005

Angst.
There has been a surprising trend at my school. Where the current sophomores are mostly rednecks or preppies, most of the freshman class is either a skater, a punk, or a wannabee goth. Against each group, yeah I have a problem with them. But today I heard something that made me shake with rage.
"Well, we make one gunpowder circle for nothing, two is for creating, three is for banishing." My assumption (heh heh, ass) is that it is taken from the show Full Metal Alchemist. Now here is what is wrong with that picture. FMA IS A DAMN CARTOON! It is not real! You cannot make spirits out of combusting things. See, lately I have spent loads of my fourth hour in the library. Thanks to the fucked up scheduling, three freshman classes are in there as well. I have heard some remarkable bullshit in that time. I have heard a kid talking about how he needs followers so when he dies he can become a God. I have heard girls as young as 14 talking about how their boyfreinds anally banged them the night before. I heard skaters bragging about the sweet jump they almost did, goths remarking about how enlightened they are, and punks talking about how much they hate the control system of the world. Jesus jumping Christ on a pogo stick, are these assholes nuts?! But worst of all, more horrific than the butt sex thing, worse than the summoning exploding circles, and worse than the skater lies, is the tattoos. When did it become acceptable for a 14 year old girl to get a tattoo above the crack of her ass? Now call me old fashioned, but I say that no one wants to see that. Lastly, there is a group of punks I feel need mentioning. The MTV group. I liked MTV back when most of what they showed was Beavis and Butthead, one of the funniest shows ever. Now, it is a media whore group that is easily one of the most censored networks out there. I say we load up all those MTV anarchists out there and send them to a nice African civil war state, armed just with their rebellious views. That'll learn 'em.
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Saturday, February 19, 2005

Traitorous Mouth and Brain Syndrome.
I have an exceptionally rare disease. It is called Traitorous Mouth and Brain Syndrome, or TMBS. The symptoms of TMBS are, saying things that might get you shot, thinking thoughts that ensure you are going to hell, inability to conduct oneself properly at social situations, and inability to hold private thoughts in. There is no cure for TMBS, and no hope for the sufferers. As bad as the condition may be, it does provide some entertainment. Like this afternoon. We went and saw Million Dollar Baby. Great movie, highly recommend it. But see, there was a problem at the start. This curtain was down halfway over the screen. It got more annoying as the previews played. Finally, I go out to complain. I run ionto a staff. She points me to another staff member. I go to the desk, expecting to find a burly man to breathe fire on me before grunting at me to go sit down and shut up. Instead, I am met by a spritely girl. She asks to see the problem, so she walks around the service desk. This girl stands belly button high with me. I am not a giant, I am 5'7'', but GOD DAMN! I stare at her in horror for a second, and she asks a very dumb question.
"What, surprised for see a girl working here?" At this point, the TMBS butts in and slaps me in the face. I hold back.
"No, its just..."
"Sir, I am 23 years old. It is not uncommon for girls of my age to work here." The TMBS won.
"23? Don't look a day over 14." I guess it should have sounded like a compliment. Howerver, it got me a mean stare. I swear my brain hates me.
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Friday, February 18, 2005

Getting an answer out of PETA is like pulling teeth.
Well, I finally got ahold of PETA. It took me six phone calls, but I did it. Now the biggest problem with PETA is the difficulty to get through. Circuit busy? Fat chance you will ever get through. I was told that the estimated wait time was 7 minutes. Turned out it actually meant 70 minutes. As soon as I get through that first time, I get a lady who was so interested in my donation, she obviously did not hear me that I wasn't giving money. Frustrated, I hung up and tried again. Thinking that if I tried on another day at a radically different time, I may get through.= to an intelligent person. Nope. Tries 2-5 each linked me to people so similar that they might have been clones. Finally I got to a person who I lost my temper on (To be honest, my memory is a little hazy from how angry I was. I think calling her a stupid, money grabbing cunt was what set her off, or it might have been my ravings about needing to speak with her manager). Her manager was another woman (as a fact, all the people I contacted were.) who sounded like she ate bricks and shat gunpowder. Tentatively, I asked my questions, half expecting her and fifty vegetarian special forces to kick down my door and beat the ever loving shit out of me.
1. The budget must be spent that way so that more and more people will go out and save animals themselves.
2. No, it is just human disease.
2b. It was hard to tell if it was a yes or a no. She said that "All living things are sacred and have a right to live. Bacteria hurt that."
3. "No, dumbass, is this going somewhere?"
4. Another toughie. "Sometimes the best way to help an animal is to just end the misery"
So there you have it folks! PETA is just another political machine, pressing an agenda with the mask of helping the world. Man, what a bunch of assholes.
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Sunday, February 6, 2005

Peta Returns my emssage. AUTOMATED"D!
My PETA assault victory dance was short lived. I got my original message back, some jargon about how busy they are, and a few phone numbers. Tomorrow, I shall call those numbers and find out the answers to my questions and more! (Go Patriots!!!)
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Thursday, February 3, 2005

Prankmailing PETA, Part 1
Well, boredom dictates this posting. I am hitting PETA. Right now, time is a big factor, so do not expect me to explain why, but PETA will awke up in the morning with this in their mailbox:
Dear Whomever PETA thinks is qualified enough to answer my question,

I have a few questions regarding PETA policies that I am studying for my Political Science class. Since I do no want to take more time than necessary out of you're busy schedules, I will just list my questions and pray for an answer.

1. The PETA budget shows that less than 1% of the PETA budget was spent on actually saving animals. How can you claim to help animals when most of the budget is spent on propaganda and publicity stunts instead of actually helping animals?
2. Regarding the statement "If the cure to all disease was in a rat, I would spare the rat," does this include animal diseases, or just regular broad, sweeping generaliazations like that apply solely to human diseases?
2b. Building on that, bacteria and viruses are considered alive, does PETA condone their slaughter?
3. PETA claims to boycott any product that would hurt an animal, but I have noticed an alarming amount of pamphlets released by PETA are made from trees. Trees house all sorts of woodland creatures, does PETA condone logging as long as it is for their purposes?
4. Is the rumour of PETA killing animals rather than attempt to find them good homes true, or just anti- PETA propaganda?

A timely response would be appreciated. Please note that this is not a hatemail, but a serious and formal request for information that would prove immensely helpful for me, and very informative to my fellow students.

Sincerly,
John

Expect another update on this as soon as I get my response.
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Wednesday, February 2, 2005

I Heart Violence./ My Hero, Niccollo Machiavelli.
I want to be honest with you all. I love violence. I love the sight of big explosions, enormous one sided gun fights, and real action heroes. My heart fills with joy anytime Arnold shoots someone, or Steven snaps someone's back. The mere thought of unnamed, jumpsuited goons fleeing in terror of a two man team of walking death makes my mouth water. But lately, nothing to saite my appetite for carnage has been released. I have watched Rambo so many times it has lost it's true meaning. True Lies and the Last Boy Scout do nothing for me anymore. When did Hollywood loose its balls?

My hero is a man named Niccollo Machiavelli. He is the first quoted as to saying "The Ends Justifies the Means," a saying that I live my life by. Now, before any of you morons email me saying "He also rote a book about it suckking lololol!!!!1" I already know. I am talking about "The Prince", quite probably the best book ever written when it comes to being a backstabbing motherfucker. I highly recommend it to anyone who sits at a coffee shop discussing their political hatred to Bush so they can compare him to real backstabbing assholes. Wait, they do that anyway.
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Tuesday, February 1, 2005

The Nun
Ahhh, the last in my trilogy of church related horrors. Note, this one doesn't happen at the church I go to now, this happened at a Catholic School I used to attend before getting thrown out. This story revolves around a nun I swear had it out for me. She was old, I mean Mother Theresa was sucking bottles when she was made a nun old, and had a heart of raw titanium. She would carve a bloody swath through anyone foolish enough to ditch class at the school, using her ruler of justice to crack the heathenous knuckles of us skippers. One day, she sees me skipping. I do what is natural for a coward of my magnitude, I run like hell. She gives chase. For an old bitch, that nun could RUN! Stamina and speed, she was hot on my heels like you would not believe. SHe followed me off campus in a mad dash down Kenzie Avenue. Oh what a sight we must have been, a uniformed school boy running in terror from a reject from penguin octogenarians. I thought I could ditch her in an enormous department store. I rush in about sixty feet in front of her, rushing into the women's clothing department. I duck down inside circular dress display, thinking I could hide there until the chill was off. WRONG! The nun comes bounding up, slowing to catch her breath. She was no more than five feet away, so close I could hear the cobwebs in her lungs rattling as she panted. She sniffed the air, looking, searching for me, the delinquint that made her run. Then, out of nowhere, she snatched me by my HAIR! Out of the display, into the aisle, she dragged me, kicking and screaming all the way back to school. I must say, having my knuckles whacked with a ruler and being force to write "I will never run in a high speed away from the Catholic School while being pursued by the Prioress due to my ditching of a required class again" 500 times was a small price to pay for the simple look on the Dean's face when he saw her dragging me into his ofice.
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