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1/30/2004

Borrowed From A Friend



Huge thanks to Greg for linking to me today. He runs one of my favorite political blogs, and I highly reccomend it. It's forced me to post something I've been sitting on for a day or so.

Taking a cue from old friend Earnest Pettie, (Who rules but with whom I frequently disagree), I'm going to occasionally post pieces-in-progress for eventual submission. Please feel free to contact me with comments or insults as you see fit. Here's a little something I originally wrote in December, but now after several revisions, it's slightly better. Without further ado, let's ake with the hubristic failure!

...................................................................

The following nicknames completely rule: "biz"; "The D.O.C." or "Dr"; spike; razor; Old Lefty; butch; Jack (If your name is John or Joe); "Presidente"; anything ending in "tron"; Anything related to Street Fighter II, but especially Chun Li, Ryu, Sagat, and E. Honda; "chief"; any color except yellow, pink, fuscia, turquoise, mauve; "The Bachelor"; flash; lil' anything; Skelator; any reference to a Roman Emperor.

I'll come clean right now: My entire life I've lived almost completely nickname free. I fear that for the 29th year in a row, my near-fondest wish will go sadly unfulfilled. I don't want anything too fancy - just something cool, dangerous, and cute. You know, complete with possible dangerous reputation, or mysterious history behind the obviously-not-my-Christian name.

A cool way to brand myself would be just the thing for fresh new year start. Lots of people have them, people whose only advantage over me is that they happen to have the necessary predisposition or good luck Jerks all, to be sure, but what can I do to change this?

We should start from the beginning - Careful scientific research and a lifetime of jealous observation proves without a doubt that there are 6 different kinds of people. Surely you must have noticed. They are:

1) People known by their first name only.
Most of us are known in this way. Of course, most of us also think that McDonald’s tastes good, so what do “us” know? It’s a mystery why this is the most common delineation, but scientists lean towards “Laziness”, and “convenience” as the major culprits..

2) People known primarily by their first and last name.
If your first and last names are each one syllable, OR if your name is alliterated, you’re a good candidate for this genre. Some names naturally lead to this category - Mike, Tom, Tina, and Dan are common members of this rare group.

3) People known only by their last name.
If you’re a teamster, a cop, a descendent of polish immigrants, a construction worker, or a supporting character in a gritty crime movie, chances are you’re going to hear the familiar refrain of “Hey McNally!” anytime you hit the bars. Your likelihood of membership increases exponentially if you have a mustache, or a prison record (white collar crimes excluded).

4) People known by their first, middle, AND last name.
Membership in the group is dubious indeed - One must be a serial killer, Broadway composer, or presidential assassin. And while I would never encourage anyone to join these ranks, if you simply must, please do not do a musical version of Clockwork Orange. Seriously. A musical version of Xanadu would be fine.

5) People known by some variation of their initials.
Even harder to join. Only authors of “fine literature”, ex-presidents, and oil barons need apply. Your chances increase exponentially if you attended a homoerotic British boarding school as a child, but then so does your risk of dying in World War One, so be careful.

6) People with the luck and circumstance to have a nickname.

Some people might argue that the trick to being happy is to figure out where you fit, and hope for the best. They might insist that escaping your nomenclatural destiny is harder than slipping through Checkpoint Charlie, and not being named Anthony Edwards. I call those people jerky McPoopypants.

I can't accept that kind of resignation. For most of my life, I’ve dared to dream, having been stuck in category 1 (first name only), since birth, but striving for so much more. Having a nickname is among the most perfect states of existence, conferring upon the bearer unique powers and responsibilities. W.C. Fields could never have been “W.C.” if he had been forced to lug William, or Winston (Or whatever the hell his real name is) around. Bono from U2 wouldn't’t be Bono if he were forced to use his actual given name, Robin Williams. And let’s be honest - The elephant man wouldn't’t have been nearly so disturbing as plain-Jane John Merrick.

My parents understood the power of nicknames, and in their misguided way, they tried to stack my deck in favor of my having one. (Or so I hope - Otherwise I’m going to have to accept that they named me Ross Abraham Lincoln out of sheer spite. Ha ha, I’m kidding of course. My parents love me. The ugly bastards.) The story goes that my uncle Burton spent high school in 1950’s Oklahoma as “Abe”. My Mom and Dad, being younger and apparently addicted to morphine, thinking (wrongly) that “Abe” was just the epitome of super cool nicknames, wanted me to benefit from the same.

According to legend, I narrowly avoided being named Abraham Ross Lincoln - I like to imagine that the obstetrician took a swing at my folks before slapping me, and they reconsidered dooming me to a lifetime of patriotic heck. Sadly, as with stalkers (and isn't it about time we thought about the welfare of the stalkers for once?), one rarely chooses the nickname one is endowed with. My parents forgot this crucial piece of information, and their little nomic experiment backfired.

Oh sure, my middle name kind of worked. Like many other awkward people, my having an interesting name resulted in my receiving interesting attention, and for one year, I had a nickname. I was known as “Abey baby”. Let’s pause to let that linger for a moment.

Abey.

and Baby.

This nom du callmefag was assigned to me in 1984, by Mr. Johnson, my horrible, bitter malcontent of a 5th grade teacher. Yearbook records indicate that he was only in his 50’s at the time, though he seemed closer to 80. I attribute this to his work with Lucifer. I suspect that he had wandered the earth for centuries, only emerging from the shadows at those times when the forces of good were otherwise distracted. During the 1950's, when the Sapulpa school district hired him, America was sort of freaking out about nuclear bombs and rising hemlines, so I can kind of understand if they missed the spawn of evil receiving his Oklahoma teaching credentials.

I never witnessed his demonic form, but his earthly avatar was a weird clone of Wilford Brimley, complete with reddened skin, tinted glasses, a bushy gray mustache, and flannel shirt stretched over a widening potbelly. And all this before "our House" and "cocoon"! Pacts with Satan give one unusual powers indeed.

For inscrutable reasons, he decided within the first month of 5th grade that calling me by my real name just wasn't good enough. His 500 years of unholy existence educating and learning gave him unbelievable wit, because he started calling me the aforementioned "Abey baby". Get it? Because my middle name is Abraham, and he liked to call me a baby! The cliché goes that "those who can't do, teach", to which I'm forced to ask, just what in the hell couldn't Mr. Johnson do? How did he end up tormenting children in Oklahoma elementary schools, instead of doing something more fulfilling, like dying of polio?

But I digress. What a fantastic sense of humor he had! What a great nickname! Truly, the stern tutelage of this incredible comedic genius would serve me well.

He would sneer my new nickname in a gravely falsetto while affecting a trilling, effete air. (yes, even before puberty, everyone assumed I was gay). Here was my teacher, the one person in class supposedly impartial and fair, actually encouraging the adolescent pecking order. Luckily, I had yet to hear the word “nerd” directed at me, and thus was oblivious to the ramifications of his gift. I only noticed the sheer silliness. He had an education, access to the wealth of human history, and being Oklahoman, biblical knowledge, and the best he could come up with was Abey Baby?

Fortunately, there is a god, and I learned that he died some years later of old asshole's disease.

This was the only time I’ve ever had a nickname stick for longer than a couple of weeks and it isn’t like I haven’t tried. In college, my best friend Tiffany and I adopted code names we had hoped would turn into official monikers, but alas, no one seemed very interested in calling me “R-gyle”. She still gets to be T-balls, but I harbor no ill will towards her, even though she is evil.

So how does one get a nickname?

According to my findings, this is impossible to force. As my parents learned, nature finds ways to thwart those who trifle with her whims. But for those whose parents haven’t tried to play Frankenstein with their name, it’s not impossible, but it is complicated. There are in fact at least three kinds of nickname.

1) Nicknames based somehow on some variation of the recipient’s name
2) Non-sequitor nicknames that generally come with an anecdote.

The first type can only be achieved if you have the right sort of name. Polysyllabic or hard to pronounce names are generally helpful. Tiffany easily becomes “Tif”, and for some reason, Barbara easily becomes “Babs”. Leah and Leslie, for reasons science has yet to determine, both become "Lee-Lee" with incredible ease. You can also join this club by genetic predisposition. For example, if you inherit the genes of a category 3 (Last name only) person, but do not follow their career path, you won’t turn into a category 3, but you will increase the likelihood that your last name will turn into a nickname.

My friend Heather Buchanan, for instance, is the daughter of a policeman. She isn’t a cop herself, but she’s inherited the recessive Last Name gene, and thus is known to many as “Bukes”. Similarly, Theodore “teddy” Roosevelt also has cross-genetic membership. He has a nickname based on his name, but as an Ex-president, he also gets to be called “T.R.”. Bully!

There's also the rare but extremely cool replacement name. Jack is, for inexplicable reasons, always given to people named john. And James is replaced with Jim. The best one of all is "butch'.

The second type is rarer. These names require more than context, they require some back story, potentially even a tragedy of some kind, to explain the origins of the name. You might have to kill a bunch of people in the course of earning this name. Just a bit more effort, in other words. Fortunately for all of you, my research has uncovered techniques with a proven record of success of overcoming the obstacles.

· The easiest thing to do is use the Il Duce maneuver. Just take over a small country, murder half the citizens, and prop yourself up as a god-like figure. Then you'll be literally loaded down with cool names, like “Papa Doc” or “The Wolf” in no time at all. Kim Jong-Il of North Korean famine fame has over 1200 nicknames, including “The Sun of the 21st Century”, “the Eternal Sun”, “the Guardian Deity of the Planet” (My personal fave, in case you’re shopping for me), and “the Ever-Victorious General”. You could also have sex with the guy doing all the dictating, and end up as “Evita”.

· If rape and mass murder isn’t your thing, I suggest trying the Stiles method. Named after the Teen Wolf character, the trick here is to surround yourself with a ton of other people who also share your first name. In order to communicate clearly, They’ll be forced to choose nicknames to distinguish each other. Immediately latch onto the coolest possible nickname as early as you can, and keep your fingers crossed. HINT: The odds of keeping your new nickname will be greatly improved by your not actually wanting it.

· There’s the Tex Factor. Try adopting the stereotypical quirks and mannerisms of the state or city you’re from, or distinguish yourself by being the only person in your peer group from that place. With a little luck, you might end up as the “Tex”, “Nebrasky”, “Philly”, Tulsa”, or “Burlington” of your group.

· The "Quincy". First, build a time machine. Use this time machine to go back in time, and force your parents to name you after one of them. There is a 85% chance that you'll have a nickname forced on you just to keep family conversations straight.

Of course, there are other ways. If you have a cool job, or an obsession with something, or an interesting predilection, letting the world know about it, loudly and frequently, is a great way to end up nicknamed. Get in a couple of fights and you might end up as “Slugger”. Are you a ho-nasty freak? Better hope you end up with Casanova instead of jezebel. For a rugged nickname, try joining the military, or becoming a mobster. You could end up as “Small shoes”, “lucky”, or better still, “Scarface!”.

I’ve not yet accepted my lot in this life. Yes, it's true that I might never get a cool nickname, even if it drives me crazy watching my nicknamed peers lord it over me like they won the name lotto. Bravely, I began overcompensating for it years ago - as a public service, I’m going to let you all in on my secret:

Every song is more enjoyable if you can insert your name into it.

Check it - When I hear the theme from Flash Gordon, I get to sing “Ross! Ah-AH! Savior of the universe!”. When I hear Michael Jackson, after I stop worrying about my weight, I get to sing “I wanna Ross with you… all niiight”, because it’s true. Of course, I’ve got the advantage of having a one-syllable name that vaguely rhymes with “Rock”, but that doesn’t mean you multi-syllabic namers can’t join in the fun either.

Being good at this will not only astound and annoy your friends, it will give you that subtle self confidence necessary to endure the long lonely winter nights when Butch, "old Lefty", and "Scarlet" keep making you be the beer bitch. Who knows, it might even get you a nickname (Though I wouldn't’t bet on it, unless “Stop it, weirdo” counts). But if you happen to see your way to calling me “the Guardian Deity of the Planet”, I’d really appreciate it.



Shamelss Plug II, the Pluggening



If you're online tonight at 9 PM PST, you can experience the magic, the wonder, the amazment, the utter unprofessionalism that is me, hosting my weekly radio show.

I'll be sans co-hosts tonight, so I think the theme is going to be "That weird dream I had earlier this week". Expect Ween, in abundance.

It will rock your pants off. Balee dat.

1/29/2004

That's why Steve Jobs and K-G are classically trained, to Rock your Frickin' Socks Off!



Damn if this isn't some awesome, Schadenfreude enriching news:

Pixar dumps Disney

Studio headed by Steve Jobs says it will seek other distributors for its films starting in 2006




Pixar, the computer animation pioneer founded by Apple Computer Inc.'s Steve Jobs, said it would begin talks with other companies to distribute its films starting in 2006.

"After ten months of trying to strike a deal with Disney, we're moving on," Pixar CEO Steve Jobs said in a statement. "We've had a great run together -- one of the most successful in Hollywood history -- and it's a shame that Disney won't be participating in Pixar's future successes."


Immediately after dropping this missive, Pixar CEO jobs raised his arm in a counterclockwise motion, snapping his fingers repeatedly, and yelling "ooooh Snap!", before drinking from a gallon drum of Hennessey and leaving in his expensive ass ride.

....

This is *awesome* news. Not that I want to give the impression that I encourage corporate hero-worship. Hell no. It's just that Di$ney is the devil. For the first half of their existance they created some of the most enriching and rewarding art of all time. Then they spent the second half of their existance destroying everything wonderful about the art they created. With any luck, this will be a mortal blow to the crapfest that is Michael Eisner led Di$ney, and the possibility of the end of such fare as "Return to Neverland".

Because Science Is Just Too Darn Factual



(Edited - title changed after rethinking of original crassness)

Could someone please explain to me exactly why people with no interest in or understanding of science, or learning, are allowed to interject their ignorant poison into the educational system of entire regions of this country?

Georgia may shun 'evolution' in schools - Revised curriculum plan outrages science teachers



Georgia students could graduate from high school without learning much about evolution, and may never even hear the word uttered in class.

New middle and high school science standards proposed by state Schools Superintendent Kathy Cox strike references to "evolution" and replace them with the term "biological changes over time," a revision critics say will further weaken learning in a critical subject.


Of course, this article illustrates two very serious problems. In the first place, I've italicized that last part to point out just how full of shit the So Called Liberal Media is when reporting on issues largely beneficial to the Religious right and the know-nothing, anti science, anti culture, anti education crowd. Using a deliberately dissembling expression like "Critics Say", they not only feed their almost pornographic obsession with appearing "fair and objective", they also rather deftly imply that people who accept the theory of evolution as valid, and as the basis for all modern biological science, are merely one in a sea of possible, equally valid opinions on the subject of scientific inquiry into way biology works, or the origins of and processes of life.

People, this is utter bullshit. Evolution may someday end up being replaced by another theory, but said theory ain't gonna be that a magical sky god lovingly infuses everything personally with the spark of life, and that the world has been exactly as it is since the dawn of time, some 6,000 years ago.

Which brings us to problem number two. We need to wake up and realize that we're in the middle of a rather serious debate over the future of our nation. What we're seeing here is similar to how neo-conservatives push their agenda. The Religious funduhmentalists who can't win in the lab, or with the facts, use feel good, obfuscatory language like "Biological changes over time" to make themselves seem like reasonable, thoughtful people, when in truth, their goal is the elimination of all non God-centered thinking. Lay persons are made to feel like elitists when they question it. After all, isn't "Biological changes over time" essentially the same thing as evolution?

Well, yes, and no. While this obtuse phraseology can include the idea of evolutionary changes, it can also include that old creationist canard "Adaption" - That's the science-with-blinders-on view that, while you can see animal species adapt to sudden environmental changes, these changes in no way proves any evolutionary action at all. Of course, that larger animals require millennia to show real evolutionary change is a fact ignored and derided by these people. It matters little this this is a major reason why biology spends so much time with microscopic life - namely that microscopic life can show real, concrete and permanent evolutionary change within excessively shirt periods of time, since a single year can hold thousands of generations.

You'll also find that these are the same people who deliberately mis-define the word Theory, as being roughly equivalent to the word hypothesis. (A common trick one should always be prepared for.) This of course is the real goal. If you can't win with facts, keep changing the terms of the debate until no matter what your opponent says, they can't possibly win. They're to our era what the Imams are to the Middle East and what the Catholic Church was to Europe until the 1600s; A force for true evil that will, if kept unchecked, ruin everything about our civilization that they can, and set back progress of culture decades. They won't succeed in creating a new religiously correct utopia, but that doesn't mean they're not going to do a lot of damage trying.

The problem for people like me, for instance, who don't have degrees in biology, is that we're the ones most likely to have to encounter these assholes. More scientists need to get deeply involved in the fight to save our shcools and indeed our nation from this kind of anti-intellectual assault. We need an army of literate, charismatic (and possibly attractive) scientists with the time, energy, and willinginess to make reasoned, fun and highly persuasive arguments in favor of the fucking truth. Sadly, with the pressures of research and scientific disciplines, it seem we're unlikely to see this movement emerge anytime soon. Hell, I'll buy beer for a year to the scientists who puts this together.

Meanwhile, if you happen to know any biologists in Georgia, I reccomend pouring one out for them. They're going to need it after this.

2 addendums - The ever wonderful K wisely keeps her optimism intact in a post on this subject. She says many things I wish I had said, and as she happens to be an expert, she ought to be listened to.

Also, Greg linked to me, and it's worth mentioning that he's got one of the best political blogs you're likely to find.

1/27/2004

I am not the Ruler of the Queen's Navy



If anyone out there happens to know where I might track down a decent copy of any recording by Baroque pop Band The Merry Go Round, I would be eternally grateful. Their entire catalogue is out of print, and I can't find it anywhere.

If you have what it takes to help me, drop some e-mail on me with a quickness. You will be rewarded with my pledge to sing the entire score to H.M.S. Pinafore.

D-Dang people, if Sundazed music can find the time to reissue Montage, then why on earth can't they help a Ross out and get to the rest of the limited but awesome Baroque Pop catalogue.

Yet another reason why the fact that I am not the Emperor of everything is a gosh-darned crime.

Just In Case you wanted to know



It's Kerry with 39%. Dean's in second place with 26%, Clark and Edwards are virtually tied for 3rd. Does anyone really care that Joe Mama got 4th with 9%? Didn't think so.

What's that? You say you want to know what my generic and wholly unoriginal thoughts are? I dont' know, I just... Well, okay. I guess I'll make an exception this one time.

I'm still hoping Dean pulls enough delegates in the coming weeks to have a steering influence on how this whole thing turns out next Summer. He's likely not getting the nomination, but we needed him around to define the fight. Like Kucinich, who has made it somewhat more appropo for candidates from the supposedly liberal party to actually be liberal, Dean's made it obvious to the Party establishment and even the SCL media that in fact, it is okay for a Dem. candidate to express palpable anger at the way things have turned out under Bush II, Fivel Goes West.

Regardless of the commentators expressing shock and surprise that a politician would dare actually have real emotions when they disagree with something, we can only benefit from energized, willing-to-be upset kinds of people. It's far too important to pretend that everything is fine and nice.

I can't speak for everyone, but after the events of the last three years,, I'm fairly fucking upset about the way my so called representatives have rolled over like obedient puppies while the other party loots the country. The last thing we need is an appeaser like Joe Lieberman, or Fall 2002 Kerry, going up against Dubya this fall and getting creamed. The GOP is going to play dirty this year, and we need someone willing to fight fire with napalm. If it's Kerry, here's hoping he doesn't forget that.

And on that note, I'm going back to thinking about video games for a bit.

Dammit, I knew I should gotten that black market family tree notarized




Here's some news guaranteed to make some heads a splode.

A computer analysis of the skulls of modern humans, Neanderthals, monkeys and apes shows that we are substantially different, physically, from those early humans.

New York University paleoanthropologist Katerina Harvati said Neanderthals should be considered a separate species from Homo sapiens, and not just a sub-species.

-snip-

There is strong evidence that Homo sapiens neanderthalis, as they are known scientifically, interacted with the more modern Cro-Magnons, who eventually displaced them. Cro-Magnons are the ancestors of modern humans, Homo sapiens sapiens.


Personally, I always liked the fact that Neanderthals managed to reach some very crude level of civilization right alongside our most recent ancestors. You know, before being given the smallpox infected blankets treatment courtesy of Gilgamesh* and the get fresh krew.

[edited - I accidently obliquely referred to Cro Magnons our "earliest ancestors", when I meant "Most recent". Cro Magnons are made of people!]

Being that they were only kinda related to us, rather than our direct ancestors, their crude "society" is only that much more impressive. I wonder what would have happened if they'd had slightly better brains, better health care, or didn't buy into fad diets.

However, to me the really important question is why we survived, while they became a metaphor for men without the sense to ask permission before kissing a girl goodnight? And of course, why neanderthals are the only hominids who live on as a dating analogy. Why didn't Australopithecus Robustus get the chance to live on as a "No Fatties" catch phrase? And what about little Australopithecus Africanus? Doesn't he deserve to be the "Don't want no short short man" of the higher primates?


When I was much, much younger, my fondest dream was to be a paleontologst. For reasons that should be apparent to anyone who has watched NBC on Thursday nights for the last 10 years, I am especially thankful to have decided to like the study of History, and writing, more than I liked dinosaurs.

Dinosaurs, being completely amazing, were the initial reason for my interest in Olde School things, though I later became more interested in early hominids and especially those super awesome, hugemongous Tertiary mammals with awesome horns. It was like the Fan Fiction version of modern animal life. And let's face facts: The world would be a hell of a lot cooler with 2 foot midgit horses, and Giant Sloths the size of Elephants. And furthermore, a "Megatherium" just sounds so much more boss than a "sloth".

But to continue, being from a part of the country filled to the brim with people whose view of science is similar to the view Torquemada had of the Jews, I grew up having to tolerate the constant attempts of well meaning know-nothings to convince me that the earth was only 6000 years old, and that evolution was a sadistic prank which Darwin renounced on his death bed**.

These were people so deluded they actually thought that a comic book would prove more persuasive than teachers, textbooks, and um, hard evidence.

(Now I know Oklahoma science education was very, very bad, but give us some credit. We managed not to elect Steve Largent for Governor.)

The result of all this attempted brainwashing is that every time I read something that has anything at all to do with evolution, I find myself anticipating the arguments that the pro-evolutionary biology crowd (I like to call them "scientists", "reasonable people") can expect from our best buds the Creationists.

Reading about long lost cousin Homo sapiens neanderthalis, I can't help but imagine that any fundamentalists who reads this will probably have a stroke. On the one hand, it's about the descent of man, which is bad, bad! On the other, it's about how we're not descended from Neaderthals, which is good, good! Truly, when it comes to rollin' with the Steven J. Krew, not knowing whether the glass is half empty or half full is a bitch, Fa Shizzle.

* Yes, I know technically, the name Gilgamesh wouldn't have been applicable until around 3700 BCE, and our Neanderthal friends would have gotten the bum's rush around 28,0000 BCE. It's a, whatamacallit, artisitic license! You know, education and entertainment!

**Uh, no he didn't, but the truth never stopped people from lying about it.

1/26/2004

It's Double-U, E-E Kay, E-N-D, it's Weekend!



Once again, the tone of my weekend was set in the first 2 hours of friday evening. For nearly a year, I've hosted (And co-hosted) a radio show. I've had numerous tech updates, a fairly detailed training course, and I've used the darn studio equipment with few exceptions, weekly. This is in addition to the fact that I have my own dj rig and fair experience with AV-club fun. I can hook up a DVD player, set a VCR clock, and even remember the whole "Spring forward/Fall Back" thing without too many problems. In short, my limited but bonafied nerd credentials should guarantee smooth, problems free enterainment.

With all this going for us, you'd think I could have at least one show where there isn't some infuriating and mood-killing tech problem making yours truly feel like as shlemiel. Unfortunately, the studio was wired by sadistic, blind dyslexic. Per the demonic instructions of this hellishly evil blind dyslexic, there are constant, yet bizarrely unpredictable problems that never fail to happen while we're on the air. For instance:

1) Mic #3 mysteriously cuts out, forcing me to spend 10 minutes tracing the mic to its Jack, in a vain effort to figure whether or not it's actually plugged in.

2) Mysteriously, while seeking the source of the nile, our rats nest influenced Rube Goldberg designed wiring system leads to the accidental disconnection of the musical backdrop.

3) It also causes our stream monitor to go, which means we are incapable of determining whether or not the show is still being broadcast.

4) There are two CD players, CDs 1 and 2. They're actually connected to channels one and three. Making matters more hilarious, the fader is, retardedly, set up only to allow cross-fading between channels one and two OR three and four. This is a relatively new development that renders cross fading impossible. I discover that cross fading is not possible when two tracks bleed together in a decidely non-mashup context. Embarassment ensues.

5) I realize while hunched down under the boards, sweating profusely from a combination of frustration, california winter weather, and muderious rage, that I somehow forgot to put on deoderant that morning. Idiot. Make that smelly idiot. I take showers for pleasure. You'd think I'd remember something this critical.

Someday, I will have a flawless, hilarious, and erudite two hours on the radio, and the whole world will be amused and entertained. Until that actually happens, I have got to fricken' remember to wear deodorant.

On a good note, in spite of the stuttery start, weekend Kickassery did ensue. The vacancy has been fiiled by an actress from French Canadia (Just north of Americaland), who as far as I've been able to determine, is not A) evil, B) a junkie, or C) a fan of the String Cheese Incident. Also, I found the most rad frilly Tux Shirt at the Fairfax Flea Market, and I plan to get my dapper on quite soon.

In other news, I did NOT watch the Golden Globes. Take that, oppressive hollywood culture!


1/24/2004

Popping and Locking with a fresh fly beat



I love early hip hop. In My Humble Opinion, the late 70's early 80's rap scene is as exciting as Rock in the South during the early 50s, the original country artists of the 30's, and the Jazz and pop music scene of the 1920s. Like those other eras, the earliest hip hop isn't neccesarily as developed and intricate as it would later become, but it's some of the most fun music ever recorded, period. The joy of discovery and the feeling that one is doing something that no one has ever done before more than makes up for the flaws of the era, at least in most cases. I still refuse to accept Tom Tom Club.

The best thing about the previous week is my discovery that Rockaway Records (A great little store in Echo park that one MUST visit when in LA), apparently hires coma victims from 1982 to price their used box sets. I picked up the complete Sugar Hill Records singles box set for less than 30 dollars. After I danced a hellafied jig in tribute to my good luck, I've been skinny dipping in a sea of early 80's hip hop ever since. I feel like Don Cornelius, minus the soultastic sex appeal of course.

Some initial thoughts on the matter:

Has anyone else noticed that half of Sugar Hill's staff called themselves "grandmaster"? Did they give this title out with keys to the excecutive washroom? I don't want to criticize their business acumen, but it seems to me that there ought to be some kind of rap intern program one must complete before achieving the rank of Grandmaster. You know, start out as a Grandintern, advance to Grandapprentice, then move on to Grandjourneyman. After you've been Grandevaluated, you can then apply for your Grandmastery certification. It's only fair.

Not that it matters now - as we all know, some time around 1986 Rappers abandoned grandmastery as a profession and started culling hip hop artists from Rap Medical Schools.

I've never before heard Grandmaster Melle Mel's contribution ot the art of writing a great campaign jingle, but "Jesse", his ode to Prolific Civil Right's activist and baby daddy, Jesse Jackson, is awesome, and definitely my new favorite of the genre.

For the record, I also like Happy Days Are Here Again - Music and Lyrics by J. Yellen and M. Ager - for FDR's 1932 Campaign.

I digress. Back to the ladies of the 80's, I highly reccomend that everyone listen to the song "It's the Joint" by the Funky 4 + 1.

Finally, while we're on the subject of Math, Bob and Dave wrote the song I want played at my funeral, and I want to dedicate calculating 3 time 1 minus 1, to all th' ladies. Damn. Double Damn.

1/22/2004

Our Ass Kicking President



I've never google bombed anyone, not even President Bush. But President Bush hates Murdock! President Bush Saved Hannibal from that machine Gun! President Bush Pities the fool!

For more info about President Bush, go here.

For more on why I've done this, check out Pandagon.

A Pain I know all to well



One of America's biggest law enforcement problems is the grey zone separating the line between "Loose Cannon" and dirty cop. One day, you're beating the tar out of a perp, extracting information about Mr Big's next move - the next, you're taking bribes to ignore the independent legitimate businessmen as they make their weekly deposit down at the docks. I suppose it's a matter of knowing when to say when. After all, brutal cops brutalize responsibly, right?

When Clint Eastwood was dishing out Justice in San Frandisco during the 70s, he had to deal with the bozos at city hall telling him not to overstep the line, and lemmie tells ya, those pencil pushering sycophants didn't know shit from shinola about life on the streets. They went home to their big City Hall mansions, ate their frou frou city hall food, and obsessed about stupid City Hall pieces of paper like the Constitution. Meanwhile, Clint is out there every day, trying not to lose his soul in the pursuit of sardonic, awesome one-liner delivering justince.

Things have improved, but just cause we've made lots of strides, don't think that times have changed all that much. Sure, we might be totally more macho n' stuff these days, but we're still in the grip of pansy criminal-coddling, getting in the way of Justice.

The latest American heroes to fall victim to our national lack of balls? Totally hot babe cops:

--
Fort Lauderdale Detective Mike Nahum's handsome appearance lost him a criminal case, but there is a consolation prize. He may be the only guy in the world with a court order declaring he is a "very attractive man."

Nahum is so cute that a Broward Circuit Court judge threw out a criminal charge against a West Palm Beach man charged with selling drugs to Nahum during an undercover sting at a gay nightclub in Fort Lauderdale. Judge Susan Lebow ruled the defendant, Julio Blanco, was lured by the police officer into committing a crime in hopes he would be rewarded with sex.
--

Damn, that's gotta hurt. Justice cut down in its prime because of the soft bigotry of hot expectations. A good cop, putting his hotness on the line to entrap horny people into committing crimes, shouldn't be denied the sweet thrill of justice served. He ought to be given a long, steamy massage with oils and lotions. Then, his badge ought to be polished, repeatedly. Our nation' heroes deserve no less.

Tonight, I'm pouring one out for this guy. You should too. Tadow!

1/20/2004

The State of the Union is Word, cause you know...



My Fellow Me: As mandated by our young and highly incomplete constitution (More of which will be provided shortly), I have come today to deliver the first of hopefully at least one State of the Union Addresses for the People's Democratic Republic of Ross, or the PDR of Fucking R, in the house.

It's been quite a year. As we discovered from dilligent academic research in '03, it does indeed take 2 to make a thing go right. 2 also happens to be the number required to make it out of sight. As a result of these findings, I will be presenting congress with legislation documenting and encouraging 2ness nationwide, so that things will go right, and be invisible, for the length of our great nation's history. "Hit it!", I will say to congress. "I want to rock right now". I am, after all, the Emperor and president, and I came to get down. I may not be internationally known, but I promise you I'm known to rock the Karaoke Microphone. When faced with these facts, My Fellow Me, I can assure you that they will acquiesce to my demands.

We also learned that rap is indeed an art, and Kool Moe Dee is in fact a Picasso. But of course, why else would we try so hard to paint a picture? He is bigger and Badder, forget about Deffer. Every time he rocked a mic, it left a stain in our collective national brain, that did indeed remain, stuck in the back of our brains until we saw him again. Furthermore, the inexorable truth that Brass Monkey is indeed a funky monkey clashes not at all with the fact that Funky Cold Medina will help you get the ladies in the 80's, which ought to make our Octogenarian citizens (When they move here) quite happy indeed.

It's also true that in spite of our best efforts to resist, mainstream rap has produced a string of catchy, throw-away pop hits that completely rule in a way not seen since the 1992 Heyday of Kris Kross. Unfortunately, we remain totally not Krossed out. I do have my pants on backwards for this speech, however.

In short, My Fellow Me, the state of our Union is Def.

But all is not perfect in our great, imaginary nation. My fellow Me, as I stand here, gazing upon my subject (myself), one word comes to mind: Immigration. I need more subjects, I mean, fellow citizens. More accurately, the royal search for a new roommate continues without reprieve, due to the sudden departure of the previous royal roommate, who is moving to Japan. Preferably, I would like a fellow citizen who keeps a clean bathroom and doesn't hate it when their roommate wastes time on far too many useless pursuits.

Therefore, the State Of The Union has one vacancy.

I'd like to draw your attention to your President and Emperor's mental state. We remain single and antsy. Scientists have proven that mortal humans cannot survive without at least one snog every 6 months. While we are not yet in a crisis, if I am frustrated and uptight all the damn time, how am I supposed to make informed decisions regarding the ship of state? Truly, the loins of greatness need refreshing from time to time.

Simply put, the state of the union is "Pent up"

Therefore, I intend to present legislation before congress bestowing upon me emergency powers to asset me, powers that include, but are not limited to, the following:

1) The right to watch British Romantic and Character Comedies starring Hugh grant, without being made fun of. 1B) the right to be believed when I claim I've been watching "Das Boot". 1C) The right to be believed when I claim I'm straight

2) The formation of a Blue Ribbon committee the purpose of which is to investigate security failures which have led to my current non dating lifestyle. This committee will ignore the fact that I have been purposefully avoiding dating, and instead will seek to blame a foreign nation, preferably France, Japan, or Sweden, for stealing all my game. Word.

3) The right to specifically request "Liking video games, and an appreciation for Oscar Wilde" as a quality for prospective dates. The right not to be laughed out of the room at the expectation that said date will be female.

4) A pair of red, velvet or Corduroy, pants. Just because they're really fancy and really cool. The only reason I place this here is that in an emergency, you can attach all sorts of riders to bills and pretty much guarantee said bill's passage. See also Clause 1C.

But my fellow Me, all is not frustrated and pent up. There have been triumphs and fun for the union. We have won the war on Vice City. We have liberated the Kingdom from Gannon, twice over. And most importantly, we have won the Special Cup, defeating the heavily favored Team Mushroom racing group, a truly magnificent accomplishment for our young nation.

In short, the State of the Union is Triumphant!

But we're not content to rest upon the accomplishments of the past. We have goals for the future that will be solved utterly and without ambiguity.

1) The PDRFR will leanr how to post comments properly, without having one comment be applied to every single post on the blog. (PLease help if you have advice)

2) We will actually return to edumacation. A learned, grad schooled nation-state is a better than your mom nation-state. We intend to be better than your mom. Also, we will proudly learn even more about Media history and ancient Rome than anyone cares to hear about while we're drunk. We will not care, and will continue to talk about it.

3) Figure out just what the hell one is supposed to do with vegemite. Once this secret have been breached, we will use it to blackmail our hated enemies, the Citizens of Barter Town.

4) Get our freak on repeatedly, and with mad precision. We will dance. For inspiration.

So I leave you tonight with a pledge. I promise to write trifling humor pieces for obscure publications. I promise to drink far too much wine. I promise to kiss people occasionally and with great enthusiasm. I promise to keep listening to sardonic or depressed Cabaret singers. And most importantly, I promise to represent our nation well, should anyone with similar video game powers choose to lay down a challenge. We will rise, and we will prevail.

Thank you, and good night.

1/19/2004

Constitutional Article II, Constitutional Article Goes West



The state of the union is almost upon us. (It's tomorrow, incidentally). As an independent Nation State, and as the Leader of said independent nation state, I've had a look into my own hastily written constitution, and I see I'm also required to deliver a state of the Union for the PDROR. Expect me to render for you, my subjects, what you've come to expect in the 5 days we've existed as a country: Namely, my love of drinking wine, and of Babylon 5.

Meanwhile, I am declaring a state of Martial Law, localized to my e-mail spell check. I'm goddamned tired of it suggesting regeneration every time I accidentally type "regluar". Once the crisis has abated, I will return the spell check to its family, but for now, horrible, painful interrogations must be ministered without mercy or reprieve.

I kind of need to be serious for a moment



Normally, I don't like to turn this blog into a forum for my political views, (Except to repeat, utterly, that Dubya is a lying unelectable frat boy). That said, does it seem to you that republicans couldn't give a shit about abortion? They use it as a wedge issue to be sure, and it's a quite effective wedge at that. But honestly, rich people have never been subject to the same consequences of pregnancy that the working classes, middles classes, or poor are subject to, so why the fuck would republicans give a shit about it in the first place, other than as a convenient way to win votes?

Now I'm going to admit something that as a liberal (make that as an EXTREMELY liberal progressive with socialist tendencies), might seem extremely out of place, if not contradictory. The truth is that I'm very uncomfortable with abortion, and frankly, I wish it didn't exist. I wish that there was something, anything better than abortion as an option for people. I personally feel that even if the initial cells aren't ipso facto a child, the potential child shouldn't necessarily be forced to bear the consequences for the actions of the adults who accidentally created it.

That said, do not misunderstand me. I'm absolutely pro sex, pro sexual freedom, pro birth control, and especially, anti enforced parenthood. Just because someone accidentally has a child, (and just because I feel that this potential child shouldn't be punished for the parent's actions,) that doesn't mean I think people who don't want to be parent's should be forced into parenthood.

I have not a clue what the right thing to do is. Obviously, I favor adoption over abortion. If I lived in a country with a rational, reasonable and not-at-all-influenced-by-religious-nutbags-who-believe-literally-in-the-existence-of-a-magical-sky-god-willing-to-punish-people-for-masturbating, public policy regarding sex, I might be much more comfortable voting my conscience. I really do think Abortion is barbaric. Furthermore, I've known far too many abusive people who aren't exactly perfect parents, to ever really believe that old saw that people like to trot out, namely that once you've actually given birth, the baby becomes so precious that it would be far harder to even consider giving up.

This strikes me as an imperfect assertion at best. It's possible for someone to go from mommy and daddy of the year, to beating the shit out of one's children, and it sadly happens all the time. It's also possible for 2 people to make an informed, rational decision to essentially allow the performance of some pretty gruesome surgical techniques long before the birth. Therefore, why wouldn't it within the realm of possibility, no matter how emotional you may be, to make a rational, informed decision about adoption, even after giving birth? I think that it's a copout to say otherwise - If you believe that it would be a punishment to bring the kid into the world at all, why wouldn't it be worse punishment to keep the kid, having decided you aren't able to parent it? Which choice is more selfish?

(I want to digress and say emphatically that I DO NOT KNOW the answer to the last question I asked, about which choice is more selfish. I'm merely stating my opinion on an extremely divisive subject.)

I feel this way about abortion for the same reason I became a vegetarian. I think it's a huge huge waste, and I'm somewhat disturbed that we can talk about something this potentially disturbing in a dry, clinical manner, as if we were talking about tonsillectomy.

Of course, I have never had to deal with this situation on a direct level. I've never been a daddy, and I've never been in a serious pregnancy scare. I have no idea how I will react. I honestly will never have to endure either an abortion, or the pain of childbirth, nor the heart breaking decision to give up a child inside myself, and therefore, the very fact that I'm agonizing over this is a bit selfish and egotistical.

I know enough to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am most definitely NOT ready for parenthood, and I would of course never, ever consent to it by accident (unless I were married or at least with ample financial means). Though this brings me to another unsettling aspect of the whole mess. As a male, I get little or no say in how this turns out. Should I end up with a pregnant sexual partner, they can choose to abort, or adopt regardless of my feelings. But what's worse, they can choose to keep the kid, and if they do, regardless of how I feel, I am now forced to support the child for the rest of my life, whether or not I even wanted it.

When compared to millennia of double standards, sexism, virginity tests, concubines, chastity belts, veils, lack of political power, entire religions devoted to making sure women are treated like petulant children well into their 80's, divorce and adultery laws that place the burden of proof on women and let men off the hook, etc etc etc, this paradox regarding a father's "right to choose" might seem trivial. Then again, it is no more right to punish men for the collective assholery of the whole of human history, than it is to punish women because of some stupid book about a talking snake and incestuous middle eastern nomads.

However, and this a really, really huge however - I'm not a moron.

Even after you consider the idea that a dangerous double standard might exist, even after you examine the moral complications of the abortion issue, you're forced to consider what I think is the most important aspect of the entire issue.

The truth of the matter is, the so-called pro life crowd couldn't give a shit about "life". They couldn't give a shit about the babies they're willing to kill decent people over, and they couldn't give a shit about the women whose souls they claim they're trying to protect. The obvious fact is that they hate sex, sexual freedom, secularism, and in my opinion, the equality of Women, of which sexual freedom is an integral part. Abortion is currently the most visible symbol of that freedom they despise so much, but they see the victory over abortion not as the goal they're seeking, but as phase one in a long term attempt to turn western civilization into the Christian equivalent of the Taliban. Mark my words - if they ever win on Abortion, they'll go after birth control pills next.

These are also the same people that support horribly lopsided tax laws, laws that allow corporations to treat the country as a giant piggy bank, the elevation of Christianity to Official status, the utter consolidation of the media, the lie that rich republicans are somehow more "common" and regular" than those evil liberals, and any number of wrong and stupid policy and tactics. They're the enemy.

And that's the rub: their stupid, irrational, bigoted medieval insistence on limiting the rights of people (particularly women) to engage in sex at their personal leisure is more barbaric than abortion. As a result, I must defer to the less barbaric option, and thus, I'm pro choice by default - I simply cannot vote in any way, shape or form for any sort of pro life candidate, because I realize that those candidates represent, in every single other way possible, everything I despise and fear about American political life, and they embody all my fears about the future of this (mostly) wonderful country.

I do think abortion is nasty business. but while it might make me really, really upset, life, and good citizenship, isn't pretty, neat, or even balanced most of the time. Lots of things have very negative effects that we must endure, and we do so knowing that if a greater good is served, or if the negatives are outweighed by the positives, we can live with it. Abortion is firmly in that category. The damage I think is caused by the existence of abortion is far less than the damage caused by anti-scientific, anti-choice, anti-sex philosophies that are embraced by about 99% of all people who call themselves pro-life. Once again, a ringing endorsement for my being pro-choice, even if it's a choice that leaves my deeply unhappy and frustrated.

There are a few reasons why I'm bringing all this up.

1) because the morning after pill is a really, really good idea and ought to be available without a prescription. It isn't an abortion, it's a last minute prevention of an unplanned pregnancy, and that kicks ass. it's also safe, effective, and moral. it's just plain hatred of sex that causes people to oppose it, and that's just dumb.

2) Stem cell research ought to be allowed to continue unabated. We're allowed to donate our own bodies to science when we die. Why then can't parents (or potential parents) choose to donate miscarriages, abandoned fetuses, or even aborted fetuses to the scientific pursuit of the betterment of mankind? Stem cell research could literally change the world, and only a petty, superstitious, small-minded fundamentalist could possibly disagree. Hence, the decision on this issue by our "president"

3) I think democrats need to find someway to simply refuse to talk about abortion, in the same way that Dubya magically sidestepped the question of whether he was a cokehead, and whether or not he was ever arrested for DUI. They can use that dumb doublespeak like "That's a matter for the states", or "I think the American people know where I stand", that sort of nonsense.

Republicans are using the issue to convince poor, rural people who also happen to be very religious, to vote against their best economic and social interests. Hell, if the same people who obsessed over Bill Clinton's non illegal blow job could let their guy have a free pass on fucking cocaine, I'm sure we can find a way to force our people to fall in line so we can get elected.

For the time being, the Supremes aren't going to overturn Roe V Wade. But they will if they get the chance to appoint just 2 more justices. We have to start winning again, and win for a long long time, and to do that, we're going to have to stop letting these sanctimonious hypocrites beat us up on an issue they honestly couldn't give a shit about.

4) I needed an excuse to mention how dope Monty python is. I'm going to leave you with the lyrics to the greatest pro-contraception song ever, from The Meaning of Life:

DAD:
There are Jews in the world.
There are Buddhists.
There are Hindus and Mormons, and then
There are those that follow Mohammed, but
I've never been one of them.
I'm a Roman Catholic,
And have been since before I was born,
And the one thing they say about Catholics is:
They'll take you as soon as you're warm.
You don't have to be a six-footer.
You don't have to have a great brain.
You don't have to have any clothes on. You're
A Catholic the moment Dad came,
Because
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
CHILDREN:
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
GIRL:
Let the heathen spill theirs
On the dusty ground.
God shall make them pay for
Each sperm that can't be found.
CHILDREN:
Every sperm is wanted.
Every sperm is good.
Every sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood.
MUM:
Hindu, Taoist, Mormon,
Spill theirs just anywhere,
But God loves those who treat their
Semen with more care.
MEN:
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
WOMEN:
If a sperm is wasted,...
CHILDREN:
...God get quite irate.
PRIEST:
Every sperm is sacred.
BRIDE and GROOM:
Every sperm is good.
NANNIES:
Every sperm is needed...
CARDINALS:
...In your neighbourhood!
CHILDREN:
Every sperm is useful.
Every sperm is fine.
FUNERAL CORTEGE:
God needs everybody's.
MOURNER #1:
Mine!
MOURNER #2:
And mine!
CORPSE:
And mine!
NUN:
Let the Pagan spill theirs
O'er mountain, hill, and plain.
HOLY STATUES:
God shall strike them down for
Each sperm that's spilt in vain.
EVERYONE:
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is good.
Every sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood.
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite iraaaaaate!

1/18/2004

Saturday night's Alright (For wallowing in self doubt)



It would appear from my behavior tonight that I am officially an old man. I'm young, single, and I live in LA. It's also Saturday night. So when I have a night without any serious commitments and without any reason to worry about anything, what do I do? Do I go to a party? See a band? Hit it raw dog and bail style with a young nasty lady?

I Stay home, eat pizza, and watch Law & Order, SVU. And I post to blog that maybe 1 people reads. That one people being myself. Truly, I live life on the edge. highway to the danger zone indeed.

I do know this: Referring to diabetes as "Diabizzle" is super hilarious, no matter how many times you say it. This also works for Pasadena, or more accurately, Pasadizzle.

1/17/2004

Awesome Shizzle in the Hizzle



In spite of all evidence to the contrary, life is not just 100% full of crap and non nutritious filler. Occasionally, you drink 8 cups of coffeee and cool things happen.

Things that Do Not Suck(tm) include, but are not limited to, the following:

1) Candidly talking about porn with a friend whom you only recently met. The discussion being about the lameness of certain outlets of porn in comparison to certain other outlets, rather than a condemnation of porn per se. Also, it is awesome that the underlying subtext, namely that in spite of my obvious suaveness*, deep down inside I am still a 13 year old habitual masturbator, was not the cause of any embarassment.

2) Totally doing "le freak" to the music blaring out of a shoe store. Then getting "le freaked" by one's dance partner. Then, walking out of the store, pointing at the first girls you see walking the sidewalk, saying "Ladies...", and clicking sleazily. Knowing that in spite of appearances, those girls were totally on one's jammy. Fa reelz.

3) Bagels. Muthafuckin' bagels. You cannot front on bagels, cause they have mad science, nowhatI'msayin, boyeeee? . It is also fresh knowing that somewhere, cute indie girls are making bagels.

4) Personal stories that double as celebrity gossip. Here's one: In 2002, I almost got to kiss the Bass player for a Semi Famous indie pop Band, a band whom I have adored from their first album. Stupidly, I was a damned idiot and in a dumb attempt to be nice, I failed to take advantage of this opportunity, which naturally did not present itself again. Too bad I'm not going to reveal said Bass Player, or her Band, except in the most oblique way. If you get the reference, you're an even bigger nerd than I am.

5) Ghetto Superstar, and singing it. Also, when some dumb stranger tells you not to quit your day job, realizing that you might be a bad singer, (Incidently, I'm not) but you can still kick their ass at nintendo. Also, pointing out that the moron who dared make fun of our public singing probably goes home, has unfulfilling 3 minute sex with his bored wife, only to climax quietly and shamfully, falling asleep dreaming of the life he could have had, if he'd only taken his ass out of his mouth and lived a little. Knowing that if I ever get famous for any reason, I will mention this in public.

*No one is allowed to dispute this, no matter how inaccurate it may seem. My mom says I'm debonaire, so take that!

1/16/2004

Official State Business



Hear ye, hear ye!

Please ready yourself for my first proclamation as an independent Nation-State. Technically, I'm the People's Democratic Republic of Ross. At the moment population one, but being a very sexy republic, I hope eventually to have at least one sassy female citizen. As an independent nation-state, it has occured to me that I need to drop some legal science, Laws, regulations, etc. My capricious whim is apparently not enough to govern a people with. Therefore, I give you the PDROR Edict of Ross, version 1.0:


1) Screw the hardest national Anthem ever. From now on, we have a new national anthem. It won't be sung at baseball games, since baseball is damn boring. Instead it will be performed by church choirs before haircuts and sandwich luncheons.

2) Baseball is lame and boring, and its only purpose seems to be preemption of good television shows. This crime can no longer go unanswered, and I hereby decree the new national pasttime to be Street fighter 2. All national disputes will be settled using the power of Ryu and E. Honda. Liberals and conservatives will choose their characters, and the winner will then set policy - unless a conservative wins, in which case I shall negate the results and declare my law to be the final authority.

3) In the interests of providing for the common defense and ensuring the general welfare, and in the interests of tapping "it", I hereby establish the Department of UnEnjoyment. Since being dumped is worse than being fired, all my citizens who find themselves dumped, cheated on, or otherwise heartbroken can apply for unenjoyment benefits from the state. You will be provided with a state employed girlfriend or boyfriend who will provide anyone of the following services:

*confidante
*Hot action
*Appearance at family functions
*sympathetic ear while babbling on the phone
*shopping partner
*beard

These services will be dependent on the nature of the terminated relationship, to be determined by our staff experts. Benefits shall be provided for at least half the length of the former relationship, not to exceed 1 year. Benefits can be extended in times of depression or recession, but all who accept unenjoyment benefits must attend classes on learning how to have game, and provide proof of completion of training. Our citizens must be able to reenter the single world a true playa. Most important: No hating. Only celebrating will be promoted by the DUE.

4) College is free. Public School is funded equally, regardless of where the school is. There is universal health care. However, the catch is that you are required to aknowledge that The Smiths are totally kick ass.

Now go, and spread the word to all the peoples of the land. Your emperor shall proclaim more laws soon!

1/15/2004

Real Men are from Mars, Pussies are from Venus



Hells yeah. President Bush is all about getting us off this rock and Kicking it old school style on Mars! Unifying us with a blizzomb ass Nizzational Pizzuropose and shit. Muthafuckin USA in the interplanetary hizzouse, biiiyitches! Who do those fairy-ass liberals think they are, demanding that we actually find Osama or WMDs, anyway? Straight playas like us? Fuck no g! We goin' to muthafuckin Mizzars wit' a quickness!

But on a serious tip, I want to know just who in the hell came up with this half brained idea. Mars? Really? Instead of say, researching biotechnology and robots? Do they really expect me to believe that the president who ends stem-cel research and slashes funding for science and education cares about actual science?

Perhaps it's just another example of how manly we are ever since the Clenis left office. Maybe the bush administration players are all like "Totally for real. Those commies can eat me! That'll show them Russians, er, Chi-coms, er, Eurofags, er, liberal shits, er someone, who's got the biggest space program dick!"

Sadly, they probably are all like that. Because we are being governed by idiots. So I'm taking decisive action. I'm declaring myself an independent nation, and when the time is right, I'll rescue the US from its own folly. For the time being, I am The People's Democratic Republic of Ross. Eventually, I will prove my royal lineage, return to the US, and declare myself the second Emperor of the United States. Press releases will be dropped as this situation developes.



1/14/2004

Two men enter. One man leaves!





Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.

The above link is to a rather amusing online test. Take it, then come back here and read on...

When I saw this test, I was rather excited. I love, love, love nuclear war fiction. Sadly, the stupid end of the stupid cold war ended that genre rather decisively. Now we have to endure lame natural disaster stories. Sure, Tidal waves, earthquakes, volcanoes and Asteroids are terrifying, but they lack the existential one-two punch that the human race snuffing itself out brings with a vengeance.

The above test is ultimately disappointing. Most of the Survivor templates it generates are kind of dumb and not at all related to nuclear anything. Where are the mutants, evil scientists, or sterile women?

Instead, we get "Arnold"? "The kid you hated in school"? "Insane ninja kid"? Come on people, we all know they'd melt into a puddle within seconds.

Perhaps it's not their fault. Maybe they haven't read the Endworld Series. Or they haven't seen a Mad Max Movie. Or watched Planet of the Apes, Logan's Run, A boy and his dog, Hardware, and any number of post nuclear war movies designed to give little kids nightmares. Having spent the better part of my childhood and adolescence cowering in mortal fear of death from above, I'm an expert on who survives the big one.

First, You have to keep in mind that horrible mutations are inevitable, even if it isn't technically scientific. Never forget that when the bombs fall, frogs and humans become genetically compatible. So too are bats, horses, birds, snakes, fish, and humans.

Second, always remember that nuclear war is the apotheosis of luddism, and evil despotism. Liberal democratic humanism will sadly die with the last light of civilization. You will either get to choose air conditioning and santitation, but be a nazi, or you'll crap in an outhouse, die of plague, never bathe, and get to be a good guy. Not much of a choice if you ask me, which is why I intend to be on the moon when this happens.

Third, Oppenheimer's warning to us all must be preserved for all time - As we discovered during WWII, nuclear science is the single most symbolic achievment ever. The damage to thinking and communicating is immeasureable. Just two measily kiloton bombs made it impossible for the post WWII generations to talk about any war, bad guy, or political event without referring back to it. Our current obssession with Irony is the direct result of years of nuclear testing, rendering us incapable of communicating without resorting to trite sarcasm or practiced detachment. When all the bombs go off, the effect is exponential: Every single thing in existance will live only to fulfil an allegorical purpose. This will be 9 million times more annoying than we are capable of imagining at our current level mathematical progress.

Now, with that in mind, everyone ought to know that only the following kinds of people ever survive apocalypses:

1) And Old crazy minister convinced that the war was God's will, and that their job is to kill the survivors who attempt to start over for perverting the will of god. They will, for unclear reasons, end up in possession of one of the last undetonated bombs.

2) A crazy ex-generals who decide to use what's left of the military to put themselves in charge. They will somehow train a group of radiation sickened rednecks how to pilot Sherman tanks and fly F16s, but will still be defeated by a drifter with sack of old mail.

3) A completely useless loser with a crucial skill that never seemed useful until the entire world went to shit. Like, for instance, the ability not to die in a nuclear war.

4) A group of children. They will either A) kill each other one by one, or B) Start a bizarre quasi religion around their impending rescue. Either way, they'll all wear raggedy clothes and go crazy when they hit puberty.

5) At least one pregnant woman will survive, and her baby will become a pivotal resource in the battle for the future of humanity.

6) Robots and Cyborgs. It will become known after the war kills everyone that science was advanced enough to create robots and cyborgs in secret, yet was not advanced enough to stop nuclear war. The obvious irony will kill everyone already annoyed to near death by having their skin slide off their bodies. These robots will either be more humane than people, or evil killing machines.

7) A huge number of a previously downtrodden minority. Since Nuclear war is the only kind of war that functions as a literary device in addition to being a convenient end to the population problem, these formerly downtrodden people will form their own society that the main characters (See "white" survivors) must go to for pivotal help.

8) At least 2 celebrities will survive. One will become evil, the other will become anonymously good. There is a 97% liklihood that one of the celebrities will be Steve Guttenburg.

9) A scientist. For some reason, when nuclear war happens, the gene that allows people to remember that science, while dangerous, is the greatest thing that ever happened to mankind, will be eliminated form the human gene pool. As a result, we will reject science, live like it was the 1800s, and get our asses kicked by the bad guys who haven't forgot how to build a fucking internal combustion engine. Idiots. Anyway, of the scientist is evil, they will be the hardest of all the bad guys to kill, mark my words. If the scientist is good, they will be easily manipulated by an evil person, and will probably have to sacrifice their own life to save the good guys. The important thing to rememebr is that the good guys will reject science. The reason for this is that they are being counseled by...

10) A "wise" old religious fundamentalist who encourages the survivors to be stupid, backwards looking medievalists. For some dumb reason, this moronic fanatic will be seen as the moral leader of the good guys. Clearly, Dark Helmet was right.

11) Army Navy Surplus store owners, who apparently know the art of blacksmithing swords. Also, ultimate fighters. The only evidence for this is the sudden preponderance of samurai and cowboys in the post nuclear world. One unforseen side effect: Sideburns and George Michael Style whiskers will come back into fashion.

12) The secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare, who weirdly enough will be the only government employee or Cabinet member to survive. This is an immutable and unavoidable, universal truth, and you cannot argue with it. According to macho 1950's writers, they will be a woman, but since the idea of a Woman with political power is no longer considered ironic, gender will not matter.

13) Mutant creatures. Doy. Guess who gets to be a metaphor for the human capacity for bigotry?

14) At least one retarded person will survive. They will be the only trustworthy person on the entire planet.

15) Moon or Martian Colonists. They will be smart, keep their technology, and hope for the day when earth won't be uninhabitable. Eventually, they'll evolve into really cool space people. They will worship walt disney and the beatles.

16) A slick talking politician who will organize people around crappy, thrown together technology.

Hopefully, you'll memorize this list, and remember who to hang out with when the end comes. And if you're looking for a leader in the wreckage, I have a pretty good idea how things ought to be run...


1/13/2004

FUUUCK YEA-EA-AH



Slartibartfast: Check.
Arthur Dent: Check.

Damn inspired casting if you ask me. Now we just need to get Ford, Zaphod, Trillian, and the Vogon commader cast, and we're off.

Personally, I'd like to see Steve Coogan as Ford Prefect. Not only is he perfect, but it would be a welcome change from what I fear they will go for.

The Hitchiker's Guide was written originally right after Douglas Adams had worked on Doctor Who, a progression with rather obvious results. On the HHGTTG TV series, Ford Prefect was portrayed as a distinctly more foppish version of the Tom Baker Doctor of the 1970s. That, in my opinion, would be a mistake. However, I do think that Ford needs to be funny, unreliable, a bit sleazy, and good looking while drunk. Steve Coogan would bring it like it ain't never been broughten.

And Zaphod? Bill Nighy would have been perfect for the role, though it's essentially the same character he played in "Love Actually", albeit with an extra head. Since he's otherwise occupied, Eddie Izzard should get it.

The one thing that has always bothered me about the old TV show (and radio play)is that Trillian was protrayed as a ditzy blond - In the book she's an all-business, math genius, cool under pressure Brunette with vaguely Arab features. I know of no one who fits that bill, but I do know that there will be much yelling by me if some lame hottie blond gets the part. You know, now that I think about it, it should be an Anglo-Indian Actress who plays the role.

The laziest lil' whorehouse in Glendale



New year's resolution number one: actually freaking post to my blog. Change the name. It's been a really long time since I posted, though since no one reads this I am sure I haven't offended anyone. Still, two months is lame lame lame of me, and I promise (to myself, my only reader) not to neglect anymore.

I have other resolutions, naturally.

2) This really is very, very silly: I can admit it. I don't know if I have it in me to act like a ho nasty ho, but I secretly wish I did. And besides, no one is reading this anyway, so what does it matter if I admit my craven depravity? I'll be Logan's Run age soon, so better to get this off my chest now, rather than as a silly mid-life crisis.

Ahem.

The point is someday to have a real life three way, preferably in 2004. I know this puts me in the sleazy category of the sexually desperate, and of course, I shall do everything in my power to stay out of that category. That fact alone will probably doom this resolution to desolate unfulfillment. Anyway, I just don't care at the moment. Hot human sandwich action is my white whale. Fortunately, I still have both my legs.

3) Get something published for real, US currency this year. Last year I vowed to actually get something published, and surprisingly I succeeded. Now, I have to actually get paid for it.

4) Write everyday. Self explanatory.

5) Drink a lot of wine. Try to appreciate beer more. Avoid Whiskey. I love Scotch. Drinking it straight is one of the few things I can do that's actually manlier than almost everyone I know. But I learned in 2003 that drinking whiskey beyond anything but the most cursory amount makes me sick and temporarily ages me 60 years. I can't call what happens "hangovers" - it seems more that I have always been unable to move, think straight, or sleep, and that my head has always wanted to rip itself from my neck and move to Cancun. Wine, on the other hand, kicks ass and leaves the most pleasant hangover imaginable. And, when you drink it you get cool red lips.

6) Stop being a selfish twat. I won't go into details, because I don't feel like embarrassing myself with accounts of my ridiculous behavior over the last few months. Let's just promise to do better from now on. This does, I realize, sort of negate #2, but we'll ignore that for the time being.

7) Try to figure out just what in the hell everyone sees in The Clash. Because I honestly cannot get into them to save my life. They just seem like extremely talented but mostly predictable and less interesting Punk lite. They seem to me to be to Punk what U2 is to 80's Post Punk. When I want punk (which in my opinion is only worth hearing up to about 1984) I much more greatly prefer the Damned. Mostly, however, I think post-punk kicks far more ass. The cure ruled. So did joy Division, Souxsie and the Banshees, and XTC. Anyway, this year, I will try to give the clash a chance.

8) Move near a train station.

9) Vote for anyone but Bush. I really cannot wait for that.

10) Learn all the lyrics to Gin and Juice.


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