Monday, August 28, 2006

Cats Cradle

I was reading a very interesting article today in the latest issue of Rolling Stone, and it made me kind of sad. The interview was with Kurt Vonnegut, who is by far one of the greatest writers of the last century. His novels Cats Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five are among some of the greatest pieces of American literature, and if you have never read them I suggest you forgo the next pitcher of beer and use that money towards the purchase of either of these novels. They are well worth their price.

What made me sad was the realization that we will soon be losing another great writer. And let’s face it; we’re running out of the good ones. I would gladly trade all the Nora Roberts’ in the world for just one more Tom Robbins, Vonnegut, Dickenson, or Kafka. It may be a sad truth, but it’s the truth none the less; they just don’t make them like they used to.

What separated Vonnegut from his peers and predecessors was not just his format (using short paragraphs as a way to hold a readers attention and such) but his descriptive story telling of blending futuristic society’s with today’s modern life. We could see his characters and civilizations clearly in our head as if they were a normal part of our life, even though they never existed to begin with.

Vonnegut is (or more accurately, was) working on a new novel titled If God Were Alive Today, but he claims he has given up on it. Given Vonnegut’s gloomy outlook on life, I don’t doubt his claim, but it’s a shame. It would be nice to see him put out one more novel. But if that never happens, he can at least take comfort in the knowledge that he has written timeless masterpieces that will never lose their relevance. Check out the interview if you get a chance, and if you haven’t already, pick up one of his books and be prepared to have the door to your mind kicked open.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?

Another Round

I love beer. That is no secret. However, it appears that my body doesn’t give a shit that I like beer. As of now (or more accurately, since I was born) I am no longer allowed to drink alcohol. At all. Ever. No more drunken escapades, no more havin’ a beer and watching the game, none of that. God hates me.

Karma police, arrest this man

Sunday, August 27, 2006


How I spent my Saturday:

6 am – waking up

6:30 am – my parents picking me up to take me to the hospital

7 am – getting to the hospital

7:30 – having an IV put in my wrist, a bunch of cords attached to me via sticky circles with clamps on them to connect me to some machine

8 am – having my throat sprayed with some shit that tastes like bananas that numbs my throat so it feels weird to swallow and kind of stings a little

8:30 – being slightly (but not enough) sedated while a doctor sticks a thick camera attached to a tube down my throat as he injects veins inside my throat to stop internal bleeding…and he didn’t even take me to dinner and a movie(

8:40 – doctor pulls tube out only to make me swallow it again for yet another round of injections

8:45 – doctor plays with tube for shits and giggles

9 am – doctor pulls tube out of my throat as I pass out hoping for nothing more than the sweet icy cold hand of death to brush across my shoulders, but I’m not that lucky

9:30 – I go home and pass the fuck out.

Now that’s how I spell fun!

You could be my Yoko Ono

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Album Review - Stone Sour

Artist – Stone Sour
Album – Come What (ever) May

It’s always nice to hear that a member of Slipknot has a side project. In fact, I’m surprised that it doesn’t happen far more often. I mean, they have more than enough band members to spawn a career’s worth of side project material. However, it seems that Corey Taylor is the only one doing anything worth talking about and that is putting out records with his original band, Stone Sour. Their second release is a step up from their debut, but it still lacks the originality it needs to separate itself from the Saliva-Soil cliché. While Stone Sour may reek of radio-friendly rock, their songs are better than the aforementioned bands could hope for.

Starting off Come What (ever) May is a track called “30/30-150”, and while I don’t know what the hell that may stand for, it’s a good solid rock tune. Musically the record has hints of Slipknot, which I guess is only natural, but tracks like “Hell & Consequences” and the hit single “Through Glass” are far catchier than “Wait and Bleed”. The drums are easier on the ears and the guitars have a more traditional hard rock feel, which is always nice after banging your skull into a trashcan lid for an hour while listening to Slipknot talk about killing you in the least of romantic ways. They also manage to keep the heavy with only five members, which makes me question the validity of the other five Slipknot scary boys, but I guess someone has to dance on stage.

The highlight of Come… is the last track “Zzyxz Rd.” which kind of reminds me of Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home” only nowhere near as cheesy. The track consists mostly of piano and Taylor’s lyrics about missing his wife and kids, but when the drums and acoustic guitar kick in it adds a sense of genuine grief. This track also has the best line I have heard in a while “they throw me a bone just to pick me dry”, which is clever considering the subject matter. All in all it’s a pretty good record; I just hope that they find a way to separate themselves from the rest of the pack.

7 out of 10

If you like this record, try:

Stone Sour – Stone Sour
Slipknot – Iowa
Cold – The Year of the Spider

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Fuck Red Lights

Why does weird shit always happen to me? I mean seriously, it’s like all the streetlights turn red once they see the hood of my Mustang rolling down the road. As if they are all conspiring with one another to prevent me from getting to my ultimate destination. They laugh at my sorrow as I sit at the light, with no cars to be seen within miles, all alone with my music and my red fucking light. The red light just stares, as if daring me to run it so that some donut-eating ticket-writing mustache-wearing douche bag can fly out of nowhere like Starsky & Hutch. Then he’ll condescendingly walk up to my window and as me where the fire is, while he chuckles at his cleverness. He’ll write me a ticket for running a light that never should have been red in the first place, all so that the red light can have some fun at my expense. I hate you red light, I hate you like I hate Nazis. Fuck red lights; fuck them in their stupid asses.

Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you

Monday, August 21, 2006

I'm Alive!

Yes it is true, there is still life left in this body. I was rushed to the hospital by the nice ambulance folks last night because I thought it would be cool to throw up a lot of blood. I mean, all the cool kids are doing it, right? Anyway, I am back to life and at home and still feeling like shit but getting better. Thanks go to Cole for staying with me incase I threw up again and inevitably going to the emergency room with me, and Leah for watching over me as I am kind of a baby and am in constant need of comforting. Maybe tomorrow I can actually write something.

I know that this can be more than just flashing lights and sounds.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Statistically Speaking

This is an interesting article I found that showcases the impact blogging has had on society in America. I find it shocking that 62% of online Americans do not know what a blog is, as I would assume that it would be near impossible to perform a random search and not have a blog appear as a top result. The information that the blogosphere holds is vastly approaching, if not surpassing the standard information channels such as news websites. Now I will admit that the majority of the information in opinionated, but I imagine that the casual blog reader generally only looks for information within the context of his or her own political or social bias. If one were to research information on their favorite Republican politician, the Huffington Post is hardly their first choice.

It is important to remember that this article is over a year old, but I have been unable to locate any recent information based off of the same survey, assuming that it is a yearly process. If anybody knows of an updated list of blogging statistics please be so kind as to forward me the address, as this is something that greatly interests me. On a side note, I have received my Windows Vista beta disks and will be checking it out thoroughly through out the next few weeks. Here is a link to the Windows Vista weblog for those who are interested.

Never thought this day would come, you threw the bricks that built this wall

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I'll Have The Special

We’ve all had a job that, in a word, sucked. Mopping floors, flipping burgers, working as a register biscuit at Wal Mart, asking “do you want fries with that?” These jobs, or so we were lead to believe by our parents, elders, and Calvin’s dad, were there to build our character and teach us some responsibility. I don’t know about you, but deep frying potatoes and squirting the secret sauce onto an unappetizing looking disk of dough never seemed like a Zen experience for me, but I never knew how lucky I was. And now, with the recent surge in reality television, I can experience someone else’s misery at my own pleasure and be thankful that my job could be much, much worse. Welcome to Dirty Jobs, the Discovery Channel’s way of showing the jobs that really do suck.

What makes the show so impressive is not necessarily the content, but the way American audiences have grasped it and raised it to the top of the Discovery Channel’s charts. We all know audiences occasionally like to see real reality, as the History Channel and the Discovery Channel have managed to stay on the air for so long with competition like American Idol and every other terrible reality show out there. Where the networks show us soon-to-be-pop stars before they become soon-to-be-coked out groupie shagging pop stars, Dirty Jobs shows us life through the eyes of a worker with a job you don’t want in an industry you may not have known existed. This is what separates reality from “reality”.

Have you ever wondered what happens to road kill as you whiz by it on the highway? Dirty Jobs, and its host Mike Rowe show us the brave men and women who get to answer that question. Ever wanted to be a catfish noodler and just didn’t know where to begin your career? Ever even heard of a catfish noodler? Dirty Jobs shows the unaware just what a catfish noodler does, and is a good jumping off point for soon-to-be catfish noodlers. Oh, and in case you are wondering just what a catfish noodler does, here’s a brief job description taken from the Discovery Channel’s website:

Catfish Noodler: In search of people who can catch potentially 100-pound catfish with their hands only. Must not mind sticking limbs in holes in search of game and getting bitten as a result.
Before you decide to scream at your career counselor for not informing you of the potential benefits that await future Avian Vomitologists (I’m not kidding, this is a person who spends their days collecting owl vomit), you may want to catch the show and see exactly what it is these people do. While the perks of the job are jokingly poked at, the episodes mainly focus on the dirty side of the jobs. Where as the resume and job postings are the employment glass as half full, Dirty Jobs shows the half empty side of it, and I believe that this is what appeals to the audience. We are force fed reality TV that we know is not real. With Dirty Jobs, we get to see the action, in all its glory (or ugliness) and how these people really do jobs that would make most of us decide to skip lunch.

Gross out television has always been successful, even if only because these sights and sounds so rarely visit our lives. We never get to see the termite collector in action; we just assume he does his job. Well now we can see how a skull cleaner cleans skulls, and what exactly it is that a sausage maker puts in sausage (I would advise discretion for fans of sausage on this one). Dirty Jobs is a very interesting show to watch, but I stress that it is not for the weak of stomach. If you don’t mind seeing things that would make others vomit (including yours truly) then check it out on the Discovery Channel on Tuesdays at 9 pm ET/PT. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Will I ever forget to remember

Monday, August 14, 2006

My Alter Ego

Remember when applying for a job was easy? You would walk in and pick up an application, hoping that the person at the counter wasn’t looking at you and thinking “as if”, fill it out (remember to capitalize!) and return it to the same person who would inevitably be mildly amused that you filled the damn thing out in the first place. Then the waiting…and waiting. As Tom Petty said, the waiting is the hardest part. Well now that the blogosphere is world wide and expanding into every commercial nook and cranny it can wedge its way into, you can get rejection so much faster! Just imagine, you could discover in just hours that your opinion of the aardvark and its seasonal mating habits disqualifies you to work at Taco Bell! How exciting indeed!

Now that employers have accepted the fact that people like to vent online (and do so on occasion while pretending to work), the blogosphere has essentially allowed them the freedom to weed out those who have different political, social, musical, or even arbitrary bullshit-al opinions than those respective Keyboard Commando’s whose job it is to reject ulllltlrahotriotgirl because she likes chicks, cocaine, and shitty techno music (not that I don’t understand the cocaine part). They are now able to practice a selection process that has been outlawed in this country for many, many years. I’m sure there’s a book out there somewhere that explains just how many years many, many is; go look it up.

If an employer discovers that an employee or prospective employee has a blog, they are going to read it. Do not assume they won’t, because they will. And no, filling the most recent page of your blog with posts about how much you love said company even though 4 month’s ago you labeled the CEO a “douche bag” does not help. They are not that stupid (I hope). What this does is give the employers an inside look at you, and if your blog is of the, ahem, “freaky & kinky” type, don’t expect Borders Books to call you back.

The only advice I can offer is this; if it’s a creative, out-of-the-box thinking, or “alternative subjects” blog, use a pseudonym, like Mrs. Pain the Masochist, or Mark the Mangler. Also, title your blog appropriately (Dave the Dominatrix Next Door perhaps?) for your subject, and do not reveal any personal information, even if that hot 19 year old asks A/S/L at the end of every comment.

Then, just create a second blog about the profession you are interested in entering. If it’s IT, talk about IT. If its politics or mathematical statistics, talk about the industry and current events surrounding those subjects. This helps show that you are actually interested in your chosen field, and even if you don’t get the job, you might get another reader who will keep you in mind down the road. If your chosen profession is professional cow wrangler, I don’t think this rule would necessarily apply, so choose carefully.
All I am saying is that history has proven that legality does not determine practice. It may be illegal to not hire someone based on their personal opinions, but that does not mean it won’t happen. So keep your eye on the ball (gag ball?) and keep your comments where they belong. My posts about music do not go in my blog about blogging (redundant?) but they do go in my personal blog and my music blog. My posts about the ever growing threat of the infestation in Papua New Guinea of killer man-size alien robotic eroticons whose sole purpose is to enslave humans for feeding and strategic breeding purposes…that we don’t talk about. It just hurts so damn much.

Lived in bars and danced on tables

Shameless Plug

I would like to direct your attention to Kicks N Licks, a new online magazine that I am currently contributing some material to. The article on the front page is my first, and there will hopefully be many more to come. Either way, check it out. I promise I will post something more succulent within the next 24 hours.

Oh shit I got a headrush

Thursday, August 10, 2006

My Free Spam Part 2

Status: Complete Failure

Well, as we all expected, the radio lied. I never got my password emailed to me after requesting it a dozen times, and I don’t expect a laptop to miraculously show up at my door. Now I know you are all wondering why I did this if I knew this is how it would turn out, and I have an answer for you; because I hate myself. Well, that and the fact that out of all the schemes one could get themselves caught up in, this one was actually advertised on public radio. This is what fascinates me about this little experiment; how a company could use public media over the airwaves for something like this. It’s not like they sent me a spam email promising me the world (and a laptop), they actually paid an advertising agency money to tell us about their “great offer”. I had never heard of that before. I mean sure, it has happened before, but in the times we live in now, with lawsuits popping up like mushrooms, you would figure somebody would call foul.

So I obviously don’t need to advise you to try this at home, as I am not a professional and you are probably smart enough to not try it anyway. So I will just move on to my next subject, Reddit. This is a nifty little site that feeds subject lines onto your page about popular posts, and lets you submit posts for others to check out. Give it a try and see if it works out for you, I’m off to study for my A+ exam.

We all float on

Black On Black

One would assume that after 230 years of being a country, the color of a candidate would no longer be an issue. Well, it appears that in the Maryland Senate race, their making it one. Republican candidate Michael Steele made a comment that was described by Democratic Party Chairman Terry Lierman as “race baiting as a way to divide the voters of Maryland” when Steele asked a national news magazine who would serve them better, “(someone) who represents all the people, or just one particular race?” This comment was taken by Maryland Democrats to mean that Democratic candidate Kweisi Mfume would represent only black voters, seeing as how Mfume, a former member of Congress, is the head of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).

Steele’s campaign spokeswoman Melissa Sellers gave an explanation by saying Steele “is running to represent Marylanders of every race, economic status, and from every region of the state.” This is where one would normally cry foul, as the comment above could be construed as racist. There’s just one problem to that theory; both candidates are black. If Steele is to win the Republican nomination, and Mfume the Democratic, it would pose a race between two black candidates. If we look at it in terms of black and white (and its hard not to in this case) Steele claims he will serve everyone while Mfume would serve only the black community.
Now I admit that the prospect of both candidates being black may not seem too exciting at first, but look at the history behind this; there have only been 5 Senators of African descent. 5, total, in the history of the US Senate. As of today, there is only 1 currently serving on the Senate (Barack Obama, Democrat, Illinois). If Steele wins the Republican nomination, and Mfume the Democratic, there is a good chance one of them will become the sixth Senator of African-American descent. If there was ever a time to say you have lived to see history in the making, this would be it.

What separates this race from the other states’ is that we have two candidates of the same race, and they still found a way to make race an issue. I never agreed to the idea that politicians should campaign race-by-race, making promises to help one race more than the other, and vice versa. I believe that voters pick a candidate whose convictions and ideas match theirs, whatever they may be. If a candidate came to my town and told all the white people he would do “wondrous” things for them, I wouldn’t be asking myself how he is going to help me as a white male. I would be asking what he is going to do for the others who aren’t white. In this case, I think that Lierman was correct in calling this “race baiting”. Preach to the crowds as people, not colors.

  You’d rather die than take a stab at living, nothing would kill you so you do it yourself

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Make It Last

When is the right time to just give up? Is there such a time? I would imagine that in the realm of friendships there would be no such time, but as I have had to prove that rule incorrect in the past, I know that such a time does exist within the space time continuum. Should you just forgive and forget, and if so, how many times must you do that? What if you are fed up with all the years of being tested, as if your friendship was always on trial, would you get sick of it? I have this dilemma, and it is something that is always on my mind. I have a good friend (good?) that means a lot to me, a lot more than she will ever understand, or at least that she will let on to understand, and we have some good memories together. But the whole time, I was being tested. Mind-fucked essentially, as if everyday was a 50/50 shot of maintaining that friendship. How many times can you say it’s a joke or a prank?

More importantly, am I even the one at fault? Let’s face it; she has never been trusting towards people, even those that she claims to trust. It’s like she assumes that everyone is out to hurt her, everyone has a grand scheme, and all she has to do is find a clever way to show their evil side, and if it comes back to bite her in the ass, she just claims it was a joke. It’s not a joke. People don’t like having to prove their loyalty. I don’t like having to defend my conversations with other people to you when it was none of your business. Not everyone is out to get you. Some of us love and care about you, even when you got too cool and too successful for us. We put up with your dumb friends that talk down to us, and your snotty attitude that you never had before. We put up with your constant drinking and your constant judging. Yet, you still treat us like we’re on thin ice.

Seriously, fucking grow up. I don’t put you through hoops, make you walk a tight rope and balance our friendship on it. I love you for you, even with your faults, so why can’t you just fucking accept ours? You said that this is how I lose friends, but you’re wrong. This is how you lose friends, and you can’t seem to realize that. I don’t want to be tested. I don’t want to be compared to your other friends. I don’t want to be the only one trying in this friendship. So I’m not going to call. I’m not going to ask friends about you, or call your friends to see how you are doing. If you give a shit, you will call. If not, well then I guess you met my expectations all along. But I never tested you, never questioned your loyalty, and never doubted your sincerity. Check, fold, or ante up, it’s your call.

I think about that day, when I felt you threw it all away, to try and make me feel like I’m the one. You were my best friend, and I never ever thought those days would end, but now it feels like they are gone.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

My Free Spam

Status: In Testing

I was driving today, and I heard an offer on the radio. It was an offer for a free laptop. Now, I prefer to think of myself as a pretty intelligent person, so I was well aware that this was either a scam or an invitation to allow a billion companies to solicit my mailbox with the compassion of a pimp in Amsterdam. But, seeing as how I needed something to type today, I figured I would try a little experiment, and see exactly if this offer was real or not. Here is how the experiment went:

Step 1 – sign up at
Step 2 – click through 3 pages of offers, choosing “no” on all of them.
Step 3 – well, I walked into this one…

Basically step three was what I expected. I answered “no” on all of the advertisement options, because it said that I did not need to choose “yes” to any of them. Then, as I get through those three pages, I am presented with a page stating I have to choose 4 offers and complete the trial sign-up, then I would be able to verify my address for the sipping of my, ahem, free laptop. So I chose these 4:

1 – All Cool Music: first I had to enter my name an email address, then I had to choose an option for payment. This is what I expected, so I left the page open without filing it out and went onto my second choice.

2 – this is a site where you pay $5.99 for any CD. Now it is important to remember that the radio commercial stated there is nothing to buy, and all I am doing is filling out surveys. Maybe the survey companies just forgot to mention that whole paying for shit I don’t want or need part. Anyway, like the first one, I left it open and did not complete registration.

3 – BMG Music Service: we all know what this is, same MO as the last 2.

4 – My Daily Dose – something about free health literature. Basically, I just got tired of reading all of them and picked the first one that did not look like a sexual enhancement of some sort.

Next I started browsing through all the other pages, trying to get to the end. I was then place back on the front page, after it stated that I completed the process. So naturally, I try to log in to see that status of my “free laptop”, and guess what? My password doesn’t work, of course. This is not surprising at all. So I had them send me a new password, and once I get it I will follow up on this, and I will let you all now the outcome.

It’s gonna be a world of hurt


The good news that I have been waiting, hoping, even craving to hear has now befallen onto my humble ears. The Lemonheads are releasing a new album. And it gets better. Bill Stevenson is drumming for them on the record, and if you don’t know who he is, he is/was the drummer for the Descendents, Black Flag, All, and produced records such as Rise Against’s Revolutions Per Minute and The Suffer And The Witness, as well as other recent punk albums. He is an amazing musicians and producer, and the fact that he has his hand in this project only cements my belief that this new record will kick ass. Also, playing bass is Karl Alvarez, also from the Descendents and All. Delectable indeed.

It’s a shame about Ray

Sunday, August 06, 2006

This Post Is Copyrighted

So it seems Mel Gibson hates the Jews. If this is news to anybody, that person(s) has undoubtedly been living under a fucking rock. Anyway, Mel’s anti-Semitism is not the main focus of this article, but merely an introduction. I am not sure what Mel Gibson, the Jewish community, and the act of hatred have to do with Papa Roach, but maybe we will figure it out within the next couple paragraphs. I heard the new Papa Roach song today, and I have to say, I prefer them as Papa Roach and not Lostprophets. Or am I the only one who made that connection? I’m not saying I am an elitist asshole or anything, but you people have to take the journey with me here, I can’t do everything for you. This isn’t how a relationship works. Why are you yelling at me? But I love you!

Anyway, since we are discussing groups sounding like one another, lets touch base (or freebase if that’s what you would prefer) on something I have heard a lot about lately and frankly I think people get their damn panties in a bunch over the stupidest shit. The new Red Hot Chili Peppers song “Dani California” apparently sounds vaguely familiar to Tom Petty fans, specifically the Petty song “Last Dance With Mary Jane”. Now I have listened to and studied both of these songs, and I have discovered what I usually discover but nobody believes or cares about so they just keep yelling “foul”, and I am going to explain it to you. See me at paragraph 3.

Welcome to paragraph 3, or “three” for you grammar Nazi’s. Now what most people fail to realize is that even though two songs may sound similar, that does not necessarily mean it is copyright infringement. Nobody bitched about Green Day’s “She’s A Rebel” using the same fucking chord progressions as Jawbreaker’s “Boxcar”, and I think the reason for this is because when both songs are played back to back, it is easy to differentiate, to even the most casual of music fans, that they are in fact two very different songs. This is what has happened with RHCP and Petty. “Dani California” may remind you of “Last Dance With Mary Jane”, but it doesn’t sound enough like it to make someone confuse the two. This leads us to believe that it is not copyright infringement, and that anybody who bitches about it is either a maniacal fan of one of the artist, or is stupid and needs a hobby. Or both.

So what does this have to do with the Jews? Nothing really, but go ask Mel. I’m sure he will tell you that copyright infringement was first started by the Jews as a way to start all the wars of the world, or some bullshit like that. Now go listen to Jawbreaker.

I’m not O-Fucking-K

Thursday, August 03, 2006

One Fierce Beer Coaster

This may seem quite the obscure comment to make, but I am willing to risk my reputation (assuming I have one at that it is positive in some manner) by stating this out loud, for all of you to hear; the Bloodhound Gang may in fact be the most important band around. I know, you have already started to question my intellectual authority on the subject of music, as well as my sanity, but I assure that I would not make a statement such as this without having the intellectual arsenal to back it up. Allow me to explain…no, there is too much, allow me to sum up. The Bloodhound Gang has managed to carve out their own little niche in the world of music, much like Primus and Pink Floyd, and I will now explain why.

Much like the great white shark swimming amongst the other oceanic creatures, there is really no competition. The Bloodhound Gang belong in that small group of rap-metal artist, but they’re not really an active part of it. None of its member have claimed to have fucked Britney Spears (at least not that I am aware of, but I could be wrong), they don’t seem to have a grudge against anyone (except New Jersey, but really, who can blame them), and they don’t take themselves nearly as seriously as the other bands in that genre. They all seem to have a grudge against their parents, or society, or something else that none of us give a shit about, but the Bloodhound Gang seem to go the other way. They even included a track consisting of Jimmy Pop talking to his mother about words that rhyme with “vagina”. I doubt you would get the same phone conversation from Fred Durst and his mother. He would probably just tell her to fuck off, and that he did it all for the cookies. Maybe he likes cookies, and he is really just misunderstood. Ever think of that, Britney?

Anyway, my point is this; where the other rap-metal bands failed[1], Bloodhound Gang has succeeded by being the outcast. They mock New Jersey, make fun of Frankie Goes to Hollywood with a crack smoking Pac Man, and showed us how a lap dance really is better when the stripper is crying. Instead of getting pissed off, they got funny. And I don’t know about you, but I would rather listen to funny rap-metal than listen to Fred Durst talk about how badass he is. They are the only band that puts out records strictly for the purpose of laughing at themselves, and they manage to make some good music while doing it, and this is a lesson many bands could learn from. They have fun whether you are laughing at them or with them. And to be honest, I like it that way. Imagine how much more listenable LB or ICP would be if they make good music and talked about boobies instead of who’s ass they think they can kick. Seriously guys, cheer up. Life can’t be all bad[2].

I hope you die

[1] And the thing they failed at was HAVING A CAREER.
[2] Unless your name is Fred Durst, in which case it is required by law that your life suck and you make millions of dollars bitching about it.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Damn I Feel Old

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.[1] As the days float on by like leaves hovering amongst the waves in the river of life, these days are slowing passing us bye. Nothing seems to drive home the length of one’s current life stream as when a younger sibling reaches a pivotal age, namely 21. My lil’ sister Midge (some people say her name is Kellie, but those people are crazy. It’s Midge.) Turned 21 yesterday and she is now legally able to do all the things she has been doing since she was 15. So to all the young huddled masses, I say this; enjoy it while it lasts. It won’t last forever. Sooner or later, the creeping hand of old age glides across our shoulders and deathly whispers into our ear “it is time my son, for you are now one old son of a bitch. I shall see you beyond the void” or something along those lines that makes one assume he or she is of the ripe old age to start the process of dying. That’s a conversation with yourself that usually doesn’t go so well. Everybody wants eternal life, but none can have it. Happy birthday Midge.

Life handed us a paycheck, we said “we worked harder than this!”

[1] SOMEBODY has to know what that is from…