Thursday, November 20, 2008


I forgot to mention the other day that Nov. 18 was the 30th anniversary of the Jonestown "mass suicide" (or, depending on your view of it, the mass murder) that took place at the command of cult leader Jim Jones.

I saw a documentary on this a while ago and I have to say that this was some crazy Brave New World type of shit. I also have to say that I think Jim Jones was at least as insane as Charlie Manson, if not more so.
In a nutshell, Jonestown was a religious cult that had moved from somewhere in California down to somewhere in South America (what became known as Jonestown). There were apparently about 1,000 followers of this Jim Jones guy, and at least some of them were scared shitless of him.

Here is where it gets to be like Brave New World: Throughout Jonestown were speakers through which Jim Jones would speak for like 10, 12, or more hours per day, telling his people as they worked that America was coming to get them and would try to kill them and destroy them, etc. He would also tell them about how some of the people who had escaped Jonestown and had gone to the media about the scary conditions down there were "liars" and were trying to destroy Jonestown. Jones made all of his followers sign blank documents so that he could type up a contract later and already have their signature on it. Oh, and also, during his sermons, he would make all of his followers drink a "Kool-Aid"-like liquid before telling them that they had just ingested a fatal poison and would be dead in 10 minutes. These came to be known as "suicide drills."

Well, in 1978 an American Congressman went down to Jonestown to investigate what the hell was going on down there. Jones made all of his followers put on a big show, and the congressmen was somewhat satisfied; that is, until, before he was leaving two members of the cult passed him notes (they were separate incidents) that begged him to help them get the figgity-fuck out of there. So the congressman asked if anyone else wanted to leave, and some people did, and so all of the sudden a bunch of people started saying that they wanted to leave.

Well, then Jimmy Jones (who by the way was also super drugged-out) decided to assassinate the congressman (and some others he was with) before he could leave, so he sent out some of his "soldiers." T

After the congressman was killed, Jones got on his microphone and basically said to his cult, "Well, we just murdered an America congressman, so we are pretty much fucked." He told them that the U.S. would be down to Jonestown soon and would surely seek out a bitter revenge. They would destroy Jonestown and kill us all, he said, along with some other fucked up stuff. And he gave them the Kool-Aid, only this time it wasn't a drill.

There are literally audiotapes of Jonestown in the moments after the cult has ingested the Kool-Aid but before they have died, and you can hear Jones commanding a mother to feed her infant child the poison, along with some other stuff.

I believe that there were over 900 people that died from the "Kool-Aid," and I think only five people got out of that place alive.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Happy Birthday Jodie Foster

Jodie Foster turns 46 today. Foster's birthday is worth noting because of her portrayal of Iris, the 13-year-old prostitute in Martin Scorcese's 1976 film, Taxi Driver.

Taxi Driver is the greatest film of all time, hence the birthday mention.

Happy birthday, Jodie Foster.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Superheroes in Real Life, Volume One: Super Alone Guy

From time to time I tend to for no reason whatsoever imagine society as a collection of real-life superheroes. This practice basically started during my teen years, during which I spent a good deal of time reading various biographies of rock and roll legends like Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, and John Lennon. I enjoyed reading these biographies so much that after a while they evolved from simple tales of lives lived into "The Adventures of Such and Such." I was often able to identify in their stories the often unspecified and unidentified "evil" forces that Cobain and the others were fighting their battles against; for example, Cobain's arch nemesis seemed to me to be insincerity (Holden Caulfield's phonies?), while Lennon's seemed to me to be the suppression of the human spirit, and Morrison's seemed to me to be fear in any and all of its various manifestations. The stories of these men's lives became therefore the stories of the respective wars that they fought against their chosen and respective nemeses and enemies. And, in this setting, those stories became more or less battles between good and evil forces. The extreme and outlandish manner in which these battles were fought only added to the intrigue.

Well, I seemed to have developed a habit, because I find myself often categorizing others and attaching to them a "superhero" name and identity. For example: a couple of weeks ago I was at a bar in the city wearing a pair of $4 aviator sunglasses (because I rule in them) that my little brother had previously used as a part of his Police Officer Halloween costume. As I was walking through the bar, a girl in her mid-twenties approached me and grabbed for the sunglasses. She was pretty good looking, and so I let her put them on. I was figuring that this would be a good opportunity to hit on her; that is until she proceeded to just kind of "dance" (and I use those quotation marks loosely) and giggle, and just sort of speak gibberish to me. After I made a few more attempts at conversation to which she "replied" in her accustomed manner I, somewhat dumbfounded, with my mouth hanging open and my eyebrows furrowed downward, mumbled something along the lines of "...yeah...can I just, like, have those back..." To which she replied by employing her continuous giggle and moron dance. She reluctantly handed over the sunglasses.

I nicknamed her "Super Weird Sunglasses Girl."

In addition, I have lately been applying this practice to James Joyce -- as I have during recent months been reading his biography -- and have henceforth nicknamed him "Super Intelligence Guy."

I think you've got it by now.

So without further ado I present to you my latest superhero incarnation: "Super Alone Guy."

I think that we have all been Super Alone Guy at one time or another. I became Super Alone Guy this past Saturday night. I had planned to meet a friend of mine at a local bar at 10 pm. I therefore left my house at about 10:15 (this is how I operate). I walked through the front door of the bar at about 10:30, scanned the place for familiar faces, saw a few (but none to which I would have liked to speak), and so figured that my friend had not yet arrived. I ordered a drink and pulled the classic elbow-lean-on-the-bar move, watching the thirty or so people around me whom I either didn't know or wished I didn't know who had come to the bar equipped with friends and allies to defend against rogue wanderers such as myself who might at any moment infiltrate their zones of operation and therefore skew the vibrations of the evening. Little did they know however that this particular Super Alone Guy was equipped with the superpower of preferring to be alone in most ambiguous friendship situations.

That being said, Super Alone Guy does have his weaknesses, the primary of which is his aptness to appear clingy and in desperate need of companionship (even though, of course, this particular Super Alone Guy had come equipped with the superpower of preferring to be alone in most ambiguous friendship situations; the weakness lies in the fact that that particular superpower is virtually undetectable to all other superheroes). Luckily, though, I carried with me an ace in the hole: I have during my career as a superhero developed a rare superpower which provides me with the ability to make endearing comments to other superheroes whom I have deemed worthy and then turning away and therefore ending the conversation while they are still looking at me, smiling, and waiting for more. This might sound cruel, but it isn't; you must remember that Super Alone Guy is of course not equipped with any of the friends and allies that the rest of the superheroes can employ as defense mechanisms, and that therefore the rest of the superheroes do not need Super Alone Guy -- they might simply find him intriguing or entertaining (or weird, possibly). These comments and subsequent brush-offs -- "social missiles," if you will -- are designed and intended by Super Alone Guy to make it known to the other superheroes that he is not currently in need of their assistance or, in extreme cases, their defensive capabilities. They also enable Super Alone Guy to establish his very own zone of operation, which is an essential element to any Super Alone Guy mission.

At this point in the night, Super Alone Guy suffers a setback: his friend, who has unfortunately earned himself the title of "Super Bail-Out Guy" after years of various no-shows (Super Bail-Out Guy's main superpower is his ability to disappear at any moment, in the blink of an eye) is not showing. Fortunately, however, Super Alone Guy is also blessed with the superpower of super-awesomeness, and had hours previous to the social outing invited Super Cool Guy out to the bar as well. So, after about an hour during which Super Alone Guy has carefully and masterfully established his very own zone of operation, which has earned the respect of the other super heroes, Super Cool Guy shows up, which causes Super Alone Guy's zone of operation to expand exponentially -- even aggressively encroaching on that of the other superheroes who had come equipped with friends and allies to defend them. This dominant and continual expansion gets even stronger minutes later when Super Cool Guy's girlfriend, "Super Hot Girl," shows up along with her friend, "Super Hot Friend Girl."

At this point, most of the other superheroes are attempting to infiltrate the zone of dominant operation which has been established by Super Alone Guy and his friends and allies who have come to defend him. A select few of the chosen and worthy are allowed into the zone of dominant operation, but many of the superheroes are, unfortunately, turned away (occasionally because of the Awkward Hopeful Romantic Missiles that some of the superheroes choose to fire at both Super Hot Girl and Super Hot Friend Girl -- I'm looking at you, Super Northwestern Guy). Others are turned away because they fight on the evil side and can not be allowed into the inner circle of the good superheroes for obvious reasons.

It is of course academic now when I tell you that Good triumphed over Evil that night, my friends. But some stories simply must be told. Lesson learned: Super Alone Guy knows what he is doing.

I feel also that I should tell you that the "Super Alone Guy" story is only the first installment of stories about my numerous superhero experiences. In that vain, here are Super Alone Guy's essential stats and descriptors:

Distinguishing Features: Complete lack of friends or allies available to defend zone of operation, classic elbow-lean-against-the-bar pose, disinterested facial expression

Major Strengths: Possesses the ability to make witty and endearing comments to other superheroes at the precisely correct moment which he follows with an intense brush-off at an even more crucial moment; usually has friends and allies on the way to help defend zone of operation (not to be confused with Super Pathetic Guy, who doesn't); possesses the superpower of preferring to be alone in ambiguous friendship situations

Major Weaknesses: Can at times succumb to paranoia; is apt to appear clingy and in desperate need of companionship

Major Allies: Any and all members of the good side, but especially Super Cool Bartender Guy and Super Hot Waitress Girl

Major Enemies: Evil superheroes who believe that the evil side is really the good side

Motto: "How's it going," (indifferent, condescending tone).

Super Alone Guy.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Fucking Tragic


I guarantee you that at one point, while in the bathroom cleaning herself off, she or her lady friend said "Dude. How sweet would it be if this was coke."

(you don't have to watch the whole video. You can stop it after the awesome part)

OK. And now I have found Samantha Ronson's blog posting about the "incident." Here it is (I will share my feelings about this after her blog posting):

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Flour Power

I posted a blog last week that angered some people who didn't know how to read properly, I then wasted my own time defending myself and now I regret that.

There is a fine line that distinguishes the difference between exercising our freedom of expression and offending others, for example the debate regarding freedom of speech vs. hate speech.... i feel that this principle should apply to
protestors also. It's a pity that some groups feel the need to assault people as opposed to fighting with words.

Whenever I feel the need to vent about something that feels unfair to me I reach for my computer, I don't run out of the house with abusive intentions. I don't expect everyone to react the same way, but I do expect people to respect each other. Maybe that's my first mistake? It seems lately I am learning that there are too many people who put another species before their fellow man and that's sad. I don't wear fur, but I don't think I have the right to ATTACK those who do. No one has that right.

PETA should focus their efforts on educating people on what they believe are injustices instead of seeking press via harassing those in the limelight. I received an apology too many days late from the PETA folks (the blog removal was too little too late) and today I'm pissed at the bag of flour thrown on Lindsay last night. Not because I got powdered down, but because the girl who threw it acted like an animal herself. I take that back, it's an insult to animals to group her in with them, my dog is FAR more civilized than that person. I would have more respect for them if they didn't use other people to get their point across. Lindsay, Mary Kate, Ashley Olsen, Anna Wintour and the rest of the targeted celebrities aren't the problem, I'm pretty sure they're not the only ones wearing fur, in fact, they should be appreciated by PETA for giving them a target. If it weren't for them, who would get them press?????

I know I'm probably going to get a lot of angry emails in response, but I don't really care. I got enough last week for no reason so I'm more than happy to ignore the nastiness after seeing what I saw last night. I'm not about to throw on a fur coat in retaliation, but had I had one within reach, I'm not sure I would have walked away from it.

p.s. when was the last time you saw an animal attack one of its own in defense of a human? hmmmmm..... that's one to grow on!

p.s.s. i think there are plenty of families that could have used that flour for a meal. nice job, lady.

Alright listen bitch. Shut the fuck up because you are a fucking idiot. I don't like it when morons like you think that they are intelligent and then spread their "shit-telligence" (new word: you heard it here first) around so that other morons think that they, too, are intelligent because they think that your shit-telligence validates their shit-telligence. If you really had any sense to you you would realize that you were an idiot and an obstacle and you would simply go away and allow the rest of us to move forward.

First of all, "there are too many people who put another species before their fellow man"? Bitch, she didn't get shot at. She got some flour thrown at her. And I don't really give a shit about fur (although I love my dog and would beat someone up for her if I needed to, no questions asked), but, your girlfriend was wearing an animal's skin. Just because you are human doesn't mean that you are allowed to skin animals for pleasure. Give me a fucking break. Not that I really give a shit about fur, but seriously...Lohan got some flour thrown on her. The animal had its skin removed. Cry me a fucking river, moron.

Second, "[Celebrities] should be appreciated by PETA for giving them a target." Are you serious? I kind of thought you were joking at first, but then I started to think that you weren't smart enough to make a joke like that. I think you are actually serious. I think that this is a conversation that you have with your stupid friends. How about: you should be appreciative of the fact that idiots like you are allowed to continue on in your infinite moronitudity because the number of morons in this world far outnumber the intelligentsia. Seriously, isn't there anyone in California who can call this bitch out.

Third, "When was the last time you saw an animal attack one of its own in defense of a human?" First thing: all the time. For example, my dog actually does this all of the fucking time, and so do most peoples' dogs (dogs, FYI, are animals). Second thing: I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but humans have actually for a long time now had much greater mental capabilities than animals. Animals can't really comprehend social issues in the same way that humans can. Are you seriously saying, "Hey, as soon as animals smarten up and start behaving like mature and responsible adults, I'll start respecting them a little bit more." Hey. Stupid. Over here. Yeah. It's called "brain function." And it's called "the thing that separates the humans from the other animals." Do you think that animals are behaving that way because they are "just being jerks," or something? They are animals, you fucking moron. They aren't really capable of doing a whole lot of thinking. They are interested in food, water, treats, and belly rubs. That's about it. They don't really think much about social issues. I can't even believe how stupid you are right now.

Two small things: It's P.P.S., not P.S.S. P.S. stands for "post-script," and P.P.S. stands for, I assume, "post post-script." Also, I'm not so sure that doling out spoons and having your starving family dig in to a nice bag of flour would do much to combat the hunger. As a matter of fact, I don't think you could even eat more than a spoonful or two before your mouth became too dry and chalky to eat anymore. I ate a spoonful of (I think it was) nutmeg once (you know who you are) and let me tell you: eating powdery cooking ingredients will not provide you with your daily sustenance.


Learn to swim, bitch.

p.s. my spell-check tells me that it's protesters, not protestors.


Friday, November 14, 2008

George Brett, Hall of Famer

Special thanks to Matt Z for finding this again. This is the infamous George Brett "I shit my pants last night" video.

The last line is the best one.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Words of Wisdom

"My wife reminded me that, hey, as president of the United States, be careful what you say."

-George W. Bush, legendary moron

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Another blog.

I have started another blog on which I will be publishing (God willing) bits of a story that I am thinking about writing. As it stands right now, the story is not going to be published in any sort of order, as there really is none yet. But you can read what I publish on the blog if you would like.

I am not publishing any of the content from the new blog on this one because I feel that the somewhat sensitive content of the story might make some people (namely people that I don't know, or people who don't know me) squeamish. The new blog is set up so that you must be invited to read it if you wish to do so. Being invited into the blog is the only way you can read it. I have built a wall around it.

If you would like to read the blog, let me know by leaving a comment on this post, e-mailing me, or getting in touch with me in some way. I will invite you to read it if I do not think you are dumb-assedly inclined. The readers of this blog (all four of you) -- the one that you are reading right now -- will be fine to read the other blog if they would like. They just have to tell me that they want to read it and I will give the old online invite to you.

If I don't already have it you will need to give me an e-mail address that I can "invite." I probably have most of your addresses.

The link to the new blog is here.

Literacy Prevails

I have to give Kurt Cobain credit for that quote.

I must admit that I am moving a little bit slowly today; in my (perhaps slightly overzealous) celebration of the Obama victory last night, I got into some whiskey.

Literacy prevails!

Star Spangled Banner - Jimi Hendrix

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

It's All Over Now, Baby Blue!

My intention is that you watch the video and play the song simultaneously, smiling...


Landslide - Smashing Pumpkins

Get This Geriatric Maverick Ass-Clown Out of My Fucking Face

And as for your running mate: Shoo, shoo. The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation and we are using big words. Go sit in your room and look out the window at the Russians, you pathetic excuse for human intelligence. Shoo.

Monday, November 3, 2008


Madelyn Dunham, Barack Obama's grandmother, died today, just one day before the election. I'm not going to claim to be an expert on Barack Obama's childhood, but from what I know it could be argued that Dunham contributed to the raising and shaping of Barack Obama as much as or perhaps more than any other person on the face of this earth. Sad story.

The only reason I am linking to Gawker as opposed to a (much) more credible news source is because Gawker's story is a bit more personal than those on CNN or the Chicago Tribune at the moment.

Theme Music for an Election

Tuesday night's election is going to be like one of those end-of-college parties during which you get compltetely wasted and have the best time ever with your old friends, but in a melancholy way because you all know that at the end of the night you will be saying goodbye to each other. After Tuesday night's going away party, our old friends George W. Bush and Dick Cheney will no longer be parts of our every day lives, and neither will the Clintons. Sarah Palin will either fade into relative obscurity or take over the world. John McCain will either fade into relative obscurity or be Sarah Palin's right-hand man in her Kingdom of Dumb-Assitudedness. And Barack Obama will hopefully (please, God) be elected as our President.

And so, for really no reason, I present to you the theme songs for each of these figures on their respective Election nights (Tuesday!), sponsored in part by Guns N' Roses (pre-shitty era). Listed below.

I imagine our friends, The Politicians, making each of their individual ways through what I can only assume to be the chaos and havoc of Tuesday night's election, with these specially selected songs playing through their heads. Hopefully this will help us to say goodbye to our friends, The Politicians.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Theme Music For an Election: George W. Bush


How do you say goodbye to someone you wish you had never met?

Estranged (Live) - Guns N Roses

Theme Music for an Election: Dick

"Live and Let Die."

Because he is a dick. See you later, ass-wipe.

Live and Let Die - Guns N Roses

Theme Music for an Election: John McCain

"November Rain."

Because McCain will hopefully be in a melancholy mood on Tuesday night. And since it's November, and all.

November rain - Guns n roses

Theme Music for an Election: Sarah Palin

"You're Crazy."

Because she is fucking crazy.

Youre Crazy - Guns N Roses

Theme Music for an Election: Hilary Clinton

"Don't Cry (Original)"

Sincerely. You truly helped to energize both the Democratic Party and the 2008 election as a whole.

Dont Cry - Guns N Roses

Theme Music for an Election: Bill Clinton

Because I imagine that he will on Tuesday night be thinking about playing this love song and whispering sweet nothings into the ear of that special lady in his life (hint: she is not his wife).

Patience - GnR

Theme Music For an Election: Barack Obama


Yesterday's got nothing for me.

This is the song that I will be blaring and singing along with (shamelessly, if that is even possible) when and if John McCain finally delivers his concession speech on Tuesday night.

Okay. I think I am ready to say goodbye now. Goodbye friends.

Yesterdays - Guns N Roses

Oh and obviously

Words of Wisdom

Elaine: "Is it possible that I'm not as attractive as I think I am?"

Jerry: "Anything's possible."

I am sick of hearing about this


They are talking about how the media is pulling a "whack job" on Sarah Palin, a character assassination, making her out as stupid and simple.

First of all, nice generalization.  I am sure that "the media," e.g., a group of hundreds of thousands of people with their own political orientations, had a conference during which they discussed the manner in which they would manipulate and ruin Sarah Palin's image and reputation.

Second (b): I hate to tell you this, Palin, but you might actually be just a little bit "funny."  As in dumb-assed

[pronounced dumm-ASS-edd.  It's like you are saying "dumb acid."  Use it to signify stupidity in people or ideas, e.g., some people would describe George W. Bush as somewhat dumb-assed.  Possible variants include the phrase "dumb-assedly inclined."  i.e., Some people might say that George W. Bush is somewhat dumb-assedly inclined].

I don't think that it is so much of a character assassination as it is a natural predatory movement on easy prey.  Easy because you are stupid.  You arbs a-toopid.

Seriously, why don't you cry about it, Saddlebags.

I also keep hearing Palin herself say that she has received "unfair criticism."  Unfair criticism.  What the hell is that.  There is no such thing as unfair criticism.  When you are criticized, it means that someone thinks you are wrong, bad, or stupid (etc.).  There is no fairness or unfairness about it; a criticism is an opinion.  What, is it unfair that some people disagree with you?  That is the fucking dumbest thing I've ever heard.

I imagine that Palin might argue that her treatment has been sexist (I believe I have heard some underground rumblings about this from her before).  That is a joke.  Your ideas are dumb-assed in their nature.  No respectable person has an opinion of you that is based upon your gender.  Sexism, no.  Smartism, yes.

Dumb ass.  Moronitudity.