Thursday, December 20, 2007

The Secret Revealed:

My girlfriend Nille is back in the USA for almost four weeks! HOOHAH!

She flew in yesterday, and today was my niece's birthday, so we kept it a surprise (for which my sister gave me a good natured shot in the arm). Now the surprise has been done, so the veil of secrecy can be lifted!

Pictures of her current stay to be posted when they happen.

And ::GULP:: I MAY be taking a trip to Denmark in May, money and time allowing, for a wedding (not ours (sorry, Carole (and Stacey (and Nille, for that matter!))))

Friday, December 14, 2007


Go see it.

Will Smith turns in a brilliant performance as Robert Neville, a virologist who is the last survivor of a plague that has wiped out New York City, possibly the world. The plague was the result of what was thought to be a cure for cancer, which went sour with disastrous results. 90% of the World's population were killed by the plague, and 1% were immune. The remaining 9% were transformed into something akin to a vampire. As a result, Robert is alone for three years with no human contact, his only companion a loyal German Shepherd named Sam. His days are spent patroling the city, block by block, hunting down nests of infected that he can capture and take back to his lab to try and cure, hunting deer in his purloined 2007 Mustang, driving golf balls off the wing of a stealth fighter aboard the Intrepid, and farming. His nights are spend huddled in a bathtub behind iron window shades, curled up with Sam and his machine gun. (this movie is a video-game waiting to be made. Picture Grand Theft Auto with vampires.) As the isolation and desperation begin to take it's toll on his mind, he inches ever closer to discovering a cure. When he meets two other non-infected people, his world is thrown into chaos...

I won't even front on this one. I cried. Go see it, and if you know me at all, you'll know exactly when I cried.

This movie showed that Will Smith can carry an entire movie, if he wants to. This was his Cast Away. I have tremendous respect for what he can bring to a role when he's not busy clowning.

The movie has received some negative reviews, and I'm not going to say it was perfect. But if you can watch a movie and enjoy it based solely on the character, this one will be a winner for you.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Sitcom Cancelled?

That's right, folks... as of December 31, I am no longer employed by the Riverhead Branch of South Spoon Bank. I have landed another job at the Blue Point Branch. So I am finally escaping the shanty town that Riverhead has become for some more elegant surroundings. Hopefully this will spark some creativity for this, my poor stagnant blog.

I've got a secret...

and I can't tell until next week. But it is very exciting, and must REMAIN a secret until next week, so no public guessing or reveals if you're reading this and you know. But it'll be some good stuff.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Go Away... 'batin'!

OK, so I'm in the middle of saving the universe in Mass Effect, and I've gotta tell ya, this game is sweet. 9.7 out of 10. Only minus: lack of any kind of ship to ship combat.

And avoid taking elevators whenever possible. (Play it. You'll see.)

More coming soon, I promise.

In the meantime, enjoy the new posts on the Smart Centipede Sports Edition, located in the links section on this very blog!

Friday, November 16, 2007

Ah, sweet nostalgia...

Eagerly awaiting the arrival of Mass Effect for the X-Box 360, I remembered a game that all the demos for ME have reminded me of: Starflight.

I don't even remember how I ended up with this game. I assume I got it from a store, but for the life of me, I can't tell you which one, when, where, or what made me pick it up. Maybe a friend loaned it to me, and I forgot to return it? Who knows (and the statute of limitations has run out on claiming it back, dudes). This game is everything today's standard video game addict hates. It doesn't have a first person shooter element, there isn't massive mega weapons, the enemies don't rip off your limbs when they beat you.

Trust me when I tell you that this ad makes the game seem WAAAAAAY more exciting to the ordinary gamer than it would be. Rather than exploring a deserted space station with a freeze grenade gun hunting evil slime covered aliens lurking around every conrer waiting to gnaw your face off, this game has grander, yet simpler goals. The ultimate goal is to save the universe from the Uhlek, an evil alien race who are destroying systems by making their suns flare up and destroy planets. The more general goal of the game is to explore planets, mine them for precious minerals and exotic life forms, and then sell what you take in to buy upgrades for your starship. There are other races out there, but it is almost entirely up to you whether or not you fight them (in some rare cases, conflict is unavoidable). You converse with other races, you mine for Endurium, you recommend suitable planets for your race to colonize. You visit 200 systems, and can explore 700 worlds. With the online guides you can download, you could probably beat the game in one sitting, or if you just methodically explore every system, you could be entertained for months.

This game ate up a bunch of my time back in the late 80s early 90s. And in seeing similar elements in the Mass Effect demos, it made me nostalgic for this old classic. I managed to dig out my old Genesis, and pop this cart in. It still works. And once again, I'm lost among the stars, searching for new worlds to colonize, and barring that, plunder. Once again, I'm 15, and the world is a little brighter than it was just a few days ago.

Top of the Line iMac: $2800
X-Box 360: $450
Blowing dust out of an 8-bit cartridge and having to tape cables together to play an old classic: PRICELESS.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Ho... ly... SHIT.

OK, so this morning at about 9 a.m., I am on my way from the living room to my bedroom. We have a baby gate up in the living room end of the hallway to keep our beagle, Snoopy, from getting into the rest of the house. The latch tends to be a pain in the butt to get open, so, being a rather tall drink of water, I usually step over it rather than fiddle with the latch.

I did so, bringing my left leg over the gate, and then shifting my weight to my left foot to bring my right leg over. Well, never again. One of my legs weighs roughly 45 pounds, and I can get them moving pretty quick when I'm not crippled by pain (which I wasn't to start this morning). Now, picture if you will, said beefy leg bent at a roughly 60˚ angle, to tuck the calf behind the thigh and get it over the gate. Now, picture the knee of said bent leg coming squarely into contact with the metal corner bead of two perdendicular walls at high velocity. I hate to ask you to picture that, especially when had I been running a video camera, I'd have an example so you didn't need to picture it.

Needless to say, it hurt. I resisted screaming out in pain, instead taking in a huge gasp of air, and limping quickly towards my bedroom as the searing, roaring, horrific pain settled in. As I reached my room, things began to gray out. I collapsed backwards, putting a small dent in the sheetrock on the hallway with some part of my body. I spent the next minute or so in a semi-conscious state, unable to breathe correctly, feeling as if I had no control of my body beyond feebly twitching. My skin erupted in heat, and I felt like my entire body was being given a mild electric current.

Finally, I was able to focus my vision, and the tingling lessened. Eventually, I felt able to stand again, so I did. I walked back towards the living room, and checked the spot on the wall where my knee hit. Some of the spackle had cracked and fallen off, but the bead wasn't dented. Suddenly, the world began to gray out again, and I tried to get back to my room. I made it about half way down the hall, and felt the irresistable urge to sit again. I tried to, and I must have gotten close, because my ass doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as my left shoulder, neck, and head. Oddly enough, I remember only the loud thud of me hitting the carpet. I don't remember feeling it, I don't remember seeing the world swing wildly in front of my eyes, I don't remember the sensation of falling.

When I came to, I felt a cool clammy sweat on my forehead and face. I dared not rise again, lying instead on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. After a few minutes, I raised my right leg, and there was a purple spot the size of a quarter on my leg, right at the edge of the kneecap. It felt softer than the edge of a kneecap should. I lay there for a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the TV in my room, but not really hearing them. I felt woozy, even laying down. I felt like I had been snowed upon. My entire body was heavy and cold. I heard a rising hiss, thinking it was static on the TV, and only after it nearly subsided did I realize it was the sound of the blood returning to my head echoed in my eardrums.

Eventually, I felt somewhat stable, and I rose shakily to my feet. I hobbled as quickly as I could to my room, and got to the bed before the feelings of imminent unconsciousness could take me a third time. I looked at the clock next to my bed; 9:34.

This happened to me once before; while driving an old Plymouth Fury, my toes slipped off the brakes and I ended up smacking the very bottom of my shin HARD against the edge of the pedal. Luckily, I was only doing about 10 MPH at the time, and when I woke from my semi-conscious stupor, the car was stalled on the side of the road. Both times, I was aware of something happening to me, I could feel my chest hitching for breath, I could feel myself twitching, trying to move, unable to do anything but shudder. I don't think it was a seizure (I've seen them, they are horrible), but that's the closest I can come to describing it. My reaction, resisting a scream and instead drawing in copious amounts of oxygen, must have gotten me into a hyperventilation state, and eventually led to my brain shutting down.

My knee is still aching, but nowhere near as bad as it was this morning. It's just pretty scary what the body will do when presented with an overload of pain and oxygen.

The lesson: let the dog run wild in the house.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

The funniest 15 seconds you'll ever see...

I hurt from this.

Funny for so many reasons.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Halleluj.... halleloo... hajle... HOORAY!

I am celebrating today, November 7, 2007, as one of my greatest days of 2007 (right next to June 9 (kys kys)). Today I went to the doctor for the latest attempt at fixing my back, and it seems to have worked, for the time being. It was a steroid/cortisone shot, which means I can't play professional baseball unless I get my memory wiped, and I don't have Bonds' number to find out how he did it. But that's a small price to pay for being able stand for more than 20 seconds without needing percocet. The MLB will have to settle for my witty candor on the Smart Centipede: Sports Edition as my contribution to the athletic landscape.

The doctor says if this shot doesn't help me for an extended period of time, they are going to try an experimental process on me involving injections of sugar. I assured her I tried that orally, and it did nothing to help my back problems (and may have, in fact, enhanced them). But apparently, injections of sugar can cause scar tissue, which can, in some cases, actually help prevent inflammation. It's like putting rubber cement on two moving parts, except you can't rub it really had to make fake boogers afterwards. And that rubber cement being something that most people actually go to doctors to have removed.

But as I continually told my acupuncturist, "I'd let midgets light me on fire if it helped get rid of this pain." So if this injection doesn't last, I'm game for a little Sucrose Syringe Party. I'm just relieved to be pain free (in my back, anyway, which, now that it's quiet, has revealed a dull ache in my neck that's probably a direct result of my constant hunching due to back pain) for a night.


Thursday, November 01, 2007

Dog Bitten

Duane "Dog" Chapman, professional Bounty Hunter, has been sanctioned by the network for using the word "Nigger" in a taped phone conversation with his son regarding his son's black girlfriend.

Good. I was kinda hoping he'd meet his demise down in Mexico, where he had been arrested for Bounty Hunting, which is illegal there, as it should be here, instead of being legal in 49 states. (How is it that Kentucky, of all places, serves as the shining example of reason here?)

What fucking era do you think you live in, Duane? This is not 1885. You are a former criminal, and now you traffick in catching people who jump bail. Hungry Hungry Hippocrit. You want to catch criminals? Join the fucking police. Oh, yeah, you CAN'T because you were a criminal once yourself. Asshole. Take a can of bear mace and spray yourself in the eyes, you pathetic douche bag.

It's shit heads like this guy, self appointed guardians of justice, that fuck this country up further than it already is. Bounty Hunter, eh? Yeah, I thought Boba Fett was pretty cool, too. But I grew up. So now, the former criminal/vacuum salesman, who roughs people up on national TV for money, is revealed to be racist? What a surprise. How about making a living doing something other than kicking people's ass? Doubt you could handle it, "Bra." You're a fucking retard, and a racist.

Intolerant asshole.

New Development:

Seeing as how one of the most frequent topics of my rants is professional sports, I have decided to branch out: There's a new blog in town. The Smart Centipede: Sports Edition!

In it, you'll find all my sports posts from the past year, as well as any future sports posts my mind may conjure up. Soon, the front page will be changed to reflect multiple choices in your blog enjoyment. Links back to the main blog will be available in the links section of BOTH blogs.


Monday, October 29, 2007

The (not so) Long Wait Is Over!

The Boston Red Sox charged the mound yesterday, screaming, shouting, throwing their gloves in the air. Champaigne was wheeled into the locker room, Theo Epstein hugged John Henry, and fans all over Boston let out a great cry of joy, as long time Red Sox radio announcer Joe Castiglione delivered the good news:

"Celebrate, Boston; A-Rod has opted out of his Yankee contract!"

Minutes later, the team managed to compose themselves, and continue playing in Game 4 of the 2007 World Series, which they won, sweeping the Cinderella story Colorado Rockies, who upon making it to the World Series for the first time in their 15 year history, transformed into so much pumpkin.

After the game, players were jubilant. "Yeah, we never gave up hope, we always believed he would opt out of his contract and become a free-agent," first baseman/circus strongman Kevin Youkilis said between swigs of champaigne. "It's a long schedule, and we just kept trying, going out on the field and playing the game, and waiting to hear the news that greedy asshole number one, [Yankees owner Goerge Steinbrenner] is losing the services of greedy ass-hole number two [former Yankee thirdbaseman Alex Rodriguez. Our patience and hard work finally paid off. We did this for the fans in Boston, who deserve this. No other town has such great fans who love their team and hate A-Rod and the Yankees."

The sweep of the Colorado Rockies makes it eight straight World Series games that the Red Sox have won. Their last loss came in October of 1986, when they lost game 7 of the World Series to the New York Mets, the same year an 11 year old Alex Rodriguez opted out of his paperboy route with the Westminster Daily Dispatch to sign a three year deal to deliver copies of the Dade County Register for 15¢ an hour more.

"It's simply amazing, what these guys have accomplished," Manager Terry Francona said yesterday to reporters. "Four years ago, the curse was still alive and well, A-Rod was still with the Rangers, and the Yankees were still a pack of douche bags. Now, we've broken the curse to win two of the past four World Series, A-Rod has come and gone, and the Yankees are still a pack of douche bags."

David "Big Papi" Ortiz, Red Sox first baseman/designated hitter/pimp daddy, was overjoyed. "As a fellow Dominican, I am bery bery happy that Alex Rodriguez has opted out of his Yankee contract. We hope to have him play for our team, but as long as he's not playing for the Yankees, that is bery bery good."

"I'd love to have him join our team," Red Sox left fielder/Mrs. Butterworth stunt double Manny Ramirez said, smiling as players dumped beer over his already disgustingly crusted hair. "I love it even more that he is not playing with the Yankees no more."

The Colorado Rockies, however, were inconsolable. "It's hard," Rockies left fielder Matt Holliday said, shaking his head. "We had such a good run through the playoffs, seemed like nothing could stop us... then you get an eight day layoff and BAM! A-Rod makes his decision. I just find it hard to take this as good news, especially since we never really play the Yankees. I mean, the closest we came to this kind of joy was when we found out Bonds wasn't coming back to the Giants, but let's face it, he's just about washed up, and the Giants are doormats anyway."

"Watching a hated rival team lose their best player because of greed is one of the greatest thrills in sports," Rockies first baseman Todd Helton said, "and I just hope that this team will work hard next year so that we can enjoy the kind of spiteful glee that the Red Sox are enjoying right now."

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Comedy Central

A TV Guide style "Jeers" to Comedy Central for their showing of Shaun of the Dead last night from 1 to sometime after 3:30.

I had heard great things about this movie, and I am happy to report that it was worth the praise. Funny stuff. Simon Pegg and Nick Frost were brilliant. There were excellent performances by Penelope Wilton and Bill Nighy as Pegg's mom and step dad, and the rest of the cast gave it the very dark humor that has gained this movie a huge cult following.

My jeers is to the fact that this movie (99 minute run time) took nearly three hours to view, because every five minutes, Comedy Central bent over like the corporate whore they are to give advertising time to ExtenZe Male Enhancement Tablets and Girls Gone Wild videos. Seriously, there were scenes, individual scenes, interrupted TWICE by commercial breaks.

How are you supposed to get involved in a movie when everytime you begin to make a connection with one of the characters, you have to pause and hear some over sexed cock wipe talking about how much larger his "certain part of the body" is? They won't even say Penis. Even the "doctor" who appears in these commercials says "that certain part of the male body". I'm watching a movie in which one of the main characters asks "can I get any of you cunts a drink?" and then I have some decrepit doctor in my face every five minutes afraid to say schlong?

I almost stopped watching it, because if I had to hear that dim bitch say "male enhancement? You mean, bigger muscles?" I was going to put my fist through some drywall. And Girls Gone Wild... seriously, folks, just get some actual honest-to-goodness porn. This soft core shit doesn't mean you're any "cleaner" or "more wholesome" than anyone else; you're still flogging dolphin to naked people on video, it just doesn't involve penetration (from what I have heard; I would never watch such wanton debauchery). What, because these are actual girls from the public instead of porn starlets, you think you actually have any more chance of banging them? Wipe the cheetos from your Babylon 5 t-shirt, recycle those Mr. Pibb cans and use the nickels to get a clue. These women don't have sex with guys that buy the videos they are featured in. I know, believe me. They told me during the orgy.

Friday, October 26, 2007


Today will be a dramatic day filled with epic changes.

Tune in later to see if I was right.

Monday, October 22, 2007

so weak... must... drink... clear liquids...

So, the people at Medical Arts Radiology have me scheduled for a CT Myelogram tomorrow. What this means is I am going to have a needle filled with something call packopaque injected into my spine, and then be thrown into a cat scan so they can see what is going on with my back.

I'm told the injection is supremely painful. I hate that. But I also hate being in constant pain and not able to function like a normal human being. They told me for the two days preceeding the test, I am unable to take painkillers. So I have been sans my little helpers since Saturday night. I hate that MORE.

But you know what REALLY sucks right now? They have me on a clear liquids only diet since last night. I have had nothing but water for the past 24 hours. As a fat guy, this is a supreme crisis.

I'm fucking starving right now! I stuck a clean spoon into a gallon of ice cream, pulled it out slowly so there was no ice cream on it, and then licked it, just for some flavor. This is killing me.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen if I should eat? I get sick tomorrow when they inject me with their magical potion? If I knew that was the ONLY bad thing that could happen, I'd pig out right now, and just bring a mop and bucket with me tomorrow.

Being a fat guy means eating CONSTANTLY. This is a bad, bad time, folks. The only time I've EVER gone more than 24 hours without food was the two times I had to have SURGERY because of food obstructions in my esophagus (copiuos alcohol + chewy prime rib x chunk feeder = obstruction).

They told me I couldn't drive myself home from this CT myelogram. But from what I understand, there is no painkiller or anything like that involved with the procedure, just an extremely thick needle jabbed into a place where needles really fucking hurt. If they're telling me that the reason I'm dragging my brother with me to drive me home is that I'll be in such pain that I can't drive, well, then, a.) they haven't been riding shotgun with me lately, and b.) if they think I'm not stopping for a fucking bacon cheeseburger on the way home, then they don't know shit.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Writers Wanted

As those who read this site may know, I am an amateur writer. I write for a comic fan fic website, ALTMARVEL.NET, and as the years have passed, I have grown as a writer because of it. But a writer not improving is a writer stagnating. Two years ago, some of the writers of that site and other fan fic sites and I came up with a writing exercise designed to improve our dialogue, interaction, improvisation and role playing.

We created a town. Cougar Ridge, Colorado.

We then populated this town using fictional characters of our own creation, created through use of LiveJournal and some random internet photos. We kept our true identities a secret, and a narrator posted a main post daily (which then devolved to weekly before the exercise ended). We would reply, in character, to not only the main post, but the responses of our fellow writers. We would build on the sub polts introduced by others, and introduce our own sub plots. The result was a two month span of character development, dramatic story telling, intrigue, and murder. It was deemed a success by all involved, and only lost steam due to inconvenient scheduling (the Christmas break took what little momentum the project had gained in its first month, and it never quite recovered).

Once we all agreed the project had reached a logical conclusion, we revealed our characters, and laughed at how wrong we were in our suppositions. We then went our seperate ways, leaving the town behind. For the next two years, we discussed starting a similar project, but the particulars could never be fully ironed out. Well, recently, a few of the key players got together and decided it was time to return to the Ridge.

Cougar Ridge, Season 2 begins tomorrow. And it's open to the public. There are rules, which you'll find in the first post, but they are simple. And this is a great chance to stretch your writing legs and imagination. Here, you CAN be a fireman, or an astronaut, or a psychopath. You can be a man, a woman, young, old, gay, straight, democrat, republican, nice, mean, sexy, dirty, Jewish, Christian, Mormon, Muslim... anything goes (except the Irish). Just kidding.

You don't need to have participated in the first season. You don't even need to read it. It might help clarify a few odd mentions that will spring up once in a blue moon, and will help you identify the writers of some returning characters, but it is not necessary to enjoy the game. You can have one character, or you can have more (three is the limit, but even that is not concrete if you can write enough). You can be whatever you want to be.

You can control your corner of the world, turn it into someplace to escape.

Come. The Ridge awaits.

Baseball Fever... Innoculate Against It!

The World Series is almost upon us. Well, it has been for a few days, but Boston just won't lay down already. Here's a recap of the League Championship


Arizona Diamondbacks (90-72, NL WEST) vs. Colorado Rockies (90-73, NL WILDCARD)

JUGGERNAUT GROWS COMPLACENT WAITING FOR NEXT VICTIM - The Colorado Rockies, awaiting the winner of the ALCS, sat idly for yet another day, waiting to find out where they are going for their first two World Series victories.

"Jeez," Rockies leftfielder and probable NL MVP Matt Holliday said, decked out in his black road uniform, playing Go Fish with Rockies middle reliever Matt Herges and Dinger, the Rockies purple dinosaur mascot. "you'd think they could just wrap it up already."

Secondbaseman Kaz Matsui agreed. "If the Indians really wanted to win, they should have just won game one," he said, stifling a yawn as he sat on his packed suitcase. "I mean, why all the drama? If you lose game one, you might as well just go home."

"I'm sooooo bored," closer Manny Corpas cried out, slumping back in the bullpen, pouring a jar of mustard on the front of his jersey. "I just wanna go play!"

Manager Clint Hurdle urged caution to his players. "You have to be careful," he warned, moisturizing the spot on his finger where his World Series ring will rest. "There's a danger of getting complacent, and we might need 13 or 14 innings before we win game one of the World Series. We have to find something for these kids to do. Players get bored, they lose concentration, and all of a sudden, you're looking at some sort of bizarre non-sweep situation." He shuddered as he wiped the extra lotion from his hand with his Official "Colorado Rockies 2007 World Series Champions "There's Only One "Rocktober" " " towel.

RELIEVER JOSE VALVERDE RAMPAGES - The Arizona Diamondbacks were swept by the Colorado Rockies, losing all four games by an average of 2.5 runs per game, prompting an angered Jose Valverde to break into a military base and steal an experimental formula. Drinking the liquid, officially known as Project X54T99J-332NB-1, street name "The REALLY Clear," Valverde grew mammoth in size and developed special glands in his throat which produce chemicals that, upon being belched into the air, combust.

"TAVERAS!" he screamed in a Rodan-like screech, laying waste to the historic Heritage Square. Diamondbacks veteran Randy Johnson was injured when the twenty-story tall reliever first drank the liquid, smashing through the wall of the Diamondbacks club house when players were there to clean out their lockers for the off-season. Centerfielder Chris B. Young was scorched by Valverde's chemical exhalations, prompting Leftfielder/verbal-diarrhea-sufferer Eric Byrnes to rechristen him "Cris-py Young."

"It's horrible," shortstop Stephen Drew cried, watching in fear as Valverde picked up a school bus full of children and threw it at Chase Ballpark. "At least my brother J.D. is still playing."

General Abernathy of the United States Army has outlined a plan for taking down the colossal closer, but states that the Army's policy of not operating on home soil has hindered them thus far. New York Yankees leftfielder Hideki "Godzilla" Matsui has been approached as a special advisor.


Boston Red Sox (96 - 66, AL EAST) vs. Cleveland Indians (96 - 66, AL CENTRAL)

QUEST FOR FREE BOOZE DRIVES SOX - Unwilling to surrender the free champagne that goes to the winner of the ALCS, the Red Sox staged a dramatic trouncing of the Cleveland Indians Saturday night, winning Game 6 of the ALCS 12-2 and forcing a deciding Game 7.

"The boys just crave that sweet, sweet bubbly," Red Sox manager Terry Francona said in a press conference last night. "David Ortiz has the shakes something awful."

Kevin Youkilis was seen staring longingly at the bottles of champagne as they sat in the commisary of Boston's historic Fenway Park. "Man, that would be so sweet going down," he said. "Just the feeling of the bubbles, tickling the roof of your mouth, that sweet pucker of the grapes twitching your cheeks, the crackling fire in your gut as the alcohol enters your system... bliss."

"Winning the ALCS and getting to the World Series would be nice," back-up catcher Doug Mirabelli said, "especially coming back in dramatic fashion like this. But only the nectar of Dionysis will chase away the spiders that are trying to get at me from inside my locker."

Many Red Sox players are detoxing, and in desperate need of alcohol, which they have been denied since sweeping the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim California USA Earth in the ALDS. Pictures of the Indians enjoying champagne from their 1995 and 1997 trips to the World Series hang on the bulletin boards, serving as inspiration for the Red Sox.

"No way they're getting that Korbel," centerfielder Coco Crisp said, licking his lips. "That booze is ours."

INDIANS ON VERGE OF CINEMATIC COLLAPSE - The Cleveland Indians announced some last minute additions to their playoff roster, shocking the baseball world yesterday. Charlie Sheen, Corbin Bernsen, David Keith and Dennis Haysbert were added, taking the place of Rafael Perez, Josh Barfield, Kelly Shoppach, and Trot Nixon.

"We were up three games to one," Indians General Manager Mark Shapiro... Shapeero... Shapeyero... Shaporo... owner Larry Dolan said yesterday at a press conference. "Now, we're facing game seven? What was I supposed to do?"

Sheen, known to Cleveland fans for his role as Indians reliever Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn in Major League and Major League 2, was shocked at the announcement. "I tried to tell them I can't really pitch, that it was all camera tricks, but they didn't seem to hear me. They just handed me a pair of black horn rimmed glasses and begged me to go save their season."

Corbin Bernsen, who played thirdbaseman Roger Dorn in both Major League movies, was equally shocked by the anouncement. "I've played a few Rock & Jock softball games, but not recently," Bernsen announced.

"Dorn won't be starting," Dolan announced, "but we know his love-hate relationship with Rick Vaughn will be just the thing to spark some late dramatics. And Pedro Cerrano [actor Dennis Haysbert] will give some pop to our lineup that has been missing, especially when he comes up in the bottom of the eighth with runners on and the game on the line." When asked about the addition of David Keith, who played catcher Jack Parkman in the second movie and was actually an antagonist in the film, Dolan was quick to reply. "Parkman was the better catcher, we all know that. Rube Baker was the young gullible farm boy who found his grit, but we don't have that much time. We need Parkman's veteran experience now."

In addition to the players, James Gammon and Tom Berringer were brought in to manage the team for the remainder of the playoffs. "We have to win," Dolan said, "to spite the Vegas showgirl turned gold digging evil widow that owns the team!"

Wesley Snipes was busy preparing to suit up for the Cleveland Cavaliers, and could not be reached for comment.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Six Word Stories Revolutionize Publishing Industry

Found through Blogging Against Stupidity, a blog that has unfortunately been inactive for almost a year.

WIRED did a piece in November of last year about six word stories. The sample given was one of the greatest examples of how powerful words and the imagination can be;

"For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn."

It tells such a sad story, and lets your mind race to fill in the blanks.

One example of how the brain can, and in some places, still is, being used.

Read the article. It's got some pretty entertaining lines from some gifted writers, including a decent number of comic book scribes.

My contribution, the story of my first girlfriend;

"I loved her; so did she."

Friday, October 19, 2007

Good Stuff...

Courtesy of

The New Page...

We're in the big leagues now!

Go to or click here to see the new front page, and kindly update your bookmarks and links. This page will change, and you don't want all my hard work to go to waste, do ya?

Well, DO YA?!?

Look for other updates in the near future.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Last Rat Pack Member Dies: Brat Pack Next

Joey Bishop, the last survivor of the Rat Pack, died yesterday at the age of 89. The self proclaimed "Mouse of the Rat Pack," Bishop was the least famous of the Rat Pack, which consisted of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Peter Lawford, and always considered himself to be somewhat of a junior member of the informal group.

So now, the Rat Pack is gone. Now it's time for the Brat Pack to go. We handicap the odds of each member of the Brat Pack being the first to go:

Emilio Estevez - Some would have argued that Estevez was already dead, his career having vanished before the national eye, before he won critical acclaim for his work on 2006's "Bobby," a fictional account surrounding the factual event of Robert Kennedy's death. He's looking plump, and hadn't seen the limelight since getting a blade through the eyes in the original Mission: Impossible. He should have been killed for making such dreck as Freejack, Another Stakeout, and Men at Work, but he's also made some quality films like Young Guns. He's a lead role type, and has evolved into a more intellectual player in the film industry. His death would have no descernable impact on the film industry, therefore, he'll last.ODDS: 75-1

Anthony Michael Hall - The geekiest of the Pack when he burst onto the scene, he has taken the reigns and become the leading man that no one thought he could become. The meek, scrawny dork who played "Farmer Ted" in Sixteen Candles, Hall now plays Johnny Smith in USA's "The Dead Zone," one of the highest rated shows in cable history. He has overcome some addictions and dark personal demons since his teen years and proven he has the dramatic chops to star in any genre. Losing him would be a real shame. But death plays no favorites, especially when it comes to SNL cast members. ODDS: 60-1

Rob Lowe - The handsome ladies man of the Pack, this teenage heart throb made the ladies swoon (and the guys, if you've seen the Paris menage-a-trois tape) and showed that he also had a sense of humor. His battle with alcohol and sex addiction made him a joke in the public eye, but he later made a resurgence, gaining critical acclaim for his role on The West Wing. He's proven time and again that his sense of humor doesn't clash with his dramatic skills. He's settling down into a nice TV niche later in his career, and has recently joined the cast of Brothers and Sisters. His death would be unexpected, yet some how sensical.ODDS: 5-2

Andrew McCarthy - It takes a lot to survive being Patrick Dempsey's "Mini-me." If you go by looks alone, he's the odds on favorite. He looks like he just rolled from a dumpster. He's always been the annoying one of the Brat Pack guys. The "pretty" one of the guys, he rapidly became just an annoying cliche. His last role of any notoriety was in Mulholland Falls, which means he hasn't mattered since 1994. And that's only a few years after making Weekend at Bernie's II, which is one of the worst ideas ever vomited forth fromt he human mind. His death would actually put him back in the spotlight, which he'd probably be wise to consider.ODDS: 8-1

Demi Moore - Her death would have the largest impact on the cinema scene. Who doesn't know her? Doing everything from Beavis and Butthead to Nathaniel Hawthorne, we've seen her tits (most notably in Striptease) and we've seen her wits (most recently in Mr. Brooks) and her death would be headline news around the world. Does anyone want to see Ashton Kutcher on camera anymore, though? He's stupid enough to film an episode of Punk'd at her funeral. And no one wants to see Rumer at all. The only good thing about her death is she would finally be free of her shame for taking part in Nothing But Trouble, winner of Smart Centipede's "What The-?" (What The Fuck Were They Thinking?) Award, given to the film with the biggest celebrity cast considered to be a total and utter flop.ODDS: 40-1

Judd Nelson - The oldest of the Brat Pack, Nelson hasn't really mattered since New Jack City. He made a mini come back with "Suddenly Susan" on TV, but this edgy rebel has failed to make a significant contribution to outweigh his shameful blight. His only lead role of signifigance was as a cartoon Autobot, for Chrissake. I mean, c'mon, Judd... STEEL?!? What, did you lose a bet? I can just imagine what it was like that day at the Judd household: "Y'know, I'm looking for a project that's a guaranteed flop. How about we make a low budget movie about an obscure comic book character with that basketball player who starred in Kazaam?" His latest project is called Netherbeast Incorporated, about an office full of Vampires. As Jimmy Doohan said in Star Trek II: "Sir, he's dead already." ODDS: 7-4

Molly Ringwald - Seen most recently singing the National Anthem at a Detroit Tigers game. No, really. She looks so... normal. She looks like my cousin. She doesn't look like a celebrity. She certainly doesn't look like a celebrity who will be dying any time soon. Her last notable performance was a cameo in a movie that makes fun of her (Not Another Teen Movie). I see Molly as the LAST of the Brat Pack, the one who lives to give the interviews when each of the other ones dies. She'll outlive them all, I tell ya, and never make another blip on the movie radar. She'll be the answer to many pop culture trivia questions, and have token appearances and cameos in television well into her sixties.ODDS: 150-1

Ally Sheedy - She's my dark horse pick. She always seems so somber, so fretful, so dark. Her last role of consequence was Teresa Luna, in John Candy's "Only The Lonely," which won Smart Centipede's "Where The-?" (Where The Fuck Did THAT Come From?) Award for most unexpected pyrotechnic scene in a romantic comedy. The only one who's best work came BEFORE Breakfast Club (Wargames was pure genius, dammit!) She went on to "film" Maid in Manhattan and Short Circuit 2: Electric Bugaloo.ODDS: 15-1

Honorary Mention: Mare Winningham - Not even identified as a Brat Packer in many sources, Mare is the Joey Bishop of the Brat Pack. She's the one that people will lose bar bets on, staunchly defending that she wasn't part of the Brat Pack, and many of them will have to be told who she is, and even then she will be mistaken for an elderly Leah Thompson ala "Back To The Future." ODDS: 100000-1

Sunday, October 14, 2007


Mood: Cautiously Pessimistic

Book: Mysteries of the Unexplained

Flash Rogue: Professor Zoom

Ice Cream: Wendy's Twisted Chocolate Frosty with M&M's

Song: Con te Partiro, as sung by Kenny McCormick

Force of Nature: Gravity, baby!

Aching Joint: T7 Vertebrae

Calendar: The Narcoleptic Puppy Lovers 1995 Edition

Sunday, October 07, 2007

The New Look SC!

The new look is due in part to my always inspirational girlfriend, Nille, who wanted me to help design her new website. Now, my HTML skills are downright pathetic, and don't go much farther than colored backgrounds with simple imagery, as you can see by my Fantasy Baseball site. But boy, do I have some fun with photoshop. Once I manage to track down the elements within the template I use for Blogspot, I can make things look pretty OK. But if I had to write the site from scratch, it'd look like a third grader with a Lite Brite. My code skills are hopelessly bad (as evidenced by the fact I had to go back to an old post to remember how to post a simple link, and had to go back and fix the Fantasy Baseball link once I was done).

It took me the better part of a night just to get the header the way I wanted it. So enjoy.


MLB Playoff Buzz (sorry, Yankees)

The baseball playoffs are in full swing! As we rapidly approach the long, cold, pointless winter of our discontent, the Smart Centipede takes a look at what's happening in the first round of the MLB playoffs.

American League - Division Series

Boston Red Sox (96 - 66, AL EAST) vs. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (94 - 68, AL WEST)

SHOCK THE MONKEY - The Boston Red Sox swept the Angels in three games this week. The Angels have had little success since winning their first World Series in 2002, when they defeated Barry Bonds and the San Francisco Giants in seven games. Known simply as the Anaheim Angels at the time, the franchise changed their name to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim in an attempt to get some of the nearby L.A. fan base to root for them. Odd, considering that before being known as the Anaheim Angels, they were known as the California Angels. Maybe they should change their name to the "West of the Mississippi Angels," so they can tap the maximum fan base possible. Plus, their target demographic would finally be equal in size to Vladmir "Nose to Toes" Guerrero's strike zone. Their mascot, the pestilential "Rally Monkey," reminds us that, while their offense could "outbreak" at any moment, their playoff chances goes up in smoke quicker than an African mercenary camp riddled with mutaba.

RAMIREZ' HAIR GETS 2 YEAR DEAL - Boston left fielder, Manny Ramirez has struggled since coming back from a leg injury, but he has hit a resurgence at just the right time. Los Angeles/Anaheim/Greater Southern California area pitchers have avoided David "Big Poppi" Ortiz, who has been walked more than a chihuahua with a spastic colon, and with no one else in the line up capable of providing protection, the strategy has worked. But Ramirez made the tactic back fire in game two, hitting a walk-off homerun. Ramirez, injured for a portion of the season, said he still isn't 100%, but added "“But I guess when you don’t feel good and you still get hits, that’s when you know you are a bad man.” He then took a hit of "breath-gas," and left to force humans to mine gold in the Rocky Mountains for his Psychlo commander Terl. His hair declined to comment about the contract -ahem- extension.


Cleveland Indians (96 - 66, AL CENTRAL) vs. New York Yankees (94 - 68, AL WILDCARD)

THE NINTH PLAGUE OF ROCKY COLAVITO - The Indians may be the team of destiny this year, as they appeared to have divine intervention save them in game two. With the Yankees up 1-0 in the eighth inning, and rookie phenom/intergalactic mob boss Joba Chamberlain on the mound, a swarm of insects descended on Jacobs Field, creating an obvious distraction for the Yankees reliever, who threw two wild pitches and walked a couple of batters, allowing a run in a game which the Indians went on to win 2-1 in extra innings, taking a 2-0 lead in the series. Kenny Lofton, a one time Yankee (and three-time Indian) is looking to take it to his former club, and has hit an insane .714 with 4 RBI for his former-former club. Teammate Jhonny Peralta is still tied for the league lead in misspelled first names with San Diego reliever Cla Meredith.

STEINBRENNER FIRES TORRE, LEVELS ORPHANAGE - Already on the hot seat for not winning the division for the first time in a decade, manager Joe Torre may be out after this season if the Yankees don't turn it around. "I want another World Series Ring NOW!" George Steinbrenner cried, "And I don't care how I get it!" Third-baseman/origami-man Alex Rodrigez has continued his annual ritual of struggling like a choking infant in the post season, a fact made more mystifying by his MVP caliber performance in the regular season. Rodriguez led the team and the majors with 54 HR and 156 RBI this season, before transforming into a newborn possum once arriving in Cleveland for the ALDS, covered in amniotic funk, his eyes not yet fully formed and striken with weakness that prohibits him from even feeding himself. Rodriguez is expected to opt-out of his record breaking quarter-of-a-billion-dollar 10 year contract this off-season, believing he can make more money in the free-agent market. He seeks a deal that may include part ownership of whatever team he plays for. The odds on favorite to land him are the newly re-christened "Alex Rodriguez Presents The Los Angeles, California Angels of Anaheim, California, USA, Now Featuring Alex Rodriguez."


National League - Division Series

Arizona Diamondbacks (90-62, NL WEST) vs. Chicago Cubs (85-77, NL CENTRAL)

THE CURSE OF NOTHING IN PARTICULAR - The cursed Cubbies lost in unusual fashion this week, getting swept by the Arizona Diamondbacks in a disappointing series that featured no controvesial fan interference, gypsy curses, player scandals, or other curiosities that usually give false hope to devoted North side fans. Chicago manager Lou Pinella's removal of staff ace Carlos Zambrano can be cited as a questionable move, but beyond that, the Cubs failed to provide fans a single excuse for why their favorite team lost beyond simply not being good enough to win. "I don't know how to explain this," said long time Cubs fan Becky Nellis, "normally, there's a goat, or an unruly fan, or hailstones the size of Sammy Sosa's misshapen head that cause our team to miss out on the World Series. There's none of that excitement, none of that mystery. What can I tell my friends, who are White Sox fans, other than 'yeah, we just sucked this year'? How will I explain away the team's inadequacies without curses, bad calls, or acts of God?"

DESERT DROUGHT MAY BE OVER - The Diamondbacks are headed to the NLCS for the first time since they won the 2001 World Series as under dogs to the New York Yankees, a drought of six agonizing years. Many fans have theories why the Diamondbacks have been so unfortunate in recent years, ranging from poor managerial decisions to the curse of Buck Showalter, but the fact remains; the epic futility of the Diamondbacks struggles to bring fans a second world series title may be over. "I was born a Diamondbacks fan, and it has been a long hard road," said 5 year old Tyler Gonzo Fletcher, a resident of Phoenix Arizona, whos middle name was given to him to honor Luis Gonzalez, who delivered the last hit in the D-backs 2001 World Series win. The Diamondbacks fans have tried many ways to break the jinx that has troubled their team, such as burning Tony Womack cards. Womack, who only had 2 hits in 13 at bats in the 2002 playoffs, is regarded as somewhat of a scape goat for the latest playoff failure since the glory days of 2001. "This may be the year we finally win another one," Fletcher said. "The long wait may be over!"


Philadelphia Phillies (89-73, NL EAST) vs. Colorado Rockies (90-73, NL WILDCARD)

WE ARE THE CHAMPI oh, it's over... - The Philadephia Philles were shocked to learn yesterday that they had been eliminated from the 2007 playoffs, losing in three games to the Colorado Rockies. "Wait, what?!?" Shortstop Jimmy Rollins said, looking around in disbelief. "When the Hell did that happen?" The Phillies, coming fresh off their first NL East Division Title in 14 years, were elated to have made the playoffs after the New York Mets historic collapse saw them drop a seemingly insurmountable 7 game lead with 17 to play. The Phillies grabbed the lead with two days left in the season, and won the division on the last day, defeating the Washington Nationals 6-1. "We're done?" Phillies slugger Ryan Howard said, looking around quizzically. "But, I didn't even unpack my bats! How the heck are we already done?" Many Phillies players apparently didn't know they were in the midst of a best of five series against the Colorado Rockies, as many were still busy celebrating their dramatic history making run at the playoffs.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HUH? - The Colorado Rockies stunned the baseball world, and themselves, by sweeping the Philadelphia Phillies in the first round of the 2007 playoffs to advance to their first ever NLCS. "Wait, what?!?" catcher Yorvit Torrealba said, looking around incredulously. "We won? Dude, sweet!" Rockies pitcher Jeff Francis was elated to hear the news. "So the first round you just have to win three games? Cool!" Byung Hung Kim, who nearly cost the Diamondbacks their only Championship in 2001, sat in the center of the Rockies club house, telling tall tales of the mythical place known as The World Series. "It can't be true!" left fielder Matt Holliday said, his eyes wide in fascination, as Kim described a series of seven games so important that they all were scheduled for prime time national television. "So people outside of Colorado would be able to see us?" shortstop Troy Tulowitzki asked, "honest?" Kim continued to regail the Rockies with stories about a time when AL and NL teams would only meet in the world series, who stared starry-eyed, gasping with wonder.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

A new pet peeve...

I've long hated when people interrupt you in mid sentence. It's just downright rude, and because I don't do it, more and more I find myself not contributing to conversations.

Well, today I met someone with Sudden Interruption Syndrome. One of the new girls at work. I was in mid sentence, talking about the training program for the bank, when she launched into her statement on the subject. I stopped speaking and paid her her due attention. A few seconds later, she interrupted my next words with some of her own, and once again, I stopped speaking, listening to her. But the third time, I made a split second decision; I would continue to speak and see how long she would go on.

LITERALLY nine seconds went by with the both of us speaking at the same time, AND SHE DIDN'T GET THE HINT. Do you know how hard it is to continue speaking for nine seconds when someone is interrupting you mid sentence? I eventually had to give up, and finally, I just stopped trying to speak to her.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Stop Dragon My Heart Around...

Dragon Wars - a.k.a. D-Wars (the D stands for assinine!)

I know there are Koreans out there who are defending this movie as the best thing to come out of Korea in a long time, and the number one grossing movie in Korea. Personally, I don't think that's something to be proud of.

This movie was simply awful. I tried to give it a decent chance. I swear. But the acting was painful to watch. Jason Behr looks like a poor man's Milo Ventimiglia. A VERY poor man. I'd rather watch Hayden Christensen read Mad Libs for 90 minutes. And he was one of the better ones. None of them, not a one, could muster any sort of sympathy, pathos, feeling from me. The CGI might be the best ever from Korea, but I've had more fun watching cut scenes in video games.

The plot was confusing. I know there were two dragons, one good, one evil. They were trying to get the Yu-Gi-Oh, or something like that, to turn into a real dragon and get to heaven (why an evil dragon wants to go to heaven is something for future generations to discuss). But assuming the good one got up there the first time, what happens to the bad one? It seemed to me like the good one wasn't about to jump in back in 1507 to fight the bad one, so if the sacrifice had worked, and the good dragon got to Heaven, what happens to the bad one? I guess it's tough luck, humans, try your best to invent the gigantic mongoose before Imoogi-Vader eats you all.

The D in the abbreviated title stands for Deux Ex Machina. As in, man, things are stuck, so let's kick the pinball machine and get the film going again.

Oh yeah, that reminds me of the old stranger I met who happened to give me an invulnerability necklace... oh yeah, that old guy just showed up to give us a ride... oh yeah, my television camera man friend has an internet scanning program that can find every 19 year old woman named Sarah with a dragon tattoo in the LA area... oh yeah, the random guy who just walked over to my desk just happened to have seen the exact woman I am looking for, saving me from visiting 2700 girls before a giant snake thing turns the LA Zoo into a buffet... oh yeah, I happen to have a professor friend who can make you remember your past lives...

The script on this thing was, I am convinced, written by a pair of eight-year-olds who happened to tip over their toy box one day.

Kid 1: "My guy is a ninja warrior who was trained by a master with magical powers who flies."

Kid 2: "Oh yeah? Well, my guy is a bad guy with a sword that grows when he wants it to, like on Thundercats. And he has an army of armored ninjas."

Kid 1: "Oh yeah? Well, my guys have cannons on the walls of their fortress, and they can blow up your guys from a mile away."

Kid 2: "Well, my guys have dragons that can fly. And other dragons that have rocket launchers on their backs."

Kid 1: "Nu-uh!"

Kid 2: "Uh-huh!"

Kid 1: "Well, there's a big dragon that lives in the water that will help my guys."

Kid 2: "Yeah, but my dragon got there first, and ate your ninja."

Kid 1: "No, because he jumped to his death and got reborn 500 years later as that guy from Heroes. And he has a magic necklace that makes him bulletproof, and the army helps him."

Kid 2: "That's cheating!"

It was worth spending the 10 bucks on, because I'll always know how bad a movie this is. If I hadn't, I'd have always wondered if it had any merit. I paid the 10 bucks to find out it DIDN'T.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Jose Reyes Seeks Playoffs, Courage

The New York Mets game against the Florida Marlins was interrupted today when Mets shortstop Jose Reyes and Marlins catcher Miguel Olivo tusseled on field in the bottom of the fifth inning. Olivo was upset that his shortstop, Hanley Ramirez, had been struck by a pitch in the fourth that umpires ruled to be a foul ball, not a hit-by-pitch.

When relief pitcher Harvey Garcia threw a retaliation pitch behind Mets second basemen Luis Castillo, Garcia was warned, and went on to walk the batter. Miguel Olivo then went to the mound when his manager came out for a pitching change. Reyes, standing on third after the attempted beaning, apparently got into a verbal altercation with Olivo, although both men insisted the other provoked the confrontation. Reyes stated he thought Olivo was joking and said "you want to fight me?" When Reyes allegedly answered "yes," Olivo charged, heading straight towards Reyes.

Mets Third Base coach, Sandy Alomar Sr., saw Olivo charging, and stepped in front of his player, seeking to halt a physical confrontation before it began. Reyes, currently leading the majors with 78 stolen bases and considered one of the keys to the Mets future hopes at a Championship, reacted as any six year old girl would react in this situation; he grabbed his coach by the shirt and hid behind him, holding his coach at arms length and pointing him at the charging catcher.

As Olivo attacked, Reyes allowed his elderly base coach to take a shot to the head meant for him, and then, after several players got between them, proceeded to "attempt" to get to Olivo. His attempts waned rather quickly when he was embraced by Marlins third baseman Miguel Cabrera, giving up his "struggle" after only a few moments. Olivo, meanwhile, needed several players to restrain him.

Olivo was ejected for fighting, Reyes remained in the game. After several minutes, the game resumed, and Mets pitcher John Maine managed to get past the side show to pitch seven and a third innings of no hit ball before finally giving up an infield single to Olivo's replacement. The Mets won the game, 13-0, and regained their first place tie with Philadelphia with one game to go.

Reyes had originally intended spending the off-season working out, but his new itinerary now includes a trip to Emerald City, where he hopes the strange and powerful Wizard of Oz can give him some courage. Also included in the trip plan are teammates Lastings Milledge, who is seeking a brain, and Paul LoDuca, who creaks when he walks like a shambling tin golem.

"Oil can," LoDuca was quoted as saying through a rusted jaw.

Ready... Set...


Here are my thoughts on the wide and vaired state of the world since my last steady stream of posting. If you are offended easily, smile and walk away. I'm angry, I'm in pain, I'm tired, and I don't give a rat's ass who doesn't like me.

Michael Vick? You're a fucking animal. You're not sorry you were torturing, fighting and ultimately killing dogs; you're sorry you got CAUGHT torturing, fighting and ultimately killing dogs. That's the "culture" of the South? Y'know, seems to me that the culture of The South used to be to hang boys like you from the nearest tree instead of paying them millions of dollars to throw a football (poorly, at that). I think it was a pretty good idea that they stopped that tradition. Maybe now you'll decide that the life of an innocent creature is more important that the fucking boner you get seeing blood spilled. The only reason I don't want to see you stripped down to your ashy ass, have your fingers duct taped into fists, slathered in country gravy, and be put in a pit with 15 hungry dogs is that I don't want to see 15 dogs being kept hungry. I hope you get gang raped in the prison shower, asshole. Hopefully his cellmate will drown him in the fucking toilet for "lack of performance."

Fidel Castro? Fucking die already. Your own people want you dead. No one wants you alive. Everyone is happy you are sick and dying. So just kick off already. You are a relic and an antiquated concept whose time has come and passed. You suck. Dude, people get on planks from the outhouse and swim across a fucking ocean just for a chance to not sleep where you live. Your shit canal is as inflammed as your ego, and it's time for you to take the dirt nap. No one loves you Fidel, they only love that you're not currently shooting them.

George Bush? You too, dickhead. You are the presidential equivalent of that video of the monkey sticking his finger up his own ass and passing out after sniffing it. You are the perfect example of the idiot American. You are the answer to the question of what would have happened had your one-term-serving asshole Dad had been shot and Dan Quayle been given the keys to the U.S. car. Get the fucking troops out of the Middle Fucking East and settle down to your post-presidential life of Mad-Libs and chocolate milk and just get the fuck off my White House lawn. You stole the fucking election, you stole our fucking country, you stole eight years of my fucking life worrying about if my niece and nephew would have a country to grow up in. I can't believe you haven't been fucking assassinated yet. Actually, it makes perfect sense; the government only allows Presidents to be assassinated if they have the power to make the world a better place, like Lincoln and JFK, and you have about as much power as the glow in the dark magnet that my cesspool cleaners gave us after our last septic clog. You remind me of the smell of that day too. You are a joke, the punch line to a long line of Leaders-of-the-Free-World, the shit-stain on the couch of U.S. Government.

Mark Ecko? You are a huge piece of retarded shit. Like, tremendous. Like, hangover-black, stinking like Taco Bell, holy-Christ-that-burns shit with extra corn. The game of professional baseball has been around for 130+ years. You are not the one who needs to make it all better. You coughed up $752,467 so you can let "the public" decide the fate of the Barry Bonds record breaking homerun ball. I guarantee you that that poll was rigged so Ecko can pretend he cares about the impact of steroids on baseball, or ANYTHING about baseball itself, other than how many fans are wearing his sweatshirts. Awww, Mr. Sewing-my-little-outfits-so-I-can-be-a-rich-guy doesn't like that Bonds might have taken steroids? He didn't even care enough to make a stand HIMSELF, he just stands like the dim-witted blonde cock-tease at a high school party enjoying the attention, says "we'll let the internet decide". Since when has the public ever known what's best for itself, and since when is the internet considered a reliable voice for the public? I only wish I had had the time to sit there and click "Shoot it into space" 7,000,000 times so that this whiny douche had to spend more money getting the ball into orbit. Hey, Marky, while you're letting the internet decide how to spend your money, I think I'll start and let the world decide if it's a good idea. Of course, only people with the right IP address (MINE) will be allowed to vote, you faux-democracy supporting dickhead.

Illegal Immigrants? Don't go home, whatever you do. Going home would be too good for you. Burn in fucking Hell, that's what I'd prefer. You like my country? COME HERE LEGALLY. Don't sneak in on the back of a fucking truck, hide like a rat in the fucking sewers, and then dare to bitch that I won't cash your fucking third party check without checking for proper identification. If I suspect you are illegal, guess what? I INTENTIONALLY make your transaction more difficult. Why make your life easier because you hopped the fence to get in when my ancestors had to come in legally? I have lived in this country for 33 fucking years, and you already have more money than I do, don't pay taxes, take MY taxes for your fucking welfare, which you don't deserve and yet somehow qualify for even though you make more money than I do, and get all snippy when I don't speak your fucking language. FUCK YOU. You want me to speak Spanish? "Chingas tu madre, puto." What's that? You've gone through the correct legal channels to get to my country, and are eager to work and pay taxes and live like an American? Welcome, my tan skinned brothers and sisters! Your friend, who is a "temporary visitor" for the ninth year in a row who cannot be BOTHERED to better himself enough to learn how to speak the language of the country he is squatting in? "Te voy a culear con odio hasta que te salga espuma de las tapas, maricon."

O.J. Simpson... brother, are you fucking kidding me? You are by far the densest asshole I have ever admired. Your football talents were amazing, I loved you in the Naked Gun: Police Squad trilogy, and I eagerly anticipate watching you weep openly in court when you lose what's left of your freedom after pulling the greatest escape from Justice in recent history. You stupid asshole. I understand that when you find a quarter in the street you have to give it to the Goldman's, and that sucks, man. But what kind of moron do you have to be, knowing that 90% of Americans already think you're a murderer walking free thanks to your "What-if" confession book, to even so much as jaywalk, let alone commit armed robbery? You dumb mother fucker. See ya, juice. Johnny Cochraine is looking down, shaking his head, chuckling "if the asshole won't learn, he's gonna have to burn."

Demi Moore's daughter/son Rumer? The blonde thing doesn't help. You still look like a freak.

Old people? Fuck you. We're not in "your day." In the present, we have things that you don't understand, we have things that you could have never dreamt of. GET OVER YOURSELF. The fact that you were alive before the internet doesn't mean that it is worthless. Things change. Stop complaining, stop using your age as an excuse to be rude to people. Be grateful that we don't live in a world where we slaughter old people because they can no longer produce.

Everyone on the road who drives like you're on your own private autobahn? FUCK YOU TWICE. If I'm in the left hand lane doing sixty in a fifty five, and you come up behind me flashing your lights, the next six seconds will be spent deciding whether I should slow down or throw a fucking tack hammer through your windshield. Regardless, the last thing I will do is get out of your way. Oh, and stop running red lights. TRUST me, you're NOT as important as you think you are, and if you think you're going to be five minutes late, LEAVE FIVE MINUTES EARLY, YOU GIANT DOUCHE BAG. Stop endangering my life, and the lives of those around me, because you like to go fast. If I have the chance, I will attempt to cause you to have an accident. I will bounce a ball in the road if I hear you speeding near my house just to make you think a child may run out after it. I will throw sticks in the road that, if driven over at high speeds, will bounce up and hit your wheel wells, and if you stop to yell at me, I will throw dog shit at your miserable heads. Stop reading while you drive. Stop using your cell phone while you drive. Stop diapering your children while you drive. Stop being an asshole while you drive, or just drive into a fucking bridge and get it over with. Speaking of which, STOP SLOWING DOWN TO RUBBERNECK AT AN ACCIDENT. You are a reviled asshole who gets a boner over someone else's misfortune, and I swear to God, if it wasn't for fear of incarceration, I would run you the fuck off the road INTO the bridge, so people could stop and look at you and gawk. Think about people stopping to watch you sitting on the side of the road holding a blood soaked rag to your forehead. And if you said "that'd be okay, because they are concerned," FUCK YOU, YOU LYING ASSHOLE.

Thanks! Have a good day!

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Chirp.... chirp.... chirp chirp.....

Okay, gang, you caught me. It's been nearly a full month since my last post, and even more since my last meaningful post.

The Centipede has stumbled.

So let's try to get the lethargy rolling with a little free association.

What's going on lately?

Well, my girlfriend, the lovely and amazingly effervescent Pernille (du er dejlig, my love) showed me a video of a pair of youths who engaged in a rather bizarre past time; these unswallowed loads, after bringing their car up to high speeds on a long straight stretch of road, REMOVED THE STEERING WHEEL. The video, created by the passenger who also was primarily responsible for the actual removal of the bolts, shows cars on the side of the road, traffic coming from the other direction, the speedometer, any number of which should have been indication enough that removing the only means of controlling the vehicle was not a smart move. The video was put on line, and justice was watching. After a number of viewers saw the dipshit duo, they alerted the authorities, and the fools in question are now facing years in prison. The only way things could have been sweeter is if I could have been there to throw a 2 x 4 into the road just before they passed me, jarring the wheels, and sending them careening at high speeds off the road and into a light pole. Watch the video HERE.

Speaking of my girlfriend... (kys kys)... Pernille and I went to High School together. She was the exchange student, I was the wanna be jock nerd. I'd like to say we dated, or even saw each other outside of homeroom, but it just didn't happen like that. But the friendship we developed led to letter exchanges for a few years. She lived her life in Denmark, I lived a Rod Serling-esque existence on Long Island. Fast forward to March, 2007, and she finds an old letter of mine. She re-reads it, and wonders what happened to the fat kid she used to know. She writes me, and I get the letter a few weeks later. We begin to chat over email, then over MSN messenger, and then over Skype. She comes to the U.S. for one of her once-every-few-years visits, and this time, we meet up. And after fifteen years, she is still as beautiful as I remembered her being. It doesn't take long before we are dating, and now, even though she's over seas back in Denmark, she's looking for a way to come back for good (any immigration attorneys looking for a perfect success story, take note.)

In other news, my back is STILL in a great deal of pain from my accident. I am consulting with a spinal surgeon tomorrow. I may have to have a cyst removed, I may have to have vertibrae fused, I may have to be exiled to the moon. We'll just have to wait and see. Also, my court case against the douche who ran the light is about to go to trial, I've been advised.

I'm working part time at the Riverhead Main Street branch of a bank (let's call it Southern Star Bank, a division of Fiscal United). It's like a UPN sitcom. There's the big, tough talkin' gold tooth wearin' black woman who don't take no guff from nobody... the sassy short black girl with the innocent smile and the guilty hands... the intelligent and organized Latino military woman with the witty comebacks... the tall italian video game addict with the frat boy party life... the fresh faced short black man with the voice of gold... the clueless manager... the assistant manager who beats people with her shoe... the Peruvian firecracker who loves to party... the fat white guy who loses his temper... oh, wait, that's ME!

So yeah, things are pretty fucked up as usual.

More later.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Sorry about the absence...

I have been absorbed with my new girlfriend for the past seven weeks. She has gone back to Denmark for the near future, so when I come up from the bottom of the bottle of scotch, I'll be back to posting regularly.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

What the fuck?

I went to see Transformers tonight with my girlfriend Pernille and my brother Tommy, and I have to tell you, the movie was pretty darned good. Not awesome, but better than most dreck out there now a days, and certainly better than Spider Man 3.

But the biggest eye opener of the whole night was something that doesn't even have a name (officially, anyway).

Imagine if you will; a hand held video camera is recording a going away party for "Robert." The videographer is getting everyone's comments on how much Robert will be missed, how much he means to them, and the party seems to be going pretty well. This goes on for about a full minute and just when you're wondering if there is a point coming from all this, the lights suddenly go out, and there is a horrific sound of... something wicked. The party goers rush to the roof top, where they witness a tremendous fireball rise up in the middle of NYC, which casts off smaller fireballs that crash around them as they scatter. A street level shot shows more devastation, and as you're left mouth agape wondering what the hoary hell you're watching, a large chunk of debris smashes into the side of a building and comes to a grinding halt. As it comes to a rest we see it is the head of the Statue of Liberty. The screen then tells us that it is a J.J. Abrams (Lost, Alias, Star Trek XI) production, and it is due to be released 1/18/08.

That's it. No title. No Hollywood film quality. Just rough home video of NYC getting gutted by a very large fireball.

Holy Shit.

I think my racing mind actually prevented me from truly enjoying the Transformers Movie. The project is being called alternatively Cloverfield, JJ Abrams Monster Movie, and JJ Abrams Untitled Project. All I know is I can't wait for 2008 already. Truly, J.J., you've shown us that less is more when it comes to trailers.

And while I know Zack Snyder is heading it, and J.J. Abrams won't be involved, the first thing I thought of when I saw that fireball was the end of Chapter 11 in The Watchmen. Wouldn't THAT be neat?

Saturday, June 23, 2007

More PC Bullshit That Will One Day End The World...

My sister teaches High School Math. I will not name the district, because I have no doubt that if word ever got back to them that my sister had made this public, they would no doubt make her life more of a Dantean Hell than it is already. My sister, one of the last great teachers who actually cares about not only her students but the integrity of the educational system, insists that students have the right to pass or fail at their choice. If a student does the work, studies hard, and applies themselves, they will learn enough to pass. If they don't pay attention, slack off, or are outright assholes who REFUSE to do the necessary things, well, as she says, "they have the right to fail."

There was a student, let's call him "Tim", for anonymity's sake, who comes a from an academically successful family. His father is a dentist or a doctor, or something like that, and his older brothers are intelligent and successful. Tim, for lack of a better word, is a fuck stick. Useless sack of flesh who isn't qualified to salt french fries, who will end up with a good job regardless because of Daddy's connections, most likely. Tim does not want to work hard enough to succeed. Tim failed many, many tests, getting grades as low as a 4. I shit you not. Well, my sister, still wanting this child to have the chance to succeed, gave him some points for a few of his tests to bring his grade up to the point where if he STARTED studying and applying himself, he'd still have a shot at graduating. She didn't pass him outright, but if she had given him the grade he earned, he would have had no shot whatsoever. (Where were teachers like that when I was a kid?) So, did Tim accept this gift with the necessary humility and determination to do the right thing and buckle down? Well, let's just say "no fucking way." Tim failed his final, and as a result, had not earned the necessary grades to graduate. I won't say he failed, because the saga does not end as predicted.

The administration, who cares more about how many students GRADUATE rather than how many actualy pass the classes, put tremendous pressure on my sister to give this little jizz stain a passing grade REGARDLESS of his results, so they could crow mightily about how all their students are smart and all their students graduate! My sister held on to her morals and ethics, and refused to give him a grade other than the one he had earned. The administration went over her head, and gave Tim a new final exam, giving him a completely undeserved second chance to scrape by and squeak through the doors.

Guess what? The dumb fucker failed it again. You'd think taking a test twice he would have SOME sort of advantage, maybe the intelligence to study what was on the exam itself in a futile attempt to actually absorb some of the information. But maybe Tim isn't so stupid at that, because obviously, he must have KNOWN what was going to happen. That's right, even though this "student" failed the same math final TWICE... the administration simply let him graduate ANYWAY.

Three cheers for the academia! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, HOO THE FUCK ARE THESE ASSHOLES AND WHAT RIGHT DO THEY HAVE LETTING PEOPLE OUT INTO THE WORLD WITH NO REAL EDUCATION?!?!?!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Their job is to teach these fucking dim wit bastard mother fuckers, not just baby sit them for 12 years and then let them walk out with a diploma they didn't earn!

This nation is getting stupider and stupider, and no one seems to care! This is a fucking outrage, and it is disgusting that the ADMINISTRATORS of my sisters school, the ones who are supposed to help her make sure these kids are getting an education, instead attempt to annoy, intimidate, and cajole my sister into betraying her sense of honor, decency and truth and abandoning these kids to their wanton ignorance.

We have officially gone off the reservation, people. We're more worried about how failing will hurt a child's self esteem and dignity than we are about preparing the child for the real world. Thus the real world will be filled with more and more idiots, who will reproduce quicker because they're not smart enough to use birth control, and eventually, the world will be full of idiot assholes. (watch "Idiocracy," people. It's happening.)

So I give a nice hearty "FUCK YOU" to my sister's place of employment. You assholes are a shameful example of spineless, ballless, ethicless, ass-licking sycophants catering to the parents of these brainless fuckbags you let waltz out your doors every June. I hope every one of you catches a flesh eating virus in your genitals.