Now, this story may not be written with the best of intentions. But remember, I'm violating intellectual property laws just to bring you this bundle of laughs. This story does belong to my twin brother, Jon, but don't worry, I'm sure he won't sue for that much.
Our tale begins with Jon eagerly anticipating his first day of work. A big grin covers his face as he thinks about working full time for the entire summer. He arrives at Day, Berry, Howard & Associates in Boston ready to start his day.
Jon's official job title is "office filler". He basically performs all the duties of a regular employee while he/she is out on summer vacation. But if a part-time filler (especially one as competant as Jon) can easily replace a full-time employee, I wonder how valuable that employee is the company.
Anyway, as Jon works, another filler introduces himself. His name is Matt and he is far from being a model employee. His hair is disheveled and he struggles to keep his mind on his work. Matt does, however, have a perfectly good reason for his less-than-stellar behavior. The Saturday prior, Matt had attended a bachelor party for one of his closest friends. At this party, he and his friends engaged in several debaucherous activities ranging from the consumption of alcohol to ogling young ladies to smoking illicit substances. And this is the kind of person who can replace you at the office while you are on vacation.
But soon, Matt had had enough of himself. He wanted to hear more about Jon. He mentioned all the exciting things that were going on in his life, including his recent graduation from St. John's Preparatory School. Then, the conversation came to a screeching halt.
"Wait," said Matt, "you went to St. John's Prep?"
"Yes." answered Jon.
"Do you know any of the chemistry teachers there?" Matt inquired.
"Why sure!" Jon said, "I know Mr. Boyle and Mr. Ford-"
Matt burst into hysterics. Jon was puzzled, why is he laughing, the weed should have worn off by now. His answer; he wasn't used to hearing his friend being call "mister".
My jaw hit the floor when Jon got to this point in the story. It was true, my chemistry teacher and Jon's good acquaintance was actually friends with this little degenerate. For those of you who don't know Mr. Ford, I pity you. His reputation and shear awesomeness precede him. He is probably one of the sharpest, coolest, and best teachers on the planet. Everyone in my chemistry class would agree. But his best quality remains his straightforwardness. He's a straight shooter, better than Annie Oakley. Calling him as straight as an arrow is not a fair comparison. Honestly, an arrow simply cannot stack up against Mr. Ford.
His supreme, cool nature is what made this next revelation even more shocking. Not only had Mr. Ford befriended this hoodlum, but he too was at that same bachelor party. Matt, however, can testify that all of Mr. Ford's activities were quite legal, unless you count silently sitting in the corner with a bottle of tequila in your hand unlawful.
Now, on one level, I tell this tale to enhance Mr. Ford's already glowing reputation. If he can maintain a level of popularity on simply being a chemistry teacher, imagine how admired he would be as a raucous partygoer (okay, maybe not raucous). But on several different levels, I tell this tale to demean my poor teacher. My reasoning is two-fold:
1) Why is he hanging out with these little punks who can barely hold the same job as my twin brother?
2) Pot smoking, I can forgive. But failing to invite me to this bachelor party? No. For shame, Mr. Ford. Hopefully, bringing your activities to everyone's attention will make you remember to invite me. For shame.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
"Stuck in the Hot Hot Heat": Strange Stories from a Strange Man
As many of you probably don't know, I will be leaving for university this coming fall. Therefore, I have put forth my best effort to make this last summer of dependence on my parents as memorable as possible. After two months, this summer has been memorable to say the least. But enjoyable? Well, I'll let you decide.
Over the next couple of posts, I will describe (in pain-staking detail) the events over last sixty days that have finally made me a man. These stories will include bachelor parties, A-list celebrities, hockey, pranking, and 11-year-old boys, all in that order. So sit back, relax, and set your brains to "dumb" because it's going to be one ugly ride.
Over the next couple of posts, I will describe (in pain-staking detail) the events over last sixty days that have finally made me a man. These stories will include bachelor parties, A-list celebrities, hockey, pranking, and 11-year-old boys, all in that order. So sit back, relax, and set your brains to "dumb" because it's going to be one ugly ride.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Who is Ann Coulter?
Seriously, who is she? I have absolutely no clue. I am without a clue on the subject. People describe her as bitch, but I view every woman outside of my mom, my aunts, and my future wife as somewhat of a bitch. So, I did all my research (by research, I mean I looked it up on Wikipedia) and discovered that calling her a bitch is far too deep in litotes to even be called an understatement. Satan could not have done any better with the anti-Christ.
Again, my entire arguement is predicated on this Wikipedia article, which can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ann_Coulter. In a way, this article comes as a welcome relief to me. For too long have I tried solving figurative Rubix cubes in defending intelligent design and justifying my fanataicism for the Milwaukee Brewers. Now, it's my turn to point the gun at the broad side of the barn and fire (except the gun is a crappy-ass website and the broad side of the barn induces headaches across the United States.) Anyway, let's read the article, shall we.
The first thing that struck me was the front cover of her book entitled Slander. Sure, it's a good way to invoke ire, but the word "slander" is printed on a newspaper. Therefore, it would be called libel and not slander. And this is coming from a woman who graduated from Cornell University no less. The second thing that struck me was the fact that she called the "Church of Liberalism" "godless". I, for one, didn't know liberalism was a church, much less that it's godless. In fact, calling a church "godless" doesn't make it much a church now does it. I'm beginning to see why Ms. Coulter opposes women's suffrage.
Coulter has also been described as a "liberal's worse nightmare" and a "conservative darling". Who the hell would make this bitch their darling? I'm sure conservatives would love to portray a woman who supports apartheid as their "darling". Hell, even her parents can't possibly love her. I bet we don't hear much from them because they probably commited suicide once Ann hit television. If only they had taken her with them.
Now, a close examination of the facts will reveal that she is both a woman and certifiably nuts. Therefore, we can conclude that she believes in such evils because she wants attention. Let's face it, deep down inside, that's what all women want, isn't it? So just buy the bitch a damn mirror. She can give herself all the attention she wants without bothering the rest of us.
But as long as people keep being stupid...wait, scratch that. As long as people keep being people, Coulter will be writing books and appearing on television. I, however, will take action. I will stop the madness. How, you ask? My plan is to get her the sack and proceed to bang the brains out of her (assuming she has brains or even a vagina). I will get her in bed and take her around the freaking world. It seems like all of her extreme political views stem from a lack of attention and a need for some sweet lovin'. After all, we all know that women need stimulation. How do you explain high school girls going out with the most dispictable guys? Girls in high school will bang anything that moves, that's how badly they need lovin'. Clearly, Ms. Coulter has ignored her snooge and has taken her sexual frustration out on the world.
So, I will sacrifice all my masculine greatness to Ann, so that she may realize she belongs in one place...bed, and maybe the kitchen. But then again, giving my virginity to Ann my not be all that bad. I mean, who wouldn't want to have sex with a praying mantis? Ha ha, your move, Ann!
Again, my entire arguement is predicated on this Wikipedia article, which can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ann_Coulter. In a way, this article comes as a welcome relief to me. For too long have I tried solving figurative Rubix cubes in defending intelligent design and justifying my fanataicism for the Milwaukee Brewers. Now, it's my turn to point the gun at the broad side of the barn and fire (except the gun is a crappy-ass website and the broad side of the barn induces headaches across the United States.) Anyway, let's read the article, shall we.
The first thing that struck me was the front cover of her book entitled Slander. Sure, it's a good way to invoke ire, but the word "slander" is printed on a newspaper. Therefore, it would be called libel and not slander. And this is coming from a woman who graduated from Cornell University no less. The second thing that struck me was the fact that she called the "Church of Liberalism" "godless". I, for one, didn't know liberalism was a church, much less that it's godless. In fact, calling a church "godless" doesn't make it much a church now does it. I'm beginning to see why Ms. Coulter opposes women's suffrage.
Coulter has also been described as a "liberal's worse nightmare" and a "conservative darling". Who the hell would make this bitch their darling? I'm sure conservatives would love to portray a woman who supports apartheid as their "darling". Hell, even her parents can't possibly love her. I bet we don't hear much from them because they probably commited suicide once Ann hit television. If only they had taken her with them.
Now, a close examination of the facts will reveal that she is both a woman and certifiably nuts. Therefore, we can conclude that she believes in such evils because she wants attention. Let's face it, deep down inside, that's what all women want, isn't it? So just buy the bitch a damn mirror. She can give herself all the attention she wants without bothering the rest of us.
But as long as people keep being stupid...wait, scratch that. As long as people keep being people, Coulter will be writing books and appearing on television. I, however, will take action. I will stop the madness. How, you ask? My plan is to get her the sack and proceed to bang the brains out of her (assuming she has brains or even a vagina). I will get her in bed and take her around the freaking world. It seems like all of her extreme political views stem from a lack of attention and a need for some sweet lovin'. After all, we all know that women need stimulation. How do you explain high school girls going out with the most dispictable guys? Girls in high school will bang anything that moves, that's how badly they need lovin'. Clearly, Ms. Coulter has ignored her snooge and has taken her sexual frustration out on the world.
So, I will sacrifice all my masculine greatness to Ann, so that she may realize she belongs in one place...bed, and maybe the kitchen. But then again, giving my virginity to Ann my not be all that bad. I mean, who wouldn't want to have sex with a praying mantis? Ha ha, your move, Ann!
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Thus Ends the Worst Week of My Life
Now please, I know this clever and very original post describing my week is going to sound like one big complaint. However, I, as you already know, am much better than that. Over the past nine months, I’ve gotten countless laughs at other people’s expense. Well, now it’s time for a taste of my own medicine. So please, get a cheap laugh or two at my misery, and I hope you find it more amusing than I did (which is entirely probable).
Firstly, a lot of small things conspired to make my week bad (I had to go into work. I didn’t win the lottery). However, some extraordinary events cause what is probably, and I do not exaggerate, the worst week in human history. Take these examples.
Late Saturday night and early Sunday morning, my week started as no one else’s should; paying $10 to see “X-Men: The Last Stand”. It’s not that the movie was bad; it’s just that it wasn’t good either. It wasn’t poor enough that I had weeks of A-material afterwards, but it wasn’t good enough to recommend it to all my friends at the cocktail parties. The following morning, I vomited five times in the most unpleasant Sunday morning I’ve ever had (and after thirteen years of going to church, that’s saying something). This is the third time I’ve had this stomach bug, and none of them occurred after a night a night of getting sauced. So in my experience with this illness, I’m usually fine by noon. However, this week just had to be different.
I didn’t get better till Friday. During the week, I could’ve been diagnosed with the following illnesses: influenza, the measles, whooping cough, dysentery, and polio. Multiple things disappointed me about my prolonged sickness.
1) In four years of high school, I have missed two days of school. So next time, I expect better out of my suddenly chicken shit immune system.
2) I didn’t set the record for the most illnesses in 168-hour period. Setting a world record in even under the most incredibly grueling circumstances makes even the most unpleasant experience seem worth it.
3) I was disappointed by my recovery because because it ruled out the possibility of me having AIDs. At that point, I kind of felt like having a terminal illness.
But AIDs didn’t light a candle to the coup de grace of this week…conjunctivitis. That’s right, the illness that only five to twelve-year-olds suffer from, somehow infected me.
In times of hardship, men usually turn to sports for solace and the feeling that they have achieved some kind of victory, even though they didn’t do anything except cheer on a team. However, sports only confirmed that this was the worst week of my life. The Brewers went a miraculous 0-7. Not only that, they were outscored 56-17. On top of that, they lost twice on Thursday. That’s right, in the bottom of the ninth, Jose Castillo hit a supposed walk-off home run and the Pirates proceeded to celebrate one of very few victories that they will have this season. However, the umpires ruled the home run a double, giving the Brewers another chance to blow it. As un-luck would have it, Ryan Doumit hit a single to right, scoring Castillo, and effectively forcing me to drink antifreeze in sorrow. And in a dowsing of poison onto this Caesar salad of badness, my team lost once again in the ninth against the Nationals on Saturday night. I later stuck a kitchen knife from Vector Services up my ass to distract myself from the pain.
To make matters worse, the Buffalo Sabres lost Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals to the Carolina Hurricanes. Now I know I don’t make as a big a deal of my fanaticism for the Sabres as I do for the Brewers, but that’s only because my father grew up a Bruins a fan (yes, even in New Jersey) and he just would not have it if I rooted for a divisional opponent (he’d kick my ass). Also, how can your root against Buffalo? You’d be forced to cheer for hockey team from North Carolina, which is obviously against God’s will. That poor community in upstate New York deserves a championship above all others (aside from Milwaukee of course).
Now I know you’re probably holding your sides and doubled over in laughter, but please, I advise you to be weary. I’m attending a lot a graduation parties this week and…well, let me put it this way. Have you seen the movie “Just My Luck”?
Firstly, a lot of small things conspired to make my week bad (I had to go into work. I didn’t win the lottery). However, some extraordinary events cause what is probably, and I do not exaggerate, the worst week in human history. Take these examples.
Late Saturday night and early Sunday morning, my week started as no one else’s should; paying $10 to see “X-Men: The Last Stand”. It’s not that the movie was bad; it’s just that it wasn’t good either. It wasn’t poor enough that I had weeks of A-material afterwards, but it wasn’t good enough to recommend it to all my friends at the cocktail parties. The following morning, I vomited five times in the most unpleasant Sunday morning I’ve ever had (and after thirteen years of going to church, that’s saying something). This is the third time I’ve had this stomach bug, and none of them occurred after a night a night of getting sauced. So in my experience with this illness, I’m usually fine by noon. However, this week just had to be different.
I didn’t get better till Friday. During the week, I could’ve been diagnosed with the following illnesses: influenza, the measles, whooping cough, dysentery, and polio. Multiple things disappointed me about my prolonged sickness.
1) In four years of high school, I have missed two days of school. So next time, I expect better out of my suddenly chicken shit immune system.
2) I didn’t set the record for the most illnesses in 168-hour period. Setting a world record in even under the most incredibly grueling circumstances makes even the most unpleasant experience seem worth it.
3) I was disappointed by my recovery because because it ruled out the possibility of me having AIDs. At that point, I kind of felt like having a terminal illness.
But AIDs didn’t light a candle to the coup de grace of this week…conjunctivitis. That’s right, the illness that only five to twelve-year-olds suffer from, somehow infected me.
In times of hardship, men usually turn to sports for solace and the feeling that they have achieved some kind of victory, even though they didn’t do anything except cheer on a team. However, sports only confirmed that this was the worst week of my life. The Brewers went a miraculous 0-7. Not only that, they were outscored 56-17. On top of that, they lost twice on Thursday. That’s right, in the bottom of the ninth, Jose Castillo hit a supposed walk-off home run and the Pirates proceeded to celebrate one of very few victories that they will have this season. However, the umpires ruled the home run a double, giving the Brewers another chance to blow it. As un-luck would have it, Ryan Doumit hit a single to right, scoring Castillo, and effectively forcing me to drink antifreeze in sorrow. And in a dowsing of poison onto this Caesar salad of badness, my team lost once again in the ninth against the Nationals on Saturday night. I later stuck a kitchen knife from Vector Services up my ass to distract myself from the pain.
To make matters worse, the Buffalo Sabres lost Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals to the Carolina Hurricanes. Now I know I don’t make as a big a deal of my fanaticism for the Sabres as I do for the Brewers, but that’s only because my father grew up a Bruins a fan (yes, even in New Jersey) and he just would not have it if I rooted for a divisional opponent (he’d kick my ass). Also, how can your root against Buffalo? You’d be forced to cheer for hockey team from North Carolina, which is obviously against God’s will. That poor community in upstate New York deserves a championship above all others (aside from Milwaukee of course).
Now I know you’re probably holding your sides and doubled over in laughter, but please, I advise you to be weary. I’m attending a lot a graduation parties this week and…well, let me put it this way. Have you seen the movie “Just My Luck”?
Friday, May 26, 2006
Intelligent Design kicks ass!
Okay, the theory of evolution is probably the most reputable explanation for the current state of mankind. Wait, what am I saying “probably”? However, some people out there still believe that humans just plopped down onto Earth by the will of some superior intelligent being. Why would people believe such an ignorant, unfounded, and overall ridiculous theory, you ask? Simple, because it kicks ass.
After a long period of consideration, I have created a master thesis: intelligent design officially rocks the socks off of evolution. Unfortunately, evolution is simply too scientific and definite. Unlike intelligent design, it doesn’t allow your imagination to run wild. Just imagine how awesome it would be have some superior being launching fire and brimstone from the skies just to create various species. I can picture it right now, God chilling at the end of the universe and making dinosaurs appear at the snap of all twelve of his fingers. Then, he sends a figurative middle finger to those stupid lizards in the form of an asteroid. Oh man, I bet your ass is hurting right now from being kicked so hard.
Plus, the first few chapters of the Book of Genesis gives people another opportunity of blame themselves for something, which seems to be the hot trend today. You find it all over the news: “Oh, it’s our fault global warming exists, it’s our fault terrorism still exists.” Even the theory of the giant spaghetti monster has enough power to rock crotches across America.
Now, let’s examine the theory of evolution for a moment. I won’t write out the exact definition because I’ll probably fall asleep half way through. So I’ll just draw a diagram to illustrate my point:
*YAWN* Let’s face it, evolution is b-o-r-i-n-g dull. No wonder state legislatures are permitting the teaching intelligent design in public schools. School is boring enough as it is. Hell, church is boring enough, so you can’t blame religious leaders for attempting to inject some excitement into it. So, if anything, we can all agree that although people who believe in intelligent design may be stupid, they, at the very least, keep things interesting. Give them credit for that.
After a long period of consideration, I have created a master thesis: intelligent design officially rocks the socks off of evolution. Unfortunately, evolution is simply too scientific and definite. Unlike intelligent design, it doesn’t allow your imagination to run wild. Just imagine how awesome it would be have some superior being launching fire and brimstone from the skies just to create various species. I can picture it right now, God chilling at the end of the universe and making dinosaurs appear at the snap of all twelve of his fingers. Then, he sends a figurative middle finger to those stupid lizards in the form of an asteroid. Oh man, I bet your ass is hurting right now from being kicked so hard.
Plus, the first few chapters of the Book of Genesis gives people another opportunity of blame themselves for something, which seems to be the hot trend today. You find it all over the news: “Oh, it’s our fault global warming exists, it’s our fault terrorism still exists.” Even the theory of the giant spaghetti monster has enough power to rock crotches across America.
Now, let’s examine the theory of evolution for a moment. I won’t write out the exact definition because I’ll probably fall asleep half way through. So I’ll just draw a diagram to illustrate my point:
*YAWN* Let’s face it, evolution is b-o-r-i-n-g dull. No wonder state legislatures are permitting the teaching intelligent design in public schools. School is boring enough as it is. Hell, church is boring enough, so you can’t blame religious leaders for attempting to inject some excitement into it. So, if anything, we can all agree that although people who believe in intelligent design may be stupid, they, at the very least, keep things interesting. Give them credit for that.
Monday, May 01, 2006
I am Overly-Amazing and Underly-Appreciated
And don't even question the grammatical correctness of my title. Its honesty far surpasses anything English class could ever teach you. However, even a truthful title needs a little explanation. I make such an outrageous assertion because my awesomeness is greatly unrecognized. Granted, that awesomeness serves no actual purpose. I haven't cured cancer or won the Nobel Peace Prize...yet. My greatness lies only from my incredible and unsee trend-setting power.
Few know how amazingly I set trends. What Bill Gates has done for computers, I have done for trends. Of course, all of you with your simple, conformist and, let's face it, vastly inferior minds will say, "But Greg, I blindly follow every trend I see other teenagers doing. If you set a trend, I would know about it." a) You have some nerve coming off to me that way and b) of course you don't see my awesome power. If you did, I wouldn't be bringing it to your attention. But without much further ado, allow me to enlighten you on the great number of trends I have set.
I'd say the earliest trend that I've set began back in 2001, that magical year when I first became a Brewers fan. After five years of facing one-word questions beginning with "why", weird looks, and snide remarks, people seemed to finally accept the fact that I like a team for no reason. However, I didn't expect people to completely turn the corner. Literally, they always turn the corner asking me "how da Brewahs doin'?". I didn't think I could find a question more annoying than "why do you like the Brewers?" I was wrong.
None of the other trends I've set piss me off quite like this one. The Brewers are my cross to bear. I claimed them. I found them first. Finders keepers, losers weepers. Now enjoy the Red Sox success while you can. Don't waste your time following the Brewers. That's my job.
I gave birth to another trend in September of 2004. Now, if you're guessing that I'm going to talk about free-writes, congratulations, you are wrong. I didn't start free-writing's popularity, but I did outside of school. Technically, I wasn't the first to post stupid crap on a website (I refuse to call it a "blog" on the basis that the word sucks), but nobody cares about Gori. If it wasn't for this website, free-writes would just be a pleasant memory of junior year. If it wasn't for this website, you would see Alex start two different blogs or see Ashish start one of his own about berating Republicans (it didn't last, thank God). But to be fair, Alex's site has gotten quite the readership in its short existence. But he'll never match my twelve, count 'em, twelve consistant readers.
And finally, if it wasn't for my website, no one would be musing about Quiznos. Sure, my friend Ashish may have loved the sub shop before I posted my article, but I don't remember him mentioning it EVERY SINGLE DAY before I posted it. In fact, because he clamors about going there everyday, so does Alex. And because Alex clamors about going there everyday, so does Sanchez. And because Sanchez clamors about going there everyday, so does the rest of my chemistry class. And because the rest of my chem class clamors about going there everyday, I want to put a bullet in my skull. Now whenever you just mention the word "Quiznos", my whole chemistry class orgasms in delight. Hell, even following the question "do we have a quiz?" with the word "no" could make my chem class aroused.
Now, I didn't intend for this post to be one big nag. Just remember, while you're checking the Brewers' score while updating your blog on how awesome Quiznos subs are, that Greg started it all. But I know you won't. So...I'll just...cry myself to sleep. Oh boo hoo hoo hoo hooooooo.
Few know how amazingly I set trends. What Bill Gates has done for computers, I have done for trends. Of course, all of you with your simple, conformist and, let's face it, vastly inferior minds will say, "But Greg, I blindly follow every trend I see other teenagers doing. If you set a trend, I would know about it." a) You have some nerve coming off to me that way and b) of course you don't see my awesome power. If you did, I wouldn't be bringing it to your attention. But without much further ado, allow me to enlighten you on the great number of trends I have set.
I'd say the earliest trend that I've set began back in 2001, that magical year when I first became a Brewers fan. After five years of facing one-word questions beginning with "why", weird looks, and snide remarks, people seemed to finally accept the fact that I like a team for no reason. However, I didn't expect people to completely turn the corner. Literally, they always turn the corner asking me "how da Brewahs doin'?". I didn't think I could find a question more annoying than "why do you like the Brewers?" I was wrong.
None of the other trends I've set piss me off quite like this one. The Brewers are my cross to bear. I claimed them. I found them first. Finders keepers, losers weepers. Now enjoy the Red Sox success while you can. Don't waste your time following the Brewers. That's my job.
I gave birth to another trend in September of 2004. Now, if you're guessing that I'm going to talk about free-writes, congratulations, you are wrong. I didn't start free-writing's popularity, but I did outside of school. Technically, I wasn't the first to post stupid crap on a website (I refuse to call it a "blog" on the basis that the word sucks), but nobody cares about Gori. If it wasn't for this website, free-writes would just be a pleasant memory of junior year. If it wasn't for this website, you would see Alex start two different blogs or see Ashish start one of his own about berating Republicans (it didn't last, thank God). But to be fair, Alex's site has gotten quite the readership in its short existence. But he'll never match my twelve, count 'em, twelve consistant readers.
And finally, if it wasn't for my website, no one would be musing about Quiznos. Sure, my friend Ashish may have loved the sub shop before I posted my article, but I don't remember him mentioning it EVERY SINGLE DAY before I posted it. In fact, because he clamors about going there everyday, so does Alex. And because Alex clamors about going there everyday, so does Sanchez. And because Sanchez clamors about going there everyday, so does the rest of my chemistry class. And because the rest of my chem class clamors about going there everyday, I want to put a bullet in my skull. Now whenever you just mention the word "Quiznos", my whole chemistry class orgasms in delight. Hell, even following the question "do we have a quiz?" with the word "no" could make my chem class aroused.
Now, I didn't intend for this post to be one big nag. Just remember, while you're checking the Brewers' score while updating your blog on how awesome Quiznos subs are, that Greg started it all. But I know you won't. So...I'll just...cry myself to sleep. Oh boo hoo hoo hoo hooooooo.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Awake from the Mundane Falacity
my god, bush is annihilating the most significantly important values upon the america is based. it only makes sense, since america is such a baren wasteland of money grubbing bureaucrats that wish only to get wealth and money and power. all those fatcats what is oil from the middle eats. that why we went to war with the poor iraqie ppl who only wanted peace. i'm the only who sees that. instead america just brought war and violence to that peaceful land. it's all bush's fault. all he wants is money and violenec. I think we should hang him in front the capital building and set his corpse ablaze. thatll show america how bad violence is. he's such a nazi. a nihlistic anarachist that wants to spread his fascist and sadist agenda all over everyone. bush is so evil.
I can't believe how many people buy int oto the deception and lies. why can't ppl be as smart as me and see thru the garbage and lies. the lies are what piss me off the most. they lied about the weapsons of mass "deception" (oh snappp! i'm sooo cleaver) and they lie about how the corporations are out only to get money and oli. i wish everyone was as smart as me. i would move to san franscico (that would be awesome)and liek, help the other ppl with important issues. i would like set a utopia where like a guy would make bread and give to ppl for free and like a guy would protect ppl from violence and lies. that would be perfect. the war and fighting owuld sease and we would live in a perfect world. no fighting and no religion. yeah, i hate those rednecks and fox newz trying to force their beliefs down my throat. it's so stupid to believe in something that bigger or more important than yourself. Nobody show tell me how to live. ill do whatever i want play by nobodys rulse. and they should legalize wheed. oh that would be sweetttt. im gonna go light up right now.Note for the slow: My post is short and it is not insightful. I've taken an extreme political stance. There are a multitude of spelling errors and annoying hyperlinks. I've broken away from every one of my tendencies, and the article is posted on APRIL FUCKING FOOLS' DAY! So we can only reach one logical conclusion: I have smoked massive amounts of marijuana.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
My Typical Day
It's a shame that most people use these easily accessible online journals to document their otherwise meaningless lives. What they need is good course in creative writing at the nearest community college, then maybe a normal day for them would seem more interesting to me. But in the interesting of staying relevent, conformist, and cool, I've decided to discuss my typical day for you, the humble reader.
My day usually begins around 1, maybe 2 'o' clock in the afternoon. Getting started is probably the hardest part of my day, considering I have to navigate around my room surrounded by the five or six chicks that I banged the brains out of the night before. Everyday, I must endure their incessant whining, "Oh Greg, don't go! Oh Greg, come back to bed!". But I work through it, for my services are needed 128 out of the 365 days a year.
After eating a healthy breakfast of nails soaked in Pepsi and drinking a tall glass of orange juice, I go to work at the local hospital. My job is rather simple, I must irradicate every incurable disease from every man, woman and child in the emergency ward. True, some of the patients have the grave illnesses ranging from the dysantary to the chicken pox, but I heal their wounds with the help of Almightly God. Often, doctors will ask me "Greg, how are you so awesome? How do you manage to cure these grave sicknesses?", and everyday, I answer "With a little prayer, nails, orange juice, and punanay, always in that order".
After my work in the hospital is done, my next activities depend on the season. If the baseball season happens to be in full swing (I'm so clever), then I will speed home at a average speed of about Mach 3 to see the Brewers on MLB.tv (a great service by the way). If snow happens to be coating the ground, then I strap on my cross-country skis and drudge my way up to Sunday River for some real skiing. I hope to participate in nine events in the 2010 Winter Olympics (The sprint, the team sprint, the 30K classical race, the 50K freestyle race, the slalom, giant slalom, Super-G, downhill, and the Combined in case you were wondering). Yep, I anticipate at least seven gold medals in my future, just to be realistic. After destroying the downhill slopes, I usually take part in the other activities that the mountain has to offer, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. That's only because I think of myself as a frat boy, and I can't think of any other way to have a good time than to get absolutely wasted.
After experiencing all that Sunday River's night life has to offer, I stumble, err, run home as fast as a can to resume my studies. I usually encounter a pack of wolves on my way, but I only cross their path just to toughen myself up. They typically snarl and growl like pussies for a while, until I go Chuck Norris all over their asses. However, I don't beat 'em upside the head to hard, otherwise they wouldn't be able to fight me anymore. But despite their persistant belligerance, I haven't reached optimum toughness yet, since I still have some scraps and bruises. This forces me to admit myself to the nearest hospital.
But once I get their, I encounter another problem. The nurses always attempt to pick me up by using crappy double-entendres like "Ow, you're a dirty boy, you need a sponge bath". They claim to be the heralded Night Nurses from Jersey, but I can tell that they are not Jersey trash. Trash usually gets picked up. But I always tell the ladies to back off, because I have room for only one, maybe three women in my life, and right now, they're locked in my closet.
I rush home to release them from my smelly closet, and, as usual, they come out demanding to have sex. But I'm better than that, by always making the excuse that I can make them ride the stallione tomorrow. I resume my homework, pass the test the next day, they go home to lie my ladies down by the fire in order to, you guessed it, read them a bedtime story. I'm currently in the middle of "Curious George", but the ladies are having some trouble keeping up with the plot. Oh well, that's a story for another day.
My day usually begins around 1, maybe 2 'o' clock in the afternoon. Getting started is probably the hardest part of my day, considering I have to navigate around my room surrounded by the five or six chicks that I banged the brains out of the night before. Everyday, I must endure their incessant whining, "Oh Greg, don't go! Oh Greg, come back to bed!". But I work through it, for my services are needed 128 out of the 365 days a year.
After eating a healthy breakfast of nails soaked in Pepsi and drinking a tall glass of orange juice, I go to work at the local hospital. My job is rather simple, I must irradicate every incurable disease from every man, woman and child in the emergency ward. True, some of the patients have the grave illnesses ranging from the dysantary to the chicken pox, but I heal their wounds with the help of Almightly God. Often, doctors will ask me "Greg, how are you so awesome? How do you manage to cure these grave sicknesses?", and everyday, I answer "With a little prayer, nails, orange juice, and punanay, always in that order".
After my work in the hospital is done, my next activities depend on the season. If the baseball season happens to be in full swing (I'm so clever), then I will speed home at a average speed of about Mach 3 to see the Brewers on MLB.tv (a great service by the way). If snow happens to be coating the ground, then I strap on my cross-country skis and drudge my way up to Sunday River for some real skiing. I hope to participate in nine events in the 2010 Winter Olympics (The sprint, the team sprint, the 30K classical race, the 50K freestyle race, the slalom, giant slalom, Super-G, downhill, and the Combined in case you were wondering). Yep, I anticipate at least seven gold medals in my future, just to be realistic. After destroying the downhill slopes, I usually take part in the other activities that the mountain has to offer, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. That's only because I think of myself as a frat boy, and I can't think of any other way to have a good time than to get absolutely wasted.
After experiencing all that Sunday River's night life has to offer, I stumble, err, run home as fast as a can to resume my studies. I usually encounter a pack of wolves on my way, but I only cross their path just to toughen myself up. They typically snarl and growl like pussies for a while, until I go Chuck Norris all over their asses. However, I don't beat 'em upside the head to hard, otherwise they wouldn't be able to fight me anymore. But despite their persistant belligerance, I haven't reached optimum toughness yet, since I still have some scraps and bruises. This forces me to admit myself to the nearest hospital.
But once I get their, I encounter another problem. The nurses always attempt to pick me up by using crappy double-entendres like "Ow, you're a dirty boy, you need a sponge bath". They claim to be the heralded Night Nurses from Jersey, but I can tell that they are not Jersey trash. Trash usually gets picked up. But I always tell the ladies to back off, because I have room for only one, maybe three women in my life, and right now, they're locked in my closet.
I rush home to release them from my smelly closet, and, as usual, they come out demanding to have sex. But I'm better than that, by always making the excuse that I can make them ride the stallione tomorrow. I resume my homework, pass the test the next day, they go home to lie my ladies down by the fire in order to, you guessed it, read them a bedtime story. I'm currently in the middle of "Curious George", but the ladies are having some trouble keeping up with the plot. Oh well, that's a story for another day.
Friday, March 03, 2006
The First Annual Tellie Awards
Every night before I go to bed, I say a little prayer thanking God that he gave me rich parents. Now that the prices at the movie theatres are just atrocious, I count my blessings whenever I get to see a movie. This year I was fortunate enough to see some great ones, since I don't have the balls to view a film that I might not like. So, without much more further, elongated or prolonged form of ado, I present to the most prestigious awards in all of film, my own; the First Annual Tellie Awards.
Best Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt
And the winner is...
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt! Hey, I was shocked too that it won. But don't be surprised that it won, be surprised that it's not the only animated movie I've seen this year.
Weakest Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Robots
And the winner is...
Robots! Not only does the movie have the most uninspired title of the year, it is the only bland computer-animated film I've seen in my entire life. To give you an impression of how bad it is, I'll summerize the movie in one sentence; Ewan McGregor had a better performance in Star Wars Episode I (now that's saying something).
Best Special Effects:
King Kong
Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
War of the Worlds
And the winner is...
King Kong! I needed to give King Kong an award just to stick it to my brother. I think he'd rather pour a full bottle of Windex in his eyes than see this movie again. Apparently he approached a movie about a 30-foot tall gorilla like a National Geographic Special. He still won't let me live it down.
Sickest Screenplay of the Year Nominees:
David Goyer & Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Paul Haggis (Crash)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Tony Kushner & Eric Roth (Munich)
And the winner is...
Andrew Niccol, Lord of War! This award doesn't go to Andrew Niccol for his work in Lord of War as much as it does for his penning of The Truman Show (which is only the greatest movie ever made). I'm recognizing him for the greatness of that particular film since no one else would (the bastards).
Super-rific Supporting Actress of the Year Nominees:
Juliette Binoche (Caché)
Hope Davis (Proof)
Yomi Perry (Crash)
Rachel Weisz (The Constant Gardener)
Gary Beach (The Producers)
And the winner is...
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener! Honestly, the rest of the nominees are just filler (even Mr. Beach, who was in drag most of the time). Weisz blows all of them away.
Super-rific Supporting Actor of the Year Nominees:
Morgan Freeman (Batman Begins)
Colin Hanks (King Kong)
Jared Leto (Lord of War)
Liam Neeson (Batman Begins)
Michael Pena (Crash)
And the winner is...
Michael Pena, Crash! So what if he's in the movie for about five minutes? I assure you, his performance will bring tears to you're eyes...not that it made me cry or anything. Not only that, but I love Morgan Freeman, (See The Shawshank Redemption to find out how much) so Pena has to be pretty solid for me not to just hand over this award to Mor-dogg for his shear awesomeness.
Lucious Leading Ladies of the Year Nominees:
Katie Holms (Batman Begins)
Tea Leoni (Fun with Dick and Jane)
Bridget Moynahan (Lord of War)
Uma Thurman (The Producers)
Naomi Watts (King Kong)
And the winner is...
Uma Thurman, The Producers! As you can see, this award doesn't exactly evaluate the performance as actresses. Heck, Naomi Watts' voice changes in every scene. However, I did notice the other, finer qualities of these fine young actresses, starting at the chest and ending at the legs. That's why I nominated Katie Holms (Pressing the mute button in every scene in which she spoke greatly enhances her performance). But every Oscar, Tony, or any award in the world wouldn't do Uma Thurman justice. I guarantee that although every man in the theater is sitting, they will be giving her performance a standing ovation.
Pimpin' Male Performances of the Year Nominees:
Daniel Autriel (Caché)
Christian Bale (Batman Begins)
Eric Bana (Munich)
Nicholas Cage (Lord of War)
Ralph Fiennes (The Constant Gardener)
And the winner is...
Eric Bana, Munich! Just watch the scene where he speaks over the phone with his son, then try to tell me that's not one of the best performances you have ever seen.
Best Director of the Year Nominees:
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Fernando Meirelles (The Constant Gardener)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Steven Spielberg (Munich)
And the winner is...
Fernando Meirelles, The Constant Gardener! I know, I'm shocked too (and I'm giving out the freaking awards). Even though Spielberg directed the Indiana Jones movies and Nolan directed Memento (which should earn them every directorial award from now on), Meirelles raised awareness of corporate greed and the plights in Africa in an easily accessable, sprawling epic, which is a good thing for idiots like me.
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The moment of truth. The moment that you've been hanging on the edge of you seat for. The moment that you've skipped reading several cliches just to see...
Best Picture of 2005 Nominees:
Batman Begins
Caché
The Constant Gardener
Lord of War
Munich
And the winner is...
Lord of War! It sucks hardcore that more people didn't a chance to see this movie. It kicks so much ass that my butt was sore after watching it (from the kicking, I mean. Get you're mind out of the gutter). Sure the inspired acting of Nicholas Cage and the superb directing of Andrew Niccol made it great, but what made this movie go over the top, you ask? It featured the ultimate bummer song, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"! That one piece of musical genius incapsulates the incredible joy and sadness in seeing Lord of War. Go see it. It's cool.
Best Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt
And the winner is...
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt! Hey, I was shocked too that it won. But don't be surprised that it won, be surprised that it's not the only animated movie I've seen this year.
Weakest Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Robots
And the winner is...
Robots! Not only does the movie have the most uninspired title of the year, it is the only bland computer-animated film I've seen in my entire life. To give you an impression of how bad it is, I'll summerize the movie in one sentence; Ewan McGregor had a better performance in Star Wars Episode I (now that's saying something).
Best Special Effects:
King Kong
Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
War of the Worlds
And the winner is...
King Kong! I needed to give King Kong an award just to stick it to my brother. I think he'd rather pour a full bottle of Windex in his eyes than see this movie again. Apparently he approached a movie about a 30-foot tall gorilla like a National Geographic Special. He still won't let me live it down.
Sickest Screenplay of the Year Nominees:
David Goyer & Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Paul Haggis (Crash)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Tony Kushner & Eric Roth (Munich)
And the winner is...
Andrew Niccol, Lord of War! This award doesn't go to Andrew Niccol for his work in Lord of War as much as it does for his penning of The Truman Show (which is only the greatest movie ever made). I'm recognizing him for the greatness of that particular film since no one else would (the bastards).
Super-rific Supporting Actress of the Year Nominees:
Juliette Binoche (Caché)
Hope Davis (Proof)
Yomi Perry (Crash)
Rachel Weisz (The Constant Gardener)
Gary Beach (The Producers)
And the winner is...
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener! Honestly, the rest of the nominees are just filler (even Mr. Beach, who was in drag most of the time). Weisz blows all of them away.
Super-rific Supporting Actor of the Year Nominees:
Morgan Freeman (Batman Begins)
Colin Hanks (King Kong)
Jared Leto (Lord of War)
Liam Neeson (Batman Begins)
Michael Pena (Crash)
And the winner is...
Michael Pena, Crash! So what if he's in the movie for about five minutes? I assure you, his performance will bring tears to you're eyes...not that it made me cry or anything. Not only that, but I love Morgan Freeman, (See The Shawshank Redemption to find out how much) so Pena has to be pretty solid for me not to just hand over this award to Mor-dogg for his shear awesomeness.
Lucious Leading Ladies of the Year Nominees:
Katie Holms (Batman Begins)
Tea Leoni (Fun with Dick and Jane)
Bridget Moynahan (Lord of War)
Uma Thurman (The Producers)
Naomi Watts (King Kong)
And the winner is...
Uma Thurman, The Producers! As you can see, this award doesn't exactly evaluate the performance as actresses. Heck, Naomi Watts' voice changes in every scene. However, I did notice the other, finer qualities of these fine young actresses, starting at the chest and ending at the legs. That's why I nominated Katie Holms (Pressing the mute button in every scene in which she spoke greatly enhances her performance). But every Oscar, Tony, or any award in the world wouldn't do Uma Thurman justice. I guarantee that although every man in the theater is sitting, they will be giving her performance a standing ovation.
Pimpin' Male Performances of the Year Nominees:
Daniel Autriel (Caché)
Christian Bale (Batman Begins)
Eric Bana (Munich)
Nicholas Cage (Lord of War)
Ralph Fiennes (The Constant Gardener)
And the winner is...
Eric Bana, Munich! Just watch the scene where he speaks over the phone with his son, then try to tell me that's not one of the best performances you have ever seen.
Best Director of the Year Nominees:
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Fernando Meirelles (The Constant Gardener)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Steven Spielberg (Munich)
And the winner is...
Fernando Meirelles, The Constant Gardener! I know, I'm shocked too (and I'm giving out the freaking awards). Even though Spielberg directed the Indiana Jones movies and Nolan directed Memento (which should earn them every directorial award from now on), Meirelles raised awareness of corporate greed and the plights in Africa in an easily accessable, sprawling epic, which is a good thing for idiots like me.
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The moment of truth. The moment that you've been hanging on the edge of you seat for. The moment that you've skipped reading several cliches just to see...
Best Picture of 2005 Nominees:
Batman Begins
Caché
The Constant Gardener
Lord of War
Munich
And the winner is...
Lord of War! It sucks hardcore that more people didn't a chance to see this movie. It kicks so much ass that my butt was sore after watching it (from the kicking, I mean. Get you're mind out of the gutter). Sure the inspired acting of Nicholas Cage and the superb directing of Andrew Niccol made it great, but what made this movie go over the top, you ask? It featured the ultimate bummer song, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"! That one piece of musical genius incapsulates the incredible joy and sadness in seeing Lord of War. Go see it. It's cool.
Friday, February 03, 2006
"Quiznos": Italian for Sandwich Perfection
I usually reserve my days off for visiting my favorite culinary place in the whole wide world (since I'll be damned if I have to make my own lunch). Just ten minutes for my home is the Mecca of all sub shops, Quizno's, otherwise known as Perfect Food Capital, um, Place...USA. In over twenty visits to Quizno's, I have never been disappointed. However, on the 3rd of February, 2006, my most recent visit was slightly less perfect than I expected it to be.
I arrived promptly at 1:30 PM and ordered my usually Traditional Sub, which is a divine almagamation of ham, turkey, roast beef, lettuce, mayo, and tomato. However, the employees, who I know on a first name basis, finalized the order of one man who was behind me in line before they finalized mine. With my brother already sinking his teeth into the culinary orgy of deliciousness that is a Quizno sub, I obviously become agitated. However, my slight disappointment turned into outright rage when sandwich superman Max did not slice my sub in half as he usually does. Despite this egregious error, I decided to bite my lip and take this mistake like a man (Others would normally throw a hissy fit in this situation, but not me). But when I sat down to partake in lunchtime bliss, Quizno's maintained its DiMaggio-like streak of satisfying meals. In retrospect, being disappointed by a break in usual protocal is like being disappointed by the Super Bowl because the commercials weren't good. As always, the focus of the Super Bowl is the game, and the focus of Quizno's is always the sandwich.
The greatness of Quizno's Subs became quite clear after I paid my first visit to the sub shop in the summer of 2004. That visit became the highlight of my day, even though I visited the Grand Canyon on that very same day. Yes, the holiest of all fast food restaurants outshined the grandeur and majesty of the Grand Canyon. I bet God eats Quizno's whenever He's hungry, and whatever comes out of God after He's done eating becomes the food the food they use at Subway.
Taking a bite into a Traditional Sub at Quizno's is like treating your mouth to massage. You can combine every delicious food that you've ever eaten in your entire lives, and I guarantee that it won't even come close to the fattening glory that is a Quizno sub. How good is a Quizno sub, you ask? Have you ever had an orgasm? Multiply that by fifty, and you'll know how it feels to sink your teeth into perfection between two slices of bread. Visit your local Quizno's immidiately if not sooner, and I guarantee that your dining experience will change the way you look at food forever. And don't worry, the check from Quizno's has already cleared, that's why this is my first post in a month.
I arrived promptly at 1:30 PM and ordered my usually Traditional Sub, which is a divine almagamation of ham, turkey, roast beef, lettuce, mayo, and tomato. However, the employees, who I know on a first name basis, finalized the order of one man who was behind me in line before they finalized mine. With my brother already sinking his teeth into the culinary orgy of deliciousness that is a Quizno sub, I obviously become agitated. However, my slight disappointment turned into outright rage when sandwich superman Max did not slice my sub in half as he usually does. Despite this egregious error, I decided to bite my lip and take this mistake like a man (Others would normally throw a hissy fit in this situation, but not me). But when I sat down to partake in lunchtime bliss, Quizno's maintained its DiMaggio-like streak of satisfying meals. In retrospect, being disappointed by a break in usual protocal is like being disappointed by the Super Bowl because the commercials weren't good. As always, the focus of the Super Bowl is the game, and the focus of Quizno's is always the sandwich.
The greatness of Quizno's Subs became quite clear after I paid my first visit to the sub shop in the summer of 2004. That visit became the highlight of my day, even though I visited the Grand Canyon on that very same day. Yes, the holiest of all fast food restaurants outshined the grandeur and majesty of the Grand Canyon. I bet God eats Quizno's whenever He's hungry, and whatever comes out of God after He's done eating becomes the food the food they use at Subway.
Taking a bite into a Traditional Sub at Quizno's is like treating your mouth to massage. You can combine every delicious food that you've ever eaten in your entire lives, and I guarantee that it won't even come close to the fattening glory that is a Quizno sub. How good is a Quizno sub, you ask? Have you ever had an orgasm? Multiply that by fifty, and you'll know how it feels to sink your teeth into perfection between two slices of bread. Visit your local Quizno's immidiately if not sooner, and I guarantee that your dining experience will change the way you look at food forever. And don't worry, the check from Quizno's has already cleared, that's why this is my first post in a month.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
College Football's Greatest
I reserved this post just for today. Next to baseball, hockey, and just about every other sport, college football is the greatest sporting event that man has created. Now the Rose Bowl and the National Championship Game may be on tonight, but that's not important. I've devoted this post to debate the greatest college quarterback to ever play the game, and to say that there is no debate. Without a doubt, Paul Peterson is the greatest quarterback...ever.
Paul "Pistol" Peterson: The Greatest
His career might have started late, but that's only because he was fulfilling his Mormon duty TO COMPLETE MISSIONARY WORK IN NICARAGUA! Have you spent two years in Nicaragua? I think not. His Jesus points automatically increase by 100 points. Now, because most college admission officiers are dicks and they won't accept students who can't get a real education because they're too busy saving the world, Paul went to attend Snow Junior College in Utah. There, he just chose to play football, became the starting QB, and THREW 55 FREAKIN' TOUCHDOWNS IN ONE SEASON. That would break David Klinger's Division 1-A record of 54 touchdowns, but Paul felt just too good for Division 1-A. Awesomeness points: up 50. But one day, he thought to himself, "I'd love to pursue a Finance major a Catholic university, even though I'm Mormon". He could have chosen to attend Notre Dame, but decided that they sucked no matter who they're coached by. So he turned to Boston College. Awesomeness points up another 25.
Now, Peterson is the quarterback to ever play the game, but those talents are hidden behind his outward appearence. Maybe people couldn't his skills as a QB because HE'S 6'0" AND 190 POUNDS! Greatest at the position despite his small size: 200 awesomeness points. Still, he became the backup to that chump Quinton Porter at the start of the 2003 season. But while Porter blew, Paul threw for TDs. Eventually that chump got injured in a near blowout against West Virginia. Peterson orchestrated a great comeback, but he let West Virginia have that one, since the Mountaineers are pretty cool (25 extra coolness points) . In the final regular season game in Blacksburg, #13 ranked Virginia Tech scored a late touchdown to tie the game at 27-27. With only two minutes left in a tie game with hostel crowd and seventy yards to go, Paul was all like, "Please, don't make me laugh". After faking the handoff, Peterson hit receiver Larry Lester for 56 yards and a touchdown. BC: 34, VT: 27. Kickass points: up 80. In the San Franscisco Bowl on New Year's Eve, Peterson was wondering if they could increase the difficulty level because it was like a video game. They planted a home-cooked beatdown on Colorado State, 35-21. He was so great, we can only assume that he ran into a burning building to save a family of ten later that night.
Thankfully, coach Tom O'Brien came to his senses and redshirted that chump Porter and started Peterson for his senoir season. His fellow players nicknamed him "Pistol" (get it, Paul "Pistol" Peterson), but it certainly doesn't imply what that man carries...yes, he does have a cannon for an arm. Anyway, he kicked some ass for the first three games of the 2004 season, until he let Wake Forest win one because it's such an pimpin' school. Heck, he even threw two picks in the first half in a game against Notre Dame just to keep it close. But to come out on top, he threw two clutch touchdowns in the second half to score a comeback victory against their rivals, 24-23 (Awesomeness points up 800). He ultimately worn himself out so much during the season that he broke his hand in a game against Temple. Did he cash in his chips like so many other pussies out there? HELL NO, HE PLAYED A BOWL GAME AND THREW FOR TWO TOUCHDOWNS WITH A BROKEN HAND! He even broke his leg later in that game, but I'm sure he could've kept playing, I guarantee it. BC came out victorious in the Continental Tire Bowl against UNC, 37-24. He could have won the Heisman that season, but even that award wouldn't do him justice.
I, much like everyone else, wept like an infant after Peterson's college career was over. But just when we all thought that he would fall back on that finance major of his, he signed with the Ottawa Renegades of the CFL, playing behind former Heisman runner-up Brad Banks. His football playing days may not be over, but he'll have to win about eight MVPs and twelve Super Bowls just to outdo what he's done during his college career.
So let's review:
Paul "Pistol" Peterson: The GreatestHis career might have started late, but that's only because he was fulfilling his Mormon duty TO COMPLETE MISSIONARY WORK IN NICARAGUA! Have you spent two years in Nicaragua? I think not. His Jesus points automatically increase by 100 points. Now, because most college admission officiers are dicks and they won't accept students who can't get a real education because they're too busy saving the world, Paul went to attend Snow Junior College in Utah. There, he just chose to play football, became the starting QB, and THREW 55 FREAKIN' TOUCHDOWNS IN ONE SEASON. That would break David Klinger's Division 1-A record of 54 touchdowns, but Paul felt just too good for Division 1-A. Awesomeness points: up 50. But one day, he thought to himself, "I'd love to pursue a Finance major a Catholic university, even though I'm Mormon". He could have chosen to attend Notre Dame, but decided that they sucked no matter who they're coached by. So he turned to Boston College. Awesomeness points up another 25.
Now, Peterson is the quarterback to ever play the game, but those talents are hidden behind his outward appearence. Maybe people couldn't his skills as a QB because HE'S 6'0" AND 190 POUNDS! Greatest at the position despite his small size: 200 awesomeness points. Still, he became the backup to that chump Quinton Porter at the start of the 2003 season. But while Porter blew, Paul threw for TDs. Eventually that chump got injured in a near blowout against West Virginia. Peterson orchestrated a great comeback, but he let West Virginia have that one, since the Mountaineers are pretty cool (25 extra coolness points) . In the final regular season game in Blacksburg, #13 ranked Virginia Tech scored a late touchdown to tie the game at 27-27. With only two minutes left in a tie game with hostel crowd and seventy yards to go, Paul was all like, "Please, don't make me laugh". After faking the handoff, Peterson hit receiver Larry Lester for 56 yards and a touchdown. BC: 34, VT: 27. Kickass points: up 80. In the San Franscisco Bowl on New Year's Eve, Peterson was wondering if they could increase the difficulty level because it was like a video game. They planted a home-cooked beatdown on Colorado State, 35-21. He was so great, we can only assume that he ran into a burning building to save a family of ten later that night.
Thankfully, coach Tom O'Brien came to his senses and redshirted that chump Porter and started Peterson for his senoir season. His fellow players nicknamed him "Pistol" (get it, Paul "Pistol" Peterson), but it certainly doesn't imply what that man carries...yes, he does have a cannon for an arm. Anyway, he kicked some ass for the first three games of the 2004 season, until he let Wake Forest win one because it's such an pimpin' school. Heck, he even threw two picks in the first half in a game against Notre Dame just to keep it close. But to come out on top, he threw two clutch touchdowns in the second half to score a comeback victory against their rivals, 24-23 (Awesomeness points up 800). He ultimately worn himself out so much during the season that he broke his hand in a game against Temple. Did he cash in his chips like so many other pussies out there? HELL NO, HE PLAYED A BOWL GAME AND THREW FOR TWO TOUCHDOWNS WITH A BROKEN HAND! He even broke his leg later in that game, but I'm sure he could've kept playing, I guarantee it. BC came out victorious in the Continental Tire Bowl against UNC, 37-24. He could have won the Heisman that season, but even that award wouldn't do him justice.
I, much like everyone else, wept like an infant after Peterson's college career was over. But just when we all thought that he would fall back on that finance major of his, he signed with the Ottawa Renegades of the CFL, playing behind former Heisman runner-up Brad Banks. His football playing days may not be over, but he'll have to win about eight MVPs and twelve Super Bowls just to outdo what he's done during his college career.
So let's review:
- Missionary work in Nicaragua,
- Had record-setting season in junior college with 55 TD passes,
- Decided to attend Boston College,
- Orchestrated a huge upset against Virginia Tech,
- Won first bowl game as a junior in San Franscisco Bowl,
- Led team in a comeback victory over hated rivals Notre Dame,
- Played with a broken hand and broken leg,
- Won second bowl game in Continental Tire Bowl,
- Playing in the CFL...
Saturday, December 24, 2005
"A Christmas-", Excuse Me, "A Holiday Carol"
In late December with the holiday crush already taking its toll, Jebaneezer Booge was hard at work keeping his bowling alley afloat during this time of relative inactivity. Everyone was too busy buying holiday gifts for one another to enjoy the simple pleasures of rolling a sixteen-pound ball down a lane and hitting ten pins. Booge became so wrapped up in his work, he assigned employee, Rob Snatchit, to work counter overtime without pay. A timid soul, Snatchit was too afraid to raise any sort of objection, so he calmly suggested to his boss that he needed to complete his holiday shopping.
"Excuse me, Mr. Booge" said Snatchit shyly, "but tis the eve of holiday morrow, and my family requires non-denominational gifts in order to celebrate the holiday season."
"Holidays?" scolded Booge, "Why would I become so wrapped in such a tolerant season of outpouring happiness. Leave this place. I don't expect you back till the monday after New Year's Day."
"Oh thank you, sir." cried Snatchit, as he pranced out the day with the greatest of glee.
"The holidays," said Booge, "Humbug!" Just then, every pin in lane one was knocked down with a great thud, even though no ball was rolled down that lane. Then every pin in every lane was knocked down with the sound of a strike. A ghost suddenly appeared from behind the counter, it was PBA Hall of Famer Dick Weber!
"Dick Weber!" cried Booge, "Well, it's an honor to see you."
"Please," said Dick, "I don't have time to accept your ass kissing. I've come here to warn you of three other ghosts of holiday past, present and future that will visit you during the night."
"Well that's just fantastic." Booge said sarcastically, "but why did these spirits send you?"
"They thought you'd trust an old, good-looking legend like me, but right now I gotta go" Weber said as he began to fade away.
"Well at least they got one thing right," said Booge.
"No, wait! What did they get right, how good-looking I was?" asked Weber as he dissolved into thin air.
That night, a fair mistress by the name of the ghost of holiday past visited Booge in his sleep.
"Well, c'mon," said the ghost, "I've got a lot of ungrateful souls to visit tonight." And with that, she grabbed his hand as they flew to a mystical land covered in black. They waited and waited, until Booge simply ran out of patience.
"What the hell are we doing here!" screamed Booge, "It's nothing but black!"
"Gee wiz, I didn't notice," said the glib ghost, "everyone's so preoccupied with generalizing the holidays that no one remembers holiday past. No one remembers that Jesus was born around the sprind solstice and that December 25th coinsided with a pagan holiday. No one remembers that Chanukkah celebrates the rededication of the Temple in 165 B.C. No one even considered that Kwanzaa is a reaffirmation for community and family for African-Americans. It's all lost in the 'holiday season'."
"Well it could be worse," suggesed Booge, "you could actually living in holiday present."
"Oh really?" said the ghost of holiday past. Almost immediately, the ghost caber-tossed Booge into the lair of the ghost of holiday present. A big and sorrowful man sat on his throne as Booge looked at him dumb-founded.
"Well, you look happy." said Booge.
"Ha, don't feel sorry for me," said the unhappy ghost, "feel sorry for your associate, Mr. Snatchit." Suddenly, they were transported to Rob Snatchit's home where Rob was just returning from shopping.
"How was the store, dear?" asked his wife, Shirley.
"Terrible," declared Rob, "I was looking for a menorah, but all they had were 'holiday themed' candle holders. This one was the best I could find. It doesn't even have candles, just little light bulbs that are supposed to save money insted of buying candles. It only has seven lights!"
"Spirit?" demanded Booge, "Tell me that this family will be able to celebrate Hanukka properly."
"Oh," warned the ghost holiday present, "I wouldn't be too sure." All of the sudden, the ghost of holiday present flung Booge in the presence of a reticent man wearing a black cloak, otherwise known as the ghost of holiday future. He pointed Booge in the direction of Rob Snatchit's home again. This time, Rob appeared much happier, but sinister as well. He didn't seem to be upset about the imperfect menorah, but much more delighted in the greed of the holiday season.
"Oh, am I glad we abandoned that Hanukkah crap," declared Rob, "We saved a bunch of money and got all the gifts wanted, too."
"Why, my goodness," said a saddened Jebaneezer, "please say that this is the only family to relinquish their heritage for personal gain." But they weren't the only family. Everyone had become so wrapped up in the general benefits of the holiday season that they forgot the meanings of every holiday that they were celebrating. But then, the ghost of holiday future pointed Booge in the direction of his old bowling alley, now decrepit and delapidated. The enjoyable recreation of bowling was, too, lost in the greed of the holiday season.
"Please spirit!" screamed Jebaneezer, "Please say this is the end of my holiday suffering!" The ghost then pointed to a bank statement lying on the ground, which belonged to Mr. Booge! the money in his bank account, it...it featured seven figures!
"No!!!" yelled Jebaneezer, "Please, anything but this!!!"
Booge awoke from his slumber screaming in great distress. He checked his calender immediately. It was still Christmas Eve! He ran to the door and outside, asking a boy if the holiday season had passed.
"You there, young man," Booge screamed, "the holiday season hasn't passed yet, has it?"
"No sir," said the young boy in a delightful little British accent, "why, it's only beginning."
"Oh thank you spirits, it hasn't passed," said Jebaneezer, "From now on, I will celebrate the past, present, and future of every holiday in this magical season."
And Jebaneezer Booge was as good as his word. He warned against the over-commercialization of Christmas, he emphasized the importance of the Jewish tradition of Hanukkah, and imformed everyone of the growing popularity of Kwanzaa. Never was there a better man, or a better season of holiday recognition.
"Excuse me, Mr. Booge" said Snatchit shyly, "but tis the eve of holiday morrow, and my family requires non-denominational gifts in order to celebrate the holiday season."
"Holidays?" scolded Booge, "Why would I become so wrapped in such a tolerant season of outpouring happiness. Leave this place. I don't expect you back till the monday after New Year's Day."
"Oh thank you, sir." cried Snatchit, as he pranced out the day with the greatest of glee.
"The holidays," said Booge, "Humbug!" Just then, every pin in lane one was knocked down with a great thud, even though no ball was rolled down that lane. Then every pin in every lane was knocked down with the sound of a strike. A ghost suddenly appeared from behind the counter, it was PBA Hall of Famer Dick Weber!
"Dick Weber!" cried Booge, "Well, it's an honor to see you."
"Please," said Dick, "I don't have time to accept your ass kissing. I've come here to warn you of three other ghosts of holiday past, present and future that will visit you during the night."
"Well that's just fantastic." Booge said sarcastically, "but why did these spirits send you?"
"They thought you'd trust an old, good-looking legend like me, but right now I gotta go" Weber said as he began to fade away.
"Well at least they got one thing right," said Booge.
"No, wait! What did they get right, how good-looking I was?" asked Weber as he dissolved into thin air.
That night, a fair mistress by the name of the ghost of holiday past visited Booge in his sleep.
"Well, c'mon," said the ghost, "I've got a lot of ungrateful souls to visit tonight." And with that, she grabbed his hand as they flew to a mystical land covered in black. They waited and waited, until Booge simply ran out of patience.
"What the hell are we doing here!" screamed Booge, "It's nothing but black!"
"Gee wiz, I didn't notice," said the glib ghost, "everyone's so preoccupied with generalizing the holidays that no one remembers holiday past. No one remembers that Jesus was born around the sprind solstice and that December 25th coinsided with a pagan holiday. No one remembers that Chanukkah celebrates the rededication of the Temple in 165 B.C. No one even considered that Kwanzaa is a reaffirmation for community and family for African-Americans. It's all lost in the 'holiday season'."
"Well it could be worse," suggesed Booge, "you could actually living in holiday present."
"Oh really?" said the ghost of holiday past. Almost immediately, the ghost caber-tossed Booge into the lair of the ghost of holiday present. A big and sorrowful man sat on his throne as Booge looked at him dumb-founded.
"Well, you look happy." said Booge.
"Ha, don't feel sorry for me," said the unhappy ghost, "feel sorry for your associate, Mr. Snatchit." Suddenly, they were transported to Rob Snatchit's home where Rob was just returning from shopping.
"How was the store, dear?" asked his wife, Shirley.
"Terrible," declared Rob, "I was looking for a menorah, but all they had were 'holiday themed' candle holders. This one was the best I could find. It doesn't even have candles, just little light bulbs that are supposed to save money insted of buying candles. It only has seven lights!"
"Spirit?" demanded Booge, "Tell me that this family will be able to celebrate Hanukka properly."
"Oh," warned the ghost holiday present, "I wouldn't be too sure." All of the sudden, the ghost of holiday present flung Booge in the presence of a reticent man wearing a black cloak, otherwise known as the ghost of holiday future. He pointed Booge in the direction of Rob Snatchit's home again. This time, Rob appeared much happier, but sinister as well. He didn't seem to be upset about the imperfect menorah, but much more delighted in the greed of the holiday season.
"Oh, am I glad we abandoned that Hanukkah crap," declared Rob, "We saved a bunch of money and got all the gifts wanted, too."
"Why, my goodness," said a saddened Jebaneezer, "please say that this is the only family to relinquish their heritage for personal gain." But they weren't the only family. Everyone had become so wrapped up in the general benefits of the holiday season that they forgot the meanings of every holiday that they were celebrating. But then, the ghost of holiday future pointed Booge in the direction of his old bowling alley, now decrepit and delapidated. The enjoyable recreation of bowling was, too, lost in the greed of the holiday season.
"Please spirit!" screamed Jebaneezer, "Please say this is the end of my holiday suffering!" The ghost then pointed to a bank statement lying on the ground, which belonged to Mr. Booge! the money in his bank account, it...it featured seven figures!
"No!!!" yelled Jebaneezer, "Please, anything but this!!!"
Booge awoke from his slumber screaming in great distress. He checked his calender immediately. It was still Christmas Eve! He ran to the door and outside, asking a boy if the holiday season had passed.
"You there, young man," Booge screamed, "the holiday season hasn't passed yet, has it?"
"No sir," said the young boy in a delightful little British accent, "why, it's only beginning."
"Oh thank you spirits, it hasn't passed," said Jebaneezer, "From now on, I will celebrate the past, present, and future of every holiday in this magical season."
And Jebaneezer Booge was as good as his word. He warned against the over-commercialization of Christmas, he emphasized the importance of the Jewish tradition of Hanukkah, and imformed everyone of the growing popularity of Kwanzaa. Never was there a better man, or a better season of holiday recognition.
Friday, December 02, 2005
The Wonderful World of the College Application Process
Let's play a little game, shall we? I call it "The Wonderful World of the College Application Process", where we pit two prospective students against one another and decide which one deserves to go the better school. But first, let's choose some contestants. Hmm, what are some typical, non-discript names, umm, how about Greg and, umm, Lee for instance. Let's say both go to the same school, which is known for its academic prowess. Now to choose a university, anyone will do. Hmm, Brown University sounds an excellent institution of higher learning that would be looking for two outstanding students like Greg and Lee. Now, of course, a school can't accept students based on names alone. (although the name "Greg" does give the impression that he is an extremely smart and attractive young man) So we have to have to determine these students' eligability based on a series of admission factors. Here we go:
Obviously, Brown doesn't want a couple of slugs occupying their classrooms, so admission officiers must determine the success of these students throughout their high school career and the difficulty of the courses they take.
Grades and Rigorous nature of Courses:
Lee: Five AP courses (English, Calculus BC, Latin, Physics, US History)
GPA = 4.06
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the Latin National Honor Society
Greg: Five AP courses (English, Calculus AB, French, Chemistry, US History)
GPA = 3.98
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the French National Honor Society
Tough call since both go to the same school. I'm gonna have to give Lee the edge here with the higher level calculus course and the slightly better GPA. But at least Greg can speak a second language that actually exists.
Now, the college application process doesn't end at academics. Certain "other" factors exist to pursade universities into selecting different students.
"Other" Factors:
Lee: Described as Jewish, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Greg: Described as White, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Another difficult call. Lee might have the slight advantage of being described as Jewish, but little the schools know that he has all but renounced his faith in some odd, puberty-induced rejection of God. Sounds a little deceptive to me. However, not only is Greg white, but he happens to like rap music, which deserves a punch in the face every time he breaths. There are few things on this planet worse than a white kid from the suburbs liking hip-hop. But since both students have families with highest income of any other person on the planet, we're gonna have to call this one a push.
But no university wants to promote sloth on their campus, so participation in extra-curricular activities is another important factor as well.
Extra-Curricular Activities:
Lee: Works with about fifty other students on lighting for the school's theater productions (the school only puts on two plays a year), sits at home, watches porn
Greg: Four seasons of cross country, four seasons of indoor track, four seasons of outdoor track, frequent contributor to the school newspaper, co-founder and co-president of the Free Write Club, worked on service trips to Tijuana and Appalachia, frequents his church's youth group
Gee wiz, if college selection was based on this one factor it would be a blowout. But the competition remains close as we approach the end - oh wait, I forgot one little aspect to the application process.
SAT Scores:
Lee: 2400
Greg 1900
Now whose more likely to get into a good school?
Obviously, Brown doesn't want a couple of slugs occupying their classrooms, so admission officiers must determine the success of these students throughout their high school career and the difficulty of the courses they take.
Grades and Rigorous nature of Courses:
Lee: Five AP courses (English, Calculus BC, Latin, Physics, US History)
GPA = 4.06
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the Latin National Honor Society
Greg: Five AP courses (English, Calculus AB, French, Chemistry, US History)
GPA = 3.98
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the French National Honor Society
Tough call since both go to the same school. I'm gonna have to give Lee the edge here with the higher level calculus course and the slightly better GPA. But at least Greg can speak a second language that actually exists.
Now, the college application process doesn't end at academics. Certain "other" factors exist to pursade universities into selecting different students.
"Other" Factors:
Lee: Described as Jewish, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Greg: Described as White, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Another difficult call. Lee might have the slight advantage of being described as Jewish, but little the schools know that he has all but renounced his faith in some odd, puberty-induced rejection of God. Sounds a little deceptive to me. However, not only is Greg white, but he happens to like rap music, which deserves a punch in the face every time he breaths. There are few things on this planet worse than a white kid from the suburbs liking hip-hop. But since both students have families with highest income of any other person on the planet, we're gonna have to call this one a push.
But no university wants to promote sloth on their campus, so participation in extra-curricular activities is another important factor as well.
Extra-Curricular Activities:
Lee: Works with about fifty other students on lighting for the school's theater productions (the school only puts on two plays a year), sits at home, watches porn
Greg: Four seasons of cross country, four seasons of indoor track, four seasons of outdoor track, frequent contributor to the school newspaper, co-founder and co-president of the Free Write Club, worked on service trips to Tijuana and Appalachia, frequents his church's youth group
Gee wiz, if college selection was based on this one factor it would be a blowout. But the competition remains close as we approach the end - oh wait, I forgot one little aspect to the application process.
SAT Scores:
Lee: 2400
Greg 1900
Now whose more likely to get into a good school?
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
What Are These People Running From?
Oh they're not. They're running to the worldest most toughest competition in town. It's MXC. MOST EXTREME ELIMINATION CHALLENGE.
If you have not yet seen this show, I implore to stop whatever it is you're doing right now and tune into Spike TV every Thursday night from 9 to 11 (Well, at least finish reading this first). This particular show is the best in brainless entertainment. If you ever have a splitting headache, MXC works much faster and far better than any other pain reliever on the market. I guarantee you will not need another thought for the next thirty minutes once an episode starts.
For the unprivledged who have not yet heard of this program, MXC shows clips from the Japanese show entitled "Takeshi's Castle" in which hundreds of contestants attempt to complete nearly impossible challenges like traversing ten giant toilet paper rolls that are at least ten feet in diameter. Even though these obstacles are absurbly difficult to finish, they are not dangerous by any means, ensuring that no one is hurt and that everyone can share in a guilt-free laugh. However, the relative difficulty of these challenges assures that these people will fail in an embarassing and hilarious fashion.
If the concept isn't enough to make your sides split, then the commentary on the show will. "Takeshi's Castle" features a whole host of characters that have been undignified and marginalized by the Americans to add to MXC's greatness. The voiceover actors create great foil characters in commentators Vic Romano and Kenny Blankenship, who combine professionalism and immaturity to make some irreverant masturbation jokes. The show also includes safari-man Guy LeDouche, a crazed bisexual, and Captain Tenneal, whose commentary at the beginning of every episode reinforces my belief that the writing on this show is absolutely brilliant. If the writers for MXC do not win an Emmy every year from now on, my eyes will never view another television for as long as I live (Fat chance. I wonder what's less likely to happen: MXC winning an Emmy or me never watching TV again).
Of course, "smart" people out there will undoubtably criticize the show and its viewers for deriving entertainment out of people's humiliation. Guess what? The show is supposed to be funny. Why else would Japan call it a comedic game show. The contestants know that they will fail miserably in a futile attempt to complete these impossible challenges, so why not do it on the show that's aired across two countries. Actually, the fact that people humiliate themselves on this show shouldn't deter people from watching it. Everyone, from the show's creators to its participants, went through a great deal of trouble in both setting up these challenges and taking a risk by embarassingly competing in them, so we might as well reward their efforts by giving them the attention they deserve. Watching it would be the very least you could do.
If you have not yet seen this show, I implore to stop whatever it is you're doing right now and tune into Spike TV every Thursday night from 9 to 11 (Well, at least finish reading this first). This particular show is the best in brainless entertainment. If you ever have a splitting headache, MXC works much faster and far better than any other pain reliever on the market. I guarantee you will not need another thought for the next thirty minutes once an episode starts.
For the unprivledged who have not yet heard of this program, MXC shows clips from the Japanese show entitled "Takeshi's Castle" in which hundreds of contestants attempt to complete nearly impossible challenges like traversing ten giant toilet paper rolls that are at least ten feet in diameter. Even though these obstacles are absurbly difficult to finish, they are not dangerous by any means, ensuring that no one is hurt and that everyone can share in a guilt-free laugh. However, the relative difficulty of these challenges assures that these people will fail in an embarassing and hilarious fashion.
If the concept isn't enough to make your sides split, then the commentary on the show will. "Takeshi's Castle" features a whole host of characters that have been undignified and marginalized by the Americans to add to MXC's greatness. The voiceover actors create great foil characters in commentators Vic Romano and Kenny Blankenship, who combine professionalism and immaturity to make some irreverant masturbation jokes. The show also includes safari-man Guy LeDouche, a crazed bisexual, and Captain Tenneal, whose commentary at the beginning of every episode reinforces my belief that the writing on this show is absolutely brilliant. If the writers for MXC do not win an Emmy every year from now on, my eyes will never view another television for as long as I live (Fat chance. I wonder what's less likely to happen: MXC winning an Emmy or me never watching TV again).
Of course, "smart" people out there will undoubtably criticize the show and its viewers for deriving entertainment out of people's humiliation. Guess what? The show is supposed to be funny. Why else would Japan call it a comedic game show. The contestants know that they will fail miserably in a futile attempt to complete these impossible challenges, so why not do it on the show that's aired across two countries. Actually, the fact that people humiliate themselves on this show shouldn't deter people from watching it. Everyone, from the show's creators to its participants, went through a great deal of trouble in both setting up these challenges and taking a risk by embarassingly competing in them, so we might as well reward their efforts by giving them the attention they deserve. Watching it would be the very least you could do.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
God FAQs
I'm beginning to question whether or not everyone in my school really wants to question Christianity or they're just being morons. Anyway, here's some simple questions that my simple-minded colleagues might ask with regards to God:
Please keep sending me questions about God, and hopefully I'll give you a satisfactory answer.
- If God is all powerful and loves us, why do bad things happen?
- Are all Christians these extreme, southern Republicans that I see on Fox News and the 700 Club?
- Do all Christians believe in Creationism?
Please keep sending me questions about God, and hopefully I'll give you a satisfactory answer.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
What's Claim to Fame/What's Claim to Lame II: Electric Boogaloo
I'm hoping to create my "what's claim to fame/what's claim to lame" list at least once a month. If I do it more than once a month, that means I'm out of ideas. Hey, can you think of anything better to do:
What's Claim to Fame
Cake: Delicious, covered in frosting, easy to listen to, need I say more. Cake is possibly the most rockin'est band outside of Chilli Peppers and Weezer, maybe even the most rockin'est thing outside of Nas. Anyone who disagrees with me or hates ska bands for that matter can suck my fat, hairy balls. Put people who have never heard Cake on the list of people to which I owe a punch in the teeth.
Joe Crede: Currently playing third base for the Chicago White Sox, this guy rocks hardcore, and probably had the best season of anyone in 2005. Earlier this season, he dropped a routine foul pop in the top of the ninth that enabled Manny Ramirez to hit perhaps the sexiest game winning homer I've ever seen. Then he went on the win the ALCS MVP, and all with the same cool, pimp-like style. Man, I wish I could play like that.
Jon's Legos: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't ask me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/
What's Claim to Fame
Cake: Delicious, covered in frosting, easy to listen to, need I say more. Cake is possibly the most rockin'est band outside of Chilli Peppers and Weezer, maybe even the most rockin'est thing outside of Nas. Anyone who disagrees with me or hates ska bands for that matter can suck my fat, hairy balls. Put people who have never heard Cake on the list of people to which I owe a punch in the teeth.
Joe Crede: Currently playing third base for the Chicago White Sox, this guy rocks hardcore, and probably had the best season of anyone in 2005. Earlier this season, he dropped a routine foul pop in the top of the ninth that enabled Manny Ramirez to hit perhaps the sexiest game winning homer I've ever seen. Then he went on the win the ALCS MVP, and all with the same cool, pimp-like style. Man, I wish I could play like that.
Jon's Legos: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't ask me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/
What's Claim to Lame
Syracuse Football: I hate ABC Channel 5's contractual obligation to showing Big East games on Saturday. Not because they have to show shitty Big East teams, but because they have to show Syracuse, the worst team in all of college football without question. Watching them against Cincinnati was like having my dick stepped on. I swear my high school's football team could beat them. Hell, they could beat them blindfolded. You suck hardcore, Syracuse.
Madonna: Anyone still listening to Madonna should be thrown in to a pile of poop for relief from such crappy music. I don't know how old Madonna is, but she's too old to still be making my ears bleed. She should be doing more important things, like raising her daughter to be as vapid and self-serving as she is. And she should dump that whole psudo-jewish crap. No wonder there's still anti-semitism in the world when selfish whores like Madonna drag it through the mud.
Jon's Spare Time: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't aks me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/
Syracuse Football: I hate ABC Channel 5's contractual obligation to showing Big East games on Saturday. Not because they have to show shitty Big East teams, but because they have to show Syracuse, the worst team in all of college football without question. Watching them against Cincinnati was like having my dick stepped on. I swear my high school's football team could beat them. Hell, they could beat them blindfolded. You suck hardcore, Syracuse.
Madonna: Anyone still listening to Madonna should be thrown in to a pile of poop for relief from such crappy music. I don't know how old Madonna is, but she's too old to still be making my ears bleed. She should be doing more important things, like raising her daughter to be as vapid and self-serving as she is. And she should dump that whole psudo-jewish crap. No wonder there's still anti-semitism in the world when selfish whores like Madonna drag it through the mud.
Jon's Spare Time: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't aks me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Coming Out of the Closet
No, I'm not gay, so please grow up for about a minute and a half. However, I use that expression to describe what is probably the gayest thing I do on a regular basis.
When I mean gay, I don't use it literally, of course. But every Saturday night at 11:00, I tune into Cartoon Network to watch this latest (I hesitate to say "popular") Japanimation creation known as "Inuyasha". I'd like to think that I'm about 10% nerd, so why not watch a show that fills 120 to 130% of my geeky qualities. I can't explain the plot since I don't quite know what it is yet, but it involves some dude with cat ears and overwhelmingly gorgeous hair, a girl who never changes out of her jumper, a stupid cry-baby pussy who whines like he's always talking out his LiveJournal, and one extrordinarily hot woman who serves no other purpose other than to arouse my interest, if you know what I mean (and I think you do). She drags around a giant boomerang as big as the [never mind] I get [going to change the angle of this joke]. There's also a little cutie pie character that's about two inches tall and, surprisingly, doesn't get squished every episode. I'm still searching for his or her gender and purpose as well. But surely, the possibilities are endless with a group like this!
"Inuyasha" follows all the standard Japanimation cliches (which I aquired a great knowledge of from watching multiple episodes of Pokemon) by assuming its audience is composed entirely of lobodomy patients. Characters reiterate and overstate the obvious and repeat the name of the person they are addressing to ensure that even the two-month-olds are up to speed. Since it's Japanese and it's considered to be for "adults", there is a ton of meaningless violence. This enables the characters to yell out their every attack, or else they won't work, I suppose. Don't believe me? Just the other day I was trying to grab a cookie out of the cafeteria, but I couldn't nab it unless I yelled out "super awesome cookie grab". True story.
I hope I don't sound like I'm endorsing this show because I wouldn't suggest watching it. "Inuyasha" is what I refer to as "train wreck television" in which it is so disgustingly horrible that you mustn't look but can't turn away. Jerry Springer and every other daily talk show host has perfected this, and it appears that the rest of television is following suit. My suggestion, keep it on ESPN, or gouge your eyes out. Either one.
When I mean gay, I don't use it literally, of course. But every Saturday night at 11:00, I tune into Cartoon Network to watch this latest (I hesitate to say "popular") Japanimation creation known as "Inuyasha". I'd like to think that I'm about 10% nerd, so why not watch a show that fills 120 to 130% of my geeky qualities. I can't explain the plot since I don't quite know what it is yet, but it involves some dude with cat ears and overwhelmingly gorgeous hair, a girl who never changes out of her jumper, a stupid cry-baby pussy who whines like he's always talking out his LiveJournal, and one extrordinarily hot woman who serves no other purpose other than to arouse my interest, if you know what I mean (and I think you do). She drags around a giant boomerang as big as the [never mind] I get [going to change the angle of this joke]. There's also a little cutie pie character that's about two inches tall and, surprisingly, doesn't get squished every episode. I'm still searching for his or her gender and purpose as well. But surely, the possibilities are endless with a group like this!
"Inuyasha" follows all the standard Japanimation cliches (which I aquired a great knowledge of from watching multiple episodes of Pokemon) by assuming its audience is composed entirely of lobodomy patients. Characters reiterate and overstate the obvious and repeat the name of the person they are addressing to ensure that even the two-month-olds are up to speed. Since it's Japanese and it's considered to be for "adults", there is a ton of meaningless violence. This enables the characters to yell out their every attack, or else they won't work, I suppose. Don't believe me? Just the other day I was trying to grab a cookie out of the cafeteria, but I couldn't nab it unless I yelled out "super awesome cookie grab". True story.
I hope I don't sound like I'm endorsing this show because I wouldn't suggest watching it. "Inuyasha" is what I refer to as "train wreck television" in which it is so disgustingly horrible that you mustn't look but can't turn away. Jerry Springer and every other daily talk show host has perfected this, and it appears that the rest of television is following suit. My suggestion, keep it on ESPN, or gouge your eyes out. Either one.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
A Tribute to The Ultimate Bummer Song
Every so often, a song graces our ears that puts even musical genius to shame. A song that is so versitile, it can be used in times of both celebration and sorrow. Unfortunately, most people choose the latter, but that still does not detract from its greatness. Of course, I speak of Jeff Buckley's incomparable classic entitled "Hallelujah".
Okay, so technically the song does not belong to Jeff Buckley. It was written by Leonard Cohen, who I imagine smoked his share of hemp considering the song's lyrics are practically unintelligible. But that's beyond the point. The song's seven minutes of auditory glory have been featured in the following movies and television shows:
I alluded to the song's versitility in film and T.V. earlier, but its usefulness doesn't stop there. The guitar tabs for the song are easy to attain and easy to play, so next time your on the beach or at a camp fire with your acoustic guitar, put out "Hallelujah" and you'll be showing chicks your Oh! face in no time. Ohhh! Ohhh! You guys know what I'm talkin' about.
But remember when you're nailing chicks, the song is even more advantageous. After all:
Maybe there is a god above,
But all I've ever learned from love,
Was how to shoot somebody who out drew ya...
But it's not cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...
Forget it. I can't sing the rest of the song. I wouldn't be doing it justice. Just buy it, download it, steal it from some old person, whatever. You simply owe it to yourself.
Okay, so technically the song does not belong to Jeff Buckley. It was written by Leonard Cohen, who I imagine smoked his share of hemp considering the song's lyrics are practically unintelligible. But that's beyond the point. The song's seven minutes of auditory glory have been featured in the following movies and television shows:
- Shrek
- Lord of War
- Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
- Without a Trace
- Vanilla Sky
- Sleepover (1995)
- When Night is Falling
- The Dead Zone
- The West Wing
I alluded to the song's versitility in film and T.V. earlier, but its usefulness doesn't stop there. The guitar tabs for the song are easy to attain and easy to play, so next time your on the beach or at a camp fire with your acoustic guitar, put out "Hallelujah" and you'll be showing chicks your Oh! face in no time. Ohhh! Ohhh! You guys know what I'm talkin' about.
But remember when you're nailing chicks, the song is even more advantageous. After all:
Maybe there is a god above,
But all I've ever learned from love,
Was how to shoot somebody who out drew ya...
But it's not cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...
Forget it. I can't sing the rest of the song. I wouldn't be doing it justice. Just buy it, download it, steal it from some old person, whatever. You simply owe it to yourself.
Friday, September 30, 2005
For Love or Money? I'm Gonna Have to go with the Money
I hesitate to write this post, since I watch an ungodly amount of television and no one will know what the hell I'm talking about. But for the sake of lowering my blood pressure, New Balance has a new ad campaign that asks all the pros out there, in case they've forgotten, "there are two motivations in sports, which is yours? For love or money?" Let me speak on the behalf of all professional athletes and say that they do in fact play for money. They don't have a choice, dipshits. That's what makes them professional athletes, they play to make money. But of course, the ad executives at New Balance are too damn stupid to realize this, so they'll live in an idealistic world where everyone will just play for the love of the game, or they're just pissed at the pros who choose not to endorse their products.
If that wasn't enough, the ads include empty-headed high school athletes acting tough because they supposedly play for the "love" (I wonder if love is the same as devotion, because love doesn't work in this context). Interestingly enough, all of these high schoolers in the commercials are white. Hmmm. Then they start parading around like little assholes telling professional athletes stuff like "this is what floor burn looks like" and "this is what a bunt looks like". Who better to tell us how to play to game then high schoolers? Next I suppose they'll be telling us how important their games are. Oh wait, they aren't. Easy for you to say, dickheads, your livelihood doesn't hinge on your ability to play since nobody gives a shit about high school sports. Let's see how much floor burn you have if your ability to play basketball depends on feeding your family.
But you know what, it doesn't matter. Advertisements are meant to sell products, but apparently that's not how New Balance rolls. Instead, they attempt to lure impressionable idiots into buying their sneakers, thinking that will somehow be sticking it to all the pros out there and playing for the "love" of the game. Fortunately, I have a little more faith in humanity, and people will realize that New Balance shoes blow, regardless of whatever their ads say. However, I still think that internal question, "for love or money" isn't directed towards just professional athletes, but general sports participants all over the world, like me. So if you ask me if I run cross-country or play hockey for love or money, I'm gonna have to say money. And chicks. I play for chicks.
If that wasn't enough, the ads include empty-headed high school athletes acting tough because they supposedly play for the "love" (I wonder if love is the same as devotion, because love doesn't work in this context). Interestingly enough, all of these high schoolers in the commercials are white. Hmmm. Then they start parading around like little assholes telling professional athletes stuff like "this is what floor burn looks like" and "this is what a bunt looks like". Who better to tell us how to play to game then high schoolers? Next I suppose they'll be telling us how important their games are. Oh wait, they aren't. Easy for you to say, dickheads, your livelihood doesn't hinge on your ability to play since nobody gives a shit about high school sports. Let's see how much floor burn you have if your ability to play basketball depends on feeding your family.
But you know what, it doesn't matter. Advertisements are meant to sell products, but apparently that's not how New Balance rolls. Instead, they attempt to lure impressionable idiots into buying their sneakers, thinking that will somehow be sticking it to all the pros out there and playing for the "love" of the game. Fortunately, I have a little more faith in humanity, and people will realize that New Balance shoes blow, regardless of whatever their ads say. However, I still think that internal question, "for love or money" isn't directed towards just professional athletes, but general sports participants all over the world, like me. So if you ask me if I run cross-country or play hockey for love or money, I'm gonna have to say money. And chicks. I play for chicks.
Monday, September 19, 2005
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