My wonderful/horrible life

2003-08-27T23:05:00.000-07:00

sorry I haven't updated, I feel as if I've betrayed you blog. I guess that's the way life is; you work hard on something, become close to it with it and then you can't help but betray it. I've also realized that the point of this blog isn't for the viwers, all though I love feedback, but more so for me. I consider it my soul's reflection as corny as it sounds. But the reflection seems just too real to ignore, so I suppose that is the purpose for this short essay, I can't forget my roots with this blog, so expect more writings soon.

2003-02-03T16:46:00.000-08:00

"Sundance is
wierd. The movies are wierd. You actually have to think about them when
you watch them." -Britney Spears

Stephen Hawking, eat your heart out.

2003-01-01T00:17:00.000-08:00

I'm partially drunken here so i apoloogize for any gramatical mistaks i will soon corerect

I was sitting here reaalizing how fast time goes by. I remember being 8 adn banging on pots and pans to ring in the New Year. But now its an excuse to get drunk and actu stpid. Who am i to talk.? It's kind of sad what we celerbrate and how all were doing is washing waway the old bad shit and bringing in even worse shit/ I don't even know awhat im ram,bling on and on about but this year I suspdpect will be just as worse as the others, if not more so. Same thing over and over, more war, more hate, more violence, more death, more broken hearts etc. It's all these things that are breaking socieoty, but we what can we do about it?
It's our job as humans to bring in the New YEar right. Get your eyes off the screen, get off your ass and do something probductive that can benefit you. I urgy you to live your life to the fullest. So this is a toast, to a better tomorrow

Cheers.

2002-12-31T19:17:00.000-08:00

Random Post:

Sean: "joe...words can not describe how sick and fucked up you are"

2002-12-23T15:41:00.000-08:00

Her head throbbed as she plopped into the chair by the lit fireplace. She hadn't slept all night. Well, perhaps a few minutes, but no more than five at a time. The thunder and lightening had kept her up. Although she hadn't slept and it was only five in the morning, she sat wide awake in that big maroon colored chair that had been given to her by her great grandmother.

He said he would come, she thought. Where is he? He will, won't he? He promised. If he doesn't, he will be sorry. She lifted the pouch that she was to give him. She had no idea what was in it, but she was sure that it was important. The old man who gave it to her told her that she would be killed if anything happened to it.

As she laid there in her chair, listening to the comforting sounds of the crackling fire and to her own heavy breath, she started to drift off. She drifted into a world that she had never seen before. She was lost. "But this is my house!" she screamed. "Why can I not find my way out?" She was frantic. The package. Where was the package? Gone. It had vanished. What will I do? she wondered.

She collapsed on a rug in one of the many hallways in her mansion. She sobbed hysterically. Tears rolled uncontrollably down her face. A cool breeze swept across her pale face. She shivered. Looking up, she saw her father. "Daddy?" she asked, once again sounding like the little girl she once was. "Daddy, I'm cold."

Her father said nothing. He walked right to her. Although, he didn't really walk. He floated. He floated over the spot where Carol lay, curled into a ball, trying to keep warm. He lifted a knife and said, rather calmly, "Come home with me, Carol. Come home."

"Daddy?" Carol squeaked. "Daddy? Is that you?" The knife whistled as it came down through the air. She suddenly jerked upright. She was on the floor in front of the fire place. The flame was out and she was shivering. Sweat streamed down her face as did tears. Her head ached. She gasped the air as if she had been deprived of it for so long. Carol crawled up into the big maroon chair that seemed to swallow her.

Leaning over to the table to take a drink of her water, she found the package missing. No, no, no, she thought. Her mind raced. Where is it? She frantically threw things off of the table like a madman and panting like a dog. "Where? Where? Where is that package?" she shrieked. The package was no where to be found. However, there was a letter. The letter read as follows:

Carol:
You are a dear for holding this for me. I shall repay you.
The package is where it should be: In my hands. I came like
I said I would. Sorry about the little nightmare. I couldn't let
you see me. I will repay you. Mark my word.
Love, Your dearly grateful friend,

Me

Carol was relieved, yet confused. Her legs were like jelly and she was still short of breath. She felt too weak to crawl back up three flights of stairs to he bedroom, and it was still only five thirty. Her butler wouldn't come until seven, like always. She decided to stay in that big maroon chair that her great grandmother had given her.

2002-12-16T17:29:00.000-08:00

Word to yo mutha cause I be illin' all ova yo mutha's face. Defication doesn't give me as much gratification as masturbation. When I'm waitin' at da gas station I eat my 44. calibur pistol and I cheat on ma wife wit her brother. Dat's righ' foo's. I'm a homosexual rappa. Rainbow stripes forevea. Piece. Kill yo parents.

-- Pimp Masta Joe featuring Richard Simmons

2002-12-13T14:26:00.000-08:00

POT, WEED, HASH, CANNABIS, GRASS, REEFER, MARY JANE
WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT.

I'm sure all of you have heard of High Times Magazine, it's just that most of the world haven't realized it yet...It's all about freedom. We are experiencing an important transition in human experience. The more we narrow our view of the world, more demanding will the tribulations be. I’m a big fan of speaking what your heart feels. I'm doing everything I can to live that change I want to see. It would be very hard for politicians to go way out of the people's choice of living. But to do that, you have to read, find out, be interested in what makes this world turn. Are you a good Earth spirit? Ask yourself everyday what you could do to make a difference. Vote with your money everyone!

Don't give money to people you don't want to have it. One example: Why would you buy Kraft food products? Did you know that Phillip Morris owns it? Do you know why Hemp is still illegal in the US? Did you know that Dupont is a huge lobbyist to keep hemp from becoming legal because they can make a lot more money cutting down our Amazon forest? Hemp can be a big healer of this planet. No joke. Medical or not, Marijuana is an amazing herb for relaxation, creativity etc. Creativity flows. Of course moderation is the key and different people react differently. But it's a good thing. Hemp is a good thing. Getting responsibly high is a good thing too.
It's called purpose, it took someone a chance to find purpose. Some take things too far, but that was a chance, now, we know things are wrong, it's our chance to change them.

One more thing, Cannabis sativa is not a drug, it’s a plant! So here's my message to Mr. Bush: Take your war on drugs to where it matters. Drugs. Start by giving a thorough check on the pharmaceutical industry. Would you do that for your beloved Americans, Mr. President?

2002-12-04T21:13:00.000-08:00

Two Sides

The moon has two sides,
The dark and the light.
The Earth is divided,
Into day and into night.
Everything in twos,
The way it shall be.
Everything in twos,
That even includes me.

My thoughts are now divided,
Unsure what to do.
Fighting my own mind,
Battling the sides, two.
Two paths lay before me,
Only one can I take.
Must choose one thought,
The other, forsake.

Denouncing myself,
For a hope my mind won’t let go.
Something that I cling to,
When I know it shouldn’t be so.
Why will these thoughts,
Not pass me by?
They drift back,
Despite my try.

One moment I am fine,
These thoughts left behind.
Then by my next thought,
My mind on hope I find.
While problems are afar,
I try to move on.
They still linger here,
When will these thought be gone?

The decision I have made,
Quite sometime ago.
I try to live that choice,
But my mind won’t let me so.
Until I gain resolve,
As solid as solid can be.
I battle with decisions,
Which are only half up to me.

2002-12-01T22:22:00.000-08:00

Bloody hands
Wounded souls
Our hearts growing old
Tired arms
Hold the dead
As they sleep in beds of glass
We sit back and watch
It’s all tearing us apart
The killing of thousands
And the blood of the innocent spilling
How stupid can mankind be?
As the people sleep
Let their souls rest
In your arms of gold
Let them be all right
As I stand here
Silent dreams fill the night sky
As we lay in despair
Silent screams of victims suffering life and death
We never heard

2002-12-01T16:21:00.000-08:00

I'm not anti-anything
Everything's anti-me
If it's too slow I don't want it
When no one's there, I feel at home
Inside of my head I'm claustrophobic
When it's croweded I'm all alone
Hassled all day long there's no savior in this town
Won't someone help me stop my head from spinning round?
My mood are always changing
They say it's my mishap brain
In this asylum they they call Earth
They Call me insane

2002-11-27T20:26:00.000-08:00

Bush has signed on to support Terrorism Insurance, because as we know, fear = $$$$. Its a win win situation for the U.S. GOVERNMENT. C.I.A., I.R.S., F.B.I, N.S.A =The real terrorist. Lets change this shit. Search the internet for the I.S.O., International Socialist Organization. I believe they will be able to give any info you need, trying to find anything you can do in your area. Organize.

2002-11-12T19:27:00.000-08:00

Honesty is the best policy
But insanity is a better defense
Consumation masturbation
Getting high on a suicide
Faggot poetry
Lyrical dysentery
Mind and soul is not free

If you are having problems understanding the following piece above, talk to me, and I'll be more than happy to explain what it all means.

note: "Faggot" is not used to express how I fell about homosexuals, it's used to give you an idea of what's going on in the minds of others. Thank you

2002-11-11T21:24:00.000-08:00

Bleed

Ivory giving way to crimson
A river flowing down my arms
Metal blades gleaming in the dark
Feelings of isolation and contamination
Searching for an answer
Wallowing in self-absorbtion and pity
Not wanting any of it, and the skin tears
Giving in so easilly, it slices the surface
First the warmth, burning, and then the pain.
Numbing, and distracting.
And then it comes, thick and from the heart
Emotions are forgotten, as mentality weakens.

2002-11-08T21:52:00.000-08:00

I wrote the following at a time where my mind wasn't in the place it was supposed to be. Enjoy

Okay sinners, get ready, I haven’t slept in a long time now. So I’m going insane, fucking freaking out. I swear the cat keeps staring at the ceiling, until I look up to see what it is she sees, but there’s nothing there. Nothing. She’s mocking me - I swear it. Okay, in my crazed state, I decided to rip apart the Ten Commandments. Sometimes I dispute how God fucked up, sometimes how we did, but I swear a lot, so you Heathens should like it.

By the way, here’s a picture of a POSSUM..

Okay, with that out of the way, lets’ get down to business. I’m posting this shit, then going to bed. I just tried to post the thing using the hardest possible code known to man, and fucked it up. If there’s a lot of mistakes, I’ll fix ‘em tomorrow, when I can think straight.

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS

1. THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME

Really, well we’ll see about that. How about -
-Money (George on their one, Lincoln on their five, Laurier on our 5 - paper gods, there can be no argument on this one. If you disagree, you’re an idiot, a penniless idiot. Like me.)

-Santa Claus (Jesus is born, as is the Jolly god. Santa replaces the messiah. He’s Jolly! Come on! Like a bowl full of Jelly? Jesus was a skinny mama’s boy.

-Easter Bunny (Jesus dies, don’t ask why, but we get the giant, Chocolate-Bunny God. Who sneaks around on the supposed day of Jesus’ rebirth, hiding cherished goodies of FOIL-WRAPPED RABBIT SHIT! Come on, that’s ludicrous. That’s like worshipping a Leprechaun, who kills people for no good reason. See what I mean, oh wait )

-St. Paddy’s day (someone drives all of the Druids out of Ireland, and we celebrate it by getting right honorably pissed. I’ll worship any leprechaun, (subversive and otherwise) who’s holiday allows me to relinquish green fluids for a week. Although, we don’t worship St. Pat anymore than your average brawling midget, and we do only because of the official, global, drinkin’ day, I just like to say relinquish, green and fluids together whenever I can.

-Hollywood Celebrities (subversive and otherwise) Fan Clubs. Web Sites. Forged nude photos. Obsessive, imaginary and co-dependent allusions to camaraderie. Issues about Leonardo DiCaprio abound in this fucked-up world that I refuse to understand.

-Euro Celebs (subversive and otherwise.) They talk differently, so they must be cooler. Fuck you England, we want John Lennon. Or Johnny Rotten. Someone who’s English but has an American name. Not the fat, stupid Johnny Rotten either. And-

-Silicone. Period. Exclamation point. Underscore. This God is worse than Leo. But who could forget our favorite -

- Television

So we screwed up, what can I say, he’s a pretty vague celestial bush, for a flaming one, that is. I suppose if we tag on other labels, we can claim that we don’t have them before God, but who really cares anyway. Does God have cheekbones like Leo? If he does, I’d sure like to see ‘em. Moving on.

2. THOU SHALT NOT MAKE UNTO THEE ANY GRAVEN IMAGES

-I don’t know what “graven” means, to be honest, but I’m sure it has something to do with not washing your feet on every alternate third Tuesday of February, or that we’re all required by religious creed to feed God grapes from the vine. Let’s just move on shall we?

3. THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD, THY GOD, IN VAIN

-Which means, essentially, that if you talk shit about God or his boy, you’re going to Hell. If you break it down more, it could also mean just using God’s name in a sentence which he thinks frivolous, you’re fucked too. Touchy sort of Deity ain’t he? I can sort of understand this being a bad thing, vain, in this translation means, useless, or futile. So cursing out God, ex: God Damn that’s a spicy meatball, is futile, so you are Hell bent on, well, Hell! I’m not sure why is God fucking us over again? Futile or not, but it would probably piss him off a bit, so he’d smite your ass good and hard. He also felt the need to point out, that not only was he THE LORD, but also THY GOD, to make sure you knew who the fuck was giving you the business. I don’t know though, if I was making up only 10 commands to dictate my disciple’s existence’s, not talking shit, or even mentioning my name in an asinine way, probably wouldn’t be my third choice. I’d put it in the maybe pile, for if I couldn’t think up something better, along with Thou shalt not procreate with the homely. No wait, that’d be first. Us uglies are far too many to explain, and if God had stamped us out early on, even letting the Catholics use a fucking condom once in a while, then we’d all probably look the same, but at least we’d look good. Goddamnit why didn’t he command against homely people who want to multiply?

4. THOU SHALT KEEP THE SABBATH DAY HOLY

-The only thing I find “Holy” in the Sabbath anymore is that they let you by alcohol on it now, HALLEJULLAH, so I guess we’re all guilty by association here. The Church kind of gets fucked over, as its their only day to do all it is that they do (compared to what I accomplish on a daily basis of course). Can’t blame God for this one, he’s a little narcissistic, and he only asked for one day of Sabbath, which means day of rest. So, actually, God’s not vain, he’s lazy: “and on the seventh (Sabbath) day, he rested” And he wants to rest every Sunday now. Maybe to watch football, I can’t say, but God definitely has some stupid guidelines he and St. Peter pulled out of a hat to see how many of us would follow them.

5. HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER

-Was there a lot of people dishonoring their Mother’s and/or Father’s at the time? Or maybe Jesus was being a little insolent, you know, he and God got into a tiff about the third commandment, they’re not talking to each other, Jesus wont let God come into his room, or if he does, he just sniffs and turns away from God, so God gives up and makes it sanctioned by the creator of the Universe that Jesus give back the remote to the T.V. before he misses the Super Bowl. You know, Pete’s coming over, God’s just made a lovely spinach dip, and Jesus’ blaring his guitar. Kids! I don’t know what that was, if you know, don't hesitate to tell me.

6. THOU SHALT NOT KILL

-Okay fine, a sensible one. Don’t kill people. But, you know it’s just so dang fun that we couldn’t help ourselves, over and over and over and over, you know how it gets God, we saw what you did to Sodom and Ghomorrah though, that KICKED ASS. It’s like these RealTV shows; when animals attack and Airplane Crashes CAUGHT ON TAPE, God gets bored, so the angels all gather around, and smite a 747. Nuttin wrong with dat.

-Wait a second here, there’s a whole Hell of a lot wrong wit dat. First God gives us “free will,” and being the ALL MIGHTY, he already knows how each of us is gonna use that free will, but he still drowns us and rains fire and brimstone down upon our heads? Maybe God has a bit of a drinking problem. His son can turn water into wine for fucks sake. It’s all beginning to make sense now.

7. THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY

- Sin. Fornication. Infidelity. Illicit sexual intercourse. Extramarital affair. Cuckoldry. Whatever. This here’s God covering his ass. Being All Knowing and Omni-Present, he knew what was coming when he booted Adam and Eve out of Eden. They were gonna fuck. Some primal urge to attain a momentary relapse of the sensation of Paradise Lost? Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t have a clue. I do know that God leapt at this chance to come up with some rules. “Listen you little bastards, stop that right now, I mean it,” he starts flicking the light switch on and off, “that’s not wholesome, you’re gonna throw your back out.” Then, I only assume it’s because God can’t really have sex, that whole “immaculate conception” thing, that he’s got some pent up angst, and decides to make it wrong to masturbate as well as have sex. Talk about penis envy. Then he takes “Charles in Charge” off the air, and Everclear releases “AM Radio.” These are the true signs of the apocalypse people.

8. THOU SHALT NOT STEAL

Like stealing the lives of all those Israelite’s God? What’s that? And Noah’s ark? Sodom and Ghmorrah? You know, God created Hitler, think about that, knowing he was gonna mass genocide the Jewish people, and did nothing about it. Why? Because they’re the “chosen” ones? God burnt down a city because its residents were sexually “promiscuous,” but Hitler gets off with WORLD WAR TWO? Was God taking a nap or something?

9. THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST THY NEIGHBOR

-We Like Pop, We Like Soul, We like Rock, but We Never Liked Disco!
-We Like Pop, We Like Soul, We like Rock, but We Never Liked Disco!
-We Like Pop, We Like Soul, We like Rock, but We Never Liked Disco!
-We Like Pop, We Like Soul, We like Rock, but We Never Liked Disco!

10. THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBORS HOUSE

- This one’s great, translating as envying other people, or other people’s possessions, was another good kick in the crotch for the Israelites. These poor, poor bastards - 4000 years of persecution, and they aren’t allowed to envy their Slave-drivers? Who the hell of that entire race of people didn’t once, just once wish they had the whip, kicking a little ass of their own? Or who, during the 40 (this is the obligatory FUCKING spot) FUCKING years of aimless shit in the desert with Moses building sand castles, didn’t wish they had stayed to get whipped and beat back in Egypt? None of them, and do you know why? These are God’s “chosen ones”, so of course he treats them like charred toaster leavin’s. Then, THEN, and this is the real royal fuck-over, just when they start getting happy and joyous again, Moses gets a little pissed that no one likes him anymore, runs off up the mountain, scribbles some shit on a rock, and comes back down to ruin everyone’s fun. Of course that’s just a theory, the truth is GOD HATES THE ISREALITES. Being ALL KNOWING like he is, God knew the Anti-Christ was coming down the line. Did he warn anyone? Nope. SIX MILLION dead. Yeah, I'm sure anyone who's Jewish definitely feels bad if someone coveted my neighbor’s house, I mean who had it better than them? The slaves, maybe. Dung Beetles?

That's all, you Dot-Communist junkies.

2002-11-03T14:48:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one in this world that finds as much interest in a tar stained cigarette butt as I do with the crashing waves of the ocean? I came to an understanding about myself the today while standing on a cliff above the Pacific Ocean. I sat there, trying to shake a feeling of fright and curiousity that would never be so anomorphous or so un-concrete again. Something was wrong, something was out of place, out of joint. There was a chill, and not all the bright October sunshine spilling through the school windows in the world would dispel it. Things were as they always had been, but they were getting ready to change; I felt it. I sat there trying to get myself in gear, trying to convince myself that the chill was no more than my fears about my own future, and that was the chance coming that I was uneasy about. Maybe that was part of it. But it 't it at all. My needs are very little but I am missing something, something I do need; the future. Let me explain.

Many times I'll be watching a movie that takes place sometime in the past and I think to myself, I would really love to be alive during that time rather than now. And then I ask myself why I think that is. Is it because "times were simpler"? Maybe to a degree but every era has it's hardships and I doubt there would be much difference. Is it because my path in life would have been more defined by society? I think it's because if I were to suddenly be alive in the past, I would secretly know there was a future. The fact that I don't know there is a future right now puts a very large weight on my subconscious. I think this is why many of my dreams have an apocalyptic nature to them.

There is no way to know the future and unfortunately I can't travel to the past either, at least not yet, so how do I overcome this weight on my mind? I think the solution probably lies within some form of spirituality. The answer is probably as simple as something like, "All that matters is love, and everything is going to be ok." But this is so cheesy. I need something else. But what?

2002-11-02T22:03:00.000-08:00

Burn Your Flag
Patriotism is Racism
Form one Planet

2002-11-02T16:37:00.000-08:00

I saw you lying there...

I saw you lying there;
Broken heart, broken soul, broken wings.
Amongst the now bloodied thorns,
With white roses atop. Perfect skin torn
Tarnished halo. You needed Love,
You needed life; you had nothing.

I bent down, brushed soft hair,
And lifted you from your pain.
Your wings hung loose, falling about,
Cropped. You are perfection flawed,
Your arms, weak you cling to my body
As I walk away. You are my angel.

As you lookup, light pours from your
Smile and your cuts flow precious blood.
In my arms you are safe, we become one.
You are innocence lost, an angel with
Beautiful scars and tarnished feathers.
I am your savior and you are
My angel with broken wings

2002-10-29T16:43:00.000-08:00

Is peace an unachievable dream? is it the same as anarchy? Will it end in dictatorship? Anarchy can be seen essentially as peace since both concepts teach that people can work together to achieve unity and peace. But if anarchy ends in dictatorship because of the evil in human nature, would a peaceful world as well?

2002-10-27T16:51:00.000-08:00

POST BY BRANDON

I so want to fuck Sarah Michelle Geller until she pulls a Buffy, and slays my dragon.

R.I.P. MR. WINKY

2002-10-21T18:01:00.000-07:00

Here are some theories I've been working on recently. Forgive me if they don't make sense, which they probably don't.

We all know that:
Time = Money
Knowledge = Power

From physics we learned:
Power = Work/Time
Plug in Money for Time, we get:
Power = Work/Money

Plug in Knowledge for Power, we get:
Knowledge = Work/Money

Multiply Money and divide Knowledge on both sides, we get:
Money = Work/Knowledge

Therefore, as Knowledge approaches ZERO, Money approaches infinity.

Misinfomation = Fear of the people = consumption = rich old racist white men vs. the poor of the world.

Basically meaning that Capitalism is gradually making the U.S. into a third world country, which is the Capitalists plan, they will then be the richest in the world, and you'll be dumb and poor and perfectly controlled by them

Communication + organization = social change

2002-10-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

Some Like it Hot

She drank everything in, like the hot hard vodka slipping and sliding down its mad descent towards her stomach. (always the problem area) Flicking a cigarette, mulling over the significance of an unhealthy vice in each hand. She sucks in her breath, feeling the head rush as each image arrests the mind and freezes in its artistic perfection. Love, the effect of staring like that in dreary, smeared eye madness. Was it just eye shadow or the effects of an evening already long lost? Long lost, love lost, is everything just a play on words? It's really a dangerous thing to let her do this, while listening to music that lifts and devastates, but it feels so good to surrender. But a girl can't just surrender to her every indulgent whim, she has to get up, she has to mingle.
She swaggered instead. There's a good girl, in a happy haze (for who is ever more happy than at their most delightfully unaware?) wandering and smiling quiveringly as other smiles quiver back. It's the time of night where anything goes. Watery eyes, lost hours ago to the frivolous demands of the evening's intoxication, are finally at the same level. Strangers coo, holding liquid to their lips and laughing. Faint, vague fantasies are realized and there will be an earth-shattering headache in remembrance the next morning, for some.
Some like it hot, she mouths across the room after she catches his eye. It takes only a second before she wonders why. She lifts her haughty lids at his greeting. She watches him pick up his can with hands that crush and hurt and soothe. She feels the can in her own hand, cool and moist, sturdy. And a second later she crumbles. Easy to just let the evening take the swagger out of her. She slides to the floor in the languid movement of a cat. It's just too much, for a girl like her. Wasted, worn, world about to give. Lips press against her and she lets the evening play out.

2002-10-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in Seattle. Then again, most Tuesday afternoons in Seattle were rainy. A young man who appeared to be about twenty-five entered a small and somewhat dilapidated doctor's office. The man had a quiet demeanor about him; his steps were quick and silent, his shoulders were hunched over and his eyes looked only at the floor. His appearance was the most peculiar part of him. He was tall and lanky, with pale and freckled skin. His hair was tousled and damp from the outside elements. The man wore an obviously very expensive suit but it would have been impossible for him to look any more out of place in it. The other patients glanced upward as he glided past them but quickly returned to their magazines or time-killers of their choices. He gave his name to the receptionist, took a clipboard and had a seat to fill out the needed information. He removed an engraved pen from his breast pocket and began to work slowly. By the time he returned the papers he was the only person left in the office. She mentioned something about the doctor being ready in a few minutes but a simple nod was his only reply. He sat down and picked up an old copy of People and leafed through it. He didn’t stop long enough to read any of the pages, he simply looked at the pictures. The man seemed extremely agitated or maybe even scared. The receptionist slid open the glass window and replied, “The doctor is ready to see you now. Just head through this door and into room two.” He rose slowly, took a deep breath, and stepped through the door.
The doctor was a stocky man with less hair than he cared to admit. He wore khaki slacks, a pale green shirt and a tie which cried out “my wife bought me this” to anyone who cared to notice. After a gentle tap on the door he entered, looking over a chart.
“Hello, sir, I am Doctor Rudolph. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh, my name is Jacob, Jacob Newton.”
“Newton, Newton--why does that sound so familiar?”
“Well a few weeks ago I won some money.”
“That’s it! You’re the lottery guy. How much did you win again?”
“About fifty-one million. That’s before taxes.”
“What luck. So am I to presume that is the reason you’re here?”
“Pretty much.”
“Care to elaborate? You know that’s why you come to a psychiatrist, to talk.”
“Where should I start?”
“The beginning is always the best place in my opinion.”
“Okay, so all my life I have wanted money. Actually not so much the money but the things it would bring to me. I wanted a car, I wanted a house, Hell, I wanted to know that there would be something for me to eat tomorrow. My dad left long before I can remember and my mother wasn’t the most stable of people. She had a steady stream of abusive boyfriends. They’d beat her and sometimes me. Then they’d leave and take whatever we had of value. This is the reason I never had a TV when I was a kid.”
“When did you leave home?”
“Well, I guess when I hit high school I got involved on what you would call the wrong crowd. I drank like a fish when I was with them but I never got into the drugs like they did. Anyway, I spent a lot time over at houses of people I hardly knew. Nobody would mind if you only spent a couple days at a time. Occasionally I would go back home to check on my mom and we’d fight and I’d leave again.”
“Tell me more about your mother.”
“Mom never really got over Dad leaving. He screwed her up good. I think that she dated all those men because she was looking for another Dad. There just wasn’t anyone like him. I almost wonder if she liked those men hitting her. Like she deserved it or something. I don’t know. Then when I was seventeen she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She ignored that for a long time and the doctors said it was too late. It had spread all over. We tried to work some things out during that month and we got off too a good start. There just wasn’t enough time. Then I became a ward of the state. I was in and out of foster homes while they looked for my dad but he seemed to have had disappeared off the face of the earth. Since I was almost eighteen they paid for a small apartment and I lived there until I graduated.”
“How did that make you feel?”
Jacob laughed to himself. He had always thought that a shrink would only ask that on a TV sitcom. The more he thought about it, though, he realized in a way it was halfway legitimate.
“I felt like a never got to be a kid. I raised my mother more than she ever raised me. I guess we sort of grew up together. There should be some kind of test to pass in order to raise children. The hardest fucking job in the world is the easiest one to get.
“So bring me up-to-date...from when you graduated until today.”
“I graduated at the bottom of my class so even if I would have had any money college was still out of the question. I wanted to go. I wanted to be someone, to get up and dust myself off, and prove to everyone that I could make something of myself. I never put the blame on my grades though. I always let myself believe that it was because I was poor. That was always a convenient excuse for just about all of my problems.”
“So you started working?”
“Yeah, I worked tons of places. sixteen jobs in seven years. First there was the gas station, then the library, another gas station, a deli, coffee shop, messenger, then I was a waiter, newsstand, yet another gas station, cleaning service and much more. The most recent one was working at a construction company. I wasn’t ever fired though. Just got bored and got to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Were you working when you bought the ticket?”
“Yeah, I was at the construction job. My friend Mark and I were grabbing a burger and he had to fill up his truck with gas. When I was there I bought my first lottery ticket with a dollar I didn’t need to waste. Mark’s peer pressure had gotten to me though. That is one time I was glad to give into persuasion. Three days later I was cleaning out the pockets of my jeans and found the ticket. I checked it with the paper and I’d won.”
“I recall the news mentioning that the ticket was held for days after the numbers were announced. Why did you do that?”
“To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t believe it. But then I went to the lottery office and they took my picture with a bunch of hoopla that I hated. The next day I was all over the paper, the television, the radio. And I had this check for the obscene amount of money. It was everything I wanted.”
“And do you still feel that way?”
“Would I be here if I did, Doctor? I realize now it was everything I thought I wanted pretty damn quick. I made these instant friends when I was on TV. I was a celebrity and was loving every second of my fifteen minutes of fame. At first I didn’t see these people for what they really were. I was just so happy to have people who I thought cared for me.
“They didn’t though, did they?”
“They didn’t give a shit about me. They wanted my money any way they could get it. Plain and simple, it was pure greed. Now I am pretty much back where I started. Except for the money obviously.”
A bell made a distant ringing sound.
“Sorry, Jacob, my next client is waiting. the receptionist will schedule another appointment.”
“I don’t think that I will need that. I think I’ve figured some things out today.”
“Discovering the cause of your problems isn’t a quick or easy thing. I really recommend returning.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Doc. You’ll be hearing from me sooner or later. Or rather, hearing about me.”
“Jacob, please come back!”
I was too late though, he was already out the door. The doctor pondered what Jacob had said about hearing about him.
A few seconds later, a gunshot rang out.

2002-10-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

Which punk rock god are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Which Evil Criminal are You?

2002-10-03T18:52:00.000-07:00

If you believe that evil and good are necessary opposites...

That we are trapped in an endless cycle of sin and redemption...

That death is the gateway we must fear...

Then you will always live in FEAR.

Do not be afraid.

The experience of life is an illusion.

And fear is what they want you to feel.

When you no longer fear death,

Then, and only then, you may be able to truly live.

2002-09-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

Jackie found his thoughts trailing away from the low, morose hum of his idle Cadillac. He shifted his glance to the chrome-plated .45 lying guiltily on the black leather of the passenger seat, and the reflected mid-morning sunlight blinded his unaccustomed eyes.
He could not remember the last time he had slept. Jackie thought that his views on killing had changed after his first hit. Before this previous night, taking a life was as every-day as brushing his teeth. He could now guess why his employer was willing to pay him so generously for his services. But he knew the mistake he had made; he had gotten to know his target.
For the first time in Jackie's career, he began to wonder if life was worth giving up his humanity. He wondered if his fate inevitably rested two feet in front of a gun barrel, like the near hundreds of people he had killed. He wondered if the value of a human life could have a price. He wondered if his hide was worth the deaths of even hundreds more.
He sighed as he lifted his pistol from the passenger seat. He looked the gun over in contemplation. His gift from his father; a present he sent back from Vietnam when Jackie was nine. His father used to always spout off about a gun's power. "A gun is the only thing a man can trust. It has tremendous power. The ability to love or to hate, to give mercy or to reap furious vengeance against all who stand. Your gun is your own private God." Jackie could hear his father's voice saying the words, even though he never actually heard his voice; everything he's heard about his father were through letters.
Jackie could now understand the true power and ability of a gun. He now knew the truth. The gun had no power; no ability. It was him that could love or could hate. It was him that could give mercy, or reap the vengeance he so well executed. He had all the power and he never knew.
As Jackie positioned the chrome-plated .45 in his mouth, he sighed and wished he had the greater power. . .as he heard someone say, "only the strongest people are capable of giving mercy." He squeezed the trigger. And Jackie's vengeance was reaped once again. . .for the last time.

2002-09-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

The world, in all its wonders and horrors, is much more vital and compelling than the excesses of your private universe.

2002-09-15T17:03:00.000-07:00

I have magically made my previous archives appear on the main page of my blog. Yes, you heard me, I used magic. Take that David Blaine!

2002-09-10T19:14:00.000-07:00

My post below this is a story that I have written, which has taken me an average of 3 and a half hours to complete. Apparently, it was well worth the time. I urge you all to read it since it means so very much to me. A story spoken through the soul, if you will. And also because I have gotten so much deeply positive and heartwarming viewer feedback. I thank everyone who has read it and for their views on it. Please take the time to read it, because I took the vast amount of time writing it. Just kidding. I'm sure you'll become somewhat touched by it, if not, well whatever.

note: This is NOT based on actual events, but read it anyway. I guarantee, you won't regret it.

2002-09-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

ANGEL WITH BROKEN WINGS

Maybe I should have taken your advice that night when you got drunk, that night when you begged me to leave you, for my own sake. But you were so drunk and I was so tired that I just helped you to your bathroom and held you while you threw up into the toilet. I thought I'd lose you that night. When I woke up in the morning, and you were lying beside me, so still and so pale, I thought I had.
Dad grounded me for two months because I was just fifteen and didn't come home that night, but that was okay, because you were okay.
And that day after school when some guy eyed me appreciatively and you went after him. He was all of sixteen, and I think you would have killed him if I hadn't pleaded with you to stop. He was in a coma for three days. He doesn't even remember why he had to spend the next eight months in physical therapy, relearning how to do all the things you and I take for granted.
I didn't tell because I was just fifteen, I loved you, and I was scared.
That night when you knocked on my window at two in the morning, begging to be let in. I could hear sirens; you were scared and you were plastered. You said you needed some place safe to spend the night. I wondered why, but I never asked, because I liked the idea of spending the night with you. You climbed in through my window and we sat on my bed and just talked all night, in hushed whispers because my parents were sleeping just down the hall.
You were so drunk that you talked about your dad. You never talked about your dad before that night. He had a problem with alcohol, just like you--they say alcoholism is hereditary; I think they're right after knowing you. You told me your dad was a security guard; he used to be a cop but they fired him when he shot and killed an unarmed suspect. They never prosecuted him for it; they just fired him. You said that was when he started drinking. He was never the same after that. He worked night jobs, so he slept all day. You told me, almost casually, that you rarely saw him, but that’s okay, because when you did, he was always drunk and verbally abusive, especially to your mom. Your voice was choked when you told me that you were almost nine the first time he crept into your room after work, clapped his hand over your mouth, and raped you until there was blood all over your sheets. You spent a week in the hospital. For three years, you had to make up stories to explain the broken bones, cuts, and bruises. You wouldn't look me in the eye when you told me that you hated your mother because, all that time, she knew exactly what was going on and she never did a damn thing about it. You said your father died in a car accident on his way home from work one morning, around four o'clock, and that they found that the level of alcohol in his blood was more than twice the legal limit. You admitted that you used to feel guilty that you were relieved when they told you what happened.
I kissed you, and then you made love to me. But that's not the right term, is it? You fucked me, because that's what you do. You don't make love. That's for romance novels, right? That's what you told me much later, as we lay in bed together, my belly swelled with our child, our little girl--our Kia.
"People in romance novels make love, babe," you had said, frowning faintly. "In real life, people fuck." You looked me straight in the eye, all seriousness. "You'd do best to remember that, I think."
Dad freaked when I told him I was pregnant with your baby. He never liked you, but he never really gave you a chance, either. He said you were a loser, nothing but white trash. You'd never get anywhere, and you'd drag me down with you. He told me that I wasn't keeping my baby--our baby. He said that I had to abort her or give her up for adoption when she was born. He had the audacity to tell me that you and our child would take away my bright future, waste my potential, and that I was still a child and didn't know the consequences of my actions.
I told him that I was keeping her, and I was keeping you, and that nothing he or anyone else could say would ever change my mind.
He told me to get out and not come back. Mom never once tried to argue with him.
So I just moved in with you, into your tiny apartment with neighbors that either "fought or fucked," as you so eloquently put it. And they did both with gusto, I'll give them that.
It was good for a while. You worked construction during the weekdays, and part-time at a burger joint on the weekends. You wouldn't let me work, though I offered--you told me to concentrate on school and never prove my father right. That is probably the most noble thing you ever did for me.
You were sober then. Completely, for the first time in six years, even though you were finally legally able to drink. I never asked it of you, but you read my heart and you read my mind and you gave it to me.
I was never more proud of you than I was during those precious few months.
You were an entirely different man when you were sober than when you were drinking. You were never violent or mean-spirited. Quite the contrary. You were so generous and kind when you weren't drinking. You were my angel.
Drunk or sober, you always drew people to you like a magnet. But it was the sober you I fell for instantly.
We didn't have much money, but that was okay. The apartment was cheap, and Mom sent me checks and letters begging me to be rational and just come home. Those checks paid for my visits to the doctor, and you went to every single one.
We were happy.
But then I came home to find you drunk.
Alcohol was the root of your problems--it was why you never graduated from high school, why you never were truly happy or at peace with yourself. Your father, of course, hadn't helped, but it was the alcohol that broke you the most. I knew it since the first night we met, at that party I snuck out of my house to go to. You were drunk then, too.
You didn't pick me up from school that day, so I walked home. I was worried sick, fearing the worst. You always picked me up from school, even when we weren't living together. When I got home, I expected to find a message on the answering machine from the police or the hospital.
Instead I found you.
You were stretched out on the couch, a beer bottle clutched in your hand. You reeked of beer, and there were bottles strewn about our tiny living room. You were in a mood--you always adopted a mood when you had been drinking, and I could never predict which one.
You admitted that your construction work was over, and they hadn't hired you onto another one. You were deeply depressed, and your temper was wild.
I don't remember what I said to make you so angry. You never touched me in anger before. But then you back-handed me across the face. You hit me so hard that I fell and my abdomen hit the coffee table. There was blood and searing pain.
You were scared sober. You called an ambulance, then sat with me while we waited. You were crying, begging me to forgive you, telling me again and again that you didn't mean it, that you'd never drink again.
When they got to the apartment, you told them I tripped; I didn't argue.
I broke a rib, and our Kia died that sunny afternoon.
The doctors told me that you started to cry when they told you about Kia, and you declined their invitation to see me. I heard your apology from a nurse, as she brought me the flowers and balloons you sent. You even called my parents to tell them where I was.
You sold your apartment and disappeared. Dad took me back in because you and the baby were gone.
I'm married now. He's a lawyer--Dad doesn't like him, either, but Dad doesn't like anyone. I have a medical doctorate, but I'm not working right now. My husband and I are expecting our first child in a few months--a boy.
I saw your obituary in the paper this morning. It said you overdosed on alcohol, all alone in your apartment.
I write this as my tribute to you, and I will bury it with you. My son will bear your name as his middle, though I have not been able to bring myself to tell my husband why I insist upon this so strongly.
I never blamed you for Kia's death, and I do not blame you for leaving. A big part of my heart will always belong to you, my first and eternal love.
May you find in death the peace you were never granted in life.

2002-09-09T17:54:00.000-07:00

My view on Society

Not that any of you care, but I believe it's good that we have a rambunctious society, filled with individualistic and opinionated people. Serenity is nice-- we all need some -- but to hold it up above all other values has become a cheap cliche. Serenity alone never brought progress. Hermits on hilltops never solved a problem.

The adversarial process -- the tug and push of contrary views -- helps us to improve, both as individuals and as a culture. Criticism is the only known antidote to error -- elites shunned it, and their evasion spread ruin across history. We do each other a great favor (though it's not always appreciated) when we help find each others' mistakes.

And yet...

And yet, it also seems to me that we'd all be a lot happier, and better off, and more capable of dealing with criticism if each of us were to remember, now and then, to say the following phrase:

"I am a member of a civilization."
(IAAMOAC)

This is more true now than ever, as we enter an edgy century of transition.

Our society has many flaws, but if you ponder history, and cantankerous human nature, it's astonishing how far we've come. (Wouldn't our ancestors have wanted us to be better?)

We don't say IAAMOAC often enough.

2002-09-08T00:43:00.000-07:00

I would like to thank Nick for coming up with some of the cynical comments on my John Frusciante article.

2002-09-08T00:37:00.000-07:00

I seriously believe that John Frusciante, guitarist of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, is still a heroin addict, who gets his kicks licking ashtrays while pretending it's a supple 4 year old child. With a mind so fucking twisted it bends the world into a green vortex, trying to kill him, and he has to fight back! Why you ask? Because in a recent interview with Q magazine, he spoke the following of the Twin Towers tragedy: "During the making of this record we had the catastrophe at the Empire State Building and we just kept on writing." That's right folks, he said the EMPIRE STATE BUILDING. So either a bunch of puppies and kittens were secretly murdered in the basement of the Empire State Building on the same day as the Twin Towers tragedy, or John shot a half gallon of heroin into his his dumb ass. I at least hope that's what possesed him to say that. Yo Keith Richards, it looks like you've finally met your match!

note: I'm still a fan of the Red Hot Chili Peppers now matter how fucking braindead John Frusciante is!

2002-09-06T17:50:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Fields Cookies:

Now the reason I want these cookies to be destroyed isn't because they taste like crap. No, no, NO! It's because they taste too goddamned GOOD! I recently got to try some of these tasty chocolate chip cookies and I could not stop eating them. I was hooked on 'em completely! But when I go to the store to buy them I find out that they cost 3-4 bux just for 8 measly cookies. EIGHT! I hate it when good food is way overpriced to the point where I can't buy it. I mean, I could buy it, but who the hell could live with themselves if they spent 4 bux on 8 measly cookies? Not me, that's for sure. Fuck you, Mrs. Fields, and your addictive, overpriced, bastard cookies of doom!

2002-09-01T19:22:00.000-07:00

I suggest reading both complete stories of each competitor before voting.

2002-09-01T18:55:00.000-07:00

I've decided to let the fans decide who's dumber; the blabbering idiot I met at the park or the genius who rented "Dude Where's My Car?" on one of the most devastating days of our nation's history. I shall add a poll at the bottom of this post so that you can decide for yourself, but before you do, let me refresh your memory on both of their stupidity.

Moron Number 1: This man is an example of what happens when you allow imbreeding to run rampant. This is the true life story of an idiot I met one Friday afternoon. He rambled on and on and on about Britney Spears and how he wants to fuck her and how she's his cousin. His freestyle raps left me completely speechless and his philosophy on women nearly made me weap in sadness. Flip back to my archives to read the full story.

Moron Number 2: I was stuck at the video store where my neighbor worked on September 11th. I have no clue why the boss would even open up the video store on that day. I was just sat there on the couch next to the front counter trying to pick up radio signals from the piece of shit am radio. I glanced over the counter to see what the only customer during the entire night dedided to rent. It was none other than "Dude Where's My Car?" He decide to rent a movie, not just a movie, but "Dude Where's My Car?" on the day of the biggest terrorist attack made in our nation's history. Read the post below this one to check out the full story

And you ask why I've completely given up hope on humanity.

2002-08-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

The Dumbest Human Being On Earth Part II

Well, a million people have expressed their opinions about the recent acts of terrorism here in the United States. I'm not going to bore you with my opinions on the war itself today, because there are plenty of message boards out there for that which I'm sure you've already been involved in. Instead, I want to talk to you about how I had to spend my evening during this national crisis at the video store where my neighbor works. And then I want to share with you something that I witnessed which was just as surreal as seeing the twin towers collapse before my very eyes.

So let us begin...

My entire day was already gone as I was glued to my TV watching all of the chaos ensue, so it was damned near impossible for me to drag myself away from it to head on down to the video store where my neighbor worked. See, my parents were in Sacramento and I had to go to the video store where my nieghbor worked. I was wondering if they were actually going to be open tonight and whether or not I had to come in. You see, I THOUGHT the boss might have one tiny SHRED of intelligence in his body, but apparently he doesn't. He decided that keeping the video store open was a good idea!

A GOOD IDEA!?!? This was the day in which NOBODY in their right fucking mind would want to rent a movie. NOBODY! How can any movie compare to all of the chaos that was going on in real-life on our television sets right before our very eyes? No movie can, and I tried explaining that to the boss and the co-workers, but they were all too damned thick-skulled to listen to the constantly angry freak-boy. He could have been cool and said, "Go home and be with your friends and families or go donate some blood. Today we'll forget about work." He could have, but he didn't.

So fine, I didn't like it, but I was stuck there for the remainder of the day. I figured I'd just watch the news on our TV all day long. Then I realized that we didn't get ANY stations on the TV... it only played movies from the VCR. DAMN IT!!! So we had to use this shitty AM radio that was so scratchy and hard to get any reception, it almost made me feel like I was buried under all of that rubble in New York.

I was already fuming about being basically cut-off from all of the news going on in the outside world. We didn't have many customers the entire night... but the fact is, we shouldn't of had ANY customers. And here's where it got REAL BAD...

Some idiot comes walking into the store and says "Hey! Did ya hear about New York?". Mind you it was already 9pm when this baboon walked into the video store. I don't think there was anybody that hadn't heard about what happened in New York by that time. But I shrugged that stupid statement off in hopes that this guy would go away so that I could fiddle with the AM radio some more and try to determine if I was listening to a World War or a commercial for Pepto Bismol.

And then he came up to the front desk...

Now brace yourself, because this fool single-handedly has made me loose any SLIVER of hope for mankind.

This clump of primordial ooze with a wallet was renting "DUDE WHERE'S MY CAR?".

I repeat: "DUDE WHERE'S MY CAR!"

I stared at him in disbelief. This had to be a joke. But it wasn't. I was completely speechless. He paid the money and the guy at the counter handed the movie to him. "Thanks!" he said, and he walked out of the store with glee. Man, if you thought seeing those two towers collapse was surreal, imagine trying to comprehend how a person could decide, "Hey, you know what? It's high time I rent 'DUDE WHERE'S MY CAR?' on the day of one of the most devastating attacks in our nation's history." Probably the biggest news story we'll ever see in our entire lifetime. Incredible news stories and disaster footage developing throughout the day and this fuck rents none other than "DUDE WHERE'S MY CAR?".

I'm sorry folks, I give up. You're on your own. I'm turning in my "human" badge. I'm no longer a part of this race. I can't allow myself to be associated with the same species of jackass like that pathetic waste of a man. But before I go, how about we gather anybody else who rented a movie on that day. Let's gather them all up and put them in a really tall building and send an aircraft filled with tons of fuel crashing into it. Perhaps then the reality of the situation will strike them as a little bit more interesting than watching goddamned "Dude Where's My Car?".

So let us begin...

2002-08-31T15:47:00.000-07:00

All I have on the virus
all the virus has on me
all I have on you
all you have on me
is a head start

2002-08-28T22:12:00.000-07:00

To any of you who wear punk clothes that you bought from places like "Hot Topic", WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!? "Hey, these plaid punk pants cost $50! I bet that's how much the original punks spent on their clothes! I gotta buy these!" Do any of you really think that the original punk rockers spent that much on their clothes? Get real, they bought their clothes from garage sales or they took the plaid pants from helpless elderly men. If you actually spend $50 on a pair of "punk pants", please kill yourself.

2002-08-27T18:58:00.000-07:00

Kelly Osbourne:

Ok, I'm pretty sure everybody has seen "The Osbournes". As funny as Ozzy himself is, I cannot fucking stand his kids. His son is bad enough, but his daughter Kelly just brings out a deep, dark, inner rage that frankly scares me. Because she's Ozzy's lil' girl, not only is she spoiled up the ass, but she now has her own music video. She's "singing" Madonna's "Papa Don't Preach". Her voice? I'd rather listen to a hyena slowly being run over by a steamroller while Richard Simmons sings "The Macarena" in the background. Ooohh Kelly, you're so rebellious singing a song like "Papa Don't Preach" when your dad has given you a fucking dream life. But I'm sure that "punky" look of yours will appeal to many other spoiled, angst-ridden teens and you'll sell plenty of records anyway because kids can be completely fucking stupid like that. They'll completely ignore the fact that you were listening to Hanson and N*Sync not too long ago (and probably still do). Ozzy, when you're done stuttering, I suggest discussing the option of euthanasia with your daughter. Actually, it's not an option. Just kill her and we'll still buy your records and watch your show. Deal?

2002-08-21T23:55:00.000-07:00

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, the net is a treasure trove of idiocy, just waiting to be plundered. And no one deserves to be pulled out into the light, than this year's nominee for the coveted Idiot's Award, none other than the creator of Dolphinsex.org. I do not know his name, but for the remainder of this article, I will repeatedly refer to him as "Mr. Assface." He sure as fuck deserves my vote, he really loves his animals! (Literally.)

I don't know about you, but when I come home from my long days at school, I like to unwind with a great big, healthy dose of, wholesome aquatic porn. Nothing gets my engine revving more, than the pleasured squeals of a horny sea mammal taking a 9 inch dildo up the poop chute, Yes Sir Ree!

But wait! There's more! Mr. Assface sure knows his dolphinic gynecology! Not only does he tell you how to give a dolphin the old Red Rocket, but he gives you step by step instructions for good old fashioned in and out! Well I'll be! I'm just tingling with anticipation. It kind of makes me want to go to the beach right now! Oh please, Mr. Assface! Tell us some more of your nauseating fantasies!

How's that for one hell of a family outing? Mom, Pop, little brother (Stupid beanie hat included), and Big Sis, get in their 1959, 1 MPG, Chevy Convertible. Then they drive down to some shitty little beach in Hicksville Florida. Brother and pop slap on a pair of Trojan extra thins, and give Flipper the old Hot Karl, while Big Sis and Mommy Poo give some old Manatee a tongue bathing until old Nessie pops his cork. whoop dee fucking doo! We should do this every year! Maybe if you eat all your broccoli like a good little boy, we'll let you be on top next time.

2002-08-19T23:02:00.000-07:00

Why is Jesus always perceived as having long blonde hair, blue eyes and being as white as Norway? From all this information i have gathered, Jesus Christ is a carbon copy of Gregg Allman from the Allman Brothers. Or Hanson.

2002-08-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

Why did the media catagorize all early 90's rock music as "grunge?" All the bands had different styles of music, but MTV just had to labelize it all as grunge.

"I always thought we were punk rock, then the media let us know that we were grunge."
-Dave Grohl (drummer of Nirvana)

What the fuck does grunge mean? I thought they were punk?"
-Keith Morris (Circle Jerks, Black Flag)

Thanks to MTV Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, and Stone Temple Pilots all fall under the same catagory which doesn't make a bit of sense, due to the fact that they are all completely different bands that have no specific similarity between them.
There is a major difference between Chris Cornells blood curdling scream and Kurt Cobains raspy screeching voice, therefore they do NOT fit under the same catagory.

2002-08-16T18:49:00.000-07:00

"I looked death in the face last night. I saw him in a mirror and he simply smiled. He told me not to worry; he told me just to take my time."

2002-08-16T17:14:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of meeting the dumbest human being alive today. Let me inform you of his stupidity. Note that the name of this person has been changed to protect the stupid. What you are about to read actually happened. Also note that all spelling mistakes made when quoting him are intentional, as that is how he actually spoke.

It was a cool Friday afternoon, I walked to the park to meet a friend of mine. I brought my journal with me since I knew he was going to arrive late as usual. Anyhow, I had just finished writing a short entry in my journal about my day, when a teenage boy came into the park. He was about sixteen, a white male, dressed in baggy jeans, a T-shirt with a long sleeve silk top over it, and a large pair of tacky sunglasses. Little did I know that the way he looked reflected exactly the way he acted, a total moron.

He came came over to me and we started talking, I had thirty minutes to kill before I had to head home, since my friend called me on my cellphone and canceled, so I figured what the hell.

So whats up", he said in a stoned pothead voice.

I thought nothing about the voice at first. Big mistake on my part.

I responded; "Oh Nothing, just writing."

This next sentence he said basically sums up his intellegence; "Oh writing, I aint been to no language class for a loooooong time, I aint been to school for a loooong time. I like, dropped out when I was like twelve man. Im in like ESOL, man. Im in like that drop out school, I'm 16, and I'm in like the ninth grade. I aint leavin' fo a loooong time dawg. I goto the drop out school down by the base, I beat up some sailor dudes there, man."

Aha...", I said in a sarcastic voice, trying my hardest to hold back a chuckle.

He obviously couldn't tell that I had just then lost all respect for him. I could tell that this was going to be a long conversation. Oh wait, but it gets better, much better. As if the way he talked wasn't reason enough to label him an imbecile, the next part of this conversation would make me wonder why people like this are are even allowed to breed.

You got a woman, man?", he said. I replied with a simple "sure."

This next sentence almost made me lose my composure.

Gettin' girls is easy dawg! You jus gotza act black. Girls like white guys who act black. I turned two nerdy kids into cool kids, and now they're gettin more chicks than I am, I hate that. Ya see man, I rap to a girl I like. thats how I get laid", he said, as he took off his sun glasses and stuck them into his shirt pocket. He then proceeded to "freestyle", although I swear I've head those lyrics somewhere before. Ah, hell! All rap music sounds the same to me anyway, its all so god damn redundant. Don't you agree?

After he finished his jammering, he pointed to a house across the lake and said; "Ya see that house there? There are three girls over there, I fucked all of them, they're sisters." He then pointed to two more houses down the street, and said; "Theres a hot chick over there, and over there, I fucked them too man, I be gettin women all the time. You like Britney Spears? I wanna fuck her too, and Christina Aguilera too."

The hilarious part was when I asked him if he wanted read any of my writings. I handed him my journal. He took it and started to read it out loud. I swear, He must have had the literacy of a four month old parrot, he could barely read a word on the entire page. He sounded like a kindergardener who just starting learning to read Dr. Seuss. About fifteen minutes later, when he had finally managed to read one full paragraph, I offered to read it for him.

When I finished reading the essay to him, he was back on the subject of Britney Spears. "You know Britney Spears man, her real name is like Karen, and shes from Saint Louis. Shes like my cousin man.", he said in a low, whispering voice. "Wait a second", I thought, didn't he just say he wanted to fuck her? I wondered if he knew what incest meant, but before I could gather my thoughts he spat out the dumbest string of bullshit I have ever heard.

"Yeah, man, its like, my aunt, fucked her daddy, and when his sperm, like got into my mom's sister, POOF! Out came Britney Spears man! Its true!", he babbled. I raised my brow.

The time came for him to go, he left the park walking like he had a dick up his ass. As he walked down the street, he spoke and gestured to himself. As soon as he was far enough down the street, I commented to myself; "dumbass". Apparantly I said it loud enough for a man and his daughter to hear as they passed by me on the sidewalk. He chuckled and said "yep". I chuckled to myself about it the entire way home.

2002-08-14T23:36:00.000-07:00

My archivies have mysteriously disappeared. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk. If you remember reading my earlier posts and would like to read them over again, e-mail me at tweaked_cardiel@hotmail.com and I will personally send you them via e-mail. I have them saved up on my computer. Good night America.

2002-08-13T18:06:00.000-07:00

The American Dream

What is the American dream? The American dream used to be about becoming prosperous, about having a good life and achieving the best you can for yourself and your family. I believe that the American Dream has been corrupted by greed and selfishness. Most people know only want to be rich and famous. Most are even willing to sell out their family and what they believe in to do so. What happened to the American dream, did we kill it by getting greedy? I think for the most part yes. However, there are still people who believe in it. Did we just choose to forget about it? The basis of the American Dream is freedom. Without freedom the American Dream cannot exist. But what is this freedom?

I think that for whatever reason, be it money or the lust to be famous, people have forgotten what this country is all about, what is stands for, and why it was founded. We stand for freedom, we fight for freedom, we fight to keep ourselves free and to set others free. But are any of us really free? I believe that we are all slaves, SLAVES to corporations. You are slaves to the products that you buy, the things you save money to pay for, the things that companies make you think you need, and most of all the money that feeds your greed.

You say that you are free, but are you really? You can’t do anything without it costing you money, and these companies make you think that you need it to live. We would all be better off if everyone was equal, if no one is better off than anyone else economically and we can all afford everything. Money should not be a topic of worry. The only key to freedom is Economic Equality among the people.

2002-08-07T17:41:00.000-07:00

If 7-11 is open 24 hrs a day, 365 days a year, why are there locks on the
door?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I may have to go into the Witness Relocation Program after I reveal what I'm
about to tell you but I think it's time that the world know the truth about
the evils that go on behind those rarely locked doors of 7-Eleven. First,
for any visitors who may not know what a 7-Eleven is, let me explain.
7-Eleven is what Americans call a "convenience store". They sell gasoline,
snack foods, beer and various grossly overpriced products. ( "$3.50 for a 6
ounce box of Cap'n Crunch? Are you crazy?" ) There are currently 16,578
7-Elevens worldwide (as of Sept. 4th 1997). Now, for the horrors you may
have suspected for years but always hoped you would never know for sure.
7-Eleven stores are nothing more than a front for the Church of Satan. "Are
you INSANE?!?!?" you say to yourself. What is 7 plus 11? Give up? It's 18.
Now, what does 6+6+6 equal? That's right. 18. "7-Eleven" is nothing more
than a clever disguise of the "mark of the beast" (666) as quoted in the
Holy Bible. The "surveillance" cameras are used to catch shoplifters, right?
WRONG!!! They use the cameras to find just the right human sacrifice for
their evil ceremonies held once every four years. That's right. Right behind
the slurpee machine, just past the slowly cooking hot dogs, on every
February 29th (on leap years), the evil, polyester clad 7-Eleven employees
gather to kill their carefully chosen human sacrifice. Then, and only then,
do they lock their doors. Oh, they're open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year,
but I double dog dare you to ask them about that ominous 366th day that
comes around every leap year. You may not get out alive.

2002-08-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

I've been working for awhile on this essay I'm putting into my blog so please take the time to read, because I took the vast amount of time in writing it so here it is. Enjoy.

I hate clowns!I quite despise them, really. It's not as if they scare me or anything, I just think they're stupid. I suppose just about everyone goes through that "Holy shit, I'm scared of clowns because they all want to eat me" phase as a child, but hell, I was more afraid of my ventriloquist dummy than I ever was of clowns. The way that omnipresent dummy stared at me from the corner of my room, there was no mistaking the bloodlust in its beady little eyes. But I digress.

I have one good friend who to this day is still terrified of clowns. And he's not a small man, either. This guy could pound somebody into paste if he really had the mind to do so, yet you show him a clown and he's in the fetal position, sucking his thumb and asking his mommy to take the bad man away. What is it that scares people so much about clowns anyway? I mean, the Joker is a pretty twisted and evil villain I suppose, but he's not really much of a clown, per se. i honestly don't blame him. Anyone who paints a smile thatbig on their face has got some serious shit to hide. And at times, they look like they have fangs. Sort of fitting, don't you think?

Perhaps it's the knowledge gleaned from horror movies that all clowns are fanged horrors from outer space who are little more than sadistic cannibals wishing to feast upon the children of the world that scares people so much. Or perhaps it's merely the fact that they like to hide behind their twisted facepaint grimaces while radiating the stench of body odor and alcohol and hanging around little children all day. Regardless they're just a bunch of freakish bastards.

I'm reluctant to trust somebody who hides behind a painted smile all the time. Though I suppose that really describes a lot of people, including most of the ones I know. I guess that explains why I hate my life so much, but I'm getting off topic again. It's also hard to trust someone who will fit seventeen of his buddies into his car and then go cruising. How do they all fit in there? Clearly we're looking at a lot of lap-riders here. I'll bet you'd be hard pressed to find a homophobic clown. I mean, just look at this guy!

"Doink" The Wrestling Clown here must give kids a very confusing mixed message. Yes, burly effeminate men wearing flamboyant outfits who like to wrestle around on the floor with children are okay! "But mommy and daddy say that all gay people are going to hell!" Just remember this important lesson kids: gay people are okay, clowns are NOT. And if you're wondering about Gay Clowns, check out that picture again and all your doubts shall be assuaged.

Speaking of clowns cruising the town, can you imagine how destructive clown gangs could be? Just think about a clown drive-by shooting! You'd have almost twenty people blasting away at the target instead of just two or three! They could raze a fucking building on a single pass! And can you imagine the hell they must put people through at the fast food drive-thru window? I just wouldn't have it.

I'm not sure which are more despicable, the lonely birthday clowns who drive around town in their make-up in a near-constant alcoholic haze, or the circus clowns who hang with such company as freaks, acrobats, and the bearded lady, also in a near-constant alcoholic haze. I don't think it's really possible to be a clown and NOT be an alcoholic. You ever pay any attention to the way Bozo staggered around on his show? I doubt that man remembers what sobriety feels like. Hell, if I'd had his job, I'm sure I wouldn't have been too familiar with being sober either.

Despite all the strikes clowns have against them, they're still not half as bad as their annoying, offshoot, bastard cousins: MIMES. There is NOTHING on this earth more loathsome than a mime. I have a rule: If I'm driving down the road and see a mime, I STOP AT NOTHING until that mime is smeared across the bumper and undercarriage of my car. I don't follow many rules, but that's a good one to live by. Usually they're too busy being stuck in their invisible box to escape my wrath in time.

Where did mimes ever get the silly-assed idea that what they do is art? Is it because they like to wear berets, or is it the silent treatment they give their audience? There's nothing artistic about walking against the wind and tugging on ropes that aren't there. In fact, that's just bloody stupid. The day I can shoot a mime and see the blood splatter across the inner surface of the "invisible box", THEN I will have seen a mime create a piece of worthwhile art. And not a moment before!

At least clowns are honest about what they do. "Yeah, I paint my face up all scary and eat children for a living". Nothing artistic about that at all. So I can at least begrudgingly respect them for their lack of pretension. I still hate clowns though.

note: I still check under the bed every night to make sure a clown isn't hiding under it... "just in case".

2002-07-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

I took an on-line test to determine my sanity, and turns out I'm legally insane. Take the test for yourself.

2002-07-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

I know that I haven't been posting as much as I did when I started this blog, but that doesn't mean I've given up on it. I'm still working hard to bring you the worst! If you want to read more of me, click here.

2002-07-22T19:00:00.000-07:00

I really have way too much freetime, and I chose to waste it wisely and with style by writing that pointless dribble.

2002-07-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

BEHOLD THE TRUE EVILS OF CHEESE!

In this turbulent day and age... we've all become more aware to the concept of unknown forces taking over America. The newspapers constant ramble on and on about idea of a foreign terrorist power taking our wonderful country. But little do you know that we've already been taken control of! No, not Bin Laden, Saddam, or even Walt Disney; these folks are small potatoes compared to this evil force, which have crept in and tightly woven itself into the very fabric of our fine country. You shouldn't be worrying about being contaminated about anthrax, but of the subversive evils of CHEESE!

Sure, you are thinking to yourself, "Cheese can't be a problem, right? It's just so damn tasty!? Its gooey milky taste satiates every single meal that I have ever sat down with! How could something so innocent and wonderful like cheese be hurting me?"

Well... you see that's how they first suck you into their evil program, is by the delicious taste. First, it's just a little bit of food, but soon your are fully engorged with it. it's so tasty that you don't realize how it's controlling your life. We are no longer living in a democratic society, we have now moved into a fully functional cheeseocracy. In this evil cheeseocracy our freedom of choice has almost completely been eliminated, because cheese is now everywhere, no matter where you go or what you order; you are going to find this yellowish monstrosity on at least one thing you get. Even foods that have cheese on it already are upping the "cheese-factor" up another level. Like Kraft Macaroni and cheese with disgustipated themselves by creating "new bold CHEESY flavors" along with designs of popular cartoon characters on it (which is nothing but an evil plot to brainwash the young while they are at the most cheese-impressionable). Something that's even worse, with Doritos... they couldn't just simply poison you with their normal cheese flavors. No... they have to get more manipulative in their cheesedom and create "THREE CHEESE Doritos" Now! Why god? Why?

I'll admit... I used to be a full-fledged card-carrying supporter of the cheeseocracy. I would have cheese on everything, it was my opiate, and I couldn't live without it! But for some reason, as if done by divine right, my stomach began not to tolerate cheese anymore. At first, just a little bit... but it became more noticeable that I became extremely ill every single time I consumed this demon-concoction. But once I stopped eating cheese, I realized how much my life was better. I think I was picked by the gods on Olympus to be their champion against this powerful foe. But it came at a price, because I have broken free of the mind controlling powers of cheese has made me a marked man by many of these cheese societies.

First it's next to impossible to order any food anymore, because every damn food has that noxious bacterial residue on it! Go to Chili's and just count how many damn things that you can find that have cheese on it! What makes it even worse is that any time I ask for "no cheese" I end up getting hassled by the waiter for my obvious correct choice. Or what makes it worse, they'll try to fight back and those bastards will just put cheese on it anyway to suck me into their world again. Sneaky isn't it? But I'll fight back and send that mofo back, refusing to be part of their world.

The cheeseocracy isn't even subversive anymore, people are just simply blind to its massive underground power. I have uncovered countless books, web sites, periodicals, and commercials, all lauding the wonderfulness of cheese. The most disturbing declaration of their growing power is the current "behold the power of CHEESE" commercial campaign that is being piped into our households. The pro-cheese commercials are revisionist history at best, really, example why would all those pirates be waiting to be eating cheese? Shouldn't they be drinking grog and singing pirate songs like "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum?" Not waiting for their dorky captain to show up with a cheese cutter. Even more so, it's not proven if the cheese cutter was even created during those years. Down with cheese revisionism! I know these commercials work, because the desire to eat cheese has gotten stronger with people, even a friend I once knew said, "hell, I'd eat a rock if it had cheese on it." My god people! Don't you see? It's poisoning all of us!

Being a marked man, I'll find death threats on my doorstep smeared with pepper jack, they'll smash my windows with large blocks of cheddar, and recently my dad's gas tank in my car was filled up with hot nacho cheese. Sure, it's a dangerous job, but someone has to tell the truth. Through my research, I've found it's the American Dairy Society or possibly one of the zealot break-off groups like the American Cheese Society that are trying to wipe me out. So please, heed my warnings, listen to my advice, and just say "NO" to cheeseocracy! And no, I am not lactose intolerant for those of you who may I think I am.

2002-07-18T23:37:00.000-07:00

Check out my side project, "Satanic Filler Bunny," which is a team blog consisting of Nick, Aidan, Nora, hopefully Nykkie and yours truly. It's worth a good laugh and a headache so make sure you take a gander at it.

2002-07-18T15:40:00.000-07:00

Christians Zealots Unite! Bible Man shows you how to market religion!

Those over zealous Christians have done it again! Today I unveil to you, their latest monstrosity, The latex clad Batman ripoff, Bible Man! That's right, you heard me, BIBLE MAN. Just when I thought Christian zealots couldn't get any dumber, They just did. What exactly does Bible Man do? He uses his amazing knowledge of the BIBLE, to thwart a handful of super villain rejects, and people whose religious beliefs don't align perfectly with his own. Villains like the evil Dr Fear, The Fibbler, and the sinister Prince of Pride... Oh I'm pissing my pants in fear! Save me Bible Man, you're my only hope.

Bible Man stands for everything good in life! Things like, teaching hypocrisy and condemning those ever so blasphemous Muslims. I'm glad Bible Man is working to keep the world free of Non-Christians. After all, JESUS IS THE ONLY WAY!!!
God only knows we can't have those sinful Hindus and Buddhists corrupting our children, and putting sinful ideas like Karma and Nirvana in their heads! I don't know about you, but I cant bear the thought of my children worshipping any other god besides Jesus, or buying merchandise from any other religion. I only spend my hard earned cash on things like the Bibleman Coffee Mug, or the Bibleman Pez Dispenser. Do I want an Abraham T-Shirt? No spank you! I wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything Jewish, not as long as Jesus is in style.

Wow, Who would have thought that religion could be so profitable! And here's the fucking proof! I haven't seen this much fucking merchandising since Pokemon! They have all kinds of shitty merchandise from the BibleMan Table Napkin to a Fucking Action Figure. Isn't this kind of shit sacrilegious? It just goes to show that those Christian Zealots sure know how to take advantage of capitalism!

View the horror for yourselves!

2002-07-15T19:17:00.000-07:00

"A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on."

"If you are going through hell, keep going."

"I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter."

"When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite."

"Any man who is under 30, and is not a liberal, has not heart; and any man who is over 30, and is not a conservative, has no brains."

"A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."

"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire."

All these prodigious and amazing qoutes were made by one Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965.)

THE MAN WAS A GENIUS!!!!!

2002-07-13T23:09:00.000-07:00

Check out my "homie" (yet another pitiful attempt of a white man acting black) Nick's weblog.

2002-07-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

Silly faggot, dicks are for chicks.

That's all I have to say since my skull is feeling like one big, empty void. Nothing provocative or remotely exciting has happened since I've woken up. The highlight of my day was when I found a quarter lying around on the rug in my room. Pathetic doesn't even begin to describe that. But the night is still young.

P.S. I'm not homophobic in the least bit.

2002-07-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

I hope no one took that seriously.

2002-07-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

In the Bible nobody mentions anything about a Mrs. God. Doesn't He ever get lonely up there? Where did God Himself come from? Did He have parents? If He did, what were They like? Does He have any pets?
To answer these questions I went straight to the source. Enjoy.

"No Joe, there is no Mrs. God. As strange as it may sound, I am both. I am everything. Neither male or female by your definition. I suppose that a more accurate comparison would be to what you know as a "she-male". Neither man nor woman and yet both at the same time.

Because I am so many things I never get lonely. I am My own parents, having given birth to Myself in much the same way that My son and I are One. It makes for a pretty dull family tree (one branchless stick in the ground).

I realize that from your standpoint I look like some perverted, inbred, incestuous, schizophrenic freak. But I assure you Joe that I am pure in all that I am and do. I am God.

Oh yeah, I have a ferret named Skittles.

Love, God."

2002-07-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

How does this "Jesus died for our sins" thing work? I don't quite follow that. The Romans were pissed, they strung Him up, poked Him & such and He ended up dying. End of story. I was sorry to learn of His death, but what does it have to do with me? He died for my sins? How so? And it wasn't His choice to die - they killed Him!

2002-07-10T21:05:00.000-07:00

Today, swearing is something we all do. It's has become part of our everyday vocabulary. Adults tell us about how when they were our age, swearing was considered taboo. They tell us about how swearing was unheard of. LIARS! Let me give you a little history about a swear word that has been used quite often. I'm pretty sure you all know what that certain word is.

Fuck: The obscenity fuck is a very old word and has been considered shocking from the first, though it is seen in print much more often now than in the past. Its first known occurrence, in code because of its unacceptability, is in a poem composed in a mixture of Latin and English sometime before 1500. The poem, which satirizes the Carmelite friars of Cambridge, England, takes its title, “Flen flyys,” from the first words of its opening line, “Flen, flyys, and freris,” that is, “fleas, flies, and friars.” The line that contains fuck reads “Non sunt in coeli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk.” The Latin words “Non sunt in coeli, quia,” mean “they [the friars] are not in heaven, since.” The code “gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk” is easily broken by simply substituting the preceding letter in the alphabet, keeping in mind differences in the alphabet and in spelling between then and now: i was then used for both i and j; v was used for both u and v; and vv was used for w. This yields “fvccant [a fake Latin form] vvivys of heli.” The whole thus reads in translation: “They are not in heaven because they fuck wives of Ely [a town near Cambridge].”

And now you know.

2002-07-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago I came across something so horrid, so vile, so nauseating that I shiver at the very thought of it. Over the years, I have never given much meaning to the phrase White Trash. The phrase had eluded me until I happened upon a small site on Geoshities by the name of "Icy Hot Stuntaz". Just by looking at the link, I was already thinking "Oh, God", but I never imagined how bad one website could be until I saw that the entire thing had been written in Ebonics. That's right, this is another one of those stories of white kids trying to act "ghetto"

What are Icey Hot Stunaz? Well, from what little of the website I could translate into actual, readable, English, they are a rap group from some hillbilly part of the US. The word pathetic cannot begin to describe them. I honestly think there isn't a word in the English language, that could fully describe how fucking retarded they truly are.

This is what people consider cool? Hardly! I've seen dogs covered in their own shit with more style than these dumb fucks. They also claim their music makes them millions of dollars. Well, Riddle me this Batman; If they're so fucking rich and famous, then why the hell is their website hosted by geocities? If they're such "Straight Ballaz", why haven't they bought a domain? They claim they don't need one because their fans love their site so much. Well La Dee Fucking Da. Upon further research, I found they have about four other websites, all of which are exact mirrors of the original. Either this is a bad attempt at advertising, or spamming at it's worst.

If viewing their website hasn't made you piss yourself in a fit of laughter, maybe their music will. That's right, I have actually had the misfortune of hearing their music, and as such, I must burn my ear canals with a soldering iron. I highly doubt the sorry bastards know that they have no talent, given the fact that their heads are so far up their own asses, they can almost see out of their teeth. But hey, if you consider the fifth grade your senior year, what else can you be besides a pompous jackass?

One thing is for sure, these guys sure have my nomination for the next Darwin Award. I cringe at the thought of some people, who actually worship these guys, and try to copy them in every way fathomable. I was well aware of the fact that stupidity has become the latest fad, but these guys take it to the extreme, prancing about like the sissies they are, sporting their cell phones and budget rental cars. I don't even think they're old enough to drive. Giving one of these sorry fucks a driver's license, is like giving an cocaine addicted chimpanzee a loaded mach 10.

I rest my case. I'm hoping that this is just a phase, and I am pretty confident that they'll grow out of it in a few years, when they grow pubes. I can't sleep secure knowing that scum like this is breathing the same air as I am. I honestly hope this is all a huge fucking joke. If it isn't, may god,(if there is a god), have mercy upon us all.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I bid you all adieu.

2002-07-08T18:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry for all the typos. By "f house, I meant to write "Cliff House." and when I wrote "once i got him." I meant to write "once I got home." I apologize for any others.

2002-07-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

My weekend.............

started out decently. Woke up at about 12:00 pm and had a bowl of Corn Pops for breakfast. I found out that my friend Paul quit smoking and that made me somewhat happy for him since the bastard smokes so many cigarettes that he doesn't even remove them from the pack. Instead, he puts the whole damn pack in his mouth at once, lights, inhales, and cries because sometimes life makes you cry. His only reason for smoking is that the tar in the cigarettes fills the potholes in his soul. I guess they're filled to the top now, huh? Then I spend the rest of the day with my friend Jack and my girlfriend Krystie and once I got him I smoked as much pot as I possibly could and made a complete ass of myself in front of my friends who I was talking to on MSN Instant Messanger.

I woke up the next day thinking that I was in for a treat when actually I wasn't; I called up my girlfriend and asked her if we could maybe go to the f House and do some rockclimbing. After I invited her to come with me and she made the wise decision of breaking up with me and then hanging up. All the previous happiness immediately left and I just spend the rest of my day just feeling sorry for myself. I tried calling her back to ask her why she ended it all with me and she spend well over 3 minutes listing all my negative traits and the one that stuck to me the most was the accusation of me thriving over other people's failures which is complete bulshit.
So Krystie if you're reading this, burn in hell bitch.

2002-07-08T14:13:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd write a little essay on Humanity, so here it is......
Humanity as a whole, although intriging is a race of animals. Driven by instincts and needs, however to me the most intriging aspect of humanity are the contradictory emotions of love and hate. I find myself fascinated by both, myself experiencing hate but never love. Hate, is an emotion I know all too well. Although both love and hate are both unstable, hate seems to be the easier of the two to foster. It is obviously easier to hate someone than to love them, this pahse has become apparent to me. Love is about sacrifice and affection, both mean giving up part of yourself for the other. I however believe that our savage nature as humans causes us to become greedy, that is why so few people are ever truely in love. Hate is an emotion I have come to terms with well, Myself being hated by a number of people, for no more reason than being myself. The tempting fruit of love so close but so far from me, always coming close to tasting it, but never being able to take a bite. Sadly I have come to the conclusion that Love, the most fragile of the two emotions, hasd almost entirely died out, replaced by "crushes" and trivial unions that neverlast. I believe this is because of such trivial concepts of lineage and social status, money and power. Why these thing matter so much is beyond me. The trival concepts are also the concepts that drive hate. Love is no longer based on sacrifice or loyalty, in my opinion, but by greed and self gain. Humans willingly toying with others emotions. These fools who fall for false love have my pity. It is because of this fact, the majority of the human race, and the status qo that I am sickened almost to the point of suicide. Humanity is going down the crapper. No longer are we driven by dreams and inspirations, but rather by desire and instinct, and our egos boosted at someone elses expense. This false existance is no way to live, this false society, many of us are no better than tose we comndem, I just hope my children wont have to feel the pain I felt. I end with my own personal quote. Humanity is a race of hypocrites.

I hope that by reading this you all have a little better understanding of my attitude, and why I'm so tempermental. Ya'll are probably thinking that "this fuck hasnt been laid in so long" But dont get me wrong, I post this to enlighten you, to show my opinion. You may not share it, but this is what I believe. Only we can change the system, only our generation can do it, we're still young. I emplore each of you to live your lives to the fullest, dont deny yourself or others the more important things.

2002-07-08T14:06:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Joe Levi and I will be guiding you all through my misled youth.I'll be using this weblog to inform you all about my wonderful/horrible life. Some of my stories might make you laugh, some will make you cry and some might just confuse you. So stay tuned for some of my demented tales leading to abolutely nothing.

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