Stellar: I'm so fucking bummed about Mitch
CynicalMcBastard: yeah, i know, dude!
CynicalMcBastard: what the F is that!
CynicalMcBastard: c'mon, mitch
CynicalMcBastard: like, seriosly, fuck the pope, bring back mitch
Stellar: I SAID THAT TOO! How DARE the Pope get read his last rites when Mitch ACTUALLY died. Fuck CNN, they covered the wrong damn story
I can remember wishing in 7th grade that I could just be normal. I wanted to blend in; I wanted to be average.
And now, all these years later, I've finally achieved this. I'm an average student with a normal job; I just blend into the crowd.
Sometimes I regret wishing that in 7th grade.
"And oftentimes to win us to our harm
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence."
She writhed on her bed for a moment before finding the most comfortably contorted position. Still the pain in her abdomen did not subside. She squeezed a tear out of her eye clenched shut.
Without warning the pain increased ten-fold. She arched her back, thrusting her stomach into the air. She gripped the bed with white-knuckled hands and tried to scream; she wheezed and coughed up blood.
With a wet slap and a spray of blood, a black and greasy proboscis sprung from her midsection. The girl's eyes rolled back and she fell limp onto the bed. The proboscis 'sniffed' the area of the girl at it's base, then investigated the girl's face. With a whimper the proboscis bowed it's 'head' in reverence for it's mother.
I hate it when I can't sleep at night. It throws off my whole day, my whole week. I was in bed awake until 5am or so this morning, and then I could hardly stay awake in classes today. And when I got home I took a two hour nap. Now I'm finally fully awake and I know that I'm not going to be able to fall asleep again tonight. It's a [vicious] cycle (which is a lot like a motorcycle, but with less engine and more teeth).
My roommates and I have been absorbed in the Resident Evil games for the past few weeks. I just finished Resident Evil 4 and have moved on to Zero, while one of my roommates is playing the remake of the original, and the other is struggling with Resident Evil 3: Nemesis.
The Resident Evil games are excellent. They are sometimes genuinely creepy and scary while at the same time being campy and overdone. And the storylines are pretty twisted, complicated, and intertwined (except for 4 where some characters from previous games all coincidentally happen to find themselves halfway around the world in a situation where a completely different town has been overrun by zombies).
It's a shame that the movies couldn't have been a better reflection of the games. First of all, they didn't seem as dark and grimy as the video games, or as nearly claustrophobic and lonely. And there were too many bullets and not enough puzzles. In the games again, except for RE4, in the games the player had to conserve ammo and solve lots of puzzles (that were surprisingly and intricately incorporated into seemingly normal mansions, laboratories, and police stations). But seeing as puzzles are interactive and movies are not, perhaps it's best they left this out. And while the movies had pretty good plot twists, it lacked suspense. This is not to say that these were bad movies, but they just weren't very reminiscent of the games.
Stellar: http://www.grab.com/games/play.php?game=197&fromint=1
Stellar: I'm becoming addicted to this game
Cynical McBastard: looks lame
Stellar: It LOOKS lame. So did the Fishy game before you got hooked
Stellar: You looked lame at first too, but I got addicted to you :)
Cynical McBastard: haha
My cat has been really nice to me today, making me think that he's probably going to kill me tonight and dine upon my flesh.
"How stupid is it? I can't talk about it; I gotta [write a post] about it, and make a record . . . of my heart."
Press pause and say something. Say something. Say anything. Like that fucking John Cusack movie. I really like Grosse Pointe Blank. Minnie Driver kinda sucked, though. But it was cool when he killed a guy with a pen. Then Minnie helped dispose of the body. I want a chick that will help me dispose of a body.
You're almost there. Put your thumb on the pause button and think of something to say. Like... Fuck, this is hard. I don't have anything to say. That test was hard? No, that's stupid. That movie was funny? No, that's lame. I killed a man with a trident? No, that's weird. I liked Brick. I love lamp.
Focus. Hey, I wonder what's in those boxes that girl is carrying.
Focus, dammit! OK, something to say. Hey,... do you... like... stuff...? Good one. So, what's up? Is that all I've got? I can write fucking poetry and stories and essays and speeches, and all I can come up with is 'So, what's up?'
OK, there's approximately three seconds until the point of no return. Do I say something lame? Two seconds. Or do I say nothing at all? One second. Turning head, opening mouth...
Abort! Abort! Fucking abort! Keep walking. Walk faster. Walk into the fucking sunset.
"How stupid is it? Won't you gimme a minute. Just come up to me and say hello . . . to my heart."
Why didn't anyone tell me The Cure were so good? That's ten years of good music that I've missed.
Feelings are stupid and embarrassing (mostly because I know Stellar is going to ask me about this).
I have a crush on a girl in one of my classes.
Maggie isn't gorgeous by any means, but she's not ugly, either. She's pleasantly and attractively average; what I would consider "cute." C'mon, her name is Maggie, how cute is that! Plus, she has fluffy, black hair that she usually wears in these large tufts that have tendrils flowing down from them, as if buns and ponytails had incestuous relations on her head, and these were the resulting offspring; nevertheless, their seemingly lazy, haphazard, and unpretentious construction has an endearing quality.
Anyway, she's not particularly pretty or, from what she's said in class, she's not particularly insightful or thought-provoking, and neither am I. And I think that's why I find her attractive. Actually, I think the this is the mostly the reason that I find her attractive:
For our class we had to watch a movie, an old, long, boring movie. I had the good fortune of having her sit next to me, but I also had the bad fortune of being shy, and intimidated by women I find attractive, so I sat in silence -- half wanting to fall asleep from boredom, half wanting to strike up a conversation with her. The silence was broken when, during a highly emotional part of the movie when this old widow was crying about her brother-in-law being killed, she leaned over to me and said, "She sounds like Miss Piggy." I laughed heartily and fell in love.
Do you ever imagine killing people -- accidentally, perhaps, imagining the murder of some might-be-innocent bystander? Do you ever dream of hacking and smashing a person to death? Naked flesh bleeds, mourning the loss of limbs damaged or altogether separated. Do you ever feel justified, or do you feel guilty? Or do you feel quite calm and content as you're killing?
romance is a dead,
shriveled rose
on february twenty-first,
drowned in a bowl of tepid,
stagnant tap water,
soon to be discarded
with the rest of the garbage.
love is made up
-- tv love,
movie love,
trashy romance novel love --
love is patient;
love is kind;
it does not want
candy or flowers or jewelry,
-- temporary mementos --
the glittering bobbles,
distracting and confusing
a pre-adolescent sentiment.
the trivializations are used as bait.
and year after year
millions bite the hook.
The fraternity house that I've been living in for the past two years is being torn down to build a new one. So, I moved out of there and into an apartment with a couple of my brothers for a few months.
I hate moving, but this new place is nice, and I'm already starting to settle in.
Throughout the stories of his life that Luther Standing Bear relates in My People the Sioux he constantly is comparing and contrasting the life and customs of the Sioux people to those of the white men of the time. One such comparison that I found intriguing was between the religious beliefs of the whites and Luther's people.
I found most of this discussion in the Chapter XII: 'The Sun Dance':
"I learned all about this religion in the natural way, but after learning how to read the white man?s books I compared your religion with ours; but religion, with us Indians, is stronger."I found this to be quite a bold statement (as are most of the assertions Standing Bear has in this book) and decided to think on the topic.
"Religion" is defined as "a set of beliefs, values, and practices." However, the word "religion" in recent centuries has taken on a certain connotation. It almost implies a level of organization and a tangible set of rules which it's members must prescribe to. I would like to call this sort of religion an "edicted religion" such as Christianity, Judeism, Islam, and Mormonism. But there are also religions that are not dictated by an organization, but somehow culturally understood, transmitted by simple social interaction. An example of this would be Shinto. I would like to call this sort of religion a "cultural religion".
I would say that the Sioux religion falls into my "cultural religion". While I would necessarily say that is a "stronger" sort of religion, as Standing Bear puts it, but I would definitely say that there is some advantage to having such a religion. As long as the religion is regulated by society as a whole, there is no central organization to control it, there is less of a chance that it will become bastardized, abused by those religious figures in power. "We did not commercialize our belief. Our medicine men received no salary." In this way, I would say that the Sioux religion had probably remain more pure and less corrupt than Christianity had over the years.
Tragedy is the lack of an objective definition of "right". Two people at odds because they both believe they're right; a person versus society because his views of what is right is different from the norm; an individual battles with himself because he doesn't know if a decision he has made or will make is "right" -- this is where tragedy is born.
I found a cool website: http://www.amiright.com/. You can look at lyrics that people messed up and rumors about band name origins and peoples anecdotes about music-related stuff. When I first found it, I spent about an hour just looking around and laughing. Check it out, it's good stuff.
(I enjoy stereotyping as much as the next guy, so I will.)
Working as a waiter in the small college town of Kirksville, I've found that there exist five kinds of tippers (keeping in mind that I'm assuming the following groups received average service under normal conditions):
I used to have a blog called Z-Gar's Last Big Mistake, before Cynical McBastard came along. I decided to add the archives of that blog to this one. So, go exploring through the archives, and discover what Mr. McBastard was like during the end of this freshman / beginning of his sophomore year of college.
I don't know what emotion it is that I'm feeling today, but I don't like it. I would much rather be confused, depressed, or complacent (like I usually am) than this. It's a blend of Anxious and Sad with a sprinkle of Angry. It's like I'm anxiously sad and angry, or angrily sad and anxious, or something. I'll call it Anxadry.
I've been sick recently and I don't like it. Over the past two weeks I've been living on DayQuil, Unisom, "Zach's Happy Pills" (ibuprofen), and NyQuil.
I think I'm addicted to NyQuil. Last night I chugged half a bottle of it. The cherry flavor is delicious.
I'm going put $5 on a parlay (with 4 to 1 odds) of Missouri-Florida-Hawaii going to Kerry.
I also want to put $2 on Nevada going to Bush, $1 on Virginia going to Bush, $1 on New Hampshire going to Bush, and $1 on Pennsylvania going to Kerry.
Today is election day. Unless you're a useless tool, you voted. I voted. Voter registration troubles were cleared up at Cynical McUniversity thanks to the tireless efforts of Rock the Vote. Man do they rock...the vote. Tonight=drinking and CNN. Ahh, democracy in action.
The following story ran today in the Index, the campus newspaper of Truman State University, located in Kirksville:
Lost registrations jeopardize votes By Index Staff Published: Thursday, October 28, 2004So, who is at fault for this mistake? I spoke with Megan Gibbard, a member of Rock the Vote in Kirksville; she said that it seems unlikely that the Rock the Vote organization is at fault; they made copies of every registration form that they collected before turning them over to the County Clerk. Gibbard says, “[The County Clerk’s office] says they never got the forms.” So, perhaps some registration forms were lost in transit from the Rock the Vote Headquarters to the County Clerk’s office. It is a volunteer organization made up of college students. Surely it was Rock the Vote that made the mistake and not the responsible elected officials and paid, trained workers at the Adair County Clerk’s office. Then how do you account for me?Misplaced voter registration cards might leave some students ineligible to cast their ballots Nov. 2.
Students who filled out voter registration forms to vote in Adair County through on-campus organizations and have not yet received a verification letter should call the Adair County Clerk's office immediately to make sure they are registered, Adair County Clerk Jon Cook said.
"Unless they have received that verification notice, we may not have their card," Cook said.
Senior Evan Montgomery, president of College Democrats, said he registered with the College Democrats, who gave their forms to Rock the Vote. He said he called the county clerk's office Wednesday and found out he was not registered to vote in Adair County.
Montgomery said he decided to call and request an absentee ballot from his hometown because his voter registration was not canceled as it would have been if he had successfully registered in Adair County.
"I feel bad for people who find it out right now and can't vote unless they make a trip back home," he said. "What are they going to do?"
The last day to register to vote in Missouri was Oct. 6, and Wednesday way the last day to request absentee ballots.
Junior Renee Taylor said she also had problems with her registration form. She said she received an incorrect verification letter after registering through one of the campus political groups. The letter bore the name of another student who shared the same first and last name but had a different middle name.
Taylor said she then called the county clerk's office to verify her registration.
"[Someone at the clerk's office] said, 'Well, we don't have your form,' and they weren't going to let me vote," Taylor said.
She said she called junior Sarah Saheb, Rock the Vote midwest regional coordinator, who helped her talk to the county clerk.
"I was actually really upset because the election is really, really close, and this is my first time voting," Taylor said.
Taylor said she had to fill out a new voter registration form, and she is now registered.
Saheb said Rock the Vote tracked voter registration forms at all times and made a copy of each card before giving it to the county clerk.
"Everybody who manned tables was trained by us, and we made sure everybody knew how to register people to vote, and they knew the laws," Saheb said. "It's not a difficult process to help people register to vote."
She said those who volunteered to sign people up to vote were each given a packet of voter registration forms. When the volunteers turned the packets back in, all of the forms had to be accounted for, she said.
Saheb said that anyone who registered to vote in Adair County through a student organization and has not received a voter verification letter should call the county clerk at 665-3350 to make sure they are registered to vote.
If someone goes to the polls on Election Day and is told he or she is not registered to vote, he or she should request a provisional ballot, according to Rock the Vote's Web site.
After the polls close, the state will look for any mistakes with the person's voter registration and then inform the individual if his or her was vote counted.
On October 4, I went to the County Clerk’s office to change my registration from my Livingston County (containing Chillicothe, where I sometimes call home) to Adair County so that I did not have to vote via absentee ballot. The woman behind the counter asked me for my current local address and other cursory questions, typed on the computer for a while, filled out a voter registration card for me, and dated and stamped it with a seal before handing it to me. I asked her if there was anything else I needed to do. She told me there was not. Apparently, she was wrong.
Hours ago I received a phone call from Gibbard informing me that I was not registered to vote in Adair County. She informed me that Rock the Vote had obtained a list of all people registered to vote in this county and were comparing it to the list of 1400 students that they had registered over the past three weeks on campus. “We’re to the ‘M’s and we’ve already found 200 missing registrations,” she said. I was very confused because, although I had been registered through Rock the Vote, I had also physically gone into County Courthouse, up the stairs, and into the Clerk’s office, and spoken directly with someone whom I believed to be a responsible county employee. I had watched as my registration information was supposedly entered into some database. I had physical evidence that I had been there on that day: a handwritten, dated, and seal-stamped voter registration card. How could it be possible that I was not registered to vote in Adair County?
Furthermore, many other students who may or may not have registered in person at the County Courthouse but did receive voter registration cards are missing from the registered voter list, according to Gibbard. With this information it seems unlikely that Rock the Vote is responsible for the hundreds – how many, is still yet to be determined – of missing voter registrations of students on the Truman State University campus.
There have been several cases of apparent voter registration fraud occurring around the nation recently, in Florida, New York, Nevada, and Oregon. There even seems to be something fishy going on around the St. Louis area. New York, Las Vegas, St. Louis: These are all important places where important things happen. But in the quiet, small college town of Kirksville, Missouri, who would have guessed that something similar may be going on?
It may be a bit early to start shouting “scandal” and “voter registration fraud,” but no one can deny that there have been suspicious goings on recently in the Adair County Clerk’s office in Kirksville. There are voters who thought they were registered, received registration cards, but are not registered. There are hundreds of students’ registration forms that seem to have vanished. Should we chalk this one up as incompetence, or is it possible that someone misplaced the students’ forms on purpose? Jon E. Cook himself, Adair County Clerk, said recently that some people do think that students should not be allowed to vote in Kirksville because they do not pay taxes there, according to an October 14, 2004 article in the Index. Does this have something to do with the disappearance of 200+ student registration forms? Or is that just a convenient coincidence? Either way, there is going to be a large mob of angry students come election day if we are denied our right to vote, and I will be one of those angry students, and we will be heard.
Even worse than dancing to hip-hop am I at dancing with young interested ladies.
"You have pretty eyes," she says.
"I know," I respond.
I make a much better wallflower.
The instructor professes, "Gentlemen, pull your partner into your cradle."
"Get in my cradle, bitch," I say playfully. I receive a displeased punch in the stomach for my crude words.
ES 159 - Social & Country Western Dancing (1 credit hour) is one of the most fun classes I've taken. Kelly is one of best dance partners I've ever had.
"Are you still my partner?" I ask, almost as an apology.
"Yes."
I can get the moves; I can do the pretzel and the jitterbug and the pull-bys and all that, for the most part.
I'm not sure what happened, but Kelly ended up dancing with Chris, and I with Shayna. We were both confused.
After class she said, "You can be Shayna's partner if you want. I'll dance with Chris."
I nodded and let out a disappointed, "OK."
I can do all the moves, but the hardest part is making the moves look good, using flow and grace.
The teacher assigned Jordan as my new partner.
She leaned over and whispered to me, "I thought you were going to be partners with Shayna."
"She already had a partner," I whispered back.
"Oh, sorry." She looked perplexed. "I guess I was just confused."
"Me too."
"Do you hate me now?"
"Oh yeah, I do," I say jokingly. Sometimes I don't think my humor goes over well; she just stares at me.
I'm also not very good at leading. I'm either too forceful or too timid.
I'm convinced: Non-traditional (old) students have lost all creativity, intelligence, and humbleness from being out in "the real world."
The image of myself that I've created for you is the one I thought you'd want to see, the one I thought would please you. It wasn't perfect, and I knew you didn't expect that. But it was mostly "good" or mostly "cool" or mostly "strong" or mostly something that I thought you'd like.
Silly me.
Apparently people don't want to see an image of me, no matter how pleasing the image. It could be perfect or perfectly imperfect. Either way, they want to see the parts of me that I've kept out of view, the parts that I don't even like, and the parts that I hide even from myself.
So, I'm going to try to do that for you; show everything. Not really for your benefit, but for mine. Because by the end of this thing (post?, weblog?, life?) I won't have to be the hundreds of different me's that I've been being, one for everyone I know. I can just be the one and only Zach, if a single one does exist. I guess that single one will be discovered here. Stay tuned.
"You can't jack up a car and steal the tires in the span of one Captain and Tenille song."
I am a robot that wishes. For death and closure affect me not. I am a robot that lives, as it seems is my lot, long past my love's last breath. I am a robot that wishes for death.
INT. - CHECKOUT COUNTER OF A SUPERMARKET
Mark rings up item after item, bored with his menial task. He doesn't smile, talk to, or even acknowledge the presence of the customers. Like a zombie moonlighting as a cashier, Mark is emotionless except for the unrelenting desire to crack open the skull of the next annoying, nagging customer in his seemingly never ending checkout line. The customers fly by in fast motion, stopping for some highlights:
MAN 1
I think you scanned that twice.
Fast forward.
WOMAN 1
Oh, wait. I have a coupon for that.
Fast forward.
MOM 1
Writing a check while her young crying child tugs at her shirt
Pick out some candy. Pick out some candy. Pick out some candy. Nicolas, pick out some candy. Pick out some candy.
Fast forward.
MAN 2
Oh hell! I left my wallet in my car, can you hold on a second?
Fast forward.
WOMAN 2
How much?
MARK
$103.54.
WOMAN 2
How much?
MARK
$103.54.
WOMAN 2
That can't be right....
Fast forward. A smiling Old Woman stands staring at Mark, watching him scan her items. The register beeps with a slow and steady beat.
OLD WOMAN
Out of nowhere
Why don't you smile, young man?
MARK
Because I don't want to.
OLD WOMAN
You're not a very personable young man. And kind of rude.
MARK
Looking up from the scanning mechanism at the Old Woman for the first time.
I don't get paid to smile. That costs extra.
OLD WOMAN
In a huff.
Well!
MANAGER
Walking by and seeing something is wrong
Is there something wrong, ma'am?
OLD WOMAN
You're cashier here was just rude to me!
MANAGER
Mark?
MARK
What?
MANAGER
Gives Mark a stern look
MARK
Sighs. Deciding it better to avoid a conflict, turns to Old Lady
I'm sorry, ma'am. I was rude.
OLD WOMAN
Well, you've almost ruined my day. How much do I owe you?
MARK
Your total is $32.91.
Old Woman hands Mark several bills, and in turn Mark gives her change. All the while Manager watches.
OLD WOMAN
I hope you don't treat all of your customers like this.
Walks off perturbed.
MANAGER
I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll have a talk with him.
To Mark
Mark, what was that?
MARK
She told me to smile, and I told her I didn't want to.
MANAGER
Mark, part of your job is customer relations. You are the last face that the customer sees before he leaves the store.
MARK
What about the greeters at the door?
MANAGER
Mark, focus. You can't be negative, or the customers will leave here with a negative impression of our store.
MARK
OK.
MANAGER
You have to smile, Mark. And you have to talk to them.
MARK
Like what? I don't have anything to say.
MANAGER
Small talk. Talk to them about the items they're buying. Anything. Just make them feel comfortable, and they'll walk out of here wanting to come back. And hopefully soon. Do you understand, Mark?
MARK
I guess.
A customer puts her items on Mark's counter. Manager looks at Mark and gives him a nod and points to his smiling mouth. Mark puts on a strained smile. Manager nods in approval, then motions for Mark to continue.
MARK
As he begins to scan the woman's items, he holds up a bag of apples
So. . . . Buying apples, huh?
WOMAN 3:
Yep.
MARK
Mark looks to Manager for help. Manager looks at Mark as if to say, "Keep going."
Well, uh, you know what they say about apples: An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Manager smiles in approval
WOMAN 3:
Smiles
It's true. I love apples.
MARK
Struggling to continue the conversations, he looks to Manager and then to the next item in his hand, a box of douches.
And you know what they say about douching: A douche a day keeps the . . . uh. . .
Woman 3 looks at Mark disgusted and embarassed. Manager shakes head and releases a deep sigh.
Cynical McBrother: I'm going to sub tomorrow.
Mr. McBastard: for whom?
Cynical McBrother: an elementary computer teacher
Mr. McBastard: they have computer teachers now?
Cynical McBrother: yeah
Mr. McBastard: what's next cyborg guidance councilors?
Cynical McBrother: *beep boop beep* you're good at math, Mr. McBastard. *beep beep boop* you should be an automechanic boop
"most of all, i want some one that is willing to build a relationship. a health and stable relationship.
with me."
--Terry Anna
From farkleberries:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
"In particular, they are adept at finding various sorts of similarities among patterns, at recognizing repeated (or almost repeated) patterns, at filling in the missing parts of incomplete patterns, and at transforming patterns into others with which they have been associated."--John Haugeland, "What is Mind Design?" Mind Design II
I am hard. I am stone-faced. I smoke cigarettes and squint into the sun. I don't smile and I don't look anyone in the eye. How dare you, Cute Girl I Don't Know, to say, "Hi," to me and grin.
One day Sven woke up with breasts. They hadn't been there the night before, but they were there now, and he liked them.
He spent fifteen minutes in the shower jiggling and juggling them, squeezing, turning, and gently bouncing them. He smiled.
Getting dressed was difficult; he didn't have a shirt that properly showed off his new assets. Everything he had was so loose. No one would even be able to see them! He looked over to the bed. There lay his sleeping wife. He'd always been jealous of her breasts He snuck over to her closet, took one of her blouses, and rushed out of the room.
On the way to work Sven almost wrecked his car. He was too busy ogling himself to notice the traffic around him. He was so pretty now. Pretty breasts. Pretty blouse. Pretty close to rear-ending that car! Sven took a deep breath and took his foot off the break.
--Aristotle
Today marks the end of a week of drunkenness and debauchery known as Freshman Week. It serves as a welcome to all the incoming freshmen to get them acquainted with college, but also gives the upperclassmen a chance to have one final Hoorah before classes resume.
And what a fucking loud Hoorah this year was. So, here's the tallies for the week:
As she enscribed VITA FVGIT down the back of my arm in the most permanent of inks, she told me that she recognized me from the time her high school's academic quiz bowl team played against mine. How odd that two people's lives would intersect at both an ubernerd convention and a shop of badassery.
After months of slow decay, this town is miraculously brought back from the dead. The denizens recoil much like worms and maggots suddenly bombarded by pumping veins and twitching nerves. Returning students reclaim lost territory and dead limbs, awaiting a fresh injection of freshman into this undead college town.
But it can buy a whole lotta things that make me happy:
I won over $10.00 today playing poker, Texas Hold 'Em exactly. I'm not good at bluffing and I bet on almost every hand, so fortunately my good luck outweighed my poor skill.
The summer streets bleed bubbling black tar and suffer with me as they are abandoned for sand and taut naked flesh. Lonely, left for dead end streets to swallow and choke me down like so much beer and smoke. Paper/plastic trash carpet the floors with saved aluminum cans peppered with ash and butts. The fans are replacement friends and hum the droning melody of my August song.
"Valentine's Day is coming? Oh man, I forgot to get a girlfriend again."
--Fry, Futurama
Hey, we left ya somechrchairs merry fukkkin Christmas --Hue Kendall
I'm watching VH1's "50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs . . . Ever" and I'm downloading about 1/3 of the songs.
Kat: i think i need a hug
Cynical McBastard: *e-hug*
Kat: awww thats the first e-hug youve ever given me!! -huggles-
Cynical McBastard: awww
Kat: [my boyfriend]'s not being very loving right now
Kat: i figured hed miss me since we didnt talk yesterday at all. erf.
Cynical McBastard: that bitch
Kat: do you ever feel like.. if you dont get some sort of physical contact soon youre going to explode?
Cynical McBastard: uh, can't say that i do
Kat: guess its just me then
Cynical McBastard: i'm not a very touchy-feely person
Kat: neither am i. only with certain people
Kat: but its nice to be touched. and held. and hugged. and kissed.
Cynical McBastard: and eaten
Kat: dont be stupid
Cynical McBastard: :(
Cynical McBastard: that's what i do best
Kat: im glad were not friends in real life
Cynical McBastard: why's that?
Kat: i dunno
Kat: i like to be hugged. and i hate it when i cant feel close to a friend.
Cynical McBastard: well, if someone initiates a hug, i won't deny them one, i probably just wouldn't spontaneously hug you
Cynical McBastard: unless i saw you really needed it
Kat: im not one to spontaneously hug someone either. i have to have someone else initiate it. i have friends that ive known for years and years and ive never hugged because they dont hug me first. and it just seems awkward.
"This past weekend George Lucas announced the title to the final Star Wars
movie. It's called, "I Hope You Geeks Have Some Money Left To Go See This
Piece Of Shit Fifty Times In The Theatre; Not To Mention Buy All Of The
Overpriced Merchandise To Fill Your Bedroom In Your Mom's Basement". The
fans have taken to calling it Episode III."
--T-shirt Hell Newsletter
Prologue:
As part of my job, I enroll transfer students into classes. I am handed their file (which includes their transcripts, their major, their desired classes, and their application). Along with their application is their admission essay.
Sometimes I read the essays. I don't know if it's allowed or not, but I do. I think it gives me insight into who this person is, and what classes they might take. And plus, I'm just nosey. Some of them are quite interesting. There is this one girl from France who can speak three languages fluently (and knows rudiments of two more) and wants to be a diplomat, an ambassador of some kind. There was another person that wrote of their rough home-life in high school, of their descent into depression, their battle with drugs, and then their recovery and renewed desire to educate themselves.
And then there came this one. It apalls me. Not only because of the poor writing (mind you, this person is working towards a Bachelor of Science in English; furthermore, a Pre- Elementary Education degree) and disgusting subject matter -- living in the rural Midwest, I've heard this discriminatory rhetoric for years. I was astonished that someone would write so much close-minded nonsense as their application essay to an established, liberal arts college, AND THEY STILL GOT IN! The abomination is as follows [with my comments in red]:
I believe that same sex unions are wrong, not only because the Bible says so [I hope you have "proof" to back up that this is what the Bible actually says.], but that it just doesn't make any sense to me. [Fair enough. It doesn't make sense to you, but why does that make it wrong?]
How can you be a happy family when it seems to me that your roles would be confused. Who is the Mom? [Just a guess here: the women?] Who is the Dad? [Another shot in the dark: the men?] Will there even be children? [If there's a mom or dad, I'm guessing there'll be children.] Imagine a child going to kindergarten, and being asked his mother's name and his answer being William Edwardson. [Why wouldn't he just say that he has no mother? Plenty of kids don't have moms.] What is your father's name and his answer being Richard Edwardson. I realize children will always tease other children but I don't believe parents should give them just another reason. [Or perhaps if we teach them to understand homosexuality, having two queers for parents won't even be a tease-worthy offense.] I am a single mother [My heart breaks for your child.], because I chose to remove my daughter and myself from a domestic violence situation [But, wait, you had a perfectly happy, "normal," heterosexual family, complete with unconfused roles and whatnot, how could this happen?], and there are people who still tell me that I didn't try hard enough to make things work with her father. [Despite how ignorant you've been thusfar in your application essay, at least you were smart enough to take your child and yourself out of this situation.] People are always judging us [How do you thing homosexuals feel about being judged?], because we are border-line poor and I don't really care if we receive child support because it is just another example of him not wanting anything to do with his daughter. I feel my daughter is lucky, because she is still alive despite her father constantly threatening to kill her when he got angry. [weren't we talking about something else?] She still finds it difficult to explain her situation to other children and we have been out of the situation for almost five years. [What were we talking about?] It hurts me deeply to see her suffering because of my poor decisions and I just think it would be compounded tenfold for children of same sex unions. [Oh yeah, that's what we were talking about.]
I also don't believe that someone can just wake up one day and decide that they are a homosexual. [Neither do I.] I have heard stories of people who have been married to someone of the opposite sex for years, who just decide they just don't like that person anymore because they want to be with someone of the same sex. [Maybe they still do like that person, they just don't want to continue to lie to them and pretend to feel a certain way towards them.] They may already have children from this previous marriage, how do they explain this to those children? [Probably very similarly to how you explained to your daughter why she couldn't see Daddy anymore.] Step-families are difficult enough without adding this new dimension.
I truly believe everyone has a right to be happy and prosper but I just don't understand how you can be fundamentally happy when you know that you are dong something wrong against GOD's word and ultimate plan for your life. [Maybe they/I know of different Gods that go by the same name. My God is all-loving and all-understanding. No offense to your god, but he sounds kind of petty and controlling.] GOD destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah because of homosexuality and other vulgar acts (Genesis 19:24 & 25). [Finally, your Biblical "proof." I'm going to go on a rant at this juncture, if I may -- and I may because it is my website. For reference, here is the story of Sodom & Gomorrah. "Then the LORD rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the LORD out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground" (Genesis 19:24-25). While this does explain how God destroyed those two infamous cities, it doesn't explain why. Could it be because of the cities' "homosexuality and other vulgar acts?" Well, I'll agree with you on the "vulgar acts" part. Despite the fact that many of the men in that place were gay, I don't believe this story is depicting that as the reason for the cities' destruction. I believe it was because all the men in the town wanted to rape the two angels that God had sent to rescue Lot. Whether or not the story is making a correlation between homosexuals and rapists is debatable. In fact, the whole reference to homosexuality in this story is very minimal. The tale is really, as I see it, a myth meant to depict the dubious and despicable beginnings of two tribes that warred with the Hebrews, the Moabites and the Ammonites -- named after the two sons/grandsons (Moab and Ben-Ammi) of Lot and his incestuous daughters. But I digress.] It angered GOD so much that he couldn't endure it, so what do we expect him to do to our country if we continue down this path? I really think this issue boils down to America being a country that was founded on a belief in GOD [Again, I think think we're talking about different Gods here.], turning its back on him and thumbing its nose at him and daring him to punish it. [And possibly different Americas, too. Actually, that sounds like something a terrorist would say.]
I truly believe that President Bush [Is he your god?] should just pass a constitutional amendment [Your lack of knowledge about the democratic process in this country is astounding.] banning same sex unions. I further believe all of us as citizens should contact our legislators and remind them of the religious foundations of our country [Because the superstitious nature and often-homicidal zealotry of the Pilgrims -- the crazy religious nuts that England didn't want -- is much to be admired.] and ask them to vote against same sex unions and bring our country back to it's moral foundation. [And why not take away black people's freedom and women's right to vote while we're at it?]
Prove It to the World -- MxPx
You're So Last Summer -- Taking Back Sunday
All Around the Bus Stop -- .rod Laver
Circles -- Soul Coughing
Devil in Jersey City -- Coheed & Cambria
Hey Mama -- Black Eyed Peas
The Game of Who Needs Who the Worst -- Cursive
Under Pressure -- David Bowie & Queen
Meant to Live -- Switchfoot
Open Road Song -- Eve 6
Hanging Around -- Counting Crows
I haven't even seen 1/3 of AFI's 100 Greatest Movies:
1. "Citizen Kane," 1941 2. "Casablanca," 1942 3. "The Godfather," 1972 4. "Gone With the Wind," 1939 5. "Lawrence of Arabia," 1962 6. "The Wizard of Oz," 1939 7. "The Graduate," 1967 8. "On the Waterfront," 1954 9. "Schindler's List," 1993 10. "Singin' in the Rain," 1952 11. "It's a Wonderful Life," 1946 12. "Sunset Boulevard," 1950 13. "The Bridge on the River Kwai," 1957 14. "Some Like it Hot," 1959 15. "Star Wars," 1977 16. "All About Eve," 1950 17. "The African Queen," 1951 18. "Psycho," 1960 19. "Chinatown," 1974 20. "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest," 1975 21. "The Grapes of Wrath," 1940 22. "2001: A Space Odyssey," 1968 23. "The Maltese Falcon," 1941 24. "Raging Bull," 1980 25. "E.T. - The Extra-Terrestrial," 1982 26. "Dr. Strangelove," 1964 27. "Bonnie and Clyde," 1967 28. "Apocalypse Now," 1979 29. "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," 1939 30. "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre," 1948 31. "Annie Hall," 1977 32. "The Godfather Part II," 1974 33. "High Noon," 1952 34. "To Kill a Mockingbird," 1962 35. "It Happened One Night," 1934 36. "Midnight Cowboy," 1969 37. "The Best Years of Our Lives," 1946 38. "Double Indemnity," 1944 39. "Doctor Zhivago," 1965 40. "North by Northwest," 1959 41. "West Side Story," 1961 42. "Rear Window," 1954 43. "King Kong," 1933 44. "The Birth of a Nation," 1915 45. "A Streetcar Named Desire," 1951 46. "A Clockwork Orange," 1971 47. "Taxi Driver," 1976 48. "Jaws," 1975 49. "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," 1937 50. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," 1969 51. "The Philadelphia Story," 1940 52. "From Here to Eternity," 1953 53. "Amadeus," 1984 54. "All Quiet on the Western Front," 1930 55. "The Sound of Music," 1965 56. "M*A*S*H," 1970 57. "The Third Man," 1949 58. "Fantasia," 1940 59. "Rebel Without a Cause," 1955 60. "Raiders of the Lost Ark," 1981 61. "Vertigo," 1958 62. "Tootsie," 1982 63. "Stagecoach," 1939 64. "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," 1977 65. "The Silence of the Lambs," 1991 66. "Network," 1976 67. "The Manchurian Candidate," 1962 68. "An American in Paris," 1951 69. "Shane," 1953 70. "The French Connection," 1971 71. "Forrest Gump," 1994 72. "Ben-Hur," 1959 73. "Wuthering Heights," 1939 74. "The Gold Rush," 1925 75. "Dances With Wolves," 1990 76. "City Lights," 1931 77. "American Graffiti," 1973 78. "Rocky," 1976 79. "The Deer Hunter," 1978 80. "The Wild Bunch," 1969 81. "Modern Times," 1936 82. "Giant," 1956 83. "Platoon," 1986 84. "Fargo," 1996 85. "Duck Soup," 1933 86. "Mutiny on the Bounty," 1935 87. "Frankenstein," 1931 88. "Easy Rider," 1969 89. "Patton," 1970 90. "The Jazz Singer," 1927 91. "My Fair Lady," 1964 92. "A Place in the Sun," 1951 93. "The Apartment," 1960 94. "Goodfellas," 1990 95. "Pulp Fiction," 1994 96. "The Searchers," 1956 97. "Bringing Up Baby," 1938 98. "Unforgiven," 1992 99. "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," 1967 100. "Yankee Doodle Dandy," 1942
thank you for being there
and being square
and being hip
enough to listen to
Huey Louis & The News with me
it's news to me
how much i mean to you
i was always mean to you
but you knew i was kidding all along
a long time ago
in a galaxy far, far away
a rogue fell in love with a princess
and that's just how i felt
when you were there with me
Stellar, after you recover from your surgery, I hope you feel as beautiful as you've always been.
With enough firepower to invade a small nation, we assaulted the skies. The parkinglot battlefield is scortched with gun powder and littered with debris.
Our casualties: A few singed hairs, a couple burnt thumbs, a sunburn or two, and a welt from a misfired firework. But the atmosphere will forever remember this assault.
Beer, barbeque, explosives, and needless destruction. I've never felt so American.
I found a smile on Highway 11 at 1:15am.
This smile didn't come from a friend or a family member or a girlfriend. It didn't come from anything I did or anywhere I went. It didn't come from a bottle or a cigarette or a drug. It came from somewhere inside me that I guess I'd forgetten.
To tell you the truth, I have no idea where it came from, and I don't really know how long it will stay. But it's here, and I like it. So, please, let me keep it for as long as it lasts.
For some reason, all I've been listening to for the past few days is Jimmy Buffet (of "Cheeseburger Paradise" and "Margaritaville" fame) and punk rockers Lawrence Arms (of no fame). Odd combination.
We're trying to have a civilized conversation here about brain-eating zombies, and you interrupt with this nonsense about mummy boners!
I've found that people with good intentions often have the most devestating effect on one's self-esteem.
Seafood Combination
Shrimp invites inmitation crabmeat and scallops wearing colorful vegetable dresses to a velvet white wine sauce party.
Moo Goo Gai Pan
Moo Goo in Chinese means mushrooms and Gai Pan means chicken slices. Cooked with colorful vegetables in white sauce. Hey, you special Chinese too...
Shrimp with Garlic Sauce
Thin cut of celeries, carrots, whater chestnuts, and wood ears tossed with shrimp in spicey garlic sauce. It's good enough that you won't then your friend kisses you.
Nic-O-Bob, I took a vicodin earlier today and I felt like I was moving underwater. I thought you'd enjoy that.
"Man, I missed everything today."
--Ben
"Yeah, the president came over . . . ."
--Cynical McBastard
"And then the Pope came over and turned our wine into Jesus."
--Matt
i am your slow suicide, a cheap thrill, a five-minute diversion. i burned your eyes and clogged your throat, and we liked it. i was your last half-smoked cigarette that you ground into the dirt under your heel. my light has gone out prematurely, but it's probably oll for the best, seeing as i would have taken seven more minutes off your life if you had inhaled all of me.
I know I'm not perfect, and I know nobody expects me to be that way, but it would be nice if I wasn't such a fuck-up all the time. But pity isn't for me. Pity is for the people whose birthdays are forgotten by those they thought cared.
Dude, I just had the weirdest dream. I think you should punch my subconscious mind next time you see him, because he came up with this: Cynical McSister and Cynical McFriend and I attended your 'coming out' party at a club in New York. It was very surreal. McSister was a little girl, like 7 instead of 20, and McFriend never spoke a word, I don't think. He just followed us like some mute bodyguard. Oh yeah, and Cynical McDog was in the dream, too. It ended with this big dance number on the stairs to the upper level of the club. They had a spotlight on you and you were wrapped only a giant lavender feather boa and singing about how great you felt to finally share with the world that you were gay.
Oh god, I'm don't think I've ever had that fucked up of a dream, have you? I'm still laughing so hard I can barely hold my cup of coffee. I don't know what the hell triggered that dream.
Last night I watched Kenneth Branagh's version of Frankenstein with Robert DeNiro as the monster. Have you ever seen that one? It was pretty good, actually. Later,
Cynical McBrother
From 5 millaria in the air, the sea appears to stop churning an dlooks as smooth as a glossy piece of blue pottery. The coasts and shorelines strike jagged edges into the deep azure shard of clay. It is quite impressive. As one flies higher still above the water, it seems to grow paler, and conversely, the sky seems to grow darker blue. Of course, this transition is slight and hard to notice while slowly climbing in altitude, but when falling head-first toward the water, it's much easier to notice.
As it's told, my story is a tragic tale. It is often used as a morality lesson: Children, listen to your parents' advice; it could save your life. And parents, well, don't strap flimsy, make-shift wings onto your child and expect them to fly.
I blame my father. If you know my father, then you're doing better than me. If he stuck his head out of his workshop for long enough to have a conversation with me, then I felt lucky. For the most party, though I avoided him. When he was working on one of his projects, I knew better than to bother him. Whether it was armor for this king or a sword for this god, I knew that I was much less important to him. But I never complained.
Then he decides to piss off King Minos and get us both thrown into the Labyrinth, an endless maze of my father's own creation. You can bet you ass I complained then. Being cramped in the dark recesses of that eternal dungeon for months was torture enough, but in addition I had to listen to my father. "I'm sure it's this way. Oh yes, I remember building this trap. Wait, this is not how I designed this on my blue-print: oh, I could just kill those builders!" He would drone on and on for hours while he was trying to find his way out. After a while I almost believed that he was going to wrong way on purpose because he loved his architectural masterpiece so much. But eventually we got out. I remember it was just before dawn and I still had to squint because the sky was so bright.
The my father gets this idea in his head that we should fly -- literally fly -- off the Isle of Crete to escape King Minos. I suggested just building a boat, but my father was paranoid; he was convinced that King Minos would find us. And besides, my father was not one to take criticism well, especially not from me.
So, he builds these two sets of wings for us out of sticks and string and wax and Zeus-knows-what-else. Then he ties them on and tells me, "Stay close to me." Not once did he mention anything about melting wax, not once! But after being cramped in the Labyrinth for what seemed like an eternity, never more than a pace behind my father, I had to use my new-found freedom.
I soared. I felt the cool air on my body, and I had never felt as good. I could stretch my legs. I could smell the salty sea breeze. I could be a kid. And so, yes, I did disobey my father. Yes, I flew off into the great blue, doing barrel rolls and loop-de-loops. But for once I was actually having fun.
So, when I saw Apollo riding his fiery chariot across the sky, I decided to go say "hello." I should have known something was wrong. When Apollo saw me, he had a surprised look on his face and he was shouting something. Of course, I didn't know that my wings were melting off and that he was shouting for me to turn back, so I kept flying up and up and up. When I got within earshot of him, it was too late. I fell faster than Helen of Troy's panties, screaming all the way down until the very second I hit the water.
They say my father wept for me and searched for my body, but I doubt it. They also say that he build a temple to Apollo and put my wings in it as an offering. That I can believe. Leave it to my father to turn my death into another one of his building projects.
I now have my very own room. This is only the second time in my life that I've had a room all to myself, the first being in highschool when my brother went off to college.
It's got my bed, a small dresser, a table made out of a keg and piece of plywood, a love seat, and, of course, my computer. It's great!
sic emeritus meritus miles in castris Cupidinis redit cum non thesauro manu domum peruenit ipse solus est miles aedis et lectum ad somnum parat; se tradit somnio ille somnit de preeliis amoris bellis uictoriae sed cum somnium finit non corpus juxtum illum nocte est
Sunny-side up,
mocking our squinting faces and grey dispositions.
We stumble-walk through the kitchen with yawns like foghorns
warning of our approach.
The grease dances on the pan with excitement,
sounding like a thousand tiny voices cheering,
while we sit in grumpy silence,
shoveling brightly colored eggs and orange juice
into our undead mouths.
Last night we lived like tomorrow would never come,
and this morning our eyes burn like vampires' in the dawn.
... is mastering the Art of Not Being in the Way. With servers, busboys, cooks and managers pumping through the kitchen like blood, you'd better not clog that artery or the whole back end of the restaurant will seize up like a fat man having a heart attack.
"I pooped!"
--Tod
"Me too!"
--Kendall
"You forgot to flush!"
--BJ
Our love will last like the spray paint on the side of the water tower that stands as a monolithic tribute to these past two years. Like Napoliean's Arc De'Triumph, every time I pass by the white pillar I'll be reminded of your conquest of my heart. As grand as the Colossus of Rhodes, this pearl obelisk will be a herald to all those passers-by one Highway 36 that our love is strong. Our love is like this steel spire, as sturdy as the metal, as filled with joy as the tower is with water. And that is why I wanted the whole world to know that "I LOVE TIFFANY JOENEAL."
"today is monday. i am already tired and weary from a week that has yet to happen. i feel like i’m planning ahead, getting on the ball by being already so beaten down. i’m no procrastinator!!"
--Oblivio
Sunny-side up mocking our squinting faces and grey dispositions. We stumble-walk through the kitchen with yawns like foghorns warning of our approach. The grease jumps on the pan with excitement; more energy than either of us could muster, sitting in grumpy silence, shoveling brightly colored eggs and orange juice into our numb mouths.
I was joking. Really. "This is my blood, drink. This is my body, eat." That's my shtick. I don't know, maybe cannabalism was just funnier in my day.
It was our last supper together. We all knew it; I had to ease the tension. Judas was usually the funny one, but he had other things on his mind that night. So it was up to me.
So, this crazy toast I made when I was out drinking with the guys, is called 'communion' now, huh? It's so strange to think that our last night of fun has been turned into a stodgy religious ceremony. Leave it to the Christians to turn merriment into monotony.
Cowboys do not cry, even when shot, bleeding, and in pain. For tumbleweeds rolling by, it's common to see such men die, and to tip-toe past where they remain. Cowboys do not cry, though they may release a weary sigh and finish singing their last refrain for tumbleweeds rolling by. Looking to the expansive sky for answere about lives lived in vain, cowboys do not cry. It is said that when cowboys die their ghosts scour the plain for tumbleweeds rolling by which their spirits may occupy. Do not shed tears for slain cowboys; do not. Cry for tumbleweeds rolling by.
You didn't write! You didn't call! We were worried sick about you!
I know; I've just been so busy --
I don't want to hear any excuses, mister!
I'm sorry. Really, I am. It won't happen again, I promise.
Oh, come here and give me a hug. I can't stay mad at you.
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