Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Hawkeyes win 2010 Insight Bowl

(Credit where credit is due: That little #11 dude from Mizzou stood up and took his hits from Iowa all night long.)

Whereas the win against Missouri in this Insight Bowl may not be as pretty as our drumming of Georgia Tech in the last Orange Bowl, the gritty and hard fought victory was well deserved. As much as Micah Hyde deserves high praise and accolades for his game clinching 72-yard interception return for a touchdown, the real story of the night was Iowa's offensive line and Marcus Coker.

Coker, a dumptruck of a running back with supercharger mentality, absolutely thrashed the Mizzou defense, carrying the ball 33 times for an Iowa bowl record 217 yards and a pair of touchdowns.


Yeah, and that picture up there? That was business as usual. Everybody on the dang team was blocking and hitting Mizzou Tigers wherever they could find them. Coach Ferentz had these guys polarized on a single mission in this bowl game: We WILL run the ball, and you WILL block.

Congratulations, Hawkeyes! Three straight bowl wins for the first time in school history!

Monday, December 20, 2010

New Dream: Grateful Cage

The dream begins with an open mic night at a small comedy club. A middle aged hippie with long red hair and a long red beard walks on the stage, wearing a button up red and black flannel shirt and jeans. He is like a bizarre skinny passive resistant lumberjack.

"I have tried to get into Grateful Dead for a long time, and for years it just didn't catch for me, man. No matter how high I got, it just didn't take off for me...well, until THAT ONE TIME I GOT SOOO HIGH. How high did I have to get? LOOK!"

He then reaches up and makes these two gigantic pigtails with his hair that eventually come to resemble moose-like antlers. Once they were properly shaped, he unbuttons his flannel shirt to reveal a grey tshirt with a drawing on it. Imagine an Abbey Road like drawing with the hippy-lumberjack walking in front, followed by Jerry Garcia and Grateful Dead all in white tuxes, with Nic Cage bringing up the rear dressed as a 50s greaser in a black leather jacket.

The light on the stage then dims and a small film projects on the wall set to generic Grateful Dead-y music. A large ballroom with a shiny floor is shown. Jerry Garcia is playing a massive grand piano. He is sporting a spiked goatee and a large white mohawk. The rest of the band is Vegas show dancing across the ballroom floor. Intermittently, Nic Cage enters from one of the side doors of the room (still dressed as a greaser), does a small "be-bop" dance, exits, then re-emerges to do the same.

Unfortunately, I wake up at this point...but wow.

Friday, December 3, 2010

New dream-Koo Koo Klux

The situation of this dream is as follows: I was in a large conference room of the student union on the University of Arizona campus. It was being used as emergency short term shelter and I was there with about four other students. It was night time, we had just finished watching a concert on tv, and were about to go to sleep.

However, shortly after everyone had lay down, the lights come on and four people wearing Ku Klux Klan robes walk in, two of them carrying a large flag with various symbols (including a swastika). They turn on the lights and walk into the center of the conference room. Their leader announces, "We are the U of A Student Klan Klub, and we had previously arranged to hold our monthly public forum here, and intend to do so. Any of you that are currently disenfranchised are welcome to stay and get what rest you may."

The students that were in the room with me left. The Klan Klub removed their hoods and robes and set up at a small table on the far end of the room. It was two young men and two young women, their leader being a typical Aryan, and all of them nice, white, clean Christians.

As I prepared to leave, one of the young women notices me packing and says, "You don't have to leave, brother. All are welcome at our public forum."

I respond, "I get that you have the First Amendment right to do this, but this ain't my scene and I want to go to bed."

With that she sighs and gives me a look of "Oh, well, another white person lost to liberalism!", so I make sure to toss her, "You only being nice cuz I'm white, you uppity cunt...oh, did you tell your boyfriend you ain't a virgin, yet?"

So, anyway, a line starts forming. People from all walks of life are standing in line to go in front of these four yahoos. Apparently the "public forum" means that you can go to these Klan Klub kids and give them a piece of your mind for precisely 60 seconds. It was great, because all of the sudden the place with packed with people all telling each other what they were going to say. However, the crowning achievement of the open forum queue had to be the guy that was so drunk he was on his hands and knees in line ranting the same thing over and over, "The little foolsh...little foolsh...gonna ruin da world...little foolsh...little foolsh...gonna ruin da world..."

Friday, October 22, 2010


This is Kahless riding a gigantic flying targ named Stovofalkor.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

I fucking hate the illusion of healthcare

So, I have been in pain for a while now. What started as "wrist tendinitis from too much keyboarding" a few years back has pretty much crept into every joint in my body at this point. I suspect arthritis of some type, and even though I see a doctor in a couple days I doubt s/he will have the fucking stones to stand up and actually diagnose something other that, "YOU ARE FAT AND SEDENTARY, DIAF."

This whole rant stems from an injury I received moving some heavy boxes over my head recently. I strained my shoulder and possibly partially tore one of the tendons in it. They gave me methylprednisolone. I had the best fucking 5 days of my life while I was on it. Sure, my shoulder still hurt, but virtually all the pain in my wrists, fingers, elbows, knees, hips, and back was ELIMINATED, and any routine stiffness and swelling in my fingers was all but gone. I had a spring in my step that I hadn't had in probably over 3 years. It was fucking great.

So, the medicine runs out. I was two weeks out from my follow up appointment with an actual doctor (I saw a physician's assistant the first time. Getting a regular doctor in Iowa City is like a Pomeranian trying to fuck a Great Dane...tall fucking order. By the time you do fucking get someone they either transfer or retire.), so anyway, I went back in to the clinic to see if I could get more of the fucking pills that made the fucking pain cease and my life better.

Instead what I get is fucking whining and boo hoo-ing about how steroids are the fucking bad 4 joo and we can't give you any lolwut diaf. The only moderate good news I got was that they moved my doctor's appointment up to 2 days instead of 2 weeks.

Fuck these pricks. Listen, I fucking realize that taking steroids isn't a long term solution to my damn problems and I didn't go in asking for a lifetime fucking supply of them, I just wanted something to help out until I could see a fucking doctor.

You see, the real kicker with me is my fucking allergies. I am allergic to aspirin, ibuprofen, and virtually everything related to them (in other words any and all pain medication you can get over the counter that actually fucking works). Of course they say enlightened fucking bullshit like "Take Tylenol and put heat on your shoulder, that halps, lol!" I have two things to say to that:

1. No, it doesn't.

2. Methylprednisolone works fucking great, give me that. (And let me reiterate, I fucking understand I can't stay on it forever. I get that steroid therapy has its own set of potential risks. FUCK YOU.)

2a. I fucking hate you.

If fucking Tylenol and a heat pad fucking worked on my fucking condition I wouldn't go to a fucking doctor to have it treated, fuckhead. That is the other thing that fucking kills me about healthcare "professionals", if you are in pain you might as well go jump off a fucking bridge right fucking now because there is not a fucking doctor, nurse, or PA ALIVE that gives a fuck about you or the pain you are in. Doctors will give you pain medication if you come into the ER with a javelin through your face. They realize that must hurt. However, if you have pain from a fucked up shoulder or arthritis like conditions (or other forms of degenerative diseases, like my poor stepmother and her muscular dystrophy), you are fucked. You might as well be a junkie looking for a cheap high because these aloof megalomaniacal self-fellating dream-rapers aren't going to give YOU anything to help. You walked in? YOU CAN FUCKING WALK OUT.

Man, I can't fucking wait until Thursday. I get to meet ANOTHER new doctor that will tell me I am fat, I need to lose weight, and lower my blood pressure. YOU FUCKING GET PAID TOP DOLLAR FOR THAT SHIT? THANKS FOR NOTHING. What about my shoulder and the pain I am in that has become chronic at this point? Are you smart enough to develop a strategy for that other than, "STOP BEENING SO FAT, YOU FATTY FATHEAD MCFAT!"

What, do I deserve to be in pain because I am too overweight and don't believe in Jesus enough to these egomanical jackoffs? Well, no, because they really don't care if you are in pain or not, almost regardless* of your situation.

(*oh, you have money, let me open the medicine cabinet for you, my dear!)

So, anyway, I am betting on Friday I will still be in pain, but I will have lots of nice shiny new blood pressure medications to fill. Actually, I hope I have a cellmate named "Snake" and a doctor's head buried out in a cornfield where the police can't find yet come Friday, but when it hurts to carry a jug of milk, I doubt I will work up the gumption to bury a decapitated head.

Monday, September 20, 2010

New Dream 1990 Takes A Crap In My Skull

So, the basic premise of this dream was to be a pseudo-representation of every cheesy cliche from every mainstream movie from 1990. So, slap on your bracelets and time travel back 20 years with me as we descend into 1990 madness.

Starring Corey Haim as a "street smart kid", he goes to Downtown Lou's Pawn shop to hawk some little stuff he has stolen (watches, necklaces, etc.). While there, he notices a Lazer Tag gun, but there is something different about it, so he shoplifts it. "Downtown Lou" notices and chases after him. Corey Haim runs down an alley and appears to be scott free, but he bumps into wisecracking but down on his luck cop, Bruce Willis.

Anyway, Bruce Willis grabs Corey Haim and is going to run him down to juvey, but right when they get into the squad car, an emergency type call comes in and Bruce Willis is compelled to take Corey Haim with, effectively making Haim the new partner for the schlubby down on his luck coppiness. They go across the bridge to the ritzy part of town to a high dollar penthouse apartment. There is no power in the building and residents are standing frightened outside.

Willis and Haim ascend the emergency fire stairs to reach the penthouse. There are a couple of unconscious men in a room and a small piece of archaic looking technology on the floor. When Haim nears the scene, the "unusual Lazer Tag gun" and the archaic technology "react" to one another, causing a spark that knocks out Willis, but wake the other two men...Mike Ditka and Michael Ironside. Ditka notices the Lazer tag gun in Haim's hand, grabs it and starts roughing Haim up.

"Where'd ya get the gun, ya little punk?"

"I stole it from Downtown Lou's!"

"God Dammit, I OWN Downtown Lou's, you little shit!"

WHACK! Ditka punches the kid the fuck out. Ironside decides that the cop and the kid have seen too much, takes the cop pistol and wastes them both. However, the two decide that a murder rap on a cop will set back whatever nefarious plans they have in the mix, so they seek...*sigh*..."supernatural" help. Enter...Kahless forgive me...Lou Diamond Phillips, "The Shaman".

Phillips describes a process to Ditka and Ironside called "Dark Dream Walking" whereby he can effectively transfer the present consciousness of one of the men backwards in time a short way (several hours, no more than a day). The man will then have full knowledge of all events that will unfold, and can take the steps he needs to prevent the cop and kid from showing up and getting killed, and hence furthering their nefarious scheme.

Ultimately, "Shaman Phillips" sends Ditka back to the previous day in the afternoon. He finds himself in the city park, and lo and behold, Haim is there playing soccer with a bunch of kids. (I know, it gets worse.) Ditka ALSO notices that a local soccer star is at a nearby picnic. Ditka, being a smart and rich guy, approaches the soccer star, played by Patrick Dempsey with an outrageous mullet, and offers him big money to hold free soccer lessons for the kids in the park. The idea being Dempsey will distract Haim with mad soccer skillz and keep Haim and Willis from getting killed.


However, the joke is on Ditka because the soccer lessons are a big success and get media attention for helping to prevent crime. Dempsey and Haim get involved with local police (Willis) to set up a safe neighbourhood "crimestoppers", and they get a hot tip from Downtown Lou and Willis is able to legitimately foil Ditka and Ironside's nefarious scheme with the archaic technology/Lazertag gun, and they recover stolen money to build a new soccer field so Dempsey can keep teaching the kids, Haim becomes the new soccer star and doesn't have to steal any more, and down on his luck Willis gets a promotion to detective.

*sucks on shotgun, pulls trigger*

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Hipsters Make Driving in Iowa City Even More Enjoyable

So, I was having a normal Tuesday lunch hour. I rode up to the Wendy's Drive Thru, got me a large chili and a bacon cheeseburger, and made my way back to work. However, when you live in reality, any other people in that reality seem to make it a point to insert their stupidity, inability, and retardation into your perspective and hammer it around in your view until you loathe their existence. Case in point, I had this:

Driving this:

And apparently he didn't feel his fucking life was complete until he was stopped while about 1/3 of the way into my lane, turning left. Well, even though I am a hothead, I am pretty fucking mellow after a visit to Wendy's. Traffic wasn't busy so I slowed to a stop to let him through (and avoid collision).


I wait a few seconds.


I start inching forward very slowly to go around.

Nothing. (And please, lets not forget, this guy is in oncoming traffic illegally trying to turn left.)

I had seen lots of nothing from him, I decide to let off the brake and go around.


We both stop. I am looking at him. He is making hand gestures, as if to indicate he is stuck and needs to turn left. He is completely blocking my lane now, and nothing short of running over his failmobile would get me past him and his tribute to the fall of mankind from the grace of capable skill.

I do nothing.

He eventually goes...BUT on his way by he fucking looks at ME and shakes his head like *I* didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

These are the type of people that give rise to the Hitlers of the world. Anyway, here is my revenge fantasy comic strip. Click it to enlarge.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Timely movie review: Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure

For those of you that hate your eyes and are masochistic enough to give your sensibilities the "Tila Tequila at a Juggalo Gathering" treatment, Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure is the perfect stocking stuffer for you!

Released made for tv in 2003, CV2 follows the zany (dull, pedestrian, and uninteresting) antics of Clark Griswold's lovably white-trash cousin, Eddie and various members of his family, including a son and uncle we have never met (and wish we never had)! Dana Barron reprises her role from 1983's Vacation as Audrey, and Ed Asner cashes it in as the pervy, touchy feely Uncle Nick. Is your excitement mounting? Try sticking barbed wire in your piss-hole to make it even more sensational!

After losing tic tac toe to a monkey, Eddie loses his job but gets an unexpected severance package when the monkey bites him in the butt! To avoid litigation, the company sends Eddie et al to Hawaii for a Christmas Vacation!

*takes a deep breath*

So Eddie has a smart son ("Third", yes really) that we meet who lies about what his dad does to his girlfriend, the Eddie family is staying at Audrey's place, but Audrey comes back because her boyfriend left her, Eddie's plate in his head works as a zapping bug light (Really!), Uncle Nick's wife left him so he shows up to, they all go to the airport, there is a big line, but the dog (Snot) farts a bunch and people clear out, and then there is this girl that's their tour guide in Hawaii, and they have a party, but back home the pipes break and water comes out of the windows (!!!), they party some more, there is a plane flown by an Australian millionaire that Audrey falls in love with, Snot puts out the fire by peeing on it before they go, the guy that was supposed to drive the boat for their tour is gone so Uncle Nick drives it, but it takes him 1 hour to find the keys, Eddie fishes and catches a fish SO BIG that it pulls the boat backwards, the tour guide sunbathes in a bikini and Third gets his first boner, BOAT CRASH!, o noes everyone is stranded on an island, Uncle Nick wants to make fuck to the tour guide, they find lots of bananas and a freshwater stream but Eddie, Uncle Nick and Third go hunting any way, Third catches tour guide bathing, gets a boner, sees Uncle Nick watching her, too (I assume Uncle Nick molests him at that point), Eddie falls on a boar and kills it, MOAR WATER COMES OUT OF THE WINDOWS BACK HOME!!!, Eddie builds a house out of sticks, it breaks, they have Christmas as a family, Eddie dreams he is Tarzan and a monkey laughs at him, then Australian guy flies in to save them, Eddie drops a rock on him so he has to fly the plane, dog covers eyes with paws, Eddie earns family's respect, gets a new job flying planes (with the monkey that bit him!) in Hawaii, water situation is resolved on mainland.

JUST KIDDING! They never resolve the issue of hundreds of gallons of water pouring out of the house, even though they cut to it several times.

There is just so much wrong with this movie, that being legitimately disappointed with some aspect of it may actually seem redundant. However, one legitimately disappointing aspect of this movie was the total void of "redneck charm". This movie was like going to a show expecting to see Larry the Cable Guy and instead a dog chases a monkey around on stage for 90 minutes (which, quite frankly, isn't that far from the truth). The closest thing they got to that elusive "Eddie the Hick Persona" is when he inexplicably tries to play a mandolin like a violin during Christmas carols.

I realize picking on a made for tv movie is like beating up freshman in high school, but this freshman deserves every beating it has coming to it. How anyone involved didn't simply die from shame by virtue of being involved is beyond my ken.

On the BONG! movie rating system, this gets a BONG!!!!!

BONG!!!!! with five exclamation points: Only fans of "The Hottie and The Nottie" need apply! QAPLAH!

Don't believe me? Look:

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Truck That Time Forgot

So, last night my brother is visiting and we get Tango & Cash on Netflix Play Now. I realize I have done a lot of drugs and drinking since the last time I saw that movie, but how in the hell did I manage to suppress my memory of this?

This is a fucking bullet proof truck with a machine gun mounted on it and with nitrous oxide boosts. Tango and Cash use it to fight guys in trucks and construction vehicles and jump shit like the Dukes of Hazzard. I was so emasculated by this truck I dry humped a Manga pillow.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Dream-Tranny Juggalette

Since I cannot decide whether to go scrupulous detail or "nutshell" on this one, I will just default to nutshell.

The dream starts with the biggest racist at my job rolling up in his locomotive-like pickup truck and asking me if I want to go to a carnival. I comply. This truck is so fucking big that half the trailer park is in his damn crew cab. Big Racist comments that this is going to be the trashiest redneck carnival ever.

We pull up to an old strip mall where a book store has taken shop from an old converted video rental store. They have big signs up that say "ICP TODAY!" "FREE FOOD!" The truck unloads as the gathered white trash flocks to go meet Insane Clown Posse. One kid laments the fact that the only free food is Reese's Pieces and that there "isn't even any Faygo."

As if my subconscious mind hasn't shit on me enough at this point, it goes on to decide that I am not properly attired for the event, so I cross dress as a Juggalette to go get autographs. My outfit? A green wig, clown facepaint, knee high boots, and a towel wrapped around me as a dress. (As if the towel-dress wasn't bad enough, I had made it purposely short and wasn't wearing underwear to..."entice" people...I know...)

There was only two minor subplots. One is where I get all "pro-juggalo" at the shop-keeper for overcharging the kids dressed like punks for books (yes, they were buying books...I don't know). The other was that apparently a prominent feminist author was having a book signing in that shop the same day. Lucky her.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Intellectual Cowardice

What breeds and fosters the intellectual cowardice that we see not only in America, but globally, as well? These are the types of questions I ask myself when I see the pandering to microcosmic ignorance that is so prevalent in modern society. Here is my attempt at a general overview of "Why Intellectual Cowardice Is Prevalent And Pandered To."

I. Facts/Honesty/Truth/Education is HARD.

Simply put, there just aren't enough people that can sit still and learn these days. Attention spans are so fucking short that actual real LEARNING and COMPREHENSION of a subject goes right out the fucking door.

Furthermore, facts that happened a "long time ago", particularly ones that are unpleasant to think about, become much easier to DENY.

More than anything, if the truth isn't pretty or easy to deal with, too many look the other way. They don't want to take the intellectual responsibility that their own COMPLACENCY breeds images they find unsuitable.

II. Ignorance Is Appealing!

I gotta tell ya, I can't rightly reckon anything more American than beauty queens being the pinnacle of social intellectualism. I am sure they have an even-handed view of core social issues and a balanced education to match it. Unfortunately, visually vibrant religious sycophants are not limited to America.

Yo, peep it, dawg...SNWA! Sand Niggas With Attitude! They fickinta go low-ridin' on their camels to hustle that Taliban Opium, know'm sayin'? Whoa, whoa, whoa, my bad! These are faithful adherents to the Islamic Faith just trying to preserve their culture. (My ass.)

But let's not forget about the camel fucker's counter-part, the condescending ignorant child rapists! As long as they dogmatically indoctrinate their children, proselytize, and vote republican, they have done their part in the Holy War, too! What makes it so easy?

Why, they are getting their answers handed to them! Instead of actually learning and developing a unique point of view, they are taking the easy way out and letting charismatic people with ONE BOOK dictate to them how to think and feel. It gives them that nice inner glow, makes them feel complete.

However, where does this leave people who aren't so fucked in the head that they sign their "intellectual power of attorney" to the closest con man with easy answers?

III. Anger Is A Gift

These intellectual cowards do not hold the edge, though. When intellectual cowards get mad, it is when they are late for soccer practice, or that their favourite tv show was pre-empted, or that Ron got the promotion in the sales department instead of them.

We have a whole different kind of "mad", one that transcends the intellectual cowards ability or willingness to fathom. The great thing is, these cowards are going to piss off someone that has the ability to focus their anger to fuck these cowards.

A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right.

An army of principles can penetrate where an army of soldiers cannot.

I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.

It is an affront to treat falsehood with complaisance.

Moderation in temper is always a virtue; but moderation in principle is always a vice.

The most formidable weapon against errors of every kind is reason.

Friday, May 14, 2010

The only thing more retarded than the LOTRO forum trolls are the retards running the LOTRO forums.

Part of me wishes I understood just what in the Nine Hells Turbine wants to see discussed on their forums. In fact, I wonder if they even want anything approaching discussion on their forums whatsoever. Judging by the way they hand out infractions and bans, and by the topics they close or delete (well, even more telling are the topics they leave open), Turbine is not at all interested in anything that even remotely resembles critical discussion of game/community topics. In fact, one can only assume that the forums were not meant at all for adults by the preponderance of pandering done to the whining emotional midgets and the steadfast protection of the intellectually juvenile. A seemingly odd choice for a game that has such a large 30+ (even 40+ and 50+) adult community.

The most telling behaviour of Turbine's spineless, reprehensible collusion with the meandering underbelly of the LOTRO community is their vehement opposition to call into question any single person's assertion about the game or the community. Continual lies about Turbine/LOTRO/the servers/the community are irresponsibly spewed upon the message boards, in all of their run-on-sentence glory, and Turbine leaves us no choice but to let us watch the intellectually bankrupt whitewash the forums with their drivel. "Turbine lies to their customers to get their money!" "LOTRO is a dying game!" "They need to merge servers!" "They need to fire people!" "Steefel promised us XYZ!" "My server is a ghost town!" "ABC is too HARD!" "ABC is too EASY!" "We NEED better housing!" "System Flavour of the Month is BROKEN!" "Turbine NEVER listens to us!" "PVP sucks!" "I wasted EVERYTHING I put into my old legendary if I never expected better gear to be relased with new content." "We NEED mounted combat!" "LOTRO WILL go bankrupt if Rohan isn't the next expansion!" "There WILL be a mass exodus!" "I DEMAND answers!" "We DESERVE to know!" "WB is going to cancel lifetime accounts!" "WB is going to cancel LOTRO!" "You will only be able to get 1st age weapons with microtransactions!" The list is never ending. For every dawn of a new day, there is a new idiot with an imaginary problem that feels the need to vomit their mindless scat upon the forums.

However, this doesn't concern or deter Turbine! In fact, they seem to revel in the fact that the Sarah-Palin-player-equivalent shout their lies and nonsense loudly and proudly. The real sin in Turbine's eyes? Anyone that challenges the anti-LOTRO pseudo-rhetoric. By God, Country, Flag, Man and Woman Marriage, and fenced-in-borders, everyone has a right to their opinion on Turbine's forums*! (*Unless that opinion fairly calls into question any blatant falsehood in the LOTRO-critical pseudo-rhetoric.) As long as you are willing to go along with the sewage flow made by these Swiss-cheese-brained mud-hut dwellers (even if they directly personally challenge you), Turbine will grant you the esteemed privilege of wading through the intellectually-defunct, murky quagmire that their forums have become.

Dissent will not be tolerated, though! Big Brother Sapience in all of his Grande Asshole Latte fury will smack you upside the head with infractions in arbitrary increments if you speak up against the toxic intellectual waste flooding the roads in the forums. The common man is not to point out that getting dismounted from your horse on a critical hit is WAI! Knowledge available to everyone that reads release notes and developer diaries should not be presented to those too lazy or illiterate to look it up on their own. These witless buffoons have earned their right to wallow in their ignorance and blame Turbine for it, you fanboys shouldn't be bothering them with facts or reason. Why can't you leave these loud obnoxious liars in peace? Why must you continually disturb our mind-numbingly retarded Forum-Utopia with the most basic forms of logic and reason?

Well, guess what? I don't have any choice but to leave you all to it. The great thing is, I am the one that is better off for it. You forumites and Turbine forum officials can all get together, eat your animal shaped tater tots, then embark on the biggest drool-filled, LOTRO-hating, seething, fuming, stinking, virtual-cyber-circle jerk the universe has ever known. If anything remotely resembling a valid point turns up, it will be strictly by accident. This is the legacy Turbine has provided their players on their official forums for their game. Summarized, "Join the retard circle jerk or fuck off and die."

Monday, April 26, 2010

Movie review-Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call-New Orleans

I ain't gonna lie, my friends had to talk me off the ledge when I heard there was plans for another Bad Lieutenant movie. That school bus full of kids are grateful that the same friends manage to subdue me with ether when I found out Nic Cage got the lead. I was furious. To me, Harvey Keitel's Bad Lieutenant was untouchable...sacred...and now Wicker Man Nic Cage is going to walk in and period all over it???

Well, never in my life have I been more pleased to say how wrong I was. I had written Nic cage off and had viewed the studio's attempt at riding Keitel's coattails (see what I did there?) as a cheap, slimy trick to make a buck. Dear God, I was so wrong. I am so glad I shed my prejudice and watched this movie, it is amazing.

I give credit where credit is due, Nic Cage came out and fucked his performance into the skull of every viewer. Holy hot damn did that man put on a show! Even though I basically know dick about movies, my instinct says that Cage found himself a director that gets him, and vice versa.

Werner Herzog is a strange fucking dude. I can't rightly say if he is one of them whacked out geniuses or just whacked out, but the man encourages creativity in his movies, and it really shines in Bad Lieutenant. I personally feel this guy really challenged Cage on a level few have been able to reach him at in along time, and that is how we got the performance we did. Simply remarkable.

Also, looking back on the cast, it is simply chock full of ridiculous talent. Eva Mendes (who fucking did FANTASTIC), Val Kilmer, Brad Dourif, Fairuza Balk, just goes on and on. I mean, I guess it seemed to me that not only was it great that all of this talent was on board, but there were so many characters for the talent to fill out. I was never left wondering, "Who the fuck is this guy and why is he in the fucking movie?"

So, anyway, I could go on and on, but here is the summary of my position in this review:

  • I don't want to reveal anything plot-wise. The story is fucking great and deserves to be...experienced.
  • The acting and the characters are just...*mwa*, spot on.
  • The movie is inspired and creative and I love it.
In closing, I am proud to say I have my Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call-New Orleans DVD sitting proudly next to my old school Bad Lieutenant VHS tape (and now DVD...for longevity's sake). Two excellent, excellent movies with their own legacy.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

New Dream-Monty Benoit

So, in this dream, my wife and I were visiting friends out of town to attend a movie premiere for a new Monty Python movie. This movie had no title, but it was a collections of short comedy sketches. I can only remember two of the sketches, and will try to detail them the best I can:

Sketch 1-"Fishy, fishy, retard"-So, this was a redux of the classic "Fishy fishy" sketch, except it was a man trying to teach a retard the lines to the sketch and the retard kept saying "My tongue" instead of "fishy". Try to imagine this directed by Werner Herzog, and you will have it just about right. Also, there came a point in the sketch where the retard says something about "water", and then like a bunch of people in the audience get splashed with water.

Sketch 2-"The rent's due, mothafucka!"-A young lady can not afford her rent and goes to talk to her landlord, 3 middle aged women, about waiting to pay the rent. The older women decide she must work off her rent with lesbian sex. So, that's what they do, in graphic XXX cunnilinguity! The punchline to this skit? One of the older women kills another of the older women with a hammer at the end. WHA HA HAAA! Now that's funny!


After the movie, my wife and I retire to our luxury hotel suite that is, in reality, like a mansion. It turns out that we had each chosen separate bedrooms and were going to be sleeping apart. Well, after watching a 4 woman orgy at the cinema, I decided, "I don't care if she wants to or not, I am gonna go get me some pussy from my wife!" That's it, I had put my foot down!

I go up to her bedroom, and up and down the hall in all of the rooms she had set up close circuit television all playing the same violent pornography of a woman being abducted tied up and raped by two prison escapees. My wife then meets me, in the nude, in the hallway and says, "Pick the room you like, I will be right in. Start tying yourself to the bed."


So, as I start searching for the room, I get into this wandering labyrinth of hallways that eventually lead me to my hotel suite's private diner (yes, an entire diner for one couple). There are four employees, one cook and three waiters. The waiter that tried to seat me and take my order? Chris Benoit. He had grown out his hair and beard to look less conspicuous.

Monday, April 19, 2010

People NEED to Be Knowledgeable About Firearms

OK, this is a little different from what I usually post. You see, there was an article online about some dipshit kid that took a (thankfully unloaded) firearm to Iowa City High (my old stompin' grounds) last Friday, and I am just burned up mad like hell about it.

It's pretty hard to rile up my tidy whitey redneck righteous indignation, but kids doing stupid shit with guns is one really fucking fast and easy way to ENSURE to piss me off to high holy hell. Let me give you some background on my history with firearms:

I personally do not own any firearms of my own at this point. However, I am not opposed to the notion in the least. I grew up with firearms, my father owns several. My father taught my brother and myself extensively about guns and guns safety. In fact, we spent more time talking about guns and gun safety than we ever did actually shooting them.

My father made us demonstrate on any gun we were going to use how to load and unload it, how to tell when the chamber was clear, how to use the safety, how to clean the gun, etc. We had strict, ardent rules when in the presence of firearms. My father keeps his firearms securely locked up in a heavy metal cabinet with a 10-ton padlock. The ammunition is securely locked up separately in another cabinet.

So, even though I do not personally own a firearm now, I respect and understand them, and I know how to use a wide variety of firearms thanks to my father's instructions. You don't have to own a gun to "believe in" them. It wasn't until I was older that I realized how valuable the lessons about firearms he taught me were. He passed on to me the knowledge and wisdom of firearms...and they are not toys.

It's sounds so simple, but then I look at that article I mentioned earlier. That 15 year old kid more than likely took that gun from his dad. I just want to beat 'em both. Whether you agree with owning a firearm or not, and I respect the decision either way, I think it is fair to say that anyone that elects to own a firearm needs to damn well respect and understand firearms. Leaving a gun where a 15 year old has access is not understanding and respecting firearms.

Kid, you are damn fucking lucky you couldn't either get to or find the ammunition. You think you are in hot water now? Try 25-life.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

New Dream-Political Ejaculations

Well, the premise of this dream is rather simple...Hilary Clinton had me help her abduct Sarah Palin so we could have a nice, rapey threesome at a Motel 6. However, Hillary wouldn't let me stop until I had given them both cream pies.


Wednesday, March 31, 2010

New Dream-What Happens In Vegas

OK, for those of you familiar with my dream posts, you are aware that they normally have a penchant for randomness, bizarre, silly, and disturbing. Well, I think this brief dream story covers all these bases adequately:

I was gambling at a casino in Vegas dressed and made up as a clown. There came a point where I ran out of gambling money and started to explore the casino. I went through a service entrance the janitors used to find a small hallway with what appeared to be hotel doors. Behind each of them sounds of massive fucking echoed rather loudly. A casino employee saw me in the hallway and asked me to return to the casino proper.

It was after all of that that my cell phone rang, it was my father in law informing me he would be by shortly to pick me up at the pre-arranged location two blocks from the casino. After I left the casino to walk to the location, I had two separate incidences where people tried to rob me. The first was a drunk guy that pickpocketed me, but apologized and said he was only kidding. The second was a trio of thugs that tried to intimidate me into giving them my Diet 7Up. Needless to say, it is difficult to intimidate a guy in a clown costume, and they left.

As I watched the street waiting for my ride, I noticed a two large groups of people waiting for a bus. One group was average citizens, the other was a bunch of retards. Sure enough, I spotted my father-in-law's van shortly. In fact, it would have been difficult to miss. You see, it was covered in moss. Imagine a van made out of sod instead of steel, and you will get the picture.

So, there was only one last hurdle before I could go home safely and end the dream: I needed to get the clown makeup off. Unfortunately, the ONLY thing that could remove this particular type of clown makeup was vinegar. However, as luck would have it, the security guards in the parking ramp we pulled into had a small break room with a fridge that contained PICKLES! I was able to wash my face off with pickle juice. The end.

Monday, March 15, 2010

I write timely movie reviews-Transfarters

See what you have done, Michael Bay??? DAMN YOU!

Alternately, "More than skeets the brown-eye."

I know this movie came out last summer or something, but I could never bring myself to watch Transformers. I *KNEW* it was going to blow, and blow really fucking awful toothless truckstop hooker gumming a poopdick blow. I went in with such low expectations, I thought it mathematically impossible for it to undercut them.

It did.

Even if you aren't a kid that grew up with Transformers toys, cartoons, and comic books, this movie was still the steamiest pile of retarded-club-footed-drool-handy huevos rancheros loose-oily-stool imaginable. It was so fail that they even managed to make Megan Fox's fake tan...well, LOOK FAKE! (Yes, a fake fake-tan! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!)

This movie is living proof that Hollywood is so fucking stupid that it could fuck up a sunrise. I would try to say something coherent that would amount to a rational criticism of this movie, but I am having a hard time separating myself from the mind-rape of watching it in the first place!

Maybe the best thing I can do is my attempt at a plot it goes!

"OK, so there are these soldiers in a helicopter, and the leader sees his baby and wife through the internets and THEN LIKE A BIG THING ATTACKS and WOOOOOOOOOOSH ratatatatata OMFG IT LOOKED AT ME. So then this nerd in high school is trying to save up for a car but his dad buys him a POS from Bernie Mac then he gives this cute girl a ride and his parents thinks he is masturbating and the car is alive and they need nerdy kids grandpa's glasses so more robots come from outerspace and people on tv see them and these "secret government guys" find nerdy kid and they have what the robots need and an EVIL ROBOT and the robots fight AND ONE ROBOT PEES ON THE SECRET GOVERNMENT GUY!!! and the soldiers come to America and help megan Fox and nerdy kid fight the robots too and oh yeah the subplot of l33t hackers decoding shit so this hot chick can take it to a zany fat black guy and then the good guys win and nerdy kid gets Megan Fox and the soldier gets to see his baby the end."

So, yeah.

The only redeeming thing in the entire movie is the part where Devastator challenges Optimus Prime, and Prime basically does a Mortal Kombat fatality on his candy ass. That's it. If the entire movie was filled with that and skipped all the horse-shit, I would personally be in line to suck Michael Bay's dick clean. But, no, instead Michael Bay drove Huffer to this:

Look at it! LOOK AT IT! Huffer's gold spray-paint habit is on YOUR head, Michael Bay! YOU did this to him!!!

So, anyway, not only is the Transformers movie a fail, it sucks shit, too. If I hadn't been listening to the Rifftrax for it, I may have commit suicide trying to watch it.

I think I will have to go with the BONG!!!! rating for this:

BONG!!!! with four exclamation points: Only Gay Handicapable Jewish Romulan tahQeqs will be interested in seeing this foshak pile of a movie.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Lost an old friend today

So, there isn't much to this post. I found out today that an old friend died suddenly from a heart attack. He had a couple of boys, and it just sucks. He was only in his mid-forties, we have a nice weekend in Iowa after a long winter, he takes his boys (all of them avid deer hunters) to go shooting on a nice sunny day, then just falls dead. With no warning.

I just feel awful for them two teenage boys. They have to go the rest of their life without their dad, and they were close. It's really sad and I don't like it.

Thursday, March 4, 2010


This is the introductory post of a new theme in my blog named simply, "OWNAGE". It is primarily a gamer term, but sometimes in life there is REAL ownage.

Now, to be mentioned here the ownage must meet the highest standard! Therefore, it must be ownage on par of GANDALF SOLOING THE BALROG IN THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. That's right, to get mentioned here, you have to own so bad that even Gandalf wouldn't even play the 'Rog card on ya.

However, it is time to move on to the ownage that inspired this post! QAPLAH!


Jordan Verner posted youtube videos of himself playing “The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time”, asking for help to beat the whole game. Roy Williams and three other Zelda fans granted his wish, spending two years assembling a written script of moves. Jordan’s computer read the script aloud while he played.

An average gamer will take about a week to play through the entire thing, but this project took almost 2 years and more than 100,000 keystrokes. Finally, Jordan beat the entire thing. “I felt great,” said Jordan. “I felt strong. I felt like the sky’s the limit. Our school’s motto — and I live by it — is the impossible is only the untried,” said Jordan.

HOLY FUCKING HELL YES! This. FTW. Not only is Jordan like Gandalf, but Roy and his buddies are like little Cirdan's giving Gandalf the magic ring to help whoop the 'Rog! This is so full of win and ownage that I might have to start playing World of Warcraft to balance out the FAIL/WIN ration in the universe. (NOT!)

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Your feeling of entitlement to your opinion makes the universe worse

There is no better way to discover the human personification of an intellectual void than when you are discussing with a person that uses, "I have a right to my opinion!" as a rebuttal. It is the age old mating call of the intellectually bankrupt and defeated. When the Opinion Entitled states this to you, feel free to disregard everything they say subsequently (and most of what was said prior) because they don't know what the fuck they are talking about and are completely ignorant of most or all relevant facts in the given topic.

When are you likely to see the "I have a right to my opinion!" defense? Well, they often spring up shortly after a baseless assertion, or any other garden variety logical fallacies. However, baseless assertion is one of the calling cards of the Opinion Entitled. A solid foundation in misunderstanding or complete ignorance of the facts is crucial to the feeling of entitlement the Opinion Entitled receives. In fact, the LESS they know about a subject, the MORE sure they are of their opinion on it!

Some may be wondering, what is an opinion, anyway? Let's see what popular reference sources cite:

Wikipedia states:

An opinion is a subjective statement or thought about an issue or topic, and is the result of emotion or interpretation of facts. An opinion may be supported by an argument, although people may draw opposing opinions from the same set of facts. Opinions rarely change without new arguments being presented. However, it can be reasoned that one opinion is better supported by the facts than another by analysing the supporting arguments. states:

1. a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty.
2. a personal view, attitude, or appraisal.

Now, you may have noticed I bolded a couple of core concepts to opinions, particularly as it regards to facts and certainty. Too often have I seen an Opinion Entitled speak with a high level of certainty in their opinion, yet had little in the way of facts to substantiate it.

"Opinions don't really have to be rational, they are opinions and do not have to be substantiated by evidence. To try and do so is a waste of time."

That is a real quote from a real Opinion Entitled. This also illustrates the crux of the problem with Opinion Entitleds, they not only want the right to their opinion but feel absolutely no obligation whatsoever to ensure the opinion is reasoned, valid, balanced, rational, or substantiated in the least. Thus, Opinion Entitleds are self-pigeonholed into the intellectually defunct.

Now, up until this point, my post has been cheerfully condescending and the insults backhanded. However, this is my blog and I do shit my way here. So, strap yourself in and keep your arms inside the car at all times.

Fuck you morons and your less than half baked opinions. you can feel entitled to it all you want, but it doesn't mean that I, or anyone else, has to accept or respect your stupid bullshit thoughts. I fucking think shit all the time, but I don't go on public forums and declare the background static of my mind with a high degree of certainty! You see, rational thinking people have this odd habit of verifying their thinking before opening their stupid fucking mouths. I'm not any smarter than most people, however, the one thing I *CAN* do is minimize the retarded bullshit that leaves my fucking lips!!!

The best thing about all of this is, the joke is on you, Opinion Entitleds! No matter how much you cry, whine, or call foul, you are still just a fucking idiot with a less than half-formed shitty opinion. Anyone worth their assless intellectual chaps knows you are a fraud and your "opinion" carries absolutely no significant intellectual weight, it is beyond insignificant.

In closing, I am going to paraphrase uber blogger, The Uff, and simply say, "Shove your opinion up your peehole with a blasting cap and hit your dick with a hammer."

Jingle Hunchback

In my daily routine, my day starts out with the alarm clock going off. I allow myself 15 minutes after awakening to simply sit upright in the bed and really let myself "wake up" before I start getting ready for the day.

Often, this time is marked with interacting with one or more of my three cats or sitting and quietly thinking. However, this day my mind created a song that I felt the need to sing aloud (to the tune of Jingle Bells):

Digging for a corpse
in an unmarked, open grave

stealing body parts
laughing all the way (ah ha ha!)

(skips to chorus)


Igor's on the way!

Obviously it is unfinished, but this is a good example of the types of things my mind spontaneously generates. I imagine it is the song Igor sings whilst...collecting.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

New Dream-Mad Props from TRON GUY!

OK, I remember two things about this dream, jack and shit. However, my recollection goes as follows:

I am at a sci-fi con and Tron guy shows up. He is rushed by the fanboys. People keep asking for pictures, but he says he doesn't like to.

Later, I bump into by accident when no one is around. I say something like, "Hey, sucks you have to get rid of your cool Tron-plane." Then Tron-guy is all like, "Thanks man, you are the first one ever to respect the Tron-plane, so I respect you. Wanna take a picture?"

Then we spilled the blue paint. :(

Monday, February 15, 2010

Rob Zombie is awesome, fun, weird, and terrific

For those that don't know me, Rob Zombie is the only contemporary performance artist that I feel compelled to throw my money at like the bills are burning my hand. I don't really pretend to know a lot about music or movies, but I know what I like and Rob Zombie makes what I like.

I was thinking about reviewing RZ's (Rob Zombie and the Spiders From Mars? Get your band a fucking name already!) new album, "Hellbilly Deluxe 2", but it really would have just been a major wank fest and me sucking off how great I thought everything was (which it is, but that is beyond the point).

Instead, I am going to try to describe how I kind of resonate with the vibe Zombie puts out. Funny enough, nothing can really describe it better than a drawing I did as a child (if I can find it again, I will scan it, until then, here is a reproduction):

Yes, that was my alien creation, "W.I.T.". As you can see, his name was an acronym for "Weird Is Terrific", and it is to that end that I feel Rob Zombie, and his various productions, reach me. In short, he isn't afraid of making weird seem terrific, which it is.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Banned Books Fail

What the hell do you want me to fucking say? The cartoon pretty much says it all. Some halfwit fucktard mother from Menifee, California petitioned to her school to have the DICTIONARY banned because it defined "oral sex".

They obliged her.

A real school in reality in 2010 BANNED the dictionary. Like, for real. I am so angry I can barely fucking type.

Friday, January 22, 2010

New Dream-Romulan Torture

This dream takes place during "The Next Generation" timeline, and I was an unidentified captive of the Romulans, and being held prisoner by them in this massive concentration camp. All of the other prisoners were various Starfleet officers, and I was often with Worf and his son Alexander (a Starfleet ensign in my dream).

Apparently, the idea was that the Romulans were keeping this concentration camp and trying to add as many prisoners to it as they could. A large contingent of the force posted there would often leave the prison planet to go on a raiding mission to abduct more Starfleet personnel.

It was after one of these raids that the Romulans returned with Captain Picard. This was incredibly demoralizing to the prisoners, Picard was a big hero and supposed to be unobtainable by the Romulans. It was a dark moment when he arrived in camp, and made many despair.

As captives of the Romulans, all of us wore these bracelets that worked as like electromagnetic handcuffs. The Romulans could use a small hand-held device to control the placement of our hands (like putting them behind our back like regular handcuffs). A daily routine at the camp was that all of the prisoners would line up in ranks, and Romulan guards would go around and whip various prisoners at their discretion. They would use the electro-cuffs to put our hands over our heads and whips our backs ruthlessly. Everyone in the camp had marked and bloody backs through torn shirts.

One morning, we lined up. I was with Worf, Picard, and Alexander. The Romulans came out and declared that any of the prisoners that begged for mercy would be spared and could see a doctor. Alexander wavered and said to Worf, "Father, I am not brave enough to do this...I want to ask for mercy!"

Worf yelled back, "No, you must not! It will show the Romulans that they have defeated you! You will lose your honour!"

During the yelling, a Romulan walks over to Alexander and says, "Do you want mercy now, young one? Look, there goes two more ships, we are sending our largest contingents ever out to get more prisoners. It is hopeless now. If you get mercy now and...cooperate...with us, you can be the first to demonstrate to the prisoners the benefits of...cooperation."

Worf becomes enraged and charges the Romulan, and gets stunned with phaser. Alexander wavers more and is about to ask for mercy when Picard steps between Alexander and the Romulan, infuriating the Romulan. Picard speaks, and somehow his charisma lifts the spirits of all the Starfleet prisoners and emboldens Alexander, "Do not bow to their wishes, ensign. They are cowards and can only hurt your body. However, your freedom of spirit and loayalty to the Federation cannot be so easily tarnished by these HaDiBahs!" (Yes, Picard uses a Klingon slur to anger the Romulans! BOOSH!)

At this, the Romulan and two other of the guards start mercilessly beating Picard with the whips. Picard seemingly goes into a trance, and makes no sounds, but the beating is so severe that it will surely kill him. The prisoners start to stir, some start shouting out for the beating to stop, they are whipped. More prisoners become angry. I become angry. I look around, the Romulans seem so few with their forces away, and the prisoners seem so many.

I lash out at the nearest Romulan and sink my teeth into his throat, ripping it out. With green blood trickling from my mouth, I let out a primal scream. I start yelling at the prisoners, "NOW, ATTACK THEM! BITE THEM, KICK THEM! WE DO NOT NEED OUR HANDS TO KILL!!!"

As if a bomb had been set off, the camp explodes into chaos. Everywhere Starfleet officers are kicking at the legs of Romulans to knock them down, then curb-stomping their heads. Phaser and disruptor fire starts coming in from other guards, but they are quickly swarmed under attack by prisoners.

Alexander rushes to Worf to rouse him. Soon they are fighting together, killing many Romulans. When one of the Romulans fall, Alexander notices that the felled guard has the master device for the electro-cuffs. Alexander quickly falls backwards on the bloodied Romulan to procure it. "Father, which button to deactivate?" Worf quickly instructs him, and soon the entire camp goes quiet save for the chandelier-like clinking of hundreds of pairs of electro-cuffs falling to the ground.

The ensuing violence dwarves the initial outburst. With their hands freed, the prisoners start rending the Romulans mercilessly. No one picks up the fallen weapons, it was a frenzy of brute force and bloodied hands.

At this point, I run to Picard who is badly injured. I pull off my shirt and tear it to try to bandage some of the more severe wounds. He instructs me, "Notify Worf, we need to get to the hangar and commandeer their flagship before it is too late!"

I scream to Worf, who is still fighting valiantly with his son. When they see Picard and I, they both run over. We help Picard up and make for the hangar. Many of the prisoners see us and rally around us. As we get to the hangar, the prisoners just fucking Zerg the last of the Romulans trying to flee on the last ship left on the planet.

Now, unfortunately, this is where the dream ends. However, I like to imagine that we take their ship, find the two raiding ships and blow them out of the sky, and then go fuck all of their mothers.

Monday, January 18, 2010

My 129th post!

Being the avid Punisher fan and the semi-retired comic collector I am, I would be remiss not to have Amazing Spider Man #129 (the first appearance of The Punisher) up on my blog for my 129th post. QAPLAH!

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Little hope in my vote

Nobody fucking dislikes Republicans and their filthy tactics more than I do. I wouldn't have pissed on Dick Cheney if he was on fire, and G-Dub was a fucking moron extraordinaire. Those two and their good ol' boy system fucked this country for eight fucking years, and what are we left with now?

More of the same.

I didn't have a lot of hope going into the 2008 election. I didn't buy into the Obama cult of personality. All I knew was that we sure as hell couldn't let two retards fucking worse than Bush and Cheney (McCain* and Palin) further plunge the country into the Republican agenda. My only real hope was that it wouldn't get worse.

Technically, it hasn't got WORSE, but it is still business as usual up on Capitol Hill. The most telling sign that we were no better off (internally politically speaking) was when I was listening to NPR this morning, and President Obama was addressing AIRPORT SECURITY and HEIGHTENED MEASURES. He sounded just like that fucking dingbat Bush and I felt like I had taken a timewarp back 3-4 years. It was fucking bullshit.

Airport security indeed. Any president with a fucking spine would have publicly laughed out loud at the latest "Christmas Day Attack", and called that fucking loser with explosive underwear a massive failure. What are we doing instead? Talking about installing X-Ray machines in fucking airports, getting dogs for the guards, etc.

The thing that draws my ire the most about the "Christmas Attacker" was that he was a passenger that should have been eliminated by routine, rudimentary flying procedure. He boarded an international flight without a passport. Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. (There has been question drawn to this issue, but then there is also this.) Yet, while this fucking asshole got on an international flight without a passport, at home we are patting down and aggressively frisking 8 year old Cub Scouts trying to board a plane to go on vacation.

(Behold the face of terrorism in America.)

President Obama, this is not what I fucking signed up for with my vote for you. You have been an abysmal, spineless disappointment. You have about much Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi in you as I have patience and tolerance for you fucks on Capitol Hill. Remember when you were doing shit like closing Gitmo and generally trying save America's face internationally? Take that spark and work on us at home now! Quit trying to make the universally appealing choices and start making the hard decisions.

I would rather die from a bomb on a plane in a free country than arrive safely in fucking Oceania. We Americans are better and braver than this. Obama, Americans, I am disappoint.

*I just wanted to point out that I, by no means, think McCain is anywhere near as stupid as that crazy fucking retard fundy ubercunt Palin. In fact, I used to moderately respect him, even though he was a Retardlican. However, that little fucker sold out big time to try to get that oval Office Prize, and it was disgusting to watch.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

I imagine things

I was thinking the other day that the only way Star Wars could have been cooler is if Luke and Leia had unwittingly hooked up and had some sort of inbred super mutant retard Jedi baby! He could grow up to use the Force to feed himself tater tots and Spaghettios and club the Dark Side to death with jedi-enhanced retard strength! HUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!


Friday, January 8, 2010

New Dream-Osama Zigzag Laden

OK, I have no fucking idea how I forgot about this until this late in the day, but the short version of a long story is I dreamed I was watching a soccer game in a press box with Osama bin Laden and he pulled out this gigantic black garbage bag filled with marijuana and we fucking got high off this killer mid-east hookah. The crowning achievement of the dream had to be the part where Osama decides we aren't getting high fast enough, wraps up some humongous dried out marijuana plants in like these oversized green zig-zags, then throws them in the furnace like logs on a fire. Next thing I know, the heater vents are blasting us with fucking chronic smoke! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY MIND????

Clothing chain draws Klingon ire

OK, so this clothing retailer I have never heard of (H&M) somehow managed to piss me off by being big time yeast infection douche-queefs. See that picture there? That lady found gigantic garbage bags behind the H&M stuffed with unsold clothing (that apparently contained a lot of Wal Mart apparel, too). The killer? H&M had slashed the shit out of the clothes so they would be unwearable!

Let's put this into perspective, they have a bunch of unsold clothing merchandise after the holiday in an economy that is downturned and instead of donating the clothing and jackets to charity they decide to throw out the clothes, but not only that, have employees take the time to shred these clothes so they will be unwearable.

*slow clap*

My blood is so hot right now that my eyeballs are boiling in place.

If that isn't enough to make you want to nuke all of their stores and abduct their management and administrators, drive them out to an abandoned warehouse, and individually lance each of them in their cold, little black hearts with a gigantic frozen urine javelin, look at this:


That's right. It's fucking skirts for men. H&M has skirts for men. LOOK AT IT!

We need to do more than boycott H&M, we need to eradicate it from the human genome.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Hawkeyes OWN 2010 Orange Bowl

(This poor fucker is gonna see the number 94 in his nightmares.)

Simply put, the Hawkeyes fucking manhandled and shitstormed Georgia Tech in the 2010 Orange Bowl, beating them 24-14 (a score that doesn't even come close to telling how lopsided the victory was).

The Iowa D held the highly touted "triple option" offense of Tech (averaging about 340 yds per game) to a miserly 155 yds (coming mostly on their sole scoring drive). Adrian Clayborn wrapped up 9 tackles and 2 sacks, Pat Angerer had a dozen or so tackles, and AJ Edds got himself an INT. The defense held Tech's Nesbitt to 2 of 9 passing for 12 yards and a pick.

What the fuck.

Ricky Stanzi manned the helm on offense again as "Joe Cool", quietly running the offense sharp and precise, and amassing 231 yds and 2 tds on 17/29 passing. It was great having him back.

The receivers all stepped up and keep the chains moving (and the points scoring), Marvin McNutt put an early fumble behind him to score a 1st quarter touchdown. Sandeman and the injured Stross both hauled in key third down receptions, with Sandeman getting a score, and DJK was able to catch a few chain-moving beauties before his ill-timed knee injury (get well soon!). However, the most dazzling pass play had to be the TE Moeaki catching a ball in open space then got a couple blockers in front of him and BLAZED the Tech defense for 54 yds.

Once Iowa had the lead, it was Kirk-ball at it's finest. Play defense, run the ball, and move the sticks. Nobody ran the ball better that night than Iowa's own "White Lightning" Brandon Wegher. He and Adam Robinson combined for 30 carries and 172 yds. No carry was more pivotal than late in the fourth quarter with the clock running and the Hawkeyes holding on to a slim 3 point lead, when the O-line just mauled Tech's defensive front and allowed White Lightning to scamper 32 yds for a "nail in the coffin" score.

As a fan watching this game, the types of images I will associate to the game will be of my Hawkeyes playing disciplined, guys like Clayborn and Angerer in Tech's backfield knocking guys around, Joe Cool Stanzi playing the game, and Kirk-ball winning the day. This was sweet, sweet victory for the Hawkeyes and the fans.