“when someone calls America arrogant, I have a hard time disagreeing… I can’t think of a single time I’ve heard an American deny that charge. We usually just change the subject and point out that the complainer’s country is a loser-infested turdball.”
“Dissent and disagreement with government is the life-blood of human freedom, and not merely because it is the first road-block against the kind of tyranny the men Mr. Rumsfield likes to think of as “his troops” still fight, this very evening, in Iraq.”
“IKEA’s latest catalogue has raised eyebrows around the world because a pet dog which features on the inside cover appears to have a human-sized penis.” I tagged this for the idiotic, punny headline. Who wrote that crap? Jano Gibson should be shot.
No bloggery tonight. I’m way too tired. Link dump will post tomorrow at the usual blog-time, and hopefully by then I’ll be an energetic and productive blogger.
I try my best to keep celebrity gossip off of this page. Unless, that is, you act like people that I grew up with, and then you end up making page one.
I absolutely hate celebrities, i.e., people famous for nothing more than being famous. We all know their names, even though we wish we didn’t. They enthrall us mere mortals with their drunken escapades and their lurid sexual adventures, and like the worshipers of pagan religions we send them our money and adoration as sacrifices. They flaunt their wealth and privileged lives right in front of us, mocking us, and we cannot get enough.
You know what my favorite celebrity gossip is? That’s right. Bad celebrity gossip. I love it when something bad happens to one of the Olympians, the facade breaks, they fall from the mountain smack onto their face, and everyone realizes they’re just as rotten and messed up as the rest of us. I giggled like a schoolgirl when Mel ranted in a drunken fervor about the Jews; I clapped my hands in glee when Tom started bitching at Matt Laurer about psychiatry; and with each successive picture of Nicole I enjoy her anorexia more and more. I quote George Carlin when I say, “Rich cunt don’t wanna eat? …fuck her.”
Here’s my current favorite group of “celebrity” pictures. They’re of Christina Aguilera in what I can only assume is a Halloween costume of some sort. While you’re enjoying the ridiculousness of her outfit, I’d like to draw your attention to the comically disproportionate sizes of her breasts (it’s easier to see them in the pics at the bottom of the page) If she worked as a shot girl in a skeevy college bar I’d say that she lacked the funds to get two implants, so she bought one boobie with tip money and is waiting on her welfare check to get the other one out of lay-away. But she’s not poor, and presumably she has a mirror, so I can’t imagine a situation wherein she requested misshapen knockers. Plus, don’t you think she looks more than a little like Alex de Large? Here…compare the two:
See. She looks just like him. She also seems to be applying make-up in the same manner as de Large:
Whew. Scary. Maybe she’ll get arrested for beating a bum to death with a billy club. One can only dream…
Oooooo! I’m quivering with excitement. I do hope the power turns out to be exciting, like flight, or telekinesis, or the ability to mindfuck millions of people into believing your crappy sci-fi fiction is reality.
“An engineer who worked at Lockheed Martin on a multi-billion dollar contract job with the US Coast Guard, is using YouTube to describe security flaws, after his complaints to his managers, congressmen, and government investigators were ignored.”
I don’t know if you saw this today, but John Mark Karr will not be prosecuted in the death of Jon Benet Ramsey.
Oh, how sad. I so did not see this coming. I guess the moral of this story is that if you find yourself penniless in Thailand after paying loads of cash to sexually molest young girls, you can still find a comfortable way back home, regardless of your depleted finances. Simply phone up the DA in Colorado and confess to the Ramsey killing. She’ll send Homeland Security to escort you home in style. Shit, they’ll even serve you champagne and king-sized prawns.
I’m sure the media outlets are disappointed by this turn of events. Just think, had Karr actually been guilty, and not just bat-shit insane, they would have had weeks of story material that neither required them to think nor investigate. Now they have to go back to parroting sound bytes supplied to them by the GOP and the DNC.
On Saturday night Leigh and I went to a big old rock and roll show. We saw Shinedown, Rob Zombie, and Godsmack at the Verizon Wireless theater here in San Antonio.
We enjoyed Shinedown and Godsmack, but Rob Zombie was the unequivocal star of the show. Rob came out with his excellent dread-lock hair-do, giant robots, flumes of fire, and gyrating dancers, and proceeded to rip up the stage for over an hour. During his performance a giant screen projected scenes from classic horror movies like Dracula, Frankenstein, Creature from the Black Lagoon, and even a couple from “The Munsters.” It was truly a modern day phantasmagoria, and we loved every minute of it. Here’s a short video from the concert. The audio was so damn loud that it overwhelmed the mic on our little camera, so turn down your volume.
Although, I did get distracted from the stage show periodically, because the overwhelming number of people that don’t know how to form a correct rock and roll sign irritated the hell out of me. Waaaay too many people were doing this:
That’s ASL for “love” and that is definitely not rock and roll.The correct sign would be this:
Begin with the “I love you” sign, but then tuck that thumb back and you end up with the sign of the devil. If you find yourself at a big old rock and roll show feel free to flash the sign whenever possible, as it is the de rigeur handsign at rock concerts.
Lookin’ for a little chuckle on this hot Sunday afternoon? Do this:
Go to Best Buy.com and type “cybershot 7.2” into the search box. For some funny reason the page comes back and asks “Did you mean cybershit?” This just appeared on several popular sites, and I’m sure the Best Buy site is getting slammed right now. Here’s a screenshot in case all the searches for “cybershot” make the web admins a little curious and end our fun. Click for full-sized goodness:
I guess Best Buy is interjecting a little truth into their advertising.
People have asked me how my first week at school went, and I have to say, I had a lot of fun. I did feel quite apprehensive before my first class, but I think that in some ways every teacher, no matter how seasoned, must feel at least a little bit of apprehension before beginning a new class. You just never know what kind of group you’re going to be dealing with. Will they be dismissive, responsive, or worst yet combative? You just never know. As I waited nervously for my first class to begin, in my heart I felt like a little kid entering school for the first time, instead of a well-educated writing instructor. In fact, I think Billy can probably better explain how I felt:
The fact that I was going to be in charge of the class did nothing to ease my anxiety, and in fact my being in charge may have heightened it. But I made it through, and now I’ve realized something that I was ignorant of having never taught before: Standing and talking in front of students tires you right the hell out. Bring a Red Bull or some crystal meth, because you’re gonna need it.
This afternoon I was talking with a friend and fellow teacher, and we were both amazed by the varying dynamics of different classes. As I’ve already stated, it takes a lot out of you to stand and lecture for an hour at a time, but in some classes the enthusiasm of the students fuels you on lessening the fatigue. As a teacher you feed off of their interest and excitement, and they off of yours. I walked out of several classes just like this:
Unfortunately, some classes are just the opposite. Their lack of interest and refusal to participate sucks the life and energy right out of you. My friend likened the students in those classes to succubi and incubi, and I have to agree. In one of my classes I fight and fight to get someone, anyone, to answer simple questions. Their lethargy and lack of interest forces me to ramp up my energy, and by the end of that class I’m emotionally drained.
Anyway, you all know I like to talk out of my ass, so teaching and I go together like peas and carrots.
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You know what my favorite celebrity gossip is? That’s right. Bad celebrity gossip. I love it when something bad happens to one of the Olympians, the facade breaks, they fall from the mountain smack onto their face, and everyone realizes they’re just as rotten and messed up as the rest of us. I giggled like a schoolgirl when Mel ranted in a drunken fervor about the Jews; I clapped my hands in glee when Tom started bitching at Matt Laurer about psychiatry; and with each successive picture of Nicole I enjoy her anorexia more and more. I quote George Carlin when I say, “Rich cunt don’t wanna eat? …fuck her.”
Oh, how sad. I so did not see this coming. I guess the moral of this story is that if you find yourself penniless in Thailand after paying loads of cash to sexually molest young girls, you can still find a comfortable way back home, regardless of your depleted finances. Simply phone up the DA in Colorado and confess to the Ramsey killing. She’ll send Homeland Security to escort you home in style. Shit, 
