"We desperately need help burying our dead"

-quote of the year, made by the police chief of some village off the Indian Ocean.

Dead on the inside, Sexy on the outside.

Even though i'm pretty sure there's no point, i feel like i have to mention how the quake/tsunami in the Indian Ocean caused about 30 times as many deaths as Sept 11th... with some predicting it to go as high as like 50 times (some 150,000 dead folks). Yet, i don't feel 30 times as much emotion. In fact, i feel the same numbness; second-hand, removed feeling of watching a very graphic made-for-TV-movie i felt three years ago that early afternoon in college. ( i slept in, had no early classes that day).

So what was different about Sept 11th? For me, i think it was having to experience the effect that Sept 11th had on the people around me, making it 100% more "real." Kind of like having "second-hand emotions." Yet, with this newest event, i have a more intense "why do you feel nothingness?" complex going on. In fact, i'm pretty sure i am indeed dead on the inside.

I'm sure we could start a whole thing about how people are desensitized in one way or another... whatever. the point is that my whole "not feeling ways about stuff" makes me sad.

But therefor, the whole thing is kinda, like, resolved. It's like the proverbial little kid who gets grounded for say punching the cat in the head; everyone knows he's not sorry for what he did, but he's sorry as shit he's grounded, and the fact that he's sorry is all that matters. So the Catholics should be happy with me now.

Does this mean GWB will be sending troop to the Indian Ocean region? (i'm sorry, i couldn't help myself. At least i know i can still feel hate. For the Bush family.)

so this is christmas

and what have we done?


copy right infringement for all

to next year: we'll teach those with wings a thing or two.

dog save festivus

the tradition of Festivus was saved today in Florida

amen

but that's not nearly as important as what we can learn from this article. Especially all you men out there... read those last two paragraphs and save your essence.

that is all.



click for more fun

soggy jeans

i received a phone call this morning at 7:30 from my roommate Rob, informing me that there was a snow emergency where we live and my work truck had to be removed from the street, or heavy ticketing would occur. Keep in mind, I have the day off today. looking out my window, i realized the "snow-death '04" (tonight at 11, only on channel 4, what are local residents doing to deal with white death '04?) had swept over us. Now our driveway is quite narrow and lives precariously close to our house and our neighbor's fence. The work truck, on the other hand, is quite house-like itself, as it is a full size chevy van with no windows and several large objects strapped to the roof. Anyone who drives a behemoth like this knows that you have to back into tight spots or escape will be impossible, especially if the drug enforcement squad is firing rubber bullets at your face and you need to make haste. Add to this size indifference the fact that there's enough snow on the ground to make navigating the rear-wheel drive beast equivalent to driving while heavily intoxicated, and then you've got yourself a good time. Well, to make an exceedingly long story that really has no point, somewhat shorter, i did eventually maneuver the van into the backyard, where it will sit for the rest of the week. (with the whole large van, small driveway thing going on, i kept thinking of different "that's what she said" scenarios in my mind. i couldn't help it. it was very sad.) I also realized that for the first time this season, i had to peel off a soggy, cold, nasty pair of jeans with snow stuck to them and at that moment i had a tidal wave of memories from Houghton wash over me.

A Festivus for the rest of us!

Rejoice young squirrels and put down those nuts, for the mighty winds of Festivus are blowing are way! Is your Aluminum pole ready? (Are elements supposed to be capitalized? probably not, but i think they should be because they are THE WHIP- especially Aluminum and Zinc)

we will begin with the airing of the grievances!

Now that the republicans have soundly won the election, they can drop political f-bombs all over their home boy Donald Rumsfeld with out endangering the grand old party. Yes, turns out even republicans think Rummy's a dick. i have a little song to help us get past these little hang-ups and keep us in the festivus mood:

Bombs are flying
People are dying
Children are crying
Politicians are lying too.

Cancer is killing
Texaco's spilling
The whole world's gone to hell
But how are you?

I'm super
Thanks for asking
All things considered
I couldn't be better I must say

I'm feeling super
No, nothing bugs me
Everything is super when you're
Don't you think I look cute in this hat

I'm so sorry
Mr. Cripple
But I just can't feel too bad for you right now.
Because I'm feeling
So insanely super
That even the fact that you can't walk
Can't bring me down


Now, the feats of strength:


Thank you Dilbert and please don't sue me :-D

I guess that's all for now. Please comment below. if no one comments, then everything i do here is just an electronic form of mental masturbation, which tho intriguing to an electrical engineer (see above) is still pretty lonely. If things keep going like this, i'm gonna need to invest in this bad bitch.

that you saucer-crab?

what do Eric Estrada, Knife fights and God all have in common?

this clip right here, mutha-fucker!

Q: Why did Ron Artest leave the game early?

A: He wanted to beat the crowd.

born free, haven't been back since

as i was piloting my work van through the barren wast land that is south-central michigan, i began to notice a LOT of signs for "the cracker barrel" restaurant. So i started to think... and i started to wonder... do you think black people look at signs for the cracker barrel the same way white people would look at a restaurant named "the nigger box?"

on a side note, i think i'm going to start referring to any gathering of snooty old/rich white people as "a cracker barrel." basically, the type of people this page was made to spoof.

then again, this whole episode could be brought on by my recent consumption of homemade booze-nog... man that stuff will MESS you up.

haven a nice day

blind man here

[ahem]

so the new nun recruits are sitting around the rectory (rectory... this is funny already) and they're all pretty darn good looking and it's hotter than the hinges of hell. so being young and fairy free spirited, as they were, they decide to strip down naked and cool off a bit.

as soon as they do, there comes a knock at the door, followed by the proclamation, "blind man. Blind man here"

so the nuns, realizing that the guy was blind and obviously needed some sort of attention ran to door and opened it wide.

the man responded "Hey, nice knockers. Where you want me to hang these blinds?"



alright, if that didn't get you, this sure as shit will:

twelve raw eggs?

me news:
I logged all my working hours at Detroit's Western High School yesterday, in the heart of Mexican Town! Let me recap what i gathered from the very informative bulletin board: Western High school was built 1893ish and spend the first forty-odd years of existence in a mediocre state of "meh." In 1930-something a angry and vengeful fire gutted the brick structure, leaving a very well-meaning, but wholly useless shell. After it was rebuilt, the city decided to mandate the best of the best of the day's fire detection and prevention technology. Fast forward 60 years and several patch-job upgrades of an antiquated fire alarm system and you'll find me, ass-deep in shorted wires and broken conduit. My job, without objection, is to render the Western High School Fire Alarm in working order. This is the approximate equivalent of an aircraft mechanich standing over the smoldering wreckage of jet liner, trying to figure out how he's going to fix that darned landing gear. Oh, and the crash site is in the middle of downtown Detroit and people keep trying to steal his tools. Possibly to use as weapons against said mechanic.

release.

In other news:
This guy is crazy in a "fun to stand back and watch the madness" kinda way. it's just good, readin, dammit. I got the address when he linked to my blog somehow. (still haven't figured that one out) In case you didn't know, through the magic of magic, i track all addresses that access this site. That means i see you rockwellcollins.com and you too ameritech.net.

Even better is this shit right here. I challenge you to try to stop reading once you start.

And finally,
I will soon start construction of homemade egg nog (errr... booze nog, as the recipe says). It's a fine little concoction, given to me by rob, stolen from Lee, decoded from the writings of Kant, brought down the mountain by Pikachu. Amen.

write if you want a copy.

MOVIE TIME!!!

check out these bad-ass web flicks:

This is probably my favorite. Some dude mixed a smooth techno beat over top of a controlled plane crash. Those crazy Nasa folks.

Ever seen a real transformer that dances? Well you have now. (Again, love that soundtrack... "tack, tack, tack, ti, bow-ba-bow, bow!!") Im gonna get me one of them there.

Finally, Here's a little movie trailer for you Watching it should be safe, but i'm fairly certain that the movie itself will induce insanity in the weaker minded. (Johnny depp, you are officially creepy, and i respect you for it)

that's an organ, not a muscle

personal news:

I've been working the afternoon shift this week, affording me the time to do some X-mas shopping, get my eyes checked order some new glasses and run various other errands. (there are no comical, sarcastic or ironical statements in that last sentence, so stop looking). I still hate my job, but realized it's been so long since i thunked engineering thoughts, i doubt i could even do it any more. On a side note, I've essentially mastered the skill of being a fire alarm technician in a little under a year and could be state certified by January. This is something that folks spend years trying to (and often failing to) achieve, often apprenticing several years before starting in at the testing process. I'm like "test taking skillz, Be-yatch. learn 'em" So in essence, in the past 11 months, I kinda like learned a career skill because i had nothing better to do, and am now ready to walk away from it. I'm like "The Pretender"- but much sadder. It's all a very ego boosting and yet simultaneously depressing experience.

other news:

"Cowboys from Hell, "Cemetery Gate" and "Hell Bound" are just some of the song titles that become Ironic after some loony caps your ass in front of a live audience. Recognize.

Also, apparently Kid Rock likes to crash frat parties at U of M these days. Check out http://whatevs.org/ for all the playa-hater news.

Finally, thanks to my housemate Rob, I would like you all to enjoy this little movie from our pasts. Atari for life, HOLLA!

note: News items were not sniffed out by your loving author, but were instead fingered from other blogs that he visits. He assures us this pleases the blog gods very much, even more so than a bi-daily update cycle or a fatty tattoo of a big titty naked chick riding a snake.

I don't have morals but i have standards

The morning after

we went to the bar last night. I don't remember many of the details, but here's what i do know: I'm hung over, I'm missing 50 bucks and I have two temporary tattoos on my arms. i remember smoking at least 4 or 5 cigarettes, which is about 3 more than i've smoked in all my time leading up to this point. based on how my head/stomach feels, i must have been doing shots of spoiled milk and then smashing the glass with my skull. I'm not really sure what prompted such an assault on my body, but i think it was because chris and i couldn't find any friends to drink with so we got stupid out of spite.

the phrase of the night, uttered by the drunk stranger next to me: "I don't have morals but i have standards"

it's been about 6 months since i was that drunk and i hope it'll be much longer before i visit that world again. But on the plus side, i do now have a blinking miller light pin that i stole from a waitress who was hot from far away but cracked and haggard up close.

the thinks you can think

Posting has been pretty light lately. I blame myself.

Did anyone out there know that lead singer of Korn has a tattoo on his arm of a priest performing an abortion on a nun? That's pretty hardcore.

Due to lack of material, I'm posting a little photo story i put together a few months back detailing when we played beer-can baseball last fourth of July. I think it's pretty neat. Maybe next time you can come play too.

Dates of interest:
Dec 18: Rob Visits
Dec 25: Observe the birth of Santa Clause
Dec 31: We sack the town of Madison

on with the show...

The Idea

This photo is removed because you sons of bitches keep linking to it.
The Pose and/or Holly wets herself in anticipation

The Ready

The Pitch

The Step

The Swing

The Shag

The producer would like to thank the lovely (and in some photos busty) Holly C, Matt "Billy Idol" R, and himself, Mr. "always willing to shag the foul tips" Z.

wtf?

Who ever wrote this should be given some kind of an award. Hell I'm gonna buy three right now.

what's the matter, turkey? chicken?

This is pretty funny, but it kinda reminds me of this, which is older and funnier.

that second link might be dead.... try http://plif.andkon.com/

“The educated man tries to repress the inferior one in himself, without realizing that by this he forces the latter to become revolutionary.”

more comfort for slaves

this hunter is kill crazy, and not in the state-sanctioned, licensed and socially accepted way.

new word of the week: Pacer (vb) indianous pacerous; to go crazy on, or to beat furioussly. ex: That crazy hunter in Wisconsin pacered their whole family.

Blogging Holly

Andrew and Holly say "Blog it up your ass."

...an excerpt if i may from the lovely Holly:

****Says Holly****
2 things you do every morning:
1)curse the world
2)take my birth control pill

3 things people find wierd about you:
1) My unusual obsession with 80's music
2) My love of video games
3) my personality

4 things you do daily:
1) search for jobs
2) your mother
3) curse the world
4) listen to 80's

5 things you love:
1)Curt...All together now...AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
2)nerdy stuff -- cartoons, star wars, 80's music, video games, etc.
3)Mr. Pizza breadsticks
4)dancing
5)Sex. Come on!! Did you really think I wouldn't put that down?

6 things you could probally do without but won't:
1) Instant Messenger
2) Mr. Pizza breadsticks
3) this damn job search...
4) ballet
5) Pop
6) Sex. Come on!! Did you really think I wouldn't put that down?

7things that annoy the #%$! out of you:
1) People who spell my name with an -ie instead of a -y
2) President Bush
3) searching for a job
4) moving back in with my mom
5) people who are shocked, then appalled, when they find out I'm in a sorority
6) Slow drivers
7) filling out online surveys
****Said Holly****

it's true... i love her. But probably for all the wrong reasons.

"I didn't see the kill floor, but i saw plenty of lamb parts"

My housemate is in my room telling me about his day at work as a union rep for the slaughter houses of Detroit and the surrounding area

I guess never realized that places in Detroit still slaughter animals right on site. Apparently when a truck load of fuzzy little lambs rolls up, they use a goat to lore the lambs to their death. This is obviously a perfectly sensible thing to do, for if I were approaching a foreign and suspicious building, awash in blood and screaming lamb, should the entrance feature a goat I would think to my self, surely no one will kill me here. They have goats.

This brings me to an interesting point. If you can't explain what you do for a living in six words or less, you have a shit job. (Note: you may also have a shit job if you CAN explain it in six words or less. For example: Hi, I'm Neil Downaneater, licensed Corpse Fluffer)

Take my typical conversation:
them: What do you do?
me: I do service... I drive a van.. for this company, National Time and Signal.
them: ummm... Is that Glen Frey over there?

As far as kill floors go, well grandpa can tell you that the old way is the best way.