VII

First matter of business tonight, someone at Quaker Oats deserves a promotion. Why? For inventing Maple & Brown Sugar Life cereal. I don't know how long it's been on the market, but I found it today, and it's already changed my life. What a horrible pun. I've been a fan of Life for my entire life, specifically Cinnamon Life. However, after two decades, it had gotten pretty 0ld. Maple & Brown Sugar on the other hand, those two flavors had been consigned mostly to Pop-Tarts and oatmeal. I can remember several times in my youth when I would take a sleeve of those Brown Sugar Pop-Tarts (the only palatable flavor, short of the diabetic greatness of S'more) put them in a bowl, cover them with milk, and then break them up into small pieces, essentially creating a Pop-Tart cereal. I marveled at my gastronomic brilliance, and would often wonder why there never was a Pop-Tart cereal. Anyways, I believe that this Maple & Brown Sugar Life cereal is the closest I'll ever get, and thus I have purchased several thousand boxes. I consider it part of my portfolio.

Would it be considered ironic if you were a prisoner on death-row, and for your last meal you chose Life cereal? Someone should ask Alanis Morrisette. Someone should check if Alanis Morrisette is still alive.

I don't know what the big fuss about "Twilight" is. In fact, the only thing I do know about "Twilight" is that it's like fucking catnip to girls over the age of 13. I've also gathered that it's about vampires. And probably losing your virginity to vampires. It's like one of Jewel's poetry books if it was edited by Anne Rice. I think that's a fairly accurate interpretation of a book that I've never seen, read any reviews for, or really heard much about except that it's: "Totally awesome". I'm sure that it poses some interesting philosophical problems about growing up as a vampire. Do they have special retainers for people with huge vampire teeth? How can you make sure your Limited Too ensemble looks rockin' if you don't have a reflection? Are hickeys not only a badge of shame/pride, but an incredibly risky death-wish? What does vampire tween do when her friends go to the beach/tanning salon? Does getting your first period make you a little hungry? I'm sure the book answers almost none of those questions, and is probably like "One Tree Hill" with vampires. Which would be cool if the vampires rose up against the people in "One Tree Hill" and killed them all. Tell me you wouldn't watch Chad Michael Murray be drained of all his blood.

I'll try to update this more often.

Even though I just lost 98% of my readership with that "Twilight" bashing.

VI

A couple weeks ago, I was in my living room, watching the free music channels on Time Warner Cable, not the music video channels, just the straight up music channels (basically radio for blind people still in denial of the fact that they shouldn't own a television), drinking some sort of cran-apple-vodka-rum concoction when I decided that I should spill half of it directly on the laptop that was sitting in my lap. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of my roommates' laptops, it was mine. It immediately shut off. I know what you're thinking. This never would have happened if you were drinking Evan Williams like you should've been. For that I apologize. I opened the old girl up, dried 'er off, and put 'er up against a fan. I figured holy water would only exacerbate the problem, so I held off a final blessing. I awoke the next morning, slightly hungover, the memory of the cranputer still fresh in my head. Upon inspection, I found that my laptop still worked. Except for the sticky keys. I hate these sticky keys. My space bar has none of the youthful vigor it once did, lazily springing back to my thumb after every tap. My down arrow has lost its fucking mind, occasionally refusing to return to its upright position, throwing every scroll bar within reach to the dogs. And my shift key is just plain depressed. It sucks.

And yes, I have considered putting some Evan Williams in there to battle the evil clear liquor/cranberry juice combo, but I don't think even he has the heart for it anymore. Maybe the Blue Label.

That aside, I think that it is immoral and illogical to grade philosophy classes. If there is a class wherein half of the class period is righteously dedicated to discussing the existence of, and cause behind, a fucking chair, everyone should get A's. Seriously. Every fucking philosophy class I've been in has spent at least a little time on that god damned chair problem. What is the form of the chair? Does the chair exist? How did the chair come about? And even: What gives the chair its 'chair-ness'? What gives the chair its 'CHAIR-NESS'? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? It's a fucking piece of wood. If we can't get past that, we might as well just go sit in the corner and play with ourselves. The chair exists because someone in a factory made it. Out of wood, or metal, or some plastic conglamerate. Probably for more money than any philosopher makes, or will ever make discussing their own explanations of 'chair-ness'. Or better yet, how about the 'shoe-ness' of shoes? We can at least get the kids involved with that one; they gave the shoes their 'shoe-ness' working for 9 cents a week in some sweat-shop in Pakistan. Or the McCafe my professor brings into class every god damn morning. Does that have 'McCafe-ness'? Probably more like 'liqufied shit-ness'.

I wouldn't be complaining if I had a higher grade.

One more thing. Has anyone else noticed that Facebook tailors the ads on your page to your interests? If you say you like 'soccer', 'playing guitar', and 'hanging with the boys', your ads reflect that: FIFA, Guitar Center, NAMBLA, etc. To an extent it's extremely disturbing, as is usually par for the course with advertising, the fact that they think they know what you want to buy based on something you put in your Facebook interests. That's why I'm calling upon you, the two or three readers of this thing, to change your interests to something completely random, and see if it changes the ads you see on your page. Personally I will change mine to , 'covering my furniture in plastic', 'watching my grandkids eat', 'yelling at cars that go too fast', 'talking unabashedly about graphic health problems at dinner', and 'buying lottery tickets on my fixed income'. Hopefully this will result in a change in advertising from the shit they push on me now to things like: 'Fixodent', 'Depends', 'AARP Magazine', and 'Early Bird Specials at Denny's!'. I mean no disrespect to previous generations, just to advertising companies. Try it!

PS - "And my shift key is just plain depressed" is not a pun. That fucker is all Ian Curtis this and Elliot Smith that these days.

V

Did anyone else take Type to Learn in elementary school? No one is going to answer that, because no one reads this, but I still feel it is an important question to lob into space. If you didn't take it, it was this typing program that taught you how to use a computer keyboard. At my particular school, they had these little table looking things that they'd put over your hands, so you were forced to look at the screen. In the game itself there were various copying exercises you would have to do, and at the end of them, you'd fight these asterisk looking motherfuckers called "Qwertys". Those fucks were probably the weakest things in the world. They didn't shoot anything, or have a cool forcefield, or do anything really. They had letters on their stupid asterisk chests, and when you typed the letter correctly, they'd disappear, making this cool ass sound as they did. That might be a bastardized version of what the program was actually like, but I haven't been in elementary school, with them knowing, in about 10 years. Without them knowing, I usually stop by at least once a week, just to watch the kids develop and such. Anyways, I heard through the grapevine that they don't teach with Type to Learn anymore, and I cannot figure out why. I think that Type to Learn was the most important thing I learned in elementary school, other than that shit about not eating dog-piss yellow snow. Who the fuck was eating yellow snow so much that Frank Zappa had to write a song about it? You know there was that one kid, in open defiance to the 90% of snow that was white, who sought out that one patch of disease-ridden piss-yellow snow and strapped on the feedbags. Those kids are now probably working in the food service industry. But in all seriousness, Type to Learn taught me to type superfast, which translated to me getting papers done much faster in both high school and college, saving more time for boozing. It's a travesty that some day, these ignorant kids who never learned how to type superfast will be staying in on Friday nights typing up a paper on the use of imagery in William Carlos Williams "The Red Wheelbarrow" when they could be out drinking themselves to death. The education system in this country is so fucked up.

Also, to change gears, I've begun to see a lot of people with those brushed-steel reusable water bottle shits, and in an open statement to those people, I'd like to say: "You should have been beaten more as a child." What fucking difference are you making, other than making the companies that produce those fucking water bottles very rich? Those shits go for 18.99. Do you not have fucking cups at your house? Or even a cheap plastic water bottle? Those are reusable too, you fucking hippies. Of course, those don't make the stunning fashion statement that the brushed-steel reusuable jugs make. Some 10 year old Asian kid probably cut his hand off trying to brush that god damned steel, so you can have a nice durable fucking water container. What happened to the Nalgene bottles? Where the fuck are they now? In the trash!? Yes, Nalgene bottles are out. These metal buttplugs are in. It's like fucking Uggs. Those are the ugliest piece of shit boots I've ever seen. But now to compliment your black/brown/maroon/child labor leggings, you need some nice comfortable Uggs, that just end up getting shit dirty when you walk through the inevitable salt and snow that winter brings. God dammit. What they should do is line the Uggs with metal and carry their water in their boots. Then hopefully they'll all get trenchfoot and die. YOU'RE NOT MAKING A DIFFERENCE WITH YOUR GOD DAMNED METAL WATER CONTAINERS. Stop feeling so god damned fake-guilty. Stop justifying your life through shopping for shit.

That sort of sounded like Maddox, and I apologize. I was just angry sitting in class today.

Also, prostitution and all drugs should be legal.

And gay marriage and abortion should stay legal.

Also, gay abortion and infant marriage should be legal.

IV

Thank god. We needed a Republican president like I needed AIDS cancer.

To a new tomorrow, friends.

III

I don't know if you're familiar with VH1, but they have this show called "The Pickup Artist" where this date-rapist named Mystery convinces guys that they're essentially worthless, forces them to grow soul patches and apply eyebrow piercings, and then, in all of their awkward misguided testoterage marches them into clubs to seduce women. It's absolutely the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen on television, mainly because some of the women actually buy these moron's fucking double entendres and horrible, horrible pick-up lines about astronaut pants and fireman's poles. I've sold a lot of snake-oil in my time, but this is on a whole other level. That is why I'm pretty convinced that the show is a big stupid set-up by VH1, and the girls are paid to listen to these cockrings and pretend to be into them, and that this Mystery guy is blackmailing the fuck out of the network or some shit and they're just exploiting the hell out of him. Oh, this is what he looks like, in case you didn't know. He's wearing binoculars. I don't know who needs binoculars hung so nonchalantly around their neck, but apparently that was a demand that Mystery needed filled. Anyways, what started me writing this entry was what I found when I stumbled on Mystery's website. He sells training DVDs of his method for the low, low price of 68 dollars a piece. 68 dollars. Kids working for Nike have to work into their 70s for that kind of dough. And it's not like they're epic masterworks of cinema either. They're just hour long training videos. That's more than a dollar a minute to have this Mystery douche spout lies out of the television. I'm pretty sure even GHB is cheaper than that, which should really be a standard for instructional dating DVDs: if your product is more expensive than GHB, you really need cut some overhead or something. It's way easier to slip something in a Long Island Ice Tea than it is to make small talk.

I'm not quite done with VH1. Balancing out the sheer awkward toolishness of "The Pickup Artist" is a program called "Rock of Love: Charm School". I'm not sure if that colon is in the right place, but I'm not sure whether the colons of the women that appear on that show are in the right place either, given the way they whore themselves out to the random television watching public. In case you don't know, I'm implying that the women on the show willingly give themselves up to the beast of the brown, take a drive down Hershey highway, allow things up their butts. Basically the show is a misguided attempt to bring these dead-eyed rehab dropouts up to the social demands of the bottom rung of America. Not an unfathomable task, they merely need to follow some lax clothing standards, curb their filthy, filthy language, and fight the urge to "slap a bitch". Of course, these women do not rise to the challenge, and barely rise at all. They mill about the lavish house they are given to live in, drinking and trying to apply cover-up to the red in their necks. The worst part about the show is that people (namely, me) watch it. In fact, I'm positive that it is a fucking event south of the Mason-Dixon. Churchbells ring, schools let out early, businesses close, McCain rallies disband, all for the glory and magnificence of "Rock of Love: Charm School".

I remember when MTV first came on the air and played music videos. I remember when MTV started failing and VH1 picked up the slack. Now that VH1 is failing, where do I turn? FUSE? Are you fucking kidding me!? If I wanted to hear Saosin eight times on the hour, I'd still be...I'd be...fuck it, no one likes Saosin.

Final point: VH1 rearranged is H1V, which looks like HIV, which I'm POSITIVE everyone on "Rock of Love: Charm School" has.

II

So I've watched Andy Samberg's impression of Mark Wahlberg about a dozen times. It doesn't get any funnier each time, I just become more and more incredulous. The fact that he could do such an impression is impressive enough, but the fact that he convinced the writers to let him talk to animals for five minutes? What the fuck? Does Mark Wahlberg really talk to animals? Does he really want to say hello to my mother for him? Is he saying my mother is an animal? Why was The Happening so terrible? Do the giant harpy devil-winged beasts in the Max Payne trailer constitute animals? I thought he was like a hitman in that game. I'm sure the movie won't be as good as the ninety second trailer, because I'm pretty sure he won't be talking to donkeys, which is the only way that I'll watch him on screen again after The Happening.

I'm not sure why I write in this, considering that I hate people that do. Especially when they have no purpose for it. Although this is America, and I can blast as much of my word semen on the face of the internet as I want to. People actually think this stuff should be regulated. And by people, I mean Bill O'Reilly. If the internet was regulated, I would have never been able to say "word semen". Actually, if the internet was properly regulated, they would've probably told me to hyphenate it. Word-semen. Charles Dickens is the Peter North of word-semen. I think that's actually a 300 level class at my college.

The girls downstairs play Disturbia by Rhianna on ultimate-max-volume all the time, and because I live in a shitty apartment, it leaks through my floor and into my head. I bang my cane as hard as I can on the shitty shag carpet, but they don't get the message. Hopefully one day I'll stomp the floor so hard that my foot will go through the termite-infested ripoff wood and lodge itself in their ceiling so tight that the firemen will need the jaws of life to cut it off and the bloody foothole will stay in the ceiling because the landlord is so cheap remaining as a disgusting memory for them to keep their music down on Wednesday nights.

I have no right to complain, because while playing "drinking games" down there, I pushed a glass off the table to break it, denied that fact completely, and then threw a glass of Evan Williams and coke allll over their kitchen. Later I read from Cosmopolitan magazine's list of dirty sex techniques in my best Pete Sampras voice.

But Disturbia?

I quote Coach Herman Boone: "If you drop the ball, you run a mile. If you miss a blocking assignment, you run a mile. If you play Disturbia ecstasy-rave party loud on a Wednesday, I will break my foot off in your John Brown hind-floor and leave a disgusting bloody memory-socket."

I

Disclaimer: None of this has any purpose. Just like every other blog.

I watched the Presidential debate last night, and I'm glad I did. For a while, I was worried about the direction this country was heading. My friends, my faith has been completely restored. My friends, it is clear that if we do not elect John McCain, my friends, we will descend into utter chaos. Penny-abortions given by the staff writers of the Times on every street corner! Terrorists using our public pools! Billions of dollars going to purchase freedom-killing telescopes in Chicago! Can you believe this, my friends? That we are this close to the brink?! My friends! John McCain is a maverick. You've seen Top Gun, right? You know who wins that movie? Tom Cruise. Fuck Val Kilmer. Val Kilmer is a Washington insider, spending your hard earned liberty-dollars on pork-barrel legislation as we sit and breathe. You're going to sit there and tell me that Barack Obama wasn't the cause of 9/11? His middle name is "Hitler". Barack "Hitler" Obama. That is unelectable. You know John McCain's middle name? "POW". Just the sound, "POW". That spells experience. America needs experience. America needs experience more than ever now. My friends, experience is the most important thing in the history of the planet. Not just experience the concept, but the tangible object. We need experience points. We need them. To level-up our country. You just cannot elect a mere Lvl. 47 Obama to run this country. He doesn't even know Flamethrower yet. A Lvl. 72 McCain however, that's power you can trust. He earned his levels fighting in the high-grass of Vietnam. Barack Obama rare-candied his way to the top. My friends, I'm running out of time. However, the only way you're going to red-light my ass off of this internet is if you pry this keyboard from my cold, dead, white, Conservative, Christian, veteran, ancient skeletal handclaws.

I am so sorry.

PS - Blogger recommends that I label this post. However, it's suggestions are: scooters, vacation, fall. Who the fuck is writing a post that includes those three things? I understand fall and vacation, but scooters? Who is that guy? "Well fuck my ass, Columbus day is comin' up again, better break out the Razor? What?

PPS - I'm that guy.