Jarrett Sacks is my Inspiration for Everything.

2010-05-23T17:09:00.000-07:00

2010-05-13T18:52:00.001-07:00

I'm being a shill for a minute:
Spokane Photography

Kindergarten Cop

2009-03-09T14:45:00.000-07:00

First, it's an amazing movie. If you haven't seen it, then watch it. But more importantly, for whom was this movie made? It stars The Schwarzenegger as a cop who is trying to take down a drug kingpin of sorts. It seems this drug kingpin's wife took some of his money, 3 million dollars, and ran away with their son, and is hiding out. Rumor has it that she's in Astoria, Oregon. The Schwarzenegger accompanies his female partner to Astoria in order to find her, to protect her, and so she can testify against him. Arnold's partner poses as a kindergarten teacher....except she gets sick the first day and Arnold has to take over, and hilarity ensues. It's rated PG-13, has some violent moments, and has some coarse language, as they say. Due to the rating and what have you, I am reasonably certain it wasn't intended for small children. Given the nature of the content, Arnold teaching Kindergartners, it's not exactly for teens. And I can't imagine too many adults would be interested. Despite the fact that I have no clue as to who the intended audience is, it made over 90 million dollars when it was released in 1990. I managed to see it as a child, and nostalgically cling to it, the wife recently saw it, and was dismayed that she had not seen it before. It's an amazing movie, seriously, check it out. It's got some terrible acting, by both adults and children, but overall is hilarious. Watch it, then tell me who it was made for.

RANDOMNICITY!

2008-11-19T19:19:00.000-08:00

This is going to be a lot of random thoughts that have been running through my head lately, in a numerically formed manner:

1.) The scene with Rainn Wilson in Juno is one of my least favorite scenes of a movie I like, ever.

2.) The Kinks are the most underrated band ever.

3.) I hate people who say "I could care less." Stop. Think. Bother to add the "n't." It's not too complicated.

4.) Sam's stock tip of the day: If they get the bailout, GM, if not Ford. They have a ten billion dollar loan they've already gotten but haven't touched, They're whining for a bailout too, but that's just because they figure if GM gets it, they should too.

5.) I generally like watching Back to the Future 1 and 3, they sometimes make me angry, but Back to the Future 2 always makes me angry....damn time paradoxes.

6.) I'm really glad I rarely ever hear the phrase "main street" used to describe normal people these days...one of my most hated phrases of the campaign.

7.) I had a dream where I was one of the gang in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia....it was a great dream.

8.) You take the good, you take the bad, and there you have, the facts of life.

9.) I'm looking forward to my brother coming home, so we can mumble to each other about our ridiculous family right in front of them. I don't think I enjoy many things more than talking about them in front of them, in such a low and soft manner that they can't hear it....it's stupendous.

10.) Ted Stevens. HAHAHAHAHA! What a great 85th birthday present.

11.) Gene Simmons, of Kiss fame, and Ian Anderson, god behind Jethro Tull claim to ave never done drugs. Some people find it hard to believe, but I often think it's plausible, given the insane people I know.

12.) People continue to find my blog by searching for things similar to "calf suck my dick" or "calf sucking dick." What the fuck is wrong with people....I'm glad you continue to be linked to my blog because of it though, ha.

13.) I've decided Mormonism and Scientology aren't all that far off from each other.

14.) Mmmmm, Vinyl.

15.) Some of the greatest shows ever made:
Home Movies
Newsradio
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Mr. Show
Freaks and Geeks
Chappelle's Show
Arrested Development
Futurama
Curb Your Enthusiasm
Extras
Blackadder
Fawlty Towers

SECRETARIES!

2008-11-03T18:19:00.001-08:00

So, I was thinking about this a few weeks ago when Madeleine Albright was interviewed on NPR. Who are my favorite Secretaries of State? Amazingly I had a top four list pretty quickly, but after some thought I expanded it into five, just for you. So, in no particular order:

1.) Henry Kissinger (Nixon, 1973-77)
This one is in particular order. I love Henry Kissinger. I think he's the man. So much so I name random things after him, like frisbee golf holes, and tables. Hank Kissinger, I like him. I manage to look past his carpet bombing of Cambodia, I don't really approve of it, but as my friend Dan sardonically said, we sure haven't heard a lot from Cambodia lately. I'm also not a fan of his getting people to kidnap Central American dignitaries...what I love though can be summed up in one word. Pragmatism. I lied, there are several more words. Realpolitik, German, woooooooo. Detente, french, wooooo. Opening communist China. Setting up the end to the cold war. Turning defeat in Nam into victory all around the world. The man is reviled by so many, and I think those people should bother to read. Kissinger did a lot for the United States, not only during his time, but set up some amazing things that continue today. Also, Nobel Peace Prize, Sweden thinks he's rad, too.

2.) William Seward (Lincoln, Johnson, 1861-69)
The man had no experience whatsoever. Nobody thought he was a good choice. He came in second to Lincoln in winning his party's nomination, and apparently that was good enough for Lincoln. He bought Alaska, for what would today be about 90 million dollars. Everybody thought he was insane, probably including the Russians, the original owners. Seward was unaware of its vast resources, read: oil, but said it was a good choice, because it gave America more land. I can't imagine what the cold war would have been like if the comrades had a large chunk attached to Canada, it would have been no good for us, and my friend Hank Kissinger. More than Alaska, Seward kept the confederacy down. First he tried to make them join back up by threatening war with Britain and France, assuming it'd unite the country. When Lincoln told him to stop being insane, he instead convinced Britain and France to not acknowledge the existence of the Confederacy.

3.) John Quincy Adams (Monroe, 1817-1825)
Sure he was a president, but his best work came as secretary of state. He authored the Monroe Doctrine, even though the credit goes to Monroe, clearly. In doing so he made sure Britain, France and Spain wouldn't screw with us. He then bought Florida from Spain to make it even easier for them not to screw with us. He also negotiated with Spain to get us all the way to the Pacific. He also shaped a much friendlier policy towards Native Americans than any other president at the time, most of which was reversed when Andrew Jackson, noted Indian hater, took office.

4.) Thomas Jefferson (Washington, 1789-1793)
Jefferson is on here mainly because he was the first. He set the precedent for the job. He made it what it is today, and what it always has been. Not only that, but when Britain and France began battling in 1793, even though he totally loved France, he set America up to be neutral.

5.) Madeleine Albright (Clinton, 1997-2001)
I feel she is the most underrated Secretary of State. That could be because it hasn't been long, though. She helped spread environmental standards and labor standards throughout the world. She was a major reason the conflict in the Balkan region didn't go much more poorly. She made many American alliances much stronger, and pressed countries on the issue of Human Rights.

Honorable Mention goes to Hamilton Fish, Dean Acheson, George Marshall, Charles Evans Hughes and John Hay.

Best Name goes to Lawrence Eagleburger.

Secretaries I Hate The Most: Lawrence Eagleburger, come on, he was only there for a month, Alexander Haig, John Forsyth.

That's my dork binge for tonight.

HIPPIE-STERS!

2008-11-03T15:19:00.001-08:00

Ridiculously Long Post Ahead.

Note: Maddie may be referred to as Maddie, Madster, Ashtar or Shake-Zula.

So, Wednesday. I worked for 7 hours, which entailed driving for 140 miles. Then, I went home, and immediately drove to Portland, which was another, about, 300 miles. Then I went to a concert, and then drove to Olympia, which was about another 120 miles. Basically, I drove a lot.

Once in Portland, I parked at random parking lot, and wandered my way through the Portland State University until I found the ole Madster's dorm. We stood around, then walked to street car. From there we walked to Berbati's Pan, a hipster bar/concert venue, that should be a Saloon. It's reeks of cowboy bar, but is in fact a hipster joint....I hate hipsters. We went inside and stood around, slowly watching the hipsters come. Cody and Ashtar bought t-shirts of Yelle, and I had my vinyl copy of her album with me, hoping to obtain signature of the Yelle.

First band was a quintet of hipster themselves. Their name, Funeral Party. They did an amazing job of looking like each other. Especially the front three. Flannel, thin moustache, tight jeans, douchiness coming out of orifices. They're music was terrible, and their vocalist even worse. I understood maybe 8 words of what he said, because I, unlike hipsters, do not understand screaming. The hipster crowd was just that. Some of them jumped up and down, some held their place in the front for Yelle, but did not seem to enjoy Funeral Party. Then there was the crowd in the back corner who did not seem to notice music was playing. I feel Caleb Majeski, lunatic extraordinaire, would have been better had he gone up with a 4 track recorder, spent ten second imitating a guitar, then started the loop over, recorded his version of drums, started the loop over, recorded another instrument, played them all in a loop and began to sing about his experiences working for an Asian restaurant.

More hipsters arrived.

Then another quintet appeared. They were from Boston. And named Passion Pit. And with a name like Passion Pit, you know they have to be rad. They had 3 synthesizers. The lead singer sang several octaves above where he was capable of adequately doing so. The drummer wore glasses, no big deal, but they were attached via a strap about the back of his head, you know, like that dorky Asian kid in PE in 4th grade. Even more hipsters enjoyed Passion Pit. Enough so that Shake-Zula, Cody and I felt it necessary to retire to the back of the room with the hipsters who pretended that things weren't happening around them. From there we got to see some good times. Hipsters don't understand that throwing together the most tacky things you can find into an outfit, does not constitute fashion, so watching them all in one place can be quite amusing. Though the downsides outweigh that one upside. A.) They don't believe in deodorant. Secondly they think they're fucking rad. And third they have no spatial recognition at all. They don't seem to understand objects actually prevent them from going from point a to point b. They expect to be able to just walk, and things will move. They also don't understand that their flailing hits things, and those things usually don't enjoy being hit. I got stabby quite fast.

More hipsters appeared out of the ether.

Finally Yelle was up. She was terrific in all her french glory. Her band mates were quite enjoyable as well. I really don't have a lot to say about it. Hipsters enjoy dancing. I enjoy standing and taking the situation in. It made for fun times. I had Yelle and her band mates sign my record. I also hugged Yelle, just to say I did. I hugged Yelle. There, it's out of my system.

We then walked next doors and Cody and the Ashtar Galactic Command Outpost got doughnuts from Voodoo. They make doughnuts in the shape of a penis and balls, ha, it's so clever. Hipsters love it. Our trek back to PSU began. Street car was not running that late, so we walked back. Maddie had forgotten her keycard, she's kinda forgetful. Randomly leaves objects places. She also forgot her phone. So Cody had to call Maddie's phone, hoping that her roommate, the Lazy Hawaiian would answer. Eventually she did, and then she let us in the dorm. We began driving, but Portland's guiding signs are terrible. Note for the future, the signs that say I-5 South and 405 South, also mean North. It is the way to get to I5 and the 405 period, but the signs say South....god damned Oregonian hippies. Once we drove around Portland for half an hour, we discovered that Maddie had forgotten something else crucial. So we had to go back to her dorm anyway. Once there we used the interweb, it got us onto the freeway. This is now at about 2:30 in the morning when we actually left Portland, I was tired.

We drove for a while, and had to pull over so I could stretch, and wake the hell up. Eventually after stopping at multiple places we made it to Olympia. Which is where another wrinkle comes in. Cody, despite professing that he did indeed know the way to go, did not know the way to go. Instead of going to West Olympia, we went to East Olympia. We drove all the way through Olympia, until Cody finally managed to get us to Evergreen. Which is where another wrinkle comes in. Cody doesn't know where roads go. We made approximately 73 wrong turns. Eventually we got there, and I managed to go directly to Megan's, where I slept. I got to Megan's at about 4:45 in the morning. Really fucking tired.

Then Megan and I went to coffee, and then picked Madster, Cody and the Caleb up. We went to Top Foods, and came back to Megan's to start a Wes Anderson film festival. Caleb and I played chess twice, during which I played defensively and lost, then played offensively and fared much better, with a victory. Cody then challenged me, and I kicked his ass twice. Oh, and Maddie threw up some, because she can't handle her liquor. What an o'keefian bitch. It was good times. That's the end for now, except I'm going to add later, so it's not the end for you at all, I refer you to the next paragraph, to prove this point. Which might make one wonder why I'm even bothering to write this part. Originally it was just to verify to myself that I would continue the blog, because if I wrote it, it will happen. But now I've drawn it out really long, and it's entirely lost it's point...shazbot.

Picking up where I left off: we continued watching Wes Anderson movies, and Caleb, Cody and I continued to play chess, ending in victory every time for me. Even the one time Cody and Caleb played each other, I'm pretty sure I won. Around about ten o'clock we were kicked out of Megan's, primarily because she's an insane bitch. I took Cody, Caleb and Shake-Zula back to Cody and Caleb's dorm. I remained there for 15 minutes, charging my phone slightly and conversing with the good people. I then departed to sleep at a rest stop. The reason I'm sleeping at a rest stop is because someone is an insane bitch. I say it again, she's an insane bitch. I arrive at mile marker 90 on I-5 and am one of few cars in the lot, including an orange Volkswagen van, with a pop-top. I use the facilities, brush my teeth, and begin to attempt to sleep in Natasha, my car. I move the front seats all the way forward, which provides ample room, except I'm too tall. Eventually I retreat to the front passenger seat, which was much more comfortable, and begin actually trying to fall asleep around 1:30 in the morning, give or take.

I awoke several times to the sweet, dulcet tones of tractor-trailers, but eventually woke up for good at 6:53 AM when two people in U-hauls decided to ark right next to me, and talk really loudly while they smoked. I'm still unsure as to why they picked right next to me, when almost the entire lot was empty...sons of bitches. Luckily it's still dark, so I dress in my car, brush my teeth again, and begin to drive back into Olympia. I randomly drive around the town, seeing nothing spectacular, and eventually going to breakfast at an establishment called Black Bear Diner. It was okay. Nothing spectacular. I then drive to the area of the mall, and begin aimlessly walking around. First I walk a few blocks and go to Target, aimlessly walking there. I buy nothing, but in the parking lot see the orange Volkswagen van with pop-top again, and it's occupants, some of the biggest hippies I've ever seen. I think they may have been made of hemp.

I then walk to the actual mall and just walk around with coffee, as Starbucks was the only thing open. So I joined the old couples and groups of mothers and just walk around the mall with no particular goal in mind other than to waste time. Eventually Best Buy opens and I purchase two bad movies, Children of the Corn and Killer Klowns from Outer Space, on the cheap. I then walked back to car and put movies into Natasha. Then I walk to Borders, and purchase two good movies, Irreversible and Requiem for a Dream. I also purchase a news paper and Popular Science, hoping it will kill time. Between the Best Buy and Borders jaunts I text both Cody and Ashtar requesting they awake and call me, to end my boredom. They fail to text back, and while at Borders I call them. Both their phones immediately go to voicemail, indicating they had been turned off, damn jive monkeys.

After Borders I drive around randomly, nowhere in particular. I call a few more times, hoping that they will have randomly turned their phones on, but to no avail. I go back to Target, this time purchasing Seinfeld Scene It, and some speakers to use with iPod. I then drive up to Evergreen, on the way seeing the orange Volkswagen van with pop-top on the side of the road, camping out. I get to Evergreen and park in the back of a random parking lot and begin to read the publications I purchases. After gleaning all the information I could from the Seattle Times and Popular Science, and calling the jive monkeys again, I finally just go to their dorm. The issue being that you cannot reach their floor without a key card or key. I hate all the hippies I see too much to ask if they'll let me up, so I just begin charging laptop and phone and screwing around on said laptop. Eventually Caleb randomly comes down to seek his lunch, and he lets me up. We then acquire food, and come back. I make it pretty clear I am full of anger at Cody, and somewhat Maddie. I was to take them to the train station so Maddie could obtain a train ticket. Instead I sat there stewing in anger, talking to Caleb, watching CNN. Eventually, about two hours after I got into their room, Cody asks if we are going to go obtain said train ticket. I inform him that I think they both know how to use a bus, as they both had before, and as such could obtain said train ticket themselves. They depart.

Caleb and I moved to Cody's side of the room and began conversing about Cody's objects. The $700 sitar he never plays, his bowler hat, which he stunningly wears some times, action figure from I forget what, random stuff. We then notice Maddie's birth control pills and begin talking about a scheme to switch them out without her knowing about it, but as always, Caleb and my schemes are always too complex to actually carry out. Instead we take the remaining three photographs with her Polaroid, one of Caleb, one of me, and one of a fire alarm which says “Pull My Dick.” After running out of film, we are unsure what to do. It took a very short amount of time before we decided to take pictures of Maddie's birth control pills in weird positions with Maddie's digital camera. Those pictures will eventually be put up on Facebook, I promise to include insightful narrative with them when Maddie puts them up, and I steal them.

I then drove Caleb, and three of his friends to a liquor store, and acquired liquor for them, because I'm a bad person, or good friend, or combination of the two. We head back, and then Caleb heads to work. I begin watching television in his room, and Cody and Maddie come back. I'm done with my anger, at least on the surface, I shall eventually cause Cody's slow, long demise, but on the surface I'm fine. Gabe has called Cody, and Cody calls him back, and long story short, we go to Gabe's, because it's his birthday, and he wants us there.

We arrive and begin just hanging out, eating Halloween candy, everyone but me drinks, we listen to music and talk about random things. Sometimes we head outside and smoke the tobacco, it is during these times that I lean things about Mark Majeski, Caleb and Gabe's father, that make sense, but at the same time I never wanted to know. Out of respect for the Majeski children I will not publish what I learned, just know this, the way Caleb and Gabe turned out makes complete and utter sense given their parents. They're not some genetic peculiarity, they make perfect sense. If you know Gabe and/or Caleb, that should explain everything you need to know about their parents. Eventually Gabe gets way too drunk. He puts on his snake skin whore boots, and mills about, and then at some point begins to dance to some Van Morrison. Caleb, being an amalgam of Gabe, and a few others joins him. At some point Gabe took his shirt off, and then Caleb did the same. Soon after Gabe began demanding more alcohol. Eventually they took up a collection, receiving none from me, and Gabe's friend Brentson went to the store and got beer for him. Very soon after Brentson returned Cody, Maddie and I took our leave.

On the way back up to Evergreen we see the orange Volkswagen pop-top van again. I drop the love birds off, and after confirming that the chances of them being awake before noon were slim, I decide to just start driving home at about...honestly, I no longer remember what time I left. I began driving north on I-5. The first rest stop I got to, I pulled off to sleep, but every single spot was full. My solution was to keep driving. I get on highway 18, eventually getting food in Auburn, to help keep me awake, and keep heading towards home, knowing I would eventually stop to sleep. I decided on the mall parking lot at North Bend. Problem being that I exited the freeway one exit too early. I drove through all of Snoqaulmie, following the signs back to the freeway, assuming I'd end up by the mall, the only other exit I am aware of in North Bend. My assumption was incorrect. I get back on the freeway, thinking the next exit would be the mall. It was not. It was some random truck stop exit. Containing only a gas station for cars, a gas station for trucks, a diner and down the road some sot of gravel pit or something, not to mention the giant parking lot full of tractor-trailers. I decide I can drive no further, as that would involve the pass. Diner parking lot it is. I feel asleep rather quickly.

Saturday morning at 7am I hit the road. I should have filled up before I left, I'm an idiot. I reach the top of the pass and desperately need gas. Gas at the top of Snoqualmie is quite expensive. I depart soonly after purchasing breakfast, Sun chips and Pepsi, and gasoline. I begin the trek home, quickly finding an NPR station, mmm NPR. I make no more stops on the way home, and drive somewhat rationally, as I did not want to get another ticket from the assholes near Ritzville. That's about all I can recall right now. I reached home about 11:15 in the AM and began more adventures. Usual dork stuff.

CONFUSION!

2008-08-31T15:09:00.000-07:00

So, up in the right corner, there's this little icon thingy, it's called sitemeter. It measures traffic. I was curious one day, and it's free, so I put it on there, I don't have many readers, at least on my actual blog site. If you're reading on facebook then the icon isn't there, and you should go to my real blog, jerk. Anyway, the website that runs it tells you some interesting things about it, like the page that referred people to your page. Usually it's my facebook or something, but sometimes people find my blog because they searched random crap in google, and my page comes up. I found one such instance, and it troubles me.

Someone searched for "organization for farmers who let calves suck cock." They didn't use the quotes, otherwise nothing would come up, but without the quotes my site is second on google. Presumably because at some points i have used the words "suck cock" and "organization" etc. I'm a little confused about who would search for that, but for you, sir or madam, I now have the search term verbatim, so if you put it in quotes next time, my site will probably be the only one. On top of that, I will answer your query.

The organization for farmers who let calves suck cock is colloquially known as Farmers and Agriculturists for the Degradation of Calves through Fellatio, usually referred to as FADCF. You won't find any mention of it on the internet...well, you will now, but they're a pretty submersive organization. I only know about them because my friend Steve's father was a member, Steve's dad is kinda screwed up. He's not a member anymore, because they found out he was never a farmer, he just has a cow sucking dick fetish. Anyway, if you need more information, you can contact me through the comment section, maybe leave your email or something, and I can let you know about it, or get you in touch with Steve.

ACCORDIONS!

2008-08-23T10:05:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a long time since I blogged. I'd apologize, but I'm really not sorry. I went to an accordion concert. More specifically, The Monsters of Accordion, which is a terrific name for a tour. It was at the Caterina Winery, and for a good portion of the time I thought I might be inside a David Lynch movie. I'd estimate how many people were there, but I was sitting in a place that would not really allow me to look back and see the audience, maybe 50 or so based on the sound and chair layout. But anyway, the lighting was interesting, there was a large moon hanging by rope above the stage area, and it was an accordion concert, still seems weird to me. But on to the show.

The opening act was from Spokane, Karli Fairbanks and her band "Power und Beauty." Not positive if that is the real band name or just what they came up with at the time, it was their first concert. They were a little late because somebody told them the wrong time. But they got there, and they were all dressed similarly. Four females, two wearing knee high socks, two wearing tights, skirts, shirts, suspenders, all very bavarian so far, and unicorn pins. As they put it, the unicorn is their band mascot, as "it represents the power....und beauty." They were pretty good, their lead being on accordion and sometimes drum, one girl being on keyboard and bells, one girl being on xylophone and tamborine, maybe something else, I couldn't see her too well, and one girl being on expandable colander. Yeah, that's right, expandable colander. She'd play it with a spoon, and it actually sounded quite alright. They played a few songs, they were generally good, could've used a bit more refinement, but again, it was their first show, I'd call it a success.

Next up was a woman named Amy Denio. Amy Denio is an interesting lady. She has worked with a ton off gorups, been on over 35 CDs and seems like a pretty cool lady. She's from Seattle, her songs generally were nice on the accordion and featured not too many real lyrics, but plenty of making vocal noises. She had one song called Salvatore. When she was younger she had saved enough money to go to Europe. She was camping in the south of France at a three star campground, she was pretty explicit about the three star aspect, and she met an Italian named Salvatore and wrote a song for him. It was in Italian, though, when she wrote it she spoke no Italian, so it featured the only Italian words she knew, which were things like Bologna and Mozarella, so the song was quite nonsensical, but pretty good none the less.

Next came a gentleman named Duckmandu. Duckmandu might be a genius, he might be insane, I can't decide. He wears a green suit jacket with black jeans and boots (boot appearing to be normal for accordion players, seemingly so they can stomp the hell out of the stage) and a Donald Duck hat. Not like a hat with Donald Duck on ite, the hat was Donald's head, the bill being his bill, and eyes above, etc. Donald's hat was even on the top of the hat. Duckmandu, real name Aaron Seeman specializes in playing punk songs on his accordion. Note for note. He has a CD where he covered the Dead Kennedey's debut album note for note, and it's quite glorious. He also played a song about how col drugs are, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane, it was stunning. He usually finishes up with a ncie finale, but fire codes would not let him here. He puts on a modified Donald hat with a bunson burner sticking out the top of it, somebody holds a gas tank, and flame shoots out of his head while he sings "Highway to Hell." He couldn't do that, but put on the hat anyway and made another accordionist hold the gas tank as if there really were fire coming out of his head. It looked awesome in my head.

Next came another local artist. SammyThomas. He's won the National Accordion contest three times. He didn't sing with his songs like the other people, but he was easily the best accordion player among a group of touring accordion players. The favorite being a boogie. he played a full boogie on his accordion and most of the audience, including me, seemed quite awestruck. I dont have much more to say, but he was utterly amazing.

We then had an intermission, stood around for a little while, then up came Mark Growden. I'd say he was my least favorite of the night, but only because I wasn't a fan of his style. He played a few kinda slow-ish, based on religion ballads. The were alright. Maddie, girl with me, began to note his itneresting movement while playing accordion. I contend that I think he's an accordionsexual, and really fucking loves his accordion, Maddie contends he's gay. Either way, odd guy, yeah, I'm calling smebody other than a gentleman who calls himself "Duckmandu" odd. He did play some bike handlebars as if they were a flute, and he was quite good at it. I fear he could put me to shame on the one instrument I claim virtuouso status on, the panther flute. He also played a song called Cray Davey. It was a funny song while he was playing it, and I'd still laugh if I heard it, which he seems to encourage, but in retrospect, its a horribly sad song. It's about a guy who was hit by a car, and while in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, the hspital was struck by a train. The medics died, but Davey's heart kept pumping. Eventually he survived, but has the mind of a child. Mark contends the story is completely true, which just made it all the more sad in hindsight.

Finally came Jason Webley. Without Jason Webley there would be no Monsters of Accordion tour. He is the driving force behind accordion music, I think. The man is absolutely amazing. I never thought I could see people be so energized at an accordion concert, but Webley was able to do it. Making the crowd be his backing orchestra on two different songs. One time half the crowd was on violin, the other half on trombone. The very next song, one third of the audience was slide guitar, one third washboard, one third drums. Earlier I said that all accordion players seem to wear boots so they can stomp the hell out of the stage. They had a box up in the stage area, it was maybe five feet by three feet, and a foot and a half off the ground. Jason Webley stomped it so hard, that while he was standing on the box, it moved about two feet. I don't have a lot more to say, I might edit/update if I think of more. I will leave you with two videos, one of Jason Webley playing a song I really wish he had played last night, and one of Duckmandu being awesome. Oh holy balls, I almost forgot. Once Webley had finished his set, all the previous acts came up to the stage rea, and they performed "the only medley they all knew," which was "We Are The World." It was stunning, and amazing, and glorious.

Duckmandu

I also found this gem:

Surprise Wedding!

2008-07-19T16:17:00.000-07:00

So, my family is screwed up. Screwed up in ways dissimilar to most people I know. It's an utter breakdown in communication, it happens on both my Mom's side, and my Dad's side, for completely different reasons. On my Mom's side, we just tip toe around actual issues, if it's important, and the slightest bit controversial, big time avoidance of it, little hints dropped here and there, until enough of the story is revealed, I've come to cope with that, and that's not what this post is about, this post is about my Dad's side. Everything on my Mom's side is for the entire side, it applies for my mom, grandmother, aunt, uncle, well, I'll be honest, not sure about the uncle part, rarely ever see that portion of the family. Whereas I have no idea what the rest of my Dad's family is like. I used to see them all the time, but since my parents got divorced, not so much, they may have communication issues, but I have a feeling it mainly revolves around my Dad. And to show it, welcome to Wacky Sam's Story Time.

So, a few years ago, about two years after I had moved out of my Mom's, which would mean it had been about 7 years since my parents got divorced, I got a call form my old neighbor, Alice. I have many stories of her, but those will wait. Anyway, Alice needed a ride to her daughter's work so she could then later go get her car from the shop. I was in the area, and she was always good to me, so I was more than happy to oblige. I picked her up, and we begin making casual conversation. At one point she asks me "How is your dad doing with his MS?" And being that I didn't know my father had MS, I did my natural reaction of "Oh....you know....good." The subject changed and we moved on. The next time I spoke with my brother, I asked, mainly curious why the hell I'd be left out of the loop about such an issue. Turns out he didn't have MS, they just thought he did, or something, but he's fine, and I don't know. Later I found out that this had been happening for some time, and my mom even knew....my mom and dad don't talk, meaning this went back to when they did, which was a long time ago. So I stayed out of the loop for a good 6 years on that one.

Moving on. The pops and I go get lunch every so often, once every couple of months or something, I don't know, not all that frequent, probably because of this whole communication thing. Anyway, one day I called him up and asked if he wanted to go get lunch on (insert whatever day of the week I had in mind). His response was, and I think I have it verbatim here: "I can't that day, I have to take Misty (his girlfriend, I'll mention her in a bit again, more back story on her then) to her doctor's appointment for her stroke." Again, I was completely unaware that anything had happened, and again I reverted back to my natural reaction "Oh...stroke....yeah, ok...what about (insert other day.)" Eventually something worked out, hasn't been talked about since.

And now the reason I decided to write this blog. Yesterday I received an email, I'm going to post it here. But before I do, I will give some precursory information.
Te people mentioned:
Mom-My grandmother, my father's mother. Her name is Marie.
Marge-My father's sister.
Maureen-My father's other sister.
Mary-Yet another sister of my father.
Before I go on, you may have noticed all their names start with "M." Not only that, but my Dad's name is Marvin, and his father's name Melvin. Obviously Melvin and Marie are "those parents" who felt it necessary to name all their kids with the same letter, same as their names, on top of that. I find it weird, but whatever.
Misty-My father's girlfriend
Now on to backstory of Misty, this is more so going to be surrounding the stroke issue, this info isn't necessary at all. My father and Misty have been together for.....I'll be honest, I'm not too sure how long, atleast since my parents got divorced, maybe longer, I don't know, I've made peace. She has her fair hare of medical issues, some weird balance thing, vertigo, who knows what else, I forget. She also had a stroke, probably because she has a lot of other issues, probably related. My father has told me before that they'd probably get married, but they hadn't because she was on medicare, due to her massive issues, and if they got married, she'd kind of lose out on that, and my fathehr can't afford her medical expenses. Anyway, on to the email:

Dear Sam,

Well I don't know if your brother told you, but five women are out to get me. Mom, Marge, Mary, Maureen and Misty have schemed to
the pinnacle of evilness. It appears we are going to Pendleton next week where Misty and I will be married in Margarets' backyard on the 24th. I assume that Michael is a innocent bystander.
Anyways that is what is happening in my world. How are things with you and your beloved. Keep cool.

Love,

Dad

Now, I get a couple things from this. Firstly, my brother knew several days before me, and I'd like to know why I was informed later, and also why my brother, whom I kno is reading this, jerk, didn't tell me, he claims he forgot, jerk. Secondly, either this is the best scheme ever, my father is easily fooled, or it's a lie. I think there's actually another option of this. Here's what I think hapened: they often spoke of getting married, and they at one point decided it was now feasible. Misty then got to planning, and as Misty talks to my father's sisters quite often, they (the evil women in my father's life) came up with a plan, and then they just told my dad. Figuring he wouldn't have a problem, and even if he did, too bad for him, he needs to stop his whining, which is a fair enough assesment. But since my father wasn't involved, it's a conspiracy. In all reality, I'm a bit surprised this isn't some sort of political conspiracy aimed at making him poor. I don't think he actually believes everything is a political conspiracy aimed at making him poor, but his words would make you think otherwise. Thirdly, and finally, the brevity of this email absolutely astounds me. One would also think he'd invite me or something, I don't know.

Anyway, I made this entire post just to show you that email, I think it might explain a lot about me. Those of you who know me may understand more about me now. It may have done nothing, I kind of just find the entire thing hilarious, which also seems sad. I think normal people might find the situation sad, but seriously, hilarious.

Another short one

2008-07-03T23:07:00.000-07:00

This is an article by Christopher Hitchens, I'm a big fan of his, but this is unlike what he usually does, a video accompanies the article, as well.

http://www.vanityfair.com/politics/features/2008/08/hitchens200808

I love this city.

2008-06-26T16:29:00.000-07:00

Short post for you, it's just a link, and a promise. Hilarious story, further showing why I love this city, it's because shit like this happens.
http://www.spokesmanreview.com/breaking/story.asp?ID=15474

Now the promise. I promise to have a real blog of some sort up by Monday at 5, for those who care.

DEATH

2008-06-17T14:11:00.000-07:00

The Ten Ways I Definitely Don't Want To Die

As usual, in no particular order, here are the worst ways to die, if you're me.

10. Eaten alive by a cannibal. While I'm sure I'd enjoy chatting to anyone who takes pleasure in eating someone, while they're still alive, I'm pretty sure the pain of this would be horrible. Having your flesh slowly pulled from your bones, I'm not even sure what it would feel like, but it has to be worse than most, if not all, types of pain I've experienced.

9. Drowning in a bucket, especially one with a warning label on it. That's just embarrassing.

8. Anything involving Carlos Mencia or Dane Cook. Having my last few seconds be either with them, or with them on the TV, something of that nature, would be horrific. Even if I'm being killed via my preferred method (coming to a blog near you, soon...maybe tomorrow), the joy of the preferred method would be eradicated by those douche nozzles. The only way this is okay is if I got to watch them die first.

7. A tragic cock sucking accident, one in which I was forced to suck said cock. I'm not sure how this would happen, maybe the penis would cause me to suffocate, if I had a cold, too, or something, maybe it would be so giant it would cause my throat to lacerate, I don't know, I don't want to find out, it'd be horrible. (Special mention to anal rape, I feel this fits in the same category, the category of "tragic forced sexual death.")

6. A long, drawn out death, in which I first become brain dead, and then live for several more years, being a burden to society, my family and whoever is footing the bill, poor bastards. Let it be known right now, that if I ever am pronounced brain dead, kill me. Whatever way you can, even if it's another method mentioned on this list, because by the brain dead point, I won't know. You could treat it as some sort of sick revenge....you freak.

5. Dehydration. I can barely stand to be dehydrated as it is, I sometimes wish death upon myself when I'm dehydrated, I can't imagine having it last a couple weeks and getting worse. Seizures, muscle spasms, loss of vision, delirium, extreme headaches, no thank you.

4. Having an alien tear it's way out of my abdomen. Every time I've seen this it looked pretty painful. Plus, it means I've been harboring an alien inside me, and become a pawn to their evil, seeking world dominance, ways. Bastard aliens.

3. Drawn and quartered. Jesus, ow. It kind of depends on how it's done, but essentially if my arms and legs are ripped off, I imagine I'd feel a lot of pain before dying. And all I would be able to do is flop around, screaming, wishing to die. So I suppose death might seem nice by the end of it.

2. A drawn out death as a result of sarin gas. Here are the potential symptoms of sarin gas poisoning:

coma
convulsions
death
difficulty breathing
disturbed sleep and nightmares
extreme sensitivity to light
foaming at the mouth
high fevers
influenza-like symptoms
loss of consciousness
loss of memory
nausea and vomiting
paralysis
post-traumatic stress disorder
respiratory problems
seizures
uncontrollable trembling
vision problems, both temporary and permanent

Now I know why Stanley Goodspeed freaked out so much in The Rock, you know, the beginning, where that cute little doll sprays out what might be sarin gas, and he has to defuse the bomb, and Isherwood is freaking out. What a bad, but entertaining movie.

1. Being bored to death. I'm not sure this could even happen, I imagine what would actually happen is that I'd slowly go insane and eventually eat my own tongue, and die of blood loss. I can keep myself entertained for a really long time, one reason I'm such a great security guard, I can stave off boredom, but over a long enough period, I begin to think i may be going insane. Death via insanity via boredom.

Big Sugar

2008-06-16T15:45:00.000-07:00

So, a friend of mine, in fact the blog's namesake, told me I should watch this documentary Proving once again that Jarrett Sacks is my inspiration for everything. Produced by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, CBC, Big Sugar reveals what most people have never bothered to think about, where their sugar comes from, and the atrocities that put it there. What Big Sugar taught me:

So, the reason Canada was primarily British, and not French is because of sugar. Britain stole two islands from France, two islands which produced assloads of sugar. But Britain didn't want war, and knew they had to give something to France. Britain either had to give Canada back, or the two islands, Guadaloupe and Martinique. Guadaloupe alone produced 43 times the amount of revenue as Canada, France didn't even want Canada back. Nobody wanted to go there. The big sugar farmers bribed the hell out of the members of parliament. Giving them money, booze, getting them hookers, giving them precious lines of sugar to snort and mix with their tea, the usual sort of thing. The big sugar farmers wanted to keep Canada to stifle their sugar competition of those islands. Britain kept Canada so that British companies wouldn't have to compete with more potential British companies. Canada is basically British because Britain liked sugar. France was pretty damn happy about it, they needed that sugar..... to stifle the commoners, I suppose. Damn riotous Frenchies.

Sugar costs a lot more in the US than other places, apparently large Florida sugar farms have shut the door down to the sugar from other countries.

Sugar, despite the fact that it has no nutritional value, is subsidized up the wazoo.

Sugar companies are destroying the Everglades. Ask Al Gore.

A Florida representative wrote a bill to cut subsidies to sugar companies, and he had the votes to do it...until five cosponsors changed their votes. The bill lost by five votes. Cosponsors! I wish I was important enough to be bribed.

A sugar baron managed to call Bill Clinton while he was "being visited" by Monica Lewinsky, to complain about a potential tax on sugar. Lewinsky remembers the call. The tax wasn't passed, and in fact more subsidies were passed. That's power.

There are sugar plantations in the Dominican Republic alone that are larger than some countries, including Andorra, not that Andorra is large, but still, sugar plantations that are 400 square miles, that's huge.

Some workers on sugar plantation aren't allowed to leave the plantations, they're basically slaves. Scratch the "basically." They are. They get up, don't eat, go to work for at least 12 hours, then goes home, on the plantation, and eat dinner. If the children get hungry, they go out and steal some of the sugar cane, just to hold themselves over. Each man is expected to cut a ton of sugar cane a day. 2,000 pounds a day. They get about two dollars a day. They're even forbidden to plant their own gardens.

The Church of England ran a sugar plantation, even branding their slaves with the word "Society."

That was all part one, part two didn't really teach me anything. Part two is mainly about the affects sugar has on health. Sugar makes you fat, I knew that, I'm fat. I know how I got here.

I did gain one thing from part 2. The US threatened to withdraw 300 million dollars worth of funding to the World Health Organization if they published a report saying that sugar most likely leads to obesity, etc. The WHO didn't publish any of the sugar aspects of their report.

I suggest you see this, it's a very interesting documentary. I'm sure it has it's issues, most documentaries do, but very much worth watching. It's available on google video, too. Huzzah Google. Part 1. Part 2.

As usual, comments greatly appreciated.

Jesus Camp

2008-06-15T19:12:00.000-07:00

Since my brother watched the movie "Jesus Camp" and wrote a blog, and since I've been meaning to watch the movie for several months now, and since I finally watched it, I, too, will write a blog about it.

Now, I'm fully aware that most Christians aren't like the ones in the movie. I grew up going to church every Sunday, and I went to a church camp for half a dozen years before I was 18, so I'm fully aware that the majority of Christians aren't represented by the people n the movie, but I am struck by many things:

The Pastor lady uses a lot of hair spray....too much. In fact, way too much considering she has short hair.

I'm astounded by the hatred towards Harry Potter, I was unaware that God didn't like fiction books, even if they represent the evilness of warlocks and witchcraft.

Like my brother I am shocked by the fact that these people seem to think that Christianity is American, and vice versa. It does indeed, as noted by mi hermano, seem like their faith would disappear if America ceased to exist.

Parents, regardless of faith, should not let their children sport rat tails. It's just not acceptable, I don't care if Jesus, Mohammad, Hanukkah Harry, Buddha or Lincoln specifically rose from the grave to tell you to have your child sport a rat tail, it's just not okay.

I'm always surprised about the amount of Christian T-Shirts come ridiculously close to crossing the line of Trademark infringement, slightly tweaked logos, slogans, etc. In fact, I think a good many could easily be prosecuted, but no large company wants to sue a company for supporting, or maybe exploiting under the guise of supporting, a religion.

Regardless of what I have believed in the past, at some points I was quite religious, I have never understood speaking in tongues, raising hands during worship, violently shaking, etc. Maybe I was never a true believer, I guess that can be surmised by my current state, but to me it just doesn't seem rational or believable.

I clearly don't understand what the kids wearing army fatigues and face paint are supposed to represent.

The Pledge of Allegiance to the Christian Flag was amazing.

I found the scene with the cardboard cutout of George W. Bush to be horrifying. I need to remember that, apparently, supporting the President is some sort of religious fundamental. i wonder if they'd support any President. After all, every President has been religious to an extent, none of them has ever claimed to be an atheist or agnostic, as I'm aware, and they have all attended services at the whatcha-ma-call-it church right next to the Whitehouse...I know, I've been there, they told me.

One guy preaching to the children referred to God "writing the novel" that is one person's life. A novel is, by definition, fictitious, which caused me to burst out in laughter at that scene. I understand what he was getting at, but it was amazing.

Referring back to my note about chanting, speaking in tongues and convulsing, apparently if you don't do that, you're not a real christian, and if it doesn't happen at your church, it's not a real church. Good to know, I hope all you Presbyterian posers and fakers are reading this.

I'm a bit curious why evangelicals are drawn to the megachurches. The least intimate of churches seem to be reserved for the most in your face devout of the group, seems odd to me.

I really enjoyed the part where a lady was talking about how our country was founded on Judeo-Christian ethics, and thus there should be God in school, etc. I'm assuming she is unaware of the first and msot basic of ammendments, one of those standards the country was founded upon. I suppose only things up to the preamble count. Oh, also, that whole wacky little seperation of church and state thing, which is a reason behind the first ammendment, atleast the freedom of religion aspect.

One Pastor in the movie asserts that if all the Evangelicals vote, they determine elections, which makes me wonder who they would vote for in this one. The conservative one they never see in a church, and who in fact has spoken out against many Christian leaders, or the liberal one who has to keep switching pastors because they're crackpots.

I'm confused as to how putting red duct tape over your mouth with the word "Life" written on it is a good form of protest regarding abortion. You know what that accomploshes? People walking past you either not noticing, or thinking you're a freak for taping your mouth shut. I am willing to bet less than 10% of the people who saw them even knew what they were doing.

Look, going out on a mission is a noble pursuit, but who wants to willingly be a martyr, far more can be acomplished through years and years of misssionary work as opposed to death in the name of God. The vast majority of scripture doesn't want you to die for God, it wants you to live for God.

A radio announcer, presumably a pastor in the midst of a sermon, that happens to be on radio, says that India is the most religiouos nation in the world, and that Sweden is the least religious, and that we, America, was a nation of Indians being ruled by a group of Swedes. That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard in a long time. For one, India pretty much has one religion, America has just a few more than that. According to most surveys, approximately 75% of America does indeed identify itself as Christian, but those numbers are dropping at a pretty quick rate, and I really don't think that current representation in Congress has anything to do with it. Congress repeatedly passes religious resolutions and they are repeatedly struck down by the supreme court, which is mostly comprised of Christians.

Sometimes I wish I were indoctrined with something....anything really, it seems like it makes life a whole lot easier. I don't care if I'm indoctrinated with the thinking that Yassir Arafat was the son of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, our one true Lord, it seems easier.

I don't necessarily encourage you to watch the movie, you won't be missing out on a lot. If you watch it, and think it represents Christians as a whole, then you're an idiot. But if you want to see some wacky evangelicals, then go for it.

Extinguish my face, please

2008-05-31T19:32:00.000-07:00

This post is related to the last one. it's only been a couple of hours since my last post, but what a couple of hours it's been. After about 2 hours my face finally stopped hurting. I licked my lips and tasted pepper, which was just a giant beckon of the doom to come. I knew I had to get the pepper off my face, but I was faced with a dilemma. As you may remember, I said water reactivates the pepper. Well, showers are primarily composed of water. About 30 seconds into the shower my face began to hurt again. I kept on. I scrubbed my face with soap specifically for faces. It didn't seem to help. I waited another minute, then I scrubbed my face with body wash. I was nearly willing to grab anything in the shower and just pour it on my face.

I have never sworn so much or so loudly while taking a shower. Probably a god thing my wife and her friend didn't come home while I was in there. Oh Sweet Zombie Lincoln, my face hurts. About as much before, thankfully my eyes are fine. But I think I moved pepper some. My ears burn, they didn't before. Its a horrific feeling. I wonder how many more showers I have to take tonight before there is no more pepper. Whoever thought to harness the power of peppers into a spray designed to go on the face should just fucking get raped by a porcupine.

A THOUSAND NEEDLES IN THE EYES!

2008-05-31T18:23:00.000-07:00

If anybody ever offers, or tries to make you take a oleo-resin capsicum training, your answer is "If you don't get away from me, I'm going to rip your intestines out through your calves, yeah, calves, figure that out, asshole."

Let me explain a few things. First oleo-resin capsicum. Oleo, meaning oil. Resin, I think you know what resin means, if not, stop reading my blog, I don't need your kind here. Capsicum is pepper. So, oily-resin pepper. Pepper spray. Now, training itself was not bad, reading, test, fake spraying etc. But a condition of the training is that you, yourself, are sprayed with pepper spray. And let me tell you, it's pure awful.

Going back, the training manual, put out by a pepper spray company itself, says that it feels like a thousand needles in your eyes. You know that feeling you get when your foot falls asleep, I mean, like really bad, like you walk on it and it not only hurts, but sometimes you're not sure what you're doing and you walk around like a retarded gorilla. Imagine that feeling in your foot in your damn eyes. The manual wasn't lying either, it feels like that. Now, as a condition of my training as a top of the pack security guard, ha, was that immediately after being sprayed, I had to cuff a guy, and then frisk him and find a weapon. Only then could I submerge my head in water. That water was great feeling, but short lasting. After washing my face with baby shampoo, it's easy on the eyes, I stood up, dried off, and paced for about 15 minutes. It seemed like the right thing to do. Wind feels amazing, sun feels awful. Your eyes stop hurting after a few minutes, but guess what, your brain doesn't think you should have them open. You can open them for a few seconds and your brain goes "Wait a second, I tried that once, it turned out pretty bad, close eyes, now."

After you dry off, a new effect takes hold. Before, the eyes just burned and you cough some, because you inhale pepper. Once dry, though, your face burns. Imagine the worst sunburn you've ever had, raise it up about twice as many notches and imagine it on your face. It's been an hour and a half since I was sprayed and my face still burns. Your only thought is "I need to submerge my head in water again, that shit was amazing." There's a catch though, thankfully our trainers told us this catch. Water does feel great, but once you take your head out again, and dry off, it will burn slightly more. As you stand around dry it slowly goes away, but water reactivates the god damned satan pepper. It makes your face burn more, it may get more pepper off, but it will intensify whats there.

It also affects some people way more than others. In fact, about 2% of the population is completely unaffected by it. They get sprayed and nothing really happens. We had a guy kind of like that in our training, he's a douche. That's a lie, he's a pretty nice guy, but the fact that it didn't effect him much makes him an assboat. Yeah, assboat. Anyway, it's way worse the whiter you are. Which, as my good friend Jarrett points out, "thats interesting since we designed pepper spray to injure young black men." The more aryan you are, the worse it is. In case you've never seen me, I'm a combination of English, Swedish, German and Norse. You can't get much more Aryan than that. I'm very white, blonde and blue-eyed. Luckily, I didn't take the advice of one co-worker of "You should shave beforehand." God, that would have been a bad idea. That was my adventure today, I'm now sitting in my house, with a fan blowing in my face, dirnking milk and from time to time rubbing cold things on my face, which, to anyone who was watching and didn't know the circumstances, might lead them to belive I had a weird fetish for metal things, but they feel so damned nice against my face.

Hicktown, USA, and my recent knowledge gain

2008-05-05T18:48:00.000-07:00

I think Spokane just cemented itself as a Hicktown. It has nothing to do with fiscal status, or the amount of cars parked in lawns. It has to do with this article: http://www.spokesmanreview.com/breaking/story.asp?ID=14824
Read it, the blog will wait, really only the first four paragraphs are necessary. I'll let it sink in a minute, again, the blog will wait for you, you read it at your own discretion anyway.
This dude plead guilty and was sentenced to 18 years, whatever, happens all the time, really it happens in non-hickish cities more often. The part that makes it hickish is that he got married minutes before being sentenced. He was wearing his freaking prison uniform. And to make it even more hick-tastic, the judge who sentenced him is the same judge that performed the marriage. That doesn't happen in cities with more than one judge, does it? How can it, it's freaking ridiculous, this isn't Ritzville.

Moving on to my knowledge gain, it regards my beloved sport of baseball. Baseball is exempt from antitrust laws. Professional sports in general kind of are, but baseball especially. It goes way back to the collapse of the Federal League in 1915. The remaining parts were essentially scrapped off and sold away, owners allowed to buy other teams, players divvied up, etc. One guy wasn't allowed to buy a team, he got pissed, he sued. In 1922 in Federal Baseball Club v. National League the supreme court decided that baseball wasn't governed by the Sherman Antitrust Act because baseball wasn't interstate commerce. You see, it wasn't interstate commerce because they played in one state at a time. The travel was incidental, I think it's silly, but I can kind of understand it. TV wasn't around yet, and radio signals didn't go far, so most of the commerce was pretty much in a single state.

Then, in 1952 in Toolson v. New York Yankees the court upheld their ruling. And they upheld it primarily because of their previous ruling. See, the court decided that because they had declared baseball exempt, and congress had failed to change the Sherman Antitrust Act, they must have specifically meant for baseball to be exempt. It was action via inaction.

Then in 1972 a man named Curt Flood was traded from the Cardinal to the Phillies. He didn't want to play for the Phillies, so he refused to be traded, and sued. In Flood v. Kuhn the court again ruled in favor of baseball, in this case Bowie Kuhn, the commissioner of baseball, who oddly enough, was a lawyer in the Toolson v. New York Yankees case for baseball. He thought about again representing baseball in this new case, but in the end decided not to do so. Anyway, the court specifically said baseball was indeed interstate commerce, and by all reasonable logic should fall within the governance of the Sherman Antitrust Act, but again, because they had already ruled on it, and congress hadn't changed the act, it meant baseball was supposed to be exempt. The court decided again that it was action via inaction. It was a closer vote this time around 5-3, one justice recused himself from the trial because he owned some of Anhueser-Busch, which owned the Cardinals. One justice who had voted in favor of the Yankees in the Toolson case changed his mind and voted for Flood in the last case, expressing his remorse for his decision the first time around.

The Supreme Court is always crazy. I knew baseball was exempt, but I was unaware the specific reasoning, and honestly, I'm still not sure of the reasoning, I understand the technicalities behind it, but the reasoning is Chris Bridges.

Pure Atrocity

2008-04-27T17:59:00.001-07:00

Two blogs in one day?!?!? Wacky! Unfortunately this isn't a happy blog.

This is the worst atrocity I have ever seen a television network perpetrate on the American public. Ever. I ask that you watch this, knowing it will hurt you, but you need to know about, just like you need to know about the holocaust. If people don't know about it, it could happen again, and no one wants that.

Now that you've watched it, I'm sorry. Again, it had to be done. I love Christopher Walken. Love him. loved him in The Deer Hunter, Fat Boy Slim's Weapon of Choice, and many of his other SNL hosting stints. I think he's a good actor, and even though he obviously needs cue cards to get through SNL, I think he does comedy rather well. I thought the first relative, played by Bill Hader, was decent, not great, but decent. Everything after that was pure disaster. The second Amy Poehler opened her mouth I wished my liver would implode, forming a weak blackhole that slowly sucked the rest of my body into it, in a slow agonizing death, I think it would have been preferable. Kenan, at the very end, was mediocre, at least he wasn't pure awful.

This may be my new mechanism for judging whether I should associate with people. If you like it, you're no friend of mine. Further, Jarrett and I discusses this, if you like it, we think you should be drug out into the street, publicly raped in the ear, and then put into a guillotine, you sick freak.

10 Movie Characters I Want To Be

2008-04-27T17:26:00.000-07:00

So, some of my friends and I make random lists when we hang out, favorite actors, favorite directors, favorite movies by decade, random stuff usually relating to pop culture, in fact, I think so far it has always been related to pop culture. I recently hatched the idea for a list: What Movie Character Would You Want To Be, assuming the character existed in real life. When we do lists we take turns, one by one we go through ten people, but you can't repeat anybody, so you end up not necessarily having your top ten in your list, but it's overall represented unless you forgot someone.
Here's mine for characters(in no particular order):
1.) The T-1000 from Terminator 2.
Basically he can do whatever he wants, as long as he avoids temperatures above 1000 degrees. He dies in T2, but that's an incredibly unrealistic scenario, in real life, the T-1000 would destroy the T-100 (or T-800, depends what part of the movies you're watching, he's referred to most commonly as a T-100, but sometimes as a T-800 series of some kind) but I'm confident that in real life I'd maintain operating order. Some naysayers might say that you wouldn't want to be a robot, because then you can't have feelings, but I am confident that the T-1000 would become sentient. The T-100(800) pretty much does, and the creator of both (Skynet) gathers AI, so I am confident I would. I would be able to shift shapes into a cop, or Sarah Connor, or even sprout another arm to help me fly a helicopter, woot.

2.)The Dude from The Big Lebowski.
He doesn't lead a very entertaining life, but he seems really happy with who he is. He bowls, and he smokes weed and drinks white russians. That essentially seems to be his life. Throw in the odd trip to your landlord's interpretive dance show, and the very rare adventure to obtain a rug and the wacky side adventures it incurs and you're set. I love bowling, so right there I'm happy. Plus to have friends like Donnie and Walter, especially if they're really like Steve Buscemi and John Goodman, that sounds radular to me. I'm not sure I want to write checks for 69 cents, though, it would make me feel like a deadbeat and weird.

3.)Elwood Blues from The Blues Brothers.
This is another character, like The Dude, who seems to live in relative poverty, but also seems to love what he does. First of all, having a brother played by John Belushi already sounds good. Being in a giant rhythm and blues band also sounds great, especially since my job would be harmonica and not really lead vocals, but not background vocals either, a happy medium of the two. I may spend some time in prison, but the adventure that I have leading up to that point would undoubtedly be something great.

4.) Magneto from X-Men.
Magneto has always been my favorite creature with super powers. He's not really good, not really bad, which I like, plus I greatly respect his power. It's not too outlandish and powerful (Superman) but it also doesn't suck (Jubilee). He also seems like a man of great intelligence, and has colleagues in high places, also he gets to hang out with Mystique, that can't be bad.

5.) Spock from Star Trek.
He's a tremendously smart guy. Plus he doesn't have to deal with lame ass human emotions, he leaves that to Kirk, and Bones, and Hikaru Sulu, people like them. On that note, he gets to hang out with Kirk, Bones, Sulu Checkov, Scotty, etc. He travels both space and time, dies and comes back, and a master of logic. Sign me up.

6.) Optimus Prime from Transformers.
This seems like it'd be another sentient issue in real life, he's a freaking robot. But if you watch the show, he clearly has intelligence and emotions. Being a giant ass-kicking robot would be great, being a self-driving semi would be great, being able to be both, freaking amazing. Add on top of that the fact that he's Jewish(family guy), I'm sold.

7.)Willy Wonka, specifically from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but Charlie and the Chocolate Factory wouldn't be bad either.
He's eccentric, dresses how he pleases, doesn't care what other people think, and lives in a world of candy and small orange men. He doesn't seem to have a woman on the side, but with that set-up he easily could. I want to wear a top hat and sweet blue coat, walk with a cane for no apparent reason other than it looks great and have an office full of half of things. Everybody the world over envies Willy Wonka, even though he's obviously insane.

8.) Indiana Jones, from the Indiana Jones series.
So, I'd be an archeology professor...but one who seems to teach about two classes a year and holds no real office hours despite what I tell my students. On top of that I get to go on adventures and kill Nazis? Yes please. I'd like to avoid Temple of Doom, it was a bad movie, and a stupid concept. If I were Henry Jones Jr. I wouldn't have gone, I would have left the chick, taken the diamond and my good friend Shortround and come back to America. Whatever happened to Shortround, he was with Indy in Temple of Doom, which takes place before the other movies, but he's not even mentioned in the others. I feel that this story line needs to be tied up, and I don't think it will be in Crystal Skull, oh well. I've always wanted to be good with a whip and have a preternatural understanding of seemingly everything that exists in the 30's.

9.) Admiral Achbar from Return of the Jedi.
Leader of the rebel forces? Yes. Giant reptile thing? Yes. Comfortable Captain Chair on a giant space ship with an amazing view? Yes. He's a man of power, and especially after the Empire is conquered I assume he got mad reptile alien tail out of it. He probably went on to rule the universe in a jovial manner that pleased nearly everybody.

10.) Either Sonny, Michael or Vito Corleone from The Godfather.
As previously documented I've always wanted to be in the mafia, and what better way that be a genuine Corleone? Each has their respective downfalls and benefits, but I'd be happy being any one of them.

Chuck Klosterman and his 23 questions

2008-03-12T14:33:00.001-07:00

Chuck Klosterman's "23 Questions I Ask Everybody I Meet In Order To Decide If I Can Really Love Them"

Chuck Klosterman is great. Read him sometime, well, not him, but stuff he's written. Moving on, in between essays in his book "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" he has the following questions, it's titled, well, the title is right above this, read. I will now answer them for myself, and give a brief explanation. Enjoy. By the way, I copied the questions from another blog, they appear to be verbatim, but if not....damn.How would you feel about this?

1. Let us assume you met a rudimentary magician. Let us assume he can do five simple tricks--he can pull a rabbit out of his hat, he can make a coin disappear, he can turn the ace of spades into the Joker card, and two others in a similar vein. These are his only tricks and he can't learn any more; he can only do these five. HOWEVER, it turns out he's doing these five tricks with real magic. It's not an illusion; he can actually conjure the bunny out of the ether and he can move the coin through space. He's legitimately magical, but extremely limited in scope and influence.

Would this person be more impressive than Albert Einstein?

Personally, I'd say yes. The man can conjure things out of air, that's freaking amazing. Other people have done things similar to Einstein, I have never seen anyone actually manipulate time and space.

2. Let us assume a fully grown, completely healthy Clydesdale horse has his hooves shackled to the ground while his head is held in place with thick rope. He is conscious and standing upright, but completely immobile. And let us assume that--for some reason--every political prisoner on earth (as cited by Amnesty International) will be released from captivity if you can kick this horse to death in less than twenty minutes. You are allowed to wear steel-toed boots.

Would you attempt to do this?

Yes, yes I most certainly would. Not only do I feel that most if not all political prisoners should be set free, but I think this would be a great way to get rid of some rage. I might even beat the horse more after it were dead, because everyone knows I love to beat a dead horse. Cliche, Zing.

3. Let us assume there are two boxes on a table. In one box, there is a relatively normal turtle; in the other, Adolf Hitler's skull. You have to select one of these items for your home. If you select the turtle, you can't give it away and you have to keep it alive for two years; if either of these parameters are not met, you will be fined $999 by the state. If you select Hitler's skull, you are required to display it in a semi-prominent location in your living room for the same amount of time, although you will be paid a stipend of $120 per month for doing so. Display of the skull must be apolitical.

Which option do you select?

Heil Fuhrer. I totally pick Hitler one this one, not only do I get money, but I freaking have Hitler's skull. Plus it can't be political, the instructions say so, maybe I'd just put a sign with it "The existence of this skull means I made $120 this month. Cha-Ching. (By the way, it's Hitler's skull) "

4. Genetic engineers at Johns Hopkins University announce that they have developed a so-called "super gorilla." Though the animal cannot speak, it has a sign language lexicon of over twelve thousand words, an I.Q. of almost 85, and--most notably--a vague sense of self-awareness. Oddly, the creature (who weighs seven hundred pounds) becomes fascinated by football. The gorilla aspires to play the game at its highest level and quickly develops the rudimentary skills of a defensive end. ESPN analyst Tom Jackson speculates that this gorilla would be "borderline unblockable" and would likely average six sacks a game (although Jackson concedes the beast might be susceptible to counters and misdirection plays). Meanwhile, the gorilla has made it clear he would never intentionally injure any opponent.

You are commissioner of the NFL: Would you allow this gorilla to sign with the Oakland Raiders?

Al Davis is exactly the kind of guy who would sign this gorilla. I'd leave it up to the player's union honestly, for one, it means I don't have to make a decision, and secondly they'd have their say whether I wanted them to or not.

5. You meet your soul mate. However, there is a catch: Every three years, someone will break both of your soul mate's collarbones with a Crescent wrench, and there is only one way you can stop this from happening: You must swallow a pill that will make every song you hear--for the rest of your life--sound as if it's being performed by the band Alice in Chains. When you hear Creedence Clearwater Revival on the radio, it will sound (to your ears) like it's being played by Alice in Chains. If you see Radiohead live, every one of their tunes will sound like it's being covered by Alice in Chains. When you hear a commercial jingle on TV, it will sound like Alice in Chains; if you sing to yourself in the shower, your voice will sound like deceased Alice vocalist Layne Staley performing a capella (but it will only sound this way to you).

Would you swallow the pill?

No offense to my wife, but I hope she gets used to the pain. I listen to way too much music, and dislike Alice in Chains too much to swallow the pill. I'll drown out the once every tree years bitching with some great non-Alice in Chains.

6. At long last, someone invents "the dream VCR." This machine allows you to tape an entire evening's worth of your own dreams, which you can then watch at your leisure. However, the inventor of the dream VCR will only allow you to use this device of you agree to a strange caveat: When you watch your dreams, you must do so with your family and your closest friends in the same room. They get to watch your dreams along with you. And if you don't agree to this, you can't use the dream VCR.

Would you still do this?

Holy hell, no. One, I don't remember most of my dreams, maybe I constantly dream about killing my entire family and all my friends, I don't really need them to know that if I don't even know that. I also don't see the benefit, if I can dream it, and thus subconsciously think about it, I can think of it on my own and probably have, without thinking something may have just happened that didn't, immediately after it's over.

7. Defying all expectation, a group of Scottish marine biologists capture a live Loch Ness Monster. In an almost unbelievable coincidence, a bear hunter in the Pacific Northwest shoots a Sasquatch in the thigh, thereby allowing zoologists to take the furry monster into captivity. These events happen on the same afternoon. That evening, the president announces he may have thyroid cancer and will undergo a biopsy later that week.

You are the front page editor of The New York Times: What do you play as the biggest story?

The Loch Ness Monster and Sasquatch get the lead on my paper, for multiple reasons. First, the President most likely announced this in some sort of Press Conference, that by 6 AM the next day a good amount of people will have seen. Second, he just suspects he may have thyroid cancer, no one really knows until later that week, the results of the biopsy is what will be my lead that day, but for now, answers to decades worth of conspiracy theories will be on the front page for purely fiscal reasons.

8. You meet the perfect person. Romantically, this person is ideal: You find them physically attractive, intellectually stimulating, consistently funny, and deeply compassionate. However, they have one quirk: This individual is obsessed with Jim Henson's gothic puppet fantasy The Dark Crystal. Beyond watching it on DVD at least once a month, he/she peppers casual conversation with Dark Crystal references, uses Dark Crystal analogies to explain everyday events, and occasionally likes to talk intensely about the film's "deeper philosophy."

Would this be enough to stop you from marrying this individual?

This is a tricky one. I constantly pepper conversations with weird references...but not just from one movie that is average at best. I love Jim Henson and all, but it's not that great. Chances are that it would be impossible for me to fall in love with this person, I'd go insane long before it happened. But then again, the question stipulates that I find them intellectually stimulating and consisten

9. A novel titled Interior Mirror is released to mammoth commerical success (despite middling reviews). However, a curious social trend emerges: Though no one can prove a direct scientific link, it appears that almost 30 percent of the people who read this book immediately become homosexual. Many of these newfound homosexuals credit the book for helping them reach this conclusion about their orientation, despite the fact that Interior Mirror is ostensibly a crime novel with no homoerotic content (and was written by a straight man).

Would this phenomenon increase (or decrease) the likliehood of you reading this book?

Probably neither. It wouldn't decrease it because, well, if I'm gay then it'd be nice to find out, regardless of the reason. And it wouldn't increase because I don't really read novels anymore, so I can't see a reason why this would change.

10. This is the opening line of Jay McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City: "You are not the kind of guy who would be in a place like this at this time of the morning." Think about that line in the context of the novel (assuming you've read it). Now go to your CD collection and find Heart's Little Queen album (assuming you own it). Listen to the opening riff to "Barracuda."

Which of these two introductions is a higher form of art?

I haven't read the book, but I find that opening riff to be pure amazing. So, I default to "Barracuda" by Heart. It really is amazing.

11. You are watching a movie in a crowded theater. Though the plot is mediocre, you find yourself dazzled by the special effects. But with twenty minutes left in the film, you are struck with an undeniable feeling of doom: You are suddenly certain your mother has just died. There is no logical reason for this to be true, but you are certain of it. You are overtaken with the irrational metaphysical sense that--somewhere--your mom has just perished. But this is only an intuitive, amorphous feeling; there is no evidence for this, and your mother has not been ill.

Would you immediately exit the theater, or would you finish watching the movie?

I can't see why me calling her, or someone else for that matter would change whether she died or not. I'd stay in the theater, the only way I would leave is if I decided the movie was awful.

12. You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago. The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money. When you ask how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street. You look at this random stranger. The wizard says, "I will now make them a dollar more attractive." He waves his magic wand. Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far as you can tell, nothing is different. But--somehow--this person is suddenly a little more appealing. The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can't deny that this person is vaguely sexier. This wizard has a weird rule, though--you can only pay him once. You can't keep giving him money until you're satisfied. You can only pay him one lump sum up front.

How much cash do you give the wizard?

Whatever amount I determine I have to be expendable. If I'm near an ATM and have what I decide to be $500 that doesn't need to go to bills, then $500 it is. The wizard proved he could do it, and if I have expendable money, then what's the issue here?

13. Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor. No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service. After the meal, you are asked to give a fifteen-minute speech to the assembly.

What do you talk about?

That'd be quite the small banquet, and with a somewhat diverse set of interests. As such, I'd probably just talk about random things that didn't matter, baseball, my times in the Cambodian Ghetto, the usual.

14. For reasons that cannot be explained, cats can suddenly read at a twelfth-grade level. They can't talk and they can't write, but they can read silently and understand the text. Many cats love this new skill, because they now have something to do all day while they lay around the house; however, a few cats become depressed, because reading forces them to realize the limitations of their existence (not to mention the utter frustration of being unable to express themselves).

This being the case, do you think the average cat would enjoy Garfield, or would cats find this cartoon to be an insulting caricature?

Well, if I were a cat, I'd be jealous as all hell of Garfield. He does whatever he wants, pushes his dog pal Odie around, eats what he wants, sleeps when he wants, mocks his owner Jon with Jon somehow knowing it. Garfield has this weird telepathy thing, even cats who read wouldn't have that. So, strong level of contempt felt towards Garfield.

15. You have a brain tumor. Though there is no discomfort at the moment, this tumor would unquestionably kill you in six months. However, your life can (and will) be saved by an operation; the only downside is that there will be a brutal incision to your frontal lobe. After the surgery, you will be significantly less intelligent. You will still be a fully functioning adult, but you will be less logical, you will have a terrible memory, and you will have little ability to understand complex concepts or difficult ideas. The surgery is in two weeks.

How do you spend the next fourteen days?

I can't imagine why I'd want that surgery. I'd take the death 6 months later. But since the question just assumes that I get the surgery, I'd spend fourteen days trying to warn everyone I know that I will soon be an idiot, like them. As for the people I know that aren't idiots, well, I'd beg them to kill me within a month after having the operation, because clearly post-Surgery Sam will not be able to clearly articulate why he should die.

16. Someone builds and optical portal that allows you to see a vision of your own life in the future (it’s essentially a crystal ball that shows a randomly selected image of what your life will be like in twenty years). You can only see into this portal for thirty seconds. When you finally peer into the crystal, you see yourself in a living room, two decades older than you are today. You are watching a Canadian football game, and you are extremely happy. You are wearing a CFL jersey. Your chair is surrounded by books and magazines that promote the Canadian Football League, and there are CFL pennants covering your walls. You are alone in the room, but you are gleefully muttering about historical moments in Canadian football history. It becomes clear that—for some unknown reason—you have become obsessed with Canadian football. And this future is static and absolute; no matter what you do, this future will happen. The optical portal is never wrong. This destiny cannot be changed.

The next day, you are flipping through television channels and randomly come across a pre-season CFL game between the Toronto Argonauts and the Saskatchewan Roughriders. Knowing your inevitable future, do you now watch it?

Only if I determine it to be the best thing on, the future is apparently going to happen regardless of what I do. But if it were the best option of everything to do, then why not.

17. You are sitting in an empty bar (in a town you’ve never before visited), drinking Bacardi with a soft-spoken acquaintance you barely know. After an hour, a third individual walks into the tavern and sits by himself, and you ask your acquaintance who the new man is. “Be careful of that guy,” you are told. “He is a man with a past.” A few minutes later, a fourth person enters the bar; he also sits alone. You ask your acquaintance who this new individual is. “Be careful of that guy, too,” he says. “He is a man with no past.”

Which of these two people do you trust less?

The man with no past. Everyone has a past of some kind, and if this guy doesn't, then he's probably a serial killer. Then again, I have no reason to distrust a serial killer, I'm an average white male, not exactly the kind of person killed by serial killers, and the other guy has a past of some kind, maybe riddled with bank robberies and lying to hookers. I change my answer, I trust the man with a past less.

18. You have won a prize. The prize has two options, and you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2,000. The second option is ten minutes on the moon.

Which option do you select?

$2,000 dollars a month in Europe wouldn't be that great. With the book I could write, after having an adventure on the moon, I could easily fund a year long trip to Europe.

19. Your best friend is taking a nap on the floor of your living room. Suddenly, you are faced with a bizarre existential problem: This friend is going to die unless you kick them (as hard as you can) in the rib cage. If you don’t kick them while they slumber, they will never wake up. However, you can never explain this to your friend; if you later inform them that you did this to save their life, they will also die from that. So you have to kick a sleeping friend in the ribs, and you can’t tell them why.

Since you cannot tell your friend the truth, what excuse will you fabricate to explain this (seemingly inexplicable) attack?

"Wake the fuck up, dickbag! I'm sick of you sleeping on my floor."

20. For whatever the reason, two unauthorized movies are made about your life. The first is an independently released documentary, primarily comprised of interviews with people who know you and bootleg footage from your actual life. Critics are describing the documentary as “brutally honest and relentlessly fair.” Meanwhile, Columbia Tri-Star has produced a big-budget biopic of your life, casting major Hollywood stars as you and all your acquaintances; though the movie is based on actual events, screenwriters have taken some liberties with the facts. Critics are split on the artistic merits of this fictionalized account, but audiences love it.

Which film would you be most interested in seeing?

Meh, I don't care what my friends think of me that much, if they hate me, they wouldn't be my friends, if they don't hate me, well, one would assume I already know that. I want to see who Hollywood casts as my friends and I.

21. Imagine you could go back to the age of five and relive the rest of your life, knowing everything that you know now. You will reexperience your entire adolescence with both the cognitive ability of an adult and the memories of everything you’ve learned form having lived your life previously.

Would you lose your virginity earlier or later than you did the first time around (and by how many years)?

Hmm, in all honestly, probably earlier by a year, maybe two.

22. You work in an office. Generally, you are popular with your coworkers. However, you discover that there are currently two rumors circulating the office gossip mill, and both involve you. The first rumor is that you got drunk at the office holiday party and had sex with one of your married coworkers. This rumor is completely true, but most people don’t believe it. The second rumor is that you have been stealing hundreds of dollars of office supplies (and then selling them to cover a gambling debt). This rumor is completely false, but virtually everyone assumes it is factual.

Which of these two rumors is most troubling to you?

How could the first one be more troubling to anybody. Whether you're upset by a rumor or not should be based on two things, and they go in order of importance: whether people believe it, and whether it's true.

23. Consider this possibility:

a. Think about deceased TV star John Ritter.

b. Now, pretend Ritter had never become famous. Pretend he was never affected by the trappings of fame, and try to imagine what his personality would have been like.

c. Now, imagine that this person—the unfamous John Ritter—is a character in a situation comedy.

d. Now, you are also a character in this sitcom, and the unfamous John Ritter character is your sitcom father.

e. However, this sitcom is actually your real life. In other words, you are living inside a sitcom: Everything about our life is a construction, featuring the unfamous John Ritter playing himself (in the role of your TV father).

But this is not a sitcom. This is your real life.

Umm, I'm not even too sure what this question is asking, like, how would I feel if John Ritter were my Dad in some sort of really predictable and mildly amusing life? Fine, I guess...would I know any differently?

In retrospect, my answers aren't all that interesting, or particularly witty, but I love the questions themselves, I'd like to know how Mr. Klosterman came to these questions as being the basis of knowing whether he could love someone or not, but they seem rational now that I know they exist.

Jobs!

2008-03-10T19:35:00.000-07:00

So, a long time ago I did a blog about my top 5 desired jobs, this will be similar, but with no concept of time. I was sitting around at Shari's when one of my friends came up with this idea. Top jobs where time or qualifications is not an issue. So if I desired to be a professional dolphin rodeo rider from the 1850's, which of course was the height of the dolphin rodeo days, then that'd be okay. This is tentatively going to be a top 10 list, but it might change, I'm telling you now because I don't want to bother to edit this far back into the post. I'm a lazy ass. These are in absolutely no order, by the way, because it goes back to the lazy thing.

10. Soothsayer. Seriously, stand around and make up things to tell to a powerful guy. I don't really care who I would be a soothsayer for, just someone not too homicidal. "Well, your worship, I have looked into the stars, and it appears that you'll die if you attack the Persians, I think you should avoid it. Oh, you don't want to avoid it, hmm, let me look again.......oh, my bad, you're going to win, presuming you appoint me to take over for you if you die, but that's the only way. Seriously, I wish I could explain it, but you know how the stars are."

9. Pharaoh pre-Hebrew revolt. I don't think this requires much explanation. Being Pharaoh would be awesome, and if it were pre-Hebrew revolt, then wow. Pyramids and statues dedicated t my memory, all at the sweat of a people that my own populous doesn't respect. I could revolutionize the Egyptian job market, make actual Egyptians supervisors, or what have you. Not to mention the army I'd have. Africa would be mine, and Moses doesn't scare me with his damn magic.

8. Rapper's Entourage Person #2. I specifically pick #2 because #1 has way too much pressure. Think about it, person right next to rapper, you could be shot at any time, you want to be the person next to the person next to the rapper, way less likely to die there. And on top of that you don't have to manage the rest of the entourage, or have the rapper be as dependent on you. Now, on to the perks, a rich guy will pay for everything you could ever want to do. Everything. And all you have to do is tell him he's fucking great. Maybe be in the background on a few tracks, but that's easy, you just stand in the back, and when it seems appropriate go "Yeah......ha, tell it man." I specifically have Afroman in mind for my boss, his music is just funny, and no one wants to kill Afroman, he's too unknown but likable at the same time.

7. Cereal Mascot. This was in my other list, and I completely stand by it. The time could be now, whatever. Being a pitchman for a cereal seems really easy. And to make sure there aren't any Dutch Floozies reading this, I don't mean a guy in a costume. essentially since I exist, I imagine that this cereal would have to be based on me, which seems absurd. I need to find a cereal that has similar traits as me. Maybe No Life-O's. "No Life-O's, the cereal that steals your ambition and makes you a black hole of trivia!" Christ, I'd be the best spokesman ever for that.

6. Jarrett Sacks' personal assistant. As near as I can tell, my interactions with Jarrett wouldn't change much, but I'd be paid for it. Sure, I'd talk to him in person instead of over a series of tubes and wires (interweb), maybe answer some calls, schedule a few things. Other than that it'd be the same. Make him laugh, make fun of his woman, propose absurd ideas, dance like a monkey, you know, the usual.

5. Movie Critic for guys like me. I don't want to be a real movie critic, then people would expect me to tell them some deep crap, like what I thought the symbolism of the director's use of the color blue was all about. Or why I think they chose to shoot with handcams, and shit. Fuck that. How about "the movie sucked and here's why, it starred Keanu Reeves, moving on."

4. Civil war solider. I've always been intrigued by war, and I think the US Civil War is the ideal time. I don't want to unsuspectingly be blown up by a bomb, or attacked by rebels in towns. I want the sophistication of the civil war. Union General and Confederate General meet up and decide they should fight the next morning, ten the next morning you stand a ways apart and see who can load and aim their gun the best. Civilized war, that's the way for me.

3. Hitman during the 40's. Great high power rifles, very little forensics evidence, huge mob payouts, both to me and to cops and witnesses alike. As morbid as this sounds, I've always felt I could be a great mob hitman. One would think I'd have morals and crap, but really, you piss the mob off, and you deserve to get nailed.

2. Bench coach for a major league team. As far as I can tell, the job consists of sitting around talking to your good friend the manager. You lean back, chew some gum or tobacco, spit, scratch yourself, talk, and rarely fill in for the manager when he gets tossed out of the game. "So, that Jeter is hitting well, huh? Hey, no, Joe, I think he was safe, too, but don't, ah, dammit, Joe you got thrown out, dammit.....umm, keep on playing well guys. Shit"

1. Movie writer. I'm not talking about real movies here, I'm talking Wayons Brothers type shit, and the crap they spawned. I can easily write crap like Epic Movie or Date Movie. A poorly trained Hamster can write that. What you need to ask yourself is, are you willing to sell out and be hated by smart people. Answer: probably, I like money. "You guys remember when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah's couch? Why don't we have a Tom Cruise like character, maybe Tim Sail, he could jump on some couch while screaming about how Psychiatry is evil and how wrong it is. Man, that'd be so topical and funny."

(Special #1A: Turn real movies into 8 minute versions of themselves, I only add that because I can do it, and I do it on a regular basis anyway for debate, so, if anyone is looking to hire a guy that can take a script that already exists, and make it a somewhat coherent 8 minutes, call me.)

DRAGONS!

2008-03-06T18:24:00.000-08:00

Interesting development at work today, I now have the pleasure of wearing a kevlar vest, just in case a crack head downtown tries to shoot me. I should have had one 6 months ago, but whatever, I don't really want to wear it anyway, not the most comfortable thing in the world. I wore it all afternoon to try and get used to it, which means if you saw me walking around Target today, I was wearing a bullet resistant vest, just in case those crazy middle aged women at Target tried to shoot me. I am not looking forward to wearing it for 8 hours tomorrow, we'll see how it goes.

In other news, while I was sitting at work staring at random people at a bus stop, something popped into my head. I have no idea where it came from. It also didn't develop slowly, it's not like it went "hey, I should think about this" and it slowly came along until I had the below, it all popped into my head verbatim. It was a movie trailer idea for a movie that doesn't exist, and would probably suck a lot if it did. But if anyone wants to make it a movie, I'll help you write it, or if you don't want my help, I'll just sue you for whatever money you get, which, given the nature of the movie idea, I can't imagine being more than a couple of dollars, but I'll fucking sue you anyway. I digress, it goes like this:
"In a time when Dragons are hunted for their skin and meat alike, not to mention the glory gained from bringing home a Dragon, they are near extinct. With the reported number being at 6, only one of which is male, due to the high price of male dragons, it is up to one dragon to help re-populate his species, in 'Chester: The Homosexual Dragon' "

VAGINAS!

2008-03-01T15:48:00.000-08:00

I decided to start titling after Jarrett, though he seems to have changed titling formats, I now intend to use one word, with an exclamation point. To get a little more business out of the way, I know, I know, two posts in two days, I've gone insane. Really, I just decided to bust out a classic story, and put it on the interweb. So here goes.

Several years ago, in the end of 2003 and the beginning of 2004 I lived with my good friend Dan. We lived in an area that isn't exactly the fillet of Spokane. It was a couple miles east of Gonzaga, pretty much due east from it, across the river, just a few blocks west of Napa, if you are familiar with Napa street, that might help you. Anyway, we lived in a Tri-plex, across some grass of another Tri-plex. We called it the Cambodian ghetto, Of our five possible neighbors in this set of two tri-plexes, four of them were of some south-east Asian descent. We never asked, but given what we knew, we were pretty sure they were all from a similar area, possibly even related, I'm not just being racists here. Anyway, from everything we could discern we were quite sure they weren't Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Vietnamese. We decided Cambodian, in retrospect Thai would not surprise me. I'm not sure why I bothered to tell this, it's not too related to the remainder of the story, maybe I am doing it for the sake of future classic stories, just a little back story I can refer to, who knows.

On to the real story. 20 days after we moved in, a taxi driver got shot in the head 5 blocks away. it was about 2 blocks north and 3 blocks east of where we lived. Now, he didn't die, it just grazed his head or something. Rather brief aspect of the story, but it plays a major role.

20 days later. This is really late December now, Dan discovered a letter on the street around the corner from us. He found it in front of a house that we had long suspected of being the house of a dealer. Lots of traffic in and out, fence surrounding the yard with large vicious dogs in the yard. Kind of odd. Anyway, he finds this letter, and we read it. Turns out it was from a drug runner to the drug dealer. The drug runner, as we later determined to be female from a few clues, such as the mention of a husband and having a vagina, was writing to say she didn't want to run drugs for this guy anymore. She'd had enough. She didn't care what harm she came across, she even tried taking her story to the cops. As I remember it, she mentioned that she flagged a cop down and played some phone messages she had saved from the dealer. The cop told her he could do nothing unless she gave him her cell phone. This caused alarm in her, she could not go without her cell phone, and it led her to believe the cops were in on it. Not sure how, but regardless, she was convinced. She later describes her second encounter with trying to tell a cop, but he was off duty, so he couldn't do anything. This did nothing but further her suspicions that the cops were in on it.

She continued saying that without the cops she was still out. She and her husband had gotten guns, so this dealer best not try anything. On top of that she goes into detail about how she is sick of his abuse. Apparently whenever she fucked up, he made her pay for it, in ritual beatings of some kind, including vagina stabbing. She goes on to say how hard it has been for her, not because she was being stabbed in the vagina, but because she was finding it hard to explain vaginal bleeding away, you see she "had been fixed" and thus did not have periods anymore. Her words, not mine, I assume it means she had a hysterectomy or some such. Anyway, she couldn't explain it away anymore, and so her husband found out. By this point I'm no longer sure if her husband knew she was drug running and he didn't care until he found out about the stabbings of the holiest of holies, or if he never knew of drug running, no idea. Dan and response to the letter was to neatly fold it and put it in the desk our TV sat upon. We're good citizens.

So, to review, 20 days after moving in there's a head shooting 5 blocks away. 20 days later Dan finds a letter describing a Vagina stabbing a block away.

20 days later, not about 20 days, but exactly 20 days, we did the math, I was sitting in our apartment. I had quit my job because it made me believe I that souls didn't exist, and I had to get out before it made me think further about such things. Dan, however, was still working for the same place. I was sitting at home, just chilling, and Dan comes in from walking home and immediately asks why there was a cop outside. I expressed a small bit of alarm and said I had no clue. I'm going to go into more back story now, before returning to this point. Dan and I had worked in medical records, filing crap, all day, it was a drag. Anyway, one night I hung out with friends and by the end of that all night session I had decided to quit. I called my boss up that night and left a message, I was done. Anyway, Dan's girlfriend at the time, whom we call Lie-bot, because she lies, a lot, much like a robot programmed to do nothing but lie, or a Lie-bot, if you will. Anyway, her sister worked at the same place, not in medical records but the same place none the less. Supposedly Lie-bot's sister had told Lie-bot that our employer thought I may have stolen medical records. i have no clue why they think I would have done such a thing, maybe they thought I was trying to infiltrate the system, steal records and sell them to insurance companies. Anyway, Lie-bot was positive that the cops were going to come shake Dan and I down. As laughable as we found it, we immediately set to work on a plan for if the cops did come. We made a legal pad of conversation, so we wouldn't actually have to talk to the cops if they came, it cited court cases and had fake maps of our apartment, including a legend where medical records would not be found, but where bombs and dead hooker bodies would be found. It was a great night.

Returning to the real story, our first real thought when Dan came home was "Was Lie-bot right?" Dan became more and more curious, as I grew more and more apathetic, eventually Dan went outside and asked the cop why he was sitting in his car out on the street. Turns out he was waiting for a search warrant for the apartment across from us. Our response was to sit out on our porch, literally sit, we took chairs out there. We sat there smoking, waiting to watch this shit happen. As we sat I regaled Dan with stories from my day, despite my unemployment, I had had a very busy day. By busy, I mean some stuff happened, but I didn't really do anything. You see, I had sat around watching TV all day, but during the Price is Right, which airs from 10 am to 11 am, I had heard some loud Cambodian yelling outside. It sounded intense. I turned the TV up, I didn't want to get involved, and at the time I did not speak Cambodian, so I could not understand(note: I still do not speak Cambodian.).

A few hours later I was watching some other crap, and I heard a loud pounding on the door of the apartment across from us and a male yelling "Let me in God Dammit!" I again turned the TV up, despite the fact that I could clearly understand that, and I earlier used the excuse of I could not understand it, I didn't care. So Dan and I began to surmise that maybe the yelling and this cop being here were related. Big leap, huh? We sat outside for three hours, just waiting. Slowly more and more cops showed up until there were six cars and more than six cops waiting around. Presumably the sixth car contained the search warrant. Because once it showed up, they talked for awhile, then went in. While they were inside a seventh car showed up. A cop got out, walked towards the apartments holding a black case, he then asked Dan and I which apartment they had gone into, at which point we told him. He then went in and a few minutes later we saw a series of flashes, that last cop had brought the camera.

After ten minutes or so they finished and came out, and we then saw the old Cambodian couple that lived there near the street. The old man was describing a knife, which was about 6-8 inches in length. Then the old woman bent forward to reveal a large gash on the top of her head, with these two things combined Dan and I just kind of looked at each other in shock. She had been stabbed in the fucking head! She had to have been 70, maybe older. Who stabs a 70 year old Cambodian woman in the head?!?! What the fuck!? While all the cops were gathered around Dan and I decided we should try to give that letter to one of them, remember the letter? Dan got it, and we stood behind the old couple politely while they were questioned by the cops, we stayed far enough back so we couldn't hear anything, we didn't want to be assholes, despite the fact that Dan and I are both assholes, we're not that kind of asshole. When they finished only two cops remained. We approached them and briefly described the letter and that we thought they should have it. They said they were now off duty and thus could not take it, furthering the woman's thoughts that the cops were involved in this drug ring, unfortunately she was not there to learn this new information.

So, 20 days after we move in there is a head shooting 5 blocks away. 20 days later a vagina stabbing a block away. 20 days later a head stabbing about 20 feet away. The only logical conclusion Dan and I could come to was that somebody was going to be shot in the vagina inside our apartment in a matter of 20 days. We could not have this. Just to be sure, we created a large buffer, and for two months anyone with a vagina was not allowed to come to our apartment.

That is the story of how Dan and I refused to let women in our apartment for two months.

The end.

10 signs I'm a Giant Dorkitor

2008-02-29T08:17:00.000-08:00

So, I'm a giant dork, those who know me on the smallest of levels probably realize this, but I'm going to throw out the top 10 signs of my unabashed dorkness.

10. I watch British sitcoms a ridiculous amount. These range from older ones, like Fawlty Towers, to newer ones, like The IT Crowd. Not only do I watch them, but they have prevented me from more seriously considering the idea of changing jobs. I don't have too much opinion about my job one way or the other, but a shining beacon of why I like it, is that every Thursday and Friday, I have the pleasure of talking to an Englishman who works at the same place, and we talk a great deal about Britcoms. Kind of ridiculous, I know.

9. I spend hours every week playing a board game with a good friend of mine. That's all we ever really do, and we do it several days a week. I am dreading him moving for the reason that he's a good friend, but also because I can't get the level of play he offers from any of my other friends. I just don't think it's possible to get that level of play with somebody I also enjoy hanging out with.

8. I spend hours a day doing baseball related things, whether it be watching live games on TV or online, watching old games on TV, reading about it or talking about it, much of my life revolves around a sport. And I do nothing but strive to gain more knowledge about it.

7. As my good friend, Dan, says, I know the name of anybody who has ever had a camera in front of them. While this is nowhere near true, comparatively it's not far off. I know a good deal about TV shows and movies in general, and with that comes the actors in them.

6. I've watched Scrabble Championships on ESPN, and I get rather excited when I find out another one is going to come on. This isn't exclusive to Scrabble, I also watched a rock, paper, scissors tournament once, it was fascinating. I love watching Trick Pool, Spelling Bees, Curling and various other not well known things, and things most people would find painstakingly boring to view, I live for them.

5. I was in debate for two years in high school, that alone classifies me as a dork, but it's the 5 years since high school that make me even dorkier. I spent one year judging and occasionally helping my old team out, then I spent another year helping out a lot, unpaid mind you, and judging every tournament. The year after that I became an assistant coach, actually being paid to help out. Most assistant coaches go in to their school a day or two a week, I quickly began going in on average 4 days a week. This is for multiple reasons, I enjoy mocking high schoolers, and I enjoy the company of some of the students and the coach. But the main reason is because I'm fucking addicted to debate. I now no longer coach, though this will probably change, but I help run every single local tournament, and constantly try to whore myself out so that schools will take me to state, and hopefully nationals, it's in Vegas this year, give me a break, I'll whore myself out in the debate world for Vegas. Though, I attempt to whore myself out every year, even when it was in Kansas.

4. I have ridiculous debates with people regarding the most absurd topics, such as how if terrorists did manage to steal 100 billion dollars of US Government gold, ala Die Hard with a Vengeance, it would probably help the government a great deal. Usually on face the arguments aren't all that dorky, but the people I surround myself with, and don't get me wrong, I do this too, we all tend to go off on a tangent, whether it be about how likely it is to happen, something only minimally connected, empirical examples, or what have you, we eventually reach a conclusion, but the ensuing discussions or arguments are some of the dorkiest things you have ever seen, if you have seen them.

3. I play with Legos. They're pretty radular. The wife and I hope to obtain all the city sets, and essentially have a tiny Legotown. I am also acquiring all the Indiana Jones sets, I am one away from having the ones based off the original movies, and soon the one base don the new movie will come out, I'm quite giddy about it.

2. Referring to the previous number, I say things like "radular." I thoroughly enjoy combing words, in that case "radical" and "spectacular," or "tubular." I do it quite often, many involving the word "radical." Radtastic, radular, radderful. I also like substituting words, I recently had the brilliant idea of beginning to say "Chris Bridges" whenever I wanted to say "ludicrous." The thought being that Chris Bridges is also known as the rapper Ludacris. I find this to be quite hilarious, as do a few other people, but whenever I use it, I now need to explain why I said something was so Chris Bridges, amazingly this has not deterred me from using it.

1. I quite enjoy documentaries. In fact, I recently watched a documentary about a typeface.
Yeah, that's right, a type face, live with it. It was regarding Helvetica, in case you are curious. It's called Helvetica. On the whole it was pretty interesting, a tad boring in parts, but now I know a lot about Helvetica. Unfortunately I could not make this post in Helvetica, despite the fact that it is the most common English typeface in the world, Blogspot does not have it, nor does my instant messaging program. WTF.

Facsimiles of Joy

2008-02-22T03:56:00.000-08:00

I meant to post this yesterday, my apologies to Jeff Simcox.

So, I was working on Tuesday, the 19th. And, for those of you who are unfamiliar with my job, it used to be that I drove around for 8 hours listening to music. That's changed to driving around for 90 minutes, followed by sitting in a parking lot for four and a half hours, then driving around again for an hour. The parking lot I sit at is beneath the freeway, I basically just sit there listening to music, driving around the lot every half hour to count the cars.

Around 10 AM on Tuesday I was doing my normal drive around, counting cars. At the west end of the lot were two men, possibly homeless, sitting there on a bench, talking. Technically I'm supposed to tell them to get the hell out, but my philosophy is that if they're not hurting anybody, then what's the harm. Usually they sit there for five minutes or so, then keep moving anyway. So I kept driving.

On my second time around the lot, I saw one of the guys standing there, while the other was still sitting. He was standing up against the wall, which is made of cinder block type stuff, so it's a wall, but you can see through it, has lots of holes. Anyway, this guy was standing there, and I couldn't tell if he was exposing himself to me, or peeing. Regardless, I wasn't happy, I just saw his penis, and I'm not very okay with that. I exit the lot, and drive around the outside of it, and immediately notice the pee dripping down the wall. God fucking dammit. I eventually turn around and go back to the lot, but by the time I got back, the other guy was peeing on the wall. Anger.

I got out of my car, walked up there and just went "You guys gotta get out of here." The peeing guy had stopped by that point and kind of just nodded and smiled at me, it was pretty creepy. The other guy began to collect his things, cigarettes, back pack, etc. Recently peeing guy basically just kept nodding and smiling, and it just kept getting creepier. Original peeing guy just kind of mumbled that they were collecting cans. Mumbling to the point that I asked him to repeat himself. Slightly louder he said "We're collecting cans." To which I said "That'd be fine with me, but that's not what you're doing, you're peeing on the wall, and I'm not okay with that."

They left without any complaint, and upon leaving the lot magically met up with two apparent friends. Maybe they weren't friends, just some sort of bum code to talk to each other, I don't know. but that's my "I saw a homeless man's penis" story. Magical, wasn't it?

My Triumphant Return

2008-02-16T12:58:00.000-08:00

So, inspired by my brother, I have decided to begin blogging again, and I will kick it off with a straight copy cat post of his.

Ten Things About Me:

10. I seem to have an Encyclopedic knowledge of the show Full House despite wanting to kill myself whenever it's on.

9. I often enjoy watching C-Span, sigh.

8. I've been pulled over a ridiculously large amount of times, but never received a ticket.

7. I might as well have baseball coursing through my veins....if it were possible I probably would. Sweet, sweet baseball.

6. My life's goal is to be on my deathbed and be able to honestly say "I've had a lot of regrets in my life.....but I've never been to Texas."

5. I have organized a Three tier system pertaining to my life, even including a bicameral legislation, I have a House of Representatives comprised of five friends, a Senate comprised of three friends, I am the acting executive of this system, and I even have a supreme court, comprised of my wife. It's a great system of checks and balances.

4. I absolutely refuse to align with a political party, I even created one with a friend, but eventually decided to disband it, as I did not agree with it enough.

3. I am completely incapable of picking a favorite movie or musician.

2. My roommate and I once banned women from our apartment for two months out of fear they'd be shot in the vagina.

1. Four of my best friends in life have last names containing references, if not flat out being the name of, parts of the male anatomy.

Feel free to ask me questions pertaining to any or all of these.

Top 5 Celebrities I Want to Meet

2007-06-07T00:44:00.000-07:00

So, here goes:
1.) Scott Baio. I think that's a given. He's screwed nearly every woman who was in a movie in the late 80's. I know everything he's starred in, pretty much, for no real reason either. Although, the first season of Charles in Charge was one of the most amazing things ever. I named my fantasy team after him, and "I Heart Scott Baio" is engraved into the back of my iPod. Zing.

2.) Walter Cronkite. It has always been my position that if a movie were ever made about me, I would want Walter Cronkite to represent the inner monologue inside my head.

3.) Phillip Seymour Hoffman. It has always been my position that if a movie were ever made about me, I woujld want Phillip Seymour Hoffman to play me.

4.) Richard Cheese. I own everything this man has made. Real name Mark Jonathan Davis, he used to be a jingle-meister for NBC. He used to sing the "Must See TV" jingles. And now I consider him a genius of music. I realize all he does is take popular songs and "swankify" them, but I find him amazing. I am currently conspiring to go see him in Seattle in August. Pray for me.

5.) Demetri Martin. I find him to be the funniest comedian that seems approachable that I haven't met. I have met Lewis Black, he might be tops if I hadn't already met him. Jim Gaffigan is super close. Jerry Seinfeld and George Carlin don't seem approachable to me.
By that, I mean that I think Jerry Seinfeld is probably so neurotic, he wouldn't meet me. George Carlin hasn't done much lately, and I don't know if I can forgive his being conductor on Thomas the Tank Engine. I will stick with Demetri Martin, the thinking man's comedian.

Notice there are no females on this list. I can't think of many female celebrities that might even crack the top 20. Meryl Streep might make the top 20. Not sure, maybe one day I will start a Top 20 series of blogs and cover the subject.

Top 5 Jobs

2007-06-04T00:37:00.001-07:00

This marks the beginning of what I hope will be a long series in blogs of top 5 things.
To kick things off, I will start with the Top 5 jobs I desire.

1.) Cereal Mascot
Seriously, what an awesome gig, from what I can tell you either rave about the product, and try to get people to eat it.....or you try and stave off potential enemies to your cereal empire. I can tell people to eat cereal, no problem, I was a debater, I can make stuff up with the best of them. Staving off enemies, I'd say would be more complicated, but I don't think it would be. The enemies cereal mascots tend to have don't seem hard to defeat. They are either cartoons, or children. Neither seems to terrible difficult to me. Then again, there is the odd cereal mascot that is a criminal, like the cookie crisp dog things. That's the top job I want, Cereal Mascot.

2.) Any position in the mafia
This is one I have always wanted since a child. It seems dangerous, yes, but the fringe benefits, my god. Tax free money, protection from virtually everybody, unless you piss your employer off. I would of course like to be the first king pin of no real national descent, I'm not Russian, or Italian and anything else really. But if I don't make king pin, then bodyguard or lackey is fine.

3.) Pirate
Ideally, I'd like to be the first space pirate, but that seems a bit far fetched. So, I will stick with pirate. Now, honestly, I'm not sure there are any benefits to being a pirate, always on the run, always risking being shot with a cannon, being sunk, what have you. The only reason I want this job is because of how pirates have always been portrayed, what kid hasn't wanted to be a pirate? If you can show me one person that had absolutely no desire to be a pirate, I will show you a very screwed up person.

4.) Personal Assitant to some rich cool guy
I have discussed this with many of my friends that have the potential to hit it big. Basically, it shakes down like this, I will be their personal assistant/bodyguard, and they will also have some hot chick that is a fake personal assistant. Basically, I'd get to hang out with someone I enjoy hanging out with, and do their bidding. It only works with select people as boss. Jarrett Sacks is my leading candidate right now.

5.) That guy that reads the small print at the end of commercials
I can already read quickly, it seems like a plush gig. I imagine it going down like this. I walk into a sound studio, and I say "Hi Ted." See, Ted's the name of the guy who runs the mixing board and what not. Ted says "Great, and you Sam?" And I say "Oh pretty good, what are we recording today?" Then Ted says "Loan finance type stuff." Or "Some more medicines." Either way, I say "Super." Then I stand in a studio and read aloud.

Some may wonder why I didn't include something related to baseball. Well, I am not sure I can write full articles about baseball on a near daily basis.
Also not sure I can provide enough banter about baseball to get myself through hundreds of broadcasts a year. I used to be official scorer for the Spokane Indians, it was okay. The club interfered too much though. I prefer those other 5 first.

There you have it, my top 5 jobs. More Top 5's to come.

Back to the Sequels

2007-04-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

It has been quite some time since I wrote a fake movie sequel synopsis, so here it is:
Back to the Future IV
The movie will take place in current day Hill Valley. It begins with Marty(Jason Bateman, Teen Wolf 2, anyone?) and Jennifer(Elisabeth Shue) at home, with their young children, Marty Jr.(Nathan Gamble) and Marlene(Elle Fanning), neither is older than 9. We are still 8 years away from when younger Marty and Jennifer appear in the future, which, I'm not sure will even happen anymore. Wow. Ummm, paradox, did they change the past enough that it won't happen? According to the other Back to the Futures I'd say no. We'll stick with that. So, given the Back to the Future timeline, everything else is perfect and going as it should be or is it. Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) knocks on the door, yet to have the thumb print upgrade. He is waiting with his wife Clara (Katey Sagal), and their children, Jules (that kid who plays drums in "School of Rock") and Verne (one of the twins who played the little kid in Big Daddy, the other quit acting....or so I am claiming.). Keep in mind that Doc Brown was last in the 1880's, and has his time traveling train parked out in the street, making for an odd sight.

Turns out, something they did in the 1880's tweaked the future just right, through cause and effect, which is never explained, that causes George McFly(Crispin Glover) and Biff Tannen(Tom Wilson) to be murdered while Marty and Jennifer are away at college in the spring of 1988. Doc obviously does not know this, as he has been living in the 1880's with his family. He came to the future just to catch up with Marty. When Marty tells him of what happened, and that his Mother later committed suicide without George, Doc can't handle it. Marty, in a reversal of roles, tries to tell Doc that they should not alter the past. Doc insists, and they head for the train, leaving the rest of their families behind.

They then travel back to the spring of 1988, one week before their murder. They were murdered by a man holding them up at gunpoint while George was on a book signing tour, with Biff as his bodyguard. Over the next week it is a trial of errors while Marty and Doc do everything in their power to stop the events to transpire....will they succeed?

Ad at the top.

2007-03-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

I've decided to whore myself out. Kind of. Not really. Nobody is paying me to put it there. Nobody even asked me to do it. I will explain. It's a rad barbershop up on Garland. A good friend of mine owns it, and I think the guy deserves to succeed. He's a really cool guy. The shop itself is really nice, comfortable seating, free beverages, and generally, a nice ambiance. Check it out sometime.

This is what I do with my life.

2007-03-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you kids have ever seen Lingo, in case you haven't, it's a show on the Game Show Network, it's a word puzzle game, maybe I'll just find a description and post that. on second thought, it bothers to explain unnecessary things, so fuck that noise.
Here's the shakes of it:
You have 5 guesses to guess the word they want you to guess. They give you the first letter, and that is it. So, let's say they give you an "M." You might guess "Mound" It then tells you if you have any of the letters right, and if they are in the correct position. So, it might go "Mound" With only the "M" right. The you might guess "March." Let's pretend the r is not only right, but in the right position, and it tells you the a is right, but not in the correct position, so now you know it's M-R--, with an A somewhere in the mix. So maybe you guess "Moral" and it's right, huzzah. Now you know the shakes of the game. Moving on.
Some of the contestant on this game have to be the most retarded people ever. This Asian couple, that include a woman named JooBee, yeah, that's right, JooBee. They get the letter "C." Now the remainder of what I say is not necessarily verbatim, but it was something akin to this.
The board goes like this: with letters they get correct and in right position capitalized, I would go further into right letter but wrong position, but it is not necessary.

COuld
COver
COves
COuld

Okay, normally they would get one more guess, but Alan, JooBee's partner said Could, which they had already guessed. Let me break the rest of the board down. Cover, that's a good guess, it introduces three new letters, none of them are right, so moving on. They guess coves, it only introduces one new letter, very poor lingo strategy. Then the brainbox says Could again, and it then goes to the other team, because that's nto allowed, I surmise. The other team got one extra letter, it was a c. COC, they guess cocoa right away and win.

The are even more examples of this stupidity. In the final round you get a chance to use bonus letters, it gives you an opportunity to move quickly, because it's like a lightning round. These two dudes, who I still think may have been gay, Terreance, a black guy, and Tate, a white dude. They get a GL---. First guess is Glove. Every letter is right except the V. Let's think this one out GLO-E. What could it possibly be? Well, they didn't know, and they sat there and stared for about ten seconds, and finally one of them said bonus letter, and it put the "B" up. So, there it is GLOBE. Heres the catch, you still have to bother to spell it out, you have to say the word, then spell it out, to make sure the judges know what you mean, usually it applies in the game, but even if it is all the way spelled out, they make you spell it out. the white dude, first of all, pronounces it GLOOB. Then, after staring at the word for about 10 more seconds, the black dude finally realizes they need to spell it. It was painful. If you want to feel smart, and can stand to listen to Chuck Woolery watch the show and watch the stupid people go!

2007-03-12T00:21:00.000-07:00

So, I was glancing at TVGuide online, trying to find a decent show to watch, and I discovered Tim McCarver has his own show. It's on the prestigious 11:30 PM on Sunday nights, so, it has to be good. For those of you unfamiliar with the man, he's usually a color announcer for baseball games on Fox. I don't like many baseball color announcers, but few are worse than Mr. McCarver. If Steve Lyons ever gets his own show though, I will not only devote a blog to it, but I will register a domain for it. That's right, I will be willing to pay money to defame Steve Lyons. In the mean time, enjoy this clip that sums Tim McCarver up:

Also, I encourage you to read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_McCarver

I particularly want you to focus on the "Criticisms" section under "Broadcasting Career."

Gonzaga

2007-01-22T19:17:00.000-08:00

So, the Gonzaga tournament was enjoyable, busy and hectic, but enjoyable. The aftermath was even more fun. Back drop, Gonzaga broke debate down to two divisions, instead of the standard 3 or 4. Pretty sure Glen, the tournament director, did it to increase his chances of adding the T.O.C. (tournament of champions) bid at Semifinals instead of Finals. So....for those of you not associated with debate, even more backstory: The tournament of Champions is considered more prestigious than Nationals. You qualify by kicking ass at massive tournaments where the competition is normally the best. The bigger and better the tournament, atleast in the varsity division, the earlier a team can win a T.O.C. bid. So, by forcing all the JV teams to compete at Varsity, which sucks for JV kids, it increases the team total in Varsity, in this case to about 80 teams, so he was probably trying to get the TOC bid earlier into his tournament, which would probably increase the number of teams that go, and thus the money his program gets. Debate tournaments earn money for whatever team hosts it, fun times. This is at Gonzaga University, by the by.
A tiny bit more backstory: Washington has this rule that you can not start a debate round after 9 pm, it was to make it so tournaments stopped running until midnight, etc.
So, Gonzaga, because they had so many teams, had to have more rounds than normal, so that a reasonable number of teams could make it into the "playoff" type of rounds, thats what I'll call them, or outrounds, as we know them as. Actually, I will refer to them as outrounds, fuck you non-debaters, ask if you need clarification.
So, anywho, this tournament went way past 9, I would assume, as I am not sure, that the last round started at about 11, maybe a little after, so, quite a bit after 9. Now, the WIAA, or Washington Interscholastic Activities Association, or something like that, it's like the NCAA of Washington high School stuff, would never know that the tournament broke the rules, if it weren't for someone complaining. And someone indeed complained, and of all people, it was the Gonzaga Prep coach. Did you see that, Gonzaga Prep bitched about Gonzaga University, how wacky is that.
Now, only two teams from Washington state were even in the tournament at that point, Lewis and Clark High School, they had one LD-er, and St. George's had one CX team. The St. George's coach may not have known about the rule, and the LC coach is an idiot, so who knows. And the tournament director's, Glen, official ruling on the rule, as I heard him say, was "Fuck it." He's a cool guy, though. And for a tournament of that size to just stop the tournament and make teams still in it come back the next day, Sunday, would be ridiculous, especially if you consider that a team from Wisconsin was there, and a ton of Montana and Idaho teams as well, and some from Oregon and California, its a huge tournament, 50 high schools or so.
Wow, I just got sidetracked for awhile, and I may leave some stuff out or repeat myself, someone logical would say I should just read what I've written so far, and adjust, but to you, I say "Go fuck yourself, I don't want to read what I've written, I know the story."
I digress, the tournament ran late, the WIAA found out, shit got serious.
Here were the possible implications of the rule breaking:
Lewis and Clark High School and St. George's could be sanctioned as a school, and theoretically not be allowed to compete in anything, athletically or whatever for a certain period of time, but for the WIAA to do that would be insane.
The two schools could be forced to fire their coaches, again, not likely.
The two programs could not be allowed at state, I don't know about the likelihood of that.
Washington teams could not compete at Gonzaga the next year or whatever, don't know about the likelihood of that either.
Or, everyone could get a strict warning, that seemed the most likely. in the end, absolutely nothing happened, I think, maybe a warning was issued, I don't know. I'm a GSL debate insider, but not that far inside.
As for why the G-Prep coach would complain, there's two reasons we came up with. One, he's a dick and stickler for the rules, and felt he needed to be it made known, regardless of the fact tht his team wasn't even in the tournament by that point. Or two, he wanted to try to screw Lewis and Clark so his team stood a better shot. oh, and there's a third reason, i forgot, I could delete, but screw that, i don't go back for typos, why would I for this. At one point in the tournament a Gonzaga Prep judge failed to turn in his ballot for about an hour. it delayed the entire tournament, one of the reasons it was so late. When people tried to track down the judgem, they couldn't, so they went to G-Preps team and asked, and no one knew, so they asked where the G-Prep coach was and no one knew. So G-Prep's team was unsupervised for awhile, a big no-o as far as the WIAA is concerned, and it is possible that the G-Prep coach complained to cover his own ass, and deflect the possible report of him not being there. But if you knew Glen, you would know that he doesn't give a fuck, and complaining about him is the easiest way, I assume, to get on his badside and have him bitch about you.
That's my story about Gonzaga.

Spread the love

2007-01-22T19:15:00.000-08:00

Go read Jarrett's blog, the link is to the right. I want you to pay specific attention to the Valentine's application. you should read it all, though. Funny guy.

Another Sequel

2006-11-24T18:14:00.000-08:00

Field Of Dreams 2: The Reckoning

The movie picks up about four years after the ending of the first one.

Back in small town Iowa Ray (Kevin Costner) is struggling emotionally to keep the field up. Countless amounts of people are coming day and night to see this field of wondrous dreams, Karin (yeah, it has an "i", I looked it up) was right. There are so many people that Ray has long been neglecting everything else. Annie and Karin left two years ago due to the neglect. Mark (Timothy Busfield), Annie's brother is helping Ray to tend to the field.

Ray begins to do the math and realizes, that even though he is only 42, he can retire because of all the people that have come so far. He decides that he will declare that he is going to destroy the field. In doing so, he sees a big opportunity to make more money and jacks up the ticket prices. Shoeless Joe, now played by Thomas Ian Nicholas, of American Pie and Rookie of the Year fame sees what Ray is doing and, even though he's only there because he loves it in the first place refuses to ay anymore, unless Ray stops his unyielded greed. Terence Mann, (James Earl Jones) steps in from the corn field to save the day. He tries to win Ray over with his stories from the beyond, and when that doesn't work, he tries to sway over Joe with the reminded that it was part of the grand plan to charge people money in the first place. This also does not work.

It is not until The Voice (himself [look at the credits, not IMDB]) comes back to Ray that any sort of movement on the issue comes about. The Voice tells Ray he needs to "heal his wounds." After days of trying to figure out what it means, he comes to the conclusion that he needs to hunt down Annie and Karin to try to win them back.

Movie Sequels

2006-11-23T10:54:00.000-08:00

I was having a conversation with my muse, Mr. Jarrett K. Sacks about why they never made a sequel to The Rock, and it inspired me to write this blog, plot outlines of potential sequels.

The Rock 2: Goodspeed's Adventure

This movie picks up during the current day, roughly ten years after the original. It starts out with Stanley Goodspeed (Nicolas Cage) looking at the microfilm he obtained by following John Mason's (Sean Connery) instructions to the church. He finishes looking at it and puts the film back into a wall safe he has behind a large wall paining of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Just then his now ten year old child he had with Carla enters the room. Carla and Stanley are now divorced, I mean, really, who ever saw that relationship working. Stanley asks his son, named John Mason Goodspeed, if he's ready to go his mom's. He takes him over there, and then goes to a party, after being coaxed by Marvin Isherwood (Todd Louiso), his old and still current colleague at the FBI lab. Isherwood wants him to stop whining and meet a new girl.

Goodspeed finds a girl he somewhat likes but is already extremely drunk by this point. He decides to tell her he knows who shot JFK, thinking it would impress her, and in his drunken state he thinks it is a good idea. A few people overhear him, and most play it off, but one man takes him seriously, Special Agent Tom Jenkins (Stanley Tucci), from the FBI, who is the number two man to FBI Director Ernest Paxton (William Forsythe) who was in the original and has taken over for FBI Director James Womack, who has recently died.

Paxton, knowing that in all reality Mason did not vaporize back at The Rock must have shown Goodspeed where the microfilm was, and hunts down Goodspeed, pulling him in for questioning, and holding him until he gets the answers he needs.

Mason, who still calls Carla to check up on Stanley, as Stanley has become emotionally detached, finds out that Stanley is missing, and knows immediately what has happened. Mason begins his hunt to free Goodspeed.

After a riveting line of questioning to Goodspeed, he is thrown back into his cell. After lamenting about what his life has become, he hears a noise in the duct above him, it's Mason. Mason has spent the last 3 days in the ventilation system and now knows all of it's ins and outs. After a daring escape Mason and Goodspeed are on the run.

Long time ago

2006-11-07T00:22:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time since I bothered to post anything, but the night I just had warrants a post.
It all begins on my way to work. I was driving southbound on Wall, just south of the ever so amazing Pizza Rita when I saw two dogs running eastward on some street and onto Wall. I slammed my brakes on, but alas it was too late. I saw one dog basically just fly forward, or to his right side, and then roll a lot. I didn't see much of the other dog, until they both got up and took off sprinting from the way they came. So, that kinda shook me up, but I continued my trek to work.

I arrive at work at about 4:50 and begin doing the paperwork that is necessary to do my job effectively, when at 4:59 the "captain" gets a call and tells me to go to Walker Construction (the apartment buildings that Gonzaga is in the process of building), because the police are on the way. So I leave immediately and arrive on site at 5:01. I stand around for awhile and wait with the guard we have working there. One of the trailers on site has an infared sensor that detects differences in heat to see if people are in it, hence the reason the cops were on the way. We stand around for about twenty minutes, until I finally decide to leave. I go lock a building up, and realize that a guy hasn't called to say he's at his job site. I try calling him, and no answer. So I began to drive eastward on trent out towards the fairgrounds. All is going well, then I get stopped by a train, for about 7 minutes or so. I finally make it to the site, and the guy is there.
So, I begin traveling back to the office when I get a call from the guy at Walker Construction saying the cops are there. I get to the site about 5 minutes later and the cops are already gone.

While I am there I get an alarm call for an RV center way out in Liberty Lake. So I drive out there and there are two salesmen inside and two customers. They didn't know why the alarm was going off. After about 20 minutes of standing around trying to figure out what was going on, one of the salesmen called the service manager, he was going to come out and make sure everything was okay. So I leave and begin driving back to the office. I then need to make two stops, rather late, and then go back to the office. From the dog incident until getting back to the office about two hours passed. But, on the way back to the office Bryan called me and told me his wife voted for me for 6th congressional district, representative position 2. So, I am now declaring myself an official candidate for any postion you are willing to write me in for.

About 15 minutes later the guy at Walker calls me back and tells me he is really sick, and he does have his fair share of health problems (kidney dialysis), so this means I need to find someone to cover the shift. I call about ten people, then finally decide to get the guy doing patrol after me to come in early and do it. He says he will, so I head back to the office (I did that while making normal patrol stops) to check the monitors. i get to the office and realize I locked my office key in the office. So I call Al back, the crazy guy who will be doing patrol after me/filling in at Walker, and then go pick him up. As I have written before, he doesn't have a car. He lets me in the office, and while in the office I realize a tube of super glue has leaked in my pocket (I will tell the story behind that in a minute.). Now my hands and pocket are covered in super glue, so my hands feel really odd all night. Holy hell it sucked, still does.

Now the story of why I had super glue in my pocket. Two weeks and one day ago I went to burger king for some croissanwich. Twas delicious, but while I was there, the cashier took it upon himself to break my debit card. I glued it back together successfully. Exactly two weeks later, almost even at the same time, I go back. The same fucking douchebag breaks it again. Next time I see him I might break his face. But I was going to super glue it back together again, and bother to go to the bank to get a new card this time. Then the glue leaked in my pocket.

Feel free to laugh at my expense. It was an odd three hours. I've started to not get mad when shitty things happen to me. instead I realize that it will just make a great story later on. Kind of sad that it's progressed to this level.

I'm famous, not really.

2006-09-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

So, I have now had conversations with the two largest ford dealers in Spokane. I'll start chronologically as to when I had the conversations.

In June of 2003, I was working for the Spokane Indians, I was their official scorer, it was a fun job. Anyway, that was their "100th anniversary." There's been a baseball franchise in Spokane since 1903, kind of. It wasn't always the Indians, and there were some years where there wasn't even a team, but, whatever, the Indians wanted to celebrate. So, they "honored" one person from every year there was a team. They decided to base it off of what year you were born. Somebody who was born in 1903 was honored all the way to someone born in 2003, some front office guy's daughter, what contribution she made to the Indians, I don't know. I digress, I was the selection for people born in 1985. It was good times, all that happened was that I got my name in the program, as "Rev. Sam Normington," and I stood on the field for about 6 minutes before the start of the game. I stood next to Gus Johnson, the ford dealer guy. He's a pretty big sponsor of the Indians, so he was chosen for whatever year he was born in. We were just standing there, and started talking about how lame it was that they were doing this. And then I went back up to the press box, and he did whatever it is Gus Johnson does.

So, that was the first conversation, exciting times. The second happened last night. I work for a security company, for those of you who do not know. I spend most nights driving around making sure guards don't screw up, and that buildings haven't been broken in to. Sometimes respond to alarm calls. That's the basics of the job. We have a guard at Wendle at the Y/Wendle Northtown. He drives back and forth between the two, checking building doors and car doors. I used to do that two days a week. Anyway, he calls me up and tells me the guys at Wendle at the Y managed to leave 5 electronic bay doors open. The huge service doors they have, how the hell they left them open, I don't know, especially since I'm pretty sure there was only one or two open when I drove by it three hours earlier. So, I call the 8 guys we have on our list of people to call, two numbers were disconnected, and atleast two didn't work there anymore. Only one guy answered, and he didn't work there anymore, but gave me the number to Chud Wendle, president of the car dealership. I call him up at 1130, and I tell him that there are 5 electronic bay doors open, to which his response was "Shit. 5?" And then he said he would call somebody to get it taken care of.

So there you go, now all of you know someone who has had conversations with the two largest ford dealers in town. Don't you feel special?

I loves me the Gaffigan.

2006-09-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

Bring Jim Gaffigan to Spokane, because he is radtastic.

<a href="http://eventful.com/demand/D0-001-000018366-7/join">Demand Jim Gaffigan in Spokane, Washington, USA with eventful.com!</a>

Like a rhinestone cowboy

2006-08-29T18:37:00.000-07:00

So, i got my new laptop today, i am rather happy. So far I am havign troubles playing my favoritist of games, Day of Defeat. It has sound, but no video thus far. Tis a problem I am working on. I don't think I really have too much more to say, other thn "KHAAAAAAAAAN!"

Oy Vey

2006-08-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

Stovern and I's fears have come true. I don't know who's fault it is, but Micah and Melissa, also known as "CX Partners" this year have broken up. This should be the best year of CX debate known to man.

On related news: Kill me.

On unrelated news: Who wants to get plowed?

Jarrett Sacks, You're My Hero

2006-08-27T12:36:00.000-07:00

So, I decided to try my hand at this, because as the title says, Jarrett Sacks is my hero, and if I can be half as funny as I find his blogs to be, I will be relatively happy. Most of these blogs will probably be about debate, or the security industry, because that's pretty much all I do. i will start this shindig out with a story from the security biz.
So, I work with a guy named Al, he's worked for this security company for 17 years now. no one is too sure how old he is, 50's somewhere. he seems like he's been dirnking since he was 7, or he could have Tourette's, not too sure. Regardless, he's bat shit crazy. To give you an idea of what our company thinks of him, he's been there 17 years, like I said, and they're starting to give me his good shifts, and give him the shitty shifts. He doens't own a car, so someone from our company has to pick him up, and take him home. He also twitches a lot, and talks to himself, not sure if it's the booze or Tourette's. So, one day, Matt is driving him home, and A's talking to himself under his breath. Matt asks him where to go, Al continues to talk to himself. So Matt says "Al...." and Al all of a sudden looks up and goes "WHOO! WHOO!!" that's my story for today.

Also, in non-related news, Micah Sacks is datng his debate partner, which is the worst idea since Micah's parents decided to havea third kid.