STFU, Hippy

I've been saying this for fuckin' years when the hippies push me out of their fuckin' love fest to the porch where I have to smoke while they light "Sugar Maggie," their 12 foot bong. It's so funny when Stinky Pete has to carb it for Sage. I've been telling them that it's the same shit and that they will all die of cancer, but their's will take longer because their cancer will be lazier, hungrier and playing hacky sack and ultimate while my cells are dividing at an alarming rate because they are more driven. Anyway, here's proof thanks to New Zealand (kiwi?) scientists.

Cannabis Bigger Cancer Risk Than Cigarettes: Study

Also, Phish is not fucking jazz. Now, go eat a falafel that you paid for with karma. Fucking hippies.

Ironic Deficiency

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Don't Ever Do This

When you are on a long road trip or something and you stop to get a soda at a Jackpot or whatever, don't ever do this.

-Put on super dark glasses and park in front so that the cashier can see your car.

-Get out and walk in being very careful not to make eye contact with anything.

-Lightly bump into some stuff and feel around with your hands a lot for balance.

-At the very least, walk with your hands out in front of you and look all over the place.

-Go into the candy aisle and grab a candy bar or something. A Twix perhaps.

-At this point, people should be kind of watching you so you have to be super careful to not make eye contact with anything.

-Slowly amble over to the counter. If there is a line step in front of someone until they let you know that they are there. Hold on to something for support while you wait in line.

-When you get to the cashier do not look at them and then hold the candy bar in the air and jut it towards them asking if it is a Twix. When they say "Yes." Say thank you. When they give you the total, pull a five out of your pocket and say "Is this a one?" When they say "No" reach into your pocket again and produce a one. If they say the five is a one. Quit the game and tell them to fuck off.

-Complete the transaction and walk towards the door, bumping your head into it a little bit. If there is a curb and you kinda trip over it, you get bonus points.

-Get in your car and drive away.

The game is called "Always Keep 'Em Guessing" and can really liven up long trips to rural areas.

Dick Steele. Lest We Not Forget.

Outside of video games, I've only killed one man. He wasn't necessarily a good man, however, he wasn't necessarily bad. He started to get lost in the grid and I had to put him out of his misery in a three issue story arc. That man was Dick Steele.

He was pretty much me streaming consciousness, wasted on cheap whiskey at 2:30 AM on a Saturday after my shift at the bar. It's kinda dated when I go back and read some of the articles, but still mildly entertaining. I'm vain enough to have every one of them as the electronic versions have disappeared from the Synthesis website. They are much bigger now. Anyway, if you read them in order, it's very similar to the HughVoltage thing. There are ups and downs and twists. There are fuck-yous and inside jokes galore. In fact, I used to put secret crap in some of the text to communicate with a girl that had a boyfriend. The girl became my wife and then ex-wife. She was the sole owner of the one "I love Dick...Steele" shirt that we gave away in a rigged contest because I liked her. Be weary of the asshole with the pen because it is indeed mightier than the sword somehow.

So, I found an old interview with the bass player of Galactic that turned from a regular interview into a Dick Steele interview quite rapidly. He even questions how I'm going to make an article out of it and I'll admit that Dick Steele leaned very heavily on his editor Max Sidman who was a practitioner of tough love and even refused to run the column one week because it was shit. He was a good man that saved me from myself a lot and was also part of the Panama's three man drinking team that was training to drink 31 20 oz. long island iced teas in one sitting. We got to eight a piece with tequila shots in between them and then it all got a little weird. The project was abandoned when we learned how dangerous it was. We also aged five years that day.

Also might add that the Coreys dodged a huge bullet because we had an interview lined up with them and Dick if Dick agreed to review Corey Feldman's album. I reviewed it and had the interview lined up, but Haim cancelled the day of the interview. Fucker.

Here's the article Hipness Test Administered by Dick Steele.

Here's a quote from an interview that I did with Dee Snider from Twisted Sister.
"You know what? It is a very short plane flight, in reality, for me to be out there and in your face. I’m ripped and in great shape. I wear a loin cloth and I promise you I am loin cloth worthy. Matter of fact, it’s a little bit loose."


Holy crap. I scanned the Van Halen Dick Steele and have it on my Flickr account. I use Van Halen or David Lee Roth song/album titles 36 times in the column. Check that Link: "Reach Down Between My Legs/Ease The Seat Back"

Hugh Voltage Picture Party

Quick note: Is it shitty to put a Post-It note on the coffee pot at work that says "This coffee tastes like dog piss. If you would like to learn how to make a proper pot of coffee to share with your co-workers, please come by my office and I will show you how. The coffee that is in this pot is not even worthy of being poured out or served to cops or teachers. The pot with the coffee in it should be taken out of the office and driven to a landfill and never used again. You have ruined my morning. Thank you." It's a big Post-It.

When I'm not training to catch a predator, you may find me in dirty fucking watering holes taking in culture and seeing how the other half lives. When I'm not doing that, I'm doing a whole bunch of weird shit and sometimes I take pictures with my phone. They are all blurry and shitty, but I thought I'd post some of them and try and explain what and why. I had a picture of this girl that I'm not putting in here because that would be incriminating, but it's one of the best stories ever. EVAR. I'll just give up the punchline and spare the details. The night ended with me getting into an elevator at the Sheraton while smelling of booze and cigarettes and perspiration and looking at the dude next to me with his rollie luggage and discussing the drive to the airport at 6:30 in the morning. That's a rough night folks.


These first two pics are in the license plate category. The one on the left had me cracking up in the parking lot this morning as Canadian is the only real ethnicity that I can verify in my background. Drunken grandparents have called out Jewish and Italian and my last name sounds more like Saurbraten than anything else, yet it has actually been stolen by a certain individual that refuses to give it back to the chagrin of family members. Whatevs. It has become a joke amongst us that someone would voluntarily take that last name. I mean I could understand if your last name was Dickmouth or something; my last name would be an upgrade from that. Hey. at least it's not a hyphenation. Say this out loud and start laughing: "Hello. My name is Edward Dickmouth. Nice to meet you."

The pic on the right made me laugh because I, in fact, would rather be dancing. I should probably blur the license plate number out in case someone gets smart and looks it up. Whatever, we're in a police state anyway. Smile and accept your national ID program. I digress. My sister exchanged my Chico State Alumni license plate frame with one that says "I'd Rather Be Blading" at my mom's birthday about two years ago and then lost my license plate frame. So, my car still says I'd rather be blading. I could handle it if it said "I'd rather be fruitbooting," but I really need to do something about that. I always joke that I'm going to replace it with one that says "I'd rather be driving sober," but that might be a bad move.

Quick joke: What's the hardest part of rollerblading? Telling your dad that you're gay.

I'm a freak. I love candy corn and Starburst jellybeans. Those two substances are my anti-drug. I was sitting at my coffee table watching tv and eating my allotted handful of candy corn that constitutes one serving and is actually the RDA for predator hunters like me and it was Christmas time so I made a candy corn wreath. It's the predecessor to the Candy Corn on the Cob, which I'm still working on. I can't decide on what the core is going to be made out of. It's either got to be almond paste or marzipan. God, marzipan is more olde tymey than ribbon candy and that weird licorice candy that they have in Canada. Oh, also they have this weird raspberry candy that is kinda gooey in the middle. It somehow straddles the line between gross and delicious.

Ummm. I was cleaning and organizing my closet the other day and came across an unmarked box. I opened it and it was full of VHS porn. When the old lady and I separated I put most of the bottom drawer stuff in a box and duct taped it and disposed of it. The contents of that box did not need to be discovered by a hobo dumpster diver or little kids. It would amount to a life changing event and need to be reported to their healthcare provider. I will admit that there were a lot of cool if not super "we did that?" reminiscents related to that box. Oh, crap there was this one time that a good friend was over at the apartment and my ex's vibrator was on the dresser and he totally saw it and didn't say anything about it at first. It was kind of like getting caught masturbating by your mom. Not mine. Yours.

Anyway, the third in the finest pronographic series of all time. Taboo 3. It was kind of new wavey after Taboo 2, but still classic in many ways. Nothing will ever beat Taboo 2. It's the Zeppelin IV of porno movies. The quotes and the music are quintessential vernacular for pron.






So, while you wait in line for a prescription at Long's and you get off at 4:00 in the afternoon, you deal with octogenarians waiting for their pills. You know they are there when you drive into the parking lot because the fucking blue hairs can't get their Oldsmobiles in between the fucking lines. Then, you read this article that lets you know that men and women over 50 are banging each other and spreading tons and tons of STDs amongst each other because of shit like Viagra and Cialis. So, you figure out that these old ladies are waiting on Amoxicillin to get rid of their chlamydia that they all got from the same old fucker at the home who is senior citizen big pimpin'.

As disgusting as it sounds, I think when and if I cross that bridge, I want to be that dude, but without the STDs. Oh, so while I waited for my STD unrelated prescription (it was actually pills to make me less handsome because the doctor decided the intensity of my handsomeness could pose a danger to others), I browsed Long's and learned that you can use a hot water bottle as an enema bag and you can be a pirate for $3.59 + tax. Also, one size fits all. I think a funny name for an eye patch would be "Pirate Sunglasses." Um, also gotta award the ninjas a point in the area of depth perception in the ongoing saga of pirates vs. ninjas.





Okay. In my spare time I am also a champion of multiple co-ed recreation leagues. It's gotten to the point that in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays, I don't know which championship shirt to wear. Also, sometimes, late at night, I don't know which one to cleanup with after the magic happens. I have to come clean and admit that I have a preferred C-rag. If you don't know what that is, please feel free to e-mail me and I will explain the many uses of a shirt with a wolf on it from Montana that your grandma gave you.

It involves the part of porno movies that they don't show you. At the end of the six minute scene, all of that stuff all over that actress putting herself through college does not magically disappear and must be wiped away. It's the unsexy part of sexy, but very necessary. It's the untalked about thing. It's the cum rag. That spelling grosses me out. I had a girlfriend in high school that would always pass me notes written in a hot pink pen that used that spelling alot. It was like the slutty version of the British "OU." Examples being "humour,""tumour," and "rumour." I kinda suck at examples this morning, but could imagine an Australian saying "sumo" like this: "Sumer." They crack me up when they say "No" and it sounds like the "Noir" in film noir.





"Oh my god. Oh my god." That's what I sound like when people get on the subject of Minus the Bear. It's like Hanna Montana freak out for prepubescent girls. Ever since Menos El Oso, I've been totally gay for them. I even went to their last show by myself. It was like going to a movie by myself the first time. You kinda feel like a loser with no friends at first, but then you just become this silent observer of your surroundings and you'll be surprised at the stuff that you missed when you were with someone.

I even had an extra ticket that was earmarked for a girl that ended up getting hobo drunk and deciding that she hated me. It's the type of thing that months later everyone that had contact with her and you is like "I told you not to hang out with her. She's more of a mess than you."

Speaking of messes, I need to go on record and say that I miss the girl who took me wine tasting, put on porn with her friend there afterwards, told me she was crazy then suggested that we get naked, then napped, then took me out with her friends to a bar where she subtly tore her panties off and handed them to me and then made me sleep on her couch after I sang "I Want You To Want Me" with the cover band that was playing the bar. That all happened in a 24 hour period. I could've married that one. That was a catch. I think I'm into girls that will kill me while I sleep. I should get that checked out.

Anyway, that's Dave Knudson's pedal board. Four Line 6 delay modelers? Are you crazy? One more and he would have a time machine on his hands. Also, love the Whammy pedal in there. That is music gadget pron in that picture.

I've got a picture of me riding a Segway that I'm not going to post because I like to keep it a little anonymous and don't need to be putting too much of my face on the InterTubes. I will say, however, that it was like fucking a fat girl. It was hella fun, but you don't want your friends to find out about it. Oh, I also got chlamydia from it.

I'm just going to end this by saying a) microwave popcorn will give you cancer b) you shouldn't be eating fucking microwave popcorn at 10:30 in the morning, if at all c) it smells like urine. Feel free to use c) as a first or last line in a haiku.

Wait, here it is:

Microwave popcorn
It will likely cause cancer
It smells like urine

Hughvoltage is full service. I'll even write the haikus for you.

Note: Somebody found the blog by searching the words "Beef Penis." I might be going out on a limb, but what a good band name that would be. I would also like to add that a scotch drunk hangover makes you feel like you are invisible at work the next day. It's really weird, but kinda awesome.

To Catch A Predator...And Kill It

I totally got sucked in by American Gladiators. I like to think that I'm impervious to filth outside of pornography, however, this got me.

It's not the competition. The events are lame at best. The "Gauntlet" is like a game that you would play at Gymboree after hours with a bunch of roided out freaks whacking you with pillows. There is the "Pyramid" which is another game that you would play at an abandoned gymnasium. I think we actually played a game similar to it on carpet pad in a warehouse when we were kids. "Assault" is tight, though. Please take note of the subtle Nerf logos and how the announcer really stresses that they are being shot at with projectiles traveling over 100 miles per hour. Dude, they are fucking tennis balls and you make it sound like Dr. Evil saying "One Meel-yun Dollars." I'm still not sold on the "Eliminator" being as hard as it is, but I guess it could be after fatigue set in. The fire on the water is fucking lame, though. There are also wrestling, rock climbing, ring swinging, playground bridge running and stick whacking events.

It could be the gladiators. On the dude side there are definitely personalities that are emphasized in their outfits. There is the Hawaiian guy, the guy who looks like a roided out guy-who-plays-violin-in-Dave-Matthews-Band guy, Jay Mohr on performance enhancers, etc...Then, there is Wolf. I'm pretty sure Wolf used to play bass in Blue Murder after John Sykes left Whitesnake. Blue Murder was a super group and that's all you need to know.

On the girl's side of gladiating, what I call "Ladyators." There are the hardest asses you have ever seen on women. Well, all of them except for Helga. I think Helga thought she was in line for the Biggest Loser and accidentally got on this show. Then there is my Muscle&Fitness crush on well, Crush? She could tone her thighs a bit, but that may just be the picture. Huge fan of her. The only thing is that when any of these women talk they sound like dudes. You kind of want to just be all "Honey. It's okay. Just talk in your inside voice." Some of the Ladyators are better than the others, too, but it's interesting how they rotate them in and out. This week were the B-team definitely. Venom is B-team Joust for sure and Fury is B-team pyramid. Might I add that Crush is still undefeated in Joust? The gladiator version, not the Atari version, sadly.

Also, there is no way that there is a writer's strike going on right now because whoever wrote for Saved by the Bell back in the day must be writing the clever quips and puns that the contestants are using on this show. It is horrible. The stuff they have white trash saying is just demeaning. For instance, a bull rider will be like "I'm going to clean you up like I do to the tables at Shawny's (sp?) every Thursday morning."

So, anyway, perhaps this is an admission of guilt or a confession. Perhaps, I am rubbernecking the devolution of class and taste on the idiot box. I could be watching Nova or reading or making myself a better person, yet I'm watching this crap.

It also inspired me to workout more and train to be a contestant on American Gladiators. I would show everyone what I was made of. High school classmates, co-workers, ex-girlfriends...I would don the contender spandex and let the world see my "Missile-Toe." That's a male camel toe. I doubled my protein intake and spent a day and a half at the Vitamin Shoppe picking out my supplements carefully and dealt with the idea of mood swings, man breasts, and erratic sleeping behaviors.

I had my list ready to purchase at home and then I turned the channel in between commercials when I was just using the TV for white noise and Predator 2 was on. I'm afraid I had an epiphany. Fuck, American Gladiating. The show would be cancelled in at least two seasons, however, there is a looming threat that would never be cancelled for my lifetime. No, not global warming, nuclear Armageddon, bird flu, the second coming of Christ or the complete loss of value in the American dollar followed by the financial collapse of the American economy. The looming threat is a Predator attack. The odds are minuscule, but if it did happen, I want to be that guy. I want a phone call to happen where a guy is like this.

"Well, Hal, you know that thing in the Predator movies?"

"You mean the Alien Vs. Predator movies?"

"No, Hal. The good movies. Remember the one with Apollo Creed and the Terminator?"

"Oh, yeah. Those were great."

"Well, turns out that they exist and there is one in Bakersfield."

"Fuck, dude. Has anyone done anything about it?"

"No. No one really knows what to do, but my boss asked me to call you to see if you had HughVoltage's number. Apparently, he's been training for just this situation. He even put American Gladiating on the back burner for it."

"Oh. Thank god. He really is a forward thinker. Again, I wish we all could be a little more like HughVoltage."

"It's all right to dream, dude. It's all right to."

So, that's kind of what I had in mind for my training preparation. I'm still upping my protein intake and eating nothing, but chicken, rice and egg yolks, but the focus of my training will be inspired by the first two Predator movies. I should probably change my voicemail to let people know and update my FaceBook.

Fuck You Redneck Trash

I apologize for posting so much today, but this fucking idiot needs to be saluted. Someone should burn this fucking place down, but then the domestic, idiotic terrorists that we call fellow citizens would win. Fuck this guy. Definitely watches Wheel instead of Jeopardy.

Casa D'ice signs.

American Psycho...

...as romantic comedy via collegehumor.com

This is so awesome. You kinda gotta know the movie, though.

American Psycho as a romantic comedy.

Hakuna Dentata means "No Worries"

I came across this awhile back and called bullshit on it. It's a movie called "Teeth." Whatevs, right? Maybe a pair of those plastic gag teeth attacking people. Perhaps a movie about John Elway's mouth. Or, perhaps a biopic about an Osmond. Nope.

Teeth is a movie about a girl with teeth in her vagina. Apparently, it is based on a myth called Vagina Dentata, which is latin for "toothed vagina." I'm getting the impression that it kinda works like The Incredible Hulk where when she gets mad her vagina attacks people. In the trailer it attacks her gynecologist. Can you imagine her saying, in a Bruce Banner fashion, "You won't like my vagina when I'm angry."

Plus, could the term "Menstrually Retarded" be used at all? I'm not married anymore and very single (Hey Ladies! Get funky) and have to admit that being unaffected by that thing is pretty awesome. I used to have to track my ex-wife's cycle in my Palm Pilot and would recommend doing this for all males currently in some type of relationship. Plus, growing up with three sisters, it was imperative to be able to identify when it's time for you and your stepdad to go golfing or catch a movie. Regardless, just get out of the fuckin' house because the call is coming from inside the house. Knowing is half the battle.

Here's the trailer. Please god put that sound from Hand That Rocks the Cradle in that opening scene somewhere. I was mentally scarred by the sound that is made when Rebecca Demornay goes to the gynecologist in that movie. It sounds like someone eating tapioca with their mouth open. God, that's gross.

Silversun Pickups - Pikul

The conversation started like this: "Dude, you gave that chick a ride home? Are you fuckin' crazy?"

It was in reference to a weird night out that within 36 hours tied directly to another weird day out, but the poor asshole in the middle had no idea what was going on.

I think it was like two weeks ago and it was a Friday or Saturday. I had sat at home and played some Half-Life 2 on Xbox and needed some type of social interaction so I went to the bar. It's what I do. I used to feel bad about it, but lately I've been thinking and I'm really accountable to no one. Not even a fuckin' plant or my mom. I can theoretically do whatever the fuck I want. If I wanted to put on a robe and lay on the floor and just put a scoop of chocolate ice cream on my chest and watch it melt...I could do it.

Anyway, I bumped into, or rather he bumped into me, the guy who plays trumpet in my passive aggressive band. Seriously, the music is painful to listen to and even more painful to play. Anyway, he was with his little sister and her friend and I'm gross so I sat and talked with them over a couple of pitchers. I went to the bar to buy the second pitcher and an extremely hot, probably 22 to 24 year old walked up to me and said "Hey. You're that guy, aren't you?" I just replied "Probably." I told her that I would come back and hang out with her when I was done with my friends.

About a half hour later I sat next to her at the bar. Conversation started normal. Man, she must have been on E or something because she got all close talkey and said "I want to kiss you, but you smoke." I said "Then don't kiss me." I'm seriously not a huge fan of PDAs at all.

She went for it anyway and I'm a sucker for super hot chicks. Yeah, my bad. The night plays out like that and I end up giving her a ride home. She got so wasted that she could barely tell me where she lived and had hiccups. I pulled over at a 7-11 and got her some water while three cop cars and six cops were in the parking lot. I believe the term is "Brazen." So, I get closer to figuring out where she lives and realize that there is no way that a girl that young owns a house in the neighborhood that I'm in. That means that I'm giving a chick a ride to her parent's house. This is the point that you just hope that she's 18, at least.

Anyway, I get her home and touch nothing below the neck because I'm a boy scout at heart and relatively sober.

The next morning I woke up in a sweat because my subconscious had gone back and retrieved the reason I was "that guy." She actually had something behind that when she said it. During a bout of day drinking with soccer friends. She came up and hung out with us. About an hour into it, this old fucker and this lady walked into the same bar and started yelling at her while we were "protecting?" her. It was her dad and like a coworker or something. It was straight out of intervention and I hadn't really made a note of it. If her dad would have seen me drop her off that night, I'm pretty sure I would've been attacked.

I would just like to iterate here that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. A good intention is going to be the death of me, I assure you.

So, in 2005 Silversun Pickups put out an EP called Pikul and no one told me. I think it was Lazy Eye or Checkered Floor that first caught my attention when KEXP played it. Over the last couple of weeks, KEXP has played a couple of songs off Pikul and they were pretty tight so I actually bought the album from Amazon's non-DRM service. I encourage it. It works well and you can do whatever you want with the download.

So, the album is solid. The first song "Kissing Families" sounds like a rough draft from Carnavas. Future Foe Scenarios in particular. Nikki Monninger gets her swerve on all over this EP. God, since Darcy Wretsky and her replacement Ginger Reyes in Smashing Pumpkins, there is nothing hotter than a chick playing bass and singing in high heeled boots. Okay, one thing: A chick in a bikini and heels, but that's my own issue. Oh, also Erin Grey in Buck Rogers. That never gets old. So, yes, the first song on the EP is standard Silversun Pickups music. Great guitar tones and a chick singing backup. I care for it.

The second song is "Comeback Kid." I'm sold. These guys are great and I'm a little pissed that no one gave me this album in 2005. This hipster is aging. It just brings the point home that there are probably 25 bands out there that I would love, but I will never hear because the music business is fucked. The bass line in this song is awesome. It almost sounds Radioheadish for the first minute.

Next is "Booksmart Devil." Slower than the others, this song just kind of grooves like a Pixies song until that awesome fuzz guitar kicks in. These guys are most likely better than you.

Oh, sweet. A song called "The Fuzz." The intro's dope and a bass line that Spoon would be jealous of. I'd like to confirm that they are better than you and they have been since 2005. I feel guilty now for not knowing.

"Creation Lake" is the next song. Nikki sings the lead. Hot. She doesn't look super hot, but I've slept with a chick for having leather pants on, so who knows. That was a long time ago, might I add, and I was dating a chick that had Darth Vader's haircut.

"All The Go Betweens" has a totally Perfect Circle intro. The drums are tracked super raw. I like it.

And finally "Sci Fi Lullaby" closes the album. Mellow. Good way to wrap it up. Silversun Pickups use some cool effects effectively. You should own this EP. If not, go back to your Josh Groban DVD and call it a day.

I needed to append the post and add that Future Foe Scenarios is a fuckin' retardedly good song. Check the lyrics. They're fucking brilliant. This lyric stream is awesome "and there's no way to know/our future foe scenarios/that's when it turned on me/where bobby pins hold angel wings." I had never actually listened to the words because I was dissecting the arrangement the whole time. It's good stuff.

Voting Is Easy...

...to cheat at:

Link to Flickr photo via Digg.

FeuerStarter

Steven Feurstein works for TOAD (Quest software) and is one of the smartest dudes I have ever seen talk. Plus, he turns out to be super down-to-earth with a good sense of humor and comes across as generally good people all around. I saw him present on Testing Best Practices at Oracle OpenWorld and have been following his TOAD blog and his personal blog ever since.

Since I finished my primary ballot last night and voted Obama like I'm supposed to, but did think about writing in "Boneless Buffalo Chicken Wings" or "Ralph Wiggum," I've been thinking about how fucked up our voting process is. We can do an American Idol vote in 24 hours time, but we can't do a government election with a straight majority in one of the most technologically advanced and richest (the top 20% anyway) countries in the world. I can't even step out and blame our looking to an invisible man in the sky as the stumbling block on this one. It comes down to fear of truth. Without the ability to fuck with elections, power is taken away from the politicians and actually given back to the people (the majority). When the people actually start making decisions (yes, even the Midwest), the government as we know it will cease to exist. This means pharmaceuticals, big auto, MNCs, etc. will be unable to make policy changes the way they do now.

Scary, isn't it? Dystopian books and movies are starting to read and watch like memoirs.

Steven's FeurThoughts on voting is required reading. Coming from a tech guy it means a lot more than coming from Katie Couric reading off a cut and pasted press release.

Electronic Voting System DOs and DONTs.

Click image to go to Simpsons site for more information

Too Long Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar

I haven't been blogging. I wish I had a reason. No muse, perhaps, but a ton of dumb shit has happened to write about.

There was a holiday party at the Top of the Mark gone awry. It ended at the Tonga Room at the Fairmont in San Francisco where the cover band played "All Night Long" when I walked in and then followed that with "As" by Stevie Wonder while I held coats and purses while sipping Ketel and sodas. The event ended the next morning with me taking BART from Berkeley in a suit and tie to CalTrain in Millbrae to my car to home for an hour and then back to the city for a tight coffee shop gig in the Richmond district and then back home to a soccer game and then to bed. The simplest things do tend to get a bit Homeresque at times. Swear that I had the best intentions, though.

Did some Christmas shopping and bought an Xbox 360 for myself. Bought some lightsabers for friends due to a ban on the shipment of nunchucks into California. You can have a gun in your house, but not nunchucks. That is so fuckin' wack. What are the chances that someone would die if they broke into my apartment and I beat the shit out of them with nunchucks versus with a gun? Regardless, it would look so funny to do it in my underwear. Anyway, I'm in the market for a nunchuck mule out of state. Or, maybe I'll just go buy a handgun. Go Republican legislation. The only reason they have banned nunchucks is because it's the Asian man's gun. On the other hand, a gun is just a white man's nunchuck. When will prejudice end in this state?

Okay, then. Did Dad Christmas which is the day before Christmas Eve with the Mi Familia side of my family. My grandfather got his buzz on and let us know that he was adopted and that we are most likely Italian. My cousin knocked up his girlfriend. I got some Armani cologne for the third year in the row even though I have never smelled of it once. My dad got me good stuff. He's really latched onto the Arsenal jersey thing and it suits me fine. Lastly, my sister's dog hates lightsabers.

Did Mom's side Christmas Eve at my sister's and spent a second day crashing on a couch. It was pretty much the same as Christmas I. I spent the next morning getting coffee and crossword puzzling until the rest of the house woke up. I think that might have been the night that my sister whipped our asses at Wii and then fell into the tree twice because she was wasted.

Christmas. Put more shit in my car then I have ever put in it and hauled my sister and her dog to my stepdad's house. My mom is trying to call it something else, but that's what it is. Recent developments have shown that I'm still pissed off at her for separating from my stepdad and I'm currently not accepting phone calls from her and she's figured it out. I am a 32 year old man child. Opened more gifts and ate more crap. At this point for Christmas number 3, I was done with it. It's enough with the marketing blitz, but then with the gastric decimation that goes on, it can get to be too much. Crashed on my stepdad's couch on Christmas night and left super early in the morning to nest at my apartment and sleep in my own bed.

I also got to see Van Halen, which was sick in there somewhere.

Other dumb shit: I watched the first hour of American Gladiators last night and laughed hysterically. It is the most brilliant satire of the American culture I have ever seen. It was like watching Idiocracy if it were a reality game show. If I was a stronger individual who did not enjoy laughing at the ignorance of others, I would be able to turn this off and go to a yoga class on the way to returning my unused paper bags to Trader Joe's. I won't lie. I watched it. So, I'm sitting there watching American Gladiators and an ad for Knight Rider comes on. Then, there is an ad with Mr. T in it on another station. The Bionic Woman started last season. I've watched Battlestar Galactica for three seasons now. If I take all of those shows and feed them into some sort of TV date calculating machine then it puts it at about 1983. Plus, having seen Van Halen last month, I can confidentally say that it's 1984. That's just naming things off the top of my head. Oh, Morrissey put out an album last year, too and is touring. The list could go on for a while.

Ladies and Gentleman, Mr. David Lynch

I heart him. He doesn't drink the Kool-Aid.