Why are you reading this?

New blog

2006-11-16T06:55:00.000-05:00

This blog is no more, but I have a new one located here.

Art of the Fart

2006-04-14T04:36:00.000-04:00

It's my one day off in between 8 days of working, but I'm taking some time to post because I want to get this blog going again. So without further delay . . . . . . .

I am not shy about farting. I don't try to hold it in, and I don't pretend it wasn't me when it was. Frankly, I really don't see the point of worrying about it. If you gotta fart, then fart! When, you're around friends, fart. When you're around acquaintances, fart. When you're meeting someone for the first time, fart! In fact, the best possible situation is when introducing yourself, when someone says something like, "Hi, I'm Betsy," you rip a loud one. Then say, "Hi, I'm Brad, and I just farted." There is no greater icebreaker. Imagine if someone did that to you. You wouldn't care. You'd probably laugh your ass off. There's such a stigma around farting. It's time for us to lift it. So next time you feel one coming on, don't slink away to a corner. Go up to your friends or family, put your arm around them and say "Guys, I love ya." And let one rip.

Another thing people are shy about? Masturbation. Now I'm not suggesting that when you meet someone for the first time that you pull out your pud and bust a nut in their eye. That would be a tad over the line, even for my standards. But you need to stop pretending like you're not doing it. I see all you people with your away messages on instant messenger. At work. At the rec center. In the shower. Eating dinner. Watching television. Yet not once have I seen one that said, "masturbating." Come on, folks. You tell the world every other event of your day, but when it comes to fireman time you shy away? Your friends will appreciate it. In fact, they may not even realize you're serious. Of course, for some of you, they will. Either way, it'll be funny.

The way I see it, there are two reasons to stare at somebody: if they're incredibly attractive, or incredibly ugly. I work at American Color Graphics. The ugly to attractive ratio there is somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 to 1. In fact, I would venture to say that there are more non-smokers there like me than there are attractive people. I never got to see this part of the world when I was in college. I mean, sure, there are some ugly people at college, in fact we were recently recounting a story of a time I was at a party and I had to be pulled away from an especially bad one, but the scale is tipped way in the favor of attractive ones. But when you get into the working class segment of the population, the true colors of the human race start to show, and they aren't pretty. So, I'm surrounded by ugly people all night, every night. And I find myself staring at them, pondering their hideousness. I wonder if they know. Do ugly people know they're ugly? How do you know if you're ugly? Maybe I'm ugly. What would I do if I looked like that. Would I have made it to that age, or would I have killed myself by my mid-20s. But then I remember that the only people who consider themselves ugly are not really ugly at all - at least according to the movies, and the movies are what I go by. But at a monotonous, boring job like mine, I find myself spacing out and having trains of thought like this often, sometimes while I'm staring at one my ugly co-workers. And then, inevitably that person will eventually look at me and see me looking at them. I snap out of it and quickly look away, but the damage has been done. And now I'm scared to death that about 8 women I work with think I am attracted to them because I was staring at them. But ugly people are like a fatal car wreck. Yes it looks bad, turns your stomach, even makes you want to cry - but you can't look away.

Some people can do something about it though. That is, some people are ugly by choice. I know I've harped on the "fat people wearing tight clothes" thing before, but I believe we have an epidemic on our hands. As I was walking out of a store today, I saw a woman walking in whose thighs/buttocks each weighed as much as I do, and appeared to be pulverized with a meat tenderizer. This woman's ass was so big and stuck out so much that you could have put a drink on top of it and it would not have spilled. Her ass was SO BIG that if she layed supine on the floor she would have needed a stack of about 5 phone books under her back just to keep her body level. Her ass was SOOOO BIG that she could not have crawled on her stomach under the 9'6'' clearance at a McDonald's. Ok maybe that one was a little exaggerated, but you get the idea. She was wearing shorts. SHORTS! It was not even like it was that hot out today. At the time, which was about 9 pm, it was probably only about 60 degrees out. And these shorts were tight as hell. Then again, I can't imagine a pair of shorts big enough to be loose on her. Anyway, my point is that I see stuff like this way too often. I mean, you don't see me walking around in a muscle shirt and spandex pants. I would never pain the eyes of the tax-paying citizens of this country with that scene. So my idea is to have a national system of garment choosing. Every store should have special sections sorted out by height and weight. When you walk in, you step on a scale and up against a ruler, and are given the appropriate shock collar. If you attempt to access a height/weight department that you are not authorized for, you're hit with 100 volts of juice. No exceptions should be made for people buying gifts - there could be cheating. Under this system, that woman would never have had access to the shorts she was wearing. When she walked into her neighborhood Kohl's store, the area of the store in which she had access to would have been stocked with muumuus and muumuus only.

I'm BACK. Again.

Another new job

2006-02-22T01:24:00.000-05:00

I've been at my new job at American Color Graphics for about a week now, and here are some factoids, observations, concerns, et cetera, about what I've witnessed thus far.

80% of what I do is the same thing - feeding papers into a machine - over and over and over and over and over and over. The almost unbearable repetitiveness leaves a lot of time for spacing out and thinking off-the-wall thoughts, some of which will appear in my next blog entry.
I give myself about three months on the "How long until he snaps and jams his hands into a moving machine just so he never has to handle another Sun Newspaper?" office pool. When I worked at Target, I took four months on the "How long until he snaps and swan dives off the top shelf?" office pool - but, alas, I only worked there for three.
Why can't they have robots that stack the papers and feed the pockets? Then I could just operate one with a little joystick. That would be easier.
In China, this kind of job is done by hundreds of child laborers, rather than a few uneducated stiffs and many large pieces of machinery.
My co-workers are impressed by things that should not be impressive and attribute all of my intelligence to me having gone to college. When I happen to know something that they don't, they will call me "college boy," even when the thing in question was not learned in college and should be known to anyone.
I have only been called "hun" once thus far, and by a woman significantly older than myself. That is actually very impressive considering the, ehrm, quality of the workforce.
On my first night, the guy who was training me asked me if I smoked. When I told him no, he told me that I should start. Actually what he said was that smoking was "something to consider" if I'm going to be working the 6 pm to 6 am shift. What that has to do with smoking, I have no idea. HOWEVER, it must have something to do with it because EVERYBODY smokes. When I was at Target, I put my co-worker smoke rate at around 70-75%. At ACG, it has got to be pushing 90%.
Everyone there calls it the "backbone" of the paper instead of the "spine." Am I missing something? Isn't spine the more appropriate/common word to use? I have heard backbone said there probably fifty times by 7 or 8 different people, and not a single mention of spine. I didn't realize that anatomical terms for things were replaceable with other, less scientific and less appropriate words for the same piece of anatomy.
There is a large, man-like rat that walks around. He's covered in tattoos, and he never really does a whole lot. He just wanders around, very slowly. Every once in a while you'll see him pushing a paper bin or something. And every once in a while he'll come close to getting run over by one of the many tow motors driving around the place. Every break, he goes up and sits in the break room in the same spot in the same position - one leg on the floor and the other one up on the bench. There is one thing that this man-like rat does a lot of - nose picking. He picks his nose all the time. The first time I saw him pick his nose, I thought it was just by chance - but then I saw him do it again . . . and again. I think he spends more time picking his nose than doing any real, actual work. Hell, I spend more time picking MY nose than he does doing any real, actual work. Also, I hear from a co-worker that he has a blow-up doll that he's pretty fond of. Not sure how people know that - either he brought it to work or he talks about it at work. My question is, is it a blow-up human or a blow-up rat?

Cheney bags a big one

2006-02-13T15:10:00.000-05:00

I'm sure that you've heard by now, but how can I not write about this? During a hunting outing in Texas over the weekend, the Vice-President of the United States, Dick Cheney, shot a 78 year-old friend. With a shotgun. And he is not a tortoise or anything like that. He's a human. Apparently the gentlemen had fallen behind the other hunters and was coming up behind them when Cheney turned to follow a quail in flight and fired, apparently missing the quail, but hitting the larger game, Harry Whittington, a lawyer and prominent Republican from Texas, in the face, shoulder and chest. According to the owner of the property upon which they were hunting, Whittington was "peppered pretty good" by the shot discharged from the Vice-President's gun. Well, as we can can see, this is hilarious. But what's even funnier is the reaction, or lack thereof, from the White House about this incident, and the delicate way that it is being handled. This incident happened on Saturday, but was not reported until Sunday, and not by the White House or by the Vice-President's office, but by a local journalist in Corpus Christi, Texas, who spoke with the owner of the ranch. Also, it is being said that Whittington was hit by "pellets," rather than that he was shot by a shotgun, making it sound like he was hit with a couple pops from a bb gun or air pistol.

You have to think that the thought went through Cheneys head to shoot the man again to make sure he was dead, then turn to the other members of his hunting party and the secret service agents present and say, "It was a suicide - you all saw it, right?" while still holding his weapon, a la Jayson Williams after killing his limo driver. Either that, or yelling, "It's every man for himself!" and then shooting at the rest of his companions. All in all, I'd say it's the second-best vice-presidential shooting ever - after the Aaron Burr-Alexander Hamilton incident.

What a city

2006-02-02T16:45:00.000-05:00

Something was brought to my attention yesterday that sounded so ridiculous I just had to share it. Unless you've been living under a sports-free rock recently, you know that Jerome Bettis of the Pittsburgh Steelers is returning to his hometown of Detroit to play in the Superbowl this Sunday. Well, as a token of appreciation for his years of service in the league and being an ambassador for the city, the mayor of Detroit bestowed upon Jerome the "key to the city." It's an honorary gesture but a prestigious one at that. And with that distinction, Jerome certainly enters into some prestigious company, joining the likes of Louis Farrakhan, the rock band KISS, and perhaps most impressively of all, Saddam Hussein. That's right, folks. Saddam Hussein has a key to the city of Detroit. Apparently, a couple of decades before he was crawling out of a spider hole, he was donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to a church in the city. So then-mayor Coleman Young decided that this Saddam is a pretty good guy and deserved a reward for his generosity. Solid choice there, Coleman. Think you might want to have a do-over on that one? THIS JUST IN. Here are the other recipients of the key to the city of Detroit:
Joe Piscopo
Richard Simmons
Jake "The Snake" Roberts
Captain Janeway
Pol Pot
Marshall Applewhite
Jesse Katsopolis
Aquaman

Some other things that have been on my mind:

You know who I hate? Little kids with glasses. I just want to punch them in the face. All of them. Even the retarded ones. Also, adults with no teeth. They're lucky they don't have any teeth because if they did I would knock them out. Of course if they had teeth, I wouldn't be punching them in the first place because the reason I hate them is because they have no teeth. GRRRRR. If there were only a way to knock somebody with no teeth's teeth out. GRRRRR.

I will be starting a new, more lucrative job soon. Now don't be too proud of me, more lucrative is a relative term. Walking around town checking the coin return slots in pay phones and vending machines would be more lucrative than working at Target. But this job will be lucrative enough that it will allow me to purchase a new car in the near future. But this has me in quite a dilemma, because I HATE new car smell. I know a lot of people love it, but it makes me want to puke my guts out. Hell, I'd rather smell puke than new car smell. Maybe somebody can answer this for me - when you buy a used car, does it have new car smell? Like, do they recondition it and get that smell back in somehow? God, I hope not, or I will become a motorcyle rider very shortly.

I have never, not once, found a southern accent charming. Any kind of southern accent - Texas, Georgia, Virginia, whatever. It's all fingernails on the chalkboard to me. You know what? I'd rather listen to a roundtable discussion between a Scotsman, a Newfoundlander, a Bostonian, a Buffalonian, a Bronxite and a guy from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan than hear one damn person say younguns, ya reckon, puddin, plum tuckered, much obliged, y'all, swayt tay or chitlins.

Butterfingers. You ever eat them? I do, sometimes. But I'll tell you what, I don't get them at all. I mean, they're supposed to be peanut butter. But they're so damn hard! That has got to be the hardest peanut butter produced in the world. How can they even call it butter? They're tagline is "crispety, crunchety, peanut-buttery!" But peanut butter is neither "crispety" nor "crunchety." So why did they make the candy bar that way? Reese's cup? Nutrageous? Fast break? Fifth Avenue? Those products are of the appropriate consistency. I'm just waiting for the day that they start advertising products as "smoothety, creamety, potato chippety!"

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so here is my admission. Ever since I saw the movie Phone Booth a few years ago, I've been calling up strangers and, in my best Kiefer Sutherland, saying, "If you hang up, I will kill you." They always hang up.

a model blog post

2006-01-08T15:24:00.000-05:00

You've seen them, but you probably don't really think about them. But when you go into a store like Target, they're everywhere. Who are they? They're models, and they appear on posters and walls all throughout the store. They come in all different shapes, sizes, ages and colors - but they all have one thing in common: they're gigantic losers. Firstly, none of them are ever portrayed doing an activity that you would see anywhere in the real world. They're seen riding on shopping carts, kicking their legs out, or are shown as just a giant head, modeling no merchandise whatsoever but perhaps the collar of a shirt. Upon the top of one shelf in Target there is a picture of a young boy modeling a polo shirt, the collar of which is popped up. I want to strangle this boy. But alas, he is only a poster.

But even worse than the models who appear on posters in the store, are models who appear on products, such as pillow boxes, underwear, cleaning agents, and hair care products. But the biggest offender of all of these is a certain woman. She stands on a beach, a sweater tied around her neck, her wavy hair flowing in the wind. That's right, she's the woman who appears on a box of douche. In some states, that is an alternative to the death penalty for female convicts. "Ms. Morris, you have been convicted of four counts of murder in the first degree for drowning your children in the bathtub. As per the jury's recommendation, I hereby sentence you to death. You have the choice of death by the electric chair or lethal injection, or you can appear on a douche box." "I'll take the chair."

Will you open this for me?

2006-01-07T19:27:00.000-05:00

Working in the stock room at Target, I get to have a look at nearly every product that comes through the store. And I gotta tell you, some of the stuff we sell is beyond ridiculous. But that, for once, is not Target's fault. Target only sells what people will buy. And the stuff people waste their money on is absolutely unbelievable. For example, we carry a handy litttle device called an automatic jar opener. That's right. It's an appliance that only has one use - opening jars. If you've ever spent money on an automatic jar opener, kill yourself. There's no way that anybody who's under 100 who should EVER have one of these devices. I don't care if you're a retard - the machine has got to be more complicated than the jar. And I don't care if you have arthritis - takes some goddamn Advil and suck it up. It's just a jar. You should be donating that money to charity if you're just going to throw it away like that. And who are these people that are opening so many jars that getting an automated device is worthwhile? What even comes in jars? Pickles, and that's pretty much it. So unless you're wolfing down about 10 jars of gherkins a day, get a life. So, the only people I can think of that would really buy an automatic jar opener are those buying them as gifts. But I can tell you this right now: if I ever, EVER got an automatic jar opener as a gift, I would throw it right back into the face the person who gave it to me, and I would say, "Luke, you are a goddamn moron!"

Also, how many different kinds of laundry detergent do there really need to be? I don't mean different brands, I mean different varieties of the same brand. I mean, there has got to be like twenty different types of Tide. But what pisses me off even more than that is all the different products there are to freshen the smell of the air in your home. I mean, was there ever a bigger waste of time? WHO BUYS THIS SHIT???? I know you've seen the commercials all over the television, but you have to be around this crap every day to truly appreciate how stupid it is. There are about 200,000,000 different products to make your house smell like something it's not supposed to. How about this Scent Stories thing? Have you seen this? It's this big electronic device that you put scent "discs" into, and it "plays" different smells. It has got to be the stupidest product on the market. How about you don't smear shit all over the walls of your house? I think that would be more effective in keeping it smelling nice. How are you supposed to explain that thing away to your guests? "Hey, Judy, what is this big thing taking up your entire end table?" "Oh, Bonnie, that's just my Scent Stories player. It's like a stereo, but it plays smells instead of music. One minute I'm frolicking a field of fresh flowers, the next I'm swirling and twirling through fresh laundry hanging on the clothesline in the back yard, and the next I'm standing next to the window where mom's apple pie is cooling on the ledge." "Uh, Judy . . . I'm out of here, you crazy bitch." So, in conclusion, to any of you who may be reading this, next time you go to the store, make sure a product is not the stupidest goddamn thing you've ever seen before you purchase it.

driving in my car

2006-01-04T09:20:00.000-05:00

Some thoughts I had while driving home from the new year's celebration:

If I can't see my headlights reflecting in the back of your car when I'm behind you, your car is too damn dirty. Get a freakin' car wash. This is where my invention, the electronic bumper sticker, would come in very handy. Pass them, pull in front of them, and program your bumper sticker to say "CAR NEEDS A WASH."

Hey, remember that time I was driving and we were next to that van with the family in it, and the woman in the passenger's seat had her feet up on the dashboard so I put my foot up on the dashboard too, then she flicked me off and she had a car full of kids? Remember that? Man that was awesome. How about that time we were stuck at that stop light in Lancaster and we were across from Long John Silver's and I asked that kid who was walking in to bring me a hush puppy? That was awesome, too.

When I'm driving in my car down the highway, I just can't keep my finger out of my nose. Even when the mine has been tapped dry, I just start picking away at the walls. There's nothing I can do. You ever try to pick your nose and drive with the same hand? It's pretty tough. You gotta put your face way up by the steering wheel, then when you wanna turn you have to move your whole head, and if you have to make a really sharp turn you could end up upside-down, pressing the pedals with your other hand and navigating by your ass.

I better die before all my friends do. What if I live till I'm like 90 or 100? That would suck. Then that means I would have had to go to all of my friends' funerals. Hell, there's probably a 5 to 10 year period in there where I'd be going to funerals at least once a month. Then when I die last, there will be nobody at my funeral who I actually knew when I was "alive," or at least when I was the good part of alive. Do you know how much work it would be to go to all those funerals? I mean, damn, I'm not made of money. Yeah, I need to die first - all my friends will have to come to MY funeral. You get chauffeured around the whole time, then everybody comes to see you - you don't have to move a damn inch. I mean, if I die when I'm 100, who's gonna give my eulogy? My nursing home attendant? Give me a break. Even if I had kids, which I won't, they're probably all dead already anyway.

When are they finally gonna have these automated highways like they've been talking about for years? I have things to do when I'm in the car, and driving makes them really hard. Do you have any idea how hard it is to drive and bite your toenails at the same time? Very. You know what else would be a good idea? A seat with a built-in toilet.

the guest is always right

2005-12-28T15:09:00.000-05:00

Ignorance is bliss. Truer words were never spoken. I truly envy your typical Joe. He's the kind of guy who just goes about his business, and doesn't pay more attention to anything than is necessary. Why? Because Joe doesn't get irritated with things like I do, because he doesn't notice them. I try to relax. I try to worry only about the things I can control. But I can't help myself. Things just annoy the hell out of me. I wish I could stop it from happening, but clearly I can't. So I might as well write about it.

I've been working at Target for about 7 weeks now and I've noticed some things that I just can't keep quiet about anymore. Remember my blog entry where I made fun of Wal-Mart for calling its employees "associates." If you don't, go read it. It's down there somewhere. Well at Target, they call employees, "team members." And managers are not managers, but "team leaders." I would not be shocked at all if there were no CEO or President of the company, but just an Executive Team Leader or something of that nature. You see, Target is an extremly pretentious company. It prides itself on being different and better than your typical huge retail store, when really it's no better at all, and in all likelihood is much worse. I liken it to putting a jar of potpourri in a room full of feces. The potpourri is supposed to cover up the foul odor of the feces, but mixes with it to create something even more foul. Not to mention, it is the most transparent gesture imaginable.

We, as Target Team Members, are not to refer to customers as customers, but rather we are to call them guests, as they are guests in our humble establishment and it is our job to make them as comfortable as possible. The jargon of the Target Team member is filled with so much verbiage it's almost beyond description. For example, over the walkie-talkies (which we use at Target, in case you've never noticed), when you want to know where someone is, you are to say "What is your location?" rather than a simple "Where are you?" or the even simpler preference of mine, "Where y'at?" It's obvious to me that the point of all this is to make low-level shelf-stocking scum like me, but especially like my co-workers, feel more important and more professional than they actually are. But unfortunately, it makes intelligent individuals like myself, or perhaps just myself for whatever reason, vomit in disgust.

In case you didn't know, the Target Corporation has copyrighted the phrase, "Can I help you find something?" It's the dumbest thing you've ever heard, I know. We even have to answer the phone like that. "Thank you for calling Target, this is Brad, can I help you find something?" Thank god I am never near a phone. Also, obviously, you are supposed to say it to any customer, err . . . guest you run into. From time to time, my store even holds contests to see who can say it the most times. I don't know about any of you, but I HATE it when I'm in a store and employees come up to me and ask me if I need any help. I'll find it myself, and if I have a problem then I'll ask somebody, but I don't like to be bothered. It's one thing if I'm making a major purchase at a store, and there are actually sales personnel there who work on commission. But this is Target. Give me a goddamn break.

But this is not to say that the customer is without blame in the retail store world. There are three customers that really irritate the hell out of me. The first is Mr. Can't Find Anything On His Own. This one is always a guy. He walks into a store, and he looks like an Alzheimer's patient who just walked into a neurology convention being conducted in Afrikaans. I see this guy in the grocery store the other day - typical Mr. Can't Find Anything On His Own - he's gotta talk to his wife on his cell phone the whole time he's there because not only can he not find anything, he can't remember the list either. Partial transcript of his end of the conversation: "Crispix . . . Crispix . . . Crispix, where would the Crispix be . . . oh, here we go, cereal aisle. (Paces up and down aisle a couple times). I can't find them. I don't think they have them. What are they called? Crispix? What are those? Nope, I don't see them. Crispix . . . Crispix . . . . . . How is that spelled? Oh, HERE they are. CRISPIX."

Actually, the particular instance of Mr. Can't Find Anything On His Own mentioned above is also an example of the second customer that really burns my ass. And that is Talks Too Loud On His Cellphone In The Store Guy. This one is usually a guy as well, although it is more likely to be a female than the first one. This is the guy who becomes oblivious to the world around him when his cell phone rings (and rings extremely loudly by the way). He forgets he's in a store and thinks he's standing in a crowded bus. He talks so loudly, you can have no trouble hearing him several aisles over. Also, he has no problems using curse words during his conversation. He, apparently, also has no problem conducting business meetings while looking for pretzels.

The third and final aggravating customer I'd like to talk about is Mrs. Always Pays With A Check. This is ALWAYS a woman. Mrs. Always Pays With A Check does not realize that there are other forms of payment available to her. She's never heard of cash or credit cards. She does not realize there is such a thing as a debit card, a card that functions just like a check, but is faster and involves no writing. No, the writing is what makes the shopping experience fun for Mrs. Always Pays With A Check. She doesn't care if she's holding you up, she's busting out that check book whether you like it or not. And it doesn't matter how large her order is either. One hundred dollars or one dollar, a check is a bill available in any amount.

Certainly there are other irritating retail consumers I didn't get to. There's Mrs. Lets Two Kids Ride In The Cart, Hits Her Kids In The Store Lady, Mrs. Can't Keep Her Kids Quiet, and even Fat Old Bastard On A Scooter. Feel free to add your own in the comments. But please. I'm asking any of you who might be reading this. If you ever see me in a store, and I'm 65 years old, weighing 400 pounds, wearing a muumu and driving a scooter around a store, please shoot me in the head. The scooter should be reserved for people with no legs, not people who are too fat to support their body weight.

CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE!

2005-12-10T11:31:00.000-05:00

God damn, I hate Christmas. Everybody knows it. I don't really feel like explaining why I hate it so much, because it just puts me in a bad mood. But what I will do is talk about the one thing I like about it. Yes, that's right, there is one fantastic aspect of Christmas that people seem not to notice. But if you do, it can really brighten up your day. I'm not talking about Christmas spirit, or togetherness, or getting presents, or any of that crap. What am I talking about? Commercials.

I love commercials around Christmas time - either on the radio or on TV. They're all fantastic. Why? Because every company tries to promote its product or service as though it would be the PERFECT Christmas gift. Hell, they'll tell you to buy one for everybody on your list! The funny part is that most of the crap they're selling would make an absolutely terrible gift. But it's impossible to promote a product around Christmas time without claiming it would be a great gift because that's all people are interested in buying. I've heard and seen commercials claiming that these, among other things, would make great gifts for everybody on your list: Cars, cellular phones (you gonna pay my bill too, buddy?), and INSURANCE POLICIES (the gift that keeps on taking). You could also name a star after everybody on your list. A more worthless gift I cannot imagine. At least give me an asteroid or something, so that way maybe one day something carrying my name could be responsible for destroying the world.

Anyway, the only thing that I really haven't heard advertised as being a great Christmas gift are these CD sets that rich guys sell telling you all their money-making secrets. You've heard the commercials on the radio. "I teach you all of my secrets to financial success." Then you have a couple people say how the system worked for them. So this is my idea for next year: sell my own "Secrets to Wealth" CD set. It will have 6 different CDs and it will sell for $100. And it will be the PERFECT Christmas gift. You should buy one for everybody on your list. On each CD there will be only one track. Pop in the first CD and hear my voice say. "What is my secret to wealth? Selling these CDs to losers like you." That's it. Then the next CD will say, "What you thought I was joking?" Then the next one will say, "Nope, wasn't joking." Then the next one will say, "Come on that's funny." Then, "Sure, I bilked you out of $100, but can you really put a price on a good laugh?" Then the last one will say, "I can. $100. HAHAHAHAHA."

five o'clock world

2005-11-14T19:48:00.000-05:00

I've worked at Target for four days now, and I already want to kill myself - even more than usual that is. The only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that I will be getting a paycheck every couple of weeks, something that I have not gotten in nearly a year. But I use the word paycheck loosely. At $6.50 an hour, I could probably make just as much money walking around town checking the coin returns in pay phones and vending machines. But if I must have a job, I may as well use it as fodder for my blog so at least some good (besides the pocket change I'll be making) can come out of it. So here we go . . . .

After my orientation on Thursday, I find out that I am scheduled to come in at 5 am Friday morning. As I arrive, the "leader on duty," as she is called, has a meeting of all "team members," as we are called, to discuss the plan for the day. She introduces me to this group of approximately 25 employees, and they all give me a big "HI BRAD!" at her bidding. I can tell that a fantastic day is starting. She points me in the direction of two ladies with whom I will be working. As the meeting breaks, the fatter one, named Julia, tells me to follow her to the stock room, and as we arrive she informs me that I am going to "hate it" working there - a great way to break in new employees I'm sure. Needless to say, my outlook for the next eight hours was not too sunny. Julia is one of these women who can't go five minutes without talking about how she needs a cigarette. You know the kind. It's one thing to be so weak as to be a smoker, but it's completely another to be so addicted that one must advertise that addiction to the entire world at every opportunity. Anyway, this woman insists upon calling me "honey," even though it's obvious that she's not more than 35 years old. I feel there there must be at least at 25 year age difference between the honey-er and the honey-ee in order for that to fly. It's also fairly obvious that she spends at least half of her income from this extremely low-paying job on cigarettes. So she begins to explain to me, as briefly as possible, how to use the mystical "PDT," a fairly complex little gadget without which Target stockroom work would be but the fevered dream of a madman. However, professor Lena Myers was better at explaining social inequality than Julia was at explaining the PDT. Imagine trying to learn sign language from Koko the monkey. Sure, Koko knows sign language - it was a long and painful process to teach it to her, spanning years - but you're never going to learn shit from her. That's the only thing I can compare to trying to learn the functions of the PDT from Julia. I eventually figure it out enough from talking to somebody else to do the task at hand. Finally my immediate supervisor Jon comes in. Jon reminds me of an older me. Not much older, mind you - perhaps even a couple of years . . . younger. Julia proceeds to explain to Jon several complaints she has about her co-workers, and about her work schedule and how it will conflict with her far more important schedule of cigarette smoking. I can tell that it's taking Jon all the willpower he has to keep from crushing Julia's head with his fists like that guy they used to show at the end of the Daily Show when Craig Kilborn was still the host. You know what I'm talking about. By this time I have walked past the dog food section of the stock room at least a dozen times, and I determine that, based on the smell, dog food has got to taste like a combination of rat feces and mothballs. I theorize that If I were a dog I would be forced to eat my owners just to get some fresh food. Plus they deserve it for feeding me that crap. A while later I find myself at the top of some 20-foot shelves removing boxes to be pushed to the sales floor. I wonder if I should take a tumble whether I would be able to claim workman's compensation. I curse the fact that I didn't read through the fine print on my contract and decide that it's not worth risking a spinal cord injury for money that I may not even get. Eventually the day ends with my life, my $52 in pre-tax earnings and my suicidal thoughts intact.

We listened to KISS 96.5 WAKS on the radio the entire day, and I realized that they essentially play the same 10 or 15 songs in a loop all day long. At least I think they do, or that could have just been my brain taping over itself. Also, "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas has got to be one of the stupidest songs ever made - and I had to listen to it at least 4 times that day.

Also, I would like to point out that during my three work shifts I have had thus far, I have already taken two dumps. 21 hours of work, two dumps. That's a 1:10.5 dump to work hour ratio. I'm definitely on pace to eclipse the 1:18 that I posted at the Career Center and blow the 1:32 from Hawkins out of the water. Plus I took a dump while I was at home during my lunch break my first day, so had my bowels functioned slightly differently we'd be looking at possibly a 1:7 ratio, which would be more than one dump per full work day - quite a feat if you ask me.

it's a wonderful life

2005-11-07T11:00:00.000-05:00

I'm back again after a long layoff. I'm going to try to post at least once a week, hopefully more, now that it looks like I probably have a job. But I just thought I'd share with you what I've been doing during my excruciatingly long layoff. So right now, let me lay out for you a typical day for me and the activities therein.

9 AM - Wake up, then fall back to sleep for an hour after realizing that there's not really anything to do once I am up.
10 AM - Finally make it out of bed, and out of the basement, up to the dining room table to read the sports sections of both the Plain Dealer and the Beacon Journal. Also, do the jumble. But not the Wuzzles. Wuzzles suck.
10:30 AM - Daydream for a while about a fictional episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent in which Goren, having just gotten the suspect to confess to a crime even though the police had little incriminating evidence by knowing exactly how to push the suspect's buttons, sits back in his chair, looks over at Eames and says "BODY MASSAGE." Also think about how Eames is played by Kathryn Erbe, who also played Richard Dreyfuss's daughter in What About Bob? Baby step to four o'clock. Baby step to four o'clock!
11:30 AM - Take a shower, during which I sing "Under the Boardwalk" at least four times.
12 PM - Eat lunch. Banquet chicken nuggets. De-lish.
12:30 PM - Check my email, which usually includes something from the NFL, something from MLB, and a email or two from Blogger, telling me I have a new comment on my blog from a fine young gentleman advertising his very own blog for penis enlargement.
1 PM - Look for jobs on the internet and become extremely tempted to sign up for one of these "work from home" deals with a guaranteed 100,000 a year payoff.
2 PM - Go up to Tops and buy my (frozen) meals for the next few days. Meatloaf. Turkey. Pizza bagels. Sliced beef meal. Chicken fried steak meal. Refuse to get a bonus card once again, even though it would probably save me quite a bit of money, because it just seems like a pain in the ass. By the way, I'm pretty sure Banquet mashed potatoes are nothing more than crushed ice and dandruff, and maybe a little farina too.
3 PM - Play in a free online poker tournament, because that's all I can afford anymore. Maybe win fifty cents or so.
4 PM - Daydream a while longer about a hypothetical world in which a person never needs to take a dump and therefore has no butthole. Also about how butthole is an extremely underrated insult. Butthole. You know, it really should have been called Beavis and Butthole.
5 PM - Pass out from all the excitement.
6 PM - Eat dinner. Alphabet soup (one of the few things I'll eat that doesn't come straight out of the freezer and have a sodium content that would make even Luke run for the hills).
7 PM - Begin watching television, perhaps a sports program, perhaps CI or SVU.
10 PM - Go into my room and begin watching Futurama episodes that I illegally downloaded about 2 years ago and neglected to delete. Realize that I have now seen each episode 5-10 (and in some cases more) times and probably now know the show better than Seinfeld, which is a sad, sad state of affairs.
11 PM - Listen to Lewis Black's White Album or Mitch Hedberg's Strategic Grill Locations.
12 AM - Play in my second free poker tournament of the day, this time pretending that I'm really going to try to play well, and that I care when I lose chips. Of course this has no real effect, and I still call an all-in with QJ off-suit.
1 AM - Go to bed while listening to an extremely garbled repeat of The Jim Rome Show on WKNR on my clock radio. Wonder if tomorrow will be any different, and upon realizing that it won't, hit myself in the head with said radio.

So there you have it. That's the life I've been living for the past 4-5 months.

A side note - Remember that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine failed a drug test because she ate poppyseeds? Well, I have to take a drug test today for the job that I am trying to get, and I just realized that I ate some poppyseed muffins yesterday. So I may not have a job after all.

Carson Daly

2005-09-17T23:47:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of people who are on television. Some of them deserve to be there, and some of them don't. But how do the ones that don't belong end up on TV anyway? Well, the answer is simple. Sucking dicks. That has to be it, because it is the only explanation I can come up with that can show why Carson Daly, and people of his ilk (including one Mr. David Holmes, whom I had previously complained about) get to have shows on television. Think about it. What does Carson Daly really bring to the table? Is he funny? No. Is he sharp and quick-witted? No. Is he entertaining at all? NO! Is he boring? Quite. He is a no-talent hack. He is a bum. He is a bum with a television show for no apparent reason. Folks who host late night television shows are supposed to have redeeming, entertaining qualities that make people want to watch - you know, charisma, sense of humor, and those such things. Letterman, Leno, O'Brien, Ferguson, Kimmel, Stewart - they all have talent. They have qualities about them that make people interested. Carson Daly does not. He is bland. He's vanilla. Hell, he's not even vanilla. He's flavorless. He's tap water. Yet he has his own television program.

I urge you people. Watch his show a couple times. See if you can find anything entertaining at all that was actually something of Carson's doing. You won't. Because there isn't anything. I would rather watch Nancy and Jan filling paint tubes or vacuum-saving strawberries on an infomercial than watch Daly's show. Hence, I come to my conclusion. He's a dick-sucker. He's in some gay executive's pants and that keeps him on the air. So, if there are any serial killers out there, or anyone who's thinking about becoming a murderer, or anybody who just feels really motivated by my complaints, please add "Kill Carson Daly" to your to-do list. Thank you. Goodnight now.

channel flipping

2005-09-15T14:39:00.000-04:00

I'm sure this has happened to all of us. You're sitting alone one evening, flipping through the channels to find something to watch. Eventually, you come across one of those "I'll watch it if it's on" movies on TBS or some similar channel. It's a halfway decent movie, but nothing too special. Say, for example, Speed. So you're sitting there watching it for, oh, ten minutes or so, starting to get into it, and you see that it's going to commercial. You think to yourself, "That's fine, it'll be back on in a couple minutes." But, OH NO. It's NOT going to commercial. It's going to some goddamn television studio. Oh shit--it's your worst nightmare. Dave Holmes walks out onto your television screen. Yes, the same Dave Holmes who was too much of a dork even for that channel of losers, MTV (which is the second worst channel on television, next to VH1, but that's a story for another entry). He begins to explain how they accomplished the stunts in the subway scene, and you begin to bawl uncontrollably. This is the worst thing that could possibly happened, short of seeing RuPaul. You think to yourself, "Why?? Why must they do this to me?" You would rather put your testicles in a vise than listen to Dave Holmes speak (or the equivalent pain if you're a female, whatever that may be).

Is there anybody on the PLANET that would rather watch this movie with Dave Holmes butting in every ten minutes to explain some stupid crap about the movie you don't care about and he knows nothing about? Is there anybody out there who says "Oh damn, I gotta watch that Dave Holmes Interruption movie tonight. Normally I wouldn't watch it, but that Dave Holmes is so interesting and insightful, and he's not a huge dork at all."

This is not a knock on Dave Holmes. Well, yes it is. But it is more a knock on television stations that find it necessary to insert hosts and stupid gimmicks into otherwise-fine movies to make them nearly unbearable. There are other such shows, like Dinner and a Movie, or Makeover and a Movie, etc. etc. etc. They all make you contemplate suicide. Memo to TBS and every other channel that does this shit: the movies are better without your garbage. If that crap actually improved the movie, they would put it in the theatrical release. I can't imagine Movie Voiceover Guy ever doing a trailer that sounds like this: "From Director John Singleton - On the streets of Los Angeles, crime is a way of life. Murder happens everyday. But after the drive-by shooting of his son, one man is fighting back. And he is fighting any way he can. And while he is, another man is teaching you how to make a southwestern omelet. Wesley Snipes. Ice Cube. Dave Holmes. COME GET YA OMELET. Rated R. Starts Friday at theaters everywhere."

I'm back, baby

2005-09-04T01:56:00.000-04:00

I'm back. This is my first post in well over a month. Why have I been gone? Well, I haven't really been busy, as I am still jobless. I've officially crossed the hazy line between "taking a break" and "unemployed." I am now a bum, living in my parents' basement. That said, I should have had plenty of time to write blog entries. In addition to that, I have had plenty of ideas. I think of things and say, "wow, that would make a great blog entry." I do stand-up comedy routines in my head, and ad-lib as I go along, to hilarious effect - in my own mind, anyway. But I don't write any of it on here. Why? Because it just seems like a waste of time, frankly. I mean, nobody reads this. My readership has dwindled significantly, unless a whole lot of people are reading and not commenting at all. So I ask of you, if you read this, comment so I know whether to go on or not. I mean, what's the point of relaying all this great material to you if YOU is just the vacuum of the internet. But even at this blog's peak, I had maybe 10 people reading it. And I just feel like it's worth more than that. There are a lot of blogs on the internet waaaay worse than this one that get a lot more readership. But I don't have the time, nor the inclination to go to the ends of the earth to try to get people to read my blog. Maybe I just think it's a lot better than it really is. I was hoping it would spread like a chain reaction from friends to friends, and I would have a few dozen readers by now. But it just hasn't happened. Either that, or they are the quietest readers ever. I mean, I get that there might be a dud entry every now and again, but I think the overall quality of my work is quite good. Better than yours at least. And it is only because I believe in myself that I will renew my efforts and continue on with this blog, for now at least.

That said, I have some thoughts on things.

Normally when a stand-up comedian comes onto the stage, he might ask how the audience is. "How's everybody doing tonight?!" And the audience responds with applause. But the way I see it is, that's not really an answer to the question. So one day I want to go to a comedy club and do the following: when the comedian asks, "How's everybody doing tonight?" I want to stand up and yell, "WELL, NOT TOO GOOD, (INSERT COMEDIAN'S NAME HERE). LAST NIGHT I POPPED A BLOOD VESSEL IN MY HEAD TRYING TO FORCE OUT A HUGE DUMP. PLUS LAST WEEK I WAS DIAGNOSED WITH TESTICULAR CANCER."

Testicular cancer. That's gotta suck. Having a testicle removed. Eww. I can think of about 286 parts of my body I would rather lose than my balls - including several lobes of the brain. Hell, just give me one hand and my cock 'n' balls and I'll be fine, you know what I'm saying? I think all the guys that have had to have a ball removed should form a club - Tom Green, Lance Armstrong, John Kruk, all of them - and their logo should be a can of tennis balls with just one ball in it.

Body Massage

2005-07-24T09:37:00.000-04:00

The Goonies would be a lot better with some nudity.

Kentucky Fried Chicken is really sort of a lie, because if it was all fried in Kentucky, it would take quite a while to get the chicken to restaurants in Alaska, and it probably wouldn't taste too good by the time it got there.

OREO Speedwagon would be a great name for a band.

People look at you funny when you order "half a pound of human" at the deli.

I really really really wish I had a peg leg.

If I could buy the world a Coke . . . . . . . everyone would only get like a five hundred millionth of an ounce. Plus by the time it got passed around to everyone, it would probably be pretty flat.

Kimmy Gibbler is one ugly skank. I'd like to jab her eye out with my peg leg.

Kids do the darndest things

2005-07-22T16:28:00.000-04:00

"PADUCAH, Ky. (AP) - The youngest Kentucky child to be charged with murder in decades likely will receive counseling and therapy in a setting away from a state juvenile jail, experts say. The 7-year-old boy is charged with killing his mother's boyfriend on June 27."

This whole story has really gotten me choked up. But that's not because a man was murdered. It's because I am just now realizing that I completely wasted my childhood. If only someone had told me when I was 5 that I couldn't be tried as an adult and that the only punishment I would get would be some counesling sessions or mental therapy, I would have been going through the hills on a killing spree, I'll tell you what. It would have been the funniest killing spree ever, I think. I would have worn some dress clothes, and nice shoes, and combed my hair really nice. I would have looked like it was picture day at school. And I would have carried around my Transformers lunch box. And when I happened upon a suitable target, I would have struck up a conversation with them. Eventually, the following exchange would take place:

Me: Do you like my lunch box? It's Transformers.
Target: Yeah, kid. That's a cool lunch box.
Me: Wanna know what I'm having for lunch?
Target: Sure, kid.
Me: [opening box to reveal gun] You, bitch.

Click, click, boom.

I shall call you . . . EDUARDO.

2005-07-19T17:08:00.000-04:00

Some people are gay. But why are they gay? Some say it's a choice. Others say it's for genetic reasons. Still others say that it's a product of their environments. Well, I don't claim to know all the answers. But I am here to offer at least a partial explanation. If you're gay, there's a good chance that it's at least partially your parents' fault. How? It's not because of the way they treated you, or because your mom accidentally bought you culottes and made you wear them when you were a kid because she thought they were shorts. And it's not because of all those bananas and bomb pops they made you eat. It's because of the name they gave you. That's right. I'm a firm believer that a name can carry great weight when it comes to determining sexual orientation. For example, if your parents name you Chris, you're probably quite a well-adjusted person. But if your parents named you Kris, with a K, that might cause your life to be somewhat altered. When parents take the liberty of adjusting the spelling of an otherwise normal name, they may unwittingly be wreaking havoc on that child's future. At age 15, Kris writes in his diary (because Kris needs a diary, and yes a diary, not a journal): "Dear Diary, I've been going through some issues lately. Why, oh, why did my parents name me Kris with a K? I don't understand it. How could they do something like that to me? On a COMPLETELY UNRELATED note, I brought my new "friend" home from school today to meet mother. His name is Robbi with an i. He's on the soccer team. Today in gym, I accidentally hit him in the butt with a ball and the teacher made me hold an ice pack on there until the swelling went down. It didn't go down for a loooong time . . . ." You see, parents? That name can make all the difference. There are certain names that you just need to stay away from. Another example would be the name Brayden. Come on, folks. If you name your kid Brayden, you may as well as name him Gay-den. You know what I'm saying? Just watch what you're doing, parents. Unless you want your kid to turn out gay . . . not that there's anything wrong with that.

What you can buy with $25

2005-07-16T13:22:00.000-04:00

"PITTSBURGH (AP) - A T-ball coach allegedly paid one of his players $25 to hurt an 8-year-old mentally disabled teammate so he wouldn't have to put the boy in the game, police said Friday."

Hmm . . . This is the first time I've ever seen anything about a children's sports coach doing anything inappropriate at all. Ordinarily, those coaches and parents are extremely well behaved, right? There have never been any incidents involving adult misbehavior at a kids' sporting event that I can recall hearing about.

Coach, coach coach. Come on now. Didn't you read my rules about making fun of retarded people. And if you're not allowed to make fun of them, you're sure as hell not allowed to injure them, or pay off a "hit boy" to do it either. And you had him hit him in the head and in the groin? The head, ok, that's one thing. He's dumb already, probably not gonna make much difference there. That's kinda like pissing in the ocean. Ain't gonna make much of a splash. But the groin? Come on, coach. That's all this kid has left. What if you ruined his chances of ever becoming one of those retarded fathers they sometimes show on daytime talk shows - you know, the ones who always hug their children just a little bit too long.

You know, I don't blame that kid who actually threw the ball at the retard at all. That coach gave him $25 to do it! Hell, when I was eight years old, I would have done pretty much anything for that much money. Do you know how many baseball cards you could buy with that kind of cash? Shit, I would have sat on his head and farted until he passed out. Hey, I'm just a kid. I don't know any better. I'm blinded by Andrew Jackson and Abraham Lincoln dancing around in my head.

You're a wizard, Harry.

2005-07-15T16:06:00.000-04:00

As much as I hate to promote other people's material, as mine is generally superior, I must point your attention toward this dandy by Jim Caple from ESPN.com's Page 2. He has "acquired a copy" of the newest Harry Potter book before its release, and shares a passage with us. Hilarious stuff.

Frankly my dear, AFI's list sucks.

2005-07-15T00:55:00.000-04:00

So here it is. Finally. THE list. The Top 100 Movie Quotes of All Time According to Brad. Before I begin with the quotes, I offer you some insight as to the qualifications for making the list. Firstly, I have to have seen the movie. I've seen a lot of movies, but I'm not a movie buff, or a film critic, or anything like that. Most of them are too much of a waste of time (and this blog isn't?). So chances are there are some good quotes out there that I just am not aware of, and for that I apologize. Secondly, I am not limiting the quotes to one line, or one character. If necessary, it may be a dialogue, or a speech. I could shorten some of the longer ones, but I want you to understand the context for most of them. Of course, with some of them I won't be able to give you the context, so unless you've seen the movie, you probably won't get it. But if you haven't seen any of these movies, you should watch them anyway. Thirdly, there is no specific genre of movie I'm focusing on, although it'll be clear that most of the quotes on the list come from comedy movies. I think that when AFI released their list, comedies were significantly underrepresented. The best quotes are the ones that evoke the biggest responses from the viewer, and in my book there's no better response than laughter. Also, these are not necessarily the typical quotes that you might hear people say from these movies, but the typical ones are not always the best ones. This is a list of the BEST quotes, not the most repeated or anything like that. Lastly, I want you to understand the many hours of free time I gave up to make this list. So you sure as hell better read it. Thank you. Here's the list.

THE TOP 100 MOVIE QUOTES OF ALL TIME (ACCORDING TO BRAD)

101. (This quote actually belongs higher up on the list, but I completely forgot about it when I made the list, so I just added it at the end because it's way too much of a pain in the ass to change all the numbers. But consider this in the 15-20 range.) "Tastes funny . . . tastes like paint . . . and wood." - Mr. Wilson
(Dennis the Menace)

100. "Mr Kimble! Mr. Kimble! I have to go to the bathroom and I can't get these things off." - Emma
(Kindergarten Cop)

99. "What would Brian Boitano do?" - The South Park kids
(South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut)

98. Joseph Dunn: Do you think you could beat up Bruce Lee?
David Dunn: No, Joseph.
Joseph Dunn: Even if he wasn't allowed to kick, and you were really mad at him?
(Unbreakable)

97. "KHAAAAAAAAN!" - Captain James T. Kirk
(Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan)

96. Ricky Fitts: Excuse me for speaking so bluntly, sir, but those fags make me want to puke my fucking guts out.
Col. Frank Fitts: . . . Well, me too son. Me too.
(American Beauty)

95. "You have a toit body. Yesh, I see that from your toit pants. Yesh, you are toit like a toiger!." - Goldmember
(Austin Powers in Goldmember)

94."I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet, you are a plague, and we are the cure." - Agent Smith
(The Matrix)

93. "Shomer Shabbos." - Walter Sobchak
(The Big Lebowski)

92. "Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Hello John." - John Hammond
(Jurassic Park)

91. "I have to admit, you know, I did the fair bit of masturbating when I was younger. I used to call it stroking the salami, yeah, you know, pounding the old pud. I never did it with baked goods, but you know your uncle Mort, he pets the one-eyed snaked 5-6 times a day." - Jim's Dad
(American Pie)

90."You shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize." - Mr. White
(Reservoir Dogs)

89. "Great googa-mooga!" - Harry Block
(Evolution)

88. "Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face!" - Vincent Vega
(Pulp Fiction)

87. "A toll is a toll, and a roll is a roll, and if we don't get no tolls, then we don't eat no rolls." - Little John
(Robin Hood: Men in Tights)

86. "You have the ring, and I see your Schwartz is as big as mine." - Dark Helmet
(Spaceballs)

85. "Bingo." - Frank Drebin
(The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!)

84. "Gambling is illegal at Bushwood, sir, and I NEVER slice." - Judge Smails
(Caddyshack)

83. Paul Smecker: What are you doing?
Hojo: I just wanted to cuddle.
Paul Smecker: Cuddle? What a fag.
(The Boondock Saints)

82. Chief Grady: Ah, waiter. I will have the enchilada platter with two tacos and no guacamoles. Mike?
Officer Smy: Yeah, chief, I'll have a CHINCHILLA!
(Super Troopers)

81."We were just talking about our ability to move forward in time." - Rudy Mackenzie
(The Jacket)

80. "Mom says we're moving to Boston." - Max
(Liar, Liar)

79. "Easy, peasy, Japanesey." - Brooks
(The Shawshank Redemption)

78. "May I have ten thousand marbles, please?" - Flounder
(Animal House)

77. "Everything. OK! I'll talk! In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog . . . When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out . . . But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life." - Chunk
(The Goonies)

76. "Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't one today!" - Phil Connors
(Groundhog Day)

75. "Excuse me while I whip this out." - Bart
(Blazing Saddles)

74. "And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it." - Brother Maynard's Brother
(Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

73. "Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And that my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to. " - Col. Nathan Jessep
(A Few Good Men)

72. "My name is Master Chief Billy Sunday. There was a preacher by the same name who cleaned up Chicago of all the whoring spics, drunken wops and motherfucking niggers that was making that place unfit for decent white folks to live. The only difference between me and that old preacher is that he worked for God, and I AM God!" - Master Chief Billy Sunday
(Men of Honor)

71. "Also, Dude, Chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please." - Walter Sobchak
(The Big Lebowski)

70. "What the fuck is the internet?" - Jay
(Jay and Silet Bob Strike Back)

69. "Is this some sort of radical new therapy?" - Bob Wiley
(What About Bob?)

68. Dr. Lester: I'm afraid I have to trust Floris on that one. You see, she's got her doctorate in speech impedimentology from Case Western. I apologize if you can't understand a word I'm saying.
Craig Schwartz: No, I understand perfectly.
Dr. Lester: Well, it's very kind of you to lie. You see, I've been very lonely in my isolated tower of indecipherable speech.
(Being John Malkovich)

67. "Old McDonald had a farm, ee i ee i oh. And on that farm he shot some guys. Bada boom bada bing bang boom." - Michael McManus
(The Usual Suspects)

66.Yakavetta: I'm having a shitty day. I'm depressed. Tell me a funny joke.
Rocco: Now? A joke? Uh . . . um . . . a joke, yeah, all right. There's these three guys, uh, a spic, a white guy, and a black guy.
Yakavetta: Nigger.
Rocco: Yeah, uh, yeah. And they're walking along the beach and they see this pot, and they rub it, and a genie comes out. The genie says, "You can wish for anything you want." So he asks the Mexican what he wants, and he goes "I want all my people in America to be happy and free, and in Mexico." So the genie goes poof. And all the spics are in Mexico. And then asks the black guy. . .
Lapazzi: Nigger.
Rocco: Yeah, that's what I said, goes to the the, uh, nigger, says, "What do you want?" and he goes, "I want all my African- my nigger brothers to be back in Africa, and happy and everything." So the genie goes poof. And all the niggers in America are in Africa. And uh, uh. I'm not funny today, I know, I'm having a hard day. This joke sucks, I know...
Yakavetta: . . . . . . Continue the joke.
Rocco: So the genie says to the white guy, um, "What's your one wish?" And the white guy goes, "you mean to tell me that all the niggers and spics are out of America?" The genie goes yeah, he says well, uh, "I'll have a Coke, then."
(The Boondock Saints)

65. Drill Seargent: GUUUUMP! What's your sole purpose in this army???!!!
Forrest Gump: To do whatever you tell me, Drill Sergeant!
Drill Seargeant: GODDAMNIT GUMP! You're a goddamn genius! That's the most outstanding answer I've ever heard! You must have a goddamn IQ of 160! You are goddamn gifted, Private Gump!
(Forrest Gump)

64. Frank Drebin: Saaaay . . . Nice beaver.
Jane Spencer: Thanks, I just had it stuffed.
(The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!)

63. "King illegal forest to pig wild kill in it a is!" - Mervin, the Sheriff of Rottingham
(Robin Hood: Men in Tights)

62. "Shut the fuck up, Donny." - Walter Sobchak
(The Big Lebowski)

61. Jerry: Great gift, dad!
Fletcher: Thanks, son.
(Liar, Liar)

60. "Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul." - The Principal
(Billy Madison)

59. "Where's your shitter??? I've got a turtle-head poking out." - Fat Bastard
(Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me)

58. "Mary, I desperately want to make love to a schoolboy." - Lloyd Christmas
(Dumb and Dumber)

57.Crash Davis: Relax, all right? Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring. Besides that, they're fascist. Throw some ground balls - it's more democratic.
Nuke LaLoosh: [to himself] What's this guy know about pitching? If he's so good how come he's been in the minors for the last ten years? If he's so good how come Annie wants me instead of him?
Crash Davis: Oh, hey, and another thing, Meat. You don't know shit, all right? If you wanna make it to the bigs, you'll listen to me. Annie only wants you so she can boss you around, got it? So relax! Let's have some fun out here! This game's fun, OK? Fun goddamnit. And don't hold the ball so hard, OK? It's an egg. Hold it like an egg.
(Bull Durham)

56. "Do you see any Teletubbies in here? Do you see a slender plastic tag clipped to my shirt with my name printed on it? Do you see a little Asian child with a blank expression on his face sitting outside on a mechanical helicopter that shakes when you put quarters in it? No? Well, that's what you see at a toy store. And you must think you're in a toy store, because you're here shopping for an infant named Jeb." - Elijah Price
(Unbreakable)

55. "God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs." - Dr. Ian Malcolm
(Jurassic Park)

54. "Steeeeeeeriiiiiiiiike threeeeeeeheeeeheeeeeeheeeeee!" - Frank Drebin
(The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!)

53. "See if you can guess what I am now? . . . I'm a zit! Get it?" - Bluto
(Animal House)

52. "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'." - Andy Dufresne
(The Shawshank Redemption)

51. Farva: Do you know what this is?
Rabbit: A chamois cloth?
Farva: Hah. Lucky guess. I just lost a buck . . . to myself.
(Super Troopers)

50. Lotte: I've decided that I'm a transsexual. I know, it's the craziest thing, Craig!
Craig: What, are you fucking nuts?
Lotte: No, it's just that for the first time, everything just felt right. I've got to make sure. But if the feeling is still there, I'm going to talk to Dr. Feldman about sexual reassignment surgery.
Craig: This is absurd! Besides, Feldman is an allergist. If you're going to do something, do it right!! . . . It's just a phase. It's the thrill of seeing through somebody else's eyes, ok? It'll pass.
Lotte: Don't stand in the way of my actualization as a man!
(Being John Malkovich)

49. "Is this a fake hang-up? It's a fake hang-up." - Bob Wiley
(What About Bob?)

48. Achoo: Hey, Blinkin.
Blinkin: Did you say Abe Lincoln?
Achoo: No I did not say Abe Lincoln, I said hey Blinkin.
(Robin Hood: Men in Tights)

47. The Dude: Walter, ya know, its Smokey, so his foot slipped over the line a little, big deal.
Walter Sobchak: Dude, this is a league game, the winner of this gets to progress into the next round robin. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?
Smokey: Yeah but I wasn't over.
Walter Sobchak: [pulls out a gun] Smokey you are about to enter a world of pain.
Smokey: Yeah but . . .
Walter Sobchak: A world of pain.
Smokey: Dude, could you . . .
The Dude: Jesus, Walter, you bring a fucking gun bowling?!
Walter Sobchak: Has the whole world gone crazy? Am I the only one who pays attention to the rules any more?
Smokey: Yeah but . . .
Walter Sobchak: You think I'm fucking around?! I'm not fucking around!
[points gun in Smokey's face]
Walter Sobchak: Mark it zero! Fucking mark it zero.
The Dude: They're calling the cops, man.
Smokey: All right, its fucking zero. Are you happy now, you crazy fuck?
Walter Sobchak: . . . Its a league game Smokey.
(The Big Lebowski)

46. "We got a gopher." - Samuel Gerard
(The Fugitive)

45. "I know kung fu." - Neo
(The Matrix)

44. "No no no, I'm going to leave them alone and not actually witness them dying, I'm just gonna assume it all went to plan. What?" - Dr. Evil
(Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery)

43. "A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Ffft ffft ffft ffft." - Dr. Hannibal Lecter
(The Silence of the Lambs)

42.Tom Smykowski: It's a "Jump . . . to Conclusions Mat". You see, you have this mat, with different CONCLUSIONS written on it that you could JUMP TO.
Michael Bolton: That is the worst idea I've ever heard.
Samir: Yes, this is horrible, this idea.
(Office Space)

41. "I don't know why he saved my life. Maybe in those last moments he loved life more than he ever had before. Not just his life - anybody's life, my life. All he'd wanted were the same answers the rest of us want. Where did I come from? Where am I going? How long have I got? All I could do was sit there and watch him die." - Rick Deckard
(Blade Runner)

40. Ty Webb: This your place, Carl?
Carl Spackler: Yeah, what do you think?
Ty Webb: It's really . . . really awful.
(Caddyshack)

39. "Are you suggesting that I killed my wife? Are you saying that I crushed her skull and that I shot her? How dare you. When I came home, there was a man in my house. I fought with this man. He had a mechanical arm. You find this man. You find this man." - Dr. Richard Kimble
(The Fugitive)

38. "Violet, you're turning violet, Violet!" - Sam Beauregarde
(Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory)

37. Craig: My name's Craig Schwartz and I have an interview with Dr. Lester.
Floris: Oh, please have a seat, Mr. Juarez.
Craig: Schwartz.
Floris: Pardon?
Craig: Schwartz.
Floris: I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're saying to me right now.
Craig: My name is Schwartz.
Floris: My name is Warts?
[a short time later]
Floris: Mr. Juarez?
Craig: . . . Oh, yes?
Floris: Chest?!
Craig: I said "yes".
Floris: You suggest what? I'm sorry, I have no time for piddling
suggestions from mumbling job applicants.
(Being John Malkovich)

36. "Tic-Tac, sir?" - Lloyd Christmas
(Dumb and Dumber)

35. "Would you like a shmoke and a pancake?" - Goldmember
(Austin Powers in Goldmember)

34. Frank Drebin: It's the same old story. Boy finds girl, boy loses girl, girl finds boy, boy forgets girl, boy remembers girl, girl dies in a tragic blimp accident over the Orange Bowl on New Year's Day.
Jane Spencer: Goodyear?
Frank Drebin: No, the worst.
(The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!)

33. "Is it dead?" - David Della Rocco
(The Boondock Saints)

32. "Alright . . . diving." - Bob Wiley
(What About Bob?)

31. "You hear that, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability. It is the sound of your death. Goodbye, Mr. Anderson." - Agent Smith
(The Matrix)

30. "Nobody fucks with the Jesus." - Jesus Quintana
(The Big Lebowski)

29. "I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries." - French Knight
(Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

28. "Hey you guys!" - Sloth
(The Goonies)

27. "Ah . . . dessert. Chilled monkey brains." - dinner guest
(Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom)

26. "He chose . . . poorly." - The Grail Knight
(Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade)

25. "Oh, Master Robin! You've lost your arms in battle! . . . But you grew some nice boobs!" - Blinkin
(Robin Hood: Men in Tights)

24. "I don't want a largefarva, I want a goddamn literacola." - Rod Farva
(Super Troopers)

23. "The Count of Monte Crisco by Alexandre . . . Dumb-ass. DUMBASS." - Heywood
(The Shawshank Redemption)

22. "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." - Verbal Kint
(The Usual Suspects)

21. "And . . . I made him talk, sort of." - Craig Schwartz
(Being John Malkovich)

20. "You may run like Mays, but you hit like shit." - Lou Brown
(Major League)

19. "GETOUTTATHECAR!" - Dr. Leo Marvin
(What About Bob?)

18. "Does Aunt Jenny have a barn? Maybe we can hold the trial there. I can sew the costumes. Maybe his Uncle Goober can be the judge." - Daniel Kaffee
(A Few Good Men)

17. "Do you want to know what IT is?" - Morpheus
(The Matrix)

16. "Why make trillions when we could make . . . billions?" - Dr. Evil
(Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me)

15. "There's a monster outside my room, can I have a glass of water?" - Bo Hess
(Signs)

14. Lloyd Christmas: Excuse me, Flo . . . What's the soup du jour?
Waitress: It's the "soup of the day."
Lloyd Christmas: Mmm, that sounds good. I'll have that.
(Dumb and Dumber)

13. Bubba: You ever been on a real shrimp boat?
Forrest Gump: No, but I been on a real big boat.
(Forrest Gump)

12. "Like a midget at a urinal, I was going to have to stay on my toes." - Frank Drebin
(The Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult)

11. "We can't stop. It's too dangerous. We have to slow down first." - Colonel Sanders
(Spaceballs)

10. "What in the wide, wide world of sports is going on here? I hired you people to try to get a little track laid, not to jump around like a bunch of Kansas City faggots." - Taggart
(Blazing Saddles)

9. "Do you see what happens, Larry? Do you see what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass?" - Walter Sobchak
(The Big Lebowski)

8. Richard Kimble: I didn't kill my wife!
Samuel Gerard: I don't care!
(The Fugitive)

7. "It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again." - Jame Gumb
(The Silence of the Lambs)

6. "Ray, people will come Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. It's only $20 per person. They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come." - Terence Mann
(Field of Dreams)

5. "Shut your fat ass, Rayvie! I can't buy a pack of smokes without runnin' into nine guys you've fucked!" - David Della Rocco
(The Boondock Saints)

4. Thug: Drebin?!
Frank Drebin: Yeah!
Thug: I got a message for you from Vincent Ludwig! Take that you son of a bitch! [fires multiple rounds at Drebin while yelling]
Frank Drebin: I can't hear you! Don't fire the gun while you're talking!
(The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!)

3. "So I jump ship in Hong Kong, and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over there in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So I tell ‘em I’m a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald—striking. So I’m on the first tee with him, I give him the driver. He hauls of and whacks one—big hitter, the Lama, long—into a 10,000 foot crevice right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga. Gunga—gunga lagunga. So we finish 18 and he’s gonna stiff me. And I say, “Hey, Lama! Hey! How ‘bout a little something, you know, for the effort, you know?” And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money. But when you die, on your death bed, you will receive total consciousness.” So I got that going for me, which is nice." - Carl Spackler
(Caddyshack)

2. Bob Slydell: What would you say . . . you DO here?
Tom Smykowski: Well, look, I already told you. I deal with the goddamn customers so the engineers don't have to. I have people skills! I am good at dealing with people! Can't you understand that?! What the hell is wrong with you people?!
(Office Space)

1. "No ticket." - Indiana Jones
(Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade)

4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . and switch

2005-07-11T09:40:00.000-04:00

Are you ever flipping around the dial and you come across one of these ridiculous exercise shows? They're on FitTV all day long, unless they're playing either the show with the fat guy cooking low carb food, or the strong guy cooking healthy food who is the worst television host ever and couldn't explain his way out of a wet paper bag. Anyway, on these exercise shows, you'll usually have three to five fit-looking people doing aerobic exercises synchronously, maybe bouncing off of some kind of step-like device which could easily be replaced by a large book or a block of wood and the exercise would be the same and you would save about fifty bucks on that damn step. And the person in the front is always the leader, and he or she will tell everybody else what to do, sometimes using crazy exercise lingo that only gym-heads understand, talking to the home viewing audience from time to time, giving them words of encouragement. And you can almost always hear something like this at least a couple times during one of those shows: "Ok eight more. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . You're doing great! Keep it up! 7 and stop." Trust me exercise person when I say that the people at home are not doing great. They're all laughing at you. A wonderful career choice you've made. What I want to know is, are there really people out there that watch this stuff and try to do the exercises along with them? Is it a spur-of-the-moment thing or is it planned out? Is some woman at home flipping around the channels and comes across this show and says, "Hey, this looks good. I think I'll try it." Then she throws off her shoes and has at it. Or is it more of a regular habit. She's out with her friends when suddenly she realizes what time it is. "Oh no!" she says. "I gotta get home. My favorite show is on soon. I never miss a Bodyshaping. That Gilad is a great encourager." I find it hard to believe that there really are people out there watching that stuff for a reason other than to make fun of it. But I guess there must be. But you know those people look nothing like the people that are exercising on the show. The people at home are fat slobs. No truly fit person would be caught dead exercising to one of those shows. That's why I think that on each one of those shows they should have some fat goof jumping around in the background, trying to keep up with the leader, and being unsuccessful at doing so. Not only would that give those poor chubs at home better self esteem from seeing someone more like themselves try to do the exercises rather than focusing on these unrealistically ideal-looking people, but it would attract a vast new audience of people like me who enjoy laughing at fat people trying to do aerobics.

Kenny Rogers

2005-07-01T23:06:00.000-04:00

So I've been hearing about this Kenny Rogers fiasco for the last few days. In case you didn't hear, Rogers (a pitcher for the Texas Rangers) was being videotaped by a news cameraman before a recent game, apparently against his wishes, and attacked two cameramen, throwing (or trying to throw) their cameras to the ground, and causing one of them, Larry Rodriguez, to go to the hospital. The Gambler was fined $50,000 and suspended for 20 days, pending appeal. Seems fair enough. Or so I thought . . . until I got a close-up look at Mr. Rodriguez while he was being interviewed on television. I've got to tell you, he may be the homeliest person I have ever seen. Literally, the first thing I said when I saw this guy was "OH MY GOD!" If James Carville and a rat had a child, his name would be Larry Rodriguez. I tried to find a good picture of him online but couldn't. That's probably good for your sake, because you don't want to see this guy anyway. You wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Anyway, seeing old Lar has really put things into perspective for me. It's clear to me now that Rogers was not going after him because of the camera, but because he was so damn ugly. And who can blame him? I say that Major League Baseball should drop the suspension and fine. Why? Well, who wouldn't attack such a man? I would. To be perfectly clear, yes, I am saying that it is ok to assault somebody based on physical hideousness. I mean come on, there should be a limit on what we're forced to take. Beyond that, and it should be open season, as far as I'm concerned.

Reality TV

2005-06-30T13:30:00.000-04:00

Here's the idea. It's a reality television program. It'll be a bunch of people living on an island, or in a house, or wherever. And they'll have to interact with each other and of course have one on one's with the camera. And they'll have to vote each other out of course, and eventually somebody wins. Sounds pretty familiar, right? Here's the catch. They're all retards. You can send me that Emmy whenever you get a chance. I realize that it may offend some people, but I believe that comedy is paramount to everything else, and this just might be the funniest show ever. And it will certainly get people talking. It would have to be the most-watched reality show of all time, right? I mean, even if you are offended, wouldn't you watch it anyway? How could you not? Besides, everyone's always saying that retarded people want to be treated just like everybody else, right? So, why can't they be on a reality tv show just like everybody else? "I am normah, just like you and me."

I can just see it now. Mikey sitting there talking to the camera--"Tommy took my appah. I don't like him." Can you imagine the retards talking bad about each other? I'm imagining how funny it was when that retard called me a retard, think about when they're calling each other retards. A funnier scenario I cannot envision. Oh man, I just had another great idea. Throw one non-retarded guy in there. He should probably be a really uptight, high -strung guy, maybe a former military man. Then watch him as he slowly goes insane. No contact with the outside world, or with any other humans with an IQ above 70. He starts wondering why they put him on the show with a bunch of retards. Is he actually a retard and just doesn't know it? Watch as his grip on reality slips away.

All we have to do now is come up with a name for the show. It's got to have a good name - one that highlights the retard factor, but also that it is a reality show. Maybe something like "Big Special Brother," or "Big Retarded Brother." Or if you want it on an island, maybe "Survivor: Isle of Tards."

This is just ridiculous

2005-06-30T12:44:00.000-04:00

Ok. Come on. This can't be real. But it is. Some guy was caught spying on a teenage girl in an outhouse . . . FROM INSIDE THE TANK. That's right. He was hiding IN THE CRAP HOLE. Yes, along with a whole lot of human excrement. Kinda makes me wonder . . . . . . . . .

Gary Moody's Daily Planner

Get up
Brush teeth
Take a shower
Eat breakfast
Pick up a prescription
Get some groceries
Eat lunch
Head to the outhouse.
Crawl into the shit hole.
Watch random people evacuating their bowels and bladder.
Crawl out without anybody noticing.
Go home.
Hope nobody notices that I'm COVERED IN FECES.
Eat dinner.
Watch some television.
Go to bed.
Start again with step 1.

How can this guy ever show his face in public again? The police said that they "treated him as if he were hazardous material." They SHOULD have treated him as if he were a firing range target and just ridded the world of this guy on the spot.

In a way, this reminds me of the Kenyan Latrine Incident. But at least those guys were going after a cell phone.

Coming soon . . .

2005-06-26T15:17:00.000-04:00

I apologize once again for the lack of updates. I'm in what one might call a "transitional phase" right now, but updates will be coming. Right now I am working on MY list of the top movie quotes of all time, seeing as everyone is talking about this AFI top 100 list lately. I'm going to go for 100 too, but who knows if I'll get that far. I'll post it when I finish.

You ARE too old

2005-06-08T17:08:00.000-04:00

I recently viewed a list of things that you're "never too old to do." The list included things like "get skinny," "become a buff," and "habla espanol." All of those seem fine, I guess. At least they seem fine in comparison to these other ones that I have major problems with . . .

Get a degree. There does come a point in your life when you are too old to get a degree. Generally speaking, if you're older than the professor, you're too old. If you're above 60 years old, and not TEACHING the class, I think it's time for your family to consider euthanasia. I'm 23 years old and I feel like I'm almost too old. For me, the sole purpose of the education process is to get that degree so I can get a somewhat lucrative job. The education really doesn't mean anything. But if you're like 60 years old, what are you going to use that degree for? Not dying? Come on. People place WAAAAY too much emphasis on the value of a college education. Sure, it may be worth a little bit, but when I see these people in some of my classes that look like they belong in a museum, and not a classroom, I just have to wonder what they are thinking. I guess when you're old, you get senile, and nothing you do really makes any sense anyway. College is supposed to put you on track for the rest of your life. When there is barely any of the rest of your life remaining, perhaps college is not the best option of a thing for you to do. Try knitting instead. Or whittling. Or play a nice game of chess with a partner in England through the mail. Or curse those damn kids and their skateboards.
Have a kid. I have seen way too many stories recently about women having children in their 50s and 60s because of fertility treatments. This is quite distressing indeed. I don't know why anybody would want a kid in the first place. But if you really want one, I guess it's ok--but only until age 40. After that, any woman who even contemplates having a kid should have her head examined. Think about the kid. If you're 55 when you have a child, you're going to be well into your seventies, if you're still alive, by the time that child graduates high school, assuming he does graduate and doesn't drop out or kill himself by then because his mom is obscenely old. Chances are, you're gonna be dead by the time the kid is 25. I'm 23. My mom is 52. I can't even imagine what it would be like if she were 75 or 80. Pretty soon I would have to worry about taking her to the doctor or putting her in a nursing home. That's for people my mom's age to deal with. Not me. Plus, if you're mom is in her 50s or 60s when you're born, you're never gonna have a chance to have grandparents that will spoil you. That's what grandparents are for. Spoiling their grandchildren. It counteracts the effects of the tough love that your parents give you. So whether a woman can still be a good mother at an extremely old age, or whether she acts toward her child like a grandmother might, either way the kid is going to end up being unbalanced. It's like always eating vegetables, or always eating dessert, but never being able to have the other.
Try Haggis. As far as I'm concerned, nobody should try haggis. It doesn't matter how old you are. I'll admit I've never tried it, and I never intend to. If you don't know what it is, you don't want to know. But I'll tell you anyway. It's a Scottish dish whose primary ingredients are heart, liver and lungs of a sheep, along with suet, oatmeal, onions and spices, and is boiled in the stomach of the animal. Sounds delightful, but no thanks. My parents always made me eat foods that I didn't like as a child. They said I would LEARN to like them. But guess what. I didn't. The only thing I like now that I didn't used to like is mustard, and that's ONLY in conjunction with ketchup. I still don't like tomatoes, Chinese food, squash, asparagus, coffee, yams and many other foods. Why keep eating a food if I don't like it? Who cares if I actually will develop a taste for it eventually? Why put myself through that torture in the meantime? There are plenty of foods out there for anybody. Stick with the ones you know and like. Broadening your horizons, as far as I'm concerned, does not apply to food. If you keep trying more and more foods, yes you probably will like some of them, but you'll also end up as big as a house.

Stop making fun of me

2005-06-06T23:26:00.000-04:00

I like making fun of people. It can be an enjoyable and zesty part of life. But there are a few rules that I believe we should all abide by when making fun of people. Only the lowest, most immature or uncaring individuals would dare break these rules. They are:

You can say anything you want about someone if you are certain it will never get back to them. This generally applies to people that you don't know. It's tough to say anything you want about someone you know because, chances are, they're going to find out that you said it eventually. I'm talking about celebrities, or people you see on tv or on the street that you just have to say something about. This means that you CAN make fun of that really fat guy at the restaurant. You CAN make fun of that smelly bum on the corner. And you CAN make fun of Donatella Versace or David Gest for looking so weird. You just have to be sure that they're never going to hear about it, or at the very least that they'll never find out it was you who said something like "Man, that David Gest looks an awful lot like a reconstructed Uday Hussein."
You should never make fun of people (to their face) for things that actually do apply to them. For example, you should never call a gay person a fag, or make fun of a fat guy for being fat. However, it is perfectly ok to refer to one of your straight friends as a homo. In the same vein, it is quite all right to call a svelte buddy, "you enormous fat-ass." An exception to this rule would be calling someone a bastard. You can call anybody a bastard--even a bastard.
If someone is unnecessarily mean to you, then you can be the same to them. Say for example, you're incredibly obese, and someone starts making fun of your weight. It is at this time that it's appropriate to bring out the heavy artillery. Give 'em a little, "oh yeah, well you're an ass-ramming, uncle-fucking, shit-eating cocksucker." If that doesn't work, try another, similar series of insults, and follow it up with a "plus, you're stupid."
Retards have total immunity in this matter. You should not make fun of a retard. Not even behind his back. I don't care if he called you a name. He has enough hardship in his life to deal with. Retards are the only group with such immunity. And I know, it can be tough because they're such easy targets, but chances are they won't be able to grasp the full scope, or lighthearted nature of your insult anyway. And you can't make fun of a retard for ANYTHING. You can't even say, "Hey Mikey, what's with that shirt? Did you get dressed in the dark this morning or is your fashion sense just that bad?" Technically, you're not making fun of him for anything having to do with his disability - only his taste in clothing (or more likely, his mother's). But don't do it. The ONLY exception to this rule is in regard to other retards. A retard may say anything he wants to another retard. Indeed, a retard may say anything he wants to anybody.

The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain.

2005-06-03T13:36:00.000-04:00

As you may or may not know, my last name is Boehm. And as you also may or may not know, I don't like it. That name has caused me many a problem throughout the years. Firstly, I don't think anyone has ever pronounced it correctly the first time--not my teachers in school, or people calling on the phone. Nobody. It's pronounced with a long A sound, like "bame." But that is never anybody's first guess. Oh, I used to hear it from the other kids in school all the time. They'd make fun of my name, mispronouncing it on purpose. They'd call me Brad Bome, or Brad Beehom, or Brad Bo-um, or Brad Bo-hem. I mean, I can't really say that I blame them too much. Come on. How does B-O-E-H-M sound like bame? I don't know. It's German. That's all I know. I don't speak German. I don't want to speak German.

The other major problem I had with that name growing up was that, as a youngster learning to read and spell and write, Boehm proved to be problematic. I knew my last name was spelled B-O-E-H-M. And I knew how it was pronounced. So, naturally, I assumed that the combination of the letters O, E and H was the correct way to spell for the sound that they made in my name in ANY WORD. I can still remember my second grade spelling be . . .
teacher: Ok, Brad, the word is CANE.
me: Cane. C-O-E-H-N. Cane.
bell: DING
me: DAMN IT!
teacher: I'm sorry, Brad. The correct spelling is C-A-N-E.
me: A? What the fuck is A?

Dare to be stupid?

2005-06-03T12:49:00.000-04:00

As we all know, and as I've said before, there are a lot of stupid people in the world. I mean a lot. A lot lot. What surprises me is the number of dumb people who are willing to freely show of their lack of intelligence. It happened all throughout high school and college. In nearly ever class, you'll get one of these people, almost always a female, who never understands ANYTHING and has to ask a question every two minutes because the teacher is going too fast or the material is confusing or something like that. "Wait a second. I don't get it. What did you mean by that?" Then half the time they won't get the explanation either. But nothing deters them from continuing to ask questions. Why is it always a girl? I'm not saying that guys are smarter. I guess what I'm saying is that guys are more conscious about the image that they portray to other people. At least that's what I've gathered from the evidence presented to me. Obviously this isn't a hard and fast rule. There's the occasional guy who doesn't understand stuff and asks too many questions. And I'm sure there are girls who choose to go on being confused rather than show off their incomprehension. I guess I look at it this way: it's better to be dumb in private than to be dumb in public. You're only dumb if people know you're dumb. It's like the old saying, "if a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, does it make a sound?" The answer is, no it doesn't make a sound. It makes sound waves, but if those waves are not perceived by a device, such as an ear, that can process them, they are not converted into sound. It's the same thing with stupidity. You may be stupid, but stupidity is simply the perception of other people of your lack of intelligence. So if you don't show them that you're dumb, you're not dumb. I guess what I'm saying is, don't feed the machine. But maybe some dumb people are just too dumb to understand that.

Eat the crust

2005-06-01T22:57:00.000-04:00

If you don't eat the crust, I have no respect for you. I'm especially talking about pizza, because I think there are way too many people out there who do that. Whenever I see a plate with just pizza crust on it, veins in my head start to pop out. There are also some people who eat their sandwiches without crust. I submit that each of these people has some kind of neural disorder that has yet to be discovered. Since I'm the first one, as far as I know, to suggest that such a condition exists, I would like to name it. It shall be called "gigantocuntism." I also suggest that treatment will include removal of the gonads, since they're not being used anyway. Seriously, can you be a bigger pussy than a guy who doesn't eat the crust of his sandwich? The answer is no. You cannot.

Another subject that is a bit touchy with me is the pronunciation of the word "sherbet." It would seem that many of you would like to pronouce the word as if there were an additional "r" in there. It's not sherbert. It's sherbet. What amazes me is that the sheer number of people who mispronounce this word is enormous. It would seem that a vast majority of people, at least of the ones that I've actually discussed the subject with, pronounce it "sherbert." Many of them will realize their mistake and change their pronunciation of the word after I correct them, but some INSIST that the word is pronounced like "sherbert," regardless of how it is spelled. Apparently this is the opposite of a silent letter in a word. Rather than a letter in a word that isn't pronounced, it's a pronunciation in a word for which there is no letter. Makes sense. This is why I have lost faith in the human race. People are much, much dumber than I used to think they were.

I find it very irritating that I have to come up with a title every time

2005-05-28T18:31:00.000-04:00

I've done quite a bit of newspaper reading in my day. And, I'll admit, 90% of that is from the sports page. So I don't know if this applies to all other sections that a more well-rounded individual might read, but I can only assume that it does. What I am talking about is these advertisers that try to pass off an advertisement as an actual story from the paper. Do you know what I'm talking about? It's really very amusing. It'll usually be on one of the last pages in the section, maybe with some high school sports scores or something. There will be a border around it with bold letters that say "ADVERTISEMENT," because there really are people out there who are stupid enough to think that it is an actual story. It's also in a different or smaller font than the rest of the paper as well. Even with the admission that it is an advertisement, I'm sure that fact is still lost on some of the more dim-witted of us--because if it didn't work, they wouldn't do it. The "story" will be complete with a realistic-sounding title, such as "New lure sure to make a splash" or some nonsense like that. There will even be a little picture of the author, just as they oftentimes have in actual articles in the paper. He'll always have some nickname too, to make him seem real, like Mike "Trout" Norris. There may even be a name for the "column," like "Outdoors with Oliver," or "Lakes and Forests with Trout Norris," or something of that ridiculous nature. There will, of course, be a dateline as well, and it will start out just like a real story, but things will soon take a terrible turn. Here is an example of what I'm talking about:

Austin, Texas - They've finally done it. Someone has come up with a way to catch fish that is not only extremely effective, but affordable. It's called the Magic Lure, and it's guaranteed to be the best bait you've ever used. I didn't believe it either at first, folks, but believe me, it really works. I took my rod and new Magic Lure out onto Lake Scott, and I caught twice as many fish as I ever had before. I caught enough to cook dinner for the whole family and even a few neighbors we invited over. They say that the secret is in the realistic movement caused by the patented DoubleTwist tail action that precisely simulates actual prey that these fish normally eat. With the Magic Lure, you can catch bass, catfish, perch, and many other types of fish that used to be so much more difficult. The Magic Lure - it's an angler's best friend.

Etc, etc, etc. You get the picture

If you fall for these advertisements, I'm shocked that you're even able to read in the first place. Well, if Trout Norris says it, it MUST be true. But honey, I've never even seen you fish before. Dear, don't argue with the Trout. He knows his stuff.

Go away, you bother me

2005-05-27T12:30:00.000-04:00

I want to apologize to my faithful readers (there are about two of you, I think) for the lack of updates recently. I really have been busy lately. And to tell you the truth, I've become a bit disillusioned with my blog. I mean, what's the point? I write a few lines, maybe someone gets a laugh, but what does that all mean in the grand scheme of things? The answer is that I don't know. So here's an update.

If you know me, you'll know that I'm bothered a lot. Things bother me that other people don't even really think about. I think too many people just go through their lives and don't really think about the stuff they're doing. They're ignorant of the world around them, and ignorance is never good. Ignorance may be bliss, but it never solved any problems. Instead it creates them. Here are some examples of things that I don't like that you probably never really thought about:

Riding horses. Have you ever thought about the horse? Do you think he wants your fat ass on top of him, with the saddle and all those straps and shit? How could that possibly benefit him in any way. Oh, you're gonna give him a carrot when it's over. Or some oats. Yum. Do me a favor. Next time I need a ride somewhere, let me hop on your back and you can run me around town. And I'll hook you up with a snack. But you better behave or I'll whip you. Horse racing is the worst form of this, because it's only done so people can make money off of it. Take a walk or get something with wheels.
Having pets. When you're alone is when you should be getting your best thinking done, not playing around with an animal. Seriously, what's the point of a pet? All they do is eat your money. Dogs are dumb, cats are annoying, birds are more annoying, and caged rodents serve no purpose whatsoever. You're people. You should have people friends. Think about it. You have to feed your pet, clean up after it, train it, take it to the vet, get people to look after it while you're gone . . . how can it be worth it? The animal didn't ask to be your pet anyway.
Cancer walks. I'm all for curing cancer (or whatever the disease may be). And I'm all for collecting money for it. Hell, if I actually had some money I would donate some of it. But what's with the walking? Get the money! Forget the walking! People should give you money because you're trying to cure cancer, not cuz you're gonna walk for miles on some track. It's all about massaging people's pathetic egos to make them feel like they're actually doing something. The money is what they need. Not the walking. Hold a fundraising event. Sell stuff door to door. Ask for donations. Do what you gotta do. But lose the walking, and any other unnecessary, unproductive activity.

Some other thoughts of the day:

There are way too many caveman-like people walking around out there. I swear that about one out of every twenty people is a Neanderthal. Prominent brow, protruding jaw, lack of mental capacity, ogreish appearance. Next time you're walking down a busy street, especially in a downtown area of a big city, take a look around you. I guarantee you notice a few troglodytes out there.

In other strange appearance news, what's with these people who look like they just saw the greatest thing they've ever seen ALL THE TIME. You must know a person or two like this. Huge eyes that are always wide open, grouper-like mouth agape, always smiling.

Ok that's it for now. I'm gonna try to get another update or two on here this weekend, but don't count on it. I have to look at some recent news stories and see if any of them are worth commenting on.

Why the South sucks

2005-05-12T20:11:00.000-04:00

I read a horrible article today that said a school in Alabama that had been named after Nathan Bedford Forrest is being renamed. In case you're unaware, Nathan Bedford Forrest was the FOUNDER OF KU KLUX KLAN. Also, the school's population is 35% black. Shit like this makes me wish that when the southern states seceded from the union, we should have just said "to hell with 'em" and let them go. How could any school be named after Nathan Bedford Forrest???? It boggles the mind. That's like naming a school after Adolf Hitler. "Hello everybody. I just want to let you know that the name of the school in no way reflects the environment we want to have here. We're all about acceptance of all people here at Hitler High. But we ain't changin' the name."

I want some grape drink, baby

2005-05-12T14:25:00.000-04:00

I've been spending a lot of time by myself lately, studying and whatnot. And when I spend so much time alone, things start to mess with my head. Any time I feel a tingle or itch on my leg I always think there's a bug on me. It's really tough in the dark. The thing is, the chances of it being a bug are very good, if you know anything about our house. I have red marks all over myself from slapping. I saw a spider on my desk yesterday. He ran away before I could catch him, so I couldn't sleep all night. What if he crawls in my mouth? You ever wake up the next morning and just get that feeling like you swallowed a spider? They say that you will swallow an average of five spiders a year, I believe. Think about that shit. I'm not afraid of spiders or anything, I just don't really have a taste for them.

You know what I really hate? When they dress up a bunch of chimps as people and have them act out some kind of scene on tv. How dumb is that? Then they have some idiots do voiceovers for them, and when they're talking they're showing their teeth and just moving them up and down. Sometimes they'll have to rewind and play back the tape to get a repetitive action. Then you always have one monkey waving a frying pan over his head or something. And a monkey always ends up kissing somebody in there somewhere. I can't believe people actually waste their time doing that stuff. If you find it entertaining, please remove yourself from society.

I swear to god that every single student at Ohio University gets on the horn with somebody after they get out of class. It's almost like a reflex. Step through the door, get out the phone. I usually get mine out and pretend to call somebody just so I don't feel like an outcast. Problem is then I have to make up a conversation to have with nobody. It usually goes something like this: "Hey. How's it going? What are you doing? Do you have any money? Give it to me. I love ya. I love ya. I just wanted to say it." Have you ever accidentally hit a button with your face and then it calls somebody? So in the middle of the fake conversation you have to start a real conversation but make a smooth transition so nobody around you notices. "Hey. How's it going? What are you doing? Do you have any money? Uhh, oh . . . it's Brad. Um, no I don't really want money. I don't know. My bad." The real conversation ends up sounding more phony than the fake one.

Wanna wrassle?

2005-05-04T23:56:00.000-04:00

While surfing OhioBobcats.com today, I stumbled upon the roster for the wrestling team. I gotta tell you, I've never seen such a handsome group of guys.

I may not be a very good wrestler, or student for that matter, but I did win the "roundest head" contest.

I suck at wrestling, but I make up for it with my extraordinary hearing.

Golly gee mister! That would be swell!

Academically ineligible? No way. Crack never hurt anybody.

Do you like my new hat?

I'm in the record books for largest dimples ever.

I may look like I was sucked dry by Dracula, but I'm an All-American.

Wait a second. I thought this was tryouts for the chess team.

Sports

2005-05-04T16:19:00.000-04:00

As you may know, I am a big sports fan. But I am not a fan of just any sports. There are some sports I like, and some I don't like. I love basketball, and baseball, and football, and golf. But the Kentucky Derby is coming up on Saturday, and in honor of that I would like to focus your attention for a moment upon some "sports" that I find to be absolutely atrocious.

Horse racing. I don't consider horse racing a sport. If an animal is the one that's actually doing the work, how is that a sport? So what the entirety of horse racing boils down to is which faggy, rich guy can train his horse to run the fastest and find the shrimpiest little guy to dress up in a costume and ride on him. Then race day comes and there's this huge buildup for hours leading up to the race. Then the race lasts about a minute and a half. One horse wins, trots around, the jockey gets some flowers, the owner and trainer hug their families, and I die a little inside. In addition to all this, all of these horses have such terrible names it's almost beyond belief. Seabiscuit - what the hell is that? Secretariat? Man-o-war? That's a freaking jellyfish. Here is a list of some of the past winners of the Kentucky Derby: Smarty Jones, Funny Cide, Fusaichi Pegasus, Real Quiet, Silver Charm, Thunder Gulch, Sea Hero, Lil E. Tee, Spend A Buck, Pleasant Colony, Tomy Lee, Tim Tam, Kill me. That last one wasn't a horse name. The only good horse name I've ever seen, other than my own creation (Glue If He Loses, which has never actually been applied to a horse as far as I know), was the 1929 Derby Winner, Clyde Van Dusen.
NASCAR. By the same token as horse racing, this is not a sport. The machine is doing the work. Plus the races are extremely long and boring. How can anybody watch that. Round and round the track. And do I even have to mention the redneck factor? Every NASCAR driver is named Dale, Dick or Darryl. And where are all the black people?
Soccer. This is the most boring sport in the history of the planet. Almost everybody who knows me knows how much I despise soccer. And in reality, I despise all people who like soccer as well. Worst. Sport. Ever. Plus, have you seen those red flags at the corners of the field? It's communist. Should I even go into the fans? Soccer hooligans. No sport has caused more riots or fan deaths than soccer. In fact, you could probably add up all the fan deaths caused by every other sport and they wouldn't come to within 10 percent of the total of soccer.
Hockey. I've tried to like hockey. I really have. And I guess it's not really hockey that I don't like, but the National Hockey League, which has got to be the worst sports league in America. It's losing popularity as it is, but they're still gonna have a work stoppage and argue over a salary cap? Even if they do come back, the league will go under within 5 years. And nobody will care
Quidditch. Harry Potter is a menace. There are video games. There are online quidditch leagues in which games take place in chatrooms, if you can believe that.
Boxing. What is the point of boxing? Two guys beating the hell out of each other. Why? I understand that people like it. It's fun to watch people bleed. But who would ever want to do it? Hey George, why don't you get in the ring with that guy and punch him and try not to let him punch you. Ok!
Professional Wrestling. Everybody knows it isn't a sport. It's an act. But the actors are SOOOOOO bad. I DON'T LIKE THE TONE OF YOUR VOICE, BOY. The storylines have gotten so ridiculous too. And people actually buy into this stuff. In my hometown, there is a show on public access called "Pro Wrestling Newz-N-Viewz," which has 3 middle-aged men (One of whom has the worst hairstyle I have ever seen. I don't know if it's a toupee or what, but it makes me gag looking at it.) who sit there and talk about wrestling. They are the most pathetic people I have ever seen. I will pay someone a dollar to email that guy and ask him what the deal with his hair is. By the way, this is the kind of thing that dwhit will be doing in 25 years.
Volleyball. Sucks.

Reason for lack of updates

2005-05-04T16:14:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't updated in a while, and I want to apologize to everyboy for that. You may have heard a lot of things from different people about the reason I haven't been updating, but I will clear it all up right now. I was all ready to make an update last weekend, but I just started to get a little jittery about the whole thing. I guess you could say I got cold feet. I decided I needed some time to just think about things--time to reflect and consider my situation. So I gathered up some cash and took off for New Mexico without telling anybody. I'm sorry. I know that caused a lot of problems for everybody. I just felt like I was under a lot of pressure to try to please everyone and I had to clear my head. I hope you'll take me back into your lives.

What type of blog entry are you?

2005-04-25T00:24:00.000-04:00

I'm getting really sick of these "What type of _____ are you?" deals that I keep seeing. Seems like every damn person has one on their IM profile, and a new one pops up every week or so. But they're things that don't make any sense, because they're not really things that people can be. There's never one that says "What type of person are you?" Or "What kind of learner are you?" Or "What type of eater are you?" It's always something ridiculous that has nothing to do with human beings. What type of book are you? What kind of beverage are you? What sort of cloud are you? I've got news for all of you. None of you are any of those things.

Well, just to take this thing that sucks, and make it mine, I present to you my "What type of poo are you?" You're gonna have to just pick out the one that fits you best because I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it. I mean, I don't really feel like trying to make a quiz.

You're common brown poo. You're the boring sort. You're just a face in the crowd, but don't worry, most other people are too. You're almost always around, but nobody really pays close attention to you. You lack style, but you make up for it in substance.

You're hangover poo. You serve as our conscience. When we party too hard, you're always there to let us know. We're not quite sure exactly what you are sometimes, but we usually feel a little better once you're gone.

You're liquid poo. Lots of times, you show up when you're not wanted. Sometimes, you even come to the party early. You're nothing but a nuisance. When you do show up, you usually stay around for a while.

You're exceptionally large poo. You're the sort that people are proud to be associated with. You're a monument. People will call their friends to come take a look at how spectacular you are. Even when people are tired of you, it often takes more than one try to get rid of you completely.

You're electric green poo. You come around only once in a great while, but when you do, you get noticed. People are shocked when you show up. You're an enigma. People don't understand you, but they love you nonetheless.

Finger foods

2005-04-25T00:08:00.000-04:00

You may have heard recently about the woman in California who "found" a finger in her Wendy's chili, and decided to sue the restaurant chain. Then, when the police investigated it and could find nobody at that Wendy's or at the supply warehouse or anywhere else that was missing a finger, the woman decided that she didn't want all that publicity and that she wouldn't sue Wendy's afterall. She was soon arrested on charges of grand larceny, and it's clear that she faked the whole thing. But, the finger was real. SHE put the finger in the chili. BUT WHERE DID SHE GET THE FINGER????? Fingers don't grow on trees. You don't just find them laying around any old place. You don't go to the deli and ask for a pound of salami, half a pound of swiss and a HUMAN FINGER. What, did she ask her friends? You guys got any fingers laying around you don't want? Or maybe she went a different direction. Ok, Ralph - I have a plan where I could win millions of dollars in a lawsuit against a major fast food chain. And if I do, I'll split it with you. How's that sound? But here's the rub. I need one of your fingers. I bet Ralph is pretty pissed now. He's got a missing finger and nothing to show for it. Good thing she didn't want to go a little more dramatic with it and find a testicle in her Frosty.

I'll see you in hell

2005-04-24T23:34:00.000-04:00

Here is something I never understood. How can there be such a thing as "attempted suicide"? If you really want to kill yourself, you'll do it. It's my feeling that anybody who "tries" to kill himself and doesn't actually succeed in doing it never really wanted to in the first place and was just looking for attention. Because that is something for which people will DEFINITELY pay attention to you. They'll put you on suicide watch for that shit. Then you're boned, because you really won't be able to kill yourself but you'll wish you had. If you really want to kill yourself, you don't take too many Tylenols, or slit your wrists. That's pussy stuff, and when you do that any sensible person can clearly see it's fake. If you're gonna do something, do it right. There are plenty of foolproof methods of killing yourself:

Put a bullet in your head. If you survive that, you weren't meant to die anyway
Jump off of a bridge or tall building. Disclaimer: make sure it is high enough. The LAST thing you want is to break your neck but not die, and then be a damn quadriplegic for the rest of your life. Kevorkian is in jail, so good luck getting help killing yourself after that. You better hope that stem cell research is as good as they say it is. Just to be absolutely sure, you may want to make it an airplane you jump from. But if you do that, do NOT bring a parachute just in case you change your mind. Because you definitely will.
Get yourself a guillotine and put that bad boy to use. On yourself, of course. If you do this, you can take it to the bank. This method of suicide has the Ron Popeil Guarantee.
Chug an entire bottle of Everclear. If eight shots-worth did what it did to me, I think we can safely say that downing the whole bottle at once will be a definite way out. It's not guaranteed to be pleasant, but it should work nonetheless.
Sew your sphincter closed, and just start eating. What a way to go.
Jump into the pit of a campground outhouse. You will soon be overtaken by the noxious fumes and slip into sweet unconsciousness

These are just a few of the methods that have Brad's Seal of Approval. There are others out there that you can try that I'm sure will work. Be creative. The way you kill yourself is your last message to those of us who remain alive. It tells us what kind of a person you were. If you pop a few too many pills and are such a pussy that you actually to die from that, don't expect to see me at your funeral.

I was molested, ya see

2005-04-22T11:57:00.000-04:00

I've got something that I've been meaning to tell people but I've been too afraid. But now since so many other people have come forward with their stories, I think I can as well. I was sexually assaulted by Bill Cosby. It was about two years ago, and I was in the bathroom of a service station in Buffalo, New York, when the one and only Heathcliff Huxtable walked in. I said, "Wow, Ghost Dad! Can I have your autograph?" That was a mistake. He gave me his autograph, but not the way I wanted it. He pissed it onto my white t-shirt like a child writing his name in the snow. I just stood there with my mouth open. That's when he went for Mr. Johnson . . . oh god, I can't continue. It's too traumatic for me to relive like this. That Ghost Dad is a bad, bad man.

What what WHAT? Another blog?

2005-04-21T21:21:00.000-04:00

To anyone who is too stupid to notice, I started another blog about religion. Religion you say? Yes religion. Read it. After you do, you will no longer believe in god. Either that, or you'll get really pissed off at me. But that's fine. I don't know how I'm gonna find time to update both of these blogs with how extremely busy I am, but I will try my best.

Why women shouldn't drive

2005-04-19T14:16:00.000-04:00

A 16-year-old girl who had a legal learner's permit was doing what teenagers everywhere do: practicing parallel parking with her mother. But something went terribly wrong.

The Associated Press reports that the mother, Ryta Z. Deriso, and her daughter had set up cones on a quiet street near their home in Marlboro, N.J. to practice parking. The girl was backing up the car when she pressed the accelerator too hard, causing the car to jump up onto the curb and hit her mother who was standing there watching her daughter. Deriso, 44, was pronounced dead last Thursday. The girl's name is not being released since she is a juvenile. No charges will be filed, Robert A. Honecker Jr., a Monmouth County prosecutor, told AP. "This is going down as a tragic accident," he said.

A similar freak accident occurred days later in Philadelphia when a 15-year-old girl, who did not have a learner's permit, was getting a driving lesson from her father in a parking lot on Sunday afternoon. The Philadelphia Daily News reports that she mixed up the gas and brake pedals and lost control of the car, which crashed into a front yard and killed a young mother. The vehicle narrowly missed the mother's 1-year-old baby. Sarah McGinley, 18, had been playing with her daughter outside when the accident occurred. An eyewitness described the incident, saying he saw the car "flying through the air." McGinley managed to toss her baby to safety in nearby bushes, but she was unable to save herself. The car struck her and trapped her beneath it. About a dozen men in the neighborhood rushed to the accident scene and lifted the car off McGinley, but she died about three hours later. So far no charges have been filed against the teenager or her father.

How can shit like this possibly happen? Mind boggling. YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP (inside joke). If you can't figure out which pedal is the brake and which is the gas, you probably shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car. Even if they don't get these kids on manslaughter, they should at least get them for being so goddamn stupid. If you kill someone with a car, purposefully or not, you should never be able to drive ever again. Not even a Power Wheels car. This is exactly why I'm never having kids. One of those little bastards will end up killing me. I say that you should not be able to have a driver's license until you're 35. If you can't be president, you can't drive. That's the way I see it. And once you turn 65, it gets taken away. After that, it's too much of a risk to humanity to have your old bones behind the wheel. You could drop your dentures and take out a town.

Who am I?

2005-04-18T18:58:00.000-04:00

I wear gym shorts to class.

I wear inside-out t-shirts.

I wear polo shirts with the collar up.

I wear a backwards baseball cap.

When I'm not wearing a cap, I deliberately make my hair look like I just woke up in the morning.

I wear sandals 24/7.

I go by my middle name.

I carry two cases of Natural Light around, and I'm proud of it.

If I take a multiple choice exam, I need to borrow a pencil.

I talk about my weekend until Wednesday, when I start talking about what I will do the next weekend.

I play cornhole with no shirt on--every day.

Who am I?

Gimme a literacola

2005-04-17T15:26:00.000-04:00

Probably my favorite thing is watching the water in the toilet change from blue to green. You know what I'm talking about?

Sometimes I'll be sitting in class, and I'll space out for a while. Then I'll come out of it, but forget that I'm in the middle of class and start to whistle or drum on my desk. People will start to look at me, and I soon realize that I should not be doing that. But I can't just stop right away. I have to kinda fade out so I look like I knew what I was doing the whole time. Yeah, I know I'm doing a Marching 110 drum cadence on my desk while the prof is lecturing. So what? Let me just finish up here and . . . GO OHIO dooba dooba doo.

Sometimes people get mad at me for using the word "retard" as an insult, saying it's insensitive to people who are actually retarded. But I look at it this way: I was once called a retard by an actual retard. Well, not exactly. It was more like, "you a wetawd." But I got what he was saying. And I think that gives me immunity. You homo.

wanna gO Up on a mOUntain tOUr?

2005-04-16T19:31:00.000-04:00

People here at OU have an extremely annoying habit of capitalizing the O and U in any word they appear adjacent to one another. Do yOU know what I'm talking abOUt? I'm talking abOUt something really annoying here. It seems like every hOUr I see this shit, and I just want to punch the author's lights OUt. I don't mean to pOUt, but next time this happens it's gonna be trOUble.

Attention Associates

2005-04-14T12:40:00.000-04:00

I think it's funny that large companies give their employees that do menial tasks job titles that make them sound way more important than they actually are. For example, Wal-Mart calls all of its employees "associates." So when you're there, you'll hear an announcement over the P.A. system like, "will an associate in Toys please call extension 277?" Associate? You mean Joe Blow who's stocking the shelves. Is that supposed to make them feel better about only getting that far in life? Hey, Brian, I haven't seen you in like 10 years! What are you doing these days? Well, I'm an Associate for one of the largest corporations in the world. Wow, Brian, good for you. You've really made something of yourself. You probably won't be impressed that I am a lawyer now. I don't get it, you always got such bad grades in school.

Fast food restaurants will also give all of their employees important-sounding titles. Everyone who works at Wendy's is Shift Manager, or Safety Coordinator, or Operations Associate. Look at their nametags. None of them say "Fryolator Operator" or "Ketchup Squeezer" like they should.

If this kind of stuff really makes a difference to people, it makes me wish I had my own store. I'd give all my employees important-sounding titles if it means that I can pay them minimum wage. "Any President of the Company, cleanup in aisle 5 please. Any President of the Company, cleanup in aisle 5."

For me, personally, it's the opposite. I don't care what title you give me. I want the money. If you pay me enough, I'll be a Goat Ball Licker.

(no title)

2005-04-13T04:09:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I like to run up to someone on the street, or in a restaurant or other public place and say "OH MY GOD! IT'S YOU! CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?" I also like to carry around a polaroid camera and take pictures of random people, and have them sign it. "To Brad, my #1 fan --Charlie Jones (or whatever the name may be)." Then I like to hang the picture up in my room. Then when someone comes over, I show off my autograph. "Can you believe I got Charlie Jones' autograph? Yeah, I just saw him on the street one day. It was amazing."

What's the deal with people who weigh 800 pounds? You would think at some point before that they would say "ok that's enough," and go on a diet or something. If you have each foot on a different bathroom scale and are still going over the weight limit, that is a problem.

Why is it that every boxer ever has the nickname "Sugar," but nobody in any other profession? Hey, did you see Sugar Jim Riley bag those groceries? If you bag groceries, chances are you don't have a nickname, unless it's Slow or Special. Aww, man, Special Sam put the rock salt on top of the bread again.

I got punched by a pregnant woman yesterday. At least I thought she was pregnant. That may have been the problem.

Hedberg-esque

2005-04-12T18:15:00.000-04:00

On March 30, Mitch Hedberg died at the age of 37. He was one of my favorite stand-up comedians, and was recognized as being one of the very best around. If you haven't heard Mitch before, his style is unique and difficult to explain, but I suggest picking up one of his albums or looking for his special on Comedy Central. Here is a bunch of Hedberg quotes - you'll get a sense for his comedy but if you understand his delivery style it makes it so much more hilarious.

As a tribue to Mitch Hedberg, I will conduct this blog entry in the style of one of his acts. Hopefully you can picture Mitch delivering these lines, or at least me doing it in the style of Mitch.

I went to Japan to tell jokes, and I was there for quite a while. I started to develop a Japanese accent. Problem is it did not go away when I came back. The clerk looked at me like I was crazy when I asked for some Engarish Murfins and Chocorate Mirk.

When something is done in a style that is reminiscent of something else, I like to use the suffix -esque. I saw a guy using some squeeze jelly the other day. Hey, that jelly is shampoo bottle-esque. That donut is bagel-esque. Alright.

A homeless guy asked me if I had any change. I said no. Then I said, "do you have any stay the same?" Man that joke was ridiculous.

When I was in school sometimes I would get bored in class. I would do the crossword puzzle while the professor was lecturing. But sometimes one of the clues would be about the same subject we were discussing in class, so I didn't feel bad asking for help. I'd raise my hand and say, "What was the name of the guy who was in charge of the Manhattan Project? J. Robert something. I think his last name was 11 letters long. And I think the third letter was a P."

thoughts of the day

2005-04-07T16:34:00.001-04:00

Have you ever seen a woman somewhere, maybe the store, who is pregnant or has a baby, and you think to yourself, "Who the hell had sex with her?" This woman is so hideous she doesn't need to dress up to win the best costume contest at Halloween, you know what I'm saying? Then you might get a glimpse of little Biff's daddy. And if you do, you immediately understand.

Speaking of this, I think that two good-looking parents will generally produce good-looking offspring. But I also think that two ugly parents will produce attractive offspring. And the uglier the parents, the better looking the kid will be. It's like multiplying two negative numbers - the result is positive. That said, one attractive parent and one not-so-attractive parent can be BIG trouble.

I really get irritated when people say "pardon me" when they don't hear something someone said. And they say it like it's a question. "Pardon me?" It's not a question. It's actually a demand. Please, just say "what?" It's quicker, more effective, and not quite so English. "Pardon me, Guvnah, could I trouble you for a wedge of cheese?" Yuck.

ultimate price

2005-03-31T12:00:00.000-05:00

Some people say that to give ones life is to pay the ultimate price. But I say the ultimate price is infinity dollars.

TURBO!

2005-03-30T23:18:00.000-05:00

A thing I think would be great would be if every time someone farted, they got a turbo boost. Then not only would we be able to get around faster, there would be no more denying who did it. But would we get used to it after a while and would it just become normal, or would it maintain its hilarity time and time again? Because I want it to be just as funny each and every time as it was for me when I first thought of it. Ahh, these are the great questions of life.

Pope being fed through a tube in his nose.

2005-03-30T12:18:00.000-05:00

VATICAN CITY, March 30 (Reuters) - Pope John Paul is being fed through a nasal tube in an effort to boost his strength and help his slow recovery from throat surgery, Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls said in a statement on Wednesday.

Pope is done for

I think it's about time we removed old Johnny's feeding tube, don't you? That's the way he would have wanted it.

Profound Musings

2005-03-08T18:00:00.000-05:00

With Jack Handey's Deep Thoughts as inspiration, I present to you my Profound Musings.

Whenever I'm driving down a street, or through a parking lot, and I accidentally hit a parked car, I always make sure to be polite and leave a note. Usually it'll say something like, "Next time, it won't be your car. It'll be you."

Kids, if a stranger ever offers you a candy bar to get into his car with him, don't do it, and run home immediately. Unless it's a Payday. Then all bets are off.

If you kill a mermaid, does it count as murder or fishing? I say fishing. Let's hope the judge agrees with me.

If a dog starts to sniff your crotch, to get him to stop, try doing the same thing to him. Just make sure there's nobody with a camera around. Because if another dog sees that picture, he might get jealous.

If you decide to climb up to the roof of a tall building and try to fly off, remember that only small birds flap their wings quickly, and larger birds just glide around. So unless you're a midget, you better be gliding.

I think a funny trick would to to tell everyone that you're gay. You might need to do a little convincing. Then, after a few years when everyone has come to terms with it, tell them you were just kidding. It should be a good laugh.

If you see someone you know pretending to be homeless just to get free soup, it's probably best not to rat on him, because hey, that could be you someday.

If you see a lost little kid in a grocery store, tell him that his mom told you to tell him to stuff his pockets full of candy and run home as fast as he can.

One thing to do if you're bored is to call up a suicide help line. Tell the operator that you have nothing left to live for. When she tries to convince you otherwise, tell her that you were just joking, but talking to her is making you want to kill yourself for real. Then bang a spoon against the bottom of a pot, because through the phone it can sound like gunfire. Then leave the phone off the hook and run away. Also, make sure you do this at someone else's house.

I wish I could travel back to the year 1 BC in Israel and hypnotize everyone so that they would want to kill anyone named Jesus. Then that guy would get what's coming to him.

Whoever said that money doesn't buy happiness never met that hooker named Happiness.

Imagine what a terrible life it would be if we had lost the Revolutionary War. We would all be speaking English right now. And when they ran out of names for places, they would have probably just started reusing names from England with the word "new" in front. It's scary to even think about.

Huey Lewis

2005-02-27T16:55:00.000-05:00

Read this webpage. It's hilarious.

http://www.angelfire.com/wrestling/notactuallywrestling/huey.html

State of the House

2005-02-26T01:53:00.000-05:00

With the recent rash of "State of the (blank)" speeches given by everyone from political leaders, to business executives, to local dirtbags, I have decided that I will be holding my first annual "State of the House" address this Sunday in the kitchen. I will be discussing the issues that we have been dealing with in the past year at our humble establishment here on First Street, from pervading aromas, to aquatic difficulties, to Fat Man's Bluff, as well as the house's outlook for the future, from prospective dwellers to our pending application for tax exempt status as one of Athens County's historic landmarks. A reception will be held immediately following the speech in Luke's Room. Milk and carrot sticks will be served and a good time will be had by all in attendance. Tickets to the event will be $500 a pair, which includes admission, refreshments, and Dan Pittman acting as your slave for a day. Being a house, of course, we have a limited capacity, so reserve your tickets today. And if you find that you are unable to attend, donations are also accepted. We appreciate your generosity and your interest in the betterment of 46 First Street.

before i die

2005-02-22T22:52:00.000-05:00

Before I die, I am determined to . . .

Do the "penis in the popcorn" trick.
Go out into the back yard, and have a friend throw my old compact discs into the air so I can shoot them with a shotgun.
Tell someone that "the jig is up."
Watch a bum fight.
Participate in a bum fight.
Lay some busters down with my strap.
Kill Aaron Carter, Discovery Jones, Jared from Subway, and any living relatives of the guy who invented chopsticks.
Acquire at least one bionic appendage.
Sell my soul to the devil (perhaps in exchange for a bionic appendage).
Form an REO Speedwagon tribute band.
Assure that the epitaph on my tombstone reads "HERE LIES BRAD . . . EH, HE WAS A DICK."
Invent the fartalyzer test as a new way to determine blood-alcohol content.
Visit the Hundred Acre Woods.
Eat at least one person.
Coach the Arizona Cardinals to the Super Bowl and win.
Play Russian Roulette.
Pee off the top of a skyscraper.
Become a hired goon.
Gain Chinese citizenship.
Become the first Chinese-American Supreme Court Chief Justice.
Invent the name "Jimothy."
Establish a Task Force.
Try lobster.
Achieve a sustained fusion reaction.
Coin the term "monkify," meaning "to transform into a monkey." Or a monk I guess.
Taste something that is magically delicious, not including Lucky Charms.
Fly through a strange tunnel with many floating clocks all around that all say a different time on them.

attack them next

2005-02-22T02:59:00.000-05:00

Recently, a two year-old girl was ordered to marry a 42 year old man by a tribal council in Pakistan, because her UNCLE allegedly had an affair with the man's wife. Oh, and by the way, the two men are cousins. Well, I think you can all guess what my take on this situation is. That's right: DON'T JUDGE THEM! YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND THEIR CULTURE! YOU HAVE NO FRAME OF REFERENCE TO CALL THEM IMMORAL, OR INSANE, OR REALLY, REALLY, REALLY STUPID!

Being tolerant of another way of life is fine, but there's a line between having a different culture and just being ignorant and retarded, and these Pakistanis have crossed it. I think it's time George W. called for a Pak-Attack. Don't you?

Surgeons Remove Baby's Second Head

2005-02-22T01:15:00.000-05:00

"Surgeons in Egypt have successfully removed the second head from a 10-month baby girl who suffered from craniopagus parasiticus, one of the rarest birth defects, reports Reuters. The child, Manar Maged, was born with two heads. The second head was a conjoined twin connected at the skull, who developed inside the womb without a body. While the second head was capable of smiling and blinking, it did not have independent life."

Do I really need to say anything else? No. But I will. HOW COULD THE SECOND HEAD SMILE AND BLINK???????????? That was all the explanation they gave in the story. Capable of smiling and blinking, but did not have independent life. Man, I would kill to have two heads. I don't mean one of those two-headed monsters where they're both independent personalities that happen to have the same body, like in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Well, that guy actually had three heads, but no time for semantics. I want to have another head that can talk and see and everything. But I control it, so I could have conversations with myself. I do that anyway, only with a second head it wouldn't be quite as weird. "Shut up! No, you shut up!" They should have just left the baby's other head on. Then when she grew up they could have found her a boyfriend with two penises. "Bitch, shut up and give me heads."

Come and get it at Ponderosa

2005-02-16T18:30:00.000-05:00

Who: Brad, Pittman, Kirby and Megan

What: a trip to the Ponderosa Steakhouse

Where: Athens, Ohio

When: last saturday

Why: Kirby and Brad thought it would be a good idea

Idea quality: extremely poor

What happened:

Kirby finds an extra spoon wrapped up in his napkin. Only this spoon looks as if it is something Grandma Maude brought in from home. Kirby eats with it anyway.
The adjacent table fills up with twice as many people as it is designed for. The baby, of course, has the most room.
Kirby is brought a dinner platter with his meal on it. Only half of his meal is missing. "Whoops," said the waitress. "Did you have fries with that?" Indeed he did. "I forgot to put them on the plate."
When her meal arrives, Megan is informed that the restaurant is "out of" baked potatoes. She is instead handed a coupon good for 20% off her next meal. Brad theorizes about a restaurant that never actually serves food, only coupons for following meals. Megan asks for fries instead of a baked potato. The waitress obliges and brings out some things resembling fries that appear to have been sitting out for several days. Kirby claims he "likes them that way." Kirby procedes to pick out one french fry from Megan's bowl and say, "this is the one I'm after." Kirby eats the fry. It is the only time during the meal that any of the diners get what they wanted.
The waitress returns to the table several times to ask how everything is. Pittman and Brad sit expressionless as their food has yet to be delivered. Brad wonders if he exists, or if he has somehow turned invisible, or if he has died and gone to hell.
They run out of plates at the buffet. Several patrons lord over the plate shelf like vultures, waiting for a dish to pounce on. Every once in a while an employee places one plate on the shelf, and a lucky patron is able to grab it and fill it with subpar foods.
Brad finally acquires a plate, and heads to the salad bar. Brad becomes stuck behind a mysterious old woman who fills her plate with absolutely every topping available. By the time she returns to her seat, her plate is heaping with at least six inches of her own special mix, called hundred-ingredient salad.
While at the salad bar, Kirby overhears an employee say that they're missing a steak and a steak tips meal, the exact meals that Pittman and Brad have been waiting for.
Finally the final two meals arrive to the table. Both plates feature baked potatoes. A puzzled Megan inquires with the waitress, who claims she was caught in between potato cycles, and while Pittman and Brad were forced to wait what seemed like an eternity for their meals, Megan was served hers with a partial explanation and a coupon. By Ponderosa logic, several times a day patrons are informed that the restaurant is "out of" baked potatoes with no further explanation.
Each of the three baked potatoes at the table are underdone. Perhaps they were cooked with an automobile cigarette lighter.
Brad's steak was supposed to be cooked medium. It looks quite delicious--that is, until he cuts into it, revealing a deep, royal purple. It would seem that this cow was not quite dead.
Kirby goes for dessert. He brings back what would appear to be some loose feces on a plate. Brad, in turn, sees it and decides he would like to try this "butt pie." It is, indeed, the best part of his meal. But then again, it was really the only part of his meal
The group leaves a combined tip in the neighborhood of three dollars. They all die a little inside from the experience.

Girl, 12, accused of strangling sister, 9

2005-02-16T04:30:00.000-05:00

A 12-year-old girl is accused of killing her 9-year-old sister in a dispute over a hamburger.

I don't know why, but I laughed for about two hours when I read this. Hopefully you will too. I bet it was an Angus from Burger King. I'd kill MY sister for an Angus. MacGyver's first name was is Angus in the show. But that's not where they got the name for the burger. At least I don't think. But if I had to name the Angus, that's what I'd name it after. Hey, remember the movie Angus with that fat kid? I think that's what it was called. At least that was the kid's name in the movie. There was another kid in the movie too. Might have been the kid who played Shermanator in American Pie. Not sure though. Anyway, hamburger murder is bad.

Also, recently I read that a baby that survived three abortion attempts is now two months old and doing quite well. THREE ATTEMPTS???? Firstly, who is the quack who is attempting these abortions? Must be Dr. Nick Riviera. Secondly, if a baby is to a stage of development where it can actually survive an abortion, it PROBABLY shouldn't have been tried in the first place. But what do I know?

Fidel Castro

2005-02-08T21:30:00.000-05:00

Recently, Fidel Castro referred to George W. Bush as "deranged." These things also happened recently:

Paris Hilton called Pamela Anderson a whore
Anna Nicole Smith called Jim Thome stupid
Kirstie Alley called Tom Arnold fat
O.J. called Robert Blake a murderer
Gary Condit called the Ramseys liars
A French guy called another French guy spineless
Dan Whitmyer called Mr. Mackey big-headed
Vin Diesel called Paul Walker a bad actor
Vin Diesel called Willem Dafoe weird looking
Vin Diesel said Kyle Gass's name wasn't actually a name, but rather an automotive fuel

Special Ops Cody

2005-02-02T17:30:00.000-05:00

So . . . this is what it's come to. A few Iraqi rebels may have taken the title of King of the Douchebags away from Juan Manuel Alvarez (train guy). It seems these Einsteins decided it would be a good idea to capture an American soldier. Except they were either too stupid or too lazy to actually do it. So, of course, they did the next best thing. They captured Special Ops Cody. Good thinking, eh? Well, there's slight problem. Special Ops Cody is a doll. That's right, a doll. I'll tell you boys, that's top notch insurgency right there. So they've got this doll, and they sit him down against a wall, and take one of his little plastic toy guns, aim it at his head and take a picture. Then they published it, and threatened to behead Cody if their demands were not met in 72 hours. That is some big-time leverage they've got there. Needless to say, it took the American government about two seconds to determine that it was a doll and not a soldier. The way I see it, they really went about this the wrong way. What they should have done was had one of the rebels stand next to Cody in the picture with his foot overtop of him. Then they should have threatened to STOMP the soldier if their demands were not met. Ahh . . . I can see the headlines now. GIANT IRAQI REBELS CAPTURE SOLDIER. Or HUNDRED FOOT INSURGENT THREATENS CRUSHING. Really though, it's not those peons fault entirely. Their boss DID tell them to capture a G. I. I guess they just took that to mean G. I. Joe.

Thanks, Louis, I sure wish it were warmer.

2005-01-27T20:01:00.000-05:00

You have never seen anything like this in your life. So painful, yet so funny at the same time. And it is ABSOLUTELY REAL.

good work

2005-01-27T03:00:00.000-05:00

Well folks, it looks like we have a new King of the Douchebags. Today, some jackass decided he wanted to kill himself. So he drove his car onto some railroad tracks and waited for the train to arrive. Except before the train got there he had a change of heart and decided life was worth living after all. Except the asshole left his car sitting on the railroad tracks. The train slammed into the car, of course with the driver safely out of the area, and derailed, smashing into two other trains and killing ten people and injuring 200 more. Verrrrrrry impressive. So, for a quick recap, this retard wanted to kill one person. He ended up killing ten, none of which were the intended target. And now he's being charged with homicide. Good luck getting off on that one buddy. You should have just stayed in the car. Because now, not only does everyone in the world think you're one of the worst people ever, you're gonna be on suicide watch and you're not gonna be able to kill yourself even if you want to. But they will have to guard you closely because who knows how many innocent bystanders might go down the next time.

I did some investigating of the guy's house, and found a list he had made of other possible ways he could kill himself. This is how it read:

Possible Suicide Methods

Park car on train tracks and wait for train to barrel into me.
While on a commercial flight, open the door you're not supposed to open and get sucked out.
Play Laser Tag, but switch everyone's lasers out for real guns except mine.
Randomly fire bullets straight up into the air, hoping one of them comes straight back down and hits me in the head.
Burn down all grocery stores and restaurants so I can't get any more food and starve to death.
Detonate nuclear bomb inside my house.
Have sex with Magic Johnson

my favorite things

2005-01-27T02:59:00.000-05:00

If Oprah can have a show dedicated to her favorite things, then I'm gonna have a post detailing all of MY favorite things. The difference would be that Oprah's favorites are GAY and mine are NOT GAY.

favorite tv show: MacGyver

favorite paper: college-ruled notebook

favorite mountain (non-volcanic): Aconcagua

favorite volcano: Kilimanjaro

favorite SCH- word: schwas

favorite president: Coolidge

favorite description for soup: creamy goodness

favorite thing to make stuff out of: material

favorite way to do things: like a mo fo

favorite televangelist: Ernest Angley

favorite guy with huge ears: Ernest Angley

favorite name for an unidentified corpse: John Doe

favorite tractor: John Deere

favorite letter: Dear John

favorite junk email: Enlarge your penis

favorite non-junk email: Enlarge your penis

favorite Michael Jackson: the one who used to play wide receiver for the Browns

favorite Happy Days character: Ralph Malph

favorite bodily ache: sore toe

favorite captain: Planet

favorite planet: of the Apes

I am one annoying bastard

2005-01-26T22:00:00.000-05:00

This is my favorite IM conversation ever. It's from about two years ago. I was talking to Dave, my roommate at the time, who is two rooms away from me, while he is working on an important assignment. Also, FYI, Emily (who is mentioned below) is not a real person. She doesn't exist - Dave made her up.

BishopDMagicJuan: hey
DRob110: hey
BishopDMagicJuan: what's up?
DRob110: not much
BishopDMagicJuan: studying?
DRob110: talking to my brother
DRob110: and doing my map
BishopDMagicJuan: jackness?
DRob110: uh huh
BishopDMagicJuan: tell jackness i said hello
DRob110: I did
BishopDMagicJuan: and that he should consider changing his name
DRob110: it's too late for that
BishopDMagicJuan: maybe to jacketry or jackitude or just plain old jack
DRob110: there are lots of variations
DRob110: jackification
DRob110: that's one
BishopDMagicJuan: maybe jackology or jackonomy or jackometry
BishopDMagicJuan: or walter
BishopDMagicJuan: or wanker
DRob110: I'll tell him
BishopDMagicJuan: ok
BishopDMagicJuan: how's the map coming?
DRob110: slow but sure
BishopDMagicJuan: what kind of map is it?
DRob110: geology of Ohio
DRob110: chloropleth
BishopDMagicJuan: drainage basins?
DRob110: nope
BishopDMagicJuan: rocks?
DRob110: yup
BishopDMagicJuan: minerals?
DRob110: yes
BishopDMagicJuan: limestone?
DRob110: no!! it's bedrock
BishopDMagicJuan: sandstone?
DRob110: bedrock
BishopDMagicJuan: basalt?
DRob110: see above
BishopDMagicJuan: what sort of rock is bedrock?
DRob110: old
BishopDMagicJuan: yeah but what kind is it?
BishopDMagicJuan: what type?
DRob110: Permain
DRob110: Pennsylvanian
BishopDMagicJuan: oh
BishopDMagicJuan: i've never heard of that
DRob110: Devonian
BishopDMagicJuan: is that kinda like granite?
DRob110: Mississippian
DRob110: Silurian
BishopDMagicJuan: is it sedimentary or metamorphic or igneous?
DRob110: Ordovician
BishopDMagicJuan: crimean?
DRob110: nope
BishopDMagicJuan: jurassic?
DRob110: these are ages
BishopDMagicJuan: mesozoic?
DRob110: nope
BishopDMagicJuan: amphibian?
BishopDMagicJuan: so what else is going on?
DRob110: stuff
BishopDMagicJuan: like what?
BishopDMagicJuan: how's emily?
DRob110: she's telling me to get my work done so we can play
BishopDMagicJuan: has she ever met jackness?
DRob110: nope
BishopDMagicJuan: what do you mean play?
DRob110: make out
BishopDMagicJuan: she has nice tits
DRob110: I know
BishopDMagicJuan: and ass
BishopDMagicJuan: i want to screw your girlfriend, dave
BishopDMagicJuan: why doesn't it tell me when you're typing?
DRob110: I ahve an old version
DRob110: and I'm not typing
BishopDMagicJuan: yeah but i have a new version
DRob110: I don't
BishopDMagicJuan: yes you are how else are you talking to me?
DRob110: I don't havea mic
BishopDMagicJuan: can you hear me?
DRob110: I can hear you though
BishopDMagicJuan: cooool
DRob110: I'll cut off your cock
BishopDMagicJuan: that's not gonna work for me
BishopDMagicJuan: finger or ear would be better
BishopDMagicJuan: even leg
BishopDMagicJuan: if you really have to, you can take one ball
BishopDMagicJuan: the right one preferrably
BishopDMagicJuan: that way i can still say "suck my left nut"
BishopDMagicJuan: even though i never say that
BishopDMagicJuan: map done yet?
DRob110: not even close
DRob110: thank you
BishopDMagicJuan: geez, you're slow
BishopDMagicJuan: oh, am i bothering you?
DRob110: you aren't helping
BishopDMagicJuan: sorry i apologize
BishopDMagicJuan: i bet jackness is bothering you too
BishopDMagicJuan: he's such a turd
BishopDMagicJuan: i haven't met him
BishopDMagicJuan: is he a turd?
BishopDMagicJuan: phone ringing
BishopDMagicJuan: for me?
DRob110: no
BishopDMagicJuan: for you?
DRob110: +
BishopDMagicJuan: is it . . . . emily? can i talk to her?!
BishopDMagicJuan: tell her to yell into the phone and i'll put it up to my balls to feel the vibrations
BishopDMagicJuan: don't worry i'll use my phone
BishopDMagicJuan: dave
BishopDMagicJuan: dave?
BishopDMagicJuan: that's it i'm coming over there

No wonder Dave moved to St. Louis. It was to get away from me.

exerpts from my now-defunct buddy profile

2005-01-23T21:40:00.000-05:00

BEST QUOTES EVER

LENNY: So I hear we're going to Ape Island
CARL: Yeah, to capture a giant ape. I wish we were going to Candy Apple Island.
GUY: Candy Apple Island? What do they got there?
CARL: Apes . . . but they're not so big.

LITTLE JOHN: A toll is a toll . . . and a roll is a roll. And if we don't get no tolls, then we don't eat no rolls.

DAVE: It's 11:00 in the afternoon.

GEORGE: $13,000?
JERRY: $13,000.
GEORGE: Apiece?
JERRY: No, for both.
GEORGE: That's insulting! Ted Danson makes 800,000 dollars an episode.
JERRY: Oh, would you stop it with the Ted Danson
GEORGE: Well, he does.
JERRY: You're nuts.
GEORGE: I'm sorry, I can't live knowing that Ted Danson makes that much more than me. Who's he?
JERRY: He's somebody.
GEORGE: What about me?
JERRY: You're nobody.
GEORGE: Why him? Why not me?
JERRY: He's good. You're not.
GEORGE: I'm better than him.
JERRY: You're worse . . . much, much worse.

You're not gonna want to hear this . . .

I hate these Olive Garden commercials where the guy, instead of saying "my father" or "my grandmother," has to preface those words with "Italian." So he calls his father, "my Italian father." Who says that??? Either this guy is an idiot, or he has a few other fathers running around, and he has to distinguish between them by pointing out their places of origin. Yeah, my Italian father likes the Olive Garden, but my British father still lives over in England, and my French father is a homosexual and wants me to call him "mother."

I've had just about enough of that talking gecko.

I would go to McDonald's way more often if they sold Beef McNuggets.

Papa John looks like he's about 40 years old. Have you seen him on the commercials? And his pizza place has been around for over 20 years. What I want to know is, who the hell gave him the nickname "Papa."

You know, if you close your eyes, Advils taste a little like candy.

A word to the wise: If you are in a small room full of people, for an extended period of time, with little or no ventilation, that is probably not the best time and place for you to be making yourself tuna fish.

When I die, I want my tombstone to read, "Here lies Brad Boehm . . . Eh, he was a dick."

I'm getting sick and tired of the grippy stuff on the straps of backpacks. "This pack won't slip off your shoulders!" I've got a newsflash for you - if your shoulders are at such an angle that you're having problems keeping your pack on, you don't have backpack problems. You have shoulder problems. Perhaps you should be seeking help from a chiropractor rather than Eastpak.

If you called a suicide hotline, pretended to be suicidal, then asked the girl you were talking to out on a date, she would have to say yes, wouldn't she?

If I had a racehorse, I would name him "Glue If He Loses," just to give him some incentive. You know?

If I won the lottery, I'd give half to my family, half to my friends, and keep the other half.

If I were a professional wrestler, my stage name would be "Rathbone, the AIDS-infected wrestler who bleeds very easily."

I don't get it. So is Jefferson Airplane the same as Jefferson Starship? And is Jefferson Starship the same as Starship? I'm confused. And who's Jefferson?

I hate, when people use, unnecessary commas and apostrophe's, not to mention inappropriate punctuation?

The Juice's Daughter?

2005-01-19T22:06:00.000-05:00

Apparently Orenthal J. Simpsons's daughter has been arrested for disorderly conduct. That is such a shock to me. Her dad is such a calm and peaceful guy, I don't know where she could have learned that such behavior is acceptable. I mean, I only remembering him committing one double murder. And one is almost zero. So how could a guy who has committed almost no double murders have a daughter that is so out of control? Kids today, man. I'm telling you . . .

what's in a name?

2005-01-19T16:09:00.000-05:00

I believe that people should be grouped together into categories based on their first names. Which category do you fit into?

Category 1: People who are missing a letter in their name. This is generally a duplicate letter that has been inexplicably left out. The pronunciations of these names must be as if the missing letter was actually present. Some famous examples of Category 1 people are:

Tedy Bruschi (Teddy), linebacker for the New England Patriots
Wily Mo Pena (Willy), outfielder for the Cincinnati Reds
Jimy Williams (Jimmy), former big league manager with the Boston Red Sox and Houston Astros

Of course, to make fun of these people, pronounce their names as we would if we didn't know better (Teedy, Wiley Mo, Jymy).

Category 2: These are folks whose parents misspelled their names on their birth certificates. When making fun of these people, it's always great to make fun of how stupid their parents are. How could you spell your kid's name wrong? Retards. Some famous examples of Category 2 people are:

Oprah Winfrey (Orpah, a biblical name), one of the most famous television personalities in the world. I guess her parents being as dumb as a box of rocks didn't hurt her too much.
Jhonny Peralta (Johnny, of course), shortstop for the Cleveland Indians. This is just stupid.
Laveranues Coles (I'm not really sure how it was supposed to be spelled, but I KNOW it wasn't like that), wide receiver for the Washington Redskins. If you're going to make up a name for your kid, you should probably at least spell it like it's pronounced. In case you've never heard his name before, it's pronounced "Lavernius."

(more categories to come, I don't have time now)

man alive!

2005-01-18T21:10:00.000-05:00

I'm really getting aggravated with people saying "man alive." Maybe it's a southern Ohio thing, I'm not really sure. On the off-chance that you haven't heard it, or that you don't say it yourself, it's used as an exclamation, such as "man alive! there are a lot of people here!" Or, "man alive, boy! I'm going to kick yer ass." The only time I want to hear somebody say that is if there are rescue workers searching through some rubble and one of them says "we've got a man alive down here!" I would also prefer that you didn't say, "jiminy freakin' christmas," but I only know one person who says that. And I don't think he can read anyway. If you must express surprise, shock, anger, et cetera, please choose from the list I have provided below.

Acceptable terms:
Jesus Christ on a crutch!
Dude!
What the . . . hell?!
Uhhhhhhh . . .
Jesus Tapdancing Christ
HOLY FUCKING MOSES!
Gee willickers

I'm really getting tired of this whole rubber bracelet thing. I'll admit it, I wear one. BUT, I was the FIRST PERSON IN THE WORLD to do it - kinda like I was the first person in the world to call jewelry "bling." It started off with just the yellow LiveStrong bracelets, but it has quickly spiraled out of control. The other day I saw one that said Poop Fishermen. Honestly people, I think that's where we should draw the line.

Speaking of bracelets, at least it seems that the What Would Jesus Do bracelet phenomenon has calmed down, although I still see them from time to time. But I have to ask myself, would anybody really be stupid enough to base all of their life decisions on whether Jesus would do it or not? I can just see it now . . . Some idiot approaching a river . . . "Hmm, I really need to cross this river. Normally, I would walk down to that bridge and cross, but if Jesus were here, what would he do? I bet he'd just walk right across the water." Really smart thinking. Very impressive. However, I prefer my WWRTSBDWASLCAWAMAFSRILGMABMTODD bracelet. That's my What Would Ralph The Substitute Bus Driver Who Always Smells Like Cheese And Wears A Miniskirt And For Some Reason I Let Give Me A Back Massage The Other Day Do bracelet. Of course, whenever I'm wearing that bracelet and I'm faced with a dilemma, the only decision I come to is to pick my nose and eat it. But still, it's better than drowning in an icy river, isn't it?????

I recently read a list of the most popular baby names for the year 2004. That list included the following boys names: Aiden, Caden, Jayden, Hayden and Addison. I urge you, if you find any babies out there with any of these names, do them a favor. SHAKE THEM! Then kill their parents. The same goes for the baby girls with the following names: Madison, Chloe, Hayley, Riley, Bailey, Isabella, Cadence, and Aaliyah. Parents, this just has to stop. What happened to the days of Jimmy and Billy and Bobby and Mary and Sarah and Jane? Those were NAMES. This new crap either makes the kid sound like a total pussy (boys' names) or a dog (girls' names). As a good will gesture towards mankind, I am willing to volunteer my services to fix this problem. The solution is simple. Every child born in this country should be named Rathbone. How badass of a name is Rathbone? RATHBONE! Don't forget your lunch. RATHBONE! Do your homework. RATHBONE! Rathbone called for you. Plus, as an added bonus, in about 100 years everybody in the country will be named Rathbone. Then we can change the name from The United States of America to the United States of Rathbone. Or The United Rathbones of America. Or The Rathbone States of America. Or simply Rathbone. But I want all of my friends to see to it that my Rathbone plan for this country is carried out. I will be running for president in the future on the Rathbone platform. So, remember, in 2020, vote RATHBONE FOR PRES.

www.bigbadbabynames.com

purposefulnessity

2005-01-08T12:00:00.000-05:00

The point of this blog is to share my opinions on whatever aspects of life I feel like criticizing. It is not my goal, as is the case with some others, to expound upon the mundane aspects of every daily activity. For example: "I went to school today. It sucked." Or: "My friend is coming in from out of town this weekend. Hooray." This blog is supposed to be entertaining, and perhaps a little bit educational. But since nobody really reads this right now, I'm not going to break my back trying to come up with something to say every day. When I've got something, I'll post it.

So today I ran into the woman from Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca." What Ricky apparently fails to mention in the song, is that when you DO take your clothes off and go dancin' in the rain, she has you arrested.

What's the deal with the huge variations in sneezing that occur from person to person? Some people sneeze so quietly, you can barely hear them. While others could block out the sound from a 747 half a block away. I guess it's just one of nature's puzzles.

http://www.fcbarcelona.com/eng/jugadores/baloncesto/biografia_7.shtml

the beginning

2005-01-07T16:43:00.000-05:00

Welcome to my blog. I'm glad you decided to join me. Trust me, you want to read this. You NEED to read this. It's kinda like breathing. If you don't do it . . . something happens . . . probably bad . . . well whatever. As you've probably noticed, I really like using ellipses (. . .). Here are some other things I really like using: Miracle Whip, low-octane gasoline, and leaves (instead of toilet paper). On the other hand, I HATE parentheses. If I see one parenthesis, I'll just freak out. Anyway, on to business . . .

Some thoughts of the day:

I went to the dentist the other day. Man, if I always brushed my teeth as well as I do before I go to the dentist, I would never actually have to go.

Speaking of brushing my teeth, I don't understand why I brush with my right hand yet I pick my nose with my left. Does everyone else have a specific hand that they pick their nose with or am I alone on this?

I really need to change my last name. The right last name can mean everything for you. After watching Congressman Patrick Kennedy (D-RI) in a video in Elections and Campaigns, i'm convinced that he's one of the biggest doofuses in the country. What a freakin' goof. But he could walk around town naked and take dumps on the sidewalk and he would still get elected by a landslide because he's a Kennedy.

Ashlee Simpson's performance at Halftime of the Orange Bowl is one for the history books. Best thing I ever saw, hands down. If they ever had a contest on who's voice could crack the most while "singing," she'd be the World Champion, with William Hung a distant second.

What's the deal with guys who have to tuck their shirts in ALL THE TIME. No matter what they're doing, that shirt has got to be tucked into those pants. Hell, they even do it if it's underwear and a t-shirt.

Speaking of shirts, this Nick guy at basketball has worn what would seem to be the exact same bright yellow shirt every single time he has played. Subsequently, two questions spring to mind. One - is it actually the same shirt, or does he have a closet full of them like Superman? And two - if it is the same shirt, does he wash it? My nose wonders what the answer is to that second question.

Advice of the week:

You're stupid. The sooner you realize it, the sooner we can all get on with our lives. You know who you are. I'm not sure if that counts as advice though.

On a side note, this blog was started because Dan Whitmyer and Mrs. Megan Moore needed something to read while at work to help them while away the hours. So if you have a problem with it, take it up with them, and not with me. Because I'll kill you, and they (probably) won't.