Saturday, January 27, 2007
Uh...
Today, I went to the express lane to buy deodorant, Head & Shoulders, and hand lotion. The chick working there now thinks I smell, have dandruff, and am exceedingly lonely. The joke's on her, though, because once I get my mail-order bride, I'll never be lonely again!
Saturday, January 20, 2007
A Great Misunderstanding
David: I asked Jordan for pictures from the Japan trip and he keeps sending me pictures of himself naked.
Adam: Yeah, see, for me, it was the exact opposite! I don't get it.
Adam: Yeah, see, for me, it was the exact opposite! I don't get it.
Friday, January 19, 2007
The University Segregationer
She knew she was taking a risk by using the boys' bathroom, but she was really drunk, and definitely unable to make the trip up the stairs to get to the girls' room. She'd heard stories about the bathroom monitors at the university, inbred mutants wandering the campus, but thought they were just stories. She'd had many arguments with people about this. First, nobody had ever seen one in person (the believers would add "and lived to tell about it"). Second, the very idea of paying someone money to patrol bathrooms for the very purpose of segregation seemed antiquated and extravagant to her. Anyway, this wasn't even what she was worried about, as she ducked into the fourth stall. Her real source of distress was the vile state of the bathroom. It was disgusting. Second to last, this was the only stall even close to clean. Every guy on the floor claimed only to use "number four"; if that was the case, she wondered, how did the others always end up destroyed?
After locking the stall door, she was about to resign herself to a life wrought with venereal disease, when she heard the bathroom door open. She quickly sat down on the toilet, and hugged her legs up to her body, hoping to disguise her presence. She wondered why she hadn't heard her friend, whom she had stationed at the door, warn her of the incoming visitor, but soon forgot about it, as she heard his heavy stride. The bathroom tiles crunched beneath his powerful, deliberate footfalls. She heard two powerful inhalations, like an animal catching a scent, followed by a declaration, spoken in a low, gravelly tone: "Hrmmm... smells like verjina in here!" This utterance was immediately followed by a crash, a yelp, and then another cry, as the door to her stall was kicked in, and she reacted in surprise at the door, and then in greater surprise at the man standing on the other side of it.
He was tall, probably around seven feet. He was dressed in traditional, depression-era rural clothing: dirty coveralls, a torn flannel shirt, a well-worn cowboy hat, and brown work boots. He was carrying a kerosene lantern in one hand, and a sawed-off shotgun in the other. These were all things that took her a few minutes to notice, as she could not quickly remove her focus from his face. He was old; his wrinkles almost enveloped all of his facial features, except for one spot where they relented: the smooth, blank spot where his left eye should have been. "Someone's in here," she cried.
"Yeah, someone what shouldn't be," he replied in the same low growl as before. "I's been sent by the powers that be to right this wrong and send you back to the hell what you been sent from, darlin'."
"But I didn't do anything! The stalls are private, why should it matter who uses them?" she reasoned. He thought about this for a few seconds, and until he had figured out the answer.
"'Cause I'mun shoot any woman what uses this bathroom." This seemed to satisfy him, and he smiled as he cocked his shotgun.
"I just don't see how 'I'm gonna shoot you' is an excuse to shoot me," she stammered as he lowered the twin-barrels to her face.
Her last feelings were those of regret. She didn't regret her decision, but rather the fact that the last words she would hear would be "git 'r done!"
Her friend had heard and seen it all, but was too terrified to do anything about it. The man, or whatever he was, soon finished her off, for "aidin' and abettin' a strumpet." The halls of the university dorm still echo, to this day, with the screams of that night.
"Git 'r done!"
After locking the stall door, she was about to resign herself to a life wrought with venereal disease, when she heard the bathroom door open. She quickly sat down on the toilet, and hugged her legs up to her body, hoping to disguise her presence. She wondered why she hadn't heard her friend, whom she had stationed at the door, warn her of the incoming visitor, but soon forgot about it, as she heard his heavy stride. The bathroom tiles crunched beneath his powerful, deliberate footfalls. She heard two powerful inhalations, like an animal catching a scent, followed by a declaration, spoken in a low, gravelly tone: "Hrmmm... smells like verjina in here!" This utterance was immediately followed by a crash, a yelp, and then another cry, as the door to her stall was kicked in, and she reacted in surprise at the door, and then in greater surprise at the man standing on the other side of it.
He was tall, probably around seven feet. He was dressed in traditional, depression-era rural clothing: dirty coveralls, a torn flannel shirt, a well-worn cowboy hat, and brown work boots. He was carrying a kerosene lantern in one hand, and a sawed-off shotgun in the other. These were all things that took her a few minutes to notice, as she could not quickly remove her focus from his face. He was old; his wrinkles almost enveloped all of his facial features, except for one spot where they relented: the smooth, blank spot where his left eye should have been. "Someone's in here," she cried.
"Yeah, someone what shouldn't be," he replied in the same low growl as before. "I's been sent by the powers that be to right this wrong and send you back to the hell what you been sent from, darlin'."
"But I didn't do anything! The stalls are private, why should it matter who uses them?" she reasoned. He thought about this for a few seconds, and until he had figured out the answer.
"'Cause I'mun shoot any woman what uses this bathroom." This seemed to satisfy him, and he smiled as he cocked his shotgun.
"I just don't see how 'I'm gonna shoot you' is an excuse to shoot me," she stammered as he lowered the twin-barrels to her face.
Her last feelings were those of regret. She didn't regret her decision, but rather the fact that the last words she would hear would be "git 'r done!"
Her friend had heard and seen it all, but was too terrified to do anything about it. The man, or whatever he was, soon finished her off, for "aidin' and abettin' a strumpet." The halls of the university dorm still echo, to this day, with the screams of that night.
"Git 'r done!"
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Thoughts on UMass Riot
Upon witnessing such an event, there is no system of classification which can honestly catalogue these imbeciles in the same species as myself. I refuse it. These are not human beings, they are animals; primary observation leaves no other conclusion to be drawn.
On a side note: "I can understand rioting if you win, but not if you lose." I have never heard a more maddeningly ridiculous and asinine statement in my entire life.
I Was Born a Poor Black Child
Watching Pursuit of Happyness really made me realize how much I wished Will Smith was my father, just as watching Se7en made me aware of my longing for the grandfatherly presence of Morgan Freeman.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Morality & the Nietzschean Übermensch
In his book, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche explains the concept of the Übermensch, the superman. The Nietzschean Übermensch completes three steps in order to be considered as such. First, he is destructive in certain actions, rebelling against societal ideals and morals. Second, he is creative, in disjunction with nihilism, re-evaluating old ideals and creating new ones. Third, he must continuously struggle against himself. The titular character of Olaf Stapledon’s novel, Odd John, is a perfect example of a Nietzschean Übermensch, as he fulfills all of these steps towards greatness. Spanning the years between 1910 and 1933, Odd John describes the life of John Wainright, a homo superior, the next rung on the evolutionary ladder.
The most striking parts of Odd John are those in which John fights against accepted societal ideals and morals, completing the first requirement of the Übermensch. The first such incedent occurs when John begins a crime spree, robbing the houses of the rich, if for no other reason than to prove that he can. During one of these robberies, a police officer, one known personally to John, catches him. In order to escape the discovery of his greater-than-human abilities so early in his life, John is forced to murder the police officer. To keep hidden the existence of the superman, to protect the Übermensch before mankind can eradicate the threat, John sheds one of the most commonly accepted and believed-in social morals, and murders a living human being. To John, such an act, while still not exactly palatable, is not exactly the same as murdering another homo superior. Since John is of another species, one greater than man, he is able to kill a human, the way a human would euthanize a dog: with some regrettable pain, knowing it must still be done, in order to serve a greater end. John does, in fact, quite often describe humanity as canine in some respects: awkward, well-meaning, but still with some spark of intelligence. Some would say killing an animal is wrong under any circumstances, but this idea is not universally accepted, and so this incedent is only used as secondary evidence of John’s taboo-breaking.
The most striking of John’s rule-breaking occurs during a period in his life in which he attempts to conquer the human idea of love. John, through his great powers of learning and observance, determines methods in which to make any human, male or female, find him irresistable. First, this breaks a more slight taboo, one which some may argue is unrealistic to begin with, and is slowly dieing out: John engages in homosexual love. This, in itself, is not as striking as some of his other taboo-shatterings, in today’s world, as homosexual relationships are much more widespreadin the modern age, and will soon be considered completely acceptable by the vast majority of society, if it is not already. What is more disturbing about these actions is that, if one truly accepts that John is of another species, he must then be committing beastiality. In continuation of the previous analogy, John having sexual intercourse with a human being would be akin to a human being having sexual intercourse with a dog. While some would argue the morality of euthanizing an animal, there are very few who would argue the morality of seducing one.
In addition to this, John also beds his mother. To once more continue the previous analogy, this would be similar to a human being romancing the dog that gave birth to it. Clearly, the simile no longer applies, as there is no universal social law for such an act. In spite of this, I don’t think many people would argue that beastiality and incest cancel each other out; this action is, by far, the most shocking and amoral action John commits.
The most mysterious parts of Odd John revolve around the second requirement of the Übermensch, the homo superior’s creations; human beings cannot fully comprehend the greatest works of the supermen, and so it is impossible for the author, a simple homo sapien, to fully describe them.
One of the more simple-to-understand accomplishments of the supermen is the foundation of their own nation. After finding more of his own kind, John establishes a colony on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean, where the homo superior can train their minds, and create their greater spiritual works in peace. One of the most interesting aspects of their new society involves their interpersonal relationships; the members of the community do not make their relationships legally permanent, but they tend to stick together anyway. While the new system is not perfect, as some relationships still end poorly, it seems to have a much higher rate of success than the homo sapien system, which has about a fifty percent rate of failure. Additionally, this is an incredibly complex and unpredictable subject, which is bound always to have some failures. In this manner, the Übermensch re-evaluate old societal morals, keeping the monogomous relationship, but shedding the legal entanglements.
The government of the supermen is also important, as well as profound. Described as communist by the world powers, in this community there is no defined governmental body, and no law enforcement. To make decisions for the community, each member of the colony meets and discusses with the group the best course of action, and the meeting does not conclude until every voice is heard. Eventually, a decision is made, and every member of the colony respects and accepts the decision, because their opinion has been understood and weighed. While a system such as this seems almost perfect, it probably would not work well under the stress of great masses of homo sapien, not only because council meetings would last months until every voice was heard, but because humans are generally not able to set aside their own opinions in respect of the greater good; this government is completely Übermensch.
The impossible-to-understand accomplishment of the supermen involves their great spiritual work. Because humanity cannot hope to understand such a work, the homo sapien auther was unable to convey anything of its substance through the novel, but it is great enough that, in order to complete it, the supermen are willing to die. They realize that the world powers have organized to destroy them, and, rather than spend time completing the technology to defend themselves, the colony completes its great work of religion and commits suicide. The definite magnitude of their great creation is unclear, but it is presumably vast.
The third requirement of the Übermensch is the most simple to relate to Odd John. Once he fully realizes his superiority to humanity, John is struck with a sense of utter loneliness. John can no longer tolerate the presence of humans, their inferiority presenting constant reminders of his singularity, so he ventures into the wilderness, in order to escape mankind, and to overcome this feeling of desolation. As he evades human contact, John struggles with his basic animal traits; learning to hunt and kill a stag, using only his physical powers, he proves his worth as a new being. In defeating the stag, John learns more about himself and mankind than of which he had previously been aware. In describing the action to the narrator, John said, “How I knew him and praised him! And his death was his life’s crown.” The death of the stag had a profound impact on John, and gave him a new perspective on humanity.
John Wainright, as the above examples have clearly shown, is the very definition of the Nietzschean Übermensch. He rebels against societal ideals and morals, as he murders men, sleeps with those of the same gender, and beds his own mother. He re-evaluates old societal ideals and morals, and creates his own, through the existence of the new colony of supermen. In the process of killing the stag, John recognizes and overcomes his own physical weaknesses, as well as the simple, canine greatness of mankind.
This struggle against traditional morality is something the general public finds very upsetting about the Nietzschean concept of the Übermensch; the rebellion against traditional societal codes is seen as destructive to most people. It is of the utmost importance, however, that the Nietzschean Übermensch follow these steps, because morality is an ever-changing, subjective concept; to force everyone to follow the same rules of morality is stifling, and not always is the “morally correct” path the best. To go about this process in a slow, steady manner, while easier for some to accept, is detrimental to the process; massive, sweeping change is often necessary in order to fix the most stubborn problems of human society.
The most striking parts of Odd John are those in which John fights against accepted societal ideals and morals, completing the first requirement of the Übermensch. The first such incedent occurs when John begins a crime spree, robbing the houses of the rich, if for no other reason than to prove that he can. During one of these robberies, a police officer, one known personally to John, catches him. In order to escape the discovery of his greater-than-human abilities so early in his life, John is forced to murder the police officer. To keep hidden the existence of the superman, to protect the Übermensch before mankind can eradicate the threat, John sheds one of the most commonly accepted and believed-in social morals, and murders a living human being. To John, such an act, while still not exactly palatable, is not exactly the same as murdering another homo superior. Since John is of another species, one greater than man, he is able to kill a human, the way a human would euthanize a dog: with some regrettable pain, knowing it must still be done, in order to serve a greater end. John does, in fact, quite often describe humanity as canine in some respects: awkward, well-meaning, but still with some spark of intelligence. Some would say killing an animal is wrong under any circumstances, but this idea is not universally accepted, and so this incedent is only used as secondary evidence of John’s taboo-breaking.
The most striking of John’s rule-breaking occurs during a period in his life in which he attempts to conquer the human idea of love. John, through his great powers of learning and observance, determines methods in which to make any human, male or female, find him irresistable. First, this breaks a more slight taboo, one which some may argue is unrealistic to begin with, and is slowly dieing out: John engages in homosexual love. This, in itself, is not as striking as some of his other taboo-shatterings, in today’s world, as homosexual relationships are much more widespreadin the modern age, and will soon be considered completely acceptable by the vast majority of society, if it is not already. What is more disturbing about these actions is that, if one truly accepts that John is of another species, he must then be committing beastiality. In continuation of the previous analogy, John having sexual intercourse with a human being would be akin to a human being having sexual intercourse with a dog. While some would argue the morality of euthanizing an animal, there are very few who would argue the morality of seducing one.
In addition to this, John also beds his mother. To once more continue the previous analogy, this would be similar to a human being romancing the dog that gave birth to it. Clearly, the simile no longer applies, as there is no universal social law for such an act. In spite of this, I don’t think many people would argue that beastiality and incest cancel each other out; this action is, by far, the most shocking and amoral action John commits.
The most mysterious parts of Odd John revolve around the second requirement of the Übermensch, the homo superior’s creations; human beings cannot fully comprehend the greatest works of the supermen, and so it is impossible for the author, a simple homo sapien, to fully describe them.
One of the more simple-to-understand accomplishments of the supermen is the foundation of their own nation. After finding more of his own kind, John establishes a colony on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean, where the homo superior can train their minds, and create their greater spiritual works in peace. One of the most interesting aspects of their new society involves their interpersonal relationships; the members of the community do not make their relationships legally permanent, but they tend to stick together anyway. While the new system is not perfect, as some relationships still end poorly, it seems to have a much higher rate of success than the homo sapien system, which has about a fifty percent rate of failure. Additionally, this is an incredibly complex and unpredictable subject, which is bound always to have some failures. In this manner, the Übermensch re-evaluate old societal morals, keeping the monogomous relationship, but shedding the legal entanglements.
The government of the supermen is also important, as well as profound. Described as communist by the world powers, in this community there is no defined governmental body, and no law enforcement. To make decisions for the community, each member of the colony meets and discusses with the group the best course of action, and the meeting does not conclude until every voice is heard. Eventually, a decision is made, and every member of the colony respects and accepts the decision, because their opinion has been understood and weighed. While a system such as this seems almost perfect, it probably would not work well under the stress of great masses of homo sapien, not only because council meetings would last months until every voice was heard, but because humans are generally not able to set aside their own opinions in respect of the greater good; this government is completely Übermensch.
The impossible-to-understand accomplishment of the supermen involves their great spiritual work. Because humanity cannot hope to understand such a work, the homo sapien auther was unable to convey anything of its substance through the novel, but it is great enough that, in order to complete it, the supermen are willing to die. They realize that the world powers have organized to destroy them, and, rather than spend time completing the technology to defend themselves, the colony completes its great work of religion and commits suicide. The definite magnitude of their great creation is unclear, but it is presumably vast.
The third requirement of the Übermensch is the most simple to relate to Odd John. Once he fully realizes his superiority to humanity, John is struck with a sense of utter loneliness. John can no longer tolerate the presence of humans, their inferiority presenting constant reminders of his singularity, so he ventures into the wilderness, in order to escape mankind, and to overcome this feeling of desolation. As he evades human contact, John struggles with his basic animal traits; learning to hunt and kill a stag, using only his physical powers, he proves his worth as a new being. In defeating the stag, John learns more about himself and mankind than of which he had previously been aware. In describing the action to the narrator, John said, “How I knew him and praised him! And his death was his life’s crown.” The death of the stag had a profound impact on John, and gave him a new perspective on humanity.
John Wainright, as the above examples have clearly shown, is the very definition of the Nietzschean Übermensch. He rebels against societal ideals and morals, as he murders men, sleeps with those of the same gender, and beds his own mother. He re-evaluates old societal ideals and morals, and creates his own, through the existence of the new colony of supermen. In the process of killing the stag, John recognizes and overcomes his own physical weaknesses, as well as the simple, canine greatness of mankind.
This struggle against traditional morality is something the general public finds very upsetting about the Nietzschean concept of the Übermensch; the rebellion against traditional societal codes is seen as destructive to most people. It is of the utmost importance, however, that the Nietzschean Übermensch follow these steps, because morality is an ever-changing, subjective concept; to force everyone to follow the same rules of morality is stifling, and not always is the “morally correct” path the best. To go about this process in a slow, steady manner, while easier for some to accept, is detrimental to the process; massive, sweeping change is often necessary in order to fix the most stubborn problems of human society.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Collegiate Education
I used to think it was irrational to have the sudden fear that I was standing in front of a midget every time I farted in an elevator when I thought I was alone.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Seriously, I Need Some Gloves or Something
I was pissed. It was fourteen degrees outside, but the wind made it unbearable. The constant breeze was bad enough, but every gust of wind made my face feel like it was on fire. I cursed the gods for such a liberal distribution of squalls, and then cursed them again as soon as I entered the Campus Center, looking to escape freezer burn.
It was packed. This week was the annual Campus Center Christmas sale; vendor booths were set up all along the concourse, and people were flocking to the building to check out crappy jewelry and hemp bags. Added to this was the daily rush of people getting lunch, or just passing through on their way to class. Sometimes, all it takes to release one's inner evil is a large crowd.
I walked into the University Store, hoping to buy some gloves; being from New York, I had imagined Massachusetts winter to be at least similar to what I was used to, but I hadn't accounted for such winds. After a few sweeps of the clothing section, I found nothing.
I was not a friendly guy. I was of the disposition that nobody at the university really understood my brilliance, and it made me bitter. But they surely wouldn't comprehend my brilliance after seeing the way I was now dressed. I walked out of the University Store, wearing two over-sized, novelty, foam "#1" hands, the closest things I could find to gloves. I wasn't happy about it, but I at least understood the humor in this situation.
As I walked through the crowd, I had an epiphany. This was the most dense mass of people I had been a part of since arriving at the university; the perfect subjects for my revenge. I realized I was in the position to commit the perfect crime: I farted. Loud, rank, and wet, I farted. It was incredible, and I knew it; nobody could know it was me, and everyone but I suffered. I reveled in my evil genius. Then, Lucifer arrived.
With a puff of black smoke, the Dark Lord appeared, laughing maniacally, just like you always see on TV. That was disappointing; I had hoped he would be more original. I told him this. "Hey, fuckbag, you'd run out of ideas pretty fast if you had to do this shit every day for all eternity," he replied. I like to think I could do better.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm here because you figured out one of the few perfect crimes: farting in a gigantic crowd of people."
"No way, I can't be the first!" I exclaimed.
"Well, you're not the first to fart in a large group of people, and you aren't even the first to realize it as the perfect crime; you're the first to plan and commit this heinous act of premeditated olfactory terrorism, to this great amount of people. If you didn't realize it, didn't do it to this large a group, or didn't do it at all, it wouldn't warrant a visit. As it stands, however, you are officially evil. Congrats." I had always hoped the Devil wouldn't say words like "congrats."
"So... what happens now?" I asked.
"Well, you know those 'deals with the Devil' people always talk about? Since you're already heading my way, I figured I'd throw you something cool. Whatever you want, asshole."
I knew I wouldn't take this light--"It's fuckin' cold, just give me the Devil's Mittens!" Fuckin' idiot.
"Oh, you fuckin' dick! I really like those!" he complained as he disappeared in another puff of black smoke, leaving behind a pair of black and red mittens, ebony lining the edges. They seemed to glow with an impossible black light. As I picked them up, I could feel the power. This was to be merely the first step on my path to greatness. My rise and fall would be events of vast world importance; not a single person on Earth would be unaffected by my demise. So strong is the power of the Gauntlets of Forneus, Great Marquis of Hell; the Devil's Mittens.
It was packed. This week was the annual Campus Center Christmas sale; vendor booths were set up all along the concourse, and people were flocking to the building to check out crappy jewelry and hemp bags. Added to this was the daily rush of people getting lunch, or just passing through on their way to class. Sometimes, all it takes to release one's inner evil is a large crowd.
I walked into the University Store, hoping to buy some gloves; being from New York, I had imagined Massachusetts winter to be at least similar to what I was used to, but I hadn't accounted for such winds. After a few sweeps of the clothing section, I found nothing.
I was not a friendly guy. I was of the disposition that nobody at the university really understood my brilliance, and it made me bitter. But they surely wouldn't comprehend my brilliance after seeing the way I was now dressed. I walked out of the University Store, wearing two over-sized, novelty, foam "#1" hands, the closest things I could find to gloves. I wasn't happy about it, but I at least understood the humor in this situation.
As I walked through the crowd, I had an epiphany. This was the most dense mass of people I had been a part of since arriving at the university; the perfect subjects for my revenge. I realized I was in the position to commit the perfect crime: I farted. Loud, rank, and wet, I farted. It was incredible, and I knew it; nobody could know it was me, and everyone but I suffered. I reveled in my evil genius. Then, Lucifer arrived.
With a puff of black smoke, the Dark Lord appeared, laughing maniacally, just like you always see on TV. That was disappointing; I had hoped he would be more original. I told him this. "Hey, fuckbag, you'd run out of ideas pretty fast if you had to do this shit every day for all eternity," he replied. I like to think I could do better.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm here because you figured out one of the few perfect crimes: farting in a gigantic crowd of people."
"No way, I can't be the first!" I exclaimed.
"Well, you're not the first to fart in a large group of people, and you aren't even the first to realize it as the perfect crime; you're the first to plan and commit this heinous act of premeditated olfactory terrorism, to this great amount of people. If you didn't realize it, didn't do it to this large a group, or didn't do it at all, it wouldn't warrant a visit. As it stands, however, you are officially evil. Congrats." I had always hoped the Devil wouldn't say words like "congrats."
"So... what happens now?" I asked.
"Well, you know those 'deals with the Devil' people always talk about? Since you're already heading my way, I figured I'd throw you something cool. Whatever you want, asshole."
I knew I wouldn't take this light--"It's fuckin' cold, just give me the Devil's Mittens!" Fuckin' idiot.
"Oh, you fuckin' dick! I really like those!" he complained as he disappeared in another puff of black smoke, leaving behind a pair of black and red mittens, ebony lining the edges. They seemed to glow with an impossible black light. As I picked them up, I could feel the power. This was to be merely the first step on my path to greatness. My rise and fall would be events of vast world importance; not a single person on Earth would be unaffected by my demise. So strong is the power of the Gauntlets of Forneus, Great Marquis of Hell; the Devil's Mittens.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Direction
She wasn't responding well to my jokes. Back home, most people seemed to get me, but around here, people don't laugh as much as I'd like. It was around this time that I started to lose confidence in my sense of humor. "I just have a really bad headache right now," she said.
Rather than respond with compassion or something admirable like that, I fell back on the one thing I knew, the same thing I was losing faith in: my sense of humor. "You know what my mom used to say was the best remedy for a headache?" I asked.
"What?" she said, knowing I would be no help.
"It was either a hug or a beating..." I guess this is as close as I was going to get to being sweet.
"You don't remember?" She seemed fed up.
"Well, my memory has gotten really bad from all the beatings." And so, I sealed my fate.
Rather than respond with compassion or something admirable like that, I fell back on the one thing I knew, the same thing I was losing faith in: my sense of humor. "You know what my mom used to say was the best remedy for a headache?" I asked.
"What?" she said, knowing I would be no help.
"It was either a hug or a beating..." I guess this is as close as I was going to get to being sweet.
"You don't remember?" She seemed fed up.
"Well, my memory has gotten really bad from all the beatings." And so, I sealed my fate.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
Diggy Diggy Diggy Part III!
I'm currently enrolled in a Japanese Arts & Culture class here at UMass Amherst. Most of the class has been lame and boring, with entire 75 minute lectures on tea, but I have learned a couple interesting things. First, Japan is the gayest society ever. Don't believe me? Here's a quote from my textbook: "When Zeami [one of the founders of No theater] met Yoshimitsu [then the shogun, head of the Japanese government] in 1374 he had been a mere child of eleven, and quite likely it was his physical beauty as much as anything that first attracted the shogun, who had a particular fondness for pretty boys." That's just one instance in which homosexual pedophilia played a major role in shaping Japanese society. At one point, Kabuki was outlawed because it helped spread the rampant homosexual proclivities of the Samurai class. Anyway, that's just funny; here are the terrifying parts of Japanese culture.
I am not ashamed to admit that I am horrified by Japanese theater. First, there is Bunraku, puppet theater. Almost every bunraku play is about lovers committing suicide, which is weird enough, except they fly around as creepy looking puppets before and after, and it makes me wet my pants.
I am not ashamed to admit that I am horrified by Japanese theater. First, there is Bunraku, puppet theater. Almost every bunraku play is about lovers committing suicide, which is weird enough, except they fly around as creepy looking puppets before and after, and it makes me wet my pants.
This is much worse. Noh theater is a bunch of weird drama involving these awful masks. Since the actors wear masks, they have to use body language to get emotions across, and it always ends up with a bunch of fast, jerky head-motions that just make me want to cry. If I was ever trapped in a room with one of these motherfuckers, one of us would have to die.
There's a lot of talk going on in Japan about saving their culture from dying out, as it's quickly getting replaced with American culture. I, for one, look forward to the day when all Japanese entertainment is replaced with this:
"A ARARARA A A!! YES, YOU CAN!!"
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Amtrak Strikes Back!
So, I walked into the train bathroom, and lifted the lid, and saw two distinct piles of shit sitting in the bowl. I hit the flusher, expecting to hear a nuclear bomb go off as the industrial toilet went to work, but was instead treated to a light trickling sound, as a sprinkling of blue water fell upon the duke. It wasn't going anywhere. At this point, I observed that this had to be two separate people's craps, as there was one long log of a dark mud brown, and another ball of crap, light tan, pieced together like a human brain.
I never thought I would find something that was too gross to shit on.
I never thought I would find something that was too gross to shit on.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Dear Amtrak,
WHAT THE FUCK? First, you make me wait two hours and forty-five minutes for our goddamn train, and then you tell me you are going to "fine" me for not making a reservation? You're worried I'm a terrorist? Are you shitting me? I will tell you this right now: YOU WILL NEVER, FOR THE ENTIRE REMAINING FUTURE OF YOUR COMPANY, HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT TERRORISM! Nobody is going to hijack a train because it's on a FUCKING TRACK! Unless someone develops a magical track-laying device which allows one to build train track right into important buildings, you have nothing to worry about! FUCK!
Also, what the hell is this bullshit half-hour stop in New Haven with the lights off? I can't believe I'm sitting in your goddamn train for a half hour in the dark when I could be at home having a hot threeway with mydogs ladyfriends. This is the very definition of ricockulousness.
Also, what the hell is this bullshit half-hour stop in New Haven with the lights off? I can't believe I'm sitting in your goddamn train for a half hour in the dark when I could be at home having a hot threeway with my
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
And That's Why So Is Mankind.
Isn't it strange how whenever we see something written on a dry erase board outside someone's door, we have to change it to include Hitler somehow?
Like, "Lost was awesome" becomes "Hitler was awesome!"
Or, "I love Steve! -Kim" becomes "I love Hitler! -Kim is a fat ugly slut."
I think once we look into this, we will know a lot more about ourselves as human beings.
Like, "Lost was awesome" becomes "Hitler was awesome!"
Or, "I love Steve! -Kim" becomes "I love Hitler! -Kim is a fat ugly slut."
I think once we look into this, we will know a lot more about ourselves as human beings.
"The"
College professors become some of the most awkward people alive when a guest speaker is taking their place. Out of their element, they lean against the wall, like the shy kid at the dance. "I don't even want to dance, I like leaning up against the wall by myself with my arms crossed." In order to feel like they aren't wasting their time, they usually just pick random words or phrases that the speaker has just said, and write them on the blackboard. I don't know why my comparative literature professor decided it was important for me to remember "Cory" or "boing boing," but I find it hilarious.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Armstrong
My roommate wants to get a new tattoo, but he can't figure out where to get it, so of course I suggested the obvious: his taint. He wasn't too keen on that, so I said he should get a Mad "Fold-in" on his scrotum... more of a Mad "Stretch-out."
Monday, October 02, 2006
Eastern Wisdom
[Outside of Extra Dope Wear.]
Peter: I want to kick R.C.'s ass so bad! I could totally do it, too! [Punches wall.] Aggh!
Sara: Yeah, but that's not saying much. I mean, I could kick R.C.'s ass.
Adam: Yeah, like, a momma cub could take a baby cub...
[Silence.]
Adam: What? Mom? Dinner?
[Later.]
David: Dude, that was awesome.
Adam: It was a good cover though, right?
Peter: I want to kick R.C.'s ass so bad! I could totally do it, too! [Punches wall.] Aggh!
Sara: Yeah, but that's not saying much. I mean, I could kick R.C.'s ass.
Adam: Yeah, like, a momma cub could take a baby cub...
[Silence.]
Adam: What? Mom? Dinner?
[Later.]
David: Dude, that was awesome.
Adam: It was a good cover though, right?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Bathroom Etiquette (or "Dear Joe")
The bathroom is good as...
- A place in which to pee and poop
- A fart depository
- A land in which one may vomit in the sink
However, please remember to...
- Pee in the bowl, and not only all over the seat, walls, ceiling, and floor.
- Hold in all farts until you reach the bathroom. The only other room that makes an acceptable depository is the trash room, and maybe the lounge, once, as a joke.
The stairwell is fair game.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
I Love Accents!
Accents are everywhere. Some would say we all have an accent, but they are wrong, and idiots. The suburban dialect is the correct American English, so unless you speak exactly like I do, shut the fuck up and get the hell out of my house!
I'm writing this piece to finally set all you motherfuckers straight on accents; which are good, which are bad, and the like.
Here are my favorite accents, the "good" ones:
British
The British accent is awesome, because they sound so diginified and intelligent, even if they are retarded. In this way, they are lucky, because if you are American, and are an idiot, it is immediately evident. When women have a nice British accent, it is one of the hottest things ever. The one exception to this is the Cockney British accent. It's cool for guys to have it, because they can be funny or badass, but when chicks have a cockney accent, it seriously stomps on your erection.
Japanese
This is the cutest thing imaginable. I don't care how manly you are, you have to think Japanese women are adorable. The only thing that makes my Japanese culture class bearable is when the Japanese TA teaches hiragana, because she traces them in the air, and says things like "This one a rittle trickee, ita haba circow here!"
German
German accents are awesome, as long as the speaker is really enthusiastic. Once they slow down, it becomes unbearable, but as long as they are a travel show host, it's awesome. If they give you a chance to really hear the little imperfections, they can drive you nuts, but if they do it fast and say things like "wery wiolent," it's all worth it.
Nigerian
Sometimes movies have a profound impact on our perceptions of accents. The Lion King has single-handedly made the Nigerian accent awesome. Just think of Mufasa saying "Everything the light touches is your kingdom."
Irish
Whenever you hear an Irish accent, it just makes you want to have a good time and get drunk and break a bottle over someone's head.
Australian
There is nothing better than hearing any one of the fantastic Australian exclamations. Everyone thinks "CRIKEY!" is the best one, but you are all idiots. The best is clearly "Ooh de lally!"
Russian
This is another instance in which a movie has greatly changed the reputation of an accent. Natasha Nogoodnik from Rocky & Bullwinkle paved the way, but Xenia from Goldeneye really made the Russian accent hot.
Hispanic
I can't not laugh out loud when I hear a Latin person end a sentence with "meng!"
These may be awesome, but there are several accents which are horrendous and should be destroyed.
To be continued in I Hate Accents!
I'm writing this piece to finally set all you motherfuckers straight on accents; which are good, which are bad, and the like.
Here are my favorite accents, the "good" ones:
British
The British accent is awesome, because they sound so diginified and intelligent, even if they are retarded. In this way, they are lucky, because if you are American, and are an idiot, it is immediately evident. When women have a nice British accent, it is one of the hottest things ever. The one exception to this is the Cockney British accent. It's cool for guys to have it, because they can be funny or badass, but when chicks have a cockney accent, it seriously stomps on your erection.
Japanese
This is the cutest thing imaginable. I don't care how manly you are, you have to think Japanese women are adorable. The only thing that makes my Japanese culture class bearable is when the Japanese TA teaches hiragana, because she traces them in the air, and says things like "This one a rittle trickee, ita haba circow here!"
German
German accents are awesome, as long as the speaker is really enthusiastic. Once they slow down, it becomes unbearable, but as long as they are a travel show host, it's awesome. If they give you a chance to really hear the little imperfections, they can drive you nuts, but if they do it fast and say things like "wery wiolent," it's all worth it.
Nigerian
Sometimes movies have a profound impact on our perceptions of accents. The Lion King has single-handedly made the Nigerian accent awesome. Just think of Mufasa saying "Everything the light touches is your kingdom."
Irish
Whenever you hear an Irish accent, it just makes you want to have a good time and get drunk and break a bottle over someone's head.
Australian
There is nothing better than hearing any one of the fantastic Australian exclamations. Everyone thinks "CRIKEY!" is the best one, but you are all idiots. The best is clearly "Ooh de lally!"
Russian
This is another instance in which a movie has greatly changed the reputation of an accent. Natasha Nogoodnik from Rocky & Bullwinkle paved the way, but Xenia from Goldeneye really made the Russian accent hot.
Hispanic
I can't not laugh out loud when I hear a Latin person end a sentence with "meng!"
These may be awesome, but there are several accents which are horrendous and should be destroyed.
To be continued in I Hate Accents!
I Hate Accents!
Continued from I Love Accents!
Here are the worst accents ever. Stop using these immediately:
French
Please, just quit it. I try to lay off the French because everyone shits on them, but seriously, every time a Frenchman speaks, it just sounds like pooping. Also, the Merovingian from The Matrix series had a French accent, and he was just awful. Everything he said just made me furious.
Southern
The Southern accent is the fast-track to idiocy. If you have a Southern accent, you are a moron. There is no getting around it. If you had any shred of intelligence, you would either have eliminated the accent, or never picked it up in the first place. No excuses.
New York/New Jersey
This is fucking ricockulous. First of all, the New York/New Jersey accent suffers from the same "sounding unintelligent" thing that the Southern accent exemplifies, but in addition, it makes you sound like an asshole. Everything sounds insulting when spoken through this accent. Perhaps worst of all, idiots think I have a New York accent, but only after they hear I'm from New York. To prove my point, last night, when I was talking with some of my floor-mates about accents, I told one of them, who had just said he couldn't tell where I was from, that I was from New Mexico, and he believed me. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING NEW YORK ACCENT YOU FUCKING INGRATES!
Scottish
Some people can't tell the difference between Scotch and Irish, but it's all in the absurd rolled R's and "hootman's!"
Arabic
I'm sorry to take a shot at Arabic, but I really think this is the only reason why Americans dislike Arabs. It has nothing to do with 9/11, we just don't like getting spit on during conversation.
Now, there are some that are moderately humorous, but mostly inoffensive. Canadian and Midwest accents are sometimes worth a chuckle, but mostly just embarrassing to any who speak them. These are, however, acceptable, so you are free to continue saying "aboot" and "eh." Just don't overdo it.
Now, if anyone disagrees with anything I've said in these two posts, suck it, because I am the ultimate authority on the English language.
Here are the worst accents ever. Stop using these immediately:
French
Please, just quit it. I try to lay off the French because everyone shits on them, but seriously, every time a Frenchman speaks, it just sounds like pooping. Also, the Merovingian from The Matrix series had a French accent, and he was just awful. Everything he said just made me furious.
Southern
The Southern accent is the fast-track to idiocy. If you have a Southern accent, you are a moron. There is no getting around it. If you had any shred of intelligence, you would either have eliminated the accent, or never picked it up in the first place. No excuses.
New York/New Jersey
This is fucking ricockulous. First of all, the New York/New Jersey accent suffers from the same "sounding unintelligent" thing that the Southern accent exemplifies, but in addition, it makes you sound like an asshole. Everything sounds insulting when spoken through this accent. Perhaps worst of all, idiots think I have a New York accent, but only after they hear I'm from New York. To prove my point, last night, when I was talking with some of my floor-mates about accents, I told one of them, who had just said he couldn't tell where I was from, that I was from New Mexico, and he believed me. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING NEW YORK ACCENT YOU FUCKING INGRATES!
Scottish
Some people can't tell the difference between Scotch and Irish, but it's all in the absurd rolled R's and "hootman's!"
Arabic
I'm sorry to take a shot at Arabic, but I really think this is the only reason why Americans dislike Arabs. It has nothing to do with 9/11, we just don't like getting spit on during conversation.
Now, there are some that are moderately humorous, but mostly inoffensive. Canadian and Midwest accents are sometimes worth a chuckle, but mostly just embarrassing to any who speak them. These are, however, acceptable, so you are free to continue saying "aboot" and "eh." Just don't overdo it.
Now, if anyone disagrees with anything I've said in these two posts, suck it, because I am the ultimate authority on the English language.
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