Sorry about the lack of posts lately.
My Devo action figures just came in the mail.
I haven't been able to put them down.

Next stop, the bathtub...


#@!%$ Computer Issues...

I just put new antivirus software on my computer and now the intronets are moving slower than fucking molasses. I did everything I was supposed to do. There are few things that aggravate me more than when shit doesn't work right. Grrr!


I KNEW He Reminded Me Of Someone...

From now on, he shall be known to me as
"Ruprecht. the Monkey President".

No offense, Dr. Monkey...


I Stumble Upon Things...

See, if Hollywood actually had the balls to make a movie based on "Diff'rent Strokes" starring Condoleezza Rice as Arnold Jackson, I'd camp out on the sidewalk for fucking tickets.

Doumentary Film Of The Day: For The Bible Tells Me So...

I must confess. I have not known many gay people in my life, or at least people who were openly gay. I can't think of a single member of my extended family who I'd even suspect to be gay. I have not had any close friends who are gay. I did mow the lawn of a gay couple that lived across the street when I was a kid, but that's about it. In fact, this blog has been the first place I have gotten to know people who are gay to the point that I'd consider them friends.

Despite this lack of exposure, I have always thought the use of the Bible as justification for gay persecution to be ridiculous, cruel, and completely at odds with what Jesus seemed to be teaching. Now, those of you who know me and read my stuff know I'm not a practicing Christian by any means, but I do remember what I was taught in Sunday School. Condemning gays completely violates the idea of loving others as you would want to be loved. It encourages judgment when judgment, according to the Bible, is supposed to be left to God. The few passages that even vaguely reference homosexuality have been so twisted and misrepresented that all context has been lost.

This film does a nice job of dispelling the myths being spread by the religious right in regards to what the Bible says about homosexuality. It focuses on five religious families and how having a gay family member has reshaped their beliefs. One of the women, the mother of a lesbian daughter, came to the realization too late. She never accepted her daughter's sexuality and became estranged. It was only after her daughter committed suicide that she understood how wrong she was. Now she works to prevent others from making the same mistakes. It's film that is both happy and sad, infuriating and hopeful. Check it out.


The People Who Look The Most Normal...

...are the ones who ingest the most boogers.

Do I Post Too Much About Skiing?...

Well, tough shit.

Saturday was one of those gifts from the gods of skiing. After a miserable time the week before with all the idiots, this was a nice reprieve. The sky was blue the entire day, there were few people out, and I didn't have to deal with a single accident. It stayed in the low 30s, so the snow stayed nice and firm all day.


You Might As Well Engrave The Oscar Now...

As some of you may have heard,
a movie based on the popular 80's series
"The A-Team" is in the works.

Most of you, however, probably didn't know
it's going to be done as a musical.

I can't wait to watch Celine Dion perform
"Murdoch, You Crazy-Ass Cracker",
a shoo-in for Best Original Song,
at the next Academy Awards.


Saturday Morning At Some Guy's House...

Megan: Hey, Pooh-bear (She calls me "Pooh-bear"), the new Pottery Barn catalog came.

Some Guy: Oh joy of joys! Excuse me while I go masturbate.

Megan: (Laughing) What is WRONG with you?

Some Guy: That one's going on the blog.


Salvaging A Failed Post...

Seeing as it's the Easter season and everyone and their mother is going to have a post about Marshmallow Peeps (half of which will talk about how they're fucking nasty, the other half about how they're manna from heaven), I figured I'd get on the bandwagon. What can I say? I'm a follower.

Anyway, I had a plan to find a decent Peep picture and, using my limited Photoshop skillz, superimpose Dick Cheney's face on one of 'em and call them "Veeps". I know, fucking hilarious, right? Well, I couldn't find a good picture that would've truly captured the comedic genius of my idea. However, I did find this picture during my search. It's got boobies:


I know the white part of the yolk inside a Cadbury Egg
is made from goat semen,
but what's the yellow part?



I wish hitchhiking was more socially acceptable. Assuming that the vast majority of the population aren't psycho-killers, it seems like a great way to get places, save money, and meet some interesting people. A friend of mine in British Columbia managed to get from somewhere out west (Montana, I think?) to Michigan by hitchhiking. As I remember, it didn't take too long and he had lots of good stories by the end of it.

I have only tried it once. It was when I lived in France. The first time was to get to Mont Saint-Michel, a medieval city/monastery/island near the beaches of Normandy. I was with two other guys and it took for fucking ever for someone to stop, but when someone finally did, it felt really cool. We got lucky, as it started to rain right after we got picked up.

There was another time when I was walking home from the train station after a day in Paris (the city, not the Hilton). Some dude pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride, despite the fact that I didn't have my thumb out. I was tired from walking and I still had a ways to go, so I said OK. My French sucked and he didn't speak good English. Anyway, I was able to figure out that he was a gym teacher. He started asking me if I was into sports and weight-lifting. Then he tried to feel my bicep. I told him that he could drop me off here. Luckily, he did without incident. It was definitely weird and at the time I never felt like I was in danger, although, looking back, I realize this guy could've fucked my life up pretty bad.

So, if you're gonna hitchhike, use good judgment, maybe carry some pepper spray or something, and never take rides from French gym teachers.


I always root for the underdog*.

Overdogs suck.

*-Unless a Chicago team is playing.
But let's face it, the Chicago team is usually the underdog anyway.


A Design Question...

As some of you may have noticed, I haven't been posting as much political stuff as I used to. I think part of it has to do with my feeling deflated after John Edwards dropped out of the race. I also know that there are others whose political writings are so much more eloquent, I just don't feel the need to add anything.

I just caught Dubya's 5th Anniversary of the invasion of Iraq speech. No surprises. It was the same recycled speech he's given time and time again. He again used one of my favorite emotion-evoking terms - Rape Rooms. Don't get me wrong. I'm no fan of Rape Rooms. I just like how he stresses it, as if to say, "C'mon, the guy had Rape Rooms! How could we NOT go to war!?" I doubt you'd get much argument that rape is a form of torture, ironically something Dubya feels has a place in American military and foreign policy.

My question comes from an architectural perspective. I want to know, in case it ever comes up, what sorts of programmatic requirements distinguish a Rape Room from a Waterboarding Room? Like, a Waterboarding Room might require plumbing, perhaps a floor drain. You'd certainly want to use waterproof materials, things that won't rot or become moldy due to increased moisture. On the other hand, Rape Rooms might necessitate certain electrical considerations like dimmer switches on all the lights. You know, to make things romantic.

Maybe in his next speech he'll address this sort of thing.

By the way, if you haven't, watch Barack's speech. I'm not a huge Obama supporter, but this speech was pretty fucking impressive.

Trippy Shit...

While watching TV last night, we stumbled upon "It's The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown". Neither Megan nor I could remember watching this one as kids, which is surprising (at least for me) because I always used to make a point of watching as many animated holiday specials as I could. Anyway, we decided to watch. By the end, we both looked at each other like "What the fuck?" Not that it was bad, it was just odd.

First, there's no real story. Whereas the Christmas special had a message and a religious component, this one had none and seemed to focus primarily on the secular aspects of Easter (bunnies and eggs). The main plot line deals with Peppermint Patty and her lesbian life-partner Marcie trying to color eggs. Marcie, who I had always thought of as the rational one, was oblivious to the fact that you have to dye the eggs WHILE they're still in the shell. She ended up looking like a complete idiot after many failed attempts to prepare the eggs for coloring (cooking them in a waffle iron, toaster, and oven). The show ended abruptly with Marcie biting into a hard-boiled egg still in its shell, grimacing at how terrible it tasted.

In another sequence, Snoopy buys Woodstock a birdhouse after his nest is flooded. Woodstock proceeds to turn his new house into some sort of '70s psychedelic drug den. I don't know if this played any part in the scene where Snoopy is dancing hand-in-hand with a bunch of white rabbits. There are also references to Christmas and the fact that the store Snoopy buys the birdhouse at already had their Christmas displays up.

Apart from the story, there were also a bunch of weird scene cuts and the music was especially funky. It makes me wonder what sorts of illicit substances Mr. Schultz was into back then.


I Don't Know Why I'm Posting This...

Probably because it's weird and so am I.

Sorry about the lack of posts.
I'm up to my ass with architecture.


I Am The Man...

One day every year, I am called upon to be "the man". This Saturday was that day.

Each year, the place where I ski patrol hosts a St. Patty's/Mardi Gras hybrid celebration (pictured above). Thousands come, dressed up in goofy costumes, equipped with their Mardi Gras beads and their Jager-Bombs to listen to blaring frat-rock and enjoy a day on the slopes. It is not uncommon to see a lot of naked breasts and various 40-somethings passed out in the snow like they're high school kids getting drunk for the first time. Unfortunately, we patrollers must remain sober throughout in order to babysit.

The party crowd congregates on one of the runs in the center of the mountain. At the end of the day, it is our job to sweep the straggling drunks off the hill. All the patrollers form a line and "encourage" those remaining to head towards the bottom. It can be a frustrating task that puts me in an awkward position. You see, I am not an authoritarian by any means. I don't like having to yell at people. However, my normally long fuse quickly gets shorter when some dork holding a beer bong refuses to accept the fact that the party is over and, more importantly, that I can't drink myself until his incoherent ass is off the hill. We get plenty of dirty looks and lots of belligerence (and an occasional "Thank you"). Ironically, by the end of it, I am so sick of it all that I go straight home, avoiding the after-party, and become what I had earlier despised - a drunk person.

Help Settle A Dispute...

Megan claims that Tito Puente does not rock.
I think he does (or at least he did).
All I know is that I have a bunch of his albums
and I'm certain that I have heard him rock on
more than one occasion.

Have my ears been deceiving me?


My Latest Wardrobe Staple...

People who know me know I'm only slightly more fashionable than your average Communist. I've posted stuff about my lack of style HERE, HERE, and HERE.

The shirt pictured above has become my latest standby. I would guess that 75% of my winter upper-body attire features a quarter-zip collar. Truth be told, I'd prefer a 5/16th-zip collar, but no one seems to carry them.

If You Had To Choose...

Who would you rather have as your guidance counselor...

Mr. Rosso or...

Mr. Mackey?



I said something funny last night that I was going to put on the blog, but now I've forgotten what it was. Actually, it probably wasn't all that funny, but because this blog continues to suck balls, I have to take whatever mildly amusing thing that happens and make the most of it.

Sometimes people tie a string around their finger to help them remember things. In this case, however, the string technique wouldn't have done jack shit because I can remember there was something funny and that it would've been post-able, just not what it was. From now on, whenever anything funny happens, I think I'll write on a Post-It note, fart on it, and staple it to my forehead. That might make for an effective memory aid. I think I owe that to you, the reader.


Blame Splotchy...

He made me do this:

1. Tag one to many persons by doing the name game song on their Blogger name (their first name, if they have one).
2. Tell your tagged, name-gamed bloggers that they will have to continue the Name Game meme, or innocent puppies will be [make up something suitably awful].


Hello, taggees! Please pass this meme on.

If you don't, puppies will be forced to live in a world without kibble!

The only thing preventing this terrible tragedy from being enacted is your continuation of this meme!

The taggees:

Pantaloons, Pantaloons, bo-bantaloons,
Banana-fana fo-fantaloons

Hapabukbuk, Hapabukbuk, bo-bapabukbuk,
Banana-fana fo-fapabukbuk

Catherinette, Catherinette, bo-batherinette,
Banana-fana fo-fatherinette

Procrastinator, Procrastinator, bo-brocrastinator,
Banana-fana fo-frocrastinator

Distributor, Distributor, bo-bistributor,
Banana-fana fo-fistributor

Hey Ladies...

Your grandma called.
She wants to go bra shopping with you.


The Difference Between Men And Women...

Sunday, Megan and I took a walk along the lake.

She wanted to take pretty pictures with her new camera.
I wanted to chuck rocks at loose pieces of ice.


Wait, I Think We Can Fit One More...

This kid really lacks a strong work ethic, don'tcha think?


Grape-Nuts may work well as a cereal,
but it works even better as a nickname
for a guy with small testicles.

Does everyone remember the nicknames I gave them? If any of my newer readers would like me to give them one, leave a request in the comments. Be sure to read the disclaimer first. I can't be held responsible for what pops into my head.

Happy Monday, All!...

I hope you all had a pleasant weekend.

Tonight is the final night of my ski racing season. It's been kind of a mixed bag for me. I started out slow, but once I got the hang of it, I worked my way way up to the top slot on the team by the middle of the season. Then, a few weeks ago I had a pretty spectacular wreck. I was about 3/4 of the way down and hauling ass when I lost track of a gate until it was right in front of me. I hooked my ski and went head first down the hill. Luckily, I didn't injure myself, other than a little ego bruising. As I climbed up to retrieve the ski that came off, I discovered I had completely broken the toe-piece of the binding. After that run, I got nervous and more tentative, so my times suffered. I'm hoping to redeem myself tonight.


Clearing Up Any Confusion...

This is Spock

This is a spork.

I know the differences are subtle, but try to remember, m'kay?

Jim Carrey, Eat Your Heart Out...


For The Record...

Sammy Davis Jr. DID have a glass eye.

It was real and it was spectacular.


Sandy Duncan's Glass Eye...

For as long as I can remember, I have been under the impression that star of stage and screen, Wheat Thins-spokesperson Sandy Duncan had a glass eye. It was just one of those things someone tells you when you're young and you accept it as true. After all, she did have a noticeably lazy eye.

Something just now compelled me to do a Google search for "Sandy Duncan glass eye". How's that for random? I think they mentioned it in a "Family Guy" episode or something. Well, turns out she had a tumor in her left eye, which killed her optic nerve. It's her real eye, but she can't see out of it. She actually sounds like a pretty cool person. She talks shit about Dubya AND Oprah! See for yourselves...


I remember, back when I was in high school, Coca-Cola, in the interest of raising the level of fashion in our country, promoted their own line of Coca-Cola clothing. Thank goodness, too. Prior to this bold move, people were forgetting that Coca-Cola existed and that it was available for purchase.

I'm joking, of course. Product placement on clothing was and still is prevalent. Back in the day, everyone who was anyone had to have an Adidas t-shirt. Nowadays,you can find clothes with just about any corporate logo you want. It is smart business for companies to use people as walking billboards. After all, you pay them to do their advertising! Genius!

There are a few exceptions. Some companies have yet to tap into this lucrative marketing strategy. Here are some that need to get on board or risk being left behind:

Cialis Erectile Dysfunction Medication

Imodium Anti-Diarrheal

Rid-X Septic System Treatment

Massengill Feminine Hygiene Products

I would proudly wear any of these.


Why I'm A Dirty Hippie...

Actually, I keep myself reasonably clean and I probably wouldn't come across as a hippie based on my appearance. I use "dirty hippie" jokingly as a blanket descriptor for anyone with worldviews that piss off conservatives.

Anyway, I was watching another 60 Minutes report about a defense prototype that is basically a ray gun. It provides an effective method of crowd control without permanently injuring anybody. The technology is interesting. If it can prevent more innocent death, I think it's a positive step, provided it isn't misused. What I found curious about the testing in the piece was that they felt the need to stage a mock battle with people posing as peace activists. It just seems odd to me that this would be the logical target of a weapons system like this. It's basically saying that people who want world peace need to be defeated.

It made me think how cool it would be if, some day, the leaders of this world decided to act non-violently towards each other, so that the people who wanted more war were the ones who'd have to march in the streets in protest. They'd be the ones who were marginalized and made to feel unpatriotic. People like us who want to live in a peaceful world would be the ones calling the shots. Wouldn't that be sweet?


I fucking love Euchre.
It is a brilliant game.
It's so simple, yet filled with tons of little nuances and strategies.
One of the things I miss about Chicago is getting together
with friends to play Euchre.
It is one of the few card games I don't mind
teaching people who have never played.


Since It's Monday And Everyone's Already Miserable...

You want to watch something truly disgraceful?
Check out this 60 Minutes story over at Crooks & Liars.
Please forward it to anyone you know who still
can't admit that our current health care system
is inhumane.