Good Lord. Could one of you at least dust while I’m gone? This place is a wreck. If anyone wants to find out where to go for online roulette, see any page of my comments section. Same goes for watches, various kinds of porn, and a lot of lonely people’s thoughts.

This is my busy season, so back off, bitches. I’ve been drawing like a guy with a pencil and a disorder. I’d post pics, but I think some of them are Christmas gifts. Ruining someone else’s Christmas is a great way to ruin your own. I’ve done it before, so I know.

I’ve also been battling the 24-hour Mesothelioma.

Why did I pick today to write? To start with, it was only a matter of time before someone was appointed to come to my house and ask me personally what was going on. Also, my latest project was finished today, so I can do something I enjoy for a change. I’ve been learning how to use Flash 8. Several of you may know it as the most tedious animation software package in the universe. I got Flash 8 because it boasted an “easier to use timeline” among other things. And I am more sane than Tom Cruise.

Other things in the news- Blog poetry still sucks. Okay, you got me- All poetry still sucks, but blogger poetry sucks better.

Excerpt-

I’ll remember our time,
vividly, fondly…
Your face,
the way your hair shimmered olive green,
your scent as I lie ever so close to you,
and your lips,
I have tasted heaven within you…
With a flutter of an eyelid,
a wave? You fade away.

I hope whoever wrote this is being eaten by carnivorous hornets somewhere.

Poetry is sort of like any other form of art- anyone can try it and some even convince themselves that they are good at it. It’s easy, because it’s all subjective. No one has a book definition of “good art”. Critics base their opinions on art movements and knowledge of art history. People start mimicking things that have already been done, and oooh… lookie…it shows an understanding of 18th century post indo-reconceptualism. I bet the guy who started the post indo-reconceptualism movement had no idea it existed- that’s how movements get started. That and Metamucil.

iSue-

I am in the process of starting a podcast and am actually making efforts to that end- trying to figure out a format, deciding what kind and how many cigarettes I will have to smoke to make my voice sound like that of a dude, getting the “studio” set up, and so on. Searching for information on syndication, I happened upon a class action lawsuit about the iPod Nano.

Since that is my iPod of choice, I went to check and see if they caused gonorrhea or something, and found the basis of the suit to be something much more sinister. People are suing Apple because their iPod Nano scratches easily.

Okay, will everyone who doesn’t already think that frivolous lawsuits have gone too far please stand up and come over to where the rest of us are. Once the beatings have subsided, we will count you as one of our own.

I guess these people thought that iPods were made from a special iOnomer that somehow wouldn’t scratch when you throw it in your pocket with your keys. It is made of plastic. How do you sue someone for “a marginally less enjoyable music experience from an impossibly small device”?

Let’s play “Dusty is the Judge”

“What is the plaintiff’s complaint?”
“Um…I bought this iPod…and the face got scratched. Now my friends laugh at me.”
“Actually your friends laugh at you because you skate to work on purple rollerblades, you fannybandit. Bring me the iPod.”

Here’s the part where I would smash it with my gavel, disbar his lawyer, and fine each of them several million dollars for wasting the state’s time.

STAPPFLASH (thanks to a reader by the name of Janiszewski for alerting me to this)-

Scott “I hate this guy so fucking much it makes me piss blood” Stapp got himself into a bit of a rumble on Thanksgiving. It seems that the Stappster was at a hotel in Baltimore over the holidays, drinking heavily for Jesus and being thankful that he is good looking enough to completely lack skill and still be rich. In the hotel bar by himself (no matter how hot of a non-rockstar you are, you have to be cool to have friends. Give Fred Durst a call for more details), he ran into two guys from 311 and started a little smack talking. He claims 311 started it, but the only thing a stoner ever started was another joint, so that’s crap. The story says he made an inappropriate remark about one of their wives.

In a random conversation the other day, some friends and I posed the question- as a grown man with a lot to lose, what would it take to get you into a physical fight, aside from self-defense? We all agreed that no one could say anything to us that would make us throw a punch, but we also agreed that if some douchebag was insulting or physically assaulting one of our wives or girlfriends, all four of us would go Chuck Liddell on him until he crapped himself. I’d bet that’s a pretty standard mindset among men- even pot smoking men.

Anyway, things get heated and 311 probably made some comments about how at least they don’t suck, and in the funniest sentence I have ever read in print, Cap’n Stapp stands defiantly in front of the television screen that they were watching, fists on hips, and proclaims-

“311, I am ready to fight.”

That is verbatim from several news stories. See for yourself.

If that’s not the title of 311’s next album, I don’t want to live anymore. He addressed them as “311”. Was that to make sure that he wanted to fight the band and not the individual members so they wouldn’t take it personally? He also said “ready to fight”, which I find absurd and kind of cute on an “I’ve-never-been-in-a-fight-and-I-guess- you-start-one-by-proclaiming-your-readiness-to-do-so” sort of way. Even if he had been grabbing my girlfriend’s blouseclowns and I had a baseball bat in my hand, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to hit him with it after he said something that funny.

Some best and worsts of note-

Worst holiday advertisement- Overstock.com. If the sticky-sweet gushy spokeschick in all of their other commercials hasn’t already annoyed you to the point of punching a kitten, prepare yourself for a 30 second trip to the eleventh ring of hell where she dresses in a fur coat and sings Christmas songs (cleverly re-written to include lyrics about buying stuff on line) while clapping gaily to the rhythm. Actual anger.

Best show presently on television- Random 1. The only kind of welfare I will ever believe in- helping those who will help themselves. Also proof that most people’s lives suck because of the choices they make for themselves (yes, I said most, not all, and abusing drugs is a choice), and even after someone takes the time to give them what they say they need to get ahead they will continue to make those choices. There are a lot of encouraging episodes that will make you cry, but you also hear plenty of this kind of stuff-

“Hey, jobless recovering drug addict guy, we got you a free liver transplant and an interview with Xcorp so you can afford to feed your kids and get your gout treated.”
“Oh. Well…Listen guys, my boyfriend/girlfriend/pint of bourbon isn’t going to let me go.”

Sorry, but if you get a chance like that to turn your life around and don’t take it, maybe the gutter is too good a place for you to die. The rest of us have to make our own changes.

Best Movie- The Journey. Atlanta’s own Eric Saperston went on a road trip and asked some of the most important, successful, influential people in America to give advice to the next generation. After seeing that movie, I can say (with a straight face) “Henry Winkler is the man.” And prove it.

Worst food- Maybe I am spoiled by living near a lot of good restaurants, but with very few exceptions, any restaurant whose name ends with ‘s sucks. Be it Chili’s, Applebee’s O’chunky’s, Malarkey’s, Friday’s, or Saturday’s- Putting a piece of processed cheese on a chicken breast, covering it with French dressing, and naming it
”Olde Riviera Lodgehouse Fowl” does not constitute eatin’ good in the neighborhood.

Best letter ever written- this one.

Worst song (possibly ever written, with the exception of anything by Nickelback)- That lady lumps song. You know the one- makes you want to set your face on fire and beat it out with a toilet brush? Yeah.

Best year so far- 2005. I may or may not post again before the New Year, so I just wanted to get that on record. 2006 is going to rule.

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