Contempt for the World

Retraction

2009-07-17T13:16:00.004-04:00

Two days was all it took to convince me that Twitter is everything it's cracked up to be -- that is, a fucking cesspool of everything I've ever hated, except for perhaps this and this. Writing something legitimately funny and contemptuous in 140 characters or less is almost impossible, and I will not allow CFTW's brilliance to devolve into the very bullshit proscribed in its tenets. CFTW will never twat again. Fuck all of you, seriously.

Twat It Out Far And Wide

2009-07-15T17:31:00.005-04:00

Make no mistake about it; I hate Twitter, and I hate Facebook status updates. Hate. I hate the idea that people who call me "friend" would ever think that I would want, or even deign, to read -- much less enjoy -- the vomit spewing of out these people's keyboards. Nevertheless, in the interest of laziness, CFTW is now on Twitter. It hurts, it really does. However, if you enjoy hearing us complain about shit, well, there you go. I guarantee that, unlike this hellhole of website, we'll update the Twitter more than once every six months.

However, so you may rest somewhat assured, CFTW will not be engaging in typical Twitter tripe. I give you the CFTW Twitter Code of Honor (CFTWTCH, pronounced "cuffed witch"), which currently consists of four tenets (more to come, surely):

1. CFTW promises to never use the noun or verb "tweet," or even to acknowledge its existence. After today. Seriously, Twitter couldn't have promulgated something less, for the lack of better word, fucking gay? The trademark lawyer in us understands that simply using "twitter" is unwise, but fucking "tweet"? What about "twit"? "Twat"? I'm going to use "twat" from now on.

2. CFTW promises to never twat boring shit about our daily routines. This should go without saying. No one cares. Do you care, for instance, that I ate a white peach and some fucking raisins for breakfast? Of course you don't. That's because it is neither interesting or funny. Why do people not understand this? Here is a sample of Facebook status updates from my friends over the past couple of days:

"Got to buy some kitty litter, then off to the gym!"

"Baby's finally asleep -- time to curl of with a nice glass of red wine!"

"Almost shut the door without my keys, but managed to wedge my foot in at the last second. Phew."

"Chinese food then bed."

"Yay Big Brother! Let's see who gets voted out tonight. Bye till then ... lol !"

Fucking ZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

3. CFTW promises to never twat lame quotes from television commercials, songs, or other elements of pop culture without some manner of context. For instance, Duncan twatted on May 17, 2009 at 4:36PM:

"I hanker for a hunk a, a slab, a slice, a chunk a, I hanker for a hunk a cheese."

This line is from an old '80s PSA put out (presumably) by the National Dairy Council, which aired mainly during children's cartoons on ABC, and in which a disgusting amoeba-like creature named "Timer" twangs gratingly about his hankering for cheese. It was annoying then, and more annoying now. But a single viewing is tolerable because it brings back memories. Duncan thought he was being clever by posting this line, hoping that it would evoke nostalgia in his Twitter "followers." Sadly, most people thought Duncan was just hungry, and was expressing his hunger in the most horrible way imaginable. He can only hope that most people will think that he took advantage of 4:20 that afternoon, sucked down a fucking monster blunt, and developed an absurd, Old Western-style craving for some god damned cheese 16 minutes later. I imagine Duncan lost the respect of 24% of his friends and "followers" by virtue of this unfortunate post. CFTW will not make the same mistake.

4. CFTW promises to never use Twitter to twat "hooks," which exist soley to garner attention and prompt inquisitve follow-up twats or comments, such as "Jeremy is sad," or "Kerri is a bit overwhelmed." A classic example of a hook twat from a high school friend on Facebook:

"Andrea just had the most amazing experience."

Oh really, Andrea? Awesome, I might give a flying shit if I knew what the fuck you were talking about. But of course you don't want to just tell us, your narcissitic fat ass needs us to crave ("hanker," if you're Duncan) that information, for us to exhibit a desire to learn about your boring, button-up-sweater-wearing life. Of course, her vapid friends are only too willing to oblige:

Carla: ????????????
Stephanie: OMG? What happened?
Carla: Bun in the oven? ha
Kathryn: I know what it is!!
Kevin: i saw twilight the other day too, and it was actually better than i thought it woould be
Kevin: oh sorry! meant to reply down below
Steve-O: kevin you idiot
Kate: Win the lottery?
Andrea: LOL no! I lost my license and credit card earlier today and someone returned them. It was crazy. My faith in the worlf is restored!"
Kathryn: I was amazed
Carla: Wow!
Carla: Glad you found it!

Satisfied, you social succubus? Do you have some camelesque manner of storing up the attention you receive and living off of it in case the power goes out? We can only hope that you can't release it in a torrent of reverse-narcissim, because a fucking tsunami will pale in comparison. I'm going to head to higher ground just to be on the safe side. Let's hope the worlf survives the explosion.

By the way, "Andrea" and her friends have had their names changes to protect the stupid.

That's all I have, for now. I'm sure I'll think of more shit I hate about twats, at which point I'll let you know. Because I know you want to know. Come on, tell me you want to know. Tell me you care. FEED ME, you fuckers.

It's Like An ATM Machine

2009-07-11T21:56:00.009-04:00

A brief note about a grammar sickness contracted from lawyers and business people.

Incorrect: "Just a quick FYI, I've an ability to see past an initialism to its component words."

Correct: "FYI, Lady Gaga is a disgusting troll."

Excellent.

Internet People Just Like Real Life People: Boring

2008-12-23T01:41:00.007-05:00

In my ongoing attempts to find a mate (yes, I need a mate -- someone I can use to pass on my seed), I have ventured into the world of online dating.

By no means do I consider myself an online dating expert, but I can tell you there are certain things that really piss me off and that you shouldn't do (at least when attempting to contact me). I've spent a fair amount of time updating my online profile and giving people an accurate impression of the type of person I am. Is it too much to expect more than a one-line message when someone contacts me? Here are some classic initial emails:

"I should send you a message? That's the rumor I heard... haha"

"Wow, you're actually a good writer. That's more rare than you think, LOL!"

"You seem funny. Just wanted to say hi."

You're attempting to make yourself stand out and all you can muster is one line? That's pretty pathetic. There were countless other examples but I deleted them from my inbox -- give me a week and I'm sure there will be more.

This particular dating site also has an instant message feature which is great. In theory. The problem is that the majority of people who contact you out of the blue do a terrible job of initiating conversation. All they say is "hey," and then expect you to carry the conversation. That's really fucking interesting, thanks. Wow, you've piqued my interest. "Hey" to you, too. I can tell that this is going to be one crazy roller-coaster ride of a relationship.

Are my expectations really too high?

Photo by The Occasional Mumble

THE JUICE IS LOSE

2008-12-12T15:07:00.006-05:00

I'll make this short. If you graduated from high school, college, or -- Jesus fucking Christ help us -- grad school, and you routinely confuse "lose" and "loose," you are a fucking failure. I don't care what else you've done with your life. You are a failure of near-mythical proportions. Listen to me:

LOSE ≠ LOOSE

Ever. There is no excuse for this. Your life is forfeit. Slit your wrists and drown your children. Just don't slit your wrists first, asshole.

Deposit Your Penis In Your Pants

2008-12-01T16:14:00.016-05:00

The more I notice strange bathroom behavior around work, the more I wonder whether I'm the odd man out. For instance, is it normal to:

(a) buckle your belt/zip up your fly as you exit the bathroom, only finishing halfway through the lobby? The main lobby, the one with clients and prospective clients waiting around?

(b) participate in important client calls via wireless headset -- or sometimes, god help us all, via Bluetooth earpiece -- while at the urinal or on the toilet?

(c) finish up a particularly loud -- almost boisterously loud! -- bowel movement, then make a beeline for the exit without washing your hands, in clear view of others?

I submit that these behaviors are not, in fact, normal. They are deviant. They must be stopped. Thus, please:

(a) deposit your penis back into your pants before exiting the bathroom.

(b) take your phone call in your office. Or in the hall. Or a conference room. Pretty much anywhere but the bathroom would be excellent, thanks.

(c) wash your fucking hands.

Also, if you wouldn't mind, some of you seem to have an unquenchable thirst for "urinal talk." I don't know if you're just nervous because you're holding your dick and some other dude is holding his dick, like, 3 feet away, or if you're just dying to tell me that your Thanksgiving was "all right" and "local, thank god," or whatever, but seriously, I just want to pee. Thanks.

Photo by zsumoz.

You're Making Us Blush

2008-07-24T22:41:00.004-04:00

It appears that an intrepid reporter at The New York Times has picked up on our (somewhat dated) Comcast paranoia. Please excuse the mess around here. Thanks to my friend Bill, who one-ups me by reading real newspapers while I screw around on Gizmodo, for pointing this out.

Yes, I Hate Them Enough To Re-Post

2008-07-16T23:48:00.007-04:00

The only people worse than pedestrians are summertime pedestrians. There's something about the heat, or possibly the humidity, that makes them extra bold. I am compelled to re-post this -- our first post -- to make myself feel better.

What? It's not new? I haven't posted since April? Fuck off. And enjoy:

Stopping at red lights sucks. Stopping at red lights for pedestrians sucks more. There's just something irritating about being held up at an intersection, the traffic lights diverted from their natural red-yellow-green cycle, for 25 seconds just so some fat asshole who lacks the coordination and alacrity to dash across the street, or the patience to just wait until there's a break in the traffic or a predetermined red light, can have the convenience of pushing a button and practically stopping time, wresting dozens of commuting commuters from their peaceful (or frenetic) commute.

I am, of course, just un-sociopathic enough to admit that .06% of the time there exists a poor pedestrian who can't fend for himself, and who needs the warm, white glow of a non-threatening ersatz Caucasian man to guide him safely across the asphalt chasm of a busy roadway. I mean, come on, I'm not so heartless as to insist that such person drag (roll?) his fleshy, Wilford-Brimley-type-2-diabetic body Frogger-style through a maze of cars and trucks (and gators!) to get his insulin on the other side. For this man I will smile
indulgently, checking off my "good deed for the day" on the imaginary checklist where I imaginarily keep track of such silliness.

But there's an another species of pedestrian altogether insidious and who -- and my calculations have confirmed this, using science -- deserves to be run over, caught, and dragged by an eighteen-wheeler until his feet are ground off. This is the asshole who presses the button and stands around impatiently, arms akimbo, and 5 seconds later -- 5 fucking seconds later! -- says to himself, "You know what? Fuck this. I have places to be. I don't have to put up with this goatshit waiting any longer! I have have to get home and walk the dog/make my salon appointment/rape the babysitter!" And with that, he musters every last ounce of courage and crosses the street. One minute later, all of the intersection lights turn red and our friendly albino stickman beckons the infirm with his quiet, benevolent, expectant radiance. But he is disappointed. No diabetics, no retarded children, no Dane Cook fans heed his encouraging display. This desolate presentiment continues for what seems like a fucking eternity, until finally, defeated, our friend is slapped away by the blinking orange native American hand of doom. (Is anyone "orange"? I figure them folks is the closest.)

Meanwhile, the electronic torment described above pales in comparison to my rage. It's one thing to stop for the sick and/or dying. I'll even quietly sit, immobile and annoyed, while some regular goody-two-shoes jerk feels the need to bring the world to a screeching halt so he is 1.0000009784 times more likely to survive his foray into the wilderness of a suburban intersection. But these press-and-plod fuckers who stop us for no reason? These people who lack the conscientiousness to realize that the thoughtless things they do actually effect inconvenience in the world around them?

Periodically I'll catch a glimpse of one of these people rounding a corner, oblivious to my plight and to his prominent role therein. I want to shoot him, but then I'd go to prison, where presumably there exist experiences worse than sitting at a traffic light for an extra 25 seconds. Also, I don't know how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one, so I'd probably end up hurting someone, most likely myself. Instead I content myself in the knowledge that this man's soul is the devil's, and there's a special circle in hell for him where he'll sit in a (flaming) car in a (flaming) intersection where he'll wait and wait for (flaming) goat-demon pedestrians to cross. But the glowing white man will beckon expectantly, brilliantly, ever after.

Traffic light photo: atomicshark; crosswalk button photo: faelchon

Apologies

2008-04-25T17:03:00.003-04:00

It may have come to your attention that people -- and more importantly, I -- no longer appear to post entries to this blog. This is because I've been moving into a new apartment and have had little time to allow my contempt to boil to the surface as words for your visual consumption (and less time to foster similar contempt in my blog-mates). But fear not, dear friends. CFTW will be back shortly, daily, with more ire and less tolerance than ever before. For now, do enjoy this picture of a fat Asian baby in a Kodak EasyShare box.

Supply a Caption for "Bush Sandwich"

2008-04-08T17:06:00.005-04:00

So while most of the free world (and all of the unfree world) counts down to January 20, 2009 (there's contempt in that sentence, so don't challenge me on this post!), here's something fun for us all to pass the time:

Come up with a caption, post it in the comments section and win our respect and admiration! In all seriousness, I can't even begin to imagine the REAL scenario that is going on in this photo.

Things I Love LOL

2008-04-01T13:24:00.010-04:00

Things I love:

Kittens: "I can haz cute-osity??" HAHA ROTFL

Rainbows. SOOOO pretty I want to go to Hawaii to get married someday!

Unicorns. I HEART unicorns especially the sharp horn and realllly fluffy tail!

What do you love?? Tell me in the comments!

CFTW Pic Of The Week

2008-03-31T22:54:00.007-04:00

Proof that at least some U-Haul troubles are the customer's fault. Shot at the intersection of Rt. 2 and the Alewife Brook Parkway in Cambridge, MA (click to enlarge):

"Our low decks make your Move EASIER!"

"Gentle-Ride Van."

"Fuck."

Oh Great, The Red Sox Are On

2008-03-30T17:53:00.007-04:00

I like the Red Sox. Not as much as our esteemed editor, but they are my baseball team of choice, I watch most of their games, and keep up on the latest team news. What I don't like, however, are the really annoying ads that come on during Red Sox games. With the season starting up, I'm once again inundated with these ads from local companies. Few of these ads annoy me more than those brought to us from Sullivan Tire.

Regrettably, I only managed to find one of their ads to subject you to:

This is typical of most of the Sullivan Tire ads. They combine the awkwardness of athletes trying to act, the disheveled owner who apparently has accepted that death is just around the corner, and the cloying incoherence of children. This ad is actually one of Sullivan Tire's better efforts. Generally you would have absolutely no idea what the children say and just sit at home thinking of ways you might be able to murder the ad wizards who came up with this bullshit.

Many local companies ~~thing~~ think it's cute to have their employees' children "act" in commercials. I have breaking news for them -- it isn't, it's infuriating, and no one thinks it's cute except you. Many years ago I told myself that I would not give my business to companies who have annoying television commercials. So congratulations, Sullivan Tire, you're not getting my business. SNAP.

Red, White and Black?

2008-03-26T20:38:00.000-04:00

It may not look like it, but reader beware, this is a soccer post. The U.S. just unveiled their* new away jersey (yes, this is a post about soccer jerseys) and I am not happy at all.

[Ed. Note: I realize that this use of the plural to describe a team seems strange to us readers from the United States. But this is how it works in Europe, and apparently the rest of the universe, when describing sports clubs. I don't get it either, but I'm willing to invoke a little grammatical relativism to allow Alex to speak in his own garbled, semi-European dialect.]

It's bad enough that Nike keeps on releasing new U.S. jerseys every 2 years or so, but what makes it even worse is they keep on making drastic changes to it. In a country where soccer isn't that popular, one would think that they would be somewhat consistent in their branding in order to maybe, you know, increase their brand awareness and have people start to associate a certain jersey with the U.S. national team. I know I'm talking about their away jersey, but their home jerseys have also been inconsistent (and ugly -- except for this one, which I bought).

But here's the new away jersey:

Yup, that's black (O.K., technically it's anthracite) -- because when I think of the U.S., I think of black, not red, white and blue, but black. What is this, some sort of political statement that the U.S. is evil, or that we love oil? Yes it's only a jersey, but I'm pissed.

I've been saying for the longest time that the U.S. should have at least one of their jerseys be red, because that's what Sam's Army (their diehard fans) wear. When you see Brazil play, they wear yellow, and every Brazilian fan wears yellow. Brazil have worn yellow since the dawn of time. The U.S., meanwhile, doesn't think they should remain consistent at all. Here are some of the jerseys the U.S. have used spanning from 1994-present.

A little consistency, please!

Brazil is yellow.

Argentina is ~~disgusting~~ blue and white.

Italy is blue.

Spain is red.

Portugal is ~~a bunch of douchebags~~ burgundy.

The US is ?!?!?!?!!?

The U.S. should have stuck with this red jersey, but apparently they only wanted to use that for one game versus Latvia in Connecticut.

I'm not the only person who thinks this. Let's band together soccer fans and stop this travesty!

Ridiculous Redundancy

2008-03-25T20:14:00.005-04:00

"I need to go to the ATM machine but I don't remember my PIN number!"

If anyone ever says this to you, feel free to ask them if they forgot their "PIN number" because they're a functioning moron. Because, in fact, they are. They may not realize it, but they are.

ATM stands for "Automated Teller Machine" and PIN stands for "Personal Identification Number." So when you say "ATM machine" you're saying "Automated Teller Machine machine" and when you say "PIN number" you're saying "Personal Identification Number number." And you, therefore, are a douchetastical loser.

No, I'm not the first person to call attention to this matter, but since I heard it today at work I felt obliged to remind everyone of these basic rules of living in society. Try not to be a functioning moron and we'll try not to rip you apart on this blog. Deal?

And It Begins!

2008-03-25T11:44:00.005-04:00

Congratulation to the Boston Red Sox, who started the baseball season off on the right foot by knocking around CFTW favorite Huston Street in the Land of the Rising Sun and securing their first win of the season.

What, no contempt? Fear not. A big fuck you goes to Joe Blanton, who started my fantasy season off on the wrong foot with under six innings of 4.76-ERA, 1.41-WHIP ball. I suppose that's what I get for starting pitchers against the home squad.

The Vernal Douchebag

2008-03-24T11:30:00.000-04:00

From the elevator this morning:

Cute Girl: Wow, it's cold! When is spring going to get here?

Douche: Actually, it is spring! The vernal equinox was on March 22.

Cute Girl: Oh, really? Then I feel robbed.

Douche: Yeah, the vernal equinox is on March 22 every year. I remember because it's my birthday!

Cute Girl: Oh, really? Happy Birthday!

Jesus fucking christ. The vernal equinox -- known to people who aren't trying to show off to cute coworkers in elevators as the "spring equinox" or "the first day of spring" -- does not occur on March 22 every year. This year -- and most years, it seems -- spring started on March 20. As far as I can tell, spring has never started on March 22. What a stupid cock.

Talking to Verizon Is A Mute Point

2008-03-23T22:16:00.006-04:00

I don't mean to post two English language-related posts so close together, but I must be heard!

Recently I called Verizon Wireless, my lovely cell phone provider, regarding alternate phone plans and text message packages -- I was going over my minutes allotment and was debating switching to another carrier.

Laura (that was probably her real name -- she didn't sound like someone in a call center from another country trying to sound American so that my customer service experience would be more pleasant) answered the phone, and I could tell from her tone that she wasn't going to the very helpful.

I kindly asked her about what my phone plan options were with Verizon because it looked like I could get a much better plan if I switched to T-Mobile. I was under the impression that my contract was up so I could just switch providers at will. She combatively said, "Well, sir, these are the plans we have, we can't go making up a special plan for you." I was merely inquiring what my options were and she took it as an attack on her personally. She then looked up my account and informed me that I was currently able to get a new phone, but my actual contract expired in June. Empowered with this knowledge she attempted to be smart and said,

"You can't switch providers without paying an early termination fee, so your point about wanting to switch providers is mute."

Yes, that's right, she said mute, not moot -- like the conventional way of saying the expression. I promptly replied, "Yes, my point is indeed mute, thank you for your time -- goodbye."

Photo: DC JwJ

Free Advice: Fuck Off In The Morning

2008-03-20T19:24:00.008-04:00

There are lots of bad things in this world. Rape? Check. Murder? Double check. Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, GoBots? Hahahahah check. Checks all a-fucking-round. But if there's one thing I hate more than all of those things ("he hates something more than rape? He's a monster!" SHUT UP I KNOW), it's getting on the T in the morning and accidentally running into a coworker.

No offense to my coworkers, most of whom are quite pleasant (for LAWYERS, lol!). The problem is that morning T time is my time. It's quiet fucking Josh time, when I listen to music, read a book, and steel myself for a long, arduous, sometimes boring-sometimes stressful work day. That's right, I want to listen to Metric, or Final Fantasy Piano Collections, and read awesome fantasy series, or books about science or poker, or a good novel. I do not want to listen to, or be forced to spout, smalltalk. I assure you, as intrigued as my face looks (and trust me, that sort of contortion hurts), I am not interested in where you're coming from ("Just outside Porter? Cool, cool."), where you went to school, or (jesus fucking christ forbid) what you're "working on right now." Believe me, I know it's "cold outside," I know "the Metro is a terrible newspaper," and I really know (seriously!) that "it's tougher and tougher getting up in the morning."

So please, dear coworkers. If you see me on the T and want to say hi -- despite my obvious attempts to avoid eye contact -- do so. But don't take my rote reply greeting as an invitation to a sit-down god damned morning chit-chat. I'm going to look at this cute kitten to make myself feel better, and I suggest you do the same.

Photo by Gui, o gato.

I Know I'm Hung, But He Was Hanged

2008-03-19T15:04:00.007-04:00

I'm definately not as much of a grammar/vocabulary Nazi as our esteemed editor, but there are a few word misuses that really annoy me. One of particular note is the use of "hung" as the past tense of the method of execution "hanging."

The past tense of the execution is hanged, not hung, you plebians!

Incorrect:

Saddam Hussein was hung on December 30, 2006.

Correct:

Saddam Hussein was hanged on December 30, 2006.

Although modern dictionaries suggest that "hanged" and "hung" are somewhat interchangeable -- that "hanged" is appropriate for "official" executions, and "hung" can be used more informally -- fuck that. The correct sentence means he was executed by hanging on that date. The incorrect sentence means, among other things, that Saddam had a large penis on that date -- maybe he started using Extenze male enhancement products that day and now can satisfy Mrs. Hussein.

Alliteration: Always Awesome, Admirable and Articulate

2008-03-18T15:11:00.006-04:00

I remember being in seventh grade and learning about alliteration. It was touted as a poetic tool and, indeed, you see it in many poems and song lyrics. It was also touted as a hard thing to do well, but I never really saw the difficultly. So to our 20ish subscribers, CFTW writers and random site stumblers, I pose a challenge: in the comments section of this post, write a longer alliterative sentence than the one below and you win a prize!* Of course, the sentence has to make grammatical sense. [Ed. note: He's right. I'm watching you.]

"Twas tough trying to talk through things though tricky tasks to tackle tend to tighten targets through time."

That's a an 18-word sentence. Can you beat it?

* The prize is our admiration, but don't let that stop you from doing it!

RIP With The RROD

2008-03-17T12:07:00.002-04:00

It had to happen sooner or later. Of all the modern video game consoles, the XBOX 360, while awesome, is a well-documented piece of shit. Design flaws based largely on a curious inability to manage the heat produced by the 360's enormous CPU and GPU ensured that an entire generation of gamers experienced the heartbreak of their games freezing, their saves disappearing, and their consoles shutting down entirely.

When a 360 experiences what Microsoft calls "general hardware failure" -- which, presumably, is shorthand for "what do you expect when you hire Chinese toddlers to build complicated game systems?" -- the hapless gamer sees a terrible symbol: the Red Ring of Death. The Red Ring of Death (RROD) -- actually three flashing red lights forming a three-quarter circle around the console's power indicator -- is known to every gamer. It is built into our genetic code. From birth, we recognize the RROD as a symbol of death and destruction:

Today -- March 17, 2008 -- I saw the RROD. My poor 360, which I've owned for over 2 years, finally gasped its last breath. Let's have a moment of silence:

...
...
..

But let us not despair! All is not lost. Microsoft saw the error of its ways (or at least, its potential liability for the error of its ways) and extended all 360 warranties to three years from the date of purchase for all RROD-related failures. I mean, that and I have another XBOX 360 lying around for just such an emergency. But what if I didn't? What then?! Fuck you, Microsoft! Feel the indignation and rage from the me in that alternate dimension where I was left 360-less for over a month!

Photo: Milkham

Revolution!

2008-03-16T18:23:00.008-04:00

Apparently CFTW's esteemed editor thinks that it's ok to take two days off from posting because he turned 30 on Saturday. As not only a loyal writer, but also avid reader, I would like to call him out on skirting his duties.

I propose that fellow CFTW writers join me in a revolution against this megalomaniac and get the voice, power, and respect we rightfully deserve. For too long have we toiled under his corrupt and evil rule.

I will admit that when he campaigned to become CFTW's first president I was enamored by his message of hope, change, and a brighter tomorrow. His campaign speeches offered a fresh perspective and his cunning grasp of the English language made him a much better candidate than yours truly. In the debates against CFTW poster Duncan he showed an amazing breadth of knowledge for any issue that came up, leaving the simpleton Duncan speechless on numerous occasions. The debates were eerily reminiscent of the first John Kerry vs. George Bush debate, and Josh looked like John F. Kennedy while Duncan came across as a sickly looking Richard Nixon.

This wave of euphoria was shortly lived. After being elected Josh quickly implemented Franco-esque rule. He mandated posting days for Duncan and myself, clearly punishing us as he viewed us as a threat to his power. Being bogged down with the bureaucracy of posting has prevented us from providing checks and balances to his dictatorial rule.

The situation has worsened with Josh clearly suffering from dementia relating to his advanced age. I would say we should depose him through governmental means, but I fear that his control over the CFTW military is too strong.

Meet me behind the CFTW office at 5pm on Monday and we can work together to end this. Punch and pie will be served.

G Call Bulkshit!

2008-03-13T23:20:00.001-04:00

You know what completely sucks? The predictive text software on my Verizon RAZR V3m phone. Predictive text is useful only if it successfully, you know, predicts what you're trying to type on your ridiculous 12-button keypad. In this, my RAZR constantly disappoints.

Of course, it's unreasonable to think that any software will predict your intended text out of the box. Thus, modern predictive text software "learns" your preferred words for a given series of button presses. It "figures out" when it has suggested something silly, and promptly "forgets" that suggestion when you correct it.

Sadly, my phone is retarded. It suggests insane, nonsensical letter strings instead of words, and continues to suggests them even after I've angrily corrected it. Seriously! I just tried to type "This fucking game is complete bullshit." Instead, I got:

This game is complete bulkshit.

What? What the fuck is "bulkshit"? I swear, I've been correcting this mistake for two years now! I just tried "I'm going to throw this phone in a fucking lake" and got:

I'm going ve throw this phone in c fucking lake.

And "What did I do to deserve this?":

What did g do to deserve this?

Yes, that's right, I meant to use the letter "g" there. That makes complete fucking sense.

Jean-Claude Van Damme Is No Steven Seagal

2008-03-12T18:37:00.012-04:00

Anyone who even remotely knows me is aware of my love of terrible action movies -- for instance, I spent Sunday watching Under Siege 2: Dark Territory, and one of my favorite movies is Total Recall!

For some reason I'm just drawn to every awful movie starring Steven Seagal, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone (I still need to see the new Rambo!), etc. I know they don't make good movies, the overall awful quality of their movies is just hilariously brilliant.

Watching Steven Seagal get fatter and fatter over time combined with the diminishing quality of the films and the fact that he's now just doing straight-to-dvd or cable tv movies is just classic. Yet, Seagal still apparently takes himself very seriously. Whether he's making a movie decrying pollution and defending Native Americans in On Deadly Ground (or Fire Down Below, or The Patriot) or releasing a blues cd, or developing his own energy drink (I have some in my room if you'd like to try it out -- and if you're a hot chick). If you have a chance to read the book Fraud there's a hilarious chapter on the author attending a new age meditation session led by the mighty Steven Seagal.

So while Seagal branches out in various media and businesses, Jean-Claude Van Damme continues to make movies. Van Damme's latest movie however, appears to be a stroke of genius! Clearly not taking himself too seriously, he has embraced his life as an old, washed up, action movie star who has had his share of off-screen problems. With all this in mind, I present to you the trailer for his next movie:

Genius, absolute genius. Of course, I should note that Van Damme appears to have had nothing do with writing or directing this promising film. But he's starring in it, and with a sense of humor. I can't wait.