Kamikaze Earth

Rondo on the GOP Debates...

2012-02-27T16:43:00.002-08:00

Guest Blogger
Rondo “Rowdy” Rolooski

What’s up pussyfarts, it’s the big dog, the mutherf**kin King, bustin balls, cherry’s and skulls 24/7 eight days a week.

I don’t know what a blog is, the little weakling that asked me to do this says it’s an electric newspaper for poor jerks who can’t get a quarter from they momma’s.

So, you wan’t to know in your head what Rondo thinks about things? You sure? There is some dark sh*t up there, some real apocalypse, human centipede type sh*t. OK if you want it you got it! I’ll tell you, after this shot.

This country is in a sorry a** state. We got these losers wetting their panties on Wall Street bothering real Americans, jobless f**ks. Yeah so what I get an unemployment check, and sued my company for 80 grand, I tore my damn ankle meat on a faulty grate, I may never dance again, haha ,blow it.

Too many commies running around doing too much thinking and not enough blowing me. I’d like to play baseball with their mushy little heads. Taking money out of MY pocket.

As a Christian and a ex-convict, I walk a fine line. Jesus is my savior, but I’ll still rip your arms off and play drums with them. That's whats going on brother, and if you kill me, my brother Dirthole will come for you--he don't sleep.

What? The Gee Opie? I don’t watch those crusty old shows, I got a flat screen. I watch transformers and sh*t, I ain’t no gay. Oh the presidents debating? Yeah those guys are alright! Get that Obama out and ship him off to Siberia, he’s trying to do a bunch of commie stuff. And it aint a black thing, so don’t even go there on Rondo, I am down with the colored folk, I think that Herman Cain is a smart man...like scientist smart.

I don’t like that little girl Ron Paul either flailing his little girl wrists and crying about liberty. We GOT liberty, I can go to McDonalds right now and eat whatever the sh*t I wan't, what more do you want? And what’s this business about ending war. What the f*ck does he expect us to play on our flat screens? Modern Peaceful Knitting 3? BULL, I got 2 kids and I aint paying for no gay commie college, they are going to fight somewhere, I don’t care if I gotta drop them off in the damn desert myself, I wan’t hero kids not little sorry asses condensing me with their words.

I do like that Rick Perry, now that’s mans a genius, he reminds me of my buddy Davermeister. He talks to Rondo’s soul, and I bet he could kill a man with a poolstick, mater o’ fact, bet he has.

(Davermeister)

I think him and John Cena should run together, and put the smack down. Maybe the Big Show, that dude would definitely start some good wars! Support our Troops you little sh*tbags!

New GOP Front-Runner Emerges: Ivor the Unfeeling

2012-02-27T15:08:00.004-08:00

With Romney and Santorum in a dead heat for the Michigan republican primary, and Gingrich waddling closely behind, it had finally seemed that no more late entry candidates would spring up.

That was, until Ivor the Unfeeling threw his hat into the race this week.

Ivor's PR department stated thursday: "Ivor is a beast of unquenchable blood lust, he is fueled by hatred of all life and will stop at nothing to raze the land until nothing stands but burnt and twisted ruins."

This sparked a firestorm of conservative interest in the "Washington Outsider."

Governor Chris Christie has already given Ivor his support, stating: "This is a good malook, he's not some slick Washington politician, far as I'm told he was put together with pieces of corpses and filled with animal organs, than he he was brought to life with a necromatic ritual. This guys the real deal, with conservative ideals."

Ivor, who was cast into a river by angered townsfolk during the early century--a lead weight attached to his ankle and a crucifix jammed into his ape heart--after he ruthlessly devoured several children and set fire to a local kitten hospital, was recently resurrected by renowned satanist Theodore Vigorus, who was ripped to shreds by the rampaging behemoth moments after he roused him from his tormented slumber.

"It's clear this is a no-nonsense candidate for the presidency," said Right-wing pundit Bill O'reilly, "the liberal media wont give him a chance because he doesn't cater to their socialist agenda, he scares them, he is very much like Lincoln."

Ivor has killed several people and was last seen terrorizing the town of Gillsmore Indiana, decapitating five residents, whos heads are still missing.

"Look, he's not perfect, but he's the best we got right now, sure he's not a good speaker, but we tried that, what we need is a conservative who is not afraid to get his hands dirty and bring back conservative values." Said Martha Jenners of Gillsmore, shortly before Ivor punched through her sternum and ate her.

(Ivor's supporters seen here)

Opponents of Ivor, such as liberal monster hunter Checkov Demitri, dispute Ivor's ability to lead, saying, "he is an abomination of great horror, he can only be killed by a bullet soaked in the tears of a dolphin, he is the bane of all that is good."

Which many republicans think is just what this country needs right now. Ivor's superpac has already generated 2.5 million dollars and proves to be a force to be reckoned with in the upcoming debates.

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Is Being This Guy Keeping You From Being Mr. Right?

2012-02-23T13:28:00.002-08:00

By: Sean C. Wright

Are you or someone you know often sans female company, even though you’re the nicest of guys? Maybe, just maybe, you or your friends are one of these guys at one time or another. . .

Mr. Unrequited Love. It’s clearly obvious to everyone else that the objects of Mr. UL’s affections are uninterested. Nonsense, Mr. UL rationalizes; women’s rejections are simply code for men to try harder. Thus he spends crazy, uncalled for amounts of time brainstorming ideas to win over elusive women. Even his cronies’ wise and direct counsel, “Dude, she’s just not in to you!” doesn’t faze him. In more extreme cases, Mr. UL isn’t sobered to the fact his crush doesn’t have mutual feelings until she marries another man, or has slapped him with a restraining order. (Whoa!) In turn, he ignores attention other women give him; they never seem to be his type.

Mr. Unicorn Chaser. Mr. UC is Mr. Unrequited Love’s cousin, as he too is chasing a fantasy. He searches in vain for that woman who will live up to the airbrushed images of actresses or models. Mr. UC’s dating history is littered with women he broke up with when he discovered they had cellulite, a pimple, or some other imperfection. It’s too painful and way too boring to believe that celebrity women have ginormous help in the looks department with a team of hair and makeup artists, filtered lights and personal trainers. So he chooses not to; so he keeps searching. . .and searching.

Mr. Spread Too Thin. Mr. STT gets major brownie points for his full life and heart of gold. He works late when asked to at the last minute, may be a Cub Scout troop leader, volunteers at soup kitchens, helps his friends move, and house sits for his cousin. But for the woman he dates, it can mean his being habitually late, or cancelling altogether because “something came up.” Sadly, Mr. STT is often left shaking his head after he’s been dumped for the fifty-eleventh time, puzzled as to why he keeps meeting women who aren’t more flexible. And why, he also wonders, do women get so annoyed when you tell them you’ll pencil them in on your calendar?

No worries if you recognized yourself or friends in the descriptions above. Taking the first step to improvement starts with admitting to past mistakes. After you figure out how you keep screwing up with women, figure out why. Take a break from the dating game until then. And one thing – the most important thing -- the three aforementioned types have in common is they’ve taken all the fun out of dating. Don’t forget to have fun out there.

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We make the laws, we don't follow them..

2012-02-21T17:27:00.001-08:00

Congress. Just hearing the word makes me feel sluggish and tired. What great echelon of the learned society, where justice is blindfolded and thrust into a labyrinth of greed, spun in a circle by avarice, and then covered in a net of bureaucracy and kicked in the ass.

Lately people are getting more and more disgusted with Congress and their criminal behavior. Forget that these people get paid for life for work they never really did when they were even employed. Forget that they actually vote on their own raises. Forget that while they squabble over healthcare (something they all have, and very good policies at that) a family sells their home to pay for their daughter's chemotherapy. Forget all that, if you can.

Congress now doesn't know what the word "law" means.

That's right, "law," has lost all meaning to the branch of government that is solely in charge of creating them. Recently, it hit all over the news that members of Congress were making astonishing profits on a criminal act known as 'insider trading'. This is the same crime that we see countless ceo's of hedge funds being dragged off to prison for 500 years for, and one of the only things Wallstreet is apparently NOT allowed to do.

But Congress is pulling a Bill Clinton. When asked what "political intelligence," (which is a fancy name for people who use congressional acts for insider trading) the disinguished members drew a complete blank. I mean, what does it even mean to make money off trading on the knowledge you could only acquire from being a inside of congress? Its far too an abstract concept to even attempt to attach words too. In fact, we should all just give up and assume it's good ol' American's making some bucks on the side.

And hell, why shouldn't our members of Congress moonlight from their shitty day jobs? I mean, besides moonlighting as whores for the lobbyists, those Goldman Sachs boys only come around so often, and the drug companies just send instructions now, hardly ever remember to paperclip a few million to them.

So apparently what Congress is trying to say is that some laws don't apply to them. When a resolution was offered up to them to at least make these "political intelligence" swine transparent to the public just as lobbyists are supposed to be, which would accomplish very little besides show a little bit of humility to the public, Congress's balls grew twice the size and they voted that measure down!

Yes Boner, (Boehner?) whatever, Boner and pals are not about to stop making the big bucks all because of some pesky "law,"--whatever that even means. But what is truly sickening about this all, is that in the late 70's, when Asbestos was deemed 'cancer causing', many members of Congress cashed in big on the knowledge that laws would be passed--by them--to make asbestos installation illegal.

So if you can forget all the shitty things congress does, you might as well throw that on the pile: cashing in on Cancer causing asbestos. Seems low, even for them...

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The Drunken Artist Sham

2012-02-16T13:04:00.001-08:00

(inspiration)

The drunken writer. Hemingway, Joyce, Bukowski, Thompson, Poe—and too many others to list—lived, writhed, and wrote in a boiling stew of booze. The romantic illusion is that they wrote in this haze, and maybe they did; that their poetic flow of words peaked on the grossest of benders.

The drunken writers I have met--who put most of the emphasis on the drunken part—are of the same stock as aspiring and established rock stars alike. They exude the machismo invincibility in public, an image devoid of any self-preservation, but are just as vincible to the poisons and pains of any flesh-and-bone person.

The heaviest of drinkers still swirl and puke and get splitting headaches just like anyone. They get shooting pains in their sides and sometimes vicious ulcers. Sometimes they just don’t wake up. As it turns out, nobody’s organs are that much different from another’s. Sure the Volvo or the Kawasaki can take a harder beating, but you beat it long enough, it dies just the same.

It’s so tempting to fall in love with the stumbling, drunk, fist-clenched artist. It’s also so easy to give your life up to it. A few hard nights at the bar and your liver gets a little more used to getting pummeled. You become what you dreamed of being, without the money, credentials, and did I mention, the money?

Hemingway spoke over seven languages, Thompson achieved a doctorate in Journalism, Poe studied for years and went to West Point. These were things not achieved in sweaty, boozed-out, sloppiness. These were talents that came before the boozing. Things that didn’t come before the boozing are far more telling to my point: Hemingway: shot himself. Thompson: shot himself. Poe: Died screaming delirious in the street in someone else’s clothes, his last words: “lord help my poor soul.”

(Less Inspiring..)

Faulkner, Hemingway, and the Fiztgeralds were the 1920's equivilents of Linsdey Lohan or Paris Hilton. Their legacy of inebriation spanned the globe. In the end Hemingway taunted his friends about their declines, but also had a nervous fixation about his own liver damage, which, according to George Plimpton, "Pertruded like a long fat leach." And the fact of the matter is that all three men declined at 40 and seemed to hit a literary wall where they were thuroughly melencholy and depressing.

What about the grand drunk of them all? Bukowski? Oh well, his liver held out and leukemia got him--lucky dog. He’s one of the rare exceptions that propagandist drunks love to throw in your face, that he made it to a less than pitiful end. Or they argue that suicide after a lengthy time of having sharp pains in your sleep, or being nauseated for half your life, is a noble and aspiring end for an artist. They want to keep their image alive, just like that strugling rock star that pounds Jager then goes home and secretly vomits till the sun comes up with welling tears.

And if you need to be shit-faced to be creative isn’t that kind of a copout in it’s own right? Not that it’s been proven that anything of note has been written while wasted that couldn’t of been written just as good in a clear state of thinking. I have no doubt that Keysey could of wrote something just as profound if not better than One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in such a clear state, and if he couldn't, than who was really doing the writing? Keysey or the drugs?

So you get lucid. You get loose. You start losing inhibitions. All things you can learn without altering your mind-state with the automatic copout of drugs and booze. In fact, most of these legendary authors learned it way before they picked up a drink. In other words, inspiration and art does not come in a can or a bottle--for any art form.

I’m not preaching against drinking, if that’s what you want to do, than good luck to you. But I’ve watched enough artists die in my short time on this planet from putting their bodies through hell to achieve some “effect.” And for every one artist that has become significant in his or her field, there are countless hordes of disheveled, sad people.

And then there is the correlation between what type of mind gravitates towards writing in the first place. Writing is creation and fantasy, not a great leap from booze and drugs, the handheld fantasy creator.

According to Donald Goodwin in his book “Alcohol and the Writer”:
Writing involves fantasy; alcohol promotes fantasy. Writing requires self-confidence; alcohol bolsters confidence. Writing is lonely work; alcohol assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration; alcohol relaxes.

Artists today are becoming more aware of the falsehoods of an addicted lifestyle, and that clarity in place of haze can create beautiful things, without treating your body like a snot rag. Yes we all die from something, but are the sore throats from chain-smoking in loud obnoxious drunk rooms waiting for something to fail in your body--that you can't pay for--worth it? When your teeth are rotting out from lack of caring, and you're getting yet another noise complaint, art? Or is it just obnoxious. I guess there is a fine line there.

(uninspiring..)

"An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools." – Hemingway-

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Saint Jobs

2012-02-09T23:52:00.000-08:00

Steve Jobs. The turtle-neck-wearing dork-god of capitalism. The symbol of American ingenuity and all that is good and pure of this world. The inventor of the most beloved and worshiped company of all time, a juggernaut of profit and adoration: Apple. A real rags (well maybe not rags...) to riches story that the Right love to throw into our faces to teach us that we should just all shut up and keep on being wage slaves until that magical day when we are all suddenly transformed into millionaires, sometime even before our deaths.

But does Steve Jobs deserve all this god-like adoration? Was he truly the man of values and integrity? Who actually makes the iPhone?

The answer to that question (if you ever stopped shopping for app's long enough to ask it) is Foxconn.

Recently CNN and other news organizations stumbled across something you would think is pretty obvious: that the Ipads were being assembled by Chinese workers in a dank factory under horrible inhumane working conditions. What a shock.

The conditions are bad, some are working 60 hours a week, sometimes more, and sometimes in shifts of 35 hours straight (where in one case a man dropped dead).

Another problem is suicide. I mean we all have been at jobs where people are killing themselves right and left because it's THAT awful right? No? Oh...well then. All told, at least 15 employees have committed suicide (and who knows how many more who have been swept under the rug). The Factory has even gone so far as to install nets to catch suicidal jumpers outside the windows.

(the happy place)

It's this whole mindset, this aura of responsibility that Apple users seem to exude, while they sip the latest jungle tea at Panera bread and work on their blogs about saving the endangered pygmy Panda or something, with their clean little sanitized work space and enough smugness to choke Donald Trump.

Even though the thing they are sitting there using is assembled by exhausted, hungry, exploited people, who, even after 50 years of work will never see an Ipad beyond it's small electronic components.

And it's not like Apple could not EASILY make conditions better in these plants, or better yet, move the plants here (I know, I know, they would if Obama was not so unfair to business), Apple has more money then they know what to do with, it's bursting out of their pockets and not only could they move every factory here and pay the workers a reasonable amount (with safe and happy conditions) it would barely cause a BLIP on their profit margins.

The fact is, Jobs knew where his plants were and I'm pretty sure he had an idea of what went on there. He was no saint, simply a clever businessman. For all his Animal Rights positions and charity and his humanitarian Image, he could not create reasonable work conditions in his factories (which by the way, should of been in the country that made him rich, no?)

The company has even admitted to knowing about these conditions for years, dispelling any theory that Steve Jobs was somehow "ignorant" to what was happening at the base level of production within his own company. Their defense? "The system works for us." There is some business ethics, if it works, why change it? This mindset was a key one for the south during the turbelent times of slavery as well.

The argument that, "well they are Chinese, at least we are offering them a better life, they don't have to work there," does not make it right to treat people like animals, sorry Joe America.

The truth of the matter is, with all the posturing and phony morality, the American public could care less if their Ipads were made from melted baby bones--long as the babies weren't from animals, Animals are far more important to Apple users than Chinese people. There is no force, not god or nature, that will make them think that Apple (as well as Jobs) is anything but infallible in their practices.

Not to say that Bill Gates is any better. Foxconn also makes some of the Xbox 360's, and last month the workers threatened a "mass suicide" if working conditions and wages were not brought up to a reasonable standard.

So in light of all this can we stop this feverish worship of Steve Jobs? Yes he invented some nifty gizmo's; he also turned our entire culture into comercial whores for those gizmos. The Iphone has done more damage to the human conversation than racism. Everywhere you go people are plunged into some apple product like it is the doorway to Shangralah. Every Apple user that reads this will no doubt be appalled that I would dare question the sanctity of their godly company, and they will lash out for one simple reason they will never admit too: they just really like their gizmos.

(The real face behind "American Ingenuity")

The main thing Jobs did was make money for his shareholders. That is hardly a saintly pursuit. Ask yourself this simple question iPad users. If you found out tomorrow, that your iPad had caused a suicide in its creation, would you even pause for a second to give a shit?

No. And neither would Jobs. So enough with this Saint business. Job's net worth upon death was close to 8.3 billion dollars. This is more than every worker in the factory will make in their entire lives combined. Not counting the ones that will inevitably kill themselves because they see no hope. Think Different!

(I'm progressive!)

Insiders Look: Incomprehensible

2012-02-08T23:49:00.001-08:00

ABC's latest project, Incomprehensible. A show so deeply complex it will take a small miracle for you to follow it even for the shortest amount of time.

Spring is almost here and with it a new crop of powerhouse dramas. One show that is already getting a lot of buzz is ABC's new show, Incomprehensible. This brooding drama is set in a mysterious Mayan archaeological site, where a recent dig has found something...incomprehensible. It doesn't take long for the Juggernaut corporation NowTech, headed by veteran actor "that black guy from the Allstate commercials," who plays Charles Stoneworth.

(Yeah that guy)

Leading this powerhouse cast is Lena Headey of 300 fame, who plays a strong-minded and stubborn journalist Jess Mayer, who will do whatever it takes to get the real story, and no man will stop her.

(Lena seen here, refuting someones advances)

Matthew Lillard plays a headstrong archaeologist Travis Rivers, who has his reservations on whether the dig should continue or the sacred land should be given back to the local tribesman who have become aggressive in protest. He is shocked by the corporate greed of Stone, and by just about everything else.

Sandra Oh reprises her roll as a "overly concerned spiritual Asian," once again, and has strong psychic premonitions with what she calls, "the far in between land." And she may be right, as strange weather phenomena, disappearances, strange behavior, and all kinds of other weirdness take over the strange island. She also has a tough time trusting men or getting close to anyone ever since a strange relationship she will not talk about.

Making her debut is Lacy Applesauce (we are still checking on the last name), who plays a spunky gothemopunk with a lot of sass and plenty of 'tude'. Her character, Cherry Lace, a rocket scientist who speaks 30 languages and listens to the Ramones, is suffering from multiple personality syndrome, and there are hints of deep sexual regression. She doesn't trust men, at all.

(this is the only relevant picture we could find, sorry)

I sat down with the actors, and Executive Producer J.B Harrow to talk about this groundbreaking new show.

KE: Thank you for joining me, it's great to have you all here.

(Din of noise)

KE: Tell me about Incomprehensible.

Harrow: Incomprehensible is a project that me and the writers have been working on for weeks now. It's really a story about courage and mystery. The lead character Jess has arived at the island and imediately meets Travis, and their personalities clash pretty hard.

Lillard: More like colide!

(laughter)

KE: Well I do think those things mean the same thing, but continue..

Harrow: So yeah, there is some tension there between the two.

KE: Lena, tell me about your character Jess.

Headey: Ha, well, she is a badass chick who gets what she wants. She really is a deeply fascinating character and it's been a blast playing her. She doesn't really trust men and she has a really tough time getting close to people. We have really briliant writers.

KE: Who's this goofy guy over here?

Archibal: Geofrey Archibald, at your service (falls off of stool).

(laughter)

KE: Are you alright?

Archibal: Indeed sir, I intended that fall, I'm afraid I have not gotten used to breaking character!

KE: And who is your character?

Archibal: Randolph Pennywinkle, a clumsy British Biologist who has inexplicably been sent to do research at the archeaology site.

KE: And who are you in love with.

Harrow: We haven't really drawn that far ahead in the story.

KE: It's going to be that chick isn't it? (gesturing towards applesauce)

Harrow: You will have to wait and see!

KE: Ok, well while were on the subject, Applesauce, thats a rather unusual name, how did you come across that?

Applesauce: I didn't, my name is Appelasuce, it's French. (looks mad)

Harrow: Applesauce tested better with viewers.

KE: OK...so tell us about your character.

Applesauce: I play Cherry Lace, I'm sort of a prodigy with science and stuff. Also she brings a lot of flair and personality to the set. She is pretty complex too, she is very dark and brooding.

KE: Of course she is. Now Sandra you have been awful quiet over there, what's your take on all this?

Oh: I really enjoy working with J.B and this wonderful cast. It is really a blessing to wake up everyday and work with such amazing beautiful people. Everything is just so wonderfully amazing.

KE: And what about Incomprehensible, what is the show about to you?

Oh: Well, it's really complex and layered, the actors are not allowed scripts so we are really thrown into this confusing world, and we really have no clue what is coming next.

Harrow: I don't even get a script and I'm directing it!

KE: Sounds strenuous, for everyone.

Harrow: We work very hard.

Lillard: That's true, and we put in the labor.

(Archibald falls out of stool)

KE: Jesus are you OK? You really took that one on the face...

Archibald: Never better chum! All part of the show!

KE: But you do realize this isn't televised, you really don't need to hurt yourself for my benefit. Anyway, I still have no clue what this show is about really, does anyone know?

Harrow: The show puts forth a lot of questions, many of which will be answered in later seasons, and some not at all. The writers really wanted a spontaneous feel to the story. Unlike other shows that follow some strict rules like plot and substance, we like to take the viewer on a bumpy ride with twists and turns until they are so dizzy they don't know what to think.

KE: Kinda like falling down a flight of stairs.

Harrow: Almost exactly like it.

Applesauce: I get to wear a big bow.

KE: Well I want to thank you for sitting down with me, or in Geoffreys case, trying to sit and failing miserably.

Check out, Incomrehensible's world premier on ABC, following: Traitors, a show about fast-talking counter-terrorist operatives.

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Greetings from River City!

2012-02-08T06:24:00.002-08:00

Hey hepcats, it’s your number one bruiser from River City, Alex! You may remember reading about me in the papers after me and my best pal Ryan single handedly defeated all the gangs in the city and rescued his girlfriend from that a-hole "Slick".

But things have gotten bad in my once beloved hometown, gone are the days of constant muggings and theft.

Those were good times...if you were short a few bucks, all you had to do was step out on the streets, grab a trash can, and beat the change out of some poor sap. And if you couldn't find a trash can, you could pick up your best bud, and throw him at some Johnny-come-lightly and he'd spit out cash like an ATM, then you would go spend the rest of your day eating flapjacks and reading comic books.

But then the damn recession hit, and suddenly none of these chumps have any bread on them. I threw a pair of brass knuckles at a guy the other day and nothing came out of him! Sure he puked and his eyes bulged out comically, but that’s hardly worth the effort, how am I supposed to pay for my education?

It doesn't help that "Slick" found Jesus and goes by "James" now, or that Ryan has a bunch of snot-nosed kids running his life. It’s just not the same. I'm getting fat and the kids now all have cars and call me "Fat Fonze" and throw garbage at me. On top of all this Ryan's wife (Who I saved by jump kicking Slick off a flight of stairs after he kidnapped!) is bitchin' at me to get off the couch and find my own place, it was my damn change that paid for that couch!

The last time I went to go beat up kids outside the high school I was arrested! I didn't even know this town had a police force!

Anyway I gotta get going now, I have to go down to the thrift store and buy some khaki pants and a long sleeve shirt to hide my tattoos. I have an interview at the new Jamba Juice they built, and its one of the last places in this town where they don't have a picture hanging up of me for bad checks.

If anyone wants to start up some kind of gang war at the high school, or just sorta attack me with a pipe as I’m leaving my house, that would kindly appreciated.

Barf!

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Alien Feast

2012-02-08T06:18:00.001-08:00

Zorg moved to the head of the table, cutting Berk off before he could sit. Berk flared his many gils in protest but Zorg raised but a single claw at him and Berk shrunk away, turning bright purple in shame.

The table had a variety of human delicacies, sliced honkey, deep fried Cuban, and other unidentified cuts of mankind. Zorg tapped his chalice and made a toast..

"To earth, the best resturant on the planet, and to Vorox, and his victory over the Exploding Slug planet Pusstron 5. "

Vorox pulsated with delight.

The humanoid slave known as "Trump" or "Roixiok" which translated to "Bald Traitor" brought out a plate of steamed Alaskan Eskimo and Zorg snarled at him.

"This is the most luxiourous man meat ive ever tasted, enjoy my masters"

Zorg took a bite and spat it all over The Trump's badly bruised face. "This tastes like its been simmering in Vorbaks rectum!"

Berk slithered up to the table and pushed a plate of a white meat torward Zorg "Try this Exalted one, it is North American Smoked Yuppie, from the hills of the Beverly."

Zorg sneered and snatched up an arm piece and shoved it viciously into his gord whole. He leaned back closing his many eyes, "Great Snake Monster Of Pluto! This is delicious!" the table all looked relieved as the 18 foot creature licked his lips and cooled to a soft green shade.

"Master, this human was raised with little physical exertion, its soft meat was marinated in the finest coffee and tofu in the area, it is very high in vitamins and proteins."

Gorgozo sat at the other end of the table, closest to the sex slave pitt (as was Gorgozo's way) and spit out a large chunk of meat off into a cage where the starved Sara Palin reached helplessly for it. "What in Zibits Mandibles is this horrid slew??" He bellowed.

"That is the meat of a poor man from that place that was destroyed before we got to it, the meat is tough from a life of building things for this peice of meat Zorg is enjoying, it was marinated over time in a disgusting liquid known as Miller Light."

"And what is it im tasting in this human that reeks of foul poison?"

"It was raised on a diet of ramen noodles, a man food that would barely keep it alive, also it was slow smoked with pall malls and crack cocaine."

"It is foul beyond words!"

"Here my brother, have a bite of Kardashian, the rump is to die for."

"Thats what you said about that repulsive slop Olson Twin Surprise, I still have an ulcer from that!"

And the dinner was enjoyed, and Gorgozo totally hooked up with Sarah Palin.

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This Week In Pennywinkle!

2012-02-08T05:43:00.001-08:00

This week in Pennywinkle (I'm Pennywinkle), I was exposed to the harsh reality of this unforgiving hell we know as earth once again, this time in the form of a putrid rasin infested bagel. Yes, as you all know I frequent the popular bagel chain Einstein Brothers, and usually get a cup of boiling water and a plain bagel extra dry with nothing on it. But apparently the meaning of "Plain bagel please" has changed over the years to "nasty round sandwich with rat droppings in it, please." It must be all that hip-hop changing words nilly-willy to make some silly ridiculous words up, bunch of bookus-pookus to me.

So this kid; this son of a bi*tch, gave me this turd biscuit and expected me to eat it. So I yelled out "This is poison!" and hurled it overhand mannishly at him. In his shock and most likely disgust as the sh*t disc flew at him like a disgusting whirling UFO filled with filthy disease-ridden aliens, he cowered behind a stocky wide girthed woman named Bethia--a sponge-bobbed abomination, which further fueled my rage, both at her name and her shape.

I guess she wasn't aware of my many years as a bareknuckle boxing champ/prisoner of the war in Hanoi, where not only had I fought many woman (some twice her size), but also dogs and once a wild boar wearing a football helmet, to which I lost a testicle. Later, stateside, I had beaten over 150 female boxers from around the world.

(In the end...they all went down.)

So why Bethia was fiddling foolishly with moving a small child out of the way, I Ernest Hemingwayed her right across the uni-brow, sending her flying into a crowd of gawking seniors who fell like pins.

I then employed the double-handed-flying-dropslap, a move taught to me during my childhood circus days in Grulmar--an outskirt of Budapest--where I had been indentured to a cruel midget by the name of Thimbus the Vicious. Thimbus was a tiny wrestler and a terrible drunk. At night he would fire his .357 at the moon and he ate nothing but hard-boiled eggs soaked in gin. He had used this sacred move on me off the top of my own trailer when I came out for morning coffee on a crisp Hungarian morn, surprising me and thoroughly damaging my frontal lobe. It had been over a woman as I remember, and in the end, Thimbus won that battle as well.

(Thimbus...he haunts my dreams..)

The drop-slap created a deafening sound that reverberated off the walls and several of the geriatrics lost consciousness from sheer awe at witnessing such a spectacular maneuver.

On my way out I defecated on a Range Rover, which I thought might be Bethia's, but it turns out it was not a Range Rover but in fact a Ford Fiesta, and it was mine--senior moment. This is pretty much the only funny thing that happened to me this week, other than coming to the alarming fact that my friend Jerry I been talking to since college is a fabrication of my schizophrenia-ridden mind, and that my Iphone is actually just a calculator.

SO that's it for this week, tune in next week when I might remember to write this article! I'll be attempting to make a tuna salad with nothing more than a whole tuna, a head of lettuce and a hand grenade.

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Two Thoughts

2012-02-06T13:03:00.001-08:00

Wired High

Money seemed to disapate at his touch. It would almost lose some value when he somehow procured it. He was like a desert outcast who would guzzle the last of the water from his canteen with no mind to ration it; to rather die of dehydration than live in pitiful moderation. A flare in place of a struggling fire gasping for air where there is little. He deemed the increments in which he was given life a cruel game of the gods,to be doled out sums only fit for good moments of meriment followed by long lengths of destitution and misery. He would not play it the way they had wanted: to droll through life on timid means, instead he would wallow in poverty as a rule, a rule only briefly violated with moments of sweet and sudden excess.

And so on some nights he would leap into the dark with the temporary confidence of a man of monetary clout. Unlike such a man though, ours works without a net, swinging high above deadly pavement that could snuff him out on one bad slip. This made him tense and precautious, until, in the fervor of his own excitement, he would be caught up in the moment and lose all pretense of caution, taunting the reality of his situation.

And then, as the exhaustive performance would carry itself to its final act, he would hang in the air reaching desperately for her hand to take his and bring him to the pedestool where he could breath releif and know his time flailing in the air was not for naught.That in this entertainment and risk had come reward. That although he would return to be a meager man until the gods had called upon him once more to perform, that he was sustained by the merits of his deeds, and his soul itself would be replenished.

Lessons Earned

Never trust a man who hasn’t taken one good beating in his life. There’s something about taking one, something religious. What giving one does to a man, taking one does something just as profound. Gone are the days when you couldn’t meet a man who hasn’t been put to the dirt a good couple times in his life, tasted the grit of defeat, had his soul towered over by man and sky. A man who has never licked his own wounds has no notion of its bitter taste.

The axis of equality is balanced in a man by another’s brutality, his tilting ideals are centered by it, and his heart becomes notched. His loose words become tight and planned and his eyes take notice of emotions not seen before.

A man without this moment can float on the surface of the world in a careless air indefinitely. He can make it to his deathbed without a scratch, and smile happily about it. He can become absurd and so light that his world lifts with him and becomes a silly game to be mocked and bent. He becomes a sword never tempered, soft and sheathed and kept pristine for show.

A man who has made fear an extinct emotion through the purification of spirit and will, is something far different than a man who has not met with fear so he knows not its workings. A violence that should fray the binds of connection, makes the spirits known. The effect cannot be synthesized or conjured in fantasy. Its benefits must be endured to be redeemed.

The moment when he realizes that there is no more he can do but lie under the thundering rage of the uprooted animalistic nature of man—that dreadful moment when fate takes a stroll on you and judgment is left to chance and ethical intervention in your tormentor's mind, if he has such a thing. And the days that follow are far worse than the act itself. The brash become solemn and new thought buoys up from in their brain from hibernation; even the entitled bloom empathy to the lower creatures. Pride cools under wounds and bruises and iron convictions are humbled into clay, and much is re-written in the man.

Andy Domonkos-

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Super Bleh

2012-02-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

Superbowl Commercials: At 3.5 million a pop you would expect some piss-your-pants funny material inserted inbetween this most epic of recent Superbowls, but alas, I couldn't even muster a drop. It seems the only emotion that the hyped-up commercials stirred in me was confusion, peppered with mild irritation. Surely they weren't paying these writers to come up with these tired motifs'?

The Clint Eastwood thing was mildly inspiring if not for the fact that Chrysler didn't exactly "pull itself up from its own bootstraps" as we were told via the weathered gravel pit that is Clint Eastwood. Nay there was a massive bailout, from guess who? That's right, our taxes at the tune of 1.3 billion. So how exactly is this inspiring? Toss me a bailout and I'll get right on that mister Eastwood; anyway, that's a whole other article in itself.

Where was I? Ah yes, the general mediocrity at the Superbowl ads. But I had expected that, what I would much rather put under the lens for closer inspection was the blatant testosterone twisting absurdity so common with marketing today.

In one spot, a jagoff in a Kia is riding around listening to the tired shriekings of Motley Crue. He is breaking through metaphoric barriers and blowing minds with his rugged individualism. A whole bunch of other stupid crap happens, and in the end he rescues a fair maiden by driving into a horse and saving her from the clutches of some non-Kia owning loser, and into his burning hot sex-mobile.

Am I losing you? Here ya go...

That clear the old extra-sketch? Ready to continue? Get through these paragraphs and I'll give ya an explosion.

Next we have Budweiser, who must of spent something in the neighborhood of 5 trillion dollars in their lavish and completely unnecessary reminder that Budweiser does in fact, still exist. The commercial features the history of the drunken swill frenzy, from the celebration in the streets of New York after the end of WW2, through all the other cliche periods of cultural significance, and finally us to he present, where DJ's are spinning hip-hop-fusion or whatever the hell music is being called now.

The message of this commercial is that there is always a party going on where crowds of people are grinding on each other in the street in a booze-soaked orgy with pounding electronica in the background. You merely have not noticed this phenomena because you have really bad timing and keep missing it.

It is also (apparently) now federal law that anytime a beer company advertises themselves, they must also air a second ancillary commercial featuring hipsters in a backyard barbecue with their cool "black friends" and a silly dog. (I'm not imagining this, even Bill Maher noticed this bizarre occurrence.)

Next we have the worst of the worst. The Samsung-phone-thingee-you-must-get-or-you-are-shit gizmo, that (hold onto your horses) comes with its own PEN. This commercial has everything your wacky Facebook friend who really likes The Big Bang Theory loves. Explosions! Butt-Metal! Honestly so many obnoxiously American things were going on at once It all became a patronizing blur. It was like they shoved 3 hours of Spike TV into a 2 minute clip. And at the end some celebrity asks (at this point I completely tuned out in an effort to salvage the remaining brain cells that had survived the salvo of machismo), "did we go overboard?" Or something to that effect, as if to rub it in that they understand completely that they are exploiting the malleable minds of the populous.

You are doing so good! Here ya go..

This generation seems obsessed with Kitsch. Everything that was uncool 15 years ago has become cool now and if you manage to fuse that with a bunch of over-the-top American shit like guns, boobs, burning gas and kicking ass, well then you can sell matches to Satan. Oh and dogs. People think dogs are reallllly funny.

But it was all worth it to watch Tom Brady sulk. Poor guy, he really wanted that 5th Superbowl ring for his thumb. Now he has to go back to his lousy life with his mansion and millions of dollars with his supermodel wife. There is no justice in the world!

70 posts!!! Thanks for reading!

Bitter Writer's Brigade GO!

2012-02-05T23:36:00.000-08:00

I've said it many times: writing is a lonely horrid drudge through misery and self-doubt. And yet, it has its moments, when you feel like you have suffered for something important, something bigger than yourself...and sometimes you just die face down in a ditch somewhere with a empty bottle of whiskey clenched in a frozen death grip. I personally do it out of compulsion; a mental exercise that helps me cope with an otherwise obnoxious world.

Case and point, blog comments. I recently opened the flood gates and made it very easy to comment on my site (I can't stand sites that make you register or join just to put in your 2 cents), but I found out very quickly why these sites do this, and the reason is thus: when given the opportunity to anonymously attack, almost everyone will.

The acid-tongued lurkers out there, or "Trolls," as they are more commonly referred to on the internet, just love to give out there pompous critiques, and since there is no threat of a retort, they feel very satisfied in their hit-and-run trolling.

So since I loathe these people and there "fresh out of college, I'm-ready-to-tell-the-world-what they're-doing-wrong-attitude," I have reinstated the sign-up-to-post process to weed out the faceless aggressors.

It isn't the criticism that bothers me, far from it, I invite criticism, as long as it is constructive. It's the venomous snidely tone I can't stand, where I know without a shadow of a doubt, I am on the ass end of "bitter writer" attack.

How am I sure of this? I can tell by the flawlessly edited post, the literary "buzzwords" of whatever is in style at the moment that are forcibly pushed into the comment to give it some sort of credibility.

Then there's that old mainstay attack, a classic among the Bitter Writer's Brigade, the theory that I am trying to be "gonzo," or "edgy." This is particularly annoying because I have never tried to be anything with my writing but truthful. Had these accusers left me links to any of the masterfull work they are currently gracing the world with, well then I could take notes perhaps, study their form and style, and ultimately learn how un-edgy and non-gonzo they are.

But they didn't, and chances are their "works" are assembled for none to see in a closet somewhere, or their opus is currently in its 35th year of frustrated re-writes, I don't know, because these people don't have names, faces, or balls.

I may not be creating Dickens here (obviously) but I am putting my work out everyday, day in, day out. Airing my voice to the world, taking the hits, and doing so with a smile. If I sound bitter myself, don't be fooled, I simply wanted to point out the absurdity of these people. I have never once "flogged" a writer, it's completely juvenile. If someone shows me some horrid peace of unintelligible pig-slop, I politely point out mistakes, issue a few suggestions and then sit in amazement that they had the balls to be brave enough to express themselves.

So next time the BWB wants to leave some scholarly pipe-bomb in my inbox, I warn you you are wasting your time as it will be defused and thrown into the trash where other impotent threats from the BWB have gone. And next time you are at your headquarters, The Dark Basement of Lost Dreams, please speak to the committee and relay this message. Perhaps you can turn your smug erudite interests towards the many white power sites that flaunt bad-grammar and "flowery prose," they are in desperate need of your guidance.

There. I wrote something today, I had fun doing it, and I will see a little bit of money from it (not much). How goes that novel??

GOP Slogan Campaign!

2012-02-05T03:17:00.000-08:00

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Looks like the GOP is going to need all the help it can get this coming election, so I have humbly decided to offer my assistance with an eye-catching ad campaign that will knock those Dem's back into reality! All the way back to 1950's reality, back when times were pure and innocent! Hope you enjoy, and Romney: you're welcome.

(CLICK to enlarge any picture)

1. VOTE GOP Fun Time Carnival Poster!

I designed this poster to really show how wacky and zany we can get this country if we would just knock off all the malarky of health care and peace.

2. Patriotic Survivor

A touch of class for the GOP campaign, this all-American Gal isn't letting a little apocolypse get her down, nor is she blaming anyone but those sleazy terrorists! Go get her honey! And look out for that giant praying mantis, a fine genetic abomination created by the swell gents over at Halliburton, that's right folks, when you need giant radioactive monsters hellbent on destruction, think Halliburton!

3. Fu***in Imigrantz!

The entire republican mindset put into one easy to remember slogan for the elderly and those who couldn't beat the chicken in checkers for their Kentucky high school diploma.

4. Vote GOP and We will Show you the Meaning of the Word GENOCIDE

This could be a CD cover for a hardcore GOP band, it shows a guy ready to open fire on a bunch of border jumpers. Yeehawwww!

I hope that the GOP candidates contact me and give me millions of dollars from their Superpacs for these fine pieces of republican art. But no big deal if they don't, everyone becomes a millionaire eventually!

Super Fun Illusion Teaser!

2012-02-05T02:14:00.001-08:00

These are some FUN pictures for you to enjoy!

Can you spot the hidden image in this picture??

See it? do ya? Yay! Moving on..

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Philosophy Me

2012-02-04T17:56:00.000-08:00

A philosophy is basically a theory, which is basically an opinion, which is basically the primitive monkey-like thoughts about something. It's laughable to have any philosophy on life or death because, ultimately, it can't be proven and is a big waste of time.

The objective of philosophy is "understanding," but you can't understand something until its proven as a fact. You can make peace with the fact that you can't understand--as many do--or you can make philosophy a career: a career with an unobtainable goal, which will at least keep your mind occupied before you find out (like everyone who has ever existed) the truth upon your demise.

Of course I'm talking about the philosophy of life and death. There are other philosophies on a great varied subjects ranging from, love, success, happiness, and other emotions.

I subscribe to no set rules on life. Like most people--who refuse to be instructed on how to live by ancient texts--I've arranged a system and theories on the human condition that work for me personally (most the time anyway), as well as a set of personal theories I regard as truths until proven otherwise when regarding humanity as a hole.

Here, in a nutshell, are my philosophies...

People: People basically are in a constant state of want. They want love, money, fun, sleep, drink, sex, food ecetera. The only time they don't want is the microseconds after they have recieved something: a short-lived sensation. When you truly boil it down though, there are only really 2 prime factors to life: desire, and survival. Desire covers just about every reason people bother communicating with one another. The entire social stratosphere would disappear without desire. The desire for attention, self-satisfaction, love, anger, misery, fear, power, money, and so on and so forth. Survival makes us eat, drink, sleep, and go to work. And that's about it. Even a hermit living with Lepers and praying 20 hours a day is in a state of want. Their desires may be clouded and strangely selfless, but they are desires none-the-less.

Life: Clearly the point of life is to enjoy yourself as much as possible, why so many religions think we were placed on this rock to writhe in misery and pain fascinates me. They believe that where we are now is not good enough. That we have to wait until death before we get the real prize of heaven. You're given years of cognitive thought, at a higher quantity and quality than any other being on the planet, and you are going to spend it begging to be let into a better place? Strange.

Love: Love, yet again, can be broken down into a few factors. Proximity, convenience and status. I know, I know, there are the exceptions, but I philosophize on a system of odds. I may be stereotyping love, but let's cut the crap for a second, how many celebrities marry hobo's? Proximity plays a huge roll and goes hand in hand with convenience (can almost merge the two if you like). Even in the online dating age, it's fairly rare for someone to move a long distance in the pursuit of love. In fact, it's much more common, for people to move long distances for work over love. I'd wager a guess that about 90% of all marriages involve couples that lived in a 50 mile range of one another during courtship, (where did you meet your significant one pray tell?)

Convenience isn't just location, it also has to do with the situation of the other person. Is he or she healthy? Do they have children? and so on.

Status may be the most important. Power, money and importance.

Now you're probably thinking, "you jerk-ass cynic what about animal attraction? Love of personality?" to which I will respond: those exist, and they can spawn love, but without the prime factors listed above that love will last about as long enough to cook an egg.

Death: It's gonna happen, it's going to be very unpleasant, so get good and plastered on the deathbed and try to think happy thoughts before you are snuffed out into the ashtray of mortality.

Money: Get as much as you can, they system will never change, greed will always stomp on idealistic integrity like a kid smashing ant-hills. The smart thing to do: Is instead of screaming and yelling in your 20's like everyone does, and then realizing its a hopeless endeavor sometime in your 30's and accepting mankind for what it is; start in your 20's and get a 10 year head start. Anyone "fighting the system" at age 30 or above is either getting paid for it and ultimately part of said system, or is homeless. Chose wisely.

Well there it is, my bare-bones approach to life, I felt like getting it out there so I can reflect on it later. Philosophies are always changing (probably why they are so unreliable) and I'm sure I am no exception to this rule. Either way, the best philosophy I've come up with is that seeking knowledge is inherently good, and try your best to be decent, because nobody likes a dick.

The Mc'WTF

2012-01-31T23:02:00.001-08:00

(McDonald's Pink Slime--seen here oozing like a newborn boa-constrictor)

Well it looks like the world is now aware that for good portions of their life they have been digesting a pink sludge-like substance known as ammonium hydroxide--a chemical designed to kill bacteria. So now you can rest assured that you burger is slime-free, as well as teeming with bacterium that thrives in the "meat."

I wasn't very shocked when it became public knowledge via the internet that we have been fed slime in the guise of food. I for one, had a sneaking suspicion that there was a high content of shredded Chinese newspaper in the chicken. And who else would feed us slime but McDonald's, that beaming beacon of obesity.

Pink slime is not all bad though. Yoplait Yogurt deals almost purely in pink slime. Ice Cream is basically slime. In fact, its almost hard to define slime anymore in this modernistic culinary world. Caviar, the delectable treat of the affluent, is unborn beluga fetuses, I would definitely consider that slime. Half the dishes at an upscale restaurant look and taste like slime. Escargot? Isn't the slimiest creature on the planet a snail? Maybe slime is only good when it comes from the sea.

I think slime becomes slime when either a solid becomes just soft enough to move at a slight slant, or when a liquid thickens to the point where it takes more then a few seconds to pour. Or maybe its the viscosity.

Where was I? Oh yes, people acting surprised that McDonald's has been putting chemicals in its food. Now before you kamikaze your electric car into the nearest yellow arches, consider this. Would you rather eat the chemical that kills the bacteria? Or eat the bacteria?

Perhaps you would like neither in your food, for which I recommend spending more than a dollar on something you plan on digesting. If you were to look at everything you ate before you ate it, under a microscope, you would most likely never eat again.

If you're worried about fecal content in your food, or unknown chemicals, or band-aids, maybe just avoid fast food.

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Mcslime, mcdonald's pink slime, pink slime, gross slime

Avant Garden

2012-01-21T13:56:00.000-08:00

The world has to keep turning up the voltage to get a shock anymore. People have become insulated with rubber and it takes a lightning storm of depravity just to get a tingle. Shows like South Park and Beavis and Butthead among many others took the art of desensitizing the public to whole new levels.

So what lies on the frontier of reaction art? 3d shit? Already done, thank you very much mister Knoxville. Sexually perverse surgery? It’s all over Netflix. So where does a slightly deranged and detached creature go for a daily dose of weirdness?

Ren and Stimpy Adult Party Cartoon

Ren and Stimpy debuted on Nickelodeon in the 90’s. A creation of John Kricfalusi, the show followed a emaciated Chihuahua by the name of Ren Hoek and a mental incompetent cat named Stimpy. It had gross close-ups of rashes, overtly sexual themes, and extreme violence. In other words, it seemed a bit much for a “kid’s channel.”

But wait…that was nothing. Recently John K. has released a new and updated batch of grotesque humor in the form of Ren and Stimpy Adult Party Cartoon,, a downright vile and aggressively vulgar show that is also positively hilarious. Gone are the suggestive themes and innuendo, replaced by the unveiled truth of the twisted cartoon characters.

John K, is not only a pioneer in the cartoon world, but in the art world itself, with his distinct and uncanny style of disturbing close-ups, neck veins, and bulging…everything. It seems that one prime motivator for Kricfalusi, is to peel off the innocent veneer of the 1950’s, and show its grimy underbelly. He’s a champion of ugliness and neurosis and the “Adult Party” might be his masterpiece; it is a testament to the inherent evil of censorship, and the absurdity of the American insecurity when dealing with sexual material that accepts vicious brutality with open arms.

The show aired on the brainless channel, Spike TV, and was canceled after a very short run, to be replaced by people falling down on some Japanese designed Gauntlet or something.

John K. doesn’t seem too upset about this though, as he has expressed in many interviews his strong desire to circumvent television censorship and produce Ren and Stimpy directly to DVD.

The Internet is on Fire! My Crusade to get a Straight Answer

2012-01-04T03:08:00.000-08:00

"And here you will find the worst of all men...he who knows all but says nothing, and calls you a noob."

When I first stated using the internet, back when AOL was king and everything was as slow as a fat man leaving Country Buffet, I—like most of the general public—battled relentlessly against error messages, technical quandaries, and full fledged confusion.

There was a great lack of information on the topic, and those brilliant minds that had somehow figured out how the damned thing worked, were too busy making money to clue anyone in.

From staring at a screen riddled with viruses at 3am with bloodshot eyes and my fists balled into a rage as I fought helplessly in the dark against them, to overheating CPU’s and a million other nerve shredding issues, through trial and error I somehow got to a point where I could control the wild beast.

When forums came around, and Google rose to its high seat of power on the information superhighway, everything became so much easier.

Instant searches produced answers. I could type—Screen says over range??—and sure enough there was a hundred others like me begging for help. It seemed that things would finally get easier.

Then I noticed a kind of recurring theme with these forums run by these scholars of the internet. Firstly, you had to register to ask your question. Fair enough, I most likely will never return but if it makes them happy, why not. This is somewhat annoying if you are a slow typist, but luckily I am not. Still, the process takes a few minutes and further ads to the frustration. Next you login and now those people who were pleading for help are lost somewhere in the forum and you have to go hunting. Add another 20 minutes.

Now I have found it. A thread started “My screen says over range! HELP!” cool, answers await me I think with a grin. I scroll past the question to the promise land and I’m immediately met with contentious remarks to the poster.

”Dude search the site this has been discussed already! F**n noobs.”

Has it been discussed? I thought this was the discussion?

“This thread is 3 years old, clearly you did not READ the user rules, get a clue dipsh*t.”

And this goes on for pages. Maybe one person tries to help but he is quickly reprimanded by his elite peers not to encourage this clearly deranged idiot.

So my computer hadn’t been fixed and I still tapped away on my laptop to find an answer. I go back to the forum’s main page. I search over range and I see the same hostile thread I just looked at followed by three or four threads that are about something else entirely.

But wasn’t this discussed as so eloquently explained by HaxGod99?

I tried several other Google searches and somehow found myself back on the same useless forum filled with angry men hell bent on the propriety of their site.

Screw it, I thought. New thread, “How do you fix over range on lcd screen?” and asked the question with as much details as possible. Hours later I was surprised to have 8 replies! Oh good, I am just sure these anonymous gentlemen will have me up and running in no time!

The first reply was..

“Throw it out the window.”

I had already considered this, but JarheadNV and his picture of him holding a rattlesnake was of little help to me finding other options.

“Ha nice one J! Noobs gotta learn somehow! Search the site!

Guess I didn’t learn the sacred nerd protocol of asking a simple question.

“This has been discussed in countless threads. Google it already.”

Google it! Why had I not thought of this! Even though half the results bring me to someone yelling about being asked the question, I’m sure one out of the hundreds of vague links will bring me there, that all so evasive and pure thread that originally asked this question sometime around 1993.

I was roasted by the sites users like a luau pig. And since that day I can Google a question without coming across some noob getting the business for being in the wrong place or asking the wrong question which was answered somewhere at sometime and should never be asked again.

The other major problem I have with these people is they always insist you learn everything there is to know about your problem or issue. If I want to learn how to make a simple signature link at the bottom of my name they demand I spend the next four years of my life studying Photoshop. When I was learning how to add html to my blogger posts I was pointed towards the hallowed halls of Javascript and told I must learn it or I’m just a copying and pasting shell of a man. But the thing is, the only things I want to learn on the internet, are for immediate purposes.

Literature is my main focus in life, and I don’t find coding all that interesting. It’s a means to an end, and if its your passion well I wish you the best but to me it’s pretty damn boring.

Now saying that, if someone was to come up to me on the street for whatever hypothetical reason, and ask me how he should go about writing a short story about the South or something, I would not throw a tantrum and demand he read the entire works of Faulkner before daring to write a single line. I would not scream that I have answered the question and he should go find it, and I would not berate him for asking me the question in the wrong setting. “This inquiry clearly should be asked while I’m on that side of the street! Not this side!”

I realize there needs to be some resemblance of order on the forums of the world. And I get that handing down your wisdom 5 hours a day at your grungy desk is serious business and should be treated as such. But if this is so important why not create a trivia game where new users can be interrogated on the very strict rules before posting their asinine question?

Or here’s a wild thought, why not just answer the damn thing so I can get on with my life.

Screen fixed, by the way, (Refresh Rate).

Andy D-

Two and a Half Men Sucks Now: Let's all Watch it...

2012-01-01T15:24:00.001-08:00

Many a night have I sat on the couch and occasionally chuckled at Charlie Sheen saying something sexist or edgy on the show,Two and a half Men, while those around me roared and cackled, and fell in love with a show I found bland and a bit annoying (“Mehnnnnn” sung in acapella as a scene transition being one of the prominent annoyances).

The show seemed like nothing more than a vehicle for Charlie and his womanizing gimmick. I found it to be low brow disguised as something clever, with the effeminate John Crier playing the cliché of the idealistic brother who thinks women want a man who isn’t a raging selfish prickbag. And then there is the kid. He says wacky things, annoys Charlie, and provides him someone to “corrupt” for hilarious comedic results, while Crier wags his little finger disapprovingly.

Comedy Gold.

I was completely confounded by America’s love for this seemingly one-joke show. But then I quickly remembered the herd mentality and quite frankly—god awful taste—of Joe American. Put a beer in a guy’s hand, make him quip about sexual conquest, and you will draw the eyes off Jesus himself rising in the front yard.

So I had thought I had Two and a half Men pinned down. They had there semi-harmless show that washed a euphoric numbness on them after a long day at work; a show that didn’t insult them with plots and situations beyond the complexity of Three’s Company. Charlie would make men puff up with pride in their recliners and make women bashfully giggle at the emasculation of Crier, and proclaim “That’s so wrong,” whenever something “so wrong” occurs—typically about once every 2 minutes.

But then a new bizarre thing occurred in the measurement of men. Charlie went ape shit—or maybe the veneer of wackiness was lifted and unhinged insanity was left. His bovine following may have liked the old medium spicy Charlie, but their gentile stomachs could not digest the burning hot Sheen—although they monitored his downward spiral with a mix of fascination, pity and schadenfreude. When the dust cleared, and a resemblance of normality surfaced once again in Charlie, the damage had been done, and the world was left aimless and unfunny with only 1.5 sexless men.

But there was plenty of money left to be made, and charisma could be replaced. The lesson of That 70’s Show was not learned, when the amiable Topher Grace and goofball Ashton Kutcher realized their potential for true celebrity and had left the show, and some unlikable smug kid stepped in—which had to be rationalized with an absurd plot—and all that was left to do was watch the show crash and burn.

And as Ashton Kutcher had derailed one show by leaving, he would derail another one by joining it. The fans of Men had announced his failure before he even uttered his first dick joke to the slack-jawed masses. The gripes were varied from “he’s an idiot,” to, “you can’t replace Charlie.” And not being a fan of the original show, the idea of adding Kutcher to it would make it completely unbearable.

So the fans had spoken. The new show wouldn’t work; it couldn’t work. It was time to be free of its grasp and move on to some other mindless bullshit to occupy the spaces between work and sleep. But the lummox does curious things. The fans continued watching the show they held so much contempt for, volunteering to see their beloved show painfully live on. The unanimous hatred of Kutcher had little effect. Two and a Half Men is rated the number one show and continues to make an obscene amount of money and “mehnnnnn” still echoes out of half the households in the United States every night ad naseum.

Stupid Americans are constantly defending themselves that they are not stupid, how then do they explain how a pitifully unfunny show starring a reviled doofus is drawing its mammoth numbers? morbid curiosity? Too scared to click up to the channels with those “smug smart people” on them? If a fan can use all two and a half brain cells to explain this phenomena to me it would be much appreciated.

“Mehhhhnnn”

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Ron Paul is not a Racist, and neither is every White Republican

2011-12-30T05:06:00.000-08:00

A newsletter has surfaced lately that proves without a reasonable doubt, that Ron Paul is a bonefied Racist and Homophobe. The newsletter was printed under his name years ago. In the letters some remarks that were made that were not flattering to minorities and homosexuals. These are the people who also really think Justin Bieber is reading their poetry they post to him on Facebook. You know, real thinkers.

Ron Paul, who’s main platform is to stop bombing strangers, and who won’t take any money from special interests—no matter how badly it affects his campaign, must be a secret hateful man under all this “integrity, and honesty” he is known for.

I mean of all the 5000 babies he delivered by his own hands, I’m sure not a single one was black. Most doctors who relish in bringing life into the world must be racists bigot bastards. Also he is a Texan! Did you hear that a Texan! All Texans are racist right? I mean isn’t that what they say on the TV?

I mean Trump, Romney, Gengrich, they all love gays and blacks. Hell I’m sure Gengrich just loves be surrounded by gays and blacks! He must! The television hasn’t said he doesn’t!

It’s no debate that all the young and hopeful kids will vote for Obama. He’s bound to do something at somepoint good at some point. And they can’t vote a republican in, because then they would be uncool and not trying to create this ultimate utopia that is one more Obama term away.

The truth is, every single white person on this planet has at one point said something racist or uncouth about blacks or gays. Even the vegan with the buddy holly glasses who has picketed and protested half his life and has bongo drummed at the system, has—whether you would like to admit to or not--blurted out something that would be considered racists. Nobody's perfect. I doubt believe everything I said 20 years ago, as nobody should unless they hit they achieved omnipotence in their youth (which believe me, you haven't)

But that’s not racism. Racism is a constant state of being, it’s a mindset. And when listening and learning from Doctor Paul, I just don’t see him dropping the n*bomb in private or being terrified by gays (Sure, Bruno may have scared him a bit,but hell, that was kind of the point.)

And it all seems a bit selfish to me on from the gay community. They are so fixated on being able to marry, I guess for tax breaks as it makes no sense that they are doing it for any religious regions—that they would forgo so much positive things that Ron Paul could do. That they could spare so many lives from being destroyed in the middle east, by our war of greed. That they could undo the evil of the FED, and get our country back to printing our own money. They pick their own issue and ignore all else.

I think gay marriage should be legal. I could care less what they do and being an atheist I see the whole thing as a pointless legal maneuver. If they need a piece of paper that confirms them as a unit, fine. But to dismiss a man who in all likely hood had some underwriter take liberties with his job 20 years ago in a newsletter, and ignore the importance of his world changing policies, would be childish and the definition of selfishness.

I had faith in Obama. He was going to end the wars, he was going to create jobs, and cut our deficit. None of which he did. He ended Iraq at the end his term, it took him 4 years to do something he said he would do right away. Ask yourself, has he changed anything? Where is this change? Unless its under my couch, I think its about the same as its always been.

Paul is not scared to do what he says, and he actually knows how to execute it. He’s also a constitutionalist. He plays by the rules set up by the constitution.

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Paul has time and time again said that he puts the constitution above all else. This is our blueprint that made this country great; it’s what made America, America. To squabble about him being a racist over some silly smear campaign based on a old newsletter is silly.

Simple fact, Ron Paul is a good man, who has led a strong, moralistic life, and a damn good one. He’s humble, honest and cares about our Country. He’s about letting everyone have a fair chance.

Juzon Suzetzski's Christmas Catalog !

2011-12-18T23:49:00.001-08:00

Your pal Juzon here, with the hottest shidoodles of 1952! These are the must haves of the Christmas season! Welcome to our Christmas Catalog!

Item:#82349
The Business Board

Say you have an important meeting at your business job and a pesky river or lake is smack dab in the way. Now you're in a cab, driving through dangerous negro neighborhoods with hop-heads and dope-fiends trying to claw you to death and steal your shoes. Whazam! Meet the Business Board! This motorized board will ferry you across pesky aquatic obstructions while you read your news paper and enjoy Juzon's own Chest Stingers, the premiere lithium-based cigarettes! (Item#83723)

Item:#1212311
Neck Cleaner

Children are filthy beasts, that much we know, and their necks...well they are just downright disgusting filth magnets. If only there was a way to keep them clean... Well there is! With the Suzetzski Neck Cleaner! This fantastic invention comes in two sizes, fat and normal. It fits snugly around your child's neck and the bristles dig deeply into the layers of grime and grit keeping your child's neck clean and lovely. No longer will you have spend hours upon hours scrubbing your children's necks. Whazam!

Item#3298723
The Enigma Hat

What an item! What a hat! Unfortunately my brother Sven went a bit wonkers on us while spending months working on this thing, and failed to explain this amazing invention to us before his little incident with the police. All I can tell you is we have 500 of these amazing things in a warehouse, and that they are bound to do something astonishing in the right hands! As Sven was hauled off in chains, he kept repeating "The hat...the hat...beware of the hat.." Get one today!

Item#827323
Mobile Baby Bunker with bonus gasmask!

We all know Red Joe Commie won't rest until our sweet country is reduced to a hellish ashen nightmare, where your neighbors become nothing more than a hot meal on two legs, and you are forsaken to godless acts of cannibalism and necrophilia. Well you can't avoid this certain future, but now you can at least avoid the clouds of poison from reaching your child's soft pink lungs with the mobile baby bunker! This bulletproof carriage will keep the hordes of starved maniacs from feasting on your childs delicious flesh, while they ride in style. With a 100% asbestos air filter, your child will breath easy. And so will you with your free gas mask! Act now and we will throw in Juzon's Cyanide Snoozers, (Item:#32802983) the premiere suicide pill! Floozaka!

Item:#328923
The Family Bicycle

Now this is how you travel! This super easy to use bicycle combines the leisure of sewing, with the excitement of an almost uncontrollable form of transportation! With father on top, steering the contraption, and son close behind--a mere inches from a pair of buttocks--the wife: sewing madly with devotion, and daughter, suspended in the air right out front with her view of the speeding road unobstructed! People may laugh hysterically as you pass, or throw eggs, but they are just jealous that your family bought the most expensive Juzon Christmas Catalog item ever made! It would be idiotic NOT to own this!

Well I hope you enjoyed our new line of fine products! I would like to add that several people who have bought the Enigma Hat have coincidentally disappeared and are not to be found, I would like to assure the families of these men that they have not "fallen into a dimensional wormhole" as these so-called scientists in the news papers have claimed. Thank you,

Juzon Suzetzski-

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Rondo Needs Your Help Sissies..

2011-12-18T23:18:00.001-08:00

RONDO HERE!

WHATS UP MY DIRTY BROTHERS?! Yeah it's me Rondo, but you knew that cause I can smell the load you just dropped in those lily girl pants your wearing. Normally I'd be here about a few shots of wild turkey and maybe to grope your girlfriend while you nervously smile and tell me to stop, which Rondo don't do. But I'm here to talk about something called cervical falsy, which is... wait that's wrong, yo whatever, that disease that makes kids all jacked up and silly looking. Yeah you know the score, Rondo ain't just about picking fights with the cashiers at taco bell-- although that is my Passion. I also want to help those that can't help themselves, unless they are foreigners, democrats, ugly people, and cats, to them I say eat a bag of hot sh*t.

SO shut your face moron and listen to when Rondo be speaking at you. We are riding our bikes this week to raise some money for those kids with the ass backwards bodies, so they can grow up like I did, in a shed with nobody to talk to but a dirty plank used to beat me with. And maybe one day they can get as bad-ass as me, SH*T I was on my second DUI by the time half these kids are learning how to eat yogurt through a Damn silly straw. These kids need to MAN up and DRINK.

Anyway were gonna make a hellacious noise past a bunch of those wimpy little democrats planting trees downtown this weekend, maybe even slap some bellies with some grizzlydogs. And you’re paying for it! Yeah you little coward, I want this wimpy disease cured or I'm gonna take a pool cue to your head, and your children's heads, until I'm standing in a pot of wimp stew.

Like all problems in this world, they can be solved by fat bikers riding their very expensive Harley's through town as loudly as possible, CANCER YOUR NEXT I WILL SKULLF**K YOU! So get out your little pink wallets and take out some of that money you made doing makeup or whatever it is you do, and give it to me or my brother Dirthole over at the Pigweasle Lounge, I'll be the one being held back in some kind of altercation.

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Dear Bear: I ain't Playin Wit You

2011-12-18T17:15:00.000-08:00

Enough games. You think I’m playin? Well I’m not. I will end you Bear. You think it’s a game? Well you are sorely mistaken. I will shut you down and turn you out. I’ll turn you into a fu**kin hat I swear to God.

Look, I know we have had our differences; some things happened that could not be repaired with words. What I did to you, well, I aint proud of it. But let's not forget your role in all this though; you ain’t no saint, not by a damn sight. You can’t deny your paws aint clean.

Now you coming round here, tearing up my trash taking dumps on my lawn, and I’m sick of it. How bout I come to your home? Take you down a peg, mess up all your bear shit?

Now look, this feud has gone on too damn long, we both know she’s gone and she aint coming back, move the fu*k on already.

What do you want from me an apology? Well to hell with that, I got something else for you, a lead sandwich with a side order of hollow points, you like that Yogi? I'll serve it up hot for you. You ready to die? because I am. I made my peace with my god, do you even have a god? And besides you stole anything worth a damn from me that fateful day 8 years ago, and so it’s come to this. End game.

Kamikaze Earth’s 10 Most Fascinating People – Non Bullsh*t Edition

2011-12-16T17:19:00.000-08:00

General Buttnaked
Warlord
Liberia

General Buttnaked (Joshua Blaithy) is a displaced former rebel leader in Liberia. His impresive resume includes cannibalism, human sacrifice, and the strong belief that charging into battle naked makes you bulletproof. Although he has claimed to have killed 10,000 or more people with his naked army, he is now a Christian who has been fully pardoned by God. If nothing else this man is but a piece of fascination in the utterly fascinating (and deeply terrifying) country of Liberia.

Unknown Hinson
America

Uknown Hinson is hardly unknown thanks to the Adult Swim show, Squidbillies, where he voices the surly and hyper-violent Early Kyler. Unknown Hinson (Stuart Daniel Baker) is a parody music act that has taken on a life of its own. Songs like, “I aint afraid of your husband,” and “Pregnant again,” make Hinson’s music border on satire and genius.

Ghostrider
Daredevil
????

Although rumored to be dead, and with many copycats, the man called Ghostrider is (or was) a complete maniac who drove a supercharged Hyabusa through Europe, taping his escapades, and teasing the Police with their wimpy slow-motion squad cars. His exploits and near-psychotic bravery has made him a hero in the motorcycle racing world.

Joe Quinn McDonald
Fighter
North Ireland

The man known in Ireland as “Mighty Joe Quinn” is also the star of the 2011 film “Knuckle,” a movie that follows roaming pikey bare-knuckle fighters as they engage in a 50 year old blood feud. Mc’Donald fights for money, and pride against his cousins and other would be aggressors to his throne.

Cormac McCarthy

The American born author born Charles McCarthy, has been compared to Faulkner in his craft, as well as one of the greatest writers of the last 10 years. His books, All the Pretty Horses, No Country for Old Men, and, The Road, have all been met with critical acclaim and have all been made into movies. Blood Meridian has also placed third on the top 100 books of the previous century by The New York Times, behind Don DeLillo’s Underworld, and Toni Morison’s, Beloved, which in many minds should have beaten both over-hyped books. McCarthy still writes on an old typewriter, and seems to be a never ending fountain of beautiful and provocative literature. A man that has overcome true poverty as a writer, only to emerge as the Faulkner of our generation, gets him on the list.

Stanislaw Burzynski
America

The man who holds the highly lusted for patent on his Antineoplastons, which combines chemical compounds and, get this, cures cancer. He has cured countless INOPERABLE brain tumors, in children and adults. He also has fought his entire life against the sadistic powerhouses of PHARMA and their soulless lapdogs the FDA. He continues to work in Texas, while the FDA spends millions upon millions to discredit him and imprison him.

Stacy Nesbitt
Canada
Well it may be a bit redunadant to have two motorcyclists on the same list (not to mention this is a draw between Guy Martin) but Stacy is a bit too fascinating to leave behind. The first woman to win the honda Cbr125r Challenge, as well as the first woman to win the Nation Road Racing Series in Canada (some argue the world), and she has done all this at age 14. Oh and did I mention she has only been riding for 2 years? Oh but this isn't fascinating...wonder what the Kardashians are whining about right now...

EdBassmater
America
Comedian

Edbassmaster is a youtube sensation who will most likely join the ranks of Jon Lajoie and other hilarious youtubers. With help from his friend Jack Vale (also quite hilarious) Ed is a veritable one man Jackass. It is a matter of time before he is scooped up for movies. His hidden camera antics have accumulated over 30 million hits on youtube.

Kurt Wenner
Artist (Former NASA employee)
America

Kurt Wenner may use mathematical programs to create his Artwork, but that doesn't change the fact that is simply astonishing. His illusions have graces the floors of churches, art galeries, but mostly streets. He is one of the most in demand artists and continues to entertain millions of people with his realistic creations. Here is one of many amazing works by Wenner:

Kelly Lewis
Traveler/Writer
America

Kelly Lewis loves to travel. She has snowboarded in New Zealand while working with the Lord of the Rings movie production team, she is the founder of "Go Girl Guides" that give tips for world travel from her and a team of other female writers. She bounces around the world recording her adventures on her blog and is working on a book. Her sense of adventure seems lost in a complacent world of hotel hoppers and people who think that going to an American resort is traveling.

So there it is, having blasted Barbara Walter's recent list of plastic mannequins, I had to step up with my own list. Its not my fault that our population is fascinated by shiny things and things completely vain and shallow. I know none of these people have a reality show, or made 100 million dollars this year, but I contend anyone to tell me they aren't interesting to some degree. And if not, oh well Perez Hilton's blog is thataway>>>

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10 Most Fascinating People , Barbara Walter's , Edbassmaster , General Buttnaked , Stacy Nesbitt ,Uknown Hinson