The Vitriolic Monkey

Utter. Fucking. Genius.

2006-04-10T21:17:00.000-04:00

And you thought you saw the raw, uncensored, uncut version of 2003's State of the Union Address?! Think again, meager Prole! You saw what the military industrial complex WANTED you to see! Here, finally, in its original format, is our batshit insane leader's speech advising us that (and I quote) "trusting in the sanity and the restraint of the United States is not an option."

We failed to listen. Now we're pretty much fucked.

First, watch the original.

Then, go home and die. Especially if your name is Khamenei.

The Pattern Continues

2006-03-31T11:56:00.000-05:00

Once again, I apologize for my lackluster performance recently... You see, between the new job and trying to move, I've been busy from dawn 'till dusk doing crap. Most of it sucks. This new job makes it rather difficult to slack off, too. Which makes posting more difficult than ever.

Perhaps once Dawn and I actually move out of our house and get a new one, I'll get righ back up on that silicon horse and start writing again. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that this may be the beginning of the end. Like many others in the blogosphere, I am beginning to feel that this thing that I started for shits and giggles, on a lark, is slowly morphing in to a fat albatross necklace. It's becoming more and more of a burden with each post. So with that, I will say that hopefully one day I shall return triumphant... but until then, I bid you adieu fair people.

Lemme tell ya, moving sucks. peace in the east.

-stevo

Musical Menagerie

2006-02-25T21:16:00.000-05:00

If you were a hippopotamus and you had noodles on your back, what would you do?

Why, sing about it, of course! Enjoy the tune. It's ever so catchy...

Another Lame Excuse

2006-02-21T22:22:00.000-05:00

OK, so I haven't posted anything "real" in, like, forever or some junk. First, I blamed it on the trip to Ireland. Then I tried the food poisoning angle. Next, the "new job" excuse. Finally, I threw my Trump Card: "I'm moving, and shit's hella hectic". All are acutally true, but none can truly justify over a full week without a post of any substance. And for this, I offer yet another measly, flimsy apology. The reality of the matter is that I'm suffering from a severe bout of ... what, blogger's block? Well, yeah, I guess. I just don't feel like writing a damn thing, and considering I don't have an "editor", a "deadline" or any sort of paycheck hanging in the balance, I feel no real obligation to type a damn thing about what's going on in my life on this confounded, silly thing! It's odd how a thing I started as a lark and as a way to simply keep in practice with writing anything at all has become more of a monkey on my back than I'd ironically intended with such a name as "The Vitriolic Monkey." But a screaming, turd-tossing simian nuisance this blog has indeed become. Particularly when one factors in the E. Coli, new job, vacation and house-selling.

But I suppose I shan't give up on it completely. After all, I've had some good times here. So I guess the least I could do might be to post a humorous picture from one of my many recent, entertaining exploits in Dublin, right? Sure, why not? So, with minimal further ado... here goes. This picture is of a condom machine in a men's bathroom in a pub in North Dublin called The Brazen Head. It's a famous old place; in fact, it is purportedly the oldest pub in Dublin. Apparently there's been a drinking establishment on this site since the 1100's. Anyway, see if you can determine anything "funny" about this particular condom machine. I, for one, found it quite humorous.

And let me just tell you that capturing a picture of just about anything in a men's toilet anywhere is a brave, courageous thing. One tends to look extremely sketchy hanging about next to a urinal with a digital camera in one's hand no matter who one is, and no matter what one is purportedly doing.

Until next time, folks, keep it real, and for God's sake, steer clear of those damned fade condoms!

My Apologies...

2006-02-13T20:16:00.000-05:00

I feel so negligent... Please, allow me to explain. Between a jaunt off to Ireland for a few days, a touch of the old food poisoning, a foot and a half of snow and a brand new (old) job, I've been a bit... distracted. And therefore, I have been a little lax on the ol' blog front. So allow me to regroup, and I'll regale you with tales of Caribbean cavorts and Irish Intrigue to tittilate even the most torpid of tastes! Soon, my pretties... soon...

Do It Yourself T-Shirt Folding Machine

2006-02-02T12:40:00.000-05:00

Thank god for the innernets. Here's how pathetic marriage has made me: I got inordinately excited, nay -- giddy -- upon viewing this video. Where would we be without this here Innernets? Swingin' from da trees, prolly. Or grunting at each other in a cave somewhere in France.

Seriously, I'm gonna fold mad amounts of laundry after work today, while I listen to someone read Dostoevsky to me.

What a Cool Idea!

2006-02-01T11:57:00.000-05:00

LibriVox is a website chock full of "Podcasts" of classic literature! And they're free (read: public domain)! Finally, I can listen to something worthwhile on my monstrously long commute to work every day! They've got podcasts of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground, Conrad's The Secret Agent, Alice in Wonderland, even Frankenstein and A Connectiuct Yankee in King Arthur's Court!!! I'm more excited than words can say. So happy, in fact, that my joy overrides my usual compulsion to accompany every post with a witty and somehow appropriate picture. I'm gonna start with Notes from Underground as it was the first Dostoevsky book I ever attempted, though sadly I did not make it through... which is pathetic, cuz the very next Dost book I cracked was The Brothers Karamazov, and I tore through that sucker! I can't wait till they get THAT one on LibriVox...

To me, Dostoevsky = Wicked Old School Russian Rock And Roll Superstar

Insanity, Meet My Friend Genius... Now Go Make Babies

2006-01-26T11:48:00.000-05:00

If the above scenario were to be manifested and Insanity were to actually hit it off really well with Genius, they would probably make a baby and name him Reinhard Engels. Why Reinhard Englels, you ask? Well, it takes someone named Reinhard Englels to come up with the thoroughly crazy -- yet strangely pragmatic -- idea of the Shovelglove. It's basically a sledge hammer wrapped in an old sweater. What good is a sledge hammer wrapped in an old sweater, you may then ask? Well I should hope you would ask this, at least...

The answer is infuriatingly simple: exercise. Yes, friends, keeping in shape is as simple as hefting a sledge hammer around in the comfort of your own home. I must admit, reading through this instructional site the first time made me feel a little like an Imperial Walker getting smashed to bits by Ewoks on the Moon of Endor with that nifty swinging log trick.

But the more I read through Mr. Engels' raving lunacy, the more he endeared me to his bizarre workout. In the end, watching the videos sealed the deal for me. Though hilarious nicknames for the motions he describes, like Hoisting the Sack or Stoking the Oven certainly had a bit of an influence as well, I guess.

He demonstrates these exercises with such earnestness, it's hard not to like this guy. And to be quite honest, it looks as if his efforts have paid off to some extent. He certainly doesn't look out of shape in the slightest. As crazy as Mr. Engels seems, I think he's on to something. Why should I pay 50 bucks or more a month to watch stinky gorilla men, anorexic basketcases or awkward old people slave away on artificial motion machines when I could toss around a hunk of metal on a stick in the comfort of my own home? Best of all, I can do these things in front of my TV, so when Donald Rumsfled comes on the tube trying to defend torturing prisoners, spying on Americans and depriving soldiers of sufficient protective gear in a war zone, I can simply Stoke His Head In with my exercise device!

Hasslehoff: Addicted!!!

2006-01-23T12:28:00.000-05:00

To what, you ask? Why, he's hooked on a feeling, of course!

This video made me feel even more crazy than I know I already am. The godless German Communists are behind this, I just know it. Why, Hoff, why?

Must bathe eyeballs now. With a propane torch.

WTF of the Day

2006-01-18T13:14:00.000-05:00

Bling H2O?! I'd buy it just for the hot ass on their site. If it didn't cost THIRTY EIGHT GODDAMN DOLLARS PER BOTTLE!!!

And as a bonus, diamond shaped ice cubes. Get it? Ice ice?

More Tobago Cayes and Union Island...

2006-01-16T17:42:00.000-05:00

We woke up in the Tobago Cayes almost alone. There might have been two or three other sailboats in the lagoon, but by and large, we were the only humans around. Captain Mickey ushered us to the shore of a small, uninhabited island named Jamesby, which was supposedly populated mainly by iguanas. I saw one, but he was a quick little bugger, and he scurried away before I could snap a picture of him.

Anyway, the island was rocky and overgrown with crazy pointy plants. There were cacti, but there were also these strange, broadleaf plants with spikes covering their leaves. A few of our companions had unfortunate run-ins with these leaves and bore the marks of the experience for the rest of the trip. They must have had some sort of toxin in the spikes, as the wounds looked like bee stings, and were apparently as painful. The top of Jamesby, aside from deadly plants and illusory lizards, was breathtaking. Here, you can see the view from the promontory looking down on our home for the week:

The island in the distance is actually where they filmed the scene in Pirates of the Caribbean where Jack Sparrow asks "But what about the rum?!" After she set it all ablaze to try to get the attention of a passing ship. I wanted to go to that island (whose name I unfortunately forget) but apparently it's one of the Cayes' most inaccessible places, necessitating an entire day of sailing to reach. I imagine that's one of the reasons they chose it to film that particular scene. Actually, I learned that exactly one year ago (January 2005) they finished filming the second and third installment of Pirates of the Caribbean almost entirely in the Grenadines! Damn! A year late! I could've totally been an extra. I'm very well versed in piratology. So I'm like, a natural. Or something.

Anyway, back to pics. Here's a shot of the step-brother-in-law sitting on a rock at the top of the island. I've no idea how he got there, as the whole peak of the island was really inhospitable, and he was pretty far away. But it's a cool shot, so I figured I'd share:

All in all, it was quite an incredible hike. The island was stark and beautiful at the same time. But eventually we had to leave to make our way to Union Island to refuel the boat and get new water. While we were docked, we explored a supersketchy little town called Clifton Harbour. Apparently the Grenadines used to be a huge exporter of bananas, but somehow the Dole and Chiquita corporations have very recently made that particular agricultural pursuit particularly unprofitable for the residents of these islands, so they had to find another crop to take its place. Another thing that was apparent to me was that one specific crop seems to grow quite readily in the climate these islands inhabit. When set ablaze, this crop has a very distinctive aroma and effect on the human mind. Both said aroma and said effect were alarmingly prominent in this bustling little town. Numerous merchants boasted far more than the traditional T-shirts and Island Rum for sale in their tiny ramshackle lean-tos, albeit not overtly. I saw several bricks of some kind of unidentifiable herbaceous material which I assume was one and the same with the crop I spoke of bearing the distinctive aroma and effect on the human mind. The inhabitants of this settlement seemed to be rather heavy cigarette smokers, though the American cigarette manufacturers did not seem to hold the same market share in this town as they do in the States. These people prefer to roll their own -- rather large -- cigarettes.

OK, moving on from thinly veiled references to the recreational activities of this particular nationality of islander, I thought I'd expand on the "sketchiness" of Clifton Harbour, as I characterized it earlier. I never felt myself in imminent physical danger, though there was one decidedly insane man wandering the streets with an enormous machete, chanting to himself and occasionally sitting down, pulling down his pants and toying around with parts of himself that most folks with a firm grasp on reality keep covered and safe from machetes. Particularly machetes in the hands of verifiable maniacs. Though I suppose he could really only handle one at a time. I didn't pause to analyze this odd little distraction, though, as it was... slightly offputting.

On the cooler side of events, we found a "secret garden" which was NOT of the variety you might expect, keeping in mind the agricultural bent of this little isle. It was a path behind a tiny roadside bar lined with bamboo and artwork leading to a tiny and out-of-the-way art gallery called the Castello Art Centre. If you click the link, check out the "bars" section of the site to see just how tiny the bars on this island are. Anyway, the art gallery featured works by an artiste named Jutta aus Berlin. She paints on actual sails, and the work is at once primal and exuberant, though the medium she uses probably merits owning a work far more than her talent as an artiste.

At the end of the evening, we went to a restaurant called "Restaurant The West Indies". It was a small place off of a very dark alley on the far side of town, but once we entered the restaurant, it opened into an expansive, grass roofed cabana. Unfortunately, upon landing at Clifton Harbour, I neglected to take virtually any pictures at all, as I was so taken aback by the stark difference between this island and the stop at the previous inhabited island, which featured the houses of only the richest and most pretientious of Hollywood's and Dubai's elite. I really wish I'd documented this island more, as it really was remarkable. However, it did prepare me for a most incredible experience at our next island stop, Mayreau. I'll tell you ALL about that mystical wonderland next time...

Until then, Happy MLKJ Day! Fight the power!!!

Grenadines Day 2: From Mustique to the Tobago Cayes

2006-01-11T17:51:00.000-05:00

Monday morning we left Mustique for a long sail to the Tobago Cayes, a tiny group of uninhabited islands to the south. If I were in an airplane, looking down on them from above, they'd probably look like this:

But I was in a catamaran, so they looked more like this:

Anyway, on the sail over, the first mate told us that we'd be sailing through some choppy water, and if we like roller coasters, now would be a perfect time to sit on the front of the boat. I wasn't sure what she was talking about until we started heading straight into some really large looking waves. Everyone was in the back, where the galley and all that other nautical stuff was, and looking toward the front of the boat, we could see the entire prow plunge into the waves and rise up about ten feet above the water again and again. This looked exceedingly fun, so Clif (the brother-in-law) and I decided that we'd give it a go. I felt like I was in one of those ridiculous Peppermint Patty commercials or something. Or a rodeo, only instead of cows and mud there was a boat and the Caribbean. Or something. Either way, it was boatloads of fun (pun may or may not be intended, I have not yet decided) and everyone else was too afraid to give it a try. Of course, nobody could take any pictures, cuz our stupid digital camera isn't waterproof.

Well, someone was able to capture my ghostly whiteness after the rockin' boat slowed, and here's what it looked like:

Keep in mind, now, that all of Dawn's and my luggage was lost, save for our toiletries. So we were surviving on the ill-fitting garb of family. And I had to buy new shades. Which looked totally ridiculous, if you ask me. But you didn't so I'll stop making excuses.

Anyway, by the time we dropped anchor, most of us were half in the bag, and it wasn't until after dinner that someone grabbed the camera and started recording the assclownery that ensued. The MIL had brought along an arsenal of elf and santa hats for us to don as we serenaded the other boats around us with off key Christmas Carols. I promised I would NOT sing. But rum has the most curious effect on one's singing capabilities. I think I was channeling Liberace, guessing from this shot that was taken of me playing a quick round of "hide the thumb" with an unsuspecting brother in law:

From what little I remember, a catamaran quite close to ours applauded (I think it was applause) for a while, and then the captain stood on the prow of his boat holding a lit flare aloft, ostensibly in honor of our charming performance. Everything after that is pretty much lost on me due to the one way Rum Boulevard my esophagus had become.

THe next day we spent almost entirely in the Tobago Cayes, exploring and scuba diving. I shall regale you with stories of this misadventure in a mere... few days. Or something. I know, I know, I've been a bit remiss in my tending to this here blog... but ain't it worth it? I mean fo' real. Sheeit. Peace out for now, fellow simians and homonids.

A Morsel For Your Patience...

2006-01-09T09:38:00.000-05:00

I shall post the follow-up pictures from Day Two of my excape to paradise presently. You see, I was forced into menial labor by the slave driv... er... wife, all weekend, and therefore had no time to upload my exquisite photos OR to compose a pithy summary of the day's events.

Of course, I jest. All day Saturday was spent house-shopping, as our current domicile no longer fits our needs, both geographical and functional. It's a perfectly fine home, to be sure, but the lady's new job demands a commute from Central Jersey that is taxing on the soul and just plain exhausting. So we looked at houses all day in Southeastern PA. That was exciting. I'd never done something like that before, and sheesh... let me tell you, I am shocked and amazed how ... wrong it feels. Walking into these houses felt almost voyeuristic. Virtually none of the homes we saw were cleaned up and prepared for house shoppers to snoop around. As such, we could tell so much about each family just from all the junk they still had laying around. My favorite house, by far (and I wish ever so badly I'd brought my trusty digi-cam, cuz you guys seriously have to see this place to believe it) was a place viretually on the highway. The first indication that the inhabitants were ... interesting ... people was the pimped out Pontiac in the driveway. The thing had a hydraulic foil on the trunk, dual coffee-can sized exhausts that pointed upward at an angle and (here's the coup de grace) a jesus fish decal. The juxtaposition instantly put a hurtin' on my fragile little brain.

So with that experience as a hint of what was to come, we entered the house. The lower floor, where we entered, was nothing special, except for the enormous TV and goose-turn green shag carpet. So we went upstairs. That's when the enormity of this place and its contradictions hit me like a ton of bricks. I immediately saw a framed Thomas Kinkade painting hung on the most prominent wall of the room with track museum lighting illuminating it from above. Now, to understand my reaction to this abomination, you have to understand where Kincade and his army of mutant Orcs resides on my hierarchy of evil in this world. It's somewhere between violent crime and the room full of genetic "experiments" that Ripley entered in Alien Resurrection. That's the kind of revulsion I feel any time I see anything resembling a Kinkade-like touch. And here I am, face to face with a museum-fied and gaudily framed paean to the embodiment of all that is Bad Taste. I think I may have puked in my mouth a little bit right then. And I certainly wastn't prepared for the horror that awaited me.

I turned the corner into a very nice kitched fitted out with a huge granite countertop and ridiculously expensive-looking Corian sink. It was beautiful. And above it hung two prized -- and obviously proudly virgin -- Cracker Barrel Commemorative Cast Iron Skillets. Ohhhhh Kaaaaay. That's two for bad taste, one for inexplicable indications of wealth.

Turning back toward the shining Kinkade Altar, I realized that I'd missed a porcelain Thomas Kinkade commemorative clock ticking away beneath the painting upon a tiny table seemingly built expecially for it. Choking back more liquid revulsion, I passed by into the master bedroom. Upon seeing the terror that greeted me, splattered all over the poor, defenseless walls, I cried out in shock. Not only were the walls peppered with Kinkade prints (at least eight of them), but the wallpaper was Thomas Frickin' Kinkade wallpaper. Who in the name of all that is holy and divine, would ever plaster Thomas Kinkade wallpaper up on their bedroom wall? And for the love of God WHY??? I left it up to Dawn to recount to me the rest of the crimes against good taste that inhabited the room, as I blacked out then and there. After coming to, we entered the final room of the house, ostensibly the baby's room. Those walls bore the final straw of what my delicate will could tolerate: numerous Anne Geddes photos of babies in various ridiculous costumes. That was it. I needed out.

I couldn't even see the damn house through the haze of awful taste that polluted the entire place. I'm glad I saw it though, because before that, I couldn't for the life of me, figure out how the hell a no-talent hack like Thomas Kinkade could possibly stay in business. Now I know. He's independently financed by some inexplicably, independently wealthy blind man.

Photos soon, I promise!

PS - My apologies to anyone out there who actually likes Kinkade or Anne Geddes. But honestly, they're crap.

The Grenadines, Day 1: Mustique

2006-01-04T18:38:00.000-05:00

The Wife and I spent the week before Christmas this year with her family on a catamaran in the Windward Islands of the Caribbean. Her mother and stepfather took the whole family on vacation as a Christmas present to us. What a freakin' present! It was amazing, and I've decided to take you, my faithful and lovely readership, on a tour of this unbelievable little island chain. Virtually nobody has heard of The Grenadines because the big cruise ships don't frequent their shores. Like the British Virgin Islands, this archipelago is more of a sailing haven than a cruise ship destination, so very few of us up here in the US are familiar with them.

Anyway, our first stop on the tour is the Island of Mustique, home of ridiculously rich musicians (Mick Jagger, Shania Twain and David Bowie have all owned homes here, and you can rent most of them for the modest price of around $30,000 a week!!!) and Tommy Hilfiger. It's quite a nice island, but that's pretty much what you get when the rich and famous clobber each other to get a shot at living there, right?

Anyway, at the top of this island is a super pretentious, very expensive and hypersnobby little restaurant called Firefly. It's probably the nicest eating establishment I've ever seen, and priced to suit its beauty. Since sensitive superstar types tend to frequent it, they don't let cameras in, but since I'm very, very sneaky, I was able to snap a couple of pics. Unfortuanately, we were the only ones there, so I couldn't get any paparazzi shots; but that lent a really cool air of exclusivity to our visit that we probably wouldn't have had were we being stared down by the rich and famous. Anyway, here's the view from their picture window overlooking the western slope of the island:

There was also a really exclusive looking resort on the island called the Cotton Club. They had beautifully manicured grounds that you never see in "real life" Caribbean islands. But it was nice nonetheless. Here's a photo:

There was also a pond on the grounds that was carpeted in what looked to me like lotus flowers. If anyone has any info on whether these suckers were in fact from the Nelumbium family, please let me know. They sure were purdy! Witness:

Also, there were quite a few Red-Footed Tortoises (Geochelone carbonaria) ambling about the island. So many, in fact, that there was even a statue dedicated to them along one of the island's few roads. Apparently, the island is populated by hedonist tortoises. That's awesome.

Well, that's about it for the first day. It was interesting, and we ended the day by drinking lime daquiris at Basil's beachfront bar, which is apparently famous or something. They were a bit on the tart side for my taste, but I could see how they might be really refreshing on a superhot day.

Next, the Tobago Cayes and drunken Christmas Carolling!

Dust In The Wind...

2006-01-04T12:52:00.000-05:00

You're my Boy, Blue! Rest In Peace, Patrick Cranshaw, AKA Blue.

You were an inspiration to us all. Until you starred in Herbie: Fully Loaded. But we can forgive the minor transgressions, for you were Blue.

Evil Santa Pope

2005-12-30T08:49:00.000-05:00

Who elected Freddy Kreuger pope? At least this get-up is a throwback to the good old days of Santa, when he had an assistant named Black Peter, who would beat the crap outta naughty children, while the good ones got stuff.

This Ratzinger guy's no joke. And apparently, before he bought the farm, John Paul Vader taught this new Pope how to Force Choke. Here he is trying to administer the death grip to one of his pathetic minions who failed in whatever dastardly task was given him:

His form may be a little off, but give the dude a break! He's only been channeling God's commands for like 8 months! With practice, he'll be just as deadly as the last Pontiff was.

PS - Thanks to Chandira for inspiring this sacre-licious post! And for the nifty Popey Kreuger pic!

PPS - The hat is actually an official part of the Papal Getup (official terminology, by the way) called a camauro. Before Ratzy, the last pope to don one was Pope John the Twenty-Third! Like NBC says... The More You Know...

And I'm Back!!!

2005-12-27T15:12:00.000-05:00

I can hear the collective sigh of relief heave and ripple through the blogosphere. Fret not, kiddies! Uncle Devo has returned to protect you from the terrifying depths of ennui to which you've undoubtedly sunk without his elegant commentary upon life and its various and sundry annoyances.

Apologies for the unexpected hiatus. I actually DID expect it, I just neglected to warn of its impending nature as the date of my departure approached. Again, my apologies. I've been in the Grenadines, a tiny chain of Caribbean islands south of St. Vincent, and north of Grenada. I shall of course post pictures as soon as I've voodoo-ed them out of my fancy schmancy digital camera and into the heart of Internetia.

And my Christmas was wonderful, too. My brother got fake dog poo. It really doesn't get any better than that. Actually, I lied. It does. The best gift ever was from me to the wife. It's a hand-crafted egg white separator. Behold:

God, I love Christmas. And all it's heretical commercialism.

I just puked in my mouth a little...

2005-12-15T13:01:00.000-05:00

When I saw this on BoingBoing...

Brass Knuckle implants. Apparently, "extreme piercer" Joe Amato also pioneered the supremely messed up practice of eyelid piercing.

I think both brass knuckle implants and pierced eyelids trump even the wackjob who decided it would be "cool" to lace up her back.

Intelligent Design vs. Incompetent Design

2005-12-09T12:57:00.000-05:00

In light of the stimulating conversation in my last post's comments section, I thought I'd post on something usually equally as divisive and controversial as federal involvement in public education: Evolution!!! Better yet, why not combine that theme with education! Specifically, I thought I'd share my thoughts on teaching evolution in science class and the recent movement encouraging some schools to include "Intelligent Design" in their science curricula.

I, for one, am all for introducing "Intelligent Design" into classrooms nationwide. In fact, I don't even have a problem with teaching this populist drivel to science classes. Let's take a brief look at why these folks in Kansas want their Godscience foisted upon children who don't know any better:

Objectivity results from the use of the scientific method without philosophic or religious assumptions in seeking answers to the question: Where do we come from?

Well, then... If I'm correct, which I may not be, but if I am, then part of the implied meaning of the concept of "objectivity" is giving equal credence to several viewpoints and allowing an impartial evaluator to determine the validity of each. So why not toss in a few other theories and let the kids use "The Scientific Method" to see which ones make sense and which ones turn out to be utter hogwash upon rigorous inquiry! Which alternative viewpoints do I suggest, you may ask... Well...

A Professor emeritus at UMass, Don Wise, has come up with a great complement to the ludicrous suppositions of this "Intelligent Design" lunacy. He calls it "Incompetent Design", and his explanations, while humorous and only half-serious, expose the tenets of Intelligent Design for what they are: philosophical snake oil and pseudo-intellectual puffery. For example, take a look at Professor Wise's cranial conundrum:

Look at the bones in your face. They're the same as the other mammals' but they're just squashed and contorted by jamming the jaw into a face with your brain expanding over it, so the potential drainage system in there is so convoluted that no plumber would admit to having done it!

So if science classes are intended to give students a solid understanding of the scientific method, and if they are to allow intellectual curiosity to flourish, why not feed the kids a dose of both kinds of "ID" and have them come up with their analyses of what's right and what's wrong with each theory? If they stick to the rigors of what is expected of any scientific-minded human, they can't but come to the conclusion that this Wise Guy (heh heh heh) has a bit of a cranial advantage over his mumbo-jumbo "Powers That Be, Hallelujah" brethren. Then, perhaps the teachers could offer an overview of the Theory of Evolution as a pretty balanced and generally scientifically rigorous explanation of why species exist as they do in today's world.

Whaddaya say? Presenting Intelligent Design as a perfect example of "bad science", or "what to avoid in formulating hypotheses"? I think it's so crazy it Just... might... work...

Products For The Resoundingly Average Child

2005-12-06T09:44:00.000-05:00

No Child Left Behind indeed...

When you consider that the speed limit on the Learning Infobahn at our nation's public schools has been lowered to a mind-numbing crawl already, it's a wonder they don't start introducing children's toys like these to teach tomorrow's "resoundingly average" leaders and statesmen at a very early age that they're not alone in their mediocrity.

These playtoys are simply ingenius. The way I see it, if we start children out early with significantly lowered expectations, then eventually we won't have all these annoying liberals demanding accountability or or silly things like responsible, well thought-out "exit strategies" for wars we feel like declaring.

Nor will we be force-fed some outrageous and overly complicated fairy-tale about how live "evolved" from goo. Nope! This is the next generation of No Child Left Behind. How CAN we leave anyone behind when nobody's going anywhere at all anyway?!

I got nothin' today...

2005-12-02T15:29:00.000-05:00

Except that the word "hosebag" pleases me to no end.

If I ever make a baby, I'm totally naming it Hosebag. Unofficially, at least.

Now take off, eh?

Can Technology Takes A Leap Forward

2005-11-30T08:11:00.000-05:00

Four words I heard last night on the Moving Picture Box managed to give me the vapors. Fortunately, I was already reclining on my fainting couch, so I suffered no severe head trauma upon hearing about the "self-cooling beer can".

Apparently this technology has been around for a little while in England, but I'd never heard of it until I saw it on the Science Channel. Anybody out there familiar with this amazing development? Anybody actually tried it yet?

Let's Make Some Democracy! Energy Drink Edition

2005-11-29T15:11:00.000-05:00

Whose energy drink reigns supreme?

Will it be Lil' Jon's Crunk Juice:

Or Steven Segal's Asian Experience:

Oh good god, I'm feeling faint just looking at these two Miracles of Marketing Madness in such close proximity to each other. Honestly, I'm surprised my computer hasn't blown up just trying to process the insane amount of stupidity right here on the screen!

Vote Below!

All Kindsa Stuff About Me

2005-11-29T09:25:00.000-05:00

Care Of Recon and DeadPanAnn... thanks guys. Really. I mean it. Here goes...

Ten years ago:

This period of my life was a touch on the fuzzy side. High school, moodiness, being naughty... that about sums it up, I think. I know I was trying to get into college, which was proving to be a bit tougher than I'd originally anticipated. But eventually I suckered a school in the fine state of Connecticut to let me squat on their campus for four years.

Five years ago:

I had just moved to Boston and into a frightening apartment with our good buddy Recon. This place was pretty ridiculous. The neighborhood was not so nice either. When Recon says his car was stolen while living there, he doesn't mention that it was stolen from our driveway. It was definitely haunted, too. And I don't even believe in ghosts.There WAS a pretty sweet crying chair there, though.

Also, I had just hopped on the tattered tailcoats of the "Internet Bubble's" last gurgling, Tuberculosis-infested cough of life by getting a job at Cambridge Incubator. I was paid far too much money to do absolutely nothing all day. I got fed Thai food and microbrew beer on Fridays, and played foosball and ping pong in the main meeting room with my boss. I had a corner office with a view of the Charles River at the tender age of 22. I was also laid off four months later. But I had a taste of the good life, and I'm proud to say that I participated in one of America's most embarassing bout of Venture Speculation ever recorded. If you want an idea of my life during this time, check out the movie Startup.com.

The day I was laid off, I watched Office Space for the first time, by the way. Now THAT is synchronicity.

One year ago:

I started working at oh... about the fifth place I've worked since leaving Internet Playland. Trying to find a "real" career after spending the first four months of your professional life in Romper Room is difficult, to say the least. Trying to explain to the person in the next cubicle over that I used to have a corner office makes you sound crazy, by the way.

Five Yummy Things:

I'm with Recon on this one: the word "Yummy" makes me want to puke in my mouth. Kinda ironic, ain't it? With that in mind, here is just about the only "Yummy" thing I can think of:

Dousing anyone who uses the word "Yummy" without a trace of sarcasm or irony on their blog in kerosene and doing this to them:

So now, on to five things that make a sexy party in my mouth:

1- A margarita made with Don Julio Anejo tequila, Cointreau, Key Lime juice and a hint of fresh lemon juice. Shaken, on the rocks and with a fat wedge of lime.

2- Mussels from Monk's Cafe in Philly

3- a really well-made slab o' tuna sashimi

4- The Guinness they pour at the tasting bar at St. James's Gate Brewery

5- A nice Chateau Lafite-Rothschild Bordeaux

Five songs I know by heart:

1- Build Me Up Buttercup

2- Happy Birthday

3- Copacabana

4- "Hooker With A Penis" by Tool

5- "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats

Five things I would do with a lot of money:

1- Build a home entertainment system to end all home entertainment systems. We're talking 20 foot screen, hundred thousand watt speaker system, Dolby 900 (which doesn't exist and will never exist, except in MY movie theater) and seats made out of baby seals that serve you beer when you think the word beer.

2- Build an android that's an exact replica of Recon and send it after him to terrorize him for eternity. It would be so perfect that everyone would start thinking the android was the REAL Recon. THAT would freak him out. When the joke got old, I'd send in the mob of angry villagers with pitchforks and torches.

3- Find whoever invented the notion of Supply Side Economics and "stimulate his economy" with a giant dildo.

4- Buy an orangutan and teach it to dismantle Cadillacs like Clyde from Every Which Way But Loose.

5- Hire an army, arm them with hair dryers and send 'em to the arctic to do a number on the ice caps. Just to show those rich folks with their mansions on the beach why they should be just as concerned about the environment as I am.

Five things I would never wear:

1- Anything Chartreuse

2- Anything Salmon

3- Anything Fuschia

4- Anything Periwinkle

5- Anything Taupe

Five Favorite TV shows:

The Daily Show

Good Eats with Alton Brown

The Colbert Report

Beavis and Butthead

The Simpsons

Five things I enjoy doing:

Nerding (this includes learning stuff about computers, playing video games and doing the sorts of things you associate with being a Nerd, other than getting beaten up by the jocks)

Reading

Nothing, if it's on a sparsely populated Caribbean island

Yelling at the TV,

Thinking about how much it would suck to be this chick's boyfriend

Five people I want to inflict this on:

Oh come on... I'm a civilized blogger. I've long since abandoned spreading these things. They're like the Internet version of Pilgrim smallpox blankets. You feel all cool cuz someone is being nice and giving a crap about your pathetic life, but then, once you accept, you find yourself covered with pus-filled boils. The meme stops here! Though there are many among you from whom I'd like to hear all about these things. So, if you decide to contract this textual virus, please let me know in the comments! I actually AM just burning to read all about all of you. So please, do. Cuz it burns! IT BURNS!!!

In Praise Of All Things Old Timey

2005-11-18T09:32:00.000-05:00

Paul the Spud has inspired me to write a thoroughly meaningless yet inexplicably enjoyable paean to -- of all things -- an adjective.

"Old Timey" is totally coming back. George Clooney and John Turturro spearheaded the Old Timey initiative way back at the turn of the century (the Twenty First Century, that is! Ho ho!) with their cinematic performances as the Soggy Bottom Boys, and Jack Davenport followed up by leading his soldiers in a rousing chorus of "Huzzah's" in Pirates of the Caribbean (after Jack Sparrow helped him by breaking the Curse of the Aztec Gold, of course) in 2003. The "Guinness Guys" have made a smattering of charming appearances on the Telly, proclaiming the various technological advances achieved by the folks at St. James's Gate Brewery to be "Brilliant!" And I quite agree. The widget truly is a thing of beauty. Old Timey is everywhere, and I, for one, am quite happy welcoming back an age of the following wonderful things:

Strong men with handlebar moustaches and monochrome-striped unitards lifting heavy, oblong slabs of iron

Handlebar moustaches in general

Bicycles with one enormous wheel and one tiny wheel

Stovepipe hats

Outhouses, particularly outhouses with the crescent-moon cutout on the door

Rocking chairs

The Monacle

Hobos

Bare knuckle boxing

Please feel free to add in Old Timey essentials I've missed in the comments section...

I think the next step is re-introducing some truly fantastic language back into everyday parlance. I've already mentioned my love for the word "Huzzah", and here I shall list a few others I deem worthy of inclusion into our new vernacular:

Bully (the adjective, not the noun)

Milquetoast (Thanks, Paul)

Rapscallion

Great Caesar's Ghost! (in honor of the inimitable Shakespeare's Sister)

Varmint

Tarnation

Vittles

Fisticuffs

Really, that's all I can think of right now. What wonderful Old Timey words am I missing? Let me know, and use them liberally!

I shall leave you with a picture of my new hero, and patron saint of all things Old Timey, John L. Sullivan, bareknuckle boxing king of the universe.