...since they occur so infrequently:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-RjkK6QQ4Y
"This song is about punching ninjas in the face."
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Submitted without further comment...
...because this speaks for itself, really. This is the type of fucking compassionless animals we're dealing with here.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_lt_gov_don_t_help_the_poor
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_lt_gov_don_t_help_the_poor
Monday, January 25, 2010
Things you don't really want to dream about...
I'll tell you, there's nothing like waking up at 6:30 (a full 90 mins before one's alarm) from a dream in which your own mother tells you that you've already reached the end of your allotted lifespan.
Now, don't get me wrong...I don't believe I'm in Final Destination 12 or whatever they're up to now...it's just...why the fuck would you DO that, subconscious mind?
Now, don't get me wrong...I don't believe I'm in Final Destination 12 or whatever they're up to now...it's just...why the fuck would you DO that, subconscious mind?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
And so Brown wins.
I have vacillated on this point many times in the past...but I think I have come to a final decision. In the end, intelligence is a curse. Maybe it wasn't back in 200 BC, when intelligence meant that perhaps you came to the conclusion that, oh, leeches were a terrible idea medically speaking (or you were Sun Tzu and you wrote The Art of War or something)...but these days? All it serves to do is make one painfully aware of the fact that things are circling down the drain while the types of brainless fucking monkeys that could vote for a fucking empty suit (that aside from his Tea Party-esque retardation of course) like Brown celebrate their Pyrrhic victory tonight. It's enough to make me want to vomit up the delicious +6 (Dundee Honey Brown) that I have consumed tonight.
The extent of thought that seems to have gone into this as far as Brown voters go seems to be one of the following:
1. "HUUUUURRRR....we can't vote no wimmens into office!"
2. "HUUUUURRRR....that wimmen is too librul!"
3. "HUUUUURRRR....we don't want no govenmint socialust helthcayre!"
OK, great. I sincerely hope from the bottom of my motherfucking heart that every fuckstick that voted for Brown encounters some form of unpayable healthcare bill thanks to the rampantly-unchecked healthcare industry of today. I mean, it's really easy for me to say that making a decent middle-class wage and having no dependents and a doable rent...I know that, don't get me wrong. My joke of a fucking healthcare provider isn't trying to pay the $770 ER visit I had back in November...but if I lose that appeal, I'll manage. No one wants to fucking hear it, but what if I bagged groceries in a supermarket? What if I were a single parent? In that case, I MUST BE ON TEH WELFAYRES!, according to the GOP and their fucking minions. Errr...actually, what about 5 years ago when I was busting my ass and performing well working in a corporate office in New York City for 10 motherfucking dollars per hour? Had my perfectly reasonable soccer injury happened then, how super-fucked would I be right now, let alone the aforementioned bagger or single parent?
But no, this empty fucking suit drives a truck and wears a blue collar, SO HE MUSTS BE ONES OF US!!!!one!!!. Seriously, Massachusetts, die in a motherfucking fire, all of you. Of course, I'm sure this isn't a NIMBY "we have a state-run universal healthcare system, so fuck all the rest of you" situation at ALL, is it you fucking cunts?
One day, I hope to move to fucking Ireland. It has its own problems, but at least there isn't this kind of rampant stupidity amongst the populace.
The extent of thought that seems to have gone into this as far as Brown voters go seems to be one of the following:
1. "HUUUUURRRR....we can't vote no wimmens into office!"
2. "HUUUUURRRR....that wimmen is too librul!"
3. "HUUUUURRRR....we don't want no govenmint socialust helthcayre!"
OK, great. I sincerely hope from the bottom of my motherfucking heart that every fuckstick that voted for Brown encounters some form of unpayable healthcare bill thanks to the rampantly-unchecked healthcare industry of today. I mean, it's really easy for me to say that making a decent middle-class wage and having no dependents and a doable rent...I know that, don't get me wrong. My joke of a fucking healthcare provider isn't trying to pay the $770 ER visit I had back in November...but if I lose that appeal, I'll manage. No one wants to fucking hear it, but what if I bagged groceries in a supermarket? What if I were a single parent? In that case, I MUST BE ON TEH WELFAYRES!, according to the GOP and their fucking minions. Errr...actually, what about 5 years ago when I was busting my ass and performing well working in a corporate office in New York City for 10 motherfucking dollars per hour? Had my perfectly reasonable soccer injury happened then, how super-fucked would I be right now, let alone the aforementioned bagger or single parent?
But no, this empty fucking suit drives a truck and wears a blue collar, SO HE MUSTS BE ONES OF US!!!!one!!!. Seriously, Massachusetts, die in a motherfucking fire, all of you. Of course, I'm sure this isn't a NIMBY "we have a state-run universal healthcare system, so fuck all the rest of you" situation at ALL, is it you fucking cunts?
One day, I hope to move to fucking Ireland. It has its own problems, but at least there isn't this kind of rampant stupidity amongst the populace.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
I just don't get it...
With all due respect - if you play sports just for fun, then quite frankly I don't understand your fucking worldview. I just don't.
Drinking is fun. Watching TV is fun. Hanging out with friends and/or family is fun. Know what all of these things have in common? THEY HAVE FUCK ALL TO DO WITH THE ACT OF COMPETITION. I don't understand how you can voluntarily go out into a competitive situation and not care about actually, you know, competing and stuff.
Don't get me wrong - it's not the act of losing itself that gets me this angry. I have lost many games before, and I'll lose many games in the future. But, what really burns my ass (and I've said this before in other places) is I will never understand people who go through life without the basic fucking desire to want to do better at whatever activity they choose to do.
Let me circle back for a second...I think this will illustrate the point I'm trying to make. I had two outdoor games tonight, and both opponents were teams that have historically made a habit of kicking my Irish ass all over the place every time I play against them. The first game was against the side that my main team beat in the semifinals of the fall season (the less said about the final, the better) in what I still think is the single best performance I have ever come up with. I wasn't quite that good tonight, but the only thing they beat me on was a rebound. It finished 1-1, and considering the relative skill levels of the teams involved, it was quite a solid performance from us tonight.
The second game was even better, because I was playing for a third-division team against one of the stronger teams in the first division. Not only did it finish 1-1, but I was at fault for their goal...we should have actually won. Still, I can be proud of my efforts, as I came up with several key stops to keep it at 1-0 until we eventually got the tying goal.
Long story short - ass-kickings happened in the past...I worked hard, got better, and came away with the satisfaction of tangible improvement. With the second game especially, even though we probably should have won (and the fact that we tied was 100% my fault), I could be proud of the effort I put in.
Then, I had the indoor game...not only did we lose, but it was 20-2 or something like that. Roughly zero of those goals were my fault, and, well, I wish that it was socially acceptable to ask these questions of my teammates:
1. How can you play soccer for as long as some of you have and not have the most insignificant iota of soccer intelligence? How can we keep playing three players up front in a 4-on-4 game after, oh, the 8th or 9th breakaway goal? How many times does the same result have to happen before you realize that you're doing it wrong? Seriously, I wonder if they watch a depressing movie over and over hoping that, this time, the ending will be different.
2. Shouldn't pride kick in at some point? Once it's, oh, 15-2 or something, shouldn't there be some kind of response to the stimulus of being embarrassed over and over?
Perhaps you think I overreact, but I look at it like this: I'm 31 years old, and I have only won one championship in all of the seasons of soccer that I played. I spent most of the early parts of it getting hammered by 8, 9, 10 goals when playing for my company team (in fairness, we were in over our heads the vast majority of the time, and god did I fucking suck back then). Even now that I'm in a league that brackets out teams by skill level, I have only rarely ever been in with a shout of winning a title, and most of those times have ended with ridiculous, unlucky heartbreaking losses. Beyond that, I do not get through any game (or night of playing, more accurately) unscathed. Every time I come home from soccer, something hurts...my knees, my arms, my elbows, maybe I took a shot to the nose that night, maybe someone struck me in the head. I have been unbelievably lucky as far as injury goes, but every night that I play means it is likelier at some point that I will be seriously injured. Pro wrestlers understand this - every time they do a dangerous spot, they refer to it as one more notch taken off their "bump card". Now, I'm not saying that what I do is the equivalent of doing backflips off of high places through a table or anything like that...but I know that at some point, I will break a bone, or dislocate something, or get concussed again. Some day, I will sustain something that means I may have to stop playing (or best-case, seriously reduce how often I play).
In other words, I only have a finite time left to experience that feeling of winning something one more time. With that one title, I didn't make a point to enjoy the moment nearly as much as I should have (it also doesn't help that my individual play had, at best, a dubious correlation to us winning the fucking thing...that team was so good, I could have read the New York Times in my goal crease for most of those games...even the final against the undefeated team wasn't really in doubt by halftime or so). I want to lift a trophy one more time, and make goddamn sure that I remember everything about it...that I let time slow down and soak in the realization that what I've worked fucking hard for has eventually had something to show for it in return.
Quite frankly, every game I play in like this where people just sort of wander around and laugh off an 18-goal loss kills off a piece of that finite time. It WASTES it. It squanders the price it takes on my body, and on my peace of mind. If I had went home after my first two games, I'd be asleep right now with a smile on my face. Now? I hope I can calm down enough to fall asleep before it's fucking light out.
I'm getting too old for this shit.
Drinking is fun. Watching TV is fun. Hanging out with friends and/or family is fun. Know what all of these things have in common? THEY HAVE FUCK ALL TO DO WITH THE ACT OF COMPETITION. I don't understand how you can voluntarily go out into a competitive situation and not care about actually, you know, competing and stuff.
Don't get me wrong - it's not the act of losing itself that gets me this angry. I have lost many games before, and I'll lose many games in the future. But, what really burns my ass (and I've said this before in other places) is I will never understand people who go through life without the basic fucking desire to want to do better at whatever activity they choose to do.
Let me circle back for a second...I think this will illustrate the point I'm trying to make. I had two outdoor games tonight, and both opponents were teams that have historically made a habit of kicking my Irish ass all over the place every time I play against them. The first game was against the side that my main team beat in the semifinals of the fall season (the less said about the final, the better) in what I still think is the single best performance I have ever come up with. I wasn't quite that good tonight, but the only thing they beat me on was a rebound. It finished 1-1, and considering the relative skill levels of the teams involved, it was quite a solid performance from us tonight.
The second game was even better, because I was playing for a third-division team against one of the stronger teams in the first division. Not only did it finish 1-1, but I was at fault for their goal...we should have actually won. Still, I can be proud of my efforts, as I came up with several key stops to keep it at 1-0 until we eventually got the tying goal.
Long story short - ass-kickings happened in the past...I worked hard, got better, and came away with the satisfaction of tangible improvement. With the second game especially, even though we probably should have won (and the fact that we tied was 100% my fault), I could be proud of the effort I put in.
Then, I had the indoor game...not only did we lose, but it was 20-2 or something like that. Roughly zero of those goals were my fault, and, well, I wish that it was socially acceptable to ask these questions of my teammates:
1. How can you play soccer for as long as some of you have and not have the most insignificant iota of soccer intelligence? How can we keep playing three players up front in a 4-on-4 game after, oh, the 8th or 9th breakaway goal? How many times does the same result have to happen before you realize that you're doing it wrong? Seriously, I wonder if they watch a depressing movie over and over hoping that, this time, the ending will be different.
2. Shouldn't pride kick in at some point? Once it's, oh, 15-2 or something, shouldn't there be some kind of response to the stimulus of being embarrassed over and over?
Perhaps you think I overreact, but I look at it like this: I'm 31 years old, and I have only won one championship in all of the seasons of soccer that I played. I spent most of the early parts of it getting hammered by 8, 9, 10 goals when playing for my company team (in fairness, we were in over our heads the vast majority of the time, and god did I fucking suck back then). Even now that I'm in a league that brackets out teams by skill level, I have only rarely ever been in with a shout of winning a title, and most of those times have ended with ridiculous, unlucky heartbreaking losses. Beyond that, I do not get through any game (or night of playing, more accurately) unscathed. Every time I come home from soccer, something hurts...my knees, my arms, my elbows, maybe I took a shot to the nose that night, maybe someone struck me in the head. I have been unbelievably lucky as far as injury goes, but every night that I play means it is likelier at some point that I will be seriously injured. Pro wrestlers understand this - every time they do a dangerous spot, they refer to it as one more notch taken off their "bump card". Now, I'm not saying that what I do is the equivalent of doing backflips off of high places through a table or anything like that...but I know that at some point, I will break a bone, or dislocate something, or get concussed again. Some day, I will sustain something that means I may have to stop playing (or best-case, seriously reduce how often I play).
In other words, I only have a finite time left to experience that feeling of winning something one more time. With that one title, I didn't make a point to enjoy the moment nearly as much as I should have (it also doesn't help that my individual play had, at best, a dubious correlation to us winning the fucking thing...that team was so good, I could have read the New York Times in my goal crease for most of those games...even the final against the undefeated team wasn't really in doubt by halftime or so). I want to lift a trophy one more time, and make goddamn sure that I remember everything about it...that I let time slow down and soak in the realization that what I've worked fucking hard for has eventually had something to show for it in return.
Quite frankly, every game I play in like this where people just sort of wander around and laugh off an 18-goal loss kills off a piece of that finite time. It WASTES it. It squanders the price it takes on my body, and on my peace of mind. If I had went home after my first two games, I'd be asleep right now with a smile on my face. Now? I hope I can calm down enough to fall asleep before it's fucking light out.
I'm getting too old for this shit.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Bits and bobs...
I do seriously want to blog more, but the problem is that I do the bulk of it at work and shit's been biiiiiiiizaaaaay there. I honestly shouldn't be blogging now, but just wanted to get some quick hits out there since it's been a while:
- First off, one of the guys here has been singing the Three's Company theme song all week, and it got me thinking. With the current era's lower threshold of pretense (especially as compared to the 70s and 80s), I wonder what some of the most famous shows of that era would be called if they came out now - especially on HBO or Showtime...
Three's Company would probably just abandon pretense and call itself Menage a Trois. You KNOW they implied that shit throughout that whole show anyway. I'm thinking All in the Family would just be, oh, Racistpiece Theater or something. Empty Nest would be My Deadbeat Daughters, whereas My Two Dads would be My Gay Dads. See? It's fun - and there's plenty more out there to choose from.
- I saw a story about how there's a small subset of people who go see Avatar who end up having to be treated for depression because they wish they could live in the world that James Cameron created. First off, GROW THE MOTHERFUCKING FUCK UP. Real life isn't easy or utopian because it's not fucking supposed to be! Humans learn from mistakes and from painful situations...pining away for a pain-free utopia is not living. Furthermore, if you want to make your life better, try actually fucking doing something about it.
Second, if you absolutely must pine away for a fictional utopia from a movie, can't you pick a better one? My immediate first choice would be Naughty Schoolgirls 3.
- I got a haircut the other day ("Not now, chief...I'm in the fucking zone!"), and it's beyond amusing to me the reactions I've gotten. The great thing about being a total degenerate is that the slightest, most insignificant step in the other direction is treated with a highly disproportionate response. In other words, it's amazing how much mileage one can get out of 5-6 less inches of hair.
Right, then...back to the salt mines.
- First off, one of the guys here has been singing the Three's Company theme song all week, and it got me thinking. With the current era's lower threshold of pretense (especially as compared to the 70s and 80s), I wonder what some of the most famous shows of that era would be called if they came out now - especially on HBO or Showtime...
Three's Company would probably just abandon pretense and call itself Menage a Trois. You KNOW they implied that shit throughout that whole show anyway. I'm thinking All in the Family would just be, oh, Racistpiece Theater or something. Empty Nest would be My Deadbeat Daughters, whereas My Two Dads would be My Gay Dads. See? It's fun - and there's plenty more out there to choose from.
- I saw a story about how there's a small subset of people who go see Avatar who end up having to be treated for depression because they wish they could live in the world that James Cameron created. First off, GROW THE MOTHERFUCKING FUCK UP. Real life isn't easy or utopian because it's not fucking supposed to be! Humans learn from mistakes and from painful situations...pining away for a pain-free utopia is not living. Furthermore, if you want to make your life better, try actually fucking doing something about it.
Second, if you absolutely must pine away for a fictional utopia from a movie, can't you pick a better one? My immediate first choice would be Naughty Schoolgirls 3.
- I got a haircut the other day ("Not now, chief...I'm in the fucking zone!"), and it's beyond amusing to me the reactions I've gotten. The great thing about being a total degenerate is that the slightest, most insignificant step in the other direction is treated with a highly disproportionate response. In other words, it's amazing how much mileage one can get out of 5-6 less inches of hair.
Right, then...back to the salt mines.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Over...
OK, so I don't normally talk about things like the love lives of celebrities. I refuse to subscribe to the cult of personality that dictates that they're better people than us or somehow more important.
That said, I have to know: What on earth do Wladimir Klitschko and Hayden Panettiere have to talk about? How did they meet? It's just so fucking bizarre...like the Celebrity Relationship Randomizer went on the fritz or something.
That said, I have to know: What on earth do Wladimir Klitschko and Hayden Panettiere have to talk about? How did they meet? It's just so fucking bizarre...like the Celebrity Relationship Randomizer went on the fritz or something.
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