SQUIRREL EAT SQUIRREL WORLD

Yesterday night I was watching some Irish news show on PBS and the serious-as-a-heart-attack delivery given by the news correspondent made me LOLAMESAL (those not hip to the new lingo, "Laugh Out Loud and Maybe Even Snort A Little). I mean, she was talking about the future of red squirrels as if they were part of the African diaspora. "Skwoo-rools," she said. "Skwoo-rools".

So from what I gather, the British Red Squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris) is on the brink of becoming an endagered species, in part due to the wiley ways of the tyrannical American Grey Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) on British soil. Apparently the fatter, cuddlier greys have built antibodies to squirrelpox, which has destroyed large populations of the wiry, less-adaptable reds.

Also, according to the BBC:"Grey squirrels seriously threaten woodland management through damage to trees and woodlands and by squeezing out red squirrels and possibly other wildlife like woodland birds."

I say balderdash! Maybe it's their manifest destiny! Like the American settlers, the American squirrels must prosper I say.

There are actually powerful lobbying groups seeking to destroy our poor little bushy-tailed friends: groups like the European Squirrel Initiative and the Save our Squirrels project are actively pushing for grey squirrel genocide.


(This handsome little guy is proud to be an American.)


It's all well and good to want to save the red squirrels; I'm sure they're cute little buggers too, they are squirrels after all. But I think the Limeys are taking things a little too far this time, they are actually serving our poor little squirrels, our innocents living abroad, Peking Duck style! They are actually eating our squirrels in pubs across Northern England.

One wannabe squirrel-eater said:
"I haven't tried grey squirrel but people I know who have say it tastes like chicken used to taste when it tasted like chicken."

Wha?

Another claimed:"The Americans have numerous recipes for grey squirrel, with the most popular being Brunswick Stew, which is casseroled squirrel."

Again, if I may: Wha? Wtf?

So they're not just culling the hell out of our squirrels, they're acquiring a taste for them!

I just don't understand why people are jumping on the red squirrel bandwagon, why are these squirrels deemed more important, or more native, than the greys that have, I'm sure, legally migrated there and maintain active civic roles in their respective squirrel communities? I did find one campaign sticking up for our squirrels, "Professor Acorn," so at least there's one group, or professor, that cares.

OK, I'm going to post a picture of a red now, but don't be blinded by the cuteness...


Oh crap, this little guy is seriously adorable. OMG with that little hazelnut in its mouth...the greys are pretty fat and juicy-looking in comparison...I wonder where I can find the recipe for that casserole.

ME IN COMIC BOOK FORM

I heart Tessa's comics, I heart them longtime:

Tessa's Braces: I miss nature

WTF SAJAK, WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I'm dying here. Tell me what font you use, you smug sonofabitch!

DEEP THOUGHTS

"Contrary to what most people say, the most dangerous animal in the world is not the lion, or the tiger, or even the elephant. It's a shark, riding on an elephant's back, just trampling and eating everything they see." --Jack Handey
Electronic drawering by me.

ANOTHER GREAT HOUSING SITUATION IN THE CITY BY THE BAY

This is what I deal with on my daily quest for housing. Bullshit like this, I actually have to consider bullshit like this if I want to find a new roof over my head:

$1250 Web Ninja+Hacker chaos-seekers seek third (mission district)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: hous-449337354@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-14, 10:39PM PDT


We're 24 and 26 year old straight male cosmic anarchists with an open bedroom in a 3 bedroom 2nd floor Victorian mission flat with lots of common space.

We're zero drama, very low bullshit, maximally easy-going, and non-territorial. We're from the Internets and we build the Internets. We love haxxing code, mad chaos and random adventure.

Ideal roommate would be a crazy easygoing male or female with a good sense of humor. A plus if you like to light shit on fire on occasion.


$1250 rent, hollatchaboy

SPEAKING TRUTHINESS TO POWER: REVISITED


This morning I watched Stephen Colbert on Larry King Live, pitching away for his new book, "I Am America (And So Can You)." Of the many good points made, one which stuck with me was when Colbert said that school children should be memorizing his White House Correspondents Dinner speech he made last year (video here), not the Gettysburg Address.

In a way, I would have to agree. There is so much anger and insight within his words if you read between the lines--just brilliant. And his commentary about the media and the war and...well, here's one of my favorite excerpts:

I believe the government that governs best is the government that governs least. And by these standards, we have set up a fabulous government in Iraq.

I believe in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. I believe it is possible -- I saw this guy do it once in Cirque du Soleil. It was magical. And though I am a committed Christian, I believe that everyone has the right to their own religion, be you Hindu, Jewish or Muslim. I believe there are infinite paths to accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it's yogurt. But I refuse to believe it's not butter. Most of all, I believe in this president.

Read the whole thing yourself here.

POP QUIZ: THE FOLLOWING IS A PRESS RELEASE FROM A CONGRESSIONAL COMMITTEE...OR IS IT?

Bipartisanship on SCHIP!

Republican Senate hopeful Montgomery Burns today joined with Mayor Joe Quimby, D-Springfield, to support the Senate’s gazillion-dollar SCHIP bill.

“If the poor children can get a piece of the action, why can’t I?” explained Burns at a MoveOn.org rally in Capital City. “The little darlings are needy? Me, too. I need somebody to pay. Quimby here says he knows a bunch of low-income nobodies who are ripe for the picking. Excellent.”

“You need this?” wondered the mayor. “Well, why not. I’ve got needs, too. Why, I’ve got 27 paternity suits pending and to quote the Speaker, ‘suffer the little children.’ The Quimby Compound is overflowing with those little sufferers. Vote Quimby.”

Inexplicably, the mayor then leaned toward a comely MoveOn organizer and whispered in her ear, “Ah, if anyone asks, you’re my niece from out of town and you don’t get SCHIP.”

“But Uncle Joe, I am your niece from out of town, and I do get SCHIP.”

“Good Lord, I’m a monster!” exclaimed the mayor.

Mr. Burns shrugged and pressed on with a stirring call to arms: “Truth and fairness, these are the demons we must slay if we wish to save the tykes.”

His patience was tested when a ruckus arose from a restive crowd of backdrop-toddlers who’d been rented by MoveOn for the photo-op. “Get these props away from me,” Burns hissed.

“Kids? Who needs ‘em? Rahm, release the hounds!” added Quimby with a spreading grin. “Ha, I’ve always wanted to say that, Burns.”

The 37 rental children fled and were not seen again, but the arf-arf-arfing of their pursuers could be heard well past sunset.

Find the source for this crackpot SCHIP non sequitur here.

IN MEMORY OF ENRICO


Last night I shared a beer with a man who lives in North Beach and we discovered that we had more than a lot to talk about. He was a bit older, a lawyer, and had lived in the city for quite some time. I was drinking a beer inspired by the comedian Lenny Bruce, and this guy, Bobby, told me a story about how Bruce, tripped up on smack or something, threw himself out the window of a two-story hotel off Columbus Ave because he saw his friend walking down the street. When his friend, horrified, asked him what on Earth he was doing, Bruce replied, "I really needed to talk to you, and this seemed like a good short cut."

But then, speaking about North Beach and SF history, Bobby broke the news to me: Enrico Banducci, the "King of North Beach" had passed away the day before at age 85.

Enrico was a San Francisco icon. And for the West Coast bohemian/beatnik scene, a legend. I had the honor and privilege of working as a bartender at his 50-something year-old restaurant, Enrico's, when I first moved to San Francisco a year ago. I met him briefly and only once, while he was being filmed for a documentary. While we didn't exactly engage in conversation, my impression of him was that he was one of the those people, not unlike the Dalai Lama, that exuded vivacity, teamed with innocence and joy. He had a smile a mile long, and was wearing that silly little black beret that he is known for. I loved him immediately.

But Banducci wasn't, as I initially assumed, simply known for his restaurant that once served as a major social scene for San Francisco glitterati and eccentrics alike--he established the hungry i. The hungry i was a nightclub that, under Enrico's conception and direction, launched the careers of the stage-frightened young comedian Woody Allen and a feisty 19 year-old named Barbara Streisand.

Visting North Beach now, it's nearly impossible to imagine the glory that it once was. Today it is reduced to a red light district of flashy strip joints and street walkers, with Little Italy tourists pouring in to experience fading remnants of a the beats and of west coast jazz clubs. While Enrico Banducci will never revisit his restaurant, or Tosca, or City Lights again, one can only hope that his legacy will not be forgotten.

Here are some touching comments from the San Francisco Chronicle's article about him:

--In 1966 I was very young sailor new to the city. Looking for something to entertain myself I bought a ticket to see Woody Allen perform at the Hungary i. Couldn't ask for a better introduction to San Francisco. Thanks Enrico.

--I was so lucky to know him - the sparkle in his eyes never faded - he was always charming and kind and funny - I will miss him forever

--Damn, another one gone. All the Chartreuse that I drank at Enrico's would float a washing machine. Anybody remember the time Bob Dylan got kicked out of Tosca? I was the one that pushed him out the door with my foot for the bartender. Enrico's was a singular moment at the end of the heyday of our empire. No one under 50 will ever nor can they ever know of what the old city was made.

GOOD COP, BABY COP

More of the funny at the expense of a child made unawares. This is the second video on the funny or die website done by Will Ferrell, whose toddler co-star, Pearl, completely steals the show.

Pearl: "I break bones and laugh."

Ferrell: "I don't know who blackened your soul a long time ago, but may God have mercy on it."

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN. THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON...

I really can't finish that title as it relates to the contents of this post. My stepbro is going to absolutely ream me, or never speak to me again for mocking him and his videos. I know his videos are very important and sacred. And I realize it must take an enormous amount of time and energy to spin the records for the background music, edit the video and come up with cool special effects, AND be able to capture circus freak-like talents for use on youtube.

Tim L was my stepbro for nearly 10 years growing up. We lived together in South Lake Tahoe and mostly spent our time vandalizing the neighborhood, competitively injuring ourselves on our non-bmx bikes which we treated as such, and generally causing a great deal of mischief.

He tends to get real mad when I don't watch his videos, which usually consist of montages of him doing backflips off of people's roofs.

But I just think this one of him climbing up a tree is sooo great, it makes me laugh so damn hard every time I watch it and I don't know why.

GIULIANI-INSPIRED FUNTIME DINNER PARTIES

Upon hearing recently that former New York mayor Rudolph Giuliani, now-frontrunner in a bid for President of 9/11, had a sweet-ass fundraising dinner in Palo Alto, I was inspired to have one of my own.

Apparently he charged guests nine dollars and eleven cents. Get it? $9.11! How quaint! I think I'll have a dinner party with a super-chic Pearl Harbor theme. We can have a luau with one of those stuffed pigs, and I'll make people wear pearls it'll be fab! OR, I could even have an Oklahoma City Bombing soiree of sorts, where the game is, you have to bring in one bottle of wine or beer that costs $4.19. Why? Because the bombing occured on April 19 silly! Oh Giuliani, your partying spirit is incorrigible! Can't wait to see your next article in Martha Stewart Living!

WHAT NOT TO DO IN YOUR CRAIGSLIST APARTMENT SEARCH:

Exhibit A, this douchebag writes:

$800 New (chill) lawyer in town needs roommates (mission district)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: hous-429334085@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-09-22, 1:39PM PDT

Let's get 2 or 3 cool young professionals/students together and get a place to call home. I'm thinking the Mission, but any cool neighborhood would do. We need: responsible, cool, fun, funny, smart people. Work hard/play hard types. But clean. And financially stable. Do you fit this description?

I just graduated from Wash U. Law School in St. Louis (went to Duke undergrad)and moved out here and took the Cali bar. I'm just starting my job search, but I'm financially stable in the meantime. Let me know if you're interested in assembling a house. Tell me about yourself. Include your myspace.

1. Overuse of the word "cool" is not cool. For all I know, you think wearing a Snoopy "Joe Cool" t-shirt is super-cool. Specify what is meant by cool or risk failing my coolness litmus test.

2. Cool cannot be followed by "young professionals", there, you just failed the test.

3. Don't you ever use the term "work hard/play hard" douchebag! For all I know you enjoy the lifestyle of a Gordon Gekko-type Wall St tycoon and debauch yourself weekly in Vegas on copious amounts of cocaine and underage prostitutes.

4. "(went to Duke undergrad)" Wow, how humble you are Mr.Gekko, using parenthesis to name drop Duke U. Did I fucking ask? Does attending Duke AND getting a law degree mean you will wash your fucking dishes and refrain from bringing underage hookers home?

5. Never use the term "Cali". Only morons who are not from California say Cali. "Cali" is almost acceptable from one person in the whole wide world, and that person is LL Cool J. And he was from New York and it was the 80s and rap stars from New York in the 80s are exempt from any accusations of being uncool.

Don't post craiglist ads like this one, don't be a doucebag.

YOUR YOGA INSTRUCTOR MIGHT BE A SADIST IF...

(Note: these are all actual incidences that occured to me in both Santa Cruz and San Francisco)

--They take the time, while you are contorting your body and placing wooden blocks under your back or your ankles, to recite quotes about embracing pain from Indian mystics.

--While in a downward dog position, they tell you to put your leg above your head, then, realizing they meant something else, giggle uncontrollably.

--They don't have a spare yoga mat, but tell you that you can use a spare pilates mat, which is slippery and seems to be more suited for break dancing than balancing exercizes.

--They ask you to imagine connecting the left cochlea of your ear to your right femur. Or the second row of metatarsal bones on your right foot to your collar bone. Then they single you out and accuse you of failing to do so.

--Ask you if you like how a a position feels, then ask you if you'd like to die in this position.

Just something to think about, as yoga is quite culturally unbiquitous. Here is picture illustrating this fact:


Find more examples of asanas as used in urban life here.

IF I ROBBED HIM

Did anyone else catch Slate's "excerpt" from OJ's "new book"? It's probably one of the online mag's most absurdly-prefaced, hilarious articles to date. The intro claims that a rocket will:

...carry O.J.'s book advance to the Andromeda galaxy, where it will be stored in a black hole that is believed to lie outside the jurisdiction of the $33.5 million civil judgment against Simpson in 1997.

THE FUNNIEST JOKE IN THE WORLD: PRESCHOOL EDITION

As I was doing research for an article NCLB, I discovered a flood of highly entertaining personal blogs by our nation's finest educators. One such had posted this video of the comedian Zach Galifianakis (a regular on Reno 911! and The Sarah Silverman Program) with an audience of preschoolers. My fav line is: "Preschool is nuts isn't it?" uproarious, manic laughter ensues, proving his point exactly. But the funniest part is when the children themselves deliver the jokes. Watch and discover the funniest joke in the world...to a preschooler.

SUPER FUN PARTY LUNCH TIME

I thought I was sooo rad, winning a free lunch for up to ten people at my favorite taqueria downtown. I won by dropping my business card into a drawing box (this is actually the 2nd lunch I've won in the past two weeks). Alas there was a catch, a catch upon many. Basically, it will be sponsored by a financial group, whose rep will bombard us with chin music (look it up people) as we order, and then make us fill out a questionnaire. As my friend Linda pointed out, the email from the rep, in order to invite my "associates", makes the event look like one super fun party lunch time:

LIST OF ATTENDEES:

1. Amity

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Rules:

21 & over

NO Alcohol

NO Dessert

Must BE PROMPT / ON TIME

Have Fun!

SPONTANEOUS BISEXUALITY OF THE FUTURE?

Italian physician Dr. Umberto Veronesi is predicting a rise in bisexuality in the future, claiming that we will be able to see evidence of this major trend in just three generations time. This, he contends, will be attributed to a massive cultural transition whereby love will be based more upon affection than procreation.

But relax! The Washington Blade reports that, according to Dr. Paula Rodríguez Rust, a lesbian and member of the International Academy of Sex Research, "...that doesn’t mean people who are straight or gay will spontaneously become bisexual."

Whew! For a second there I thought turning bi was the new spontaneous combustion .

According to the National Center for Health Statistics, less than three percent of Americans identify themselves as bisexual. Whether or not these were incidences of spontaneity was not reported.

All paranoia aside, I am glad to know that love is more about affection than "genital needs" these days. Recently, my friend David H came across this great Freud quote from "Civilization and its Discontents":

"People give the name 'love' to the relation between a man and a woman whose genital needs have lead them to found a family" (57).

Sexy (;

I am now imagining a Sandals commercial of the future (three generations time to be exact), where instead of "I've had the time of my life", the backgrond music is Blur's "Girls and Boys":

Streets like a jungle
So call the police
Following the herd
Down to Greece...on holiday
Love in the nineties
Is paranoid
On sunny beaches
Take your chances...looking for
Girls who are boys
Who like boys to be girls
Who do boys like their girls
Who do girls like their boys
Always should be someone you really love

BIN LADEN MORE POPULAR THAN BUSH

At least in Pakistan. A poll by a Virginia-based think tank called "Terror Free Tomorrow" ran a poll asking 1,044 Pakistanis, face-to-face, what they thought of bin Laden, Bush and their own president Pervez Musharraf.

Turns out bin Laden blew the competition out of the water with a whopping 46 percent approval rating, while Musharraf got a 38 percent rating and Bush, surprise surprise was at a pitiful nine percent.

There is a silver lining, however. The Pakistanis admitted their opinion of the U.S. would get better if Americans gave more aid to their country, gave more in business investments, and issued more visas so that they could work in America.

And who knows, maybe, if we treat 'em right, they'll erect a great monument to commemorate the outstanding support we've shown to them. Perhaps like the sarcastic Sarajevans who built a great statue to honor us and show how very much they loved the canned beef they received during the 1992-95 seige of their city.

HOPE IN THE DARK

Every now and again I'll come across a book which moves me to tears. I think this has happened maybe 3 or 4 times in my life. I recently finished Rebecca Solnit's "Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities" and such a moment occurred in the very last chapter.

Rebecca Solnit is a local Bay Area activist and cultural historian. I first came across her in the Guardian's Comment is Free section, enchanted by her ballsiness in writing this entry. Her prose in "Hope in the Dark" shines and dazzles, waxing poetic on subjects that tend not to inspire great nonfiction writers to step outside of basic documentarian posturing.

The book revisits social movements stemming from the '99 WTO protests in Seattle, and traces some truly inspiring moments of activism which, in Solnit's view, have sparked a new breed of political activism across the globe, the Zapatistas in Chiapas often cited as one example of this new model. What's truly stunning is how she manages to connect all the dots, pinpointing the amount of political cross-pollination that has occurred over the past decade through common enemies such as war, global warming, environmental sustainability and labor rights. Linking conservative ranchers to lefty environmentalists fighting for sustainability; Kazakhs and Western Shoshones united against nuclear test sites, Solnit captures the seemingly nebulous state of modern social movements.

The ending of this book was so beautiful, and made me oh so very proud to be a San Franciscan:

The future is dark, but begin in the present, at the Pacific where it fronts my city, where western civilization comes to an end in a strip of sand and the realm of whales and sharks begins. Fish populations are plummeting in this and other oceans, but if you go down the coast a ways you'll come to where the sea otters hunted nearly into extinction have come back to the kelp beds; if you go either north or south, you'll come to the beaches where the elephant seals who were likewise nearly exterminated return every winter to fight, mate, and nurse their young. Take a third Pacific species, though--the brown pelican, which also nearly disappeared, then came back--and imagine one pelican's trajectory from Ocean Beach, the western edge of my city and our continent.

Imagine it soaring with the heavy prehistoric grace of a pterodactyl down Fulton Street, the long street that starts at the beach, parallels the north side of Golden Gate Park, and carries on after the park ends to run east through the old African-American neighborhood, past surviving gospel churches and extinct barbershops to the little formal garden between the War Memorial Building and the Opera House, then straight into City Hall, whose great gilded dome straddles the street. Let that pelican soar through the echoing central atrium where in 1961 students who protested the anticommunist purges were washed down the marble stairs with fire hoses, let the bird float out the other side, going on east, to United Nations Plaza, where Fulton dead-ends into Market Street, the city's main artery. This is the place where stories come together, one of the countless centers of the world.

...From the west, California as a fierce goddess confronts you; at her feet stands the California grizzly, extinct everywhere but in art and on the state flag. Dedicated on Thanksgiving 1894, the monument survived the 1906 earthquake while all the buildings around it crumbled and burned...a few Native Americans denounced one of its life-size sculptural groupings, the one that shows a Mexican vaquero and padre looming ominously over a prone and apparently conquered Indian. They didn't succeed...but they stirred up a furious public conversation about California history, and they won an addition, a bronze plaque below the sculptural group that speaks of genocide and colonialism, a small rewriting of history, a small measure of change.

...This is what the world looks like to me, like U.N. Plaza, full of half-forgotten victories and new catastrophes, of farmers and junkies, of mountains of apples and of people trying to change the world and tell the truth. Someday all of this may be ruins, but for now it is a place where history is still unfolding. Today is also the day of creation.

We need more books like this to read in conjunction with bleak morning newspapers. We need something.

Hawke Book Spreads Abject Mediocrity, Drags Feist Down with It


Oh crappy Ethan Hawke book, I thought I'd erased all memories of you when I threw you in the trash at age 16, perhaps, if memory serves, even spitting on your shitty hardbound cover. But now you've been made into a feature film, effectively making me wish for the days when Garden State, the worst Wes Anderson/Mike Nichols knock-off film ever, was just the worst pseudo-pretentious peice of trash I'd ever seen. But now I've become saddened by the knowledge that even Zach Braff just isn't at the bottom of the barrel any more.

I think it was the line, "And the day made love to the night" that threw me into a fit of nausea-tinged anger as a youth--I mean, at 16 I was no lit expert, but c'mon, I wrote more compelling stories at age 10 (a story I wrote about a tennis ball and his journey of self-discovery was published in a collection of short fiction by Nevada elementary school children one year). The plot goes something like this: boy meets girl, boy looses girl, boy goes off the deep end of an olympic-sized pool of his own self-loathing and pitifully lame self-indulgence expressed through banal cliches masquerading as expressions of profound heartbreak.

Hawke's new movie looks so bad, it's even got steely-hearted film critics embarrassed. This review was my favorite:

He’s a certifiable pseudo-pretentious windbag who wants so goddamn badly to be Gus Van Sant that it makes my spleen ache like a saxophone inside a sick tooth. And the biggest problem I have with it is not an outright dislike for his work, but a queasy brand of pity I feel for a writer/director who seems almost all too aware of just how third-rate he is comparatively. It’s like … like … Jewel showing up to a poetry reading at Maya Angelou’s house. She’s gotta know just how badly she’s going to embarrass herself, but you feel equal parts shame and reverence for the brazen audacity it takes to get up there and avail her grade-school level vulnerabilities in front of a poet laureate.

What's more, Hawke hired this schmuck Jessie Harris to score the soundtrack. This Harris character used his wannabe-indie sensibilities to write all the songs and hand-pick the musicians "fortunate" enough to cover them. Willie Nelson, Cat Power, Emmylou Harris and Feist are sadly among them. I was excited about the idea of discovering a new Feist song, so I downloaded and almost enjoyed it enough...but then..."like roses on the sea"? Wtf? Ethan? Did you write these lyrics?

Unchained unchained
We drift away
Like roses on the sea

Stars in the sky
They’re always alone
They’re on their own
But you know they’ll always shine
And I know they’ll always shine
All the time

Bwwahh, brrwahhargh, blarghwaagh

(I'm such a great writer, I can capture the essence of barfing so very well. Try that Hawke...more like...chicken.)

VIDEO GAMES, THEY AIN'T WHAT THEY USED TO BE



There was once a time, long ago and far away, when a wee lad could grow up strong, and grow up wise, and become the all-time world champion of Donkey Kong, or even Missile Command, if you like. He may appear on the cover of Life magazine, pose for Playgirl, marry a woman with fantastic breast implants, and even have a great conversation with the rock star Madonna Ciccone, in the 80s. Last weekend I saw King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, which captured that bygone era in all its glory.

Perhaps the most awe-inspiring, mind-blowing documentary of geekdom that I have ever experienced, the characters featured in this film were so rich, so incredibly dweeby, that the director was offered a movie deal to have real actors portray the real-life ubernerds.

A side character that really didn't appear all too often in the film really stood out--the aforementioned Missile Command world champ. Dubbing himself "Mr. Awesome", me and my friend Allie felt the immediate need to YouTube the video of himself featured in the documentary, where he lays out his guide to getting girls, stating, in his best Senator Ed Kennedy impression, and I quote, "I want you to remember: No punk bastard ever got a gnarly piece of poontang by being sensitive and considerate!":



After the film, we engaged in a serious discussion about video games, how social they once were, etc etc. I found myself recounting my days of a deeply disturbing addiction to the first-ever CD-formatted game console SEGA CD at age 13. Specifically, the game Night Trap, which has since been pulled off the shelves due to its controversial content. I loved that game, it had all the right ingredients to make for an unbelievably creepy gaming experience: you've got a young pre-suicidal Dana Plato, massive house with hidden passages to explore, bizarrely devious family with near-scenes of molestation, and nightie-clad sorority types falling prey to ninja/vampire burglars wielding sci-fi blood-extracting devices. This thing really blew GTA and Resident Evil out of the water. Seriously. Recently, also on YouTube, I discovered segments of the game...oh how I yearn to play it again! Die Lisa Die!

SENATOR LARRY CRAIG GETS NO RESPECT


The Craigs

Since I've only read about him and never heard his voice, I'd like to imagine the Idaho Senator talking trash like Rodney Dangerfield, elaborating upon his official statement to the press about recent allegations of improper public bathroom behavior:

I'm tellin ya, I'm not gay.I never have been gay. No respect, no respect. My wife, she's a real frigid kinda dame, y'know? I mean, a roll in the hay is like, foreign to her y'know? She thinks Grape Nuts is an STD or sometin'. My brother said giving him a blow job would help his unemployment, so she gave him one, y'know? This dame. No respect.

So I get a little lonely on business trips? So wha? Rubbin another man's leg in a bathroom stall is like, the way I say hello, make friends y'know? Badda bing! Then I give 'em a little slap n'tickle, how's your father, I'm just sayin--no respect no respect. If that leads to somethin sexual, who am I to turn someone away and hurt their feelings, y'know? People are actin like I'm gay or somethin', those who don't want to give me respect--do I need to remind you who I am? Larry-muthafuckinrespectful-Craig. I'm such a great social conservative, where's the respect? Where did it go? Ay! I've been in the NRA for over 20 years now, I reject protection for gay victims of hate crimes and am a big endorser of the Federal Marriage Amendment, y'know? No respect no respect. I think the federal government should give no respect to Hurricane Katrina survivors. Ay-oh! I get respect, but them gays and poor New Orleans sons of bitches, they get no respect. I am Larry-muthafuckinrespectful-Craig.

MY HIGH SCHOOL REUNION


A shot from Lisa W's sweet sixteen. There's nothing more foul in all the world than rich white teenagers receiving new cars with bows on top.

My reunion was crap. There, I said it. Completely anti-climactic, a super-low turnout of under 70 for a class of 300+, and a recent tragedy less than one week prior which saw our "Most Friendliest" as a meat cleaver-wielding child killer didn't help matters. All this made for a sad event indeed.

However, I did get to see about five or so awesome folks that have actually maintained their awesome tendencies, if not completely expanded upon them. And I stole a time capsule from a girl in my class that was appallingly snobby in high school. And it had some really intimate collectibles. And they were LOLADOF funny ("Laugh Out Loud And Dying On Floor" for those not hip with the new lingo). This girl didn't make it to the reunion, and since I never made my own time capsule, I rejoiced at living vicariously through Lisa W.'s.

Lisa W. was on the dance team with me. She had dark brown hair past her ass and was extremely lanky with stalky green bean legs. I never counted her as one of the more intimidating beauties in our school, especially since she had a speech impediment which made it difficult for her to pronounce her R's, replacing them W's. She thought she was a real gem though, that's for sure. And judging from the suitors that passed notes to her in class, a bit of a "woman of the night". One of them, who we'll refer to as "J", was a friend of mine, and made an annual event out of asking me out. I, in return, made it an annual event to flatly reject him. But Lisa W. dated him, and boy was that ever a train wreck. After Lisa brutally dumped him, he wrote this note to her in class:

Though time may pass a thousand shadows, the only scene I feel is your touch through the looking glass...I'll see you again when time permits the fate of young love. That day I love you and farewell.

Later, when "J" still can't move on, and Lisa W has a new boy toy, he writes:

Lisa, you're the best damn tease in the nation's powerhouse.

She responds:

Ya tease to please, not please to tease. Do it right or not at all.

What that means I may never know. I certainly didn't know it in high school, maybe that's why my dating life was so nonexistent as a youth.

The best was the letter she wrote to herself though:

Dear Me (Lisa),
I wanted to write a letter to myself so that in 10yrs I can remember what I was like...I hope that when I read this in 10yrs Ames and Shans will still be my friends. Amy is the goofy one, she reminds me of Phoebe on "Friends"...Luke calls me "chicken legs" cuz I'm so skinny. I don't think that but oh well...Well I have finally gotten into modeling and now I'm just waiting to hear from agents. I'm working at Contempo Casuals and I love the beach. I hope that in 10yrs I have a house on the beach or near it w/horses... Being 17 is so fun, no responsibilities, but when I'm 27 I will be reading this. That's pretty scary. "Smile its the second best thing for your lips, the first is chapstick." Well I best be on my way--oh and one more thing. No matter how hard mom tries, my room is never clean.
Love always, Lisa Class '97'

Oh Lisa, thank you for deep insights on...chapstick.

TOO COOL AND CONSERVATIVE FOR SCHOOL

Ever hear of FOX news' answer to the Daily Show, "The 1/2 Hour News Hour"? Yeah, me neither, and looks like no one ever will since it was canceled on Tuesday after a painful six months.

Shock! Horror! How could this be? And with rock star conservatives like Rush Limbaugh, Dennis Miller, and Ann Coulter on board? Hmmm...maybe it's because neocons and their ilk don't have the intellectual capacity to convey solid satire and even basic humor. Must've been a slight oversight on FOX's part. Whoops. SO PATHETIC! They actually had to PAY their studio audience members just to be there and had to rely on canned laughter!

In memoriam, let's look at what some of the critics had to say:

"Sometimes the humor is so heavy-handed that it seems almost like self-parody."
--The New York Times

"'Weekend Update' on its worst night isn't this bad."
--The Orlando Sentinel

"It's even worse than anyone imagined."
--The Onion A.V.Club

BEFORE VIEWING, A WARNING: Throwing up in one's own mouth may occur:



Even after the whole Crossfire debacle at CNN, seems like the conservative media barons haven't learned their lesson: don't mess with the Stewart and the Colbert.

HAPPY DEATH DAY ELVIS

Today is the 30th anniversary of the King's death. As devotees from all over the world make the pilgrimage to Graceland, I'd like to post a YouTube photo montage/audio of one of the funniest Elvis recordings ever. Who knew His Majesty had such a wicked sense of humor and giggled like a schoolboy at his own immaturity? Listen to Elvis completely loose his shit:



On the subject of death, turns out army suicides are at a 26-year high with 99 soldiers offing themselves last year alone! Also, there were 948 attempted suicides! YAY WAR IS FUN!!!

THE NYT UNCOVERS A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX!



So some professor of philosophy at Oxford claims we have a 20% chance of living in a Matrix-like scenario whereby we are all just computer simulations from some "Prime Designer", or some nerd on a couch with a (literal) god complex.

This supposed Dr. Bostrom told the NYTimes in a recent article,“My gut feeling, and it’s nothing more than that...is that there’s a 20 percent chance we’re living in a computer simulation.”

Yeah, and my gut feeling is that you're 90 percent full of shit, and marginally retarded. But the NYT columnist goes on to indulge this theory, revealing less about Bostrom's opportunistic philosophical indulgences and more about his own inflated sense of journalistic righteousness:

If simulations stop once the simulated inhabitants understand what’s going on, then I really shouldn’t be spreading Dr. Bostrom’s ideas. But if you’re still around to read this, I guess the Prime Designer is reasonably tolerant, or maybe curious to see how we react once we start figuring out the situation.

Oh what a tangled web you've weaved little NYT self-aggrandizer.

It’s also possible that there would be logistical problems in creating layer upon layer of simulations. There might not be enough computing power to continue the simulation if billions of inhabitants of a virtual world started creating their own virtual worlds with billions of inhabitants apiece.

It's like Russian dolls...whoaaaaaaa! He leaves us with this, in regards to how the end of the world (or whatever "world" that we know)could play out:

It might be something clunky like “Insufficient Memory to Continue Simulation.” But I like to think it would be simple and familiar: “Game Over.”

Cute (;

BOSTON CONFERENCE, CBS INFILTRATION, AND THE CHRISTIAN SCIENTISTS

Just flew back to the US of A: West Coast Edition yesterday afternoon from NYC, and boy, do I wish I hadn't.

Things I miss: summer HEAT(!!!), cheap seafood, better beer, good conversation with state politicians, Rick Moranis, the American Association of Nude Recreation, smiley Christian Scientists and having them shower me with free copies of their newspaper, seeing "M" and Marie, real pizza, Central Park, Dean and Deluca cupcakes, reverence for JFK, Mike Wallace's office, opera singers from a neighboring music school faintly belting it out across the street from my friend's house.

Things I am happy to not miss at all: counting rats in the subway and contemplating if Manhattan's rat population could ultimately destroy all human life on the island, schmoozing with awkward state politicians, "continental breakfast", humidity, holier-than-thou Williamsburg kids. As you can see, the things I miss greatly outnumber the things I don't.

I'll back up: I was sent to Boston to attend a conference for state legislators during the week, then I went to NYC to visit a friend for the weekend. The first day of the conference I played hookey, opting to sneak onto a tour bus headed towards the JFK Presidential Library. That was a beautiful experience; it almost made me teary-eyed revisiting his exhilarating campaign towards the Presidency, reflecting on the founding of the Peace Corps, and musing on the glory days of Camelot.


Below the quote, photos of public spaces dedicated to JFK around the world

The next few days were spent attending lecture sessions about things like redistricting, water resource policy (actually the most entertaining), immigration, educating the future workforce, etc etc. My favorite part was the massive general sessions though. On one day, pop historian David McCullough spoke about the importance of history, another, Nancy Pelosi talked about something inane (I missed that one), as did Skeletor (I mean, Michael Chertoff), and Jimmy Orr, the "brains" behind the Whitehouse's "Barney Cam", who discussed how morons such as himself are given top positions in the White House communications department. I remember, one morning, telling the cabbie that I was about go watch Michael Chertoff speak. He replied, in a very strong Indian accent, "What is wrong with him? He looks like a cancer patient or demon." I concurred, the man is sickly--of both mind and body. And he's out to destroy He-Man!

Anyways. I had some insightful discussions at lunch and on the bus, among other places. A legislator from Nevada told me about water resources and the frivolity of Lake Las Vegas, an Australian politician from Canberra talked about the value of compulsory voting and the importance of not worrying about campaign fund raising, and a lawmaker from Kansas told me about her daughter living in Tehran.

And then there was the exhibition hall. I decided to alleviate the boredom that plagued the booths of certain lobby groups and non-profits who seemed greatly stigmatized by most attendees. For instance, I had a fine chat with the Nude Recreationists--I asked them if they felt uncomfortable in their business suits. They did. They also said they were angry about being referred to as a "colony"--they weren't ants!

The medical marijuana group and the progressive drug policy people seemed to be extremely bored--most of the legislators seemed to stick to the far outskirts of an imaginary bubble surrounding their booths. So I chatted them up and got some free statsheets. Yes! Statsheets!

There was actually some great swag items to be had. My favorites were a C-Span tote bag (to be worn for a hot night out on the town)and a super-cool gadget from the NRA. Yes, I know I know, I didn't want to go near those NRA folks, what with their creepy pictures of Charlton Heston and swathing groups of children. But I got the best toy ever. It's a whistle, a compass, thermostat and flashlight all in one! For those Deliverance moments that NRA-lovin deer hunters must fall prey to all the time.

On my down time, I kept walking over to the Christian Science Plaza, which holds the Mary Baker Eddy Museum and the mother church. I have this obsession with the Christan Scientists because I feel their belief system holds the key to how a publication can achieve the very best in journalistic integrity. I fucking love the Monitor. That's all.

The interior of the church is amazing, with one of the largest organs in the country, and a very impressive rotunda, while the outside is cold and strange, like the outside of the Willy Wonka chocolate factory. I kept thinking, 'Nobody ever goes in, and nobody ever comes out!' while strolling the grounds.

Speaking with a tour guide really helped demystify some of the misgivings of the religion. Turns out that modern-day Christian Scientists don't really condemn those who received medicine or surgery. They just like to emphasize the natural healing principles that Christ Jesus (as they call him) practiced. They rely upon spirituality to overcome psychosomatic tendencies, but are by no means extremists about it.

The Mary Baker Eddy museum, on the other hand, was a little freaky. It definitely gave off the strangeness of Scientology. I ventured into the Mapparium,the interior of a huge stained-glass globe constructed in the 1930s, as well as the "Hall of Ideas."


The Hall of Ideas

I'll stop writing about the Christian Scientists now. My friend "M", who I stayed with in Manhattan over the weekend, was really sick of hearing about it. My time with her was spent flashing her CBS ID all around town to get into museums and shows for free, watching her dance like Michael Jackson, seeing Spamalot (kinda overrated--not really worth mentioning), almost meeting Rick Moranis at a coffee shop, and visiting the offices of 60 minutes where I took an inordinate amount of time photographing Mike Wallace's office.

Now's the part where I tell you what I learned on my summer vacation: Summers in San Francisco blow compared to New York and Boston. But then again, for the entire remainder of the year, nothing beats it.

LIVE FROM BOSTON! IT'S A NEW BLOG POST!

Well actually this post probably won't be so "live" by the time anyone reads it. Anyways. I've been away for a massive conference, bonding with our nation's great state legislators in the "City that never sleeps"... "The biggest little city in the world"...that's right: Boston! I only have a few hrs left before hopping a train to Penn Station to visit a friend in NYC for the weekend, but in the mean time will go spend some quality time with the Christian Scientists at the Mary Baker Eddy museum for the second day in the row. I really can't pry myself away from the place--will update with photos soon!

bisous

BARACK MY WORLD

Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!...Look, up in the sky...It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...it's...Barack Obama ready to kick some serious al Qaeda and other such radical Islamic militant/terrorist operations' ass!"



Obama's new Pakistan strategy, while I want to believe it's the right thing to do because I love Obama more than Jesus if I were a born-again Christian recovering alcoholic living in a FEMA trailer, just seems so strange and out of character. He's coming down way hard with the war-mongering all of a sudden.

Even through my rosy liberal glasses, I know war time may be all I will ever know for the rest of my natural-born life due to the fact that the world hates us, and will probably try to kill us on our home soil repeatedly because our government has robbed millions of their own. It's the great American existential crisis of our time. But still. He's going for a pre-emptive strike that even the Bush administration is too prudish to attempt. That kinda scares me, considering his lack of military experience. But if his ability to prove, by all outward appearances, that he's going to "fight for the Homeland" ultimately allows him to win the presidency, do your duty chief.

Some excerpts from this morning's speech:

"Just because the President misrepresents our enemies does not mean we do not have them. The terrorists are at war with us. The threat is from violent extremists who are a small minority of the world's 1.3 billion Muslims, but the threat is real. They distort Islam. They kill man, woman and child; Christian and Hindu, Jew and Muslim. They seek to create a repressive caliphate. To defeat this enemy, we must understand who we are fighting against, and what we are fighting for...

The President would have us believe that every bomb in Baghdad is part of al Qaeda's war against us, not an Iraqi civil war. He elevates al Qaeda in Iraq – which didn't exist before our invasion – and overlooks the people who hit us on 9/11, who are training new recruits in Pakistan. He lumps together groups with very different goals: al Qaeda and Iran, Shiite militias and Sunni insurgents. He confuses our mission...

By refusing to end the war in Iraq, President Bush is giving the terrorists what they really want, and what the Congress voted to give them in 2002: a U.S. occupation of undetermined length, at undetermined cost, with undetermined consequences.

When I am President, we will wage the war that has to be won, with a comprehensive strategy with five elements: getting out of Iraq and on to the right battlefield in Afghanistan and Pakistan; developing the capabilities and partnerships we need to take out the terrorists and the world's most deadly weapons; engaging the world to dry up support for terror and extremism; restoring our values; and securing a more resilient homeland."

MY NEXT NETFLIX RENTAL...

Has got to be "The Shining". I don't know why everyone claims it's so scary...I really liked Jerry Maguire, so I think I'll really enjoy it.



postscript: extra props for the selection of Peter Gabriel's "Salsbury Hill", most clichéd film song ever!!!