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4 out of 7 scientists prefer Chewbacca's crossbow
meanwhile, behind the facade of this innocent looking doghouse...
copyright 2002-2011 ultrablognetic |
Friday, December 13, 2002
Here I am you freaks. You can’t have thought I would let the whole Friday pass by and not at least nod in your direction. OK consider this a snobbish nod. Yes, I’m too good for you now. See, I just learned that I’ve been accepted into the Campfire club, which means I get a 10% discount on cookies, which means fuck if I know what, because I’m busy as hell today an I’m just typing so no one e-mails me and complains that I didn’t blog today, which is about as likely to happen as…
Um, as… Ok, so I… Um, what was I saying. Damn it’s busy today. Every time I think I’ve got a chance to spit a verse, some banana is asking for something. Here comes another one… shit. OK I’m getting a 2 second reprieve. He’ll be back any minute. Oh here he is now. Ok. Banana #1 is out of my office again. But there is still a shitload of work to do. Fuck it’s never fuckin’ ending today, and it’s already 3:30 on the day where I supposedly get off early, as in around 4-4:30, which is about as likely to happen today as… Um… (fuck) Thursday, December 12, 2002
holy son of a goatless mother! Meesh blogged today. And she didn’t just blog, she has pictures. Snowy happy pictures with fun doggies and snowy snowness that look cold and fun. Chiggedy check check it.
 Ok enuff happy stuff you sons of goatless mothers! I’m stinkin’ mad about something! Goddammit I’m so pissed off that I threw away milk today before the expiration date.
Nah, just kidding, I’m actually in a pretty good mood. See it’s just, when I’m pissed I try to put my best foot forward and improve my mood, so I was thinking if I’m in a good mood I should try to put my worst foot forward, and like act like a full on dick. Just get good and revved up and hot and bothered and like beat up a cat with a golf club. Something fun like that. The opportunity has not really presented itself, however, and thus I am left with my good mood, and the attached lack of creativity and inspiration that usually comes with such occasional swings, and therefore I really have little of substance to say. There’s just nothing to bitch about. Oh yeah! Now I remembered what pisses me off. Oh this guy, this fuckin’ guy, I’ve been meaning to rip him one on this blog for some time. That fuckin’ subway guy. Not Jared, I got no beef with Jared, good job Jared, no squabble up in the hovel, you aiight. It’s this NEW mofo that’s got me ready to strap on my gat and go to war. This Mr. “come on you guys, pizza for dinner again? Let me get you to subway for some real food.” That blonde guy that just thinks he’s SO fuckin cool. “Oh hi, I’m Mr. Subway cool guy, and you just suck so hard.” The way he talks down to that poor kid at the Burger Joint, and the way all the people in there follow him to subway like he’s some kind of glorified corporate pied piper. FUCK THAT GUY. And how he acts like he knows all the subway workers and calls them by name when he walks in with his harem of mindless zombies “Hi Jackie, are you gonna whip us up something good today?” “Oh yeah, fuckball whatever your name is, I’m gonna whip up a horsecock sandwich and shove it up your mothafuckin’ ass is what I’m gonna do, you big pile of donkeyshit!” Well that’s not what the subway worker says, she says something like “yeah, Mr. Joe, I’ve got the new turkey fuzz cheese doodle special and it’s dripping with delicious mustard ranch sauce and it’s only $5.99 with a bag of chips and an ice cold pepsi.” But you KNOW she wants to tell him off as referenced above. And the subway worker always has some glazed look in their eyes like they’ve been medicated with some form of mind-controlling substance in order to spread the demonology of what this fuckwad is spitting. 
So other than that Subway guy, all is well. Proceed with your day. Thank you. PS – I didn’t edit this after typing it cuz just thinking about that subway guy and his attitude has me really steamed now. I’ve gotta go beat on some skunks. So please excuse any grammatical errors and or references to Satanism that may have leaked into my prose. PPS – I just came up with a saying. “Hypocrisy is the right of the aged.” That’s what they’d have you think. What a load of horseshit. “oh be patient with the old, they can’t help that they’re racist and bible-thumping-but-at-the-same-time-wishing-injury-to-people-that-they-don’t-like, and they can’t help it that they think the younger generation are a bunch of fuckin idiots solely concerned with doing the “herky-jerky.” People of the older slant have just as much duty to respect other people as everybody else. Ok this in not a generalization about all aged, it’s one aged person, and dizam, I guess it’s ok, he’s an old feller, and he can’t help it that he’s fucked in the head. But yes he can. Jeez. I’m sick of old people using their experience and the fact of “how it was in their day” as a crutch to carry on the same old bullshit of previous times. Get with the flow Joe or get off the bus. PPPS – Anal vocalizations from this locality are at an enormously high frequency today. Not in the sense of anal retentive but that I’m talking out of my ass, for those that require an explanation on such matters. PPPPS – I saw the preview for the Daredevil movie when we saw James Bond last weekend and despite my dislike for Ben Affleck, it looks pretty fukn BADASS. Oh and James Bond was aiight. Wednesday, December 11, 2002
Ice Cube AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted Ice Cube with The Lench Mob, I got it goin on A nigga that's livin in the city of the criminal zone One-time can't keep the law in order cos everybody's goin crazy for a quarter You're tuned in to the number one crew in the area The way I'm talkin I'm scarin ya I'm darin ya to raise hell and bail and brag and sag or beat down for ya flag Cos if you is or you ain't a gangbanger Keep one in the chamber Cos you'll get them thangs put on ya son Ice Cube has got the 4-1-1 All the ol' school house fellows are crooks So I get jealous looks They keep thinkin did my hair grow? Will the boys 'n' the hood have to beat down Ice Cube? Hell no, I'll static son, you'll see it's okay I keep my 9 anyway for the day one of my homies wanna squab I'm still rollin wit The Lench Mob (AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted) Back in the day I dip my shirt in dirt Sometimes I got away clean, sometimes people got hurt But if you know me, you know that I'm liable to bust a cap cos it's all about survival of the fittest I'm a menace crook I did so much dirt I need to be in the Guinness Book From the shit I took from people I reap all your fat shit, jack Back to the criminals sect I leave crew after crew but they can't catch me yet Cos I'm slick as slippery They can't get wit me, cops ain't shit to me I can't dig a pig so I drop the dogs and sweat em like sweathogs and get mad, mad cos I'm the nigga that flaunt it AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted Aiyo, here's what the poster read: 'Ice Cube is wanted dead' That's all it said I put heads to bed and fled the scene wit all the green Hear shots and si-reens When I feet first they yo' rings, now they my rings So give it up punk and then I just put another jack in progress It's the American way cos I'm the G-A-N-G-S-T-A Ice Cube - a motherfuckin clepto and tried to catch the early bird but they slept, so who gets the worm? And if I'm caught in a trap you know I'ma beat the wack with a payoff, cop gotta lay off FBI on my dick, stay off! I'm not a rebel or a renegade on a quest I'm a nigga with a 'S' on his chest so get the Kryptonite cos I'm a rip tonight Cos I'm scarin ya, wanted by America (Aiyo Cube man, they on your ass) Word, but who the fuck has heard? It's time to take a trip to the suburbs Let em see a nigga invasion Point blank for the caucasian Cock the hammer then crackle, smile Take me to your house, pal Got to the house, my pockets got fat, see Crack the safe, got the money and the jewellry Three weeks later, I'm at the P-A-D Had a little fly ass bitch wit me Sittin in a dig, yo it couldn't be (Whattup G?) Saw my face on TV Damn (oh shit!) I didn't know I lucked out Struck out, I gotta get the fuck out Pack my bags and tried to hit the dough when the ol' bitch down the street must've turned me in Cos the feds was out there ten deep I got hassled and gaffled in the back seat I think back when I was robbin my own kind The police didn't pay it no mind But when I start robbin the white folks Now I'm in the pen wit the soap-on-a-rope I said it before and I'll still taught it Every motherfucker with a colour is most wanted  I have to admit, that sometimes I get moments of weakness, or maybe you’d call it times of malcontent, or possibly even you would more accurately call it “taking for granted” the incredible writing of Tony Pierce. This is not to say that at those times I dislike it or think it sucks, (although sometimes, especially when he’s cranky, I wonder where he’s coming from – but oddly enough, those often generate some of his best posts – his fuck you to the wall street journal review of the kurt cobain book comes to mind) it’s just that every once in a while I wonder if he’s really as great as I’ve made him out to be in my head. And then he posts something like this, which makes me realize that not only is his writing all that AND a bag of chips, but that this guy is truly an inspiration and I thank Yahweh that I bumped into his bloggy blog lo those many months ago. Thanks again Tony, and keep up the incredible work.
By the way, if you haven’t purchased his book yet, put down that crack pipe and get your credit card out and get with the program punk asses, cuz it looks like he found a publisher, and you don’t want to be left out in the cold while all the truly in the know and ultra-chic peeps are reading THE tome of the holiday season and new year. By the way (part deux) is it me or has it been too long since hose monster had a good conversation with his toilet? Maybe after his finals he’ll bless us again. And maybe he’ll give us another installment in his Nohr story. That would be damn cool. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but Mrs. P and I are headed for the mainland again next week, hitting LA for a few days, and then we’ll be in Mexico for almost 3 weeks, so blogging will be very very light if not nonexistent over that period, so if you want to like, buy me a car or just kiss my ass or tell me how great I am, the next seven days would be a good time. If none of those activities interest you, please continue lurking in the corner and munching away at the scraps of questionable phrases I discard to the side during my frenzied lack of editing sessions. Mahalo. Tuesday, December 10, 2002
 Allright - i've got a little tidbit of time in between doing this that and the other thing to do a holla holla. Perusing the internet I'm coming to realize that dizam (my word for the day) there are a lot of truly great writers out there in bloggerville. Makes me feel all inconsequential and shit. Makes me feel like a little guppy in a lake full of piranhas and sharks with frikken laser beams attached to their foreheads.
See that's what I'm talking about. I mean, lines from Austin Powers? TY-PI-CAL. excuse me while I go watch "Who's the Boss." Ok I'm gonna write something really non-typical. Something that makes it so worth the extra 5 seconds of your day to visit this site rather than go to CNN or some legitimate and officially funny webpage. Something that will make you say DIZAM that was something of the extra sauce and cheese caliber. THAT was something that was not available via the JC Penny catalog. That was something that Joey Catalano would have thought was cool, and he thought everything was lame. Once again, the weak references. My So Called Life? Yeah guy? oh yes hmmm you are just the epitome of counter culture now aren't you. I mean shit that was on MTV. If you're gonna kick the supposedly bizarre references at least pick something that no one's ever heard of, keep it real like that guy that got kicked off Monday Night football. The funny guy that did the SNL news. The king of undecipherable references. Dennis Miller, that's it, thanks Joe. (no problem, Keith). He's (well he was) making the big bucks. ok face it he's still making quantum amounts more than our punk asses. fer real. (speak for yourself keith) (fuck you alfred) I just can't escape my mundanity and self-loathing. Really though I think I'm aiighht. I'm good. I'm a good feller. I'm a happy smurfy smurf. I'm smurfin like a true playa. ok now maybe that was a little more old-school and counter-culture (uh, you already used that term punk ass, AND that term lamerville acres, AND that term, ok not acres, but you did use lamerville in the previous post - dumbass). So anyway Hunter S. Thompson is in town, and i don't whether he's alternative enough for your asses, but he's a pretty big idol of mine, i think he's better than sliced bread and ham flavored gummy bears. He always heads out this way for the Honolulu marathon, so, um, yeah, I'm on the same island with him, so as you can see that means that we're close personal friends and definitely legitimizes this blog. ok carry on.  Dizam! Just got off the telefono with the Guam connect and shit is FUCKED UP out there. They just got hit with a super-typhoon, in case your tv is stuck on espn and mtv, and shit, 180 mph winds, my homey had to drive through that shit, cuz he got stuck out somewhere on an emergency call for his job, and in order to get back home to wifey he was dodging falling high voltage lines and concrete pillars, telephone poles, pulling over here and there to let the real crazy squalls pass. Then he gets home, and his carpet is soaking wet, water's squirting upward through small seams in his windows, and he's the lucky one with the concrete house. gnarly gnarly shit! To put it mildly he’s starting to wonder why the fuck he moved back to Guam, as this is the second, and much worse, typhoon in like 3 months.
Guam is in what’s called “Typhoon Alley” which is an area of Micronesia that commonly gets hit with these. For those not in the know, a typhoon is the same thing as a hurricane, but south of the equator, so thus the winds swirl the opposite direction. (science lesson, open your books to chapter 83) Here’s the Honolulu Advertiser’s take on it, and here’s the Guam media’s take on it, and here are some more crazy pics if you’re inclined to see the damage. The pic you see on this page is the village, Dededo, where my buddy lives. He said he hasn’t seen shit like this one since he was a kid, and he’s a little over 50 years old. They’ve got no power (and probably won’t for at least a month) no water, and once that shit comes back, it’ll be infected and undrinkable, my buddy hasn’t showered for 3 days and they’re collecting rainwater just to flush their fuckin’ toilet. Gnarly gnarly. So count your blessings, Mr. Ed, a horse is a horse of course of course, but at least you didn’t have to put up with your village getting blown to shit, and on your birthday no less. Lamerville. Just stoked that my friend and his family are OK, even though he’s sick as a dog from having to drive through the storm in just his underwear because his clothes were soaked to the bone just from getting from the site he was working at to his car. Luckily he’s got plenny booze to medicate the soul, he’s already cracked the Johnny Walker Blue label he got for his birthday. Ah liquid nourishment. I’m hungry. I think I’ll go eat something. Assalamalakum.
Welcome. Come on in. Take off your shoes, please. This is Hawaii, after all, and we don't care for ruffians traipsing all their disease and pestilence all over our pristine oriental carpetting. Ah, but listen to me, I try to be polite and two seconds later I'm already drifting into obnoxiousness.
Can I get you something to drink? I've got Guiness on tap, here check it out, this giant elephant sculpture, the trunk disengages, and wha-lah, chiggedy check check that shit out! Not bad, eh? Drink up meester, there's plenty to go around and my assistant Jake does the refill in the back room, so we can tank these puppies all night. Oh yeah, if your tastes run a little bit more, shall we say, sophisticated, I've got made buckets of Chenin Blanc and Wild Turkey lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting playa-hata. Ha ha, no really, I'm down with it, and whatever's your mo betta, but the Guiness IS the house special. We pride ourselves on keeping it nice and thick, but not too foamy. How bout a Black and Tan? Jake brews up a nice house ale which goes quite nice, but I prefer it straight, but hey, it's my house but it's your party, so rock on chickadee.  Feel free to turn on the Big Screen, I've got all of Cal's football and basketball games from the last twenty years, and I just scored from a very well-connected mafioso source a tape of the Cal Basketball championship game from 1959. That's right Pete Newell beyatch. So sit back and relax. If you'd rather watch a movie, Clockwork Orange is ready to go and I could even be convinced to throw in Full Metal Jacket if you wanna get your war on. It's all G in the Fee, homey.
Later on Ol' Dirty Bastard of Wu-Tang fame is coming over to bust out a set from his never released EP. It was supposed to come out 6 months after Return to the 36 chambers, but legal trouble and a large drug debt necessitated trading the master tapes to a high level narcotics agent who just happened to be a big fan, who just happens to be a good friend, who just happens to owe me big. A lot of people think ODB is a clown, but lemme tell you something Gus, he may be the most underrated and super secret samurai bustin' rapper of all time if not definitely the 20th century. The only one that comes close in my mind is pre-20th century, the infamous slave Joe Johnson, comin' outta Georgia, he used to bust tha illest and the skrillest on Jeb Johnson's cotton farm WAY back in the dizay. Long story short, he burned that bitch down and Massa Jeb was found with a pitchfork through his nutsack and the Lady of the house was put to work on the streets of Massachusetts a few months later. And she made old crazy Joe MAD paper. Some say he may have been the first true pimp, whut with his gold headband and diamond encrusted horse carriage. It was a time for elegance and gallavantin, and up there in the North, he had a client list that read like, shit, I don't know, a bunch a famous mofos, na mean? so anyway, my house is yours. So make yourself at home, kick up your feet, tank those skees, and feel the flow. I'll be back, I gotta go pick up my Grandma from Bingo. Monday, December 09, 2002
Seriously, no really, meaningfully and sincerely, I’ve got MASS shayit to do. But my love for my peeps and my dedication to the game dictates that I divert my attention to my blog for 3 parsecs (yeah guy Montag?) and do some knowledge droppin like my homeys chico and coolwadda. And even though I might not be quite as Godzilla like as my west coast playas, I still feel like I have something of substance (shah-heebie) to contribute to the web.
 And today’s contribution is a serious diddy that I have chosen to entitle “blah blah blah blah fuckin blah blah blizah.” See, I’m not smart, creative, or clever. I suck ass. I can’t write my way out of a phone booth. I can’t even put together a proper metaphor without mangling it into some bizarre superman/bat-mite reference. I can’t even rap.
I can’t climb mount fuji. I can’t deliver monologues on vaginas without stumbling over the vulva. I can’t conduct a seminar on seminary school without dropping trow and urinating in the vestibule. Trust me I’ve tried. It’s useless. All I can do is blabble. I can coin new words like blabble and then pretend that they’re OH SO frikken meaningful when in fact Jonathon Livingston Seagull himself would drop a shit-bomb on it at the nearest and dearest opportunity. And that’s not just lip service. It’s been discussed and verified and didacticated to the level of g. as in g-minor. As in minorly not good. How’s that for an ending? Oh you don’t like it? Doesn’t “float your boat” does it? Doesn’t “carry your apple-cart”? - doesn’t “leverage your see-saw?” doesn’t “bobble your bobble-head?” oh so sorry. So goddamm sorry. So so so so sorry that it didn’t meet with your approval, cuz you know that’s all I’m waiting for. I’m waiting for it like Godot. I’m waiting for it like Slaughter. I’m waiting for it like mc hammer and the donation plate. I’m waiting for it like the Denver Broncos and their next victory. Meaning I’m desperate, I’m needy, I’m wanting you’re a-ok, but in a serious and not-so-credible way, I just don’t give a fuck. Sorry. Oh yeah – how ‘bout those RAIDERS? |
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