Friday, February 21, 2003

I found a new level of devotion to coffee this morning. I had gotten all the way to my office (ok a whole 3 miles, 5 minutes), opened the door, come in my office, turned on the light, and realized I left my steaming hot mug of joe sitting on my coffee table back at the house. Without a second thought, I tossed my briefcase onto my chair and closed the office again, took off for home and picked up the sweet nectar. And now I’m drinking said sweet nectar. And it was all so worth it.

Well I said I wasn’t posting at my other site anymore but I went ahead and did yesterday. And then I check my site meter for that site and a whole one person besides me had come by for a visit today besides me. Fukn great. I know my whole kind of alternative idea behind still posting over there after the fuckups were done over here was that I don’t care about hits, but fuck it, you caught me, I do care about hits, just like the USA is going to war for oil and to make everybody happy again and jack up the economy. Just one of those things that most people without their heads firmly up their ass know but don’t like to talk about in mixed company.

I don’t talk about how obsessed I am with my hit counter just like George Bush jr. doesn’t talk about how obsessed he is with getting that guy that doesn’t like his daddy and of all that yummy oil in Iraq that is ours for the taking now that he has the perfect excuse because everybody’s all up in arms over “the terrorists.” Um, excuse me, how many 9/11 terrorists were from Iraq? Yeah a whole fukn bunch, huh. Why don’t we bomb fukn Saudi Arabia if we’re SO fukn concerned with fukn terrorism & human rights? Isn’t their country run by a bunch of psychotic muslim clerics or some shit? What makes them any better except that they don’t have some obviously identifiable figurehead that does fucked up shit like kill his own family members in the middle of a monkey brain stew dinner?

Ya know I’ve been kind of behind this war effort, as mentioned before, just for the sake of finishing what we started, but it’s starting to look like such a hypocritical stroke fest to get the nation back on its feet. We are at this moment a country frightened by terrorism, struggling with a dismal economy, but still sucking up the majority of the world’s oil into our fukn monster trucks that we feel we have to drive into work every day. What piece of the puzzle is not obvious here in the Bush’s little war game? War will make everybody feel better, the whole “yeah we’re so tough we kicked saddam’s ass again” will uplift the economy, which war usually does, and, oh shit, get us a shitload of oil. Hmmm.

And WHY is everybody making such a BIG fukn deal about buying duct tape and emergency packs and all this fukn horseshit? Doesn’t anybody remember what a fukn cakewalk the last war with Iraq was? We went through all these same worries and fears and it turned out to be a fukn CNN shown bomb fest with barely any American casualties, most of which were by accidental friendly fire. This thing will be over and done in two months followed by about a year of trying to track down Saddam Hussein, who will disappear and probably turn up on the same episode of the Montel Williams show with bin laden in 2035 – “Old Muslim Terrorist fugitive Deuschbags and the trailor trash whores who love them.”

What a load of fukn HORSESHIT!!! It makes me so mad that I just want to go read ten-gallon hat for like 9 million hours. That Trevor is so hilarious yet calming to my fragile psyche. It’s like, after I read it, I feel like I don’t have to kill all the little bunny rabbits, only the ones with extra fluffy tails. Thanks Trevor, you’re the shiznit.

Thursday, February 20, 2003

There's something you have to know about brandon. he was the PK that everyone didn't know and hardly saw. he had a dirty nasty iron man t-shirt and he would always say hibi hibi hibi and hibi jamb bolt and janers jooba and yeah guy? yeah guy? yeah-hah-hah heeby habooo.

and then there was zabinsky and his car that was higher in the front. and don't forget graham's liquor jackings. and drawing shit on that dude's face at mikey's party. shaa heebie that was a stack of corn flakes in a zibwang. ok zibwang i just made up but it does seem heartily reminiscent of those times.

probably every story about brandon pk is inadvisable for further review, but he was an integral part of that particular gang that applied all levels of rickness yet was such its own entity that it was quite possible ridiculous.

whats up party people. well i've been kind of busy, ya know, conducting actual biznass this morning, and unable up to now to holla at you. It is at this time that I rectify said situation. however it is just about time to cart my ass out of here for some lunch action, and thus this shall be short and sacharriney. (Stupid, STUPID, such a stupid thing to say. dumbass!)

Anyway. Well it seems like the kinks and gremlins and fuck ups are past us now here at ultrablognetic enterprises. so until further notice I guess i'll stop posting stuff over at a dog named clipper. The declining hit counts reflect my theory that I think it was a little too much to ask for people to read two sites when I've only got about 3 readers willing to read one site. it's like, hey Joe, how about we give you TWO horseshit of the month magazines, but every day, and we hope you'll read every word, and they're like, um, OK, well MAYBE i would have read ONE horseshit magazine a day, but two? fuck off and die you donkey shit goat. Not that anyone has actually SAID that to me, per se, but well, the writing is on the metaphorical wall.

so that's kind of how I see it. but I don't know, maybe I'll say fuck it and post shit over there anyway. It's like my new little creation that I can't let die. I mean, i made it, so now I'm responsible for it, and I don't want it mixing in with the wrong crowd if I just ignore it and maybe getting hooked up with that whole rubbing alcohol scene. not good.

um, i don't know whut the fuck i'm talking about right now. I should be back later with something to say that isn't totally fucking retarded. thank you and good night (afternoon).

Wednesday, February 19, 2003

Sometimes you do something that just maybe isn’t the best idea in the world. Like, say, oh I don’t know, getting a face tattoo a few days before your heavy-weight boxing match. But I mean, who am I to judge, I’ve never had a tattoo, maybe a nice pounding is just what it needs to heal properly and make your face feel nice & tingly.

When I look back I guess there are probably a few things I’ve done that might be viewed as questionable. One time in high school I attempted to adjust my sideburns and a half hour later had cut little grooves halfway up the side of my head trying to make them even. That was not advisable. Oh and drinking 13 glasses in a row of champagne on captain’s night of senior cruise might not have been the #1 call. (but they were free & I was drinking underage legally, you know, what options are there in such a situation?). As for my college years, let me ponder, waiting to buy my scientific calculator until the morning of my finance midterm was probably not something that the dental board would have recommended. Also when the stomach called up in the middle of the night with news of a sudden evacuation of all contents, maybe leaning out the 8th story window was not what Oprah would have done.

I’d do it all over again, though. Even living in the dumpster off of Telegraph for two weeks, because you know what? The rent savings allowed me to score extra cheese on my pizza for like 6 months, and long beach cannot overstate the value of that.

And now for something completely different, my views on the coming war with Iraq. I mean, yeah great, let’s go bomb Saddam, but um, aren’t those North Koreans a little more dangerous at this juncture? Oh, no, they're no problem, no worries. Oh really? Um well they’re saying if we fuck with them, um, no really, chill dude, they’re cool. Yes, Mr. Bush, um we understand shite, and don’t try to tell us a fukn pitbull is no problem but we really have to go kill that weiner-dog, it’s dangerous, oohh yes, and by the way, the weiner dog also just HAPPENS to have a shitload of yummy oil for our SUV’s which we drive all by ourselves everywhere, but really, that has absolutely NOTHING to do with it. Seriously. That weiner-dog is a major threat in and of itself. And the pit-bull. Oh he’s just feisty, ha ha, that little feisty feller.

On the other hand and foot there is the point that we already conquered these shitbags and they're supposed to toe the line. What kind of imperial dominators would we be if we let Iraq play with toys that we said no about before. "Now Saddam, I told you, don't make me give you a time-out." Seriously, why did we go to war before again? I remember being in high school, thinking ok great we're going to fuckin war, here it is 1991 and it's war time, oh well let's go kick ass and get this psycho out of there and it'll be all good. But we didn't finish the job did we. Yes I know this is obvious. So fuck off. This is why we should go bomb their asses, because we can't let them think we're a bunch of french pussies. nothing against the french, crepes are damn good on a tuesday. So ok so the reason we're going to war again? oh yeah Saddam is really dangerous and he doesn't like our president's daddy. Oh and oil for my car (wait no, that's not the reason.) And yes I am a fucking communist.

Look (over here), I respect anybody’s opinion on the war. There are lots of reasons to go bomb the fuck out of desertville, and no I don’t mean Arizona, even if they do have a Glendale, I mean Iraq. He killed his own son, he bathes in goats blood, he routinely cornholes innocent young hens in the chickenhouse, blah blah blah. Honestly, I don't know what I think, I am uninformed, and even if I read every fukin time magazine article about it I'll still be uninformed because news is just a nice word for propoganda. But I do know this and feel pretty damn heartfelt about it: fuck all this right-wing bully-pulpit horseshit which somehow legitimizes jumping down anybody’s throat that says willie or nille or even tries to roll up a phillie. It’s like if you even question the thought of flying our troops off to buttfuck Egypt (um, Iraq) to fight arab joe and his psycho horde, then you’re suddenly the scum of the earth traitor, and you might as well “get on a plane and go live in Iraq.” Fuck that. Fuck all of you goddamm self righteous right wing fucks that are pulling this dogshit. You want my real opinion? I’m thinking fuck it we go bomb Saddam. Get him the fuck out of there, put some other fukn Muslim fucks in there that will take better care of our oil, and then go back in ten years and do it all over again. Fine, let’s fukn do it. But DON’T fukn try to tell me that anybody that doesn’t agree with that plan is a fukn traitor. It’s fukn McCARTHYISM all over again and just because of 9/11 people are afraid to even say it. 9/11 sucked ass, but it happened, but FUCK it is no excuse to fukn brand people with different views as un-American just because they are not down for war. Sorry to break it to you but, yeah, there have been some ties seen between al-queda and Iraq, but Saddam is not bin-laden, and bin-laden is still fukn out there, and the prez is just treating us like a donkey that’s focused on the carrot, waving a fukn slice of pizza of to the left, like, “hey donkey, don’t worry about that carrot, come eat this pizza, and you’ll be satisfied.” Meanwhile, sorry loc, the fukn carrot is still gonna be there, and you never know it’ll hide in a cave for 30 years, and one day on Jackbot avenue it’ll sneak into your third floor window and lodge itself in your cat’s throat like a fukn guillotine. And that weiner dog could be driving the getaway car. See, you just never know.

So don’t sleep.

Tuesday, February 18, 2003

well it seems like this little hooch is up and running properly now, but i still don't trust it, so I posted over at the house of clipper the dog. it's a happy fun house full of evil clowns and kerosene lanterns that are not kicked over by cows so chiggedy check it. catch the link on the post below cuz I'm a lazy ass fuck and don't wanna bother linking it again. if that makes you angry then I suggest you call your parole officer. thank you and you may now continue with your day. yes, i have spoken, thus it is so. long beach. oops I mean glendale.