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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, September 05, 2003
 let me tell you something, Jarvis, if a certain store calls, every hour on the hour, for 3 days straight, and then you throw in a bottle full of bailey’s irish crème, and you do a cannonball off of your roof into a pool full of jello, who’s the real enemy?
Fukn sinead o’connor is so retarded. So like, anotha day anotha dolla. All my 72 other posts, after reading them over this morning, over and over and over again, I decided they were all crap and exterminated every one, every single last one, with extreme prejudice. Fuk I wouldn’t vote for Arnold for like 3 dollars. For four dollars, however, wait that is really not good. Hold on. I gotta make a phone call. yes, rhesus monkey malone, please. this is rhesus.  yo reese, we got a problem here. A big problem. Cops don’t like me, and I don’t like muthafuckin’ cops. Haha, no really, actually, the problem is with the fourth paragraph in the first post (maybe the only post) for Friday September 5th, 2003. it’s all fucked up, I mean it’s fuck’n raggedy ann and andy all wrapped up in like a fish sandwich. It’s not gonna work out. We need it axed. Big time.
I’ll see whut I can do, but you remember what carlton said… yo fuck carlton, I started this shit, I say whut goes, I write the shit, I scan the archives for nuggets, I fukn corrall goddamm fuckn keith when he’s gotten into the fucken reserves, I fucken make sure joe is taken care of on the underground tip, and fucken carlton is gonna try to tell me whut I can and cannot fukn edit out??? FUCK THAT SHIT! hey bitch, you’re the one that signed over controlling stock to that phat motherfucker. Don’t yell at me about it. and he says, no editing, under any circumstances. His exact words were “I don’t care if there’s a fucken 2x4 shoved up your ass and a porcupine crawling up like this perfect cylinder through the middle, ready to like shoot all his thorns around the inner walls of your bowels, thou shalt not edit, the contingent needs it raw.” And don’t even try to tell me I fucked it up cuz I recorded it and if you bring in fucking Cochran you can lick my fukn Cochran. did you just say if I bring in fukn Cochran I can lick your Cochran? 
yeah, I think so, yeah. I liked that. Ok fuck it, let’s run it. fuck we didn’t get to the middle by being a fly by nite fucking j. jonah operation now did we? no sir. alright. Aloha aloha. -click- Hmmm. Oh hello. You still there? Well, um, I’ve gotta go eat some oysters. Enjoy the show. Thursday, September 04, 2003
 Wussup tizzle? Dizzle. You get beeped? No. Why, who called? The jerk store. Was it about the, uh, shrimp? No, it was the jerk store, called and I didn’t pick it up. Oh the real jerk store. Yes. 
 muthafuck dre muthafuck snoop muthafuck death row
fukn cooooooooooooooooolld 187 in the hizzle. Actually, muthafucking easy muthafuckin E dawg. Ah shit, I noticed this page outta somewhere where you can see how much I say shit. peep it. I think I need to be saying shit way more. Like as in every other shit word shit should shit be shit. a shit, a shit, a female shit, shit, a shit of golden shit, shit a shit I call myself, shit a long long way to run…….. shit, why was that bitch all running around on that hill and spinning around like saying the hills were alive?? Dang, pass me a fucking piece of that window pane goddammitt. So I just had to fucking expand on the shenanigans, and shit, sometimes I think, like shit, like maybe I should only post so much shit, like at a time, ya dig, and then I think, shit, I should post like 80 posts a day, but I know you gotta hold back a little and then I think, fuck holding back. You know, I got like 72 posts fucking already ready to go up in this bitch, like on a fucking assembly line, like ready to crank the fuck out, like ready to just drop that shit in a box, send down the fucking warehouse, fucking put a muthafucking stamp on that muthafucker, and have fuckn guido from ya know, upstairs, come down and like confiscate that shit for like, um 5 minutes, and then wait and see and then once it’s clear, fucking call up muthafuckin newman to like pick that shit up and deliver it fresh to your door like a muthafucking pizza and you don’t even have to leave a goddamm tip. How’s that for fucking service? Shit.  I just ate a brownie. It was good.
Ok so the answer to the big mystery question is that the spider-man vs. wolverine comic was significant because (drumroll please) it featured the death of the hobgoblin. Ugh. Anticlimax? Need some acid reflux medicine? What, talk to me kids. Anyway, the pic you see today is when it was finally revealed who the hobgoblin was, which came out AFTER the referenced wolvie vs. spidey comic. See, hobbie was like the mystery villain, as a fan you didn’t know who he was, and this guy was like THE spidey villain of the late 80’s early 90’s, yes a rehash of the original green goblin, but a damn good rehash, yessir. Click here for lots of info about him, origin, weapons, modus operandi, etcetera. Be aware that the actual name written there is wrong, this was undoubtledly indubitably written before the issuance of said issue you see before you here, um, in this space, over, yes, there. So who was the hobgoblin?? Why none other than Ned Leeds, husband to Betty Brant, Peter Parker’s very first girlfriend. Yes the fascination points are stacking up like muthafuckin jenga up in heah. (heah is getto-fab for here, btw). So yeah, and it was cool, cuz in the wolvie spidey book, it was just known that like ned leeds got killed in his hotel room in like, fucking Russia or some shit, on journalistic assignment with peter parker, there was no mention of the hobgoblin, but THEN we find out later that holy shit, this so called random assassination was not so random and the kingpin or somebody cleaning up the fucking salad dressing and acing the hobgoblin. Yeah, so there’s that. Fuk boring-ville USA. Jesus Christ folks, I didn’t mean for this to turn into fucking coockenheimerville central, I really didn’t, you gotta understand it’s stream of consciousness type diatribe unedited and unscripted, it’s like off the chain, with mild influence from the comments and like, where’s the chain of command, I mean, if the jerk store calls, am I just supposed to sit there like there’s no shrimp?? Shit. So big ups to Ryan for almost getting the super secret answer, I mean, he had it, but I had to give him some hints, but then he was the only one that would have known, but surprisingly, there were others of you that were interested, or I mean, well, comic books have entered the public consciousness to a degree and thanks to Hollywood magic, that heretofore have not been seen in the pop culture mainstream diorama to this extent, I mean. The retardedness continue. On and on and on and on and on. The real kool keith would like seriously be issuing a ghetto-pass revoking right.. about… now. And yes I know that’s naughty by nature, but I think that keith has much more right to revoke my ghetto pass than treach, shit, treach is like, whut, a fukn porn star, and shit, well, keith might be too, for all I know, but treach is like, whut the fuck do I care, and like FUCK, this is going absolutely nowhere. See this is what happens when you just type a bunch of horsecrap and then cut and paste it into blogger and hit publish and hope for the best. Aloha. Wednesday, September 03, 2003
 this moment in time is extraordinary in that, um, the jerk store called. Oh shit I’m not supposed to say that. I don’t want to be known as the source for that certain store that is popular for supply of said um type of individual whereby you may associate Steve Martin.
Whuuuuut the fuck ever. Sometimes the posts that seem the absolute worst to me while I’m typing them out, when I go back and read them, I think they’re gold. Gold, baby, gold. I really don’t get my fascination with tooth jewelry. I mean, I would never actually get it, I just think it’s too funny, it begs for commentary, literally pleads for it, I mean. It, is like, asking for it in a manner which implies desperation. So like, if a swallow is unladen, then what will its air speed velocity be, and shit, throw in a coconut in there, I mean, what’s gonna happen there? Not that you give half a FUCK but I’ve been posting random clipper shit at clipper. (top of your links lift to the left, well actually, MY links list, yes I link myself at the top, cuz, shit, it’s my shit, na mean, MY shit, all mine, peanuts included – ok dammit, I’ll just fucking link it – HERE – fuck, I just don’t wanna be considered one of those egocentric assholes that are like linking themselves and references to themselves and fukn shit like that). Anyway, I figgered that bball season is rapidly approaching, I mean, shit, like, next month, and nobody but nobody wants to hear me talking all kinds of stupid shit about the clippers every other day, which I will be tempted to do, and add that with the ongoing problem I’ve been having with trying to find some purpose for a dog named clipper and then an epiphany hit me, talk shit about the clippers there. So it’s a clippers forum. Until I decide to, like, talk about something else in there, which could be, like, this afternoon. So there’s that, which is obviously the most interesting and goddamm fucking fascinating tidbit of information you have ever fucking heard seen smelled pontificated etcetera. Have I mentioned lately that I’m still #1 for kool keith on like, every search engine there is? Well, I don’t know about EVERY search engine, maybe not assfuckersearchdotcom, but shit, maybe that one too, don’t know, but google and yahoo give props and aolsearch is like blowing up my site meter. Well not blowing up, but they are a presence to be sure. I wonder if keith will ever notice this dogshit acre. Probably not, I mean, he even said in one song that he don’t go on the fucking innernet, he’d rather be in the Bahamas sipping on some cuervo or something like that, I can’t remember the exact fucking lyric. So sue me. First person to tell me what famous occurrence in the marvel universe happened in the comic book shown will win a no-prize. Ok, not a no-prize, but I’ll think of something. I’ll link you or some shit. here’s a hint, at first reading, you wouldn’t have even known that as momentous a happening had happened as actually did happen. That’s it, shit I’ve said too much, I’m like giving away platinum grills, fuck, I mean, like, a link from me will give you at least 20 million hits in like the next hour. Seriously, I’m huge in Lithuania, and they are like, addicted to the internet. Tuesday, September 02, 2003
 Wuddup. Back at work. Weekend was phat. Veddy relaxing. Viddy well viddy well.
Speaking of clockwork orange, I had the opportunity to buy the book, two different editions actually, for a very reasonable price (used) but passed it up because there were two books that I decided to buy instead. Oh and a plug, if you’re ever in Manoa, by the University, check out Rainbow books, right by the Varsity theatre, where we actually watched Dirty Pretty Things (or something like that – about immigrants and the trade of organs – gooood flick), so um, check out Rainbow books, mad good literature modern & classic for cheap price bubba, plus cd’s all kine shit, and no I don’t work for them, so don’t call me a sellout. Sellout. So where the fuk was I? Oh yeah the books I bought. Finally picked up some Bukowski. Tony goes on & on about this mofo, and after reading a short story & a half, so far I agree with him, pretty muthafuckin otherworldly, actually this-wordly hardcore shit. chiggedy chizneck it. the book I grabbed was called, um, ordinary madness and other tales?? Or some shit like that. Oh, ok, the other book I bought was naked lunch by Burroughs. That shit looks chronic. Like the story of some drug addict homo, or wait, that was junkie, his older shit, not sure if he’s a homo in naked lunch. I think I caught the movie a few years back, but it was obviously not memorable if I did, I remember some guy saying years before that movie, that if they ever made a movie of Naked Lunch it would be the most x-rated and most super expensive and impossible movie to ever make. Which it wasn’t, but I don’t know how close they were to the original work. So that gives me lots of shit to read over the next few, um, months or some shit. Plus I’m still knee deep in Robert Jordan’s third installment of his Wheel of Time series, which is the SHIT. main and womain, if you dig fantasy, chiggidey check it. this one’s called the Dragon Reborn. Yes I’m a total fucking dork. I had convinced myself a few years ago that the fantasy genre was a joke, but then some dude with a gimp arm from a motorcycle accident told me to cop that shit, the first one’s called Eye of the World, and I did before a long airplane flight and I ate it up, serially. Then I gobbled up the second one, the Great Hunt, like fukn Marvin Starving for the Carving of the Thanksgiving Turkey that don’t rhyme with shit like Jackie Parvin. Whut?? Sorry about that. Anyway, it’s good shit.  I’m reading two other books too, but those are on major hold and may never be picked up again. One is fucking, what is it called, oh yeah, timeline, by that famous guy that wrote Jurassic park whose name escapes me right now. Something with an “s”. yes, very interesting. Actually not, that shit is fukn boring or I just ain’t feeling it. I thought rising sun, disclosure, and fucking, um, sphere were pretty good though. So that guy’s pretty good, but timeline is dogshit.
And there’s this other cowboy book that is actually really good, but Jordan is distracting me with tales of aes sedai witches and the dark side of the whatever or what the fuck that shit is. It’s chronic-ell, lemme tell you. Jesus fucking Christ, most boring shit ever. Sorry folks. It’s like fucking oprah’s book corner, except I’m not a yo-yo weight black woman and I don’t make a fucking nickel’s worth of sense and every other word is profanity. Pretty crappy, yes, but you’re reading it so what does that say about you? that’s right, that you are a person of VERY discriminating tastes, so congratulations. So okay, list of apologies for the day. sorry for the boring ass post about like books and shit. sorry for um, shit, I forgot. Oh and sorry for another green arrow/green lantern pic, but fukn Neal Adams is the shit and I mean, Black Canary is tha bombizzle, and yes the dorkiness continues unabated. Aloha. Hopefully my ghetto pass has not been revoked. And if it has, well, shit the backdoor has a kitty door and that slim fast is kicking in so don’t be surprised if I stumble through your back yard, yeah out by the pool, with a fukn 40 ounce of goddamm coqui 900 and you suddenly wake up and the gat is aimed at your bitch ass. Cocked, trigger fukn on a goddamm hair, and at that point, you better talk shit, or else yer dead. Just talking shit. Peace. Monday, September 01, 2003
 Ah what a beautiful morning, contingent. And why is it so gorgeous & wondrous? Well the answer should be obvious, mein freunds, as in I am not at work, I am at home, typing at you from the new pennyworth computer, and despite the sound problems that we are still having and that likely later today we will be on the 4th edition of said piece of equipment, my spirits cannot be dampened because it is that most glorious of holidays, labor day. What did the labor day leprechaun bring to you this fine morning?
What? Nada? zero? Shit, are you serious? Wait, I see you shaking your head in a fashion that not only indicates a negatory response but also with the additional facial tics and vocal inflections that would represent confusion in that, wait, you have never heard of the labor day leprechaun? The labor day leprechaun is this little feller that every labor day he brings you presents while at the same time taking something that you haven’t used in a long time and thereby probably won’t notice for days if not years. In this instance for example I received a brand new pair of timberlands, yah the steel toes, custom the Velcro strap on the ankle, Japanese edition, can only get it in the states at one mall in central Kansas city, and that’s out the back dock from this little Portuguese guy named Rodrigo, and don’t tell him I sent you, cuz my shit could get banned up in the hizzle and I ain’t having that. So on to the point of the reality and somewhat limited, apparently, marketing campaign of the labor day leprechaun. I mean, I can’t believe the ineptitude of the people that this little guy must have representing him. If I was down with the cause, I mean, in an official capacity, I would be combing the streets for recruits to assist in the campaign, I mean, making posters, like jacking radio stations and kidnapping the record executives and making up all kinds of rumors, accurate and misinformed, albeit a young Nigerian nephew from the mean streets of Bedford stuyvesant, coming up on the scene, making all the right connections, yes he would be one of the most perfect additions to my team. I’d get the phattest squad of non-playa-hatas to spread the word about the ultimate jack backer. So anyway, yeah, the labor day leprechaun hooked me up with some timbos and like, I still ain’t found what he took this time. Last year he gave me some cocoa puffs and lifted my vcr. So maybe that year wasn’t so great. But one time in 10th grade, it was like, totally the opposite time of year, around February, and he snuck in the window while I was coming back from a midnight tinkle, and he was like, yo playboy, I wanna make it up to you for the year down the line where it’s gonna be an electronics/cereal exchange, so here’s a platinum grill. And sure enough, he opened up his hands and there was a full set of chompers which looked about my size, diamond encrusted molars included, and he snapped his fingers, and suddenly my teeth were covered in bling. So anyway, happy labor day and enjoy the rest of your Monday off and try not to be all cranky come Tuesday cuz you know you gotta take the good with the bad and the meat with the cake. Play on playas. |
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