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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 |
Saturday, December 27, 2003
 hey there everybody wuss crackin. i wasn't gonna post anything, but i was in here checking the radiator for leaking anti freeze and decided that you know, why not, i got a spare 8.3 minutes and i mean, time is money but it is the holiday season and all and what with all those dwarves bringing over the godiva chocolates last night i'm in a good mood so there ya go.
enjoy. uh, yah, this is it. hope you weren't expecting more. i would tell you about the clippers and how they beat the sixers last nite but that's for another forum. oh wait, i already did. dammitt. well consider this a special edition. oh and cal beat VA tech yesterday in the insight bowl. very famous bowl. i mean, if you won the insight bowl you can be sure that you sold out and shilled merchandise indirectly for only the finest of corporate whores. i would throw in some last line that wrapped everything up really nicely with some vague nonsensical yet poetic phrase or set of words but, well, it's my day off and, in all honesty, my manager is getting a little upset lately that we're too fit for mass consumption up here in the skunkworks, so take that grain of salt for what it's worth, which is no less or more than 3 astro medallions. Wednesday, December 24, 2003
 merry xmas. and, uh, happy new year. but i'll prolly get to that before then. well, maybe not, i do get, carried away, ya know, sometimes. so um i hope you're ALL merry right now cuz merry & pippen are seriously concerned about the merriment factory. oh & the mistletoe, the count cannot be down from last year or heads will roll. the jurk storr confirmed this. so eat drink do that thang.  wuddup contingent?
Or whut's left of you. hmmm, everybody’s all holiday spirited out of here. That's for the best. The innernet ain't the place to be for seasonal cheer, unless you're doing like a Christmas dinner webcast, tv sitting in the middle of the table, passing the hamhocks ad infinitum through the fiberoptic pipeline. So, um, chili dogs and jack daniels equal ol' st. nick climbing in my back window, bundled full of ass kickings and kona coffee. Something like that. Rudolph the red nosed reindeer stopped by last nite. Ok no he didn't, I’m just out material that doesn't sound like Pavarotti singing at some fat chick with a Viking hat on, or like, in that vein, ya know? I don't wanna be that guy. The guy that is like, you know, being like da kine. Cuz that ain't me, I ain't your fortunate son, well, actually, I guess maybe I am, but I ain't a rolling stone, ok, maybe that too, but just about any other cliched ass thing you can think of, that I am not. Lots of space to say nothing. Keep up the good werk assface. Gracias. I'll try. Thanks for reading, um, you there. Yeah. You. thanks. And please come back. Next time free cheese. No joke. Peace. Seriously folks, this is just a test run, the real blog will be up and running in 85 astro medallions. Like, you know it. werd. Tuesday, December 23, 2003
 I have this new theory on james bond movies being the best barometer in pop culture for a steady and not so correct yet stereotypical viewpoint of the changing cultural cues and fashions and societal thingamajigs of the last 40 years, components inherent in any cognizant society and or set of cultures. Something like that. in any event, they're dated as hell and you can see some really cool old skool shit.
Sean Connery blows away Roger Moore though. At least from whut I've seen so far in my journey. Connery would slap a hoe on the way to grab his pack of smokes. Moore would ask her if she'd like one and then go put on his special velvet jacket. Um, ok, maybe not like that. Please don't take anything I say seriously today. Or yesterday, or for that matter, you know what, just fuck everything you read in this here space. It's all just verbal balderdash anyway, and whut with it being the season, and everything, well, you know how it can go. Yes surely you do. So, hmm, I wasn't supposed to talk about the james bond thing, it was supposed to be inherent in the background of the conversation. Well, leave it to me to muck things up. Um, that's it for now I guess. Happy 2 days before Christmas. Oh and happy birthday Jesus, even though you probably weren't born on December 25. oh and um happy Hanukkah. And if you're one of those people that don't celebrate holidays, um, happy whatever day. just have a happy day, ok? Fuck, can't you just be happy? Corporate America and mom dad slash apple pie are counting on you to provide some economic jukebox action and some morale support what with all this homeless war veteran dead squirrel shit going on. C'mon what's wrong with you, is it so much to ask that you put a goddamm smile on your face and show some teeth that aren't bared in a snarl for once in your stinking life? Get in the spirit for chrissake. Santa doesn't pile his fat ass into that sleigh and drop off crap all over the fricken planet just so you can sit there and mull over the latest episode in the nancy drew novel that is your life. Reality is for the birds. poor some bourbon in that coffee and think about little white bunny rabbits for a while. you'll thank me next year when you're picking the rough parts of aunt ethel's fruitcake out of your molars and still feel nonetheless refreshed and ready to tackle that pudgy mailman that is the new year, who despite his credit card offers and bills and useless store catalogs, still keeps the information, or at least some semblance of it, moving across the actual and non digitized terra firma. metaphorically and literally. aloha. Monday, December 22, 2003
 it's the holiday slowdown. The little stretch of vittleville wherein lie deadbeat mustangs and intense amounts of alcohol consumption. Cruising places and shenanigans ensuing. Memories of past holiday spirit within different environs and the passe amateurism of it all yet totally in opposition to French impressionalism.
And then he'll look up at the sky and ask allah "why in the name of ghandi can I not dispel that unabiding racket?" and he won't answer and I'll mull it over while driving in the car up to the seven sacred pools oahu chapter and about two seconds before I pull up on this sectioned off lane of highway slash dirt road this pickup truck full of friendly locals will pull up and ask yo wuddup why on our aina? And I will respectfully decline to accede to their demands for response. For is it not my aina as well? since I am here, and theoretically that is the wherwithall for land ownership in that it cannot be owned? But you buy and sell my land and bequeath it to your ancestors, totally behind my back, without just enough to whet my beak. C'mon, compatriot in arms, let's let bygones be bygones and do the ol' psychic handshake. We can make this work for one and the other and all those kids down on the east side. For surely. Whut if a car is just such a piece of shit that it cannot be redeemed? Then do you take it to your local mechanic and say "please dispose of this irredeemable bastard son of irredeemability?" And the kindly shop owner will answer "no problemo." |
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