Friday, May 28, 2004

The fucked up thing about glasses is sometimes they just never fit on your face right.

I love going to the bank to count my money. It’s on my mind and my mind is on it.

Depending on what your interpretation of the word “it” is. And “is.”

So, like, if you got Kelsey Grammer in a room with mike Tyson, who would come out alive, but the trick is, they can’t do physical violence against each other, they could only talk. I say kelsey would win in a knockout in the 8th round.

From Russia with love by ian fleming is a rrrreally good book so far even though james bond doesn’t show up until like the 75th page. Lots of set up. But good set up. Trust me on this. Have I let you down yet? Don’t answer that.

I was surprised to hear in that new york times article on blogging that only 4% of internet users read blogs. Surprised it was so high to tell you the truth. I was thinking somewhere around 2.73. that’s just me though, I have my own theories, as well you know. Yes you. my imaginary friend Herbert, sitting in the corner, pretending to read this crap.

But seriously, didn’t I tell you way back when that that’s why they call it the jerkoffosphere? Ok, not they, but me. And I was right. One big goddamm freaking circle jerk, mein freunds. Except now big media is watching. Yah right. Watching the big dogs like tony pierce and instapundy, but as for me? Heh. They’re watching me spew dogshit on the floor and hoping the cleaning lady isn’t late for her five o’clock shadow.

And THAT my friends is why I don’t get paid for writing this shit, sentences like that. and it’s beautiful. Cuz if I was getting paid, I’d just have to fix it, I couldn’t live with myself, but as is, shit, my name should be mackadocious malone, ya heard?

Oh yah, click on tony pierce or brand trueboy on the links at left if you care to read the ny times article, they both linked it. I ain’t linking it because they persecuted my dear friend whatever his name was. Ok, I’m lazy. Peace.

Thursday, May 27, 2004

yo yo, whutsup whutsup, fuck bush, fuck bush, go Canada, yah this guy had to come beat logan’s ass but he couldn’t, and then the jurk storr called and said, what’ll ya have with that champ? And he said, well, I’ll let the jurk storr decide that weedle dee dee and if you please don’t ever bring it up again. Or else you’ll be one dead bitch, with half the attitude of a 2x4.

Ok, no, don’t do it, phew, avoided certain failure on the 3rd parameter. Yup it means jack shit central has finally entered the house to make their views on interplanetary travel known and understood by the masses.

Speaking of which, have you seen the new beasties video? It’s pretty good. Uh, whut was I saying? Oh yeah, that I don’t have to quantify, the ethereal levels of the kine stuff whut I’m thinking about, at least not to you or any crew of lawyers you may have waiting outside just to wrestle me to the ground and handcuff me and take me into jail and throw me in a cell with a drunk named earnest, and then, earnestly, I’ll have to deal in massive quantities of cigarettes just to avoid getting beefed with swizzle stick Johnson, and then, oh, shit, did you see that Johnson family movie? Ok, funny parts, funny parts, pretty stupid parts, and some even dumber shit, but you were coasting, it was a good nite at the movies, especially the dollar movies at restaurant row so like, you’re chilling, it’s all good, your with your girl on a Wednesday nite, safe from getting hornswaggled by Johnny law, and then, they throw in this movie, this just offensive to all that should have always been kept holy, the worst scene ever, of which two sides of the family at the family reunion that has been the destination point of the whole movie, then proceed to do the worst song, well, ok, it wasn’t that the song was THAT wack, but more that why did they have to do it? and it was just the absolute worst moment ever in cinematic history in which bow wow, no longer lil, apparently, is rapping and beyonce’s sister is singing, and Vanessa Williams is vamping and cedric the entertainer is… uh, yeah. So, I’m outta here, it’s been a time.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

bah, bah, and take your blacksheep and stick em where the sun don’t shine is what my general opinion is right now, and not in any kind of mood I’m in or like way shape form esquire, but simply put, the, shit, don’t wanna say it, but, well, shit, quality levels of environs of which I know ain’t gonna match up with certain expectations that might have been araised by, fuck, that’s like, why you wanna go and do that shit, pa, totally, completely, irrevocably, it’s no point, it’s strictly retarded, and nothing against corky, but I really wanna know, marc Anthony style, what you’re gonna do about my butter getting hard over in the corner with jiggling jello & all that shit

lake show, looking good, ain’t lost a game at home, I don’t know about tomorrow’s matchup with the t-wolves, though, or is it the next day, shit, nba right now, it’s like they’re trying to make a brochure into war & peace stretching out this dramarama, and don’t get me wrong, I love the nba playoffs, prolly my fave sports time of year, don’t let me tell you different once the nfl playoffs startup, which I prolly will, no, unless it’s raiders, then, well, I don’t know if it’s enjoyment you’d call it, it’s like agony, I’m one of those foolios that lives and dies, not literally. Yeah, one of those assholes. Just pretend you don’t know me when it goes down, it’s cool, I’m used to it, I’m honestly not that impressed with myself anyway and sometimes wonder how peeps stand to be around my general obnoxiousness, even though I know it’s not true.

Fuck! everything’s just strait up fukn jurk storr at this moment in time. Oh yah, I did drop some jurk storr shit, now that I remember, over on this more tarantino than something Quentin blog, that’s like, true’s um cattle call to all bloggerville to drop bombs on nyc, all that shit, and a cornucopia of automotan mountain masses. Speaking of tarantino, I posted my lil ian fleming thing from the other day on blogcritics and some guy in the comments mentioned how he heard Quentin tarantino is gonna make a new movie version of casino royale, I mean, fuck, if that happens, two things: I’ll be first in line and he better not fuck it up. Or else there will be trouble. For the location of said incident, you have no further to go than downtown, you know where the rumble always is, don’t act.

PS: click here for an article which examines the convoluted and fucked up history of the jean grey slash phoenix slash marvel girl character in the x-men and her constant deaths and reincarnations and the continuity problems it presents which apparently are never satisfactorily dealt with, or at least not in a manner of which anyone with less then einsteinian intellect could ever hope to comprehend. You know it’s calling you, give in, strike out at me, don’t forget your ovaltine, etcetera, gracias.

Monday, May 24, 2004

do you ever think about, like, if a goat was president, the world might be such a simpler place & we all might live in peace & harmony? Cuz if a goat was in charge while crazy peeps were like subjugating ethnic tribes, the goat would just prolly eat some grass and maybe fall asleep, and we wouldn’t get involved, and then we’d never know & no one would be able to say boo, until, well, it got way out of hand and all the pundits and wherewithal masters decided now action was required, rather than inaction, or something like that.

did you know that dr. seuss got his start professionally as a political cartoonist prior to WWII, and he was notorious for his cartoons basically calling out the US and their isolationism and the fact that we didn’t think it involved us that Hitler was taking over the entire civilized world, and we sat on our ass until they bombed pearl harbor and then we decided to pull our heads out of our asses, and I think the point I’m making is that history is just one big case of Monday morning quarterback, na mean? It’s like, it’s easy to say bush fucked up now, even though he prolly did, but at the same time, shit, did we need to wait until fukn joe malone bombed our asses, oh wait, he did didn’t he? Hmmm. And japan bombed us, not germany, that’s what’s so darn interesting about it. ok not really.

I don’t know what my point is in all this, something about world politics and the US’s vacillating policies of intervention, but it got lost somewhere between the rhetoric of, hmmm, I don’t know really. It’s just that, well, in the midst of all this fuck bush kine stuff, which you gotta agree with to a certain extent, and, well, it does just reek of the same kind of jackboot mentality that was apparently rampant in the GOP during Nixon’s reelection campaign, you know, like, pressure on all sides, calling people “hippies” or the modern equivalent if you don’t agree with the status quo, an unpopular war being waged overseas which the US was never directly invited into. And which leads, logically, ok not, but still, into the idea that, hmm, if the Japanese had never bombed our asses, would you be eating borscht and trying to remember what jewish people were like right now? I mean serially. Cuz prior to pearl harbor, the prevailing attitude it seems like, and I wasn’t around so don’t take my word for it, was, shit, it’s not our problem, we shouldn’t get involved.

BUT, and this is a big but, everybody was behind the gun when Sadaam invaded Kuwait, which is what Hitler was doing, invading sovereign nations, and this time he wasn’t, sadaam that is, this time, it’s like, we decided, hmmm, we need a scapegoat for 9-11, and we can’t seem to find Osama, and shit, this guy had the nerve to stand up to my Daddy, so let’s go get him, Rummy, think of some bullshit fast action war plan, and leave our boys out in the middle of nowhere with totally fucked supply lines and no thought as to holding down the farm once we gain control, fuck, it’s totally fucked, which just makes me glad I’m not in charge of US foreign policy, cuz it’s a fuckn hornet’s nest either way you slice it, so I guess that’s why they get the big bucks and get to steal all kinds of porkbellied rollovers.

I wanna end this so bad with some kind of overwhelming point that’ll get you all c&c music factoried, ie, you’ll be saying hmmm, but still knowing that it might be technotronic, but, you know, maybe it’s best to leave it all vague and open thereby being some kind of jack handy’d metaphor for like the book of the month club type shit.