Monday, January 29, 2007
What does it say about a company and a man and a culture when very small cockroaches are walking almost uninhibited across a desk prior to being smashed and killed? Don’t answer that. You should really read the buffalo beast’s 50 most loathsome Americans, it’s entertaining and educational, seriously. I found it off a link from Dave D’Allesandro’s unbelievably good New Jersey Nets Blog, evidence of its quality being I really don’t give that much of a shit about the New Jersey Nets but I still read it religiously irregardless. Ah, religiously irregardless, I like the sound of that, and thus the title of my next book was born. Ok, I give kind of a shit about the Nets, but only peripherally. I’ve told you in the past of how I watched Jason Kidd play college ball at Berkeley, correct? Yes, I’m name and location dropping. Back then he didn’t so much punch his women as verbally reprimand them with aggressive Indian burns, but don’t use that terminology in mixed company cuz it’s, like, you know, racist. Had a really nice mellow weekend, kicked it at the crib and then kicked it other places like, uh, the mall(s) and you know, wal mart. Jesus, is that what I did, really? No, actually, it wasn’t like that, but it was. We were outside. Yes. We walked around Ala Moana Beach Park. There I go location dropping again. Ok, yes, we were on location. It was fantabulous. Tara Reid and that guy with the vague expression who was superman in the last movie were there, and they were totally making out when suddenly this army of buff blue dudes riding radioactive sea crabs came out of the water, you know, the Honolulu harbor side (of course you know), they were led by this prince namor look alike, but you could tell it wasn’t really him cuz the angle of his diabolically arched eyebrows was a few degrees off, and in no way would or could he have deviated the style, cuz, you know, barbers can’t use electric trimmers underwater (logic!) and, well, anyway, I called him on it, I mean, I knew that he wasn’t really representing atlantis, the underground continent, and not even probably the bahamanian (I’m making that up) casino resort, and so he backed up, looked around, kind of spun his trident around while hemming and hawing and trying to think of an exist to continue the invasion; all his henchmen, replete with nipple rings and gold lamae hairnets, were just aghast and waiting for the order to start raping and pillaging, and I was like “look dude, we both know that if you step onto this shore that I’m gonna have to get involved in altercating with you on this one,” so he kind of like told everybody “uh, yeah, wrong spot guys, lets take a left back at the shrimp shack (underwater #327) and double around over to Ewa Beach and try this again. So I let him off with a warning. The only bummer part of it is that now ewa beach is under martial law and this communist modern day mao tse tung but faux atlantean dictator dude runs the whole Waianae coast, but as long as I can make it into downtown and have a black and tan and watch the UH basketball game tonite, it’s cool and tha gang, even though I won’t, but, you know, well, I could. It’s almost like if they torched palmdale and you lived in Lincoln heights. You get the picture. Obviously.