the lord our savior
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TLOS Archives Whether you’re already a fan or just looking to kill time, these archives should provide you with at least minutes of entertainment. Three years worth of genius. 02.27.05 Thinking back to winters in Michigan I've now realized that scraping your windows in the morning may be the worst thing in the world. First, think about when it takes place. In the morning. You're tired. you're cranky. And you're late for work. It's the absolute worst time of the day. Second, if your window is iced over, that means it is cooooold outside. The worst possible temperature. And third, it involves that awful hair-raising scraping noise. Aarrrg. Yep, scraping your windows is the worst thing in the world. I'd like to apologize to genocide, which was previously considered to be the worst. You’re still bad. Just not as cold. And thank you New York city, for allowing me to escape from this torturous activity. 02.25.05 (WARNING: Adult themes) Super AIDS. Now available in New York. Awesome. Awesome? Supposedly there's a strain of the HIV virus that is highly drug-resistant and progresses to full blown AIDS within months of contraction. Great. That's just what we needed. First, “Super AIDS” is a bad name. "Super" sounds like something good. SUPERman. SUPERbowl. SUPERvisor. SUPER-duper. But Super AIDS, when you think about it, isn't really that super at all. In fact, it's awful. They should have chosen a name that reflected the awfulness of the disease, like R.B.A. (for “Really Bad AIDS”). Or Evil AIDS. Or "Stronger, but in a real bad way AIDS." Or Badass AIDS. Giving it the name “Super AIDS” is almost like rewarding it for being worse. At the very least call it Super Bad Aids. Also, part of me believes STDs have been invented and spread by condom companies. They lobby in Washington for more "safe sex" initiatives. For more information to be made available about all of these dreadful STDs. They open laboratories where new sex illnesses are developed. Because people aren't going to stop having sex. They're just going to buy more rubbers. Hence, the more disease there is, the more condom companies profit. And the less good sex feels. Conspiracy. Can you imagine if the government announced that unprotected sex would not spread disease and it was completely safe? Would you still wear those suffocating little latex death-bags? Dang. I really missed out on that whole “free love” era. In hopefully unrelated news, my blood-test results are not in. 02.24.05 I hate people who walk slowly. Especially tall people. Your legs are longer than mine, you should easily be able to keep a decent pace. But even more, I hate people who are always in a rush. Just because I walk fast, doesn't make me in a rush. For instance, if there's a crowd of people waiting to go up the stairs, I'll patiently wait my turn. If the elevator is full, oh well, another will come. "Rush" people will push past you only to find that, oh crap, there's fifty other people still jammed in front of them. I hope you get to your destination 1 second faster, d!ck. Or the people that cram onto the subway, even though it's clearly already packed to the gills. These people are usually sweaty, because they're working so hard on rushing. They sweat and breathe their horrible breath (because they've got no time for mints or dental hygene) in your face and laugh, like "phew, I just made it." No, you didn't make it. You cheated your way onto an already full subway car and I'm going to jam my elbow into you as much as possible. The only justice in this is the joy I get from watching people in a rush have everything go wrong for them. Yesterday, when getting off the subway, a lady pushed past three people and started walking real fast. But wait! She dropped her scrarf! Eat it! Then when she came back and bent down to get her scarf, all huffing and puffing, her phone fell out of her pocket and bounced further backwards, stopping right at my feet. As she scrambled to snatch it up, I almost kicked it off the subway platform. It would have been great to look her in the eye as she stood up shocked, grin and tell her "haste makes waste, biiiiitch." Another great thing about rushing is the honking of cabs. No matter how bad the traffic jam, cabs will lay on their horns. Apparently this is done with hope that someone way up at the front of the line just wasn't paying attention and thanks to that honk they'll now get moving. Honk. Everyone just calm down. Unless you're walking slow in front of me. Then get moving. Or I'll stomp on your sluggish heels. 02.23.05 A review of the 2-22-05 Barry Bonds Interview If you don’t know or care about baseball or Barry Bonds, you probably won’t care to read this. 02.22.05 Jokes are good. Jokes are funny. You can make jokes about war. But make no mistake about it, war is not a joke. Recently Adam Malson, a local Rochester Hills kid, was killed in Iraq. The brother of a friend. The only person I know who has been killed in a war. Usually you can incite me into a rant about why the war is wrong, why I don't support the president, why the rest of the world is just in their disdain for US foreign policy. But today, I'm asking everyone to support the troops. Not the government or the motives behind the war, but the actual boys who are overseas dying for something they believe in. America. Ultimately, whether you believe it or not, those soldiers are there for you. So you can eat McDonalds. So you can complain about traffic. So you can buy a new pair of shoes at the mall. They give their lives so that we can live ours. While you’re sitting at work on your fat ass, eating from a bag of Dorito’s and scrolling through this e-mail with your lethargic, greasy, carpal-tunnel ridden hands, don’t feel sorry for yourself. The burden of a nation is not on your shoulders. Feel lucky to be where you are. I know I do. Take the time to read this article. It's not long. http://www.freep.com/news/locoak/soldier21e_20050221.htm I can’t imagine the pain of a family forced to bury their son. Awful. It makes me sick to think about the possibility of it being my brother. Or a best friend. Or a husband or wife. If anything, this makes me sadder and angrier than ever that so many families here at home have to suffer for the cavalier attitude with which George Bush wields America’s military might. Curse you George Bush. Bring our boys home. *** In unrelated news, Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. A prolific writer, Thompson did not leave a suicide note. Perhaps he ran out of things to write about. 02.17.05 For the first time in quite awhile I went to the doctor for something that was not a broken leg. There's not even anything wrong with me. I figured I should just go in and get a check-up and have some tests done. I was surprised to find that it was fun. Every time a test was completed and nothing was wrong, I felt proud. Like I had really accomplished something by not being sick. When they drew blood, the nurse kept asking, "are you going to pass out? Does it hurt?" I would respond, "Private Jim Therkalsen, 10th Brigade, Soldier #6468264," pretending that I was a captured soldier being tortured. Be brave. Be strong. Tell them nothing. Then I was told I had perfect hearing, which means that what was previously believed to be bad hearing was just a case of "not ever paying attention." I was surprised the doctor didn't put his fingers under my testicles for the cough test. I even wore special underwear for him. Boxers with giraffes on them. I never got what you could tell by feeling beneath my balls while I cough. If anyone is a doctor or is interested enough to google this, let me know. Overall, I liked going to the doctor. I wish I was as good at everything in life as I am at not having anything severely wrong with me. It made me feel superior to all those sick people. I felt like maybe I should get some sort of certificate to hang in my cube that says, "Super Health!" Of course, my blood tests won't be back for awhile, so maybe I've got some problems. I feel pretty clean, though. 02.16.05 I still can't believe people wear their sunglasses inside. Is it that bright? Are you that cool? People who cock their sunglasses up onto the tops of their heads are ridiculous, too. They might not be over your eyes, but you're still wearing them, sh!thead. You're not fooling anyone. You want people to see those sunglasses because they cost $300 and it took you three years to pick them out. And you still don't look cool. Tough luck. Also bad are regular glasses that are tinted blue or pink or purple. “Oooooh, look, everything I see is different now. The whole world is orange.” I know you probably already hate the way things look from your perspective, since you’re an idiot. But your eyes already suck. You’re just making it harder for them. To the contrary, girls with glasses, those thick, plastic-rimmed, school teacher variety are hot. At the very least they make girls look smarter. After being informed that Bono may be responsible for the whole deal, I realized that I should have included a disclaimer that if you are a rock star or a famous person of some sort, you are allowed to do this. Also, if you are always on drugs, so your eyes look all blown out, wearing sunglasses inside is acceptable. Regular people probably saw Bono and thought it would be okay for them to do the same. But it doesn't work for us. The same principle applies with leather pants. They're for rock stars, not mailmen or consultants. 02.15.05 Boys and girls, take out your pens and pencils, you're about to get a lesson in sneakiness. For years, people have wondered, is there a way to beat the US Postal system? Could I somehow cheat the American government out of $0.37? The answer is a resounding "yes". In an experiment conducted by a sceintist, the "return address" method was proven effective. Return Address Method Instructions: 1. Place correspondance in envelope. Lick sticky part. Seal. 2. Write your work address in the "to" section. 3. Write the address you'd actually like the letter sent to in the "return address" area. 4. Put $0.37 in your pocket, cause you're not going to need it today. 5. Place envelope (sans postage) in random street mailbox. 6. Sit back and enjoy being sneaky. This method is based on the belief that it is illegal for the postal system to destroy mail. So, if there is no postage stamp, they have to return it to the address listed in the "return to" portion of the envelope. Even if you drop it in a California mailbox and the return address is listed as Michigan. And if they just mail it, at the very worst it will come back to you. For the record, I've only tested this once, but I'm 85% certain it will work for you. Actually, make that 70%. In mail related news, a disciple from Ohio has informed me that it is ILLEGAL for mailmen to take outgoing mail from your mailbox. I think that is absurd. 02.14.05 Happy Valentines Day. Jerks. Aside from this trumped up holiday, you know what's garbage? Bathroom attendants. Never in the history of man has there been a greater--or worse--job for a human to have. Sit in the bathroom all night, watch people use the toilets and then pressure them into putting a dollar in your little basket. For what? Because you gave me the soap? Guess what, I can get my own soap. And paper towels. And if I wanted gum, I most likely wouldn't buy it from the toilet candy shop. Doesn't seem sanitary. And shaving cream and after-shave? Have you ever stopped in a public bathroom to trim down that five o'clock shadow? No? Me neither. Cologne, alright, I'll give you that one. Some guys smell bad. They need the cologne. But when I walk into a bathroom and see an attendant I'm almost always immediately furious. I know already he's going to guilt me into giving him a dollar. Sometimes I think, "alright, this fellows at a pretty low point in his life. He has to watch me pee, then help me clean up. He needs this dollar more than I do." Sympathy only wins out half of the time. I also think that next time maybe I'll go in and pee, wash my hands and then when I'm done, instead of tipping, I'll grab a dollar from the basket. When he asks what I'm doing I'll reply, "Hey, you don't think I give people Pee Shows for free do you? Pervert." Either that or walk over there with my johnson out and ask him to give it a quick wipe-down. If you're going to pay a dollar, you might as well get full service. In conclusion, I like automatic soap and paper-towel dispensers more than bathroom attendants. 02.07.05 The 2005 TLOS Super Bowl Ad Review An in depth review of all this year’s Super Bowl Commercials. Written by an advertising professional. 02.04.05 It's amazing that in this world there actually exists true nerds. You often hear rumors of IT guys being geeks. And I used to assume that these were generally exaggerated, stereotypical rumors. But I now have encountered a full grown man-nerd. What makes a man a geek, you ask? I'll tell you. First, have a bad moustache, long straight hair pulled back into a ponytail, wear black clothes topped with a black trench coat and black combat boots. Second, be part of a group, the idea of which is that you’re a theatre troop of vampires putting on plays for regular humans. Be a functioning part of this group all year round. Not just at Halloween. Also, you must believe that everyone you meet is interested in seeing your shows. Give each person you work with a flyer. Be immune to shame. Third, bring a giant, $250 light saber to the company Christmas party. Swing it around to show it off. Make a man dressed as Santa stop to you can pretend to chop off his belly while making a “wwwwwzzzzzzzzzzzzz” sound. Also pretend to chop off a pregnant woman's stomach. Fourth, make strange moaning sounds while using the urinal. Fifth, brag about how you were just cast in a "Star Wars Enthusiast" movie. This man, whose name I do not know, is a wonder of nature and though you may not believe it, works on my floor. There are many other variables that go into the making of a grown human nerd, but if you meet any three of the above five criteria, you are probably a nerd. Sorry. Follow up, from Saint Mark: For example: Yesterday while leaving church (I just go so the kids can have a religion to reject later as I did) I paused in the atrium to wait for my wife, who was talking to a woman inside, and I was accosted out of nowhere by a hulking, chubby bespectacled, heavily-acned adolescent, who was looking down at a flyer for a classical music concert. "Never fails," he says in a loud voice. "For the second year in a row, they've scheduled the chamber music concert for Holy Thursday. For the second year in a row, I'll be unable to play." Then he proceeds to rattle off the gospel topics for all the Sundays of Lent. Oy. Right in front of my boy. I wanted to grab my son and dive out a window. This is a person who may very well NEVER have sex in his lifetime. And the gene pool is better off for it. 02.03.05 One of the worst things I've known about in my lifetime is the kidnapping and apparent beheadings of people overseas by radical Islamists. So rarely, if ever, would anything sort of funny come out of something like this. This is one of those cases. Apparently, reports of a kidnapped American soldier may be false, after a toy company reported the "hostage" looks remarkably like their "Cody" army doll (see attached). It's a cruel joke to play, but I bet whoever received the picture and assessed the situation feels like a real idiot. "Hey boss, looks like we've got an emergency on our hands." Yep, another doll falls into enemy hands. In related news, photos of giant radical Islamists stomping through cities and destroying them have been released. No one is sure where, exactly, the cities are located, but officials declare it shouldn't take long to locate the giant Lego structures and begin relief efforts. A small, yellow headed man was also decapitated by one of the giant terrorists. Remarkably, he smiled through the whole ordeal, his beady black eyes unblinking in the face of fear. Make love, not war. 02.02.05 All cab drivers hate George Bush. At least all cab drivers in New York. Whose cabs I have ridden in. And talked with about politics during my ride. So a more accurate statement would probably be "three cab drivers hate George Bush." But since I've gone three for three on politics and hate, I figure I can extrapolate from there and conclude, with a small margin of error, that all cab drivers hate George Bush. I like almost all cab drivers. I wish they all would talk to me. From now on as soon as I get in a cab I'll say, "So how about that George Bush." Then I'll get to listen to a rant filled with hatred and anger. And if you haven't caught on, these are one of my favorite things. Manhattan at night from an airplane is fake. Earl Boykins is a video game basketball player in real life. You have to enter a secret code to get him. He's very little and extra quick. 02.01.05 I hate bathrooms that have automatic, motion detecting faucets. They come on for approximately three seconds at a time and then you have to take your hands away and put them back in front to get the water to start back up. Who designed these awful contraptions? The world’s fastest hand washer? Can anyone really wash their hands in that amount of time? Give me twenty seconds to soap up and rinse off. Heck, be generous, give me thirty. Or maybe even let me choose how much time I take. I’m a grown up. I know how much water I want to use. I'm familiar with how faucets work. Let me take care of washing my own hands. Jerks. I’m in Rochester New York right now, but driving around, for some reason I feel like it’s Ohio. Ohio is bad. Follow-up from 02.01.05 Thanks to Papa Ames for this addition. I can't believe I left this out. "Jim, I absolutely agree with you about the motion detection faucets. I spend a lot of time in airports and most of them are like that now. One thing you didn't comment on, that also drives me crazy, is the newest trend in motion detection paper towel dispensers. The one towel it spits out is probably enough to dry the hands of someone who just uses one squirt under the faucet, but for us 20 second guys it takes about 4 or 5 passes to get enough towels to get dry. At least these things are a step up from the disgusting blow dryers but that's a whole nuther issue." Don't blame these robots for their poor functionality. They're just doing their jobs. It's the tree-hugging, hemp-wearing, BO smelling environmentalists who keep us from having clean, dry hands. Jerks. Recycle. 01.31.05 In reading about sports, you sometimes come across some interesting quotes. "Toronto coach Sam Mitchell marvelled over (Amare) Stoudemire's play in the Suns' win over the Raptors on Sunday, the Arizona Republic reports. 'He's the man,' Mitchell said of Stoudemire. '(Tim) Duncan and (Kevin) Garnett do a lot of things, but as far as raw quickness, a hunger, he attacks the ball. He attacks the rim like he wants to bite it.' I love "He attacks the rim like he wants to bite it." I'm not sure it even makes sense, but it's great. For more basketball action check out lineofthenight.com. 01.25.05 Somehow weeks have crept by and I've failed to mention the tsunami. Awful. Devastating. I've done a few charitable things to help provide relief to the tsunami victims, including buying hot chocolate from children and paying cover at some bar benefit for UNICEF or some such organization. True, I just wanted some nice warm hot chocolate and to get drunk, but I'm glad my money went to a good cause. Having done my part to help, I feel obligated to continue my good work. That’s right…it's time for a top ten natural disasters list. 10. Drought – The most boring, awful natural disaster, if you can even call it that. Makes me thirsty just thinking about it. Droughts also lead to 10a, I think. So I’m grouping them together. Otherwise there would have been 11. A nice, round ten also accounts for the absence of famine, epidemic and hailstorm, which all kind of suck. Of the three, hailstorm is probably the best. 10a. Forest Fire - Does this count? If it’s not a man made blaze, I think so. Forest fires are bad. They kill animals. They destroy trees, which animal need for houses and we need for oxygen. I don’t think many humans die from these, but they do tend to burn homes, which is horrible. Imagine sitting and watching a fire slowly approach your house. You’d think you could dig a moat or get out your hose and tame the blaze or something. But nope. Your house burns. Sorry. Nature 1, you 0. 9. Mudslide - A tasty drink? Perhaps. A horrible, dirty, suffocating way to die? Certainly. I hate mudslides, but I also feel like mudslide victims are sort of asking for it. Living on giant, steep muddy cliffs. Come on. If you lived in the middle of a field, you’d be much less likely to die in a mudslide. 9a. Avalanche - Almost the same as a mudlside, an avalanche is slightly better. It is usually made up of snow and rocks instead of mud. If avalanche were on its own, it’d probably rank quite a bit higher, since giant amounts of falling snow are pretty cool. And, whenever I'm in the mountains, I want to shout "avalanche!" and take off running down the hill. 8. Lightning – I think being struck by lightning counts as a natural disaster. It comes from nature and it could kill you. I sort of like getting a small electric shock, so maybe a huge one would be even better. Plus, what are the odds? You’ve got to be pretty lucky to get struck by lightning. 7. Earthquake - Hey ma! The groundsa shakin! I think I like earthquakes. They’re pretty destructive and can hit big huge areas, so a lot of people get to participate. Plus, I bet a real big one feels funny and is good and scary. I also know about standing in doorways or sitting under desks. So I’d probably survive. 6. Flood - It seems like a flood would be fun. Go swimming in your house. Drive a little boat around the streets, like in Venice. But I bet you’d feel like a real pussy if you died in a flood. Just grab something that floats. Or swim. I also like to see people putting up sandbag walls to protect their houses. Sandbag walls are good. 5. Hurricane – Good strong winds, big waves, tropical locations, human names. Sounds good to me. 4. Meteor Shower - Rare, but good. I’m not even sure anyone has ever died from this. But if you’re crushed by a rock from outer space, there’s always a slight chance that the radiation from that rock will give you super powers. Yes! 3. Tornado – The sheer randomness of a tornado is good. It jumps all around unpredictably. But even better is how cool a tornado looks. It’s the best looking disaster around. And I already like to be places when it’s really windy. So a tornado would probably be even more fun. Plus, if you’re going to die, a tornado is probably a good way to go. Especially if it picks you up and sweeps you around in circles, up into the sky, like you’re flying. They should make some sort of tornado suit. A big, safe bubble you can sit inside and get thrown around inside a tornado. I’d try it. And fyi, the Twister ride at Universal Studios sucks. 2. Volcano – Hot lava! I love lava. And I love almost any place that actually has volcanoes. I’m not much for burning or melting, but there’s nothing cooler, or hotter, than hot lava. What I’d give to row a boat impervious to heat along a river of hot molten lava. 1. Tsunami - Unbeknownst to me until recently, tsunamis kick everything else’s ass. First, the word “tsunami” is fantastic. I also think tsunamis are similar to a tidal wave, which I imagine to be good. Just imagine laying on the beach, happy, sunning yourself, drinking a cocktail and then BAM! You’re swept away by a giant wave. Surprise! It’s a tsunami. Also, based on the number of people killed, you have to give tsunami some credit, it’s not fucking around. Please, give generously to natural disaster relief organizations. https://www.redcross.org/donate/donation-form.asp www.unicefusa.org 01.25.05 Follow Up Replies to these little posts are always appreciated. They let me know someone's paying attention and that I'm not the only one reading what I write. This response from JJ Mulrod warrants sharing: "You're right babyjesus, the tsunami isn't fuckin around. There were also a few positive things that came from the tsunami....not to mention some great tales of survival... 1. Animals can sense fear - Birds started chriping loudly prior to the tsunami and most animals made it to high ground, hardly any animal casualties. Elephants screamed and ran, zoo animals rushed to shelter, flamingos abandoned their low-lying breeding areas. Alin Rabinowitz, director of Bronx Zoo says, 'Earthquakes bring vibrational changes on land and in water while storms cause electromagnetic changes in the atmosphere,' he said. 'Some animals have acute sense of hearing and smell that allow them to determine something coming towards them long before humans might know that something is there.' 2. The reduction of fishing fleets destroyed in the disaster might have a positive effect on fish population recovery. Dynamite fishing might be suspended. Sewage (and petrochemical pollution) is disposed in the seas/rivers so an abandonment of urban areas might actually improve conditions for recovery of reefs and fish stocks. Some natural disasters have also had a positive effect, because of increased spending on the rehabilitation of infrastructure. On a more humorous note, another earthquake (6.2 magnitude) hit Thailand & Indonesia about 2 days ago. Everyone freaked out and headed for the high hills. However, no tsunami came. On an interesting note, in some cases, it's not even about technology skills: simple oceanography skills could have saved more lives. A young girl named Tilly Smith saved scores of people when she saw the tide suddenly vanish and recognized it as one of the first signs of an impending tsunami - something she had just learned in her geography class. She informed her parents who help evacuate roughly 50 people. And then there are the Morgan Sea Gypsies of Southern Thailand: their elders had taught them that when the tide rushes out, they should run to the hills. They managed to escape, while others who lacked this knowledge went to pick up fish on the beach or watch the low tide -- with disastrous results." Also, a small debate amongst apostles in the UK broke out. The main points of which were that a) it was an earthquak that caused the tsunami, so technically earthquakes deserved a much higher ranking. And b) a giant meteor splashing into the ocean would also create a giant tsunami. And the effects of a meteor crashing into land would have disasterous results, just ask the dinosaurs. Oh, wait, you can't. They died when a giant meteor struck the earth. Maybe. 01.18.05 I don't understand my new mailman. Aren't mailmen supposed to pick up as well as deliver the mail? So far, I've tried leaving outgoing mail in our mailbox. That evening I found my outgoing mail still in the mailbox along with incoming mail. Then, I tried putting it on top of all the mailboxes, because I'd seen other letters up there. Today, I get home and to my chagrin, there's my mail, still just hanging out on top of the boxes. It had been rearranged, like someone looked through it. My point is this. If you're a mailman and you see some mail just sitting around, all stamped, sealed and addressed, pick it up! Bring it back to headquarters. Someone there will know what to do with it. Even if you’re off duty, it’s probably still okay for you to grab abandoned mail and put it into the system. Don’t just leave it there. My second point is this. Mailmen are not smart. If they were, they’d probably have better jobs. My dad used to be a mailman. I bet he would have picked that mail up. 01.12.05 So now that I've come to terms with the events that befell me on New Year's Eve this year, I feel the best way to move on is to share my experiences with others. It’s a long-winded description filled with the word “ass.” Enjoy. The night started out as any other. Playing board games at my grandparents' house and eating fried chicken (Chicken Shack, mmmmmmmmmm) with all my aunts and uncles and cousins. Come eight o'clock it was time to go have non-family related fun and drown my brain in a steady flow of alcoholic beverages (alcohol, mmmmmmmmmmm). I proceeded to join some friends at a "pre-drink" event before we went to "Posh," a somewhat posh bar in Ferndale. It was a good night. Good drinks, good friends, good music. I entered 2005 in good spirits and to that point the night had been stress-free and enjoyable. And then, at some point, let's say 2:15 a.m. I felt like maybe I had sat in some champagne or beer because my ass was all wet. Hmmmmm...I reached back with my hand to investigate the wetness. Now, when you reach back and feel your ass, what’s the last thing you want to see on your hand when you look? I’ll tell you. Blood. Yikes! My ass was covered in blood. I immediately took further investigatory action. I felt between my boxers and bare ass, hoping to find it sans blood, thinking maybe I had sat in someone else’s blood. No such luck. My hand came back bloodier than before. Dang! That’s not good. I could now feel blood running down the back of my leg and I started to feel uncomfortable. Keep in mind; I was under the influence of numerous forms of alcohol so my brain was moving at a cumbersome pace. I went into the men’s room to have a look in the mirror. Several friendly patrons informed me I had blood on my pants. Thanks. It’s also soaking my boxers and running down my leg, dickmouth. The bathroom trip confirmed what my hand-test had indicated. I was bleeding from my right ass-cheek. Apparently, at some point I either sat or fell on some broken glass. Or I was knifed. But at no point did I recall thinking, “ouch, I just cut my butt-cheek open.” Now that I was sure of the situation it was time to deal with it. First order of business, find someone sober. I approached one of the club’s bouncers and tried to tell him my ass was bleeding. The club was loud, so eventually I had to turn around, point to my ass and shout, “My ass won’t stop bleeding!” He led me to some sort of back storage room. Things are sort of blurry from here. I do know for sure there was a basket of apples in that back room. I have no idea why they were there, but my secondary objective, aside from getting my ass to stop bleeding, was to eat an apple. Once inside I immediately removed my dress shirt, pants and boxers, leaving me in a t-shirt and socks. Cack'n'balls swinging in the chilly nightclub backroom air. Well, they were less “swinging” and more like “cowering,” probably. Luckily, only some bouncers and waitresses and some old lady were back there. For the next ten minutes or so I tried to stop the bleeding with paper towels and willpower. No luck. At this point I was incoherent and angry. I was marching around some back room basically naked. I was shouting at people about my nakedness, “It doesn’t even matter any more. It’s New Year’s Eve and my ass won’t stop bleeding. Can things get any worse? I just don’t care about anyone seeing my balls at this point. I’d just like for my ass to stop bleeding.” But it would not. After a short while longer the paramedics arrived. They had a look and informed me they could take me to the hospital and give me a tetanus shot and maybe one stitch. In my incoherent state all I could think was, there’s no way I’m paying $400 for an ambulance ride to the hospital for a small cut in my butt-cheek (a drunk person can’t be responsible for knowing what their insurance will and will not cover, so I played it safe). I insisted that someone would drive me to the hospital. Yeah, at 2:30 in the morning on New Years Eve all of my friends should be in great shape to drive. So the paramedics allowed me to go find a friend. I put my blood pants on and went to look. One of the paramedics shadowed me through the club to make sure I didn’t just run off. Eventually I found an angel, Stacey, who agreed to take me to the hospital. All we had to do was find Steve to give us the keys. Of course, after looking around for five or ten minutes we realized Steve had disappeared, leaving both of us rideless. I informed the paramedics that I was not riding in the ambulance, so they should just fix me up the best they could. Which meant one of those poor paramedics had to get on his knees and clean all of the blood off my ass while I shouted at everyone about how this wasn’t funny. He used a tremendous amount of tape to put on some gauze and at last, blood was no longer flowing unchecked from my tender flesh. I signed a waiver and went with nurse Stacey, my caretaker. In the end, this story teaches us several things. One, your ass is a fleshy area that contains a lot of blood. Two, don’t sit or fall on broken glass or get stabbed in your ass. Three, no girl will have sex with a man who’s bleeding from his ass. At least I don’t think so. The most painful part came the next day when I had to tear the tape off my poor ass. Thank heavens I’m a relatively ass-hairless individual. Phew. That’s all. In other news, yesterday I discovered that one of the scenes you see in movies and think “that never happens” actually happens. I was standing near the curb on the way to grab some groceries on a somewhat rainy night. And WHOOSH, a cab hit a puddle giving me a shower from the chest down. A good amount of wetness. But after bleeding from my ass, nothing really bothers me anymore. 01.06.05 From Jim Rome. Sent by Jim Shitura. To Jim Therkalsen. And now to you. Anything that comes from Jims is bound to be good. Ask my grandpa. A transcripted rant from Jim Rome's radio show... "Did you hear about the hot dog vendors turned hookers? A pair of female hot dog vendors in Long Island have been arrested. Now perhaps you are asking yourself what could a hot dog vendor do to get arrested? Did they try and short people on their change? Did they not have their little cart up to the standards of the Health Department? Did they run out of mustard? Nope. They were arrested for prostitution after one of the women at the cart propositioned an undercover officer for sex while he was buying a dog. Deputy Inspector Rick Capece, 'We’ve never seen hotdogs mixed with prostitution before out there. It’s the most unusual thing I have ever seen.' According to the cops, Catherina Scalia, 38, offered to expose herself, or perform a sex act inside a nearby caper to the cop. Apparently she and another woman, Rose Skorge, 34, would turn tricks in the camper. The camper was littered with empty chip bags and ketchup bottles and a dirty recliner. Well isn’t that nice. And how exactly do these women go about offering the sex? ‘Ok, that’s $3.50 for the dog and the coke. Oh, one more thing. You wanna go into the camper for some sex?’ You want some sex with that hot dog? Yeah, I am sure that everyone has always had a secret fantasy about tapping the woman that sells hot dogs out of a cart. Sure they have. And the scary part is, you know that there are dirtballs out there who are probably like, ‘Well, you know, all I really wanted was a hot dog and a drink but now that you mention it, some sex would be a nice chaser. I’m in.” And I am sure that filthy camper they were turning tricks in is extremely sanitary. I am sure a couple of hot dog selling prostitutes keep their sex area in neat order. Sure they do. And wouldn’t you want to get some sex surrounded by ketchup bottles and empty Frito bags? What these women should do after they get out of jail is come out here to California and set up a cart at the turn of the Hidden Valley Golf Course in the 909. Believe me, they would make some cash out there. Hot dogs and hookers. What more could anyone want? I mean other than a penicillin shot?" Good stuff. Welcome to 2005. 12.22.04 On the heels of the ten worst things about the holidays, it’s time to lift our spirits and celebrate the ten best things about the holidays. I expect less hateful e-mails and a few less e-mails condemning me to hell for this. 10. Vacation! Not just one day off, but a bunch (for some of us). Nothing beats vacation. Especially a paid vacation. 9. Christmas lights. On your house, on your tree, on Main Street in small town America, in New York City, Christmas lights sparkle and smile on you wherever you go. I wish they could stay up all year round. They also make for a swanky dorm room. 8. Christmas cards. Can something be both the best and the worst? Yes. Getting mail is great. And the only time that can rival Christmas for mail received is your birthday, and even that doesn’t measure up. So ignore what you read yesterday and send out your Christmas cards. I’ll be happy to get them. And equally happy to throw them away after opening them and finding there’s no money. 7. Elf. A new classic. How can you not love Will Ferrell? How can you not love Christmas? 6. Sports. Someone realized that on Christmas you have the largest possible captive audience ever. No one is at work. No one. And virtually everyone is gathered in a home, sitting around talking. What better way to solve this problem than to put a sporting event on television? Now we can watch sports instead of talking. Bowl games are great. NBA basketball is great. Shaq vs. Kobe, Kobe vs. Shaq. I’m going to get drunk watching the game at my uncle’s house. Boo-ya! 5. Santa. He’s fat. He brings presents. He appears at every mall in America. He loves milk and cookies. He has an army of elves to do his work. The man is a genius and deserves our respect and gratitude. 4. Kids! Is there anything better than a room full of kids all opening presents. Especially little kids, who are excited about every present. They march around showing everyone their present and then WOW another present!? Kids dressed in their Christmas best eating cookies and playing with toys. Fantastic. 3. Presents. I love presents. I’m greedy. 2. The mall. Normally the mall is sort of a bad place. But during Christmas, with all of the decorations and all of the Christmas music and hell, even with all the people, it’s a magical place. I don’t even mind lines at the mall during the holidays. All of the people buzzing about and the warmth and joy and purchasing…great. 1. Christmas Eve. Every Christmas Eve my family goes to my aunt’s house for dinner and presents. When we were kids it was the best. Lots of kids, lots of presents, lots of toys, lots of cookies and snacks. After dinner we’d open presents and our uncles would put together the GI Joe vehicles we got, leaving us to put the stickers(decals) on once they were assembled. Then we’d play in the living room while old women sat around and talked and men played nickel-dime poker in the kitchen. Later on, when the kids were starting to get crabby, our parents would pack us up and go home. A nice peaceful ride with Christmas music playing and snow falling and my brother and sister and I packed into the back seat of our car. Once at home, up to bed, trying to quickly fall asleep so you could wake up and open presents. Christmas Eve is great. Christmas morning is good, too. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 12.21.04 After some delay, I'm back. And just in time for the holidays. So, as a special holiday treat, here are the top ten worst things about the holidays. Thanks in part to the Stead/Purdy produced "Sunday Vexations," a brilliant publication with a limited distribution list. Items taken from Sunday Vexations are tagged (SV)--not to be confused with Slum Village. Enjoy. 10. Watching the "Christmas Story" with your family on Christmas night - this has become a tradition in many households throughout the United States. And now that it's on 24 hours a day during the holidays, it's no longer "charming." It is especially hard to sit through when you have $500 on the Hawaii Boise state over, which is going on simultaneously...(SV) 9. The Rockettes. I'm not sure why this is bad, it just is. Unless you're banging one of the Rockettes, or trying to bang one, you should avoid seeing this. 8. Christmas Parades. It's cold out. It's early. Why in the f*ck would you go sit three deep along the road to watch some gay-ass marching bands and a couple of big balloons go down the street. And don't tell me "it's romantic" or "it gets me in the spirit." It doesn't. The only people who should appreciate parades are old band nerds. "Check out the Lincoln High marching band, they're tops in the state this year." I guess retards can also like them, since retards like anything colorful that makes noise. I think. 7. Egg Nogg. I've never had it. And I never will. Sounds disgusting. 6. Decorating the Christmas tree - ok this was cool when we were 5. Now it has gotten ridiculous. Especially when your parents wait till all the kids are home to put the ornaments up. And then, if you don't participate, you are scorned by your own flesh and blood. As if you just f*cked your cousin. (SV) 5. Jewish folk who won't let their kids celebrate Christmas. Hey, I know you're proud of your heritage, but you're ruining you kid's childhood. Christmas stopped having any religious meaning about a hundred years ago. I know Chanukah is cool, but come on, you have to admit Christmas kicks its ass. But go ahead, take your kids out of school and lobby for things to be "holiday" instead of "Christmas." 4. Christmas cards. Hey, I don't talk to you, ever, but to make myself feel popular, I'm going to send out a card that has some generic message on the inside. That way I'll feel like we're still friends. Save the $0.37. We're not friends. 3. Lame Company Holiday Parties. Oh yeah, let's hang some mistletoe in the conference room, get some candy canes and a few cases of beer and say that you don't get a bonus, because we're throwing you a holiday party. Just give me the ten dollars it cost you for my portion of the party and I'll go get drunk with people I actually want to be around. 2. Santa Hats - These are gay, especially when frat-like guys wear them to bars around Christmas time and think they're cool and festive. Also gay when coworkers prance around in these hats to show their holiday spirit -- we don't care about your holiday spirit, you smug little p*ssy. Also, if you ever see a guy wearing one of these hats out on the town, he is typically in the company of two fat girls in the midst of a shopping excursion to Pier One to find the perfect candle for their friend Jenny. (SV) 1. Being an adult. Sure buying presents for people is fun. And Christmas is about giving. But are you telling me it's better than being a kid and running to the tree Christmas morning to open all your presents? Nope. Until you have kids and you can truly enjoy giving them gifts, the whole holiday season is sort of anti-climatic. New Years Eve is the new Christmas. You get drunk. There's a chance you'll have sex. That's all I'm asking for this year. Keep your gift certificates. Give me a twelve-pack and a girl who lacks morals. Disclaimer: Much to the dismay of homosexual people, gay has taken on a meaning of its own. Gay is now a term which means: annoying, stupid, worthless, awful and bad. Please do not be offended by use of the word "gay" in the preceding list. Or do. And then go give someone a handjob. Other people who should not be offended: jews and retards. 11.21.04 2nd Edition "The objective of securing the safety of Americans from crime and terror has been achieved." So said John Ashcroft in his letter of resignation. Awfully convenient to say this AFTER the election. Which leads me to wonder, does anyone actually pay attention to the terror alert levels anymore? What is it now, yellow? Orange? Did anyone ever pay attention to those? I dare you to try calling your boss tomorrow and saying, "Yeah, I was watching the news and it looks like there's a lot of terror today. I'm not going to be able to make it in. I'm just too scared." Call in cold. Call in scared. I'm finding all sorts of reasons to miss work. If you're scared, get a dog. NBA suspensions were handed out for the Melee in Motown. Ron Artest, suspended for the season. Stephen Jackson, 30 games. Jermaine O'Neal 25 games. Big Ben Wallace, six games. Anthony Johnson, five games. A handful of players received a one game suspension and fines for leaving the bench. Also, some corrections from the last e-mail. When I said Rodney Brown, I meant Rodney King. It was late. Also, the President of lineofthenight.com informed me that Jermaine O'Neal's running punch was delivered to a different fan than the one Artest jacked on the court. 11.21.04 THE MELEE IN MOTOWN! I hope that was a headline in one of the Detroit papers. Today we're talking Detroit Pistons basketball. You can't argue that we don't have some passionate fans. We also have some idiot fans. That riot on Friday? Yikes. For anyone who somehow missed it, at Friday's Pistons v. Pacers game in Detroit, there was a brawl between fans and players. It all started with a flagrant foul by Ron Artest on Big Ben Wallace. Wallace took exception and issued a Big two handed shove to Artest's face. Emotions flared and there was a lot of shouting and pushing, but it seemed that the storm had passed, with Wallace being calmed by teammates and Artest laying down on the scorer's table to collect himself. And then, like a not guilty verdict in the Rodney Brown trial, a cup of soda and ice came flying in from the stands, hitting Ron Artest in the chest/head and igniting a rash of violence. Artest leapt up and stormed into the stands, swinging fists of fury. He found the fan he believed to be responsible and put him on his as, questioning him as other fans tried to corral him. As this was happening, gap toothed Stephen Jackson flew into frame, landing a haymaker on some unsuspecting, suit-wearing man. Yowsers. Fans started pulling the men out of the stands while other fans took cheap shots at the Jackson and Artest. So, finally, the Pacers were pulled form the stands. It's over, right? Don't bet on it. Artest found a fat Piston's fan standing on the court. The fan must have said or done something, because Artest laid him out. Then, in perhaps the most amazing part of the whole event, Jermaine O'neal delivered a Happy Gilmore-esque running punch to the jaw of the same fat fan Artest had cold-cocked. The guy got...JACKED UP. The Pacers were ushered to the locker room, receiving a delicious soda/beer/popcorn shower on the way. Absolutely bananas. Melee In Motown lessons: 1. Do not throw things at professional athletes. It's dumb. It's rude. It's unacceptable. If Artest would have just pointed out the fan, he would have been punished and that would be that. It was a shameful act and I hope the guy who threw the cup got at least on punch in the mouth. 2. You can not claim self defense when you attack someone. A flying cup of sod is not life threatening. There were ways for Artest to save himself that did not involve charging into the stands and assaulting a fan. 3. If you're ever around a riot involving giant, physically superior human, RUN AWAY! Get on your horse and ride. Those men are giants and you are just a normal human. You do NOT want to catch a roundhouse from a seven footer. Shit could wreck a man. 4. If you are an athlete, do not go into the stands. Unless it's your home crowd and you're celebrating, there is no reason to go up there. They didn't kidnap Artest's kids. They threw a cup of soda. Let it go big fella. And now, the Melee in Motown awards... Most to blame: Ron Artest. Ronny is crazy. We knew that before. But this was extra crazy. Just no excuse for what he did. Most out of line: Stephen Jackson. You have bad teeth and a bad haircut, so I understand the anger. But don't go throwing punches at fans. You weren't involved in the Ben Wallace push. You didn't get his by flying soda. You weren't even trying to defend your teammate. Just foolish. Mike Tyson Look-alike: Jermaine O'Neal. Good god, if he hadn't slipped he might have punched that man's head right off his shoulders. Most Shocked: The fan Artest first attacked. If you watch the tape, at first the guy is smiling and shouting. There's no way as a fan you believe a player will actually climb into the stands to beat your ass. So when the do...yowsers. He went from smile to shocked in not time flat. Ha. Worst Person: Some fat man in a gray warm up shirt of some sort. Threw cheap shots at Artest and Jackson. And then could later be seen consoling two crying children. That guy is awful. Unwarranted Blame: Security guards. Some people are blaming the whole incident on a lack of security. I'm not sure you can say that. My guess is, security guards knew rule #3 from above. In the end, it was wild. It took half of SportsCenter to do the story. It was bad for the NBA. Bad for Detroit. Bad for everyone involved. But good to watch. 11.17.04 Fury, anger and rage. That's what fills me when I hear about all of this "controversy" surrounding the Terrell Owens/blonde woman Monday Night Football introduction. There is no controversy! It wasn't that wild. You didn't see a tit. You didn't see an ass. You didn't see any girl-girl kissing. Shut up! I guess I shouldn't be surprised. After conservative-ass America re-elected our God-chosen leader, I should expect such outrage at a black man kissing a white woman. Imagine if Owens would have made out with Toby Maguire. Then the nation would really be in an uproar. Point is, no kid that's watching Monday Night Football at 9pm on a school night was shocked by this. No kid old enough to care about Monday night football isn't mature enough to know that grown-ups kiss. In fact, it's probably about time those kids learn that athletes routinely get hot pieces of ass. They actually should have had a post-game segment where Owens fucked that bitch in the shower. Kids see violence and sex and hear curse words in all walks of life. It doesn't make them bad kids or turn them into hoodlums. Bad parenting does that. So if you don't want your kids to see ANYTHING remotely sexual or violent, let them watch the cartoon network or Nickelodeon. Even though I bet at 9pm there's some shows on those channels you wouldn't want them to watch. On second thought, turn the television off if you don't like what you see. Read a damned book. Idiot America. Also, don't let your kids read this shit. That's for sure. Tits. Pussy. End fury. 11.11.04 The eleventh day of the eleventh month at the eleventh hour, eleventh minute and eleventh second is great. 11:11:11, 11-11-04 This will be even better in seven years. Mark it down, I'm having an eleven party. You have to bring eleven of something, anything. And I am only inviting eleven people. So start being nicer to me. It starts at 11:11:11 am and ends at 11:11:11 pm. 11.10.04 If you live and work in an area where it gets cold--legitimately cold as in frost and snow and ice--I think that a few days a month you should get to "call in cold". Calling in cold is similar to calling in sick, only you wouldn't need the whole day off. On any given morning, if you wake up and your room is cold and you're in a warm blanket cocoon, just call in cold. After the call you can sleep in the warm for awhile longer until it feels like a more natural time to get out of bed. After that, you go work for the rest of the day. Maybe you could even put in a few extra hours on a "call in cold" day. The main reason for this is that when you have to get up on these cold mornings, it feels awful. It's torture. There's almost nothing worse. And medically speaking, when something feels that bad and unnatural, it's probably bad for your health. A doctor will tell you, "if you're doing something and it feels wrong, you should stop doing it." Well, getting up early on cold-ass mornings feels very, very wrong. So for the sake of northern America's workers, I believe "calling in cold" is a just and reasonable way to make winter mor tolerable. Thank you. 11.09.04 Because very few people have a car in New York there are always tons of people walking around. While this may be healthy in theory, it is actually quite dangerous. You see, with all these people out ambling around there is a dramatic increase in the number of "strangers walking toward one another where do I look" encounters. Naturally, to see where you're going, you have to look ahead. But when another person is walking toward another, inevitably there is going to need to be a decision made about where to place your eyes. In the interest of science, I spent the day yesterday looking at people who were walking toward me. Not an evil stare, just kind of a look. It was fun, since I enjoy looking at people anyways. These are the results of my experiment. 1. Almost everyone looks away. There is a common pattern. They make eye contact with you, panic, then quickly look to the ground and then find something else to look at, as if they hadn't just made eye contact. Many of these lookers will take another glance at you to see if you're still looking at them. When they see you are, they repeat the "eyes to ground, eyes to alternative object" routine, but more frantically. 2. Old people give you a smile and a nod. It makes you feel good. 3. If you look at dogs, the owner is comfortable with that. The dog doesn't even know you're looking at it. Usually, dogs are looking at things with their noses. This is also known as smelling. I tried not to smell people as I walked by them. 4. The only people who consistently maintain eye contact with you are crazy people. Maybe this is why people quickly look to the ground. If the only people who are ever willing to maintain eye contact are crazy, then it's best to avoid making eye contact with anyone and not risk becoming involved with madness. People who are looking for a fight will also stare you down. I don't know this from experience, but I bet it's true. 5. When you make up your mind to not break eye contact, it's fun to watch people react. The best approach to walking, based on science, is to always look at something else. Don't even bother looking at people, because you're going to be forced to quickly look away. Or, if you're crazy, look all you want. In unrelated news, if I had to have sex with a magazine, I'd choose one of those cosmo-type magazines. Sure, they're made of paper, but they smell nice, like a woman. I would also have sex with a newspaper instead of a magazine, if given the choice. The paper is softer. 11.07.04 Car alarms are terrible. How often have you been laying at night, trying to sleep, or laying in the morning, still trying to sleep and all of a sudden a car alarm goes off. Is the car being stolen? Nope. Has it been vandalized? Nope. Someone probably bumped it while they were parallel parking. Is the owner rushing out to see what's happened to his precious car? Nope. In fact, that car alarm will continue to sound to the next five to ten minutes infuriating everyone within hearing distance. It's almost enough to make me go down and smash the car's windows, just so when the owner finally does show up there's actually something wrong. So that's the complaint. The solution, well there's two. First, if your car has a car alarm, you should have to list your phone number on the car. Tha way, when it's activated, people can call your dumb ass and tell you to shut your car alarm off. The other solution would be to make the alarm something pleasant to listen to. Like Barry Manilow's "Mandy". That way it's not so annoying, but it still gets people's attention. The third option would be for the car to send an alarm to your keychain. That way if you're sitting at dinner a few blocks from your car and something happens, the "beep beep beep," a really loud beeping rings through the restaurant bothering you, instead of me. It would also be letting you know there's a problem. Final word: car alarms bad. Movie Reviews A-L M-Z New Releases and Rentals Alike-Cabin Fever So bad it’s sick. So bad it’s good? Almost. I guess it wasn’t at all what I expected. I thought it would be scary. It wasn’t. It was, however, terribly acted, poorly plotted and bloody. You should watch it, though. TheHottestCoed.com Which campus boasts the hottest girls? Let the games begin. LineoftheNight.com for the true NBA heads only. The Mouth A special TLOS section for those who check the site. You never know what will come out of the mouth. |