the lord our savior

February through April 2003




04.09.03

Is there anything more glorious than purchasing a new television?
Nope.
In what might be my favorite purchase to date, yesterday I became the proud owner of a Sony 27" WEGA Flat-Tube Stereo TV with 16:9 Enhanced Mode. While it's not the largest television ever made, it is a drastic improvement over the 13" baby television I'm used to. I'd like to thank all those involved in talking me into spending more money than I intended to. Namely Hawk, Everess, Jon and Steve.


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24" doesn't even get you in the room. Might as well.

Furthermore, I'd like to thank my brain for being so foolish about money that I just spend without thinking. It allows me to do things a normal brained person might not do. Unfortunately, it also keeps me living in my parents' basement.

For you fish fans, the three dead fish were given a proper burial yesterday at approximately 8:15 post-meridian time. There was one guest at the private bathroom funeral and my mom later expressed her regrets for having missed the event. In happier news, all the crabs that appeared to be dead were actually just very cold and have now defrosted. Good work crabs.

Go spend money. Acquire goods. You'll like it.


04.08.03

After an unpleasant ice storm, many areas of the metro Detroit area have been without power since last Friday, my house included. During this time, whenever I was cold because there was no heat or using a flashlight to see, I would imagine all the people in the world who have never had electricity or television or anything like that. I'm glad I'm not those people.


(picture is close to actual size)

Also, a moment of silence please for the fish who died in the Spring Storm of 2003. Among them were Yellow Tang, Singapore Angel and the beloved Big Black Damsel. Big Black Damsel has been around for over three years, tripled in size and had grown to be quite mean, angry and aggressive. He will be missed by all.


04.01.03

One thing that used to make me very nervous that I actually kind of enjoy now is "no rules driving". This can be defined as any driving where the rules you'd normally follow are tossed out the window. Post concert or sporting event parking lots. Downtown areas during festivals or sporting events. Being in a new city where you're not really sure where to go and the lines in the road are unclear. You just drive where you want. And because generally you're going slow, it doesn't really matter you're not obeying any laws. You can cut people off, go through red lights, drive in oncoming traffic lanes. There's no rules. Do what you want. Use your horn. In no rules driving, the horn is law.

It's also great that in these situations, he who has the shittiest car wins. Because when your car is trash, you don't really care if you crash it. Trust me.

No rules driving, good.

Scott Pollard's sheriff moustache, great.


03.28.03

Fast food restaurants should not be able to charge you anything when you ask for an extra bbq sauce or side of ranch. It's not food, it's sauce. When you say no onion or ketchup, they don't reduce the price by a quarter do they? Today when I asked for two bbq sauces the lady at KFC looked at me like I was crazy and said, "That's an extra quarter." I replied, "I think I can afford it. I'll splurge today. Make it three." Just give me that goddamn sauce. Fury.

Attempting to rival Vlade Divac as my favorite foreign born NBA player, here's a little piece of work by Peja Drobnjak.

Thanks to lineofthenight.com for finding this jewel. And remember kids, "Don't go crazy with the sugar."

In case you didn't know, Vlade Divac is great.


03.27.03

39 million dollars. That's how much one 25 year old computer programmer from Los Angeles won on a slot machine in Vegas earlier this week. Say it with me, 39 million dollars.

I want that.

And what a perfect age to win it at. You're not so old that you can't spend the best years of your life living a dream. So what if you've blown it all by the time you're 40? That's 15 years of pure joy. Think of it...

What would you do if you won that much money, or more even? Of course most people's first answer is that they'd give their family money. Pay off debt. Quit their jobs. Buy things for their friends. Have sex with two girls at once(reference office space). But those are general answers. What kind of wierd shit would you do? What odd items have you always wanted to own?

Me, I'm not even sure what I'd do. Move to Jamaica and open a hot dog stand (really, Negril is aching for a hot dog stand...Mr. Slice paved the way). Move to Acapulco and open a bacon-dog stand. Move somewhere warm, that much I'd do for sure. I'd buy all the electronic equipment I've ever wanted, plus 1000 dvds. My house would have a whole wall that's actually a tropical fish tank. I'd write and produce a movie where the world is finally taken over by insects. Buy a golf course. Fly every friend I have to my new home in Hawaii for a three week bender. I'd go on the Bachelor, but instead of being a gentleman, I'd go by the ole "skin to win" philosophy. Go to Vegas. Every weekend. And double my money. Be drunk all the time, then just buy a new liver and brain when the old ones got worn out. Who said money can't buy happiness? Tell me that after you've won 39 million dollars. And I'll punch your face.

I guess I'll have to give it some more thought before I actually win, but what would you do? Seriously?

Maybe I'd buy stock in thehottestcoed.com. Check it out.

Or lineofthenight.com. . If you like basketball...


03.24.03

Last weekend we saw one of the best things in the world and one of the worst things in the world. I'm talking, of course, about the first weekend of March Madness and the Oscars.

March Madness is spectacular. One of the last truly pure and enjoyable sporting events left. Even the end of the college football season, which has pandered to the bowl needs of every lowly sponsor who shows interest, has lost some of its glory.

College basketball, however, has remained true to form. Sticking with the same exciting format, where any kid can be a hero and every team has a chance at being champion. Game after game, there's high drama and the players play for the thrill of victory and the love of the sport. Of course, a few are trying to impress NBA scouts, but most of those kids will finish college and go on to live lives much like the rest of us, with only the memories and a VHS tape to remind them of their 40 minutes of fame.

And then there's the Oscars. A showcase where the rich and self absorbed can give one another handjobs and congratulate themselves on being so talented and great. Shut your mouths. You act. Wahoo. Get over it.

You're famous. You're rich. Isn't that reward enough?

Granted, every once in awhile someone gets recognized who doesn't have an inflated ego. But if I have to listen to one more Julia Roberts or Gwenyth Paltrow weepy acceptance speech, there's going to be trouble. Well, not really trouble, but I won't be happy. But, I guess girls and the effiminate community need their "superbowl." And I'm sure when I'm famous I'll happily accept my Oscar...it's only a matter of time. Mark it down.

Famous is famous.
Free is free.
And summer is coming. Thank the lord our savior for that.


03.11.03

12:34.
AM or PM.

How is it that at least once a day, I happen to be looking at a digital clock when the time reads 12:34. It's uncanny. It's almost frightening. Could it be that my brain is conditioned to check the time everyday at the exact same time? And not only to check the time, but to be in such a place that I will have access to a digital clock at that particular time? I never think about it before hand. I just glance at the clock and there it is. 12:34. It's been happening for almost three years now...

1
2
3
4
12:34.

I hate that time. And I love it. It's the devil's time. And the daahvil's.


03.10.03

There's a bit of parental jargon doesn't quite make sense now that I think about it.

"If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?"

Now, the answer to this seemingly rhetorical quesion should be "no." But think about it. If everyone else jumped off a bridge—everyone else--there's probably a pretty good reason for it. Like it was either very fun or there was a big fire or a giant swarm of bees chasing after them. Otherwise, there would probably be a whole lot more people left on that bridge with you.

So in conclusion, if "everyone else" jumped off a bridge, would I?
You're damned right I would.


02.19.03


Not to get too pornographic, but don't people realize that "facial" has become a term synonymous with dirty movies? Apparently not. Check out this sign we saw last night in Ann Arbor. I thought it was so regardable that we had to drive back and get a picture of it.

I hope there's some college kid working there that slipped that joke by the owner.


02.11.03

One thing feminists would probably argue is that a woman shouldn't have to take a man's last name when they get married.

Wrong.

They absolutely should. If a woman wants to keep her last name, then let her keep it and find a different husband. Unless you can both agree that her last name is better than ours, like say for instance, your last name is Assfuck, and your wife's is Carter. In this case, it would be acceptable to take her name. But in general, the woman should take your name as you become one. No hyphenation bullshit.

A woman gets a ring with a diamond on it and a new last name. That's what happens when you get married. Call me old fashioned. Call me a chauvinist. But call me by my last name.

Having a hyphenated last name is basically saying two things. One, your wife didn't love you enough to wholey accept you. And two, your wife is a bitch. Harsh words to be sure, but necessary.

Gentlemen, keep your names, spread your seed and eat your wheaties.


2.10.03

I'm a few days late on this topic, but I don't want to let it slip by.

Michael Jackson is a freak. Now, while this may have been obvious from his grotesque plastic surgery obesession, his recent actions and interviews have become more than freakish. They're a cry for help.

Here is some evidence I've gathered that proves Michael Jackson should not be allowed to have children. Or be around them. Or look at pictures of them. Or sing songs about them.

1. Just look at him. If some stranger that looked like that ever tried to talk to my kid, I'd bash his plastic face in.

2. He failed to appear in court because he said a spider bite him on his foot. When that's the least crazy thing you've said or done within the last two years, you need some help.

3. He makes his children wear masks in public. If he thinks that growing up in the public eye is going to fuck up his kids, just wait'll he see's how wearing a mask for the first ten years of your life works out. Those kids are doomed.

4. He calls his estate Never-Never Land. He calls his estate Never-Never Land. That's so crazy I had to say it twice.

5. He claims he's written many of his songs in a magic tree on the Neverland Ranch. Hmmmm...

6. He dangled his baby over that balcony. I don't care what excuse he gave. That's wreckless. Although maybe the magic tree gave that baby the power to fly. After all, kids fly to Neverland, don't they?

7. Will he ever grow up? "No, I am Peter Pan. I'm Peter Pan in my heart,'' he said. Seeing a pattern yet?

8. Here is a little collection of quotes that should make even the biggest Jackson fan a bit skeptical as to his intentions with children.

"I have slept in a bed with many children." Huh? Michael, you said that outloud.

"You don't sleep with your kids? Or some other kid who needs love who didn't have a good childhood…" Nope. Your own children, sure. Other people's children "who need love"? Never.

"I slept in a bed with all of them when Macauley Culkin was little: Kieran Culkin would sleep on this side, Macauley Culkin was on this side, his sisters in there...we all would just jam in the bed, you know. We would wake up like dawn and go in the hot air balloon, you know, we had the footage. I have all that footage." You would all "jam in the bed"? I bet you would, pervert.

"...we have guest units, but whenever kids come here they always want to stay with me, they never want to stay in the guest rooms. And I have never invited them into my room, they always just wanna stay with me. They say, 'Can I stay with you tonight?', so I go 'If it's OK with your parents then yes you can'." If that doesn't sound like a child molester trying to explain how children kept ending up in his bed, I don't know what does.

" If there were no children on this earth, if someone announced all kids were dead, I would jump off the balcony immediately, I'm done, I'm done." Yeah, because who would you sleep with then?

When all is said and done, I don't think Jackson's madness can be denied. To me, his words and actions shout, "I have sex with children." If some grown, 44 year old man in your neighborhood started calling his backyard Neverland and inviting all the children over for water balloon fights followed by a night of jamming in his bed, you think he's say out of jail long? Hell, he'd be lucky to avoid being lynched. But somehow, Michael Jackson has been getting a free pass. Ask yourself this. Would you leave your own children alone with him? Neither would I.

In the end, shouldn't we just have Michael Jackson put down? If your old favorite dog went rabid, you'd put him down. You'd take him out behind the shed and put a bullet in his head. Because the good old dog you knew was gone anyways. Can't we do the same for good old Michael? We could tell him we're going out for milk and cookies.

It's the right thing to do.

Also, Jason Richardson bouncing the basketball off Carlos Boozer's head then knocking down a three pointer is one of the best things in history.

Eat it Boozer!

In related news, the Boozer family has the biggest, ugliest eyebrows in history. Has anyone seen Mrs. Boozer? Good lord.


02.05.03

Living at home after college can present you with some challenges. Many of which have to do with dating. How are you supposed to participate in an adult relationship when you live in your parents' basement?

The problem of living at home can surface fairly early in the courting process, as general getting to know you bullshit generally includes the "where do you live" topic. You can gloss over this by naming a city and if necessary an area within in that city. For instance, "I live in Rochester, sort of near downtown." From that you can't really conclude that my actual residence is 10 feet underneath my parent's house, sharing space with the laundry room and my dad's office.

If you make it past the initial conversation, eventually you’ll have to come clean about where you live. I generally don’t try to conceal the fact to begin with, because I’m not necessarily embarrassed. I even sometimes use it as a conversation piece, because it’s kind of funny, how much a child I am. But no matter how good a night with a girl goes, can you really take a her home to your pull-out couch in the basement? Nope.

So ideally, you would want to date a girl who has her own place. Despite the fact that you may feel like less of a man because your girlfriend is independent and you’re living at home with mommy and daddy, you have to recognize that some things require sacrifices. And by “some things” I mean “making out, heavy petting, etc.” And by “etc,” I mean “having sex.”

But I guess you have to find the silver lining to every cloud, right? So, aside from allowing you to pay off debt, living at home forces you to learn to talk better. Because getting a girl to come back to your place is one thing. But getting her to take you back to her place, or to neutral territory, is quite another. Especially once she finds out you’re a 24 year old man living at home.

Now, if you end up dating a girl who also lives at home, things could get interesting. It returns you to a high school mentality. You make out in cars and driveways or on the family couch with one ear peeled in case your parents approach. You spend the night at a friend’s house for privacy. And anxiously look forward to your family going on a vacation that, unfortunately, you can’t attend.

Needless to say, living at home helps build a real appreciation for living on your own and helps you realize that whatever you pay in rent comes back to you in ways you might take for granted after living alone for awhile. The flip-side to that coin is that once you are living on your own, there's a chance you'll discover it wasn't the fact that you lived with your parents that kept you from getting action...it was you.

Of course, all of this is pure theory and speculation, because what kind of loser is still living with his parents two years after graduation?

How sad.


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