The NEW Flat Earth Society

Once again, the US is throwing the spanner into the Kyoto Accord. Now, when i say 'U.S.', I do not mean the average citizen, or even the individual states, but the mucky-mucks in Washington, or, 'geritol' hill. What it boils down to is the current administration will not support claims of global warming or rampant pollution, saying that it is all essentially a hoax. It is truly tantamount to calling the earth flat, without basis or fact. Of all the industrialized countries, the only holdouts are the U.S. and Australia (So desperate are they to be taken seriously by the U.S., that they latch on to any idiotic American protocol).

So deeply entrenched in the fossil fuel industry, this current administration is looking to run the environment into the ground like an old Ford for short-term profit. Essentially, the treatment of the environment is likened to that of a fire sale, where assets are being liquidated at bargain prices so that those with vested interests can take their money and run.

But, run to where? Sure as hell can't bring it with them to hell, where i'm sure they'll wind up, but not before they create a hell on earth. (If you believe in that God-drivel)

It's not like the protocol is working anyway. Canada's greenhouse emissions have RISEN by over 20% since they signed on. It's enough to make David Suzuki hang his head in shame.

So, until somebody does something, I'll be out back burning a pile of tires and picking off endangered species with a pellet gun. Tchuss!

Response to my NDP MNA

Today I recieved an email from my NDP representative to gear up for the election in January due to the non-confidence motion in the House of Commons. At first I responded "Are you cracked in the head?!!?", but then I realized I should pehaps elaborate a bit more succinctly and drafted the response below.

I have no interest in going to the polls this winter. Sir, If you show up at my door, I'll take your hand only to draw you closer for a swift knee to the groin. Please take note, as I have sharp, well-honed kneecaps.



Reproduced here for your pleasure, in it's entirety:

"sir-

currently, I am upset of the arrogance of both the Conservatives, Bloc and the NDP that they would waste our tax dollars and holidays over this vote. As imperfect as it was, the government was functioning to my satisfaction. This kind of self-aggrandizing grandstanding does not sit well with me.

So I will vote liberal, and pray for their minority. If Harper wins the vote, egg on all of our faces. I could live with sleeping with the Liberals on the budget, but having the NDP sleeping with the Conservatives and Bloc? Shame on all of you for wasting our time.

Sure, the liberals have started doling out cash for votes recently, but it is sheer arrogance to point fingers at them for doing so in the face of a non-confidence, as any seated government would do the same faced with the same dilemma. Cornered, what would a Tory do? Lay back and accept their fate? Parliament does not work because of all this high-school bullying and infighting, and all are implicit.

Harper will quash all of the left-leaning policies we hold dear, and get right into bed with the hawks in the u.s. government. Thanks but no thanks. Plenty was done with the NDP being the swing on all votes, and the budget is proof. Should have stayed the course, but I fear you've run aground this time.

cheers,

moi"

The Geopolitical Debate of the Year

When Giants Collide

Expand your mind. I certainly learned a lot about international affairs, the war on terrorism and 'your mom's ass'. Crass but lovely.

Stereo Instructions for Living

Insert tab 'A' into slot 'B', and all will be right with the world. If ONLY.

My life is currently reading like a set of instructions written by a 12-year-old autistic chinese kid.

The 'slots' are piling up like driftwood, and i don't think I'll ever find the right one before my 'tab' no longer functions properly. It doesn't help that I never follow the instructions in the first place, like a typical 'man', I guess.

Maybe my wires are crossed, or perhaps the magic is gone since i change stereos the moment a new 'slot' is introduced, you can never be sure. Why can't I just be happy with the old 8-track? In retrospect, cd's may be crisper, but I miss the old magic of vinyl... can I get my old records back?

Maybe the right system exists out there, from a different manufacturer or outlet? Compatible with my existing entertainment unit? great sound, the proper slot, excellent tuning, wonderful knobs and no matter what, i always get great feedback when i press the right buttons...

State of the art.

But i never expected them to start adding the 'self-destruct' feature. once that red button winds up in your face, ain't nothin' you can do but PUSH.

What the Hell is That?!!?

Thursday I have an appointment for a dermatologist conrcerning a bizarre growth on my shoulder. I t has quadrupled in size over the last month and itches profusely. I don't imagine the C-word will come up, but it is weirding me out to no end.

I absolutely dread the Canadian medical system. I've seen too many go past the point of no return waiting for treatment. You see, the 'waiting lists' are artificial here, meaning that you are not waiting in a line up based on how many require treatment, rather a line up based on how much the government is willing to spend on treatment within any given amount of time.

I know fear, and that fear is beaurocracy.

Beds are closed, because the powers that be refuse to fill them. Hospitals are understaffed, because of the same refusal to spend. People die of treatable illnesses because the quota has been filled for that particular quarter. The system is unsustainable, corrupt and bloated, and now I gotta dive in head first.

Beautiful.

The Weather Outside is Frightful...

One more person.

One more.

Just one more giggling moron comes up to me whistling a merry tune, rosy cheeked and jolly, and i'm gonna knock them down, lay them out, and back up over their head 'til it's the consistency of olive spread.

It is not that I have disdain for the holiday spirit, but being a sufferer of S.A.D. (seasonal affective disorder) combined with a form not fit for cold climes as well as a spate of old, creaking injuries... and, well, you see where this is going.

Something must be done to ban winter. Well, i could crack wise about the sodding global warming being tardy, but i will not, as those types of gags are about as funny as a bagful of crippled orphans slung from a tree and thwacked with a pinata baton. I think it would be more helpful for our doctors to prescribe, and have the government pay from the health coffers, a 4-month journey to warmer climes for us sufferers. Pity us.

So, since a ban on weather would be about as realistic as victory in IRAQ, I suggest a different approach.

Hence, the Turks and Caicos Iles. Up until now, they have been begging to join our confederacy to take advantage of our social welfare system and such other uneffective, bloated social programs. I say, let them... in fact, force them! What the hey-ho is all the wait and bother!? My bags are packed, my pasty skin all a-flutter for the day, the sweet, beautiful day, I may frolic amongst the waves in such tropical bliss... Instead of pissing my name in a snowbank for 6 solid months of guelling, dark and unrelenting ice and misery. Hop to, get that accord signed and ratified.

Until then, i'll go dig out my car, if i can find it under the snowdrifts. Fortunately, the last reveller i came across will not begin to decay in my trunk until spring thaw. By then, perhaps, my mood will turn.

Ooooh, my Head (Screw You Taxpayer part II)

Harper, forever the power hungry arsegaper, has declared non-confidence in the House of Commons. Hence, a winter/ Christmas/ Chanukkah election. Dumb idea, Spike, cause not only will people hate you for such ridiculous timing... but you will lose. So, you will be not only an unloved, rug-wearing (you ain't foolin' me), homely weiner, but an unloved, rug-wearing,homely weiner who is also a loser. Oh, and the hat's backwards too, Spike.

That retarded vest and cowboy hat may have hinted at it, but the results of the election will prove it. You are a bonafide loser. You have no place running a country, Harper, and neither does that shaven organ-grinder of a mange-afflicted monkey at your side, MacKay, as this shameless aggrandisement shows. The polls will prove it. You obviously have no idea what the people want. The Conservatives continue to do what they have always done best, work against the greater good. The last Conservative government under King Brian sold us down the river, we haven't forgotten. We ain't as dopey as your golf buddies would have you believe. Fie on thee.

Now for the sad facts: The Liberals are a bunch of corrupt mouth-gapers and the NDP have froot-loops for brains. Dare i even bring up the Bloc? The only contest Duceppe could potentially win is a staring contest. The man doesn't blink. I think he sleeps upright in a coffin, but this cannot yet be substantiated as no one has actually seen him sleep. Since only the Liberals have a proven economic track record, the 'devil-you-know' rule applies. Canadians are way too timid for change, if the economy is okay. And Ontario seems to control the vote (hence the reason for most of the griping in this country), so don't expect any changes, as Ontario is about as open to change as Americans are open to differing opinions.

The losers? Well, us. We get to fund yet another inane election in less than a year on our own dime. "Screw you taxpayer", indeed. ...And my headache deepens.

...

Can I vote myself off the island?

Hollywood North, or, "Money for Nothing"

Each year in Canada, several film and tax credit agencies shell out over 800 million dollars in tax credits, breaks, bursaries and grants.

800 million.

What comes of it? "Men with Brooms". Crap you wouldn't sit down to watch if your very life and limb depended on it. Actually, I’d gnaw my arm off so not to have to sit through THE PREVIEW! How about 'Foolproof'? A spectacular, hair raising, bile-inducing road-wreck of a film that convinced Alliance Atlantis to give up on film altogether. How about anything “Red Green’? …duct tape me to the front of the possum van and drive into a tree.

Now, Auditor General Sheila "Humbug" Fraser has decided to stick her upturned nose in. She has stated thusly:

"More than $800-million in annual federal spending on film, television and publishing is spotted with poor oversight, weak controls and a lack of clear objectives"

In her latest audit of government operations, Fraser found that Canadian content on film projects is not systematically verified, that criteria for choosing which projects will receive Telefilm funding are unclear. In other words, Canadian content, whatever the hell that means, must be more rigorously enforced. The plot thickens... Or is that, 'congeals'?

Great, exactly what the film/TV industry in Canada needs, another hackneyed government drone with no industry experience trying to further screw up a very screwed up system, like a dog humping a splintered floorboard.

Now, I have no qualms that she wants to figure out where the extreme waste is coming from and where it winds up (graft is everywhere, baby), but targeting it from the standpoint of “if we’re gonna spend so much cash it all better be Canadian!” ain’t gonna cut it. Great, more moose.

The system does not work, and continues to be a drain, simply because instead of fostering an industry until it has the experience and tools to stand on its own and compete globally, it is left helpless and servile on the government tit. Producers time and time again see their projects torn apart by these idiot beaurocrats as they slash away at a script indeterminately adding in the errant moose, maple syrup or Toronto reference, making it unpalatable for the rest of the world (and we ain't too big on it either). I've been on shows that were great concepts that never got picked up internationally due to all the Canadiana that was slapped on. So, producers know the show will never make any money. What do they do? They follow Cinar's lead and TAKE THEIR CUT UP FRONT. Now, not only is a show been rendered unpalatable, but it is bereft of proper funds. Want to know why all the talented Canucks go to Hollywood? It's because of the fact that a producer who doesn't give two turds about what happens to a show will never pay a quality person what they are worth to do the job. Quality costs and you get what you pay for. So, Canadian film and TV continues to look amateur simply because IT IS AMATEUR. If producers were given a few bucks to help out, like the fund is supposed to do, and the government worked a bit harder at getting these films placed internationally, LIKE THEY SHOULD DO, then perhaps private investors would step in and actually SPEND THEIR OWN DAMN MONEY INSTEAD OF TAXPAYERS CASH, and we'd have a healthy industry, it'd make money instead of suck it up like a Hoover on a car battery.

But, since the Canadian government, internationally speaking, has no balls whatsoever, they take the opportunity to keep our industry servile (to Americans, mostly, they lap up tax credits like milk), and on its knees, begging for scraps. Taking it up the hoop, Canadians do it so well, and here is another example. Our government uses our own tax dollars to lord over our industry, and, like Sheila, hasn't got a clue whats going on.

In the meantime, enjoy your Anne Murray CBC specials, Cause you paid for 'em.

coming soon: Why the Quebec system works.

Paris Hilton Alert!

Well, bored, so lets see what our favorite hussy is up to... Just skip on over to google... A few well placed keywords (slut+trash+idiot), and here we go.


Hmmm. Some breaking news! Joy of joys.

Well, I'll be. Someone paid thousands at Ryerson for their journalism degree to report on this...?

oh, for, ...what?! WHY?

In other, less important news, Pakistan encountered another quake and there's some, uh, kind of war in Iraq or something... I wonder what happened to the monkey?



google, i hate you still.

Snowtires and Hand Grenades

What a bizarre weekend. On one hand, I've got one ex saying it didn't work because i was cold, harsh and distant and another saying I was too high-maintenance and an affection-whore. Now what the hell am i to make of this? Do really react that differently to different women, or am i bats? If they weren't so damned addictive, I'd give up on the fairer (but never fair) sex altogether. Thank frogger I'm a serial cad, or this might actually get to me.

oh, please, a consensus is all i ask, unless that consensus includes a rating system. And I honestly don't give two steamers what the skinny bitch who rode me into hellville all spring thinks, she can continue on her merry, merciless way to hell.

So, what's news?.

Is anyone else dragging their sphincters in buying snow tires? I know I should probably put some on, but you see, I like to drive fast and take corners at a clip, and what more to cause a huge manly erection-initiating, full out fishtail turn than bald tires and icy conditions? I mean, people burn out tires doing that in warmer months, and here I am with all the tools to do it with little or no wear and tear on my rubbers! I say, screw the tire industry and their incestuous kin, and have a little fun this holiday season. There's nothing quite quite like the knuckle-whitening, hair-raising, trouser-wetting thrill of barrelling downhill at an unseemly clip, only to put your foot through the floor with no avail as you glide wistfully through another busy intersection, bouncing merrily off your fellow motorists with glee. Children will scream with delight (and, more likely, agony) as you cheerfully bounce them off your windshield, adding claret and dental pearl to the already festive white of your ice-caked hood! ah, is that the sound of bells? ...Or is it the tinkle of breaking glass? Tra la la! Oh, the peals of laughter over the peeling of tires! It's quite like a toboggan, save for the broken bodies in it's wake. HOLLY! JOLLY! HA HA... LOCK ME UP, QUICK!

Say now, why the hell would i give up THAT this holiday season? You celebrate your way, and I'll celebrate mine, damn your eyes!

In retrospect, I wonder if the latter subject has anything to do with the first? Oh dear, it's worse than i thought.

By the way, i want a kitten for christmas. And a hand grenade.

Horrible, Horrible Web-find of the Day

Looking for photo reference for something unrelated i found this:

England's Top Model


I want to cut open my head, tear out the heterosexual part and partake in a rousing, painful orgy of shirtlifting and all-round buggery, if this is what awaits men on the stony shores of England. ...Jesus crispy Christ!

A quick browse through her stomach-churning portfolio and you will agree, "what the hell was she/she/it thinking?" No wonder sheep have been considered the fairest sex in England for such a long while if this passes as one of the top specimens. Please, if you insist on modelling your wormy arse, be sure to teach the old man some basic photoshop skills for presentation. I suggest he begins with the 'delete' feature.

Google, i hate you for this.

One Word Movie Reviews!!

Well, it's friday and the new spate of films belched forth from the diseased bowels of Hollywon't are upon us. If you are as busy as I am*, you don't have time to read an entire review, let alone the full plethora, in order to make your selection for the evening.

Bless your shallow incestuous heart, you are in luck.

You see, I've looked at a few current releases and boiled it down to a single, solitary word (a stolen concept, but novel) so that you can spend less time reading and more time standing in queue. Who the sweet hell reads these days anyhow? Not I! I don't even proof-read my posts!

here we go, try to keep up.

Jarhead: snafu!

Get Rich or Die Trying: craptacular.

Harry Potter: why?

Rent: deleterious.

Walk the Line: Cash!

Chicken Little: pedomorphic.

A history of Violence: distressing.

Constant Gardener: veracious.


Bonus DVD REVIEW!!!

Christmas with the Kranks: erase.

happy viewing!


*obviously not busy enough to write meaningless prattle, though. Idle hands, you know...

Black and White and Blue All Over

Went to a film industry bash last night organized by some bank. It was a ‘black and white’ affair, so you had to scrape off the daily crud and dress up nicely. I even brushed my teeth. So, as I mulled on whether to wear the greased bondage outfit with chiffon or the foot long black vampire phallus strap-on thingy, I geared myself for the fabulous night ahead. Finally, after much deliberation, I settled on a fine pinstripe Italian suit with white shirt and festive silver tie. Miraculous… from geek to chic. Oh, happy day, my first ‘holiday’ party!

What a crock. Three hours wandering about the most self-centered, ego maniacal, self serving arseholes… and me without a gun, knife or hammer.

The evening began with me refusing to drink. Not because I’m looking out for my health, mind you, but the piss yellow and nuclear green cocktails they were serving looked bad enough so as to be turned down by even Liza Minnelli. Where’s the whiskey? Also, the bartenders were juggling shakers like trained orangutans. I’m not interested in leaning in for a drinky-poo and getting nailed by some errant steel shaker. So, no booze… my first mistake. Should have pinched the nose and knocked back a few to dull the impending pain.

Three hours milling in and about some of the biggest asswipe hangers-on in society. ‘Producers’ who spend taxpayers’ money making drivel you wouldn’t stoop to scrape off your shoe… Bank people so starched and cold you’d swear you’d have more fun on the dirty bathroom floor eating a urinal cake… “Art directors’ so morally bankrupt that only a well placed stake through their blackened heart could keep them down…

Personally, I was fortunate enough to not only run into people I dislike, but also those I out and out loathe with a Grinch-like zeal reserved only for cab drivers and CBC 'actors'. So, I broke out the fake smile and tried to make talkie-talkie to the asshole producer/director who fired me years back, who smugly recounts how he was "sure I had died". What the hell is that supposed to mean? Looking back, I should have kneed his groin and hoofed it out of there. Over the blasting 90’s hits, we screeched stilted commentary into each others’ faces until no more could be had, and I begged off (i.e. lied about needing to meet so-and-so), hoping for a quiet corner where I could finish crawling out of my skin. However, the epileptic jukebox passed off as 'musical entertainment' was ever pervasive and I could not be afforded the luxury of a moment in the warm, intimate embrace of my own thoughts. Remember that scene in “love actually” when they ascertain that the Dj at the wedding is perhaps the worst ever? Well, it seems I stumbled upon his ruddy North American counterpart, and his name is Serge. Serge. Serge will die, mind you… and it will be at my capable hands. I implore all those out there reading this, if he puts out a dance-mix cd, like that horrid M.C. Mario, buy it and erase it.

And, no strippers.

This party had it all. 40-something moron shirtlifters prancing drunkedly to Gloria Estevan, producer/whores ‘working the room’ like unkempt vultures pecking at the steaming arsehole of some rotting stag, dead-cat hairpieces more obvious than Dubya’s idiocy, severe-looking bank managers, pulseless and pale… how could I not enjoy myself in such a swirling pool of putridity?

It gets worse. In the movies, here’s the point where that would happen. (you can picture me being played by john cusack, if it helps. The lovable loser, but shorter. Not 4’2” short, mind.)

A connection. I kept catching and getting caught in the eye of a wonderful-looking lady, one who stood out from the others. She was tall, long dark hair, looked wonderful in that slim black dress… a vision in a pack of rutting hyenas. For at least an hour it seemed we played that game, positioning ourselves in eyeline, casually looking over, trying as hard as possible to convey that ‘come talk’ look to each other. But, I was sober, no liquid courage coursed through my veins. No Booze, I now lament. So, I left, went home, and watched porn. No happy ending to this marquee, alas.

“…And to all a good night!”



Go read my friend Angela's blog, dammit. Stop loitering. Go on, now.

Paris Hilton is Burning

PARIS ATTACKED BY MONKEY

Damn it. I had pictured a gigantic, frothing, heavy-testicled ape rampaging through the streets of paris, aiding and abetting in the current destruction of france in a final blood-orgy of violence. Planes buzzing, sirens blaring, the towering simian plows mercilessly through the city, crushing all those who dare stray in its sizable stead. On the ground, in the air, in the bath... No man or child is safe (odds are he'd just coo and caress the ladies, Kong-style)... Armageddon, monkey-style. It'd be glorious! What could they do against such raw, poop-flinging terror!?

What indeed, oh happy day!? Indeed, what? Poop-flinging, i say unto thee! The horror! The odor!

instead:
PARIS ATTACKED BY MONKEY
oh.

The title had it all, but the promise of titillation came up oh, so short, like a hasty handjob in the basement at 14.

in related news:
Paris Hilton Loses Shoe

Hold on, stop the press, SOME SKINNY SLUT LOST HER SHOE! SCREW THE WAR ON THE POOR, THE DEEPENING QUAGMIRE IN IRAQ AND THE WIDENING OZONE LAYER! BALLS TO THE DYING KITTENS! CAN'T YOU SEE WE HAVE A CRISIS HERE?!! CAN YOU NOT, YOU COLD-HEARTED COMMUNISTS?! ...TO THE BOMB SHELTERS, BEFORE THE DROPPING OF THE OTHER SHOE RIPS THE VERY FABRIC OF TIME AND SPACE!

I hope next time the damned monkey gives her rabies, herpies or perhaps the 'Rage' (g'bless them fit zombies). I'd give my left beanbag to see her running about caked in blood and feces, spitting up bile and partially digested brain matter... Though I doubt I'd get within 200 yards of her (as opposed to the 199-yard birth i currently and scrupulously maintain)

I'm gonna go half-drown in liquor and attempt to cut my own goddamned head off with a potato masher. Bugger. Happiness and gumdrops tomorrow, i promise. unless Paris hilton stubs her toe or loses a stamp or somthing.

Embrace Your Inner Lout, or, the Science of Loutism

Vive la revolution, estie colisse de tabarnac!

Well, I know I (and my car) won’t be going to France any time soon. A social system that refuses to acknowledge any racial and religious differences, combined with underlying racism that could only be perpetuated by the Francais and a severe lack of meaningful work has allowed for a societical crush that may damage more than the errant Renault. On both sides of the barbed wire we have a degree of asinine self-interest that could only be bred out of extreme loutism.

On one side, take the white, cheese-eating, unbathed francophone population. Since the government does not recognize any religious or racial differences, they have the benefit of a society run by and for pretty much only them. Since there are no affirmative action programs (why? Other races ‘don’t exist’!), it allows for an unfettered and unchallenged system of conscious, near-forced segregation. Often in job want ads it is outlined that ‘outsiders need not apply’. This, in North America is punishable by law. In France, it is common practice. No jobs, no advocation, no representation... what, are they becoming Canadian? They have marginalized and excluded the massive immigrant population to such a degree that…

Young people, of Allophone (foreign) decent have begun a revolt. Since they have been marginalized and ignored for so long, they realize that political and societal change are not forthcoming. Like the slums of New Orleans, they have been left penniless and desperate, to barely survive on the edges of society. However, unlike in America, where the government has succeeded in getting the downtrodden to spew violence against each others in these areas, it has not happened in France. The youth are smart enough here to direct their anger and stupidity at those truly in ownership of their misery. So, Paris burns.

Paris burns and nothing is learned. All that will happen is a deepening of hatred and animosity (c’mon, how do you think they’d react?), and the hawks will get their police state. Burning cars does not beget jobs, well, except maybe in the auto and insurance industry. Loutism rules! I just hope those buttery little victims, the true victims, the croissants, do not suffer. The humanity!



Speaking of louts, Georgie boy is currently in China telling them 'Chinee' to relax restrictions on their people and allow ‘freedom to ring’, or some such horse-pat ass-monkey drivel. After all, look how well it worked in Russia… and Afghanistan… and Iraq. Come on, getting China to change its ways would be like trying to coerce a frenchman to scrub his nether-regions!

Tomorrow I’ll be funny, promise. Or insulting. Most likely both.

Pies and Other Occurances

Pie is dead.

Long live pie.

Used to be, pie showed up everywhere. No, not the run of the mill pecan confection we see today, but meal pies. All that has been left behind to hold fort is the measly and bland chicken pot pie, whilst all other meat and meal pies have been relegated to the giant freezer in the sky, lost and lamented by a few sodden old gents at the curling club as they pine over the delights that their long-dead mothers used to make... truly sad, these souls, relegated to trudging through yet another defrosted, soul-crushing Sara lee chicken pie tragedy.

Fortunately, on the other side of the pond, there is a pale beacon of hope. Brits still like their pies, and I assume their heathen, island stranded, sheep buggering ilk, the Aussies and kiwis, dig them as well. Our taste buds in Canada are now on the American diet, high in the flavorful dietary groups of 'burger and burger-like items' and 'processed something-or-other', so the whole concept of pie (except the tortiere of bass-ackwards Quebec, which is also becoming extinct) is flying out the window to the waiting dustbin.

Brits love pie. As I wipe away a tear, I extend my gratitude towards them flying in the face of American burger imperialism and the pressures of daily life (you know how long it takes to roll a decent crust?!), as they continue the fine, crusted tradition of pie-making. Long lost on these shores, it warms the cockles that they soldier on with their archaic traditions such as this, as well as the near-useless monarchy, manners, and obsessive hand-wringing. Now, if new concepts such as 'breath mints' and 'tooth-brushing' could only be implemented, perfection truly could be achieved.

This man often showcases his fine pies, and I love him for it. http://www.blogjam.com/
Just never mind his 'egalitarian' political views. More pie less sense, dammit!

Tomorrow, a related topic... 'Paris is burning, are the croissants safe?'

Or not.

Can you believe it....?

Believe it or not, 'Blogmonkey' was already taken. Hence the difference twixt banner and address. To atone for the discrepancy, here is a fine diversion. If you can count in german, you are in for a repetitive treat.

http://www.rathergood.com/laibach/

aren't they wonderful? this 'joel' man is a treasure.

Now, i'm off to indulge in my own variation of 'repetitive treat'. don't wait up.

Blog Monkey

Well, this being my first installment and all, I intend to keep this short. So, a list of things I am and things I amn’t.

AM:
1. Male.
2. Of age. There will be discussions of drunken soirees and loin-tearing sexual escapades.
3. Straight. Though I figure if my love life continues as such, I may give up and go full out asexual.
4. Cynical. I like to call it ‘worldly’.
5. I work in entertainment. Though it seems that those who work in entertainment are the least entertained. We’re a sorry bunch.
6. A cad. I’ll admit that up front so you don’t suddenly realize it one day. Bask in my warmth.
7. An artist, though I’ll be the last to truly admit it. I prefer ‘art-whore’. The half-assed banner should be testament to my malaise.
8. I like older cars.
9. Political, damn you.
10. Mm-boy… love coffee. What, kids slaving in the fields in Nicaragua? Give them my love, they do good work!

AMN’T:

1. A c omput_er genius. Mistakes will be made, and I do not care. If I link some horse-porn site by accident, sit back and chuckle, I’ve done it again. Enjoy the horse-love if you are so inclined, as a bonus. Just no play-by-play.
2. A winter lover. My S.A.D. should kick in soon, with hilarious results. I just hope the hilarity doesn’t wind me up in a gurney.
3. A church-goer. Don’t believe in the man upstairs. I’m on the top floor anyhow.
4. A conservative or out-and-out liberal. I may be the only ‘liberal fascist’ I know.
5. A sports fan (anymore). Those apes make too much cash acting like pre-schoolers. I do that for free, dammit!
6. Insular.
7. sated
8. A ‘responder’. Say what you’d like, but in most cases I will not respond. This is my damned forum, not yours… savvy?

Well, that was robotic. However, I think it’s a good primer for what to expect. I may post more often than once a day, and sometimes go for weeks without a post. I will never say who I am or where in particular where I live. I plan to spill the beans… think I want some cuckolded husband ringing my bell in the late hours? I may change the banner at one point or another.