1:14PM – David Reese has done it again; Get Your War On #23 is out.
8:30AM – Well, it appears that ‘Operation: knock over Iraq’s statues’ is in full swing right now, except that the people seem more interested in putting on a display for the camera crews than actually liberating themselves. I’m reminded of when the Berlin wall came down, or maybe I just heard that on TV. Anyways, there’s millions of free, starving Iraqis toppling statues of Saddam all over their country. Maybe they can feast on the bronze behemoths while we play politics with the UN and see if they’ll foot the bill for humanitarian aide.
1:14PM – David Reese has done it again; Get Your War On #23 is out.
CLARKSVILLE, GA – They came right after church on this balmy Spring afternoon. At first it was a guy on a motorcycle waving an American flag. Later a Vietnam Veteran drove up in a Chevy pickup truck. By early noon, there was a crowd of nearly 500 lining all four corners of Madison and Peachtree Industrial. They came waving posters, flags, banners and their children on their shoulders. They chanted loudly at cars that passed by. Most drivers honked their horns and gave the thumbs up. Others waved and smiled to those that lined the street. Some did neither, but that only invigorated the supporters to chant even louder.
By one-thirty, the crowd had doubled in size and news reporters were on the scene taking photographs and interviewing people. Susan Grieves was there with her son Patrick, her husband was in Iraq, possibly in Baghdad. He was a PFC in the 1st Expeditionary Marines as a tank gunner. Another woman overheard the conversation and gave her a hug. There was an instant bond between two wives who had been left behind while their husbands were at war and in harm’s way.
After two-o’clock, the mass of people had swelled to nearly five times the original size. A Georgia Highway Patrol trooper had arrived to manage traffic and maintain a semblance of order among the rally. It was a futile battle, many motorists were slowing down and some were stopping in the median to get out and join in their support. Sgt. Perginko relayed back to headquarters “We need twenty more people out here for crowd control”.
Cars continued to stream by but at an increasingly slower pace. Traffic had been backed up to I-85 and the honking of horns was incessant. That’s when six trucks with truckbeds full of new supporters stopped in the middle of the intersection and unloaded. Sgt. Perginko was unable or unwilling to stop them. The Ku Klux Klan had arrived to show their support for the American troops in Iraq. Some waved the rebel flag/American flag mix, one waved a placard espousing us to “Kill the Sand Niggers” and “Steal their Oil”. They all wore white robes and hoods.
Initially, many in the crowd did not know how to respond, but soon the anxiety was gone and a chant of “Kill the Muslims” was roaring through the crowd. Cars were honking steadily and news crews were calling their stations to authorize live feeds. The intensity of the situation was nearing the brink of chaos, then fell over the edge in awe inspiring form.
A VW microbus made the mistake of trying to navigate through the crowded intersection, supporters started rocking the van and jeering at the long-haired driver. The driver held up his hands and gave the peace symbol to the crowd and yelled “Peace is Patriotic”. The crowd encircled the VW and began rocking it much more violently.
Sgt. Perginko was nowhere to be found by this point, we later found him in his squad car sleeping, or badly injured, but there was no way to verify what happened to him, because what happened next was what set off the riot on that corner. The VW was rocking back and forth in a giant pendelum motion and the crowd screamed “USA, USA, USA” all around. In a blink, some Klan members had dragged the hippy driver out of the vehicle and began beating and kicking him in the middle of the street. The police backup had never arrived, and it was definitely too late. The microbus had been flipped over and someone threw a molotov cocktail at the thing, setting it ablaze.
It was at this point that this reporter left the maelstrom of “patriotism” and “national pride”. I was keen to watch it from a distance, even though I am deeply patriotic and love the USA. However with the carnage of watching a hippy finally get what he deserved, I felt it was appropriate to leave the scene before the backup Georgia Highway Patrol made their entrance.
6:30PM – Well, I wanted to have a bit of a playground to write more stuff on a day-to-day basis. I know a lot of people enjoy reading the longer articles, and although I wish I could crank one out every day, it’s not feasible since I don’t have to time to sit down every evening and crank out a masterpiece (or even a shriveled turd as some of you may insist). Also, there’s a fucking war going on and by golly I want to get in on this blogging towards Gomorrah action that I see all over the place. Stay tuned :)
This is the true story of what happens when seven politicians stop acting polite, and start acting real.
WASHINGTON, DC — Why they let me into the Whitehouse after just knocking on the door, I’ll never know, but there I was, seven hours later in the evening, puffing a cigar in the Oval Office and talking to Ari about how it would be possible to resolve this whole Axis of Evil issue.
“Look dude, Rumsfeld is a kick ass spokesperson, no one is going to kick him on that, but can he knock off the smug look every time he says we’re fifty or so miles from Baghdad?”
Ari shot back. “No way man, he’s got to show that we’re there to kick ass and take names.”
I walked over to George’s desk and picked up the red phone while holding down the receiver notch. I winked at Ari, then pretended to be talking to General Myers ?Hey homey, launch some nucular bizzombs up in Saddam’s house and show him who the boss in this world is”.
Ari was laughing maniacally when I came back over to the couch and flopped down. I kicked my leg over the arm of the old Victorian sofa and knocked some ash onto the coffee table. I looked around to a picture of Jenna on the wall and pointed to it with the cigar.
“I’d hit that, but only after a couple shots”
Ari frowned a bit. “Only a couple?”
I broke into a giant grin when he said that. He has a way of acting uptight and dismissive in front of the press corps, but after a couple drinks, he’s actually pretty damn jocular and laid back. I suppose it helped that I slipped some Rohypnol into his rum and coke, but who knows, maybe it hadn’t kicked in yet. We talked a bit about how cool it is to see stuff getting blown up live on 24-hour news networks and that the best way to watch is to flip back and forth during explosions to get a proper 3D effect. Those bombs sure do rumble on a Dolby SurroundSound system when you crank up the bass.
After another drink, Ari got up and started walking towards the secret wall door and I picked up our glasses and followed. We walked past some Secret Service guy standing by the outside door who eyed me pretty hard like I was about to swipe the stapler off the the desk outside the door. I made a quick gesture like that was exactly what I was going to do, and when he moved to stop me I clipped him in the chin and laid him out on the Persian rug right outside of the Oval Office.
Ari apparently didn’t see any of this; he was already halfway down the hall and was starting to sway from side to side. I suppose the powder was finally having some effect on him. I ran down to catch up to him and asked him where we were going. He didn’t answer but was humming the chorus to Bombs over Baghdad over and over. Personally I’m not a very big fan of that song, but to see him doing it was kind of humorous. I followed him through some rather large banquet rooms, wondering where we were going and if even Ari knew where he was headed. For all I know he likes to aimlessly wander around the Whitehouse at four in the morning get naked in the Blue Room and pass out on the dinner table with a bottle of Cuervo in his clutches.
Such was not my luck this evening as we stopped abruptly at a bedroom door. I ran into his back seeing as I was eyeing a bust of Lincoln with a bra strapped on his head in some malformed imaged of Mickey Mouse. He knocked on the door and after a few moments of silence we heard some footsteps. The door opened to the figure of Jenna wearing a Texas A&M jersey that reached just to her thighs. She looked at Ari with a look of sleepy wonder and then at me, standing just behind him with a dopey drunken smile and two glasses of melting ice and alcohol.
“Who the fuck is this?” She snapped, and without pause. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m Stephen” I extended my hand forward before realizing I didn’t have and empty hand but a glass of rum and coke. She took the glass from me and smelled it’s contents, then drank it down greedily.
“Damn girl, that was Ari’s!” I bellowed.
Ari turned back to me with a sour look. “I’ll go make another one.”
“Bring the whole bottle, we’re going to kick it in here for a bit.” She said.
Jenna opened the door wider and I slipped in past her, intentionally brushing up against her and placing my hand flat against her back. She shut the door on Ari and we heard the thud thud thud of his feet as he stumbled down the hall. I walked over to where the bed was and sat down on the edge. There was faint light coming in through the window and I could see the Washington Monument in the distance, a fitting depiction of what I was experiencing at that moment. I looked around as my eyes adjusted and could make out a collection of teddy bears and pillows on a sofa against the wall. On a dresser I saw the biggest dildo I had ever laid eyes on in my life and thinking about something to say about it when Jenna came and sat down next to me. She took the other drink I was holding and slammed it back in a single gesture.
[Section removed due to explicit nature, and because seriously, do you really want to know about my
six ten humongous penis cock?]
I laid there with my chest beating in steady thumps, dragging on the Marlboro. I handed it back to Jenna and sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. I walked to the door to see who had been knocking so impatiently. I put on the white robe with the POTUS seal on it and opened the door. Ari was leaning against Lincoln’s head with a bottle of rum in his hand and tracing a finger along the lace of the bra on the statue’s bust.
“What the fuck are you doing perv?” I laughed.
He snapped his hand back like a child who’s been slapped on the knuckles and looked at me with bewilderment.
“Get the hell in here; I think it may take a while longer to finish this one off.”
[Section removed due to explicit nature, actually it's been blocked from my memory after the traumatic experience of what I may or may not have done to Ari with that giant dildo.]
I woke up the next morning with sharp pains roaring through my head, for some reason that I didn’t recall my prostate felt incredibly sore and I had the overwhelming urge to piss. I had somehow made my way back to the Oval Office and passed out on the couch. I remember walking past the Secret Service guy again who was still out cold and kicking him square in the stomach, then vomiting on the Persian rug next to him. I hope someone found him like that in the morning and had him sent before a firing squad for some crazy Patriot Act charge. I got up and walked to the bathroom and sat down to do my morning business. There was a trail of vomit from the door to the sofa and some broken glass by George’s desk. I walked into the bathroom and threw my filthy robe into the sink since there was another one behind the door.
I sat there thinking for a bit that I was taking a shit in the same toilet that Kennedy and Clinton had done the same, and started to wonder where exactly Bill had stood when he was getting international blowjobs. I thought about whether he had ever convinced Monica to just go ahead and swallow it down instead of spitting it in the sink or onto her nice dress. I wondered why the hell no one noticed a giant jizz stain on her breast while she was working, wearing it like some patriotic pearl necklace of honor. I wondered why she had never bothered to wash it out.
I got up and flushed the toilet and was about to wash my hands and face when I noticed that my turd had not gone down and was spinning defiantly in the President’s toilet. I flushed it again and it spun around lazily, daring to go down, and then bobbing back up. Outside in the Oval Office, people were starting to come in and talk. I was getting frantic and figured that someone had already heard one flush and would get suspicious of more. I looked at the rogue turd slowly spinning; it had a slight curve to it that resembled a frown and one point and then a smile. I almost laughed at the image that this shit had become personified and was now laughing at me. I grabbed a toothbrush from the sink and began to jab at it and break it up, satisfied that it would go down, I flush for a final time and down it went, along with my anxiety.
I came out of the bathroom to see George, Colin, Don and Ari sitting at the couches with coffee mugs. Ari waved me to come over and handed me a cup of fresh brew. I sat down next to Don across from Ari and Colin. I self-consciously crossed my legs so as not to expose anyone to the sight of my package. Everyone else was wearing khakis and polo shirts and I was still in nothing but a bath robe. I waved to George at the end sitting in the Victorian parlor chair and he smiled.
George took a sip from his mug. “Colin, Donald, this is Stephen. He’s here as a political observer and I’m going to have him head the new Department of Obvious Observations. It’s a new radical idea that he came up with where we’re going to start keeping the public informed of everything we do, in an open and honest manner. He’ll act as the liaison to both Houses to keep them informed and make sure that we stay fiscally responsible to the public.”
“No shit? Are we changing any of our plans as far as the New American Century project? Wha…” Don asked.
I cut him off. “Of course not, we’re actually going to make sure that Americans are better informed of it. Once we get the public to understand that neo-imperialism and direct confrontation against unfriendly foreign states is in their best interest, and in the interest of their 401K, we’ll surely get George here re-elected in ’04″.
“Do you think they’ll buy into this?” Colin asked.
I picked up a blue folder that was lying on the table and a black marker. I drew a giant dollar sign on the front of it and put it back down on the table.
“This is what American’s vote for. They want the government to take care of them but they don’t want to pay for it. Let’s not beat around the bush.” I glanced at George. “Pardon the expression. Anyways, we can stop mincing words here because anyone with half a brain knows that this is Socialism, everyone wants the benefits but none of the drawbacks. Well, the New American Century promises just that, the benefits. Now the problem is that Americans, specifically middle income to upper income Americans, will get the most out of this. Or rather that’s what we have to tell them. So we have to get everyone into a Nationalist patriotic fever so that the peaceniks will no longer impede the project.”
Ari bolted forward in protest. “National Socialism? There’s no way in hell we could sell Nazism to the American public.”
“Of course not, that’s why we just keep calling it Democracy, the average Joe Blue-collar doesn’t really know what Democracy is anyways. In fact, if we just call our enemies ‘Hitler’ and the like, people will probably go along with it.”
Colin, who was sipping on his coffee, spewed it out at Don, covering him in a fine spray of mochaccino mist, like a fountain of fecal material had magically poured forth.
“WHAT THE HELL!” Screamed Don.
“I’m sorry, but how is this any different from what we’re already doing?” Colin asked.
“Well, the difference is that you guys forgot to include the American public in the profit side of this project.”
“So do you think this is feasible?” I asked.
“You’re hired.” George said. “Let?s go play some golf and decide who to take out after Saddam, I know Il Jong has surely been a pain in the ass, we could probably trash the authority of NATO at the same time.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I said.
“Stay tuned next week when Colin goes before the UN and tells them they need to send food to Iraq even though we started the war… Ari pukes all over a CNN reporter… Stephen prank calls Tom Ridge from George’s office… and Puck from MTV’s real world makes a guest appearance, and eats everything in sight”
Real Politicians. Uncensored. Real Whitehouse. Monday nights at 8PM EST, only on MSNBC, FoxNews, CNN. Jesus, it’s fucking on everywhere.
Some things are broken right now as I try to switch from HTML 4.01 Transitional (read: working, but old skool) to XHTML 1.0 and CSS 2.0 with the dope div tags all over the place and floating elements.
The main intro page is up and working, and that was a total bitch to get control of the vertical and horizontal. This was far from being an episode of the outer limits as I struggled with 2 floating elements and had to do mathematical programming in PHP that would carry over to the layout. Needless to say it was a bitch and I’m keeping it a secret (CSS does not like images for some reason, someone please tell me why).
I’m considering stretching these pages out to 100% because it would probably look cool, and maybe I’ll add a little more color to the layout. Aside from that, don’t expect a whole lot of changes to the design, I just wanted to kill tables since it was becoming a pain in the ass to load PHP code inbetween a bunch of table tags. God bless the div tag for being useful in that regard.
Thanks for your patience while I fix the mess.
What in the hell is wrong with America? Are we on such a power trip and drunk from flattening the Taliban that we think we can take on the whole world? Can we just be honest about it and just tell everyone it’s about oil and world conquest instead of bullshitting the UN and claiming disarmament and regime change is the only goal?
Our forefathers had a vision of man who was willing to do anything in his power to fight for freedom against tyranny. Their motto was one of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness”, and if you ask any American, this is still strongly believed.
On September 11 1994, Frank Corder got behind the controls of a stolen red and white, single engine plane. Shortly after 2am on September 12th, he violated the highly restricted Washington DC airspace and aimed the small plane towards The Whitehouse. Or did he?
I am doing a gig for BrainBench as a validator for the PHP4 test. I’m sure this goes over the heads of a lot of the non-techies out there but I wanted to say that this is really cool and I’m amazed they called me out of the blue.
I took their test a LONG time ago (October 2000, a long time in Internet years), I received the level of “Master” on the test and didn’t think much of it at the time aside from having something that helped validate my skills. For a while I was ranked in the top 10 in Georgia and you better believe I was EXTREMELY proud of that.
Of course, it was one of those things that I kept to myself, I was already happily employed and it was merely for my own edification to procure this type of acknowledgement. Well, that was two years ago, time passed and I sort of figured that poor BrainBench, like many other dot-coms, was doomed to financial failure.
Now, two years later and obviously still alive and kicking, BrainBench has gone and snagged their own certification to justify their testing ability, the coveted ISO 9001.
And now I get to be a test validator for their PHP4 test. I will get 25 test questions and answers and I will write what I think of them (validate them of course). I guess this could be the pinnacle of my PHP days, or it could be a completely new beginning, I look forward to following where this takes me.
Recently (ok, just five minutes ago), I put myself on the open market for adult websites via adultstaffing.com… I like the way they cater directly to those of us who know exactly what industry we like being in. I like porn, who in their right mind wouldn’t?
Here’s the transcript of my “application” with their service, I figure honesty and brazen self-esteem (with the high esteem of others to back you up) MUST be the best policy, because it works so well in the movies and all that:
PHP & SQL pimp (WOAH!)
I’m in this industry because… well I like porn, who here doesn’t? I’m always helping people find a new edge when working on projects (ie- have you ever laughed while masterbating?) and I have worked with some of the largest names in the industry (LFP, NationalNet, Vivid, et al). If you want your site to be bold and well programmed and want someone who can reach under the covers and give your audience a hard-on then you should seriously consider my expertise.
All this week (05/20 – 05/24), Google and Scott Adams – FRIDAY! The culmination of a week’s worth of wacky one-liners yeilds… another weak-ass joke, except this time there’s a little TM at the end.
As per usual, the original version is first, then my version is below. You can read more about this whole Google logo lunacy here.
Holy crap, I waited all week, wading through annoying one-liners and bad jokes for this piece of shit? Well, fuck it, here’s the lady from Old Navy, because only one thing can top the annoying Dilbert logo today… Carrie Donovan and Magic trying to hawk cargo pants and fleece sweaters and GRARGGGGHHH… BRAIN ANEURISM!!!
Original Google logo for Friday May 24th, 2002
Modified Google logo
All this week (05/20 – 05/24), Google and Scott Adams – THURSDAY! This one truly sucks ass, I can’t believe they went back to the same image from Monday but with different text, lame.
As per usual, the original version is first, then my version is below. You can read more about this whole Google logo lunacy here. Oh yeah, this one was way over the top in the lameness factor. Why don’t they just make a stupid TPS reports joke while they are at it. Hopefully tomorrow’s new logo unveiling is a lot more eventful than the crap that’s been spewing all week. I can’t believe I’m wasting my time making fun of such weak comedy. I hope Google fires Scott Adams in a stroke of comedy brilliance and the logo is a giant pink slip that says everyone at Dilbert Inc. or whatever-the-fuck is fired and have a nice weekend.
Original Google logo for Thursday May 23rd, 2002
Modified Google logo
All this week (05/20 – 05/24), Google and Scott Adams – WEDNESDAY! Am I the only one who thinks Scott Adams isn’t even trying? Ohh, drop the ‘Go’, now drop the ‘gle’. Why is this guy popular again?
As per usual, the original version is first, then my version is below. You can read more about this whole Google logo lunacy here. This is Wednesday’s installment and I’m kicking Scott Adams’ ass all over the web on this one. I figure by Friday Google or United Media will send me a C&D which I will promptly ignore since this is legitimate parody.
Original Google logo for Wednesday May 22nd, 2002
Modified Google logo
All this week (05/20 – 05/24), Google and Scott Adams – TUESDAYYY!!!
As per usual, the original version is first, then my version is below. You can read more about this whole Google logo lunacy here. This is Tuesday’s installment and it’s just getting warmed up so I see some funny stuff coming out of this.
Original Google logo for Tuesday May 21st, 2002
Modified Google logo
All this week (05/20 – 05/24), Google and Scott Adams have teamed up to uhh “showcase” some of his brilliant wit and artistic style via the modified Google logo at google.com. I decided to “help” them come up with some different logos, enjoy.
As per usual, the original version is first, then my version is below. You can read more about this whole Google logo lunacy here. It’s going on all week so depending on what comes up I will try to follow this all week and make a counter-version for your enjoyment.
Original Google logo for Monday May 20th, 2002
Modified Google logo
I’m the first to admit that I’m crass, bold, outspoken, sometimes irritating, mostly charming and funny and anything but humble. I like to step into the limelight and I sometimes have an arrogant aire to me.
Then again, you probably already knew that from reading this site. However, I have come to realize that wearing these qualifications as a badge of honor comes off as highly offensive to many people, and even snobbish. Me, a snob, the irony kills me. My goal in life is not to place myself on a pedestal above everyone else, or even to become greater or better than anyone (although each person has delusions of grandeur). My ultimate goal is not to amass great wealth or write scores of books for my own edification; it is to help society transform into something more than corporate empires and entertainment vacuums. I believe in theories regarding the predictability of future events based on mathematics and recurrences, and I share my thoughts on these subjects as I feel fit (in proper environments of course). Because I talk about such things, I am immediately dismissed as having my head in the clouds, or some kind of crazy holistic person who read too much Nostradamus.
Let me set the record straight on this matter since I realize potential employers, recruiters and people who just happened to find this site via a link are reading this: I’m not an egomaniac. I’m most certainly not funny and witty twenty-four hours a day. I’m not an expert on every detail of the Universe, hell I barely understand half the theories I come up with myself. Some days I wish I wasn’t smart at all, just some guy who works a shovel all day or picks up litter with a sharpened stick. Sometimes being civilized just doesn’t seem worth it, because I want to break out of the system of structured existence. After all, I do not want my future to be one of working hard all my life, saving my pennies, buying a house, getting married, having kids, throwing bar-b-q parties, retiring, moving to Florida and dying. It’s too cliche, and too tame for my taste.
Some would say that what I lack is religion, or spirituality. I agree with them, yet conventional religion and theology does not satiate my desires and merely leaves me with meaningless structure and rules that follow fascist logic. Buddhism and Taoism are a few religions which come close, yet they still lack the underpinning knowledge that I strive to seek. But I digress… religion is only part of the topic at hand. The main focus of my dissertation today my ego. Let’s move on.
I have a large ego, or rather, I used to have a large ego. You see, being unemployed is a great way to humble oneself. The realization that life will continue without you is a disappointment at first, followed by relief, followed by fear and uncertainty, followed by anger and resentment, followed by some depression sprinkled with desperation. This all occurs in the span of about fifteen minutes and drags on until you come to your senses and realize you need to go get a job or else you’ll be living on the street. So you dust off your resume, sign up for a half-dozen job sites, wonder why the hell you ever wanted to be a computer geek when you could have sold your art paintings years ago, look at said paintings and laugh at yourself for conceiving such a thought and zing your digital employment history into infinity.
Then you wait for eternity.
Ok, this is quite amusing to me, and I’m going to assume it’s giving some good laughs to others as well.
Teen Misdirected angst is always good for a cheap laugh. Maybe if I make Jon Stewart laugh I can get a job on The Daily Show (*cough* currently unemployed, please help *cough*).
I am just about done with the core of this site, all I need now is to activate the comments and topics (archives) and this will make me very happy.
Now that the cruft has begun to dissipate and fall away from the site, I am gearing up for a revival of creativity and writings, read on for a taste.
I’ve been away for quite a while, mostly because of work, partly because I couldn’t find the yearning to milk my creative outlet for personal worth. This has changed. My life has changed. I am once again in tumultuous times, wiser and more mature than ever, and yet the feeling of lack of control continues to pervade my thoughts. Part of it has to do with current world politics, war and the overall sense of helplessness that comes with realizing that the wheel of fate continues to roll forward unabashed.
Another part of me feels that I can take control of everything in my life and move forward to my future and embrace whatever I become, but illusions of grandeur cloud my path. I apologize for the metaphors. I find it much more difficult to convey my thoughts in simple terms these days as I have abandoned earlier theories of chaos and disorder. Even as the world continues its decay into lunacy and blood-letting, the signs of order and harmony become more apparent, each action bearing its own weight in future reactions. Newton’s 3rd law can best help explain this:
III. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Consider the following: you may have learned about stocks and supply and demand in finance classes, you may also be away of the 3 states of price movement; Those three possibilities are positive, negative and neutral. These states are the basis of ALL mathematics, and thus the basis of the Universe itself.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
In nature as well as the universe, there is a common shape found everywhere, the spiral. Ancient Greeks studied it with vigor and it was renewed during the Renaissance, but interest in spirals has tapered since then. I don’t claim to be mathematically astute regarding spirals, but a certain train of thought has haunted me for some time now regarding them. Take for instance the butterfly and the hurricane hypothesis, it states that a butterfly flapping its wing in China can start (or add to) a chain reaction resulting in a hurricane in Florida. This is entirely possible and cannot be discredited. However by that same argument, a moth flapping its wing in Africa could start (or add to) a chain reaction resulting in the diffusional of the same hurricane. Every positive or negative influence in the world IS interconnected, and by that reasoning, using math would allow us to calculate these reactions and even predict future reactions, as increasing energy (outward spiral) or decreasing energy (inward spiral).
I dedicate my time to attempting to decode this mystery.
Ok people, read this… More things are being fixed to get it back up and running at full speed after a long haitus. I deserved it, so if you missed me, good. Or I didn’t, either way, relax… smoke a bowl, crack a beer and enjoy the read. Me and my friends have a lot of new shit to talk about and I’m not holding back on anything, ever.
I have to import a crapload of old stuff from the old database to the new one I’ve written (and still writing at the exact moment you are reading this, I never sleep, ever). Keep in mind that every thing I say is always going to kick ass, and everyone will have a good time and get along, no lies. Also, I probably edited this post like 151 times to make it perfect
, but it will still suck.
This is a website made by smart libertarian persons like you. We share news of cheer and misery. We have badges. Welcome.