Bush: He Speaks Awesome Spanish

Bush Parody AdOne day. One single, solitary fucking day! It’s just unbelievable how fast and talented people of the Internet are. On the afternoon of Wed the 3rd of March 2004, the reelection campaign for Bush released advance web notice, and videos of campaign ads. A little over 24 hours later on the 4th of March, Music for America releases a parody of the Bush ad, and the humor quality is through the fucking roof!

Here’s a direct link to the ad if you don’t know what to click or you are just completely lazy.

(link via blogdex.net)

UPDATE: Music for America seems to be down, but I was able to download the video when it was up. Here’s my local copy of it (8.72MB) [deprecated link]. Please do not directly link to the file or I will pull it, upload it to your own site/server and don’t rape my bandwidth.

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T4dW III – Kleptones-mania

Kleptones - Yoshimi Battles The Hip-Hop RobotsThis weekend’s tunes are a little more mellow, but you’ll have to forgive me for saying that the Kleptones have created a masterpiece of hip-hop smoothness with their mix-tape called “Yoshimi Battles The Hip-Hop Robots” . It’s hip-hop set to the beats of the Flaming Lips (Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots), the result is very interesting and beautifully done. In their own words: “This is not Art – This is a mixtape.” in my words, superb, and between you and me, I do consider it art. Supposedly, this is a secret, as in “secret spring collection”, this is certainly to be the buzz amongst DJs and bloggers alike, if it make the right kind of ripples in the blogosphere. Hopefully the RIAA folks won’t get their panties in a bunch like they did over the DJ DangerMouse album.

First, a proper track listing:

  • 01 Fight In The Club
  • 02 Song Of The Hip-Hop Robots
  • 03 Sympathy For The Almighty
  • 04 Love Song For Yoshimi
  • 05 Battle Sequence
  • 06 My People Feel That Way In The Morning
  • 07 Chess Game At The Gates Of Hell
  • 08 Are You A Visionary?
  • 09 Breathe In The Summertime
  • 10 Have You Come To Realise
  • 11 All We Have Is Soul
  • 12 Last Words (A Tribute)

Download them all from the secret spring collection page. If you ignore the advice: “this page could disappear very soon – be quick”, you can download them this mirror (which could also be gone soon, who knows).

Props to xii for the album cover, originally posted here (scroll to the bottom).

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Get Your Spoiler On

Personally, I’d rather see Hunter S. Thompson run, but that’s probably just the drugs talking.

One more… funny in a slap-me-because-I’m-retarded kind of way, I think. Get Your Dr. Evil On:

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Get Your Election On

Props to David Reese, of Get Your War On infamy.
Also, props to Joe Stump, I bounce comedy ideas off him all the time (and trade urls to funny shit). The punchline on this is his.

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I voted Motherfucker

So, today is Super Tuesday in the election primaries, only I think the phrase is weakened without proper alliteration, so I hereby declare that everyone has to say it with a lisp, therefore today ith now Thupor Toothday!!!1!one!

I went to the polling precinct because I wanted to vote. Luckily I found out that there is a mind-boggling choice of two parties that you can choose on the poll card (table number one). You are then told to go to the table that says either Democrat or Republican. Both tables were beside each other and there was no difference except that one had this huge stack of money on it and Hooters girls. Well, actually it was a bunch of old people they must bus in from some retirement home.

Aside from me, there was a whole one other person voting at the time, so I think someone is going to have to cast a tie-breaker for my county. I got to vote on the state flag (again), because apparently here in Georgia we like to put a new one up every couple of years. I voted on the new one, I figure by 2035 we’ll have the old rebel flag again, except it will be drawn with crayon by some 4th grader, and will feature a giant rainbow colored fist in the center.

Aside from that, I apologize for not posting yesterday. Instead I read some Faulkner and went to bed.

If I’m boring you, oh well… here’s a video clip of some Jerry Springer for Russia talk-show like where this dude kicks the shit out of a woman in a bride’s dress, then all hell breaks loose. It’s some totally fucked up shit.

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T4dW – Not responsible for Dain Bramage

Another week, another set of tunes for the (da) weekend. This week I had to sort through a selection of over 80 songs and, though I’d love to post everyone one of them, some simply didn’t make the cut. Apologies in advance to those who didn’t, I still love you (and I’m certainly not the authority on music). Keep making great music guys.

I also want to respond to what Al3x said about the art of mash-ups:

“Most of the stuff Stephen links to would make a great soundtrack for your weekend partying (as he suggests), but you’ll be sick of it by Monday.”

He’s right, but I have to say that for every twenty or so mash-ups that make for simple weekend music, there’s one that’s going to stand out and survive the test of longevity, some artists like Go Home Productions and SoundHog, are making a science out of this by making songs that will classic bootlegs. I’ll include them of course from time to time as they release noteworthy songs (many of which are, but such compilations seem to take longer to create). That said, I played this CD at a party, and most everyone was listening with huge eyes, asking “what the fuck is that, it rocks”, especially that Outkast/Queen mash-up.

Ok, now that I’ve said my little spiel, don’t think that I’m going to stick my nose up in the air and only choose songs for their longevity, after all, my claim is only for the weekend (although I don’t recommend tossing the CD come Monday morning). Just enjoy my selections, and tune in to GyboFM during the week if this doesn’t satisfy your weekly fix for badass DJ mixes.

And now… drumroll please… Tunes For (4) the (da) Weekend (T4dW):

  • A DJ by the name of Lazy Tramp imagined that David Bowie got coked up one weekend with the Beastie Boys and went to a stripclub to perform Let’s Pole Dance (3.4MB – 3:38). If this is true, permit me to pass Bowie a line.
  • Mr. Trick made this nice mix of Will Smith’s latest rap over the top of classic rock riffs, loops and beats. Black Sabbath, Led Zep, Iggy Pop, AC/DC, Cypress Hill and The Fugees. Nod Ya Head (3.2MB – 3:26)
  • Fujukato, together with Frank Funk, has an original tune called Friday Night Update (3.3MB – 3:29). You will dance to this, unless you have no rhythm.
  • DJ A-Team funked out Dusty Springfield – Son of a Preacher Man, added a teensy splash of Aerosmith – Walk This Way, and makes you want to boogey with Walk Like a Preacher Man (2.7MB – 2:52).
  • DJ Mei Lwun has a really good long mix that will get any party going called HIPster-Hop (42MB – 61:01). Seriously, it has class.

This week’s list may seem a little short, but I’m trying to contrain myself to a 72 minute CD, and HIPster HOP kinda made it difficult. I may break this format as I’ve been seeing more downtempo mixes and really long mixes where one or two would fill up a CD (speaking of which, if you haven’t downloaded the Strictly Kev’s Raiding the 20th Century (51.9MB – 39:04), well then you should). If anyone wants to point me to original remixes or interesting music, please email me at: mail AT stephenvandyke DOT come. Until next week, Enjoy!


George “Dubya” Bush Blow Up Sex Doll

Introducing, the Gorge “Dubya” Bush blow up sex doll.

bush blow up dollDubya is just waiting for a bit of action with this replica blow up sex toy. True to life, he is barely endowed, with 2.5″ of hard penis (Viagra not included) ready to fill you up whenever you desire. Dubya is bi-sexual and loves to play with women and women only. Features realistic moulded face with salt and pepper moulded hair, a realistic wide-open mouth, semi-well-endowed realistic dildo (removable) and a tight (very tight) anus that should not be touched, looked at or even talked about. Conservatively priced at only $190.25 billion.

The deluxe version (add $30.00) includes a vibrating cock, BigoTech™ voicebox with 4 sexy phrases, certificate of sexual preference, sexy flight suit for roleplaying, and Alabama National Guard dental records.

Order now and we’ll throw in a free Jerry Falwell midget blow up doll (not pictured) that we are desperate to get rid of. Features BigoTech™ voicebox and comments on your sexual activites with such joyous phrases as: “AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals”; “This homosexual steamroller will literally crush all decent men, women, and children who get in its way”; and “Raw sex between unhuman beings with three heads and God alone knows what sort of reproductive apparatus”.

Call us now at 202-456-1414, order lines are open.

Or use our secure online order form.

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Grey Tuesday

DJ Dangermouse - Grey Album CoverSo today is Grey Tuesday. What that means is that 184 web sites are hosting the DJ Dangermouse – Grey Album, and another 152 are “going grey” in solidarity, with numbers subject to go up as more people hop on the proverbial I-wanna-pirate-shit-too-even-though-it’s-not-piracy-bandwagon. So if you haven’t heard the album everyone is talking about, featuring Jay-Z’s grating voice ruining perfectly remixes of The Beatles—I got the Grey Album weeks before the wave had formed—then run off and download to your heart’s content, have at it. The production itself is strong and flows cleanly, sounds superb and matches, but the Black Album was simply bland and monotonous (the blame for which Jay-Z plays a major contributor to). To DJ Dangermouse’s credit, I do like his “Ghetto Pop Life” remix/bootleg album, which is authorized. I plan on buying that in short order, so chalk one sale up to publicity.

On the downside, I’m not going to host (this is a comp account from work) or go grey (too lazy to finish the site design, much less change for a day), but I will say that I think music sampling should be legal, or more legal than it is now. Regardless, it won’t stop me from posting music to places like GYBO (Get Your Bootleg On) or doing my T4dW (Tunes for the Weekend), which is largely made up of bootlegs and mash-ups.

The interesting thing about all of this? The New Yorker article that started all of this—The Mouse that Remixed—has not been mentioned at all, and it was written by me… no just kidding, though that would be funny in an ironical way to a few of my friends.

Danger Mouse cartoon punSecond interesting thing? I hereby declare 2004 to be the year of bootleg music. Pop is dead, long live (bootleg) pop. I expect to see a spike of people visiting for my weekly T4dW picks. I’m going to be the motherfucking Rick Dees of bootlegging/bastard pop/mash-up music picking.

Third interesting thing… better snag any images of the real Danger Mouse (a.k.a – the 80s cartoon), because in 3 months or so many of the better google image searches will show the Grey Album cover (yoink) instead of the one-eyed cartoon rat (ahem, mouse) many of us grew up watching.

Update: Byron Crawford has a review which I completely agree with. “It’s the Black Album meets the White Album, so it’s already got a certain coolness to it, but if that’s all it had, you’d only listen to it once or twice and then toss it aside. You know, like all of the other Jay-Z albums […] the genius is in the execution. I could’ve come up with the idea, but nobody could’ve made that shit work like Danger Mouse did.” Bravo!

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T4dW (Tunes for the Weekend) – Every Friday

I thought I’d start a tradition here by sharing my favorite music that I found during the week. Mostly I will peruse music that people have posted on the GYBO (Get Your Bootleg On) message board, and regurgitate my favorites for you in what is already a tradition on the GYBO board (though sometimes weeks can pass without a post on the subject). So I present my musical primer for the weekend, guaranteeing new music, fresh beats and funky downloads: T4dW.

  • Kick it off with a mash-up by Happy Larry, featuring Aretha Franklin, Nirvana and [DJ] Jazzy Jeff he calls Respect the Teen Spirit Boom (6.7MB).
  • Agent Lovelette managed to put Ludacris in a time machine, send him to the 80s, and sing “Stand Up” with Cameo playing “Word Up”… the result is the excellent mashup Stand Up (4.7MB).
  • Bring it down a notch for a moment with an unknown demo song by Queen, called New York (2.1MB), quite good, can’t wait to see a remix.
  • Poj Masta rocks the digital turntables with this quickie, but glitch-tastic, remix of Stylophonic’s Way of Life (2.1MB).
  • Once Poj has a grip on you, he doesn’t let go, and pumps a glitched up version of Britney Spears’ Toxic (4.6MB) at you until your ears bleed, except it’s a good thing.
  • Cry on My Console has a lovely mashup called I Snapped the Casbah! (3.3MB). Mixing Daft Punk – Revolution 909, The Clash – Rock The Casbah, Snap – The Power and Les Rythmes Digitales – About Funk, it’ll load up nicely for any bumping party
  • DJ Danger Mouse, the mofo everyone is going nuts over because of his Grey Album, has a nice krunk mashup of 50 Cent vs. Tom’s Diner (3.7MB). (via Boom Selection)
  • DJ Prince brings us back to listening to Queen – We will Rock You, but he thought it would sound better if they had OutKast – Hey Ya! playing in the back ground: it does (3.3MB)
  • Kareem Abdul Jabastaard may not be bringing much game to the court, but he hit the turntables pretty hard and invites you to Come walk Away, Hoes (4.3MB). Nicely mixed with: Styx – Come Sail Away + Kelis – Milkshake + Ludacris – Area Codes + Aerosmith – Walk this Way.
  • Soundhog throws some musical division at you with this mix of The Proclaimers vs 2 Bad Mice and comes up with 500 Bad Mice (4.3MB)

And for the big finale mix, JoolsMF dishes up an impressive look back at the 20th century in this little ditty he calls… 20th Century (19.1MB).

  • Nightmares on Wax – Ease Jimi
  • Aim – Ain’t Got No Time to Waste
  • Brad – 20th Century
  • Jorge Ben – Ponta de Lanca Africano (Umbabarauma)
  • Bentley Rhythm Ace – Bentleys Gonna Sort You Out
  • Ozomatli – Aqui No Sera
  • Air – All I Need
  • Beach Boys – ‘Til I Die
  • Elliott Smith – LA
  • Jimi Hendrix – Voodoo Child (slight return)
  • Kula Shaker – Govinda
  • Marlena Shaw – California Soul
  • Nitin Sawney – Nadia

So download these great songs, grab a fresh writeable CD, and enjoy the weekend tunes. See you next week.


Che Guevara-keteer

I decided to bastardize the icon of revolution with this tongue-in-cheek image of Che wearing a Mickey Mouse hat. I would have liked to add him wearing a t-shirt with Bart Simpson on it (idea from a New Yorker magazine comic a few weeks back) and perhaps drinking a Coke, but alas… I couldn’t find an image with proper cropping.

Che Guevara, El Revolucion del Mickey

P.S. – tomorrow features a special “Tunes for the Weekend” post with links to music for you to burn.


Dean “Suspends” Campaign on my Advice

Dean announced he is “suspending” his campaign today, thanks in no part to my reasonable and well thought out article on the subject. Of course, do I get credit for this revelation? No.

You might say that this is not “flipping out” as I had advocated, and for this I should probably clarify myself. When I said “flip out”, I had meant: confuse everyone by withdrawing, but not withdrawing, while not conceding or telling anyone what the hell is going on. See? I was right all along. Ok, maybe not.

I do think that Dean has somehow lost all motivation, and that includes giving a rousing concession speech which should rally his supporters to move on to support his old opponent (most likely Edwards), but Dean must have the notion that he’s still in this race, even if only for a VP slot. Someone tell him he’s not: Kerry will pick Edwards or loose-lipped Clark over Dean, simply out of spite, or probably more importantly (according to the media folks), because those two actually give him a chance at garnering Southern votes. Dean on the other hand, might help with the Southern contingency with “the Confederate flags in their pickup trucks”, but that might scare the ultra-liberals making up the core of… what’s that?… the Democratic Party. That’s right Dean, Democratic Party, not Confederate Party.

So while Dean retreats to his home in Vermont and slides off the national radar—praying that the word “suspension” will somehow absolve him of the need to campaign and that a magical constituency of people who vote for candidates who are still on the ballot but officially washed up will appear—Kerry and Edwards solidify their camps and and give each other love taps while simultaneously attacking Bush. Dean goes home, but leaves his name on the ballot in silent protest. Perhaps people will vote for him out of pity, but I doubt it.

In other news, since John Kerry turned out to be an asexual bore, everyone is starting to look in Edward’s pants, but much to their dismay.

There’s more at Allah is in the House (via Wonkette).

UPDATE FROM 2011: LOL, EDWARDS. Despressingly ironic, right?

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What are the Odds of Two Skull and Bones Members Vying for the Presidency?

(Progressive Review via Wonkette)

[We asked readers for the odds of 600 Skull & Bones members of presidential age having two colleagues running against each other for the presidency.]

BPD – Apparently 100%.

MARK MOTYKA, MATHEMATICS LEAGUES – The odds of a Skull and Bones vs Skull and Bones Presidential election, using the numbers you gave for the estimate, would be the sqare of (600/146,000,000), or about one chance in 59,211,111,111. However, there is a glitch: since one of the two Bonesmen was already appointed to the position by the SCOTUS, we have a conditional probability for this particular election. That is, one of the candidates WILL be a Bonesman. In this particular case, the odds that Bush would run against another bonesman would be 600/146,000,000, or about one chance in 243,333. All of the above assumes the usual two candidate duopoly that our media so happily reinforces. Should Americans have a choice of more then than two presidential candidates, the odds are considerably lower.

EDDIE M. ABBOTT, M.D. – 1 chance in 60 billion. Pretty unlikely. But you also need to factor in the increased likelihood of a Yale graduate being president when compared to an Arkansas high school dropout. Don’t know how to do that.

RUTH ROWAN MA – Random chance of two skull and bones members running for president is in one in 59 billion ((600/146million)squared). But Gide would tell you to doubt that.

YALE PROFESSOR OF STATISTICS – What appears straightforward may not always be so. There are many assumptions one must make to proceed with the problem. If we impose very naive assumptions such that (i) party affiliation is not an issue, (ii) that each age-eligible person in Skull & Bones is just as likely as any other to run for president, and, (iii) more generally, we assume each age-eligible person in the overall population is just as likely as one another to run for president, then we proceed as follows. We sample two people to run for president from the overall age-eligible population at random, and see if both of them are from Skull & Bones. This is an example of a hypergeometric probability, and the answer is: 1.686043e-011

That is a VERY SMALL probability. We can add additional assumptions that take away some of the randomness of the above selection process (thereby, making the calculations more difficult), as we would certainly think that there is a greater probability that individuals from Skull & Bones would run for president versus a general age-eligible person in the entire population.

Well, that settles that question. Now who wants to be the first to throw the “c”-word around? Oh CBS! E tu?

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Friday Roundup

Note: this article contains dead links, the url is still in the hover/alt text. Keep the web working, curate content well!

Here’s what’s hot this week:

  • Drudge Report posted a rumor yesterday about Kerry boinking an intern or something. Of note is that Drudge was scooped by WatchBlog, where I used to write (no one has touched my record-setting 76 posts!). Could be interesting to watch this one.
  • If you always wanted the phone number 212-867-5309, it’s for sale. I’m looking for the 404 area code version.
  • Out of nowhere, this little site called Turnpike Films shows up with hilarious mock commercials. My favorite was the Budweiser commercial but everyone else seems to be linking to Nutri-Grain: Feel Great, so I will too.
  • Getting Kerryed away? Turns out Kerry never hung out with Jane Fonda at a Vietnam anti-war rally. Of course it probably doesn’t help him when Fonda opens her trap and defends him, he probably wishes she’d shut up.
  • DJ Danger Mouse remixed Jay-Z’s Black Album with The Beatles’ White Album and created the Grey Album (includes audio files). “Encore” is my favorite, but Jay-Z’s rapping gets monotonous afater a while and kills the idea. There’s already a cease and desist from The Beatles.
  • Here’s some Fuck Valentine’s Day cards.
  • There’s a hilarious spoof of the Matrix Reloaded where Neo fights a kazillion agents, except with funny voice-overs. Be sure to watch KNOX’s other movies.
  • A twist on “smack the pengu”, here comes “orca slap“, pengiuns flip off an orca’s back and you throw snowballs at them in which them stick in a target. These are really quite addicting.
  • Triumph the Insult Comic Dog has a website ……………….. for me to poop on.
  • Move over metrosexuals, here comes the “quirkyalone“.
  • For your valentine, may I suggest the: “shit bitch you is fine” teddy bear. Or maybe just print your own V-Day cards (you cheap bastard)

Well that’s it for this week, see everyone (and by everyone I mean that one person who actually visits) next week. Amazingly, the updates will continue.

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Fuck Valentine’s Day

Yeah yeah yeah, I’m 25 and every year around this time my grandmother and sister become a little bolder in asking about my so-called love life. Never had one, never want one. Call it a spate of extremely bad luck, but all the girls I’ve dated have been sociopaths, bottom-feeders, or emotional train-wrecks that worked their magic spell to make me just as fucked up as they were. Maybe this is the mysterious change that women are supposed to have on men, they unleash their problems and see if a man has empathy or if he turns the volume of the TV up a couple notches to drown out their incessant wailing.

I’m not trying to generalize, except I have to generalize because the representatives of the female species who have crossed my path are pretty damn rotten. This is not to claim that I am “all that” or anything of the sort, I mean hey, I have a horrible case of bachelorus habitatus (translation: there is a 3 foot pile of clothes on the bedroom floor) and my fridge contains more beer and sandwich meats than the local deli. One redeeming value of my bachelor lifestyle is that I get to decorate any which way I like, unfortunately I have discovered my taste is expensive antique furniture, leather sofas, velvet drapes (Gawd not Elvis, think Baroque), all intermingled with modern electronics. Whoa, let’s kill this tangent, back to why I hate women… wait shit that’s not what I mean… back to why I hate Valentine’s Day.

First of all, the month of January (and sometimes February) has the highest rate of domestic violence (which has been directly linked to Super Bowl Sunday), whereas February has the highest marriage rate. Statistically speaking, you are encouraged to beat the shit out of your girlfriend when she whines about not respecting her [whatevers] and interrupts your precious football game, only to make it up to her with a box of chocolates or a ring or a teddy bear the following month. And it’s not even a real holiday, Hallmark made it up so you wouldn’t feel bad about the black eye and busted lip that was finally healing. Don’t you feel good about yourself. Oh wait, I forgot to mention love.

Yes, love… okay, love has nothing to do with Valentine’s day. The truth is that women are looking for some mad loot and if you don’t give them something to tide them over until Spring/Easter shopping season, they are going to take your credit cards and max them out, then dump you. Guys basically want sex, that’s pretty sad but men are just plain horny and Valentine’s day means badonka-donk. Think about it the next time you are buying a card for your girl… are you thinking: “Hey, I love her”, or do you think: “Man I hope I don’t fuck this up, I hope this isn’t too cheesy, I wonder if she would laugh at the card with the monkeys kissing, nah, I’ll just get her the one with the angels, dude I’m so getting some tonight”. Guys, if it’s the long drawn out one, that means you are thinking with the little head, it likes to talk like that, except it sounds like Mr. Roper from Three’s Company, or at least mine does. But trust me, if you hear Mister Roper, call for an escort, they are cheaper and they leave when you want them to, and you get to skip over the smarmy love crap and get right to the whoopee (which, by the way, is still a socially acceptable term for sex). It’s win/win, but an awfully expensive cab fare. But again I digress.

Another hilarious statistic has to do with menstruation, or as I like to call it, “Dear lord the woman’s bleeding from her {bleep}ing {bleep-bleep bleep} someone call a {bleep}ing ambulance”. I garner than roughly 1/6 of all women are seeping on the glorious Red Heart Day itself, and why wear your heart on your sleeve when you can wear it in your panties as well. Well excuse me for saying so, but that’s just disgusting. If you are in the unlucky 1/6th of that population, I have pity on you because all that junk you bought won’t mean crap unless you have some really freaky girl who likes to get it on in the middle of a crimson tide, and chances are you probably won’t be too turned on by it yourself.

Again our subject at hand, Valentine’s day and it’s trappings: chocolate (which in the event you date a stripper, should be given in concentrated “white powder” form to fully express your love), lingerie which hits the floor in .0005sec, card, dinner, drinks, wine, jewelry, theater, etc, etc. You can easily spend $400+ on a woman just to get some of the tang, and even then you might have some fat chick that you’re afraid to let go of lest you be alone on Valentine’s Day (or just plain alone). Listen up loser, save half of that money and get an X-Box, and spend the other half on a hooker, it’s definitely cheaper.

And for God’s sake, stop beating the shit out of your woman during the Super Bowl!

Update: Joe Stump tried to tell me that my claiming that domestic violence rises during the Super Bowl is not true. My response is that there is strong evidence that there is indeed domestic violence related program activities. We’ll let it go at that lest any of you unpatriotic wife-beaters dares to call me a liar, you goddamn liberals.


Dean: Flip Out!

Dean, buddy, pal… you lost. Get over it homey, you’re not going to the White House, and Kerry is already saying “Howard who?” when your people prank call them to ask if he needs a VP. Think about it man, it’s not that you are a bad guy, it’s just that you really freak a lot of people out who aren’t too wild about the idea of replacing a batshit crazy Republican president with… well you.

Now don’t take it too hard, I mean you showed that you’re a pretty cool guy and wanted to get rid of Bush; Hell, you stood up and became a front man for everyone who was against that terribly ignorant Iraq war, kudos for that. The internet latched onto you and vaulted you to heroic status as someone who will be listened to. Unfortunately, when those people aren’t reading Daily Kos or CalPundit, they are looking at porn [nsfw] or updating their blog with links to badger badger badger or some link they found on Fark. Not that I’m anyone to talk of course.

The only problem is that you appealed to all the internet anti-war minions and forgot that 90% of America doesn’t blog everyday (I made that up, but it sounds plausible). And once they realized that you were not the hero they sought, they dropped you like a bad All Your Base joke. Oh sure, you’re career as Internet cliche may live on as a YEAAAAARGH joke for a few more months and possibly past the general election, but face it bub, YEAAAAARGH doesn’t get you many votes from Iowans (who I’ve heard on good authority, don’t even have electricity, much less the Internet).

So what are you going to do? I mean, you could probably mope through another 3 months of primaries, watching your numbers shrink until even Al Sharpton is shaking his head in disgust, or you could do what any crazy left-liberal candidate should do when it’s clear the road is blocked and they still have millions in the bank: Flip Out!

Flip out man, go crazy nuts, perhaps start quoting Mr. T at your rallies: “I pity da fool who votes for Bush”. Now, by flip out I do not mean self-destruct and bring down the whole anti-war movement, ignore everyone you have previously debated and realize the what your Internet constituency truly hates: war. Now focus on Bush and don’t hold back: call him names (warmongering monkey boy works well for some), make shit up (he drowns babies and old people in oil), no one’s going to care (except the usual apologists), they will know that you have FLIPPED OUT! Trust me, the Internet loves a man who flips out and attacks the establishment.

Now, eventually, you are going to run out of campaign money, or some pro-war thugs are going to beat you up or something, regardless the end result will be that your campaign is finally over. When that day comes, don’t kill yourself or anything (not like you would), instead give a ring to the EFF and see if they’ll take you on as a consultant, then send select emails to some of the larger blogs and Leftist publications and see if you can’t write op-eds for them (since most newspapers will probably not return your calls). You will now have established yourself as an internet icon for life, invite your friend Al Gore to write about how he invented the Internet and explain how he figured out the intricacies of packet switching. Oh, and don’t flip out any more after you concede.


The Crab on Mars

So, I was reading this Slashdot story on why Mars is all red, and since I understood very little about it, a comment caught my eye claiming that there were crabs on mars, I followed the link it gave and thought to myself: “what the crap is that thing”? Being a suspicious person of course I had to consult with the original NASA panoramic photo of Mars (which is really, really, really large) which resulted in the speculation and sure enough, it’s there too. So I saved the photo to my desk, and not knowing what else to do with it, I opened it with Photoshop and looked at it, and promptly concluded that it must be some debris from the lander airbags (which are supposed to tear off thin fabric layers on rocks and junk instead of popping).

Not knowing what else to do with the photo in Photoshop, I decided to make the sky blue and so I did, then I made the surface look scary like if Mars was really an evil planet covered with a thick soot from heavy machinery of eons past. The result is this desktop image that I’m now using and you are free to have as well, it’s 1280 x 1024.

mars blue sky

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A Public Service Announcement

I’m really sick of everyone posting that stupid Ben Franklin quote like no one has ever heard it before and it is the best quote ever. Actually I’m sick of them misquoting Franklin now that I think about it.

Fact: Ben Franklin loves electricity and the smell of bacon.

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Welcome to the new site

Welcome to my site, I’m back from a hiatus (checks watch… jeez six months?). Some of you may know me from my writings and rants (if not, now is the time to read them). Some of you may have just wandered in somehow. While others of you are working for the government and are watching to make sure I don’t use the the words kill and. the. president. in the same sentence, luckily the latter are not very grammar inclined. A few things of note before you run off and click on stuff:

It’s broken in IE, I am aware of that, I am soliciting help from a CSS guru tomorrow.

Everything is imported, but some of it looks like ass because my max width is 525px, whereas some of my old images are wider. I don’t really care at the moment, but I thought I’d let you know.

There is a lot of work to be done still, this is a working beta of the site as far as I’m concerned. However I am trying to get it all finished as fast as possible, because I would like to be able to write instead of worrying about stupid design issues. I’m nerdy but I’m tired of having to tweak things for hours on hand. Blah to that.

Anyways, if you’ve read this far, then you realize I am pretty long-winded. Pull up some popcorn and a drink and start reading.

Ciao for now.

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NO… SLEEP… TIL… LAUNCH-DAY {makes beatbox sounds with mouth}

Apologies to Drew

so am writing the most badass hosting software ever for the company i work for. it is called mynatnet, except it is version two and i also wrote version one but it barely works, well actually everyone calls it stevemax because the old billing software only works with this thing called billmax, which is written by a company that also writes really great software like “click here to delete important stuff” and “make the grown man cry”. it is very clever to change one word and call it stevemax because noone would ever think of that, that is genius. anyways, i have never written any type of accounting software in my life, but they pretty much let me go wild on everything, so i added really cool stuff like billing that works but had to take out some features, like random crashing, because i didn’t have time to write that in.

okokok, that is about it, except for when i do something like like write an endless loop that makes the server crash and coworker says to me: “programmer, I cannot log into the old system and update billing codes”. so i tell them that the two systems are having a fight because one is jealous of the other and that it will take a while because there is not enough ram to make the fight faster to see who wins. then i send them a screenshot of super street fighter, except instead of ken and ryu fighting it is billmax and stevemax, and stevemax is yelling har-yu-kun and beating the crap out of ken, i mean billmax.

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Stray Dog

This is a factual story that I’m putting under the heading of fiction since I am a habitual liar (no, say embellishes, it sounds legit). No, I’m a liar, I made this whole thing up. Actually that last sentence was a lie. Thoroughly confused? Just read the story.
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Then Came the Shot

I was sitting down by the entrance. The place was gated so I would have to let Matt in when he arrived. A few cars passed, I was sitting off to the side, under a tree, wearing my new red jacket. It was almost late October and there was a slight chill. I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time: twenty minutes already. Another car went out the entrance. I wondered if someone might think I looked shady or suspicious, sitting in the shadows, and call the cops.

There had been a couple break-ins in the last month. One letter to the residents mentioned locking cars, and a later reminded everyone about locking apartment doors. Both were vague and only spoke in high legalese. I wished they would provide descriptions in those letters. At least I could know whether a guy like me was suspect or should at least wear all white and stand closer to the street lamp. It was all convoluted. Who was a suspect or not was ambiguous and no one knew anything.

My cell phone rang. Matt’s name popped up on the caller-ID.

“Yo!” I macho-ed.

“Hey, how do you get in?” Matt was at the gate.

“I’m standing right here…” I got up. “I have my card… oh, the exit gate is open… just come through that.” I pointed at the gate to whoever was parked at the entrance.

Matt pulled around to the exit side and came through. He was driving an older Nissan Pathfinder. It fit his preppy/slacker image well.

When he stopped inside the gate, I hopped in. I pointed directions to where my apartment was. We drove for a little bit to the sound of the local college alternative music, WREK. When we came to my apartment, I eyed the apartment next to mine. It was on the parking lot side of the building and belonged to a beautiful red-head girl who looked a couple years younger than me. I’d lived here for six months and had never seen her more than in passing, though we surely knew of each other’s sporadic schedules. I didn’t know her name but she seemed single and lived alone.

We plodded up the stairs and as I opened the door, I mumbled. “Excuse the lack of furniture, I am still situating myself from my estate sale.” I grinned at Matt as he cast he eyes over the meager apportions.

Inside was a table with two chairs. A burgundy tablecloth draped over the ends. Near the front door, a surfboard leaned against the wall. Next to it, a blank rectangle of a stretched canvas was hung on the wall. I stepped into the kitchen and pulled out the boxed pipe and lighter I had bought just an hour before.

“I wanted to try out my new pipe. And this crack-torch thing that came with it.” I waved the box set for Matt to see.

Matt had picked up a book from the table that I was reading.

“The War on our Bill of Rights.” I said majestically, then added ominously. “And the Gathering Resistance.”

“I’m paying you in Monopoly money.” I said, pulling out my billfold.

“You got one of those new twenties?”

“Yeah, looks like shit too.” I pulled out a twenty and turned it over in my hand. “Did you know the last time a twenty had color in it, the color was yellow and the bill said ‘twenty dollars’… ‘in gold’?”

“No shit.”

“Uh-huh.” I pulled out another twenty and a ten. “Fifty, right? How much is this worth?” I asked.

“Right now, a little less than an eighth.”

“Highway robbery.” I proclaimed. “But I’m paying you with a defaced bill.”

I quickly wrote “DRUG MONEY” along the top of each bill and handed them to Matt. “I have now corrupted some ‘anti-drug commercial watching kid’ in the suburbs who will now think that a terrorist handled this money.”

Matt handed me the baggie of dope. I held it up to my face and took a good whiff of it’s contents.

“Let’s smoke out on the balcony.” I said.

We went out on the balcony, it was still cool but not breezy. I sat in my usual chair by the window. He pulled the other chair. I plugged in the umbrella lights and the entire balcony was warmly lit by little white Christmas lights. My MP3 player was in the middle of some Kid Koala track with record scratching tearing up the radio. I packed the pipe hastily and handed it to Matt. He sparked and inhaled, handing it back to me.

I took a long hit from the pipe. Exhaled and blew lazily at the smoke cloud that lingered. “Put the sandwiches on the turntable…” droned from the radio.

I passed the bowl back to Matt and said. “Come down from thy mountain, all that are good. And preach amongst my children, spreading thy bounty.”

“What’s that from?” He asked bewildered.

“Dunno, just came to me.” I said dryly. “Nice shirt, kinda ironic to me.” I pointed at his Rage Against The Machine t-shirt. “I had just listened to Rage today after a year-long hiatus.”

“Yeah, this shirt is really old. Check out the back!”

Matt got up and turned around to show me the back. There was some pseudo-Soviet rendering of a robot-man in a suit, and the phrase: “We have determined that the whole system sucks.”

“That is oldskool!” I said as he sat back down. “It’s a shame they aren’t making more records. We need more Rage and outrage in music.” I stuck my left hand out in an air guitar rendition. “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me!” I rasped in a bad imitation. “More like that, you know… just burn the fucker to the ground… that kind of music.” I smiled at my own melodrama.

Matt laughed and took a puff from the bowl, then handed it to me. We smoked silently for a few moments, both leaned towards the table in the mystic ritual of puff and pass.

“God, we could really use a Rage reunion tour after all this 9/11 bullshit. Someone with the audience and the balls to ask: ‘Why you fuckin’ up America, grrrr! Burn it down.’ None of this Dixie Chicks bullshit, just tell it like it is. These people are fucking with the Constitution!” I was exasperated.

Matt nodded. I handed the freshly packed pipe back to him and pointed towards the kitchen inside. “You want something to drink? Coke?” I asked.

“Uhh, sure. I gotta stay up and study any ways. What time is it?” He asked.

I looked at my cell phone. “Nine o`clock.” It was 9:16, but I wanted him to stay a bit.

“Yeah, a Coke. That’s cool.”

I went inside and poured a couple drinks. I was high and feeling good. I let the highness dance through my head, working it’s way deep into my locked psychosis. The ice-cubes rattled in the glasses. I carried the drinks back to the patio and Matt closed the screen behind me.

“So what are you studying?” I asked.


“Oh… tough shit. I have no idea how much a mole is anymore.” I joked. “You’ll be able to make your own drugs though.”

“Yeah, dirty crystal meth.”

“Oh no, LSD or some other hallucinogen. What the hell does LSD stand for any ways?”

“Um, lysergic acid diethyl amide.” Matt said triumphantly.

“Lysergic acid is some derivative of lithium isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, I could probably make shitty acid that gives you a headache.”

“Ha ha! No, I think the hard part is diethyl amide… that’s umm, two ethyl amide molecules or two ethyls and a ahhh…. mide?” I pondered.

“Yeah, maybe that’s where the paper turns brown, someone substitutes petroleum for diethyl amide.” He offered.

“Or you could just make shitty meth in a motel room. Ever seen the movie ‘Spun’?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, good movie.” Matt perked up. “They do a shit load of meth in that movie.”

“For real, that was a tripped out movie. That’s a good ‘scared straight’ movie for meth.”

“And he has that chick locked in his room for three days with the music.” Matt grew dramatic. “Hey babe, I’m putting on your favorite CD… krr krr krr krr krr krr krr.” Matt imitated the sound of the CD skipping at full blast.

“Great movie, funny as hell.” I said.

We took a few more tokes from the bowl before Matt waved it away. He was beginning to look slurry-eyed and sheepish. Bran Van 3000 banged out some music on the radio. I tapped my foot along to the beat.

That’s when Matt choked. A moment before, he had been taking a sip from his drink, and the next he was coughing hard, hacking on a bad fluid transfer. I felt bad, it was one of those inexorable drinking accidents that comes along at the most annoying times.

“Hey don’t pass out on me.” I tried to joke.

He sat back, his coughing fit had subsided and let out a belch. He was glassy-eyed and grinning. “That would be tough to explain to the cops and paramedics.”

“Yeah… hello? 911? Yeah, my friend just choked and passed out. What did he choke on? Coke-ah… Cola. Or an ice-cube. I don’t know, it wasn’t my turn to feed him.”

Matt laughed. I went on. “Oh… and then when the cops get here, I have to tell them that you maybe smoked some pot, so you go down as being a drug-related death.”

“Drug-related bull!” Matt chuckled.

“Oh yeah? If you hadn’t been smoking pot, maybe you wouldn’t have been thirsty. They establish a chain of events, and suddenly I’m in jail for 2nd degree manslaughter.” I proffered.

“I doubt that. Besides, you should just chop up my body and never call the cops.”

“No way! I would still have to get rid of your vehicle, and besides, my fingerprints are already God-knows-where all over your door and inside. Too easy to get busted, even if I torched it.”

“Jesus man! Do you give that shit a lot of thought?” He looked at me pensively.

“I give too much stuff a lot of thought. It’s a by-product of reading too much and not having a TV.”

I handed a freshly packed bowl to Matt. He looked at it cautiously, then exclaimed. “What the hell, I’ll study at the library.”

“What subject?” I asked.


“Ooh, boring. But that’s only one book, why the library?”

“It’s quiet, I get distracted at home, too much to play with or just fuck off.”

“Good point.”

“Calculus is pretty hard.” He left it at that.

That’s when I reached across the table with the .45 I had been concealing in my jacket and shot Matt in the chest. The shot was loud, sending a giant smoking wound deep into his rib-cage. I looked around at my neighbor’s balconies for any sign of disturbance or lights. There wasn’t any, so I dragged the body inside.

Except that didn’t really happen. I was daydreaming and the weed had kicked in, catching me off-guard.

“Man, I’m high.” I said in mock-falsetto, imitating the South Park character Towlie.

“You guys wanna get haaaa?” Matt picked up on my reference to the show. “I love that… Towlie.”

I lit a cigarette, Matt lit one as well and we sat listening to Bob Wills croon “Roly Poly” over a hip-hop bass line. I closed my eyes and imagined watching the band thump away on trumpets, clarinets, and violins. The music scratched and popped to an undertone bass that boomed in rhythm.

I opened my eyes again and Matt seemed restless and ready to go. He caught my eye and motioned to his cigarette.

“You got an ashtray? Or over the side?” He waved the dying butt in the air.

“Flip it, just ivy down there and it’s not dry enough.”

Matt flicked it hard, trying to get distance behind the arc. It smacked a tree branch and exploded in embers. I followed suit and flicked mine hard enough to send it at the tree branches as well. It hit one of the limbs and stopped dead, apparently wedged between two limbs.

“Well damn, now the tree’s going to get cancer.” I snorted.

“Ha ha, nice.” He guffawed.

We both turned in our chairs to see if the butt would fall out after a moment or two, but it seemed wedged into it’s new home. I turned back to Matt and he got up from his chair.

“Well, I got’s to go. Gotta study for tomorrow.” Matt yawned and downed the rest of his Coke.

“Cool man, give me a shout some time. We’ll smoke up and chill.” I put out my hand to slap.

“A`ight man, peace!” Matt slapped my outstretched hand and headed to the door.

I opened the door for him and stood by for a moment while he descended down to the parking lot. I stole a glance at the bedroom window of the girl next door (the light was never on), then closed and latched my door and turned off the light.

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Industrial-Strength Stupidity In America

Now that the speculation on the cause of the blackouts seems to be abating in the mainstream media, I wanted to bring up a topic of concern regarding what has become an epidemic of short-term thinking in America. The cause of this lies with ignorant stockholders who seek quick profits, and the CEOs and boards that are willing to sacrifice the long-term viability of a company to them.
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Cheney, Iraq, March 2001 – the ultimate lie unravels

2:42PM – I have a scoop over at WatchBlog concerning the Cheney Energy Task Force, countries that had contracts in Iraq as of March 2001, and a twist… countries that are now part of the coalition of the willing.

Go read it, then get mad. We were lied to, duped, finagled, meandered, you name it, they sold it to us. And you uber-patriots had the gall to respond with “support the troops”… as if my questioning of the legitimacy of foreign invasion was suddenly seditious against the military itself instead of it’s rightful victim, the US government that is out of control and hellbent for dominating the rest of the world (sprinkle in such levities as “leadership”, “democracy” and “vision”).

What we have is a modern day recipe for totalitarianism. Not the kind witnessed by the Nazis or Bolsheviks, but a global totalitarianism that seeks to exploit and enslave the entire globe.

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