tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36035137735228801852024-03-14T04:44:45.685-07:00Quantum Ice Cream:It's The End of EverythingMike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-59234106246952921442010-11-28T21:23:00.000-08:002010-11-28T21:48:40.792-08:00SurrogatesSo, instead of doing something productive today, I decided my time would be better spent microwaving two full plates of bean-covered nachos (which were delicious, thanks for asking), playing video games in wool socks and boxers, and watching whatever mindless crap looked semi-interesting on Netflix. For whatever reason, I decided that today would be...an <i>action movie day.</i> Maybe it was the lingering bloodlust from so many hours of Call of Duty death matches. I don't know. I'm not a doctor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdDYHODB2_gDJ2TrYgKD8TJ1YGJG1KQDxh6Edtvy0f_NvdQd37zf4Eq5ebOwhspiohPsfZJgQPV9wuvjtkitomTre7iW9w4-t5qV3_saYTF7bwfUk9cZIaP6Sg245-nwsrhrrwloLY7s/s1600/dawn-of-the-dead-head-explosion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdDYHODB2_gDJ2TrYgKD8TJ1YGJG1KQDxh6Edtvy0f_NvdQd37zf4Eq5ebOwhspiohPsfZJgQPV9wuvjtkitomTre7iW9w4-t5qV3_saYTF7bwfUk9cZIaP6Sg245-nwsrhrrwloLY7s/s400/dawn-of-the-dead-head-explosion.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, that. I want that.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But, in any case, I needed to satiate my yearning for remorseless property destruction, paper-thin characters, and dialogue that leads to spontaneous tumor growth. While <i>Ballistics: Ecks vs. Sever</i> and <i>Snake Island</i> sounded profound and meaningful in their own way, I settled on something more mainstream and high-concept. <i>Surrogates. </i>I never expected myself to actually sit down and watch this movie. The idea always sounded pretty cool: a future utopia where every man, woman, and child is safely plugged into an indestructible robot vessel from the comfort of their own homes.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>But while the concept sounded good, the previews made it look like a mix between <i>The Matrix </i>and the inside of a tanning booth...directed by Ed Hardy...tripping balls on acid.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvt8fklg4mCuv4Rw97MoQrTXYuCCWUoeGIbgz87QFZq6oRgJCJbG5vbiFJC-jSHk3v65gwm4FAoq0UCS1NhiFULurHCJVDUOIT7kDsI_EUUPkXVdu7TS5sLvUOFtoDZXH9RBNUtkYbBTE/s1600/Willis-surrogates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvt8fklg4mCuv4Rw97MoQrTXYuCCWUoeGIbgz87QFZq6oRgJCJbG5vbiFJC-jSHk3v65gwm4FAoq0UCS1NhiFULurHCJVDUOIT7kDsI_EUUPkXVdu7TS5sLvUOFtoDZXH9RBNUtkYbBTE/s400/Willis-surrogates.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The toilet of the <i>future!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><u>(Spoilers Ahoy!)</u></i></b> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As the introductory montage of news flashes so thoroughly explains, the invention of these "surrogates" (hey, that's the movie title!) have amazingly eradicated all issues related to crime, poverty, and racial prejudice. In this perfect society, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>everyone</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> can conform to unrealistic social expectations! Are you an independent woman with unsightly imperfections? An African-American who </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>isn't</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> athletic? Or an obese person of no productive value to society? In a world of surrogates, these horrifying inadequacies are no longer relevant.</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVekjVl-lc9u_GxHixYJYjIeqoB3rQ0tu_BgCakMyGUxdTXaYbSBMn4YfAMc4oh5IXpbTnfB3ZF7sAFZQ7np2kG_9sLKCJ97KHG6Qxut5ek0i7Ll7sBMfMdrYzLr-yV7bS-mHtK5rI9GA/s1600/surrogates-movie-still-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVekjVl-lc9u_GxHixYJYjIeqoB3rQ0tu_BgCakMyGUxdTXaYbSBMn4YfAMc4oh5IXpbTnfB3ZF7sAFZQ7np2kG_9sLKCJ97KHG6Qxut5ek0i7Ll7sBMfMdrYzLr-yV7bS-mHtK5rI9GA/s400/surrogates-movie-still-15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In <i>real</i> life, she has unsightly bed sores...and he's kind of old! <i>Disgusting...</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Still, not everyone is happy. Namely, religious people. Why? Well, I'm not entirely sure/wasn't really paying attention. But I think it has something to do with the fact that every surrogate looks unbelievably gay. Like velour track pants and "I own every season of <i>The Bad Girl's Club </i>on DVD" gay.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOqWAWdXB8PZyBgJwujEyS9ctOMk9853YqtZyXcKqTRXpM7Px90e6zLS3Nr4tfFYanLmgTRmsbxCPpon6vzq_msUVcmGaXOmaLVDf0yHn8VNKwYdd2yxP659e3s73bqAV6-lzETxkyDI/s1600/surrogates01_crimescene2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOqWAWdXB8PZyBgJwujEyS9ctOMk9853YqtZyXcKqTRXpM7Px90e6zLS3Nr4tfFYanLmgTRmsbxCPpon6vzq_msUVcmGaXOmaLVDf0yHn8VNKwYdd2yxP659e3s73bqAV6-lzETxkyDI/s400/surrogates01_crimescene2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The only real crime here is this dead guy's frosted tips...<i>Yucky!!!"</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>In any case, the radical leader of the luddite Christians (who live in a nostalgic and heart-rending sanctuary filled with bountiful gardens, little boys playing baseball, and men riding tractors in the streets...no, seriously) somehow gets his hands on a super-powerful weapon that can kill any surrogate host with the push of a button. How, you ask? Well, once fired, the weapon sends a software virus in the form of a bolt of blue lightning into the surrogate's eyeballs, causing them to explode. The software virus is then transferred wirelessly over several miles to the host's CPU. After breaking through a series of gateways and firewalls (it's all a bit complicated and technical), the virus causes the host's brain to explode, too! Yeah. <i>Technology. </i><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><i></i>Lots of stuff happens in the middle. People jumping on cars and shit. Oh, and the cult leader turns out to be a robot. In the end, as with most great action films, the <i>real </i>villain turns out to be the most dangerous psychopath of all...the academic in a wheelchair!</div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTYT6J45Xu4irVs1vIYvN-xfabnPEt38Pu5x_ox7u61J70rkaCc0uMq0d6z4bsfj8NjrMbXk33KDYlxVg-0-QPcp23um4VigEAXW7ymHjqa4el5JWCSHLa88Rr5iwIsZe2RO0U7mw2Qo/s1600/stephen-hawking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTYT6J45Xu4irVs1vIYvN-xfabnPEt38Pu5x_ox7u61J70rkaCc0uMq0d6z4bsfj8NjrMbXk33KDYlxVg-0-QPcp23um4VigEAXW7ymHjqa4el5JWCSHLa88Rr5iwIsZe2RO0U7mw2Qo/s400/stephen-hawking.jpg" width="357" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You miserable <i>monster...</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>For some reason, the inventor of surrogate technology decides he messed up by tampering with conventional standards of human socialization (take <i>that </i>tangy whiff of social commentary, Mark Zuckerberg). So, in order to set things right with the world, he decides to pose as a religious fundamentalist revolutionary, kill his own son for the sake of a "greater good", and murder over one billion people with some sort of global lightning virus uploaded through the FBI central computer (whatever the hell that is).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X8DI6RcvBwF3RT_c4qDL9gW6DCJJ9kHSEXlHwDUyggeQozWhy9eQ99rDWBIe-GjXH-Qs8ELNjjb-uM65yx2ORfp333N0aqrTaZG8udhw5ucauoPwf1k4vAj10tSqdJaPdHF1xmOh4jU/s1600/confused+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X8DI6RcvBwF3RT_c4qDL9gW6DCJJ9kHSEXlHwDUyggeQozWhy9eQ99rDWBIe-GjXH-Qs8ELNjjb-uM65yx2ORfp333N0aqrTaZG8udhw5ucauoPwf1k4vAj10tSqdJaPdHF1xmOh4jU/s400/confused+cat.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Da fuuuuuuu...?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ultimately</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, he fails. A fat guy with sideburns figures out some sort of hack-proof password that overrides the upload with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">literally</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> one second remaining in the countdown. Proving once and for all that slovenly desk jockeys are the last, great hope for humanity's continued survival. The fat guy's heroic witticism in this moment of triumph? "We just saved about a billion lives there." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Truly groundbreaking stuff. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span></div>My final verdict: Two Exploding Craniums out of Five.</div><div><br />
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</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-35113820360448355162010-11-23T13:27:00.000-08:002010-11-23T13:40:15.173-08:00It's Wabbit SeasonEverybody loves hunting. Exploring the natural world. Indulging your hunter-gatherer instincts. Utilizing the latest advances in thermal-vision and global positioning technology to track endangered prey with virtually no effort. There's honestly nothing in the world like it. Except maybe the violent brutality of armed warfare. But for those of us who find it easier to <i>start </i>wars than to actually sign up, stalking half retarded pigeons with a pump-action, custom stock Remington in the misty woods of Appalachia is, like, <i>way</i> more fun.<br />
<div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://themoderatevoice.com/wordpress-engine/files/caglecartoons02/060213_exp_CHENEY_HUNTING_E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://themoderatevoice.com/wordpress-engine/files/caglecartoons02/060213_exp_CHENEY_HUNTING_E.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amirite?<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But for the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>true</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> sportsman, there has to be something better. Ground-dwelling birds are great and all, but real men need a worthy opposition. Something more than just those little, feathery pinatas. Something to whet that insatiable thirst for rivers of animal blood that consumes us all. Luckily, America is the land of the free. A great and glorious land that not only allows, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>encourages </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the wholesale execution of all kinds of creepy, crawly shit. According to the Declaration of Independence, </span></div></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><blockquote>"<i>When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to load up their bad-ass muskets and fucking ice some crazy animals in the woods, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should care less about the causes that impel them to do so and just come out blasting.</i>"</blockquote><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/57200/57203/57203_mountaineers_lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/57200/57203/57203_mountaineers_lg.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Break yourself, I say!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div>Of course, we all know that only one state in this fractured union still adheres to the wisdom and intellectual maturity of our founding documents. The treasure of the Rio Grande: Texas. In Texas, hunting is the third most popular pastime, behind only meth production and border trafficking. (Lawnmower racing and wife-swapping round out the top five). You can hunt pretty much anything with a pulse (but not a soul, of course): beavers, turtles, foxes, otters, bighorn, badgers, mountain lions...hell, you can even hunt <i><a href="http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/publications/annual/hunt/alligator/">alligators</a> </i>if they're on private land...which, thankfully, constitutes 97% of all land in Texas. The only thing you can't hunt are bats. Because ew.</div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nature.org/wherewework/northamerica/states/texas/images/mexican_free_tailed_bats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://www.nature.org/wherewework/northamerica/states/texas/images/mexican_free_tailed_bats.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And because even a Texan can admit when he's outnumbered...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>But that's just the tip of the iceberg in the state wherein all things are inherently bigger. If you really want to get your feet wet with the blood of innocents, then check out one of Texas's many outstanding exotic hunting reserves. Like the Texas Hunt Lodge (<a href="http://www.texashuntlodge.com/">Yes.</a>), a former foster home-turned bed and breakfast with over 60 different species of exotic wildlife at your disposal. Among their many generous vacation packages (including the Zebra Hunt and the Ram Slam, a four-animal blowout extravaganza), the Texas Hunt Lodge even offers a Father-Son/Daughter hunting trip...with your choice of water-buffalo, scimitar-horned oryx, or meat bison!</div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-fWOurawYcG93O1XS1Uc3gTkdgJmQzn8PgqC6-LhKyyxPHZDRD5Q1Q5oLJy9pe_lYt-Qvv_rIxTCrVaxUfeoIOCxLJqbh3cXPVC1xUfhRljy-MwYmyQfXFlc_UH80Wd49x2RXldhD3o/s1600/bond_stag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-fWOurawYcG93O1XS1Uc3gTkdgJmQzn8PgqC6-LhKyyxPHZDRD5Q1Q5oLJy9pe_lYt-Qvv_rIxTCrVaxUfeoIOCxLJqbh3cXPVC1xUfhRljy-MwYmyQfXFlc_UH80Wd49x2RXldhD3o/s400/bond_stag.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because the family who uses a camo-striped sniper rifle to blast a gaping hole in the side of an<br />
exotic, clumsy mammal with wire fencing tangled around its antlers together, stays together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Americans are always striving for the next great challenge. Especially when it comes to killing animals. We get bored with the ones at our disposal after we realize how easy they are to kill (I'm talking to you American bison...and passenger pigeons, New England whales, giant land lobsters, Carolina parakeets, heath hens, California condors, black bears, and so forth). So, every once and awhile, we need to shoot an animal species whose name we can't pronounce. Or, better yet, one we haven't even <i>heard</i> of before. </div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKQC90AG_DQHD83C-p-B45Q015klw4T5UeedmMC_Tgt8J3Rzo6GOpSWa3nUMMElDBHbzNFnOy_yffZO9EbamDPDqSDYjNdmtov1SegjiV_4KQj9WTLugFyQzUxD9WuXJq5mSwQSgaefA/s1600/336840136_02b23e11ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKQC90AG_DQHD83C-p-B45Q015klw4T5UeedmMC_Tgt8J3Rzo6GOpSWa3nUMMElDBHbzNFnOy_yffZO9EbamDPDqSDYjNdmtov1SegjiV_4KQj9WTLugFyQzUxD9WuXJq5mSwQSgaefA/s400/336840136_02b23e11ee.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'll take the Trans Caspian Uri...Ur...Whatever, just let me shoot the fucking thing."</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Or, if you're in the mood for a more efficient and reliable murder-fest, try Texas Exotic Hunting, where:</div><blockquote>"[W]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">e have breeding herds of Zebra, Blesbok, Eland, Wildebeest, Scimintar Horned Oryx, Gemsbok and many more."</span></span></blockquote>It's like shooting African grazing mammals in an electrified barrel! Got more room in your raised F-150 for bullet-strewn carcasses? Then just come on back in a few months when the new batch is ready. You won't even have to wait for them to learn how to use their legs. In fact, it's probably more fun that way!<br />
<br />
But, in all seriousness, this country still has a long way to go. Sure, I can pick from a menagerie of African mammals whenever I want to test the killing power of my new, hydraulic crossbow. But I won't rest until every man, woman, and child in America can kill whatever he or she wants, whenever he or she wants to, with whatever ludicrous artillery he or she deems prudent for the occasion. We're Americans, dammit. It's what we do best.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9pY1LVkMLcDElqIh-x92l-KfezK7SFFVPMea_YtO36gRzaRYeWzuKibtKKcf1qaLodOR_GDouynyryGBYORpqk9wSQWE207lw8_a9gCmWLMATOHh0oQIm9UFGF2NLRtmTchKTbjW1gk/s1600/tree_kangaroo_18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9pY1LVkMLcDElqIh-x92l-KfezK7SFFVPMea_YtO36gRzaRYeWzuKibtKKcf1qaLodOR_GDouynyryGBYORpqk9wSQWE207lw8_a9gCmWLMATOHh0oQIm9UFGF2NLRtmTchKTbjW1gk/s400/tree_kangaroo_18.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you would like to kill this, write to your local representative.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-45624358627021083502010-09-27T10:01:00.000-07:002010-09-27T10:09:32.277-07:00The Mysterious Stranger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If ever there was a consummate symbol of American badassery, it surely would be Sergeant Slaughter, the mega-chinned, pencil-thin moustachioed warrior of the wrestling ring who defended our nation's pride against the ferocious Iron Sheik, a man whose lust for power was only outweighed by his lust for ham slabs and troughs of Keystone. Your slovenly appearance and belch-like voice inspired millions of headstrong Americans to remain ever vigilant against the looming menace of villainous ethnic caricatures. Bless you. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sir.</span></i></div><i><br />
</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.accelerator3359.com/Wrestling/pictures/slaughter2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.accelerator3359.com/Wrestling/pictures/slaughter2.jpg" width="386" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good old-fashioned, family racism.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But since not every person would consider this to be the most astute choice, I will have to settle for my number two. A man who, like the noble Sergeant, embodied the gruff and commanding presence of the American persona. A man who, like the Sergeant, constantly wrestled with despicable iterations of American racism and xenophobia. But unlike the Sergeant, this man preferred vegetarianism to a diet of Muscle Milk and Slim Jims. And, unlike his violent counterpart, he could actually write. More than his own name. Truly astonishing, I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who was this uncommonly brilliant virtuoso of American letters? Why, none other than Samuel Langhorne Clemens, himself. Aka Mark Twain, to the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">uninitiated</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> *judgmental huff*. Aka Thorstein von Hemmerschmidt (He was big in Germany). Aka Longhorn Cummins (He may or may not have dabbled in the pornographic arts for a brief period...also in Germany).</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.columbia.edu/cu/news/02/04/images/markTwain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.columbia.edu/cu/news/02/04/images/markTwain.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got 99 prollems, but a bitch ain't one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I digress.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, Mark Twain was one of those rare individuals who, as we say in the exclusive circles of literary intelligentsia, "fuckin' got it." If such a designation remains elusive to most, let me clarify. Mark Twain = Big Brain Super Awesome Smart-time OMGg WHAAAA???!!!!!111</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This dude was working at a printing press by age 12. He educated himself in public libraries. He was a riverboat captain. A gold-miner. A journalist. A parapsychologist. A sandwich. A travel guide. An inventor (Among his credits: A history-based trivia game and an improvement on suspenders). A close friend of Nikola Tesla's. A feminist. A novelist. A viral video star. An American Idol finalist...Well, you get the idea. Ever seen the classic film, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Kid in King Arthur's Court</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> starring Kate Winslet and Daniel Craig? No? How about </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Prince and the Pauper</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> with Michael and Minnifred Mouse? Yeah. Twain totally wrote that shiz. For reals.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/48/04/3a9090b809a0b04a85707110.L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/48/04/3a9090b809a0b04a85707110.L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Godfather, eat your heart out.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what's really outstanding about the man with the Ned Flanders stache is the fact that he remained, for many years, an outspoken critic of religious hypocrisy and institutional idiocy. He was, above all things, a man who knew how to blow smoke up the collective, gaping asshole of organized dogmatism. Now you know why he liked cigars so damn much. But he never touched Cubans. Because he wasn't a bloody communist. Like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, Mr. Twain's final project, a work twenty years in the making that still remained unfinished at the time of his death was a scathing critique of mankind's bogus subscription to blind theological doctrines. It was called, appropriately enough, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mysterious Stranger: Being an Ancient Tale Found in a Jug and Freely Translated from the Jug</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Get it? Like Joseph Smith's magical hat? Or Mohammed's talking cave of wonders? Or Buddha's spirit tree? Or Christianity's dusty, old assemblage of pseudo-historical r-r-r-remixes of unoriginal cultural fairy tales? Yeah. Super fuckin' hilarious, if you ask me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would like to share with you a passage from said work. It is truly a slam-dunk on behalf of all skeptically minded promoters of levelheaded reason and logical thought. Without further ado, the impeccable words of Samuel Longhorn Cummins:</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Strange, indeed, that you should not have suspected that your universe and its contents were only dreams, visions, fiction! Strange, because they are so frankly and hysterically insane - like all dreams: a God who could make good children as easily as bad, yet preferred to make bad ones; who could have made every one of them happy, yet never made a single happy one; who made them prize their bitter life, yet stingily cut it short; who gave his angels eternal happiness unearned, yet required his other children to earn it; who gave his angels painless lives, yet cursed his other children with biting miseries and maladies of mind and body; who mouths justice and invented hell - mouths mercy and invented hell - mouths Golden Rules, and forgiveness multiplied by seventy times seven, and invented hell; who mouths morals to other people and has none himself; who frowns upon crimes, yet commits them all; who created man without invitation, then tries to shuffle the responsibility for man's acts upon man, instead of honorably placing it where it belongs, upon himself; and finally, with altogether divine obtuseness, invites this poor, abused slave to worship him!"</span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like I said. Bad. Ass.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogs.worldbank.org/files/publicsphere/Mark_Twain_1907_looiking_out_window.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://blogs.worldbank.org/files/publicsphere/Mark_Twain_1907_looiking_out_window.png" width="358" /></a></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-75318339709348021792010-08-29T23:51:00.000-07:002010-08-30T19:51:15.987-07:00Sigh.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfNJTgbqVhPlyDxM5yicc3KpAPmERM5V8kC_ADGqttHhQ9YlxnWrAw9jiTR6ql9wb6Omml3rh8nqjKsFUHUc0UarYZI96JnEqnHaio8AmiaRRsZ9AhPYZojI3KYbzFQfS4jfrkQmXCPw/s1600/Murfreesboro-Welcome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfNJTgbqVhPlyDxM5yicc3KpAPmERM5V8kC_ADGqttHhQ9YlxnWrAw9jiTR6ql9wb6Omml3rh8nqjKsFUHUc0UarYZI96JnEqnHaio8AmiaRRsZ9AhPYZojI3KYbzFQfS4jfrkQmXCPw/s400/Murfreesboro-Welcome.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a picture from the future site of the Islamic Center of Murfreesboro (circa 2010). In case you have any trouble reading the near-flawless manuscript, it appears to say "Not Welcome." Or "NoOt Welcome," if we count the logo. On a completely unrelated side note, it was burned to the ground by (what I assume to be) a piss-drunk arsonist named Clem. (<a href="http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2010/08/29/feds-investigate-fire-at-site-of-future-tennessee-mosque/?hpt=T2">Story Found Here</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cRn3HASfXrE9RZWHRhM08d9mFHIdxeLHZ2PMMICvi31gH9FXMd0V5oxUUk4NDlfpjZBP9AZgkXhl3vyJuHLwzStwn04hIBWXfuSdxXsftz1O1NE29vbwnzfR3iQkGX90Xs3UQMWRwRI/s1600/cyclist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cRn3HASfXrE9RZWHRhM08d9mFHIdxeLHZ2PMMICvi31gH9FXMd0V5oxUUk4NDlfpjZBP9AZgkXhl3vyJuHLwzStwn04hIBWXfuSdxXsftz1O1NE29vbwnzfR3iQkGX90Xs3UQMWRwRI/s400/cyclist.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a photograph taken on the outskirts of a German village, circa 1935. Three years before the horrific "Night of Broken Glass". My German is a little shaky, but (according to Freetranslation), the sign says, "Jews Find Here Unwished". Or, "Jews Not Welcome Here," according to not-Freetranslation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Over the next several months, the civil and human rights of German Jews would be systematically annihilated by the radical nationalists of the Third Reich. By the end of the year, Jews would be forbidden from enlisting in the armed services, all "mixed" marriages would be outlawed, Jewish citizenship would be revoked, and shops and restaurants across the 'fatherland' would proudly trumpet segregationist propaganda. By the end of the following year, German Jews would be forbidden from professional occupations. The rest, as we know, is history at its lowest ebb.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Am I saying that the contemporary rhetoric is at all reminiscent of the atrocities of the holocaust? Certainly not. We have at least managed to maintain some semblance of civility. Slicing faces and burning down construction sites may not be as horrifying as the haunting acts of European genocide committed by the psychotic German nationalists. But it's a first step. A first step on the road to unfathomable degradation and hostility. A first step on the unnecessarily endless march towards divisional violence and wanton destruction. My only advice to my fellow Americans is this: Turn around. While you can still find your way back.</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-1664279453376190622010-08-22T00:56:00.000-07:002010-08-22T00:56:29.495-07:00That's Coco-Nuts! (What's With the Nut Theme?)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-_ukzUBa8as_rcElz7v_Wag44hGSbIusTfkPXT4PsQC7f7qYzPMjXbsNcRPJJZdUX8iKqpmOLs2bxNo7f6us6febEzxyHKB1SFyJ5bRFacDQpP0LdU0gVsunpOWM2Y_V6eQv0CXkZxg/s1600/1138724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-_ukzUBa8as_rcElz7v_Wag44hGSbIusTfkPXT4PsQC7f7qYzPMjXbsNcRPJJZdUX8iKqpmOLs2bxNo7f6us6febEzxyHKB1SFyJ5bRFacDQpP0LdU0gVsunpOWM2Y_V6eQv0CXkZxg/s400/1138724.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They're everywhere!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There's a statistic that people like to throw around whenever they're wedged in the middle of a shark attack conversation (You all know you've been there). Usually, from somewhere on the far side of the room, a crackly voice will creep through the deafening shriek of so many Shark Week-crazy young adults to share this fascinating factoid: "Actually, more people die each year from the impact of falling coconuts than from shark bites." It's just one of those things we heard somewhere, long, long ago when we were still easy prey to groundless, free-floating statistics and conversationally cited 'facts' without any shred of evidence. Oh, wait...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, the thing about falling coconuts is, while they certainly <i>can</i> do considerable damage to your oh-so fragile brain basket with their potent wallop of 1,000 kilograms (2,200 pounds) of collision force, there have been decidedly few recorded skull crushings in the last few decades. Interestingly enough, we can trace all this hullabaloo about homicidal husked fruit back to (Surprise!) an unfortunately misquoted scientific research paper. In the early 1980's, a doctoral grad student named Peter Barss spent a considerable amount of time researching and documenting instances of bodily trauma in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. Why? Because, friends, scientists can do whatever the fuck they want. Case in point, in 1984, Barss published an innocent paper in the <i>Journal of Trauma</i> with the ridiculously terrific title, "Injuries Due to Falling Coconuts". Barss and his colleagues found that:</span></span></div><blockquote><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Falling coconuts can cause injury to the head, back, and shoulders. A 4-year review of trauma admissions to the Provincial Hospital, Alotau, Milne Bay Province, Papua New Guinea, revealed that 2.5% of such admissions were due to being struck by falling coconuts. Since mature coconut palms may have a height of 24 up to 35 meters and an unhusked coconut may weigh 1 to 4 kg, blows to the head of a force exceeding 1 metric ton are possible. Four patients with head injuries due to falling coconuts are described. Two required craniotomy. Two others died instantly in the village after being struck by dropping nuts."</span></span></i></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe it's just me, but two deaths over the course of a 4-year period hardly seems like a body count worthy of stacking up to those black-eyed demons of the sea. "But wait!", some of you might protest. "Don't they have palm trees in places other than Papua New Guinea? Surely, some oblivious tourist has been knocked into the great unknown by a Hawaiian coconut. Or an Indian coconut." </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wrong again, however. In a more recent and comprehensive study, scientists studying injury patterns in the Solomon Islands found further proof of the coconut's true innocence. In a paper titled, "Coconut Palm-Related Injuries in the Pacific," Jonathan Mulford, an Australian orthopedic surgeon, found that, over a five-year research period, </span></span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"<i>3.4% of all injuries [presented] to the surgical department [were] related to the coconut palm. Eighty-five patients fell from the coconut palm, 16 patients had a coconut fruit fall on them, three patients had a coconut palm fall on them and one patient kicked a coconut palm." </i></span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In this case, there were no reported deaths. Several cases of staggering idiocy, for sure. And, for whatever reason, some dude decided it would be a good idea to bash his leg full throttle into the unforgiving trunk of a tropical fruit tree. But, other than that, the botanical symbol of Earth's sweaty nether-regions seems fairly harmless. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So where did the bad rap come from? Who decided it would be a good idea to instill fear in the hearts of God-fearing, civilized folk just looking for a pleasant buffet experience on the culturally hollow shores of Sandals? Like so many instances of misinformation and fear-mongering, it can all be traced back to those wacky folks in the insurance business. Seems that a British travel insurance firm by the name of Club Direct decided to release a press statement explaining the serious concerns mounting around the issue of coconut death in Australia. Using Dr. Barss's paper on Papua New Guinea's plague of insatiable coconut bloodlust, the insurance agency claimed that, "Coconuts kill around 150 people each year, which makes them about ten times more dangerous than sharks." </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And thus began a reign of terror which our species has struggled against for nigh on two decades. A battle to wrestle the very soul of our being from the ravenous jaws of the coconut menace. Jaws ten times more powerful than anything <i>this</i> lame joke of a killer could even hope to wield:</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IyLqN600G9stcNJoBDAHUU0nQ8N4YGqIQjcvEeuwilv0zRRLH1OinEKsHRsmCy5mOW44N-YNjq8heCU56Pu4JnJccr5cduEVqUTq_Li76vSye-LgZnuDJTdS2po_AH9Ye5xmRcUVoP0/s1600/mega-shark-v-giant-octopus_jpg_595x325_crop_upscale_q85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IyLqN600G9stcNJoBDAHUU0nQ8N4YGqIQjcvEeuwilv0zRRLH1OinEKsHRsmCy5mOW44N-YNjq8heCU56Pu4JnJccr5cduEVqUTq_Li76vSye-LgZnuDJTdS2po_AH9Ye5xmRcUVoP0/s400/mega-shark-v-giant-octopus_jpg_595x325_crop_upscale_q85.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nature's greatest failure. Sad, really. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yet, these poor fruits have been nothing more than the victims of ill-informed bigotry. Horti<i>cultura</i>l discrimination. In truth, they are peaceful creatures. They don't want to hurt anybody. They just want to chill out in the canopy until it's time for them to drop their load. If they happen to land on the unfortunate cranium of a passerby, don't construe it as an act of malice. It's not like the coconut tree is going around intentionally kicking <i>humans</i> in the torso with bone-shattering fury. In the meantime, try to erase the image of the evil, violent coconut by seeing them for what they truly are: fuzzy little balls filled with copious amounts of viscous white fluid that can be sucked out through a small, central opening. Uh...</span></span>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-16701457107376788262010-07-26T10:23:00.001-07:002014-09-23T11:23:50.314-07:00Aw, nuts!Disclaimer: If you are unable to comprehend double entendre or unwilling to giggle at the profuse use of the word “nut”, please leave now.<br />
I decided that I could not resist an extended thought process debating the benefits of nut butter. Nut butter is as delicious to say as it is to put in my mouth. Growing up, the one staple I could count on in my many meals was peanut butter. Ranging from the classic P.B. & J. to the sugared bliss of peanut butter and marshmallow that provided my young body enough fuel to win the local 5K. However, as I have matured, the number of nuts I have experienced has grown significantly, to say the least.<br />
The most popular challenge when choosing your favorite nut to butter is Peanut vs. Almond. Although at times not readily apparent, each side has strengths as well as weaknesses which I will discuss in somewhat short order. <br />
Regarding peanuts, when an individual decides to pick up that tub<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3Em0qcRMI/AAAAAAAAABM/Hncxyt_4eso/s1600-h/494pxGeorge_Washington_Carver9.jpg"><img align="right" alt="494px-George_Washington_Carver" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3EnH55g-I/AAAAAAAAABQ/07i4f2emjMY/494pxGeorge_Washington_Carver_thumb7.jpg?imgmax=800" height="212" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;" title="494px-George_Washington_Carver" width="176" /></a> o’ nut they are expressing deep-rooted issues that personally reflect on them. At their most basic level, Peanut enthusiasts are pro-affirmative action. This stems from their belief in the myth that the first man to invent a modern “nut butter paste” was George Washington Carver, of agricultural and historical renown. In 1884 the first gentleman to patent the milling of peanuts was Macellus Gilmore Edson, a goddamn Canadian, and there is little evidence that he may have stolen the idea from an inventor of color. While supporting minorities is all well and good, sandwich spreads are the wrong front to fight this war, instead, it is best left to the streets and corporate America.<br />
That being said, peanut pickers also broadcast to the world that they are inherently liars and hypocrites. Peanuts as we all know are not actually nuts. They are imposters, fakes, phonies. The marriage of your sandwich has been cuckolded by a fucking legume. That’s right, peanuts have more in common with your side of refried beans than the realm of cashews, filberts and pecans. Maintaining the facade of the “Average Joe” or “Red-blooded American” starts off small with those Caucasian lies and builds to those cavernous African American (although still American) holes of deceit. No where has it been said that you can’t be a racist AS WELL AS pro-affirmative action. Assumption would decree that this can’t be possible, but we live in a world where people effectively do what they want without penalty or accountability.<br />
The overarching theme collides here. Although peanut-eers want minorities to get jobs they don’t want and lie about it through the whole process, they are sticklers for tradition. Mashed nuts hang pendulously in the sack of history for their ubiquity in cooking and nutrient denseness traipsing from Canada to the United States. It’s hard to get that convenience out of your esophagus. No other food-borne confection embodies that rich and velvety spread of dishonesty and intolerance as well as our dear friend, the peanut. <br />
To those hipsters who are now foaming at the mouth because they so zealously support my anti-peanut rhetoric… you are next.<br />
Leading in with the most prominent aspect of alternative nut butters would have to be their blaringly obvious underground popularity. Kids these days are ‘Gluten-Intolerant’ this and ‘Preservative-Free’ that, that so much of the product placement world surrounding them includes some relatively obvious options. If life limits your pathetic ability to express yourself so that you have to militantly do so by way of food, fine, be my fucking guest. However, just because you use a<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3Env9W61I/AAAAAAAAABU/n__X7XaSCL4/s1600-h/6a00d834a34baf69e20133ed4d160c970bpi%5B1%5D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="6a00d834a34baf69e20133ed4d160c970b-pi" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3EoE_kqKI/AAAAAAAAABY/8VaQq36Dpl8/6a00d834a34baf69e20133ed4d160c970bpi.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;" title="6a00d834a34baf69e20133ed4d160c970b-pi" width="244" /></a> DIFFERENT nut to perform the same basic function, shielding one half of your agave rife sammy from the other, you can’t think that you are better than anyone. You fool NO ONE. Your designer dreadlock extensions are only as genuine as the guilt-free alpaca hair from which they were crafted. I say if you want to go against the legume either go all fucking in (Pistachio nut butter) or just stick it to the man with a jungle peanut. Don’t ride that line and think that you are too cool for school and therefore ‘dangerous’. You are only dangerous if you are able to inflict, at will, nut allergies on an unsuspecting target.<br />
Conversely, this badass, genderless-but-universally-empowered-regardless-of-race, -creed, –or-economic-earning-power individual identity refutes one of the larger claims almond heads champion: Healthfullishness (intentionally sounds like health foolishness). It’s got essential fatty acids. So what? It has higher Vitamin E and Magnesium. Who cares? This mofo is chalk full of monounsaturated fats which wipe the floor with saturated fats. We’re still talking about this because (ellipsis)? BIG DEAL! If a majority of people were into what was good for them they would put down the peanut butter covered knife, walk away from exercise and stop treating other people as they wished to be treated. This mindset is OLD and if you want to be hip, it ain’t hip to be old.* <br />
Lastly, almond butter reflects on its users highly cultivated style. Peanut butter is almost universally left with one trouble: Creamy or Chunky? Almond butter shits all over this by offering a multiplicity of choices, and we all know people love to choose. Shell casings or not? Blanched? Most importantly, roasted or raw? By '”roasted” what we really ask is, “Would you like us to keep your almonds in a hermetically sealed room while teenagers smoke copious amounts of marijuana to give you that buzz without the fear that cops are about to break down your door and ruin a perfectly good Scooby Snack?” When an average person is put to the test and forced at gun point to think of almond butter, the image that naturally pops into their head is that of a Bob Marley shirted skateboarder that will only bathe in gutter water.<br />
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3EofNTa0I/AAAAAAAAABc/EVmx1F6iB0c/s1600-h/chromehexnuts2.jpg"><img alt="chrome-hex-nuts" border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_GoYK4WRBPfM/TE3EoqFJS2I/AAAAAAAAABg/kUm8NLXpc1s/chromehexnuts_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="182" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="chrome-hex-nuts" width="244" /></a> <br />
*Note, the only people who are hip to be old are the Golden Girls, Angela Lansbury and Patrick Stewart. They are all officially fuggin’ gangstazzzzz in my book.<br />
<br />
<br /><em id="yui_3_17_2_1_1411496392024_16663">Don't forget to check out other work from Cameron Long on <a data-cke-saved-href="http://www.herearewords.com/blog/?category=Internet+Sit-down" href="http://www.herearewords.com/">Here Are Words</a>!</em> Cameron Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07239438861580029133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-64589599994803905562010-07-23T14:26:00.000-07:002010-07-23T14:35:55.933-07:00Coyote Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmt0rGcKWw5bO4dEB0994C-MLt8-BrpJKqrYspwnJxQnHB9Pq_qIBeVfBatn16JP3ZF2IWEe49IpgB-utVc23m6lOSsxw6ESW7MDj8uJaKFuLbjg8wzTl05Tt-ZibrqCsb1yRMVCPyYs/s1600/171234779_c78cffc014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmt0rGcKWw5bO4dEB0994C-MLt8-BrpJKqrYspwnJxQnHB9Pq_qIBeVfBatn16JP3ZF2IWEe49IpgB-utVc23m6lOSsxw6ESW7MDj8uJaKFuLbjg8wzTl05Tt-ZibrqCsb1yRMVCPyYs/s400/171234779_c78cffc014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
One month ago, my baby kitty was lost to the indiscriminate fangs of an Orange County sewer wolf (pronounced kay-yo-tay). It was a most traumatizing ordeal, to say the least. After hearing about his unfortunate demise, my wife and I promptly erupted into billowing lava flows of emotional distress. It was a cliche of tortured anguish that would rival any of the door-slamming, ice cream gorging melodrama of modern reality television. What's that Khloe Kardashian? Your laser dimple treatment appointment was cance...MY CAT WAS EATEN ALIVE, YOU WHORE! I'll spare you the snot-dribbled details and simply use the following visual aid to convey our level of sadness:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pain..THE PAIN!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the immediate aftermath of the situation, I will admit that I was incensed. I was ready to hop in my car, drive to Orange County from the swamp-ass haven of North Texas, and saddle up with my $9.00 Jeep survival knife for some good, old-fashioned beast wars. I orchestrated elaborately twisted plans for eliminating the neighborhood's coyote menace. All night hunting parties? Check. B.B. Gun sniping posts? Duh. Foiling their carnivorous schemes with the aid of ACME rocket boots? You better believe it. I had every intention of becoming the Darth Vader to the coyotes' Rebel Alliance. But instead of blowing up their home planet with a massive command center (that's no moon), I would see to it that each and every one of those mongrel scavengers at least lost an eyeball.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course, I never followed through with my plans for bloody revenge. In fact, I had almost completely forgotten about it. That is until I stumbled upon this rather interesting article in the Orange County register: <a href="http://www.ocregister.com/news/coyotes-258723-city-coyote.html">Full Article Here</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It seems that the lovely citizens of Yorba Linda, none of which appear to have an IQ above 17, banded together and decided to put a stop to their coyote infestation problem...the <i><b>HARD</b></i> way. The article states:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> "<i>As of Wednesday (7/21), 14 coyotes had been shot and 10 </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> had been trapped and euthanized in Yorba Linda since the </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> beginning of June...The city is billed $500 for every night </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> the trapper goes out with his gun. So far the city has paid </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> $2,500. The trapper uses a special kind of ammunition, goes </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> out between the hours of 1 a.m. and 5 a.m., and checks in </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> with the police department before taking any action."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, this may not seem like a very <i>scientific </i>diatribe. But, I assure you, it most certainly is. Here's the problem with shooting urban wildlife like so many Middle Eastern civilians: it creates a doubly destructive vacuum in the ecosystem. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Vacuum #1: Since humans have essentially eradicated every comparable predator to the Southern Californian coyote (condors, mountain lions, bears, owls, etc.), there is no other predatory species around to keep rodent and pest populations comfortably low. Coyotes munch on pretty much anything. Rabbits, rats, garbage, squirrels, raccoons, more garbage, fruit, small pets, and even more garbage. Everything is yummers to one of nature's most notorious compulsive eaters. If we spend all our time cappin' coyotes in the muthafuckin' streetlight, we'll be spending a lot more of our time brushing rats off of our bed sheets and coming face to face with rabid trash bandits every time we visit the backyard. What's even more infuriating is the fact that the city's privately contracted pest service, Animal Pest Management, Inc., surely knows this fact. If anything, this $500 a night program of forced removal and genocide will ensure a steady supply of house calls for years to come. Cha-ching!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Vacuum #2: You see, coyotes usually mate between January and March. Like humans and ducks, they mate for life. Their litters, about half a dozen on average, arrive into this world about sixty days later, between the months of April and June. Due to the recent arrival of their absurdly adorable pups, coyote adults spend most of the summer months scrounging for food. After all, it's difficult to feed six babies on a staple diet of half empty Lunchables and clueless house pets. The recent uptick in coyote "attacks" is really just a desperate push by nature's newest mommies to feed their starving young. Nothing is more essential than the continued selection of successful gene carriers. When a rival predator ("pest control") comes in and starts Tony Montana-ing every twenty-pound canine in a ten-mile radius, nature starts to compensate. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YOU CACA-ROACH!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The coyote population won't be thinking, "Damn. These dudes are serious. We better pack our shit and get out of town." Nature's reaction is quite the opposite, in fact. The species will simply say, "Well. That was a rough summer. Better luck next year!" The interesting thing about natural selection is that when the survival quota is no longer being replenished, the mojo of said species kicks into hyperdrive. In other words, it's hump-fest in Coyoteville. Like Obi-wan Kenobi says, "They'll be back...and in greater numbers!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get a room, you god damn coyotes...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I could spend the majority of this post describing the different ways in which man's blind settlement of wild ecosystems has greatly exacerbated the coyote dilemma. I could go on to say that the introduction of large pet canines into coyote habitats has nurtured an alarming trend of coyote hybridization (they not only eat our pets; they mate with them, too!). I could go on to say that coyotes mainly congregate around neighborhoods with poor waste management skills and even poorer wildlife interaction skills. I could also go on to say that most of the habitable ecosystems for Southern California's coyote population have been ravaged by arson and consumed by man-made wildfires (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freeway_Complex_Fire">FLAMES!</a>). I'm sure none of this matters to the residents of Yorba Linda, though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Coyotes are a native species. They proliferated in the Orange County area long before any human settlers arrived. Still, I'm sure the argument that "they were here first" makes little difference to someone with the gumption to spend four hours a night slaughtering one of nature's most clever predators just to keep Bootsy safe for another day of laziness. As Rita Silva-Leu, a proud member of Yorba Linda's virtuous rabble says, "Why do I have to be afraid? This coexistence thing, I don't think it can happen. We love animals, but when it's them or us, it's not going to be them." Too true, Ms. Leu. Too true. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, Ma! Get a pitcher of me in front of all these bison heads!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-87315541806209058062010-07-15T13:43:00.000-07:002010-07-15T13:45:00.942-07:00Up, Up, and Array!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50A5X974knZIxc7DRvF4MbVvPv-9SNGsl0rqBI1Cb59ddYjlayaMMcPTK3UQZfwQTPi9700JPyaiTCzYhrjTnhWJRr0ZM2QWeRnyW63gtrc6SAOJvjOwiq4XlaLTZLpmpw1bepyRSj-8/s1600/IMG_3778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50A5X974knZIxc7DRvF4MbVvPv-9SNGsl0rqBI1Cb59ddYjlayaMMcPTK3UQZfwQTPi9700JPyaiTCzYhrjTnhWJRr0ZM2QWeRnyW63gtrc6SAOJvjOwiq4XlaLTZLpmpw1bepyRSj-8/s400/IMG_3778.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is the Very Large Array in Socorro, New Mexico. It’s an incredible collection of twenty-seven radio satellites, each weighing as much as three Boeing 737’s. Their sole purpose is to gather shit-loads of information from our enormous universe. As far as radio telescopes go, the VLA is pretty badass. It discovered the existence of water ice in Mercury’s polar craters. It helped confirm Einstein’s theory of gravitational lensing (the way in which ridiculously massive objects in space bend and warp the light emitted from more distant celestial bodies).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2N-iNxjDP0k5uZW-DRT_3SKiooe1APmqKuHXlkCyMdAbFaDDhvg_HRb2VhMHyNrLN-LqOZfjtu5tnVaJUHa-b9hmmSB-O658ziqsRD8ivEYqsKr3z_BNo6_zHez6QWL_tNJ7C_xSXmrs/s1600/ngc2074a_hst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2N-iNxjDP0k5uZW-DRT_3SKiooe1APmqKuHXlkCyMdAbFaDDhvg_HRb2VhMHyNrLN-LqOZfjtu5tnVaJUHa-b9hmmSB-O658ziqsRD8ivEYqsKr3z_BNo6_zHez6QWL_tNJ7C_xSXmrs/s400/ngc2074a_hst.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s seen its fair share of cosmic jets and microquasars. And it helped define the Magellanic Cloud, a stream of gas and dust stretching across the universe for 2.5 billion years. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you’re looking for an amazing experience that puts the paltry insignificance of the world’s problems into perspective, then look it up and make the trip. Even in the middle of tourist-crazy summer, the place is virtually deserted. It’s difficult to see why, but I would venture to guess that your average God-fearing Amerrrrrican doesn’t even know there’s a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">New</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Mexico, much less that it contains an incredible scientific observatory.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWFOc6z7b7AAjLUnof4y9BQ2AmrsaebSxez0-R7vL_lyuAK8Qn1eEExTKw5IZ6-55Ek9HyunI0BlRHQzNsOwl_Bw4ZIC1C3sG8_Hfn6rARjuZVE6OP3E5ZWIv22o_lRqp1R_nTRK4Ypc/s1600/HubbleDeepFieldL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWFOc6z7b7AAjLUnof4y9BQ2AmrsaebSxez0-R7vL_lyuAK8Qn1eEExTKw5IZ6-55Ek9HyunI0BlRHQzNsOwl_Bw4ZIC1C3sG8_Hfn6rARjuZVE6OP3E5ZWIv22o_lRqp1R_nTRK4Ypc/s320/HubbleDeepFieldL.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seriously though, there aren’t many places like it in this country. And if we continue avoiding the promise of scientific discovery and embattling ourselves in endless geopolitical conflicts the way we do now, then there will be even fewer. Americans used to be the driving force behind astronomical discovery in the world. American space exploration put a man on the moon. It engineered the world’s most successful space shuttle. It unveiled the Hubble Deep Field. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, we’d rather spend sixty billion dollars on a moderately functional missile guidance system than six billion on methods to extend human life and knowledge into the far reaches of our universe. So, do yourselves a favor and check it out before it loses Congressional funding in 2012. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pictures on the next page!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzFvQiS8CxnpfxWKOV8go2ckE-e2EgfyOk1zJ0jTQ9HaTjm1Fv1ZTOgkBkWeOuprOgRD1prGGi125zi5LT5jtmHB_vyLSXUXInj_JkItBJnon_HnfH36AaGTZmy12QomijQoULpSEk1s/s1600/IMG_3798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzFvQiS8CxnpfxWKOV8go2ckE-e2EgfyOk1zJ0jTQ9HaTjm1Fv1ZTOgkBkWeOuprOgRD1prGGi125zi5LT5jtmHB_vyLSXUXInj_JkItBJnon_HnfH36AaGTZmy12QomijQoULpSEk1s/s400/IMG_3798.JPG" width="267" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbz0j7VU5oZZbxWdjNbnSoFlDuXffbQlzuevX6J7ippxdFNG71yyP-YDUdNtMqiwnhOZmx3XGOJQap7YhpoERCPp5eliwkJWLIbQOkf_UAvL2VjcnNVwZVVsWVi1V_W_-HHKWFifpQfM/s1600/IMG_3779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbz0j7VU5oZZbxWdjNbnSoFlDuXffbQlzuevX6J7ippxdFNG71yyP-YDUdNtMqiwnhOZmx3XGOJQap7YhpoERCPp5eliwkJWLIbQOkf_UAvL2VjcnNVwZVVsWVi1V_W_-HHKWFifpQfM/s400/IMG_3779.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqO5UT9OQOe9uXDfxNxOFqpGHsY7UWaxFot0JdSD5RvA-Ik2SIpuZF9E81K-AfaRRxKJZj4dLIlFAGP7UDH8rEq6WKu_MuJhIz1-3Cpfrli2gAPMtBfSK8iMQWOZ_KZl32qnLGA44tv4c/s1600/IMG_3794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqO5UT9OQOe9uXDfxNxOFqpGHsY7UWaxFot0JdSD5RvA-Ik2SIpuZF9E81K-AfaRRxKJZj4dLIlFAGP7UDH8rEq6WKu_MuJhIz1-3Cpfrli2gAPMtBfSK8iMQWOZ_KZl32qnLGA44tv4c/s400/IMG_3794.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Notable Discoveries:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqyoZhlrBQTj1pl6MP5tms70F-2NdcDUBhJYwke2BFFMcY76_vrurbUbxkHL384VMg2BzNjP1DKBfrw7VdjRADUFnjzvdLMmSa9_9U6gYtSWDygIldHlATtsfO9LIw3a42p_wTgnwp3A/s1600/cigar_hst_big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqyoZhlrBQTj1pl6MP5tms70F-2NdcDUBhJYwke2BFFMcY76_vrurbUbxkHL384VMg2BzNjP1DKBfrw7VdjRADUFnjzvdLMmSa9_9U6gYtSWDygIldHlATtsfO9LIw3a42p_wTgnwp3A/s320/cigar_hst_big.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The M-82 Galaxy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhTs9bXLWlNJCzzt9Vyujc4wKtjgOkEmBTo1mkdteZyBc6QfqngXi16A89MA6v-AU3uq_vvAVoRp8TKdcWTzSvqO46rjhPQRjI2JIS0dWNhToK3-3GaLVFvhTLc7fe7G8qXLK332ILjY/s1600/casa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhTs9bXLWlNJCzzt9Vyujc4wKtjgOkEmBTo1mkdteZyBc6QfqngXi16A89MA6v-AU3uq_vvAVoRp8TKdcWTzSvqO46rjhPQRjI2JIS0dWNhToK3-3GaLVFvhTLc7fe7G8qXLK332ILjY/s320/casa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cassiopeia A</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-84086522498951659702010-07-15T13:20:00.000-07:002010-07-15T14:38:18.225-07:00Paint by Numbers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrv0IrToshfimurAVOjRFq6MNRXwCsCLoeaRnDx-aKcV-JLO3Ib33PWgQHNM664zNLNnx4Tv9J7DR_4mjbWTRDHXoupYtMmpkkfTJeb3uf0zCWYfIEbIdrrB5CgJG16KeXiSuSOmyJXd8/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrv0IrToshfimurAVOjRFq6MNRXwCsCLoeaRnDx-aKcV-JLO3Ib33PWgQHNM664zNLNnx4Tv9J7DR_4mjbWTRDHXoupYtMmpkkfTJeb3uf0zCWYfIEbIdrrB5CgJG16KeXiSuSOmyJXd8/s400/1.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>(A collage of 200,000 packs of cigarettes - the number of deaths from smoking caused every six months in the United States).</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Think about a straw. Straws appear everywhere. Regardless of where you are in the world, you will very likely encounter a straw. Restaurants dish them out like currency. Box loads of them. Insane numbers of these things are produced every second on this planet. All so that we can suck our sugar-drinks out of a chemically engineered, plastic tube thing that could survive a nuclear winter. But are straws really necessary marvels in our lives?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
I mean think about it. They stress and warp the curvature of your teeth. They’re mainly produced in Chinese manufacturing facilities that are less sanitary than the bottom of your foot. In fact, the only reason straws were invented in the first place was so that the ancient Sumerians could avoid the lumpy fermentation byproducts of their homemade brewskies. Because nobody wants to get shit-faced sucking down this stuff.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-jLvukSVlMViWvZTY_x9Z2D1MC3beCIOJR9gjSE2yorLTQ5bMuo3OGjLhVoFCN8esGlMe8uRh8DIm5VXpmhsU-epTjbbSkqy52bUzVHS5E4orxZ567LAk2LkSGP07MD2mDLJ8L9Mhec/s1600/fermenting_tank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-jLvukSVlMViWvZTY_x9Z2D1MC3beCIOJR9gjSE2yorLTQ5bMuo3OGjLhVoFCN8esGlMe8uRh8DIm5VXpmhsU-epTjbbSkqy52bUzVHS5E4orxZ567LAk2LkSGP07MD2mDLJ8L9Mhec/s200/fermenting_tank.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>At the Austin Museum of Art, photographer Chris Jordan has set up an exhibit that visualizes the waste-footprint of our species. And when you see it up close, footprint doesn’t even begin to measure it. It’s more like a colossal, colon-shredding, infinite surge of sulfuric diarrhea.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The artist says, “I am appalled by these scenes, yet another side of me is drawn into them with an entrancing sense of awe and fascination. The immense scale of our consumption can appear desolate, macabre, oddly comical, and ironic, even darkly beautiful for me; the consistent feature is staggering complexity.” Sounds like a pervert to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here's a nifty little sample of some of his more disturbing works (after the jump):<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKtXVWAd6gkvzSiP0rgaaZTbs0aJLyLes7keGnscAxlT9Om7ZtVNWLNBSDq5sEH_AjgabBlC8tRbEUepbesXdt-iqKV7oftr4fozOFy9Atlr0ZnEu5CZlW6xwJCW1wcK4vPaGS9YIkVU/s1600/chris_jordan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKtXVWAd6gkvzSiP0rgaaZTbs0aJLyLes7keGnscAxlT9Om7ZtVNWLNBSDq5sEH_AjgabBlC8tRbEUepbesXdt-iqKV7oftr4fozOFy9Atlr0ZnEu5CZlW6xwJCW1wcK4vPaGS9YIkVU/s400/chris_jordan.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">A tapestry of 38,000 shipping containers. The number processed through American ports every twelve hours.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoeKzh5viqNn42ylA3U0ErS4dhDqnkZ18dV77MPUSXPUOGWkvGxl_-KQuXuFxSVf5A44wTvyZw_iPJoUtnpcXE5E1Y_RZxGFwxBQtIyZZ3UeblvVwgYho62qq3gAYuQx79twFW7QF4qA/s1600/01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoeKzh5viqNn42ylA3U0ErS4dhDqnkZ18dV77MPUSXPUOGWkvGxl_-KQuXuFxSVf5A44wTvyZw_iPJoUtnpcXE5E1Y_RZxGFwxBQtIyZZ3UeblvVwgYho62qq3gAYuQx79twFW7QF4qA/s400/01.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">11,000 contrails/jet streams. The number of U.S. flights that originate every eight hours</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA-gdHXGy6XFn_c8rbBAVIPzuorW3MSFN6G42mLpliBXdz48CQTg1SP94QUnKAsaOBBStpF8wlFvrOFi7urctqt8dUj4Q_Jm8JCGavQOYZo5DYVvZK_iYdGnii2QBSZXrrjh2HUWe-cQ/s1600/1228280038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA-gdHXGy6XFn_c8rbBAVIPzuorW3MSFN6G42mLpliBXdz48CQTg1SP94QUnKAsaOBBStpF8wlFvrOFi7urctqt8dUj4Q_Jm8JCGavQOYZo5DYVvZK_iYdGnii2QBSZXrrjh2HUWe-cQ/s400/1228280038.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">28,000 42-gallon barrels of oil. The amount consumed in the United States every two minutes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6zRZdP7CSV_etZmVyo9DlvBz8-ptudmbnVhGwyhrwkKe6geyoly9kmcKoxgD3C6dGy4LvmbC5ZiuP7QzzcyWunkvSGvtWYumzyd0u0S86BRY1Js9W0PUJF5RY51OFppPL9IsG7NWL3u8/s1600/chris-jordan-running-the-numbers-series-plastic-cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6zRZdP7CSV_etZmVyo9DlvBz8-ptudmbnVhGwyhrwkKe6geyoly9kmcKoxgD3C6dGy4LvmbC5ZiuP7QzzcyWunkvSGvtWYumzyd0u0S86BRY1Js9W0PUJF5RY51OFppPL9IsG7NWL3u8/s400/chris-jordan-running-the-numbers-series-plastic-cups.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">1,000,000 plastic cups. The amount used every six hours on U.S. commercial flights.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WhaPTrVtn0RXwNHVcR8_dqimT_5MFO-GV-lS25_gGBYNP57DmWJLRpSYV_SF6eF3H9UaYyemZHArOAXs8Ferjy8bTFyMU8dO-wZwemE4CNvWmgkvBvcPeIxlzwAoDWFPXRQ-uwoJ7Hk/s1600/Running-The-Numbers-by-Chris-Jordan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WhaPTrVtn0RXwNHVcR8_dqimT_5MFO-GV-lS25_gGBYNP57DmWJLRpSYV_SF6eF3H9UaYyemZHArOAXs8Ferjy8bTFyMU8dO-wZwemE4CNvWmgkvBvcPeIxlzwAoDWFPXRQ-uwoJ7Hk/s400/Running-The-Numbers-by-Chris-Jordan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">32,000 Barbie dolls. The number of breast augmentations performed monthly in the United States.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V52z22L4IhMmlsGXBVHW9z2DZ_OjO00CxW9hUrdFrFOAzgBg8wkCkYftzhFjdXf2rN1iAEYzLQ19TiuuZdTl34xfrfZxIHCvmvDibjeMJB0np7hOzt10ZwNiKJZX9Kro44tnO7jcJaU/s1600/jordan_running_the_numbers_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V52z22L4IhMmlsGXBVHW9z2DZ_OjO00CxW9hUrdFrFOAzgBg8wkCkYftzhFjdXf2rN1iAEYzLQ19TiuuZdTl34xfrfZxIHCvmvDibjeMJB0np7hOzt10ZwNiKJZX9Kro44tnO7jcJaU/s400/jordan_running_the_numbers_.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">320,000 light bulbs. The number of kilowatt <i>hours</i> of electricity wasted every <i>minute</i> in America due to inefficient residential energy use.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHMvepC71bCHDRJrp4l65iaO5Ls2gjikYCswlDKaaWfpj6glVs-8tw7Xn9h90kcW3EEkGyeOjsXiTZlkWiiHdk_8fQI5XDeAVQGzbiqFnMMn36RYXhgYZrqDpJnfWyDWtxeziDxWIu0k/s1600/jordan1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHMvepC71bCHDRJrp4l65iaO5Ls2gjikYCswlDKaaWfpj6glVs-8tw7Xn9h90kcW3EEkGyeOjsXiTZlkWiiHdk_8fQI5XDeAVQGzbiqFnMMn36RYXhgYZrqDpJnfWyDWtxeziDxWIu0k/s400/jordan1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">'Cans Seurat'. 106,000 aluminum soda cans. The amount consumed and discarded every thirty seconds in the United States.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dang. That’s serious. :::Slurps Coke:::</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-79806812025096776292010-07-12T13:34:00.000-07:002014-09-23T11:24:40.189-07:00An Unproductive Introduction.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnJQCzBe8QqeZxrp-IrMi6gIjpkL6Pht4TpuKrh6Kpm-D_6IsIFr_zIXr_dicO2hF6gZrnpWSho8wivP1OLfg3qV6WenAONt79z2z-ktlOhEHTWSfnFwVXEGarxIWs0yyG7hUGeeGTI2O/s1600/nativity1hq.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnJQCzBe8QqeZxrp-IrMi6gIjpkL6Pht4TpuKrh6Kpm-D_6IsIFr_zIXr_dicO2hF6gZrnpWSho8wivP1OLfg3qV6WenAONt79z2z-ktlOhEHTWSfnFwVXEGarxIWs0yyG7hUGeeGTI2O/s320/nativity1hq.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493123541126121266" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>I don’t promise to be a practitioner of any organized religion. Hell, even the Church of Sin won’t have me because I won’t pay the dues and I have a deep dislike of wearing a hat. So when the traditional games come to town of Judaism, Taoism, Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witnesses etc, I just tune them out. Those ideals simply do not occupy the same reality as I do. That being said, when something comes along that bucks the trend merely to piss other people off, I tend to take notice.<br />
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The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster does just that. It is a reactionary piece to established religion and those establishments forcing themselves into the lives of people who just don’t want to hear it. Created in response to the Kansas State Board of Education forcing creationism onto those who are too bewildered by evolutionism, CFSM (abbreviated henceforth because I’m lazy) is the insistence that if you make concessions for one thing, you have to make concessions for everything no matter how ridiculous. This is sublime if only to spin an impressive yarn, larger than life or even creation, that encompasses some of my favorite things.<br />
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When it comes to the agents of a religion, the concentrated level of FSM practitioners (to which I refer to as Spaghettiphiles) is so deliciously rich it has reached the same viscosity as the sauce that their deity dons. To be more specific, instead of having ‘weekend warriors’ like Christianity who are holy only on days that begin with ‘sun’, Spaghettiphiles may follow the FSM bi-daily, although sometimes less often. Practicing is done by means of consumption. It takes a lot to fake a religion and creativity is essential. So, practitioners of CFSM require a lot of brain-fueling carbohydrates. This elicits the positive feedback loop where Spaghettiphiles have larger, more creative brains to produce the lore of their religion, and must eat the brain-food of their deity to perpetuate said lore. This noodlification of the higher functioning centers of the brain is all that the FSM requires of it’s followers. What’s best is that many random people unintentionally practice without knowing it!<br />
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People that practice CFSM are outgoing, fun and enthusiastic individuals who don’t have a strict uniform (Mormons) or limitations to what they can and can’t do (sodomy, drive, drink, vote). Limiting people does confine the ability to choose, but NOT limiting people forces them to do something different. With no boundaries, people are forced to be intelligent, sarcastic, vocal and probably into some really gnarly things in the bedroom. This is where individuals really shine (not focusing on the bedroom bit). If you take away the restriction of sweeping, crushing and debilitating obedience, followers are much more likely to participate. I support conforming to the anti. Going against the grain is relatively popular nowadays and it is easy to enter this trend. A side effect is that that person believes that they continue to be an individual and not part of a group. Again, the noodlification, massaging of the brain-noodles and washing of them in the spirituality of creativity, is essential.<br />
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What’s more, on a more serious note, Pastafarianism unabashedly comes down to money. MONEY. The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster scrounges up funds by simply pillaging. Compare this to more ‘mainstream’ methods of begging, pleading, lying and frankly, guilting people into parting with their worldly wealth. I can appreciate a direct and practical method of generating revenue by forcibly removing it from people. This whole process is conducted by the effective missionaries of CFSM: pirates.<br />
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I fucking love pirates. For those who are inclined to enjoy tales of those cloak-and-dagger, stealthy dweebs most commonly known as ninjas, my only comment is, “Ninja, please”. My love for pirates stems from their unwavering honesty because you know they will punch you in the face and fucking rob you while you are looking intently into the middle distance. Furthermore, for men who don’t shower, wear badass, jockey-free clothing and have an airborne animal as a pet while they sail on the open ocean, that just demands a level of respect. Ninjas can’t be bothered to get wet or to speak or even to dress in style... a black costume that hasn’t changed in four thousand years? Excuse me. One outfit does not have legs enough to run for four millennia.<br />
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Now, those who would argue, “Cameron, if you protest silly uniforms that may or may not be grounded in reality, what the fuck do you call a pirate hat and peg leg?’. To that, I respond that stereotyping pirates is a form of hate crime. We have all grown up with pirates in movies being swarthy, grizzled, mutilated and downright rude. Fine. What is missed in this is that it is a lifestyle. Not ALL pirates dress and behave this way. There are pirate business men. Pirate newspaper boys. Pirate doctors. Don’t discriminate because a pirate doesn’t fall into said stereotypical categories.<br />
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Lastly, pastafarianism is not unique to the human species (unlike the goat-raping, lamb-slaughtering legions of organized religion). Cats, like humans, love pasta. Just ask that fat piece-of-shit, Garfield. Except for lovable pictures of kittehs less-than-three’ing pasta on the internet, popular culture has been inadvertently spreading the word of the FSM through television. Those unaware of the modestly popular show ‘The Soup’ may not know that they have a mascot dubbed Spaghetti Cat. This speechless feline patiently waits for and bravely gloats over a full bowl of pasta while suffering jibes and glares from Pastaphobes. Most television shows bragging about whatever god is "in" are relegated to Sunday morning on public access. CFSM has been enjoying free cable airtime for at LEAST two seasons.<br />
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The end-all-be-all metaphor I have been developing and groping for is this: In the CFSM, what you do is take your brain, boil it for 8-15 minutes, pour into a colander and then allow yourself to devour your brain-meats while salting to taste.<br />
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Frankly, in the very least, it makes me hungry.<br />
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<br /><em id="yui_3_17_2_1_1411496392024_16663">Don't forget to check out other work from Cameron Long on <a data-cke-saved-href="http://www.herearewords.com/blog/?category=Internet+Sit-down" href="http://www.herearewords.com/">Here Are Words</a>!</em> Cameron Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07239438861580029133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-56835357173113872372010-07-11T21:58:00.000-07:002010-07-11T21:58:49.801-07:00Astro-not Anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHBQCuCCa_hd55UalTFaAtS3T4-0Uo_4mUcNzyy0RmZc-WqIHjx3gqLnmiMHvZ4FAB9vlKFfi7mznul1PYYUWMCXRvHYXUk8NsAv57OCpJNqS-HdnAj2MoKCQB4nfN-1OFrnyh6ZatCA/s1600/astronauts-by-hunter-freeman-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHBQCuCCa_hd55UalTFaAtS3T4-0Uo_4mUcNzyy0RmZc-WqIHjx3gqLnmiMHvZ4FAB9vlKFfi7mznul1PYYUWMCXRvHYXUk8NsAv57OCpJNqS-HdnAj2MoKCQB4nfN-1OFrnyh6ZatCA/s400/astronauts-by-hunter-freeman-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Thanks to recent cuts in NASA funding, the future of manned space travel is, at best, unclear. So, whenever little Jimmy tells you that he wants to be an astronaut, you can finally crush his aspirations <i>without</i> bruising his delicate ego. Instead, just crap on his hopeless pipedreams of excellence by explaining the truth.<br />
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</i><br />
<i>Jimmy: Mommy, I want to be an astronaut when I grow up!</i><br />
<i>Mom : Sorry, Jimmy. But due to the misguided allocation of government resources and mankind's inability to progress beyond territorial conflicts and disagreements over omniscient sky men, your dreams of space travel are now as dead as that stupid goldfish you overfed</i>. <i>In the meantime, here's a book on trading in commodities. I guarantee that you'll find quarterly reports and derivatives to be even more exciting than the unexplored terrain of distant exoplanets.</i><br />
<i>Jimmy: Wow! Thanks, Mom!</i><br />
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</i><br />
All joking aside, here's a series of out-of-work astronaut photos (after the jump) by <a href="http://hunterfreeman.com/">Hunter Freeman</a> that will seriously make you want to dip your scrotum into a black hole. Unless the mass of your scrotum is <i>greater</i> than that of a black hole. Like mine. Then you're just out of luck.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSAVe_SKuSXupo65IzqFppN9HfSXH5sgyyDx5w3zyN8-w7lPKDGgQcDpTnv8n3dkFAxXgIVLPmCt-RuhujxIkiSIj3QxgtLq9HOcKITgVvYxaNsY9QFq5zdT8Mhs_zo4Y4XXFs_koNdg/s1600/astronauts-by-hunter-freeman-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSAVe_SKuSXupo65IzqFppN9HfSXH5sgyyDx5w3zyN8-w7lPKDGgQcDpTnv8n3dkFAxXgIVLPmCt-RuhujxIkiSIj3QxgtLq9HOcKITgVvYxaNsY9QFq5zdT8Mhs_zo4Y4XXFs_koNdg/s400/astronauts-by-hunter-freeman-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</i>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-88027449067675504112010-07-09T20:55:00.000-07:002010-07-09T20:55:22.622-07:00A Pale Blue DotProof that Carl Sagan is, basically, the standard bearer of human awesomeness:<br />
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</div><div>Yeah. What he said.</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-46281989059063408762010-07-09T10:23:00.000-07:002010-07-09T21:08:17.623-07:00New Species of Sex-Crazed Dinosaur Uncovered<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't imagine that the sex life of a dinosaur was ever very glamorous. Dino boning most likely included large amounts of bloodshed and irreparable habitat destruction ("Is that your horn or mine?!"). In other words, it was f***ing awesome. </span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Still, dry, scaly kneecaps and 4-ton piles of reptile shit probably aren't the most attractive attributes in the world...unless they are. In that case, I'm going to need a trash bag filled with Fiber One and a lot of matches. Anyway, it seems that dinosaurs were always coming up with interesting wardrobe choices to compensate for their monstrous appearance. Like this young lady:</span><br />
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</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOgdp43lIedztEU3LTuErfU1ybaUkleh2SQH7XTSVNE1FzpmoRoHKU7SVwZOhGfBYnsCN-Yv64HwdGPLP7aIxeFncNgcTRX3Z7syrlim74gcmPuRuUHS8o0zeD-ROpnyZdG0mh37PLIs/s1600/100708160935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOgdp43lIedztEU3LTuErfU1ybaUkleh2SQH7XTSVNE1FzpmoRoHKU7SVwZOhGfBYnsCN-Yv64HwdGPLP7aIxeFncNgcTRX3Z7syrlim74gcmPuRuUHS8o0zeD-ROpnyZdG0mh37PLIs/s400/100708160935.jpg" width="368" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The recently discovered <i>Mojoceratops.</i> (Full Article Can Be Found <a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/07/100708160935.htm">Here</a>) What a little hussy...</span></div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The dinosaur is one of more than a dozen species belonging to the chasmosaurine ceratopsid family, which are defined by elaborate frills on their skulls. A plant eater about the size of a hippopotamus, Mojoceratops appeared about 75 million years ago during the Late Cretaceous -- 10 million years earlier than its well-known cousin, the Triceratops. The species, which is related to another dinosaur in Texas, is found only in Canada's Alberta and Saskatchewan provinces and was short-lived, having survived for only about one million years.</span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess evolution doesn't give a shit if your head looks like a burlap zipper. Somebody better warn these creatures...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJpH0V6Rf4ywcJ0xAzdEuUEQBWUKZiAcOg2AjNzr9bpqpiLYcLta1vstlwbpriOpdf-1aR6qHFcKNSvLo6eBB4iHlp_yLBShcnyEK-KYHn972hotz6RgGY6_sTEiWclC1G95AnOmdp58/s1600/reindeer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJpH0V6Rf4ywcJ0xAzdEuUEQBWUKZiAcOg2AjNzr9bpqpiLYcLta1vstlwbpriOpdf-1aR6qHFcKNSvLo6eBB4iHlp_yLBShcnyEK-KYHn972hotz6RgGY6_sTEiWclC1G95AnOmdp58/s320/reindeer.jpg" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRerN8RfzJV9EwlwPoqn-o0qoLzKvA50c7-3lw4e11WNTqzzwgo19ZzaBuS0288GV86ypG8bsfaSzAPIaIwB2_IXM5ZEpJy0cyrp8paXCfPs2Z8LG83i0Rl83McgTAnyFgoiMRnVnR1Q/s1600/AMY_WINEHOUSE_BEEHIVE.0.0.0x0.341x461.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRerN8RfzJV9EwlwPoqn-o0qoLzKvA50c7-3lw4e11WNTqzzwgo19ZzaBuS0288GV86ypG8bsfaSzAPIaIwB2_IXM5ZEpJy0cyrp8paXCfPs2Z8LG83i0Rl83McgTAnyFgoiMRnVnR1Q/s320/AMY_WINEHOUSE_BEEHIVE.0.0.0x0.341x461.jpeg" /></a></div></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-29233832040859334222010-07-08T16:40:00.000-07:002010-07-08T16:40:39.573-07:00Minor Differences<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Education...<br />
<img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_440Qs_yvv_9OsE13k5DgyodKM-UOmfxspHT2RHNIkKdpSJaWCjPXqsrOY0TwyfhflSo_NNxohRh1osLA4FJxpTxRgVxO1ed_a2nOzZW7bGng_GjMl1jqkRA8cWXB9h6ods5Kbz3vRPE/s320/20_BnHover.jpg" width="320" /><br />
<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_440Qs_yvv_9OsE13k5DgyodKM-UOmfxspHT2RHNIkKdpSJaWCjPXqsrOY0TwyfhflSo_NNxohRh1osLA4FJxpTxRgVxO1ed_a2nOzZW7bGng_GjMl1jqkRA8cWXB9h6ods5Kbz3vRPE/s1600/20_BnHover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div><br />
Education...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfrskIqUQuUgaSelUkM7EopfjUO2lAIgNVYToDkQe7r1eB1AqfSn2kkDojmvuBBsv2n7Hdcf8wSsEza3UJNRQTAZsFZ_168sicl0LTPdXTY-biQNZxnr97bAJDtLeW1Sn5GGwfRUvZ7U/s1600/jihad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfrskIqUQuUgaSelUkM7EopfjUO2lAIgNVYToDkQe7r1eB1AqfSn2kkDojmvuBBsv2n7Hdcf8wSsEza3UJNRQTAZsFZ_168sicl0LTPdXTY-biQNZxnr97bAJDtLeW1Sn5GGwfRUvZ7U/s320/jihad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-69336653736039098222010-07-06T23:36:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:35:51.091-07:00Hawaiian Punch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo7nYd1khoeZqsyU2faiXa5MmZxJAmBMTR6W1sydxavPFaEfKmtoXYEiXeS19lhXIGQdr48A0f9QCqVxJpvPRf_hkLjW7M-2w-oqd1SpDx2xEl8BrEHq75en7wkZzJnOMjie-Ih4J-ms/s1600/lingle_zero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo7nYd1khoeZqsyU2faiXa5MmZxJAmBMTR6W1sydxavPFaEfKmtoXYEiXeS19lhXIGQdr48A0f9QCqVxJpvPRf_hkLjW7M-2w-oqd1SpDx2xEl8BrEHq75en7wkZzJnOMjie-Ih4J-ms/s320/lingle_zero.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is Linda Lingle. She is the governor of Hawaii. Here are a few fun facts about the "Aloha" state:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1.) Hawaii is actually America's southernmost state. (Take that, you loudmouthed Texans...and you sweaty Floridians).</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2.) Hawaii is the only state in the union that grows coffee.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3.) The centuries-old Hawaiian monarchy was overthrown by a rifle-wielding rabble of primarily white Christians led by Lorrin A. Thurston, the son of American missionaries. This coup was later deemed illegal by Grover Cleveland's administration, but no action was taken to reinstate the deposed leadership. It remained a non-self-governing U.S. territory with no voting rights until its incorporation in 1959.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4.) Hawaii has the second highest population density of Mormons in America, behind the great state of Utah, of course. Which brings me to number five.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5.) Hawaii is the latest state in the union to drop a pineapple-sized douce on the collective head of the homosexual community. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You see, the reptilian succubus pictured above decided that HB 444, a bill guaranteeing same-sex unions to gay couples, was not worth the dainty swish of her condor-feather pen. After "months of listening to Hawaii's citizens" and awaiting the bill's ultimately successful passage (through two legislative houses), Lingle decided that she would rather dip her veto stamp into her puppy blood ink vat and </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">slam</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> away!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Governor Lingle released a brief statement regarding her decision to veto HB 444 and, I must say, it is a work of monumental stupidity unrivaled in contemporary politics. Let's break it down! </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lingle says:</span></span></div><blockquote><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There has not been a bill I have contemplated more or an issue I have thought more deeply about during my nearly eight years as governor than HB 444 and the institution of marriage. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After listening to those both for and against HB 444 I have gained a new appreciation for just how deeply people of all ages and backgrounds feel on this matter, and how significantly they believe the issue will affect their lives. </span></span></div></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wow. Astounding. In her eight years as governor, Linda Lingle has not reflected on any issue </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">more deeply</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> than the sanctity of the institution of marriage. Really. Think about this statement. The governor of Hawaii is saying that no single issue has been more significant and transformative for the Hawaiian populace than allowing gay people to have legal partnership rights. Not the economic recession. Not one of our two military engagements abroad (fought by thousands of servicemen and women born and trained in the state itself). Not climate change. No, sir. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nothing</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> has had a greater impact on the governor of Hawaii than the thought of allowing a pair of scissor sisters to visit each other in the hospital. Well, at least this must mean she has gone through the gamut of opinions and perspectives on the subject:</span></span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Few could be unmoved by the poignant story told to me in my office by a young, Big Island man who recounted the journey he had taken to bring himself to tell his very traditional parents that he was gay. I was similarly touched by the mother who in the same office expressed anguish at the prospect of the public schools teaching her children that a same gender marriage was equivalent to their mother and father’s marriage.</span></span></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">First of all, the governor's writing style is like a grammatical Hiroshima. Second of all, let's take a look at just how absurd this constructed comparison is. On the one hand, you have a young man burdened with an entire lifetime of fear-induced denial and social alienation. Shamed into secrecy by the social retardation of religious traditionalists. On the other, you have a whiny PTA mom who doesn't want her obnoxious third grader growing up to think that men who like ascots are people, too. That would just be way beyond the pale. The ever-fragile, oft-defended family unit would implode and deteriorate as soon as Lance and Harvey became eligible for group insurance rates. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But wait. It gets better. This is my favorite part:</span></span><br />
<blockquote><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But in the end, it wasn’t the persuasiveness of public debates, the soundness of legal arguments, or the volume of letters and emails that convinced me to reach this decision. It was the depth of emotion felt by those on both sides of the issue...</span></span></div></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you're not shitting your denims in disbelief, then please, read it once more. This statement exemplifies every reason I have for disavowing the legitimacy of American politics. As the governor proudly proclaims, this monumental decision was made on the basis of pure, carnal, stupid </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">emotion</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. There is no place in the American political process for crazy things like sound legal arguments or public debates. Or even intelligent dialogue with constituents. No. The content of the debate is nothing more than a sideshow to its ferocity. In other words, it only matters how </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">loud</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> the argument is. Not whether it's worth having in the first place.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which, in all honesty, it isn't. If you're one of the fundamentalist holdouts against same-sex marriage, then do us all a favor and kick your own ass into the twenty-first century. Your entire argument is based on a Levitican concept of social justice that promotes graphic female oppression and mob executions. Those of you who take the alternate route and claim that homosexuals undermine the family unit...I just can't help you. If by undermining the family unit, you mean passionately extolling the virtues of togetherness and inviolable love in the face of epidemic divorce, soaring third-world birth rates, and rampant child abuse, then yes. They are. And thank your God they are. Additionally, as my good friend recently pointed out, more homosexual couples equals less babies. And less babies equals a longer future for humanity. So we all win! Besides, the Bible declares "</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman"</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. It doesn't say anything about orgiastic buttsex. And it </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">definitely</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> doesn't say anything about girl-on-girl. Ladies?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll end with this little tidbit. Linda Lingle's profound and humble affirmation of the will of the people over the will of the executive:</span></span><br />
<blockquote><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a decision that should not be made by one person sitting in her office or by members of the Majority Party behind closed doors in a legislative caucus, but by all the people of Hawaii behind the curtain of the voting booth.</span></span></div></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By suggesting that the people of Hawaii vote on a referendum concerning same-sex unions, the governor performed a master stroke. At first, it may not seem so bad. It may seem as though this was a good idea, after all. Maybe she just wanted to let her constituents vote for equal rights themselves. Not quite.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You see, as the governor herself pointed out, the battle for same-sex unions has been raging in Hawaii for nearly a decade. The first rumblings of legislative action on the matter materialized merely two years ago. Since that time, HB 444 has faced numerous procedural blocks including an insidious motion in January of this year to postpone arguments indefinitely. The bill succeeded due to the efforts of over 60,000 petitioners, several equal rights groups, and Hawaiian business organizations. However, this highlights the broad scale of challenges any possible referendum may face. After all of this, any motion to resurrect the bill or to draft a referendum would take patience and effort within the legislature. And we all know nothing terrifies a politician more than patience and effort.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A ballot-measure referendum would not just be a simple, legislative proposition (which is never simple, by the way). According to Hawaiian state law, it would have to be a constitutional amendment regarding the very definition of marriage. And, personally, I don't see a lot of hope for a constitutional marriage amendment in America's second-largest bastion of Mormonism.</span></span>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-85706908573950058952010-07-04T21:30:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:16:01.398-07:00Your Fireworks Suck<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yeah. That's right. It's </span></span><s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">an</span></span></s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> a U.S.S. Enterprise vinyl record player. It gave me a warp speed nerd boner that punched a wormhole in the universe. If you don't think it's awesome, then you're just a bad American. Not that you aren't already. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Communist. </span></span></i><br />
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<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP31dAZowf3xk9GoGBSNr5lrUTWsWbCgG3bCKmJRMT-aiZ2pMkhiutLh7pXcy0W-Pm7UKHHQLfrYGKSi7wOhpQ3faepJtpapp42nd7q1H51mbqkkjUUrOTQZVcOXdbERCO6UiJyNPSnDI/s1600/star-trek-enterprise-record-player_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP31dAZowf3xk9GoGBSNr5lrUTWsWbCgG3bCKmJRMT-aiZ2pMkhiutLh7pXcy0W-Pm7UKHHQLfrYGKSi7wOhpQ3faepJtpapp42nd7q1H51mbqkkjUUrOTQZVcOXdbERCO6UiJyNPSnDI/s320/star-trek-enterprise-record-player_01.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnCAvnLpA5G-CEZipd8pzQhyOwZSJdiSX5i5T80vG9ZqXu0LEgDjN9ezgv01H9rF2xJBfSLVEGICq9N9OYlFUCxBhnfJ4ciIJu3l10tV3ECQRYn3IYso3WOAQ3x4M2BrxtRodij_N-z0/s1600/star-trek-enterprise-record-player_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnCAvnLpA5G-CEZipd8pzQhyOwZSJdiSX5i5T80vG9ZqXu0LEgDjN9ezgv01H9rF2xJBfSLVEGICq9N9OYlFUCxBhnfJ4ciIJu3l10tV3ECQRYn3IYso3WOAQ3x4M2BrxtRodij_N-z0/s320/star-trek-enterprise-record-player_02.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Source: <a href="http://www.gearfuse.com/star-trek-enterprise-record-player/">Gearfuse</a></div></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-7409521991813371992010-06-30T12:34:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:36:18.359-07:00The Sky IS Falling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/special-effects-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/special-effects-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I used to think the only way to simultaneously resolve humanity's superficial conflicts and eradicate harmful dogmas was through some kind of global catastrophe a la Watchmen or Independence Day. After all, if an alien invasion could lead to the undeniable chemistry of Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum, then it would certainly bring our self-destructive rampage to an end. We would destroy the invader menace with our DOS viruses, our allergies, and our ability to zero in on the one, absurdly fatal flaw that results in their fiery downfall. Then the feeling of human togetherness would be so profound that it would manifest itself in all the world's continents orgastically humping the shit out of each other. In the meantime, religious zealots the world over would begin to understand their relative insignificance in the cosmos. The presence of a hyper-advanced extraterrestrial war machine would undoubtedly disprove many, if not all of the tenets of the world's most heinously geo/egocentric religions. After some careful thought, however, I'm no longer so quick to plant the seeds of flower power.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a name='more'></a><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I started to consider the vast numbers of lives snuffed out by our own hands. In the few centuries since the dawn of "civilized" man, we have racked up a death toll that would give any alien species a run for its money. One hundred million to conquest and genocide here. Sixty million to the slave-trade there. Oh, oh! And how about another forty million to totalitarian-induced famine? All within the span of two centuries?! Hot damn. That's some serious shit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In his book Bilions and Billions, Carl Sagan noted how far humanity has come in its development of projectile weaponry. "From Gettysburg to the blockbuster, a thousand times more explosive energy; from the blockbuster to the atomic bomb, a thousand times more; and from the atomic bomb to the hydrogen bomb, a thousand times still more...in less than a century, our most fearful weapon has become a billion times more deadly" (233). It's really a staggering accomplishment. I would venture to guess that, in the cosmic scheme, mankind is a weird-as-hell sadomasochist who walks around with electrified nipple clamps under his mesh leotard. We don't need someone to come down here and fuck us in the nose because, quite simply, we're way too good at fucking ourselves. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know there are a lot of people out there who feel now how I once felt. We'll just sit back and wait for some great calamity from beyond the sky to befall our species and we'll all come out the other side best of friends. We'll use our collective brainpower to overcome the greatest threat to our survival. We'll set aside our petty, territorial conflicts in order to defend ourselves against a villain of immense destructive power. We'll soar to new heights of global cooperation, bound together by our universal fear of annihilation. Call it what you want. The Second Coming, Armageddon, the Zombie-pocalypse. It doesn't matter. They all promote the same basic idea. Bad guy come. Human team up. Human win bad guy. Human happy forever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This will never happen. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How do I know this? Because we have already witnessed many great calamities. We have already confronted the greatest threat to our survival. We have already come face to face with the ever-looming threat of total annihilation. We did, after all, make each and every one of these things possible. We can literally destroy the surface of our planet with our combined "nuclear strength". We have created the instruments necessary to initiate the apocalypse at any ticking second. We can "drop the bomb" and ensure the bitter end of our incredible existence on this tiny, insignificant speck of matter. So, sure. We'll continue going down this road. Like a bunch of sugar-mad six year olds who don't know how to share the coolest fucking playground in the observable universe. We'll just keep coming up with more and more reasons to kill each other. More and more reasons to unleash hell on our fellow men. And then, one day, somebody will.</span></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-37361703481124297552010-06-15T14:14:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:36:48.644-07:00An Argument Against Reproduction<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.babywigs.co.uk/acatalog/bobmed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://www.babywigs.co.uk/acatalog/bobmed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div>Let's talk about spawning. We can all safely declare that being obsessively fanatical about any one thing is no bueno. It makes people carry out all sorts of crazy shenanigans. Like burning witches. Or blowing themselves up. And if there is one thing that makes a human being more insane with emotion than the ever-looming specter of Cloud-man, it's an itty-bitty baby. These bundles of chub seriously make people all kinds of batshit. No. That harmless flying mammal doesn't do justice to the magnitude of crazy people under the influence of baby really are. It's more like pterodactylshit. Dragonshit, even.<br />
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</div><div>It seems like there are babies everywhere these days. I can't scroll through more than two Facebook feeds without being bombarded by Jane Whatsit's 463 new baby photos or Jill Whosit's incessant updates about her prodigy's first solid crap. The proof of the crazy is truly in the pictures, as they say. The majority of them end up looking like they were shot from the inside of a dishwasher. And those that do have any semblance of clarity are just the same damn picture again and again. "Oh, look! His lip is kind of curling, I think. Take a picture! LOOK AT WHAT HE'S DOING WITH HIS HANDS!!!! ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT? <i>IT'S FUCKING SPIRITUAL!!" </i>And they never, ever stop. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Think I'm exaggerating? Let's see what happens when I google "baby photos". What do we find? About 617,000,000 results (0.27 seconds). That may not seem all that bizarre. Until I compare that to the number of results for other popular searches. Here's a few:</div><div><br />
</div><div>Barack Obama: About 69,700,000 results (0.18 seconds)</div><div>Osama bin Laden: About 8,170,000 results (0.20 seconds)</div><div>Porn: About 288,000,000 results (0.17 seconds) </div><div>Jesus: About 208,000,000 results (0.17 seconds)</div><div>Twilight: About 119,000,000 results (0.17 seconds)</div><div>Penis Enlargement: About 4,060,000 results (0.18 seconds) </div><div>Miley Cyrus: About 51,700,000 results (0.15 seconds) </div><div>Beer: About 135,000,000 results (0.20 seconds) </div><div>Football: About 334,000,000 results (0.20 seconds)</div><div>Shoes: About 361,000,000 results (0.17 seconds)</div><div><br />
First of all, let us simply disregard the fact that shoes are more culturally relevant than the first black president of the United States. Or the world's most notorious terrorist. Or even Porn. PUT TOGETHER. Let us simply explore the topic at hand. As our trusty search engine proves, people are infected with infantitis. I guess we can blame evolution for our ravenous obsession with the baby menace. After all, a species cannot endure without bearing placenta-covered fruit. If we didn't love our babies like we love our shoes, we would simply die out. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But now, things are different. There are seven billion of us, with that number climbing faster than a sherpa on coke. Aside from our staggering population density, we are also highly proficient self-regulators. We no longer have to desperately launch babies out of our cooches in order to ensure the survival of our species. We, unlike the majority of our animal brethren (and sistren), enjoy the many spoils of forethought, anatomical knowledge, and self-awareness. What does this mean? Well, for one, it means we know that blasting a dook in a sanitary receptacle is more beneficial to our health than simply letting it spill out of our collective anus. We know what kills/hurts/impairs us. And it really isn't all that complicated. </div><div><br />
</div><div>People are generally shocked by my reluctance to have children. When I tell them I would rather shove scalding coals into my nostrils than bring a child into this world, they always respond the same way. "What? Why don't you want kids?" they ask, as if addressing some kind of mindless wretch. I simply have to ask in return, "Why do you <i>want</i> kids?" The majority of people don't even consider the reasons why not (and they are many). While trying to find out the average cost of raising a child from age 0-18 (about $217,000, not including college tuition, princess's wedding, and other traditional costs), I decided it would be interesting to read through the comments section of one referential site. Let's listen in!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Mrs. Robinson says: "My boyfriend really wants to have a baby and I wouldn't mind giving him one. The only problem is that there are so many things to think about."</div><div>Patrice says: "I really want to have a baby next year when I'll be 20 but I'm, of course, very scared about expenses because I'm also financing my college, rent, etc. I feel that I can do it and I want to be a mother so bad!!!!!"</div><div>Unknown! says: "The cost of a baby should NOT matter... having the love for your baby is PRICELESS!!!!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>All profoundly valid reasons for the continuation of our species. Donating a baby to your man. Experiencing primal, thought-free affection. And doing it just because you want it soooooo BAADDDD!!!!!! Truly the peak of evolution.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.skeptic.com/eskeptic/09-01-28images/chimp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="http://www.skeptic.com/eskeptic/09-01-28images/chimp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As harsh as it sounds, there's really nothing special about having a child. It's just a biologically common process of gestation. Similar in almost every way to that of our noble cousin pictured above. I'm not anti-baby, by any means. I have an adorable nephew with two loving parents who, astonishingly, know better than to publish the intimate details of his every diapy change or upchuck. They keep it simple. Keep him safe. Keep him healthy. Keep him happy. Three essential ingredients for a blossoming human. It doesn't need to be a triumphant struggle of mythic proportions for the entire world to behold, because it isn't. The world keeps spinning with or without little Junior stomping around on it. Babies come by the billions. They're practically currency. They're cute. But they're not magic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not asking for an end to all baby-making, either. We do have to continue on somehow. But slow it down, people. I know the the major religions instruct us to treat the female sex like human pez dispensers, but maybe that isn't the <em>smartest</em> idea in the world. The world isn't big enough for seven billion more. Hell, it might not be big enough for seven more. All I'm saying is that the human species is only as strong its greatest minds, so maybe its time for the people without one to graciously step aside. For the children!</div></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-68764360531250899362010-03-04T23:59:00.001-08:002010-07-08T18:34:38.497-07:00Wowzers!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/1125/godcomicpk0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/1125/godcomicpk0.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>Now, I'm not the most spiritual person in the world. On a scale of one to ten on the Christianiometer (one being a slab of ham and ten being that crazy bitch from <em>Jesus Camp)</em>, I'm probably just below an uncolonized tribesman. Nonetheless, I would like to share a bible passage I stumbled across this morning.<br />
It's profound resonance is only outmatched by its sheer, earth-shattering insanity.<br />
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<em>1 Kings 20:35-36 (King James Version)<br />
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35 And a certain man of the sons of the prophets said unto his neighbour in the word of the LORD, Smite me, I pray thee. And the man refused to smite him.<br />
36 Then said he unto him, Because thou hast not obeyed the voice of the LORD, behold, as soon as thou art departed from me, a lion shall slay thee. And as soon as he was departed from him, a lion found him, and slew him.</em><br />
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Let's parse this passage together, shall we? I shall attempt to translate this excerpt into our contemporary lingo:<br />
<br />
<em>Somewhere in the Old Testament (The British One)</em><br />
<em>35 And then some random fortune-teller's kid told his neighbor to stab him in the face because God said so. And the man was all like, "WTF, no."</em><br />
<em>36 So then the kid was like, "You should have rammed this knife into my brain. Now God's gonna sick a lion on you. And the guy was like, "A lion?" And the kid looked him square in the face and said, "Yeah. A lion." The kid left after a moment of awkward silence. Sure enough, a lion totally fuckin' destroyed his neighbor. True story.</em><br />
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There are three morals to be taken from this outstanding excerpt. One, don't ever answer your door. I understand it's Girl Scout Cookie season, but a Samoa is <em>not</em> worth the risk of having your face nommed by a seven-hundred pound jungle cat. Two,<em> </em>God has the power to summon animals at will. He's like the Beastmaster. Only he kills people with ravenous creatures for no apparent reason. Three...I thought I would have one more by the time I got to three. But I don't. Goodnight.Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-75383467704148256122009-12-18T09:51:00.000-08:002010-07-08T18:37:58.819-07:00My Grown-up Christmas List<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.interklasa.pl/portal/dokumenty/ue005/mik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.interklasa.pl/portal/dokumenty/ue005/mik.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dearest Santa Claus,</span><br />
<div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The season of bright lights, fragrant pines, and yuletide (whatever the hell that means) is upon us. Yet, this year, it seems that Christmas cheer is not impervious to the bloody talons of the economic downturn. The lights have been dimmed, the pines are no longer fragrant, and the yuletide is receding (it's an ocean thing, right?). And we, the American people, have a right to know what the hell you are going to do about it. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, don't you fret, Mr. Claus. I am not the aggressor. I simply wish to warn you of the impending carnage that will envelope the globe should you fail us this Christmas. With that in mind, I have some ideas that may be of interest to you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1.) Asimos for every man, woman, and child in America. We all deserve a subservient population of android underlings and you are just the man to make it so. If you do this, Christmas merriment will be shooting out of our assholes.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2.) Rebranding. I'm talking a drastic image overhaul. iPods are flying off the shelves, people are reading Hawthorne on their Blackberries, and everything worth owning looks thinner than Calista Flockhart. We need to streamline, your saintliness. We're going to lose the reindeer. From now on, we're going hands free. The Pentagon's been looking to test some prototype drones, and a massive, internationally directed cargo drop operation might be just the thing to catch someone's ear at the D.O.D. Failing that, we'll modernize by installing a sleek, modern navigation system. We'll work out a prelim deal with Garmin. See how much mileage we can get out of some ad space on the sleigh. Also, we're ditching the suit, boss. The expensive fur and gaudy colors are turning off your middle class demographic. Starting today, we're upgrading to a NASCAR-style jumpsuit (ad space).</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3.) Overthrow a regime/dictator.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4.) Viral video. Successful formulae for people of the obese persuasion: lightsaber practice, eastern European lip-synching, singing glorious renditions of Andrew Lloyd Weber/Pavarotti selections, etc. Bonus points if you can somehow add a hamster on a rocket car.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5.) MMORPG. Santa Claus </span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">could</span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">use</span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> his own MMORPG.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">6.) Capture Osama bin Laden. Could score us some points with the D.O.D.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7.) Reality show. With the Gosselins out of the picture, the American public is yearning for a serialized version of real life on which to feast like desperate hyenas. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mr. Claus, my only Christmas wish is that you read this letter and find salvation in my strategic prowess. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With Holiday Love and Cheer,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Michael</span></span></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-67540440531176591812009-11-21T19:48:00.000-08:002010-07-08T18:39:15.572-07:00The End of All Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/2000000/Edward-Cullen-twilight-series-2092842-443-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/2000000/Edward-Cullen-twilight-series-2092842-443-500.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like the barbarian hordes of yore, the Twilight fanatics (I shan't be caught dead referring to them as 'twi-hards') unleashed their fury upon the film world. Proving once and for all that no amount of boy wizardry or man bat-tery can defend against tween mormonry, New Moon demolished the largest opening day gross record previously set by The Dark Knight. 72.7 million dollars. In a single day. Take note, Republican party. The way to America's hearts and minds: pasty-faced, fog-dwelling Northwesterners with a penchant for fanatical sexism and hints of emotional immaturity...Oh, wait...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The one positive note that can come of this: the end of "OMG >>>NEW MOON TONITE!!"/"gettin drank with my ladies then off 2 see my babe, edward" updates on Facebook. Thursday evening proved to me how disgusting my social networking habit has become. Signing on to Facebook was kind of like sifting through wet garbage to grab that half eaten peanut butter cup under the coffee filter (mocha-licious!). Except in this case, the peanut butter cup tasted really annoying, so it wasn't worth it in the first place. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seriously though, people. Can we, the same men and women who witnessed the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Matrix trilogy, the Star Wars trilogy, the Harry Potter series and, to a lesser extent, the Home Alone trilogy, allow ourselves to fall victim to this masturbatory depiction of Christianly "romance"? Are we really so hopeless as that? Let me just share with you the first sentence of Stephanie Meyer's enchanting opus: "I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming." Well, now. Willy Shackspear hisself could not have writ a beautifuller sentence for my eyes to behold. If I had but forty-six point three percent of her writing prowess...but nay! Dreamers are fools.</span></span>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-11189365764789097222009-10-20T02:23:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:40:06.512-07:00Moosetober<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDsaJNiWsCOKJdRvl3zemAWhnFmrgxqOgsdCFpc3Rrb2kkFhZxw3Zs6IQCRRRD2UEtVXBZ-dweFCXTXonBLj-pPYCmwFZN5KavyKDPVa5VTCwVlhsXuihZ1mLtrHjsd3dfF95eBnzNmw/s1600-h/5873fea0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDsaJNiWsCOKJdRvl3zemAWhnFmrgxqOgsdCFpc3Rrb2kkFhZxw3Zs6IQCRRRD2UEtVXBZ-dweFCXTXonBLj-pPYCmwFZN5KavyKDPVa5VTCwVlhsXuihZ1mLtrHjsd3dfF95eBnzNmw/s320/5873fea0.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am currently soliciting donations for the "Get Michael a Taxidermy Moose Head Foundation." The particular moose head being sought by the organization can be found </span><a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/Huge-MOOSE-mount-taxidermy-1300-lb-moose-over-50-W-rack_W0QQitemZ250513393810QQcmdZViewItemQQptZLH_DefaultDomain_0?hash=item3a53c30892#ht_500wt_1182"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. Please send all charitable givings to my home address. I also accept Paypal. With your help, we can all take one giant step towards a better and brighter future. A future populated with massive monuments of mooserific majesty. Do the right thing. Love can change the world. And so on.</span>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-23867168806885826252009-10-14T11:46:00.000-07:002010-07-08T18:40:46.214-07:00Globtober<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G8HKMTFFSFpVgioHi1_DrQGkfd2Qnd4P9qgsCy-me9WAhJN4fD6VCnMux-GKoxfBLU_Ew8XndkX2SpfnaBhejugcM68o2m5mY_dKKHgcZ4-oklLw00h0vpYdiC-aZYMScgkaQ4SkQCM/s1600-h/globalwarming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G8HKMTFFSFpVgioHi1_DrQGkfd2Qnd4P9qgsCy-me9WAhJN4fD6VCnMux-GKoxfBLU_Ew8XndkX2SpfnaBhejugcM68o2m5mY_dKKHgcZ4-oklLw00h0vpYdiC-aZYMScgkaQ4SkQCM/s320/globalwarming.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I get extremely annoyed when people use the day's weather as proof against global warming. If the daily temperature is even slightly lower than normal, some people will insist that the liberal conspirators are out to steal their F-150's and turn them into gay orgy vehicles. I can't tell you how many times I have heard the phrase, "So much for global warming" on those frostier days. The boldfaced idiocy of these people truly astounds me. Even in the wake of an epic dry spell, people still declare the nonexistence of global warming. To them, rain = Jesus bitch slapping Al Gore for being so full of shit. I'd like to display a diagram of sorts. I call it, "The Scientific Method of the Orange County Housewife".</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Ask A Question: Is global warming bullplop?</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. Do Background Research: ...?</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. Construct Hypothesis: Global warming is horse manure.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4. Test with an Experiment: Go outside.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5. Analyze Results: It was sprinkling. And there were clouds. COLD. Everywhere cold.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">6. Verify Hypothesis: It was chilly out. Therefore, global warming is false.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Science is truly a complex and mysterious power.</span></div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-12120619443670924872009-10-05T12:03:00.000-07:002009-10-05T12:04:31.631-07:00Dogtober.For your viewing pleasure: a collection of sad dogs in stupid costumes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmm839UjjgYsMrxjZg3hZ4iphuvaObD3g-PIuGlIQWEh4IFxmORE7danputdYB70Co50ST5GVviKmZa5WZvqhPye72snoPkHWzP3SwBp9PMBC5GBAR80g9wl4ebKrHQku5oKe7u5HXPhY/s1600-h/JKK12825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmm839UjjgYsMrxjZg3hZ4iphuvaObD3g-PIuGlIQWEh4IFxmORE7danputdYB70Co50ST5GVviKmZa5WZvqhPye72snoPkHWzP3SwBp9PMBC5GBAR80g9wl4ebKrHQku5oKe7u5HXPhY/s200/JKK12825.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KgS2ThtUdX6iRXHcw6TG-ihwMQZMdEUagVUmyXoBYsCCY6Hy8EPaAIqYHSRH4ndpaMMIJdb1GEMlglH9fbXOjdcabT0JOq_IbF-cmntoU3fmPv7lc3BwkXf1GaRIjBRe8bhqL0X78V4/s1600-h/LIL+BANDITO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KgS2ThtUdX6iRXHcw6TG-ihwMQZMdEUagVUmyXoBYsCCY6Hy8EPaAIqYHSRH4ndpaMMIJdb1GEMlglH9fbXOjdcabT0JOq_IbF-cmntoU3fmPv7lc3BwkXf1GaRIjBRe8bhqL0X78V4/s320/LIL+BANDITO.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38_jUiWve0dbWdrgUuv3WZRh0JXo9HsHK0s-5z49VC_wFwCAM6rkTyh5eU8MCwQANarqvg7L2yq_kt4jhfNR-uLyPzf1BZyfkaIqhxSDRUj1PSPkx2VeCG30qrbbHIGDVAy45RLZ569c/s1600-h/PM6859573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38_jUiWve0dbWdrgUuv3WZRh0JXo9HsHK0s-5z49VC_wFwCAM6rkTyh5eU8MCwQANarqvg7L2yq_kt4jhfNR-uLyPzf1BZyfkaIqhxSDRUj1PSPkx2VeCG30qrbbHIGDVAy45RLZ569c/s320/PM6859573.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvqYAOjfwFCGo1klaQJl9OZoibGxAR1zXywaF_Ka27xrRfeAjv283E9LkkHRaRo_ROF3HngT8en7H1b1PcJYXEc1DqRhy52JlGY6nsGprTf4TQKXAMD3bRF9ym8_T_uo-2Un-i7_lrOs/s1600-h/pp0129-BUNNY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvqYAOjfwFCGo1klaQJl9OZoibGxAR1zXywaF_Ka27xrRfeAjv283E9LkkHRaRo_ROF3HngT8en7H1b1PcJYXEc1DqRhy52JlGY6nsGprTf4TQKXAMD3bRF9ym8_T_uo-2Un-i7_lrOs/s320/pp0129-BUNNY.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewlZCeDZIOXfdUmmS99s070-1ck8M7U5mzCQHH2Lo_U1HEh5fcu25mUNV6ZynYqMU76x_0dcZZnADtdPMTE58cBPeR2omt4qbWmlMc-v7uK7SZ4zDc6xSTCGm65U150y9Edr_N-Nc-Gg/s1600-h/RU885909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewlZCeDZIOXfdUmmS99s070-1ck8M7U5mzCQHH2Lo_U1HEh5fcu25mUNV6ZynYqMU76x_0dcZZnADtdPMTE58cBPeR2omt4qbWmlMc-v7uK7SZ4zDc6xSTCGm65U150y9Edr_N-Nc-Gg/s320/RU885909.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9iXR9Oz6yZ4caHOD83SAe8jAx8dmeNylWnL5eiG0WpRPVfQQZ_tFHHP6xLucBPrMJQr-X_eNSoIbZbwVtjzNhJeuJsLM2qC3uQ0zCwIsbgLrU-fYpfN1dP8TJZeFeijDeSEvSgwJQqw/s1600-h/astrodog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9iXR9Oz6yZ4caHOD83SAe8jAx8dmeNylWnL5eiG0WpRPVfQQZ_tFHHP6xLucBPrMJQr-X_eNSoIbZbwVtjzNhJeuJsLM2qC3uQ0zCwIsbgLrU-fYpfN1dP8TJZeFeijDeSEvSgwJQqw/s320/astrodog.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0q1aw1jItsDILTbLPkgTsNe_Ua1UeQqGKJqAtgLpQgfasq4SxavQ0cBqdXqa6-DSPhq2KyH7iuXiCK6DvcBeJScXl4N28YARv86H0MTFD3rXxkIQ0ypYxEuQAT-C0KuT1qIDJYDOM8Wg/s1600-h/ru50101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0q1aw1jItsDILTbLPkgTsNe_Ua1UeQqGKJqAtgLpQgfasq4SxavQ0cBqdXqa6-DSPhq2KyH7iuXiCK6DvcBeJScXl4N28YARv86H0MTFD3rXxkIQ0ypYxEuQAT-C0KuT1qIDJYDOM8Wg/s320/ru50101.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4k1ZMwRANFE1mD_asGDn9wMm4XA8onVv1E7R6Zo9Msk9UnSExxpPRlRSBmWIo0_gLai7fUuRc6z8ilaMXl2d5FVkcfk6obMlF9DNL1p5aczlfLAW2h7JqD0k4vsj6977MrliYwQgS1SA/s1600-h/la21055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4k1ZMwRANFE1mD_asGDn9wMm4XA8onVv1E7R6Zo9Msk9UnSExxpPRlRSBmWIo0_gLai7fUuRc6z8ilaMXl2d5FVkcfk6obMlF9DNL1p5aczlfLAW2h7JqD0k4vsj6977MrliYwQgS1SA/s320/la21055.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9iXR9Oz6yZ4caHOD83SAe8jAx8dmeNylWnL5eiG0WpRPVfQQZ_tFHHP6xLucBPrMJQr-X_eNSoIbZbwVtjzNhJeuJsLM2qC3uQ0zCwIsbgLrU-fYpfN1dP8TJZeFeijDeSEvSgwJQqw/s1600-h/astrodog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603513773522880185.post-47430463638835484842009-10-02T02:48:00.000-07:002009-10-02T02:48:55.655-07:00Choctober.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rlapl.org/kids/docs/2009/07/dog_with_ice_cream_cone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.rlapl.org/kids/docs/2009/07/dog_with_ice_cream_cone.jpg" width="178" /></a><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Ben and Jerry Flavor Ideas (Patent Pending...)<div><br />
</div><div>- Romeorange Julius</div><div>- Haley Joel Osmint</div><div>- Choco Ono</div><div>- Che Guava-ra</div><div>- Caramel San Diego</div><div>- Cantaloprah</div><div>- Dwight D. Piesenhower</div><div>- W.E.B. DuBoysenberry</div><div>- Sugarcane Katrina</div><div>- Juicifer</div><div>- Coffee Anan</div>Mike Ailshiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277807619807023483noreply@blogger.com2