Three milligrams of blogging, stat!

Walking into the emergency room, I shook my head and sighed.

"I'd be better off dying after seeing the end of Battlestar Galactica," I thought. Immeadiately following that thought was another. "What, that's going to be your last thought? Or this is? Damn it, think of something good."

But that's jumping into the story in the middle. And as much as I love Tarantino, I think it's better to explain exactly what happened first. (Also, I once wrote a really scathing paper on Faulker's disjointed chronology in A Rose for Emily* and we all know my stance on hypocrisy. I'm against it. For everyone else.)

It was Friday night and after a lovely few hours destroying that which threatens the fair citizens of the Alliance, and I decided that catching up on The Office/BSG that I had downloaded from iTunes would be a lovely way to cap off the night. And it would have.

But it was not to be. All of a sudden my heart felt like it was trying to kick its way out of my chest. Then, more alarmingly, it felt like it decided take a nap after the failed escape attempt. I jumped out of my chair and flipped the eff out. But I recovered (kind of) and allowed myself to be distracted by some more well-written sci-fi escapism.

...Until the second one. Just as strong, this time accompanied with the unnerving sensation of dizzyness and a slight (imagined?) numbness to the left side. I was convinced that I was going to die, and to be honest I was kind of pissed off about it. Here I was just enjoying my show...

Anyway I got my girlfriend to give me a ride and that about catches you up. I mosey'd on in. They hooked me up to an EKG, asked me repeatedly what street drugs I'm on (just Horse), and had me recount what I'd eaten and drunk that day. As it turned out, I'd had a lot of caffine. I never really thought about it as I was consuming it, but the ridiculously large latte, the tea, and the soda I'd had amounted to quite a lot. Coupled with a few hours of inactivity and a pretty vicious cold, I had a recipe for an unsatisfied heart. (I now believe that he was just taking his frusteration out on my ribs.)

So I ask you this, Yes. If the owner of a lonely heart is much better than the owner of a broken heart, how does that compare to the owner of a fitfully palpitating heart? I like to think it's the best of the lot.

- Scott

P.S. Don't worry, I'm fine. I was just overworked/needed rest/third generic "you're not really sick" doctor advice. And lay off the caffine... blah blah blah.

*I chose this angle because the teacher in question went on and on about how great it was. I proved, convincingly that it wasn't. It was my highest grade on a paper in that class (99/100).

I'd rather blog, I'd rather blog than do my work...

Vincent: I've got a threshold, Jules, I've got a threshold for the abuse that I'll take and right now I'm a racecar, man, and you got me in the red. I'm just saying, I'm just saying it's fucking dangerous to have a racecar in the fucking red, that's all. I might blow.

Jules: Oh, you ready to blow? Well I'm a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker! Everytime my fingers touch brain I'm Superfly TNT, I'm the Guns of the Navarone. In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You're the motherfucker who should be on brain detail! We're fucking switching, I'm washing the windows and you're picking up this nigger's skull.

As it happens, I describe myself as a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker once or twice a day anyway, but at the moment the lines of dialogue apply in their more literal senses. I know I've mentioned it before. But frankly, it's just as true now, if not moreso, than the last time I posted. As a result, I want to blow everything off. And in the spirit of interpretive dance (and song*), here's a video that tells my story.

I'm the dude in the red. At the beginning (which for me, is now) he's in Journalism Graduate school. He's awesome, but unappreciated. At the end, he mocks the shortsighted fools who attempted to impose their arbitrary, rigid style on him.

Annd... cue film.



- Scott

* the song, incidentally, is one of my favorites ever.

Overheard in New York

I have always loved Overheard. It's the kind of project I wish I had started. Unfortunately Overheard in Jerseyville would be a mix of hog feed prices, subtle racism, and discussion about the economy of the community being bolstered by meth production. Which actually sounds like a decent topic the way I just presented...

But that's neither here nor there. What I've always liked best about Overheard in New York is not the quotes, funny though they may be. No, it's the descriptions of the people talking. You see alot of "Jewess" or "Thug Teen" but occasionally they get more elaborate. And I love it.

So in the spirit of Overheard in New York (and considering the awesomely good news at the bottom of this post which you should definitely read), I humbly present quotes from some of my favorite blogs that are Overhear-able, along with the title Overheard title of the person in question (based solely on the quote in question).
--------------------------------------

Impossibly pretentious indie music-snob:There are shades of Queen all over the album and I think you're crazy for not hearing it.

Impossibly pretentious indie music-snob: For heaven's sake, the title track is essentially "Killer Queen" with a pared-down "Bohemian" structure, only if Freddie Mercury were from Arizona.
--------------------------------------

Ranting sage... who might be on to something: What if the government grew weed, and paid hippies in weed to do various tasks. Its like a self replicating currency... and Hippies will do ANYTHING for weed. No more hazzard pay for those jobs no one wants: Hippies will do it. You want a housekeeper? Contract one from a government Hippie-Aid company, you pay the government a quarter what you normally would pay someone, and that will translate into top quality pot for the Hippy. Its a sure thing... almost as good as monkey butlers.
---------------------------------------

Dichotomous Emo Kid: After a lot of drinking and sobbing incoherently about nothing in particular, I've decided that life is too short for hang-ups. From now on, I'm going to care even less about what you fuckers think about me. I'm that independent. Granted, I'll still care about what you think in general. But goddamn it, I've grown too soft, worrying about if I'm held in high regard by certain people. No more! You're all swine, figuratively! But I still love you!
---------------------------------------

Animal lover: I woke up this morning to one whiny puppy and one grouchy husband. The two are not mutually exclusive as many a woman wishes.
---------------------------------------

But why post this now Scott?: The reason I do this is simple: I've finally acheived a small measure of immortality with a quote on the actual OHNY blog. Check it out here.

Interestingly, avid readers of the Wonder Blog might surmise who the two attractive nerds in question actually are. But I leave the comments open to speculation.

- Scott

A rebuke.

Damn you football. I always think that there's some medieval epic on TV in the other room when I hear your soaring, brass heavy, themes. And there never is. Just football. The laziest sport of them all. Two minutes of setup for thirty seconds of action, followed by two assholes describing ad nasuem what just happened, statistics, and the last 30 years of the sport while we wait for them to set it back up for another thirty seconds.

From now on, when I hear a strong, brass heavy, theme there had damned well better be something to do with swords going on. And the undead. In fact, it had better be Army of Darkness. Do you hear me Fox network? DO YOU?!

- Scott

Five Easy Postings

It's that time of the week when I've got some 'splaining to do. The new Top 5/Bottom 5 is up, not to mention a new Crush o' the Week, so I'd better get to it.

Top Five:

1. If you're within 500 miles of Basil Thai, I command you to go there and have the Peanut Sauce Lover entree. It's fantastic and so damned filling I had it for lunch and skipped dinner.
   
2. I don't know if you get down like this... but combining South Park and World of Warcraft is the best idea since antiseptics (thank you Donnie Darko). You can watch the full episode here. I don't know why, but on some level it bothers me that there are a huge number of people who would be confused by this episode. Or who don't know what an MMORPG is. Or who don't realize that there are people exactly like this, and that I've fought with them on the planes of Karana.
   
3. I wish I were making this up. I doubly wish that it wasn't a Fox News article. But apparently the Muslim world has created knock-off versions of western products like Coca-Cola (Mecca-Cola), Burger King (Beurger-King), and Fulla (Burkha Barbie). They're wonderful parodies, a shame they're real.
   
4. That's right people. A Dark Crystal sequel. I know, it might be a bastardization, but I'm going to see it regardless, so I might as well be excited.
   
5. As lothe as I am to use the term steam-punk, it definitely applies and this laptop looks so good I don't really mind. As a bonus it's actually a functioning laptop.
   

Bottom Five:

1. The title pretty much sums it up.
   
2. Once again, the title says it all. But I will say that this is yet another tiny incremental step toward a frightening future. But if things really do get that bad, I'll at least be able to be a "people's champion" style bandit. So I'll have that consolation.
   
3. This should have been on the Top Five, but it represents a negative concept (and I filled out the Top Five pretty quickly this week) so it's on the bottom. But watch it. It's hilarious.
   
4. This man is banning Fahrenheit 451. Worse, I'm sure the irony is absolutely lost on him as he's never read it.
   
5. Bush might be the most strategicly stupid human being in the world. His allegedly unintentional inability to speak gives him two advantages. One: it gives his spin people time to work and the opportunity to say "Oh the president misspoke, what he meant was..." And two: he never has to commit to anything. He has the built-in excuse of being flustered or vague. His position is always revisible. Another bonus: he can pretend to be a man of the people, not some intellectual like the Dem's.

And that's the Top/Bottom Five.

- Scott

Mo' bloggin'.

I was recently standing in front of one of my largest classes defending a title I put on an infographic that said "Mo' Freshmen." The professor warned that it may be considered offensive. Bah. I went on "But it's true, there are mo' freshmen!" I (pretend to) have no idea where that man is coming from sometimes.

Anway the "mo'" in my title doesn't refer to more, but to mobile. I haven't updated my Moblog in what seems like ages. I haven't completed the photodump from my phone to my computer because I suspect that my phone is a USB 1.1 connection, or a USB 2.0 running at Full Speed rather than High Speed. To translate from Nerd: the transfer is painfully slow.

But in the past three(ish) days I've snapped three pictures that I think warrant posting. Without further tapdancing:

I'm everywhere*. The one in the back has my shirt on. Well, not my shirt. But one I own. We're also sporting the very trendy "I'm afraid to get my hair cut" do. Which led to an odd moment of walking through Borders and having my girlfriend point out that it looks like I'm on the cover of a Gay Men's magazine (not that I don't have the body for it).


"Absolut Awkward."

I think I should start a side-blog where I review bathrooms. Because I have very strong opinions about the layout and design of John's around the world. This one is perhaps the worst. There's no way to wash your hands without rubbing elbows with the guy taking a leak. There just isn't. And if you angle to the left to avoid contact, you inadvertantly align yourself to be hunched over, leaning towards a urinating man. Forget waterboarding, this should be the torture method of choice.

And finally...

Talk about not knowing your audience.

That bottom line says "Please re-think(sic) abortion." Being one myself, I have to say that most of the people that this poster appeals to do not need to consider abortion. Forget for a second the built-in LOTR birth control, the very idea that Galadriel is going to convince a die-hard pro-choicer is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. What could the thought process possibly be? "Well, I've always supported a woman's right to choose, but she is the weilder of Nenya, the ring of water, and she managed to turn down the One Ring... hmm, she might just be right."

Seriously.

- Scott

* Though technically it could also be Ed Speelers.

So. Busy. Must. Post...

Recently I've felt like I'm stretched to my limit. I'm ridiculously busy; between classes, girlfriends, and work I'm like a postal worker on speed. And like that postal worker I'm savoring the thought of going a little crazy. Though, to be fair, I don't intend to shoot anyone. But if I could actually fire bullets into abstract concepts I'd be going through clips like Fiddy.

Basically this is my "Civil War Letter Home"-style post to let you know that things are hellish on the front. I know not what kind of hardtack I'll be eating (either raman or Life cereal), nor when I might seek repreive from the ravages of academia. But I take solace in knowing that, like Cincinattus, when my campaign is over I'll have my farm (blog) to return to. Unless those fucking Plebians start with me, because so help me Gods...

Anyway I just wanted all you away from the fighting to know that I'm hanging in there... at least for now.

- Scott

P.S. If you'd like a better idea of where I'm at, stress-wise, watch this short, informational film. (The highest quality I could find too. So don't blame me.)

I hate you so much.

Ever been in a pissing contest*? I, through no fault of my own, sometimes find myself in them. Most recently I seem to have entered into a game of passive agressive torts with one of my teachers. This unfortunate woman has exactly no sense of humor. Word play? She hates it. And, my god, should you think of bending any rule of political correctness you'll find yourself face face with royalty in the form of an Ice Queen faster than you can say "those damn, filthy Eskimos."

Icy, we'll call her Icy, is the kind of writer (and human being) that is dry, exacting and devoid of all color. Both in the melanin and metaphorical senses of the word. As such I believe it is my duty to occasionally turn in something a little different. And by "occasionally," I mean in every article I have to write. And by "a little different" I mean I plan to teach her a lesson through the art of the horrible pun.

Here are three examples and her reactions.

Example 1:

• Headline for story about Heterosexual Society: A Gay Old Time.

• Reaction: Gave me a D, wrote that "offensive wisecracks are better kept to yourself."Challenge accepted.

Example 2:

• She went on and on about how we should mention that the City Council came from a soup kitchen just before the meeting. So... I did.

• An apron clad Champaign City Council met Tuesday night, fresh from serving at TIMES Center soup kitchen. At the meeting however, it was debate rather than soup, that was stirred. The deliberations centered on how to set the tax levy in a prosperous year like 2006: do they add some beef to the stew to fatten up as much as possible for potential “lean years” or do they "water down the broth" and give the tax payers a break?

• Reaction: She unexpectedly circled the paragraph and wrote "good."
  

Example 3:

• Today was the midterm exam. I took most of it at the computer where I typed up a few answers. One of the questions asked me to rewrite the lead of a story about American Indians. ...So I did.

• Tuesday night, five American Indian journalists had a powwow of sorts with university professors to discuss the role of American Indians in the news media and combat unfair stereotypes.

• Reaction: I'm thinking a lynch mob, but I just turned it in five hours ago, so I don't know.
  

- Scott

*Inexplicably my girlfriend has never heard the term "Getting into a pissing contest with him." It's pretty common isn't it?

To Future Employers

After my last post, I had some discreet advice thurst upon me. Mostly to the effect that it shows some failure of work ethic and that it could come back to haunt me, etc. And while I am grateful for their concern, I have no desire to maintain yet another facade for the world. Randall Munroe, who produces the geek-fabulous webcomic xkcd, said it best with the below comic (he draws them in his spare time at work... at NASA*).

That pretty much sums it up. If you have a minute read though xkcd it really is a great, often hilarious (to nerds) webcomic.

- Scott

* Friggin NASA!