Check out my webcam at Presidential Sluts dot Com

I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel more romantic than that special day in February; President's Day. Maybe it's the marketing blitz surrounding the holiday, or maybe it's just the spirit of the holiday itself, but something makes me want to sing sappy love songs in foreign languages.

...Ok, ok this was supposed to be a "cheer everyone up on a miserable holiday like Valentine's Day" post, but I forgot to put it up. In my defense, I don't pay much attention to the day, and let's be honest eagles are just too awesome to ignore.

So in the interest of preventing me from seeming too unhumanly cool for too long, here's a President's (Valentine's) Day tribute I shot a few years ago. Remember people, I'm just this guy, you know?

Incidentally, this soundtrack is available in the lobby.

Top Five / Bottom Five: Righteous Anger Edition

In the interest of fairness, when isn't the bottom five filled with righteous anger? I mean, it's pretty much the entire reason for that section's existence... but I digress. Let's end the paragraph that everyone skips anyway, and get right down to it.

Top Five:

1.) Somebody finally tells Carlos Mencia what we're all thinking. We should send him back where he came from... Germany. Thank God for you Joe Rogan. Thank God for you. Actually, upon reading Rogan's blog, I have an exponentially higher appreciation for the man. Next could you do Dane Cook*? Please?

2.) See Dad? World of Warcraft is good for me. Stop with the interventions. Seriously. The catering wasn't all that good at the last one and it was too far away from the router to have a decent connection. I was lagging all through my questing**.

3.) What happens when an adult yells "PILLOW FIGHT!" This is the kind of thing we need to see more for adults. How about a ballpit at work? Don't we still deserve someplace to go and play, and maybe take a piss when no one's looking? Honestly.

4.) Watch #2 on this list. I promise you it's worth it. Creepiest. Man. Ever.

5.) While as an American-Pig-Dog I'm sure he hates me, most of what he said here is true. As testing the limits of free speech goes, applauding after an Al Qeada tirade is pretty good.

Bottom Five:

1.) My impending "dissapearance" as a result of #5 above. I hope they let me blog from Gitmo.

2.) The Fox News answer to the Daily Show (and here I thought Fox News WAS a joke). The least funny thing I've ever seen. Less funny than Saturday Night Live... and that's saying something. It's so unfunny that if you watch this then Carlos Mencia you might actually laugh at "his" jokes. (Also, are they actually using canned laughter?)

3.) RFID Powder? Thanks Hitachi, because I just wasn't acheiving my paranoia potential. We're getting pretty X-Files here people.

4.) These Three School Districts. You find the biggest idiots working in public schools, particularly administration. I mean, I'm surprised they even can teach evolution as their very existence tends to disprove the theory. Which is not to say there aren't exceptions... but damn.

5.) Lego Foodstuffs. I don't care about the nutrition, or even the fact that the list of ingredients reads like a chemical bomb, I'm just dreading the annoying bitchy parent we're going to have to see on the news explaining that her child died because he ate a real Lego thinking they were ALL food. It's evolution people. Besides, we could stand to thin out the herd.

- Scott

* I used to like Dane Cook, then he started to grate on me. Maybe it was the "I love Dane Cook!1!! OMFG he is like sooooo FUNNY!" / "I have the best fans ever, oh my god, my fans are so great!!!one!" circle jerk I got sick of, or maybe it's that he's just the kind of comic that the I get sick of having shoved in my face by idiots who just now heard of him, but however it happened, I hate the dude.

** Wait, was this the wedding reception or the intervention? Damn. Either way, I made a few levels at each, so that's something.

Eagles are awesome

A few weeks ago (on my second day of work) I was passing through the Alton riverfront when I noticed a camera crew interviewing a man who looked like he was extremely uncomfortable. I made a note of it and went about my day. Fast forward to this week: my curiosity about that filming has been satisfied. More than satisfied, it's been downright ecstatic-ed.

I think I just have to show you for you to understand, but you should keep in mind that this isn't done for comedy purposes. It's a serious news cast like any local affiliate. They just happened to have technical difficulties with the audio and had to cover for it. The way they did elevates it to brillance level. Observe:



Eagles are awesome, no doubt about it.

...USA

- Scott

Why, we only live to serve...

So, the kinds of things I usually see at work are limited to the below:

Yes, that is Lisa Simpson you see in the fifth monitor. Anyway, that's what I generally see. But on Friday, I needed some delicious snacks to get me through the day. Heading upstairs to the floor with the employee lounge I was shocked to stumble upon Tech Industries' vast, racist conspiracy.

Sure, it looks alright on the surface. A black woman holding a phone. The rest of the poster just says 24/7, At Your Call: Ethics and Compliance Hotline. But look closer and see the truth!

The phone is attached to her; it literally plugs into her liver. We can only speculate that the sign implies you should just go to the nearest black woman with a phone surgically implanted to report something. Not only that, but that they couldn't even trust her with a cordless. Having failed only one graphics and design class, I can tell you that the underlying message here is: "Black people are servants, some of which come with handy tools built in."

It's an outrage, what with this being February and all. I did the only sensible thing... I found the nearest black woman and used her to call the line and complain. Sorted that out straight away. No need to thank me. All in a day's work.

- Scott

Houston, we have a fatal attraction.

For the uninitiated, here's a breif run down of the story... Lisa Nowak, an astronaut, fell in love with another astronaut, William Oefelein (who despite his appearence and occupation, is not nicknamed "Buzz"). Unfortunately, Willy was already with an Air Force chick named Colleen Shipman. True to her bunny boiler nature, Nowak had no choice but to drive to Florida from Texas and snuff her.

If you'd like a fuller account. Check here.

*sigh* NASA... For all their psychological screening, mission simulations, and contingency senarios, there was never any training on how to deal with the most dangerous mission of all: love. Specifically the love of a psychotic, clingy, stalker-woman.

What they did train for however, was being very comfortable letting your bowels loose as you go about your activities. "Don't crap in your hand, crap in your poopy suit / You'll feel relieved filling your brief's / Fill your pants over France in your poopy suit / Flying high in the poo, feel free to do the number two," goes the jingle in the film they show freshmen astronauts. And I guess it sticks with them, as evidenced by this snippet:

...police said Nowak intended to kill Shipman, 30, when she bought a knife, BB
Gun, and other supplies, got in her car in Houston, and made the 12-hour drive
to Orlando, wearing diapers so she would not have to stop along the way.

The complete list of her accessories for the outing include a hooded tan trench coat and black wig, a folding knife, BB pistol, a new steel mallet, black gloves, rubber tubing and plastic garbage bags. Police caught her while she was attempting to determine which of these items would be most useful in reaching the light side of the moon after crashlanding on the dark side*. The best answer would receive extra credit points.

I'm not entirely sure a black wig and a hooded tan trench coat make for the best inconspicuous outfit. I mean, where the hell do you even find a hooded trench coat? You'd look like the Grim Reaper version of the guy on the neighborhood watch sign.

Speaking of appearences, I don't think I can properly conclude this post without introducing you to the key players. So get your program here, can't tell a waifish virginal Air Force captain from a hardened, strung out, ex-astronaut without your program.

The Cling-on. The Man in Question. The Waif.

Now that you know what they look like, some triva about each.

The Cling-on: Apparently a big fan of Freeze Dried Meth. Fears include being alone, running out of diapers on a critical mission (like a coke run), and personal hygiene.

The Man in Question: One of the first mixed race astronauts; his grandfather was quite obviously a rabbit.

The Waif: Goes by the nickname "the little general" as a result of her military background and petite frame. Is unaware, however, that "the little general" is the penis nickname of choice for 99% of all males who don't go with the "Little OWNER NAME HERE" formula.

- Scott

Crush of the Week: Kate Winslet

Well, now that I'm single, and I'm drowning in free time (at work mostly) I think the conditions are primed for the return of the CotW segment. Apologies to both Kristen Bell and Wendyloo Pseudonym (who contributed a bit) for leaving that post without further discussion, but I think we were all sick of her.

But Kate Winslet, now that's another story. I'm not actually sure it's possible to get sick of her. I mean, the woman looks so drastically different from one time period to another that it took me longer to find a picture of her that was decent and looks like her than any other CotW. And despite Nessa's assertion that it looks like she forgot someone's dinner, twice, I still think it's a fairly decent picture. Let's run down her features shall we?

Why she's worthy: First of all, give me an accent, and I'm already half way to a crush of the week. And she's an actress, in addition to the natural one, she can probably manage four or five others. One day she's Cockney Kate, the next she has a strong Irish brogue, after that... I don't know. Spanish or something. To keep things interesting. And she's a good enough actress that I think she could pull it off. She really should have an Oscar by now. My guess is that the right role portraying a mental toughing it out in the Holocaust hasn't come along just yet, but here's hoping.

Bonus Features: I was going to find some new Kate Winslet material. Something you hadn't all seen. But since no one commented on it (and if you'd watched it you would have had to) on the last post, I'm embedding the video that made me select her as this week's fleeting, ephemeral crush.



By the way, the word of the day is "purple headed womb ferret." Make sure to yell really loud when it comes up in everyday conversation.

- Scott

Top V, Bottom V: Boston Officals Suck edition

Because it's time, and because Nessa can't get Loverboy's masterpiece out of her head, I'm moving on to this week (ok, let's face it month's) Top Five/Bottom Five.

Top 5

1.) Bostonian Aqua Teen promoters strike back. It's the only way to deal with the media; forcing them to become even more ridiculous mockeries of themselves. And honestly, it's what I would have done. I will say my presentation would have been better. If you don't know the story behind this one see the poorly written article in my bottom five.

2.) Can't put a price on honesty. Seriously. Good work Romania. I register all my pirated software under false identities, stolen from babies who died after birth. But you just walk right up to Willy Gates and say "hey, my entire country is running on the FCKGW-RHQQ2-YXRKT-8TG6W-2B7Q8 keycode that Scott knows by heart." Way to out me too, dick.

3.) Trouble talking dirty? Kate Winslet is here to help. Let me just say that Extras is perhaps the best comedy on television. After The Office (yes, American version. I've become enamoured of it even more than the British. Heresy, I know.)

4.) More everyday hacks. From the man who incorrectly applied the Coke machine hack, thereby completely bricking the OS, and requiring it to be sent back to factory (me), comes the link to the Coinstar machine hack. Free coin counting for the masses!

5.) Zeusdamn it! The Lords of Kobol are back, baby. Oh, and the Greek Orthodox Church is less than thrilled.

Bottom Five:

1.) Idiot's take on the ATHF promoters. Read this man's article and seethe with rage, it'll prepare you for the next two.

2.) Fox News Obama Coverage. There's two links there so Fox News and Obama Coverage go to two different stories. A shame that the video is gone from the first one (replaced with Bush smirking) but the transcript from that bullshit is still there. The second, hard hitting, relevant, fair and balanced piece is still there in it's entirety. Pure rage after watching these.

3.) Adam Curry. No link for this one, just the man himself. He was on This Week in Tech last week, and I have to say it. The man is a twat. Without further ado, he will be insulted by Stephen Colbert.

"The reasons why he sucks are many and, to be truthful, have been widely catalogued in the annals of the internet. So, with your indulgence, I'd like to focus instead on the intensity of his sucking.

Adam Curry is a worthless piece of shit. Fuck him. He is a taint, not just in the sense of a "stain on the podcast," but litterally a taint - the anatomical area between the anus and the testicles."

4.) The promised explanation. If you dropped down from the Top Five looking, here it is.

5.) Exxon, the bastards. This is obvious. But I needed five.

- Scott

Everybody's working for the Wii-kend

Apologies for a horrible pun, but damn does that tiny white console own my every spare thought. And now that I'm a working stiff, I can afford such frivolities with the same ease I always have, but also with a distinct lack of guilt for knowing it was really my parents who could afford them. A band named CAKE once pointedly asked "Is it you or your parents in this income tax bracket?" It's me now, baby.

We're just jumping in in the middle here, which works for movies, but since nobody's pointing a gun to my head, and I'm not calmly wondering how I got myself into this situation as the scene freezes, it's probably better to back up a bit. (Besides have you seen Domino? It took a voice over, two types of on-screen, written exposition, and the Director's commentary to keep all those loose threads together. And since there's little chance of Kiera Knightley showing up, I won't put you through that.)

Last Friday, I got a call from a company (we'll call them Tech Industries), there's a roundabout story concerning how I got in touch with them, but it isn't really important. Things happened pretty fast. At 11:00 I talked to them on the phone, by 11:30 I had an interview, by 4:15 I was hired. "Didn't know what Tech Industries was this morning, now I'm working there."

Though technically I'm working for Tech, really I'm contracted out to an international paper company*. The Office theme song rings in my ears a few times a day**. As far as what the job entails, the title is "Computer Operator." I hope I can live up to the lofty expectations it implies. I mean, four years of computer science are all well and good... but do I really feel qualified to be a Computer Operator? Needless to say I'm taking a few classes at the learning annex on the side, you know, just to make completely sure I feel able to operate a computer. (Really though, it's basically a network admin-ish job.)

Best of all? I get to wake up at 1:00 PM everyday, also guilt free, because I don't have to be at work until 3:00. Basically, I've found a job that lets me continue the lifestyle I established while mooching off my parents***. It really couldn't have worked out better.

- Scott

* The trend amongst my closest blogging cohorts seems to be toward not mentioning the name of the company to avoid getting fired, so I'll hop on that bandwagon.
** And really, it should, because I just realized that it would make an awesome ringtone.
*** Even into the workplace, yesterday there was nothing to do for several hours and we were hungry. Solution: Order pizza and watch Beerfest. Was the network still running during all of this? Yes. So technically we were doing our jobs.

300

On this, my birthday, my 300th post, and my first day at work, I have this to say: I've noticed that people will watch others being mugged, raped, or killed and do nothing. But Jesus, if I leave my lights on as I'm walking into Wal-Mart fifteen people will stop me and tell me about it. They're automatic, people. They go out.

Also, this being my 300th post, I think I should plug the movie by the same name that I'm wicked excited about. Watch this trailer, if you aren't excited check your pulse, most likely you've legally died.

I promise you all a full post sometime tomorrow (early in the morning). Now that I've moved into my new lofty apartment and got settled in I have infinite time for posting (not to mention at work as well).

- Scott

Ah... Jerseyville

Where the food is just a little sweeter. Where the police are just a little slower. ...Where racism is just a little less thinly veiled.

Would it have been better if he wasn't wrestling African American opponents? Maybe. Discuss.

- Scott

Pass me an XX note.

In keeping with my commitment to calling all notes by their roman numeral, instead of just the much lauded "C" note, my title refers to the $20 bill. "Why?" you ask in that demanding tone of yours? Well, my vernacular has become infected with $20 words. The origin of this term is elaborate, and near impossible to condense down to a couple of sentences. I do so below.

In middle school I had a choral teacher who used to compliment me on my use of "ten-dollar" words*. Well, with inflation, and an ever expanding vocabulary (including the swear words of foreign languages) I think $20 is a fair sum these days.

Anyway, they've spread through my vernacular like cancer through a prostate. They started innocently enough. An "ubiquitous" here, an "ignoble" there. But suddenly I'm constructing sentences that are needlessly obscure. I think I literally said the other day something along the lines of:

"He'd do well to get that papuliferous ass of his out of my quarters before things get any uglier than necessary walking around looking like that."

Seriously? Saying quarters is bad enough (even if it was applicable) but I also felt the need to toss off papuliferous? Am I too good for the word, pimply**? Hell, most people don't know what I mean when I say "vapid."

Ah well... I guess it could be worse. Thank god it wasn't tabloid words; if anyone ever hears me reporting that someone has been "spotted canoodling with" someone else, or if I EVER call a singer a "sultry siren," or even worse, a "crooner***" may God strike me dead.

- Scott

* I have, on many occasions, been praised for my vocabulary, which I find strange because the praise often originates from people who wouldn't even grudgingly admit that I was smart enough to be trusted with fireworks.
** Yes, actually but that's more a matter of appearence.
*** Seriously, who talks like that?

Buggre Alle this for a Lark!

I've just finished Good Omens*, which itself I suppose is a good omen. At least it signals the start of my actually finishing things. Grad school, I'm looking in your direction. But in a larger sense, I fear my time in the fair city of vice and studies has come to an end. And so it is that I'm moving home while seeking a post-college job.

"Oh really? Moving home after college? Well give us just a moment to duck behind something substantial so we don't get hit by the shrapnel from that mold you're shattering," I hear you saying.

And I reply: "Nobody likes a smartass," gleefully ignoring the number of hits and comments on this very blog suggesting that occasionally, people do like a smartass. Especially a shapely one.

I wrestled this decision for longer than I needed to, having seen that it was really the only viable option days ago. But every Adam needs his Greasy Johnson right**? I guess it was just an elaborate observation of formality, but I really wanted to hate this decision enough that I wouldn't actually go through with it. Unfortunately, my hatred of radiator based heat and my love of laundry magically disappearing from my bedroom floor, only to reappear, clean, in drawers and closets had a large bearing on my decision.

Tomorrow? My thoughts on the ritual of the job search. Sleep well.

- Scott

*A book which forced laughter upon me with all the inexorable force of Gideons*** shoving little green New Testament Bibles into the hands of the off-guard.

** If you haven't read Good Omens and this line doesn't sound dirty to you, I ask you to take a sex education course, see a Kevin Smith movie, and visit the bathroom of any men's room in any Junior High, anywhere.

*** They seem to have taken a page from the homeless in the area and starting working in a net formation. Seeing one ahead of you and crossing the street to avoid him only forces you into another one, cleverly set up directly across the street from where you were attempting to escape the hobos in the first place.

Welcome to the WORLD OF TOMORROW

Fun things have been going on in my world lately.

If there were a font that conveyed deadpan sarcasm I would have used it. I would call it Dana. Unfortunately there is no Dana there is only Zuul. And Zuul, as it happens, also goes by "Times New Roman," "Ariel," and "Default Brower Font."

Anyway, in every life there is some trouble. But when we lack cool Firefox extentions, we make it double. In short: this has made my life worth living. I won't tell you exactly what it does. I'll only tell you that it makes browsing the internet with Firefox something to be marveled at. It takes the internet of today and makes it into the internet we see in movies... minus horrid beeping noises whenever someone uses a keyboard.

Just use it.

- Scott

P.S. PC's only. Sorry Mac's.

Excuse Our Dust (where Dust = Emo Outburst)

Please pardon the below. I was temporarily emsane. Emsanity is a condition where, due to a percieved tragedy a person becomes temporarily emo (though for some the condition is known to last years). I was lucky. The emsanity passed within minutes, but not before I had given myself an asymetric haircut, bought a messenger bag which I covered in small buttons bearing ironic statements, and wrote a shitty acoustic guitar song about my feelings.

Thank God I got out before I started cutting people. I know you're really supposed to cut yourself to let the pain out, but I'm very sympathetic so I think it would do. Besides, what immortal hand or eye could cut my fearful symmetry? (Lingering poetry references are an aftereffect of emsanity, bear with me.)

If I've brought infected any of you with my earlier affliction I have good news: there is a cure. And that cure, that I stumbled upon in the course of my moping, is ridiculous pictures of me. I had forgotten these as they existed in a time when I was between digital cameras.

Take three, as often as you'd like. And call me in the morning. Seriously. I have a hard time getting up. Enjoy.

Beware: Not every street on the coast of Mexico takes high tide into account. And no one could have predicted those gams! (I bet Nostradamus feels like a failure.)

Survivorman learned it all right here. On a desert island? Pick up part of a tree and do some reps. It might not help you survive, but at least when they find you they'll remark on your guns.

Imagine I get killed. There, you've seen Apocalypto. Taken at the table where sacrifices were offered, I kid you not, about half a second before our Mayan tour guide put a stop to it. I'm fun to travel with. (And I think a bit large for their sacrifical altar.)

And that's all I've got for now. If you're still emo, I suggest you hang around in Hot Topic, buy a bunch of modern artists on vinyl albums, and start calling the Salvation Army, "Salvo's" because you're in there so often.

Good luck.

- Scott

This fucking computer

Sorry I'm in a vitriolic mood. Seriously I'm filled with bile at the moment. Which is really not the way you want to start a posting year. But I don't consider this the true post. I lost the true post, which was absolutely the best I've written in a few months. As a result, I feel physically ill.

I'll get back in the kind of headspace I need to be in to write sometime tonight or tomorrow and I'll try to reproduce it. Or at least "cover" it in the sense that a band covers a song, but it's never really the same.

On the upside, I managed not to smash my computer, which I was very very close to doing. Small victories.

- Scott

Death and Destruction

Recently as I was lying comatose ("Comatose... coma-toes to-'er head" "Shut up!") I thought about all the things I wanted to do before I died. And all the things I hadn't done. But then, realizing how unrelentingly cliche this was, I thought of another better topic: all the thing I intend not to do before I die.

Now this list could be fairly obvious. For instance, most people wouldn't say they wanted to contract AIDS. Though, to be fair, for awhile I was very into RENT and I thought that I'd like nothing better than to be an artist with HIV dramatically living out my last days in an orgy of bohemian lifestyles. So there really aren't absolutes. But the thing I realized that I never want to do was different.

I had always considered climbing Mount Everest. Seems like a fun weekend. But it dawned on me that after all the people who died or were disfigured as a result of that mountain, climbing it successfully would be the worst thing I could do. Think about it. After that nothing I could do would be as impressive.

"Hey, I just finished Zelda in 12 hours!"
"So what, it's not like you climbed Everest again."

And if I died, the topic of discussion at my funeral wouldn't be directly centered on how great I was. It'd be all about how ironic it was that I could survive Everest but I just couldn't see that bus coming. Or about what a survivor I am, yet to be taken in such a strange way, by suffocation as a result of a large housecat settling over my nose and mouth as I slept, seems cruel and ironic.

So, essentially, I refuse to climb Everest as it would skew my legacy forever. Cross one off the list.

- Scott

Healed at last! Healed at last! Thank Lordy, healed at last!

Two days ago I finally went to the doctor. I once again apologize to all of manhood for betraying our order and seeking medical attention. But I felt better and my mom had scheduled a chiropractic appointment and a doctor's appointment. The knuckle cracker really did more for me. A few bone pops and I felt pretty good. Though while I'm on her elaborate table I can't help but feeling like I'm a secret agent and she's an assassin trying to kill me with spine jabs, attempted neck breaks, and attacks upon my hips. Occasionally she pokes needles into my skin and connects them to electricity under the auspices of a proceedure to boost my immune system, all the while I refuse to give her information or even acknowledge our little duel.

Anyway at the doctors (after surviving the assassin) I was informed that despite feeling like I could run a mile I was:

1.) Running a 101.5° temperature
2.) Still sick
3.) Riddled with a particularly nasty sinus infection.

"Yeah, and I just faced down an attempt on my life too," said I. This is why new people often don't "get" me.

Current Status: Still recovering.

Current Status With the Ladies*: They all still want me.

- Scott

* Watch that thing I linked. It's reminicent of how I wrote this post.

What's the time?

It's time to get ill. And apparently, unlike those brothers out there flakin and perpetratin', but scared to kick reality, I know what time it is.

Ok, I'm loopy. Just wanted to update my constituents.

- Scott

P.S. All of this was meant to mean "I've been flu-sick since Saturday night. And frankly I still feel like shit."

Panic at the Post-Post-Secondary Educational Facility

Lately I've been having a lot of the same conversation. You've been there. A situation where everyone asks you the same question, and you answer it the same way. Basically you're in the social equivalent of a cold war. Each side keeping up appearences, following procedure, making a symbolic gesture, but underneath both sides want it to escalate or just end. It's like when you go home after being away for college/work/life in general. Everyone wants to feign interest in your activities, knowing full well that if anything monumental had happened they'd already have heard and gossiped about it. It goes something like this:

Psuedo-Interested Party: Hi! Where have you been? What have you been up to?
Completely Dispassionate Responder: Oh you know, not bad. It's good to get away from it... blah blah blah.

Pseudo-Interested Party 2: How has school/work/life in general been?
Increasingly Dispassionate Responder: Not too shabby. It's been fine/alright/third non-commital answer.

Pseudo-Interested Party 3: How are you? Tell me, how has school/work/life been?
Formerly Dispassionate Responder who has just hit his breaking point: I'm quitting school. Journalism is lame, dying, and frankly: unenfuckingjoyable. I have a bachelor's degree and no more tolerance for education. I'm tired of languishing in the stuffy halls of academia when I could be doing things that interest me and possibly making some sweet, sweet cash on the outside. "The outside!" Did I just say that? You see?! I subconsiously associate it with prision. So that's how school has been. ARE YOU HAPPY? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? IS IT, YOU DIRTY BITCH?!

At this point some panic sets in. I firmly believe I could say exactly what's written above and the next words out of the Pseudo-Interested Party's mouth would be (as they always have been) something implying the following: "You're not going to school anymore?! Well that's ok... if you're willing to be a FAILURE! Not everyone has to be successful."

Apparently there's a built in panic when you tell people that you aren't going to do it anymore, and that further you have no intention of continuing in the area at all. Sure I'll stick it out through the semester, but I'm not wasting another six months on something for which I harbor a mounting contempt.

So, this is my formal announcement of my intention to withdraw from the school of journalism. It's been fun (to mock), but I think I'm better suited to other pursuits. Suggestions?

- Scott

P.S. If you'd like to know why I'm withdrawing from the field read the companion post below.

Selected Scenes Supporting Sundering Scott's Second Secondary Schoolin'

Because sometimes aliteration is irrestible. And so damned easy. Anyway this is a companion post answering a few questions you might have about the above. I think the best way to explain why journalism and I go together like babies and barbed wire is to give a few examples of things I've done, things that have been remarked upon, and in one case receiving a most noble branding.

1. You should probably read this post: I hate you so (effing) much. In addition I once wrote an assignment where every other line rhymed.
   
   
2. Allegedly I accuse people of murders. To be fair, I only do this when every piece of evidence has already been established and the person in question is certainly the murderer. But apparently a judge has to say it before I can publish it. Libel lawsuits. Bah.
   
   
3. The professor apparently did not find this as funny as I do. The article was about the reburial of Juan Peron, former President of Argentina, husband to Madonna. The picture was of brawling political factions hitting each other with rocks, bats, and rubber bullets as the casket is being moved. The headline I wrote was: Don't Riot For Me, Argentina. The professor was "Tempted to fail the assignment just for that."
   
   
4. "Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people, right? So basically by making our stories constantly about people it essentially means that either we're a bit slow or we're writing for people who really shouldn't bother reading." I was a called an elitist for that, but it's where I was going anyway.
   
   
5. Finally, my favorite: we were debating what a medium sized, failing paper should do to make money and stay in the business of good reporting. My reply was something along the lines of:
   
   "Well we constantly hear how much good reporting costs, so you can't really have good reporting until you're making money. So plan for that five years down the road. In the mean time you have to orchestrate a scheme wherein you're in bed with advertisers. You write stories that happen to mention some product or service that happen to buy ad space in your papers. Now the public is dumb, but eventually they'll catch on. When you feel like they are getting close, that's when you put phase two into effect. Essentially you have the higher-ups of the newspaper and the product you're advertising work together. The newspaper will send a patsy reporter to "discover" some minor, mildly unacceptable issue with the product in question. The seller of said product will have planted this issue, and as such will be able to clean it up in record time. The exposé will cast off suspicions of bias, while the company whose product you sell will get some free press and will receive a follow up article about how competently they solved the problem."
   
   The professor replied: "Scott, that violated every article of the Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics. You may be the most unethical person I've ever taught." But it would have worked damn it.
   

- Scott

Simple Pleasures

Good news. I'm back to posting. That's something you can all be thankful for, even now with your kitchens festering with the remains of last Thursday's meal. I took a much needed vacation from everything that wasn't absolutely essential and as it turns out that means the Wonder Blog from time to time. But don't think I came back without new post material. I was thinking of you the whole time. (Incidentally, that last line makes it sound like I was cheating on my blog with a pen and notepad. And now I'm trying to smooth things over.) Anyway on to the post proper:

/start post

Just this weekend I had some automotive fun*. Unfortunately it came at the cost of a massive interstate accident, but there's always a silver lining to every cloud; you can't blame yourself when you're so completely surrounded by the lining that the cloud doesn't affect you. Coming back from my second viewing of Bond we were stuck in the thick of interstate traffic. The bridge to Illinois just ahead and a promising looking road to our right, we decided to shoot the moon and get out of the gridlock.

So did 15 other cars. We were a mighty caravan, carving a swath of light through the dark countryside. However, mighty though we were, apparently there wasn't one GPS navigation system among us. Otherwise we might have forseen what became inevitable.

Following the caravan, we were perhaps the 8th or 9th car from the front, with several behind. The roads kept getting worse and worse. And eventually we were on a one lane dirt path between cornfields, but everyone behind the first driver (who I suspect was laughing madly) was so sure that our Magellan of the Highway could get us where we were going that nobody turned back.

...Until the one lane road came to an abrupt end in a marsh. Then pictures like the below:

The Panic: "Why are we stopping?"

The Abort: "How the hell are we going to turn around?"

The Do-It-To-Them-Before-They-Do-It-To-Us: "Use the shoulder, before they get here!"

And then we drove several miles back across the country side to find a different (workable) route. It remained hilarious.

- Scott

* This reminds me of my other favorite anti-social car behavior which you can read about below.

Simple Pleasures Continued

You know, it really is the simple things that amuse me the most. Sure, I could go to the movies. But what I like even better is driving around the parking lot and waiting. Waiting for my moment. For that golden opportunity when one of the primo spots opens up near the front of a line, right next to the theater entrance. I then take that spot. But our story, dear readers, does not end here.

Instead, I orchestrate a masterful deception. Everyone in the car gets out and walks to the theater and back. On the way back, we appear as a group just heading to the car. I make a big show of taking out my keys. When I see a car hovering like a jackyl at a carcass I know it's time.

Everyone gets in the car. We buckle up. I put the car in reverse and back out. I get so far out of the spot that I force the car who's waiting to backup too. At this point I'm completely out of the spot, facing down the lane, ready to drive off into the night. ...But I don't drive off. I pull back in. And the schmuck who thought he was going to get a spot? Infuriated.

And then I laugh and laugh. Rinse and repeat as desired. The above post reminded me of it. You should all give it a shot sometime if you're ever (somehow) early for a movie when the lot is packed.

- Scott

The Wonder Blog

Well it's official. We've taken that step together. A serious commitment that, if properly maintained, will last a lifetime and provide enduring gratification. I think you can guess where this is heading. There's really only one conclusion that makes sense.

That's right. I've registered a domain.

thewonderblog.com

I can rest easy in the knowledge that I will never be forced to say aloud "g-money-dope-fly" again.

- Scott

P.S. Tell your friends.

Top (five) of the Pops

Wow, if I knew those ridiculous camera phone pictures I took a month ago were going to stir such good discussion I would have hopped off my lazy ass and posted them sooner. But timing is everything and I guess that was their time. Who knows. Anyway, things have calmed down a spell here in wacky (read: rigid) journalism land. What does that mean for you? Postage of course. Not the 39¢ kind. The priceless kind.

Top Five:

1.) The greatest thing ever. This relates directly to number three on my bottom five. It is, in fact, what I believe Rumsfeld was attempting to do. Unfortunately we missed exactly what happened to the hippy. But it was such a stealthy blow I have no doubt that he was bleeding internally, and completely unconsious of it.

2.) Franklin, you old hound. America The Book on founding fathers and why they'd be unelectable today: Franklin. "He loved the ladies. Loved 'em. Old, young, fat, thin, whatever. Couldn't get enough. Just loved 'em." In addition, I choose to believe this is why he had to do so damned much in his little planner. You try to juggle women. You need time management.

3.) V for Congressman. I won't say I knew it would happen. But I will say I hoped it would happen. I just wish I could be there today when it all goes down. (Also that I had the costume.)

4.) 30 minutes or it's late because we were discussing the "big questions and stuff..." An aside about weed for a second children, shall we? I have to say, I'm dissapointed. Pot smokers have grown increasingly lazy. And I don't mean as a result of the drug. I mean as a group. I don't want to get into an "In my day..." type thing. Because it's clearly far too early for that. But I will say that having it delivered to your home is nothing like what people in my generation had to go through. A personal example of mine you can read here. Also, nobody knows how to roll anything anymore except Europeans, and they're doing it to smoke their own cigarettes (which is about as cool as whittling.)

5.) Election Wrap-up Vid. I thought about not posting this. I don't need to gloat. I don't want to be that guy. However, most of it I hadn't seen, and because I think the kids of today need to know how to roll a blunt, and who better to show them than Donald Rumsfeld.

Bottom Five:

1.) I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords. Hopefully I'll be given a cushy position within the new robo-administration. Like Baltar got. Except I'd request two #6's three #8's and no Xena Warrior Princesses.

2.) Wal-Mart: Nothing gets by them. An accidental slip, sure. But was the slip not noticing the Nazi implication, or was it that too many of us heard about it. Alles klar, Herr Kommissar?

3.) Rummy subtly responding to (what can only be) a grad student. He's clearly been trained in the art of the Kung Fu - Fuck You.

4.) More terrifying reasons for a low approval rate. The more I think about it, the more I'm glad that there are people storming the capital in V costumes right now.

5.) Another "hell-in-a-handbasket" story. Because they're plentiful and the more we hear about it the more we hate it. Does that help? Who knows. But it definitely belongs on the Bottom Five.

- Scott

The world today seems absolutely crackers...

Random thought of the day: Kama Sutra Cookie Cutters. The tag-line practically writes itself. "The best fucking cookies you've ever had..."

Random real-life product of the day: The 9/11 Commission Report. Why is it interesting? Because someone decided it needed a little pizzaz. That there was a better way to tell the story. That words are just too abstract. This person made the report into a comic book. The result is shown below.

They wisely edited out the Blam! next to the building.


Strangely, I'm reminded of those picto-bibles from childhood more than anything.

Also is that Saddam in the last panel? Are they implying that he gave Al-Queada weapons of mass destruction himself? That he literally handed them over? Are they going to have to retcon this section now that we know the Saddam story-arc turned out differently? Who can say? Am I ending this post playing the question game?

- Scott?

"Think the drink through."

Dragging my feet on the election story I'm covering, which is due by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow, I'm looking for any excuse to do something else. I had a beer. Made myself a sandwich (from my delicious deli fixin's I pick up weekly). Had a beer with my sandwich. Then enjoyed another beer.

Then I wanted dessert. I went to the Bailey's Irish Cream to pour myself a nightcap and stopped. "Oh God, I'll be too drunk to write."

...and then I laughed and laughed. Because we all know that as a whole, writers are a sober, clean and virtuous folk.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to fill this mug again.

- Scott

Just a minute ladies, I'm questing.

And I thought I had privacy problems in Springfield... Today I was just minding my own business, sitting at my computer, clad only in boxers and one ripped sock. I was dressed like this because I was... you know what, it's not even worth explaining, suffice it to say my front door is dangerous and I was hot because I broke the handle off my radiator and was too lazy to find a wrench.

So sitting there in relative undress, wearing headphones I hear a beating sound. It mostly sounds like the wind, so I ignore it. There is also a demolition going on next door, so these kinds of sounds are fairly normal. But they were coming in bursts of three and starting to get fairly annoying. Had I not been playing a game and talking to people over Ventrillo (audio chat) I might have walked over to the window and told them my opinion on their intelligence, hygiene, and questioned the chastity of their mothers. As it was, I sat there in my red and white skull boxers and one sock.

All of a sudden a voice that was far too clear to be muffled by doors, windows or walls called out far too loudly, far to close to me, "Barr real-estate." As the three women rounded the corner, I pulled off my headphones and looked over at them. As they were reeling from the shockwaves of lust that were no-doubt washing over them I gave them the very non-chalant upward head nod, and said something charming. I believe it was "Just a second, I have to kill this orc."

I proceeded to kill the orc in what, I'm sure, they considered a very diciplined layering of flexible ad-hoc strategy. They proceeded to pine for me. I think they also toured my apartment, I couldn't be sure as I was running back to Lakeshire to try to escape some damned Kobolds that had aggro'd me.

I answered a few questions the girls asked about living here (allegedly they were on a leasing tour) and they lingered for perhaps five minutes before they reluctantly left, dragging their feet all the way.

I'm pretty sure the realty lady winked at me on the way out. And they say you'll never get laid playing World of Warcraft... pfft.

- Scott

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!

Terror in the Workplace

Today marks a first for me. I'm at work and I'm blogging. Just call me Rob French. Part of me is afraid that I'll get caught and fired, but I'm slightly embarassed to admit that it looks more like I'm doing work right now than in the previous half hour of reading 15 Minute Lunch and fighting valiantly against laughing aloud. It might have been that fear that contributed so much to what just happened.

But I think a little exposition is in order before we get to today's post-worthy nugget. Sometimes I take breaks. I'm only human, and I work better under the 10/5 rule anyway. (Ten minutes of work: five minutes of play. Rinse and repeat.) One of these breaks coincided with a visit to the office's magnificently appointed bathroom. I have to say, as cans go, this one is top notch.

Its heyday was clearly in the 1940's (also when the last redecorating went on), but it's still one of the classier John' s I've encountered*. To give you a general idea of just how classy I mean follow me through this: picture a normal men's room. Now picture floor to ceiling dividers between the urinals. Now imagine that they're made of solid, two inch marble that comes out far enough to obscure even the fattest man that might be urinating next to you. That's how classy. You can actually violate the Man Law article stating that there must be at least one empty urinal between you and the next man because you're practically in a seperate room.

In anycase, I was not so much there to use bathroom as I was to hide in a stall listening to music and playing Block Breaker Deluxe on my cell phone. It was quite a comfortable arrangement and an inconspicuous way to kill a few minutes.

Or it was, until one of my bosses walked in. I have no less than seven and I knew it was the stern one by his tight assed, over-polished shoes. Reflexively I turned down the volume on the iPod afraid he hear it and know I'm there. Would he have cared? Who knows. But the fact is, that dude makes me nervous. Plus, I'm hiding. By definition I don't want my location to be known. I certainly don't want him to know that I'm sitting, pants-up on the toilet playing a cellphone game. So I'm somewhat tense but I'd resolved to go back to playing my game when the cell phone explodes in my hand into a flurry of light, sound and vibration:

"CALL CONNECTED THROUGH THE NSA...(vibration)... COMPLETE TRANSMISSION THROUGH THE NSA...(burst of three audible vibrations)... SUSPENDING YOUR RIGHTS FOR THE DURATION OF THE PERMENANT WAR."

I screamed like a woman. A woman who had just seen IT for the first time whose boyfriend hid in her closet in a clown suit and jumped out at midnight saying "Beep Beep." I screamed like that woman. At the same time I flailed my arms and knocked my iPod off the shelf it was sitting on (I told you they were nice bathrooms) and nearly into the toilet. I caught it by the upper right corner. I didn't know what else to do so I answered the phone and politely informed the caller it wasn't a good time. I neglected to mention that her call very nearly caused the only instance of a man sitting on a toilet and yet still shitting his pants in history.

The boss walked out of the bathroom, apparently not much of a hand washer that one, and I sat there for a good five minutes before I came out (much of it laughing). I think next week I'll be hiding in the record room. And my phone will be on vibrate.

- Scott

* This line works equally well on a prostitute blog.

Comma Comma Comma Comma Comma Chameleon

I'm a fan of punctuation as much as anyone. I love it. In fact, I love it so much that if I ever time travel and I meet E.E. Cummings, I'll punch that apunctilious "poet" in the face for what he did to my precious periods, commas and semicolons.

But even I will concede that there are places that punctuation does not belong. Namely, on your face. I've always held that this goes without saying, but apparently a large contingent of the garden variety sorority skanks I encounter on a daily basis don't feel the same way. Below is an artist's conception of the kind of "eyebrows" they regularly sport.

The Commabrow. (It should be noted that the "artist" mostly gets by on sizzling good looks.)

I invite anyone with the skill to fix it to clean that up. The inner corner shold be wispier, and there should be about three eyebrow hairs per square inch on the long portion fanning outward in an arch that makes St. Louis's contribution to the shape look meager by compairson. So not only do they look like an over-plucked, punctuation-faced tart, they look perpetually surprised about it. And in general, whoreish makeup should cake the face.

This has to stop. In the interest of bringing that about I'm making an announcement:

People of the world: Spice up your life.

Ahem. Not sure what came over me. Let me try again:

Tweezing women of the world: Your girlscaping is perfectly fine, but leave a realistic eyebrow. Provided you don't look like Bert, nobody will complain.

That is all.

- Scott

A Meteoric Rise

I'm sure you all remember my earlier work in mass media. I was an actor portraying myself in a commercial for Robert Morris College. A humble beginning, but you've got to start somewhere. Although I wanted something better I had no idea that my next job would be the lead in a major motion picture. That's right. Re-read that sentence.

I was writing about the movie Eragon, at the time I thought the trailer was a little hokey. Hell, based on the trailer they could have called it the Neverending Story Vol. 3. But while writing a post tearing it apart I was advised by my agent to stop immediately. Because it came to my attention that I can't make fun of the movie or its any of its inaccuracies because I am actually in the titular role. That's right. I'm playing Eragon.

It happened suddenly, I auditioned, I got the part, they filmed it. You'd think I would remember filming a movie, but as my agent reminded me I was heavily drugged most of the time because I wouldn't agree to sign the NDA. I wanted to blog about it. So they kept slipping me roofies and making me act. It turns out that's what I did with those missing seven months from graduation to grad school.

Kidnapping or not, it was a great experience and I learned a lot (I think). The studio really took care of me. I mean, I even have headshots and everything.

Damn, I'm good looking. I tried to do something with my hair, but they liked it better the way it looks when I just get up from a drug induced stupor. Give the people what they want I say. Especially when they have an army of PA's coercing your conformity.


My facial expression in this scene is directly taken from one I use when brushing my teeth. In fact, I 've taken to shouting 'Brisingr!' when I do. It burns the germs; they don't like it.

So come out and see me on December 15th. I'll be the guy at the theater who looks exactly like the guy on the screen. It'll be hard to miss. I don't know if they'll let me take my bow in, and my leather vest thing is a bit... we'll say "fopish." But I promise to let you pet my dragon (ladies only), and I'll sign things. Maybe even for free.

I'll leave you with a moment of Zen: the fantasticly good, not at all cheesy, wonderfully acted Eragon trailer. Enjoy.

- Scott

I usually don't do this kind of thing...

But I'm making an exception. Enjoy:

Props to Nessa for this.

- Scott

Braff Folds Five

Ok, last week featured an overly long explanation of the Top Five/Bottom Five. This week will be twice as succinct. Or half as long. Come to think of it, I could cut that last sentence... and this one.

Top Five:
1.) This man is an inspiration. He didn't go to college. He worked a job, made money. Saved it. Then spent it all on his world wide wanderlust. Somebody saw the original video, then paid him to repeat the feat with better cameras... and they'd finance it. So he went, what you see is the result. For someone who is considering venturing into the real world once and for all... it's a comfort to see someone else who's just as ridiculous as me.
2.) Seen Garden State? Seen the trailer for The Last Kiss? Know who Zach Braff is? Read this. Love it.
3.) My very educated mother just spelled umlauts, nerd. It just doesn't make sense without Pluto.
4.) Debating what a song means? Check this site. I'm semi-addicted.
5.) Self explanatory.

Bottom Five:
1.) What the crap, Apple?
2.) See #1
3.) Most self-righteous, self-important, annoying people to walk the earth.
4.) Who assigned it? A journalist.
5.) Friends are great, but Battlestar Galactica season premiers happen but once a season.

- Scott

You make me wanna... well, hit you both actually.

Today marks an event of historical note. Never before in the history of the Wonder Blog ®, or Crush of the Week™, have two people been simultaneously featured (with the exception of Rosario Dawson being in the same picture as Scarlett Johansson. But that was because I couldn't bring myself to prominently display that harpy without something to redeem the photo.)

But I just stumbled upon these pictures and it must be done. I've considered both of these... *grudging use of the term* women... before and they both are squarely in the realm of anti-crushes. However I had no pressing reason to post about them, no straw to break this camel's back, no photo to damn them in the eyes of my readers. Not until now. Without further meaningless typing:

Anti-Crush of the Week!

Name(s): Jessica and *heavy sigh* Ashlee Simpson. What a ridiculous spelling of a simple name. I bet they let Jessica name her.

(A few of the) Reasons they've earned my contempt: Well let's start with the obvious. Jessica is a moron. I've heard it spun seventeen ways that it's just her image and she's being ditzy all the way to the bank but let's not kid ourselves, if she could pull that off she wouldn't have had 80% of her role in Dukes of Hazzard cut out. She's a perfect example of a character that put all their attribute points into appearance. INT, WIS, CHA? Nada. And ever since she left Nick, my tolerance for her has gone down faster than her father's eyes when she's wearing a tube top. (Cheap shot, but that guy creeps me out. Also he once said this.)

Now, my real gripe. Ashlee. Remember when you could glance at a picture of Ashlee Simpson and instantly recogonize her (if you answered no to this question, you're either a better person than I, foreign, or both). I do. Those were the halcyon days. But now? I have to flip through my mental rolodex of skinny, annoying female celebrities made generic by plastic surgery before I get even the slightest clue as to who I might be grimacing at (I really hate those types).

Me Bonus: This is a feature I like to use when explaining just why a girl is so great isn't enough. I have to show you. As far as anti-crushes it's hard to decide what to do with it because I really don't to put more of these vapid, ditsy girls on my site. This time it's just a picture to illustrate how thoroughly Ashlee's surgery ruined her appearence.

On the left: A person. On the right: The latest plastic toy to come off the press.


Once again. On the left: Who the hell is that? On the right: That girl who screwed up on SNL.

I wonder if she had to get a new driver's license picture. Seriously.

- Scott

DON'T FORGET!

Nuclear war starts tomorrow, so if you were going to... I don't know maybe pay some rent or tuition: don't. If you were saving your virginity for something... also don't. How do I know this? Well... I think we can trust Overseer Yisrayl Hawkins, don't you? He's from the AHOY*, the American House of Yahweh. When you're naming convention reminds people of a.) Pirates, b.) IHOP, you've set the stage for some entertaining commentary. If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself.

Now if you'll excuse the Overseer, he and Fred Phelps have to get back to ordering the assassinations of some homosexuals. And if they have time before the end of the world, they'll be going to a soldier's funeral with Thank God for IED's signs. And after that... maybe some grab ass.

- Scott

* Ok, so I gave them the name AHOY. But they'd use it if they had been clever enough to think of it themselves. So let's just pretend they do.

Yesterday: A Six Beer day. Today: A two post day.

Ok I'm about to literally run to work because I should have been there a half hour ago, but before I do that I want you to know that I intend to post today. A real post. Longer than this. Probably funnier as well. In the mean time you may enjoy my theme song.

White & Nerdy

It's scary how much of this song might apply to me.

- Scott

P.S. Lyrics in comments.

*ahem* CRUSH OF THE WEEK!

After a long hiatus, and an even longer period of not wanting to do this particular segment, I've decided to get back in the game. It's only lust after all, and as some of you choose to believe (to make yourselves feel better I suppose) I probably won't be sleeping with most of these women. Let's get down to business shall we?

My Crush ' o the Week
(seriously, she just gets one week)

Name: Kimberly "Alexis" Bledel

Why she's crush worthy: First of all, I have to give props to a girl who masquerades as Alexis when her first name is Kimberly. I know that pain. I've overcome a similar hardship; my first name is Harry. You're forever explaining the origin of that name, why you're called something else, if you mind being called the other name, and what you think of your "real" name. However it's rare that a person can be forced to do that dance with each new aquaintence and remain so ridiculously good looking. In fact I only know of two examples, and I'm the other one.

All of this is not to mention her acting on the Gilmore Girls. If I could choose any girl from any book, film, or TV show to date there is no doubt in my mind it'd be Rory Gilmore. In fact, I'm sure if it ever comes up I'll have answered before the question is even finished*. Even if they follow up "but first, you have to sleep with Delta Burke." For Rory? I'd take the hit. Alexis was also charming in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. (Yes I watched it. Twice.) And she manages to make the movie tolerable.

Finally, she just seems clean. All the time. It could be her complexion, her demeanor, whatever. But (though we haven't met yet), I bet she always smells good. Mariah Carey, for whatever reason, I'd bet she smells like sourdough. And hooker perfume. Scarlett Johanson? Like old milk. Alexis Bledel? Really, really good. Nothing overpowering, just a hint of flowers. Something light. Something that draws you in closer. Ah she's lovely.

Scott Bonus: I was going to embed the video of her in the video for the (almost insufferable) Less Than Jake song "She's gonna break." However, I can't friggin' stand Less Than Jake anymore. Yes things are different from how they were when you were in high school. I'm glad you could eek out five albums on that concept.

So instead you get to watch this lovely interview on Conan. She's even charming when she's doing whorish product placement for Wendy's... which incidentally worked. So I'm off to get tasty 99¢ Five Piece Chicken Nuggets. Enjoy your video.

- Scott

Top Five Records

...was the name of Rob Gordon's record company in High Fidellity. It's also a good reference for the several records that have been set by my top five section. The most recent addition to the hit parade of touted top five/bottom five records is the longest non-updated list. I hope you really enjoyed the screaming PS3 nerd, Wes Anderson's commercial, scorpion venom, county jail beauty contests and extremely high bridge trolls, because you had a good eight weeks of them.

Now we're back in business, and I'm adding a post to the affair. I've always wanted to better explain my pithy little links, and that's what this segment will do from now on (bonus, I already have a half finished Crush o' the Week lined up for tommrow's posting). So here goes, I'ma explain you why I picked h'waht I picked.

Top Five:

1.) Grad students met up for some drinks, comiseration, and sneering disaprovingly at undergrads. Since we don't know each other that well yet it was reminiscent of the early episodes in a reality show. In a related story, I sometimes worry greatly about the way I perceive the world, but I can't right now because I'm working out who the strongest person to enter into an alliance with would be.

2.) and also 3.) Grad students are, apparently, to expect lots of reading. Sure there's a payoff at the end, but before that we get to deal with looooooong passages of rambling, but erudite descriptions of the state of the media, the horrors of splitting infinitives, and how much better things were before bloggers (Yo.) came along. However you get fun reading. It's long but you should enjoy it. Two is quite possibly the scariest internet story ever told, and Three is a more comical runner up.

4.) "I don't care about The Prime Directive; we gotta go beyond Warp Factor 9 to Warp Factor: Love." If that doesn't sell you on it, there's hilarious nerd dancing as well.

5.) More nerd video editing fun. Just watch it.

Bottom Five:

1.) Self explanitory. Also, my bad.
2.) Goodspeed good Croc Hunter.
3.) Incidentally, the footwear by the name Croc has incured my wrath. They're the only shoe that can go anywhere, do anything, and be completely unacceptable all the while. Sure they're the finest in dish-washable footwear, but they're the worst foot accessory since Jellies.
4.) Girlfriend's 21st birthday, I couldn't feel my NECK. Though my aim was impeccable when the time came.
5.) Seriously, it's just tacky.

- Scott