G versus E (where E is economics)

Something's been bothering me lately. (Well, something besides the auto-spell-checker built into the latest release of Firefox.) What's been nagging at me is where the hell* Faustian bargains went? When is the last time you heard of someone selling their soul for earthly pleasure? It seemed like it used to happen all the time. Some peasant sells his soul for a farm and a wife and bam, some other clod drops dead and it's all his. Pretty sweet deal... for the devil. All he had to do was manipulate some germs to do in a day what nature would have done in a decade.

I sometimes wonder if the devil gave up on Faustian bargains because in modern times, what people want in return for their souls is just so outlandish that it's economically not feasible to make the trade. I mean, how much hassle is a soul worth? For instance, among the things that would have to be on the table for me to consider parting with my immortal soul would be the following:

• teleportation
• telekenisis
• telepathy
• anything that has "tele-" before it and implies a god-like power
• Lvl. 8 Cock of the Infinite
• A flawless memory ( i.e. Bean)
• Regeneration a-la Wolverine
• riches
• a Viper
  
• the ability to understand, read, speak, and (why not) fart, in all the languages of the world, etc.
  

I probably wouldn't actually go through with the Faustian Deal, but if all that** were possible and easily do-able, hell it might be something to look into. But I just don't think Old Scratch is up to it. And who can blame him. That's a shit-ton of work to do when back before television all he needed to do was conjure up a prize winnin' hieffer. Honestly, I wouldn't bother either. Feel free to mention how unreasonable you'd be in the comments.

- Scott

* Pun intended, grudgingly
** And I mean the good version of all that, none of this "becareful what you wish for/how you phrase the wish or you end up being turned into an actual wolverine instead of having the mutant power you wanted" bullshit

Car Wreck

Sorry I haven't posted lately everyone. I got in an accident with my parents' Highlander and it's been kind of a nightmare dealing with all the insurance bullshit since then.

I was driving to St. Louis in my parent's SUV on Saturday and adjusting the radio. For all the nice features of the car it's sound system sounded like shit. Or more accurately shit played through a tin can, recorded on an overused casette, and played back over the phone on a radio call-in show.

Anyway, I'm on a two lane highway headed toward the river road when another car comes up behind me driving like he just robbed a bank. Incidentally, it was the exact same model as the one I was driving, just black and slightly newer. I was speeding by about 5 miles an hour because it was a somewhat cop-saturated area.

I thought at the time that this was apparently nowhere near fast enough for Mr. Black-SUV-Assholerson, as he rode my ass for a few miles before he had a chance to swing out around me. It was the first chance he'd had in miles of oncoming cars, and I thought at the time that he'd picked his moment badly because he had VERY little time to pull it off.

Apparently not enough. Just as I was going to slow down to help him out Black-SUV-Assholerson changed lanes into my car, hard. Broke the all the windows on the driver's side except the back cargo area one, we traded some paint. By this point I had started to stop, but so did he so I was more or less forced into the ditch. This broke the front passenger-side headlight and screwed up the front axel.

We finally got stopped completely, him further up the road by about 20 feet. I got out and very seriously considered charging into him and taking the damages out of his flesh. Instead I screamed raggedly at him the only thing I could think to ask "WHY?! Why did you do this to my parent's Highlander?"

Leaning his head out his window, he said "Because there can be ONLY ONE!" and drove away.

State Farm still doesn't believe me.

Purpose-ly

I just posted most of this on Nessa's blog as a comment, but really? It's post worthy. Especially on a boring day like today, I mean I think the Gilmore Girls is a rerun, so there's more or less nothing to look forward to. Without further ado, the rehashing: 

Orthodontists are pricks. Just thought I'd get that out there. As far as medical practitioners that you're likely to encounter, these people are bar-none the most annoying on Earth. However, they also have little to no power over you. There is nothing finer in life than having a frivilous, inconsequential enemy. I'm recruiting Arch-Nemeses at the moment, but if I could get another orthodontist I'd do it in the space of time it takes a Kentucky Moonshiner to rationalize sleeping with his "purty kusinz."

I fondly remember using the following tactics to make the bloated, redfaced orthodontist with his fat, clumsy fingers seem even more bloated, redfaced and clumsy.

• Eating Skittles. A handful at a time. This will cause your braces to come unglued. I took off the entirety of the top braces this way once, and walked in for my monthly appointment with them in my hand, smiling.
  
• 
  
• When it comes time to wear rubberbands, don't.
  
• 
  
• Or, if you'd actually like to get some tooth movement going on, wear eight of them at once two days before the appointment. It does the same thing in almost no time at all. Laugh as he tells your brother (who has been wearing his) that he should commit himself to wearing them like his brother has.
  
• 
  
• Sneeze while he's working on you. (It was an accident, but damn... it was fantastic.)
  
• 
  
• Accidentally break the mold of your teeth they took, later realizing that it was actually someone else's.
  

Ah, those were the days. While I was writing this, I realized something. That having that horrible, fat bastard as an enemy did wonderful things for me. It gave me purpose. Secretly, every prisoner who fights with other convicts is really only looking for his prison-enemy (we're assuming he's already found his bitch). Even God needs Satan (perhaps more than he needs us) because really, would it all be any fun if there was no back-and-forth? I think not. 

So today I set out to find my arch-enemy, hopefully one who is both frivilous and inconsequential, with whom I hope to bicker, use as the default amusement when I'm bored, and advance the floundering plot of this blog.

In the words of a master:

Dr. Byron Orpheus: Oh, it must be dreamy to have a costumed nemesis. Chasing you... wringing his gloved hands in concern of your every move!
Dr. Venture: You're kidding, right?
Dr. Byron Orpheus: ...just seems so romantic.

- Scott

The Wonder Blog: Character's (flaws) Welcome

Most of the time I don't like a person for their better qualities. Good traits just seem so generic, you know? What really attracts me to a person are their vices. Their character flaws (to put it into the terms I'm most comfortable with). And thinking about this, I realized that I'm living too blameless a life. That if I really want to acheive the type of infamy I deserve, I need to step up the character flaws a notch. And to that end, I've decided to tell you all about my racism.

I'll admit it here, for all the world to read that I am a racist... against Eskimos. I know, most of you are shocked. A few of my inner circle are silently rejoicing that they don't have to carry the burden of the secret alone anymore. Why Eskimos? I'll tell you why: because racism, when it hurts people, is a horrible, vile thing. But if there's one thing I've learned from every award winning drama ever, it's that racism is a fascinating character flaw. And since I'll never run into a filthy, grubby, parka-sewing Eskimo, it's not likely that any actual harm will come from it.

It's not often I'll open up this much, and usually it requires my being drunk. But as those closest to me will attest, when I get some sauce in me every other sentence is a slur against those "godsdamned seal-stinking snow-jobs!" In a video released to E!'s "Most Outrageous Blogger Rants," which I bought back for a princely sum, I was seen on an actual soapbox, blitzed out of my mind, shouting at passers-by about the evils of the "Fish Spearing Igloo-Trash!" The transcript is as follows:

The eskimo is the natural emen-emin-*shakes head* enemy of the rest of the world. They're up there every day plotting. Those "eskimo kisses" everyone thinks are so cute are how they pass tiny micro-dots full of information about their plans for nuclear winter! THINK ABOUT IT! They've got the least to lose! Those fish spearing igloo-trash bastards are trying to bring us down to their level! So they can rename places Inunjuak, and Nukchukbuckfluck and all sorts of snow-job bullshit!

They're trying to make us fat and complacent with their insidious pies! They don't even wait for their elderly to die, they just push them out to sea on some ice! Lazy seal clubbing ice-bums! They...

And so on in that fashion. Young children might have wanted to skip that section. I'm not proud of it, but it makes me a more interesting character, and we all need a little spice in our lives, no? Please, feel free to pick an uber-small demographic to ignorantly rant about in the comments. (I reccomend the gajin.)

- Scott

Do they? Do they really?

On my way to work Monday I had to get out of my car and trudge through the snow. This was not because our lot wasn't shoveled. It was because I had seen a sign so ridiculous I needed to get photographic evidence of it.

Your tax dollars at work.

Gators make good choices! Eagles are awesome! I'm apparently working on the rough draft of a children's novel here. If I were, in that novel I might just have to ask, what kinds of good choices have gators historically made?

The best way to find out is by cutting one open. Inside you'll find a license plate, most of a tire, and the missing eight-year-old boy who got him cut open in the first place. We'll collectively call that Good Choice #1.

And Good Choice #2 must be that despite millions of years of existence, they're easily subdued by rednecks and Australians (rest in peace) who cover their eyes and stroke their bellies.

Good Choice #3 is obviously the stance he's striking in the sign. Nothing says "fierce mascot we can all get behind" better than a snotty, foppish gator posing akimbo like he's in a 40's pin-up magazine. Is that an elementary school student in your belly or are you just happy to see me, big boy?

But to be fair they could mean people named Gator in which case (I hope) they're referencing Burt Reynolds in White Lighting and the eponymous Gator. And except for the fact that both movies cement his legend as the least covert moonshiner of all time, and then he gets blackmailed because of it, then does it again... you know what, he's not really a good example either.

Screw this, gators make horrible decisions. Your children are going to grow up to either marry their sisters, or eat license plates and toddlers. In certain necks of the woods, both. I'd get them into a private school as soon as possible.

-Scott

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