$tevil Empire

Stay Classy!

2006-12-11T04:10:00.000-08:00

Yaksemash!
I very much enjoys this bloggings.

I know what you're thinking. I can tell by the seductive look in your eye and the faintest hint of Franzia Chillable Red on your breath. You desire me... and that's okay. It's natural, like the changing of seasons, the flowing of rivers or having sex with unicorns. The reason for this uncontrollable urge to mount me like Battle Cat is simple: it's the moustache into which you are now gazing as though it was some far away and forbidden galaxy. It's like I've got a sexy event horizon right on top of my upper lip! It's like the space under my nose is a laser beam... and it's been set on STUN! I can keep going like this, you know. But, for the sake of expedience, I'll cut to the end... let's see, ah yes: My Moustache is the living embodiment of Jesus Christ, risen again to lead us all into the land of paradise over the hair bridge of love and racial harmony. There, that should wrap it up quite nicely.

The reason I look like a well-groomed piece of sex is not because I'm finally following my destiny of being a Freddie Mercury impersonator, but rather to pay Halloween homage to quite possibly the funniest comedic routine/movie in existence today: Borat. If you haven't witnessed the bowel-moving, soul-destroying glorificence of this movie, then your life is henceforth forfeit. To that end, my henchmen are on their way to your place of residence to provide for you an easy escape from this, your pathetic life. Don't forget your complimentary fridge magnet! In order to circumnavigate your death, go see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, currently playing at your local cineplex. Other than dressing up as an moustachioed misogynist anti-Semitic homophobe, I've been up to other exciting things, which I will now briefly cover in the following list:

The List Of Stuff I've Been Up To Other Than Dressing Up As A Moustachioed Misogynist Anti-Semitic Homophobe List:

1.) Jeflexis - For those of you who don't know, Jeff and Alexis have finally been joined together in holy matrimony. You will undoubtedly share my surprise when I inform you that this union was not a physical one, as I was originally led to believe. You see, I thought they were going to fuse together into one being, becoming an unstoppable force of power. I'm sure you'll remember a similar technique in the Japanese cartoon, Dragonball Z as seen below:

Now that's true love. Regardless of my initial sadness, it was a great weekend and a lovely ceremony. I never realized what two solid nights of drinking and strip clubs could do to a person. Apparently, I have super powers now, as I was bitten by a radioactive stripper - my pelvic gyration can actually halt, and then reverse, the spinning of the globe. Superman did it in that first movie of his, but he did it with less class. It's not his fault, though, he was wearing a cape - plus, I like to play the Cher song, If I Could Turn Back Time while I'm performing. I find it just adds a little panache. Nick, Dan (two more members of the wedding party) and I are thinking about forming a real life Justice League. With my powers combined with Nick's ability to sleep with up to 400 people at once and Dan's ability to have herpes, we should be sweeping the nation with justice sooner than you can say, "Dan and Nick are going to kill me."

Anyway, one of the best parts about the weekend was finding out that I was Jeff's best man, which was a huge honor for me. Luckily, I was able to whip up a passable speech (rife with references to binge drinking and the Ninja Turtles... nope, not kidding) and really tuck into the celebrations of the day. The wedding (which was amazing - performed on the beach in Hilton head, SC), the food and the company were all well worth the price of the trip and then some. More than that, I got to see one of my best friends get married (to a great girl) - a first for me.

2.) Shanksgiving - We didn't do too much for Thanksgiving this year, mostly because the UK doesn't have Native Americans... yet. But, being the best girlfriend on the planet, Katy whipped up a mini-Turkey Day feast for two. She did this on the day that she returned from Boston, where she was attending a conference for Middle East research. Yeah, I know what you're thinking and you're right - I should clone her and raise an army of sexy British women who are amazing cooks and who have heat vision - but just think of the cost! Honestly, while I was away from my home town on one of my favorite holidays, this ended up being one of the most memorable Thanksgivings I've ever had... and not just because I usually get really drunk on Thanksgiving and forget all of the inappropriate things I say in front of family members the next day.

3.) Castle in the Skye - Last weekend, I was lucky enough to finally get up to a place in the Scottish Highlands called The Isle of Skye. I had always heard tale that it was beautiful country, and while I'd seen other big spots in the Highlands, like Loch Ness and Glen Coe, everything I've seen pretty much pales in comparison. Three friends (Geoff, Marcelo, Tommy) and I rented this cottage in the middle of nowhere, which used to be an old shepherd's house. It's called Allt Dearg and if you'd like to take a look at it, you can see the website here! I've got my own pictures marinating in a digital camera right now, and I'll get those up here soon. Overall, it was an amazing weekend of whiskey drinking, cigarette smoking, hiking, eating great food, chewing the fat in front of crackling coal fires, playing cards, listening to music (I highly suggest listening to anything by one of my new favorite musical artists, Smog, by the way - Mother of the World, starring Chloe Sevigny in the video, and RockBottom Riser on youtube are good places to start) and just hanging the fuck out in complete isolation to the outside world.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat. However, this time I'd probably bring some mystic weapons; you know, to thwart the evil machinations of M'alk-tor, the nefarious wizard who leads a near solitary life in the Scottish highlands with his inflatable (but no less man-eating) pet giant snake and what appears to be a Gameboy color... or one of those PKE meters from Ghostbusters. Either way, he's a dick.

4.) Funemployment - So apart from all of this great stuff going on, I still have yet to find a job. Oh sure, I've done the grounds keeping thing and I've done the Edinburgh festival thing, but I don't have anything I'd call a career. So the search continues, as apparently Scotland has a pretty big problem with unemployment. Yay. I actually found a job listing on the student website the other day recruiting male erotic dancers. I just wish my penis wasn't so darn big, then maybe I could work there. But maybe they'll let anyone get a job - given some of the strip clubs I've been to in Scotland, I can say that the quality of the employees is very ... underwhelming. Ah well, there's always the circus... or homelessness.

Anyway, I best be getting on. I have much to prepare for since my parents and brother are coming into town for the next...two...weeks. This should be interesting. Until next time, kids - god is a word and the argument ends there.

Love,

$teve-0

Once, Twice... Three Times a Villain

2006-09-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

Super profundo, boys and girls. I was going to write a lengthy (not to mention linguistically superior) post about my time here in Edinburgh, Scotland. The thing is, unlike a moonbounce, that kind of thing is only fun for so long; and besides, if you're interested and believe that the old addage "pictures speak louder than words" is true, well that probably means the following:

A.) You can't read and you're just a big, fat, illiterate liar who smells bad, has rabies and is completely wrong about how others perceive his so-called "killer 'stache"

OR!

B.) You'd rather just skip a detailed (if not eloquently-written) description and go for the pictures, interjecting your own interpretations and/or hilarious stories therein... you lazy sack of unwed crap.

If the latter is the case, then just release that stalker inside you and continually check out my picture site for updates... and possible future photos of my balls. Delicious. The only new ones right now are in the section appropriately entitled "London BBQ," where there is visual documentation of myself and the visiting Americans (Tasha, Justin, Pilar and Mike) bringing Flip Cup to the savage Brits. It was like the discovery of fire all over again... but with weirder accents and worse teeth. Check "it" out.

Now then, I think it's time to get onto the real point of this post... not that I have a point usually, but humor me here. Many moon ago I wrote about some of the world's best, but unfortunately most underrated villains of all time. I continued that tradition in Villainy Too! Now, a new chapter shall unfold before you like some kind of down syndrome oregami. Too much? Okay, let's just move on...

Underrated Villains:

Class of 2006

1. The Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiase

What? - If there is one person who I've modeled my life after (other than, of course, the prophet Mohammad), it would definitely have to be Ted Dibiase. His nefarious tactics such as bribery, blackmail and basically being a complete rich asshole gave a young Steve-0 something to aspire towards. He also shares my inherent affinity for dollar signs. Plus, his name is Ted. I mean, come on... TED... might as well be Beelzebub... or like... beeltedbub. Sorry. Finally, you just have to respect someone who, after blowing several opportunities to win a championship, finally says, "Fuck it! I'll make my own god damn championship belt! It'll be made of diamonds, gold and the hopes and fucking dreams of homeless children EVERYWHERE! Come on politically incorrect black manservant Virgil, let's go!" Combine that with the downright maniacally soulless laugh that preceded and then punctuated everything he ever said... ever, and you've got the makings of not only a perfect villain, but also a personal saviour.

Why Underrated? - Ted (may I call you Ted?) had some questionable team-ups, the most renowned of which was his pairing with Irwin R. Sheyster, or I.R.S. as he was cleverly known. However, "Money Inc." was successful and did hold Tag Team gold for a period of time. So the true big red X in Jesus... I mean Dibiase's column of kick-ass is that he never won a solo title... fairly (not on the WWF scene anyway). True, he was robbed of both title and dignity when then WWF President Jack Tunney (Who remembers him, raise your hand! Anyone? Okay, just me then) foiled Dibiase's successful attempt at buying Andre the Giant's world championship by stripping him of it and holding a tournament. That day, it was as if Tunney spat in the face and molested the crotch of everything moral and decent in the world. I hear Mother Theresa was personally affected by the decision, poor woman. So really, by association, Jack Tunney molested the crotch of a saint! Which brings me to my next point...

2. Former WWF President Jack Tunney

What? - First off... wow, I didn't even mean to find a picture of this guy, much less one of him looking like he just ate your grandmother's soul and took her money. I think I've tapped some true, unrealized evil here folks. Anyway, Jack Tunney is the guy who molested the crotch of Mother Theresa.

Why underrated? - He wasn't technically a "bad guy," but by costing many deserving wrestlers (like the aforementioned Dibiase, I.R.S. and the Mountie) championship titles, his evil was fucking up the evil of other evil-doers, making him as unto some sort of ultimate evil god, toying with other pawns of evil as though they were merely... PAWNS... of evil. If only we had known at the time, before all of our souls were covertly affected by this mad, holy person-toucher.

3. Duke Igthorn

What? - Duke Igthorn, as you may remember, was the driving force of villainy in the Kingdom of Dunwyn and the surrounding Gummi Glenn, as represented in Disney's Adventures of the Gummi Bears. Don't look at me like that - you watched this shit, too and you KNOW IT! You're even humming the song in your head, aren't you? If you're not, then just click here. Anyway, Igthorn was an exiled knight, obviously ousted from his community because everyone was jealous of his manly figure (accentuated perfectly by his purple fucking spandex!!) and intimidating facial hair. He took out his rage of being booted out of town by (rightfully) attempting to conquer it with his army of ogres. He also figured out that "Gummi Berry Juice" could be used to induce super strength and not necessarily the ability to bounce around like an asshole.

Why underrated? - Despite being the quintessential picture of manliness, he had more than a few problems with a bunch of overly-caffinated teddy bears. In fact, he was repeatedly foiled by them... well, either them or a bunch of kids... Damn. Okay, he sucks, BUT JUST LOOK AT THAT PURPLE SPANDEX!! It doesn't get much more evil than that, folks.

4. Barry "The Tick" Hubris

What?? - Barry Hubris was the original mentally underdeveloped suerhero who went by the name The Tick. Unfortunately for Barry, the other guy was the one who, with nigh-invulnerable fists, forceably punched his way into our hearts forever. It was the resultant jealousy that Barry felt which gave him his villainous purpose in life - to destroy the (new) Tick, by any means necessary. Using his strength-increasing, tick-shaped shield, and questionable sanity, Barry could do some serious damage to even one of nigh-invulnerable dimensions.

Why Underrated? - In the end, Barry didn't give the (new) Tick that much trouble... comparatively speaking (of course, we are comparing him to Tick's other nemeses, which include a Man Eating Cow and Chairface Chippendale, but I digress). Still, he did give that big, blue buffoon quite the whipping for... you know... a couple of minutes. Plus, his costume, while less simplistically stylish, is much more ornate, colorful and... pointy! It's kind of ridiculous how underrated this young man is, as I could not find many pictures of him and not ONE video of his short-lived, but life-changing body of work. What Barry best exemplifies by his very existence is the ease in which heroicism can turn to villainy with something as simple as a name.

!!!Katy's Choice!!!

5. T-Bag

What?? - Yeah, good fucking question. I told Katy that she had to choose her favorite villain of all time and she chose someone called... T-Bag. Of course, I suggested what you are thinking right now, "What does this person do, dip his nuts on guys' heads? I mean, what the f...," but no, apparently British children's programs aren't that cool. Instead, this is some kind of witch named Tallulah Bag (get it?) who not only had an assistant called... sigh... T-shirt, but who derived her powers from... you fucking guessed it... drinking tea. Leave it to the Brits to give "tea powers" to the world. I guess this chick's whole point was to piss off little girls by jumping into books or pissing in their tea or something. Look, I dunno, but it's British and that's scary and evil enough, am I right? **NEWS UPDATE** Holy Jesus! I just found T-Bag's untimely demise on YouTube! You have got to check THIS out! The pic above is from this movie and you'll get to see her Microsoft Paint laserbeam in all of its glory. I don't understand why she shows her new "omnipotence" by shooting a crappy laser and not just turning their internal organs into bombs or ants or something. But then, I guess the lord does move in mysterious ways. This also proves that it wasn't Nietzche who killed God, but rather some little girl with a mirror. Hm, you learn something new everyday.

Why Underrated? - Because anyone outside of the UK has never heard of her, 'nuff said.

Okay, that's it for this time. I've been writing this god damn post for about a month now and it's finally done. More about "real" life next time, with particular attention to my trip back to the States and Jeff and lexi's wedding... and all of the strip clubs therein! Until then, try not to hurt yourself!

Love,

$teve-0

Back like a Vertebrae

2006-08-16T05:44:00.001-07:00

Gimme a Pound

Greetings and salutations friends and countrymen! It has been forever and roughly two days since my last post. The last time I wrote, I said goodbye, but now I give you all a big HELLO! I couple this 'hello' with a slightly uncomfortable (and definitely pelvic thrusting-filled) snuggle. Ah, just like the kind Uncle Hank used to give. But his moustache tickles more than yours. Plus his tight leather pants fit better. You should really exercise more.

Anyway, here I sit in a nondescript internet cafe in the middle of beautiful Edinburgh, thinking of all the (mis-)adventures I should tell you about. I'm not exactly sure where to begin or precisely where to end, but I'll give it the old college try. Here's a list of the stuff I can remember doing since I've been heer. I'm sue

The List of Stuff I Can Remember Doing Since Moving To Scotland List

1.) London - Greg and I showed up to the UK, were quickly greeted by El Katy with two swift punches to the groin and were whisked to every corner of London. I caught up with old friends and Greg saw the sights, getting really drunk in the process. It was good times. Unfortunately at the time, Katy's mom's flat was getting 'gutted' as they call it here. Unfortunately, that term does not imply the aftermath cleanup of a cataclysmic fight with the undead in their living room as I had hoped. No, it just means that they were 're-doing' it, which again does not mean that they were performing acts of necrophelia on their would-be zombie overlords. Anyway, the end result was hacing to sleep in a place that was not much better than a crack (or frat) house. Luckily, they had an operating toilet... for a couple of days. It was basically like going camping in one of the world's finest capital cities. The only real difference was that I didn't kill any bears with my bare hands... or my bear hands for that matter. Damn, now I wish I had bear hands. They'd fire super bear laser beams and fuck your ass up! Anyway, I instead took out my feral aggression (normally reserved for the aforementioned bear-kind) on an predator of equally dangerous repute... the homeless. If they bite you, you become one of them... like reindeer. So yeah, London was fun.

2.) Beltane - We moved onto Scotland and after more than a few nights out, we went up to the yearly pagan festival on the top of one of the many hills in the city. It's called Beltane and is filled with fire, dancing and brightly painted naked people simulating sexual intercourse. It kind of reminded me of the Our Lady of Angels church bazarr, but with less spaghetti and funnel cake. Anyway, it was a good, if not weird time and fun and imaginary sexually transmitted diseases were shared by all!

3.) The French Connection - After Greggor left, Katy's mom treated us to a long weekend in Boulogne, France, which is only a ferry ride away from Dover in England. We stayed in the old town, which is a quaint little place inside these ramparts from one of the wars that France lost. We ate shitloads of amazing French food (including cheeses, fresh fish, cured meats and, if we've learned anything from National Lampoon's Eurpoean Vacation, dirty dishwater), drank beautiful wine and are now, after a short argument over a bill, the current rulers of France.

4.) Newcastleton Folk Festival - Katy, our friend Fin and I took another long weekend to visit a folk festival in a place called Newcastleton, which in turn is in a place called the Borders, which not surprisingly is the area where Scotland borders England. Are we all caught up now? This was a fucking great time! It was in the above little town, which was about as big as Potomac Mills Mall in beautiful Woodbridge, VA. We basically just walked around to all the little pubs where old men and women were sitting around playing all of the stereotypical instruments of Celtic folk music. We also drank alot. Luckily, we also had free accommodation since Katy's family friend, Valerie, lives in a house in the middle of a sheep field, which is bifurcated by this classic little brook. It was a scene out of Little House on the Prairie, but without the manly visage and untamed frock of the pure acting force known as Michael Landon. It was a hell of a time and a hell of a road trip.

5.) My Best Job - I'm running out of time at the cafe here, so I'm just going to skip right to the present. Up until recently, I had finally found the job I was born to be fired from. For about a month, I was working as one of many groundskeepers at a golf course in Roswell, Scotland, which is also in the middle of a small village and surrounded by farms. It's probably the best job I have ever had, and I write that with more passion than I could ever express without lubricant. Why did I love it so much? Was it the fact that I watered trees and cut grass all day? Was it the fact that most of the day was actually spent sunbathing and getting a good workout? Was it the fact that I got to drive around on kick-ass machineryup to and including a B.F.T. (bick fucking tractor) and 6 wheeled all terrain vehicles? Was it the fact that I was making £210, tax free every week? Well, yes, but the true reason this job was so blindingly beautiful was because I got to work with the living incarnation of Groundskeeper Willie. His name is Bobby and I swear to god he was as breathtaking as the mountainous views from the vistas at the golf course. I never thought that the words cunt and fuck (or as he pronounced them: coont and fook) could ever be so skillfully and poetically employed. I'll go further into his other vocabulary usage in another post, since I am defintiely running out of time. Suffice it to say, Bobby is now the face of my new ideal. Unfortunately, I was ripped from this womb of bliss last week as Scotland is suffering from a draught and the millionaire that owns the place informed me that there just wasn't enough work to keep me on board. Now though, I am working at one of the hundreds of venues at the yearly Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I'm helping out with the merchandising for a very popular comedian over here by the name of Bill Bailey. I got to see his show last night for free (sold out for 9 nights, 1200 people every night, something like £16 a ticket) and the people I work with, while not on par with the Jesus-like Bobby, are pretty damn stellar in their own rights and I'm having a hell of a time. Plus I'm getting paid handsomely.

Okay, nearly out of time, so I'll just say that I'm having a fucking blast over here right now and I'll post more updates and shit I've no doubt forgotten along the way. So until next time, always remember to wipe front to back!

Love,
$ + £ > £ - 0

good night and good luck

2006-04-23T21:13:00.000-07:00

Hit it, hit it then quit it.

So here I am, alone and quiet on my last night in America for, other than one planned trip back, an indefinite period of time. Ever since I made the not unexpected announcement that I was leaving, people have been asking me how I feel about the move - nervous or excited? It's a pretty formulaic question that I guess everyone has to ask. It's actually more like a rhetorical statement, if anything, because inevitably the answer always comes back the same: both. I feel like I did nearly three years ago when I left to map out what would be the first leg of my fantastic voyage... no, not the one with Coolio. That's a whole different story and involves 40s, gats and an epic Rainbow bridge battle against the indescribable and unexpectedly formidable Sugarplum Brigade. Let me just interject real quickly and say that you should never accept what appear to be Flintstone Vitamins from a guy who has pipe cleaners for hair. Not a sermon, just a thought.

Honestly, I feel, if I may be so bold, bitter$weet. I remember coming back from my first year in Scotland feeling very much like the bastard brainchild of Lazarus and Alice, after coming back through the looking glass. In essence, I died, participated in an infinite number of misadventures with some impossibly interesting characters and suddenly, right when I was getting used to my surroundings, fantastic and surreal though they may have been, came back. On my return "home," I found that life had moved on without me and I never really secured a solid grasp on who I was before or what I had left behind. It's something that I've actually come to respect about life. It always moves on, no matter what you do and how you change, it always stays one step ahead of you, like the ideal of God. In my nearly two years back in NoVa, I tried to attain some level of past comfort, but in the process, lost my former idea of home. I don't belong here anymore. I say that with a somewhat heavy, but resigned heart. I need to go where I belong (cue the Cheers theme song), to a place which can help me, on a personal level, to grow up some more - possible failure be damned!

So I move, not back, but on, and in my wake I leave reinvigorated relationships, dead friendships, new acquaintances, failed projects and fond memories. In my future, I face what I've always faced: the possibility of everything, with no constants this time, but one. And she is my new idea of home.

I apologize if I've been cheesy or unnecessarily cliché, but it's late and tomorrow's a big day... and that totally rhymed, so I must be a brilliant poet. This won't be my last post to this blog, but it is my long goodbye; my moment of overly-emotional bittersweet twilight. No, it's not the end, but for now at least, it is goodbye.

Thanks for everything, even if it was nothing.

Love,
$teve-0

Mind Bullets

2006-04-10T09:46:00.000-07:00

Home Alone 2099

I enjoy thoroughly a proper mind fuck. In my opinion, there's not much better than reading or seeing something that leaves you a little bit dead inside, like that time you walked in on me and your mom slamming groins and swapping gravy. I love it when you see a movie or read a book and everything in your head just kind of... hums. You can't really think about what you've just experienced, regardless of wanting so badly to do so. That, my friend, is a beautiful thing. It's kind of like an emotional brain freeze: it feels strangely arousing and immensely painful all at the same time (I'll let you make your own inappropriate joke out of that one). It's like going to the gym after not having done so in years. You feel sore afterward, but it feels like you've earned it. That pain and the resultant payoff - that's yours. It's beautiful agony. At the end of these mind-fuck stories, in the same frustratingly clear moment, you want to laugh, cry, fight, fuck and all the while enjoy this serene numb. If I could describe postmodernism as a physical feeling, I think that might be it.

I've really started to loathe horror movies of late, just because I think everything's a re-hash of a re-hash. However, I think I can understand why there are "horror junkies" in the first place. I think we share this enjoyment of fear, or at very least hesitant paranoia that our respective chosen poisons offer us. More often than not, the surreal and the horror intersect. Many say that the former cannot exist without the presence of the latter and vice-versa, but that's not really my point. The point is this: I can understand an "addiction" to something that should be, for all intents and purposes, aversive.

It usually takes something, not so much special, as completely unexpected to get this reaction out of me. The few works that have "gotten me" aren't necessarily groundbreaking or even particularly good for that matter, but they came out of nowhere and did my head in something fierce: Vonnegut did it to me in Breakfast of Champions; Samuel Beckett got me in The Unnamable; Scotland's own Alasdair Gray has done it a number of times (but mostly in Lanark and 1982, Janine); Will Self just recently tickled me with it, Neil Gaiman got a spark out of me with some of the Sandman and Death stuff and Grant Morrison (who I just found out was also born in Glasgow, Scotland) did it in Arkham Asylum and promises to do so again in something that went entirely under my radar called The Invisibles, which I'm literally chomping at the bit to read. He claims that the story, "was information given to him by aliens that abducted him in Katmandu, who told him to spread this information to the world via a comic book." Awesome. For an issue guide click HERE. I recently just discovered Morrison and frighteningly realized how much we thematically have in common. I now consider him my personal Jesus, a position once held by Robot Jesus.

It's also just happened to me today in another story that, again, is not particularly life-changing. Most people will probably find it relatively banal and covered with that "it's been done before" filmy residue, but it got me. I'm talking about a short story called, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. That name just hooked me from the word go! I'm usually the last one to find out about cool stuff like this, so I suppose that alot of you have read it or at least heard about it. It was apparently one of the major influences of The Terminator movies. If not, I'm not going to sum it up for you, but it's very short and is presented in its entirety at Scifi.com. Check it out.

Some of you may remember a computer game of the same name - it's based on the book and was co-rewritten for game play by the author, Harlan Ellison. While the game doesn't seem as simplistically mind altering as the story, I'd love to play it (or hear from anyone who's played it) just because it's apparently rife with sadistic choices based on human ethics. I bet it's great holiday fun for the whole family!

It's stuff like this that really makes me excited about continuing to write the comic. It's also really fucking daunting, considering that writers Morrison and Ellison have already done similar stories so brilliantly. I'm in absolute awe of these guys and am insanely intimidated by them at the same time. I'm inspired by the accute numbness that they have been able to elicit in me and am painfully aware that I'll probably fail in attempting to accomplish the same thing in others. My only solace is not from others (since no one has really read it) but more because my head feels like it's gone through a mental enema after every time I write or re-work a part of the story. But that could be because I'm profoundly stupid, so who knows?

Anyway, this was a strange post replacing coherence with unnecessary length and boredom. More stupid jokes about penis next time! Enjoy I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. It's good shit!

Love,
$-0

** Shut-Update: I've been looking around the internet, as I sometimes have been known to do, and found some other things that "get me." These come in the form of Samuel Beckett plays presented via BBC Radio online. Radio 1 has apparently been celebrating Beckett's centenary, so they've been re-broadcasting some of his plays. They are very strange and almost completely without any coherence, but as such, they're brilliant. The ones they offer are Embers, Krapp's Last Tape and the monologue Not I. Check them out if you get a second. Here's the site: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/speechanddrama/beckettevening.shtml. Enjoy.

Meanwhile...

2006-03-23T05:42:00.000-08:00

First off: Happy Birthday, Blog. After a full year and 43 posts, you have maintained your meaninglessness with style, grace and ambiguity. I often think, when pondering your birth a year ago, that I should have done the right thing and gotten that abortion. There's a good lesson here, kids - this is the price you pay for getting drunk, not wearing a condom and having a "no-strings-attached" night of passion with your home computer. You end up with a blog that is nothing but a huge disappointment and a strain on your young, unwed life - which has now become a blur of alcohol, whip-its and male prostitution. So hey, this is a message from $teve-0 to you: if you're "fiddling" with any household appliance, throw on a latex glove, you feel me? Okay, good. And by the way, Jesus saves.

And now for the real reason of this post...

$teve-0 & Magoo Present:

TEH WEB COMIC

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, that comic that we've been putting together for the past fifty years is actually getting some new life breathed into its near-dead carcass. The title for the comic is

Meanwhile in Nevermind:

Placebo Dreams ©

It is most likely poorly-written, mindless drivel; however, we won't know that unless you tell us to our stupid, ugly faces. So here's what we're gonna do: every week or two, we're going to post pages of the comic up on the website and we ask that you check them out and comment on them. Then, we'd like for you to tell your friends, so that this glorious circle of life can continue. So, If you're up for it and would like to help us out, go to the following blog/website:

Placebdodreams.blogspot.com

and let the reading and commenting flow like the joyless tears of a pregnant stripper in the middle of a lapdance. If that doesn't entice you to read our comic, I don't know what will! Remember to start with the earliest entry (03/17/06) and then every sequential date thereafter. Readers should be reminded that this is just our first attempt of actually getting stuff online. There will be more content coming soon and eventually a website upgrade, but until then, this is what we've got. Enjoy and God bless!

Love,

$-0

2006-03-16T12:19:00.000-08:00

April 24, 2006

God $ave the Queen.

The Pauscars

2006-03-07T08:08:00.000-08:00

The First Annual

*PAUSCAR AWARDS*
Celebrating Cinematic Lunacy since a Couple of Minutes Ago

As the above subtitle so pithily proclaims, the Pauscars award movies, video clips, music videos and other visual media for blatant stupidity and/or rampant humor. All decisions made by the Academy are final, and are most likely ill-informed and poorly made. That being said, it should give the two or three of you something to do while your anime porn downloads. Let me first thank Youtube.com for its partnership in making this award show happen.

You might be asking yourself what the Pauscar award actually looks like. Unfortunately, the Academy doesn’t have a lot of money to spend on flashy awards. We wanted something along the lines of a golden dragon with blinking red eyes, but not only will that cost upwards of $12.99 at your local Chesapeake Knife & Tool, but let’s be honest here, it’s pretty terrifying. Instead, we’ve opted for a more family-friendly, cost effective award, while at the same time striving to maintain its inherent prestige. That’s why everyone who receives a Pauscar will be mailed a decorative statuette depicting an adorable kitten with angel wings:

The Pauscar

I. The Pauscar for Most Impressive Sound Editing in a Short Film goes to:

Juggernaut Bitch –This unparalleled voice-over work, lovingly crafted by two talented young men is a fine example of the artistry of the expletive. The tapestry of low-brow humor, animated storytelling and the word “bitch” is devotedly woven by its masterful practitioners. Bravo, gentlemen, and congratulations!

II. The Pauscar for Best Leading Performance in a Dramatic Role goes to:

Dave Wills (Pro-Wrestling Super Fan) – Each tear falls silently, pregnant with blistering passion until finally, sullen stillness gives way to vociferous denial as the protagonist wetly announces his intention to shuck the confining shell of reality and believe in something greater than himself. God bless you, Mr. Wills, and your stubborn refusal to accept even the most basic facts.

III. The Pauscar for Best Supporting Performance in a Comedic Role goes to:

Johnny Blackshirt – Mr. Blackshirt, in his world renowned performance, teaches us many things. He has taught us to love, to laugh and perhaps most of all to watch one’s fucking mouth when writing checks that one’s ass can’t cash. His acting partner, and apparent doppelganger, has also taught us something – that it is perfectly acceptable to remove oneself from one’s car at a busy city intersection to punch your evil shade in the face. This will be useful information when the second Infinity War is waged.

IV. The Pauscar for Best Reference to a Prince Albert in a Featurette goes to:

Jack Black, in Lord of The C*Ring – The marriage between effective parody and requisite penis joke in this film is matchless. The nudity, tastefully done without the slightest hint of excessive sophomoric wit, is a necessary tool to convey longing, obsession and the bare male ass. The entire cast works together to bring this cinematic experience out of the confines of a television screen or internet window and into legend.

V. The Pauscars for BOTH Best Special Effects and Best Original Score go to:

Pro-Wrestling – When the Academy viewed this montage honoring one of the most defining gaming/theatrical achievements of all time, all members openly and unapologetically wept. Viewers of this feature film should be prepared for uncompromising orchestral accomplishment and stunning visual splendor not seen since 1986, otherwise known as the year that humanity realized its peak in audio and visual mastery.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this has to be a short show, firstly because we’ve gone over budget and secondly because the Academy can’t think of anything else to write. We hope you’ve enjoyed the inaugural (and most likely final) Pauscar awards. If you do not agree with any of the selections, we here at the Academy warmly invite you to go fuck yourself.

Have a safe trip home, everybody!

Love,
$-0

Cry Baby

2006-02-27T05:44:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted anything for a couple of weeks. Look, I'm sorry but you're going to have to get over it. I know that this blog is like electronic booger sugar, but I just don't have the raw materials, manpower or general motivation to constantly keep it updated. It's probably best to start weaning yourself off of it. I understand that two things can assist you in the pursuit of freedom from this frightening dependency:

low doses of Oxycontin
extreme psychotherapy

...OR YOU CAN TAKE THE PHYSICAL CHALLENGE!! Yeah yeah yeah, I know what you're thinking - "Wow, $teve-0, a reference to Double Dare. How original." Yeah well, eat my ass, Sunshine.

I'm finding it hard to be creative these days, what with the departure of my better half. It's been more mentally straining than watching that Howard the Duck movie, which, despite its tagline, does not contain, "more adventure than humanly possible." It does, however, contain a midget in a duck suit playing a guitar in an '80's metal band... which is a lot less entertaining than it actually sounds. I'd try to show a picture of this momentous event in cinematic history, but when I type "howard the duck guitar" into a Yahoo search, I get this image for some reason:

Now, I'm not exactly sure what it means or how it relates to "Howard the Duck" or "guitar," but somehow, I don't care. I am completely content in the inexplicable nature of this image. It's as if the waving gentleman is saying, "Greetings traveler! My name is Gary. I am naked, as is my companion, whom I also call Gary. Please stay and enjoy our geometric shapes and fourth grade illustrations of your galaxy. And by the way, Howard the Duck guitar."

Beautiful.

As you can see, ever since the Katy left, my own mental state is suspect. It really sucks having her gone. I never took having her around for granted and thanked the big spaghetti monster upstairs for every moment we had together, but it still hurts to have her gone. And again, I know what you're thinking, "Steve, Steve, Steve," you think, shaking your head, "I haven't followed a word you've said. I'm still thinking about that awesome picture you just posted." Well that's fair enough, and I can't fault you for it; it is pretty amazing, but stay with me for a second. I miss the crap out of Katy and feel that a part of me has been stretched across oceans. Get your mind out of the gutter, I don't mean THAT part of me (although it can stretch across oceans - tell your friends). I feel worn-thin and numb, and it doesn't seem to be getting better. Luckily, friends, this is only a temporary ailment which will be cured upon my own departure, the date of which I shall officially announce in a couple of weeks.

In my other misadventures, I've been drinking steadily and looking at a lot of Youtube. It's pretty much my new Uncyclopedia, i.e. my reliable venue for reliable information upon which I rely reliably. May I specifically suggest the following movies:

Barry, Levon and $240 worth of Pudding (Levon Pudding)
Life Lessons, a Father and Son (love and war race)
Dog gets pwned! (dog gets owned)

The first two are skits from The State, otherwise known as the best sketch comedy this side of The Kids in the Hall. I model my life on the gentlemen in the first and promise to use the same child rearing strategies of the father figure in the second. The third video option confirms my love of making a fool out of lower life forms. In case these links don't work for some reason, I've written (in a lovely lavender tone) the search words that will take you directly to them on Youtube. Don't say I never gave you anything... besides crabs.

Anyway, that's all I gots for now. Until next time, remember the following very important life lessons that I've learned over the week: make every moment count, plan like your life depends on it (because sometimes it does), always wipe front to back and Howard the Duck guitar.

Love,

$-0

The Touch

2006-02-15T08:31:00.000-08:00

Who needs Brokeback Mountain?

This isn't going to be a proper post, but I just found something on "the internet" that is just... incredible. No, it's beyond incredible. So devine is its very nature that it transcends the limits of human description. This beats Dennis Madalone. This beats Hasselhoff. This beats Jesus Fucking Christ.

I deliver unto you your new reason to live. I give you the only video you will ever need to see ever again... EVER. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present, without any further ado...

THE TOUCH

by STAN BUSH

The gentle, joyful weeping begins when you see (a FUCKING IMPRESSIVE) Optimus Prime discussing life, the universe and everything with some lucky, bowl cut-sporting little fuck.

It slowly transforms (pun intended) into a slightly stronger sob after the dulcet-toned reminder of Optimus that he"... will be back soon to transform your day into adventure." I defy anyone... ANYONE... to produce such an inspiring message!

Finally, the sob becomes all out blubbering of soft, wet rapture with the appearance of the incomperable Stan Bush in all of his big haired, tight-jeaned glory. As the subtle marriage of whinning guitar and raspy voice hits you with a power more pure and raw than that of God himself, you realize that you have finally touched Nirvana.

Enjoy, dear friends, and be changed forever.

Global Awareness vs. Alcohol Abuse

2006-02-14T06:50:00.000-08:00

You tell them, Mr. Fantasdick!

Before I report on all the rampant chicanery that has been afoot within the empire, I should like to, of course, note the special day of this post. Obviously it's Valentine's Day. In contrast to what most people believe, I absolutely love VD. Why, it's positively infectious! Honestly, I'll be celebrating VD with renewed vigor this year. We at the $tevil Empire hope that you all have a lovely VD. If you don't, just let me know and I'll be happy to help your VD in any way I can. It's like we always say around here on this day - VD: Spread The Love!

You know, today's not just a day where we celebrate love by buying overpriced confections for one another while exploring the many, multi-faceted ways of making light of Venereal Disease. No, today's celebrations are as multitudinous as a large box of chocolates. For instance, it's the birthday of not only 20/20 host, Hugh Downsyndrome (God dammit I wish that was his true name), but it's also the birthday of Frank Weller, the voice behind Megatron, Soundwave, Krulos: Lord of the Rulon Dino Riders, and of course Doctor Fucking Claw!! Actually, if his name was Doctor "Fucking" Claw, it would add a whole new element to Inspector Gadget... or should I say, Inspect-HER Gadget? Okay, I'll stop.

Finally, today we celebrate the admission of Oregon into these, our United States of America. For more about Oregon, specifically where to find the very best glory holes and most discreet public bath-houses, check out Warregon's site. There, now that we've gotten all of the references to past pop culture, questionable jokes about homosexuality and inappropriate comments about physical deformity out of the way, let's get on with the...

Shut The Fuck Up-dates

1. The Katy Going Away Party: In celebratory mourning (you know, like the Irish) of Katy's imminent departure (aka-$teve-0's least favorite day ever), we stuffed the insides of FRANK hard and full with all of our party members. Items of note:

Katy's Drunken Stupor
Sean's Face (stranger than usual)
The Flip Cup Final: Team Britain vs. Team Mexico
Rampant Kamikazes
Katy's Drunken Stupor continuing unabated

In short, a fun time was had by all... especially Katy. Did I mention she was hammered? She's learned so much in the last 5 months. I just... I feel so proud. Many thanks to all who came in the spirit of the day, and to those that just really wanted to get drunk... Katy, I'm looking in your direction.

2. MERIP Event: On a completely different track, Katy and I attended her internship's fundraising event on Saturday. The Middle Eastern Research and Information Project (MERIP) is a non-governmental magazine devoted for the past 32 years to giving a true account of the Middle East with thoughtful analysis independent of the largely biased mainstream media. Katy's been interning with them ever since she's been here and has loved the experience thus far. The event held on Saturday took place at one of mine and Katy's favorite left-wing restaurants, Busboys and Poets. It was one of the coolest nights we've had, for the following reasons:

Foodstuffs - The food was bangin' harder than your mom on coke. In the middle of the event hall, there was a table laden with Middle Eastern goodies. There was humous, tabouleh, falafel and soujouk (sausages that make Jimmy Dean look like a chump). They also had an open bar of beer and wine. That + Me = Happy.
The Iron Sheik - Not to be confused with the professional wrestler of the same name, this Palestinian rapper dropped the hotness, spittin' fresh rhymes over dope beats, f'real. Word life, son. Honestly, dude was hilarious and actually had a lot of good things to say about the treatment of Palestine and the global misunderstanding about the Arab community. Plus he rapped about impeaching the fuck out of Bush, so he gets two very enthusiastic thumbs up from yours truly.
Suheir Hammad - You might have seen this INCREDIBLE Brooklyn-born, Palestinian-American poet when you clicked past HBO's Def Poetry Jam in your seemingly endless search for soft-core porn on Cinemax, you fucking pervert. The Katy and I were lucky enough to not only watch her perform, but also to get a signed copy of her new book, Zaatar Diva, which is understandably getting rave reviews. I won't go into it too much because I'll sound cheesy, but this was by far one of the most riveting performances I've ever seen. Honestly, I don't remember being so rivetted. She was also really fucking cool and very down to earth. Check out her stuff, you won't be disappointed... unless you're an asshole.

So yeah, it was an amazing time. I'm kind of impressed we made it there and back, since it was potentially life-threatening outside, what with the falling snow, gale-force winds, thick ice and holographic lions. I swear to god, if I get attacked by one more animal magically comprised of mystic energy and futuristic technology, I'll... well, I don't know what I'll do, but it'll most likely be mildly annoying!! Fucking Visionaries, you know?

Well, that's it for now. So, until next time, I leave you with words once told me by a great and wise sage: "Most people think of their body as a temple, but I see mine as a dictionary. Just check out this definition."

Love,

$-0

Sinundation!

2006-02-07T08:10:00.000-08:00

The $tevil Empire: Get Your Fill of Stupid

Hello again dear reader, whoever you may be. I'm guessing you're here because you arrived for one of the following reasons:

I know you - Be it "biblically" or otherwise, either way, you're still fucked for the simple fact that you're guilty by association with a registered killing machine.
You are hopelessly lost in an endless, online quest for compromising images of Captain Planet and the Planeteers. You're a sick bastard, you know that?
You're a bear and have accessed the site by wandering into a public library and/or internet cafe and, in a honey-induced rage, have mashed the appropriate keys to not only enter the $tevil Empire, but simultaneously lower your car insurance by at least 15%.
Hi mom!
You have found both this web address, my phone number and other personal information scrawled across the wall of a public restroom or various other dens of iniquity. Though I am always in pursuit of a "good time," as the aforementioned messages may or may not indicate, let me assure you that these "mustache rides" are, in contradiction to anything you may have read, completely optional. I apologize for any confusion.

There, now that we've clarified the caliber of people on the site, we can move on as you proceed to watch me talk to myself! This, of course, excludes the bears, who are no doubt invested in the mauling of all individuals in the "Young Adult" section of the library.

Now then, much has been going on of late. Much more, obviously, than one could even fathom shaking a stick at. While I know it doesn't seem like it now, what with all the talk of bears, overt homosexuality and the employment of ecological superpowers in fetishism, this is meant to be a very serious post discussing very serious issues. For instance, in a scant few moments, I'll be discussing Hamas and what their political victory may mean to the world, as well as the stink being raised by a portion of the Muslim world about this political cartoon. You may just think that this site is a tribute to the sophomoric, but that's only like 97.5% of it. At least 2% is chalk-full of intellectual vigor. The other .5% is considered "Other," and I'm still compiling a working definition of what that might be. Basically, if this blog were juice, it would definitely be from concentrate and only really marginally be allowed to be called "juice" in the first place. The thing is, there's enough sugar and chemical filler to make ir just as delicious and twice as bad for you as the real thing!

Still don't believe that I can go a sentence without employing profanity, dickhead? Well just fucking observe the following list:

The Weird/Scary/Annoying-Shit-Going-On-In-The-World List

by Steven O. Lution, DDS

1.) Hamas - Do not be fooled, this is not the delicious, garbanzo bean-rendered sauce known as Hummus. A mistake like that is libel to get your face shot, or at very least, your tastebuds satisfied. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this whole Hamas thing, to be honest. They obviously have a lot to prove, especially in regard to how... or actually - IF they recognize Israel. Other "terrorist" organizations have accomplished great (as in scope, not necessarily "good") things by gaining real, political power. Hezbollah in Lebanon is an example of this. It might mean that they won't have to make such a big noise (in the form of car bombs and suicide bombers) to get their message heard. Since they're now actors on a global stage, they might think, "Hmm, perhaps we should represent the Palestinian people in a less extreme manor." Then again, they could say to themselves, "Well, Palestine obviously likes what we're doing, as is illustrated by the fact that we now have very real power. We should probably just keep up the 'good work'. Please pass the hummus." So yeah, it can go either way methinks. Uri Avnery, a guy I have mentioned in previous posts, wrote a little something on the victory, as well as how it applies to the whole Sharon situation. Check it out HERE, it's really good. So is your mom, by the way.

2.) The "Cartoon War" - Unfortunately, this does not apply to some epic battle between The Master of the Universe and G.I. Joe, with an underground insurgency guided by the unusual, but exceptional union of the GoBots and the surprisingly malicious Shirt Tales. Damn... I'd watch the shit out of that!! Sorry, I'm getting off-topic. I'm, of course referring to a Danish newspaper's admittedly controversial portrayal of The Prophet Muhammad. Now, let's be honest here, it was fucked up and in bad taste of the newspaper to print something so scandalous. I'm sure they were doing it to push the buttons of free speech, which I'm all about, but it was pretty messed up.

I am not, however, saying that it was "wrong." Every group of people needs a good jab every once in a while. Christians get it. Americans get it. Jews get it. Gay people get it. The list goes on and on. It's exactly how a given group handles that situation which is truly telling.

Let me say right now, at the risk of getting a Fatwa placed on me from Iran or something, these Muslims who are going around setting fire to buildings and killing people are acting like immature animals and there is no other way to describe it. It's pathetic and the greater Muslim community should be ashamed of how these actions reflect on their beliefs. The fact that this inexcusable behavior is being perpetrated globally is only serving to prove one thing - that the cartoon might actually be right. Anyone with a brain knows to differentiate between these extremists and the entirety of the Muslim community, but for those people who tend only to see the blur between these groups, it's making their hatred and fear worse. I just want to grab these ignorant Muslim fucks by the face and say, "CUT IT, THE FUCK, OUT! There are certain ways to protest and to let the world know that you do not agree with how you have been represented; actually acting like 'the monsters' you are depicted as being IS NOT FUCKING ONE OF THEM!!" Yes, the cartoon was messed up and over-generalizing, and that sucks, but people are dying because of it. Does everyone understand that? PEOPLE ARE DYING BECAUSE OF A FUCKING CARTOON!! Listen, you extremist Muslim nutjobs - get thicker skin and calm down; in short, grow-the-fuck-up!

3.) The State of the Union - I'm not going to go into a lot of this, because, as Shakespeare once said, "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." I would like to point out the following website, though, which really helps the thinking public (ie, non-republicans) wade past the thick candy shell of absolute bullshit and get to the gooey center of the truth behind the deceit. Check out Katrina Vanden Heuvel's "Decoding the State of the Union" at The Nation.

4.) Talkie Pictures - Katy and I have seen a veritable crap-load of great movies lately. Without going into too much detail, because this post is long e-fucking-nough, you should definitely see Syriana and Good Night and Good Luck (i.e the absolute best movie I have seen in a very long time). Both represent the new and improved god-like status of George Clooney. Of course, I've been a fan of his ever since his amazing portrayal of the dark knight in the unforgettable Batmand and Robin... oh man, sorry, I think I just threw up in my mouth. Speaking of things you would prefera bullet wound over, you should probably skip Munich. It was halfway interesting, but the meat and potatoes of the message was really lost and only truly implemented in one scene in a ridiculously short (though gripping) discussion between the Israeli main character, played by Eric Banna, and a Palestinian. Wow, run-on sentence much? YES I DO!! I was also disappointed that the lead role never once turned into the Hulk.

I also saw Chronicles of Narnia, but won't do an impression of what I thought about it, so as not to offend the retarded. Oh, and finally, check out City of God (tied with Good Night and Good Luck), which is an amazing film about the drug-fueled street wars in Brazil and Kontroll, an equally-amazing Hungarian flick portraying a fictional world based on the Budapest subway system. It's really, really well done. Crash was pretty good too, in case you're wondering. Please keep in mind with all of these reviews that No Holds Barred is one of my favorite movies of all time. Just a caution and reference point.

5.) A Death Most Tragic - Finally, in this god-awful, long post, I'd like to mention a person who died recently that truly changed the world. This person selflessly, bravely and boldly assisted in continuing the unification of two societal groups by working tirelessly to bridge the gap of hatred into peaceful understanding. I am, of course, referring to Al Lewis, otherwise known as Grandpa Munster. The way this man brought together both human and vampire (and to a larger extent, all monster-kind) cannot go overlooked. God bless you, Grandpa.

(You see, extremist Muslims? Even the undead are not exempt from one of their own being poked fun at!)

Anyway, that's it for now, since I've taken up enough of your valuable time. Back to pornographic web searches with you. So until next time, be good, stay cool and get that out of your mouth, you have no idea where it's been.

Love,

$-0

Self(-ish) Promotion

2006-01-26T08:15:00.000-08:00

Kind of like this, but less "African-American"
and more "biker chains and leather pants."

I would like to direct the first portion of this blog entry to a one Mr. Jamie Byng, head of Canongate Publishing in Edinburgh, Scotland. Let's do a bit of background, shall we? As some of you may know, I shall soon be departing these great States, United though they be, in favor of a second chance at a life in my beloved Scotland. With that in mind, daddy needs to, while living there, bring home the proverbial bacon... or, as the case may be, haggis.

So, being that I need a job in the coolest city in the world (narrowly beating out Mecha-tropolis: The Robot City of Tomorrow), I'd like to work for the coolest company in the world: Canongate, which just happens to have as a client the latest Booker Prize winner, Life of PI's Yan Martel (not to be confused with Rick "The Model" Martel), as well as my favorite author of all time, Mr. Alasdair Gray (not to be confused with "The Color" Gray). So I sent Mr. Byng a letter pleading and begging for a job - a letter that will most likely never make it to him. But, just in case he should happen upon it and decide to visit this site which I, some may say "foolishly," gave him, I should like to take this time to address and welcome him with the following, brief open letter:

Dear Mr. Byng,
First and foremost, welcome to The $tevil Empire. Secondly, may I say that I thoroughly enjoy the use of onomatopoeia in your last name. Fantastic. Thirdly, I was wondering if you have gotten a chance to look at my CV (that's resume to the Americans) and have yet decided whether or not to give an aspiring young gentleman a chance within your fine company. If you are still vacillating (Hey! Get your mind out of the gutter, everyone, it means "to waver." I mean come on, we have company present for fuck's sake!), then allow me to remind you of some of my finer qualities. For one, I am a very hard worker and am tirelessly dedicated not only to the production of Canongate's fine product, but also to the smiting of your enemies, be they personal or professional.

That's what you get when you invest in me as an employee: devotion, hours of hard work, attention to detail and a willingness to destroy the competition with a certain sense of, shall we say, "moral ambiguity." Sure you're getting a worker with a wide experience in writing and editing (both technical and otherwise) with a top-notch, award-winning record, but you're also obtaining a foot soldier willing to shuck the societal restraints of things like "law" and "human decency" in order to accomplish any goal you set for him.

Let me again remind you that I am legally allowed to work in Scotland (via the Fresh Talent: Working in Scotland Scheme) and am completely willing to have fingerprints and/or any other identifying marks removed so as to, of course, allow for more efficient acts of corporate espionage that you and Canongate may require. This is a very opportune time period for hiring me, since the funding for the programme on which I currently work no longer exists, and I will soon be sadly "stevunemployed." I am happy to supply you with ample references and writing samples at your request. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Byng. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Sincerely,
Steve-0

PS - Honestly, everyone should check out Canongate.net. Their breadth is mind-boggling and Jamie Byng has really turned it around into THE premier publishing house in Scotland.

Now then, there is just one more, very important thing I'd like to address in this post, so I'll try and do so in short order with the following item:

"Hooked on a Feeling," by David Hasselhoff - In the vein of life-changing videos (like the one found HERE, on Mr. Mikey's oft-poingnantblog), I present you with this. What truly strikes me about this flawlessly presented video is not that Mr. Hasselhoff is flanked by angels and wiener dogs while on safari in Africa, nor is it that he glides like a gentle dove on wings of truth and beauty. No, it's that he, at one point in the video, shows mastery over the Phantom Zone, the reality-bending prison last seen in Superman II. I can only thus come to the conclusion that David Hasselhoff is the purest source of evil in this, our known universe. His will be done.

I never thought I'd say this, but that's all the shameless self-promotion and Hasselfhoff promotion I can do for one day. Anyway, be good everyone and always remember: I am a great worker and would make an excellent addition to Canongate Publishing and also, David Hasselhoff is my own personal Jesus. Huh, guess I was wrong.

Love,
$-0

STUFF... LOTS OF IT!

2006-01-13T07:06:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post has little to nothing to
do with anything either super or powerful.

Much to your chagrin, dear reader, I am back to post and you have nothing better to do than read the silly, little ramblings born of sophomoric arrogance and housed within the verbal walls of this, my virtual Empire. Luckily for both you and your boredom, I have other things to talk about besides me. Let us press on then for the benefit of the two to three people that regularly check this site, and report on all that I have experienced within the past few weeks. Why do this when it is clear that no one is truly concerned? Well, why climb a mountain? Why lie in a meadow? Why challenge five year old children to feats of physical strength, up to and including bare-knuckle boxing? Because I can, dear reader ... because I can.

Join me then as I recap the various $tevents of the near past.

1.) New Year's $teve Party - I'd like to thank everyone for coming out to the biggest, and most thinly-veiled excuse to consume alcohol of the year. Rife with beer swilling, the dulcet tones of Wham! and the wanton display of public nudity, which, not-surprisingly, goes well with the aforementioned musical selection, this was one party for the ages. Check out the pictures, if you so dare. You'll notice, after further inspection of said pictures, that I am wearing a certain shirt, emblazoned upon which is the insignia of the controversial Lebanese Islamic "group" Hezbollah. Aahhh, being offensive is a good thing... especially when you know that a Christian Lebanese girl will be present. I'm glad to report that I survived the night with only superficial puncture wounds. Oh, and as a special message to the NSA, who are no doubt monitoring me: "Hey there! Welcome to the site! No, I am not a member of Hezbollah. It's a joke, like your boss. Oh and while I have your attention, may I once again, but not so subtly intimate that you work for a fucking retard. You can tell him I said that. Thanks, and enjoy!"

2.) 8Deez Party - Jessica was kind enough to provide us with another opportunity for consumption by way of hosting an 80's party in honor of her birthday. Truly, fun was had by everyone ... who did not get a good, clear view of me in spandex... a glimpse that I will provide for you now:

Mmm, drink it in, everyone. It's like a fine wine for your soul, to be rolled around upon and enjoyed heartily by the wanting tongue of your mind. Please note how the reckless abandon of my moustache seamlessly intermingles with my obvious passion for Jazzercise. I defy you... that's right, I DEFY YOU... to find a physical specimen that more perfectly exemplifies both masculine machismo and a love for the color purple. To view this and other disturbing pictures of the evening, hit up Jessica's website. I guarantee you won't be disappointed. Well, maybe "guarantee" is too strong a word there.

3. Busboys, Poets and Debauchery - I know this sounds like utter nonsense, but it actually isn't. Katy and I went out to dinner with a couple of friends to a place in DC called Busboys and Poets. I am pleased to report that this (admittedly VERY leftist) restaurant/bookstore/small convention center/lecture studio gets two very enthusiastic thumbs up (great holiday fun). It is one of the few establishments that, to my knowledge, will prepare a rare hamburger. Not only was it juicy, bloody and potentially life-threatening, but crazy-delicious to boot! Not only is their food exquisite, but their prices are lower than president Bush's IQ (still with me NSA?)! Check out their website: http://www.busboysandpoets.com. After that dinning delight, we hopped on over to DC9 for a really great show by a little band called Dbauchery. I can't really explain them other than they're good ... really good. Check them out over at their MySpace site: http://www.myspace.com/dbauchery. Be prepared to have your pants impressed right off, mister! If your pants somehow remain, please let me know and I will attempt a deeper impression. If you live outside of my general vicinity, please simply refer to the picture posted above. Thank you.

4. Herald - This is actually a job posting. I'm looking for a herald to perform certain tasks for me including, but not limited to, the following: announcing my imminent arrival to any given populace, booking dinner engagements/public appearances/autograph sessions/pagan rituals/middle school speeches (etc.), spearheading movements to erect statues in my honor, letting me win at badminton and so on. Think The Silver Surfer, but with less "silver bodysuit/surfboard/cosmic power" and more "purple hot-pants/Fisher-Price roller-skates/potato gun." You'll also have to quickly arrive when I shout, "TO ME, MY HERALD!" which I will do repeatedly (up to 42 times) everyday. Any interested parties will please leave their name, email address and roller-skate size in the comment section of this blog.

5. Ariel Sharon - On a more serious note, there are some members of society (Restlessmania, I'm looking in your direction) that would like to recognize the current Prime Minister of Israel, Ariel Sharon, as a force of absolute good in the world. This is absolutely ri-godamn-diculous. This guy should NOT be remembered as some sort of saint, just because he might die soon. The bulk of his past is too mired in death and corruption to ignore, just because he's made some recent, questionable "strides for peace." He is accused of fucking Massacre during the Lebanese Civil War, for god's sake! Check out this article by fellow Israeli, Uri Avnery, about the man's supposed motivations throughout life and some interestingly presented reasons why he might have made these recent decisions on the side of peace (i.e., the Gaza pullout). I'm not saying the guy's legacy isn't without some legitimate merit, but let's not go nuts worshipping him either. His nation is just as guilty as Palestine for the crimes going on over there, and much of that falls on his shoulders. Readers should remember to differentiate between Ariel Sharon and Shenron, the wish-grating dragon, who can always be trusted to come through for peace. Thank you.

Okay, well I guess that's it for now. So until I have something terribly significant to say or am otherwise bored, be good, stay in school, treat your mamma right and hey, don't do crack- it kills your brains.

Love,
$teve-0

New Year's $teve

2005-12-28T07:32:00.000-08:00

Party til your freaking head explodes.

Before I go on telling you about the party we'll be having this New Year's $teve, I'd first like to address something pretty serious: Grapefruit Juice. This nearly unmentionable juice is remarkable for one reason and one reason alone - it is wholly undrinkable. It tastes like someone brushed his teeth, drank an entire bucket of orange juice and then extradited the now rechid contents of his endeavors back into the bucket, only then calling it "Grapefruit Juice."

Whoever decided to create such a disgusting, liquid abhoration deserves to be punched in the dick ... repeatedly. If said person is without dick, then one should be provided him or her for the sole purpose of the aforementioned punching. If this person transcends "being," and by that I mean is some sort of "god," then I will build a machine which enables me to exceed human limitation and become a $tevine deity myself (which would be counter-productive, really, since I once called myself the "god slayer," but never mind that for now). The purpose of this "en-godening," if you will, will only be to put me on the level with the god who created Grapefruit Juice so that I can punch him or her in the dick, or at very least some reasonable devine facsimile thereof. I hate Grapefruit Juice.

But I don't hate parties, which is exactly why we're having one!!

NEW YEAR'S $TEVE PARTY

A Minitstry of Awesome Joint

WHERE: Inside FRANK.

WHEN: I'll give you two guesses, smart guy. Give up? Oh for god's sake, Saturday ... it's on Saturday.

WHAT TIME, dick: No need to be rude. Say, around 7 or 8? It'll go on until whenever everyone's hammered and it's more fun to drive home. Just kidding, we have room for some crashers ... and by that I mean car crashers. When you're drunk, get the fuck out of my house.

WHY: To celebrate the birthday of Grandmaster Flash ... oh and that New Year thing.

WHAT SHOULD I BRING: I'll be getting a few cases, some liquor, and champagne (does he mean High Life? Who's to know??), but it'd be best if everyone brought some beer to ensure proper insobriety.

3-2-1 CONTACT: If you're reaing this, you probably know how to contact me ... that or you've somehow stumbled upon this blog during an internet search for amputee porn. You're only invited, by the way, if you fall into the latter column. That's hot. Anyway, leave a comment if you don't otherwise know how to contact me.

Well, that should do the trick. If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate in using the above contact information which I avoided giving. I hope to see you dead ... I mean ... there!

Love,

$-0

Happy Holideez

2005-12-23T06:30:00.000-08:00

I can't decide if this dude looks evil or gay.

First off, Happy Paughlidays everyone! More specifically, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza and Happy Hannu ... Haunukh ... Chanukk ... you know- the one for you Jewish types with the candles and dradles and such. Crazy Jews. Anyway, this is the time to celebrate the great blessings in our life like family, friends and of course, the birth of our lord and savior ... Ron Foos of Paul Revere and The Raiders. I hope that everyone out there has a happy and healthy holiday season and that you all get really drunk during Christmas dinner with your family and make complete asses of yourselves. A true celebrateur can ask for no less.

Speaking of asking for stuff, there is plenty of stuff out there tht I want... besides that elusive cure for mild retardation. So grab a pen whilst I deliver unto you another list; hey, I lack imagination and fear change, what do you want? I like to call this list ...

The "ANOTHER ONE OF MY LISTS" List (or, stuff that I want and/or think is funny)

1. The Fearless Griggs Graphic Novel - Repeated nods to Mr. Miguel on this one. This thing looks awesome, if for nothing else than this. It's times like this that I long for my old "A #1 Dad" shirt.

2. Hug Me Pillow - Sometimes, I just like to be held is all. Is that a crime? No, but anyone who actually buys this thing should be beaten down by the LAPD, that's for god-damn sure. Or at very least given a hug. One of the two, defintiely. I enjoy the fact that the thing has a shirt and a hand. Luckily, I'll never need this thing because I have a trunk full of severed torsos ... GIRLFRIEND ... I mean, because I have a girlfriend. Whew, almost didn't recover from that one. Luckily, everyone who reads this is retarded.

3. V for Vendetta - One of the coolest, hardest-to-get-through-yet-at-the-end-worth-it grovels I've ever read is now going to be a movie with Hugo Weaving as the title role. Sweet. Originally written by the legendary Alan Moore (of Watchmen fame) and produced by the Wachowski brothers, this little gem is going to be something special and frighteningly pertinent in today's world of the fear of terrorism - complete with an administration, which is equally retarded as it is fascist!

4. Mjolnir w/ Helmet - What says "Kick My Ass ... FAST!" better than a replica of Thor's legendary warhammer (not to be confused with his warhummer-- very different), Mjolnir and his wing-ed helmet. You too can pretend to call down thunder and lightning on your imaginary friends ... you know, the ones that you have to pay in dream dollars to hang out with you. Or is that just me? The only thing going to be raining down on you/me is a bevvy of punches and kicks from the would-be defeated villains. Ah, but this is where the little plastic helmet comes in handy. ($teve-0 winks knowingly.)

5. And finally - This one's intangible, like love, equality or Ghost Dad. It's a concept. Look, I hate to be cheesy, but I'd like to see lasting peace between bitter enemies. Come on guys, enough is enough. Give peace a chance.

Well, that's it for now, kids. Enjoy the long weekend and/or extended break. And hey, be good to each other America.

Love,
$-O

Day Tripper

2005-12-16T08:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm finally back from the U.K. If I were to pick one word to describe the trip, I would pick hwæþwugu, which in Old English is the accusative singular form of the word "something." Don't worry, that headache you're experiencing right now is an attempt of your brain to make sense of that last sentence and why it exists. Reading this blog is actually a bit like religion or sex with me ... it doesn't make much sense, so you shouldn't try to understand it. Just go with it ... mindlessly.

Anyway, both England and Scotland were awesome, as per usual. Visiting there this time really made me realize that I'm ready to move back. I'm looking into some things right now and will hopefully head back over sooner than I thought. I can't wait, as I think it's been far too long coming. I honestly feel that there's nothing left for me here right now. Sometimes I wonder if coming back in the first place was such a good idea. But let's move on ...

The first few days were spent in London, where K8O and I met up with friends for excessive eating and drinking - you know, the usual fare, which is always a blast. We then went to Birmingham (pronounced Buhmingum by the enchantingly condescending Brits) so that Keight-E could visit The Dad. The Dad and The Boy had, heretofor, not met, so this was a big deal. Of course, the requisite challenge and subsequent joust between Father and Boyfriend took place. As per usual with this kind of thing, we joined forces in the end and fought off the attacking Dragon and legions of undead together; in so doing, we touchingly realized that we both loved the Princess fair and had a hearty laugh at our own impetuousness.

After all of that stuff that I just made up, we toured the old area in Birmingham where K-Deez grew up and matured into the fine woman she is. A special visit was paid to her equivalents of our Kindergarten and High School, which was all girl by the way. Surprisingly, naked pillow fights did not abound. She did, however, keep insisting on beating up smaller students and doing blow behind the bleachers. Yes, it was an enlightening trip down memory lane, to be sure.

After getting back to London that night, we made ready for the trip up to Scotland, where we continued to partake in earthly sin with friends. We ate so well on this trip, by the by. We were made an amazing Indian dinner by Katy's friend Torrel one night, a Shephard's Pie by Rhona (featuring Geoff), a Haggis dinner by the Katastropheand a proper Sunday lunch by Katy's Aunt Meg and Uncle Allen another night, which consisted of the following courses:

Giant Shrimp and Spiced Bread w/ white wine
A potoato and Leak Soup and bread w/ white wine
All day-roasted pork, brussel sprouts (of which I am a fan now, shockingly), roasted potatoes ... and a couple of other delicious bits that I can't remember just now ... w/red wine
Four different kinds of gourmet cheese w/ red wine
A classic Trifle, which was just ... peerless
Coffee, Tea and Chocolate

So yeah, that was pretty amazing ... possibly even more so than the allegedly Amazing Spider-Man. We followed that visit up with a trip to a place called Galashiels to visit Katy's Granny Fischer (yeah, it was a family-oriented trip). "Gala" is a small, but bustling village in the Scottish Borders and is a beautiful 1 and a half-hour bus ride from Edinburgh. Katy's grandmother is, like her mother, quite the character, and it was a more than entertaining visit.

Then it was back to the E-Burgh to walk the streets and continue the hanging-out, which included transcending my normal state and enjoying British television, particularly a show that has gained popularity since my being there called Peep Show. After watching it, I simultaneously wanted to laugh out loud and weep for the loss of my soul ... kind of like how Mikey felt when experiencing tentacle porn. But I digress, if you can download Peep Show, I highly suggest doing so. On a similar and very telling note, I also suggest tentacle porn.

ANYWAY, so now we're back with Mary (Katy's Mum) in tow, and are ready to celebrate any forthcoming holiday with vigor! Before I head back to work, however, I should like to address a couple of things that have recently come to my attention:

New Year's Steve - We at The Ministry of Awesome are considering having a party inside F.R.A.N.K. to celebrate the end of 2005 and its travesties (no, that does not say transvestites, you must have read it wrong) with the beginning of 2006, and its KILLER ROBOTS!!
The Empire's State Building? - As pointed out by Stupidhumanscum, the ol' Empire has been lagging of late in regard to Comments. I've noticed a wanning support for the blog in recent months as well. Katy says it's because I'm arrogant and that said arrogance comes through caustically in my writing, causing many would-be readers to turn elsewhere. But fuck that, I kick ass and everyone knows it!! You're all just jealous! However, I am getting lazy, so I'm thinking about opening this bitch up and having some contributers to the blog. If anyone's interested in joining the $tevil Empire, let me know.

Anyway, that's it for now. More mundane bullshit to follow. Stay Tuned!!

Love,

$-0

Jesus II

2005-12-02T05:30:00.000-08:00

I received this list in an email from the mythical creature roaming the UK known only as "BIG STEVE," and promptly proceeded to laugh so hartily that I ... well, I'm not going to lie to you ... I peed a little. Allow me to share the cause of this merry urinary accident with you. I'm not sure who wrote it, but I'm betting it was God, or some other minor deity ... possibly Thor.

It's a list extolling the "greatness" of the man, the myth, the fashion-savvy legend that is Chuck Norris. I never thought of myself as a Chuck Norris fan, but given these obviously irrefutable facts, I'm not sure that I won't start worshipping both his glory and merciless nature. Enjoy -

Facts About Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till."
After you ask, "Two seconds till what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.
Chuck Norris uses ribbed condoms inside out, so he gets the pleasure.
Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick related deaths have increased 13,000 percent.
There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
It was once believed that Chuck Norris actually lost a fight to a pirate, but that is a lie, created by Chuck Norris himself to lure more pirates to him.
Chuck Norris once lined up to kick the winning field goal of a high school football game. When the football went flat, he persuaded the referees to let him kick the field goal with a 3 month old child. Chuck roundhoused kicked the baby 60 yards through the uprights and then proceeded to bang every girl in the stadium.
When Chuck Norris's wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Don't worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, "Never question Chuck Norris."
Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Chuck Norris does not have AIDS but he gives it to people anyway.
Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.
When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face. He also requires no wagon, since he carries the oxen, axels, and buffalo meat on his back. He always makes it to Oregon before you.
Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.
Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and
admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
Chuck Norris often asks people to pull his finger. When they do, he>roundhouses them in the abdomen. Then he farts.
Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.

Can't get enough CHUCK? I know I can't! Go HERE and constantly refresh ... both the page and your soul.

He's got the moves

2005-11-29T08:37:00.000-08:00

I found an awesome new website that, for once, has nothing to do with muppet porn. The bad news is that it has everything to do with professional wrestling! Wow, I think I can actually hear people leaving the blog. I might get some hits for people searching for muppet porn, though.

Anyway, if you go to http://www.wrestlingencyclopedia.com/index.html, you will be bombarded with a bevvy of what the ancient Incans called "awesome." True to its name, this website is an encyclopedia of wrestling, but not necessarily in boring text! Oh no, no, this site has videos galore, whore!

I had about 40 to 42 liquid explosions when I found the section of the site devoted to finishing/special moves, which is arguably the second coolest part of professional wrestling, the first, of course, being the flashy, form-fitting outfits. I have taken the time to appease the latent wrestling fan in all of you by picking out my favorite moves from this list. Though I do suggest checking them all out, these were ones that really touched my heart and/or groin, without permission. Behold, then, some of the best moves in professional wrestling:

11. Sternness Clutch Alpha (by Jun Akiyama) - Ah, the Japonese and their crazy kill tactics.

10. Crossfire (by Jason Cross) - The human body should not be able to move this way without inducing violent vomitting.

9. Tiger Driver (by Excalibur) - The Tiger Driver is a pretty well-known move to both wrestling fans and tigers, but this one looks potentially life-thretening, which is why I chose to display its glory here. Also, the venue kind of looks like a training ground for the Foot Clan, which is, needless to say, rockin'.

8. 720 DDT (by Jody Fleish) - You know what increases the coolness of this move? The fact that he's wearing parachute pants and that his name is Jody. Only tough guys are named Jody - like Jody Foster.

7. Frog Splash (by Eddie Guerrero) - I loves me some frog splash-age, but this one is mostly in honor of the late, great Deadie Guerrero... too soon?

6. Muscle Buster (by Samoa Joe) - I've always been a fan of this move, not only because it looks sick, but because I bet it makes people fart. Also, Samoa Joe is one big, fat, Samoan (hence the name, smart guy) badass.

5. Go 2 Sleep (by Kenta) - It's an interesting name for a move, particularly because it obviously has less to do with "sleeping" than it does "kneeing someone in the chest." Thusly, I put it to you that the Japonese use this maneuver to put their children to sleep. And by that, I mean "kill them."

4. Spanish Fly (by SAT) - I am baffled by the sheer complexity and necessary organization of this move. I am also impressed by its name, for truly does it create in me a lust that I have heretofor never known.

3. Psycho Driver I and Psycho Driver II (by Super Dragon) - Not only do these moves look like they can potentially break you in half, but the originality of their distinction is without peer. Who needs two names when you could just make another move a sequel! Thus, the action formerly known as "kick" will now be referred to as "punch II." Also, I have to give this guy credit for not only his look, which appears to be a cross between a power ranger and that guy from Slipknot, but also for his name - Super Dragon. You don't get much bigger and cooler than that unless your name is something like ... I dunno ... MEGA-GOD, which is just ... the ... most ... brilliant ... idea ... I ... have ... EVER HAD!!

2. Canadian Destroyer (by Petey Williams) - Despite being Canadian (which is the third worst thing to be - the second being syphallitic and the first, of course, being from Maryland), Petey Williams does this awesome move, which I didn't quite "get" until the second or third viewing, like the Care Bears movie ... which I, being a hetersoxual male, have never seen ... roughly seven times.

1. The Spicy Drop (by Curry Man) - This is what I call the total package. This guy has a name that positively screams "HELLO WORLD ... I APPARENTLY ENJOY CURRY!" His look is just ... just ... unfathomably beautiful, if not magically delicious. I would like to note, if I may, the position that my new hero is in as the clip starts off - giving us an unfettered view of his prominent posterior. Note also his manly wiggle dance before completing the move. Finally, I have two words for you: Belly. Shirt. I'm just in an awe, the likes of which I have not experienced since first finding Jesus Christ. The frightening thing is that I'm not entirely sure that that isn't Dennix under that clever disguise.

Anyway, this site rocks and has thus far prevented me from doing any useful work today. I hope it does the same for you. There are other awesome things on the site that you should check out, like the wrestling terminology section, which is only cool if you're like me -> gay for wrestling. Also, he has a section of movies devoted to moves gone horribly wrong and this little video, proving once again that fire is no big deal after all. Anyway, enjoy today's $teventertainment!

Love,
MEGA-GOD

Living with herpes ... I mean ... Girls

2005-11-22T12:03:00.000-08:00

About two months ago, my life took a drastic turn, not for the worse, but for the ... feminine. No, I didn't start meticulously douching my fleshy-fun-bridge while singing the timeless classic, "It's Raining Men;" nor have I developed a newfound proclivity for wearing hot pants. I've been doing that stuff for years; it's what we tough guys call "being awesome." But I digress, my foray into femininity is a direct result of my lovely new roommate, The K-Tastrophe. Verily has she opened my eyes unto a new, girlie world of both pleasant surprise (read: her rampant nudity) and extreme oddity (that would be MY rampant nudity). There are so many new things, which, heretofore, I had yet to experience. Allow me to present them to you now.

Wait, hold on. Sorry...

Okay, NOW!

$teve-O's: The Weirdness of Living with Chicks List

(not to be confused with-

$teve-O's: The Weirdness of Living with Chiklis

$teve-O's: The Weirdness of Living with Chiclets)

1. Unwieldy Unmentionables

Laundry used to be pretty thoughtless. Not in that it forgot to send me cards on my birthday or anything like that. It was something that I could do with my mind completely shut off, like driving, watching TV or listening to you talk. But now there's a veritable litany of new clothes, the proper folding method of which is beyond me! There I was, pretty much the quintessential man's man, holding, in my work-worn hands, a frilly, lacy thong. Normally, I enjoy the thong. I'm a fan. But this time, it offered not a salacious view of both right and left ass cheek, but rather a conundrum of epic proportions. I had no idea how to fold this thing, and to this day am baffled by the complexities of trying to form a proper crease in such a flimsy garment! In the end, I crumpled it up, not unlike a used tissue, and crammed it in the drawer. I haven't gotten any flack for this as yet, but plan on looking down the business end of a severely pissed of limey when she finds all of her knickers in a twist. My plan of escape when confronted is to throw a bag of powder in her face like Mr. Fuji used to do and run away yelling, "POWDER MONSTER!!!POWDER MONSTER!!!" Yeah, that should do the trick.

2. Newfound Motivation

It has come to my attention that women are much more motivated than men to actually get up and do stuff, unless that "stuff" contains football, eating or masturbating ... or some weird combination of all three. Usually, Katy's up way before I am, prodding me to awaken with a mixture of sweet kisses and rapid-fire kicks to the groin. Also, if it wasn't for Katy, I'm pretty sure all I would do is watch cartoons and eat peanut butter all day long. Girls have this uncanny ability to make you feel bad about wasting a day, and that power increases roughly 8-fold when you live with one. Again, this could be due in large part to the promise of future nudity. In any event, I've done more in the past two months than I remember ever doing by myself. Then again, I have missed a lot of cartoons and I'll never forgive her for that. Do you hear me? Never!!

3. Make Up + Jewelry = A Life of Crime?

There is make-up and jewelry ... everywhere. I think Katy might be a part of some kind of clown gang obsessed with stealing decorative Middle Eastern jewelry. Hmm, I bet she goes by the moniker, "Betty Sweet Bippy" and is good with a butterfly knife! Man, my girlfriend kicks ass! What was I saying? Oh yeah - seriously it looks like the counter of Macy's in our room with all the hair products, make-up, body oils, dead seals, face creams and other gels and salves, indiscernible to the heterosexual male eye. I'm of the mind that the less make-up, the better ... unless you're really ugly. You know who you are. But as Katy's retardedly hot, the dense population of make-up is highly unnecessary and continues to get trampled beneath my heel!

4. Pooping

Pooping with girls in the house is weird. Simply put, it's unsettling. and definitely took some getting used to. The bathroom for most guys is a sacred place - it's where we do our finest thinking and some of our only reading. It's a special time filled with an interesting marriage of scents and a soundtrack of our own devising. This performance is meant for an audience of one ... well, two if you count the Holy Spirit. When you've got skirts running around on the other side of that door, things get ... tense. After a period of reigning in the thunder, inevitable comfort sinks in and you're deeply embroiled in a kind of hilarious compooptition (if you will) with one another. Until you have that defining moment, though, it's pretty touch-and-go.

5. Me no Speaka ...

This one has less to do with a difference in sex and more to do with a difference in nationality. Luckily, I have experience in dealing with the British, so their crazy, madeup language has little effect on me, but sometimes Katy will come out with some kind of coloquialism that destroys all logic. In an effort to curb any international incidents, allow me to present to you a good way of communicating with a Brit, should you ever come face to face with one in the wild. Just type a phrase in here and slowly read the translation. I emphasize SLOWLY here - pretend you're talking to a retarded dolphin or something. Katy and I have bridged this lanuage barrier, and I'm sure you can too. Oh, and drinking alot of alcohol helps, too.

Well, that's it for now. There are plenty of other reasons why living with a girl is a weird adjustment, but I'm lazy and have to leave. Overall, it's a great experience, and I wouldn't give it up for anything (except maybe super speed). But in the prophetic words of Mr. Levar Burton from Reading Rainbow, don't take my word for it, try it yourself! Well until next time I get bored and have nothing better to do, this is your old pal $teve-O wishing you a pleasant evening.

Love,

$-O

Latino Heat-less

2005-11-15T06:53:00.000-08:00

Eddie Guerrero
1967-2005

As many of you have seen in popular media recently, Eddie Guerrero, former WWE World Champion passed away this past weekend of unknown causes. Now, don't worry, I won't go into a long, sappy diatribe about how the world has lost a great performer, because I know that most people who read this blog don't care about wrestling. I do want to say, though, that I've been a fan of Guerrero's for some time now. I remember watching him win and defend the Cruiserweight, United States, European, Intercontinental and Tag Team championships in some of the most amazing, technically sound/luchalibre matches I've ever seen. The first I saw of Eddie was during his battles with Syxx (aka X-Pac, aka Sean Waltman), which really made me a fan of the cruiserweight division. Then I found out that he could mix it up with classically trained wrestlers like Chris Benoit, Dean Malenko, Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho, which just showed how much talent he had and how diverse he could be. I know that wrestling is fake, and is more of a stylized dance, but even in that sense, Eddie could sure cut a rug.

I remember going to see him live for the first time at WCW Starcade, 1997 at the MCI arena, where he cheated his little latino heart out to win against Dean Malenko. Dennis and I, being fans of cheating ourselves, gained alot of respect for ol' Eddie that day and I've been a big fan of his ever since. That just shows that not only was he a great worker, in the traditional "pro-wrestling" sense, but he also found a way to have fun with and be entertaining for the fans. He accomplished so much in his long, illustrious career. He's won almost every belt in the big three (WCW, WWE, ECW) and finally acheived WORLD CHAMPION status two years ago, in an emotional victory over Brock Lesnar ... yes, I know it's fake and he was given the title, but the belt is still a testament to his place in the business and how "over" (wrestling lingo for "popular") he was with the fans. It was also an historic event, as he was the first latino WWE heavyweight champion.

He had alot of heartships in his life, including a debilitating car accident and several bouts with drug abuse, which eventually led to a near-fatal overdose and a separation from his family, friends and work. But he fought back from all of that to become the highlite of WWE and one of the biggest names in wrestling history. That's why his death was as baffling as it was tragic and sad; he had cleaned up and had finally reached the pinnacle of his career. It's so sad that the world lost him at such a young age. He was only 38.

But, to be cliche, I choose not to focus on his death, but what he did in life. Whether he was a member of the L.W.O. (Latino World Order) , Latino Heat or simply Eddie Guerrero: WWE Champion, he was always a consumate entertainer who gave everything he had to the fans. Watch just one of his matches and/or just one of his promos, and you'll see what mean. Anyone who has netflix, I'd highly suggest renting "Cheating Death, Stealing Life: The Eddie Guerrero Story," which documents the mountains and valleys of his storied career.

In closing, I'll have to be a bit cheesey and say, Rest in Peace, Eddie, and thanks for the memories.

Villainy Too!

2005-11-08T05:52:00.000-08:00

About five months ago, I brought forth upon this world a list, the likes of which had, heretofore, never been set upon by the viewing eyes of humanity. I am referring, of course, to my list of underrated villains. In my humble opinion, and you can correct me if I'm wrong, I don't think there was ever such a comprehensive, five-item list of B-talent villains in all of human history. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but toot-toot. In fact, it changed the lives of so many people that I've decided to add to that universally renowned comprehensive list, four more entries (taking us to an even nine) in a little something I like to call:

The Underrated Villain Hall of Fame

November 2005 Inductees

1. Tokka

2. Rahzar

WHAT? - Surely you remember these two upstanding gentlemen from the second cinematic installment of the live-action adventures of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Not to be confused with a retarded monkey and that thing that Chet turns into at the end of Weird Science, Tokka and Rahzar were the result of mutagenic testing by the nefarious Shredder on two of nature's most fearsome creatures: a wolf and a ... snapping ... turtle. Ahem. Let's move on.

Why underrated? - Dubious raw materials aside, these two kicked ass and initially made short work of the ninja quartet. They were at first written off as Bebop and Rocksteady wannabes, but such was not the case, as they proved in battle! Their only flaw was inferior intellect, which was on par with a baby ... or a certain president (I bet nobody saw that one coming). In any event, these guys would toss around engines for fun ... and they tore old people in half (yeah, kiss that bitch goodbye, grandpa). Okay, I made that last part up, but Secret of the Ooze was for kids, so you can't expect them to show everything. For instance, I have it on good authority that Splinter used to drink heavily and become abusive on the set ... Secret of the Booze, indeed ... whew, wasn't sure I was going to get that one in there. Anyway, if memory serves, the only way that the turtles could beat the two monstrosities was to poison their eclairs ... or to shit in their cereal or something. In any event, this proved to be the undoing of Tokka "The Sinister Snappin' Turtle" and Rahzar, "The Wickedly Wilain' Wolfman," as it reverted them back to their true forms.

3. Nuclear-Man

WHAT? - I was reminded of this guy when I wrote my last post, and boy am I glad! This was (Gene Hackman as) Lex Luther's greatest scheme to date, creating his own superhero! Man, if I had the nickel for all the times I've attempted to do that with a bucket, some cardboard, the neighbor's "developmentally challenged" son and an oven. But I digress, this gilded-spandex-wearing, mullet-sporting beefcake dynamo was created from fatty tissue, bits of cloth, Superman's hair and THE VERY NUCLEAR WEAPONS THAT SUPERMAN ARDENTLY HOPED TO DESTROY IN THE SUN! OOOH, THE IRONY!!! He had super strength and the power of hotness ... aesthetically and temperat...ur...ally .... shut up! Coupled with these powers, he had really long nails, for some reason. Yup, the power of the sun and he can scratch your eyes out to boot. He also had Lex Luther's voice, as shown in a scene as incomprehensibly ridiculous as it was passionate. Finally, his name is wholly unpronounceable by George W. Bush (oh, that's two).

Why underrated? - Just because a guy has long nails and glittery attire doesn't mean he deserves disrespect. He did more to Superman than Zod and his goons did in Part II. Not only did he go toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose and bulge-to-bulge against Superman, but he scratched him!! I mean, that was out of nowhere, too. There Superman was, minding his own business, carrying the statue of Liberty when BAM, it's a few fingernails full of sun poisoning for you, Superbitch! Then, after punting him around like a football, he literally pounded Superman into the ground ... ON THE F-ING MOON! Eventually, he was beaten by being locked in an elevator ... sigh ... and then being thrown into a nuclear reactor, which, by the way, happens to be the only way you can kill me. Ah well, he gave it his Nuclear all ... and at least he had the decency to not wear briefs on the outside of his pants, opting instead for tight-fitting, gold-lamet hot pants, like any REAL man.

4. Soda Popinski

WHAT? - This one ... well ... this one's personal. If ever I were to have an arch-nemesis, Mr. Popinski would be it. He was something like the 8th fighter in Mike Tyson's Punch Out and was the quintessential Russian baddie, along the same lines as Ivan Drago, but bald ... and bi-curious. He was a bit watered-down since he was supposed to be drinking Vodka and not Soda, but that wasn't kid-friendly. But come on, neither is his pedophelia-indicative mustache, pixilated package or froo-froo-hued skin.

Why Underrated? - As I said above, this one's personal. Try as I might, I could never beat Soda Popinski ... never. Even a few years ago, when I picked the game up again, it was a massacre. Nobody else seemed to have a problem with him, but he proved to be, to me, as unto a cancer. He was quick, strong and his mocking laugh would dishearten my very soul, transforming me into a mere shell of what Little Mac represents. I felt as though I had let Doc down and as a result, died a little everyday. Look at him just standing there - an imposing pink impediment to my virtual glory. One day, Popinski ... you will fall by my hand instead of the reset button.

That should do it for right now. As I've said before, this will be a continuously updated list and shall be added to whenever I see fit. Once again, we salute you, underappreciated members of the underworld. May your days and ways of villainy always be remembered with a long, forgetful pause, sudden recognition and an eventual chuckle. To evil!

Love,

$-0

Witness the Fitness

2005-11-02T09:21:00.000-08:00

Hey baby, wanna wrassle?

Just look at that picture. Let it roll around in your mind like a delicious candy treat on your tongue. Note irresistibility inherent in every cell, every fiber of my being, crying out as if to passionately say, "Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen." Just look at those bulging biceps, that come-hither gaze, that knowing bulge, that dick-target mustache. Trying to resist a fully-powered, semi-clothed Big Daddy $weet is like attempting to have a fist fight with your imaginary friend; in the end, you just look retarded.

"So," you might say to yourself, "why the hell is $teve-0 dressed in an outfit that facilitates an easy viewing of his fun-sized package?" Well, obviously it was Halloween the other day and I decided to go as a professional wrestler; upon further inspection however, I do bear a striking resemblance to Nuclearman of Superman IV fame. In any event, this was really just an excuse for me to forego underwear, put on ridiculously tight clothing and do repeated squat thrusts and deep-knee bends (<- sidebar about link: is it just me, or does this picture seemingly represent an middle-aged, blind crackhead trying to masturbate? No? Just me then? Fair enough.). I also got to grow a Hulk Hogan 'stache, which is probably the new highlight of my admittedly dynamic facial hair history. The reason for this little game of dress-up not only lies in my tendency to gravitate toward sexually ambiguous attire, but also to celebrate this year's Halloween at a costume party over at the Foundation LITE household. It was a good time to be sure, and definitely the party event of the season.

In between playing multiple games of flip-cup, downing a 40 of Steel Reserve malt liquor and attempting to bypass my singlet to pee in a bathroom wall-papered with male pornography, the K-Tastrophy (dressed glorificently as my personal Million Dollar Champion) and I had one hell of a good time. To see a few pictures of this exercise in debauchery, look no further than my picture website . Verily, a good time was had by most, if not all, attendees.

Before I go, big ups to Denver for striving to make simple common sense into law. The Denverese recently voted to make marijuana possession legal. Check out the article HERE. It mystifies me that we, as a country (and planet, to be all-inclusive) have not yet legalized a substance far less dangerous than tobacco (studies have shown that pot does not contain the same carcinogens as cigarettes) and alcohol. It really shows how much the misguided "moral majority" controls things. They somehow believe that legalizing marijuana will inevitably lead to a steep moral decline, which is just preposterous! Meanwhile, we have much more harmful drugs available over the counter. But I'll get off my soapbox. These are arguments everyone has heard from his or her local stoner. Anyway, go Denver!!

Well that's it for now, so until next time, be excellent to each other.

Love,
$-0

De-stevolution

2005-10-28T06:31:00.000-07:00

I think I might have to change the title of this blog. I'm not so sure that I can really call myself The $tevil One for much longer, and it's debatable whether or not I should have done so for the last year (or so) of my life. After my requisite sojourn to the little sailor’s room this morning, I noticed something very strange – my reflection. Most of you are probably wondering why it took me this long to realize that such an image should be considered “strange,” but hear me out. It wasn’t my glorious visage that gave me pause, but rather the clothes loosely covering the Stevine temple that is my body.

Today, I am wearing a god ... damn ... Cosby ... sweater. Damn you, Bill. I don't even care that you were in the greatest movie of all time! How dare you give these articles of fashion merit!

Being properly swathed in ridiculous, 100% natural fabrics of varying colors and designs is not my only problem. My hair is a plasticine statue of simulated nonchalance. I’m wearing jeans- the material of which is pre-faded and cut in such a way as to make them constantly look ruffled, wrinkled and as "unrestrained" as my hair. There are no rings on my fingers or in my ears, no bracelets on my arms, no beads around my neck and no braids in my hair. The only decorative feature I now wear is a chain, hanging like an inverted noose, which constantly reminds me, in its large, yellow–and-black "voice," that I am a contractor for the one federal government that really pisses me off.

I am, for all intents and purposes, the posterboy of normality.

And I am left to vociferously wonder, in a way not dissimilar to someone who, on waking, inexplicably finds that he has an arrow in his forehead, “How did that get there?”

I can’t explain it, really. That’s the thing. I wish I could blame society or my parents or even the devil, but this isn’t Bush’s fault. No, I am sadly bereft of excuses for this startling, if not unsettling, transformation. It used to be so different. Plentiful was the bounty of silver on my personage! My clothes were simple, understated and rife with holes from overuse; not ones forged from some Chinese lady with a cheese grater in a factory. The plumage of my hair used to be wild and unkempt naturally and not with the added assistance of thick, viscous goop, the ingredients of which could (and probably should) never be pronounced by Man.

Now, I was never the extreme. I never had a Mohawk, I never had my juicy bits pierced, and I’ve never worn leather pants ... actually, I’m kind of proud of that. The thing is, I feel so plain, so ordinary. I know the clothes and the style do not make the man and that I’ve probably substituted one uniform from another, but it’s still off-putting. I used to be all about throwing caution to the wind, getting drunk, getting high, acting in bukake movies, partying whenever I possibly could and dipping my nuts in my roommates' macaroni when they weren't looking. But that part of me, at least in its manifestation in personal fashion, has vanished forever in a poof of inevitable "maturaity." The last vestiges of my former life to which I desperately cling are my long beard, my tattoo, my adjustable nipple clamps and my unflinching devotion to obnoxiousness.

I know it’s what’s on the inside that counts and that won’t change too drastically, I figure; but damn ... this sweater really itches.

Love,
$-0

GO FIGHT! GO FIGHT!

2005-10-25T11:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, I bet this thing's pretty annoying while you're reading, huh?

Hey there, guess it's been a while since I've posted on the ol' Empire, but what can I say? I've been a busy man. Alright, maybe the term "busy" is debatable ... and yes, so is the term "man." Now, when I say busy, I mean that mostly I've been pondering extremely important stuff, like the effects of the Iraq war on the future of both Western and Eastern civilization or how America will come back from its recent economic decline.

What? No, seriously I think about this stuff all the time. I ... alright, fine I've actually been thinking about what the old 1986 Nintendo Pro-Wrestling character Star Man would eat if he were real. I've narrowed it down to either real stars, Campbell's Chicken and Stars soup or peanut butter and bologna sandwiches ... with the crusts cut off! Nothing says tough like a fictional man dressed completely in pink eating de-crusted sandwiches. The Iraq war, psshh, like that matters.

Anyway, besides all of that, there's been a veritable cornicopia of crap going on. Allow me to extrapolate...

1. F.R.A.N.K.Warming- On October 8th, if you didn't know, we had one helluva **F.R.A.N.K.Warming party (see previous shameless plugging) . Despite the fact that we all tapped the keg at some crazily early hour like 12:30, and subsequently had to substitute wine for beer in the endless beer pong games, I'd have to consider FRANK's deflowering a success. This was thanks in no small part to rampant kereoke, 3 different penis cakes and the guy who Jeff stopped from peeing in our fridge. Yeah, it was one of those nights. (** - nod to Dawn for the site)

2. The Birth of Katastrophe - Katy and I celebrated her arrival on this mortal coil in rare form ... seriously. We went to fondue at the Melting Pot in Ballston, where one must cook one's own food ... hence why I said RARE form. Yeah, you get jokes. After we wined, dined and preyed on the defenseless, I proceeded to give her her birthday gift, which will no doubt bring us endless joy. Nope, it wasn't a midget with flamethrowers for hands - that's SO last year. This year, I got her a Hookah pipe (pictures coming). Some might think this a very unromantic gift, but if you know the K-T like I do, you'd know that she loves it almost as much as she loves vengeance.

3. Parental Supervision - We went and saw the parents to continue katy's Bidet celebration. They told me tell you, "HI THERE!" We had peaches and cream cake. The end.

4. Restlessmaniac - I was recently invited by a friend (big ups to Senor C) to join Restlessmania, a politically-minded blog. I promptly pissed everyone at the site off with a discussion about religion - there's a war of words between myself and pretty much every other contributer where I was called, among other things, a hateful bigot on par with Jerry Falwell. It was one of my finest moments. Honestly, check the site out, these kids have really interesting articles and discussions, even if they do want to kill me. Har!

5. Halloween Planning - This is the All Hallow's Eve that almost wasn't! Thanks to Magoo and the other purveyors of injustice over at Foundation Lite (aka, Jamie's Old Place), we now have a Halloween doin'! Each invited household has taken the responsibility of decorating a room, which I think is a fantastic idea. The problem is, I'm lazy. So, instead of taking the time to decorate a room, I've come up with the following plan:

Don't decorate
Wait for costumed party-goers to enter apartment
Fire Acid-filled super soaker directly into aforementioned party-goers' faces
Sit back and enjoy
Repeat as necessary

Now, I should say that by "acid," I mean LSD. This way, even if I don't decorate the room, people will think it's the most amazing thing they've ever seen. Actually, now that I think of it, maybe it should be real acid. That way if someone's costume sucks, I can fix it:

Party Goer: Oh, hey $teve-0. What's with the super soaker?

$teve-0: Don't worry about it. What're you supposed to be?

Party Goer: I'm a fairy princess!

($teve-0 sprays party-goer in the face with corrosive acid)

$teve-0: Now you're a hideous freak!

Party Goer: AAAARGHH!!!!

$teve-0: Happy Halloween!

Fin.

Now that's what I'm talking about! I defy anyone to explain to me a better Halloween. Anyway, it's way past time that I should leave work. So until next time, Mozel Tov!

Deicide

2005-09-23T08:20:00.000-07:00

Before I go into another entry about all of my recent (mis-) adventures, let me first state that I have a new nickname. Some might think me lame for creating nicknames for myself, but I figure nobody else is doing it, so why don't I? Henceforth, heretofore I shall be known as ...

$teve-O

God-Slayer

I actually can't take full credit for this one, as I had creative help during a sojourn in Baltimore from a one Mikey: Devourer of Words (note: this is not a misprint and should not be confused with Galactus: Devourer of WorLds. Mikey eats words. It's a useful power when battling the verbose.) and Dawn: Of the Apocalypse. The point is that I'll soon be purchasing business cards stating my new profession (at the behest of the aforementioned duo).

Now, you might be thinking that by "God" I mean cultural "gods," like greed, excessive morality or syphilis, but you would be wrong. I'm talking about REAL gods, like Zeus, Thor, Yahweh or Ortak, the god that lives in my backyard (note: Ortak might not be a REAL god and could just be some homeless guy that I killed and put in my brother's bed as a joke; but look, you're focusing too much on details.) Anyway, let's get on with it ...

There's been quite alot going on apart from all the God Slaying. In situations like this, I find it's best to express myself in interpretative dance ... failing that, we make a list -->

09/17/2005: The Move Begins

Yes, my brother and I, $teve-0 the God Slayer, officially began the tranference of power from our old apartment to the Fortress of Dawn. We had plenty of help, which was, let me say right now, very much appreciated. This process continues to go on because of the continued presence of a previous tennant's stuff. However, once this is magically whisked away to the land of make believe, our new abode will realize its full potential ... to become a GIGANTIC ROBOT, which we will use to finally defeat that meddling UltraMan! Whoo, that's gonna be cool.

09/18/2005: Conventional Dorkiness

As was previously mentioned before, Dawn E. Face, Mike E. Pants and I, $teve-0 the God Slayer, attended the annual Baltimore Comic convention, where I giggled like a school girl when surrounded by so many comics. I picked up some good stuff, up to and including a copy of the old Image comics-sinpired Mtv show The Maxx on DVD, which is one of my favorite cartoon/comic series of all time. I was disappointed at the lack of freako's dressed up like superheroes. There were a few, including a very androgynous Green Lantern, but for the most part, the turn out of lame people was kept to a minimum. My whole plan beforehand was to get a group of people dressed up like superheroes to fight a group of people dressed up like supervillains and to stand in the middle of the raging battle and laugh heartily! It would look something like-a-this:

09/19/2005: The Arrival of K-Tastrophe

Finally, my partner in crime has arrived back in the good ol' U.S. Now we can begin our wide swath of destruction, which will spread accross the land like venereal disease at a boy scout jamboree. Honestly, it's great to have her here and we've both been waiting so long for it to happen. Yes, I did just go from inappropriateness to sentimentality. What's your point?

This marks the first time I've shared a space with anyone since college, and the very first time I've lived with a girl ... unless you count Jeff, which is plausible. In the sage-like words of Ashley, I just have to remember to treat her right and try not to fart around her. I just hope I don't get on her nerves like I usually do with people. She's rockin' an internship at a Middle Eastern think tank in DC right now, so she'll be busy saving the world alot of the time and not just thinking about how bad I smell. Well, hopefully anyway.

THE FUTURE

There are alot of cool things to look forward to in the future, like flying cars and highly advanced ray guns, but I'm talking about the near future. In the near future, there's plenty ado:

Tonight - Drinking ... somewhere ... to celebrate katy's first week here.
Tomorrow - Tomorrow's plans are completely contingent on whether or not former tennant gets his shit out of the house. If not, then katy and I will be attending the book festival in DC, to be followed by an anti-war march and free anti-war concert on or near the mall. Then we'll be attending parties and/or getting our general merriment on in some bars.
Sundeeznuts - Sunday will be work day, filled with painting, cleaning and shaking babies like a bottle of snapple.

Well, that's all from the God Slayer for now, but stay tuned for more general a/bemusement in the months to come. Until then, HAVE AT THEE!

Love,

$-O, G.S.

Super NoVa

2005-09-08T10:57:00.000-07:00

Northern Virginia can be a very annoying place. I'm not talking about normal stuff that we're all used to, like the country's worst traffic, floundering sports teams or invisible tiger attacks. I'm talking about the little stuff that almost goes unnoticed in this, the bastard child of Washington DC. Now before I go into a flowing diatribe about why NoVa sucks harder than a catholic prostitute right before Lent, first let me say that this will always be home to me and that there are a lot of things that I like about it. For instance, we have a ton of strip malls. These are good to have, in case you ever need a safe place to squat, or hide while getting chased by an MS13 member brandishing a twinkle in his eye, a smile in his heart and a machete in his hand. So yeah, let's hear it for strip malls! Woot.

There are, however, many things that piss me off about our little slice of heaven. Please allow me to list but a few of them, not that you have a choice:

1) Early Morning TV Newscasts – Admittedly, this might be a country-wide issue, I don’t know. What I do know is that every time I turn on the television to get my daily dose of pre-work news, I get slapped in the face with terrible reporting, irksome non-colloquial speech patterns and more fuck-ups than coloring day at retard kindergarten. Probably the worst show out there, I would say, is nbc 4 with Joe I-stare-like-I-want-to-rape-and-then-consume-your-entire-family Krebs and Barbara I'm-a-talentless-hack-who-ALWAYS-MANAGES-TO-FUCK-UP-EVERY-OTHER-WORD-I-SPEAK Harrison. I have not seen a level of professionalism this low since Hee-Haw, and they were SUPPOSED to be backward dumb-fucks! For Christ's sake, go to journalism school or speech therapy, you impressively untalented wastes of spunk.
Now, the best of the A.M. shows that I’ve seen is ABC 7’s Good Morning Washington, hosted by the ravishing Alison Starling and the modern-day Ron Burgundy, Doug McKelway. But even here, you have to deal with the heavily-made up, plasticine and downright creepy Stephen Tschida and the desire-to-hit-you-in-the-face-with-a-tire-iron-inducing Lisa Bayden, queen of annoying traffic reports. It's because of these annoying hacks that I've started to watch Captain Planet in the mornings.

2) Eliot in the Morning - I actually used to be a big fan of this very popular radio show. It has, however, fallen out of favor with me for the same reason that he annoys even his greatest fan. His laugh. His laugh is quite possibly the most annoying thing I've ever heard, and he seemingly does it just for fun. I used to be able to turn a deaf ear to his hideous cackle, but I can no longer stomach it, no matter how hard I try ... which, to be fair, is not very hard at all. I would rather take flaming knives and repeatedly stab myself in the ear than listen to that idiot's laugh. The "Class," however, is not that bad. Diane is cool and Flounder isn't bad at all. Then there's Kyle, reason number two to hate this show. This guy is the quintesential stoner. Normally, I don't mind the call of the stoner ... for obvious reasons, but his voice, like Eliot's laugh, elicits in me the feeling of 163 wasps stinging the inside of my brain. I pray for the day when both of their throats spontaneously collapse.

2.5) The ENTIRETY of a.m. FM Radio - You know what? Go ahead and throw the other radio stations, like Z104.1 and 99.5, onto the list. They all follow the same format. They take a large group of overexcited retards who have been up since 3am drinking coffee and, I dunno, doing heroin, and put them on a show to talk about American Idol or that stupid dance show. And when they're not laughing like crackheads at jokes that aren't funny, they play Avril Levine's greatest hits. I mourn for the dead souls of those mongoloids who enjoy these shows. NPR (National Public Radio) is about the only thing worth listening to these days ... and even then, it sounds like they're sucking on throat lozenges all the time. Much like a fight between the Scottish and General Zod from Superman II, there's just no winning.

3) The Weather - This might classify under the general crap (like the aforementioned examples of excessive traffic and invisible tigers) that NoVans have to deal with. We get the worst of both worlds: a bitter cold winter and a steaming hot summer. It's like choosing between getting pissed on or shit on. You know what we need? Not thicker coats or shorter shorts, no no. What we need is that weather controlling device that the Polar Bear with the leather jacket used against the Ninja Turtles in TMNT 2: The Arcade Game. That and an armada of Hoverboards ... for some reason.

4) Driving Everywhere - Public transportation is nearly nonexistent in the greater part of NoVa. Sure, there's the metro, but most places require that you have to drive there first. Busses are even more retarded and cabs are just a non-issue. With gas prices being what they are (thank you Mother Earth and Furher Republican Party!), travel's expense almost matches its level of annoyance. The fact that my car is less reliable than the Bush administration during a natural disaster doesn't help things much. I'm constantly second guessing the prowess of the once mighty Purple Haze/Stevehicle. I'm currently trying to figure out a way for it to run on "Republican."

Unfortunately, that's all we have time for today. It's time for me to get my ass home ... after sitting for a couple of hours in traffic. I hope you've enjoyed my mini-bash on NoVa as much as I have. The list can go on and on, and I invite others to add to it. However, if there's one thing I can say for Northern Virginia, it's this ... at least it's not Maryland.

Love,
$-0

Chic-a-Go-Go

2005-09-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

Recently, I had the opportunity to go visit my very favorite Dennis in his adopted hometown of Chicago. In years past, I have been remiss in not visiting DeNice when he lived down in South Caka-Laka (that's Carolina to the Blinglish impaired) and have basically tried my damndest to avoid him, like a Christian does reason ... or like any of my friends do bathing (there, that should adequately insult everyone). But alas, the pouty lips, overt sensuality and pungent musk of a fully-developed Dessinex is enough to make any mentally impaired, latent homosexual crumble. And so, I packed up my bags and hopped on a plane to Chi-Town (via Dennissee). Because I'm so fond of lists, I'm going to break down our goings-on and lively misadventures into the nights I was there. And away we chicaGo:

Thursdiggy - I arrived at the O'Hare airport at approximately 8:30. After pretending that I was The Flash on those people mover/flat escalator things for roughly 20 minutes, I hopped the metro to meet The Menace. We jumped in a cab and, before heading out, stopped back at his place. He lives with this chick Andrea in a very "hip" neighborhood, reminiscent of something you'd see in an episode of Saved By The Bell: The College Years, except that it was nothing like that at all. Picture tree-lined streets and young professionals walking everywhere. Now picture Pennis in the middle of it all, wearing short-shorts and a belly shirt. Now wipe the vomit from your chin and let's move on. Our journey continued as he took my hand and we walked around the 'hood, which is a few blocks from the water and a great view of the city proper. From there, we met up with a bunch of his friends and went to a shindig his program was having downtown in some bar. I think the name of the place was Timothy O'Tooles or something Irishy ... could've been Purple Horseshoes, Green Clovers or Red Balloons ... point is that this place was weird. It was a regular pub, but they wanted to be high class - meaning that if there was any overt (what a weird word to use twice in one post) fun, you were promptly shown the door. God help you if you leaned on the pool tables. We lost alot of good men that night. Anyway, we salvaged some fun with ample drinking and pool playing before heading back home and spooning "innocently."
Frideez - Our future lawyer, Captain Charisma himself, had to go to class on Friday. Because I'm not properly house trained, we decided that I'd go with him and hang out in the city while he was "learning." So there I was: it was hot, the sun was beating down on Chicagoans all accross the city and I was thirsty; naturally, I decided to get a piping hot chai tea latte, because I am the smartest man in the universe. Eventually, Dennix wrestled himself free from the steely grips of knowledge and joined me in hoofing it (we're centaurs) around the city. We loaded up on man fuel in the form of these really good italian beef sanwic ... wait, did I just write "man fuel?" Let's never speak of this again. Anyway, Chicago is one big, clean, kick-ass city. We literally walked all over the place before heading down to Chicago's world famous pier ... which I had never heard of. We were all kinds of tuckered-out, from both the walking and the love-making (Hi Katy!), so we decided to begin the liquification process with a few beers at Dick's Last Resort - funny place if you've never been. Dennis, having the eye for class that he does, decided to invest in a XXX tattoo which read "Muff Diver." Needless to say, he was the belle of the ball. We continued the sustenance-injesting process by attending another of his school's functions, which was a BBQ on the 16th floor of an apartment building overlooking Chicago's skyscape, which was almost as glorious a sight as my nuts ... which, I won't lie to you, are almost spiritual to behold. After that, we tarried forth into the night, winding up at Dennix's local bar with his good friend Sammy. There were more games of pool played, more beers drunk, more shots taken and more butts slapped ... so of course, I was in my element. We then went to yet another bar for more drinking and talking with his friends, before finally heading home and passing the fuck out. Beautimus.
Saturdamn - Poor little hungover DJ Nipples had to go to class, so I hung out til he got back, mostly watching really bad mexican wrestling on Univision. Afterwards, we walked around his neighborhood more, which ended up being not unlike the Village in NYC, which is awesome. I got to see Wrigley Field too, and of course Dennis took me through the gay part of town, pointing out his favorite bath houses, sex shops and public restrooms. We dined that night on Chicago Pizza, which is like an orgasm in my mouth ... wow, and I didn't think I could top that whole "man fuel" thing, but there it is. Anyway, the pizza we washed down with a couple bottles of wine. It was a very nice meal. We did all this before going on a 3-bar drunk-fest. By the end of the night, Dennis and I were tanked like Tieneman Square, but somehow made it back to his place WITH our clothes, which was astounding. In the immoratl words of Ice Cube, "I have to say it was a good day."
Sundarr:The Barbarian - We blinkingly arose with little mental capacity intact, showered and exercized the alcohol demons. Basically, we got some food, gave each other some fives that were high and I went on my merry little way back to D.C.

Chicago is good stuff, and anyone wanting to visit definitely should. That's right, I'm inviting you to Dennix's place. From what I hear, though, you should get there before winter. They say it's extremely cold and uncomfortable during that particular season, but we all know the truth and it can be summed up in two words ... sand worms. Thanks to Dennix, Sammy, Andrea and the rest of you guys for the good times. Much like ass hair no matter how much you shave it, I'll be back.

Love,

$-0

C.K.O.D. (not to be confused with C.H.U.D.)

2005-08-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

Two posts within a mere five days of each other? Such things are completely unexpected and entirely unwarranted, young man! Then again, so are the intense and unrelenting levels of absolute boredom currently invading my head space. So let me tell you about my latest idea of achieving greatness and/or folly.

I think, and I believe most of you would agree with me here, that there need to be more gangs in the world. Well, maybe not gangs, but rebel bands of like-minded individuals formed with the sole purpose of achieving an agreed-upon goal, i.e. - justice, vengeance, wealth, establishing a rodeo event in the special olympics, etc. To that end ... particularly in regards to that rodeo thing ... I have decided to form such a faction. This "con-glomerate," if you will, shall tread within the same footsteps of other well-known street toughs, such as MS13, the Bloods, the Crypts and of course, Menudo. In order to achieve our goals, we will be committed to doing whatever it takes to get the job done, regardless of consequence. We will be feared the world over for our questionable methods and devil-may-care attitudes and tactics. Ours will be a name that creeps throughout every household, office and pre-school playground. But what could such an unrivaled force possibly be called and what appearance could it possibly create to muster such a loftily-intended public outcry?

BEHOLD THE NAME AND SYMBOL OF ULTIMATE POWER:

Now some of you might be saying to yourself, "Cool Kids of Death, eh? Aren't they an alternative band based out of Poland who are known for their pure rock style and are often described as the 'stokes of Europe?' Aren't you just stealing their identity because you think it sounds cool? You're just a hack who doesn't have an original idea in his head, aren't you?"

The simple answer to all of these questions is - Yes.

Now then, I figure that one thing all of these current gangs and similar organizations are missing is an outward manifestation of their solidarity. Oh sure, sometimes gangs have colors or gang signs or what have you, but that's just not good enough for the Cool Kids of Death. We're going to have a uniform. Said uniform will consist of the following:

One Motorcycle Helmet - This serves not only for protection from the innevitable flurry of bullets that will chase us for the rest of our lives, but more importantly to make us look cool. I mean, what's cooler than a motorcycle helmet? Erik Estrada is the coolest guy on the planet, and he wore on for years!
Gloves - These also provide protection, not for us, but for our enemies. Truly, the biting sting of our knuckles is without peer and might end the beatdown prematurely. Please note that the gloves pictured are novelty gloves lovingly crafted to resemble those of television's Power Rangers. I figure this association will make us seem even tougher. Let's be honest, they fought monsters like EVERYDAY and never lost! Now that's tough!
Chaps/Matching Vest - I don't think these need any explanation. After all, we are going to be called the COOL Kids of Death.
Boots - I couldn't find a picture of the boots we're going to have available to members, so those illustrated in this picture should suffice. The hooked boots of the Iron Sheik were a thing of beauty... and ultimate pain!
Weapons - Well, obviously, I think we should carry around Power Swords. Guns aren't cool enough and regular swords don't have power, so logically ... power swords.
Transportation - For the most part, we'll be carted around together by our dutiful driver, retired school bus operator, Hank, in what I like to call: The Death Bed (see link) ! We'll also have our own, individual methods of transportation, which will be stored for easy acces on the top of the protective canopy.

There you have it, the basic uniform of the Cool Kids of Death. I believe that all parts illustrate both coolness and the potential of death. With that settled, we're all going to need call signs. I have taken the name SuperJesus for obvious reasons. All members are required to have their own personal symbols displayed prominantly on their persons at all time. Mine will be both on the back of my helmet and on the back of my vest. It is -

Halleluia, mother fucker.

So join me friends and countrymen, join me in shamelessly infringing on the ideas of others, dressing up like personified awesomeness and meding out a special brand of justice, all the while getting chicks, like, nonstop! Help me wantonly flout both the law and sensibility and in so doing, leave a timeless echo of your presence resonating throughout the annals of human history. Join the Cool Kids of Death TODAY!

Or don't, see if I care.

Love,

$uperJesus

Randammit!

2005-08-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

About five minutes ago, I had a very interesting bowel movement. It was not interesting in form or procedure in any way. It followed the same old pattern of kicking my legs up, grabbing the sides of the bowl and yelling, "TO ADVENTURE!" And, of course, it came out somewhat resembling President William Howard Taft, just like always. No, it was interesting in the fact that I realized a few things while sitting there, giving birth to my odiferous offspring. My mind was a veritable racetrack of different ideas. I thought about everything from the current state of the Gaza strip ,to how much I would weigh on Saturn (a surprising 191.5lbs, by the way). Probably the most important thing I realized, however, was that I didn't provide you, the reader (hi mom), with enough updates on all that is me. So brace yourself, this should be wholly unremarkable:

Homeboy - That's right everyone, your favorite me is no longer homeless! In fact, I'm positively home-full. I got "homes" comin' out the ying-yang ... which I intend to get looked at next week. This new development is all thanks to the angelic efforts of A.) Dawn, for supplying said awesome home and B.) Mikey, for alerting the aforementioned Dawn of the previously cited homelessness. "What's the new domicile like, Steve!?!?!" you ask, with undue excitement? Well, it's a GREAT 3-story, 4 bedroom house with character, pizzaz, charm and a fraction of a dogsled team, making my dreams of creating the story behind Cool Runnings 2: Judgement Day (name pending) a real possibility. Greggor and I invade sometime in late September/early October.
Katy Update - We are down to less than t-minus 1 friggin' month, folks! Right now, she's over there doing her thing in Syria (think Aladdin: The Animated Series), but after a short stay in London, she'll be getting her sexy little british ass back over here and moving in with yours truly. I give her a week before she can't stand me (you know, on account of the smell). Bets anyone?
General/Recent Goings On - Other than the house thing and the whole "obtaining the Eye of Momotato and thus becoming the sorcerer supreme OF RAWK" thing, which I've talked about to death, there's been nothing of note to speak of. Other than the usual drinking, partying, hanging out, saving the world from unimaginable peril and watching TV, there's truly not much else to talk about.
Future Plans - Well, I still want to be either a Ghostbuster, a lion or a robot when I grow up. But as far as the immediate future ... Hmm, I'll probably sit here for a couple more hours before heading home. I might stop and get a milkshake or something. I dunno ... I dunno if I'll have enough time. In a week, however, I'll be visiting Good Sir Dennix in his homeland of Chicago. The plan is the following: fly to Chicago on Thursday, perform wanton acts of debauchery, season to taste, return on Sunday and serve. Beyond that, I live one day at a time, like a 12 step program, but with more drinking and less whining. Oh, and unlike AA meetings or church functions, my life is clothing-optional!
Secrets - Oh yeah, I talked to that guy about that thing. You know what I'm talking about. Anyway, he said he should be able to get it to me by that day we discussed. So we're cool, we're cool.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Wow, Steve really didn't have anything to say today. I bet he's just really bored at work and wanted to write something on his Blog because he thinks he's so awesome. I mean, this entire post has been about nothing, and he's tried to hide that by including alot of links to stupid pictures that aren't even funny. I've seen movies on Lifetime: Television for Women that are more entertaining than this. I mean, the Super VIllain thing was lame, yeah, but at least there was some kind of ... not entertainment, per say ... coherence, is I guess the word I'm looking for. I mean, damn! I just hate how he thinks he's so cool just because he has a hairy ass." Well, you're right on all counts, Whoever-Is-Still-Reading-This. I really am just bored at work, and searching the internet for episode guides of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers just ain't cutting the mustard like it used to. So basically, I decided to annoy you with alot of hype, and no wipe. You're probably wondering if I'm proud of myself right now. Well yes, actually. Yes I am.

TO ADVENTURE!

Love,

Steve-0

Litter At Your

2005-08-12T08:44:00.000-07:00

So there I was, sitting at work, looking at all of the stuff I had to do and compiling reports on said stuff, when I decided to take a little break and hitup Amazon.com. Little did I know that this website presented books, and not 7 foot behemoth women. Quickly getting over my disappointment, I began a search for some books that I've recently read, just to see what others thought of them. Then I found the glory that is the, "If you like this, check out these..." section. Again, you can imagine my disappointment when I was presented with more books, and not naked midgets. But come on, when a link reads, "check out these..." you expect midgets performing all kinds of unspeakably lustful acts. Am I right here? Maybe it is just me ... I was raised Catholic.

Anyway, what I wanted to do with this post is twofold: 1.) Waste time before going home from work, and 2.) Post a list of books that I want to read. I have written them down on a piece of paper, but pieces of paper tend to disappear, like people who ask too many questions about my dealings with the Russian mafia. So yeah, here's the list. If you want to skip this post, it's probably not a bad idea, since from here on in, it's just a list of books and corresponding authors. Actually, I'll throw some stuff in there to enjoy, like why I want to read the book or something; but mostly, this is "me time," and I'm not even going blind! You'll get that when you're older, and more sophomoric ...

1.) 1982, Janine by Alasdair Gray - I've read Lanark: A Life in Four Books by this guy and it stands as one of, if not my favorite book of all time. He tends to play with time, order, tradition and the like, which is just postmodern enough to give me some raging, metaphysical wood. If you haven't read Lanark or Poor Things, I highly, highly suggest them. They have a Scottish slant, but their appeal is definitely universal.

2.) The Book of Laughter & Forgetting by Milan Kundera - This is the Czech writer who wrote the more well-known The Unbearable Lightness of Being, which I hear is good too, but this one seems a bit more up my alley. It was suggested as something along the lines of Lanark.

3.) Unlikely Stories, Mostly by Alasdair Gray - Gray's short stories, which are apparently as good as his novels ... but ... you know ... shorter.

4.) Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie - It seems a crime that I haven't read this yet, since I was such a huge fan of Midnight's Children, but I just haven't gotten around to it yet. I'm all about conversations and treatises on good vs. evil. From what I understand, that's what this sucker's all about. It's so contraversial that it was banned in Rushdie's home country of India. I mean come on, how can people who resemble Marvel comics' Vision (you know, with the dot and everything ... siiigh, nevermind) take something so seriously?Also, I think the church was against it ... so, I think I'll read it during mass ... out loud.

5.) The Experience of Nothingness by Michael Novak - I've been on this big nihilism kick since last year, so I read alot of associated stuff and junk. Nihilism just interests the pants off of me, and I wish to know more ... and wear less!

6.) Postmodern American Fiction: A Norton Anthology - I never thought I'd buy one of these post-college, but it has a pretty impressive collection between its covers. I figure at very least I can sell it to some college kids for drugs or guns or something.

7.) Lost in the Funhouse by John barth - Another compilation of short stories that are as weird, apparently, as a Devo video ... devo video ... vedo diveo ... vedod dideo ... sorry. Yeah, I like things that are nuts ... you may insert your silly sexual joke here.

8.) Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pyncheon - Now, this 768 pager is apparently so rife with lunacy that it borders on "insane mind fuck." Sweet. I figure if I've read Ulysses and Beckett's Trilogy, so I should be somewhat okay. Famous last words. I'm also not going half-assed with this like I did with those, and am picking up its companion reader by Steven C. Weisenburger. If anyone's up for reading this thing with me simultaneously, let me know. I should tell you that while I want to read this at the same time as someone else for clarity's sake, I don't want to read it "WITH" you. I do alot of my reading on the shitter, after all. If you're up for that, well, I ... um ... look, you've got problems.

9.) The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien - I've read his At Swim Two Birds, and it was the first whacky modern/postmodern book I actually got into. I hear this one, which focuses around some kind of mystery who-dunnit, is just as good, if not better, at exploring authorial authority and the complications of literary reality. Say that fifty times fast ... you're already doing it in your head aren't you? DANCE PUPPETS!!

I feel like I should have 10th one here, but I guess those 9 are just fine. See what I did there? I positively drip with cleverness. Anyway, those are the books I want to read for right now, in case you were wondering .... which you probably weren't. Honestly, though, I still haven't read harry potter... yes, I know, I just talked about wanting to read some of the greatest postmodern books ever written, but what can I say? I am absolutely gay for Harry Potter. Completely smoking pole, squatting to pee level of gay. I love that little limey bastard.

Yeah.

We'll see how it goes. Until then, you kids be good.

Love,
$-0

Non-Smoking Section

2005-08-05T05:28:00.000-07:00

So I've decided to quit smoking ... again. Yeah, yeah I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I've tried to do this a hunred times and that all of those times have woked about as well as the Power Glove did for Nintendo. That is to say, not at all. Well, I'll admit to you, Mr. and/or Mrs. Naysayer, that up to this point you would be called correct in you estimation. I've had many the bout with Nicotene inhalation cessation. I remember the first time I tried to quit was about 8 months after I started.

Yup, back in good ol' 2000, I had a sack full of hope, a pocket full of dreams and my lungs were still a healthy shade of ... whatever color lungs should be to denote good health. I started pretty much for all the reasons you've heard other smokers say: it was my first year of college, I wanted to get to know people on my hall (who all happened to be smokers), I was really into this chick who was a smoker, I had to see the laser trip-wires that the ninjas setup, I wanted to look cool, and so on. Okay, one of those isn't true ... looking cool was never an issue. I initially quit because I was promised a Playstation 2 by my friends at the time. After figuring out that my promised tithe would not be paid, I promptly restarted the war on my lungs.

The second time I quit smoking was in Senior year, when Madame Jeffrey and the Lady Nick bet me a grand sum of, I believe, $180 to quit smoking for a month. Well, that was no problem at all ... excepting the nights of slow torture and resultant black-out rage. Then the rage consumed me and I became the hulk and ... look, I don't want to get into it right now. Suffice it to say, alot of innocent people died. Mostly hookers. Yup, innocent hookers. Lots of 'em.
ANYWAY, this is when I figured out that one could not quit smoking unless one wanted to do so oneself. I should note that this realization did not help me quit. Very little have the sparks of understanding and wisdom changed my course in life. That's cause understanding and wisdom is for suckers. Oh, by the way, I won the money, promptly began smoking again and used said money to get the tattoo that now decorates my right arm. To quote Mr. Weird Al Yankovic, "Eat it."

After that, I dabbled in quitting. I tried to quit over in Scotland a couple of times where cigarettes cost about as much as a luxury car, loaded with amenities. But even staring poverty in the face was not enough to curb my wanton disregard for personal health. Then I did something really stupid, I tried to quit in Italy. Katy and I, on a last minute decision to take a vacation together before I went back to the states, went to Rome and had the time of our lives. Why I decided to try to quit smoking, however, in a place where you're basically born with a pack of cigarettes connected to your ambilical chord is beyond me ... well, I guess it isn't beyond me, since I did it; I guess I'm just retarded. Even Katy made fun of me for attempting such a lofty goal.

So, if all previous attempts have gone the way of the DoDo, why have I decided to try again? What reason do I possibly have for potentially endangering the lives of innocent hookers everywhere? Well, my reason is a little English girl who is currently dodging car bombs in Beirut right now. Yup, I actually found something I like more than smoking - Katy be thy name. Now, I'm not quitting "for her," as she was actually surprised when I told her. Rather, I'm qutting "for us." I mean, she's probably going to want me around for a while ... I am freaking awesome, after all. See how I turned really nice sentiment into stupid, vain humor? Nice, huh?

It's been 5 days, and maybe I shouldn't be so optimistic, but it's not as hard as the other times. Maybe it's because I decided to do it, maybe it's because I have a real reason or maybe it's because I'm a glutton for punishment. I dunno, but I'm gonna give it a(nother) shot. I should mention that I'm not using any patches or Nicorette gum, which I hear tastes like a mixture of ass, feet and the souls of the unclean. Okay, so I don't know what souls of the unclean taste like ... they could taste like buttered turtle pies for all I know, but you get my point.

That point being that I'm committed to this quest for enhanced lung power, without any help whatsoever. Remember how I said I was retarded? Yeah. I'm not saying that I won't have the odd cigarette here and there, but I am saying that this time, it's for good. At least for a month.

10>3,
$+3>3-0

Big Daddy Suck

2005-07-22T08:56:00.000-07:00

Salutations! It's been a while since I've had the unmitigated gall to write something on these hallowed cyber pages. So, because it's Friday and I'm bored at work ... and because I have about half an hour to go before lunch, I thought I'd craft a tapestry of my usual linguistic splendor. Behold me! I SAID BEHOLD ME!! Now, keeping in mind that I am the reflection of paugh-fection, the final step in Steveolution and one with the Stevine, I must admit to you, my friends and brothers in arms, that I too have my faults. Like run on sentences or sentence fragments. I know, you're probably going to need some time to recover from that. It's like learning that Jesus wet the bed or that Superman never learned how to wipe himself properly. But enough about fictional characters, we are here today in praise of me ... or rather, we are here today to make fun of me. Let's light this candle...

The Things I Suck At List

1.) Rock Climbing - I had the opportunity a few weeks back to accompany Emery V.1 to Great Falls to try my hand at this crazy thing called rock climbing. Now, I should tell you that up to this point, the only thing I've had any experience climbing was a ladder, and even then I was better at the falling part. Needless to say, I made it up our first climb about halfway before I started sweating like Dubya Bush trying to read. After my moist mandibles prevented any forward (or upward, I should say) progression, your hero threw in the towel and grudgingly dropped down from the perilous precipice. Spider-Man though I may not be, at least that harness increased the size of my package two-fold - making me impress even the most jaded third grader. We did go on two more climbs after that and I actually did make it up, but Emery V.1 and his "jedi-master," Sandi did not sully their reputations by climbing the kiddie slopes. I have to say to you, Sir James of Emery, I was well impressed with your climbing skill. He shimmied up that rock face (and a couple others with a greater difficulty) quicker than a greasy Italian on a water slide. Emery, I think you should fight crime.

2.) Cars - In general, I suck at cars. I couldn't tell a tail pipe from a crack pipe. Despite my most fervent attempts at automotive understanding (and by that, I mean watching marathons of Knight Rider), I just can't get into it. Ever since I learned that cars can't actually turn into giant robots (transformers), go back in time (Back to the Future) or fly if you open the doors (yeah, I'm just retarded), I kind of lost interest. I know where the engine is, where the tires are and how many dead homeless people you can stuff in a trunk, but other than that, it's all greek to me.

3.) Heat Vision- Despite my best attempts, I don't have heat vision. Well, that's not true, I do have heat vision; I mean, who doesn't? Lame-o's, that's who! I just happen to suck at it. When I'm out there on the streets, doing my job and fighting scum (including ninjas, assassins, mad scientists, Jeff Mallinger, and The Midgets with Hammers League), I just can't make the eye-hotness happen. Oh, I've tried shortcuts, like throwing matches at people, but none of them seem to work, beyond causing mild annoyance. Mostly, it ends with me running up to someone, staring at them and yelling, "EYE BEAMS, GO!" That's when the strain gets too much and I soil myself ... heroically.

4.) Communication - I don't mean this in the fact that I can't speak. I mean that if you call me, email me, IM me, wave to me or any of the other options at your disposal to contact me, I will rarely get back to you. This is not because I hate you or think you smell like bigfoot's dick. Rather, it's because I am lazy. I also tend to forget things. Remember in the Superman movie when Superman makes out with Lois Lane to make her forget that he's Superman? Okay, I don't know where I was going with that. Screw it, I hate you and you smell like bigfoot's dick, now stop calling me.

5.) Punctuality - Anyone who knows me, understand that if you tell me to be somewhere at a given time, I will be there at least two hours later. This is the nature of being me. It's something that you just don't question and can never explain - like gravity or where babies come from. Like these two examples, my general tardiness is a direct result of magic ... and because I spend an inordinate amount of time crapping.

Well, there they are - five things that make me suck. I'd go on, but let's be honest, I can't. Other than these five things, I pretty much kick ass ... well, that, I don't have enough room to make a complete list and it's lunch time. I hope you've enjoyed our little journey into my sucktastic-ness-ocity. Next time, we'll discuss why you suck. Now go take a bath!

Love,

$/0

Oxymoron: Intelligent Bush Supporter

2005-06-29T10:42:00.000-07:00

I am amazed ... simply and utterly amazed that Bush supporters lack this much intelligence. Last night, I watched the president's speech and found myself yelling, actually yelling, at the screen. It wasn't the fact that he looks like a cow-eyed idiot. It wasn't even the smarmy grin he had when talking about the sacrifices of war. Nope, it was the fact that people actually believe this 1984 double-speak that he's coming out with. It astounds me that a majority of the American public can be so easily told what to think.

Now, first off, let me say that I support our troops. What I don't support is the war. What's the difference? Well, those men and women signed up to follow orders, it's their job and I can appreciate the fact that they don't have much choice. The war, however? Well that's a different story. That was all choice.

Let's reflect, shall we?

What was the initial, Presidential/Government-given reason for us to go to war? Well, 9/11 happened and we so desperately wanted someone to point a finger at. So Captain George W. Braintrust said to himself, "I betcha I can blame this on somebody! Hmm, who have we been to war with in the past, oh, 10 to 15 years? Oh! Oh! I love ice cream!" And then he focused again after eating ice cream and having anything shiny taken away from him and said, "IRAQ! YAY!! HEE HEE HEE!!! YAAAAY!!!" So, even though most of the people on the planes were Saudi, and not one of them Iraqi, we decided to go to war with them. But we needed a reason - thus producing the WMD excuse.

We were searching for WMDs. Right, gotcha, and we all know how that went. I think it's interesting that Bushy-pooh always seems to neglect that old chestnut, don't you? Sure you do. So we not only neglect to find said WMDs, but fail in establishing a credible link between the ideologically different, fundamentally disagreeing Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden. Okay, strike two. I can just see Bush sitting there saying, "Well dag-gum, we're runnin' outta stuff, Dick. Whut the hell're we gonna tell 'em nayaw?" Well, this is what they told us ... and what you idiot Republicans believed wholeheartedly: "No, guys, you misunderstood. We went in there because we wanted to free the Iraqis from a totalitarian government of oppression. Yeah, that's it. No no, I swear! We wanted to setup a democracy over there because ... uh ... democracy's a hell of a thing, isn't it? Whooo-ee! I tell ya!" Anyone with half a brain was thinking, "Uh, dude, that's not what you said before."

Now look, I'm glad that we went in there and did our thing in kicking Saddam out of power. He was an asshole and now he's gone. Yay us. The problem therein, my friends, is that if that's what we were out to do before, then we should have expressed it as such. So now, we're over there fighting for democracy - right on, sure, great, groovy, democracy: fuck yeah! So now what are we fighting for? Oh yeah, it changed again. Now we're fighting because Iraq is a hotbed of terrorism. Well holy shit, they're actually right on this one. But do you know why?

BECAUSE YOU STUPID, FUCKING NUMBNUTS - WE MADE IT LIKE THAT! WE WENT OVER THERE FOR RIDICULOUSLY CONCOCTED REASONS THAT WERE ALL LIES TO COVER UP FOR SOME BIG-ASS OIL TAKEOVER OR WHATEVER THE FUCK IT WAS AND SINCE WE STARTED PISSING DOWN BULLETS AND SHITTING OUT BOMBS ON INNOCENT AND GUILTY ALIKE FOR NO FUCKING REASON, WELL GUESS WHO SHOWS UP?!?! EVERY FUCKING TERRORIST IN A 200 MILE RADIUS!

BIG! FUCKING! SURPRISE!

So now we're incarcerated in a prison of our own devising. Now, we're damned if we do, and we're damned if we don't. We can't just dip out because it would be royally screwing the iraqi people, BUT we shouldn't stay because there is just a needless amount of death on both sides right now. So how many strikes is that? Four? Five? This douchebag should have been OUT a long time ago, along with his war-mongering administration. You want to call me a liberal hippy? Fucking go for it, watch me care. But at least I don't swallow every single madeup reason that has been force-fed this country's citizenry to continue this stupid war. Thousands have died and thousands will die - I guarantee it. We have no exit strategy.

Okay, those are two dangerous words, because Republicunts say, "Well yeah, but we just have to go in there and do what needs to be done, you know? We can't have an exit strategy for anything, cause you never know how long it'll take." Well, you inbred fuck-faces, the problem is that the definition of "what has to be done" continues to change. We didn't have an idea of what we were doing there in the first place, and now we have even less of an idea of how to get out, because reason-after-reason keeps popping up in the infantile minds of those idiots running this country!

So fuck you, you foolish, puerile, gullible douchebags! You go ahead and you welcome Big Brother. You drink your fucking Victory (oh sorry "freedom") Gin and pledge yourselves to lies and deception. Don't think, no no, don't hurt yourselves. You just leave the thinking to us soft-hearted, bleeding heart, pussy liberals - at least we don't listen to everything we're told and yell "Hail Bush ... and whatever he says!" after the ceaseless, constantly-changing political drivel pours like hot sick from his stupd mouth. Get some fucking intelligence! Differentiate between truth and fiction! Look back at the course of recent history and realize that you have been told different, contrasting things. I mean Jesus Christ, people, THIIIIINK!!!!!!!!

All of you who refuse to think, just go to hell, because you fucking make me sick.

Love,
Stevie! ;-)

PS - I probably should have added the fuck-nuts pictured at the top in the previous post.

VILLAINY Unrealized

2005-06-22T06:03:00.000-07:00

So I've been thinking recently. Now, usually that just leads to something involving scotch tape, potato salad, my naughty bits, a tiny cowboy hat and a little dance, but this time my thoughts yielded much greater mental fruit. I've been thinking of the most underrated villains OF ALL TIME! That's right, I'm thinking about those unsung insipid inventors of injustice that never really got their fair due. There seem to be so many characters out there who, despite getting beaten by the hero time and time again, continued to mete out their own special brands of villainy. And so, good-sir reader, I offer you this ...

The Underrated Villain Hall of Fame

June 2005 Inductees

1.) The Noid

WHAT? - Not much is known about this enigmatic genius, other than his two great loves: pizza ... and evil! The sole purpose of his shadowy (after?)life was to prevent the prompt delivery of the former, thus perpetuating the latter. Plus, I mean, come on - he's the poster boy of the nazi party ... and the retarded ... though I guess that's redundant.

Why underrated? - The thing is that, despite his best efforts of halting the progress of Domino's pizza, he couldn't do it. He may never have won or gotten his fair shake, but I'll be damned if those pizza delivery men didn't think twice when peddling their wares to the public. Behind every corner could have been the claymation calamity known as The Noid - armed with either a freeze ray, a jackhammer, or a noid-bomb and, of course, a steely wit. Hats off, The Noid.

Extra Credit - "A man named Kenneth Lamar Noid, apparently became upset with Domino Pizza's 'Avoid the Noid' TV spots and allegedly held two Domino's Pizza employees hostage in Chamblee, Georgia. He was charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault, extortion and possession of a firearm during a crime." Beware, The Noid's evil is SIN-fectious!

2.) Rumble Frenzy

WHAT? - Rumble Frenzy was one of the smallest Decepticons of the lot. What he lost in size, however, he made up for in raw power ... I've been trying to convince Katy that the same is true for me, but she's not biting. Whenever the cowardly Autobots grouped together, into action sprang the tenacious Rumble Frenzy, transforming his unassuming purple girl-fists into HAVOC-WREAKING PISTONS OF GRAPE APE-SHIT-PORPORTIONED CRAZINESS! I also hear this creepy little bastard porked Optimus Prime's mother right in front of him. Short waters run deep!

Why Underrated? - Because of his small stature, he was never perceived as that much of a threat by his do-gooder counterparts and was considered by many as a Little Tykes: My First Transformer. The fact that he was purple didn't help much. But behind his crazy-red, wrap-around shades sparkled the eyes of a true villain ... and soft jazz enthusiast.

3.) Captain Pollution

WHAT? - Captain Pollution, the obvious foil character of the green mullet-sporting, ecomaniac Captain Planet, was created from eeeeevil power rings based on those of the Planeteers. So as opposed to Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and ... (snicker) ... Heart, they were like Smog, Radiation, Deforestation ... um ... unsafe drinking water ... and, like, abortion ... or something. Anyway, with their powers combined, out came the Michelangelo-esque sounding Captain Pollution: Sultan of Sewage, President of Pollution and captor of our hearts!
Why Underrated? - Even though he initially made Captain Planet his bitch (I mean that literally, it was a very tongue-in-cheak episode ... I mean that literally too, his tongue was actually in Captain Planet's cheak. Yeah it was pretty gross ... oh, no wait, that was that porno I was watching simultaneously entitled Captain Pork-it. Nevermind. Let's pretend this never happened.), he eventually got beaten by being dragged through all of earth's elements. Still, for a while there he was kicking some Planet ass ... if he has an ass, that is. I bet he smells like ferns. What a dick.

4.) Chuck
WHAT? - Bitten at a young age by a radioactive Phillipino, mild-mannered Charles M. dela Cuesta became the villainous foe known only as "CHUCK." Behind his soft, doe-eyed exterior beats the cold, dead (yet, somehow still-beating) heart of a true devil. Reports have come in that he can breathe lasers and fire missiles from his chode. It's actually one of the most beautifully horrid things I've ever been a party to. His never-ending mission, to deplete the world's rice stores, has only narrowly been defeated by his arch rivals - The Bannana Splits.
Why Underrated? - As I said before, most people do not recognize the evil genius of Chuck (aka "Chuck"), so his renown as a living object of villainy goes largely unnoticed. But you just wait until you sit down to a nice, big bowl of Uncle Ben's, turn away to grease up your favorite midget, and turn back only to realize that your sustenance has disappeared ... into the belly of the beast known as CHUCK!

5.) Bizarro
WHAT? - In wishing passers-by a "Good Morning" at night and saying "Hello" as his exeunt expression, this flawed clone of Superman was a true player at the game of mental chess. And of course, by that I mean he was profoundly retarded. This alabaster-hued nega-hero did everything exactly the opposite of Superman, which probably means that he ate with his butt. He was also straight, as far as sexuality, which begs the question about Superman ... does the man of steel squat to pee? Superman would usually kick the crap out of Bizarro whenever he acted up, sending our pale-faced perpetrator of peril repeatedly into the loss column. He eventually went away, creating his own Bizarro-world, a giant cube. It's opposite day there all the time -- just like in my head. I love you guys.
Why Underrated? - Because of his incumbered intellect, nobody in the DC universe took this gentleman seriously, even though he had power equal to that of Superman. Everyone kind of just laughed at him ... you know, the way everyone does with Bush. That much power in the hands of idiocy is always a bad thing ... AND IS ALWAYS EVIL! Oh, Bizarro also wore a necklace which read "Bizarro No. 1." Anyone who can pull that off goes up a notch on my crotch. Look for "Steve-0 No. 1" necklaces soon at your local and participating Roy Rogers.

--$--
Well that's it for now. In closing - Here's to you, oh nearly-nefarious ne'er-do-wells, I salute your failure at true evil but resolve, persistence and success at mild annoyance. Keep up the good work, everyone! Except for you, Chuck, give me back my fucking rice!
Love,
$-0

UKaos

2005-06-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

Rejoice and be glad, Uh-merica, for I have returned unto thee. Behold mine glory, be it ever so humble and ALMIGHTY! That's right, Daddy's home, so hide the empties, stash the porn and then go away so that I can find them and implement them for my own uses. Already, this post lacks three extremely important (dare I say, integral) aspects to a good blog entry: sense, sensibility and a picture of futuristic, sentient, spandex-clad dinosaurs standing with kids who are inexplicably dressed for winter. Thusly, have I obliterated the first two by overcompensating with the third. There, I think that sets the right tone for the rest of the post.

"So, speaking of intrepid innocents and their paleolithic pals," he said, supplying a brave if not terrible example of inane segue, " I had a great time in the UK these past 10 days. "

It all started when I got on the plane, as trans-atlantic voyages usually do. For some reason or another (possibly for my good looks and natural charm) I was bumped up to what BA (British Airways) calls "Club World." You know when you're walking to the back of a plane (the stables, if you will), and on the long journey, you see those Lazyboy looking chairs and you quickly sit down and bust out a fart and yell, "EAT THAT, RICHIE RICH!" Yeah, you know what I mean, well I sat there ... only after I farted, which was ironic I guess. Anyway, so because I didn't think I was supposed to be sitting there (and still don't know how I was bumped up, despite the aforementioned good looks and charm) , I sat there sweating, nervously excited - much like a pedephile in a clown suit. They served champagne as soon as you sit down, so I shot that back and continued looking around like an animal backed into a corner ... which it had just farted into. It was great, I got smoked salmon as a starter, realy nice pastries, hot bread, hand jobs, a great salad and all the Gin + Tonics I could consume. Needless to say, it was the only way to travel ... unless you travel by the untamed wings of a dragon!

But yeah, from there I was greeted by the most beautiful sight in all the land: Ms. Katy Kalemkerian. If you've ever had the opportunity to see and meet this fine example of loveliness, you'll know what I'm talking about. After that we ... well we did alot ... a whole lot, far too much to make a list of. SO because I'm feeling obnoxious--

The many things I did in the UK, which are far too numerous to list list:
1.) Dinner with Mary - Katy's Mum (Mary) is one of, if not the most entertaining people on this planet. And she thinks I'm good looking, so she's got my vote of confidence. Just after we arrived from the long trip in the London underground, which is ruled by a benevolent but firm god named Babkantaroosh, she cooked us this bangin' dinner which was both well received and muchly enjoyed.

2.) Sarastro's (which sounds a bit too much like Green Lantern's legendary nemesis, and weilder of the yellow power ring, Sinestro who ... oh, right, only I care about that)- The next day, after Katy wheeled me around London with many of her friends. And after imbibing my fair share of spirits, Mary treated us to this awesome Turkish meal at a restaurant which has to be seen to be believed. It's called Sarastro's and if you're ever in Covent Garden, I highly suggest it. It's Opera themed and besides having great food and sexually explicit bathrooms (just roll with it), the entertainment is without peer ... like me with a broad sword. It's even laid out like an opera house, replete with balconies and everything. To see more pictures of our dinner here (and pics of the entire visit), check out my yahoo pics site.

3.) Scotland Bound - Katy and I hopped on a train up to Edinburgh where we rocked hard for a couple of days before attending the social event of the year: Katy's Party. The pictures in the yahoo site don't do it justice. We drank Mojitos, other variations of rum drinks and shots, wine, beer, and pretty much every libation until we couldn't see straight. I would say that there were about 30 plus in attendance. It was just absolutely ridiculous. With respect to the other events I have attended this year, this party blew every single one of them out of the water.

4.) Fight for our lives - It was about this time that we were unexpectedly set upon by the power of MumRa, the Ever Living, who was hiding behind some bushes ... NEFARIOUS BUSHES. OoooOOooh! But Katy just used her heat vision and it was cool. Poor guy got spanked by a girl, though.

5.) Linner at Meg and Allen's - After a day/night of recovery, which was really just walking around the city drinking and smoking, we got back to brass tax, drank a night or two away and on Sunday, went to Katy's Aunt and Uncle's for a proper, Scottish Sunday lunch, which was more like dinner. It was something like 4 or 5 courses of really delicious foodstuffs - lamb, homegrown vegetables, dried meats, fresh cheeses, wine, champagne, more wine, coffee and cake. I was kind of in heaven ... a very drunk, popping-full heaven.

So I guess the innumerable list became a list of five things, but really I couldn't count the other things we did. This was but a small portion of what we did, which also included picnics in the park, going to the Francis Bacon portrait exhibit, frequenting pubs and playing pool for hours, laying out in the shadow od the castle in Princes Street Gardens, etc. etc. etc. The list just goes on and on and I'm just too tried to type anymore. All in all it was a great time and on the way home, as I sat in Heathrow airport, I was depressed in a way that I had to come back. That feeling continues. I look forward to the day when I can go back, be with my love, and firmly establish myself as the one, true King of Scotland ... which will be renamed Stevland ... because Scot sucks ... whoever he is.

Hulk Hoganarchy

2005-06-03T07:26:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post. I saw this online in my daily raiding-of-the-internet-for-stupidity, and remembered that John commented on it in my last entry. I just thought I'd share the nostalgia like I do my herpes. Sometimes it's good to pull things from the land of the lost (fucking sleestaks). Real posts return shortly. Enjoy, bitches!

3 Second Defense

2005-05-23T05:02:00.000-07:00

After much introspection and inner turmoil ... which was motivated by external turmoil ... which was motivated by alcohol, I have decided to once again defend one of my core beliefs. We've already established the whole "God-and-religion-are-smoke-and-mirrors" dealie, I've gone into great length about the trappings of a government run by an idiot, signifying nothing, and I've briefly discussed my affinity for a certain green flake-encrusted, custard-filled delight known as the Turtle Pie. So one has to ask oneself, "Self, where does Steve go from here? And why do I care?" Well first off, stop talking to yourself, weirdo. Secondly, I'll tell you where we go from here -- onwards, upwards, and off the top rope, crashing on intellect and reason with an asai moonsalt. That's right, it's time for my defense of Professional Wrestling.

Many people come up to me and ask me any number of questions up to and including: "what's your favorite color," "who is your favorite author," "don't you think that the Big Bad BeetleBorgs could totally kick the Power Rangers' asses," and most importantly of all, "why do you like professional wrestling, what are you some kind of retard, stupid-face?" Well let me tell you, one and all:
1.) Green.
2.) Mike Hunt (from Penthouse Letters Forum).
3.) Oh totally - but the VR Troopers would make both teams their bitches.
4.) No I am not retarded, fart-brains. But, please come with me on a fantastic journey through my inner neurosis and let me tell you why I like fake sports performed by guys in techni-colored spandex.

Before I get into a list of reasons why I like pro wrestling, let me throw something out there for all you kids. If you see me walking down the street, after genuflecting and praising my name, please don't say to me, "You know, wrestling is fake, right?" I love people who say that to me. I just want to retort with, "NO! FUCKING! WAY! Y..you're telling me wrestling i..is ... fake? UP IS DOWN! LEFT IS RIGHT! BLACK IS WHITE! MY whole world is spinning!!"
OF COURSE I know it's fake, you idiot! Just because I'm hung like a 5 year old doesn't mean I have the mental capacity of one! Hey, you know all of those movies you watch with the big budgets and kick-ass fight scenes? THOSE ARE FAKE TOO, DIDJA KNOW THAT, MR. GUY?! That's what gets me - people who can suspend disbelief for other television shows and movies, like Star Wars (no such thing as Jabba the Hut, I don't care how much resemblance there is between him and Rosie O'Donnel). Hell, there's even a suspension of disbelief in serious dramas, like West Wing, Law and Order, and Baywatch Nights.

Nobody in professional wrestling is trying to fool anyone anymore. They don't strictly maintain what they call "Kayfabe" (or the art of pretending / staying in character). This is not the 80s and unless you have a brain the size of a certain American President, you know that wrestling is "fake," in that the outcomes are pre-determined. So let's all just calm down and be willing to suspend disbelief when viewing and discussing Pro Wrestling. If you can't deal with that, then leave now. HEY, DON'T GO! C'mon baby, I won't hit you again. Just stay with me okay? I love you. Now get over here, you!

1.) Athletic Ability - Now I think that most people will agree with me on this one - even non-wrestling fans. If you shouldn't, then you should (damn I'm a good debater). You have to respect guys like Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka, or Rob Van Dam, who can gently alight on the top rope and jump clear accross the ring (spread-eagle, mind you) all for the sole purpose of entertainment. Or look at a guy like Shelton Benjamin (who can be seen on RAW every Monday, since most of you have no idea who he is), who not only has an award winning background in amateur wrestling, but whose gymnastic skill is rivaled only by olympians ... and Spider-Man. Speaking of amateur wrestlers and olympians, one need look no farther than Brock Lesnar, NCAA wrestling champion and Kurt Angle, 1996 gold medalist. Now look at guys like the Mexican Luchadores, who flip around more than a crack-fueled, ninja monkey. These guys all have talent, manifested in different ways, and anyone who appreciates raw athletic ability can see that in any televised match.

2.) Performance Ability - Okay, first off, I'm not talking about the backstage "acting." I understand that the acting for the little skits they have is terrible. I'm the first one to admit that, and unless it's done briefly and in a way to pump up a match, it's completely uncalled for. I don't like how it's become like a soap opera with forced marriages, necrophelia, and 80 year old women giving birth to hands (god I wish I was kidding). For all of these kinds of things, which are so horrible, they're funny (kind of like Thunder in Paradise III) you should check out Wrestlecrap.com. With that said, there IS talent, I believe, in the way that wrestlers set up a match. Now, contrary to popular belief, there is not a defined script for a match. Rather, the wrestlers talk to each other during the match to plan it out while it's going on. Now, I want you to think about this in terms of a movie or a live, stage show. Think about putting on a really awesome fight scene on the spot, in front of hundreds of screaming fans. There's a certain ebb and flow to every match. There have to be points of dramatic tension, comedy, anger, hatred, and finally closure. And it just impresses me how two guys can do that. It takes an understanding of psychology, of human nature and of not touching the other guy's nuts.

3.) Themes - One of the main reasons why I like wrestling is because it is fake. It's the same reason why I liked Sin City (discussed at length in an earlier post): The Hyper-real. Because wrestling no longer presents itself as a real sport (hence the moniker, Sports-Entertainment), coupled with the ridiculous costumes, impossible feats of meta-human strength, durability, speed, etc., it becomes an examble of the fantastic. You have to take pro-wrestling as it is. It's modern day Shakespeare with worse acting. And yes, I understand that comparing wrestling to shakespeare is like comparing Memento to Three Ninjas Kick Back, but just humor me for a second. All of the basic themes of mankind, through bad acting and good choreography, are expressed in wrestling: anger, fear, perserverence, love, hate, friendship, loyalty, sex, drugs, and rock + roll. And it's all wrapped up in this package of skin tight spandex, tables, ladders, and chairs. Its shown in this fantastic, nearly unbelievable light and it just makes me happy in my pants ... I mean in my ... pants. Dammit!

Okay, I can't go into this anymore at length because I've wasted enough time at work. Maybe later, depending on how many comments I get, making fun of me, I'll write a bit more about why I like the sport of kings. Until then, I'd better be off to some meeting. I swear to god, though, if it goes one minute over the alotted time, somebody's gonna get a Randy Savage elbow ... or an atomic wedgie, whicever comes first. Mahalo, kids.

God bless,
$teve-0

God Mode

2005-05-02T11:36:00.000-07:00

Good after-lunch, friends. Allow me to welcome you into the soft, supple bosom that is my !BLAUG! I trust that everyone has had a nice reprieve from my stupid little tirades that don't succeed in doing anything? Ah excellent.

So religion is pissing me off again.

I just don't get it, and I'm waiting for one of the following things to happen to me:
1. That I meet this "God" person I've been hearing about, and that he shows me his ultimate power. It really wouldn't take much. He could, like, turn somebody into a mountain goat or stop world hunger and wars ... especially those waged in His name. Or he could simply bring back, in all of His infinite glory, the delicious treat once known as Turtle Pies, in all of their infinite glory. (Now that would be a second coming worth praising, am I right? Huh!? Anyone?) But NOOoooOOOoo, we are doomed to suffer non-goat men, constant death and suffering in the name of the lord, and a COMPLETE LACK OF SUGAR-COATED, GREEN-SHELLED, CUSTARD-FILLED GLORY! Turtle pies ... thy will be done.

2. An intelligent ... and I must stress this again ... I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-T Christian fundamentalist, or even a simple, run of the mill, practicing Christian, who can explain to me why he or she so vehemently believes in an invisible man with ultimate power known as "Yaweh"(or as I like to call him, Jaga).

3. I am blessed with the glorious gift of the stigmata ... from which I can fire missiles and HOLY PURPLE FLAME!!

Okay, honestly. I want everyone who believes in God, Jesus, or some other supreme deity to tell me how you can sit there and honestly believe in fairy tales. Go read the bible ... right now, I'm serious ... and tell me, honestly tell me that the whole thing wasn't written on an acid trip and a dare. The people who interpret this thing literally KILL me ... with laughter along with ramming my head into a brick wall in hopes of reaching their level of denial.
Now think about how much this book ... this piece of fiction ... has changed and raped the world. Don't get me wrong, the bible is good fiction, and much of it can be useful in leading a good life, but no more so than one of the fables we read when we were kids. The message has been skewed and bastardized so much that we don't even know what it is anymore. It's a means to an end for most of these evangelical ministers, Catholic priests, and other prayer pushers. It's a pyramid scheme to make money from and retain control of the masses. The problem is that it's invaded every part of life. I know I sound like a broken record here, but GOD DAMMIT (ah, nigh-hypocrasy -- I LIKES IT!), most countries have a freedom OF religion, and now it seems that we can't secure a freedom FROM it!
And all it does is divide, divide, divide. It separates races (like when the higher-ups of faith said that the bible "okayed" slavery), and yet those races flock to it like mindless sheep. It teaches children to hate people for simply being attracted to someone of their same sex ... or so the major religions would have us believe. It prevents people who might be truly in love from ever fathoming a life together, because their religions ... their DIFFERENT FUCKING INTERPRETATIONS OF THE SAME GOD-DAMNED BOOK ... are different. Mostly, though, it teaches fear. The people who wrote and passed out the first bibles could definitely be called the first Republicans. Lead a good life or guess what? You'll be raped in hell for an eternity by this guy! Now, I ask you ... I really ask anyone out there, how can you justify such an institution? Please, someone ... anyone please help me understand what's going on.
To all of you people out there who so readily believe in a power above yourself, please just try ... just TRY imagining that you control your life. That you don't have to be a good person because some book or some bearded boogity-man tells you to, but because you CHOOSE to, of your own free will. Test your faith ... not only in the basic tennets of your religion ... but in everything that you are TOLD to believe. You'll find holes. Explore them and come up with your own conclusions.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Okay, I know this was a rant more than an intellectual discussion, and I apologize for that. I just get really hot under the collar about this stuff. If anyone would like to talk about this more in length without me flipping out ... though I can't promise anything ... let me know. As for right now, I'm gonna go lobby the Congress and heads of Parliament about this whole Turtle Pie Movement. Who's comin' with me?

Love,
$teve-0

Aftermath

2005-04-24T15:06:00.000-07:00

Pretty short entry today. Right now, I am in the lair de Magoo whilst he and faithful sidekick Sean attempt to fix Katy's computer before she heads home tomorrow. Also, I've requested racing stripes and laser beams. It's good to have friends who are so technologically inclined. I'm beginning to come up with plans for them to build me a fully automated fortress replete with my own personal army ... and I want buzzsaw hands, goddammit.

Last night was the party and the true purpose of this entry. I just wanted to send my thanks to all who showed up. A good time, along with many libations, allowed the fun to flow like that untamed river of slime from Ghostbusters 2*. Yeah, figure out THAT simile! I love snubbing my nose at logic, reason, sense, syphillis, and rationality. Oh, and coincidentally, we also spent much of the night locked in mortal combat with the forces of evil.

"But I digress," he said, changing the subject.
It was a very good night, and I had much fun. I thank you all.

Well, like I said that's pretty much it. I know I haven't had an amazingly irevverant post in a while, but that'll come. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be listening to the Bill O'Reilly show at some point soon, and that should give me enough fodder for my war against stupidity. Until then, thanks to everyone for making the party a sex-cess. GOOD DAY!

Love,
$ to the 0
* - Wow, look at the package on that monkey! Christ.

Red Hot Action with tender, pink meat

2005-04-21T05:24:00.000-07:00

So I decided to do something I've never done before. I bet you can't guess what it is!

Chew with my mouth closed? NEGATIVE!

Shower and/or bathe in any of its variant forms? HAHA - no.

Kill for the sake of killing? I said something I haven't done before.

I decided to take my lady-love on a nice date. Now, usually, I would let my date choose where she wanted to go. I would also let said date drive ... and pay. But no, I decided that I would slather on the charm last night. I figured, I had enough money saved to finally go for a nice, expensive meal, that Katy is the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me and she was worth it, and also that she would let me touch her boobies afterwards. So, I had a mission, a goal, a dream ... and decided to do a little research.

After much delineation and fervent procrastination, I turned my attention to the Washingtonian online, and began this journey called romance. There were some good choices, some bad ones, and then I started reading about midget wrestling and got sidetracked. So anyway, I finally happened onto the place we ended up going: The Prime Rib (on K street, between 21st and 22nd street in DC - Feragut West Metro stop). Now, I've made some bad decisions in my time, like Living with Sir Jefferson "Uncle Fun" Mallinger - known pedephile, or that whole phase were I tried fighting crime under the guise of Captain Fantastic: The Pink Protector, but I tell you this was actually a good idea! I know, I couldn't believe it myself.

the place's atmosphere was awesome to start. From the moment my patent leather shoe gracefully alighted upon the leopard print carpet, I knew I would like this place. It's basically like an old, circa 1940s supper lounge, complete with a piano/double bass jazz band in the middle of the restaurant. It's mandatory for men to be all gussied up n' spiffed out (and by that I mean tie and jacket), so I put on my new chocolate brown suit, Katy looked uber-hot in a turquoise/white number, and we sauntered into glorificence.

The food there was awesome...and that just doesn't do it justice. It was honestly the best substance I've ever put into my mouth [insert (in-) appropriate jokes here]. We started with the lobster bisque - the creamiest, richest, most beautiful goo ever ... sorry Sean and Magoo-you guys have been knocked down to 2 and 3 respectively, and a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, because I wanted to commit artsy-fartsy snobbery. Then we had the main course. Katy had the Rack of lamb, which was f'ing out of this world, and I had their signature Roast Prime Rib, the biggest, fattest cut of meat [laugh laugh laugh] I've ever seen, slow roasted for five hours and as rare as a summer day is long. It melted like butter in my mouth. We capped it all off with homemade key lime pie and some of the best coffee ever.

I can't go on enough about this place. Seriously, it has become my favorite restaurant ever. It is pricy, and is a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing, but it was definitely worth every penny ... that we stole from that homeless shelter. Suckers. Anyway, I highly suggest that if you want to have the best meal of your life with portions bigger than god, if you want one helluva an atmosphere, and if you want to melt some chick's panties quicker than an ice pop on a july morning, then I definitely recommend The Prime Rib ... Conveniently next to The Prime Rob for all of you freaking homos!

Love,

$-0

[insert title]

2005-04-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

Attention:
This is a call to arms ... or brains, really. Magoo and I need your help. Our comic book, which has been in production for about 145 years might actually be coming to a head. A big, smiling head. We're going to submit our idea to the guys over at Image Comics, who apparently always take suggestions. We have the story, we have the illustrations, we have the clap, and now all we need is the title. SO, we request that the millions and millions of people that faithfully read my blog choose their favorite title from the list provided below. We have our favorite pick, but this is market research and we have to go to the peanut gallery. Now, you probably have no idea what our comic book is about - to be fair, I don't even think we really understand it too well. So please help us out here and just pick the one that sounds coolest. Either hit me up with a comment or IM me to let me know. Okay here's the list:

1. Ambient Sanity: The Placebo *
2. Sane Land: Placebo’s Tale
3. Sanity: The Placebo
4. Chronicles of Sanity: Placebo’s Tale *
5. Cheshire: The Placebo
6. The Adventures of Superman
7. Placebo
8. Phantasmagorium: The Placebo’s Lament
9. Inner Chorus: Placebo Dream
10. Ambient Chorus: Placebo Dream
11. Meanwhile Kingdom: Placebo Dreams
12. Placebo Dream *

* Tallied votes

As you can see, I want "placebo" in the subtitle, but we're not married to any particular order. Please to be mismatching as much as you would like. If you have any idea what the book is about and have a new suggestion, go ahead and let a brother know. Sorry for the quick, un-funny post, but this is important. Possibly more important than the pope. No, I'm kidding. DEFINITELY more important than the pope. I thank you all.
Love,
$teve-0

Part E

2005-04-12T04:59:00.000-07:00

Good day.
I SAID GOOD DAY! !

Okay, so this post isn't so much a rant against the evils of the government, religion, or Mike Pasquale so much as it is an invitation. That's right, it's time for a party and I'm shamelessly plugging it on my blog. So here are all the nitty and/or gritty details.

Where?
My place. If you are interested in attending and haven't been there before, let me know and I'll be happy to laugh at you ... give you directions. Barring that, you can always use this. It should be going down the 23rd of this month (happy April, Mr. Coma!). That's next saturday.

WHEN!
Dude ... the 23rd. I just told you that. I understand that I'm breaking convention and possibly even breaching certain rules of etiquette by putting the date in the "Where?" column, but come on. I mean seriously. And it's not even in the form of a question - it's an exclamation. It's like someone's pouring you a glass of your favorite stupid juice and you're telling them when to stop. God I hate you. You're not invited.

Why?
A number of reasons, really. Katy's in town and I like parading her around. She's really the only thing that keeps me on the fringe from becoming a complete loser. Well, her and my Tron outfit. Also, since when do we need an excuse for excessive alcohol consumption bordering on abuse and an atmosphere rife with debauchery. I ask you that, my good friend! Hey, I asked you a question - answer me!

What could I, as one person, possibly bring?
This is a question every man must ask himself or herself. The answer is simple, but can only be found within the deepest realms of your soul. You must, henceforth, look deep inside yourself and find that answer forthwith before you can possibly ... just bring whatever alcohol. We'll get some shit as always, but more never hurts ... unless you're talking about a gangbang.

How?
Lovingly, and with a gentle hand.

Who?
Well, we're hoping to have a bunch of individuals from every walk of life in attendance. Of course, when you arrive, you'll have to battle for positioning. Those that assert dominance will be given warm welcome in the womb of my shenanigans. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

Anyway, so April 23rd, shall we say 9-ish? If you see this you're invited. Just get in contact with me somehow via IM or phone or mind bullets so that I know you're coming and can pretend not to be home. I wish you luck of the good variety.

Good day.
Love,
$teve-0

2005-04-06T03:54:00.000-07:00

Sin City: A Defense
Okay, I was gonna make this a comment to Sir Mike's hurtful, unkind words against one of my new favorite movies, but it was getting long and I was running out of space. How many times have I said THAT in my life? HAHAAAAAaaaaanever. So anyway, let's get on with it...

Dearest Miguel,
Now, I won't go into an hour-long dissertation about how your hateful, soulless ramblings about one of the finest films of all time makes children die and puppies explode. That would be immature. I think that the reason you disliked the movie so much was the reason that I fell in love with it. First, though, let me say that I agree with Michael Madsen's performance - dude was crap. And Britney Murhpy was just as terrible, but what did we expect from her? Also, we agree that the marital union between violence and sex in the movie was glorious, bordering on glorificent.

But that kind of leads me to my next point - I think that this was a bright, shining, warm, and fuzzy example of noir. It was old-school noir. It was a throwback to those detective movies you see on AMC all the time, but made better with a heavy dose of the hyper-real and uber-gore. I disagree that it was trying to take itself too seriously, though. I think that everyone involved knew what it was - a reenactment of a "cheesy" (for lack of a better word) time in American film, and thought for that matter. The characters were taking themselves too seriously, but in my estimation, they were meant to. If they didn't then the whole hyper-real theme would be lost. They had to be serious to make it seem that much more ludicrous. I also don't think they were trying to reinvent the wheel and come up with new concepts here. Not at all. As I said before, I think they were taking old concepts and re-presenting them. I can see how that could feel like microwaved pizza, but I like microwaved pizza.

As far as the over-the-topness with the cannibalism and what not, I thought that was just another example of the hyper-real. I just think that kind of stuff is a nice change of pace. The lines of storytelling have become rife with sympathetic, dynamic characters. Especially villains and anti-heroes that you feel sorry for. Though there was alot of that in Sin City with characters like Marv, I thought that it was refreshing that they showed the villain as statically nigh-demonic. It's like, "Yes, this guys is fucked up. He is the penultimate example of solidified evil. He controls everything and he and his little ninja kid WILL EAT YOU!" Sometimes it's nice to see decisive, clear-cut roles of good and evil. I know that goes against nearly everything about Postmodernism and that Baudrillard and Beckett would have me hanged. I just think that it's an admission of the hyper-real. It's saying, "here it is in all its flat glory."

I dunno, I just liked the hell out of it - its unstoppable characters, its gory goodness, its stylized cinematography (off-the-charts stunning), its shallow but socially-telling characterization. I thought it all just worked - especially Rourke, that man and his character in the flick are goddamn badasses.

Anyway, friend of friends, we'll have to agree to disagree for now. But you'd agree that Paris is the capital of France, right? Good, then we're back in agreement.

I love you,
$teve

(Honestly, checkout Lunarcore, Mike's blog. Very good stuff.)

Wayne-0 and Grovels

2005-04-05T05:16:00.000-07:00

HOLY CRAP! I'm actually not going to complain about anything! I know, I know. I honestly can't believe it either. Oh don't get me wrong, this society is still giving me mental diaper rash and I ... wait ... mental diaper rash? What the hell am I talking about? For that to happen, wouldn't my metaphysical being need to be swaddled in some sort of societal crap receptical? Wait a minute ... maybe I'm just a genius! Aaaanywhoo, just a couple of things to talk about today:

1. Dad's Operation - For those of you who don't know, my Dad (affectionately called Wayne-0 by friends, family, and arch-nemeses) recently underwent surgery to correct some prostate cancer issues. I'm glad to report to all who care that everything went well and according to plan. The surgery to get rid of all things cancerous went perfectly. Unfortunately, the corrective surgery to repair his heat vision did not, completely dashing any hopes I had of forming a father/son supervillain duo called "Paughlacaust"... for now. He's doing well and recuperating nicely, everyone. To all of those who don't care - How dare you!

2. Graphic Novels (with and without movie-volution) - So I saw SIN CITY the other day with some street toughs including (but not limited to) the following homose ... individuals: Sean, Magoo, Mike, Jamie, and Magoo's invisible friend Ontooki, the Spunky Somalian Slave. Magoo is a racist son of a bitch. So yeah, this has got to be in my top three for all time favorite movies. It was friggin amazing on so many levels, but mostly on Level Awesome. I haven't been this enthralled with a movie since Flight of Dragons. No, now it sounds like I'm knocking it and I'm really not. If you have a desire to see visual kick-assedness, do yourself a favor and record me. Failing that, go see Sin City.

Now everyone knows that this was based off of Frank Miller's cult graphic novel (or as the kids are calling them these days, Grovels) of the same name, and it just goes to show you how these things are getting over with the American public. I think that's pretty damn cool. They can be uber-heady, that's for damn sure, and Miller's stuff is no exception, but they can also be just good stuff. If anyone wants to check out some glorified comic books that I really enjoy, chiggity check out either Earth X or Kingdom Come. There are also some others out there like The Watchmen (which has freaking annotations online, and from what I hear is as good example of Postmodernism as any) and V is for Vendetta which I still need to read, but I hear are amazing. But then, Jeff told me that, and he's at very least half retarded. Oh, and read anything in the Sandman collections. Damn good stuff. The writing in all of these is crazy good and the concepts are have an equal insanity / positive ratio and though I'll be labeled a dork for saying this, I think they're a largely unappreciated form of literature that I'm glad are finally getting some recognition. Remember the loving words of Captain O.G. Readmore ... Books - check 'em out.

Schiavo vs. Steve-0

2005-04-01T08:39:00.000-08:00

$o I haven't posted for a while. Mostly, I blame the fact that my last post was like a mental enema. Quick, now's your chance to tell me that I'm full of shit! Going ... gooooing ... gone. I hope you made good use of it, because now you will never be able to tell me that ever again ... for the next 20 minutes. 10 minutes? Oh come on, 5? FINE, I'm full of shit. "Anyway," he said changing the subject without a proper segue, "how about that Terri Schiavo?"

Okay, so I know that this is a horrible tragedy and it's so sad that this happened and blah blah blah. SO now, let's all pull our PC thumbs from our asses, step back and look at the, pardon the pun, retardedness of this situation. Can someone please tell me how we got into this mess? Oh wait, I can - see the previous post. That's right kids, morality is back with a vengeance and kicking the crap out of reason once again. There are just so many things that piss me off about this whole thing. You know what? Let's do a list, because I'm at work and don't feel like structuring paragraphs. WHAT? I'M LAZY!

$teve-0 vs. Schiavo

(I could totally kick her ass.)

1. Bravery - Yesterday, I saw on the news that Terri's supporters called her "brave" and that, "though she did not have working legs, stood for so much." Seriously, this made me poop a little, I was laughing so hard. You think she's brave? Does anyone even remember why she was in there in the first place? Didn't she get hit by a truck? No wait, she was injured saving an old nun from being fangoriously devoured by an attacking grizzly bear ... no that's not it either. OOOOH, she used her magical fire breath to save the maidens fair! Nope, nope, nope! She courageously performed the art of bulemia! Oh, that's right - she FUCKING DID THIS TO HERSELF!! And the Catholic church is making her out to be some kind of a saint? Her husband's the fucking saint! In my most humble and universally correct opinion, I thought he was more truthful than those damn parents of hers. To a certain extent, they were brave, but those people that were with them the whole time? They just wanted to be on TV. Guaranteed.

- And I love all of these people who think that they know her so well! It's hilarious how they're all out there, saying their little rosaries and talking about her like they know her ... or are taking care of her. On the Daily Show yesterday, Johnny boy made a good point - these people think that she should live and everything, but you don't hear about them paying her medical bills, do you? Also, you don't see them standing around in line waiting to clean her bodily release off of her. They just want to be seen on television, these look-at-me christians make me sick. LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME! I CAN GET DOWN ON MY KNEES AND PRAY! I LOVE GOD SOOOO MUCH, SEE?? LOOK AT ME!! Well listen, while you're down on your knees, you can do me a favor and (content edited).

2. Heaven - So they're Catholics, right? Obviously they think that this chick's gonna go to Heaven, because she was perfect and lilly white ... just like me. Well, if that's the case, then why didn't they want her to go to Jesus H. sooner? I mean, it was her time years ago, right? She's been in a "persistent, vegitative state" (SIDEBAR - someone I was talking to said to me, "Man, I would hate to be in a constant vegitarian state. That would be awful!" That tickled my pink.) and has had to rely on some tube jammed down her throat so she can get cheeseburger smoothies. I'm sure she would rather that than an eternal feast where she's kickin' it old school with the many storied denizens of the ivory realm; like Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Theresa and Barry Allen, the original flash.

3. Karate Explosion - That commercial is awesome, isn't it?

4. Holy Hypocrite! - Okay, now I've had a problem with this for a while. You know those people who blow up abortion clinics and somehow don't think that's hypocritical? Yeah, the ones that have, roughly, the IQ of Jell-0? Those guys. Well, Schiavo had her own group of fanatical flunky fuck-ups who vowed to set off a bomb if Terri died or that they would attack the kids of her husband. Yes, good, that makes complete sense! Let's kill someone for wanting the natural ebb and flow of life to occur! That's not hypocritical at all! "How dare you let her die! I'm gonna kill you!" I'm actually kind of glad these people exist, because it makes me feel a whole lot smarter. That's also the reason I hang out at kintergarden.

5. Hold on, I gotta go get lunch - I just can't believe that I would sink to the level of lunch! These Christians just always have to force their lunch down our throa ... oh wait. Sorry, I'll be right back. But the cool thing is, time will seemingly not have gone by at all. Ah, the power of text.

6. The Federallying the Courts - Why did the government get behind this so much? I mean, seriously, why? You know what, I'm just not gonna go into it. Just see my other post and you'll see what I mean. Ugh ... in short, it's the government's way of looking for something moral to back. Once you think about it, this is some random case out of MILLIONS that happen. THey thought that they would look like they're taking the moral high road by supporting this chick. Meanwhile, this took up time in the courts and how many thousands of dollars that could have been saved if this woman was to be allowed to die when she was initially supposed to. It just blows me away.

OKAY, so those people who are still reading this are no doubt bored to tears. Sorry, daddy just needed to vent a little bit ... okay, alot-a bit. Next time, I swear I'll write about farts.

Love,

$teve-0

Welcome to the $teve-0-Lution

2005-03-22T11:01:00.000-08:00

GOOD DAY,
Well, I have decided to bite the bullet, belly up to the bar, and all of those other cliches, and do the blog thing. Mostly, I found that rearranging words so that everything fits into an away message on AIM is just pointless. There are just too many stupid things going on in the world these days.

Now I should admit that I didn't even know what a blog was before coming back to the states. I thought it was a sound effect, if anything. So for the two to three people reading this, please realize that I am new at it. What I'm saying is, be gentle. Be tender. Be loving. Be accepting. Bea Arthur.

Okay, so let's just pinch our noses, twist our nipples, and take the plunge. What does twisting one's nipples have to do with taking said plunge? You tell me, friend ... you tell me. Seriously, because I have no idea. So there are alot of things bothering me of late and I feel as though I need an enema, hence the blog. How should we do this? Well I don't want to do a list just yet, so let's just go on a tirade, shall we? Oh, do let's!

Steve-0's Current Woes

(Today's entry brought to you today by Jesus ... which really begs the question, do I mean that lovely savior guy with the super powers or some Mexican guy? I'll let you decide, but I'll give you a hint.

It's the Mexican guy.)

Creationism WOW!

This is a hot topic these days and it really, really shouldn't be. Here's an idea - let's completely regress from a rational, reason-based society into one that uses a religious basis for its core beliefs. Let's remove all of that messy, scientific logic from our schools and instead inject the young populace with a nice, big shot of religion! It's nice to see that the separation of church and state has completely been thrown out the window. Well thank God (and the Republican party) for that! How can you ban logic? How can you outlaw reason? How can you completely blind yourself to proven truths? Oh, but the devil put those dinosaur bones there, Steve! WELL SURE HE DID!! WHY WOULDN'T HE!!?! I CAN MAKE MY IMAGINARY FRIENDS DO WHATEVER I WANT, TOO! Oh yeah, and the world is flat! Did you hear?

It's these idiotic, bible-thumping Jesus (savior not Mexican) freaks that will stop at nothing short of the damn apocalypse to completely destroy sanity and reason! These are the same people that literally interpret the bible and think that they're exercizing great intelligence in doing so. That's like me reading a Superman comic book and expecting someone in blue spandex and a cape to come to the rescue. If there's anyone out there who really believes that the theory of evolution should not be taught in our schools and instead be replaced with teachings on creationism, please contact me. I need some sort of translator, since I don't speak Stupid.

This whole society is far too inundated with religious-based morality. Everything drips with theology. Am I the only one who notices this? Our lovely president (a topic I'm going to save for another day ... many other days, most likely, since you can't fit that much stupid into one conversation thread) and all of his associates steadfastly believe that Christianity is a breath of fresh air that should be inhaled by every lung in America. Well I'm choking and don't want another hit. It's terrifying to me that these doe-eyed, unthinking psychopaths run the country. And it's only getting worse, my friends. The FCC's crackdown is a symptom. This creationism nonsense is another. I just don't want to hear it from you idiots anymore. Most of you are so consumed by what you call faith that you can't see but two inches in front of your fat faces! And you're oh so proud of your faith, but never-EVER think to question it. Well let me tell you something, you kneeling knob-gobblers, unless you question it, it's NOT FAITH! Sure, you believe something, that's true, but you don't have faith. That comes as a result from constant questioning. You haven't grown out of the unquestionaed belief instilled in you by your parents taught, when they lied to you about santa claus and the easter bunny! Same concepts, different faces.

My advice to all of you is to take some time and really have a good think about the state of the world, like I know you never have before ... like you've never ALLOWED yourself before. You'll see that your precious religion screws things up more than it helps. Now look back at history and you'll see ... without fail ...

TIME

AND

TIME

AGAIN

that religon is responsible for most of the crap that's gone wrong in this world. Different moralities, different "Faiths" constantly bump into each other and then vie for supremacy with disasterous results. It's happening right now wth the middle east situation. That's just simple fact! Soon enough, reason, logic, rational thought, SIMPLE COMMON SENSE will be thrown out with the secular bathwater. Thos should be good days, huh? Yeah...

Also, you know that song by The Killers that has to do with somebody's boyfriend looking like somebody's girlfriend? That's pretty annoying too. Sorry, was that over the line? I can never tell.

Love,

$teve-0