CmyA

In regards to previous two blogs:

Author's note-there are cool homeschooled kids out there. I invite you to comment now to make your presence known. Also, I am a master of the tongue-in-cheek comedy artform (I hope).

ROCK OUT CHRISTMAS!

Gettinga Slurpee is not a legitimate field trip...PART TWO!!!!

So if you read my last blog, you know that homeschoolers in America are in quite a predicament. The forecast for 2006 does NOT look good. I know you've been waiting for bated breath to know how to help homeschoolers. People of America, I have an answer for you.

We need to get an apparel line strictly for HOMESCHOOLERS!!!

Think about it people. What unites high school campuses? What brings students together? What is it that bonds all people in a given school together in unity, despite what ethnic, religious, social, economic backgrounds they come from? The mere fact that students attend the same school bonds them together and gives them group identity. And nowhere is this most prominently displayed than when students sport apparel made for their school.

When I was in high school, you couldn't walk 15 feet without seeing someone with a Butler High School somethingorother T-Shirt, Sweatshirt, Hat, Smock, Socks, Letterman Jacket, etc. Even when people didn't like each other they all had unity in the fact that they, along with 1200 other students, were members of the same high school. It's a great unity builder! That unity is sorely lacking in homeschool students.

When you think about it, homeschoolers are a dislocated student body. THey belong in a high school, but they have been removed from that environment. THey crave peer interaction (at leat I hope they do), but have no outlet for peer interaction that doesn't center around either youth group or volunteering in a hospital. Homeschoolers need to find a way to bond together, to have a mutual understanding of one another. They need to find camraderie with their peers, and not so much with their parents. I propose that if homeschoolers bond together, they can make unique apparel that signifies a bond that transcends regions, states, and even countries. Below I will propose some items that I believe homeschoolers should don in order to signify that they are different from other high schoolers (as if social retardation itself wasn't a big enough signal...pfff), yet unified!!

HOMESCHOOL GEAR 2005!!

The Standard "Home High" TShirt:
This standard Tshirt sends a message. It says "I'm unified, I'm different". I think homeschoolers should mass produce Tshirts with the words "HOME HIGH" on them. Never mind that the Smith home is different from the Jones home is different from the Williams home...ALL HOMES can be SCHOOLS if you want to SHELTER your kid. So in that vein, I give you "Home High" Tshirts (as an aside, I think the Home High tshirts would be a hige hit with parts of the drug subculture. An unanticipated profit that could be made by telling kids to stay home and do drugs could be amazing! Just something to consider).

The Home High Button Down Short Sleeve Shirt:
Nothing says class and cool like a short sleeve button down dress shirt. Not only does wearing a button down short sleeve make you look ridiculous, it also reinforces stereotypes about your social maturity...I mean, enhances your unity with other homeschoolers! If Jilly Homeschooler is walking down the street in her button down short sleeve shirt with the Home High patch on the sleeve, and she sees Jimmy Homeschooler with a similar shirt, they will instantly strike up conversation. Peer to peer conversation is paramount in building unity.

The Home High Jumper:
Now I know some of you are saying, "Woa woah wooaahhh...I went to private school and girls had to wear jumpers. Why would you voluntarily make a Home High jumper for homeschoolers?" That's a valid question, and it has an easy answer: because we cater to our niche market. Homeschooled students have been spotted donning many fashion 'fuax pas'-esque clothing items of their own free will. If students are willingly wearing jumpers, why not make a jumper that tells the world "I'm homeschooled and I love it!!"? Exactly. So if we make a jumper with two big overlapping H's on them, I think it would be a great idea. Jumpers are great for reading, frolicking, riding bikes, and going on field trips to your church. When we take this necessary fashion item and make it accessible as Home School High apparel, we again reinforce unity amongst homeschoolers.

The Home High Denim Dress
In what may be called "The Staple of the Homeschool Revolution", i.e. the denim dress, we present the pinnacle of the HH collection. You know you've seen homeschoolers wearing these dresses. You know you've commented on them. But NOW we're turning another homeschooler fashion statement into a homeschool UNITY statement. This item is also great because mothers, and even grandmothers can wear these dresses, thus setting up their children for what might be some of the most cripplingly akward social situations ever (and they won't even know it! hee hee).

Regular Girl: My mom is so sweet, she got me a Ralph Lauren sweater for Christmas
Homeschooled Girl: That's so materialistic
Regular Girl: Huh? Materia-what?
Homeschooled Girl: My mother purchased me a homeschool high denim dress...
Regular Girl: That sounds vomitocious
Homeschooled Girl:...AND she got herself one too. We are going to be mommy daughter twins!
Regular Girl: That sounds like the stupidest present ever, and I bet it looks horrible
Homeschooled Girl: Définir vous par votre vêtement est si peu profond.
Regular Girl: Whatdidyoujustsay?
Homeschooled Girl: That's right, I speak French, and 5 other languages. Hmmpphh.

SEE! That girl feels empowered by her new apparel!!

Home High Ties
I see you guys sitting over there, all green with envy that the ladies get the lions share of the hip clothing. Well pay attention!! As a homeschooler you can also get a Home High Tie (it rhymes). When you show up for your college interview in your HH short sleeve button down shirt and HH tie, you're sure to be a knockout. But the tie isn't just for impressing admissions counselors (...no comment...), it's also for impressing...the ladies. When you're homeschooled, you gotta look fly and be unified with other homeschoolers at the same time. When you swagger down the street in your HH ties, everyone knows that you've got confidence out the wazoo (albeit misplaced) and charisma to boot. Don't be caught dead without one of these bad boys.



So as you can see, homeschooled students need to be unified. Whereas people may have different homeschool styles, they all share a common school...their own house. You want to try to boost confidence amongst homeschoolers? You want to improve feelings of unity amongst homeschoolers? You want to bring down those stereotypes about homeschooling your kids? Go out and get some Home High apparel. You'll be glad that you did, kids.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Getting a Slurpee is not a legitimate field trip...part 1

When I was younger, there were two things that I absolutely despized: 1) lima beans and 2) going to school. I don't mind school so much now, but when I was young I absolutely despised going to school. There were times in elementary school when I would actually wake up in the morning, spin around in cirlces in my room before my mom came to wake me up, and then when she came in I would inform her that 'I felt nauseous, dizzy, and my face was burning up!' For some reasons mom never bought my ridiculous schemes, but it tells you how much I hated school I used to sit in class and dream of what it would be like to go to school...but at my own house! I could sleep in, wear PJ's all day, eat lunch whenever I wanted, or even watch TV when the stresses of Mathematics were too much to bear. You name it, if I went to school in my own house, the world would be MY oyster! Heck, I could even get mom to take me to 7-11 to get a Slurpee as a form of field trip. Yep...life would be good if I could just take classes in the living room.

This revolutionary thinking continued well into my high school years. But upon my high school graduation, and thereafter my entrance into college, I made a profound discovery: THERE WERE PEOPLE WHO TOOK CLASSES IN THEIR LIVING ROOM... AND SOMEHOW THIS WAS A LEGITIMATE FORM OF EDUCATION!!!! This rare breed of individual was called (oddly enough) a home schooler , and their entire schooling was done by their mother and father. I couldn't believe my ears! How on earth could someone spend their entire pre-college schooling career in the living room and have it be recognized as a legitimate form of education? Well, ladies and gentlemen, it turns our that homeschooling isn't all that it's cracked up to be, and actually has a number of serious risks. Some of these risks are as follows:

1) Risk of, what I like to call, prolonged mammo-obsessive behavior (don't try to look it up on wikipedia.com, it's not there).
2) Risk of, what I like to call, doucheyism
3) Risk of, what I like to call, academic barbarianism
4) Risk of, what the French like to call, la jupe longue de jean, or le jeans effilé. This is a very serious condition.
5) Risk of, what I like to call, pseudolegimatizing semiacademic pursuits.

Let me explain some of the pitfalls of homeschooling, then propose a solution (which will have to be continued next article) to correct some of these downfalls.

Let's take a look at prolonged mammo-obsessive behavior first. PMOB is behavior that, while appropriate for infants and young toddlers, is not appropriate for adolescents and teenagers. PMOB most directly stems from the fact that homeschoolers most often interact with their mommies (hey, it's true)...not real people. I feel that this close interaction, NAY coddling, of the young child with an overly protective or jealous mother makes some home schooled kids crazy! In many instances, this uber dependency on mother stunts the emergence of complex behavioral schemata like: dressing oneself, feeding oneself, getting hair cuts, interacting with peers, interacting with men, picking up sticks and pretending that they are guns, etc. I've seen many a homeschooled young man crippled by an inability to engage in meaningful conversation with me, even though I'm their peer and I'm also very easy to talk to (and I'm also very handsome...just as an aside). So sometimes this mammo-obsessive behavior stunts the growth of young homeschoolers.

We're going to skip over douchyism for now (take a stab about what douchyism is...it's a new word that I just made up, but chances are you can figure out what it means). Academic Barbarianism is sadly not a phrase that I made up, but one that a very smart man who is not me made up. Picture in your mind a picture of Conan the Barbarian ...or just click on the link and look at a picture. Now imagine that you possessed all of that power and might and strength...but only in your brain. That's kind of what an academic barbarian is like. They have crushing intellects, but terrible social and emotional coping skills. They are like the severed head...they look though but all their toughness is in their head. AB's are wicked smart, but socially retarded. Ok go!

The french stuff...go here , clik on French to English, and you should see what I'm talking about. Ha ha haaaaa it's funny because it's true.

Pseudolegitimizing semiacademic pursuits...what does that mean? It means going to 7-11 to get a Slurpee as a 'field trip'. I see this kind of crap all the time with homeschoolers. They make up names for their school (for their kitchen tables, essentially), for their activities (doll making is not a legitimate social club), their sports (no there's no such thing as One-Person-Soccer as a varsity sport), their interests (who has heard of political campaining anyway? Not THIS kid!). Home schooled kids are great at making up stuff that sounds important, but really isn't. They make up classes to take, they make up math problems to solve, they make up transcipts, they make elf languages (true story, I met a kid doing this). If you go out and ask any homeschooler what interests them, chances are it's something that is fake or made up. Trust me.

SO! This is the plight of the homeschooler: they eschew conentional education, but long for social acceptance and for a society to think their educational system is legitimate. What I once thought was a dream is actually a nightmare, in need of a PR facelift. What is to be done? What can be done to help these hapless, denim-jumper-loving little creatures?

Homeschoolers need acceptance into the mainstream...they need to feel connected to mainstreak academia without embracing mainstream academia. How can we help these people?


I'll tell you how...one sweatshirt at a time!!!!!!!


to be continued!

mi espanol es muy malo!!!

ANOTHER BLOG IN THE SAME DAY!!!!??? GET OUT!!

Author's Note: Seriously people I'm on fire. I know that by the time you get halfway through this gem of internet pedantry, you're going to want to light your head on fire. But bear with me, this will be fun.

Many of you know I'm a native of Miami, Florida (hush Carly, I am still a native ok??). Many of you may also know that when people say the word 'Miami', it is synonymous with 'Cuba'. Lots of people speakeh the spanish down there, but I never learnt the language well enough. SO! In an effort to better myself, I'm trying to improve my Spanish skills by reading articles from El Nuevo Herald . Below, you will find part of an article that I myself transcribed from Spanish into English. Keep in mind...I have no idea what I'm doing.

An interpretation of an article from the Dec. 13 edition of El Nuevo Herald:

"Miss Island, Unnur Birna Vihjalmsdottir (that's actually her name), a brown haired gal of 21 years who studies anthropology was crowned yesterday as the most beautiful girl in the world on the Chinese island of Hainan, in the sunrises of the representatives of Mexico and Puerto Rico, that won first and second finalists.

The New Queen of the world ball received the crown of hands of the Peruvian Maria Julia Mantilla Garcia, who won the certificated in the 2004.

The triumphant of this edition, who rang with such force and during the summer worked with police in an airport, completed a family dream already by her mother, Unnur Steinsson, who won in the 5th finalist 22 years ago, in 1983.

...

'It's Marvellous, so marvellous! An incredible night. I didn't think I'd win, it's a grand surprise' declared the islander with a brown hair and 1.73 meters in height! The new queen is impassioned of dance and piano and considers that in the life of every person is the result of what it is"


That's about all I got for your right now. I promise that I'll try to read more Spanish articles and tell you all about them in broken Spanish. But until then, buene suerte leyendo mis bloggos en espanol!! MUUWAHAHAH!

It's the little things that count

I know everyone has heard this phrase at some point in their life. But honestly little things that you do for people, or that people do for you can make a big impact on how your day goes. Take today for example. I've been awake for roughly an hour and 15 minutes as of right now (8:15AM). For most of that one hour and 15 minutes, I've been thinking about how great it would be to go back to bed. But when push comes to shove, I can't go back to bed because I'm an adult now, and I'm responsible and blah blah etc. However one great alternative to going back to bed is having a nice, warm cup of coffee.

Mmmmmmm coffee.





When I get to work every morning, I love to throw a pot of coffee on for the office. Usually only Courtney and Katherine, and maybe Becca have a cup of coffee...so that means that there's more for me!! Anyway coming to work and making coffee isn't too much of a hassle and all told it usually takes only about 2 minutes to get that pot o' joe started. But today, upon entering the office, Courtney comes bounding out (ok that's a lie, if there's anyone who 'bounds' less than I do in the morning...it's Courtney) of her office with a freshly brewed pot of Starbucks (TM) coffee that she brought from her own house! It may seem like already having a pot of fresh coffee at the office when you walk in (as opposed to having a fresh pot 10 minutes after you walk in) isn't that big of a deal. But because of how I was dragging this morning, the already brewed coffee was a godsend.

It's not like Courtney did anything extreme or over the top, but opening the office door and seeing that shiny Starbucks (TM) pot o' goodness definitely made my morning a little brighter. You should go try make someone's day a little brighter, people. Just do it with the little things.

Get your Wednesday on!

I'm not going to lie to you, people, I don't have a whole lot to talk about (this is rare for me). So I was sitting in my office talking out loud to myself, trying to elicit some semi interesting conversation out of the depths of my mind. As I was musing to myelf, Katherine blurts out across this office, "Do a blog on Wednesdays!!!!" I of course was taken aback, because Wednesdays aren't inherently interesting.

That is, they aren't interesting until I TAKE THE HELM AND TELL YOU ABOUT WEEEDDDNNNESSDDAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!

Here are some Wednesday facts:

1) El Miercoles, Mercredi, 星期三, and В среду

2) Courtney used to work with a girl who would sing about Wednesday. If you know Courtney, I would ask her to sing the song for you. I guarantee you that after you hear it, you won't look at the word 'wednesday' without singing the song under your breath. I know I do!

3) There are roughly 52 weeks in a year. Within a week there are 7 days, one of which is Wednesday. Therefore in any given year, you experience about 52 Wednesdays (give or take one). Therefore, since my birth, I have experienced 1,248 Wednesdays (give or take 10). That may seem a little preposterous. Also take into consideration that 1,248 Wednesdays is also equivalent to about 3.42 years worth of Wednesdays. That means about roughly 14.1% of my life is Wednesday. If you think about it for 2 seconds you know that there's no revoltionary concepts there. But how often do you think of your life in terms of Wednesdays gone by? Not often.

4) Wednesday? or Weeeeheeheeheeednesdayyyyy!

5) You didn't think Wednesday could help you cook did you? Well cheer up my friends, if Wednesday can cook, so can you!

6) Popular Wednesday aphorisms:
-Wednesday is hump day (usually said by an unsuspecting elementary school teacher to a chorus of chuckling little boys)
-Wednesday's child is full of woe (I think I was born on Tuesday, in case you were wondering)
-Anything can happen day (thanks to the Mickey Mouse Club)
-'Spy Wednesday' is a name given to the Wednesday post-Easter, as an allusion to the betrayal of Jesus by Judas. I have no idea why they came up with the name SPY Wednesday as opposed to BETRAYAL Wednesday.

7) The popular Nursery Rhyme by mother goose that goes "Rain, rain, go away! Come again another day" was origincally written to say "Rain, rain go away! Come again on Wed-nes-day!'*

8) This fact should have come first, but here is a brief history of Wednesday (as adapted from Wikipedia.com):

"Wednesday is considered either the third or the fourth day of the week, between Tuesday and Thursday. The name comes from the Old English Wodnesdæg meaning the day of the Germanic god Woden who was a god of the Anglo-Saxons in England until about the 7th C. AD....

...Quakers traditionally refer to Wednesday as "Fourth Day", eschewing the "pagan" origin of the name "Wednesday". Most eastern languages also use a name with this meaning, for much the same reason. Faithful Orthodox Christians observe a vegetarian / fish-only fast on Wednesdays (and Fridays) in some countries."

Those dang Quakers, they are so righteous. So those are some facts about Wednesday. I hope you all enjoy being over the hump, and I'll talk to you all MIERCOLES!!!



*author's note: I can't verify this statement.

Keith is back ... with a brand new edition

So my last post happened somewhere around October 12th. I think that's the date, but frankly I'm a little lazy to open up my own blog and look. Approximately two months have flown by in the life of Keith and Andrew and I know you're all wondering the same thing, "What the crap is going on with those clowns?!?!" My utmost apologies to our loyal readers who had literally no idea if I was dead or alive. Andrew carried the blog up until today. I'm back folks.

So how exactly has Keith spent the last two months of his life? Get ready to be jealous fools as I'm about to share in a helpful outline format. I save the best effort for our readers. My interview writeups for my job don't even get this much attention ... ok that's false, but you felt good for a second didn't you.

1.) I spent the last two months driving up and down Interstate-79 North and South, North and South. Back and forth. That's it ................... of course that's not it. I was recruiting for the college. They switched me this year to Western PA. So while Andrew was off traipsing around in New York I was driving anywhere from the crappy Souf Hills to the furthest, coldest, and darkest regiions of Erie, PA. It was not horrible, but fairly sucky. I did get to know all the nooks and crannies of the state that I had previously not known despite growing up here.

2.) Looking for American flags and not just because they're sweet although they are. Anyone who visits Public and Christian schools for a living often knows that the American Flag marks the front entrance and thus your destination as you have to visit there to get your hall pass to visit the guidance office. I've seen many American flags, but none that but none that looked like this one. It's cracked out

3.) Compiling a list of my top 100 songs. My good friend Josh and I have been working over the last two months of e-mailing one another our favorite songs back in forth. She started the list and sent me 20, and he can't add until I send him my next installment. And we let it sit in our inbox and simmer for a while so we don't forget any songs. I'm at 90 approximately. So you can look forward to my unveiling of number one here on the blog - that's web log for those of you keeping score at home - soon. It just might be by ...

4.) U2 as I saw them in concert in Pittsburgh. Freaking ... sweet ... amazing ... astounding ... ok that's enough to describe it. It was a great show. Longer than any other U2 show I've seen and had a lot of improvisation and rare songs to hear live. It was so sweet to see Bono and I had seats that were like 15 rows back. I could have spit on Bono. I think it was the highlight of my fall.

5.) Saw the Grand Canyon and boy is it grand. Slightly gay sentence, that's my bad, you're a little rusty after two months away. You have to use a gay list blog to get back in the swing of things. Grand Canyon - I'm sure you think it's sweet right? Well imagine it, and then think three times as sweet. I think I was moved, and I'm a bit of a cold person if you know what I mean. Grand Canyon = slamtastic.

6.) Saw a Phoenix Suns NBA game 10 rows back in $120 tickets that I got for basically free from some people before the game. I was right on the free throw line. Why you ask? Cause I'm the luckiest SOB. I stumbled upon guys getting rid of tickets and got them for cheap. It was wicked sweet. After the game I got to meet Kevin Harlan, easily my favorite sports announcer. Killer sweet. Then I drove back to my hotel in my Chrysler Sebring since I was upgraded for free. Basically points four and five go to illustrate that my trip to Arizona was sweet and I had tons of luck.

7.) Saw Washington DC and the new WWII memorial. Everyone should check it out. It's awesome. Very sobering, beautiful, and moving.

8.) Minor point but saw Rent and Walk the Line. Walk the Line = good acting but who cares about Johnny Cash. Rent = awesome music, great choreography, good movie but who cares about the immoral lives of horrible people. Not this kid. It's a good movie/musical though. You really should go see it.

Well kids that's all for now. But you can expect to see me on the blog here a little more often. In the future I hope to educate you all on why Starbucks blows, Best Buy rules, the NFL is the king of sports. Until then though leave a comment and let me know what the heck you're up to. I've been traveling so much I haven't kept up with most of y'inz ... woops I picked that one up in the South Hills.

legal matters

Keith, you are officially being subpoenaed to make a blog again! GO!

That must be in the new, hipper version of the Bible.

I need to take a break from my Hawaiian paradise to talk about something that I feel is important

Christians seriously need a makeover. Honestly. Sometimes I wonder how Christians get labeled as stupid, imbisilic, do gooders. Then I turn on TBN and catch snippets of the Paula White morning show . The circumstances which placed me in front of a TV which was showing 'Paula White' are irrelevant at this point...I watched the show ok? Good Lord this woman is a retard. Now when you sort out all of the details, this lunatic and I share the same faith and so let it be said first off that every comment I have to say is ultimately based in a love for her, and out of a desire to help her try to see why I am upset with her. So Paula if you are reading this (I know you are, you silly crackpot), take it all with a grain of salt. But my blood is boiling so I better get started here.

As I watched the train wreck of the Paula White show commence in slow motion, this is what I saw:

1) Unlocking the Secrets of Communion! Yes Oh Christian, the sacrament of the eucharist isn't just something that Christ told us to do to remember his sacrifice on the cross. Oh no it's more than that. If you do communion the right way (every day, in your house, with Paula's home communion kit), then not only will your life be enriched, but in fact you might be rich!! That's right, communion is actually a secret sacrament that, when taken in the right way, unlocks the secret temporal treasures that Christ has laid in store for you here on earth. Need an answer for an enigmatic malaise? Take communion. Need a few bucks to throw around? Take communion. Need God to come down on high and reveal His will to you so that you don't actually have to have 'faith like a child'? Take communion, and all the mysteries of God plans for your life will be laid out in easy to follow, mortal transcription.

Get freaking real. Did this woman even consult the New Testament before thrusting herself in front of a TV camera? I highly doubt it. No mention of Christ's sacrifice stumbles from Paula's lips. No mention of confession, meditation, contemplation is broadcast to the eager listener. I don't even think she quoted Matthew, Mark, Luke, Corinthians, etc. to shed any light on the history of communion, nor on it's eternal significance as a covenant. Through the Gospel of Paula, she declares that Communion is a time for you to unlock earthly happiness and contentment. Anyone who's picked up a Bible and at least flipped through it could probably tell you communion isn't about what more God will do for you, but about what He has already done. I think I remember reading somewhere that he who takes the sacrament lightly, and for improper reasons eats and drinks to his own judgment? That must have been somewhere in I Cor. 11 though...not on Paula's reading list.

2)Poverty is a Sin!! Yes from the mouth of Paula White, poverty is equated to sin. At one point she was droning on and on about how you, yes you, can break the cycle of iniquity in your life. See, iniquity is not just sin, but continual sin. Uhh ...I'll take your word for it. But anyway she goes on to say that just because the punishment for iniquity was wrought on your ancestors ('the sins of the father are passed down from generation to generation') does not mean that YOU have to be punished! Just because your mom was a drunk does not mean that you have to be a drunk. And I kid you not, this is a near quote "Just because your mother was poor, does not mean that you have to be poor!". Woah there. Did Paula just equate poverty with sin? I'm not here to get into a debate about how one becomes poor, because certainly you could be poor because of your sin. But from what I see from Paula, being poor is the sin, and you shouldn't have to wrestle with that 'sin' like your mommy and daddy did.

Get real. This is so idiotic, I'm not even going to touch it.

3) and last off (because I'm getting progressively more pissed as I write this), you'll need to see this travesty for yourself. Yeah, you're seeing things right...JCPositive. Just read the drivel that explains how a moment of clarity helped Paula come up with this future winner of the "Terrible Christian Stocking Stuffer" award. How stupid is this crap? I can just see a student in the hallway giving the 'skinny' on his JC+ rhinestone dogtag to a classmate:

Christian: Hey man what's up
Other student: Dude what's that fake-ass looking bling you've got going on?
Christian: Hey man stop swearing, maybe you didn't know I'm JC+!
Other student: That's stupid, what does that even mean?
Christian: You know, it's kind of like supposed to be my blood type, but better because I'm a Christian.
other student: That doesn't make much sense, and you look like an idiot.
Christian: At least I'm a JC+ idiot!
Other student: Man, Christians are so lame

Yup, Christians are lame. Honestly how are you supposed to win people over to Christ with a stupid looking dogtag with an even stupider story behind it? What happened to just telling people you love the Lord? What happened to just being bold enough to tell your friends "Hey guys I'm a Christian"? Why do you have to wear a chinsy looking piece of Sino-crap that you know will be in a trashcan within 6 months (if you can withstand a beating for that long)?

If any of you have that chain, I hope that you are not offended at me expressing my opinion. Maybe it's because I was watching Paula early in the morning and I was grumpy. Maybe it's because I'm out here trying to sell my Christian college to students who need to be at a Christian school. And maybe it's because I've been getting heaping doses of G.K. Chesterton as of late. But Christians can be so lame. We've been given intellect. We've been given the ability by a divine creator to explore our faith and our freedom, and all we can come up with to symbolize our exhilerating gracious freedom is a plastic dog tag and some borderline heresies on Communion? This is ridiculous! It's time that Christians stop living behind their mail order Christianity. It's time that Christians stop giving into the stereotype of being narrowminded, one dimensional thinkers. We of all people have the ability, nay the divine obligation, to be excellent in our thoughts, in our philosophies, in our engagement with a watching world. I'm so sick of seeing pop-culture Christians fleeing the battle field of the culture wars, only to huddle together on the sideline and yell really loudly "We don't agree with your postmodern culture!" Stop your huddling! Stop your cross clutching. Pick up a book (and Paula, pick up a Bible) and run headlong into conflict.

You have a divine obligation to be effective, O Christian, not to be disaffected. Use your intellect and use your freedom. Stop feeding into your self-perpetuating stereotypes. Rant over.



"We're more than static and dial tone, we're emblematic of the unknown. So raise the banner, bend back your bows! Remove the cancer, take back your soul! We are the image of the Invisible!" -Thrice

Actually James...

Some of your tuition dollars are in fact sending me to and around Hawaii...but let's remember I'm working here. Really hard, too.

So at work today I went to Waimea Canyon (affectionately dubbed the "Grand Canyon of the Pacific Rim" by money hungry cultural sellout tourist groups). If you've never been to Waimea Canyon I would highly recommend that you start saving up your pennies now to make a trip out to Kauai so that you can behold the splendour and majesty that is the Canyon. Check it:

That was earlier on in the morning while it was still a little foggy from the rain. But as the day went onward it was a lot easier to take pictures of the Canyon. Once again...Hawaii makes you Ansel Adams

Taking pictures of the Canyon is all well and good. But if you are like me, and your red American, Republican blood is always pulsing for a good adventure, then you know what you have to do to make this situation a lot more interesting...go find some obscure hiking trails and walk out onto the canyon face in order to take some slammin' pictures!!! And when I say obscure, I mean like fall-and-break-your-leg-and-no-one-finds-you-for-a-week-so-you-have-to-chew-through-it obscure.

You may or may not be able to tell from these pictures, but the Waimea Canyon is so many different colors. Blues, reds, oranges, yellows, and even seafoam colors make up the collage of different clay soils that make up the canyon. And also most of the canyone is all clay...not a whole lot of solid rock to stand on. The combination of bright colors, fun soil, and the opportunity to have 'an adventure' allured me to one particular side of the canyon.

If you know me, then you know it doesn't take a whole lot to distract my eye. So when I saw stuff like this...

...all of my available faculties were consumed with the thought of taking a picture of the beautiful parts of the canyon sand-with me in it. But for some reason blogger.com isn't letting me upload any more pictures, so you don't get to see what happens just yet. Maybe tomorrow.

But in lieu of not having pictures to show you, I'm never lacking in thoughts to share with you (much to you all's chagrin I know). I'm out here on Kauai right? All I see everywhere I go are advertisements for 2 things: helicopter rides and luau's. Now there's nothing wrong with a helicopter ride over the Waimea Canyon, or some other natural attraction. But luau's? I know that's a staple of the Hawaiian experience...but should it be? A luau is a celebratory feast to commemorate key events in the lives of the native Hawaiian people: coronations, birthdays, marriages, etc. So why is it that an event that's supposed to be reserved for special occasions has been whored out by the pimp of modern tourism? I think I'm kind of offended by the fact that the people of hawaii would so quickly sell out a rich part of their culture to make a quick buck off the tourists and mainlanders. The fact that I see billboards proclaiming that "So and So has the BEST Hawaiian luau...all for only $59 a person!!" makes me honestly upset. Luau's aren't for me, they are for special occasions. As much as I love myself and think myself deserving of a party, I would never expect a luau on my behalf just because I happen to be in Kauai. If I do something sweet, like slay a hundred dragons with narry the hindquarters of a gelding, then throw me a luau. Until then, though, I'm going to keep my money in my pocket and let the luau commence rather for a legitimate occasion. That's what I think.

Ok more pics later!

Wow...freaking wow.

Ok...I'm in Hawai'i people. I'm in Hawai'i! Right now I'm in Kauai, but I thought that you all should see some of the places that I've been. Hawai'i is so sweet because everything is so stinking beautiful, that it makes you (and me) magically into Ansel Adams! Check it out!

This is the sunset in Honolulu, on Waikiki beach...mmm drinking beer and watching sunsets, it doesn't get much better than that!

Diamond Head!! That's a mountain back there people, and that's a beach right in front of it!! Amazing!

I feel like a brontosaurus is going to come lumbering out from behind the trees. Maybe it's because parts of Jurassic Park were filmed in Hawai'i? Wait...yeah I think it is. I think you-sawr-us- Rex! Matt McQuaiq, let go of that fence!!

Wow...freaking wow. Wow. This is Honolulu from Pauli's Lookout. It's said that it's actually so windy up here that people have tried to jump off this summit to kill themselves, and because the wind is so intense it blows them back onto the precipace...

...fortunately for me this was the case.

Hawai'i has this rainbow on their license plate. I know that none of you knew that because, well, Hawai'ian cars don't always make it onto the mainland. But anyway, I felt ULTRA gay driving around Hawai'i with this big rainbow splattered across the front of my car. But then I hap'ed to walk out onto the balcony of my hotel. OH! so THAT'S why they put rainbows on their license plates! It's not because everyone's gayyyyyyyy but because on just about any given day you can see a rainbow right in you backyard. It was unreal.

So those are some of my pics from Honolulu and the surrounding area. I'm on Kauai, "The Garden Island" right now. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have about a thousand more pictures to put up on my blog, but right now John Stossel is doing a great special on Greed right now, so I gotta run. Hang loose, people.

Get thee behind me Satan...or at least out of ear's reach

Alright I'm back 'atcha with another telling tale about the awful lunch from lucifer himself.

Before that though, I must tell you all that I'm sitting in my poshy McPosherton hotel in downtown Phila working on the lobby computer. I went upstairs to the privacy of my very modern hotel room to publish this article, and I got slapped with the blue screen of ALL bluescreens. This one covered the whole screen, had a ton of binary code on it, and at the very bottom read something like this

"Commence memory dump..........
.....physical memory dump completed
Consult your technical advisor or re-install Windows XP"

Sounds really bad, so in lieu of privacy I'm going to klak klak klak away here on the computer of the Club Quarters.

OK GO! As I mentioned last time, I was sitting in the olive garden trying to enjoy a good meal, all the while feeling the sweet sting of shrieking in my ear because some kid was making a ruckus (and a mother was doing NOTHING to stop it). That was nothing, though, compared to "Siam" the two year old version of Rosemary's Baby. Stap yourselves in for this one and get ready to git-git-git-git fired up!

I know that this young lady's name was Sian (Or Cyan, or Syan, or SAI-ANN!!) because her lame duck parents kept on repeating "Sian! What are you doing? Sian! No! Sian, plllleeaaaasseeeee be quiet pleeeaasseeee Sian we are at your mercy oh boo hoo hooo hooooo" or something like that. This creature kept running around the restaurant because, in her words (which were very much audible all over the restaurant) "I want sit myself, not with you!!" So you know what Sian wanted...you know what mom and dad wanted, and now without further ado I give you...

A Conversation with Sian and her Idiot Parents:

Sian: I want sit myself...not with you!"

Dad: "mMmpphh"

Sian "I sit here" (points to another separate table)

Mom: "Sian...no"

Sian: "YES!!!"

Mom: (walking over to pick up demon child) "Sian you need to sit here" (picks up child)

Sian: "NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Dad: (sigh) "mmphh hmmm uhhhh"


Now take that conversation, multiply it by three, include two bathroom "talking-to" intermissions, and you have the drama that was created by this horrible, horrible young girl. I kid you not, when the mom picked her up (hey dad, way to be a role model...douche!!) that girl screamed like you were trying to saw her legs off. And as the mom carried this writing, wailing little creature to the bathroom, she continued to scream and howl and cry and make a huge fuss. And when she got to the bathroom, yeah, I could hear her sreaming still. What a horrible kid. She completely terrorized the parents, the patrons of the restaurant, and any unfortunate woman who was having a delicate moment in the ladies room.

2 things came to my mind as I tried to wolf down my pasta as fast as I could: 1) I should have heard a lot more slapping and spanking coming from the restroom, and 2) How on earth do you fail so badly at parenthood that you cannot even tell a 2 year old what to do? Granted I have never had (legitimate) kids before, but you can be dang sure that unless my kid is a cherub, I'm not going to take him/her out in a public restaurant. You can also bet I will not have any qualms about walking to the car, and paddling the crap out of my own flesh and blood. I mean honestly, how do you let a 2 year old rule your life? If you can't even go out in public without your kid prompting the staff at Olive Garden to declar martial law in the restaurant, then you in my mind are not fit to bear offspring. I'll take your kids dang it! And I've also got a sure fire way to help hellion-spawning parents to un-Huff themselves. It involves 3 steps:

1) Go to the corner
2) Think about what you've done
3) You've in time-out until I get ready to paddle you.

Geez people, it's not rocket science here. Are you all feeling me on this one? Rant over!!

For once I wished I was sterile...

Yeah you heard me right...I said sterile, as in cannot procreate and make little Andrews. "Andrew! Good Lord I always took you for such a verile, rambunxious young man!!" you might be saying to yourself, and rest assured I still am...some of you know more than others. But innuendo aside, I was out to lunch today and had not one, but TWO encounters with what I would call hellions...but you might also call them toddlers. Sit back and start gritting your teeth, because listening to this story is akin to listening to Flo Jo scratch her nails across a chalkboard.

This morning, I was hungry. So instead of going out for the breakfast that I missed, I decided that hearty Italian cuisine would have to fill the void in my stomach. So when I rolled up to Olive Garden at 10:59, I was the only one in the parking lot, and subsequently the only patron in the restaurant. I state that I was there before opening hours for one reason alone. I went in expressly to have a 1) fast meal and have a 2) quiet meal. I had just picked up the new Thrice album Vheissu, and was geeked to start reading the liner notes (I know...I'm a tool). Not more than 2 and a half minutes after I had sought refuge from the day in the Italian haven, the gates of Hell opened up right in front of me and out spewed the most ghastly little imp I've ever seen. The imp was about 24" tall, had blonde hair, and had a voicebox that would put Mariah Carey to shame, so loud was his Banshee canticle! I whipped around in my seat hoping to avoid a meeting with the imp (ok it was a toddler) only to see him writhing and flailing about in his helpless mother's arms. Loud piercing screams that would curdle your blood came out of his cerubic mouth, and the face of an angel that beset his countenance was only a facade to hide the demon that lay beneath his exterior. This kid was awful. All 3 other parties in the restaurant at this point just kind of stared at this grown woman who had no control over her own flesh and blood; we all shook our heads in a collective gesture of disdain, and we tried to keep eating amidst the torrent of yelps.

I found myself literally saying, "Man I hate kids"!! In all reality my fury was directed at this deadbeat mom who just sat there and didn't say a thing to her kid! What's he going to do, talk back? Slap him in his face! You're the mom!! I swear the Age of Niceness that we live in has realyl cramped my ability to enjoy a fine meal. Eventually the kid stopped screaming and started eating his kiddie size spaghetti, but the damage had been done. Everyone was pissed, I hated kids (normally I love children more than dogs), and what's worse...my reading was severely disrupted.

That was hellion number one, but hellion number two put him to shame. This hellion came straight from the belly of Old Scratch himself, and to retell the chronicle of my frustration with this hellspawn will have to wait for another blog...I'm off to have a (hopefully) hellion free dinner with my old Roomate!! WOOOO!!!

I might have to revisit this

For a number of reasons
1) We see here a principal with a shred of moral conscience
2)...and in a Blue state nonetheless
3) We see a man standing up to spit in the face of a sensationalized youth culture which prides itself on baseless bravado and debaucherous excess
4) And MOST OF ALL...because I visited this high school last spring! I should have picked up a tshirt from there

My hat is off to this Principal, seriously.

Priorities, people

I was browing on the internet today and I found an article that was very interesting. In these days where gas price gouging is fashionable, and you can't fill up your car with gas for less than the price of your own soul, it's nice to see that other crucial markets are suffering an economic blow as well.

UNICEF is Horrible

I officially hate huge government run organizations. As a republican, and a capitalist, I tend to believe the more power you can give to people or small businesses the better. Local authorities, people, or businesses know how to run things better than large committees who take numerous unnecessary steps and are run unefficiently.

So UNICEF, United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund (from here on known as horrible) runs a commercial ad / PSA utilizing the Smurfs. This commercial has war planes flying overhead, bombing the Smurfs, killing Smurfette, and leaving the rest of the smurfs crying in their "war torn" village. Of course it's first run was in Belgium, a country located right next to France. It's supposed to tell children to, "not let war destroy their world."

Thanks for the slap to the face horrible. Thanks for giving America a big middle finger. Just know that this American is giving one right back. I can't wait till the UN is somehow dismantled and shown to be the horrible beuracratic cesspool that it is. A wasteland of corruption, inefficiency, inaction, greed, selfishness, weakness, and horribly appointed world power. The UN is a picture of all that is wrong with the world and the mere mention of it makes me want to vomit. The next time the UN needs our help, or Belgium and France in particular, I will call on all of my senators, representatives, and the president to not give it. It's time we got our own house into order instead of helping only to be ridiculed and spit on continuosly.

Here are some links:

1. A CBS article about the UNICEF (horrible) advertisement

2.) Some crazy wacked out site I found that has the commercial ... in Belgian

I hate the UN and now you can join me too guys.

Political Time

So I'm in DC and it's inspired me to write about politics again. Not really just some quick links. I will write about my awesome trip down here soon enough but for now a couple of things that are hacking me off.

1.) This horrible ad campaign I can't stand this. If you've been following my blog you know how I feel about WMD. Everyone thought Iraq had them ... Everyone! You can see for yourself here again. Read just a few of these One more link You can blast these homos here for there horrible advertisements and hiding of the facts.

2.) I'm so mad at Gwyneth Paltrow. She came out and said America is horrible and she's glad she lives in Europe. Fine go ahead and say that it's your opinion. BUT DON'T EXPECT MY AMERICAN DOLLAR FOR YOUR NEW MOVIE PROOF! I'm so mad at people for bashing us. I refuse to see it and would have otherwise. If you're extra angry you can mail Disney to complain at The Walt Disney Company 500 S. Buena Vista Street Burbank, CA 91521. Miramax is a subsidary of Disney. I hate Gwyneth.

3.) Last one for now I promise. I'm really mad at Green Day. If you haven't seen the video for "Wake Me Up When September Ends" it's of course awful. It basically portrays the military as a heartless killing machine that breaks up relationships and has no good purpose at all. The guy is blasted in everyway possible for wanting to join, they make it look selfish, and there is not one redeeming value such as SERVING OUR GREAT NATION AND FREEDOM portrayed at all. For one you can contact Green Day at Idiotclub@aol.com or you can contact Reprise Records at Reprise@RepriseRec.com It's one of their e-mail addresses. Write them like I'm going to and tell them you won't buy Green Days next CD if they continue to offend you. It takes a second and might make a difference. Just a thought guys.

I'm off to go relax a bit and thank the Good Lord that I live in a nation that's free and allows me to express my opinion.

Joe Klapheke and WMD

The life of Joe is one part truth, on part falsehood, and three parts snowball. My friend Joe Klapheke is a weapon of mass destruction. This guy is a good friend of mine and has asked me, nay, lived such a fabulous and unselfish life that I have to blog about him. Friends since 6th grade I was initially drawn to Joe due to the fact that he has a large head ... filled with tons of knowledge of course. His soccer skills were not to be believed and his Mom gave away money to all who came to visit her (possibly since she worked at a bank). His Dad built our middle school science project and the knife at the end cut the piece of tissue paper well enough to give us an A. Throughout high school Joe was no less impressive. His locker was the total hang out spot at the high school and all the cool kids hung out there including myself and my posse of women. I often had to tell my ladies to come back later as Joe was swamped with them. Joe has siblings but who cares really because he's the only one that matters. He multiplies food, rules all that he does, and has a job. One time Joe even put out a fire that was engulfing an entire city block. How is this you ask? He dumped Mountain Dew on the entire fire ... granted it was passed through his kidneys first. I don't even know what else to say other than if Joe Klapheke was not my friend I'd either be in juvi or in the woods being raised by wolves. I'd also be a heck of a lot less cool. So Joe this Bud's for you and all you've done. Now will you quit e-mailing me and telling me to blog about you. Just kidding ... not really ... Joe also had some otherwordly batting average in the work softball league this summer like he went 85 - 87 ... although those two were strikeouts I believe.

Joe rules!

You show me yours, I'll show you mine

This is another traffic story (James I'm only doing this because you harassed me into working on my blog in Rochester):

So twice in about as many weeks, I was privvy to some road rage! And people in blog land, for what mayhaps be the first time, I was not the agitated one in the driving situation, but rather I was the agitator! Let me explain..

See, twice in about as many weeks I was given a good view of the back of someone's hand, namely their hand with middle finger extended upward in a mock 'We're #1" gesture. However, I was not being told I was awesome, I was receiving the inflammatory gesture because in someone's eyes I was a horrible person! Imagine that if you can!!!!

I live and drive primarily around Western PA. Here are some common road habits of Western Pennsylvanians:

1) Yield sign=stop sign
2) Green Light=take several deep breaths, center your chi, and press the gas pedal after 7 seconds
3)35MPH Speed limit=25MPH Speed limit
4) A honk well deserved= an excuse to have a heart attack

I'm sure some of you have read my blog about traffic in Western PA so my point here is not to gripe about the traffic again, but rather relay to you all that I got what was coming to me! I'm sure that in reading my blog (or in sitting in traffic with me...and I do apologize if you've had to deal with that) you've thought to yourself, "Dang it Smith! One day someone's going to do something terrible to you if you keep driving all crazy like!" And people, you are right...twice!

1) I was driving out to play golf (my new pastime) and was behind someone doing their typical 10 mph under the speed limit. Let me say on my behalf that I didn't even think twice about this; as of late I've been trying to be much more calm behind the wheel, and you'll all be glad to hear that I've been a lot more chilled out (you'll also be safer when you're driving on the road with me now). But the person in front of me apparently felt that I was driving too close to them. SO! Instead of speeding up to the optimum driving speed, this person slammed on their brakes. I followed suit, and kind of gave them a "Pardon me, why did you do that sir?" gesture with my hands. They responded in kind with pumping their fist out their driver side window...birdie blazing! POW take that Smith!

2) The second instance is very similar to the first...actually it's the exact same! Some slow dude thought that my driving behind him was a personal insult, so he returned in kind a more pointed insult...pointed like a middle finger!! Take that AGAIN Smith!!

What's the point of this blog? There really is none...I have no exciting travel stories yet. But just so you all know...even though I get fired up behind the wheel there is always someone who is more fired up than I am. So JUDGE NOT lest YE be JUDGED.




As an addendum to this blog I would like to add this: you might see me in the streets, man, but you don't know me!

Keep your hands off my Malm, or I'll Flarke you up!

**Author's note...I don't feel very creative today**

If you've said one of the following phrases...

"Ohhhh I TREBENS with fearrr at that lamp!"
"Dude take a seat a re- LACKs ok?"
"No, you go FLARKE yourself!"
"Man, I don't think big BENNO is going to catch many passes like that"
"We're going to have to reposition your MALM in order to fit it in the trunk"

...then you my friend have been sucked into the particle board mecca that we Americans call an Ikea retail megalopolis! Aside from the punny non-sequiters and inside jokes, a trip to Ikea can be a wholistically fun experience. Let me tell you about how my last trip to Ikea went, and why my entire apartment is virtually sponsored by Ikea now.

Someone once told me that to take a trip to Ikea is to take a trip to the mythological Labyrinth ! Except in this labyrinth, not only are you trapped in the store with thousands of other lemmings looking for cheap furniture, but you have to fight TWO Minotauri once you get to the center!!!! Ok I made that last part up, but the store is like a cracked out Lowe's. For those of you who have never been to Ikea, let me give you the skinny on how to 1), find what you need, and then 2) make it out alive.

Step ONE: FOLLOW THE DOTS!! Throughout Ikea they have these dang dots and arrows all over the floor to tell you where to go, and what to look at. I don't know about you all out there in blog land, but when someone or something points me in a direction with colorful arrows or dots in an attempt to hold my attention (much like you would do for a kindergartner), I do what every red blooded dude in America does...I refuse to pay attention, and I figure things out myself!! Take THAT Ikea, I'll find a GRRDLE myself!

Ikea, however, has other plans for me.

See many people don't know this, but before Ikea started making stores, they actually pulled in an organizational consultant to design the layout of the store. Because I am a networking genius, I actually have a transcript of this conversation, circa 1977:

IKEA: We need a floor plan that will resemble a labyrinth, but with two Minotaurii at the center to kill people!

Consultant: I cannot ethically agree to having a Minotaur in the center of the store, but what I can agree to is designing a store that aggravates men!

IKEA: Ok we're listening

Consultant: Yes, what we will do is lay out childish dots and arrows all over the floor so that man think that they don't have to follow them...but in actuality, we will make the store so large and so confusing that if they refuse to follow the dots, they will get lost forever!

IKEA: That's a great idea! That way women can drag their male lovers along with them, and there's no way that they would be able to escape the shopping excursion!

Consultant: And actually, now that I think about it, I realize that you people at IKEA are Dutch! I just realized that you have little to no moral standards in the Netherlands...

IKEA: What are you saying (becoming giddy)?

Consultant: Well, the more I think about it...the more a Minotaur sounds like a perfectly good idea for your store!

IKEA: Hooray!!


Ok but seriously, the store is a mess. I happened to be going to Ikea with two wonderful women (Jess and Emily, you are the reason why I'm not still in Ikea) and I kid you not, they had to keep pulling me back on the path. I would wander off, trying to find a end table, and I would wind up with lamps and pillows. I would try to find a dresser and I would wind up finding TV stands and coffee tables. I would have surely been lost to the Minotaur if Emily and Jess hadn't kept me on the right path. IKEA blatantly flies in the face of a man's need to be an independent rugged individual. So that brings me to point two...

STEP TWO: GO WITH A GIRL!!!! That's all I have to say about that...dudes you need a chick there, for real.

STEP THREE: LEARN HOW TO PALATE SURF! While I couldn't find a Minotar in the bowels of IKEA, what I DID find was the biggest little warehouse I've ever seen. See at IKEA, when you walk around the store you just look at examples of furniture. You don't actually pick out the furniture until you get to the proverbial belly of the IKEA whale. At that point you have to go pick up your (disassembled) furniture, load it onto a huge palate cart, and go check out. But while you may be tempted to toss your stuff on the cart and head out into daylight as soon as possible, take a minute to relish your victory! You've beaten IKEA! Now let loose, hop on that 4'x6' long cart and have someone push you as fast as you can go! While you may get a number of condescending looks from the hired help, there's nothing as liberating as soaring through the narrow warehouse isles at IKEA on a cart that is incredible close to careening out of control. But all jokes aside, it's a blast and it's about the only redeeming thing about going to IKEA other than...

STEP FOUR: ASSEMBLING YOUR FURNITURE!! This is arguably the worst part of IKEA. When I left the store, I had furniture for my entire house. I paid virtually pennies for all of it. And what was even better, I fit it all in my car! I fit: 1 bookshelf, one entertainment center, 2 end tables, one dresser, 2 TV carts, 1 computer stand, 2 lamps, and some bags in my car with room to spare. I felt like the king of the world!

That feeling lasted for about the entire ride home, until I got all the boxes of disassembled furniture in my apartment and was faced with what would be 5 solid hours of furniture construction. To get you through your assembly process, I would recommend having the following utensils:


and what might be yur most important tool ...





Now I'm not one to advocate the abuse af substances, because on many levels it just ain't right. But when your eyes are bloodshot from looking at instructions with no words, your fingers are raw from twisting in screw after screw, and you've put the doors on Benno backwards, a little relief is not a bad thing. Just don't use Andrew as your excuse to be a lush.

So that, ladies and germs, is a little about my last trip to IKEA, and how it radically impacted my life. Now granted the experience was novel, and my apartment looks pretty slammin'...but it's not something I'd like to do more than once a decade. Good luck and Godspeed!!


Watch out for these bad boys when you get lost.

"Look! They're Breakdance Fighting!"

Word up er'body!?

Hey everyone. This blog is essentially to sate the thirst of those bloggers out there hungry for a meaty chunk of what I would like to call...my life. Just to keep you up to speed, Joel and I have been battling on facebook with a spat of verbaige that I would like to call "Free Style Rapping". Joel and I are masters of this lyrical form, and so to showcase my talent, and Joel's, I'll clue you all into our lastest torrent of fancy rap songs. GO!!


Joel :

yo, aight, yo feel me. Well it's been a little while since I wrote on ya wall, but you ain't gotta worry cause I'm back on the ball you been lettin' in girls and they ain't bad maaaaan, but you better recognize the guys that will soon be Pans--we're gonna show 'em how its done and we don't need no assistance, we're gonna take a lotta chomps and we don't need your resistance, 'cause we're CRUNK!

(crowd cheers)

Andrew:

Alright I see how it is...alright listen

You said you think you're a man cause you tear up my wall, but watch yourself brillo face before yo' ace takes a fall, you try to tear up my street cred and put me in diapers, but I'll have you ace expelled because I'm your advissoooorrrrrrr

(crowd roars, hollers)

Andrew (out of turn):

Yo check this watch this right here:

Joel says he's all tough and he likes to front big but arms are about as big as a whithering twig, mane you just aint tough so I got to say I could wrestle you to def like every day when I'M CRUUUUNNNKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

Now flow this, flow this:

You write on my wall like a juvee delinquent but it ain't no secret that you roam the pavement, lookin for some hotties so you can up an honk at 'em, but your girlfriend's gonna punch you in your protruding Adam's...apple...

(questionable murmurs, some some spotty laughter)

Joel: (visibly angered by being skipped out of turn)

aight aight...
Feel me...
So you like to write sht all over my wall, but anyone can see through yer attempts ta ball
Makin' funna my guns, now what's that all about--it's humorous to hear scrawny people runnin' they mouth
Talkin' bout my adam's apple? 'least I got one maaaan
Tell me how's it feel to be the first female Pan--and get CRUNK!!!!

(crowd OHHHH's a lot)

Joel:

OH no! Let me tell ya bout the feelings I felt, when ya sorry ace self tried to get me expelt
I started laughin out loud and ya had me in stitches
When I get expulsion threats from some skinny ace b--s (oh)!
You belong in '95 just playin with pogs, cuz we all know I've got way more fans on my blog--because I'm CRUNK!!!

Andrew:

(really serious music comes on, probably like Nelly's "Heart of a Champion", with some serious talking to preface what will likely be a malicious rap)

Alright...I see how it is...see a lot of people be hating on me because they too scared to realize the truth that I bring...but you better recognize that the truth hurts sometimes...and you about to get a faceful of pain

(talk over, rap starts!)

Alright stop all your talking bout stuff you don't know, cause this skinny sophic brother thinks you's a trick ho. You turn turn tricks and hoes and are generally rude, but we know that all yo business be coming straight from dudes (ohhh!) Look at you, main pointing at your friend's junk thinking 'can I cop a feel and use the escuse that I'm crunk?' No you cain't my man cause I know your true colors, they ain't on blue and white shirts, main they on rainbow rubbers (ohhhhh)

music fadeout

treating commences

(its like that scene in 8 Mile where everyone goes crazy for the white guy! it's insanity in here!)



Rap fighting is so sweet!

"If I didn't have money...that would suck"

Alright people, here's what's up. I know that Keith just posted about a serious issue...i.e. how Wal Mart is destroying our society. That's huge. Go read that. Then read this. It's about a destructive force in our society, that everyone passes over and no one really takes the time to stand up against. What I'm talking about here is the degeneracy of...you guessed it...

MTV

I just spent the past half hour watching "My Super Sweet 16" and I have something to say. Let's talk about MTV for a second. Music aside, what do we all know about MTV? There are some things that everyone can agree MTV attempts to purport on its endless broadcast of senselessness. Let's make a list:
1) MTV Sucks
2) MTV, though a network supposedly committed to bringing you up to date on the world of music, more often than not takes up social causes like dealing with unpopularity, social injustice and how to correct it, free speech, equal rights for all people, protesting our Republican president, and just generally towing the Democratic party line right? Come on Democrats, feel me here.
3) Be true to yourself
4) Commercials
5) Reality TV, which showcases the uncanny relationship between scripted Television and 'real life'

Everyone agrees MTV shows less, and less music. That's why we have MTV2, MTV online, and MTV On Demand, or whatever button you push on MTV online that shows you music videos you should be seeing during the waking hours of your life (but doesn't).

While I was watching 'My Super Sweet 16' on MTV, I was struck at how MTV consistently shows conflicting messages to it's maleable, and impressionable audience of 16-25 year olds. This show is soley dedicated to showing you how spoiled little girls can be when their dad's have cash, and their friends' dad's don't. This one episode I was watching showcased a 15 year old girl, spoiled beyond belief, who felt that she 'deserved all the money that she got from her dad because she was a good girl'. What's worse than that, this show went on to showcase how this incredibly immature, self absored, and generally unintelligent girl discriminated against her classmates based on age, sex, what type of clothing they wore, where they grew up, how much money their parent's made, and whether or not inviting certain people to her party would convey to a watchin world how popular she was.

Let's, for a minute, assume that MTV was actually SATV, which stands for Social Activism Tele-Vision. Let's assume that MTV wasn't in the business of talking about music (which it clearly isn;t) and asuume that it was a network dedicated to ensnaring the minds of young Americans into believing their version of what amounts to social justice. By all accounts, the 'Music Television Network' has sent numerous conflicting messages antithetical to its design and purpose. While on the one hand it shows shows like 'Made' and 'Take a Stand: fight for your rights against X social malady', on the other it shows programs which were specifically meant to highlight how awesome it is to exploit other people, unearth their weaknesses, and denegrate others based on a temporal, fleeting period of 'status'. Shows like Cribs, My Sweet..., Laguna Beach, and others flly in the face of all of MTV's activist stances against discrimination, hate, and intolerance. What MTV is effectively saying is 'sell out to whatever gets you to where you need to be, whether your cause be just or malicious'.

Honestly people. You put some 15 year old ho on TV, dress her up like she's 25 and working the Red Light District, and tell the world that 'All that matters now is that I'm the most popular girl in school'. Then you're going to turn around and in the next half hour segment tell women to respect themselves, and that beauty is not defined by what you put on or who you know? Give me a break! It's when MTV puts public awareness spots against teen drinking and unprotected sex, then follows them up with shows dedicated to exposing how you can get away with underage drinking and a life of licensciousness that we know MTV is a network for the sellout, for the selfish, for the vain, for the uncontrolled.

I vomit on MTV. I vomit on everything about MTV. And I know that most of you reading this blog will echo my sentiments. But it bears repeating that this network is garbage. Look at what's going on in New Orleans. Look at the people stealing TV's, DVD players, car stereos, Rolexes, and other assorted bling and tell me that's not influenced by the garbage foisted upon them by MTV. You look at the people making gang signs when their house has been destoyed, because they're so tuned into the mentality of 'get yours or die trying'. You look at the people waving their guns in the air and shooting their relatives for a bag of ice. You look at the chaos, and how it mirrors the programming showcased on the Music Television Network and tell me there's no correlation. Look me straight in the face and tell me there's no correlation!! I vomit this network and the commercialization that it sells out to. I vomit on this network that tells you money is the key to happiness and success. I vomit on this network for telling people that the government owes you something, that you sit tight and 'know how you do' and the government will be right along to cure all your social ills. I vomit on this network for creating a senseless, desensitized mob ready and willing to snuff out the life of their own kin for a chance at making it big. In the most pure, and unadulturated sense I say...I vomit on it all.

Communist-Mart

For quite some time now I have been promising a blog about my opinion on Wal-Mart. I've had to gather my thoughts and frankly they're so scattered and many I'm not sure I can put them all down coherently. I tend to try and make my blogs humorous in nature, but this one is entirely serious. I hate Wal-Mart. I know I know. I'm a raging conservative which should mean that I LOVE Wal-Mart. I just want you to know that I've researched the facts and I fall down on the side of democrats and unions on this one. It kills me to type it, but Wal-Mart must be stopped for the good of America.

I will try to keep my points simple and to the point without rambling. There really are three reasons that Wal-Mart must be stopped. First they're killing our economy. Second they're not saving us money like they think they are, but are in fact costing us more money than we realize and lowering our quality of life. Finally, they treat employees unfairly. For a company that makes $6.6 billion dollars a year in profit they pay their people precious little. Without any more delay let's get this party started.

1.) Wal-Mart is slowly killing our economy. Wal-Mart (here after known WM or Communist-Mart) claims to buy American. They only buy American when it's convenient for them though, or in fact the cheapest product they can buy. It plays itself out a couple of different ways in the store. Clothing at WM is sold at the cheapest price possible and here's why. Let's say that WM wants to do business with Bugle Boy jeans. WM offers to use 100% of Bugle Boys factories at 100% ouput for 3 years. They will carry everything that Bugle Boy can make. Bugle Boy jumps at the bit on this one. Because 7.5 cents of every dollar spent in America will end up at WM. A pretty impressive stat and a pretty impressive slice of business.

So Bugle Boy agrees. They sign the deal and WM then tells them they have to use 70% dye instead of 100 and then go with a 100 thread count instead of 200 in order to save some money. They also must take only 6% of the profit instead of 10% Bugle Boy is reluctant and agrees as it's 100% of their factories for 3 years. 3 years goes by and what happens? Two things. 1.) Bugle Boy gets a bad name for making crappy jeans that rip and fade thanks to WM. 2.) In order to make jeans cheaply and make some profit still they close the majority, or all, of their American factories and begin making jeans overseas in China where there are no labor laws and kids can work 130 hours a week. So now it's time for Bugle Boy to renew with WM and they say instead of making 6% of the profit they have to give all but .2% to WM. Bugle Boy says no way we won't make any money, but if Bugle Boy leaves their product will die since it now has such a crappy name. WM wins and keeps getting all the profit or Bugle Boy dies ... just like Arizona jeans, Route 51 jeans, and many others before. They kill the company. And that's just clothing.

For example recently Levi jeans has been under contract with WM. They had to create a whole new line of jeans to actually sell them there. As these were horrible jeans it ruined their brand name effectively. What happens to be a more crushing blow is that in the last year they announced the closing of their last two factories in the States. A company that had sixty factories in the country before now has none. 2,500 more Americans lost their job. So yes a WM opens more jobs when a store opens, but over the course of 10 years Levi has closed 60 factories eliminating 75,000 jobs. Where do these jobs go? Only to the fastest growing economy in the world - China. Communist China were Levi can go and and have someone work 130 hours a week to make jeans. WM imports $15 billion a year in goods from China. So reason number one is they close American factories and give money to what could be eventually our biggest competitor. This doesn't even explore the fact that they force the hands of other companies to do as they wish. Vlasic pickles for example which make the least profit off whole pickles are asked only to sell those at WM ... in gallon jars making one cent profit per jar. Eventually this kind of hand forcing by WM drove Vlasic pickles into bankruptcy. But as mentioned Vlasic and others can't afford to not use WM as WM makes in two months what Home Depot and other stores do in a year. They are the largest company in the world right now. You can read it for yourself here if you like

2.) That was my longest point so bear with me. Point two is that WM is costing you much more money than you think. The average hourly worker at WM makes only $18,000 a year, and many more in fact are part time employees. This means they don't qualify for WM's poor health care benefits and often times have to mooch off medicaid. Not only that, but many of WM's employees make so little they qualify for welfare. Granted everyone qualifies for welfare these days since the system is horrible. But if you're saving 20 cents on toothpaste because you shop at WM, you really aren't. Your tax dollars are also going to help pay these employees eat and generally live. Now granted if WM disappeared tomorrow we wouldn't have lower taxes, but we can fight that fight after this one. I'm tired of my money paying people that could be making enough money if their employer wasn't greedy. For a company that makes roughly $6.6 billion a year in profit their employees should not be qualifying for welfare. That's just poor leadership and management and frankly I'm tired of them taking my money at the register and on April 15th. Call me crazy but I like having my money spent the way I want to spend it. Not paying the employees of a company that provides low end products for me. It's a long report but feel free to read it on your own time

3.) Lastly and briefly since this blog is already getting a little long. WM treats it's employees unfairly. I hate unions. I hate them with every fiber in my body because they make things run inefficiently. But WM fires anyone who tries to even talk of starting a union. This is a little unfair. They shouldn't act like a communist nation or company run by a dictator. If employees want to raise new ideas or discuss things then they should be able to. I believe if WM is running things well people will decide a union is a poor idea. Also WM on average pays women employees with the same qualifications and in the same position as men an average of 6.4 percent less. I have the newspaper with this fact in it if you'd like to see it. They treat their women poorly. Now you know I don't discriminate against women. I think they should have the nicest kitchens money can buy ... just a joke ... but this is poor. They don't allow discourse amongst their employees and they treat women unfairly. The company doesn't give good health benefits, if any at all, and when they do employees often have to give 60% of their salary in order to qualify for said "benefits." Not the type of treatment you should expect from your "All-American" company. Not to mention the people they drive out of business like Mom and Pop stores and other companies like K-Mart. WM has effectively squashed all the other competition by strong arming businesses.

It's a great idea, but one that has been executed poorly. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about low priced goods. But I also like freedom of choice. I want to be able to choose if I want my rap CD censored or not. You don't get this choice at WM. I want to be able to choose whether my tax dollars go to a certain store or not. I want to be able to choose the high end jeans over the low end jeans. This is not possible at WM. I don't want to walk into WM and see it enabling people to continue being poor. I want to see people make smart choices and save money. It's not always easy and WM tries to portray the image that it is. They're slowly not only sending all of our jobs overseas, but they're also strengthening a potentially dangerous economy for the US in years to come. All these combined has helped me make the decision not to give my dollar to Wal-Mart. I choose to shop at Target, Giant Eagle, or even Marshalls or Best Buy. It's ok if my life is not the most convenient life possible.

I will say two things. This was a long blog so take your time and read it over. If you have more questions feel free to ask me. I can go into more detail, but this one is too long as is already. Secondly WM has done some good. They've run an efficient, timely, and large business. They are almost the poster child of capitalism and have done some good things. For my taste though they've done too many bad things along the way. That's why I'm taking a stand and this time it means not shopping at Communist-Mart ... even if it is the liberal thing to do.

It's a jungle out there!!!

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, it's a jungle out there. Regardless of whether you live in the city, or in rural, horrible, downtrodden Western PA the world is becoming a much more violent place! Even the most docile of creatures are having to pursue a path of violence and destruction to make a decent way in the wild, wild world. Take for example...me! Yep...there I am, bright and chipper, ready to take on any task that the world could possibly throw at me! I've got that defiant, "Come on world! Give me what you got, because I'm going to slap you in your gap toothed mouth!" How am I so supremely confident in a world teetering on the edge of self-destruction? I will tell you me friends that I have a few secrets. The secrets of my bottled bravado are detailed in this photograph, if ye have eyes to see! Come with me, and find the secrets to making your own destiny!

Step 1: Have a good friend with you. As you can see, part of my unbridled confidence stems from the fact that I have a good friend by my side. Through thick or thin good friends will stand by you, and help you conquer the 'lions' and 'bears' of life's jungle experience. Frengel and I are good friends. Keith and I are good friends, though there was a time when I contemplated suffocating him with the underside of my posturepedic pillow! You all should really ask about it sometimes. It's a story that underscores how the trivial aspects of life should not drive friends apart! It's also a story for another day because after a good friend, you need...

Step 2: A Solid Haircut! Call it the faux-hawk, call it the 'rhino', call it the 'reverse Alphalpha'...call it what you will but don't call it ridiculous! In times of trouble, a good haircut will help you feel better about yours standing in life. Reflect with me children!! Who all of you has not at one point stood in front of a mirror, eagerly searching the crevaces and nuances of one's facial canvas looking for one clue as to how to engage a situation looming on the horizon? I know you all have!! If in searching your exterior frame for an internal pathway of enlightenment you have a solid haircut, it makes it a little easier to keep searching for the answer somewhere on your face. Plus, a solid haircut will make you more aerodynamic should you need to run away fro life's problems.

Step 3: Be Supremely Confident! "Who of you by worrying can add even a day to your existence"? It's a question asked to us by the Christ, and it is a question that still stands today...why worry so much! Pump that fist in the air, pull those lips back in a gnarled grin, and charge ahead into the jungle of life! Remember, predators can't eat what can't be eaten, so don't sit still long enough to worry about getting eaten...because you will be. Eaten that is...or consumed by life's problems if you will. Just run with the metaphor here people. Finally, in order to clear a pathway through the underbrush and jaggers of the jungle of life, you will need...

Step 4: An Awesome Headband! As you can see from my defiant stance, I've got a killer headband on. Now I can really take the world on, and do it with authority!! Hiya, World! You got nothing!!!

So those are 4 steps to fighting your way through the jungle of life. I wish you all the best on the start of the school year (you students), and the best to you working folk who are starting to lament the fast approaching end of summer. GO!

Andrew reacts and then blames Satan

So by now you've all read Andrew's blog. And if you've ever played Street Fighter 2 for Super Nintendo you probably laughed pretty hard. It paints a perfect picture of the game. A game that drives you to play better so you can hear the voice say, "PERFECT!" when you secure a flawless victory. The game does breed competitiveness. I used to be a product of it's competition. One time I lost to Andrew and our roommate Jordan so many times that I let out a tirade of "f-bombs" so fierce and so horrible that Andrew and Jordan just looked at me and started laughing. I had offended so much that it went past shock and disgust level and went straight towards laughter. After this Andrew and I created a system to help keep each other from swearing. Every time one of us swears we owed a dollar to the other person. Seeing as how money never changed hands, we then resorted to punching one another. This system is working much better. Although the last time we were together we spent a large amount of time spelling swear words instead. "Oh c'mon son of a b-i-t-c-h-!" Hmmmmm ....

I digress. After playing my friend Joe who isn't very good at Street Fighter 2 and getting creamed, I decided it was time to put down the controller. I needed to go deep within myself and find the source of the problem, or at least a temporary cure. I decided that perhaps I was not as good at Street Fighter as I had originally determined, but at times got lucky or hit hot runs. How could this be possible? Video games are designed to put people on an even playing field. Take away the fact that I am fatter than Andrew. Take away the fact that he's faster than me. It creates people who have strengths that offset the fact they're fat (E. Honda hurling himself across the screen and yelling Doof Gooey) or the fact that they may be smaller (Dhalsim being able to stretch across the screen or throw fire). All things in Video Game Land are even. There is no room in video games for luck I thought. This my friends is not true.

It still happens today on your X-Box or your PS2, but it happens WAAAAAAY more often in Super Nintendo. You hit the block button for Ryu and somehow, SOMEHOW, Ken's foot gets through your hand it kicks you in the head dropping your health some 25%. You cry out, as Andrew often does, "No way. NO FU$&*#G WAY! I BLOCKED THAT!!" This is usually followed by Andrew chucking the controller at say our sliding glass door. What we don't know, but what usually happens I'm sure, is the 2nd grade kid next door hears this and goes crying to his mother out of fear. Fear that this man might bust through the wall and inflict harm on him or start hurting his ears with curse words again. But the point is Super Nintendo is an inexact science. If you're in the general vicinity it's going to count as a hit. Even if the fire barely touches your ankle, your whole body is ENGULFED in flames causing MASSIVE damage. This dawned on me. That's how you can get lucky. You get the other person frustrated. They begin mashing buttons even more. Next thing you know things aren't as precise with them, in an already inexact game, and you have a couple wins come rolling your way.

This is probably how I beat Andrew 4 or 5 straight times with Zangief. I'll let that sink in.

I beat him with Zangief ... multiple times.

Zangief, or the Big Red Machine as I like to think of him as, is just that, a huge communist. He can shoot no projectiles, he has zero speed, and he has the hops of a white kid with a disability. This guy is bad. But as Andrew kept running at me I'd just keep throwing kicks at him hoping that they'd land in the area and count. Which is exactly what happened. My demons had been exorcised. I didn't blame my fault on Satan and now rarely get extremely pissed while playing. Even though I lost more than I won that night, I was alright with it for the most part.

Andrew has yet to find this out. He still takes losses personally, and allows the competitive spirit within to begin shouting many a profane word and he starts physically throwing stuff. I've actually seen him expectorate on the floor in anger. Yes on our carpet. After he lost once he turned to the left, chucked the controller, and I had to put my foot up to keep it from shattering our sliding glass door. My foot instantly welled up red. You would think this injury incurred in real life, not on the video game screen would have curbed Andrew's real life anger. No. After some other loss later that evening he began to throw his controller like a baby, let out some unmentionable "You gotta be fu%^&ng kidding me. This game is complete bull s@#t.", and began throwing things. He threw pillows, the threw our little round chair over, he threw couch cushions, soft foam coolers, and other items such as magazines. It was a baby tirade to end all baby tirades.

So Andrew says Street Fighter 2 was invented by the devil. I disagree. I think Andrew just hasn't been man enough to look inside himself and realize it's a game. He hasn't seen the inexact program that Super Nintendo is. Sometime you should ask Andrew about how fiercely competitive he is in one-on-one sports. Ask him about his pitching wedge in golf. Or that time in racquetball what happened to his racquet? It's only a matter of time before I can add to that list, "Andrew what happened to the sliding glass door? or Andrew what happened to that shattered SNES controller?"

Just thought you'd like to know the real truth about Street Fighter. It's not that it was invented by Satan. It's that Andrew has a fiercely horrible and diabolical competitive streak. That said I'm off to play Madden on my Playstation. Have a good one guys.

Satan Made Street Fighter 2 to Foil the Plans of the Upright and Righteous

You may laugh my friends, but this is in fact the case. See here if you don't believe me. The writing on the devil is actually an ancient satanic language and it says, "I and I alone made Street Fighter 2!". So there you have it people, you heard it right from the horse's mouth...Satan was the creative developer behind Street Fighter 2.

"Woah woah woah, Smith" you're telling me, "I know for a fact that CAPCOM made Street Fighter! You're a liar!"

I, you anonymous, ignorant nay-sayer, am not a liar! Journey with me, if you dare, into a place of hatred and bitterness...a place where otherworldly weeping and nashing of teeth takes the form of "You lose!", "Perfect!" "SHOORRYYUUKEENNN!!" sounds...a world that incites men and women alike and awakens the inner demon of anger deep within their souls! Come with me to the devil's dance floor ! Come with me to the land of my misery! Come to the land of Street Fighter 2!!!

I know for a fact that Street Figher 2 was constructed by Satan to destroy the otherwise mild manneredness of individuals like myself. I like to think of myself as an even keeled guy: not much upsets me, I'm not overly competitive, and as you all know, I'm pretty awesome. With that as my background, I am not one given to immediate provocation. When confronted with a disappointment, or with a loss, or with a defeated dream, I take it in stride.

HOWEVER!!!

Street Fighter 2 brings out the worst in me! It's like the devil is actually extracting the worst characteristics of Andrew and putting them on full display for a watching world to see. And when I say watching world I mean Keith, and the neighbors across the hall in apartments 19, 20, and 21...that's how thunderous my rage is when playing Street Fighter 2. So this is what happens when I lose at Street Fighter:

FIRST! I seem calm, starting blankly at the television and the hideous image of E.Honda, or Blanka, or Dhalsim and his stupid elephants telling me that I, in fact, have just lost. "YOU LOSE!"

SECOND! This can go two directions here. What I usually do is, with the controller in my hand, turn and throw the controller at the wall as hard as I can. No joke. I suddenly become as powerful as Samson and I try to throw the controller through the wall. If that doesn't happen, I pump fake like I'm going to throw thw controller, but then pause...only long enough to contrive the most elaborate list of profanity that you've ever heard. And there I usually with, with controller raised in fury, wishing many ill wishes on E.Honda and his stupid 'Doof Gooey' move (in no uncertain terms).

THIRD! Regardless of what happens in phase 2 of my eventual metamorphosis into hell-spawn, step 3 is again, a rapid fire bout of profanity and I usually pick up the controller and actually try to break something with it, like the nintento, or a glass, or a beer bottle, or a sliding glass door, or the TV, or Keith, or something.

FOURTH! In addition to those antics, I'm also paralyzed by an inability to write in concise sentences. That's a more chronic condition, and you can go through the blog and see where that nasty demon pokes its little head up all throughout my writing (that's a joke, people).

FIFTH: I storm out of the room like a baby, mother effing everything and everyone who I've ever known. I know it doesn't make sense, but by its nonsensical nature it belies the poison that the devil puts into my otherwise rational brain. The climax of my maelstrom usually hits when I start picking up couch cushions and throwing them around the apartment with little care or concern for what I break, or who I injure.

I know by now most of you are probably looking at the computer with self righteous disgust, and rightfully so! This is ridiculous! If you doubt any single bit how deeply depraved I have become because of Street Fighter 2, you can drop a comment and ask Keith to corroborate. He will give a sheepish 'yes', and BETTER HOPE THAT I DON'T FIND OUT THAT HE'S TALKING TRASH ON ME BEHIND MY BACK OR ELSE...HHAARRRYUUUUKEEENNNN!!!!