Well, well, well. Someone out there does love me. I suppose that there have been many times when I thought that I had something to say on these pixels, but chickened out. You see, so much has changed for me that I wasn't sure that I could still pull this off - like it's such a challenge for the other millions of jerks, losers, and dorks doing it that I needed to live up to some expectation that only I was aware of - but the previous guest post, from the the most [and I mean this completely objectively - and abjectly] wonderful person that I have ever met, has inspired me. First, I must also welcome back littlemiss and tell her that she can use this space anytime she wants to, as she can use me in the same way. And thank her for jumpstarting me.
Let me address littlemiss' assertions:
I did get married. I did change jobs [more to come]. I do have a beautiful house that is new only to me, my wife, my little stepson, and our new puppy - and is the worse for 50 years wear in many frustrating infrastructural ways. I did appear [albeit in a cameo role] in DC's Pride Weekend gay pride parade, but I still insist to my wife that my most remarkable accomplishment was not the "I'm here, I'm queer" portion of that afternoon, but the feat of dashing off erudite and refined bon mots via text-message while on the run through the dense, drunken, debauched crowd. I have also exorcised television from my life [partially by attrition, partially by choice], and haven't picked up a vidogame controller since - well, jesus - I can't even remember when I last raced a hovercraft in WipeOut, watched Lara Croft's ass run through some haunted environ, or jacked a tweaked VW Golf in San Andreas. But I have to end as was suggested, by telling you all just how marvelous my wife is. She is everything to me [some of you may know her] and she is just absolutely perfect in every concievable way. She is the woman that I have always dreamed of, I knew it from the start. Would she request it of me, I would do my best to stay conscious while I tore my heart from my chest and handed it to her, gift-wrapped and scented with gardenia.
I will now feel free to drag her into these posts at will. She is not to be held accountable for the content, tone, context, or other vehement facets of this site nor any materials' veracity, originality or good taste. Unless she says she does. Which am sure that she will, she is a paragon of virtue and legality [her expired out-of-state license plates notwithstanding...]
I must also add my sincere condolences in the direction of Nowhere, Utah and the heartbroken Asia Carrera. I'm truly sorry for your loss. On a lesser scale, my best wishes on a smaller loss to Wil Wheaton. Hope that v2.0 is bulletproof.
6.21.2006littlemiss takes over
Hey, Banzai, look what I managed to do! I figured out how to post on your blog. I think you don't realize how smart (& crafty) I actually am (albeit in a pedantic, donnish, only-person-to-beat-you-at-Trivial-Pursuit kind of way). Let this be a warning, give littlemiss enough caffeine and she could manage to take over the world, or maybe just your blog. Which ever she felt like.
I think we are all tired of reading the same outdated, depressing post (and I hope that I can use the term 'we'. Is there anyone else who even bothers to pass by here every once and a while to see if anything exciting has happened to you lately?). Really, Banzai, I think you could have found enough time in the last 8 months (!) to give us an update, your once loyal habitue' who indulged in the minutiae of your life. In case you have forgotten, allow me to adduce some rather significant events in your recent life, any of which would serve as excellent jumping off ground for a new post:
Should none of those be to your liking, and a more oblique topic be needed in order to accommodate your witty repartee and sinuous ramblings, I would suggest musing at length about your recent appearance in a gay pride parade, your abandonment of all things television and video game related, or perhaps simply extolling the beauty and intellect of your wife (this last one is always appropriate).
Seriously, we miss you. Please come back.
(This may even inspire me to resurrect my blog from the havoc inflicted by the sisterlittlemiss's guest post, blog-erasing debacle.)
Hi, true belivers. Thanks for continuing to stop by through my long hiatuses. Let me give you a rundown.
Had a nervous breakdown [no shit]
Not worked since end of July due to extreme nervousness caused by even thinking of work.
Moved to a big city's immediate suburb which also happens to be the mutated remains of the town I grew up in with a wonderful woman who I am breathlessly in love with and her now 4 year old little boy.
Am now engaged to that wonderful woman with whom I am breathlessly, desperately in love with.
Am on Paxil to correct years of depression and anxiety [I guess I shouldn't get pregnant now]
Currently collecting disability pay.
Walked into another branch of the big book box and nearly fainted.
Desperately trying to regain some normalcy in my life and personality.
Love to you all.
Sometimes You Get What You Need
As evidenced by my long absence, and the guesses by the guests to my Tagboard* [correct by the way], you other poor bastards who continue to view this really-fucking-boring same old post [without scrolling to the bottom of the page to see the picture that used to be Castro and is now Saddam in a Jean Harlow blonde wig and mink stole (no, no, don't even bother, because when I post this, that particular post will roll away into the archive, never to be seen again) Eat your heart out Gwen Stefani!] What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I did get that PS2, just in time to really covet a PSP. But I digress. Grand Theft Auto held my attention for a while. I mean really-fucking-held it. Wow. I was obsessed. But pissed off. There is no single player rampage option on GTA: San Andreas! What do these bastards think I am, some loser who wants to share his PS2 time with another loser who wants to share his PS2 time? Nope, not me. I'm a loner, a rebel, just like CJ. Who's CJ? CJ is the name of the idiotic character that I have dressed to the nines in ghetto fabulousness, trying to bang some mechanic bitch who wants me to pack on some flab so she'll like me. Bullshit. I ain't changing for her. I'll go grab some flowers and take the divorced white cop out to the diner. She goes for me. She thinks I'm all that.
But I got bogged down once I got to the Vegas-y city. I'm bored with it. Sorry Rockstar, I guess it's not violent enough. Actually, it's probably the fact that I can chainsaw a FBI agent to pulp and see every bloody detail, but I can't watch the polygonic whores go down on me...er, I mean the character? What is that?
Sorry, sorry. Residual testosterone. Let's talk about real things, like religion. I got a call today at the big book box from some crazy lady asking when we were going to have mugs with photos of Pope Benedict XVI available. I am not kidding. She called a book store, no more than 3 hours after the new pope was elected, under super-secret conditions that you would have had to be James Bond or Batman to hack [even a Jedi couldn't have talked his way in there], to ask if we had mugs that were emblazoned with cheap pixelated imagery celebrating the 237th successor [some might say 265th, but I'm a purist] to St. Peter. That's right, Peter - the guy who walked around in jute-soled sandals with Jesus. The woman then scolded us for not having such icons. Just for the record, the guys who make the above pictured object will not have to alter their mold too far to get the new guy's infallible likeness.**
Why am I, an avowed arch-eupraxophist so concerned with the Holy See? The pomp, of course. A bit of the circumstance. And the gilded lilies. The fatted calf will of course be consumed in private. Is it true that the cardinals each get a small portion of the previous pontiff's brain to eat, so as to absorb his wisdom and strength? Did it taste of keilbasa? No and no? Damn. Then I guess Dan Brown's next novel is complete bunk-encrusted lies. For more commentary on the election of the pope see littlemiss's Tagboard [link to the left].
OK. I'm rambling here. I've been away far too long and my old Banzai persona is emerging. The one who tried to compete with Grandma & Grandpa Leperskin [that goes waaayyy back!] I have a new computer and I'm not afraid to use it! Well -- actually I am -- I thought having the free tech support would be great, but when every word I say to the "help" that isn't a technical word like "java" or "cookie" isn't understood due to the conflicting dialects of the Punjabi region, I get kinda wary even when attempting to load Myst 4. Which I still haven't figured out how to do yet. And it's not for me, honest. It's so my aged father won't just play Free Cell. Honest. But that's far from my mind tonight I get myself psyched for the time-honored passage of man to boy - standing in line for ROTS*** tickets! Yes, yes, I bought some online already, I'm not stupid, but this theater near me that doesn't even take credit cards yet will actually be selling opening day seats starting tomorrow. I can't wait.
Anyway. Love you all. It's good to be back. I'll try to do this more often. It's not that hard.
*Thanks to littlemiss and Sachka for keeping the faith.
**This witty aside was inspired by the all-too-briefly-appearing image of Pope On A Rope soap. That product was originally suggested by St. Guido of Sarducci on SNL a lifetime ago. The current image is just plain cool, and you should all realize that this is merely a giant squid, not the Cthulu-esque collossal squid.
***Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith
Time & Being
So, it's been a while, eh? Yep, sure has been. I know that I have, for the past 2 years had a tradition of Thanksgiving posts of higher quality than the usual pablum that I spew. Well, this year was pretty damn sedate, with nothing of note to report. I had been stalling, hoping to have a spark of creativity, to turn my benign little holiday experience into the bizarre. But to no avail.
The holiday shopping season is upon us, and therefore my time is limited, especially since my dial-up connection and computer are conspiring to make my Internet life miserable. I live so far into the sticks that the only other option open to me is satellite connection, and I really can't make that kind of investment until spring. A computer on the other hand, might be do-able. Or vice versa, it's about the same. But what I really want is... That's bullshit. I'm not going to publish my wish list here. OK, really just a PS2. I want to play GTA: San Andreas and Metal Gear Solid 3: SnakeEater. That is all.
This is a quick post. I'll be more in-depth later. Maybe tomorrow. Our holiday hours mean that I'm not due in until 4pm. Whoopee.
Complete Systemic Crap
I feel awful. I have such a strange and wonderful mixture of symptoms that I can't even classify what this might be. Tightness in the throat and sinus congestion could [and will] be chalked up to allergies, but where do the jittery nerves and nervous tics come from? Stress, I suppose, but today was completely stress-free, unless you count neglecting a rather mundane phone call stress. Do you? Jesus, if you do, you're in worse shape than I. Frankly, I think I'm dying. I'm positive that I am suffering some vague modern malady like Gulf War Syndrome, or Seasonal Affective Disorder. Or some crap like that. Of course it will be impossible for me to keep a doctor's visit this week, so will I even try to make one? No, clearly not.
FUCK! Stop it will you! Sorry, I had to scream at the tic in my left lower eyelid to cease and desist. I feel like I've been popping ephedrine all day. I swear I haven't. I hate that shit. I imagine cocaine being like ephedrine on crack, and how awful that would be. Then I imagine crack like ephedrine on crack on crack. And I can't even realize that image in my mind. If I was ever to start using substances, I think I'd be a barbituate kinda guy. Not that I'm really aware of the clinical names of any. Here, I'll Google some. Ooo...Nembutal, Seconal, Phenobarbitol! OK, I just learned that barbituates are only one family in the greater spectrum of downers. Also included are the tranquilizers: Quaaludes, Halcion, Thorazine; and the Benzodiazepines: Valium, Xanax and Ativan. Filling out the family are the lighter touches of meprobanate [Miltown, Equanil] and sedating antihistamines [Vistaril, Atarax -- Benadryl?!]. See, I am so fucking naive. I should just have said heroin and had done with it.
Actually, I could really use a Benadryl right now. With a Sudafed chaser just to stay icy. Great, I am a fucking junkie. Anyway, I could really stand to relax right now. I just feel...wierd. Seriously. And with the time-honored surreal experience that is my family's Thanksgiving coming up, I don't need to feel more wierd.
So, how 'bout those Indiana Pacers, huh? If I may, just a brief sports-related commentary... Spoiled babies. There. No, seriously, that was some repulsive videotape. I woke up Saturday to that, and it put my day in perspective. Humanity sucks. First you've got your hero-worship bullshit. Then you've got the "I'm a fan of the team, so I'm on the team." mentality, then the absolute gall to toss a beer at a player, then the sociopathic response from a multi-millionaire playing a child's game, then the got your back mentality of his teammates, etc. The worst thing however, was the complete lack of a security presence at the Palace at Auburn Hills. Where was the event staff, the ushers, the fucking spirit team?! This was awful. This kind of adreneline/testosterone fueled behavior is exactly why intelligent people have to enjoy American sports in the closet. So here's what the NBA needs to do. Cover 2-3 rows of seats immediately abutting the court with some taut, but not weight-bearing material thus eliminating a sturdy jumping-off point for incensed players. Stop alcohol sales at the end of the 3rd quarter or maybe halftime. Impose manditory minimum suspensions without pay for all players involved in physical altercations. If I was doling out suspensions here's what I would have given:
Ron Artest - Remainder of season or 84 games, whichever comes first. Plus indictment on assault charges.
Stephen Johnson - Ditto.
Jermaine O'Neal - 42 games plus indictment.
Anthony Johnson - nothing, the guy was really trying to break it up.
The rest of the supensions are for game misconduct, those are fine. Here's the rub, those players should not only be suspended without pay, but be prohibted from earning any monies in that time for basketball-related endorsements. That might be tough to do legally, but it's worth a shot. Frankly, if I see a single commercial featuring O'Neal during his suspension, that's a slap in the NBA's face. Are you listening post-Phil Knight Nike?
Here's what should happen to the fans involved. They should be charged with terrorism. No, sorry, that's the remnants of John Ashcroft possessing me momentarily. More on that later. They should be charged with assault, everyone from the pasty geek who Artest initially went after, to the guys who threw rabbit punches to Artest and Johnson, they weren't being attacked! But the idiots who went on the court and got what they deserved for doing so should be charged with trespass, assault, endangerment, stalking, whatever! Throw the book at 'em. Then ban them from NBA events permanently. Enough. Apparently there was a brawl after the S. Carolina/Clemson NCAA football game that Clemson's coach blames on the Pistons/Pacers incident. That's funny.
On the wholesale changes to the Bush43 Cabinet: While Ashcroft is certainly the most satisfying, Ex-Commerce Sect. Don Evans was really creepy in a 50's B-movie evil svengali kinda way, so it's good that he's outta there. Everytime I see Condaleezza Rice's name, I laugh at her parents.
On the death of Yasser Arafat: I guess he couldn't get a flu shot either. No, seriously [and I don't suppose that a million other blogs have made that joke before me], he was a flashpoint, nothing more. As a symbolic leader, he sucked. As a real leader, he sucked. Perhaps the Palestinians will have a less devisive [and more photogenic] personality in charge now. Perhaps a semi-independent Palestine will be realized on the West Bank. Perhaps all those trees that were planted in Israel in my name when I was a kid will now be Palestinian, and bear bitter, bitter fruit. Really, I'm torn over this. Being of Jewish stock, I empathize with the struggle to maintain a Jewish state, but being a person of conscience, I have a hard time with the tactics being used on the Palestinians. Their anger toward Israelis must be frightening, but must they be reviled as they are? Of course, I'm like 10,000 miles away and completely disconnected, so my opinion counts for bubkus. Shalom.
That's it for now. Enjoy, o' grand and wonderful 7 daily page visitors. I'm going to go tape down my left eyelid and try to get some sleep.
Finally! A Movie!
YES! I have finally been able to see a film in a theater for the first time in 2 months! Sadly, not since Alien Vs. Predator have I experienced the thrill of the house lights dimming. Unless you count that time at Denny's when I passed out. Boy, I tell you what, did the house lights dim right then! Anyway, I went to see The Incredibles. Not only for the movie itself, which has been getting rave reviews, but for the Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge Of The Sith trailer in front of it. And here's my report.
If the movie had sucked, I would have sat in my seat for the entire-fucking-thing just because Lucasfilm attached the trailer to it. That's how cool the trailer was. It starts with the scene from A New Hope, which has Alec Guiness as Obi-Wan lying to Luke about his father's fate. Intercut with this are brief glimpses from epIII. Then, the real ass-kicking begins. The Emperor's voiceover begins it. "Lord Vader," he speaks.
Darth Vader's glistening newly-minted armor rises into frame. James Earl Jones' voice fills the theater as Vader responds. "Yes, my Master."
Vader's armor rises into view, giving us a complete head and torso shot. The wrists of his gauntlets are shackled to a table of the sort found only in Dr. Frankenstein's lab. More images from the new episode blink on. There is a mammoth ship being destroyed, blasts of lava, Yoda preparing to unsheath his lightsaber. In the shadow of a black cowl, Anakin's evil yellow eyes peer out, fully immersed in the Dark Side. The Emperor's voiceover concludes with one word. "Rise."
I was blown back in my seat. I didn't breathe. This was great trailer editing. The editor is a genius.
Did you know that there are 2 or 3 guys out in Hollywood who command million-dollar contracts merely to cobble together trailers? Yep.
Then I endured several trailers for other animated films. Robots looks good. Cars, not so much. Chicken Little, OK. Winnie-the-Pooh's Heffalump Adventure? Geez. There was a short before the film called Bounding. Some clever phrase work and a cheap laugh or two, nothing special.
10 years ago, Brad Bird left the Simpsons to develop some projects at major studios. The only one that got made was The Iron Giant. Which tanked because the studio didn't put any muscle behind it. It was a great movie. Full of ethical quandries and great cel and computer animation. It was 5 years before he got another chance. Pixar [a former Lucasfilm company] gave him a budget to make The Incredibles. And did he disappoint? Not one bit. What a great film! Very funny, very clever, very human and very superhuman. Great characters, great settings, great animation! Great story.
Great! Go see it. That is all.
I Can't Believe It's Not Cheesecake!
OK, the title has nothing to with the topic[s]. So listen up. First of all, I spent a wonderful afternoon and evening yesterday accompanied by my good friends leaf mold, cat hair and drywall dust. This morning I woke up with a cement block for a head. There was also doggy poop, but I won't go into that.
Like the rest of America, I have been watching Desperate Housewives. TiVo'ed, of course. I haven't yet had a chance to discuss it around a water cooler, as the water cooler in the big book box is stuck in a corner, and very hard to stand around to discuss anything. But if there was a television show best designed to be talked about near a water cooler, it's this one. It is very funny. There, that's that, discussion over. More to the point, the set is what fascinates me. If I'm not revealing too much here, the show is shot on the same backlot street that one of my favorite movies was filmed on. The 'Burbs took place on the same pastoral cul-de-sac on the Universal backlot. Probably a million other things as well, but I think that the directors of the show are actually using the same shots that Joe Dante used when following the zany antics of Ray, Art, Rumsfeld and Corey Feldman. Speaking of Bruce Dern's character, he was a rabid Vietnam vet with a penchant for Soldier of Fortune and all things martial/camoflage. "Rumsfeld"? Sound familiar? Anyway, it's a good show.
There, my first reference today to the newly validated administration. Oh! I'd like to apologize to Michael Moore, who I accused of being silent in the face of abject failure. Since I wrote that post, I have received no less than a missive a day from Mr. Moore. One was a curious "Top 17" list of reasons not to slit your wrists, then the next one was a roll call of the US servicemen and women who have died in Iraq [I think that one was more to sell books than anything else]. Now, he's back on track with enthusiastic, "good job, people" type inspirationals. Here we go again...
But, speaking of election-type things, did anyone hear all the coverage of the "values voters"? Sure you did. May I say to those who vote their conscience, you selfish prigs, that you are the reason humanity is bogged down in this current stage of evolution! I'm not gonna Google it right now, so I don't know if there's a more profound source than Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, but Spock's valiant assertion that "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one." Should be posted above each polling place in America. The country needs your vote, not you, not your family, the nation! And I think that the burden of the national conscience is the one that I definitely carry. When I vote, I certainly vote in line with my beliefs, but I do so with the best interests of the nation in mind, not my wallet, not my safety. That's what local elections are for. The President really doesn't affect those issues. It's a smoke screen. The candidates would like you to think that they can, but they can't. Not in any kind of profound way. And don't start talking to me about the military response to 9/11 being part of my safety. Bullshit! My safety is what the Executive Branch can do to revamp intelligence and federal law-enforcement to bolster local police. Has the Bush administration taken any of the 9/11 Commissions recommendations to heart? Have they made any changes? Even the Dept. of Homeland Security [which still sounds odd, and faintly Nazi-ish] wasn't done correctly! And tax breaks didn't make me any more well-off, they just allowed me to pay down my debt by that famous $300.
Oh, one more politic-related question, and this comes 2nd hand, but I can't remember from where. If liberals are engaged in a vast conspiracy, why are they all so poor? Barbara Streisand can't finance that much of the country, can she?
Anyway, this post was a bit disjointed. I'm feeling out fo sorts because there was no episode of the Venture Bros. this Saturday night! Cartoon Network renew the Ventures NOW! Don't make me start an online petition. I'm e-mailing Adult Swim tomorrow, as this post has sucked away all the time I have today.
Where's The Nearest Blue State?
The reason that I wasn't blogging during and all day yesterday isn't that I'm content [and a big FUCK YOU to anyone who even thought that], it's not that I'm resigned [which I rapidly am becoming], it's not that I'm even tired. It's that I'm doing my part to "heal" the country.
Yeah. Like maggots are used to heal a wound, I'm trying to heal the country.
I turned the TV off once my moment of Zen had ended, and I switched back to ABC only to hear Peter Jennings exclaim, "And we'll be breaking away to your local stations for more election coverage". Then, my local news led with the newly elected Marion Barry interview. Yep, DC has seen to readmit the corrupt crackhead back into city politics as a city councilmember. But they did vote for Kerry 91% to 9% for Bush. So that's something, I guess. I gave CNN a try, but Jeff Greenfield was telling, "Anybody who tunes out in the next 30 minutes is really going to miss something!" Bullshit. Nothing happened for 12 hours!
Here are some actual quotes that I have overheard from our fine Virginia voters [55% red, 45% blue] over the last 24 hours since Kerry conceded:
"I would have voted for Kerry, except that he wasn't going to do anything against the gays."
"Bush is a complete dick, and lies like hell, but he's going to fight the terrorists more effectively."
"Mr. Bush is a fine man, and I'm glad that Jesus is still in the White House!"
He is? Damn, that's news!
Here's Michael Moore's response to the election. ... Nothing. Over the past 4 months, I have received dozens of missives and entreaties from Mike going on against Bush in one way or another, but now that we [he and I, of course] have lost, not a word. That seems to be the mood. Shocked silence. Sen. Charles Schumer on the Daily last night was resigned and conciliatory. He had no idea what was wrong with his party that not only couldn't they get their man elected, but lost 4 seats in the Senate including the long-incumbent Minority Leader! Ridiculous.
I woke up with other things on my mind. I did not run to the TV, I had to shower, shit and shave for work. The CEO was coming in after all. Boy did the Big Book Box look fantastic. The entire staff did so great in prepping. I've never seen the place more thoroughly presented. On the way to the store, I tried to listen to the radio, but the only thing our all-news station was saying was that some dickhead low-level Bushite had declared victory at like, 5 in the morning! Then there was something about a Metro accident and Marion Barry again. Who the fuck cares about Marion Barry!
So, I got the news that Kerry had conceded from a delivery driver at about 1pm. "At last." I believe I said. "At least the lawyers aren't going to be getting involved." As you can see, my rage is pretty subdued.
In the end, while I am disappointed in America for again buying the GOP fake issues above the real ones, I am actually relieved. It's over. Nearly 2 years and it's over. Now, we can go back to the business of ridicule and nervous laughter. I, for one, am wondering how much more material I can get from this guy and his cronies. I'm not exactly a comic genius, and any comic who keeps doing the same schtick for more than 4 years is only going to go the way of Jeff Foxworthy. Yeah, yeah, Bush is a fascist, Bush is a dictator, "President for life", Darth Cheney, Halliburton, etc. Pretty soon, it's not going to be funny. Actually, pretty soon is now. It's not funny. 4 more years is now, people. 4 more years. Sigh. Well, as one particularly well-prioritized emailer to my DC newsradio [WTOP] wrote "This proves that James Thrash illegal motion penalty was bogus!" That's a football joke. See, the Redskins... Aww, who cares.
Kerry's concession speech was heartbreaking. That big lug sure can get to a guy. Bush's victory speech was nearly presidential. Aside from the giant 'W's everywhere.
I'm disappointed that the Kerry daughters are going to be out of the limelight now, I'll miss their long, patrician legs and tales of reanimated hamsters. Here's to the 2 of them becoming media darlings! I won't miss Teresa though. Never really liked her. Here's to John Edwards, that adorable Southern albatross. Get back into Congress, fool! Why couldn't you have ran concurrent campaigns like Lieberman did, huh?
Well, my thanks to Ohio for making it a tight race. Many props to little miss and friends for their contributions in getting out the buccaneer vote. To those true believers who campaigned/voted for Nader [note the correct spelling, Cap'n] good for you, but bad for the country. Imagine if your work had gone into a cause that would have done some good. Like the Libertarians.
I'll leave it at this for now, and just remember, CLINTON/CLINTON in 2008! Yeah.
It's In the Bag! No, Wait, That's a Snickers Bar.
OK. First, the Red Sox won. Fantastic! Congratulations to the generations of Bostonians and their descendents across the globe who have suffered and died with the BoSox only to miserably realize that "There's always next year." is the mantra of the damned.
Second, the Redskins lost. Big surprise. Joe "Christ on a Raquetball Court" Gibbs has got 'em going in the [mostly] right direction, but they need to bolster some offensive talent before they go to the playoffs. Mark Brunell is one washed-up QB.
So, that means that we're 2/3 of the way to a statistical Kerry victory. Only 36 hours from now we will have the results of the pre-recount election. I heard last night of some old biddy here in my town that has a 100% track record in predicting presidential elections. Apparently, she sells candy. And has accurately out-predicted the pollsters by measuring the quantity of the bubble-gum cigars she sells with each candidate's name appearing on the band. Great. Is that like predicting the weather with bear fat or what? I'm not even going to look up the veracity of this claim, not even the results, because like everything else in this burg, it would only be disappointing.
Anyway, this election is a toss-up. Every vote counts and all that. My Tuesday was going to be solely dedicated to voting and visiting voodoo priestesses to hex Bush43. Those plans are now on hold for the next election, as I must go into the big book box to prep for a majesterial visit from none other than our illustrious CEO. I suppose it is an honor, but c'mon! An honor that we have to put in overtime to enjoy isn't really an honor, is it? And in the state of flux that our store is in right now, this is going to be a loooong couple of days wait. All that, and my cold is still hanging on.
I hope that all of you had happy and delicious Hallowe'ens. That you both tricked and treated, and that you were aware, even briefly of all the poor Pagans that had to die way back during the Roman conquest of Britannia for you to dress up like idiots and drink. Thank you.
this site is copyright © 2002 no one [except where acknowledged] at least ¼ of this page's content isn't original, and all the images are taken from wonderfully ignorant sources who haven't sued...yet.
Banzai!'s Blog Of Fantastic Terror!
Silliness is the last refuge of the doomed. - Berkeley Breathed, Bloom County
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.-the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America
jeremiad (n) origin: French, Late Latin : a prolonged lamentation or complaint; also : a cautionary or angry harangue
TEAM VENTURE QUOTE OF THE WEEK:
"What am I, hearing things?! Am I all alone out here?!
"Didn't you just feel the the wind of freedom whipping through your sweater vest? Can't you hear the wind callin', 'Little Miss, Little Miss Can't Be Wrong?
"We are the future!
You're still thinkin' like the old Dean!"