This will be my first update from a PC other than the hive brain. I'm saying I'm not home. That, and my whole world ended the moment you left me. But I digress, I've been drinking, and I tend to quote songs while I'm writing once I've got over 10 shots in me. Ok, since nobody reads this, and it's more of a catalog of events in my life. I'm still writing comedy, right? I'm funny, I mean, I try. I try so fucking hard. And you never laugh. You brainless fucktards, Sweet god. You wouldn't know a joke if it crawled up your ass and planted little joke eggs in your large intestine. Whew, I'm rambling.

So, I haven't been updating because I've been getting action. Hence the lack of mysoginistic posts lately. I've also noticed that my comedy is much nicer lately, since Jenna has taken what one might call a "back" seat in my life. Whew.

Nate's out.

So it's been a while. Hopefully we didn't lose a reader (that being 3000% of our circulation). I've been busy. I'm taking classes this summer. So far every one of them is over except for American Liturature and Culture 2. Oh it's fun. Well, not really. It does, however, have a girl in it. She's about 5'6" with brown hair and brown eyes. She wears too much fucking makeup, but at least that insinuates good grooming techniques, something I've never experienced in a girlfriend. She hottest thing about her, besides the titties of course, is that she seems to dig me. For me, that's always the sexiest thing a girl can do. When you like me, well, it makes you all that much cuter. I'm not going to outline exactly how she and I are progressing from classmates to wherever we'll end up. Those of you that have read more than 5 words will remember the girl from my film study class, and her being married. This girl has a ring on that same finger. I'm thinking it either matters much less, or it's just a ring on a finger. Not a symbol of everlasting love in the eyes of God-Almighty. Heh, I think I enjoy the first possibility the most. I've never fucked a married chick. Boy, was that vulgar.

What can I say? I'm a disgusting person. Moving right along.

Long, long ago, in a neighborhood far, far away I registered for a comedy contest. It's called "The Funniest Person in Minneapolis" contest. The preliminary round was Tuesday, the 15th of July. And I fucking won. Don't get too excited, it only means that I go on to the Semi-Finals....but. I FUCKING WON. Good sweet mother of God. Lots of religion in this post...anyway.

Something funny, and not like 'ha ha' but like 'hrm' : I used to do this open mic night at the Dinkytown Steaknife. It's a shitty fucking restaurant near the Univeristy of Minnesota campus. The sound system sucks, the stage sucks, the lighting sucks, and the performers... well, they suck. There's this black guy there, and I say 'this black guy' because there is only one. His blackness is not actually his most identifying feature though. He's first and foremost a pothead. He doesn't get on stage without announcing it, and talking about it in any one of the 12 most juvenile ways one can do so. He is also an ignorant prick. There, I said it. Everybody but me loves him. And I tried. I tried so fucking hard. It didn't work. Every time I see the guy, I want to rip off his passive aggressive bullshit disguise of a face and shit on his braincase. Anyway, I'm rambling. Shortening this story. This guy makes fun of me. The Dinkytown Steaknife doesn't listen to my comedy, and moreover, doesn't like it. I went to Acme Comedy Club and brought down the fucking house.

Shortening again: Fuck you drunk bastards and your complete inability to recognize a good joke if it was wrapped around your dicks. Fuck you, and everything you stand for. Get a new cell phone service plan that defines you as a person. I'm out.

Holy shit! Look who it is... it's ME!

So lets see.....Been nearly 2 months since I've posted... And you know what? You guys didn't miss a damn thing in my life. Well, I guess some shit went down, but nothing super important. So the whole "Spending less time on the computer thing" has kind of worked. Basicly instead of staying on the computer so much, I sleep. God I hate sleeping. Well.... no, that's not true. I hate going to sleep and I hate waking up. Sleeping is just fine though. This has been a pretty crazy, sleepless week. I've only slept threeof the past five nights and two of those that I did sleep were very poor sleep.
It all started when I didn't want to sleep one night because I was trying to fix my schedual... I can't really remember what the days were that I didn't sleep, so I'm not going to tell the story... (I did start telling it, but deleted it because I don't have a clue on what I was talking about) this week has been one LONG day. Didn't go to work Thursday, slept for like 18 hours, stayed up all that night and went to work Friday on no sleep. Basicly took too much euphedrin (energy pills) and couldn't sleep for shit Friday night. Got like 4 hours of sleep and I had to come in to work at 10 yesterday and work a 12 hour shift. Last night my legs were so sore from clenching them while I was on the euphedrin I couldn't sleep very well, so yeah... I'm tired.

Last week on the other hand... was a good week... although it left me with a nice little paradox to figure out. By the way, when I say last week, I mean last weekend. So I'm working late for a friend... Saturday. He brings about an ounce of Magic Mushrooms to work. Short story shorter, we had fun at work. Now that is where this paradox comes in (paradox on mushrooms... suprise suprise!)

So for the past year and a half, I have been staying sober... more or less. I havn't been smoking pot and I havn't been drinking and I've done a few other things (pills mainly) about 5-6 times, give or take. Now I'm staying sober because I'm a fucking drug addict. In past experiences I have not been able to control my drug use to a reasonable manner and I don't want to go back to that. But, like I said, I've only used a few times in the past year and a half... and I consider that reasonable (except for the one time that I did smoke pot and went off on that for a few months... but that doesn't count, I don't want to use marijuana anymore). So my treatment and AA teaches that we, as drug addicts, are powerless over our addiction. Meaning, that if I start to use psychedelics on a rare occasion, it will eventually lead back to full-blown, out-of-control drug use. Now, being the stubborn, pseudo-intellectual that I claim to be, this is hard to believe. What I want to believe is that I am an exception to the rules, the rules of addiction. I have seen, time and time again, people who believe that and go out to try it and fail. But still, I think I can do it... So the question is, do I try it? I think I will have to. If it doesn't work, and I go back out to the game, maybe I will finally be convinced (if I make it back that is). If it does work, well, then it works. And I prove I am an exception to the rule. God, I'm such a drug addict. But either way, I'm going to get fucked up when Nate comes and visits. Because he will be very pissed off if I don't. Doing psychedelics is such a good bonding experience. I guess... Anywho...

All efforts to quit being an obsessive-stalker-harrasser-type-guy have proved... successful. That's one of those things you look back on and say "What the Fuck? That was Me?" Or something like that.

Soon, within two weeks, I should be starting the night shift! Yay! I'll be working Friday, Saturday, and Sunday from 9pm-7am. I'll probably be working a week day too... but my schedual is going to be worse than it is right now... so I don't know, maybe I can come in around noon. Also signed up for an online class in PC Troubleshooting so I will have something to do at night and I won't have to pay rent.
Speaking of rent, if you know anybody trustworthy in the Dallas area, tell me! I think I need to move out... maybe... Actually, what I want is to move in with Nate or Jon... I think (maybe(BIG MAYBE)) that me and Jon may get an apartment. But that means he has to get a steady job and stuff... so yeah, big maybe. I'll hope, but I sure won't expect.

Hmmm... I got a new tattoo since last post... it's a baphomet pentagram. Maybe I'll get a picture up of it, its super evil.

Anyways, guys, hit up the tagboard. We're lonely.

Out.

So, I've accumulated more information than I had at my last post. I guess that's a little like saying "This is a picture of me when I was younger." It's invariably true. Unless of course, you're either involved in some kind of time paradox thing, or have some sort of brain damage. They're both pretty similar. Time travel, you go through time, meet interesting and exotic people, and do stuff. You get brain damage, you meet interesting and exotic people, perhaps drool on them. You drink heavily, meet interesting and exotic people, perhaps urinate on them, and don't remember any of it. Well, I thought they were related, now that I flesh out the idea in words, it makes less sense.

Oh, and I would like to apologize for insinuating that anyone who doesn't know what auteur theory is is an imbecile. That was not what I intended. I was angry at people who are using the theory as a basis for their evaluation of literature, while I suspect that none of them know what it is. Plus, these people were being dumb. Don't do that... I HATE that. I HATE IT.

Anyway. I found out that the comedy contest is on the 15th of July. Tuesday night. My actual time will be determined randomly on the night in question. I get three minutes. THREE! Everyone gets three minutes. I was worried I'd have to fill like 20 minutes. Oh well, this may help me edit, a thing I am obviously loathe to do. At least, when you consider my longwindedness when expressing menial concepts. So for my act, I'm thinking about the bleu cheese bit and the homeland security bit. I like those alot. If I cut one or both down a little, I might be able to squeeze in a third.

I will post the bleu cheese bit here, for those of you that don't know it.

So when you’re hungry late, you've got Perkins and Denny’s (which is everywhere). Where I'm from there's IHOP and Waffle House. But whatever, the locations of these places in relation to the Mason-Dixon line is another bit entirely. They’re all the same if you get there like 20 minutes before a shift change at around 4 am. There’s one cook, one server, they’re all tired, and don’t give a shit. I could just not order bleu cheese dressing. Because I know that none of these places have it. But I DIDN'T know until I ordered it a few times, and got ranch. Is it just the same word to these people? Or do they think I don't know the difference? I wanna see veins in the dressing so thick I think it's a penis. Don't just throw some creamy white shit on my lettuce and tell me it's bleu cheese, you lying waiting table no tip getting motherfucker. If I don't put my foot down now, where will it end? If you think I can't taste the difference between ranch and bleu cheese, it's not a very far step from just masturbating into my salad, and that will not stand. I ordered the shit, you told me you had it, and all of a sudden I feel like I'm herding cattle in a hidden valley.

This is one of the few bits that I have down really well. As a result, it actually looses something in the text version. Most of my jokes are written to be read (it's a complex problem I'm working on), this one is meant to be heard. The homeland security bit goes a little something like this:

Do you guys laugh during press conferences about homeland security? This is the funniest shit that’s been on TV for at least 5 years. It’s mind boggling. Everyone’s so concerned about Terrorism that they don’t give a shit about anything else. And since there isn’t any tangible threat, they start making things up pretty quickly. People asking questions like: “Mister secretary, can you please explain to us the nation’s plan of action if Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior were to rise again in all his glory next week? Would we be able to step down our alert level from orange?” We’re at yellow now, in case you guys don’t know. I’m sure you feel more secure with that knowledge. What is up with that little warning system anyway? Green, blue, yellow, orange, red? Does it strike anyone else as odd that green is safer than blue? How, exactly does that work? Green is yellow and blue combined, DAMMIT. The whole color scheme is fucked. Bush sympathizers are always searching for evidence of what our president actually does in his office, and I think we’ve finally found some. They let him arrange the colors. Only with George W. Bush could an arbitrary color-coded danger system get fucked up. And NOBODY knows what the conditions mean either, let alone when it should change. They mean nothing, I think they have 7 interior decorators hidden in a secret bunker 40 miles beneath the surface of the moon, and their job is to decide what our state of alert is here. “What do you guys think? Is today an orange day? Gerome? Is orange okay? I’m feeling kind of orange.”

The end of that bit is in a gay voice. Anyway, it's late, and I should retire.

So today, I was in my fiction class. Whew, the people in this class. I mean, sure, reading fiction is arbitrary. People are going to take different things away from it. That's no excuse to see something in the text that simply isn't there. You fucking morons. Read the fucking words, they tell you what the story means. I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing these bullshit interpretations of fiction (usually based on auteur theory, regardless if the imbecile knows what that is or not) of genuinely good stories.

"Well, I see a bit of homosexuality on the part of the hero." Bullshit, there is none. You're gay.

"I think there's some good in the grandmother character." She drowns her dog, slaps her granddaughter, and has a reverie about loathing her daughter. Yeah, sounds like an amiable person.

"The author of this story obviously had issues about his mother." No shit. Who doesn't. You writing your own material, or is a team of chimps working around the clock on it. Assessing an author's psychological makeup based on one of their works is absolutely retarded. You are absolutely retarded, and I hate you for it.

"I have nothing to say, but I'm going to talk in circles for at least 45 seconds too long." That's not a direct quote, I'm paraphrasing. Just stop.

"I"m a feminist and see females being hated in anything I experience." Again, I'm paraphrasing. Become a dyke and hang out with dykes, don't trouble the rest of the world with your bullshit.

"I'm a film major and obsessed with the meta-reality inherent in any media, because I just heard the word 'meta' in one of my film studies classes." Maybe it's just me, but I think I abandoned any semblence of quoting people, I'm just describing them now. I went through this phase too, don't worry, the novelty will wear off. Meta-meta-meta-shit isn't nearly as witty when you're not constantly high. (For those of you that are high though, Meta-meta-meta-shit would be shit that has been eaten by someone, shit out, then eaten by a catfish, then shit out, then eaten by a fungus and shit out.) Stop smoking so much fucking pot. Your judgement is skewed so far that you don't even know where you are, let alone where you're going (in a metaphorical or literal sense). Guess I'm ranting now. My fucking fiction teacher is from California. I HATE PEOPLE FROM CALIFORNIA. I tried to give them a chance. Each one I meet, I say to myself, "Maybe this one won't be retarded." Pretentious, ignorant, pompous shitlickers. It's like, since they're from the same state as Hollywood, some of the pompous air that Film generates gets absorbed by their baby lungs, and goes straight to their fucking brain. I mean, actors are pretentious. C'mon, they are. Nobody that gets paid to play pretend (even if they do it REALLY well) could be anything but an absolute asshole. Even people that don't act and are from California seem infused with this attitude though. It pisses me off.

Alright. Hit up the tagboard if you believe there are multiple matricies in the Matrix universe. That's my running theory. Out.

So I began this blog as a kind of way for me to vent my rants that don't fit in anywhere else. Naturally, it's hard to keep up that kind of intensity. In addition, my severe loathing of the human race as somewhat lessened. Whoa, hold up there slick, I'm not through yet. I still hate everything, I just don't feel the need to talk about it quite as much as I did a few months ago. I'm also much busier than I was when I started this thing up. At that time, I was dropped out of school, had no job, and had recently quit doing drugs. I was bored. I needed to do... something. This was it. Since then, things have changed, and so has the blog. We update less, say less, but that's generally because there's less to keep you up to date on, and we have a bit less to say. The blog has become more of my personal thoughts before I go to bed every night. This is honestly not what I intended, I wanted something far grander for this weblog, something much more grandoise. Well, I was still suffering from a bad case of amphetamine psychosis at the time, give me a fucking break. Soon, I hope to transform this meager pittance to my withering excuse for an intellect into a tribute to my ideology. Not today though.

Needless to say, I've picked up some of my old habits. I'm not exactly doing drugs. Much. I'm in school again. I'm really, really hoping I passed my Film Studies class. If I didn't, I'm really going to have to kiss some ass to stay in school. Oh well. Getting out of trouble is probably one of the few things I have a natural talent for. I don't know exactly where I was going with this. Good night, America.

C'mon kids, gather 'round. There's a new sensation hittin' town. It's moving slow, low to the ground. It'll pick you up when you're feelin' down.

Alright, I've actually got some funny things to relate to you.

First, remember that girl I was talking about in my Film studies class? The one that reminds me of Donna from "That 70's Show"? Yeah, I asked her out, and she's married. That's right, married. The conversation went a little something like this.

We're talking about the class, and I felt that since I embarass myself infront of lots of people every week, why not do it before Friday night.
So I said, "Do you date immature men?" A Seinfeld line that I must admit I'm partial to.
Then she said, "I'm married."
Me, "What?"
She holds up her hand and I stifle a fit of giggles that overtake me most of the way walking home. Fucking married, no shit. Well, I thought it was funny.

Then on Friday, before I do my standup act, I'm sitting outside the place, doing some writing. Out of nowhere, this drunk dude, sits down at my table. He tried to sit with the chick a few tables down, but she kindly rebuked him. So anyway, he tells me that he's been at the U of M since 1986. He's getting his Masters in Mass Communication. For the record, I don't believe it, but it could be true. Anyway, he asks me what my major is, which is where things get interesting.

Me: English.
He notices that I'm writing stuff.
Him: Are those poems?
Me: No, I fancy myself a stand up comic.
Him: Lay it on me, make me laugh brother.
Me: Um, I'm not really a funny person.

Anyway, so I tell him some of the bits that I've been writing in my little notebook thing. He thought a couple of them were funny. Then he stops this crowd of people walking down the sidewalk. Maybe some of you know what is about to unfold. He tells them that I'm a standup comic, and they should give me 5 minutes of their time. Meanwhile, I'm saying, "Um, don't let us sitting at the same table decieve you, I don't know this guy. Keep walking, don't make me do this." He won't let them leave. Nor will he let me use my material (I didn't have any of it memorized, was in class all week, it was a pain in the ass.) Whew, that was funny.

That's about all I've got, I'm gonna go to sleep or something now.

A Nate Update. That rhymes.

Anyway.

I started classes last week. It's only a 3 week term, so it's actually quite intensive, hence the lack of posts by me. I met a cute girl in the class though (it takes something like this for me to attend the class). She reminds me a lot of Donna from 'That 70's Show' actually. It's mostly her voice (which is super duper sexy) and her complexion, although the hair color has a slight reddish tinge. She's a big girl. Not like, fat, but she's probably about 5'10" or so. Maybe 5'9". Needless to say, it took me a week to get the courage up to even start annoying her. I started that a few days ago, and I've been doing it regularly after class. Tomorrow I'm going to invite her to my act on Friday. I doubt she'll show. Oh, and I should probably ask her name. I don't really know if we have anything in common, but she is dead sexy, and that's enough for me.

So I've been doing comedy pretty religiously. I'm working on an actual act now. I'll be able to fill 20 minutes with solid material, but I'm not sure about anything beyond that. Now that I'm getting a little more serious about it, I'm going to start making tapes. I'm actually slightly on schedule with the plan on how I wanted to be progressing with my comedy, which is heartening to realize. I feel like I'm moving slowly, but I had planned to start making tapes in june and july. This should help me develop my jokes. Let's face it, I need to be lots better than I am now before I move to New York.

Sean and I are still developing Ideas for the sketch comedy we're going to be putting together once we locate resources for said sketches. Mainly a camera and some intelligence. It's gonna be good. I've got several very solid sketch ideas, which I will NOT divulge here. You fucking parasites.

So that's what I've been doing. Well, that and getting quite drunk on a regular basis. What? Fucking commies.

A-Hoy matey! More work for Jed. I really wish I didn't have to wake up this damn early to come in. I mean, if I could get here by 10, everything would be much better. Much better. Something about the morning that just doesn't work for me. Even when I'm on schedual, I'm tired as hell when I wake up in the morning. It's a different kind of tired too. I can't really describe it. Just a compeletely out of it sort of tired as opposed to just a regular sleepy tired. So yeah, I havn't been posting because I don't have much going on. I'm trying to spend less time on my computer because supposedly it's abnormal to spen 12 hours / day on the computer. I dissagree. It's perfectly normal for me. Oh well, I'm trying to hang out with people more. God I hate people. Quite the dilemma.

Took Spike to the vet yesterday, she's getting shots and declawed and spayed. Poor cat. I wouldn't do that to her if I didn't have to to have her come with us to the new house... Oh, I didn't tell you I'm moving? Well, I am. It's only about 2.3 miles away from the current house. And its FUCKING HUGE. Too big if you ask me... I think I'll get lost. Guess that's what happens when mom gets together with a rich motherfucker. Probably end up moving in August, a while away, but we were supposed to move first in April... then early May, then late May... Now August. I'm ready to move now and get it over with but the house isn't completely finished, still some sound system and A/C stuff that needs to be tweaked. I won't go into detail on the 8 foot projector screen or the juke box type thing that you can listen to from any room in the house. Like I said... Too big.

Well, the seroquel has been working, getting to sleep on time and stuff.... It's kind of nice. Kind of. Let's me get in more reading time, which I need. Anyways, that's all I have to ramble about today. Maybe some other time. Peace

Well, things have indeed become interesting... sort of... well, not "interesting" as in entertaining, more as in weird or different. Doc put me on Seroquel to put me to sleep. The thing is, seroquel is not a sleeping medication, its a potent antipsychotic with drowsiness being its main side effect. The shitty thing is, is that it only lasts like 2-5 hours and I wake up immediately when it wears off. So I've been taking it at about 8pm so I will get tired around 9-10. I fall asleep, sleep for like 4 hours and then wake up somewhere between 1-3 in the morning. After that I feel kind of refreshed so I have to go watch some TV until I get tired again, and then maybe have time for 4 more hours of sleep if I'm lucky. The first night, the seroquel didn't even work and I only slept for an hour before I woke up again. Man, I'm shaking like a dry alcoholic. Hard to type. I wonder if it's the seroquel or just the lack of sleep and the caffiene. Oh well, I can get used to it, in fact, I kind of like it.
Last night I had a dream that I had a dream that I woke up at like noon, late for work. It was so vivid! When I woke up from that dream to wake up from that dream to wake up to my alarm I was so confused. Everything seemed like deja vu. I don't know. Slowly spinning 'round the spiral of insanity, I just don't know if I'm going up or down... or if it even matters.

My sleep's getting worse... only got like 1 hour last night (this morning). Completely unacceptable. Got another script from the doc and he took me off the Risperdol. Wow. looks like I havn't been posting lately. Not like I have anything better to do... Shit sucks. I ended up taking like 14 vicodin last week in a vain attempt to get fucked up. Boy, did I. Glad I didn't die. Wasn't a suicide attempt or anything... I can just be very stupid and irrational sometimes. Sometimes seems to be more and more often. Ever since I took all that shit though my depression has come back like a fatal crack in the dam. It's not that bad... but if I let that crack get wider, the dam will break. Then I'll be fucked. On a lighter note, I finally broke down and ordered some Girls Gone Wild videos to add to my pr0n collection. It has come to my attention that I need to listen to more Tool. Deffinently been slacking on the Tool... maybe that's why I feel like shit... must be.

I've finally decided that I don't care about how much money I make. I no longer want to be an extradition lawyer in Columbia, doing copious amounts of cocaine with my crimelord clients while discussing how to keep the US government off their back. I've decided that I don't really care about choosing the 'right' career; something that will let me 'live up' to my potential in the eyes of my family and friends. I've also realized that I probably will go my entire life without being appreciated. That's fine. I'm not original, smart, or motivated enough to really make an impact on the world, and I'm fine with that. To put it in the words of a mediocre musician, "All we are is dust in the wind."

Well, now that I've built up the expectation of my own decision, you're probably wondering exactly what it is. I've decided to be a comedian, and by that I mean, "Waiting tables, and never being capable of supporting a family." A few things that I haven't mentioned have helped me reach this decision. Mainly that all that which really matters is being happy.

I'm never quite as happy as I am when either someone appreciates a joke I've written, or when I feel a certain type of connection with a person. The second kind of happiness is extremely fleeting, usually ends with a prolonged period of horrid depression, and the worst part is that I cannot re-create it. I need someone else. I've found people in general to be extremely unreliable. I don't like them. Writing is something that I can do when everyone else has gone to sleep, or left me. I'll be able to write until almost the very moment I cease to exist.

The kind of connection I'm talking about, obviously, is a romantic one. But it's also more than that. It's where you want to touch someone, but don't at the same time. When you understand someone so completely that it's okay when they're wrong. Or when they try to dig themselves out of a hole in their own logic, and you don't throw dirt on their shoulders. It all boils down to reproduction, of course. Ultimately, everything boils down to all the instincts we as humans think we're above. Fucking, fighting, and feeding. That's life, that's why we're here.

Although, the connection people feel with each other has to be something that's not described there. I personally think this is the source of all creative processes that humans go through. To explain that feeling that isn't quite covered by the three F's. So I'm going to try right now. I think it's that very moment, when you respect another human enough, that you honestly believe the combination of your genes would be a worthwhile contribution. Maybe, somehow, with that grabtastic amalgamation of genetic material that forms inside one of you, you can both escape entropy. Maybe, half of each of you makes the perfect person. Maybe THIS new person can do what neither of you could. That's always the hope, isn't it? It is, it's what your parents wanted for you, on down through your ancestors since they were apes trying to stand on 2 legs to see over tall grass.

Well, I'm done hoping that my children will do what I cannot. I'm done having low expectations for mates. I'm done seeing people as 'out of my league.' I'm also done wanting to have a decent job so that a female sees me as a prospective mate. That's a waste of time, which I have too little of. But I do believe that it is my personal obligation to the human race to reproduce. Why? Well that's a tougher question to answer. Probably because it's one of the F's. I'm trying to explain reality without using it as a crutch though. So let's try again. It's my obligation to reproduce because my bloodline demands reproduction. I don't plan on flooding the world with my offspring, because that's counter-productive (I do understand the irony there). We need more variety though. We, as humans, need more people who refuse to be cogs in a useless machine that demands everything and gives nothing. I don't think we can beat it. But I think that the more people we have wondering why it's there the better off humans will be. So far, every man or woman that has fought this machine has lost. Horribly. Karl Marx comes to mind. I think the fault he had was underestimating the potential this machine has for severe reprogramming when facing total annihilation. He assumed, as it does resemble a machine, that it would work like one, and it does not.

Now, another inherent problem with attempting destruction of this machine itself is that the world is dependant on it. We all need it. Why? Because this machine has made us forget all but two skills we once had as a species. We still remember how to fuck and how to feed. This explains the intense population explosion, which arose about one millenia after this machine's creation. We remember how to feed, because this is how the machine maintains the status quo. We have forgotten how to fight. Now, you're thinking that we know how to fight. Look at the middle east, you say. You tell me of Littleton, CO. Look at all the people dying by violence, you think. This is not fighting, this is merely an extention of the angst created by living dependant on an unfeeling machination. Fighting is done to ensure survival, not at the whim of a government ensuring the 'collective' good. But, I need a better example, don't I. You still don't believe. How many people do you know, that could eat without any money? Do they know how to hunt? Can they plant things in the soil, and let water and sun make these things grow? Can they survive the bitter cold once their electrical company shuts them down, when our sun grows distant in the later months of our calendar? Can they protect their children, from themselves, but most importantly, from the bitter venom our culture injects to ease the transition from natural human survival into dependance on a machine that doesn't care? I assure you, they cannot. They have forgotten how to fight. We have voluntarily removed ourselves from the natrual progression of events to place ourselves in a grinder of flesh. Can you fight? Will you fight? No, and no.

Now, we have a surrogate grasp on what this machine is, and one reason attempting destruction on this machine will ultimately fail. I understand that this is difficult, because of the veil. Once you better understand the veil, you will better understand that which controls you. The veil is an early defence the machine created. When people begin asking questions. When people wanted something better. When they say, "Why must he make things for others so quickly that he destroys the air my children breathe? Why must he eat and grow fat, while my children whither and die? Why does he send my children to fight wars to protect his production facilities, while his children stay safe. Very soon, there will be none of us left." Now, this is where things get interesting, because there still are some of us left. Which makes us ask why. In a world seeming so bent on our destruction, why are any of us still here? Because they need us. They need us here, so they can have, and we cannot. If there were none of us, they would have to fight amongst themselves. Their children would die, they would not be fat, and would starve. So the first incarnation of the veil was a Father figure for us all, so we would quiet down, as we are all afraid of our fathers. They said to us, "We have been told by God that we should have, and you should not. Have no fear, you will be rewarded once you expire. Your job is hard, but the meek shall inherit the earth." This worked for many years, for many years we said, "We will endure this pain, while you do nothing, for we will be rewarded." Slowly, we realized they had lied. We have no reward. We have no great paradise. We grew angry at the liars, and immediately tried to rebel by not making this machine work. This failed, because while the machine needs us to work, we need this machine to survive. We must first relearn how to fight, before anything can be done.

Which, brings us to now. Now we are wanting something we can't have. We are wanting the paradise we were promised. I will tell you, whether I am right or not, that it is not there. Why would I tell you this? Because this want is a new incarnation of the veil. I tell you there is nothing for you because it is an excuse to be lazy. It is an excuse to not care. You must care. Otherwise you are on a side of the veil which hides the machine, in all it's bitter workings, from you. We must not want which we cannot affect. What we can affect, we must demand. We must learn how to fight again, as an equal of the animals we have begun to see ourselves as above.

These are things that I have realized. I realize that it sounds like the depraved rantings of a drug addled teenager. I also realize that the realization of the status of our world helps nobody. I'm not done caring though. I'm officially dedicating my life not to the destruction of the this machine, but to the veil this machine hides behind. Everytime they move the veil, or alter it's texture, I will be there to tell you: "Look! They have changed the veil again, so that it still hides the machine. We must keep searching." Because as long as you all know that it IS a veil, and you have not, in fact, reached a wall, we will win eventually. As long as everybody around us earnestly believes that there is nothing wrong, nothing will change. We must educate them, we will teach them. Using a systematic, acidic logic, we will free these people from their hamster wheels of cars and clothes and overpriced carcinogen caloric foods.

"In the world I see -- you're stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You will wear leather clothes that last you the rest of your life. You will climb the wrist-think kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. You will see tiny figures pounding corn and laying-strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of the ruins of a superhighway."

Also, everyone that reads this should hit up the polls on our forums. The link is to the right, under "our forums" interestingly enough. You might have to sign up, but you have nothing better to do anyway.

Alright, so it's time for an update. I did standup Friday night. It went horrendously. Almost as bad as I never could've imagined it going. Fuck it. I'm only going to grace that shithole with my presence one or two more times.

So the crowd was bad. Not just bad, but glaringly bad. Most of the time, I'm guessing that a crowd will give you at least 25 seconds to say something funny if you're on stage. Some crowds will give you all night. They gave me maybe, 5 seconds. Tops. Which is strange, because the first thing I said when I got up there was funny, but fuck it. Ok, so the crowd was bad. I"d like to extrapolate that though. It's not that it was hard to make them laugh, or they didn't like any of my jokes, it's that they were too drunk to actually LISTEN to anything for more than a few seconds. Whatever, there were some black people there, so that's probably why.

Yeah, let's cut the crap, you all know what I want to complain about anyway. So the normal MC of open mic wasn't there. This black musician was there, filling in. He's a regular, and the only black musician at this particular open mic. This guy was drunk. Not only did he not introduce me properly, but fucked up at least 5 of my jokes, for the few people that were listening. Now, I don't require a complicated introduction. I really don't. But I'd prefer if I was introduced as a spoken word act, instead of a musician. Why? Because I can't sing or play an instrument. So, maybe it's just me. But don't respond to a comedian's one-liners if you don't get the joke. Because getting fucked up by the MC is something that I will never put up with again. Also, this cocksucker apologized after I got off stage. WHAT THE FUCK? Like, if I was in the audience with an amp and a guitar and just making noise throughout his act, then he gets offstage and i'm like. "You know I'm just playin." Get it straight brownskin, I don't like you, we're not friends. The only way you could just be 'messing' with me while I'm ON STAGE is if you were one of my friends (and none of my friends would ever put me through this) and I don't respect you enough.

Alright, after the MC situation, there's the fact that I got cut off half way through my act. That's right, just because management is incompetent and running late, they cut me off 10 minutes into a 20 minute act. Now, it's a managerial decision, which I might have made if I was in that situation. Then I remember the purpose of an OPEN mic is not to entertain a crowd and keep them coming back. During an open mic, the audience is only performers, as a proprietor (spelling has officially gone to shit, but fuck you, nobody reads this) you really shouldn't worry about people not enjoying the act on stage. Maybe he didn't appreciate my abortion jokes, or how I was ripping on the audience for having the collective intelligence of a yeast colony, I don't know. My point is, I need practice, and I can't get it without getting my fucking 20 minutes. The jokes are good, I know the jokes are good, but I need LOTS of practice to be able to deliver them in a context where people can feel comfortable laughing at them. So, in short, fuck you guys. Fucking brainless wastes of carbon.

Well, I suppose I should post something. Had my eye surgery Monday. Things are going pretty good. I can see!!! It's so awesome. I just love the technology of today. Can't wait for the future. Anyways, I'm using this whole "recovering from surgery" thing to get out of work. Used it yesterday so that I could go see the Matrix Reloaded, and using it today because I'm just too damn tired. And speaking of being tired, I started taking this Melatonin, natural stuff to help me sleep. It actually works, here I've been going to my doc getting script after script for sleepers that don't do shit, when a simple, natural, concoction works just fine. Funny how that is, I guess technology can only work so far before old Mother Nature smacks it down. So yeah, I'm doing good, Kerri is still kinda pissed off at me, but I don't really care anymore, it's not like she's the cornerstone of my existance or anything. Well, I can see now, I can sleep now, once I get my fuck on life should be all good. Peace.

So I called the surgeon to try and get some more pain meds, and got shot down. It scares me how bad I wanted them. I'm neglecting the site, but only because I don't care. I'm sure we'll pick up posting again sometime down the line. No vike and no beer make me go something something. God dammit, I think I got the only oral surgeon in the world that knows I just want to get fucked up.

Ohhh man, I done pissed off Kerri. I was kinda bitching at her for cutting herself and I went a little far. That shit just really pisses me off... people hurting themselves to relieve pain/angst/confusion/and other emotions. I do admit that I went way too far, again, it pisses me off because I see it in myself... I guess she was right to call me a hypocritical bastard.

Wow. Sorry guys, guess I have forgotten a bit about this. Almost been a week. I guess the main reason I havn't been posting is because everything has calmed down and been pretty smooth sailing for the past week or so. Nothing big has happened, very few small things have happened either I guess. I love it and I hate it. As much as I can't stand drama, I need something to go on in my life. Even if it is very mildly dramatic. I can't believe it's come to this. I am sooooo Anti-Drama. I guess I just get a little lonely sitting up here fucking like 18 hours / day. Very lonely in fact, I need a gurl, not even like a girlfriend, but just someone who shows me affection. Someone to fuck. I know what you're thinking. "You spend 18 hours / day on the computer and you think you can get a girl?" Yeah, I can, getting girls has never been a problem... the only problem now is that I don't want to exert the effort to chase one down. So basicly, I'm just asking people if they want to have sex with me. Pretty easy. And it's not like I get my expectations up or anything, I figure most will laugh and think I'm joking. But a few have said yes. I don't really expect them to follow through, I think they are just saying that... but its an ego boost none the less. Actually I guess the laziness of it all is pretty sad, but I'm kinda sad myself, so there.
Few days ago a "friend" died of an overdoes. He'd been sober for 5 months and had "found god." That's what happens when you play the dope game. I really can't say I'm too sad to see him go. I never really liked him much and didn't know him that well either. But a couple of friends were good friends with him, they're sad to see him go. I guess the worst part is that he had been trying to stay sober and had been for five months. But sacrifices must be made. Hopefully his death will inspire others to stay sober... I really hope it does even though it rarely works that way.

On a lighter note, I'm having my eye surgury Monday! No more glasses for Jed. I'm very excited even though I'm probably going to have to pay for half of it. The only problem with it is that I'm getting a vicodin script. Not that that's really a bad thing, per se. But I'm going to have to try really really really hard not to abuse it. And if I get the craving, I've decided that I'm going to give the pills to my mom so that I won't fuck up my sobrity like I did when I got my wisdom teeth pulled. I had 5 wisdom teeth. I'm special.
Well, I'm going to try posting more again. Even if it's just stupid shit.

So, I'm posting again. I don't have much to say. I'm a little lonely, a little worried about what's going to happen when my painkiller script is out, and a little angsty. I'm pissed about lots of things right now. Most of them are my fault. I think a better description of my current state is more of an angsty loneliness. I mean, I am alone of my own volition. At the same time, I would rather not be. The only girl I've had the misfortune of falling in love with fucked me. That wasn't the problem, it was when she started fucking my friends, and people she met on the internet. It ended up in me getting an infection. So, yeah. I've been pretty picky about girls I get close to since then. I want to find a girl that is smart but unmotivated. For some fucked-up reason, that's really uncommon in females. Most apathetic women are that way because they fail when they try. I want a woman that can keep up with a conversation. I want a woman that doesn't prescribe to her parent's beliefs to keep her soul buoyant. I want a woman that will fucking spare me the bullshit, a girl that wants substance. That will tell me what she wants, and what can slide. Of course, she needs the realization that said thing, will probably end up sliding. I want, I want, I want. I want to make some consessions. I want a girl that thinks I'm funny. Why? Because I think I'm funny. I want a girl that thinks as little of female politiking as I do. A girl with some meat on her. Chub or muscle, it's all the good. I'm tired of bruising my shit on these bony ass salad eating bitches. I want a girl that's succinct in her speech. I want a girl that can go 1:1 with me in any game in the Dead Or Alive Series (specifically DOA2:H or DOA3), though that's probably asking a bit much.

Maybe 2:1.

This post is going to be disjointed. Less disjointed, and more no connections at all. I'm listening to 'Legs' by ZZ Top right now. Such a beautiful song. Black holes are part of the jewish (newly allied with the homosexual) conspiracy. Comedy started as something that I wanted to do as a hobby. Mainly because with no job and no school, I had nothing to do with my time. And doing NOTHING but playing videogames seemed... somehow lacking, I guess is what I want to say. I'm starting to realize how difficult it really is, and how severely my writing skills are lacking. It's something that comes with time I suppose. I'm much more of a ranter than a joke teller. It's wierd though, because I normally don't rant, being as self-conscious as I am. I guess I just have a lower boiling point than most people, about the little things. This post is so self-centered, but they all are, aren't they? I suppose I don't care, since I'm the only one that reads this, it works well that I only talk about what I want to. I played warcraft against a guy today, while I was destroying his base, he was calling me names. Now, this wasn't anything new (the name calling, not the destroying), but I realized that if he knew how good that makes me feel inside, he would stop. The idea that while I am extremely courteous gamer, and go out of my way not to talk shit to anyone, I could frustrate someone so much makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Later he started messaging me, and ended 11 of 11 lines that he sent me in "bitch." I was examining the sentence structure (yeah, I'm a geek, but I don't like to rely on the default internet accusations in which your opponent of whatever game either "Has no life." or has no skill.) and the only actual punctuation he had was a comma just before the word bitch, which he ended every sentence with. That tickled me even more. Anyway, I'm gonna go ramble into a Word file I keep around for these occasions.

Told you I was too fucked up to post, you goatmilk drinking motherfucker.

Nate has been too fucked up on painkillers to post lately. Hopefully things will return to normalcy soon.

Hello. How are you today? I'm doing just fine. A bit tired, but everthing else is fine. Words look like they are spelled wrong today, like all of them. I've never been very good at english, I just don't comprehend it sometimes. It's weird. Anyways, tonight I'm covering for a guy at work, working from 10 - 7am. I always love working that shift. I actually get to do stuff when I'm working that late, like, check on the billing computers to make sure they are running their reports. Makes me feel important. I'm not, but the false pride helps sometimes. I'm slowly getting over my obsessiveness. I really don't know where it came from; just one day I completely lost all control over myself. Not like me at all. I feel like I really fucked up a friendship by my actions, so far she's acting like it didn't happen, maybe it's not that big of a deal, maybe she's used to people obsessing about her. And she still thinks she's ugly. That's one thing I cannot stand! People who are so depressed that all they see is hate and uglyness and negative. Funny, that describes me perfectly a few months ago. I guess that's why I hate it so much, because I see it in myself. When I'm not in my depression, I hate it. I hate other peoples' depression and I want to cure them all. But when I'm deep in my shit, depressed and hopeless, I LOVE it. It's so warm and comfortable and I don't have to care about anything. That's the crux of depression. Depression fuels depression and so on and so forth. It takes an outside force, an act beyond one's self to change the mindset of the person. Just a big deal to me because I have to deal with it so often. Guess I'll go test my luck and hang out at her house now, seeing as I'm offered and she has a boyfriend now.

By the way, FINE stants for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. Just something to remember when everyone says they are just fine. Peace

Hurray for a dollar raise! =)

Another wasted day. Man, if I would put to use all that I have, I could probably do a lot with my life. Oh well, I actually had something to say two minutes ago. I forgot though. Live has been uneventful. I'm trying to become less obsessive... I think it would be good for me and a few others. Have to do deffensive driving =( no good. It was only 19 over the speed limit... I guess it's better than the 130 I would have to pay otherwise. Umm.. reschedueled my LASIK appointment to Monday, the 12th because I didn't have a ride back home on my previous date. I've just decided that I'll pay whatever the difference is... Sucks ass, but I think grandparends are going to throw in. They best. I sure wish I could put a compound sentence together tonight. My brain just isn't processing that fast right now... guess it's time to sleep. g'night. sweet dreams of naked people.

So I'm in Albert Lea, Minnesota. I don't like it here. Any city that lobbies to get a pork processing plant located at its epicenter has very deep seeded fundamental problems. Especially when it already had a meat processing plant that burned down. I've also deduced that techno music of any kind does not lend well to writing. Dancing, yes. Um....I'm trying to think of other things, but coming up blank. Oh yeah, dancing. It's definately good for dancing. So I'm in Albert Lea, because I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled this friday. I've only got a script for motrin 600, which sucks. I'm hoping to upgrade to tylenol III or vicoden or somesuch. I really can't wait to leave. It doesn't help that I don't smoke weed anymore, or I could get lost in the shitty videogames I rented (Wolverine's Revenge and Metal Dungeon, they're both really really bad, but Wolverine is barely playable. Metal dungeon is not playable for more than 2 minutes, if that.) Wolverine has nearly made me throw controllers though. The minefields in this game are not difficult, not fun, but merely ragingly homosexual. The minefields are so gay. SO GAY. And I only say that they are gay because every time I enter one I get fucked in the ass. Which I guess makes me gay too. I really hope the game I rent once I get my teeth pulled doesn't suck so much. I'm out.

So the other night, I took my cat for a walk. That's right. Me and my cat (spike) walked around the block. I have never heard of anything like that before, but my cat is pretty dogish.

Last night, I was online, after my vision came back... or maybe it wasn't, thats not important. I was online and this girl that I know from school signed on. I havn't talked to her in months... Of course the first thing out of my mouth (hands) is "You wouldn't want to have sex would you?" Obviously she didn't say yes because she didn't have my screen name.... ... ... Long story short, she said yes.

So today I went to the Optomologist. Got tested to see if I was elligble for LASIK surgury. THis was supposed to be my graduation prestent from my mom. First, I go down to get my eyes examined and they give me these eye drops that make your eyes super diialated. I CANT FOCJS ON ANTHING NEAR TO ME!!! I cant even see what im typing! Second. What the FUCK kind of graduation "present" is one that you have to fucking pay for? God, I'm soo pissed off and i have no reason whatsoever to be! She said she'd lay out 1200 for lasik. Seeing as i cant see for shit, the surgury is going to cost around 2800. I dont have 1400 fucking dollars. Ialreay owe my mom like 700. Thats not even counting the car, the insurance, and the outo collision repair bill. I think the only reason im pissed is because i had such high hopes. Every fucking time i get high hopes i get let down. I know how dangerous it is to get you'r hopes up, but she said she would pay for my graduation present. cunt whore. I'm not an angry person, but when i am... i get really pissed! and im really pissed. I suppose im more pissed at myself because i when against the expectation rule. Dont expect anything. But i try so hard to trus other peop, to get out into society. To get fucked. God i want to move to the desert. little house, eat lizards and coyotes and quail... but getting a cable modem piped that far would cost a lot of money.

I hate you all.

Come on everybody let's go to the show
Murder is fun because my daddy told me so
Grab a gun, grab a knife, even hands will do
Punch em like a mother fucker even rape a few

Fuck the righteous wave and ride the evil undertow
If blood is what you want embrace the demon glow
Grab a gun, grab a knife, even hands will do
You punch em like a mother fucker even rape a few

We are the villains
Sucker fish fuckers down in the sink
We are the aliens
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We are the losers
Flushing our faces into the world

This is a sin fix
This is a sin fix

Now that we have seized you and pleased you
Come alive and murder your senses
Find yourself knee deep in the dead
Come alive and murder your senses
This is a sin fix
This is a sin fix

Come on everybody let's go to the show
Murder is fun because my daddy told me so
Grab a gun, grab a knife, even hands will do
Punch em like a mother fucker even rape a few

Fuck the righteous wave and ride the evil undertow
If blood is what you want embrace the demon glow
Grab a gun, grab a knife, even hands will do
You punch em like a mother fucker even rape a few

We are the villains
Sucker fish fuckers down in the sink
We are the aliens
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We are the losers
Flushing our faces into the world
This is a sin fix
This is a sin fix

Now that we have sieged you and pleased you
Come alive and murder your senses
Find yourself knee deep in the dead
Come alive and murder your senses
This is a sin fix
This is a sin fix

Alright, quick update. As if people check up on this to check up on ol' JB. That's me, if you're confused. I did standup again on Saturday, at the Steaknife. I dislike telling people 'how it went.' Because that's the inevitable question when I see people after my act. I don't really know, honestly, I'm not in the audience. By the time I get around to performing the jokes, they're not really even funny to me anymore. One of these days I'll get around to recording my acts, but I'm gonna keep going with what I've been doing for now. Also, this time, before I went up, I was sure I was going to bomb.

I didn't bomb. It went rather well. I got laughs pretty much throughout the act, and my stage personality is slowly developing (like an autistic child. That's how it's developing, not what it is, you twit). About half of the people there were there to see me, I really did not expect such a huge response to me telling people "I'm doing standup this Friday." I'd feel better about my act if I had gotten laughs out of complete strangers, but I feel better about myself because so many people showed up. So with that kind of a diatribe going on in my brain, I guess I feel alot like I always do. Except that I have another solid comedy performance under my belt. I'm still amazed that so many people I know came to see me. They all said that it was 'pretty good' or 'pretty funny.' Whatever THAT fucking means. Oh well, I could bitch about anything (which I'm hoping is a good quality in a comedian, fuck, Dennis Miller got a career out of it.)

When I tell my dad about this he says the same thing. That's cool, I don't really expect him to say much. I do wish, though, that he'd wait until I accomplish something actually concrete before he says that he's 'proud of me.' Oh well, a relationship with a father that didn't raise you has all kinds of complications that I really don't want to go into. Except with my therapist. Which I don't have. He's said that he wishes he could've seen it. Yeah, well so do I. It's not a big deal though, we all do what we can.

I can't wait until I've got enough money to hire a bodyguard. Oh the jokes I would tell. I'm out.

Everything has changed. I learned some things today that I really wish I had not. Sometimes getting to know people is a bad thing. Wow. That put me in a really weird mood. I'd be really depressed if I wasn't so doped up on anti-depressants. I can feel it though. The battle between the medication and the depression. Rolling around inside me. Unfortunately I am the winning factor. My choice of mood, thoughts, actions will make one side or the other the victor. I'm very prone to let the depression win. It's quite comfortable. Dark and warm, like a thick blanket, wrapped around me just a little too tight, squeezing, binding, protecting me from the feelings of pleasure or happiness that I might experiance. Feelings that make me even more depressed because I don't know how to handle them, how to express them. Depression is such a warm and comfortable place. Sometimes it get's lonely, but letting anyone else it would remove that impenetrable shield/blanket/wall leaving you vulnerable to the harshness of reality.

Today, I'm not going to chose the depression!!! Fuck that. I can chose to be hostile and confused and hurt, but not depressed. Fuck a bunch of that. I have to be able to control my emotions; be able to deny my self the indulgance of being depressed. Today I will take a step forward, grow a little, leave the petty and the meaningless behind. Today I will strike out and my depression, beat it back to where ever the fuck it comes from. I can be strong, I have the will and the strength to overcome! Other people should not make me depressed. Sad? yes. Let down? a bit. But why go into hiding from somebody killing their self. Fuck this shit. I'm going to be strong today. Maybe, just mayby, this small step forward will lead to bigger things, and hopefully it will rub off on the people around me, show them that they dont have to live like that, not if they don't want to.
But that is the problem. Who would want to leave the comfort and security of depression? Who wants to give up everything they know and take a chance? Not many, thats who. But I have had a taste of the unknown. I have felt joy! JOY! Never before have I felt joy. Never before have I had the urge to continue life; continue to see what else there is to accomplish, what else there is to see. I feel that I've seen it all, but I'm not fooling myself anymore! There is much more to life then what I've 'seen.' I have seen things many other people have not, but that was all false, simply chemicals disrupting chemicals, chemicals changing perseption.
I feel empowered with this new view of life! I feel like I should spread it to others, to open their eyes... But, alas, I can not. All I can do is state my experiance, my strength, and my hope. Maybe somebody, some day, some where will catch a glimpse of what there is. Maybe that person will take a risk and leave her false security behind.

You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him (her) drink.

I got 10 hours of sleep last night, it was wonderful! Today is working out to be a good day. Every other Friday (Fryday to all you acid heads) the company pays for our luch, us being the tech support (and backbone) of the company. Today it is starting to look like BBQ for lunch. A good day indeed.

I did end up taking a sleeping pill (temazepam) last night... I was so tired and worn out from yesterday that I went right to sleep and because of the sleeping pill, slept all night... even slept an hour late. But that's ok, it's only work.

I thought today was going to be a good day... for a while at least. I got to sleep last night by 11 o' clock! I was super happy. But as things usually go I woke up at 1:30 and couldn't get back to any real form of sleep. But now that today is over and I can go home, I opt to stay, to milk the clock. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, and my stomach hurts, but getting paid to surf the internet is not something to pass up. I missed my AA meeting last night, I think that could be part of why I'm feeling so crazy. AA grounds me for the next day, kinda like meditation, makes me feel lighter and less fucked up but I don't really want to go tonight cuz I feel shitty again... I guess I'll go anyways, I need it.

Well, I didn't take my temazepam last night because yesterday it kicked my ass all day long. I'm feeling a little bit better today, no nausea, well, thats about it... I'm still super tired and pretty irritable, but maybe because I didn't sleep because I didn't take my sleeping pill!!! GOD DAMN! I hate lose - lose situations. I believe Bart Simpson said it the best, "You're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't."

Lucky for me, my homicidal urges of last night have mostly gone away. I could just see myself answering the phones last night... boy, would I have been fired. Oh! And to top off this shitty morning my coffee cup has a fucking little slit in it, dripping ever so slowly. I want to go home. =(
Expect more from me today... it's going to be a long one.

I just don't think I was ment to sleep. Got some new sleepers. They put me to sleep alright, but they make me more tired during the day than if I had not slept. Guess you win some, you lose some.
I've been going fucking crazy today... my mind's going about 50 different directions and not passing through my normal "filters." Don't really know what the filter thing is, but I'm thinking things that I really don't usually think... at least not as seriously as I have been... I mean, I'm so not a violent person, but I just want to beat the fuck out of someone and fuck their lifeless corpse. Maybe that's going a bit far... maybe not. Nothing wrong with a little necrophilia now and then.

Well, the issue has come up again. I put it off because it wasn't an issue before, but it's becoming an issue again. This thursday, to be exact. I've been offered the opportunity to do psychedelic drugs again. Damn fate for tempting me. I've always liked psychedelics, and I have a real hard time saying no. I think I'm going to this time though. My life has been extremely unstable lately, and I'd like to get things rolling again before I fuck it up. Did I mention all of this goes out the window if someone gets a location on a quantity of peyote?

I'd eat that shit in half a minute. On that note, I'm signing out. Gotta work on the Comedy bit for Friday.

Hey everybody, its 420!

Who fucking cares. To all you stoners out there: drugs are bad for you. Actually, let me rephrase that... Drugs are bad for me. Unlike you lucky fuckers out there who can do drugs and function, I can't. When I'm using drugs I don't give a fuck about anyone, including myself, I sit around not doing shit all day, and I get really depressed. I know this sounds exactly like me when I'm sober, but believe me, it's about a thousand times worse. Anyways, if I could do drugs and still function in (or even out of) society, I would.

By the way... a simple day of a month is not a reason to get high. If you are going to get high, do it because life sucks. Thats all I have.

Last night, I had the strangest dream... 'I end up taking like 2 ambien so that maybe... just maybe I would get tired an go to sleep. I remember talking to my mom on the phone at about 11:30 and then deciding that I was going to go for a walk because I wasn't really tired. I remember slipping on my shoes and walking out the door... that's where things get a bit... hazy. Very vaguely I remember walking down the steps. The next thing I remember I'm sitting in the woods by my house, in the mud, hallucinating my ass off. The trees were deffinently shapes of people, or more like humanoids of some sort. I think the darkness was pooling into blobs and forming phosphorescent faces. I then adjusted my seat in the mud and had the far off thought that my shoes were untied. I remember talking to the "forms" I was seeing, I'm not completely sure, but I think that I might have been yelling. I asked the trees, "What do you want me to do?" a few times and everything blacks out from there until I have the slightest recollection of almost falling backwards while climbing up the steps to my door.'

This morning, my mom comes in and wakes me up, she asks me, "Where were you last night?" Obviously I was sleeping. She then tells me that when she came home the front door was open, my light was on in my room, and I was nowhere to be found. Perturbed, I tell her I don't know what she is talking about but that I had the strangest dream... Reaching down to scratch my knee, I realize that I'm wearing pants, odd, normally I sleep nude. Remvoing my comforter I see that I'm wearing blue jeans with mud on the knees and on my seat. Upon further investigation, I find muddy shoes and a few thorn pricks on my left hand. So I have come to the conclusion that ambien is bad for me.

Well, I'm back from standup. It was an altogether better experience than last time. Much more like a relaxing swim in the ocean than being devoured by a giant shark. I think I'm going to give up on memorizing stuff for now, because I always forget it in front of the crowd anyway. So that decision being made, I can spend less time memorizing the drivel, and alot more time writing. This delivery should work much better, mainly because I am already good at reading things, so require much less practice there. The joke that got the biggest laugh was in a bit about people who don't understand irony.

"Faggot Vegans. Because they eat meat."

I knew it was gold.

Anyway, back to the grindstone for next Friday.

Oh! I don't know if I told you, but I got my rotton.com t-shirt.

Imagine how much porn you could hold on 6 terabytes!! I think that's what my company should start doing... put all that damn space to good use!

Bad News: My sleeping pills don't put me to sleep.
Good News: They sure fuck me up!
I really don't like to get fucked up anymore. The thing is, is that I'm trying to get on a decent sleep schedule. I'm not very good about that, so I got my doctor to perscribe me Ambien. Last night I ended up taking 6! The first one at about 8pm and the last three at 3am. I'm kinda pissed. The pills make my body tired, but I'm usually tired so they don't do much there, and they do nothing for the 'racing thoughts' that keep me awake... On second thought, they do do something to my thoughts... I'll have to post some of the crazy shit I wrote last night while I was reformatting my computer. Fucking crazy, incoherent ramble.
With that being said, it's back to work for me!

I'm planning on doing standup again this Friday. My set should last between one and two minutes. All the jokes are incredibly short, which I'm hoping goes better than the longer, wittier, and altogether higher quality versions I tried last time. I've got it mostly memorized already, so I figure I'll put another hour into it tomorrow, then be good to go.

Played some basketball last night. I know what you're thinking. "Oh great, you got some exercise, you pathetic fuck." No, it wasn't great. It wasn't great at all. I took an elbow to my lip and almost lost some teeth. I took a chunk out of my lip courtesy of someone's elbow and my two front teeth. Did you know you can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick?

So as a result of my swollen lip, I'm thinking about not doing standup on Friday. I dunno, if it gets much bigger, talking will be difficult. I know many, many people will be dissapointed if I don't show. That, and the terrorists win. So I'm gonna try.

I'm fucking tired.

Well, since the main poster of this site has not only had his computer access restricted, but been prescribed sleeping pills, I'm ready to help fill the void. With what you ask? My throbbing manhood, of course. Um, I don't really have anything to say, except I just got a download accellerator for kazzaa, and I'm already liking it. It basically goes through the moronic function of updating sources for you. You set the refresh time, and go to sleep. Wake up with a new variety of porno to peruse. You can check it out here. I'm sure you can find it somehow, you bastards. With that, I'm out.

It's naked time!

Well, I took my sleeping pill three hours ago... I'm still awake! Guess thats what happens when you are a Hoss. Guess I'll go take another one, maybe then I can get some sleep before I have to wake up and go to work. G'night ladies and gentlemen.

So, in my mom's futile attempts to control my addictions, she has imposed a new law.
None shall be on the computer after 11pm... None but me.
Fucking bitch. I really fucking hate when she tries to run my life, tells me how much time on the computer I can have because it's not healty for me. What she doesn't understand is that I have an addictive personality. Anything I do, and enjoy doing, I will do to an extreme. When I did drugs, I did that to an extreme, when I was in to school, I did that to an extreme, when I get on the computer, I do that all the time because I have don't have shit else to do. Fucking bitch.

On a lighter note, Doc finally perscribed me sleeping pills, Ambian to be exact. Now, instead of putting up with her bullshit, I can go to sleep. Fucking Bitch.

Hockey Riots in Minneapolis last Saturday. I was there, as your Cephaladon Studios correspondant. Many a car was flipped and torched. I doubt if any garbage recepticles in the University of Minnesota area survived the night. What a good time. It almost seemed like a good, ol' fashioned sports related riot, in the European sense, until people started chanting "U S A!" That ruined the illusion for me. Only in America would people chant the name of a their country while dismantling the very government they are promoting by their words. I don't think any mob anywhere else in the world would chant FOR the country that their ripping out of the ground and burning in the middle of the street while they're doing the ripping and burning. Cognitive dissonance is the American Way. Well, what do you want from a country that was founded by an elite group of landholding slaveowners who claimed "all men are created equal." Could I possibly attain gainful employment by merely pointing out the ironies of American life? I think that's my dream job. And while they may look comely wearing riot gear, policemen in a riot situation are not extremely conversational. You're more likely to end up with a face full of liquid fire and more bruises than you started the day with than a conversation on how safe the streets are.

Also, when a chick at the other end of a 900 number says she'll call you back. She's lying and just doesn't like you. Pay attention, some of us have to learn these things the hard way.

What is precision? THIS is precision!

Well, the problem was not my network card... For some damn reason Comcast has our account on hold. Fuckers made me go steal my sister's network card... Oh well.

Ok, ladies and gentlemen, havn't posted in a few days because my fucking LAN card decided to quit working. Luckily I have the internet at work and can do shit here... Unfortunately, this is my last day of work so I'm going to have to go buy a screwdriver. That's right, a screwdriver. I have an extra LAN card laying around, mocking me, laughing at me, but I have no fucking screwdriver and no knife/key/small metal pointy thing to fit the damn screw. The weird thing is my sister's LAN card died about 2 days before mine... both are fairly new (under 2 years) and it seems a bit fishy for them to go out at about the same time. I'm thinking that maybe AT&T fucked with the current or something. But anyways, I'm going to go go home tonight and use my non-existant finger nails or my tongue or something to get the damn screw out because I'm an internet addict. It's not that I really surf the 'net very often, but I need to be connected to AIM, and to be able to play online games, it's like 90% of my social interaction. GRRR. I stayed up here at work until 3:45am last night playing X-Box on a rather large projector screen that the company has. HA! I even get paid for it! At least I have the internet while I'm up here. I'll just have to pack in 12 internet hours in the 5 that I'm at work. Speaking of the 5 hours that I'm here, I want to bitch about that. I only get to work from 5-10pm, Saturday and Sunday night. The person before me works from 7am - 5pm and the person after me works from 10pm - 7am. I'm just getting shafted. I'm gonna have to talk to me boss to get some more hours in... especially weekend hours. Anyways, for all you folks out there that just arn't getting any, remember that masturbation can be just as good or even better than sex, depending on the other person(s).

I'm skipping standup at the Steaknife tonight. I'm not insinuating that anyone cares by stating this, but I talk about my bowel movements on this weblog, so I think that audience apathy is implied in general. I've got about 30 pages of pure shit I'm going to look through tonight, and try to mix and match and form an act I can memorize and then go next week. I hate subjecting my printer and ink cartridges to this, but if you wanna make an omelette...

Also. Whoever is tagging Trista's blog under my name can stop. Seriously, it's not funny. I have ideas as to who it is, and you need to not be such an idiot.

Anyway, I'm gonna go get my eat on.

Slow day at work today. Usually got all sorts of problems this early in the morning. I guess cause its Friday... people don't want to fuck shit up like they normally do, and believe me, they try to fuck it up. In case you don't know, I do tech support for far to little money in a company that's struggling pretty hard. Luckily though, it's internal tech suppot meaning only people in this company call in so I only have to deal with a set amount (about 400) of morons. Thank the gods that not all these people are as stupid as my 10 year old cousin. I only really have to deal with about 100 people on a regular basis, and man, are they ever dumb! I mean, you think people would try doing something, anything, to solve a problem when it occurs... wrong! I swear, when their computer is running multiple programs they call in because it's running slow. I don't know... to quote the great Randal from Clerks... "This job would be great if it wasn't for all the fucking customers."

"Take a ride, inside my eye, and this is what you will like-ly find."

So I was reading Miss Trista's blog and I started thinking about plagiarism. Why do people do it? Well, I suppose that I know the answer to that, because people want others to think they are smart, especially when they really arn't. I know I used to plagiarize back in my highschool days so I didn't have to actually write stuff out. Yeah, I was a BIG copy/paste fan. Most the stuff I really didn't care if it sounded good, I just wanted to get a grade other than the zero I would normally get for not doing it. I mean, it's really simple to not get caught, copy/paste, dumb-it-up, and make sure not to put that website in the bibliography. You may ask, "What's the point? Where are you going with this?" Honestly, I'm not going anywhere with this, I'm just trying to milk the clock here at work and I am incredibly bored. So I think that I will find something else to ramble about because plagiarism is dumb.

Let's talk about Nate's diarrhea. On second thought, lets not...

I know! This damn time change! All you people in Indiana and Arizona are some lucky fuckers. Having to get up an hour early sucks. Now the autumn time change is really great, get to sleep an extra hour, it gets dark earlier, and all sorts of good stuff. Makes me miss the wintertime already. I love winter! It's all cold and dark and dreary... just the way I like it. I miss the snow... ... ... I don't really, I live in Texas and don't actually get any snow. But I used to live in Michigan and, boy, do I know snow. I remember making 'forts' in the snow. Digging under the rather large banks that the road-scraper-salter-things would leave, I could get quite the tunnel system going. Here in Texas it only ices. And when it does ice, all of Texas shuts down. And I mean completely. It's really quite humorous. Businesses close, nobody goes on the roads, everything just shuts down. But then again, my work is one of those places that closes down, so I guess it's not that bad. Speaking of work, I think I'm ready to go home, got an extra half-hour in and if I leave now I will make it just in time for my AA meeting. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Here's what I have on the sex bit so far.

One thing that really freaks chicks out is when you’re having sex to music, and you start singing along. I’ve never met a girl that can just keep going when you do this. Like having sex to weeezer, and you’re all, “Suzanne, you’re all that I wanted of a girl…” Sublime, “Uhh! And the girls caress me down.” O fortuna, or In the hall of the mountain king. This next one doesn’t really apply to heterosexual relationships, but how about Cher, “Do you believe in life after love?!” You gotta say it like you mean it.

I need better songs for examples. Hit the tagboard or link section to let me know.

Also, thanks to a hearty dose of red-orange diarrhea, Matt is on his way out of China. He's camoflaged with everything they have there, it was a beautiful scheme, if I do say so my self. And I do say so. All praise goes to the salsa I had a few days ago.

So anyway. I'm working on a bit about sex right now. Unlike most of my comedy, which I try to keep away from the site (Mainly because I'd like to keep the log original, and not just another avenue for me to recycle content through.) I'm going to post it once it's finished. That should happen tomorrow. If anyone can think of good songs to have sex to (or at least humorous ones) hit it up on the tagboard or drop me a line via the convenient links we have to the right.

On another note, I registered for summer classes yesterday. I'm taking a three week class on Cohen Brothers movies and two summer classes, one on writing fiction and one on american literature. Having fun with my radar gun. I also applied for a stocking position at Target serving freedom fries all over the southland. It feels good to be doing things again.

Speaking of things. I ate an entire bottle of hot salsa yesterday, and I'm shitting liquid fire today. I really need to stay away from the mexicans. The nice thing about diarrhea is you get a tiny christmas every hour or so. The greatest part is that my shit is almost red, so it helps with the christmas spirit on my end.

I think I just figured out how to help Matt escape from China...

Ok, who loves GENOCIDE!?

Man, I have a headache

THIS BIG.

Already took some Ibuprofen, tried to sleep, drank some water... but to no avail. If anybody has any good remedies that work and don't include drugs and alcohol, post it on the tag board. Biazitch

For those who just love their widdle kitty so much...check out this pretty kitty.

Ok guys, we need your help! We need to help get Matt out of China... again. Please send all donations to: Save Matt
809 S. Heritage Pkwy
Allen, Texas 75002
We are excepting: cash, check, credit card numbers, plane tickets, spy equipment, chinese flags, newly born babies (alive), "Speak Chinese" tapes, chinese dictionaries, fire arms, ammunition, anything red, advice, and cookies. Also, any naked pictures of yourself should be sent to superjed666@hotmail.com with Cephaladon Studios in the subject line. Thank you, and please hurry.

P.S. Please thank Jon for our new forums. THANK YOU, JON!

oh wait, nobody's going to post...

China

Everything here is red. They wash the walls in the blood of political prisoners and babies murdered to keep the population low. The confines of my small hotel room are brown and flaking. Please send help. And cookies.

Arrrrr! I do be a pirate tonight, matey.

Whew, bedtime. A few things before I make the trip to slumberland though. A few things need to stop on this website. I think the self-depricating humor involving the status of our 'hit' situation needs to stop. Nobody will take us seriously before we do. Our message needs to be heard! Let's see, everything else that needs to change requires me learning more HTML, so we're gonna wait on that. Man, I've got bad gas.

Alright, time for an update. The standup on Friday night went horribly. Absolutely horrible. I suppose I overestimated the patience of the "drunken open-mic at a bar" crowd, because I didn't even get to my first joke. Bunch of fucking ingrates. I'm working on a new act, composed entirely of one-liners and bad transitions. I'm also going to make some of my friends show up (if I had any) so that someone will still be listening to me by the time I get to a punchline. On the plus side, I did treat myself to 2 dozen krispy kreme doughnuts, and I've been farting to end the millenia. According to our tagboard, people have visited the site. I don't buy it. Matt, stop pretending to be a shy girl posting on our website, you degenerate fuck.

So, shark attacks aside, I think that Friday night was one of the worst experiences of my young life. You guys know that dream, where you're naked in school and everyone is laughing at you. You know how good you feel when you wake up, and realize that it didn't really happen? Well, a failed stand up act is kind of like that, except you don't get to wake up. After I got off the stage, one of the guys at the bar asked me if I was going to hang out. I shook my head and laughed. It'll be at least 3 weeks before I can show my face in that place again. By then, maybe they've forgotten what an incredibly small penis I've got.

Ok, I've gotta take a shit. All that's coming out of me is from Wendy's, Taco Bell, and Krispy Kreme, so it should be colorful at the very least. Keep whoring yourself out to get us hits Jed. Yay for AIDS!

On that note I'm the best kind of evil around. I don't think anyone who knows me can argue with this one. Go minions, GO!

::Sigh:: I really need to get a sleep scheduel (looks like its spelled wrong) going. I have the hardest time going to sleep on wednesday night to get up at 7:30 am. Maybe one day I'll get it back... maybe I won't. Oh well, I'll live on none the less. G'night ladies and gentlemen.

"One intestine, Two intestine, Three, My girls got guts her guts gots me. Take em in the back room, use em as a broom, when I'm out driving my girl's guts go vroom vroom vroom. Cuz when I'm in a race and I need to be in first place, her guts they kinda take me to the proper place."

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Ok, so I'm still at work and really bored. So I go looking for things to do, starting with searching for 'evil'. To make a long story short I found out that I just happened to be:

I'm sitting here at work and I realize just how cool my job is. First, I have time to do my blog and get paid for it without not working. Second, during the weekend, I get paid to "watch" the servers. That's right, I get paid to watch inanimate objects, to make sure they don't run off or spontaniously combust. Third, during the week, my main job is to answer the phones, help people out with their computer problems, and if I can't, open a "trouble ticket" for someone who can. There's more, like the cool people that I work with, the fact that the company pays for our lunch on Fridays (I only work Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday), and our job consists of doing what we like to do: fucking with other peoples' computers. Unfortunately I'm only making $8/hour, which really isn't much at all considering the job. I'm thinking about getting a new job but the IT industry is all-the-fucked-up right now, so I should stick with it for a while longer; plus, I've been working here for a little over a year, I think it's about damn time for a raise.

So I'm doing standup at an open mic night in less than 12 hours. I'm kinda nervous, but I'm banking on 2 things. 1) Expectations from some guy just going up on stage are generally low. 2) This open mic night is held at a place where alcoholic beverages are consumed. Two points for the collective! I'm going to post some of the material that didn't make the cut into my act, cuz I don't want to be original right now.

I think one of the fundamental differences between men and women is their definition of love. Women seem to be looking for fairytale love, the kind that doesn’t exist. Where a guy’s gonna meet you and pay for dinner and drinks and then take you back to his apartment, and not fondle you in the car and have sex with you with a condom on and not blow his load in your face. You know... chivalry. Guys, on the other end, just want 2 things in a woman, someone that they can stand to fuck, and someone that they can stand to listen to.

Snow is the worst thing mother nature ever conceived of. Horrible. It’s just patient rain, that’s all it is. Rain that waits until you’re inside to get you wet. And it doesn’t clean things like rain does, it just collects in the most repugnant, filthy congealed messes of pavement waiting for some poor soul to think it’s ice and step in it. Splosh. Fucking gutter snow acts like an office temp with a bad attitude, like it's just pissed about it's elongated step in the precipitation cycle.

Alright gang, I'm gonna try to memorize my shit and maybe eat some doughnuts. If you read the site, please, please, post on the tagboard. We get so lonely.

Guess I'll try adding a tag board, if blogger didn't take so god damn long to update, it would be a lot easier... Now maybe we can tell if anybody actually visits this site... if you do, you can flame and condem us me all you want without ever leaving the webpage. Isn't technology GRRRREAT!?

For some reason, I called in sick to work today. I don't really know why, but by the time I called I had already caught every bug psychosomaticly. It's been a long time since I've called in to work sick, even longer when I'm not sick... In fact, I don't believe I ever have... Bad shit, this is what I used to do to school, I can't start that up for work or I'll lose my job in no time.

On a lighter note, I got a book in the mail today! Marquis de Sade's The 120 Days in Sodom. Now if any of you know what that is, which I highly doubt, I am reading it for informational purposes only. For those of you that don't know, you can go here to read some of it, or all of it if you have the stomach for it. But beware, this book is not for the feint of heart or the sane of mind. Seriously folks, most people would probably try to hang me for reading it. Luckily the days of lynching are over, so now I only have to worry about getting shot. You win some, you lose some... (or in my case you lose them all.)

I'm working on material for this friday, and I'm starting to think I might not get booed (Does that word even HAVE a spelling?) off stage. Nice news link stolen from Matt right..... here. It's about the new expanded powers of the glorious Fourth Reich. Uh oh, I think references to Nazi Germany might be against the law. If the site goes down and I disappear, at least you'll know why. That's probably my final thought.

Sometimes I just want to flay the flesh from random people walking down the street.

Boy did I make a mistake tonight! I fucking ate at Denny's. Now I know some of you are wondering what's the mistake there? You have obviously never eaten any food from Denny's. Every time I eat there, which is about once every two years, I get pretty sick. So far I'm doing ok, except for the headache, sour stomach, constant retching, and double vision, that is.

So our moral for tonight: Don't eat food from Denny's.

Thank you.

Who wants to see the worst standup in recorded history? Don't talk to the screen you dumbass, I can't actually hear you. I'm going to be doing a short standup bit at the Steaknife open mic night this Friday, April 4th. It's in Minneapolis, Near the University of Minnesota campus. Nobody reads this, but if you wandered into the site on accident, live in Minneapolis, and want to get wasted (It's 2 for 1 beers on Fridays) click on contact nate and I'll give you directions. I'm gonna bomb so bad people will think they're in Baghdad. Topics to be covered include: My unique stance on abortion, the religon debate completely explained, and why it's trendy to be part of underground crime culture (that's completely Quentin Tarantino's fault, in case you need to know right now.)

So my sore throat hasn't gotten much worse, and I'm slightly less worried about SARS than I was last night. This is mostly courtesy of an article someone sent me, which I will link you to.....now. It's funny, I promise. Oh, and individual posts to this log do not represent the views of Cephaladon Studios. What I'm trying to say is: Jed's going to hell. That's probably my final thought.

The Streets of Taiwan are Colored with the Blood of the Innocent

Last week I was kidnapped by an international cartel of Taiwanese gangsters and shipped back to their country to work as an underage prostitute. Do you know hard it is to act like a 10 year old girl when you're 5' 10" and are obviously sporting a sausage under your mini skirt? The customers weren't too picky though; as long as I made an attempt to act like an underage girl full of innocene they didn't mind. Apparently, being full of innocence also means being full of man chowder. It wasn't too bad, tasted like Thai food.

I am, however, almost out of makeup, and the money I make selling my man-snatch on the streets isn't enough to cover it. If I don't get all dolled up the customers will be able to tell I'm not really a little girl and I fear I'll be drawn and quartered in the town square. Homosexuality is illegal here apparently. Not that I'm gay, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Send any and all donations to Nate or Jed. Preferablly Jed, last time Nate handled my money I ended up losing a pinky to the Yakuza, but that's a different story.

Not but a few minutes ago, I lost a post I had been working on for about an hour, close to two. Instead of retyping half my life and my old Seventh Day Adventist beliefs, I'll make a statement.

Satanism is not what the media has made it out to be.

Satanism is about living life for yourself and for life.

Most Satanists do not believe in Satan.

Where Christianity has its Ten Commandments, Satanism has the Nine Satanic Statements, the Eleven Satanic Rules of the Earth, which state the Satanic law of the jungle for social interaction, and instead of Christianity's Seven Deadly Sins, Satanism has the Nine Satanic Sins.

If you are actually interested and not too offended, read more at Satanism 101. This wasn't meant to pursuade anyone into thinking something different, but after I lost that well thought out, unbias, long, and openminded post I really don't give a fuck.

I'm really pissed I lost that post.

Everyone welcome Matt to the writing team. He will be posting coverage of the war with Iraq, as well as journal entries while he travels around the world representing Cephaladon Studio's own news department. Don't ask where we get our funding.

On a slightly sadder note... I know I'm American because I'm worried that I have SARS (Would you like to know more?) Even though I'm at least 500 miles from any infected area. Oh well, at least I don't advocate setting an entire country on fire for no apparent reason. Enough anti-war rhetoric from me though, for a sense of unbiaseditudeness, here's a pro war link for all of you.

And here's a sample:

Q: What about conscientious objectors, people with a moral objection to killing?

A: These namby-pamby boys don't object to killing, they just have an irrational fear of being killed. However, since cowards are no good on the front lines of a war, they can be jailed for the (hopefully indefinite) duration and forced to produce useful goods like bombs, bullets, and boots.

Q: Why do you keep referring to soldiers as "boys?" Can't women fight too?

A: One wonderful thing about war is that everyone has a useful job to do, a proper place in society. Women are a liability in battle, and their proper role is to provide sexual services to the soldiers on leave, make war goods in factories, and produce babies who will grow up to serve as soldiers.


You heard the man, if you don't have one in the oven ladies, you're doing your country a disservice. That's my final thought.

Wow. That is all i have to say... wow.
If you are over 18 years of age please check out "Rate my Gas Mask."
Nate votes for number 1. I, myself, am going for number 8... what do you think?

They just don't make them like muslims.

Now some of you folks may be asking, "What the FUCK is a cephaladon?" That is a good question. A cephaladon is the combination of two creatures. A cephalapod like creature, and an elephant. A cephaladon has the the head of a cephalapod, an octopus-like creature called Cthulhu, created by the author H.P. Lovecraft, seen here, and the body of a very large elephant, or a hairless mastodon, seen here. This may not answer all of your questions, in fact I suspect it should bring up some more, but now you know, and a wise man told me once that knowing is half the battle.

I hate HTML.

I went to a party last night. A few people at this party deserve note, that is to say, I hated a few of the people there.

There was a guy at the party with long blonde hair and wearing a black trenchcoat. He was a drug dealer from Madison. I don't normally introduce people like this, but that's what he said.
"Where do you live?"
"Madison."
"Do you go to school there?"
"No, I sell drugs."
I was interested at this point. People that take themselves seriously tickle me in a way that other things just... don't.
"Really. What drugs do you sell?"
"Pot."
Obviously at the top of the drug totem pole in Madison. Fuck you, Trenchcoat Douchebag.

Then there were these two wasted chicks just begging for dick. It was ugly. So were they. One of them had horizontal zippers on her shirt. To me, that defeats the purpose of a zipper. As a fashion statement though, it did make her look like a two dollar whore, so props if that's the image you want. These two lovely ladies hadn't gotten past the maturity point in high school where you realize that cliques exist, and are able to name them. It's fun, don't get me wrong, but to be in college at a party and telling people about the cliques in your high school, just seems sort of juvenile to me.

"And there were the preps, and the jocks, and the like, band geeks, and the punks..." No shit. There's a reason drunk chicks end up with cocks in their mouths. At some point even they realize they need to stop talking.