Eat A Teat

I love The God-Damn Onion. Peep this week's story about the Pope, titled Pope John Paul II: 25 Years of Laughs. Best quote:

"I can still remember seeing him do his classic 'Galileo' bit in the early '90s," said fellow comedian George Carlin, referring to the pope's 1992 declaration that the church erred in condemning Galileo. "Here was this man, appearing on televisions around the world, making a proclamation that the sun does not move around the earth. I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks."

Delightful. What a hateful fascist that man is.

Today's paper had an article about this Norse woman who wrote this book that's apparently unfavorable towards this Afghan family she'd been living with. From the purportedly tyrannical patriarch who's suing her and the publisher:

There were lots of misrepresentations about me, my family and my country.

Let me tell you something that country: Afghanistan's a luddite cesspool of misogyny and Islamo-fascism. The whole country should be paved over and turned into a big Planned Parenthood clinic. Culture is a farce, tradition is a farce; when you're stuck between culture and human rights, guess which one's gotta give. I mean, I know which one does tend to give, but you know...

The 1.10 Patch for Diablo II came out yesterday. It's alright. I guess my interest in the game has kind of waned. I'd been watching the official Forums, and most of the posts seemed to either praise Blizzard for funneling resources into a game that's getting pretty long in the profit-tooth or take them to task for not being supportive enough of a fan base that they were courting for the purchase their Christmas offering, World of Warcraft. Pretty characteristic of the dilemmas surrounding capitalism in general. I don't know which side of the line I fall on; probably the gratitude side -- I'm just happy to have some new items for my little one-inch high projection of masculine agency. However, the NYTimes had a piece on Monday about the work attitude of Generation Y (that's me). Apparently, we don't trust the Company to provide for us the same way Mom and Dad did. Well thank Chaturr'gha for that -- how humiliating. I'm just saving up to get my MS, anyway.

Speaking of games, though, I've been thinking about the kind of game I'd like to make if I had the wherewithal to make one. You guys remember those games called Manhole and Spelunx by Cyan? They weren't so much games (as far as I remember) as much as they were complicated objects that you could explore. You could click on different parts of a scene and sometimes it would take you to a new scene and sometimes there would be a little animation or sound effect. I was explaining that to Tom, and he was like, "That's not a game I'd really wanna play." Yeah, I know, it's not much of a game -- it's more of something like a novel or a Faberge egg or something. The only game-like example of this I can find is the Inform game Aisle, by Sam Barlow (review here). I've played it, it's really pretty interesting. So that's what I want to make.

Howdy Doody In The Woodshed

His hair is red, his eyes are green
He's like a person that you've never seen
He'll sing and dance, he's been to France
But now he doesn't seem to stand a chance

Mimi (fat enough to be known as "Muffin," we think) did not like going to the Vet. When we took out the cat carrier, she hid under the computer desk and wedged her head behind the printer. But Mer managed to pull her out and stuff her into the box, and I carried it across the street to the Park Slope Animal Hospital. There was a lady there with her cat, and she said that the place was not the best place when it came to veterinary medicine, but you know what? It was pretty good, so she was clearly an hysteric. The Vet was a big fat dude -- he explained that he and Mimi, probably, both had a problem with liking to eat. He also showed me a trick that many of you may already know -- if you grab a cat by the scruff of the neck, it gets real calm, a lot like when you put your computer into software-suspend mode. So try it.

The 1.10 patch for Dia-blow 2 is supposed to come out today.

I hear RedHat is phasing out their SOHO edition. What?!

We (Mer) rented the complete first season of Smallville, as well as The Eye, which is a good film but not terribly scary. Think "The Sixth Sense," plus that movie Blink with Madeleine Stowe. Okay, so Smallville, right? The emblem of the series, kind of, is this image of Clark Kent strapped to some cross-like scarecrow rigging in the middle of a cornfield with the a big red 'S' painted on his chest. How edgy is that -- Superman, crucified? But the series doesn't ever really get that contraversial again -- after the pilot, that is (or is it the first episode? Do they even air pilots?).

Speaking of scary, I've been over at a certain best-friends-club's apartment playing a lot of this game Eternal Darkness for the GameCube, and I've gotta say, it's really IA! IA! TIER ARETAK PARGON CHATTUR'GHA PARGON!!!

Blow It Out Your Blow-Hole

These eight-to-six crank shifts have me dead tired, but I managed to upload the missing CoA strips this morning.

Mer and I rented Dreamcatcher last night. Well, Mer rented it. I'm not going to take credit for doing anything but watching it, and I was playing with the cat for most of it, anyway. You know, some people have been able to make decent movies out of Stephen King books, but this Larry Kasdan guy seems to have a slavish devotion to the original text, which is, you know, a mistake when it comes to this stuff. Look, I'm not going to lie and say I read the whole book, but the first few chapters had everything that King fans seem to hunger for insatiably: A rag-tag bunch of kids who have a mystical experience and grow up into a rag-tag bunch of white trash with shitty jobs; white trash insistently spitting out awkward and improbable catch-phrases like "Fuck Me Freddy" and "Same Shit, Different Day"; a fucked up little boy with psychic powers; and white trash dying perverse and violent deaths. Oh yeah, the movie's got all of that, except they left out the part where any of the stupid story ever gets properly explained. And way to mis-cast Morgan Freeman, clods. I guess I'm saying I didn't like it.

Blog on, Christian soldier. Peep it. Best quote (re: Partial-birth abortion):

Good, I say. Even if a women is raped or incested, and even then I dont think they should be allowed to get them, she shouldn't be allowed to kill it so late into the pregnancy because it has a soul.

Good old fucking fake ridiculous soul bullshit.

Hey Jeb Bush, I've got one of those fake rubber rat toys with a battery in it that makes it writhe around and squeak -- you wanna come over and put a feeding tube in it for me? kthx bye.

Comeuppance in Spades

I kind of got chewed out by the CTO today. But you know what, if you want me to come in at 8:00 fucking AM, don't expect me to do a good job.

This guy on the Q train met a friend who got on at Atlantic Ave., and showed him a book called something like, "Alice In Wonderland And The Truth Behind 9/11." Apparently you shouldn't bother looking for it on Amazon.com, 'cuz it's packed with stuff the national media companies don't want you to know, like:

• You got to have the bloodline, negro! It don't matter what race you be; if you don't got the bloodline, you ain't goin' nowhere!
• I already knew all that shit about the dollar bills, the eye in the pyramid and all that shit, but what about how's there's 13 arrows for 13 Indians; and those is wheat arrows!
• You know about the microchips? Man, they been doin' that shit to dogs for years, but there's this family where they all got microchips
• The media tryin' to blame all this shit on the Islam, but it ain't Islam! It's the Jews! The Jews and um... them dudes with the bloodline!

According the first guy, he'd just started to read the book, but it had already changed his worldview completely. His friend was saying, "Yeah, man, that must be some heavy shit in that book. You look all shook up!" The guy was like, "Yeah, it's the real shit. It's vicious."

Here are some pictures for you to enjoy:

• Mimi the cat
• The apartment

I uploaded most of my award-winning comic strip, Cavalcade of Assholes. Peep it here.

Oh Jesus Fuck

Man, I felt terrible yesterday. Jason and I wandered around the West Village for half an hour looking for a place to get food, and we finally settled on Sammy's Asian Gourmet at 6th and Bleecker -- apparently a spin-off of the Noodlehaus, up on 11th St. Anyway, it wasn't very good, and like 15 minutes after I started eating my body started screaming at me that I was going to have to throw up. I managed to keep it in check, but I had to go downstairs and walk around the block a few times before I was feeling well enough to sit down at my desk. And then the feces explosion.

That morning, the Q had been super-slow; I could've gotten to work faster by walking. I was standing next to this old guy on the subway, and whenever the conductor apologized for the delay, the guy would murmur quietly, "thas' okay," or, "hey, that's cool," or, "don't worry about it."

I'm reading Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson. I don't get it, though! Earth people: "I was born on Jupiter!"

The Daily News

The last time I sat down to write a post, I wanted to tell the Interweb how I was praying for the death of this guy who runs the American Family Research Council or whatever. I mean, what an awful organization -- they deserve nothing short of obliteration. But then I started thinking about how I kind of get all wrapped up in hating this stuff and it's not very good for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm still hoping these guys and everyone like them take the big dirt nap right fucking now, neatly demonstrating the irony of their positions -- if only their consciousness existed to realize it -- but I guess it's sort of a waste of time to talk and write about it, and it's bad for my emotional health.

Mer and I went to the Beacon Theater on 74th on Saturday night for the Comedy Central Live tour, featuring Dave Attell and Lewis Black. Of course, we were really there to see Mitch Hedberg, but it turned out that Lewis Black ain't half bad. I mean, I don't have cable or anything, so I don't watch comedy all day long like some of you, so he was sort of a surprise for me. Dave Attell is 100% not funny, though. He is just deadly. He is like the "funny guy" for every bunch of asshole friends out there, and you could tell because the audience was packed with assholes. Mitch was pretty good, except that the sound was way too loud, 'cause the opening guy was too quiet, and he was holding the mic way too close to his mouth. He was doing this line about how he knew he was going to be a stand-up comic because he's real good at holding an ice-cream cone, but apparently he doesn't really know how to do that at all. That's okay, though. A bunch of people in the audience were yelling at him to get off the stage, and he was sort of responding in a funny way. I couldn't tell whether they were fans or not; I'd like to think that they were.

After the show, Mer was trying to find a pot to piss in, and all of a sudden I ran into Kim and this guy Brian from high school -- they'd gone to see the show together. Kim was real intent on having me return this phone call she'd made to me like a month ago. I mean, I don't really have anything to say to her. She's fucking awful. Brian is nice enough, I guess, but he's kind of a stoner jerk-off who's gotta say everything in this real low, terse voice. I couldn't remember his name, so I just referred to him as "guy" -- Billy and I used to joke that he looked like his name might be "Jesse," and that's all I could think of until Mer pointedly introduced herself. Maybe they were on a date. I bet he's just her type. That's always weird, when you find out that your friends just have these weird, inexplicable sexual tastes that they'd never reveal to you explicitly.

I played some whiffle-ball with the Degraw ladies today in Prospect Park. It was only seven of us, so we played it like there were 7 teams, each with one batter and a bunch of "ghost runners." I got 1 point, which puts me in third place -- Tom, infuratingly, got 6 points, and Devin, little power-house that he is, got 2. And I fucking beat Ted in a push-up contest; first thing like that I've ever won. And I am mad sore, son.

Before we went to the park, we "ate a feast" at the local Mickey D's. Man that place is awful. The more hospital-like and efficient it is, the more "Fear and Loathing" it feels. Just all these overweight little kids packin' they faces with fat shit. I got the two-cheeseburgers meal, but I gave one of the things to Devin and I couldn't even finish my fried. The really creepy thing is how they don't even try to advertise to white people any more.

Coming home from Tom's place on my bike, I saw this guy with a fat little bulldog-like dog, which was sort of snuffling around the base of this tree. The guy must have seen me looking at his dog, because he said, "Yeah. He's gonna be sick." And then, true enough, the dog pukes up some greenish gunk. For dinner, I made 'tato quesadillas. Yeah, it's my specialty, and yeah, it's awesome. The cat's ass is pretty much clean enough now to sleep on the bed with us.

For Tom:

(21:17:20) Nintendo Julian: tell me, sir
(21:17:25) Nintendo Julian: do you *ever* read my web-log?
(21:20:14) TEWogglebug:Yeah. But usually when you tell me to.
(21:20:26) Nintendo Julian: I want you guys to read my web-log ALL THE TIME
(21:20:33) Nintendo Julian: and I want you guys to have web-logs
(21:20:36) TEWogglebug: Well, say that in the web-log.

I'm sayin' it -- now do it.

Fuck you, Gary L.

Maybe you long-term scumbags can back me up on this one -- I've only been working the .com nightmare for a few months -- but am I right or not that the business half of the business / brains duo is just awful? I mean, one might naturally suspect this, but is this choice evidence or what:

(regarding the annual Greenwich Village Halloween Parade) I mean, back in the 80's it was just a bunch of guys butt-fuckin' each other. Now they've got sponsorship from, like, a dish detergent company. Corporations! Man, they'll sponsor anything, even gays...

Or, try this on for size:

Man, what is this stuff? "Pad thai"? Heh heh, they should call it "dog vomit," 'cause that's what it looks like!

Proof once again that if you major in a shitty subject -- finance -- at a shitty school -- anything ending with "SU" -- then you are an asshole.

Mer and I got a cat named Mimi at Bide-A-Wee. Mer went in looking for a kitten, but they clearly wanted to sell us on one of the older cats, and, you know, that is cool. So our cat is big and fat and five years old, like a guest on Maury Povich, maybe. She had some kind of skin problem from being depressed and sleeping in her litter box in her cage, but apparently that is all cleared up now. She is very sweet but she has a pretty dirty asshole from not cleaning herself at the shelter, and she clearly wants to scratch our furniture to pieces. The very first night she came into bed with us, but during the day she is always hiding under tables and pretending not to notice us. It's a little weird, but hopefully she'll adjust to our apartment soon.

As another part of Mer's B-day celebration, we went to go see Kill Bill, Vol. 1. Now look, this Quentin Tarantino guy, right? He knows how to make a movie, you know, with all the camera work and editing and pacing and stuff, but can he write a line of dialogue that doesn't make you want to punch him? "I put a bullet in her head, but her heart just kept on beatin'?" Come on. Don't jerk me around, shithead. I mean, everyone is always off on this guy's dick because he taught himself everything, but he didn't teach himself how to make a movie that a person should want to watch. It's really pretty low material. I don't know, I guess Resevoir Dogs is an okay movie. Then we rented May, which was pointlessly excruciating, but probably a better movie than Kill Bill in many ways. We also rented White Oleander, which I didn't watch.

Finally, The Stars Are Right -- for my Call of Cthulhu campaign, that is!

Go Fuck A Cactus

I just saw Bruce Campbell's latest ouvre, Bubba Ho-Tep. Well, pretty good, and even kind of touching, but I don't know... Don't get me wrong, it doesn't jerk you around, but it's a bit rough. And it's a little too short. But I liked it. You should see it, you.

Okay, I'm going to list some headlines from the great Satan, CNN.com, and then I'll say something about each one.

• Tiger mauls Siegfried and Roy Illusionist: So... which of the Siegfried and Roy illusionists? Siegfried? Or Roy? Right.
• Pope offers warning over gay clergy: Oh sweet dead putrescent Christ how I pray for the death of this awful fascist. The day his consciousness thankfully ceases to be, I will be masturbating into a kleenex to the most deviant porno I can find before going to work to program a computer.
• Marlins kill off Giants to reach NLCS: If this weren't a stupid sports story it would be so, so exciting. Except what is NLCS.

Okay that was three headlines. I don't know.

Some lady who used to board dogs upstairs moved out, and now she's getting all these debt collection notices, including some honest-to-god subpoenas. But she also gets all these classy magazines, like National Geographic and Smithsonian and some other magazines I've never even heard of. So: Is she a villainous faker living beyond her means? Or just a hapless idiot living who needs to update her forwarding address? Idiot. More on this later.

Hate The Player, Not The Game

You know what? I don't like losers. Shamefully enough, I keep reading this guy from Yale's online journal and all he talks about is how he wants to get an investment banking job and an apartment in Manhattan so that he can go to all the hip clubs and meet lame, materialistic gay men like himself and generally be a fucking asshole. You know what? If everyone in New York acted like you, it wouldn't be a place you wanted to live in in the first place. Go down to Panama City Beach or back to God-forsaken Long Island, you creep. Thanks for ruining the world. You'll always be a fucking loser from Long Island, no matter how many guest lists you get your name on.

And another thing: I was reading the Times the other day, and there was this story about some guy in some New Jersey suburb or something or killed his son and then jumped in front of a train. And the mayor of the town goes:

"The community is obviously shocked because this doesn't happen in a community like ours," said Mayor McDermott.

Oh -- you mean it only happens in the big city because of all the blacks and the hispanics and the poor people. Guess what, dickhead, some guy might get shot in a liquor store or something in New York City, but the really sick shit happens when people have more money than they deserve or know what to do with and there's nowhere to go and nothing to fucking do all day. Fuck you, scumbag. I'd like to shoot you and your little gated "community" into fucking outer space.

Chris came over for dinner the other night, spilling Budweiser all over the hall in the process, and I made us some 'tato quesadillas, but Mer was feeling sick so I kind of had to give him the bum's rush after an hour or so. Those fucking creeps are looking into a new drummer, which, I suppose was inevitable, but Chris dropped off a CD of stuff they'd recorded recently, and some of it sounded pretty good -- particularly this one song called "Dinosaur Bones." That song is very good.

I went over to 81 Degraw last night to help Tom roll a character for our game, but he and Emma were still at a movie. So I hung out with Devin for a while, 'cuz he was locked out. By the time Tom got back I was succumbing to my gross mucus-filled cold, so I kind of had to hit the road. Sorry, guy. Maybe we'll try again tonight.

What else? Oh yeah, we might be adopting a kitten. Shut up.