Is Larry King a robot?
Will the Red Sox ever win the World Series again?
Did you dust the dirt off your shoulder?
Does a male worm refer to his garbage as his little worm?
Why did the tape skip for Milli Vanilli?
When will Steve Buscemi win an Oscar?
Who is the best superhero?
Does it get better or worse after thirteen?
Who would win in a fight: the Baldwin brothers or the Wayans brothers?
Does Donald Rumsfeld eat babies?
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Television Sets, Synthesizers, and an Undying Passion
With Father's Day still fresh in the minds of families across this great country, I am reminded of the advice of my own father. My father always told me that personal fulfillment should always come before financial success. He stresses the importance of passion in all of life endevours, and the inherent value in pursuing your own dreams.
As a result of my father's preaching, I try to live my life outside the stringent rules of the materialistic world. I attempt to break the chains of public perception to achieve complete spiritual enlightenment.
Nonetheless, I digress from time to time and look to find inspiration in those around me. That is precisely how I met Vern Baxter. Vern or "Bax" as I used to call him lived on my floor first semester of my freshman year at a prestigious college in Northwestern D.C.
His 6'3" bony frame was covered by a roadmap of freckles, leading to a greasy red mop on top of his head. His hygiene was reprehinsible. His clothing was dated and usually smelled of old Chinese food. His social skills were virtually nonexistant, and he had an unhealthy obsession with Billy Squier music.
But, Vern's passion for life and love seemed to overshadow all these other shortcomings. He started skipping classes and staying in his dorm room (now a single) all day. One saturday afternoon I saw him wheeling a television set into his room, and I stopped him. He gave me two honest minutes of his time, and I left with a budding feeling of amazement.
He told me he had tried the girl thing. He tried the guy thing. He tried every possible combination of the two with still a sense of longing. That's when he told me he began experimenting with other items. He would sit in his room, pounding aggressively into television sets, old synthesizers, and even a toaster. His shrieks could be heard all over the dorm. Occassionally he would emerge from the room in a sweaty mess with a sense of peace in his face.
I don't know if Bax ever found what he was looking for, but I can never question the man's passion.
As a result of my father's preaching, I try to live my life outside the stringent rules of the materialistic world. I attempt to break the chains of public perception to achieve complete spiritual enlightenment.
Nonetheless, I digress from time to time and look to find inspiration in those around me. That is precisely how I met Vern Baxter. Vern or "Bax" as I used to call him lived on my floor first semester of my freshman year at a prestigious college in Northwestern D.C.
His 6'3" bony frame was covered by a roadmap of freckles, leading to a greasy red mop on top of his head. His hygiene was reprehinsible. His clothing was dated and usually smelled of old Chinese food. His social skills were virtually nonexistant, and he had an unhealthy obsession with Billy Squier music.
But, Vern's passion for life and love seemed to overshadow all these other shortcomings. He started skipping classes and staying in his dorm room (now a single) all day. One saturday afternoon I saw him wheeling a television set into his room, and I stopped him. He gave me two honest minutes of his time, and I left with a budding feeling of amazement.
He told me he had tried the girl thing. He tried the guy thing. He tried every possible combination of the two with still a sense of longing. That's when he told me he began experimenting with other items. He would sit in his room, pounding aggressively into television sets, old synthesizers, and even a toaster. His shrieks could be heard all over the dorm. Occassionally he would emerge from the room in a sweaty mess with a sense of peace in his face.
I don't know if Bax ever found what he was looking for, but I can never question the man's passion.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
I think I downloaded a pastrami sandwich on rye today. I was looking at a webpage that discusses the cultural significance of The Cosby Show when I clicked on a link entitled "Theo's Pet Peeves." For a second a picture of an older Theodre Huxtable appeared on the screen. It was the one where he had that flat-top with the fat ass fade and the little tail on the back. I begged my mom for like two weeks to get a hair cut like that, but she told me that white, Jewish kids can't usually grow flat-tops. Needless to say I grew a tail.
Anyway it was at that precise moment when a hot pastrami sandwich with swiss cheese melted tucked between the red folds landed in my lap. There was no plate and some of the cheese spilled on my brown cords. Well, I had to eat the sandwich, and when I was done I looked back up at my computer screen. Theo was looking right at me.
I'm not sure, but I think that was a sign...
Anyway it was at that precise moment when a hot pastrami sandwich with swiss cheese melted tucked between the red folds landed in my lap. There was no plate and some of the cheese spilled on my brown cords. Well, I had to eat the sandwich, and when I was done I looked back up at my computer screen. Theo was looking right at me.
I'm not sure, but I think that was a sign...
Thursday, June 10, 2004
The Richard Simmons Paradox
This shit should be in textbooks:
Does it piss you off that Richard Simmons is an aerobics instructor? You're damn right I said it. For some reason this flamboyant ball of energy seemed to duck all the radar screens and maintain a monopoly on the aerobic videotape market. Now ordinarily I have nothing against an eccentric, curly-haired man donning ball hugging shorts and a rhinestone tank top while coaxing overweight women to draw inspiration from a K.C. and the Sunshine Band song. Anyone who has seen a John Holmes movie(R.I.P.) knows the value of combining these elements to create a quality product.
However, I will not stand for Richard Simmons any longer. Aerobics instructors are supposed to be comic book type characters with bodies far superior to any of their clientele. Their supposed to be cut from stone or marble or some hard substance. Furthermore, their egos must surpass the size of their biceps. Good-looking, ripped people don't become trainers or aerobics instructors because they feel some selfless devotion to overweight people. Their egos push them in the business. Have you ever used a Body By Jake machine? Exactly.
Sorry, that was a little harsh. Let's get back to the heart of the issue, Richard Simmons. If you ask people about some of the biggest controversies and coverups of all time they will probably refer to JFK's murder or Clinton's embattled "sexual relations" speech. However, I say Richard Simmons. He isn't in very good shape. His voice is piercing. His chest hair is out of control and, worst of all, he's making men's booty shorts terribly uncool. In fact i cant even wear mesh tank tops to the grocery store anymore.
Some say this discourse is bitter and poorly conceived. Yes, Richard Simmons might be the embodiment of the American Dream. He has created a paradigm in the industry while aiding hundreds of women in their quest for physical fitness. Well I say no. Call me narrow-minded but there are just some things you can't mess with. Brian Setzer can revive swing music. Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez can make a movie together. Even Vanilla Ice can try to be a rapper and then a hardcore singer(well maybe not that last one). But I still think Richard Simmons should not be in the physical fitness industry. Am I wrong?
Subway Jared isn't much better either.
(I lost fifty pounds using Richard Simmons' videotapes and realized my love for leg warmers. He will always stand as a patriarch of the modern aerobics revolution).
Does it piss you off that Richard Simmons is an aerobics instructor? You're damn right I said it. For some reason this flamboyant ball of energy seemed to duck all the radar screens and maintain a monopoly on the aerobic videotape market. Now ordinarily I have nothing against an eccentric, curly-haired man donning ball hugging shorts and a rhinestone tank top while coaxing overweight women to draw inspiration from a K.C. and the Sunshine Band song. Anyone who has seen a John Holmes movie(R.I.P.) knows the value of combining these elements to create a quality product.
However, I will not stand for Richard Simmons any longer. Aerobics instructors are supposed to be comic book type characters with bodies far superior to any of their clientele. Their supposed to be cut from stone or marble or some hard substance. Furthermore, their egos must surpass the size of their biceps. Good-looking, ripped people don't become trainers or aerobics instructors because they feel some selfless devotion to overweight people. Their egos push them in the business. Have you ever used a Body By Jake machine? Exactly.
Sorry, that was a little harsh. Let's get back to the heart of the issue, Richard Simmons. If you ask people about some of the biggest controversies and coverups of all time they will probably refer to JFK's murder or Clinton's embattled "sexual relations" speech. However, I say Richard Simmons. He isn't in very good shape. His voice is piercing. His chest hair is out of control and, worst of all, he's making men's booty shorts terribly uncool. In fact i cant even wear mesh tank tops to the grocery store anymore.
Some say this discourse is bitter and poorly conceived. Yes, Richard Simmons might be the embodiment of the American Dream. He has created a paradigm in the industry while aiding hundreds of women in their quest for physical fitness. Well I say no. Call me narrow-minded but there are just some things you can't mess with. Brian Setzer can revive swing music. Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez can make a movie together. Even Vanilla Ice can try to be a rapper and then a hardcore singer(well maybe not that last one). But I still think Richard Simmons should not be in the physical fitness industry. Am I wrong?
Subway Jared isn't much better either.
(I lost fifty pounds using Richard Simmons' videotapes and realized my love for leg warmers. He will always stand as a patriarch of the modern aerobics revolution).
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Hits from the Gong
With popular music producing about as much energy as a stagnant bowl of pigeon shit, I am going to ask the question that is on everyone's mind: what happened to drummers? Damn it man, you sit on a stool while the guitar player and lead singers capture the hearts and underpants of sweaty underaged girls.
Remember when drummers used to have gongs behind their sets? A gong can singlehandedly transform a mediocre drummer into the arrogant womanizer that lies latent in his subconscious. Since a gong can really only be used to accentuate the end of a song or signify a gaudy introduction, the instrument simply emanates the rock star attitude. A snare drum is used in every single song, but it is only a fraction of the size of a gong. You can't even see the snare drum from the audience. A gong on the other hand is heavy and shiny and probably costs more than your tight-slack wearing guitar player's Marshall amp. What's even better is you need a sledgehammer with a pillow on the top to hit the gong. If the roadies bitch to you about carrying a large hubcap just so you can slam it in one song, just tell them you'll send some of the groupies to their bus.
Remember when drummers used to have gongs behind their sets? A gong can singlehandedly transform a mediocre drummer into the arrogant womanizer that lies latent in his subconscious. Since a gong can really only be used to accentuate the end of a song or signify a gaudy introduction, the instrument simply emanates the rock star attitude. A snare drum is used in every single song, but it is only a fraction of the size of a gong. You can't even see the snare drum from the audience. A gong on the other hand is heavy and shiny and probably costs more than your tight-slack wearing guitar player's Marshall amp. What's even better is you need a sledgehammer with a pillow on the top to hit the gong. If the roadies bitch to you about carrying a large hubcap just so you can slam it in one song, just tell them you'll send some of the groupies to their bus.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Free Weavis
Shackled by the chains of an intolerant society and labeled as an outcast, Owen Weaver is has become a fixture in the Orange radical movement. Known to friends and cats simply as Weavis, he frequents underground coffee bars to preach his romantic idealism to the masses.
"I first met him at McDonald's," says Marian Wilkins, owner of www.weavis.com. "He was yelling and pumping his first. Of course there wasn't anyone around him but his act lasted for about half an hour." She adds, "I was immediately intrigued."
Wilkins' fascination would only grow with time and soon she was attending weekly Weavis rallies. The mood was right for a revolution, and Wilkins' says Weavis would drop subtle hints about a "change in times."
Little did she know that these "hints" were being closely monitored by Orange central intelligenece agency. Apparently censorship still runs rampant, in Orange and Weavis would soon feel the strong grasp of big brother when the police raided one of his gatherings.
"I was talking with my friends," says a Weavis sympathizer who wished to remain nameless and faceless. "Before I knew it everyone was running to the cars yelling,'Fuzz, Fuzz.'"
Just as their parents had over thirty years ago, these college students had become the victims of an authoritarian regime, working to stomp out any form of dissidence. The party was dissolved within minutes as police occupied the quaint residence. They interrogated the tattered revolutionary for almost an hour, making long-distance calls on his home phones. He was quarantined from the few remaining guests and shown pictures of fellow upstarts. Just as suspected, Weavis kept silent through the entire ordeal and was slapped with a ticket for a court appearance on June 7.
I thought creativity facilitated democracy. I thought freedom of expression applied to all ideas, not just those sympathetic to the status quo. I thought the words of our forefathers still rang as true today as at the signing of the constitution.
FREE WEAVIS! STOP CENSORSHIP! GET YOUR PETS SPADE AND NEUTERED!
"I first met him at McDonald's," says Marian Wilkins, owner of www.weavis.com. "He was yelling and pumping his first. Of course there wasn't anyone around him but his act lasted for about half an hour." She adds, "I was immediately intrigued."
Wilkins' fascination would only grow with time and soon she was attending weekly Weavis rallies. The mood was right for a revolution, and Wilkins' says Weavis would drop subtle hints about a "change in times."
Little did she know that these "hints" were being closely monitored by Orange central intelligenece agency. Apparently censorship still runs rampant, in Orange and Weavis would soon feel the strong grasp of big brother when the police raided one of his gatherings.
"I was talking with my friends," says a Weavis sympathizer who wished to remain nameless and faceless. "Before I knew it everyone was running to the cars yelling,'Fuzz, Fuzz.'"
Just as their parents had over thirty years ago, these college students had become the victims of an authoritarian regime, working to stomp out any form of dissidence. The party was dissolved within minutes as police occupied the quaint residence. They interrogated the tattered revolutionary for almost an hour, making long-distance calls on his home phones. He was quarantined from the few remaining guests and shown pictures of fellow upstarts. Just as suspected, Weavis kept silent through the entire ordeal and was slapped with a ticket for a court appearance on June 7.
I thought creativity facilitated democracy. I thought freedom of expression applied to all ideas, not just those sympathetic to the status quo. I thought the words of our forefathers still rang as true today as at the signing of the constitution.
FREE WEAVIS! STOP CENSORSHIP! GET YOUR PETS SPADE AND NEUTERED!
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Urban Camping
Thousands of Americans enjoy the serenity of the outdoors by taking annual camping trips. These trips usually take place in remote areas of the country, untouched by the effects of industry and technology. Many people feel that camping in the woods is a spiritual experience. They can leave their world of cell phones and business appointments and bask in the peacefulness of nature.
Maybe it's because I go to school in a city, but I am a bigger fan of the other type of camping. That's right, urban camping. Some people say, "Hey, you can't camp in an urban environment. Where are the animals and the rivers?" That's cool. But I say, "Hey when I look out on a booming metropolis, I see an adventure." Those people standing on the corner, wearing three overcoats, and that guy with greasy hair, whose underpants are on the outside of his pants aren't homeless, no sir. These are the hordes of fearless urban campers, storming American cities. They exchange tents for corrugated cardboard and backpacks for shopping carts. They view vagrancy not as a sociological issue but as a recreational activity.
Urban Campers of the world unite!!!!
Maybe it's because I go to school in a city, but I am a bigger fan of the other type of camping. That's right, urban camping. Some people say, "Hey, you can't camp in an urban environment. Where are the animals and the rivers?" That's cool. But I say, "Hey when I look out on a booming metropolis, I see an adventure." Those people standing on the corner, wearing three overcoats, and that guy with greasy hair, whose underpants are on the outside of his pants aren't homeless, no sir. These are the hordes of fearless urban campers, storming American cities. They exchange tents for corrugated cardboard and backpacks for shopping carts. They view vagrancy not as a sociological issue but as a recreational activity.
Urban Campers of the world unite!!!!
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