Don't be enticed by Ruff and Ready in the foreground. That's what they want -- to draw in your gaze. When at last you succumb to their allure, your eyes will be locked by an Unholy Succubus -- a Gorgon of Unspeakable Power. She'll rend your soul from your flesh while grinning her diabolical grin and staring with unblinking and dead eyes.
Beware.
Analogcabin @ 12:38 PM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 12:32 PM ------------------------- Kevin Smith, the nerdy, pudgy director best known for his 1994 low budget indie breakthrough Clerks, told AP Friday that his next project will be a sequel to his 1994 cult hit Clerks.
Analogcabin @ 3:11 PM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 2:35 PM ------------------------- As the Beatles sagely said, all things must pass. But on days like today, their words are no balm. Some wounds cannot and should not heal.
Analogcabin @ 8:53 AM ------------------------- Despite the Bush campaign's denial of involvement with the group Swift Boat Veterans for Truth or it's controversial attack ads, Bush campaign lawyer Benjamin Ginsberg resigned today after admitting he provided the group legal advice. It is the second resignation by a member of the Bush campaign over involvement with the 527 group.
Analogcabin @ 1:43 PM ------------------------- Though some polls show his support among veterans waning, Democratic candidate John Kerry still enjoys the strong support of denim wrapped flesh balls all over the nation.
Analogcabin @ 10:51 AM ------------------------- I'm all for genetics, or jeanetique as we say in France. While certain ethicists, retards, Luddites, and Shakers shun the nascent but remarkable branch of biotechnology, branding it a "slippery slope," "smelly," a "corrupting force," and "evil," respectively, I embrace the potential to perfect what The Lord Our God so badly fucked up the first time around.
Analogcabin @ 5:28 PM ------------------------- I don't think the question should be why they were killed, it should be why weren't they killed sooner? I mean, look at the fucking goatee. Seriously, Flea: wake up and smell the 2004.
Analogcabin @ 12:45 PM ------------------------- According to this article, a group of enterprising Indians have hatched a scheme to load up pedicabs, wheel barrows, carts, and other two-wheeled, chump-powered vehicles with computers. They'll then push, drag, or peddle these compu-scoots o'er hill and dale to remote villages throughout their clay-ovened nation in an effort to teach sub-educated sub-continentals about the glories Microsoft Word, Minesweeper, and www.preggos.com.
Analogcabin @ 12:52 PM ------------------------- According to this Reuters article, the judge in the trial of Scott Peterson, Alfred Delucci, unexpectedly cancelled proceedings today for "reasons he did not make public."
Analogcabin @ 5:00 PM ------------------------- When a three-year-old boy named Deontea who's attending an evening showing of the presumably R-rated Alien Vs. Predator with his parents chokes to death on popcorn, I'm forced to reconsider my decidedly not racist view of the behavior of black people in movie theaters and their alleged propensity for bringing their young children to films the content of which they're wholly unfit. At times, it's difficult to be so colorblind.
Analogcabin @ 1:59 PM ------------------------- I'm a firm believer that you don't stop living as long as you don't stop learning until you actually stop living, and my artful way of putting it has been quoted countless times in small market newspaper editorials and adult education classes across our great nation. I reminded myself of that after a long haul truck driver made rude implications about my mother's morality following my request for a 10-13.
Analogcabin @ 5:17 PM ------------------------- I'm back, courtesy of my new neighbors and their wireless network.
Analogcabin @ 3:33 PM ------------------------- U.S. forces began their military offensive today in the Iraq city of Najaf, where militiamen loyal to radical cleric Muqtada al-Sadr have vowed to fight coalition forces "to the death." American soldiers were spotted storming the house of al-Sadr, where they searched for incriminating documents and weapons. In addition, troops left behind informative brochures displaying proper dental hygiene exercises, as well as inserting into al-Sadr's VCR a promotional video for one of the United State's staunchest supporters in Iraq, Brite Smile.
Mathis @ 10:35 AM ------------------------- Lest you all think I'm crass and callous, I thought I'd take this opportunity to discuss the recent news report out of Florida in which a 480-pound woman died after melding to her sofa, a spot from which she hasn't been able to rise for six years. You see, the human body is made of cells, which are constantly dying. Luckily, our body makes new cells, which replace the old cells. Now, if you lie in one spot for six years, your cells will die and new cells will grow - and when they are formed, they will grow in, around, and through whatever material you are in contact with. Thus, they will fuse you to the couch you can't get off of. And when the paramedics come, and attempt to cart you off to the hospital, they will try to pry you from the couch you are now intertwined with. Don't be alarmed if your skin is grafted to the fabric and, in the process of trying to get up, your skin is more tightly joined to the sofa than your flesh. See, what will happen - and this is sort of interesting - is your skin will fall off and you will die.
Mathis @ 9:24 AM ------------------------- The Republican Party lowered his visor, took a drag from a stained Russian cigarette. How did I find myself in this leaky concrete basement under some pretzel factory in the West Loop, he asked himself. There were no time for questions. Above, he heard the L rattle and turn on rickety tracks, heading downtown. A single light hung above the table, leaving the edges of the room cloaked in darkness. He looked at his cards, then looked across the table. The Democratic Party was still, focused, his arms folded across his chest; his cards rested on the table face-down. The Democratic Party looked into the eyes of the Republican Party and saw fear, confusion. That last hand he played was pathetic, the DP thought to himself. Was it a bluff? Does the RP really have something this time?
Mathis @ 9:38 AM ------------------------- Life imitates art, albeit without Kate Winslet. (sigh) Mathis @ 12:01 AM ------------------------- Oh, Andy, that's a good one. Seriously, that's absolutely fucking hilarious. What? Get out. Oh, Jesus, I do apologize. No, of course I didn't realize you were serious.
Mathis @ 11:20 PM ------------------------- In case you've forgotten that American soldiers tortured and sodomized Iraqi civilians in a concrete prison in Baghdad, today marked the commencement of the trial in a military court of Pfc. Lynndie England in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. At the trial, a military investigator was quoted as saying that, England, when first questioned about the Abu Ghraib photos showing her with naked Iraqi prisoners, explained, "It was just for fun."
Mathis @ 2:57 PM ------------------------- Our intrepid leader has left again for the warmer climes of the Left Coast and I, the American Mastodon, have come to give you that which you thirst: the funny, the money, the nickel-store honey. Bang a gong.
Mathis @ 7:20 PM ------------------------- So, as I begin my cross-country adventure on the morrow, please welcome back The American Mastodon. He'll be covering my precious ass until I arrive at my new home and arrange for the internet to be delivered. Analogcabin @ 5:15 PM ------------------------- My inner thighs are severely chafed, and the skin is raw and very uncomfortable.
Analogcabin @ 4:42 PM -------------------------
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"Yes, your honor, I'm crazy. Crazy like a fox!"
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Monday, August 30, 2004
After a stunning string of artistic and commercial failures such as Mallrats, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Dogma, and Jersey Girl, few in the movie making community are surprised that Smith has chosen now to draw from the Clerks well.
"At first, you want to root for Kevin, like he's a twenty to one at Belmont you got a couple hundo on," said longtime Smith confidant and maker of equally dubious career choices Ben Affleck. "But then you're just like, alright, you fucking geek, shut the fuck up and go away, you know? I mean enough with the comic books and Silent Bob and shit. It's not working with anyone."
"Kevin's important to Miramax, and he's important to me," said melon-headed mogul Harvey Weinstein, his already gruff voice made more powerful as it echoes in his cavernous acne scars. "Unfortunately, he's pretty much proven unable to make anything watchable. Ten strikes and you're out, if you know what I mean. So we might as well squeeze what's left out of him before he starts directing episides of Alias."
Smith says he'll call the sequel The Passion of the Clerks, proving he's learned nothing from his repeated failed attempts at stretching the thinnest jokes out over films or series of films.
"Clerks was a singular experience -- an utterly unique moment in my life and my career," said Smith. "I look forward to sullying it."
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"...And if you believe one thing this year, America, believe this: from my shoulder blade to the tip of my index finger, seventeen and one half inches, thanks to those motherfucking gooks!"
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Thursday, August 26, 2004
Body Count's rhythm guitarist Dennis "D-Roc" Miles has died.
Lymphoma took him and in doing so robbed from us not only a bright, shining hockey-masked star, but also the hope for more music from an utterly unique group of musicians that was so much more than the sum of its parts. They were a middling to poor hardcore band fronted by an aging and increasingly pudgy rapper designed to raise ire in suburban moms, but their emotional value can't be so easily defined.
When Body Count drummer Beatmaster V succumbed to leukemia in 1996, we clung to hope that Ice and the crew would continue. And when bassist Mooseman was cut down in a 2000 drive-by, still we hoped. But as the Body Count body count mounts, hope is slipping away.
Lead guitarist Ernie C said, "Ice and I will always play in some form." And how. With Mooseman, Beatmaster V, and D-Roc with choirs of angels backing you up.
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Wednesday, August 25, 2004
When asked to respond to the resignation and how it appears to prove true the Kerry campaign's earlier assertion that the group is a front for the Bush campaign, the President said, "I think we all know what's going on here. Benjamin Ginsberg? Let me spell it out for you folks: G-E-W. They betrayed Jesus, and they betrayed me."
It is thought the President intended to spell Jew, though the White House will neither confirm nor deny.
The Gew in question, Benjamin Ginsberg.
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Monday, August 23, 2004
Still, I find the idea of mice that can run 1,800 meters without rest disconcerting for two reasons: 1,800 meters is much longer than a football field, which is the largest span I can conceive of running without a nap, beer, and some tapas; and mice are already troublesome, so further improvement is not needed.
Of course, this all reminds me of a conversation I had with a gentleman working in my local hardware store. Upon moving into my new home, I discovered mice shit. As I am a man of science, I concluded mice might be present and I set about destroying them.
I had mice in my old place in Chicago. During that experience I experimented with various methods and settled on what is now my preferred implement of mouse extermination: the glue trap. This is, essentially, a piece of cardboard covered with very sticky shit. Bait is placed in the center of the trap. The foolish mouse, driven by greed and gluttony, goes for it and is foiled.
They did not appear to carry glue traps in my local hardware store, so I asked the gentleman if perhaps they might soon receive a shipment. "No," he said. "We don't carry those. You know, some say those are even more cruel than the other traps."
The hardware store carried the spring-loaded trap that breaks the mouse's back, that is if it's lucky enough to avoid slower death from a crushed head or broken limbs. They carried a number of poisons, some of which dehydrate the mouse to the point of death, others liquify its organs and cause them to bleed out of every orafice. But they drew an ethical line at the glue traps.
In the end, I bought them at Home Depot.
Mice, seen here in some kind of metallic chute, are creepy and must be stopped.
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Counselor Brillochin presents his chaste intended with a card apologizing in advance for the inner-thigh and rectal area rashes she's about to suffer.
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Thursday, August 19, 2004
Sure, it's crazy. Crazy enough to work!
Take it from 12-year-old Anju Sharma:
"By using computers, I can improve my knowledge," Sharma, whose parents plan to pull her out of school at 15, said in Hindi, before joining a class on web cameras. "And that will help me get a job when I grow up."
Presumably, Sharma plans to use her webcam expertise by launching www.seesharmastarve.com, where she'll trade glimpses of her barely legal (in India) Darjeelings for a few rupees and a hollow, soulless feeling that no amount of curry will chase away.
Exporting America, indeed!
The program's final hurdle is where among the villages' sewage-lined streets and mud-walled hovels to plug the damn things in.
"Statues of Hindi gods like Kali and Shiva were brought from village to village on carts like these once," said young Anju Sharma. "Now I worship the unblinking eye of the webcam, and will unfurl my sari for you for only 99 rupees per minute. I accept PayPal."
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Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Sources suspect diarrhea.
"I just had a... ah... conference in... um... chambers and there is a... um... potential development in this case that has to be... ah... checked out," Delucchi said. "Because of the... eh... nature of this case, um... stuff like this happens and there is nothing I can really do about it."
It happens.
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Tuesday, August 17, 2004
The punchline of all this is that they couldn't hear the boy's death throes while screaming, "Oooo! No you di'int!"
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Monday, August 16, 2004
According to the pamphlet supplied with my CB radio by the Tandy Corp., a 10-13 is a report of road and traffic conditions. Also according to the Tandy Corp., though the FCC requires no formal identification of CB broadcast origin be made, it is customary to use a callsign or nickname when broadcasting. As I am a fan of a number of Burt Reynolds films and "The Dukes of Hazzard," none of this was news to me.
So, while I might have been in the right technically, it didn't do much to soothe the smart the truckers' laughter left. My use of the jargon and the handle "The Cocksman" was seen as antiquated foolishness and it labeled me as a stupid "four wheeler" for miles. It also interrupted what I now understand to be the primary use for CB's among the trucking community: to identify and alert other drivers to cars whose operator is female, buxom, and worthy of public speculation and discourse.
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Sunday, August 15, 2004
Since I last addressed you, my drooling, slouch-backed and erect-sexed public, I've journeyed some 2500 miles through tornado, fog, fire, rain, and sunny days that I thought would never end. I've used America's greatest resource -- our interstate freeway system -- like a one bit hooker during shore leave. I've appreciated Native American peoples in casinos and on magnets and I've eaten room service. I've packed, unpacked, and shat in six states. Twice I've required a plunger.
Tomorrow I begin my new job at a firm I understand is equipped with the internet. I will spend the next few days delighting you with tales of cross-country hilarity. Until then, I will leave you with a question.
When a seemingly normal gentleman stops you on a Sunday morning and asks, after disclaiming that he's not from the area, whether you know of a place "for breakfast and good news," is it some kind of Christian code? Is he looking for the Good News of Jesus? If so, why not just ask for a church? And, in any case, is it wrong to offer him to give you oral in breakfast's and good news' stead?
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Thursday, August 12, 2004
"I wouldn't mind braces, either, but I hear they hurt once you start to get in to your thirties."
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Truly, a lesson for us all.
You know, last weekend, I ventured back to the small town in Indiana where I grew up to attend a friend's wedding. I completely forgot how obese people are in the Midwest. The people there, well, they're fat, and they're everywhere; their prevalence is amazing. They were driving, riding lawnmowers, eating at Taco Bell, shopping in Sears, and sitting next to me at the bar. But rarely, if ever, did I notice them walking, or riding a bike, or rolling out the yoga mats. Yet, of course, it's not their fault, sincerely. And let's not even get into Enablers.
Now, I realize I'm an insenstive ass. That's just how I do. And thankfully, the Lord above blessed me with a high metabolism, a thin frame, and a truly spectacular, tight ass. So, obviously, I realize that some people are more pre-disposed to obesity than others, and for these people it is difficult to maintain a healthy and svelte body size. All I'm saying is that the next time you're lying on the sofa and you realize that you've been there for a couple of years without moving an inch, remember the story of Gayle Laverne Grinds. It may do you well to at least change your clothes, or move to another couch, lest your skin starts getting too cozy with that pea-green, paisley-patterned faux-suede you've been burrowing into.
This image represents just one of many obese people being "active", and not spending six years at a time on the same couch. Also, it's somehow very funny.
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Thursday, August 05, 2004
Finally, the DP spoke, "If I were you, and I'm not, but if I were, I'd do myself a favor and call it a day. Cash in your chips. Regroup. Get your feet back on the ground. I'm tired of taking your money"
The RP looked at his hands again. Why is he talking like that? Why doesn't he shut the fuck up? You've got to be in it to win it, RP. And I do have the Ace of Spades.
The RP took a final drag from his Kalatov fag and smothered its ember in the ashtray. He removed his visor and ran his fingers through his hair. I'm a crazy muthafucka, he thought to himself. I'm a crazy kamikazee muthafucka. This shit ain't over. He laid his cards on the table and reached for his small, but still substantial pile of chips.
"I'm all in."
Oh, you've got a black guy? Yeah, well, I've got a black guy, too. And check this - my black guy is Republican.
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Wednesday, August 04, 2004
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Tuesday, August 03, 2004
A South African museum is to exhibit 17th century Dutch master paintings all hung facing the wall... Curator Andrew Lamprecht said the "Flip" exhibition opening in Cape Town next month was "a conceptual art intervention" on one of the country's premier art collections... Mr Lamprecht said the exhibition would force gallery goers to reconsider their preconceptions about the art and its legacy in South Africa.
In addition, it is presumed that the exhibit would force gallery goers to reconsider where their money went, why Mr. Lamprecht still has a fucking job, and why people in general seem to not give a flying fuck about art anymore.
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England then allegedly went on to say, You know, like drowning chickens in a barrel or shooting coons in an oak tree. In Iraq, there weren't none chickens or coons, there was just these duskies all around. So we pulled they pants down and pointed at they penises. You know, for fun.
When asked to comment further, England then implicated herself by saying, Well, back in West Virginia we sometimes get bored and do stuff for fun, like drive around the Dairy Maid and shoot up the neon sign with a shotgun, or kill kittens and skin 'em and fillet they insides, or cut the rectum hole out of a stray dog and slide it over the truck antennae and drive around town until it dries out, then soak it in gasoline and tie black cat firecrackers to it, and take it to mayor's house and light it up on fire.
England, if charged with all counts of abuse against her, stands to face 3 months probation from the military and a delicate slap across the face with a white satin glove.
Lynndie England appeared in court today to face charges of being a poor person from West Virginia who, unfortunately, became all that she could become.
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Monday, August 02, 2004
BAGHDAD, Iraq - They grunted, they flexed and they posed in their tight swimming trunks in downtown Baghdad Friday, all in honor of Arnold Schwarzenegger, the former bodybuilder turned politician.
I often get the feeling that I have no idea what's going in Iraq, really. But never would I have imagined that a Schwarzenegger-based cult of personality was blooming in Baghdad. I guess I just thought they were all a bunch of girlie men over there!
(crickets)
Rising from the ashes of war, men with small dicks, access to anabolic steroids, and ample free time have restored order and civility, and something like shame, to the people of the embattled nation of Iraq.
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I became aware of this condition at about 3 this afternoon. My thighs, not so taut as they once were, began to sting and stick to one another and my scrotum whenever I attempted to move. This is, I suspect, the result of my nervous eagerness to begin preparing at approximately 6 this morning for the movers to arrive and pack up my belongings at noon. Rather than prep myself fully for a day's work that would surely only sully my delicate perfection up again, I chose to hop out of bed and slip on some slightly used Dickies without the benefit of undergarments.
In retrospect, I see that this was a poor decision.
Today it was about 90 degrees in Chicago, and humid as only an August day in Chicago can be. That is, very.
I sweat through my synthetic fibered work pants, and I sweat them through again. My thighs, normally glorious and pearlescent in the light of God's world, are now red and irritated, chapped and perhaps even pussy.
Puss-covered, that is.
At around 4, I decided the balm for my soul and also my thighs would be a once-over with Gold Bond. This, too, was a bad decision, I see in hindsight. The Gold Bond, while initially cooling and delightful, quickly turned into a medicated paste roughly the consistancy of spackle. It only increased the friction, the pain, and the shame.
The sensation is off-putting at best.
I hope to shower very soon. I will as soon as these three Hispanic gentlemen leave my soon to be former home.
Tomorrow I leave Chicago, and perhaps I will never live here again. Though I've said that before.
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