30 June 2006

Top Of The Morning To You

Right. This shit doesn't even deserve a picture. This shit sucks. I had this shit I was going to write about and it was going to be the bomb. But now I forgot it because I went and did something dumb. Smoke crack? No even dumber.
I went and watched Superman.
I am usually pissed I can't fly. Usually on any given day, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being not pissed and 10 being the most pissed anyone has ever been, I am usually a 7.5 because I can't fly. After watching Superman, I'm at like a 47.
But fuck that.
Two things.
Superman now fights for truth, justice and other stuff. Other stuff? What? I'm the first to admit I have been brain-washed by the Army. But fuck that. It's the American way. That's what that mother fucker fights for. There was a whole series done on what would have happened had he landed in Russia. It was good shit. Go read it. But that was an alternate universe and in the one we all live in, Superman fights for the god damned American way.,
Superman has a son. A fucking child? Concived, carried, birthed and raised by Lois Lane. What? Fuck that. Fuck that up its stupid ass. A human woman taking a load from Superman. I need a beer.
On the bright side, the movie gave me 2 1/2 hours to think about some next level type shit. Mainly, who, of my friends, would be whom in the comicbook world. I think Unkind K is easy, as he is bald, smart, rich and always hatching nefarious plots to rue the whirl, would be Lex Luthor. Which is braggable.
Cocaine, with his brain, jumping ability and knickname of Tiger would have to be Spiderman. J would be Kingpin, or Mr. Fisk to you. I don't know who I'd be, but hopefully he gets laid a lot more.
The movie industry owes me $123,982.23 that I've spent on shitty movies.

29 June 2006

My Thumping Drums Come Through

Right. It's all about perpetual learning about oneself. Take some fucking notes here people. For instance, today I learned that I can eat 50,000 chocolate chip cookies from Subway in one sitting. I hear you now, "You are crazy Yossarian." Well my response is fuck you. I know my body and what it is capable of doing. Now you are thinking, yeah but you'll end up in a diabetic coma, a ripped open stomach and internal bleeding. My respone is, your fucking point? Them shits is good and I can eat the shit out of them.
What brought on this quest of self awareness you ask? It seems someone was kind enough to invite yours truly to a certain 10 year high school reunion. So what I did was, I dug out the old yearbooks, or reflectors as the cadse may or may not be. But it is. This brought me to know myself in a more productive way than I usually get to know myself at night. You know, with Internet porn and a sock.
It seems I was very funny. Your honnor, I'd like to present my yearbooks as exhibit 450 Trillion B as to how girls ar liars when they say they wish to bone a funny guy.
I digress. If everything I can discern is correct, which it has to be since I am never wrong, then I was funny and told a lot of jokes. Chiefly I told a joke involving people asking me if I am a tree. Here is the real funny part: NO ONE WROTE THE DAMN PUNCHLINE!!!!! So I have no clue as to what the hell I was even joking about back then.
I am also a crazy guy. I am not sure what this means, but if those mother fuckers were qualified to assess my mental state, I will eat my hat after I kill them.
It would also seem I have sexy, cool, pretty and beautiful eyes.
I must admit, I don't remember half these people. This is funny as most people seem to have believed I would make nothing of myself, and I think they might be right.
I also wore some pretty kick ass clothes back in the day. No. I didn't. But I never realized how huge I was. I was playing ball and constantly working out and I was a beast.
I was apparently going steady with like 5 women in high school. I think this came about because every time I talked to a female I would say something to the affect of, "So. You want to go steady now like Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski?"
I mainly learned I don't remember a damn thing about high school, I still can't speak spanish and I won't be attending my reunion. Because I think Sepheroth is putting this reunion together, and that's evil.

***Props to who ever hooked up Yossarian on Wikipedia.***

28 June 2006

The Time Has Come For Everyone To Clean Up Their Own Back Yard

Right. I have a simple request for humanity - If you have teenage daughters, make sure they remember to wear all of their clothes when leaving the house. Is that too hard to do? I mean, you never know when an LT will dip out on work, head to the beach and relax in the sun all day and constantly get hit on by the best built and most sexually aggressive 14-17 year olds on the plannet. I am worried about these girls, but their parents must be going crazy. The next guy might not be as nice as I am.
To be clear, I did not do anything with any underage girls. Ever. Excet for when I was underage. And even then it wasn't all that much.
I rented a jet-ski. I drank some at boat-drinks at the beach-bar. I drank a few Irish Stout's. I made friends with an old dude. I don't care about what all I did. I care about what I didn't do.
I didn't answer a single email. I didn't even bring my cell phone. I didn't get all spun out over something stupid. I didn't yell at anyone. I didn't get saluted. I didn't go to any briefings. I didn't salute. I didn't listen to bullshit come spewing forth from a particular NCO of mine whom I'm about to demote because he is worthless. I didn't sit in traffic.
I just sort of looked at the sky and the horizon.
Oh, and I chewed a whole can of Copenhagen.

25 June 2006

That's Okay

Right. Nick drove to the gas station and bought a case of Budweiser. He paid the clerk in exact change, tucked the case under his left arm and exited with his head down. Though he was 23, he always felt as if he were too young to drink. He began to drive back as he opened a beer and started to drink. "My blind indifference to my fellow man," he thought. His thoughts drifted to the life of his father, who died while serving in the Peace Corps. Nick was seven.
He picked up his cell phone and called Heather. She answered immediately, she always did. She was a girl whose phone rarely rang, though to look at her one would think her phone would have rung off the hook since she hit puberty. Without a hello Nick said, "I'm on my way home, you can come over if you want." Heather knew he had been drinking. "Talking on the phone, driving and drinking. Concern for others." Nick hated her. She rarely spoke in complete sentences. "I am tired of calls at three in the morning. If you want to be with me." The phone went silent. "Are you coming?" "Yes."
Nick entered his appartment and had about a half hour before Heather would arrive. He continued drinking. Nick sat on the couch and looked at a picture. The picture was faded yellow in a brown leather frame and showed a well built man with dark hair and high cheek bones digging a water well surrounded by the native peoples of a country Nick never bothered to learn the name of.
Nick thought about how different even his appearance was from the man in the frame. He hated the man in the photograph. Nick looked into the eyes of the man in the photograph and saw hope, excitement and purpose. Heather entered and the light from the hallway illuminated Nick's face in the glass covering the picture. For a second Nick saw an inanition of quality. He hated Heather.
Heather was a woman six years his senior who was a bartender in a bar Nick refused to go to, except on the occasion that her manager wasn't working and he could drink for free. Her brown hair had natural highlights and her body looked as if she had stolen it from a goddess. The only imperfection of her was a small scar on her chin she got when a dog bit her when she was 13.
"Your mom came into the bar tonight and asked for you but I didn't know where you were so I." Nick waited for the thought to finish. "I don't want to talk to her," Nick said after a few seconds. "Well." Nick hated her.
Heather sat on the couch beside Nick and lit a cigarette of his and promptly extinguished it. She looked over at his hand holding a beer and remembered how he came to her crying as a child and asked her where dead people go. She thought of how he would come to her at night and sleep while his mother brought home a date. She started to cry when she thought of the time he came to her bruised and bloody from the hands of the newest man his mom brought home. That was the night he looked at her with tears in his green eyes, making his eyes as fluid and as deep as the ocean and asked her to marry him. He was twelve.
He took opened another beer and asked her if she wanted to move in with him. It was the first serious question he asked her since that night he was eleven. Heather didn't know what to say. She leaned over to him, kissed him and said she would. Nick immediately regreted asking the question. It was drunk talk, but since she wasn't drunk he knew she'd remember it in the morning. He hated her. She always remembered things.
Heather stood up and began to cry. She told him that she was prenant and that this was a sign that Nick was finially ready to let someone in. Visably shaken, Nick looked at her with the first glimmer of feeling in 12 years. He was about to be the one thing the man in the picture never was, a father. Heather walked to the bedroom and Nick poured the rest of his beer into the kitchen sink.
On his way to the bedroom, he looked at the picture once more and noticed he had the same hands as the man in the picture. He looked at the photograph everyday since he was seven and this was the first time he noticed it. He read the inscription on the frame which read, "You'll never be more than alive, You'll never do more than survive."
Nick entered the bedroom, looked at the goddess pregnant with his child and said, "I'm joining the Peace Corps. I'll make sure you get the life insurrance money."

24 June 2006

Hey Look At Him

Right. I've said a lot of shit. I've done some things and I've learned whatever. I am in the process of giving serious thought to training harder and either going Special Forces, or to be a pilot. This would extend my time in the Army considerably, but I'd be cold man. The deciding factor on whether or not I say or leave will be if I feel the challenge was met. I'm not sure what the challenge is, but if I feel I overcame it, I'll leave. If not, I'll find something harder to do.
Which leaves me trying to figure out what I ought to do if I leave the Army. I'd like to work for a sports franchise. I might like to open my own business, you know - make my own hours because I'm my own boss, but as I have no real skills I doubt anyone would buy whatever I am peddling. I wonder if celebritiy women will pay me to bone them? Now there's a challenge boy.
I would ask for advice, but no one reads this anymore. I mean I left for a couple weeks unannounced and everyone is all, "Yoss? Never heard of him." Well fuck that. It's my fault though, it was a long time, I shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to.
I remember when I had it down.
We sat in silence on the edge of her bed for a few hours. I was looking at the floor and she started to cry. I listened to her cry and thought about buying new boots. She cried and asked what was wrong with me. Interesting question. "I'm not the one who hates you. You do," she said. And I have to live with myself 24 hours a day. I thought about how to leave without getting into a conversation with her parents. She just cried. I wanted to take back the shit I bought her, stuff it in a pillow case and exit stage right. I didn't. "What is wrong with you." I have done everything in my life I said I would do, sans stay with her. She made me a liar. That's what's wrong with me. But not really. I'd like it if that were the truth. No. The truth is, I refused to care about her any longer at that moment, but I had not cared about her for some time before, which made me a douche bag.

22 June 2006

Chad McGreevvy Killed Willie McBride

Dear Yossarian,
I came across your blog and enjoy reading it and I saw you have an advice column. I am 22 years old and I am thinking about joining the Army. I want your opinion on if it is a good idea or not. Also I have a criminal record so I want to know if i could even join.



Dear Mikey,

You want to join the Army huh? Sure. I don't know. You want me to reccomend? I do. I don't. Whatever.
First of all Al, I don't want you to. You have a criminal background, and it is my experience that those of you with criminal backgrounds suck balls. I mean, you come in like the Army owes you something and how you don't need it. Well if you don't need it, stay on the block and hustle and nickle and dime your way to prison. Stay out of my way. I need to get good at killing, or you're going to make me good at dying.
Second of all Nick, the Army is very different than anything else. You do not have the rights you think you are entitled to when you serve. You do not have time to yourself and you have to give a lot. It's the nature of the beast.
I figure what you mean Roy is, "Is the Army too hard." If that is a question you need an answer to, then the answer is yes.
We run a lot Eddie. Push ups don't matter. Nothing matters except for your run. If you can run well, your entire Army experience will be easier.
The days are long and hard Pete. You will bust your ass, and coming in as a private means you will get every shit detail that comes along. So get used to heavy lifting and sweeping.
We spend a lot of time away Carl. Get used to the field and no touch with the world for a few months at a time.
But it isn't all bad Frank. You get to blow shit up. Which is bragable. Also depeding upon your MOS (Job) you can be a bad ass.
You get a lot of time off Wade. You will get at least one four-day weekend a month. You also get a bunch of vacation days.
The Army is too easy Ian. Run. Do what you are told. Be motivated. How hard is that? It's too fucking easy.
Some of the people are the greatest in the world Hank. Some of the people you will meet, should you join, will amaze you. I find myself wishing I can become 1/10 of some of the people I work with.
In summation Ronald, yes. I think you should have sex with beautiful naked big-tittied bitches. And yes I think you ought to cum on their faces.

20 June 2006

When Your Whole World Falls

Right. Hey Pyongyang, shit or get off the pot. Hey Nancy, don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining. Hey Tim, keep on rocking. Hey boss, don't race me unless you want to loose. Hey Jerome, when did you die? Hey Ted, don't believe your own shit. Hey ass hat, stop drinking you're about to be a dad. Hey DWB, I have loved you in secret for as long as I've know you, which is also as long as I've known I'm alive. Hey Burt, I want to be the Bandit. Hey Moe, you're as wrong as two boys fucking. Hey Kurt, you saw this coming didn't you. Hey Steve, fuck you too. Hey Larry, if I see you on the street I will kill you. Hey mother fucker, fuck with me again and I will cut your fucking throat. Hey Sean, you are the same decaying organic matter as the rest of us. Hey Kenneth, call a brother. Hey Louis, I took an informal poll and no one likes you, except for everyone. Hey Sad man, no need to worry. Hey idiot, of course they're mad, heaven is running out of virgins. Hey protester, no it doesn't. Hey big boss, thank you. Hey Shakira, I know you love me and yes it is great to fuck you. Hey Dub, great show man. Hey P-dog, fix this shit. Hey George, give me a job. Hey Guy, ain't no such thing. Hey Marcus, you are feckless. Hey Joe, when I get there teach me what you know. Hey Sam, I miss you. Hey Crazy Bitch, I'm a hopeless romantic, you're just hopeless. Hey DWB, I pray that I am with you in more alternate realities than I am not, because the we'd be together in a place where space and time do not exist.

18 June 2006

I Am The 10th Man

Right. Chad McGreevy is not here to mess around. He has little patience for your childlike games. He would much rather play adult games - like donkey punching or hot lunching. Chad McGreevy isn't gay. Chad has expressed interest in having sex with Wayne Gretzky. Mr. MGreevy, as his name is for you, has no time for your blackmail. He would much rather slit your wrists and bleed the pain from you.
People are always asking me, did I know Chad McGreevy. See Chad and I met when I went to Seattle to buy a pair of boots, only Kenneth Cole didn't have them in my size, so I walked the 12 blocks to a small pub and started drinking. That's when I first met Chad McGreevy. He bursted in the front door a little out of breath and making a point to saty away from the windows.
He sat next to me and started drinking. We got to talking and he asked if I would be able to steal him a few STRYKERS for a thing he wanted to do in Canada. I said yeah...
I'm lying. You'll never know how we met. That is a story between me, Chad and God. Not you. So slag off.

16 June 2006

I Ain't No Nice Guy After All

Right. I have recently been told I might have a Thantos complex and Avoidant Personality Disorder. I have recently arrived at a solution to which there is no problem. Life is not written and produced by John Hughes. No one talks this way. Nothing is dramatic, nothing is touching, there are no moments in life that remain as vivid in technicolor as when they happened and I do not possess the fire power to comfort my soul by ridding the world of trash.
I watched Hostel. I didn't like it.
Chad McGreevy and I are going to get drunk tonight and corn-hole us a drunk girl.
Don't feel sorry for me. Things weren't always this bad.
Don't feel sorry for yourself. Things will get worse.
When the concrete is charred and the grass is stained with blood I will smile. When the children vanish and the Gods of old return to vanquish the faith of the aeon, fear will consume your heart as pride will swallow my soul. The ensuing battle will destroy what I am in the eyes of the ilk. The catechism is for me to know that the reasons I will fall from grace are not an illusion, but my own previous actions. Most can make recompense for trespasses. I am not as fortunate. You will snipe from safety and I will shoot from point blank. You will drink what the old Gods offer and I will imbibe the ambrosia of the eternal flux in time. You will live and I will die, but you will never go where I do, I will be alone with her and when the cosmos collapses in itself she will protect us. We will reign eternal and recreate infinity in her image, giving the reincarnated poets of old new material and beauty to opine on. She is the inspiration for my actions and for the world to come. You are the soup of the day. I am the recipient of the entrancing benefactor. We will smote them all.

14 June 2006

Everything You Do Is Balloon

Right. Some people, I won't name names here, but some people, after eating large amounts of asparagus have the most vile, inhumane and room-clearing gas known to man. I am disgusting even myself. This is horrible.
When Lord when? When's gonna be my time?
You might be wondering my review of Hostel. I will tell you: I passed out. So instead I will give my review of the latest in cinematic genius...X-Men 3. As I am sure you know, X-Men 3 is the third movie in a series that thus far has been so fat my asshole gapes upon viewing. The third is no exception.
It starts out with some bullshit that really has nothing to do with the movie. Except it shows that professor X once could walk and Jean Grey was more powerful when she was a child than when we first met her in her adulthood. It also reinforces that Charles and Magneto were once buddies, something you may have missed if you have never heard anything about anything.
Then we meet Angel. While he is never called by this name in the movie, it's cool because you know he is Angel. You know this because you had to be reminded that Charles and Magneto were friends, but you are an expert on Angel. Then we fast forward to present day and Cyclops is being a cry baby pussy. He must have read the script.
Then we see some next generation X-Men. These future hero types have powers ranging from Turning on the TV with brain waves, taking notes without a pencil and being smart for an 11 year old. It's around this time Storm makes it all rainy and shitty outside, for no reason.
Then some shit happened that didn't make much sense and Wolverine finds Jean Grey. She is still attractive. I should mention that Storm is now dying the roots of her hair black. So we have Jean Grey back, she apparently killed cyclops. He'll be missed.
She gets all up ons with Wolverine before busting his ass and leaving the mansion. Then the Professor yells at people, something he has clearly done in every scene I've never seen in the X-Men movies. He then blamed Wolverine for some shit and explained that he put up some blocks in her mind to keep Jean Grey sane. The insane part of her is known as Phoenix. This is important. Wolverine cries.
Okay so meanwhile, Magneto busts out Mystique from a traveling prison. He also frees a guy who can spawn himself and the mutant Juggernaut. This is good to know because see, I always thought Juggernaut was the half-brother of Charles and wasn't a mutant but had some crystal he found in Korea that gave him his power and his helmet was in place ot keep his half-brother from fucking him all up. I was wrong.
Mystique loses her power because the government found a cure to the mutant gene and they have weaponized this crazy serum. Magneto has formed a band of mutants who will stand up and fight the man. Good for him. Oh and Beast is some sort of congressman. Good for him.
So the cure is voluntary and there is a really long line of mutants to get the cure. The mutants all looked normal. Which made sense.
Kitty Pryde and Iceman start to hit it off and this pisses off Rogue. She decided to go get the cure so she can fuck Iceman. This would also negate her from being able to go to school with him as she wouldn't have any mutant power.
Jean Grey kills Charles. Wolverine cries.
Beast hooks up with the X-Men.
Turns out that the cure comes from this one boy whose mutant power is to negate the power of other mutants. Well, Magneto is going to get this boy. I'm not sure how because as soon as he comes within 10 feet he'll just be an old guy, but I am sure he has a plan. I think Wolverine cried.
A human Mystique gives the cops false information, helping Magneto, who left her stranded and naked in the mobile jail.
Magneto takes the Golden Gate Bridge to the place where the boy is. He could just as easily take a bus or something but he took a bridge. I think this made Wolverine cry.
Angel is about to be cured but busts out because he likes his wings. I always thought he hated his wings. I thought he was first in line to get them removed. I thought that was why he hooked up with Apocolypse, because he promised to get rid of the wings. I was wrongs. Angel loves his wings.
Big fight and I think there was a love-thing happening between Wolverine and Storm, but he was too busy crying to fuck. The X-Men win and stab maneto with the serum and he looses his power. I should also mention tha the whole Army had plastic guns in place to fight Magneto.
Wolverine cries and Jean Grey turns into the Phoenix, sans firey wings. Wolverine kills Jean Grey with a claw to the gut and cries.
Then the X-Men take that little boy who damn near fucked everything up with his negating mutant power mutant power in to school. I'm sure he's popular. They burried everyone and I was out of Sprite and had to pee.
It turns out Kitty Pryde and Colossus aren't an item. I've yet to see Gambit. Charles Xavier is a right bastard and not the outstanding mentor we were led to believe. Wolverine cries a lot. Everyone is either dead or powerless.
The movie kept setting things up and never explaining on them. Lots of questions remain. The biggest question I have is: Can I have my 9 bucks back? Why would they ruin a perfectly good franchise? WHy was I on the side of Magneto here? Sheesh.
This movie blows.

13 June 2006

Where Is My Pizza?

Right. Or wrong or left or whatever you have. I am destined to be bitten by the same spider that bit Peter Parker, thus creating a Yossarian with web-slinging action. You know you'd fuck me if I had super powers.
I am about to watch Hostel because I have thusly memorized Mad Max. Also because I am shitfaced. Shitfaced in the way that makes me think I make 2 grand an hour. So I need tits.
I sometimes wonder if gay dudes sometimes try to go fuck fat guys because even though they love the cock - they still want some titties.
Is that hateful? Because I could really care less. I do not fear a rainbow mafia.
I am confused. When did Sepheroth get a wing? I thought ol' boy was a SOLDIER and Cloud was just pretending, but then how did he have the Maco glow in his eyes? Why did Mr. Strife wear purple? Zack, that was his name. Why didn't Cloud fuck Tifa? These are questions.
Chad McGreevy sends his best. I cannot tell you what he is up to right now, because the first rule is that I'm not allowed to talk about it. The second rule is you don't ask questions. I'm bullshitting. He went to go buy some fruit.
I need to puke.
Tonight I will sleep with her from a thousand miles away. We will position our bodies so that when the Angel comes down and moves space, time and dimensions we will fit next to one another snugly. She will dream of the me that was, without knowing my shine has worn off. I will dream of the her that is, knowing I hide from the truth about her past. I will smell her and she will feel me and when we awake I will fire large weapons tomorrow and she will degrade her circulation. She will love me for what I was and find it in him, I will love her for what she could have been and find it in the ocean.

12 June 2006

Slowly, Deeply and Cleanly

Right. I hate Windows. Buy a Mac and enlighten yourself. I now have a PC as it seems my once broken and then fixed Mac caught itself on fire. I think I might loose my security deposit. I also caught my dryer on fire. Who knew anything about a lint-trap?
What have I missed? Nothing. That's what. Your lives are puny and worthless and mine is mighty and expensive.
I need Itunes here people.
I'm back and I will probably be around. I don't know though. I'm not interested in blogging anymore I don't think. Or maybe I think. I'm not really sure. But at the moment, I'm thirsty.
I am no longer dating a teenager. Which sucks. Because I enjoyed fucking her. She was 18 so everything was on the up and up. If you catch my drift.
For the intensive purpose of the intents and purposes, something left on an airplane 13 minutes ago and with it went a piece of me. I gave this piece of myself, but it was an unexpected loss nonetheless, as I didn't expect it to actually be taken. To be quite Frank and frankly to be quiet and reduce the noise in the cerebellum the bow is took and the roses were thrown and the encore didn't have Moon River, just a shitty hybrid of Dancing Queen and Paradise By The Dashboard Light. You enjoyed a nice second-hand high but a first-hand witnessing of fleeting poetry mixed in with wasted talent and very little genius but plenty of salt and butter. You won't be able to explain why you liked the band to your friends, because they know it's crap, but you still listened and wished they'd be the next big thing so you could denounce what you once loved and say you saw them when. An Airplane left four minutes ago and took my soul. I'd ask for it back, but I would be losing it soon regardless. It's not such a bad deal, I get to keep my hair this way and my hearing and my favorite sweater will always fit like it did in the store. If my eyes were any clearer they wouldn't be opaque. If my life was any cooler it would have beer and hotdogs inside it, oh wait, it does.
I forgot what follows, but I am left with the knowledge that Shakira sings Underneath Your Clothes for me, and she means it. Because she, unlike certain pop-singers, loves me.