If I were a Jedi, I wouldn’t bother waiting in line at the convenience store for those guys in front of me that play a bunch of lottery tickets and monopolize the cashier.
I’d send lightning sparking out of my fingertips and into his shoulder, either to hasten his circle-penciling NFL quick picks, or else to perhaps kill him.
Depends on how big of a hurry I was in.
Remember the first time you discovered that Gatorade wasn’t made from the blood of alligators?
Yeah, I felt that same sort of sheer disappointment when I learned that Gaza wasn’t the place where they made surgical gauze, it was actually a place in the middle east that has had a foot perpetually shoved in its ass since Israel came into being.
Lately there has been a lot of fighting in Gaza, I assume over minimum wages and the right to parrr-tay. I don’t get it.
I read a book once on the subject of Palestine vs Israel (or vice versa if that arrangement offends your sensibilities), which makes me an expert. Rather than gaining any sort of insight into the issues that plague Israel and its neighbors after reading this book, I discovered that everyone in that area is a fucking jackass.
In Israel people are bred to hate Arabs, and all around Israel Arabs are bred to hate Israel. Wait - not just HATE, some people don’t believe that other people don’t even have the right to exist, let alone live together in harmony.
For us people in the West, this simple concept eludes our fragile, sensitive brains. “Why can’t we all just get along?” we say, myself being guilty of it as well sometimes. I don’t think it’ll happen in our lifetime because it’s ingrained right into the noggins of all these people - just like us westerners believe that nuts have no place mixing with chocolate. (Or is that just me?)
But I have a solution.
As a Canadian, I offer our giant piece-of-shit island in the north - Baffin Island - to either the Israeli’s or the Palestinians to take over entirely and resettle to. Whoa whoa, don’t get started trying to rename it peeps, you can’t call it Gilgamesh or Hala-Hala-Ackbar or whatever the fuck you want, it’s still going to be Canadian soil and keep its name since we did all the hard work of stealing it from the Inuit and renaming it from ‘Tuktoyuktukmuckchuk’ to ‘Baffin’ already.
Sure, it’s not the ‘promised land’ that God designated for Arabs and Jews alike (talk about a double-gifter, that God), and it doesn’t have olive trees or ancient holy sites for you to kiss or stick your wieners in, but it has a lot of space and could be a fixer-upper for the time being while we wait for God to come down to earth and straighten out the tenancy arrangement of the shithole area in the middle east that people keep killing each other over.
And on that subject - the legitimate ownership of the tract of land that people have been fighting over for thousands of years, I think it should be turned over to Disney and made into a great big theme park. Then when Michael Jackson is lured into it with his boy-lust, we western nations can just collectively bomb the entire piece of land, rid it of its holy architecture AND MJ at the same time, and irradiate it so no one will want to fight over it again for thousands of years.
Or if no one’s going to agree on anything, I think we should take away everyone’s TV rights until shit gets settled. I’m sick of Israelite diplomacy and Palestinian hospitality, neither group is any better than the other, and the historical claims to the region are just bullshit passed on from one empty, vicious head to the next.
So what if it’s the promised land? It’s like fighting over the last piece of pie that’s been sitting on the kitchen counter for ten years. You may eventually win the fight to have it, but it’s still just a moldy piece of pie that’s going to make you feel ill once you finally eat it.
Majel Barrett Roddenberry (MBR), passed on December 18th and a memorial service was held yesterday to send her off to the Alpha Quadrant.
For those of you who don’t like Star Trek - first of all, what the hell is wrong with you, and second of all, Majel Barrett ISN’T the title of a military rank, she was the wife of Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek.
But she was also many other things to Trek fans - one of them being that she was the voice of all the computers in all the TV series. Also in the original Star Trek series, she played Nurse Chapel - considering that she was dating Gene-o at the time she was playing the role, any lesser man may have hesitated sending her on the screen with such a short skirt. Not Gene - he was secure enough to put her in a skirt shorter than my attention span and have her in the same room as Jame Tiberius Kirk, connoisseur of all things beaverly.
Now that’s balls.
4:00am: Record low temp last night = car battery dead.
8:00am: I discover that my car battery is dead.
8:05am: I discover my CAA card, which I need in order to get a boost, has expired on December 31, 2008.
8:07am: Pay for yearly CAA renewal online.
8:09am: Dial CAA to come and give me a boost. Rings busy.
8:15am: Finally get through to CAA and into the phone queue.
8:16am: Already sick of hold music and advertisements.
8:35am: Decide to liveblog about it.
8:40am: Testing the limits of my neck straining to hold the phone to my ear while I liveblog.
8:45am: Tired of liveblogging, waiting on hold.
8:50am: Finally got through. Was told there is a 4 hour wait for a truck to boost me.
8:55am: Emailed/called work, told them I’d be a tad late.
9:00am: Began working from home.
9:01am: Pressed my submit button to finish liveblogging.
Well, it’s back to the grind today.
I had a nice elongated weekend, sick, laying in bed, drinking lots of juice, and I think I even showered once. You know life’s good when you don’t have to shower for as many days as a Siberian miner has fingers.
In other news, if you call celebrity DUI going-ons ‘news’, I see that Heather Locklear’s eyes have taken over her face.
If you think about it, she’s got it right. Things like cheeks, foreheads, and chins are all really just wasted space. There could be eye matter in those spots instead.
Remember back when she was the lead singer in Warrant? Those were the good ol’ days weren’t they? Days we spent listening to the likes of Warrant and Skid Row tapes while pondering our little own teenage existences and scheming about which local girl we could quite possibly get drunk enough and put our penises inside of without her vomiting on our new Iron Maiden T-shirts that we bought at a store that specializes in Zippo lighters with Harley Davidson engraved on them. Ahh, fond memories.
Yes, Heather Locklear takes me back. Remember TJ Hooker? The name of the show evokes images of happy prostitutes riding around in low-priced Jeeps, while the content of the show makes us long for memories of days where William Shatner was in outer space instead of squeezed into a cop uniform sliding across the hood of a patrol car. And memories of a pre-Bon-Jovi-groupie Locklear, who did her damndest to remind us that there were indeed, female cops.
…I wouldn’t waste my time learning the force chokes and Jedi lightsaber stuff.
I’d spend my time becoming proficient at the “Jedi fondle” manouvre. Because after all, women are one day bound to rule the universe. Better to be prepared.
i want my panties to be ripped off
If you click on the link, you’ll have a extra-funny image search term result!
Specialty channel marathons: 1
Poobomber: 0
Nothing’s quite as awesome as watching 8 hours of plane crashes in the TV show Mayday, then going to bed at 5AM, waking up at noon, eating breakfast at 3pm, then supper at 10pm. Heaven.
In 2009 I hope to become a referee in a professional sport.
Not because I like sports, which I don’t, but because I figure it would be fun to be an idiot. What are they going to do, fire me?
Sports Commissioner: “Dan, you’re fired.”
Me: “You’re off side, buddy.”
Commish: “No, seriously, you’re fired.”
Me: “I call foul.”
Commish: “Dude, what are you, retarded? You’re outta here.”
Me: “No, YOU’RE outta here.”
Commish: “God, you’re retarded.”
Me: “To the penalty box sir, you get 5 minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct.”
Commish: …
Me: “Kidding, I get two weeks pay still, right?”
