Pimp My Dog

Today I saw not two dogs on wheels. Not just one dog on wheels, but two. It was like a combination between a walker and a tricycle attached to the back half of the dog's body. It was quite absurd, yet completely rational. If I had a dog with no back leg, I would totally pimp that shit. You know, ALL the mods. A giant wing-spoiler combination with LED just above the tail. Fender flares around the front legs and the one back leg. Hood vent installed on the forehead, maybe some fender flares just along the ribcage. And rims. Hell yeah, rims around the wheels. And definitely graphics. I'd spraypaint my dog. With FLAMES and a racing stripe and a bigass sticker that says "Type R" and "Turbo." And I'd have neon blue lights installed around the chest so my dog glows at night. And I'd install windcleaner jets. Those would glow too. Hell YEAH!


Listening to: "Heart + Soul" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Politics For The Dogs

Recently, while perusing the Internet for information on the Presidential race, I happened upon this fascinating piece. Naturally, I decided to take advantage of the fact this Jennifer Graham character cannot strike back at me and engage in exactly the sort of behavior I deplore: a paragraph-by-paragraph dissection of this drivel.

Ms. Graham (and I will assume she is not married) begins her article with this bold statement:

So, we find ourselves in a society where the American president must not only be telegenic, but athletic, and frankly, it was only a matter of time.

Nothing groundbreaking has been said so far, so let us continue:

This is a country, after all, in which an aging Baby Boomer is as likely to possess a heart-rate monitor as a toaster oven. The electorate not only knows its cholesterol level, but considers it appropriate dinner conversation. The Boomers, who spend so much time crouched in vaguely obscene positions over their inflatable exercise balls, demand physical perfection of themselves, even more so of their leaders.

Right...

I do not mean to offend our huskier readers, but 30% of Americans list their ethnicity as "repulsive tub of lard". Furthermore, the people who use their cholesterol level as dinner conversation are usually referred to as either boring or retired.

Also, John Kerry is an elitist schmuck because he plays sports no one else indulges in:

Despite his campaign's frantic efforts to portray Kerry as the quintessential American jock, the candidate's selection of sports — snowboarding, windsurfing, ice hockey — does nothing to bolster that image. Windsurfing is something the typical American may do for an hour on a two-week vacation at Myrtle Beach; you don't build a fitness program around it.

And your point is what exactly? One minute you say the public wants an athlete. Then you start telling me that hockey does not qualify. Furthermore, I think most of Hip Youth America (tm) would approve of snowboarding.

Bush, however, is the real deal:

Conversely, George W. Bush is an athlete, albeit an adult-onset one. He runs 6-minute miles, bench-press 200 pounds, chops wood out on the ranch. Heck, he's been on the cover of "Runner's World." Unlike Kerry's, the president's workouts are actual periods of elevated heart rate and significant exertion, not orchestrated photo ops. The president doesn't exercise for the benefit of the press corps.

Damn straight he doesn't. In fact, he lets nothing get in the way of his exercise. Not even visiting foreign dignitaries who might interfere with his 10 o'clock curfew. After all, who in their right mind attempts a 6 AM jog after sleeping less than eight hours?

Jennifer Graham clearly has wet dreams about the President's rock hard abs and chiseled biceps:

Of course you didn't, Senator. But we understand your surprise. In your world, where you get a trial run down the ski slopes before the photographers are invited along, it's hard to envision someone sweating and panting for the pure physical joy of it all. That's what the president does, and why his resting pulse rate is somewhere around 45 beats per minute... a lot closer to professional cyclist Lance Armstrong's resting pulse than that of the senator from Massachusetts.

I'll be damned. Let's study this: if Dubya's resting heartrate is lower than John Kerry's, and Lance Armstrong's is the absolute lowest, then, just like Lance, the President must be a real American hero!

Logic rules our world, it would seem. However, there is a flaw in this argument:

Of course, that's only speculation. We don't acturally know John Kerry's heart rate, because he won't release his full medical records. Search "John Kerry" and "medical records" on the Internet, and you get a statement from his campaign detailing his medical condition...in the 1960s. Weirdly, it has something to do with Vietnam. Imagine that.

So we don't know Kerry's resting heartrate? But we can assume it is fairly high, because he is a hedonistic liberal who eats babies slathered with champagne.

The best part about this article, of course, is that Ms. Graham writes her own punchlines:

And we're an empathetic nation. If Kerry has some minor health problems that preclude vigorous workouts — whether from prostate cancer (which we know he has had) or Agent Orange — Americans will understand, if he will just own up to them. Instead, he insists on demonstrating his athletic prowess and how fetching he looks in bike shorts.

Right on. If only Kerry was an honest individual like his opponent. Oh wait.

It only gets better:

The truth: Athletes fall, Mr. Kerry. They trip, they stumble, they are sacked. They fall off their horse, they get hit by a ball, they twist their ankles, bruise their elbows, and dislocate their shoulders, but they get up and ride back to the ranch. The real jock knows this and is not embarrassed by the occasional tumble. In fact, he knows that bruises and casts are tangible proof that he's giving his all: Witness the runner hobbling down the street with one or both knees swathed in bandages.

Okay. As an athlete myself, I am going to let you in on a little secret: injuries suck. They are not tangible proof that I am giving my all; they are a testament to the fact that I fucked up.

Furthermore, what kind of clumsy runner hobbles down the street with his knees swathed in bandages? Ms. Graham, as a former 400 meter runner, I can attest to the fact that running is a very simple sport; you put one foot in front of the other. Then you repeat this action. And you do it quickly. Anyone who scrapes his or her knee while running qualifies as criminally incompetent and should have their limbs amputated.

And finally, Ms. Graham delivers her spine-shattering conclusion:

Our president — the true jock — allowed himself to be photographed soon after his spill, unashamed of the scrapes on his face. Bush does fall, just like Kerry, but the president does so with class. And whatever you think of Bush's policies, there's no arguing with 14.5-percent body fat.

First of all, who wants to be compared to a jock? Jocks are stereotypically muscle-bound idiots, hardly the kind of character we want running the country. And finally, since when does a man's physical fitness atone for his mental and political deficiencies?

Whabaam.

Listening to: Breathe - Télépopmusik

Fuck you, MTV

Fuck you, MTV. Nothing good comes of your existence.

Today I was released from my job as Caretaker of the Sacred Files, a.k.a unpaid corporate paper-pusher a.k.a intern at 3:30 in the afternoon today, an incredibly long time before my train was due to leave. Having jack-shit to do, I walked in circles around Times Square for two and a half hours, making stops at Toys R Us and the Virgin Megastore in order to play with toys and listen to CD's that I already own, pretending that I was anywhere else but New York Fucking City, one of my least favourite places in the world. Emerging into the pretentious business that is Times Square, I was greeted by loud screams. Searching for the source of the noise, my tormented gaze finally alighted on the source of all evil, MTV studios, where a crowd of ecstatic teenagers and their unfortunate parents were squished together in a blue police-line-do-not-cross corral, sweltering in the eighty-degree heat, eighty-percent humidity--but still shrieking like zombie monkeys. Oh yes. Total Request Live.

In theory, a little screaming is no big deal. But the TRL screams were of a special genre. They fucking pulsed. There was always a certain level of screaming, but every time the camera man came to the window to briefly scan the crowd, the shrieks would peak. Guess what, geniuses, THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU IN THE STUDIO.

Does MTV produce anything worthwhile? Let's analyze the fruits of their stupendous budget:

Becoming
"A new season of Becoming is in full swing! We'll take ordinary fans and transform them into their favorite artists, including Shakira, Enrique Iglesias, Nelly Furtado, B2K, and of course, *NSYNC. Our "stars" will get every bit of the glitz and glam afforded the celebs themselves, and to top it off, they'll even recreate a classic video by their favorite artists."

Instead of actually playing real music videos, we'll get a bunch of characterless and sheep-like dumbfucks to re-enact one of the videos, that we never play, so they can briefly realize their worthless dreams of being someone else.

Cribs
"Welcome to MTV Cribs, the most exciting way to peep into your favorite celebrities' homes without getting slapped with a restraining order. MTV Cribs isn't just about making you depressed by rubbing your nose in B2K's palatial suite. We also show you what's in Jerry O'Connell's refrigerator and Missy's fish tank to give you exclusive insight into your heroes."

Although we make you feel bad about your shitty house, we try to mitigate your pain by telling you about important things in life, like Jerry O'Connell's penchant for sucking on prairie oysters and Missy Elliott's pet fish Blingalicious.

Fraternity Life
"Have you been practicing your keg stands? Hope so, because the new Fraternity Life guys have pretty high expectations. Get ready to hit the beach (who needs books?) in Santa Cruz with the new batch of pledges and brothers from Delta Omega Chi."

Who the fuck needs books in college? WE'RE HERE TO FUCKIN' PARTY!!! YEAAAAH!!!!

Icon:Metallica
"MTV honored iconic thrash masters Metallica with performances and testimonials from a metal appreciation society that featured Sum 41, Avril Lavigne, Korn, Rob Zombie, Limp Bizkit, Lisa Marie Presley, Sean Penn and more superstars influenced by the band, its videos, and its music. The show wrapped with Metallica's show-stopping set (their first TV appearance with bassist Rob Trujillo), as they showed the wannabes how it's really done. "

OMG METALLICA!!!!!! THEY R SOOOOO FUCKIN METAL DUDE!!!! THEY MAKE ME WANT 2 LIKE BREAK SHIT YEAH AND LIKE FUCKIN BANG MY HEAD!!!! I LUV HOW THEY KNO WHAT I FEEL AND SHIT YEAH THEY R ALL LIKE ANTIESTABLISHMENT AND SHIT YEAH AND DOWNLOADING MP3S IS STEALING FROM THEM I TOTALLY AGREE I MEAN IF I WERE AN ARTIST WHO CLAIMS 2 B COUNTERCULTURE ID GET SO TOTALLY FUCKIN MAD IF PEOPLE STARTED GETTING MUSIC FOR FREE!!!! YEAH ID GET SOOOOO MAD IF PEOPLE STARTED TAKING MONEY FROM ME EVEN THOUGH IM PAST MY PRIME AND MAKE SHITTY MUSIC AND THE PRICE OF MY CDS IS SO JACKED UP THAT UNIVERSAL RECORDS CAN CUT PRICES WITHOUT RISKING PROFIT!!!! ID TOTALLY SUE THE PIECE-OF-SHIT 12-YEAR-OLD SCHOOLKIDS WHO LIKE MY MUSIC ENOUGH TO SHARE IT AND DLOAD IT B/C THEY CANT AFFORD MY OVERPRICED CDS!!!! FUCK THE ESTABLISHMENT DUDE!!!...AVRIL LAVIGNE IS SO HOT!!!! AND TOTALLY PUNK!!!! I DUN CARE WUT OTHER PPL SAY!!!! AND LIMP BIZKIT IS SOOO COOL!!!! AND OMG KORN! THEY ALSO KNOW WUT I FEEL ALL THE TIME!!!!!! LIKE ALONE AND ANGRY AND NO1 ELSE UNDERSTANDS ME!!!!! COOLEST SHOW EVER!!!!!

MTV Prom Date
"Ah, prom night. Memories will last a lifetime, right? It is, after all, one of the most eagerly anticipated evenings in the life of a high school student. Would you trust your night to MTV? Meet Carol, a senior at Merrillville High School and MTV’s first prom princess. Ten of Carol's studly classmates will wine and dine her and she’ll whittle the list down to three. Then it’s up to the student body to make a finale decision and pick her date for a blowout bash only MTV could host: MTV Prom Date 2004."

I wouldn't trust shit to MTV. But apparently, Carol will. Let's meet Carol.

1. What qualities do you look for in a prom date?
I look for a guy who will show me a good time and make me laugh, but also someone who I can just chill out and relax with.
And who has abs like an unfinished brick wall

2. What would you chose as your prom song?
“Take My Breath Away” by Jessica Simpson
I'm clearly not your typical girl

3. Describe your perfect prom night.
My perfect prom night would start off with the guy picking me up, going to the dance and dancing all night, then going to dinner in Chicago with our friends, and then staying up all night at someone’s house.
Drinking and having hot, wild sex

4. How much planning went into your prom dress and all your accessories?
I didn’t plan too much. I went and tried on lots of dresses at one store and found the one I like, so I bought that and the jewelry that matched it.
Unlike everybody else.

5. What part of prom night are you looking forward to the most?
I am most excited about going to the actual dance and just having a great time.
And I'm stoked for hot, wild, drunken sex

6. How do you feel about the student body choosing your prom date?
I’m a little nervous because I think the people who don’t like me will vote for the person least compatible with me, but hopefully all will go well and it will be the best prom yet.
And by least compatible, I mean ugly.

7. Are you confident the student body will choose the right date for you?
For the most part yes, but there will be some that will vote badly because they don’t like me.
But my bitchy friends will ruin them if they do that.

8. Do you think eliminating the guys from the show will be difficult?
I think the elimination will be the hardest part of the show because I know all the guys and will still have to go to school with them.
But secretly I will be laughing inside

9. What’s the perfect ending to a perfect prom night?
The perfect ending is hopefully a small goodnight kiss as long as it was a great night.
I'm lying through my dazzlingly perfect teeth.

10. How does it feel to be the first MTV Prom Princess in MTV history?
It feels great to be the first MTV Prom Princess. I never imagined anything like this would happen to me. I am just grateful to MTV and for the support of my family and friends.
And for the casting agent I fucked to be here

Whatever. I am weary and reading the list of shows is making me angry. Fuck MTV. Watch HGTV instead. Quality television programming.

Listening to: "Dirty Life" by Ima Robot

In the News today...

On a completely unrelated note, I was trying to download more tracks by the Music today on GNucleus. Imagine my surprise when a search for "The Music" turned up a Britney Spears track entitled "Me Against the Music". Priceless, my friends, priceless. It also featured Madonna on backup vocals, or something along those lines. Maybe just backup.

Real life is a pretty funny place. Clearly, one of Spears' producers has an excellent sense of humor.

Listening to: The People - The Music

ADD is OK

The Timberwolves made it to the Finals, and I could not be happier. As a result, I am not actually going to put any thought into this update. I mean, my boy KG just beat the Queens; I have to celebrate in some way.

College really isn't that different from high school. Cliques are called fraternities here at Northwestern, and the jocks still keep to themselves. The only real difference is the ridiculous amount of alcohol available to you. I would say the average American college campus has enough alcohol on hand to strip the red paint off the Golden Gate Bridge.

That really is not a very good analogy. After all, should I really be drinking something that could potentially tear the Golden out of Golden Gate? I think not.

I was thinking about the Lynndie England case today and it suddenly occurred to me that she and Jessica Lynch are polar opposites. Lynndie is a dumb, dog-faced nymphomaniac. Jessica, on the other hand, is pure, heroic and heals sick birds. The whole episode reminds me a lot of the Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan feud. If I remember correctly, Tonya was not a looker, so to speak. That's chauvinist guy language for "she had a horse growing out of the side of her face".

Sometimes, I wonder how much skill is required to be a NASCAR driver. I grant that their reflexes are quite impressive, but the list of maneuvers they must strive to master is about three items long: overtake right, overtake left and turn left. I always watch analysts interviewing drivers on ESPN and wonder what truly seperates Jeff Gordon from Dale Earnhardt. Chalk NASCAR up as one of those sports I do not understand, in between Baseball and powerwalking.

I am le tired. Maybe I'll write something more interesting and entertaining tomorrow.

Yeah, right.

Listening to:

Welcome to the Future!

Yahoo! Teen Love Chat is filled with secret geniuses. These people are the future idle rich of America. Like Anna Nicole Smith, many of these fine young individuals will claw their way to the top, fucking and backstabbing their way to stardom. So welcome! Welcome to America's Future!

ontopthegame18: louisiana tech representing
ontopthegame18: louisiana tech representing
ontopthegame18: iam the boy who blows these lil b**** boyz out
ontopthegame18: louisiana tech representing
ontopthegame18: girl
ontopthegame18: i'll pimp slap the taste out your mouth
ontopthegame18: louisiana tech representing
ontopthegame18: 19/m/college boy holla
ontopthegame18: louisiana tech representing
Sorry, I didn't catch that. Where do you go to school again?

sutherncuti: any one wanna chat 2 a hot 17/f/la light green hazel eyez they turn blue and honey yellow im 5'2 115 lb very hot body tan light brown hair pm me........
I am a werewolf

peachescream142000: hey are there any guys out there that can handle a **** and wants to chat press 333 or im me
Can handle a what? Fish? Boot? Moon?

gbballa06: and necteinens
I GOT SOME NECTEINENS. RIGHT HERE. LOOOOL.

packdragon of storms: i like bananas lol
munchin_girl808: yeah sure u like bananas
munchin_girl808: the long kine yeah
Hur hur hur hur...bananas.

Millefleurs: ne1 want 2 chat w/ a 19/f/ca...long blonde hair, 5'8" 120lb, 36-23-36 green eyez, surfer tan press 234890561278923420598234715632409823432d2s21s#423432
tyler66blake: 234890561278923420598234715632409823432d2s21s#423432
full_time_naughtygirl_04: 234890561278923420598234715632409823432d2s21#4231432
WOW

polker20022001: 16/m/pa with a hard 8in dick
So...you're just sitting there with an erection?

rooster_gunit: I'm 5 foot 5 145 lbs medium build piercings tats eyes change colors hair shaved on the sides loong on top able to braid
HOTTIE

daddy_x1605: any sexy girls over 14 in here
No. Once girls hit 14, they blow up like balloons and grow moustaches.

beautifulfinebabe923: hi, anyone want to chat with an attractive girl with long hair/blue eyes?
She's beautiful. And fine. And a babe! SCORE!!!

sublime_brad_rip1996: BEANERS!!!
sublime_brad_rip1996: MEXICAN AMERICANS GO TO NIGHT SCHOOL TO TAKE SPANISH AND THEY GET A B
sublime_brad_rip1996: MEXICAN AMERICAN DON"T LIKE TO GET INTO GANG FIGHTS THEY LOVE FLOWERS AND WHITE WOMEN NAMED DEBBIE TOO!!!
If Dubya is still in the administration when this kid grows up, I have little doubt that sublime_brad_rip1996 will be appointed Secretary of State

da_buda69: IM THE MAN U HAVE BEEN LOOKIN FOR ALL UR LIFE
I never knew that the man I've been looking for all my life was so close.

nshaw49@sbcglobal.net: hey fine ladies what up if you wanna chat with a 19/fine pimp from indy holla at your daddy
DAAAAAAD! Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to talk to this fine pimp. Sorry, dad. I'll be quiet next time.

So that's it for this episode. The time to kill yourself is now.

Listening to: "Art is Hard" by Cursive

On The Virtue of Sexual Deviance (Part 3)

My esteemed and ridiculously Asian colleague has entered a coma. This can undoubtedly be attributed to her recent exposure to a massive selection of truly disgusting sexual acts. I suppose this would be a good time to warn you NOT to click any of the links we have provided you with. They are truly horrendous and will undoubtedly undermine and destroy any faith you have left in humanity.

On that note, here are some more fantasies for you to indulge in:

7. Delphinic Zoophile
Example: Sex with Dolphins!

You know, if I had to make a list of things that excite me sexually, dolphins would be number 2761, sandwiched between cod liver oil and a moldy towel. This guy, on the other hand, loves these animals in the biblical sense of the word. I really like the parts about spending time with the animal after having sex with them, so that you can build a relationship and hopefully keep having sex with the object of your desire:

Pat them, stroke them and talk to them lovingly, but do not try anything else. It is best, anyway, to let the dolphin tell you when they are ready. It is far more pleasant, and more fulfilling anyway.

Yes, and you two can grow old together and raise a family of freakish half-human, half-dolphin hybrids.

6. Necrophilia
Example: I Fuck Dead People!

Let's face it, guys. The opposite sex sucks, McDonald's has bought every last good restaurant out there and Hollywood hasn't come out with a decent movie in years. What are we to do? Well, if conversation is not something you desire in a mate, I recommend a dead body. So does this guy:

Plus you don't have to resort to cheesy pickup lines or spend all your money in order to get a date. Necrophilia is a passion which is cheaply satisfied.

No more bar-hopping for me! Why seduce a model when you can have her dead?

2. Furry Sex
Example: Fursuit Sex

Those of you who frequent Something Awful, our spiritual guides, have undoubtedly heard of this particular kind of deviancy. However, you may picture it as something theoretical; after all, what kind of furry actually leaves his parent's basement long enough to find a willing partner?

Enter Bloody Murder. Hours of painstaking research have revealed that, shockingly, furries do actually engage in sex. Yes, you were all dying to know, and here is the proof.

By the way, Laura and I are in desperate need of minions. We need someone supremely qualified but uninterested in any sort of recompense to plow through the Internet Superhighway and find disturbing sites for us to write about. Also, we'd really appreciate it if you were willing to write summaries of each site for us, so we do not actually have to expose ourselves to freakish, disturbing content. In fact, we'd really like it if you just wrote this whole thing for us, because our hands are starting to cramp.

Listening to: Manga - Timo Maas

On the Virtue of Sexual Deviance (Part 2)

Will the madness ever end? That, my friends, is the question. I've combed through miles and miles of code to find you the choicest sexual fetishes infesting the internet (i.e. looked through the Yahoo! Directory for Sexual Fetishes and Fantasies). But it was annoying anyway. And on we go:

8. Sneezing
Sneezefic Archive
Yes, oh yes, people have a fetish for sneezing. Sneezing, as in the violent expulsion of irritants from your nasal passages. It sure is sexy. The really special thing about the above site, is that it's not only about people who get off on sternutation, but also about people who don't exist getting off on sternutation, and then having gay sex:

"ihhhShuhh! hehh-Ihhshoo!" Remus clutched the tissue box as he sniffled and blew his nose. "Doe... sniff, sniff... No, I can also say excuse me."

"Mmm... well excuse me, too." He sat up, throwing back the covers along with him. Ignoring Remus' violent shiver, "because I want dessert and I want it from you." He popped open the container and took out a large strawberry. "Look at it, all ripe and lush, the epitome of sensuality..." He turned it over in mid-air, modeling it for Remus."

I need to go take a cold shower.

Oliver's Thoughts: I think erotic sneezing is really great. There's nothing better than having multiple orgasms every single time you take public transportation during cold season.

14. Underarm Hair
The Temple of Pits
Honestly, I can't imagine anything hotter than a lush, flowing tuft of pubic hair peeking sensuously from a slender arm. Oh God, I cannot go through with this, even in the spirit of levity. Go look at the pictures and make your own judgement; if you start masturbating all I can say is, "As long as you're happy, dude."

Oliver's Thoughts: Disgusting. Truly disgusting. I think we should stop worrying about gay marriage and instead do everything in our power to disallow fetishes like these.

3. Enemas
Your First Enema
...They have their own slang. Enema-fetishists are known as "Klezmos." File that away from when you next go on Jeopardy Wow. Let's start with the definition of an enema. It is a process by which a liquid is inserted into the rectum to clear stools out of the large intestine. That is the definition of sexual fantasy right there. Nothing more romantic than clearing shit out of your lover's colon.

I discovered the great (and disgusting) truth that there were also many women who did NOT like or wish to receive enemas. This was a real blow.

THERE'S A SHOCKER.

Now that I am completely disillusioned, I'm going to end this update to the list and maybe, just maybe, if I can bring myself to find more, I'll catalogue the suckers. Ugh. I feel dirty.

Oliver's Thoughts: It's like playing doctor, except with a sick, jobless 40 year-old man holding the stethoscope. And trying to wash your ass out with salt water.

Listening to: "Playground Love" by AIR

How I Became an Indigent People

As you may or may not have noticed, Laura is posting away like her bus can't go below fifty miles per hour; that's a pop culture reference to the movie "Speed", for those of you who are not in the know. I, however, have clearly not posted anything in days. I could have written something when I returned last night, but I was too busy reading ESPN.com and eating samosas. By the way, if you have any spare samosas lying in your freezer, kindly send them to Evanston. If I am to become Mr. Universe, I am going to have to put on some serious pounds, you know?

This weekend was a wonderful time. It was great to abandon the hellhole that is Chicago in favor of beautiful Connecticut. Alumni weekend really started for me at about 5 o'clock, at the Alumni picnic. I was talking to one of my classmates, who I shall refer to as the Founding Father, when Mad Dog, former dean of students, walked up to me and proferred his hand. Expecting a handshake, I responded in kind, only to receive a rather awkward hug from a formerly rather irritating authority figure. He then looked me in the eye and said, "It's good to see you, Matt."

Obviously, my name is not Matt. When I was a student at Choate, a couple girls told me I resembled a classmate of mine called Matt. He, however, was a lacrosse player and consumate jock; on my best days, I was a decent soccer player and track runner, but certainly not a true athlete. In short, there isn't that much room for confusion. He should probably study a facebook for a few hours before he attempts to solicit donations from misty-eyed alumni.

Ultimately, Shaffer and I decided to get drunk. We shared a McDonald's cup full of Calico Jack (most of which Brook finished) and proceeded to wreak havoc around campus. I remember pushing a UPS box over and watching the whole thing come apart as soon as it hit the ground. I would like to say that it was a gesture of protest, but the truth is that we were drunk and belligerent. I also had the chance to talk to Krusty after his attempt at seducing Laura failed miserably:

"Dude, you fouled out big time!"
"Man, I forgot her name."
"No dude, you fouled out."
"No, you don't know what you're talking about. My mistake was that I forgot her name."
"Which is clearly what we refer to as fouling out."
"Right."

He then waltzed off into the darkness, never to be seen again. Maybe he joined the circus or the cast of Friends in retirement. Dickerson, Laura, Shaffer and I crammed into Halpern's car and took a ride back to his house, where we proceeded to eat of all of his food. In a moment of complete and utter stupidity, I donated my cot to Laura and took over Aaron's couch.

Hard liquor does some strange things to me. Most people, when they are drunk, pass out. I, on the other hand, have great difficulty sleeping. I finally got to sleep at four in the morning, only to wake up at 6:45 feeling nauseous. I also have this tendency to kick things when I am drunk; the couch's pillows were strewn all over the floor. After putting my "bed" back together, I ran into Halpern's kitchen, downed a glass of water and returned to bed. Three hours later, feeling disgusting, I woke up again and joined everyone else for breakfast.

The highlight of the weekend was when Halpern's mother took one look at me and informed me, in her wonderful Japanese accent, that I looked "sick and messed up."

Don't expect any more long, carefully thought out updates like this. This is my half-hearted attempt at matching Laura in the enthusiasm department. I also pledge not to drink for at least three more days.

Listening to: Children's Story - Black Star

On the Virtue of Sexual Deviance (Part 1)

Although I spend inordinate amounts of time on the internet, I never fail to be astonished by the range of fetishes and sexual deviations in which people indulge. So to celebrate the wonderful ability of the internet to bring all a manner of weirdoes together, I have decided to totally rip off Somethingawful.com (to which I owe much and will pay back in some form or another, eventually) and do a top indeterminately numbered list of the best sexual fetishes ever:

10. Clowns
Example: Knockers The Klown
Knockers the Clown is "a celebrity sex clown" and according to her website, she has "sat on 200 flaming birthday cakes."

Clowns scare the shit out of me. Their freakishly bright, frozen smiles, dead eyes and unnatural hair all contribute to this frightening image of humour gone terribly, terribly wrong. I thought that, because of the fact that clowns are FUCKING SCARY, there would be low demand for clown sex. I was wrong. A large gallery of fan mail to Knockers attests to the fact that this fetish happens to be very, unfortunately real:

I love your web site. I have a fetish for clowns. I have masturbated about 20 times over the last week thinking about fucking a hot little clown.

I have always had a fascination about clowns and dreamed about making love to a female clown.

I saw you once on T.V. and I think you're hot! I would love to fuck the hell out of you dressed like a clown!

Because, underneath my staid exterior (I think I know what that means), straight-laced, masters degree totting [sic], multi-syllabic using facade lies a fantasy- ridden clown pervert! That's right! My number #1 masturbatory...fantasy is to be spanked by a real clown!

Yes, strangely enough, I do happen to have a strong sexual attraction to female clowns that I first discovered while I was in college.

Oliver's Thoughts: Clowns are freaky, but "Klowns" are even worse. As far as I know, a "Klown" is some sort of mentally deranged, genetically altered gang member in the distant, apocalyptic future. Not sexy.

9. Orthodontic Braces
Example: Braces Are Beautiful
There is absolutely nothing to say about this. Nothing at all. I guess it just means that there's someone for everyone.

I will always remember how nice it was to kiss her. Once I even kissed her while she was wearing her headgear. I don't think she really understood how I could like her braces so much. She wasn't too delighted having to wear braces. We were an "item" for almost two years. But like a lot of relationships, it didn't last. She was nice enough to give me some of her bands and her headgear when her tin grin days ended. I still have her gift of long ago. But now is the time in my biography to speed the up the story. As like most of the readers of my page, I began collecting pictures, pictures of people with braces.

Oliver's Thoughts: Braces may be sexy, but they are also ridiculously dangerous. Can you imagine getting your lip/tongue caught in a girl's mouth? In conclusion, more awkward than sexy. The doctor has spoken.

Listening to: "Stay Don't Go" by Spoon

We're Hiring!

As you may or may not have noticed, Bloody Murder has acquired a new contributor. Her name is Laura, we attended high school together, and she enjoys raving and frequenting rich caucasian men.

Now I realize that some of you may be horrified by this revelation. You may be wondering what would ever possess me to sell out and allow someone else to post on my hallowed digital stomping grounds. In an effort to prevent mutiny, I will endeavor to explain myself. Without further ado, I introduce yet another bulleted list:

1) The Empire must grow!

Some of you may believe I write this blog for personal reasons or sheer bloody mindedness. You could not be more wrong. I write this journal because I desperately desire fame and fortune. In case you hadn't noticed, I was fairly enthusiastic about the idea of obtaining a book contract. I now realize I was being foolish; the only way to make money writing blogs is to grow as quickly as possible, with the goal of SUBJUGATING THE ENTIRE INTERNET! Before you know it, Bloody Murder will insinuate itself into your lifestyle; we will make you lattes, sell you hotdogs on the streets of New York and provide you with low-cost digital cable.

2) I am lazy and not funny

This is the most plausible explanation. I would write more on this subject but I really want to take a nap.

3) I need more Asian readership

Readership means exposure, and exposure means sponsorship. Sadly, my worldview as a white male college student really is not that interesting, and is unlikely to draw advertising megadollars. Laura, however, is Asian. She drinks bubble tea and watches anime. Because of her presence, Bloody Murder is now racially diverse and therefore infinitely more interesting.

I was going to recruit a token black correspondent but I had to settle for David. He's white, but he does hail from Kentucky. He is also harmless and never posts, which is great because I hate sharing the limelight.

Nap time.

Listening to: Black Steel - Tricky

Military Service

"Air Force Amy. I served my country; now I'm here and ready to SERVE you!!!

My new hero.

Listening to: "Maybe" by N.E.R.D.

Say what?

I love it.

Dadaist Manifesto

Reality Blogging

This is where I unveil a segment I like to call Survivor: Bloody Murder.

Given that David has yet to actually contribute even two words, I may have no choice but to vote him off the island. That's right Dave; I'm keeping the million dollars in prize money.

No, I kid.

Still, it would be pretty funny to have a round of BlogSurvivor. E-mail me if you are up for it.

Listening to: Such Great Heights - The Postal Service

A Liberal Serving

Good point.

A Small Victory - And while I'm on the subject...

The real problem with the Prison Scandal is that it has caused people to question the morality of what this country is doing. As a student, I do not feel it is my place to condemn or exonerate the United States and its foreign policy. I do, however, believe this country would do well to abandon all pretense of moral, political and intellectual superiority.

I believe that, in the end, we are all human. Just because America are richer, bigger and stronger does not mean it is infallible. To err is human, after all. This country does and will continue to be a force for good throughout the world. Still, it never hurts to evaluate our situation and ensure we are making the correct decisions.

Peace.

Bloody Upgrades

I am currently playing around with the new blogger layout. With any luck, this will motivate me to actually post something substantial here, as opposed to my usual "OH! Check out this cool/repulsive/eye-opening/unabashedly liberal link" updates.

Listening to: DJ Danger Mouse - Public Service Announcement

Basketball Geek, Part Deux

If you play defense, the Lakers are doomed. Interesting.

NBA production by position correlations and regressions from 82games.com

Depression Strikes

I am a jerk. My kind should be extinct by now, but we multiply like fungus.

You know things are bad when I start listening to bands like Death Cab and trying to extract meaning from their songs. For God's sake... One of their tracks consists of the lead singer repeating his love for Gweneviere at least 20 times. Meaning? I don't even know a girl named Gwen. Go figure.

At least Arsenal is still unbeaten, and the T-Wolves are now tied with the Kings. I could use a victory, you know?

Shop Liberal

Just what the world needs.

Responsible Shopper: What Does Your Shopping Support?

Save Marcus Dixon!

Jail sucks. Let's get this kid out of there.

Help Marcus Dixon - Act for Justice

As far as I can tell, this is clearly an abuse of the justice system. Read it and please sign the petition.

Teenage Fantasies

Ginger Spice was the best-looking of the bunch. Just thought I'd get that one off my chest.

Shameless Marketing Plug

Here's an interesting musical experiment for you. DJ Danger Mouse released this CD called the Grey Album, which successfully combines Jay-Z with the Beatles' White Album. However, you cannot buy it in stores: EMI, which owns the rights to the White Album, were quick to file a a lawsuit against him.

It's worth a listen regardless of whether or not you want to stick it to the man. You can find it on any file-sharing system; just do a search for "Grey Album". Alternatively, you can do a Google Search for "Grey Album". People seem fairly intent on standing up for artistic freedom.