ABCNews via Slashdot.
I’ve seen all of these designs before, but I have to say that I’m pretty underwhelmed by all of them. The thing I don’t understand is, we’re living in the year 2-thousand-frigging-3, and none of these designs has a single space laser or photon torpedo. You mean to tell me that none of these people has seen Star Wars?
If we had our act together, we could have easily put some badass weapons on our space ships and pissed off some fantastic alien races by now. I mean, let’s show some initiative, NASA. Get with the program.
Sometimes, I’m kind of ashamed to call myself human.
Wash. Post Article. I can’t really think of any jokes about George Plimpton. It’d probably something having to do with Disney’s Mousterpiece Theater, but it just isn’t gelling at the moment. Sorry.
Does it seem to anyone else that this has been a pretty rough summer in terms of fatalities, in general? We’ve had 15,000 french people die in a heat wave, and I swear that we’ve steadily lost, like, two celebrities a week for the last 4 months. What gives with that? At this rate, we will have no celebrities in two years.
Rocker Robert Palmer died early this morning of a heart attack. He was a sexy, sexy man.
Palmer in 1997, clearly reeling from the ravages of addiction.
It is unknown whether Palmer’s death comes as a result of his lifelong addiction to love, which he couragously discussed numerous times (in one famous interview, Palmer said of love, “Immune to the stuff? Oh, yeah. Closer to the truth to say I can’t get enough. I might as well face it, I’m addicted to love.”) Early toxicology reports have been vague on whether Palmer had any traces of love in his system at the time of death.
Kris(t) Novoselic, former Nirvana bassist, is quitting the music business.
What next? As far as the music industry goes, I quit. I canít deal. I canít read the magazines, listen to the radio or watch music television without feeling like Iíve just come in from outer space. I just donít get it and I probably never did. My lot in life is that every band Iíve ever been in just falls apart. That hurts but Iíve got a thick hide from years of conditioning.
It’ll be a shame to see Novoselic go, because now there’s one less guy in the music business who is worse than Jeff–or Brent, or even myself–at playing their instrument of choice.
Continue reading “Christ, Novoselic”
I just discovered National Novel Writing Month, which consists of a whole bunch of poor schmoes trying to write a complete 50,000 word novel over the month of November. The goal is not so much to get published, but instead to create an artificial impetus for a bunch of flaky closet authors to start writing something.
I think it’s a swell idea. I want to be among the many that will write an unmarketable, bad novel.
According to the rules, you aren’t allowed to start writing until November 1, but you are totally allowed to start plotting and scheming immediately. Any of you other slackers interested?
Several times since Friday night I’ve had about half a review for Underworld written, but now I see that the Onion has said almost exactly what I was going to say.
Underworld devotes much of its run time to unspooling an endlessly convoluted mythology, which makes it feel like a prequel to a movie not worth seeing in the first place.
I was looking forward to an escapist superbeing-vs-superbeing movie that didn’t take itself too seriously–like converting one of the old-school Wolfenstein games into a film. Instead, this was fucking awful. The dramatic finale, which appeared to pit the blue Martian senator against a rabid James Woods with bad sideburns, inspired laughter in several moviegoers.
Heroic blue freak versus aged scenery-chewing thespian. And no, smartass, this is not an X-Men review.
Now I’ll have to pin my hopes on Dracula vs. Hitler ever getting made. One Pochacco, and may I never see another Len Wiseman film as long as I live.
Ever since Shlonglor got this fancy new commenting system on his site, I’ve been trying desperately to make his site implode through the sheer inanity of my contributions. Because, as I think I’ve probably mentioned, I really don’t like Shlonglor or his smacktard followers.
My strategy has subtley shifted since I started my little crusade. At first, I spent most of my time arguing with devout Christians about whether or not they are hopelessly misguided (as a sort of a tease, I’m not going to tell you which side of the argument the Christians came in on), but this sort of lost it’s sport after they stopped talking to me. Thus, I’ve recently mutated my assault to a sort of trolling exercise. It’s a delicate balancing act, to try and get people to respond to my nonsense to some degree without getting outright banned in the process (Shlonglor himself approves each and every post before it makes it onto the actual page).
My most recent post was on the subject of 7th Heaven’s new season, to which I added:
I`m a huge John Tesh fan, so I never miss an episode of 7th Heaven. Seriously, it`s the best.
Also, I don`t like Boston Public – it`s kind of dorky.
I just checked and Shlonglor added my comment to the front page. This is seriously one of the happiest days of my life.
Here are some of my other helpful contributions.
Iíve known Dave a long time, and I think a great way to tell the story of Daveís life would be to recount the series of roommates heís enjoyed over the years. Dave has a storied history of oddball, interesting, and slightly creepy roommates, even if you start after the Scripps Ranch years (joking, Jeff, joking. No please, not the modified Teddy Ruxpin stungun!). Letís see, there was the college roommate who peed in Daveís drawers. There was Terry, who loved to talk about his tricked out Dodge Neon, and followed Dan around offering him coffee. But the most interesting, the most entertaining, and by far the creepiest, had to be Josef.
Continue reading “Review: “Dummy””
It’s a fine day for students of the genital. Scientist have just discovered fossilized evidence of genitals (belonging to a mortified Daddy Long Legs) going back 400 million years, which is about 300 million years older than the previous record holder, Dick Clark.
While I am shocked and appalled at the callous invasion of insectoid privacy, I am pleased that the Daddy Long Legs was at least well-endowed, with a Johnson 2/3 the size of it’s body. Nice going, buddy! Way to go!
Awesome. If any of our legion of hot female non-underage readers are interested in modelling these for JesusH, drop me a line. I’m sure we could scare some up.
Fashionable, yet convenient, ladies…
Johnny Cash, the old time country singer who reached out to the Pepsi generation by covering such songs as Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” and Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt” has died of complications arising from diabetes.
“Three’s Company’s” John Ritter has died of a broken heart. Ritter fell ill on the set of Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, reported by some news organizations to be a “hit” show.
Mr. Osoma BinL addan’s doctor, Ayman “the Dorf” al-Zawabidi has purportedly just cut a hot new track, which is burning up the airwaves in underdeveloped areas around the world. Broadcasting from Biladdne’s magnificent goat-infested valley stronghold, Mr. Zawaldbi has called upon his proud countrymen to “depend and rely on God and attack and devour the Americans and bury them in the graveyard of Iraq”.
As a spirited counter-point, I’d like to offer this retort to the proud lads of Al kada:
Devour this, bitch.
I mean, really. Guess what I did today, “Uncle” bin Lard’n! That’s right: I went to Fuddruckers, got myself a bigass cheeseburger, and just kind of hung out and counted all my freedoms and money! HAHAHAHAHA!!!1!1! Freedoms and money probably don’t sound too bad to you now, now that you’re all cooped up all alone in your stupid valley with your stupid goats and your stupid beard.
Humph. Some terrorist…
Some perverts out there are taking pictures of shiny reflective objects and putting them up for sale on eBay.
Technology writer Chris Stevens said: "Reflectoporn is becoming more and more popular. There's no easier way to expose your naked body to millions of people worldwide without leaving your room."
This is an awesome trend, but the pictures in the article are pretty tame. How long will it be before someone sells a coffeepot with a reflection of goatse.cx (for God’s sake, don’t click the link)? And does anyone want to chip in with me to buy a cheap one and set this auction up?
“Hi, Mom, I’m on TV!”
[Mirror.co.uk, via the muted horn]
I just saw this picture in a pop-up ad and found it hilarious. I’m going to put it in the “More” section, below, in case it messes up our page for fans with small monitors.
Continue reading “War Garb is a Blast!”
Washington Post via Slashdot
Berkeley Breathed (of Bloom County fame) is going to be returning to the comics world in late November. The new comic will be Sundays only and be called ‘Opus‘. According to the article, it will take up half the comics page. Attaboy Berke!
This is pretty exciting for me. Okay, I’ll grant you that Outland, Breathed’s last foray into the Sunday only comics world, didn’t particularly not suck. Hopefully the new one won’t simply be Opus walking around commenting on stupid politicians. I would put the chances at better than average that this could turn out to be disappointing (expectations seem pretty high), but, at the same time, the Sunday funnies with a disappointing Breathed strip is still better than one without, methinks.
I still go back to my old Bloom County books every once in a while…
Many thanks to everyone for coming out to The Compound and celebrating Dave’s 29th birthday. We hope everyone had a great time. It is always a pleasure to spend quality time with such a great bunch of folks.
A man died yesterday on Disney’s Big Thunder Mountain Railroad when a “locomotive broke loose from a train,” whatever that means. The circumstances behind the death (and 10 injuries) were unclear, but chaos theory suggests it has something to do with dinosaurs. This is the 9th death on a Disneyland attraction in the history of the park, but the first on Thunder Mountain.
The last thing you’ll ever see.
“On behalf of the entire cast of the Disneyland Resort we are shocked and saddened,” said Cynthia Harris, president of Disneyland Resort.
Neat how on a statement regarding a death on one of their most popular rides, they still manage to sneak the phrase “cast members” in there. Now THAT’s marketing!
From Michael Kinsey’s piece on Arnold, regarding the now-infamous gang-bang claim:
…[B]ut if it did happen, exactly as Arnold described it in 1977, it’s pretty disgusting. It’s disgusting even if it was consensual all around. It’s disgusting even though Arnold wasn’t married at the time. It’s disgusting even if this amounts to applying the standards of the 21st century to events of the mid-1970s. Schwarzenegger isn’t running for governor of California in 1975.
Maybe I’m just morally flexible, but if the event was consensual all around, what’s the problem here?
“Where’s the million-dollar book deal for the other members of the 507th who were killed?” Randy Kiehl said. “How do they tell their story?”
They don’t, jackass. See, here’s the thing: they’re dead.
[ksat.com, via Drudge]