Friday, December 26, 2003

For those of you who have not seen Return of the King, let me recap on a thirty minute basis.

Section 1: Smeagol EVIL! Frodo gooood.

Section 2: Lots of people prepare for battle.

Section 3: Battle for Middle Earth.

Section 4: Battle for Middle Earth.

Section 5: Battle for spinal integrity.

Section 6: Battle ends. Long, drawn-out death rattle begins.

Section 7: Try not to scream while what seems like another three hours of violin/mandolin/celtic-olin play over weepy faces. Stupid people in the audience start crying. The fire in your back slowly creeps into your neck, engulfing whatever last bit of patience you may have had. Run out of the theater and punch an old lady in the face.



We ride...for MOOOOOORRRRRRRDOOOOOORRRRRRRRR...

Friday, December 19, 2003

My problems are so abstract.
And now for the dramatic personality shift to swing in. Every time I'm removed from my natural habitat for a number of days (i.e. school, social circles) I grow happier, more self-confident, friendlier.

I must admit, the thought of delving back into the game makes me sick some mornings. I hate that I will, that day, be expected to fill all the roles you and I have agreed that I should fill. Let me tell you, I want Matt dead. I want to be able to interact with people in my own way, not Matt's way. I don't want anyone to have to fill any role ever again. I want to do away with every set of rules I have been brought up with. I don't want to know that "girlfriends" exist; only people. I don't want to know that "friends" exist; only people. I wish we weren't fed lies, daily, that only serve to limit us.

And I wish I could believe in what I say.

Friday, November 28, 2003



This is an actual review taken from the Amazon.com page for "Hulk Rules," Hulk Hogan's foray into the musical arena.

"Oh my.. I am at a loss for words. This album makes my year. I give HULK RULES 5 stars because of its extraordinary mix of musical styles, and also because of the Hulkster's surprisingly awesome vocal ability. As a child I was a HUGE Hulkamaniac, and this album is a must for any hulkamaniac's collection. The feelings of nostalgia it produces, and the undying message the Hulkster continues to communicate to the young people of America and the world make this the ultimate album of all time.
I am not lying when I tell you that I cried the first time I listened to Hulkster In Heaven. Being a US Marine myself, I love the message Hogan sends about standing up for what is right and loving America and saying your prayers. But on the other hand, the college boy in me loves to boogie down and party like Hulkster does in the wild and crazy Beach Patrol. I Want To Be A Hulkamaniac... the title of the song says it all right there, and I say "me too." Hulk's The One shows how much the Hulkster is loved by the ladies, and gets your feet moving, as does Hulk Rules. By purchasing owning this album, you can help Hulkamania live on forever!!!"

Thursday, November 27, 2003

Delawar once introduced me to an internet forum which discusses politics. He said I should join and have fun with the insane people it draws. My latest post may be my last. Here, read, laugh:

Here be assholes

I'm under the screen name Outtro. Knowledge of the original subject of the topic is unnecessary; politics is soon dispensed for an all-out insult grudge match. You are all more than welcome to come join the fight. Delawar was the first casualty and is now banned entirely.

Wednesday, November 26, 2003



Tha....that baby's....that baby's DANCING! A dancing baby?! HOLY SHIT!! THAT BABY'S FUCKING DANCING!!! OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO SHIT MYSELF WITH LAUGHTER!! I SHOULD EMAIL THIS TO ALL MY FRIENDS!!! I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING SO HILARIOUS IN ALL MY LIFE! TO THINK, A BABY...DANCING!!!!!!!! Thank you, dancing-baby-animator, whoever you are, for bringing joy to my dark, lifeless heart.

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

"A routine will turn into an enchanting escapade."

Fortune cookie eerily relevant. The sky is winking.

Monday, November 17, 2003

Sunday, November 16, 2003

Chronicling my slow descent into Starcraft:

Day 1: Following an impulse I occasionally get to revisit computer games I used to play in sixth and seventh grade, I challenged James to a light-hearted game of Starcraft. We ended up playing for over an hour; our humorous textual interplay had stopped about halfway. After we had had enough intergalactic death and destruction, we quit for what I thought would be quite a long time. I was mistaken.

Day 2: Once again finding myself with nothing to do and no incentive to pursue something intellectual, I organized a game with Bonnie, Jake and Jenny. The first two were quickly dispatched, leaving Jenny and I to butt horns and shake the earth. After forty-five minutes or so I crushed her with a fleet of Carriers, felt a mild sense of accomplishment, and then proceeded to sit at my computer for another hour, listening to mp3's, waiting for something to happen on AIM and browsing the same twenty sites I always browse.

Day 3: Unable to find anyone willing to play, I was alarmed to find myself entering the mouth of the beast: Battle.net. This seedy little cesspool is inhabited with what I have come to regard as the lowest, most inebriated, mindless neanderthals the internet has to offer. And I was willing to play with them. Since playing traditional Starcraft on Battle.net is made impossible by gaming zealots who have come up with new and original ways to utterly destroy you in under ten minutes, and are likely not house-broken, I opted for what I thought would be a more casual session of Use Map Settings games. These are Starcraft maps which have special rules to create a game with objectives more or less unrelated to the original game. For example, movie-Starcraft adaptations are very popular. Battle.net favorites include Gone in Sixty Seconds, The Matrix and Rain Man: a touching story of two men's battle to cope with Autism.

I chose an aliens-and-giant-robot-killing-machines version of the comic strip classic Calvin and Hobbes. The game consisted of bombarding your enemies with hordes of murderous space pirates which have been renamed to match characters from the comic. It's amazing. I had played the map so often in eighth grade that I could pretty much overcome any adversary. I was playing against two other guys allied against me, and when it became clear that they would lose, one of them spouted, "This game is fuckin rigged. God, ur such a newbie, fagget." un-humorous textual interplay continued for a while, before he was wiped off the face of the planet by my insurmountable army of tanks named "Mom."

Day 4: My friends, now recognizing my growing problem, politely refused to play with me. I again turned to Battle.net for my badly-needed Starcraft fix. In the shared opinion of the entire network, I was still a "fagget."

Day 5: Desperate, desparaging, I severed all ties with those I previously thought to be "friends." They didn't understand me, and were only trying to undermine my happiness. I wanted to be addicted to Starcraft. It made me happy, something which couldn't be said of certain social relationships. Plus, I could stop whenever I wanted. All I needed was my laptop, a few cases of Dr. Pepper and a bedpan.

Day 6: My harddrive now filled with Starcraft maps, screenshots, replays and screen savers, I sought for a way to expand my ever-growing collection of Blizzard miscellania. When I realized that selling what was left of my belongings wouldn't garner enough funds to buy more memory, I became desperate. That night I snuck into my neighbor's house and stole an external harddrive they had purchased recently; they were on vacation in Massachusetts, blissfully unaware their house was being raided by a Starcraft fiend.

Day 7: Finally recognizing and confronting my problem, I admitted myself to a rehab clinic for some time to collect myself and re-prioritize what was left of my life. Realizing just how much damage I had done to my friends and family, I swore I'd try to rebuild what I could, repent for what I had done, and never again allow myself to lapse into such depravity.

Day 15: After I was released from my short stay in the clinic, I found myself an alien in what had once been a life so taken for granted. My friends and acquaintances eyed me warily, always watching, waiting for me to do something unpredictable. While they spoke to me politely and in a friendly enough fashion, I always sensed uneasiness about them. Some day I'll conquer the demon of my past, but until then, there's always Diablo.

Thursday, November 13, 2003

Finally, I've found a way to spread my seed in the collective consciousness. Go here for my new image site, featuring Phobitopia propaganda for you to use for your own mischevious ends.

He sexy dude, lieks for womans, milk make bones as large, plus other things if you are knowing I mean!

Wednesday, November 12, 2003



Who's Yami, and why does he/she/it have hair as he/she/it does?
Eric Conveys an Emotion is fit for reading.

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Mr. T Vs. Everything


AAAAAAHAAAHAAAAA!!!
AAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!
..........AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Monday, November 03, 2003

There's a very long, very involved retrospective piece worming its way out of me. Soon, soon. For now, I'm just putting together the puzzle.