And I don't get what goes on in his mind

You know, there's just some times when you find yourself in a situation -- you don't know how you got there -- you just look up and BAM there you are. It's not necessarily a grave "fear for your life" sort of thing, but it's creeping you out nonetheless.

Today, I found myself in just such a situation.

I walked down to my apartment building's postbox "complex" to pick up the mail. Well, there's the mailman, a grizzled Vietnam vet looking guy, talking to another resident. (I don't really know how to describe the second guy... but I can find a picture that's close enough.)

There ya go: Langley. The postman was talking to Langley... About Chinese AK-47s.

More specifically, about problems with full-auto fire on Chinese AK-47s, and how you can avoid the problem by doing something or other to the springs. Obviously I didn't hang out and er, shoot the breeze with the coffeeklatch in the black pajamas, so I can't help you out if you're experiencing similar problems.

Like I said, sometimes you just find yourself in these situations and you have to ride it out. As far as any advice I can offer - I dunno. It's probably best not to make any sudden movements, though.

They took the credit for your second symphony

I'm sure there wasn't a soul among you that marked your calendars for the Video Music Awards last night. In fact, I'll wager that a good number of you haven't watched the show since there was still music on MTV. Be that as it may, you guys missed out on a grand farce on the level of the finest Fraiser episodes. Truly, it was a sight to behold.

To start (and end, and all points inbetween) with, the show was hosted by P. Diddy, who inserted himself into every fucking thing going on all night long. They should have just called it "The Video McDiddy Awards" because that's what it felt like I was watching.
Look, I've got no love for Puffly of course, primarily because he's a no-talent ass clown. But also because he's only famous because his homeboy Biggie was shot. Puffy's made a career out of pimping Biggie's corpse for sympathy in tribute album after tribute album. Oh, and he also fucked J. Lo, so there ya go.
Given that history, P. Dippy's pretending to "conduct" an orchestra playing a tribute to Biggie, while a slide show of his life played overhead was the icing on his career's cake of pretensiousness. Way to fucking go, Sean. You're a sychophantic superstar.

And then there's Green Day.

What can I say about them that hasn't already been said, eh? Another day, another post. I'll just stick to the relevant issues for now.

Green Day was nominated for 7 different awards and won 6 of them, a sizeable tally, when the most anyone else recieved was 2. That's not surprising of course when one considers the current trend of the entertainment industry lavishly rewarding anyone who bashes America. It didn't take Miss Cleo to see that American Idiot would steamroll the competition last night.
Chief among the statuette-spooge last night was the Best Video award for "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," a video in which a guy whines and bitches about how he's all alone, whilst walking down a street with two other people and at times passing literally dozens of other pedestrians. While many fans have taken this to mean the song is actually about an inner isolation, the lyrics themselves tell a different story.

"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me.
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating."

That's fine and all, but when there's 50 other people in the video, you're -- by definition -- not isolated.

Any college student can tell you that alienation and isolation are universal themes, and everyone can relate to them at one point or another. But Boulevard of Broken Dreams isn't really about that... it's about a picture. The song is simply a rehash of images and ideas that have been done before (and much better, I might add) by John Steinbeck. It's been done before on film by Elia Kazan and James Dean. Billie Jo Armstrong and his fake-ass English accent are (to paraphrase Ian Malcolm) standing on the shoulders of giants, getting their paychecks, and not bothering to care if they should.
As for the music itself, it's not that bad. That might have something to do with the fact that it has the same chord progression as Oasis's "Wonderwall," a song I really like. I also went through a James Dean period in my youth, so I can relate. If it were by anyone else, I'd be all over that song like ugly on a Baldwin Brother... but I'm not contributing any of my money to that passel of hacks Green Day.

I should've just watched John Ratzenberger's show on the Travel Channel...

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Previous name dropping:
This rose smells like shit
Vote early and vote often

Previous empty idol worship:
Ar-Testify!

Fighting for Freedom on the Television

Hear ye, hear ye! All citizens mark well and bear witness to this auspicious occasion!

Ahem

OK, so while I'm not exactly going to sic the town crier on you guys, I am going to take the time to mention that these very words make up the 100th post on my humble (ish) blog. So on behalf of myself, thanks for sticking around to read all the crap I've slung up onto the intertron.

Don't you guys have anything better to do? Jeez...

Hey listen don't you let them get your mind

Some people just can't sit quietly by and let insanity run roughshod through their lives. Salman Rushdie is one of those guys, God bless him. You'll recall that most of the western world became familiar with the concept of fatwas because of his novel The Satanic Verses. In that vein, here's his latest go at stirring the pot, though he may be more akin to Sisyphus here. Thanks to Niner Charlie.

From the article:

The Koran was revealed at a time of great change in the Arab world, the 7th-century shift from a matriarchal nomadic culture to an urban patriarchal system. Muhammad, as an orphan, personally suffered the difficulties of this transformation, and it is possible to read the Koran as a plea for the old matriarchal values in the new patriarchal world, a conservative plea that became revolutionary because of its appeal to all those whom the new system disenfranchised, the poor, the powerless, and, yes, the orphans.

Muhammad was also a merchant and heard, on his travels, the Nestorian Christians' desert versions of Bible stories which the Koran mirrors closely. It ought to be fascinating to Muslims everywhere to see how deeply their beloved book is a product of its place and time, and in how many ways it reflects the Prophet's own experiences.

...

The traditionalists' refusal of history plays right into the hands of the literalist Islamofascists, allowing them to imprison Islam in their iron certainties and unchanging absolutes. If, however, the Koran were seen as a historical document, then it would be legitimate to reinterpret it to suit the new conditions of successive new ages. Laws made in the 7th century could finally give way to the needs of the 21st. The Islamic Reformation has to begin here, with an acceptance that all ideas, even sacred ones, must adapt to altered realities.

Holy shit, you mean that people should actually be allowed to ask questions about the beliefs they're supposed to hold? A dastardly radical idea indeed, Mr. Rushdie. One would think that satisfactory answers to questions that people have about their religion is the best way to deepen faith, and certainly shouldn't cause people to leave the fold...
Unless that faith is not able (or is not interested in being able) to provide such answers in the first place.

It's long past time that islam got its head out of the 7th century sand, and started living in the present.

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Previous "Islamophobia" I've disseminated:
Blogs are "The Mediocre Satan"
How Harry Potter Wipes His Ass
Moderate Schmoderate
Londonistan
Saruman the Dead
Ding Dong the Bitch is Dead

I got to keep it strong for tha cause

This is the most difficult post I've had to write in a long time. Not because it involves personal demons I've had to conquer, nor does it involve diligent research (because that would be work...) No, friends, today's post is so incredibly difficult to write - because I can't decide on which joke to make.

So I'll just cut to the, er, center of the story and let you choose from your favorite of the dozens of punchlines this tale could have.

Some students at Idaho's largest university say a vagina-shaped chocolate bar handed out by the school's women's center is disrespectful to women.

Boise State University's women's center gave out the white chocolate female genitalia reproductions to incoming students last week.

You can understand my dilemma here. Do I go for the tasteful "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand" joke, or should I probe deeper into the depths of comedy and wonder if the chocolate cooters have cream centers?
Do you have to take the candy out for dinner before you can unwrap it, or will just a couple of drinks do the trick? Does the candy get jealous if you have more than one piece at a time? Do you have to lick on it a while, like with a Tootsie-Pop, or can you just dive right in and eat it? Ooh, what about a choco-cunt with a cherry center! You see, these jokes practically write themselves here.

Autumn Haynes, a center coordinator, says they want to dispel the myth that it's not OK to talk about "down there."

Yeah... nothing helps open a dialogue about vaginas like calling them "down there." Score one for the feminists!

Out of sheer curiosity, I've got to wonder why such an obviously left-wing group only had WHITE chocolate candy. Isn't that rather racist, considering that real chocolate is black, and white chocolate isn't even chocolate? (It's cocoa butter)
While we're on the theme of race (and I'm making a complete pig out of myself) lemme just alienate any readers that remain unoffended and wonder how long the line was for the candy... because you know some guys will do anything for easy white pussy.

It's been ten long years since I've been home

As I pulled into my apartment complex's parking lot last night, I saw that all-too-familiar sight of the needle on my gas gauge hovering too close to "empty" for comfort. Yep, today would have to be a gas day - one day early, according to my prediction. Would I break free from turning tricks as Adam Smith's whore?

When I opened the door to collect my morning paper, I got my answer - a resounding "No."

Folks, it's scary how often I can predict insignificant things like this. It must be because I'm so AG-AISLE! Time to start catching the bus a little more often, I guess.

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Previous Petrol Pimping:
Psychic Texaco

You know on Monday, I'm gonna talk

Finally! I seem to be getting a reprieve from the phlegm-fetishists for the time being. In the lull of snot-based requests, I'm once again hearing from my core constituency -- namely, the fucked up souls from the dark recesses of the internet.

Huzzah!

Perhaps my non-nasal readers are only becoming apparent because searches are markedly down this month. (which is weird, because on average I'm posting much more often) It matters not; the last two searches I've gotten more than make up for the trend.

20-Aug-2005 12:42 the Coreys scotland
21-Aug-2005 20:37 women nude scotland

Surprise! I get an assload of strings with Scotland in them... can't imagine why nobody sticks around to post comments about dumbass athletes. Regardless, the above searches are the epitome of the internet that I love so dearly: bizarro celebrity wackjobs... and uh, regular type whack-jobs.

Bless you, sweet sweet intertron.

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Previous search string inanity:
Phlegm Redux
The Mystery of Soul Bitches

I can tell you how this ends, we're going to win this

Generally I don't make a habit out of posting all the silly pictures that float around on the Webinet, as you all well know... but This one so aptly describes the last month that it applies.

During the last month, at least, on every single occasion that I've had to purchase gas it's been the day after oil prices hit a record high. I caught it at $50, $57, $60, and $62. Each. damn. day.
Typically, I can go about 10 days when I'm just commuting and running a couple small errands, so I figured that I'd get some strategery and top off the tank in mid-cycle so I wouldn't get raped over a barrel. No such luck, I discovered that that was the day after oil topped $60.

By the time the my most recent fill-up came 'round, I didn't even bother getting out my wallet as I approached the register. I just dropped trou and told the clerk to take what she needed and I'd get on with my day.

Now you'll likely be asking yourself why I'm riffing on a trite subject like gas prices. Surely it can't be a sad excuse to post someone else's artwork and squeeze a lame chuckle of blood from the Intertron's stone... No friends, it's a simple public service that I do today.

I simply want to warn you all that my gas gauge is getting low again, so you'd be wise to beat the impending stratospheric price hike that will surely happen in about 3 days when I need to buy gas and the new record price for oil is so high it cannot be expressed in real numbers.

This town is full of dumb reminders

Hey kids, it's SAT time! Today's question is "How do you spell 'dipshit?'"

D-I-S-H-I-T

What, haven't you heard? Voting rights activist and noted name-dropper "Puffy Diddly" has proclaimed the letter "P" to be back on the hook... or whatever.

I tell you folks, I haven't felt this ambivalent since Hammer dropped (and subsequently reattached) the "MC."

Do their dreams into the future wind

Here's a "What If?" for you:

What if the United States suffered another terrorist attack? Not a major coordinated Al Qu'ida style massive show of force, but a relatively small bombing of a seemingly unimportant target. Say, a suburban strip mall, or a McDonald's outlet, or a bus of old ladies headed to Vegas.

What if it happened again two weeks later?

And two weeks afer that, and two weeks after that, and so on and so on for ten years?

Here's the "twist" though: What if the perpetrators were Mexican nationals attacking Texas? "Outrageous!" you say. "Preposterous!" you cry. (OK, you guys probably wouldn't ever use the word "preposterous," but for the sake of my scenario, let's pretend you're dropping it like R. Kelly's pants at a Head Start.)

Given this unlikely situation, what would you imagine the US response would be?

1. Remind Presidente Fox that you don't bring Montezuma's Revenge to a gunfight by dropping a couple MOABs on Mexico City.
   
2. Get serious about the colander-like border between our two nations and build a wall patrolled by Lee Van Cleef and his pipe-hittin homeboys.
   
3. Despite the verbal diarrhea of Chappaquiddick Kennedy et al, send in the Marines to effect a regime change.
   
4. Lock our credibility (and testicles) away in grandmother's purse, evicting local American citizens and ceding the state of Texas to Mexico, thereby gaining the approval of the UN and leftists worldwide.

If you're sharp, you've already spotted where I'm going with this, but let's drag it out to the end for the rest of the folks reading along. Option 4 is so far from the realm of possibility that any nation which values its system of governement or its chosen way of life could ever consider it... right? (OK, besides the French.)

I'd like to think so too -- only it's sadly true and happening at this very moment.

In the dark I'd like to read his mind

Note to the free world: Don't bother blogrolling Iran. Critical thought and indepedant thinking are no longer in vogue in that country.

At least that's the story according to the Committee to Protect Bloggers.

Shargh newspaper reports that Iran's Telecom company has ordered all ISPs to filter blogrolling.com.

I don't imagine freethought.com or thinkforyourself.org can be far off.*

Many bloggers perceive this as an 'attack' to the Persian blogosphere. "I don't know what would happen next, but this is just the beginning," the writer of 'Persian Buddy' wrote in his blog.

I can't help but be reminded that Iran sentenced a professor to death by stoning for the audacious crime of encouraging his students to think about what Islam asked them to believe. Holy Shi'ite, Batman! People might stop blindly accepting as truth whatever we tell them to believe!

*Check out my totally fake linkage, yo.

Going down to Austin to watch the Armadillos rootin'

More retroblogging at it's finest, today folks. I should have posted this yesterday of course, but I only now rooted out my copy of the USA Toady. Somebody get Sinbad on the phone, because the Texas State Fightin' Armadillos just made the front fucking page!

What a frightening world we live in. It's made even scarier by the fact that the coverage is well deserved.

Pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago

Yeah, I realize I'm tempting the fates here by posting thrice today... but the little geek living inside me won't let the occasion slip by without a mention.

Thanks to idle curiosity, I stumbled across the Favicon site tonight. Due to their selfless dedication to the pursuit of almost pointless projects, I'm now sporting the snazzy Icon next to the address bar in your browser. Or if you're one of the cool kids who's wised up to Firefox, you'll get twice the love with an icon on your tab too.

Now that I've got a new toy to play with, I'll prolly switch it around a couple times until I'm satisfied with it. I've got a couple ideas, but there's only so much you can fit into 225 pixels. Until then, my cheapass St. Andrew's Cross will do just fine.

You take it on faith, you take it to the heart

While I'm sitting here paitently, waiting for Terrel Owens to do something characteristically stupid with all his newfound free time, Santa dropped a beauty of a story in my lap. (Thanks, Fox Sports! you made my day.)

BATON ROUGE, La. (AP) - Police said heavyweight boxer Clifford Etienne held up a check cashing business, fired a shot when a clerk failed to move fast enough and pulled a gun on officers as he tried [to] carjack two different vehicles with children inside.

Etienne, who took up boxing while serving a prison sentence for armed robbery, was arrested Wednesday night as he tried to escape when the car he was driving ran up on a curb.

Iron Mike might be cooling his heels hocking Corn-Nuts in O-re-gon or whatever, but it's nice to see the "Sport of Kings" is carrying on the proud traditions he stands for.

Kelly said Etienne tried to fire twice, but the gun malfunctioned.

The gun's not all that was malfunctionin' that day...

While serving a 40-year sentence at two Louisiana prisons, Etienne won the state prison boxing championship. He was paroled in 1998 after serving 10 years and became a professional boxer.

Let's not throw words like "professional" around so carelessly, shall we? Especially considering his claim to fame, below...

He is best known for being knocked out by Mike Tyson in 49 seconds in 2003.

At least Cliffy lasted longer than 49 seconds this time... no pay-per-view revenues on this one though.

Spit fire, phlegm, and put an end to your problems

You'll recall a few weeks ago, I shared some of my oddest search strings. I know I've got nothing on the shit some of you guys see, but I have my share of freaks from the Inter-Tron. And admittedly, by typing out all that crap I'm essentially begging for more of the same... but damn, y'all.

Is there some sort of bug going around that I don't know about? I'm inundated in searches for phlegm and phlegm byproducts over here. Besides 1 solitary search for Eddie Steeples, every thing I see is Phlegm this, Chunks that, even one "coughing up thick green mucus chunks."
Jeez, somebody get the Internet some Vapo-Rub.

I'll admit there's an off chance that someone's having a go at me, and phlegm chunks or Stuckey's is the best they can do, unlike the bizarre nude picture requests that Rachel gets. Of course, she's got a much larger contingent of drunken Lithuanians than I do.

At least one of you guys could slow down long enough to leave a comment and solve this mystery for me. You don't even have to have a bunch of meddling friends in a green van or anything.

But you're caught in your own glory. You're believing your own stories.

From the Washington Times:

Lori, who for two years has overseen the detention center's library, said J.K. Rowling's tales about the boy wizard are on top of the request list for the camp's 520 al Qaeda and Taliban suspects, followed by Agatha Christie whodunits.

"We've got a few who are kind of hooked on it. A couple have asked if they can see the movie," said Lori, a civilian contractor who asked that her last name not be publicized.

What, no Harry Potter screenings? It's a GUUUUUUUUUU-LAG!

While it's all well and good to make fun of weird shit like this, there's a couple of noteworthy things that get overlooked in this article. For one, doesn't the Koran forbid books promoting witchcraft? These sick fucks that don't mind beating the shit out of little kids for flying kites or shooting women for being outside without a male relative are all high and mighty about adhering to Islam when it suits them. Behind closed doors however, it's entirely another story. What a sack of hypocrite assbags.

The other point of note that doesn't get a mention, only a bit of subterfuge is the final paragraph of the article. "The library bans certain book categories, such as ones that deal in political thought."
Hello? What the fuck is the Koran, if not a manual of political thought? Over and over again, it tells people in ridiculous detail exactly how to live thier lives. Not just religious things like when to pray or how to do it, but what they should think about other people and how to treat them. It stifles free speech and independant thought. It calls for the oppression or murder of everyone in the world that's not a muslim male. What is all that, if not a (fucked up) political ideology?

It has a series of rules about wiping your own ass, for crying out loud.

I can almost go with them on banning neckties. Those things are uncomfortable as hell and, for the most part, rather ugly. However, anyone that wants to tell me how to wipe my ass can go fuck themselves. And no, you're not going to watch Harry Potter on my dime, either.

Wanna see my picture on the cover. Wanna buy five copies for my mother

I take a day or two off from the InterTron to do "life" stuff, and (as it frequently does) all hell breaks loose. But this time, it's in a good way.

Anyway, you may be asking yourselves how much the Inter-Webs love me. Now, I can't exactly say "fershure," as there aren't sufficient adjectives to describe it. "Fuck-ton" comes pretty close, though. (Of course all you smart asses with your Degrees from ICS will raise me "Metric Fuck-ton.")

They love me so much, that they scored me a mention on Michelle Malkin.

So you know... if you happen to find chunks of my exploded brain in your yard, I'd appreciate it if you FedEx them back to me. I'll pay COD on them if you're short on cash this week... I'm cool like that.

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Update: (Almost immediately, strangely enough) I've been getting enough blogspam that I chalked up my recent increase in hits solely to that non-non-heinous phenomenon. Somehow I missed being put on Rachel's blogroll... Yes, yes, I'm as attentive to detail as a bag of hammers.

Oh, and I feel kindof bad for saying "Fuck-ton" in a post about showing up on Michelle Malkin's site. Especially after some of the evil things that have been said about her by commenter trolls in the past.
Not so bad that I'll delete it or anything, mind you. Actually, I even went back and inserted a couple hyphens that I inadvertently left out. Retroactive censorship leaves a foul taste in my craw, and I have a policy of sticking to correcting typoes and minor whatnots.

Anyway, sorry Michelle.

(And please don't take the thing I said about having your babies the wrong way, either. It's not like that at all, really.)

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

From the "Who, me?" Files:

Rafael Palmeiro, who sat before a congressional subcommittee five months ago and told lawmakers point-blank, “I have never used steroids. Period,” has been caught using steroids.

You don’t have to be the Amazing Kreskin, or even Karnak, to guess what Palmeiro is probably going to say. It will be something about taking a supplement that he bought at a nutrition center, and how was he to know it had steroids in it? In other words, it was an accident.

Personally, I think it'll be something along the lines of "Hey, I was just minding my business in the locker room and Canseco busts in with a jambox and the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Halfway through the party, he starts jabbing everyone in the ass with something, and I went along because of peer pressure. I didn't know what was in it, of course."

If he wanted to be ballsy, he could try the patented Sammy Sosa "Me no speak-a." Given that Palmiero's a spokesman for Viagra, it's a definite possibility.

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Update: Damn, I'm updating before I've even finished typing the frickin post already.
Looks like another 10-day suspension was handed down yesterday. Ryan Franklin of the Mariners tested positive for steriods in May, but claims he had a negative test three weeks later. Allegedly he was taking store-bought supplements, (which is fucking stupid for a professional athelete to be doing. Get the team doctor or trainer to get you something legal, dumbass.) and quit them immediately upon being informed of his positive test.
It's possible he's got a case here, since he was possibly unaware of the contents of his supplements. Stupid, but possibly innocent, unlike Mr. "I've never taken steriods period. Never ever ever ever. Pass me that syringe, Jose."