Hi-O

Where are we going captain?

To goddamn hammeredville. Full speed ahead, put on your fucking parka.

Aye aye captain.



Let me hose the donkey first off by saying the past few weeks didn't exactly go as I dictated to my cranial secretary on my flight plan. First off, the Pats fell down, punched themselves in the scrote and then managed to eat a giant collective barrel of dicks. That did not start the time period off kindly. Then of course I had to go to work where everyone probably couldn't fucking wait to come tell me "oh I'm so sorry your favorite football team sucked the big one, that must suck." No, it felt like I'd been cast in a my little pony ad and I giant fucking rainbow bathed me in an amazing glow of awesomeness. And then Jessica Biel proposed to me because I'm obviously the best choice in the man-meat olympics. Except that's not what happened. What really happened is I turned off my TV before the end of the fourth quarter, because the Pats decided to save their absolute worst game for the superbowl. If it was somehow possible to go 1-15 in the regular season, and still make the playoffs and win the superbowl, I probably would've taken that over all this 18-1 horseshit that's going on right now.

Ok, for a second I have something positive to say. I know that floors the shit out of all of you like there's a sale at Lowes with free install. But let me say something. The Logitech Harmony remote is fucking amazing. Now, you might ask yourself, how is a remote control amazing? Let me tell you something, I am a huge fan of efficiency. Now some might interpret that as me being hard-working. That, of course, is a lie. I'm just really fucking lazy. So efficiency is my middle maiden name before I married into the alcoholics family. All I have to do is push one button and all my shit turns on and goes to the right input. It's really quite incredible. When I think back on it I wonder, is the small effort of going from controller to controller and pushing a few buttons really worth 100 dollars? And then the other part of my brain knees the first part in it's proverbial abdomen, and says "fuck yes it is." That's basically where the argument stops. This is me with my remote.



Except I'm not a horse. Probably.

I don't want to talk anymore. That is all you get.

Top Ten Tips for High Threat Travel

One of the features on Airsafe.com is a top 10 list explaining helpful tips to increase our collective air transport system's security as well as your own.

Click here if you'd like to read the Airsafe.com article.

Or continue reading here if you want the no-horseshit version.

1. Be Aware of Your Surroundings
The next time you are in an airport or on an aircraft, take notice of your surroundings, especially of activities or situations that do not appear to be normal.

I don't know about you, but I've seen a lot of stupid bullshit that people do at the airport. Was it normal when I saw a ~300 pound man lying in a pool of his own vomit behind a row of waiting room seats? Was it normal when I saw a man try to take a wheelchair on a moving walkway, only to have it instantly upended and consequently having a crippled guy being dragged down a walkway on his head with a wheelchair crushing him? Is it normal to see people flip out at ticket counter representatives and make threats that would get most people on CNN for trying to sabotage a flight? Sure. So what is normal at an airport? Because I'm not sure I've ever seen it. So the next time you are in an airport or on an aircraft, notice a lot of stupid bullshit happening and turn back on your mp3 player and don't care. And if the flight attendant tries to make you take it off, wait until they have to go buckle their seatbelts for takeoff, and then just put it back on.

2. Report Unusual Activity
If you see anything in the airport or on an aircraft that looks out of place or otherwise inappropriate such as unusual behavior or potential security violations, inform either a law enforcement representative or someone in authority.

This goes back to the entire "what is normal" situation. I don't know how many of your everyday travelers are experts in human behavior, or can point out when someone is walking differently trying to conceal something. Let's be honest, a lot of your everyday travelers are business people who absolutely couldn't give less of a fuck about what everyone else is doing, and people going on vacation who, while slightly less, still don't really give a fuck what everyone else is doing. So after you remove those two pieces of our total passenger makeup, you end up with the people who really don't want to go where they're going. I don't know who they are, but most likely the assholes who point out things like the emergency exit light being burnt out so you have to go all the way back to the gate after you're already 30 minutes behind your departure time. Thanks a lot, ass.

3. Make No Assumptions About the Who May Pose a Threat
If someone is intent on perpetrating violent acts against the air transport system, that person can be of any age, gender, or nationality. You should not assume that any particular type of person is likely to do harm simply because of outward appearances.

Ok, this is the biggest horseshit of all the horseshits in this list. Let me sketch up a quick fucking diagram for you people.

The fine folks at our government actually expect us to believe that they believe this diagram represents their thoughts behind identifying terrorists. That every single one of those people have an equal chance of being a terrorist. Does this mean the government lies!? Does the pope shit in the woods?

4. Stay Away from Suspicious Circumstances
If you encounter a potential hazard in the airport, move away from the situation before contacting someone in authority. If necessary, warn others in the vicinity. Examples of potential hazards include unaccompanied packages, suspicious behavior, or an unusual commotion.

You can basically file this one under, "Thanks for the useless heads up." I can't imagine people doing anything but what is described in this super friendly "tip".


If you came upon the above situation, would your first reaction be to run up and ask the guy what's going on? Or would you probably stay the fuck away. Notice the lack of question mark in the last sentence. It's because it wasn't a question. Not to mention, if I had a nickel every time I came upon a piece of luggage that was left by itself while its owner went to get a grade double frappuccino marauci super-fudge or whatever, I'd have a shitload of nickels.

5. Keep Your Seat Belt Fastened While You are Seated
Keeping the belt on when you are seated provides that extra protection you might need if the plane hits unexpected turbulence of if the aircraft is put through unusual maneuvers.

You should probably wear a seatbelt. No shit?

Microwave Rice Packet

Probably three of the best words ever invented by Uncle Ben.

Let's sit on that for a second. Hatch it. Like a hen would an egg. An egg that I would've used to make a delicious omelet. But let's pretend it isn't plucked exactly at the time of ejection by the dexterous but ever gentle hands of our theoretical Joe-Buck. Super hyphenated farmer. Let's pretend that it is sat upon and the heat of chicken ass created a living being. This living bean. Let's call it a chicken. But you shake your head from side to side saying, "This chicken ain't real." I would agree with you, because this chicken is a mere representation of our slow contemplation of Uncle Ben. I would also chastise you for your use of the word "ain't" as it's reserved specifically for child molesters, southerners, and people who suck at Battleship.

Hush your mouth. Stay on topic. Four score and seven beers ago I would've told you how throughout my lifetime the only way to make rice was painstaking and slow. You would believe me as you hadn't experienced my life up to this point and you would have to take my word for it. Could I be lying? Possibly. But why would I lie about rice. There are so many more worthy things in life to lie about. Herpes. Your mother's abortion that is etched into your family time line somewhere between you and your younger brother. A strange rash that may be misconstrued to the general public as herpes. You know, I'm pretty sure a lot of people lie about herpes. Hence it's addition in my three-pronged list twice. After that last portion one would ask, do you yourself have herpes. I would ask, who are you talking to. I refuse to format that last part as if someone was speaking. Because it's really just me being hypothetical about this whole herpes situation. The answer is no. I do not have them. But perhaps Uncle Ben's were flairing up, and that's what caused him to make microwave rice.

Theory: Uncle Ben had herpes. Microwave rice reduced his cooking time, thereby reducing time he spent standing. Uncle Ben had herpes on the bottom of his feet.

Theory two: Uncle Ben was one impatient motherfucker. There, you got me to say a dirty word. Well maybe it's true. We can't exclude theories simply because they might not be acceptable for children. Maybe he blew up at Aunt Ben quite a few times because rice took way too damn long to cook. He said, "WOMAN, I NEED SOME DAMN RICE." And she said, "HELL I KNOW YOU DID NOT SAY THAT TO ME, GO INVENT SOMETHING."

Unlikely.

Theory three: Uncle Ben is a fictional character. This is the 21st century, scientists figured out how to shoot microwaves through tiny packets of rice causing them to cook. I use my microwave for precisely 90 seconds to cook it perfectly. Uncle Ben is merely a front.

Unlikely? More like... HORSESHIT.


I apologize for bringing you down this road. Obviously, the legend of Uncle Ben microwavable pouches is equal to the Kennedy assassination, Area 51, the Lochness monster, and where your mother buys her underwear, etc.

The world may never know.

But now you know the world may never know.

So... the more you know.

I'm a playa.

But only in fringe meanings of the phrase.

And by fringe I'm in no way making a golf joke. Because those are terrible.

Have you ever run out of beer and had to drive 300 feet across the street to the liquor store owned by Russian immigrants. You probably haven't, but I just did.

There was an annoying piece to the story. It's the part where my truck kept beeping because I didn't have my seatbelt on. What a pompous piece of shit. Who are you to tell me my seatbelt is off. You're a piece of fucking machinery. I'm the person in this position. I know my seatbelt is off. Where's the "I don't care stop making fucking noise" button? I realize this paragraph is slightly irresponsible while I talk to the children of the world. But hopefully at this point they know not to read this.

I'm not exactly sure why I started this post. Without reading what I just wrote I'm sure it has something to do with Russians. They're the root of everything that makes me pissed. Except that one movie. Forget what it was. Regardless. How my typing remains flawless while thoroughly hammered still escapes me.

You should watch DragonForce. Because, I don't know. It's like an 80's band was frozen. And now they've been thawed in our time to turn it up to 11.

Rock out with your smock out.

Stop that.

Right, well the comic thing kind of died out. I tried to work a few more out, but when you do something and you can't even make yourself laugh... time to hang it up. Maybe at some point I'll go back to it. I was reading some of my older shit. I mean, 2005 shit. And decided that for once in probably two and a half years, I should write something in here when I'm not shitfaced. Alright, not sure if anyone knows but I live in Las Vegas. Also known as the big pile of dirt in the middle of nowhere where some guy had the bright idea to make a city. I think my most common curse phrase next to "son of a whore" is "GODDAMN CITY FOR NO REASON". But there is a reason. It's stupid people. People who are shitty at math. For some reason people are under the assumption that they build big-fuck buildings with gold and diamonds and shit hanging off it as a monument to a big-ass free cash machine. If you're coming to Las Vegas, just let me tell you one thing so you're not confused. IT'S NOT A MULTIBILLION DOLLAR INDUSTRY BECAUSE EVERYONE WINS MONEY. I've gambled probably 3.5 times in my entire 1.5 years here so far. And as far as I could tell, I would've rather taken a piss on a 5 dollar bill and lit it on fire. Or in reverse order. Probably lit it and then pissed it out. Whatever. Point being that the smell of burning urine is more fun than gambling to me. I feel dumber for having done it. Exactly the same way when you're drunk and you piss on a campfire, and a split second to late you think ahhhhh this is gonna smell terrib... OH SHIT. And then it hits your nostrils. That guy knows what I'm talking about. The real point of Vegas is getting fucked up. You can't argue that. Almost any form of mind and body altering substance can be procured in this shitass made-up city. I'm not into drugs. I just like to drink. And there isn't an alcohol available on this planet that I haven't been able to find in Las Vegas. Which segways perfectly like a gyro-stabilized two wheeler into a story about my brother's 21st birthday. Actually it's not a very good story. We had huge foam cowboy hats, and walked around Vegas shitfaced out of our minds. To be honest, I can't really recount any specific moment of the night. You should just believe that it was fun. I still have the hat, and apparently a fuckload of those mardi gras beads. We ran quite the Danny Oceans maneuver to procure all of those. And my brother almost knocked over the entire bead podium trying to get them out. Also I ate a piece of a deep fried twinkie. That was... interesting. Writing is a lot less interesting when I'm not hammered. Run with it. Still warring with question marks after all these years. How can you not. For old times sake.

Peace up.
A-town down.

Critical Informant

Indifference