For those who think SNL isn’t funny anymore, I suggest you watch The Chronicles Of Narnia rap by Andy Sandberg and Chris Parnell.

It’s exquisite.

I don’t really like poetry very much; I apologize if you are one of those for whom poetry is an important aspect of your life, but I know what I dislike, and poetry has traditionally fallen into that category.

Now, I should clarify: I have no rationale for disliking poetry other than the fact that, on a case by case basis, I’ve discovered that over ninety percent of it doesn’t hit me on a gut level upon first reading, as I have come to expect from music, film, photography, and even the depravities that are web comics.

It is understandable then, that I was caught off-guard during our recitations for ENGL 253 when a poem was recited that my immune system did not violently reject! Not only did I not mind hearing it at that moment, but I in fact wanted to hear it again and perhaps, time permitting, a third just to make sure I had fully grokked the short text.

Now, in place of this post, I had originally hoped to have the content of said poem, but I ran into a bit of a problem, specifically, the author remains among the living. This shouldn’t surprise me, but honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve been exposed to a poem that wasn’t A) Written by a friend, or B) Written by Walt Whitman. Our author’s pulse has proved problematic, specifically because it means the copyright on his work is still valid and, more importantly, legally binding.

Now, far be it from me to criticize the author of a poem for trying to make a living off of his work, but it had simply never occurred to me that I would ever need to pay for a poem. The Sky is blue, the Pope wears a silly hat, USC is going to humiliate Texas, horses are hung like Chuck Norris, and any poem worth sharing is written by a dead guy with expired copyrights. And this is as it should be, not the dead guy part, but the expired copyright part. As little sense as poetry makes in the first place, having poetry that you can’t discuss is right at the top of my list of pointless things, right after Aluminum Socket Cover and Razor-Edged Sheath.

All ranting aside, if you’d like to read the entirely excellent “How I Came To Own The World”, I suppose you had better buy/rent/steal When People Could Fly: Prose Poems by Morton Marcus.

It makes sense, after all.

Weeks of studying and test induced stress, followed by two graduation parties and Joel coming up from Camarillo meant my body let down its spandex-tight defenses right about the time I inundated it with alcohol.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I woke up sick Sunday morning, but I’ll be damned I was. You never expect to be sick, what I expected included going to the gym, scaling mountains, working on my Vespa, reading ahead for next quarter, and in general saving the world. I simply don’t have time for this water-torture like dripping from the nose combined with the exhaustion and the watching of bad movies.

Well I’ll tell you what. Come tomorrow, I’m just going to ignore it. I’m going out. I’m gonna start studying. I’m not going to watch Tron again, no matter how amazing Jeff Bridges is. With the Internet as my witness, I SHALL BE PRODUCTIVE.

To tomorrow!

Recent studies have led to the discovery that the size of ones testicles and their intelligence are inversely related.

This explains quite a bit. Look at Iraq, John Bolton, and most recently the Harriet Myers debacle; whether or not you agree with him, it’s quite obvious that dubya has huge balls. Enormous. Along with the great wall of china, our president’s balls are the second major landmark to be visible from space. I’ve heard rumors that the CIA developed a cloaking device with the sole purpose of making los juevos primeros less visible and therefore less of a target. It’s true.

Now, I’ve forgotten where I was originally going at this point, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone who normally reads my blog;

I too, have huge balls.

No shaving ’till after finals.

It’s more than a credo, it’s practical. When people see my scraggly half-ass neck beard, bleary red eyes, and the sweatshirt that I clearly haven’t taken off for a week (After 2am, I just call it a blanket), they don’t screw around. They know I have things to do, and lack both the time and the patience to be harassed by extra-curricular activities such as paying bills and showering.

It’s also a clear signal to my friends who are done with finals and/or graduating: NO, I cannot go to Spike’s with you, and if you ask again, come Saturday you won’t be walking across that stage, you’ll be rolling, Holmes.

All right, there’s more to say, but my sister reminds me it’s time to get back to paper writing, so happy finals everyone!

*The title is a common misinterpretation of a popular Jimmy Hendrix song. Name that song for a chance to appear in the comments section of this very blog!

(21:05:00) Travis R: I don’t think he gets the humor of the club
(21:05:25) Travis R: like we’re playing double dutch, and he tried to slide-tackle the jump ropes.

The club he speaks of is The Cal Poly Linux Users Group, of which I am the Treasurer. We play double dutch surprisingly often.

“I had a job interview today and the guy asked me if I knew what a cookie is. I said ‘Cookies are a delicious delicacy.’ He didn’t laugh :(”
-Johannes

Oh the shame.

Update (12/5/2005): Shocklingly, he’s getting flown up to San Francisco for a follow up interview. Go Johannes…

You don’t need to understand this. I am documenting this quote so I can look back and laugh, please proceed to the next blog entry without informing me that this entry did not entertain you in the slightest:

“I could export to a folder and then scp the files over, but thats just because I am a beautiful and unique snowflake.”
–Miguel De Icaza

B. Lawless normally posts more on the serious side, so when I saw this, I was more than pleasantly surprised. I hereby nominate Mr. Lawless for “Most Ironic Use of Rat Bastard” for this year.

Speaking of other people’s websites, I set up a nifty little place on the web for my friend Melissa, who actually knows how to write. You would be adrift on a kiddie pool of thoughtlessness if you didn’t click this link. I especially enjoy the link she posted to a commercial that if not created directly by satan himself, was at least the product of several Care Bears and Barney getting together for a jam session.

Lastly, Joel finally set up a site with which it is finally possible to hear him bitch across an almost infinite distance. He starts off with a diatribe on how the software that was provided for him at no cost on web space he’s not paying for is utterly and completely deficient. Predictably, he hasn’t posted anything significant since. He did not follow the teachings of the late Mitch Hedburg:

“The two most import things are you gotta start strong and you gotta end strong. It can’t be like pancakes; All exciting at first, but by the end you’re $%*#ing sick of them”

30 facts about Chuck Norris. I know what you’re thinking: “that sounds way lame, linking to random websites makes the baby jesus cry.” Most of the time I’d agree, but this particular website is quite exemplary. I will give you two of the top thirty in no particular order:

#1) Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

#2) Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

Impressed? You can get the rest here.

You’ll notice on the right sidebar I’ve added a wishlist category of links, one of them is called “Christmas,” and is general cheap stuff that I would love for the holidays.

The other is a list of parts for the new Vespa I’ve purchased. Not all of them are necessary, it’s more of a list of stuff I’d like to get eventually and the cheapest prices I’ve found for them. My sister convinced me some people might want to help me out with it, so I’ve made it available as well. If I’ve been the best man at any of your weddings recently here’s your chance to thank me.

If you’ve got a wishlist available, let me know, so I can start shopping early. Please Note: If you happen to have any children under the age of 7 who are cousins of mine, there is a very good chance I’m referring to you.

Lauren and I went to talk to the Farmer’s insurance across the street from us about getting Vespas insured, and met an insurance agent named THOR.

Does “the red-haired and bearded god of thunder in Norse Mythology” spell his name in all capitals; I don’t know. All I know is I’ve always wanted some physical manifestation of supernatural force on my side in case something goes wrong and now both Lauren and I will have it.

What’s that? You’re going to try and steal my Vespa? Go for it, and prepare to have Mjolnir (literally, “that which crushes”) knocking on your back door. When you get hit with most fearsome weapon in the Norse arsenal, you better be damn sure you’re going to feel it in the morning.

For those who’ve read my sister’s blog recently, you might have noticed it was difficult to comment through all of the online poker and penis enlargement spam that had been accumulating since I gave up on keeping her spam at bay late this summer. This leads me to ask the question: Is the need for a bigger penis directly related to online poker?

Well, I finally went through and deleted all of the comment spam and moved all the content to a platform that allowed me to keep the creeping waste-product of capitalism that is spam at bay. When all was said and done I had deleted just over 12,000 comments, which is rather impressive, even when you consider it’s being done by a script.

So anyway, my sister has a new site up with a new look, so I suggest you go over there and leave her a comment.

Best tshirt store ever: BustedTees

Where else can you get a tshirt expressing your constitutional right to bear arms?

I’m at Linnaea’s coffee shop in San Luis Obispo (free wireless for the win) and a guy at the table next to me is trying to convert the girl he’s with to christianity. He’s got sort of a Brian Wilson look to him; Not the good sun-n-surf early Brian Wilson, but the creepy Charles Manson era cults-are-fun-homeless-guy Brian Wilson.

This wouldn’t bother me except he started his proof with “First, assume God is good,” which is a hell of a logical leap if you’re trying to convert somebody’s entire view on life, the universe, and everything. I feel sorry for the poor girl, the look on her face is a combination of uncomfortable, skeptical, and yet still receptive.

I’ll keep everyone up to date on what’s sure to be a fascinating session of eavesdropping.

Apparently some people don’t need money like I do.

After losing my Vespa, we were a little paranoid about leaving Lauren’s outside for the weekend, so we found a more secure place for it.

I have to admit, it looks eerily like an Ikea ad

Me: I totally locked my keys in the apartment.
Me: let me know when you’re leaving work

Lauren: awe…
Lauren: do you want to come and pick up keys?

Me: how?
Me: Unlock my car door, put my key in the ignition, and drive over there?

Still not about Joel’s wedding ;-)

I can’t decide if this is the funniest or most horrible thing I have ever seen. However, I could easily see reality television resulting in the apocalypse.

It appears that President Bush is doing the reverse of what Reagan did with Robert Bork in the 80’s: by nominating a centrist judge at first, he’s polarized the conservative senators by introducing a moderate candidate that nobody would support, then introduced a candidate with extreme right wing views that will have a much easier time at it because of the last candidate’s failure.

I can’t say that I’m surprised by the nomination of Samuel Alito, though maybe I should be as it means that Bush is living up to a campaign promise.

I really should have written about Joel’s wedding instead of this.

boo!