when you got nothing, beat the dead horse.

Ever wish you could pick who you lived next to?

If I could fill my complex with the people I wanted to live near any time you'd visit me you might catch a glimpse of Crispin Glover, the Jim Rose Circus Side Show, Chuck Norris, someone who is always cooking pretzels, a dude with a monster truck but not a mullet, a dude with a mullet that monster truck guy and I can give shit to (and run over his car... oops we didn't see you there while cruising around in this monster truck, these massive tires create some wicked large blind spots), Al Roker, Al Green, Al Franken (I seem to be stuck in some sort of creative loop), Flash Van Shatner (small claims attorney), and of course Yale President Richard Levin.

That's right, Rick. I bet you thought I forgot. There you are pretending to be so caught up in how you've been President of Yale for 15 years and sharing your thoughts on China when we all know you are really just waiting for me to post on my blog so you can give me shit. In retrospect it was probably a mistake to give you my home phone number. I can sense you stretching your dialing finger as I type this. If only there were some device I could procure that would tell me exactly who was calling when the phone rings so I could avoid another Ivy League beatdown...

But Mr. Levin, if we were neighbors you could save yourself some money in long distance charges by walking right to my door and punching me in the face. That would be awesome. Then later, after I put some ice on my nose and the swelling of my eye went down, we could stand out by fence wearing flip flops and smoking cigars while exchanging witty repartee with the good folks walking to and from the corner liquor store.

Just a thought.

I can't believe I survived this

I have survived a lot of horrible things in my life. But nothing comes close to the book State of Fear by Michael Crichton. This may be the most tedious book I've ever read, and that's coming from a guy who read Deception Point just a few months ago. Dan Brown comes off as a master craftsman compared to this stupid piece of pathetic trash.

The greatest lie in this book is in the blurb. It says: "...the novel races forward on a roller-coaster thrill ride..."

The only thing thrilling about this book is that if needed it is thick enough to be used to beat the living shit out of any Yale President that might hate your blog. And as for racing forward... Bull-fucking shit!

Now I realize that blurb is often a description of the book the publisher wishes for purposes of marketing and sales, but this is by far the most calculated and vile exaggeration perpetrated on the readers anywhere or any time. There is absolutely no way a book can "race forward" when nearly three fourths of the books 571 pages are dedicated to people droning on and on, preaching their views on global warming and other environmental issues but doing so in the most unimaginative and uninteresting way possible.

Mr. Crichton sends his characters around the globe in search of radical environmentalists who happen to be in far away places in order to allow his characters to have lots of time to rehash the same old arguments, spout facts, and drone on and on and on, killing any momentum his plot (unoriginal as it may be) may have gained in the previous chapter when one of his 'heroes" shuts up for long enough to actually do something. But even then they have to talk about it.

This book could be cut down to about a hundred pages and it still wouldn't be that great. And if there is a point to this book it is lost in the tedium, which is so painful I feel like I may have to investigate litigation against Mr. Crichton for the physical pain reading his book has caused me.

If I need to spend several hours listening to blowholes spout their opinions, I'll stick to Fox News.

mysteries of the universe

Why is it that some people think being from California automatically makes them more interesting than everyone else? Are there really people who are impressed by this?

Why am I compelled to stop everything I'm doing in order to watch You've Got Mail any time I happen to flip past it on television? If I saw the DVD on the Bargain rack I wouldn't spend five bucks to buy it. I am never interested in renting it. But if I am flipping through the channels and I see it on, no matter how far along the movie happens to be, life grinds to a screeching halt until the credits roll.

I wonder why people tell me I’m funny or interesting or intelligent. I wonder why I can never truly believe the nice things people say about me. I wonder what it would be like if I could believe all the good things people said about me for a whole day. What kind of difference would it make?

Why do I tolerate idiots? Is it because I have no choice?

Why is it that I avoid human contact as much as I possibly can, yet I find the check lanes at the grocery stores that allow me to do everything muself morally reprehensible? Why?

How come certain people can’t imagine living a good life without any expectation of some kind of reward in a life hereafter? To me, being good strictly for a reward seems a little disingenuous. I’m sure there are some people who might consider their perceived reward as a fringe benefit.

Am I really supposed to believe that Yale President Richard Levin has nothing better to do with his spare time that to bad mouth my blog? Will I ever be good enough for you Richard?!

I’m not a big fan of seafood. For the most part I’ll eat it or at least try it, but its not anywhere close to my favorite and never will be. By seafood I mean salmon, cod, lobster, shrimp, etc. Yet there is nothing closer to the divine in my opinion than sushi. If there is heaven, then it comes served on a wooden board with wasabi and pickled ginger.

Why can’t I update my blog? Is it related to the fact that I wouldn’t write anything here that I wouldn’t want to read somewhere else, but have spent too much time reading things elsewhere that the only things I never have time to write anything here except for things I wouldn’t want to read anywhere.

Why didn't that last sentence make any sense?

obligatory update

I've been having a very hard time getting around to updates. This is not due to a lack of ideas or anything of that nature. I simply haven't felt like putting my thoughts on line.

I feel bad because I realize as my updates become less frequent, the number of people who visit my site are steadily dropping. It's depressing to realize that there are people out there who think I'm worth a few moments of their time only to find the same old shit staring them in the face day after day. Who needs that?

I know I'm slipping when even Yale President Richard Levin stops sending me hate mail:

Mr. Blunderson.

You suck. Can you please update your blog so I can be reminded of just how bad you do suck?

Regards,

Richard Levin - President of Yale (the greatest University on Earth that I am President of)

PS What could be wrong with using the internet to follow the brilliant career of Brittney Spears? As far as I'm concerned it is the second best reason for having a computer. The first will always be having e-mail so I can tell you that you suck.

i get mail

Got this in the old mail box today:

… you wish to display an acerbic wit—something that you will obtain only when you have it surgically attached… the juvenile content of your blog is eclipsed only by your MS Word corrected spelling and grammar. Perhaps you should heed your own advice and rate your page BLOG – NTH (No Talent Hack)…

I’d like to thank Yale President Richard Levin for taking time away from MTV’s Viva La BAM marathon to respond to my blog.