To Whom It May Concern

If anyone could possibly care anymore, or might stumble upon this, I've decided to start a new blog. But since it's not really like a blog, but rather suits better to my lifestyle at this point, I'm going to be using Tumblr rather than Blogger. I'm going to keep this up for archive purposes.

Any new updates on my life will be at: dabrams.tumblr.com

Thanks,

Dave

Prepare For the Return......

Coming soon....?

Quiet, Quiet, He's Gonna Say Something!

I had blogged for one year, six months, seven days, and twenty one hours.

I'm pretty tired....I think I'll go home now.

The End

Back in the Swing of Things

Got a lot going on this week, don't know if posting is going to happen. However, I have a feeling this weekend is going to be more fun than a barrel full of sheep.


Keep it locked...

Tactical Espionage Awesomeness

This will be required watching material for anyone who knows me from now on. I marry the first girl to understand this whole story, no questions asked.

Holy crap I need to get my hands on this.

Aim to be Apathetic

Again, here is not really a post on something specific, but just a quick rundown on what's going on. I've been too busy/lazy to update with something of substance. My bags.

• I am now on the third season of '24.' Definitely a great show, but does tend to sag in sections. However, Jack Bauer is one of the craziest motherfuckers around, so it's all good. Not as bad as Solid Snake, but Bauer v. Locke would be a sight to behold.
• Mardi Gras night at the OST was quite the disappointment. However, there was a bunch of WONY folks there, so it wasn't all bad. Then we went to the Fox, and saw Lindsey (aka The Champ) in rare form. I later found out she was under the influence of, and I am not exaggerating: 11 shots, 2 pitchers of beer, and an Irish Car Bomb. She went home and puked all over the bathroom, and woke up the next morning not remembering a thing. And you wonder why we call her The Champ.
• I forgot to upload a bunch of pictures I had of the last few weekends and my culinary attempts before I left, so you'll have to wait until we return to Oneonta to see pictures of a burned omelet and a bowl of string beans. I wish I was lying.
• My dad gets a discount on XM Satellite Radio through his job, so I'm considering an acquisition after graduation.
• Netflix has been banging my ass as of lately. If they keep screwing me on late arrivals of DVDs, I think I might have to end our tumultuous two year relationship.
• I found out a bunch of my friends at home watch not only '24,' but more importantly, 'LOST.' Now I'll still have people to speculate with after May.
• Speaking of 'LOST,' I'll get to watch this week's episode in High Definition. Watching Sayid torture Others has never been more beautiful.
• I owe you a shot, Captain. I didn't forget. You my nigga.
• Cooked chicken parmesan with my dad, but both of us forgot you have to fry the chicken before you put it in the oven. I really am going to grow up to be like my dad. We're both really, really, stupid.
• Finally done with Loving, and now reading Under the Net by Iris Murdoch. Awesome novel. Last time it was checked out from Milne was 1986. Literally nobody reads the same books I do. Get it? "Literally?" .........See what I mean? Just like my pop.
• I'm considering just going out to Vegas and surprising all the jackasses. Will it be cost effective? Only time will tell.
• The last two days of break, I have just sat around and not done a damn thing. And I loved any minute of it.
• But my week off is going to spice up on Tuesday because of this treasure. I'm going to do that little 7-year-old giggle I do whenever I get excited over a video game.

I realize this post has been neither entertaining nor insightful, and for that I apologize. I'm pretty tired, and I pledged that this week I would have no ambition whatsoever. I need of week of no worries. Or human contact.

When we get back, I'll post something worth reading. Honest Injun.

This is the look I'm going for this week.

Updates Soon

Don't get your panties in a twist.

I 'Lost' Mine

I don't really watch many TV shows these days. The only things I really watch are reruns of Seinfeld, The Simpsons, and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Other than that I think most of the shows on network TV today are really dumb and a waste of time.

I knew some people who watched Lost when it first came out, and in classic David fashion, I criticized them for it; something I continued to do up until two weeks ago. For some reason, I had some extra time on my hands, and I guess I had heard Gish and Silva talking about what was going on in the show so much, I was compelled to see what all the hype was about.

I ended up watching the entire first season in one weekend. I caught up on the currently airing season two four days later. Obviously I must have liked it.

However, I wouldn't say I LOVE the show now. Yes, it is decent. And yes, the cliffhangers leave you wanting to know what the hell is going on. But I didn't think any of the acting, or most of the backstory scenes, were anything special. The thing I like most about this show is that it serves as something to speculate about with other people who follow it. Once you know most of the story, talking about particular characters or trying to figure out what the deal is with the island is the most rewarding part of watching Lost.

My favorite character by far is Locke, whom I also refer to as old Solid Snake. He comes up with all this philosophical talk, hunts wild boar, and just does basically everything one needs to do to be an awesome guy. Hurley is also a good character. It seems the writers have used him not only as the comic relief, but also have made him serve sort of as the voice for the audience on the island. Hurley is the one who will sporadically say things like, "What the hell is the deal here? There's this thing ripping up trees running through the forest, some French lady is talking, polar bears are running all over the place, I mean, WHAT THE HELL?!?"

I would suggest that if you feel like getting sucked into a mystery in a tropical paradise, watch 'Lost.' At the very least, it'll give you something to talk about with your friends.

Play Metal Gear theme song now.

Thank you for tuning in. Here are today's top stories:

• Had a rough weekend. Been doing a lot of thinking and coming to some realizations.
• However, things are not as bad as they seem. The list of New York Emmy Award nominations was released over the weekend. WPIX (WB 11) led with 29 nominations. But guess who was number 2? Not NBC, not CBS. No no. They're garbage. News 12 had 24 nominations, which is awesome. I went through the list of what was specifically nominated, and a few of them I remember working on in one capacity or another. I am part of the Emmy Award process. That is scary.
  
• I lack the ability to fold shirts. I did my laundry over the weekend, two weeks worth of clothes, and it took me hours to get everything folded. Long sleeve t-shirts are the worst. I try to do this quick little move where you do this thing where you like flick your wrists real quick or something, and somehow the sleeves and everything end up perfectly symmetrical. When I try to do it, the sleeves end up hanging over the bottom of the shirt, the sides are all crooked, and I can't get a neat, clean fold-over, and the whole shirt ends up loose and floppy. Anyway, it took forever and everything is wrinkled.
• I gave a presentation in Arakaki's class Monday, to much critical acclaim. His current TA and a few of the students told me they really liked it and that I should be a professor. Apparently, I can do it all: television, teaching college courses, play the fiddle, it's amazing.
• I get this e-mail yesterday:

I recently received some comments about content from a professional staff member about the language on the station and although most of the situations referenced are allowed (f and n words in the music not from the DJ after 10 PM), the following would not be allowed:

Tuesday (1/31) – one of the DJ’s was named Silva. At 4:45ish in the afternoon. I am driving home w/ my kid in the back seat and the DJ’s tell a story and use the quote “What the F### does your shirt say in the story.

Can you look into this and let me know what the outcome is? Thankfully, this person feels comfortable letting me know and not the FCC.

As it turns out, we had a tape of the show in question, and Silva actually said, "What the F?", not the entire word. The new Student Association advisor sent this. Now we have the scadministrationtration watching our every move. Not good.

• I'm going to try a major cooking endeavor this weekend. This is going to be an extremely experimental project, and I have no clue how it will turn out. But I'm going to document the entire process with pictures so I can show everyone the culinary disaster.

I know the updates haven't been too frequent, and I'll try to do more when I get the chance.

PS - If you check the site counter at the bottom of the site, we just recently had our 5000th hit. Pretty surprising considering there is only a single link out there (that I'm aware of.) I'm glad some people like reading this nonsense. Gracias.

Kanye West Doesn't Care About Any People.....Except Himself

I don't think there is a musician out right now that annoys me more than Kanye West.

For those of you who don't know, Kanye has made a habit of saying outrageous and controversial things since his break into the music scene two years ago. In that time, he has probably managed to ostracize 4/5 of the population, and has had more than one public temper tantrum. Last year at the Grammys, he walked away with two awards for Best Rap Song and Best Rap Album, but lost on other categories such as Best New Artist and Song of the Year. At the press junket, he threw a fit about how he was "robbed", and told everyone how fucking talented he is. I also saw some thing on MTV over the summer where they basically had him sit down and talk about how much of a genius he is and why it's OK for him to run his mouth the way he does.


Then, for a Hurricane Katrina relief celebrity telethon, he made the now-famous statement, "George Bush doesn't care about black people," causing Mike Meyers to look like he crapped his pants and made headlines across the country.

Now, Mr. Spoiled Brat is featured on the cover of the new Rolling Stone, [surprise surprise] claiming he is once again being robbed by the Grammys because his song "Gold Digger" isn't nominated for Rap Song of the Year. Oh, and just so he could piss off a few more people, he is dressed like Jesus on the cover.

I tell you, you can't really get any more pompous and full of yourself as this guy is. First off, his music is not revolutionary. It's not genre-defining. It's just what's out right now. Period. People like it because its been getting a lot of airplay, that's it. In a few months, "God Digger" won't be a hot song anymore, and anyone/place that plays it will be out of date. This is not the Beatles. This is Coolio for the 21st century.

Now I will admit some of his songs are good. But so what? That doesn't make you Emperor of the Universe. Besides, his songs are decent at best. I don't think many people listened to them and began to tear from how profound his words are. He is a average, basic, run-of-the-mill rapper who came from a middle class background. He said "Gold Digger" was a "gimmie Grammy," like it was so obviously an award winning song. Really? I could have sworn rap songs are supposed to RHYME. This song sometimes rhymes. Take a look at the lyrics.

[Jamie Foxx]
She take my money when I'm in need
Yea she's a trifflin friend indeed
Oh she's a gold digga way over town
That dig's on me

[Chorus:]
(She did me wrong
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz
(She did me wrong)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head

[Verse 1:]
Cutie the bomb
Met her at a beauty salon
With a baby louis vuitton
Under her underarm
She said I can tell you ROC
I can tell by ya charm
Far as girls you got a flock
I can tell by ya charm and ya arm (rhyme the same words twice, eh Kanye?)
but I'm lookin for the one
have you seen her
My psychic told me she have a ass like Serena
Trina, Jennifer Lopez, four kids
An i gotta take all they bad ass to show-biz
Ok get ya kids but then they got their friends
I Pulled up in the Benz, they all got up In
We all went to Den and then I had to pay
If you f**kin with this girl then you betta be payed (stop rhyming a word with itself!!!)
You know why
It take too much to touch her
>From what I heard she got a baby by Busta
My best friend say she use to fuck wit Usher
I dont care what none of yall say I still love her

[Chorus:]

[Verse 2:]
18 years, 18 years
She got one of yo kids got you for 18 years (do you see a trend appearing?)
I know somebody payin child support for one of his kids
His baby momma's car and crib is bigger than his
You will see him on TV Any Given Sunday
Win the Superbowl and drive off in a Hyundai
She was spose to buy ya shorty TYCO with ya money
She went to the doctor got lipo with ya money
She walkin around lookin like Michael with ya money
Should of got that insured got GEICO for ya moneeey
If you aint no punk holla We Want Prenup
WE WANT PRENUP!, Yeaah
It's something that you need to have
Cause when she leave yo ass she gone leave with half
18 years, 18 years
And on her 18th birthday he found out it wasn't his

[Chorus:]

[Verse 3:]
Now I aint sayin you a gold digger you got needs
You dont want ya dude to smoke but he can't buy weed
You got out to eat and he cant pay yall cant leave
There's dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves
But why yall washin watch him
He gone make it into a Benz out of that Datson
He got that ambition baby look in his eyes
This week he moppin floorz next week it's the fries
So, stick by his side
I know his dude's ballin but yea thats nice
And they gone keep callin and tryin
But you stay right girl
But when you get on he leave yo a** for a white girl

Get down girl go head get down
Get down girl go head get down
get down girl go head get down
get down girl go head
(can you play that back)

I'd say about 95% of that song did not rhyme. If a rap song doesn't rhyme, then what is it? Just words spoken to a beat. Anyone can do that. And no, you CANNOT rhyme a word with that same word, and no, it does not count if you mispronounce a word to make it sound like it rhymes. Like lipo and Michael. No way do they rhyme. Unless, of couse, you take the technique that the "genius" has, and pronounce Michael "Mike-O." Doesn't work. The song sucks. It is poorly written. You want a Grammy? DO SOMETHING THAT DESERVES IT. I mean, I could make up a song right now on the fly that rhymes the way "Gold Digger" does. Ready? Watch.

I'm a street thug, I always carry a gat

Watch out when you see me and I'm holdin' my gat

Because I'll shoot anything; a dog, bird, or a cat

Always aim, shoot to kill when I roll with my gat

Now do I deserve a Grammy for that? According to Kanye West I should.

Some parts of the interview have been revealed previous to the magazine's Friday release. This is my favorite selection.

"In America, they want you to accomplish these great feats, to pull off these David Copperfield-type stunts," he says. "You want me to be great, but you don't ever want me to say I'm great?"

Now you're getting it.

People don't like Kanye because he's successful and black. Or maybe
it's because he never shuts his fucking mouth.

The Boys are Back in Town

Today kicked off the last first day of school at SUNY Oneonta. Silva and I were talking about how surreal the fact that we are in out last semester of college is. I can remember that night where all of us were sitting in the hallway so clearly. What a wild ride it's been.

But before we get to reminisce too much, we still have a semester of work and (unavoidably) frustration ahead of us. Today I tried to get a parking permit so I don't get tickets every time I try to use to gym we pay hundreds for each year yet don't have any parking spots for people who don't have a parking pass. Anyway, long story short, they said since I couldn't produce my vehicle registration card, I can't get a pass. Then, the lady says she'll "help me out", and gives me a ONE DAY temporary parking thing to hang from my mirror. Oh thanks, lady, problem solved.

Also, I'm pretty fed up with seeing these kids who wear these knit hats that have a bill like a baseball cap on it. All these kids love Fallout Boy and have long hair, and throw on this fucked up hat, crooked on their heads mind you, and walk around and make me look at them. Seriously, can there be ANY fashion trend that doesn't annoy me?

Tonight I have to unpack all my clothes, then I think I'm going to jump back into playing my new game of choice, Shadow of the Colossus. It's pretty different, but a lot of fun, and I can understand why I had never heard of it before five days ago.

I have a sinking feeling all I'm going to hear about this semester is how awesome online poker is. It's amazing to me how I can be such good friends with people I can't talk to anything about. But since "anything" has become "online poker" in our circle of friends, I guess it's not that big a deal. When Gish and Silva launch into long diatribes about pocket jacks and how no one bluffs in online games, I just pick my nose.

My books this semester only cost $90. Face eater.

I got an idea for the perfect reality show before: you take a bunch of contestants, put them in an old prison, have them sleep, eat, shower, all like they're in prison, with guards and everything, and the goal is to be able to escape without being caught. If you get caught, you are off the show. Have challenges and stuff with people getting to visit their families and like little tools that might help them escape. First one out successfully wins a million dollars. Call it "The Great Escape." I would love a show like this.

Ok, fellers. I've got stuff to do.

Urolagnia, but Non-Sexual

Going back up to school in a week. Not particularly looking forward to it. One of the few reasons I am looking forward to going back to Oneonta is because during the last few parties we had at the Elm St. house, we put on Matt's bootleg The Buzz CDs. Everyone loved hearing the "back in the day" 90s music. Wanting to optimize the experience, I went through my iPod and made a 48-hour ultimate Buzz playlist, from which we will craft the most solid party CDs ever created. The feeling you get when a song you love and haven't heard in years comes on is unrivaled.

I had this idea in the shower; it's a simple technique to make people think you're cooler than you really are: go up to someone you know and use some made up slang to them, and then act like you can't believe they don't know what you're talking about when they look puzzled. For example, go up to someone and say, "Hey, you know where I can get a good haircut?" The person will probably look at you with a confused expression. Say "A haircut." When they say they don't know what the hell you're talking about, roll your eyes and be like, "Yeah. FIGURES. Whatever." I'm thinking of trying this on people to see their reactions. Even if no one else thinks its funny, I know I'll be rolling on the floor laughing.



We were at a bar in Smithtown, and this was what was printed on the little rubber mat in the urinal. I pissed on him.

This got me thinking. Why do they have the little rubber mats in some urinals? The urinal cakes I get, as well as the little plastic cage around said cake. But the rubber mats make no sense to me. Are they supposed to protect against splash ricochet? If so, they don't work; you get just as much splashback from a mat as you do from the naked porcelain. Honestly, I've never had too much of a problem with splashback. Usually I aim for the spot just above the water: it's low enough so you aren't hitting the flat part of the urinal which is more splash-prone, and it also isn't hitting the water directly, because that can cause some problems. Also, sometimes you have to try and regulate the force at which the pee-pee comes out. You don't need to be able to pressure clean a roof, but just want to get it out at a comfortable pace.

It's wild: this is something the female mind has absolutely no grasp of, yet to a male it is known without even consciously thinking about it. You probably don't even know your urinal habits, but you do have them if you think about it. We have so many years of pee experience that you don't even think about it. One thing I've noticed I do, and I'm comfortable admitting this, is that I put my right hand in my pocket while peeing at a urinal. Don't ask me why, but I do it almost every time, unless of course the facilities I'm using to not have adequate splashguards between the urinals, then I use the other hand for blocking.

Likewise, I have no knowledge of the girl methods to urination and so forth. This is something I'm happy I don't know; I can just imagine the insane and outrageous logistics for THAT set-up. I recently found out that a girl's pee comes out much like that of a boys, just positioned in a different manner. Never knew it before. I was under the impression it kind of shot out like a can of spray paint. I don't know how girl's walk around with those things between their legs.



Here is a guide for your reading pleasure: TravelMate Urinary Products. Electra complex, anyone?

Yo Delicious!!!

A rare lazy day for me. Sleeting outside. Thought I would share something I found quite funny: Larry David's Op/Ed article in the New York Times about Brokeback Mountain.

Cowboys are My Weakness

Enjoy. It's prit-tay, prit-tay, prit-tay good.

"Ok, assy. And what is all that shit all over your shirt? You been scrounging around looking for asses?"

The M-1 Abrams Holiday Roundup

Since I have been home, I haven't really had a spare minute to just sit and relax, much less post something on here. With various errands, chores, Christmas shopping, and working, I've been as busy during this break as I am up at school. Let me catch all of you (and I honestly doubt there are many) up to speed:

- I have been working non-stop at News 12 since I've gotten home. Being the holidays, people were taking vacation days and calling in sick all over the place, and I was there to fill in. This is fantastic, except I still had a fair amount of shopping to do, and it was hard to get done when I would be called in a lot. Fortunately, now that Christmas is over, I really have nothing more to do, so the work will be appreciated. However, I suspect that since the holidays are over, less people will be calling out, and I will be getting fewer hours. Such is life.

- Work was real hectic the first week, simply because of the transit workers strike in New York City. Since breaking news and new info was coming out randomly and at all hours, everyone there was pretty tense; their nerves were shot, and you could feel it in the air. In fact, during one news conference where we had to break in live, I saw people screaming at each other, producers and directors running around at full tilt, and just general hysteria breaking loose. Before the strike was officially announced, nobody was sure when the word might come from the transit union, so they needed to keep the place staffed 24 hours a day, and one night I worked from two in the afternoon to three in the morning. It was all rough, hectic, and stressful, especially considering things are still relatively new to me and I'm not there all the time, but hopefully I made a good impression with the boss and I made some good money.

-I was having trouble thinking of a Christmas gift, and I was coming down to the wire searching for something my parents could get me for the holiday. I told them all I could think of was a big TV, since all the other gadgets and gizmos I have are still in good working order, but that was out of the question, since they're thousands of dollars. One morning, I walked downstairs, and my parents confronted me, saying that if I wanted as a combined Christmas and graduation gift, they would get me a new TV. We searched around all day for one, and finally settled on an LG 37-inch LCD HDTV. I know, I know, I'm spoiled rotten, I'm aware. But I don't really get spoiled by them anymore, and I do feel guilty.

That is until I turn it on. We got an HDTV cable box, so I can get HD programming in various sorts. We bought the set about a week before Christmas, and since it was so big and wouldn't really fit anywhere else, we set it up in my room early, however I was not allowed to watch it until the 25th. I had to sit with my regular TV plugged in in front of it for days.



Looking at the picture gives you a good sense of not only how huge the new TV is, but also how crazy it was making me to have this beautiful piece of technology sitting in front of my face and not being able to partake in its sweet, soothing digital glow. Finally, Christmas day came, and I was free to wallow in my own crapulence.



The TV has been the focal point of my life for the past few days. I only get a handful of channels which take advantage of the HD, so I've been watching shows I have no interest in just to look at the amazing picture quality. I've watched more PBS in the last four days than ever in my life. I'm anticipating the release of the PS3 even more now so I can take full advantage of the new games/Blu-Ray system.

- Despite getting arguably the best Christmas gift I've ever received (Red Ryder BB gun excluded), I still did fairly well on Christmas Day. Kristin got me about ten books, including a cookbook designed for those who want a big variety but have limited cooking appliances/experience. I got a remote control holster thing to hold my now plethora of controllers next to my bed, the obligatory socks/underwear, the seventh season of the Simpsons, a samurai sword set, and other knicknacks making for all in all a very merry Christmas.

Today I have a day off, and it is miserable outside, cold and raining, so today has become a good day to just sit in my room and do absolutely nothing. I might go to the gym later, but that's about it. Our New Year's plans are still up in the air, still might be going into the city, but not in the same nature as previously thought. I also have to work New Year's Day at 12:30, so I can't really go overboard.

Now you're all caught up on my life. Hopefully I'll still be working a lot, and maybe try to sneak some fun in on the side, before I go back to school.

Until then, Happy New Year.




Happy Holidays from Black Mamba!

The Wrath of Kong

I saw Jarhead about two months ago, and during the previews the trailer for King Kong was shown. I knew this movie was being produced, but I really didn't have much interest in seeing it; I hadn't seen the original, and it just seemed like a Hollywood get-rich-quick scheme.

And they showed the CGI of Kong, and the '30s setting, which were par for the course in my mind, and didn't really seem too fascinating.

That was until the T-Rex scene.

They show this dinosaur screaming, then King Kong jumps in and starts screaming, it get quiet, the T-Rex charges Kong, he goes nuts, quickly thumps his chest, and put his hands on both sides of the T-Rex's jaws as the screen goes to white. This for me was one of those moments where you know what goes on behind the white flash frame has to be something incredible. With my mouth agape, I turn around to see the five or six people I went to the theater with making the same exact expression as I was. The action looked tempting, and knowing that Peter Jackson had done well with the action scenes in the Lord of the Rings movies, I thought this couldn't be bad, and began to anticipate seeing Kong in a few months.

I was right. After finding out it was premiering the night I was done with finals, and really wanting to see it with Gish, Silva, and the rest of our band of fools because we feed off each other's excitement, making it even more exciting. We showed up early for the midnight showing, anticipating some sort of line. We walked in, and we waiting at the concession stand, when we got an idea of who we would be watching this film with: some slovenly fat guy with a ponytail comes up behind us, and proclaims to the employees, "I hear you have the best nachos in town......I WOULD LIKE TO PARTAKE!"

It was unmistakable: nerds. We would be watching this movie with a theater full of nerds. And we were right. They were everywhere. I guess nerds have a pledge of loyalty to Peter Jackson.

Finally, the movie started. Having watched the original a few weeks ago, I knew the story fairly well, and was able to pick up a lot of parallels included throughout. The first hour of Jackson's was actually kind of slow; the first movie set the story up well in a third of the time. It wasn't like it added anything to the story, and seemed to be so drawn out just to get the movie to the standard 3-hour length for an epic.

But once they get onto Skull Island, ridiculous. That's the only way to put it. What is so great about it is that it doesn't try too hard to be artsy or deep, it's just pure entertainment, something rare these days when going to the movies. I don't get too excited at the movies anymore, but for two hours I was on the edge of my seat, yelling and giggling like a little girl. When the part with the T-Rex came up, me, Gish, and Silva all started saying, "Here it comes, oh boy! Oh boy!" Despite acting a little immature for three twentysomethings, it was a great movie experience. I don't want to ruin any of the parts by saying what goes down, and besides, even if I did, it wouldn't do justice to actually watching it.

If you enjoy being happy and having fun, see King Kong.

Grade: A-



If this doesn't look cool to you, you're probably dead. Or gay.

This Guy is Dangerous

This will be quick, but I saw this and I had to comment.

I was just reading an MSNBC article on a comment Bush made at a speech about Iraq losing 30,000 people since the war began. He then was asked questions from the audience, one being his administration's link of Iraq and Saddam to 9/11. This is what that moron said:

'Another questioner challenged the administration's linkage of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks with the Iraq war. Bush said that Saddam Hussein was a threat and he was widely believed to have weapons of mass destruction, a belief that later proved false.

"I made a tough decision," Bush said. "And knowing what I know today I'd make the decision again. Removing Saddam Hussein makes this world a better place and America a safer country."'

So basically what he's saying is the WMDs really didn't matter in the decision to go to war: he just wanted Saddam out of power. Hey, the dude was a bad guy, and its better he's gone, right?

Well, by that logic, I hope the military is lining up to invade Cuba, Lybia, Iran, Syria, China, North Korea, and others who are bad. All of those countries are well-known to commit human rights violations and do not spread the democracy of justice's freedom, or whatever crap phrases Bush is using these days.

What gives Bush the authority to remove any world leader from power because he perceives them as a threat? Being president doesn't mean you just get to do whatever you want. He probably fell asleep in American Government class.

Watch out, world! If we don't like ya, we're comin' to get ya! Regardless if there is a good reason or or not!

USA! USA! USA!

Crunch Time

It's that time of year again: to become so engrossed in a subject that for a few days, you live and breathe it every second of the day.


This year, that subject for me is philosophy. I don't feel like I have as good a grip on the concepts as I did on my first test, so until Tuesday morning, I pretty much have to live philosophy.


I also have to find time for my world literature final as well, but philosophy will require a lot more study time and brain power than lit. But it cannot be tossed aside.

I need to make sure I can focus and get my work done without getting distracted or lazy.

I have both finals on Tuesday, and am leaving for break on Wednesday. I don't know if I'll get a chance to update before then.

For the next three days, I have to do the academic equivalent of Rocky's training in Russia in Rocky IV.



Now if I could just get "Burning Heart" to play in the library, I'd be set.

Morning, Morgantown!

At this time of the morning, I'm usually struggling to open my eyes, much less sit here and write something, but I woke up this morning and there was a ton of snow outside, and that always has a way of waking me right up; I'm pretty much still eleven years old. Whenever I wake up in the morning and it looks like there's a chance that school or classes will be cancelled, I can't go back to sleep, even though I don't have classes on Friday. Something about there being a good snowfall to wake up makes me all excited.

Silva puked yesterday morning, and I think there's some on the toilet seat.

I am officially done with my regular classes for this semester, but I'm not out of the woods by a long shot. I've got two finals back-to-back on Tuesday: Philosophy and World Lit. Luckily, the harder one, Philosophy, is first, so I can just wake up extra early and get some studying in before the final. That final is going to be tough. So tough in fact, that the professor and TA are holding three review sessions to prepare. One was on Wednesday night, and I actually left a WONY party we were having at a bar downtown to go review. I don't care if I'm a big nerd, grades are more important.

The WONY Festivus party wasn't technically a WONY party, since it was at a bar downtown and we were getting underage kids in, but for all intents and purposes, it was, only DJs and their friends allowed. I had this idea over the summer to have a station party at a bar, since a DJ rented out a bar about two years ago for his birthday, and it was awesome, especially for the kids who were underage at the time. The idea was to have everyone be able to mingle outside of the station, and just bond, and I think it worked out very well, everyone was having fun, and by the time it was over, we had the whole place singing along to the music on the stereo.

I have to call News 12 in a few days, and see if they got me on the schedule for when I get back. I'm hoping I get a lot of hours over break. Getting "in" there is the primary objective of my life at this point, maybe even more so than schoolwork.

I still can't think of anything I want for Christmas. If I don't get on it soon, I'm really going to have a crappy Christmas.

Me, Silva, Matt, and Gish are tentatively planning to go to Times Square for New Years Eve. I figure this would be the perfect time to do this in our lives, and if we don't do it while we're together in college, it probably won't ever happen. I think we would have a great time, like people screaming and confetti and shit. We all get so crazy over stuff like that.

I think I'm going to see Syriana tonight.

Well, my time's about up here. I think I'm going to go down to the Latte Lounge, maybe get something to eat, sit with a hot chocolate, and either read or do homework. I love that place. So relaxing.

Silva's Premonitions

Would you believe that nearly three months after the terror that is the Cremaster Cycle entered my consciousness (without any chance of being forgotten,) this horrible creation of Lucifer is still affecting my life? It's true. Silva went to the Hartwick College library a month ago and actually checked out the Cremaster 5 book under his own free will? He hid it in a drawer under my desk, came in and asked me for something out of it, and effectively ruined my day because of it. We both looked through it and got a good chuckle and shiver out of how insane the series truly is.

Owing to Silva's legendary lack of punctuality, the book is still in our apartment. We forgot about it, but recently began looking through it again. Actually, what happened was, I found a particularly disturbing photo in the back of the book, and left the book open to that spot under John's bedsheets. I would scan it to show you show fucked up it really is, but I would honestly feel uneasy about having it on my computer.

Regardless, a few days ago, John had been looking at it, then went to bed. The next day, he woke up saying he had out of control dreams all night long, including one where he was sitting in a room with a bunch of kids doing mushrooms. That day, he was talking to his friend online, and his friend told him he had a strange experience the night before: he had been smoking weed at a party or something in a room full of kids doing mushrooms.

Now, that's not really a big thing, Silva told me about it, and I kind of just dismissed it; I really didn't care. But then things got out of hand.

Saturday night, we had Matt, Gish, and Swan over for our now-usual few hours of poker and relaxing in the apartment before we go out for the night. While we were all sitting around, Matt pulled out the Cremaster book hidden underneath our coffee table and started thumbing through it. We told them it freaked both me and Silva out, and they looked through it a bit longer, then put it away. The next morning when Silva woke up, he told me and Matt about some wild nightmares he had, in particular, he said he had one where he was having sex with some girl when she started to stab him in the chest. We just laughed, not making any connection. Yet.

A day later, I am looking at the local paper online, and I become shocked at what I find.

"Lt. Joseph Redmond of the Oneonta Police Department said Francis J. Ricca, 20, of 63 Miller St. allegedly stabbed Jason Walker, 22, of 2 Meckley Ave., just before midnight Friday during a party at 97 Chestnut St., next to Iannelli's Ristorante."

Not only was there a stabbing the night he dreamt about it, but it was on our street. On our fucking street. Right up the road. At first I didn't make the connection, but when I did.....it was a little weird. Silva launched into an all out mindfuck; I think he was seriously spooked. And, to tell you the truth, it really is kind of freaky when you think about it. What are the odds? And all because he looked at the Cremaster.

We seriously have to get this book out of our apartment. It's causing bad things to happen. I told Silva he'll probably come in my room one morning to tell me not to drive my car that day.

Beware the ides of Silva.

A Pasticcio Post

-By some astounding jump in competence by CUAC, the organization that books speakers and lectures on campus, Cindy Sheehan, the mother who lost her son in Iraq and has since become a national figure, spoke here in Oneonta last night. The last two major events CUAC has had have been appearances by, no joke, Mr. Belding and Urkel. To see CUAC be able to get Sheehan up to this tiny college is amazing. However not surprisingly, the Ballroom where this was held was only about 2/3 full; the event wasn't really advertised, and college students care more about destroying the Flood and Covenant than current events and politics. The speech is what you would likely expect, but it was still cool to be able to see someone in the national spotlight. I was hoping some hillbillies from the outskirts of Oneonta would show up to fight with her over her opposition to Bush, but no such luck.

-Does anyone know how one goes about getting a rag? I have to get all dressed up for my final in interviewing class, and my dress shoes need to be polished, but I don't have any rags to use to shine them up. I don't have many handy resources, and I think using a paper towel wouldn't do the trick. When I shined them at home, I used a rag from our basement. But where can I get a rag up here? Do people buy rags? Where do they come from? Do they just suddenly appear in your house one day? If you don't have any old dish towels or some other kind of cloth that you are retiring to a rag pile, how would you get one? This popped into my head yesterday and I can't think of a solution.

-I'm getting real sick and tired of the phrase, "What happens in _____, stays in _____." Overused. It's dead. Not even if you're referring to Vegas. It's no longer clever.

-Now I'm not a doctor, but I think Silva must look like the charred smoker guy from Beetlejuice inside his body. I've never seen anyone eat so much crap and still look relatively healthy in my life. The kids eats at the very least a bag of chips every day, plus all the other crap throughout the day; he never stop eating. Yesterday, in a time span of a few hours, I know he ate two Celeste pizzas, a saucepan of teriyaki noodles, BBQ chicken, a bag of chips, and a bunch of beers. Who knows what he eats the rest of his day. All I know is he is like a garbage disposal, but does not put on a single pound; he's built like Eric Foreman on "That 70s Show." Me and Gish were talking about this, and determined it would be better for him if he did put on weight, because then at least he would be aware his body hates him. I wouldn't be surprised if we were all just hanging out and he dropped dead from clogged arteries and fructose poisoning. He told me:

"Whatever, I'll eat whatever I want. What happens if I get hit by a car and die tomorrow? Then I spent my last days on earth eating healthy."

Then, most likely from the affects of the never-ending food parade, he began to get a little crazy and irrational:

"Who says salad is so healthy? No one knows what eating salad all the time will do to your body thirty years from now. All of a sudden people just start eating salad all the time. Fuck that shit."

- I had a dream I was in some room and Kelly Clarkson was walking around naked. I didn't realize she liked me so much.

So long. Farewell. Auf weidersehen. Good bye.