It's Always Sunny In MuthaFuckin ILLADELPH

Just like Bobby DeNiro in that movie, I have a city that I love and hate equally. It's called Philadelphia, and it's currently the place I call home. A recent survey declared it home to the most unattractive, most uncultured people in America, and while this is mostly true, I can safely report that there are pockets of awesomeness and hilarity speckled throughout the shittiness. Fans of Always Sunny are presented with a city filled with assholes who are always on the lookout for number one, and this is the honest-to-goodness way it is, yet it can be so charming sometimes. I almost feel a strange catharsis when the servers at Pat's make fun of and belittle me. There's always a bit of sugar mixed in the diarrhea of inner-city Philly life. And there are many contrasts as a result. Areas of extreme wealth and extreme poverty are mashed together, as are people of extreme racism and unconditional acceptance. There are some of the warmest, most hilarious characters in the world, as well as the most despicable douchebags. And there are savage hipster hotties who could suck a bicycle tube inside-out (if you ride a fixy). As the great Ween said of this city: "Liberty Bell cracked in half, a Bacon Steak, a Perfect Match". It's the crack in the otherwise pure symbol of the bell that makes it Philly, just as it's the deliciousness of a good Cheesesteak paired with the dire health consequences. It is a city of ups and downs, blacks and whites, and a melting pot that bubbles and hisses with wild abandon. Unfortunately I am outside this beautiful and most historical of our cities today, having just watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" in my hometown of New York (and it was a little too long if you ask me bro). Of course, had I seen the movie in my usual Philly theater, I would've been host to yet another slice of Philly life:

http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/12/27/movie.shooting/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

This is just one more example of what makes this town so shitty/funny/awesome/terrible/violent/hopeful/endearing/appalling/unique. LET'S GO PHILS!

Got a selection of good things on sale stranger!

By Guest Columnist The Merchant From Resident Evil 4

Welcome!

Got a coupla things might inch-rest ya, stranger. Ya can upgrade yer weapons... or more... for a higher price.

Whadday buyin'?

No no, wait a minute, whaddaya sellin'?

Heh heh heh, I'm buyin' at a high price. Got lots of things on sale for you then, stranger. Got a couple things worth openin up me trenchcoat for. Might wanna fish around for a hautomatic rifle or praps a shahp shooter pistol then. I got me pistol right eeyah, an it can be yours, for the right price then stranger.

No, I'm not making advances at you. Really. This is part of my chahming cockney hack-cent and mischievous personalih-ee then stranger. Heh heh heh.

No, I'm actually a married chap then. Got the wife an kids back in anuvah level. Look here in me trenchcoat. This here's me youngest, Dora. She's a wee sprite lass then. Not but 9 pence old to the day onna spot.

Don't get to see much a her durin a day, mostly standin' around eeyah, waitin' for you. Not romantically, no. Ya see I may call you stranger and laugh suggestively at the sligh-est hexchange between us, but b'lieve me then, I got a fit bird waitin' for me back roun a pub. Reckon I don't know where me accent come from. Heh heh, thank you.

Take care stranger, got a coupla good things on sale today.

The Merchant From Resident Evil 4 is an unauthorized firearms dealer and a frequent contributor to The National Review

songs i want to be playing on rock band right now:

1. dayman (fighter of the night man)
2. mgmt - electric feel
3. the predator rap (the guitar part would be for the orchestral music)
4. really anything by tegan and sara
5. also anything by of motreal
6. fiery furnaces - navy nurse
7. the knife - marble house
8. eric clapton - crossroads

did i mention this has trumped gears of war 2 as my nerdly obsession?

Murry Chrizmus

Hello All,

Welp, it's that magic time of the year again. And let me tell you, as a non-practicing Christian who pretty much committed every sin available in North America, I had a great Christmas Eve last night lighting Channukah candles with some of my favorite jews. These guys are awesome. While the rest of America is busy being festive and Christmassy, this camp is locked in a six hour horde mode session, breaking only for Chinese food (General Tsao's chicken, among others) and substance abuse. Gotta love the Long Island Jewish Community. I grew up with these assholes, and now I feel more at home with them than some of the psycho-religious-zealots on my own side of the religion wars. Holidays! Also, since it's Christmas, I'm going to use this post to break out an old classic, a traditional Christmas movie I made but a few short years ago. Happy Holidays you FUCK:

dj grunk

hello folks,

i've been drinking tonight. and i definitely had an entire other blog post to share. and it definitely got deleted in a moment of sobriety. and i definitely know you wish you could've experienced the wonders therewith, but alas: this isn't some pussy bullshit. i'm not going to share my true emotions with you. only half-true absurdist musings that veer into existentialism at the drop of a hat. on that note:

PA'ing

yeah it's necessary to learn the ropes yeah everybody should start at the bottom and work their way up blah de fuckin dah but doesn't it suck to be at the lowest link of the food chain? i've been lucky enough to hold a wide variety of these bottom-feeder jobs, clearing away the muck left by the superior ones and other exciting bullshit. if everything were to continue going according to plan, i will ideally have some sort of a career in the visual arts. what exactly this will be, i still don't know, but it turns out that nearly any profession in this field is usually prefaced by many hours of interning and PA'ing. Production Assistanting. An extra set of hands. just in case y'all tryna step to my street creds, let's take a look at some of the legit music videos i've had a menial role in the creation of, with colorful director's commentary...

1. Rob Thomas - "Little Wonders"

This was the first Hollywood production I was ever involved with. I don't even think I was technically a PA yet, just sort of there through my internship. My duties included moving some things, idling between areas of the set, and lunch. The whole thing was shot in a large green-screen studio on the Jim Henson lot. At one point the assistant director asked me to be Rob Thomas' stand-in so they could frame up their shot before actually fetching Rob Thomas (Matchbox20!!!). I got to sit with Mr. Thomas' guitar on that rooftop set you see at about 1:30, which in reality was just a box in front of a screen. They dollied and jibbed around me and I sat there uncomfortably until Rob Thomas (Matchbox20!!!) showed up and we actually had human contact when I handed over the guitar and he nodded at me (!!!). He was actually a pretty cool guy.

2. Christina Aguilera - "Candyman"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIfEgv7EExw
YouTube won't let me embed this one (fuckers). You know, it's that 1950's one where she's like a USO girl and shit. I got a walkie-talkie and everything for this shoot. We filmed it at these giant airplane hangars that were hours outside of LA in like Fresno or some shit. One hangar had two stunt planes set up inside and the other was used to build the diner and club sets. Christina was a lot shorter than I thought. She had a huge entourage, including a large flamboyant man who was constantly fanning her. I actually made a cameo on Entertainment Tonight thanks to this one. They interviewed Christina with the set as a backdrop and you can clearly see me in the background sweeping up the confetti used in the last shot of the video. I've arrived!

3. Linkin Park - "What I've Done"

I actually had a significant role in this one. The main part of the video was shot waaay in the middle of nowhere on a dried-out lakebed, which was as cool as it sounds. There were helicopters and trucks and barren wastelands and Linkin Park was there, it was straight out of Dante's Inferno. My big contribution came in the form of the b-roll clips littered throughout the video. I was tasked with compiling a bunch of these, as were several other people, and then the director (also the DJ in Linkin Park) made his pick of the litter. In the end, about 30% of those clips were those picked by yours truly, including some of the atom bombs, the KKK, and other terrible shit that's supposed to make you think about life.

4. Pretty Ricky (feat. Sean Paul) - "(I Wanna See You) Push It Baby"

I think I had just heard about Pretty Ricky like a week before I found out I'd be working on this video. My roommates and I were watching a lot of MTV jams at the time, and that song was always on that goes "it's fiiive in da mo-niiiiin". It became our coke jam. Then suddenly I'm entering the late night special world of Pretty Ricky. I actually had nothing to do with the Pretty Ricky part of the video, but I was all about moving some stuff and eating craft services for the Sean Paul section (which, unlike Pretty Ricky's Prague shoot, took place in a parking lot in Santa Monica). Basically it was Sean Paul rapping while scantily-clad models hung out in Eyes Wide Shut costumes. Everyone was high for this. It was the final video I worked on before returning to the east coast.

where is my bayou paradise?

do people have any control over their individual fate? does the human consciousness influence our reality? if so, to what extent? what things are beyond our control, and what can we control with thought? it seems a prerequisite that nothing works out perfectly for anybody. but can't we change these things? we fucking figured out how to take over the world, surely we have powers over our own destinies. or maybe i'm just being napoleonic about my human abilities. i do have a mix of ideas about the role we play in the cosmos, and for the most part i think it is very tiny. so what can we really do at the end of the day? i'd like to know. i think that things change. things can be willed into life. and if somebody says something is gone and done for good, well, maybe it isn't. cue 80's synth and vocals:

Let us die young or let us live forever
We dont have the power but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The musics for the sad men

Can you imagine when this race is won
Turn our golden faces into the sun
Praising our leaders we're getting in tune
The musics played by the madmen

Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, ooh and ever...


p.s. the first thing i would will into existence is me not being obsessed with music that i know is godawful. jk, i'm luvin' it (tm).

WHO'S READY FOR SNACKTACKULAR CRAVE-SATIONS?!?

By Guest Columnist A Bag Of Blazin' Buffalo & Ranch Doritos

SWEET JESUS YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE A BREAK FROM ALL THAT SAME-OLD BORING REAL LIFE STUFF YOU'RE SO CAUGHT UP WITH. SEEMS LIKE IT'S JUST ABOUT TIME YOU HIT THE DUSTY DORITOS TRAIL ON DOWN TO A BAG OF BLAZIN' BUFFALO & RANCH. I'M TALKIN' REAL CRUNCHTASTICAL FLAV-SPLOSIONS OF INTENSE BUFFALO WING AND TANGY BLUE CHEESE CURDS. MIGHT AS WELL DOWN A WHOLE BAG OF THIS SHIT, YOU KNOW YOU'RE UP TO THE TASK. AFTER ALL, IF YOU'RE NOT TOTALLY CRUNCHMITTED TO THE TASK, YOU MIGHT AS WELL TAKE THE SOY-TRAIN BACK TO LETTUCE TOWN CUZ THIS HERE IS BLAZIN' HOT WING CENTRAL.

YOU SEEM LIKE THE KINDA GUY WHO WALKS THE LINE BETWEEN DANGER AND DELICIOUS CHEESE FLAVORING. MAYBE IT'S TIME TO PROVE YOUR SNACKVOTION BY POUNDIN' DOWN A COUPLE ROUNDS OF INTENSE BUFFALO-FLAVOR-POWDERS COATING THESE GENUINE TORTILLA HUSKS. YES SIR, YOU'RE X-TREME ENUFF TO TAKE A CHANCE, SO LONG AS THERE'S SPICY TANG-BASED FLAVORING INVOLVED.

YOU'RE A ROGUE. A FIRESTARTER. UP FOR ANYTHING. YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH MURDER. YOU WILL GET AWAY WITH MURDER. YOU'LL DO IT FOR ME, AND YOU'LL MAKE A CLEAN GETAWAY. THEY WON'T EVER BE ABLE TO TIE IT TO YOU. IT'LL BE AS IF YOU NEVER EXISTED. AND THE TARGET IS QUITE SIMPLE, REALLY. IT'S YOUR NEIGHBORS. ALL OF THEM. I WANT YOU TO KILL ALL OF THEM. EVERYONE YOU SEE. ANYONE WHO TRIES TO STOP YOU. YOU'RE GOING TO KILL. AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STOP UNTIL THE STREETS RUN RED WITH THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT.

SO GRAB A BAG OF THESE FLAVOR-BLASTED CHIPS TODAY!

A Bag Of Blazin' Buffalo & Ranch Doritos is an inanimate bag of corn chips

3 Men Mountainbiking

i fucking love mountainbiking. yesterday i mentioned it briefly but holy shit it was awesome. i was 20 minutes outside of philly with some bros and we fuckin attacked these trails. it was a strenuous mountain path; lots of winding uphill, followed immediately by rock-laden downhill. and when i say rock-laden, i mean there's huge fucking stones in the ground you have to navigate while trying not to steer into trees at 20 mph. Plus it was muddy. and freezing. and we had collectively eaten some 7 or 8 cheesesteaks the night before that created an entirely new challenge. but holy shit my friends it was awesome. successfully going through a patch of boulders and slick mud is intense, unlike hiking which becomes slow and tedious. mountainbiking is like riding a wild stallion that knows every inch of the forest, but really the stallion is you, and it's an incredible adventure. why the fuck don't more people do this? i really can't think of a more interesting form of exercise other than sea-kayaking, hang-gliding, or, you know, sexy times. does anyone want to go mountainbiking? i'd also like to arrange a game of ultimate frisbee. still waiting to hear back about that one.

HEY MAMA YAHHH

HOLY FUCK america i just ate like 4 cheese steaks in the past 24 hours, then took like 12 bong rips, then fucking partied righteously in your face, and then to top it off went mountain biking on fucking mountains like i hadn't been fucking shwasted only hours earlier. Mostly i blame my friend greg spatzles for these transgressions, but fuck it felt so real. like the real thing. if i was any more hard i'd be this guy.

Julia is 7 minutes late for Jazzercise!

By Guest Columnist Samantha Wishkillsy

Look at this. She just leaves these clothes where she drops them. Now where did she, JULIA?! COME AWN! Ugh, now Peppy and Squawkey want food. JULIA, CAN YOU FEED THE BIRDS? BRING THE BIRD FOOD DOWN? CAN YOU BRING THE BIRD FOOD DOWN? FROM UPSTAIRS. THE UPSTAIRS PANTRY. IT'S IN, IT'S IN THE UPSTAIRS, Oh, I'll go get it myself, COME AWN WE'RE AWREADY LATE!

Ms. Nipperson, she's Julia's instructor at the Jazzercise clinic. We been goin there for two years. JULIE? JU-LAYY. Now the birds are flippin' out, Jesus Christ JULIA WHERE'SAT BIRD FOOD AT? I'm having heart palpations.

Hold on, okay, cup a cawfee. I got time for one cup, we're late anyways. Ms. Nipples can just wait. Ugh, with that squawking. Why did we get these birds? They hate each other. Oh and now the cat's in the living room perfect. BEBE, OFFA THAT, GET OFF. I'm tellin ya'.

This picture is of Julia when she led the marching band. Look she was so chubby there. Ugh and all sweating in that white suit my gawd. I'm relaxed now, it's like we're awready late so what's the rush? If she's gonna learn, if she's not gonna know when to show up, when she has to be there, then I don't what. What she learned. Unbelievable.

JULIA.

My therapist says I need to stop yelling so much. Says I'm damaging my noyves. Imagine that. When Julia won first place at Mathletes I screamed so hard I got a blood clot in my throat. They had to go in there with a hacksaw to get it out, I'm tellin' ya it was this big. It's really just been me and Julia since Michael left back in two thousand.

THAT'S IT, I'M WARMIN' UP THE CAR. IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN HERE IN 30 SECONDS I'M JAZZUHSIZIN' WITOUT YEHS. YOU CAN JAZZ TAP YOUR WAY DOWN TO THE ORPHANAGE, FORGET ABOUT THE IGUANA THIS CHRISTMAS, I'M SERIOUS. Huh!


Samantha Wishkillsy is a stay-at-home mom and teacher's aid in King of Prussia, PA.

Goodbye Horses

Would you fuck me? I'd fuck me.

Holy Shit I sometimes want to be out of my fucking mind. I think this is the calling card of the true artist. To be slightly to seriously insane. To have some part of you detached from what we acknowledge to be the normal functioning human society. And then you can go and stand on that madness peninsula, and look back at all the normal stuff, and then try to relate to it in ways that produce artistic specimens. I really think I am painfully normal when it all comes down to it, and that most of the perceived insanity comes from heavy self-medication and me realizing I should be crazier. I think all art is tinged with madness. Even the symmetrical banality of lame architecture is born of some crazy inner vision the architect shat out of his brain. This kinda plays into my whole anti-math/chaos theory, because even though you can find the presence of math in virtually every work of art known to man, the real standout qualities in most of that shit comes from a completely different territory in which math pisses its pants and logic vomits profusely. I think I would benefit from being hyper-schizophrenic for a day. At least long enough to write a really good paragraph about it. Nothing too inspiring ever came from Bob in accounting. I like waking up and not knowing what happens next. Does this mean I'm on my way to being an artist? Will I ever feel comfortable calling myself an artist? Is this even a worthy pursuit? Is anything? Would you fuck me? I'd fuck me.

home frendz

right now i live in philadelphia. it's hilarious. but sometimes i go back home to scenic long island. the past few times have been quite fruitful for their hangings-outs and general tomfoolery that takes place when i reconnect with my high school friends who have mostly remained a tightly-bound network of bros and duders for some odd years roundabouts. this thanksgiving was exactly the sort of shit-show i'd hoped it would be, featuring a fully-fleshed-out cast of supporting characters from my highschool the likes of which have not all been in the same bar in a life-age of the earth. but it fuckin' happened at katie mc's and, to a lesser extent, j.t. carrington's, two of my favorite huntington village bars rivaled only by the shamrock and valencia tavern. in the course of my drunken pre-holiday festivities, i must've said hello to like twenty people from my grade, which consisted of only about 70 back in the day (roustabouts). it was ridiculous in so many ways, and the cherry on top was the boys who once fancied themselves part of the "in-crowd", now grown fat and apathetic to the world in a cruel twist of fate (i'm probably also going to get fat at some point but it's nice to point out the failings of others).

gotta give it up for my home frendz though, an amazingly tight and well-oiled machine of a circle of friends, occasionally succumbing to issues of misguided diplomacy and in extreme cases treachery, but overall an excellent assortment of fellows who tell it like it is and know when to party and when to chill the fuck out. chill, cops. chill chill chill. throw it out the window man, throw it out the windowSHIT he's got his light on it FUCK ok everyone chill everyone calm down fuck i'm makin' a run for it.

FREEZE!

JOSH RUNNNNNNNN!!!!!

BLAM

BLAM

BLAM.

Yeah my friends are pretty great.

introspective stoned 1 am post

i am basically the same as i was ten years ago. twenty even. as much as i am here, i am right back there, examing trinkets in gift shops i don't remember. my body is growing, my cells are regenerating, i emit and absorb energy, but essentially i am exactly where i was before any of this started. i think i have always been this sort of consciousness, a presence that was brought to this particular dimension at birth and then honed into a human essence over the years and now i am able to look back upon this cyclical infinitypersonality and see the unbroken chain of it all and pretty much it is this: i am usually running, it's late at night or early in the morning, the sun isn't quite out yet, and i am urgently trying to get somewhere. i have always had this direction and drive and a self-manufactured sense of purpose even though i've tried convincing myself of the meaningless of it all. and i will probably always be this consciousness, running towards something of it's own design in the predawn before the rest of the world is revealed. and this is perhaps the case for everyone, each person a runner in their own right, until finally the sun comes up and the next realm is entered. there's a reason a drop of water looks like a tiny planet right? animal collective is really good.

- baz luhrman

self-indulging drunk 3 am post

bitch i don't want to be famous

jes wanna keep shit feelin painless

and yo i dont mean frozen just lame-less

like a muthafuckin x box arcade set

thats my rap. ill fuckin punch ya lights out. 

really though i don't think i want to be famous. all these formerly innocent celebs like LiLo and Britney be tawkimbout how once they got famous they "let all the wrong people in" to their social network and got taken advantage of in a not funny way. i don't want these random doucheswabs infiltrating my life. i mean, it's not even like i run the risk of becoming famous in any caliber, but assuming i did and people be all like "aww shit son it's da splunka!" then i don't want the soulcrushing leeches banging down my door. also i don't want to be the coke king of san diego or something like that. it's seems like the idea of celebdom to which i might have once aspired is now revealed as a shallow world of ass kissing popularity contests and unwinnable grappling towards the peak of a mountain of "talent". 

fuck famous bro, i just want to be drunk and happy. and baked. like, herb-encrusted kenny rogers roasters, if you know wha'm sayn.

fuck all that hyphy shit. I WAS BORN ON THE STREETS. 

is this what deaner was talking about?

day one of "baby boner" principle photography complete. overall an astounding success. superb acting, accomplished visuals, and admirable use of a strap-on dildo. this is perhaps the most offensive piece i have thus far directed, yet i regret nothing. the truest test of an artist is how far they are willing to take their work, to what limits they can push their aesthetic. with any luck, tomorrow will wrap the shoot and i can start editing this biatch. in the mean time i'm enjoying some chocolate and cheese.

Annountsmentsse

This is the newly-cut trailer for a series i began some 8 years ago at the tender age of 15. it was a variety of shorts that were alternatingly funny/dramatic/trippy/action-packed/retarded, culminating in two feature-length projects, all about a group of teen friends and the weird reality they inhabit. the trailer is basically to announce that i'm putting this shit on youtube now that it's a place where one puts such things. it's already begun, but be sure to check back throughout the winter months as i add the chronicles in their entirety.

youtube.com/fiorious

p.s. this weekend me and the j-man are filming this movie called "baby boner" and it's gonna be even awesomer than when we did this.

chaos theory

i recently had a discussion with a friend that was almost an argument because as soon as our viewpoints met, they clashed like fuckin' titans. for some reason we were talking about the universe and the nature of things, and she admitted to loving mathematics because everything is inherently bound up in math. my immediate response was that i have hated and always will hate math (like this fucking blog) because the way i see it math is only part of the equation. at the time i tried in vain to adequately defend my side, saying how chaos was also everywhere and some things exceeded the rules and regulations of math. where my friend saw hidden structure and rigidity, i saw the possibility for decay and disorder. this extends into other facets of my outlook on life, but you've probably figured that out by now.

newayz, i let the argument drop from my head and it stayed blissfully gone until almost a month later when a flaxen toupee sauntered into my inner visions. i thought of donald trump, and somehow my argument resonated around this douchey man. now, i don't know much about this man, but i feel like most uber-rich people who weren't born into it have taken some sort of  a chance (or several) over the years that proved bountiful to their wealth. mr. trump seems like the kind of man who would gamble with his wealth if it meant accruing far more wealth. and this striking-out-blindly in the name of progress is to me what chaos is all about.

it's undeniable that math is everywhere in our day to day lives. but to believe that mathematics is the be all end all rulebook to our cosmos is to me a bit narrow-minded. when chances are taken, when chaos enters the otherwise orderly fray, that is when true progress occurs. because to step out into the unknown, to try for something with no foreseeable outcome, is to embrace a certain kind of chaos. there are no quantifiable rules that govern an impulse. and even if there were an equation to explain the ebb and flow of thoughts through one's head, no living person would know how to write it. 

i guess my point is that math and order are only the beginning. the universe is so rife with unknown unknowns that we cannot claim to understand even 2% of the shit that's going on out there. i do not deny that there are surface aspects to our reality that math can reliably account for, but i refuse to accept that math dictates as many things as we assume it does. when donald trump decided to buy a shit-ton of casinos in atlantic city, there was more than math at work. sure, the numbers may have hinted at profits to be made, but to actually go forward and buy up these monstrosities required a certain flirtation with chaos. in reality, the failure of some of those casinos nearly robbed trump of his iconic douchey persona, proving that the numbers didn't add up as the maths might've predicted. there are many forces at work when it comes to the things we do with our lives, but none of them can be diluted into a singular explanatory statement, as math would have us think. you could still try to argue with me about the hidden harmonic structure to all things within our shared consciousness, but as someone who's spent a lot of time playing with fireworks, i can tell you this: you never know what the fuck is going to happen.

My Penis Is Glittering

By Guest Columnist Kevin Barnes

Reverse the epithet lining my uterine walls, I've come all over the place. I engage the stormtrooper parallax fighting the queer-eye hippy-man with the Sunlandic tan. 

(series of unintelligible howls)

Dissect me with your science eyes, we're on an almond run to the IHOP dimension I know you've dreamt about it Sugar. Correct my inefficiencies you condone my vodka percocets not drinking it.

It's hard to swim in the frozen lakes (x4)

He pulled out supermanning me with his night juices. I am a pawn a pawn a paowwww this sheet is sticking. Rectify the rectal exam this planet bestows my eyes are a gleaming infinity insert psychedelic reference I'm gay but I let straight chicks check me out CHECK ME OUTOUTOUT.

(oohs and aahs for about 17 minutes)

She sucked her own cock at the pirate booth. Not something you'd take the kids to I'd already bought it on VHS. Delineate the rules of her tigress dress unravelled at my bedside I own a strap-on. We played dress up til the champagne kicked now it's time to paint buddhas on my ass cheeks please. It's hard to swim in the frozen lakes I write when the gnome ain't watching. 

Kevin Barnes is the lead singer of Of Montreal and a frequent contributor to the National Review.

fuck so many things

this is becoming a catch-all motto for me. it really represents an american male postmodern existential crisis based stance in today's society. honestly though, fuck so many things.

the amount to which people are forced to accept bullshit, lameness, heartache, buttache, and all-around retardation in the world today is bewildering. every day we are beaten down by the apparently unavoidable tidal wave of shit that flows through our planet. be it natural disasters, psychotic abusings of power, war for profit, or just the influx of assholes kicking around the globe, there's a lot on everybody's plate at the moment. 

sure, there is undeniable good out there. many things are worth living for and pretty much nothing in daily life is worth killing yourself over. but god damn, fuck sooooooooooooo many things. starting with this blog and this emopost. then moving on to me. and then so many things.

YOU'RE TOUGHER THAN A BRUMAK, KID.

By Guest Columnist Marcus Fenix

Son, you really hauled ass out there. Really gave 'er the ol' heave ho. And I'm not just talking about these ten crates of ammo I just had you hump up the side of this volcano. You got the guts to slop shit and shoot piss better than mosta the swingin' dicks I seen get shot to death out here.

Sure, your godawful aim and reckless use of munitions have left us stranded in this catacomb with some sort of worm creature, but before you threw those three grenades that all fell short of their targets, we had a good thing goin' there.

REAVERS, EVERYBODY DOWN. COLE, MAN THOSE TURRETS. WE GOT INCOMING GRUNTS.

BAIRD'S DOWN, SOMEBODY GET OUT THERE AND REVIVE HIM BEFORE THOSE BLOODMOUNTS GET ANY CLOSER.

Anyway, you really cleaned up today. Really kicked er' up, smacked 'er down, and didn't show up to be sentenced in court for domestic abuse. You're hard, Private, 'bout as hard as they come.

MORTAAAARS.

SANTIAGO, LIGHT UP THOSE BARRIERS, WE NEED TO CLEAR THE L.Z. BEFORE THOSE COBRAS TOUCH DOWN.  

INCOMING GRUNTS, FIRE UP THOSE LANCERS. YEAAAGH.

THEY'VE GOT CHAINSAWS, TOO. RAPIDLY TAP B TO COUNTERATTACK.

Like I was saying, you got it where it counts kid, and that takes some serious cojones. Personally I wouldn't have jumped behind enemy lines to blindly attempt a shotgun assault, only to limp back to safety with only the slightest amount of health remaining, but again that's just a conflict of interest.

NEMACYSTS, EVERYBODY DOWN. PRIVATE, HAND ME ANOTHERhkk AUUGHH...

Marcus Fenix is a columnist for the Post and a frequent contributor to the National Review

childhoodz

this was one of the first pseudo-serious movies i made in my youth. it was the precursor to a larger teen drama arc in my indie movie career. and by career i mean jokey weird short films that go back and forth between trying to be meaningful and totally jk.

i've never done acid, but i reckon this captures some of the essence of riding that psychological wave into seas of orange-flavored electricity.

also, i'm proud to make movies that hint at a plot but ultimately have no real story to tell. it's something most films would never dare to do.

reremixremix mix.

something is being pioneered here. it's not necessarily good, it's just... something.

ghohst storie

it's hincredible how emotion can change what you believe in.

and i'm not just talking about my favorite screamo bands.

on a fairweathered day i believe in most things. karma definitely. god, yes, of some sort. reincarnation in some form or another but probably not the way most people would understand it. fate and destiny and all that. also predators, aliens, aliens vs. predators, and ghosts.

when i am feeling shitty enough i will write all of this off as human constructs in a universe that randomly occurred and will randomly fall apart without so much as a single discernible reason or logic. nihilism is like the big bottle of scotch i break out when i don't want any shit from any assholes. it is a neat little package that wraps up any loose ends left floating around our doomed solar system. when the sun finally shoots its load all over us, it will have all been worth it because there wasn't any worth to begin with. this school of thought, much like scotch, is intoxicating for a while but too much will make you vomit it all up.

i guess when i am in my most typical mindset, that of slightly-confused-but-ultimately-content malaise, i tend to believe there is something else going on in those twenty-six other dimensions floating between your nose and mine. which is why tonight, in my mother's home on long island, i am forced to deal with a ghost(s?) that has haunted this house pretty much since i moved here. perhaps a more disgruntled me would think to myself, fuck your imagination go to sleep. but feeling about average leaves me faced with the very real noises and strange occurrences that seem to happen whenever i'm here. there's a fucking weird stain in the basement that predates our arrival here and has not been removable or identifiable as long as i've known about it. so clearly it is the spot where someone was violently murdered, their death stain lingering through the ages to warn of the evil forever surrounding that spot. now this restless soul is forced to creep softly among these walls and move my laundry hamper to the other side of my room while i try to sleep (this actually happened and there is still no explanation you guys). 

does that fact that i don't believe in these things when i'm depressed make that a special ghostfighting power? or am i making myself more vulnerable to the spirit world by actively ignoring it? am i perhaps a communicator between the worlds of the living and the dead zone, chosen by fate to bring peace to the legions of limboed wraiths caught between the voids? this post has officially ventured out of the charming and into the "i don't know if he's serious and i don't like it".

i'm probably schizophrenic.

MUSIC 2.0

i wonder a lot about the kind of cultural movement that will be associated with this decade. what is the style of the two-thousands? there really isn't anything original or something that hasn't been recycled in some way. this may have been said in the past but i think in this decade it is more apparent than ever. music, fashion, and television are all heightened versions of things they have already been. there seems to be an ongoing appeal to reference every stylistic movement of the past in a mish-mosh that is so contrary to itself that it develops its own appeal. this is carried out to a sickening extent by silk-screens of old things redesigned as new things to be printed on the side of something that's really old to be used as something it's not intended for in an environment it's unwelcome in. i played guitar hero 3 and had my friends hold the bowl in place so i could smoke it while soloing. more artists should aspire to do this. 

i feel that our generation will be recognized by the extent to which it widened the postmodern condition to include everything that ever came before it and somehow make kitschyness out of banal things like rock-salt.

the only bands i listen anymore are ones that don;t make any sense at all.

aoh my gauwd

dear hateblog,

ok sry about all the negativities, everything actually turned out ok.

i believe i already blogged about being an obama supporter. so it is with great honor that i join the rest of our planet in releasing this great queef of relief on a day when america shows some genuine progressive-mindedness. 

STILL, ALL THIS HAPPINESS AND LACK OF FEAR MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE.

What if the fact that everyone is relieved and empowered by the past days events belies a darker reality, evil on a scale comparable to the mass deception cloaking it?!?!

What if all this Hope, Change, Progress business is actually some "They Live" style subliminal messagery aimed at convincing the people they actually desire the impending apocalyptic scenario?!?!?!?!!!!!!!?

What if President-Elect Obama's middle name was actually given to him because he is RELATED to SADDAM HUSSEIN>>?

it's thoughts like these that make me regret smoking pot for so many years.

cuz seriously though, i know deep down my man has got this shit covered. he's a solid guy and he gives a shit about everyone, not just his tactical military weapons development firm. i feel fuckin good about it in a way that only a democratic majority of house and senate can make a man feel.

ELECTION CENTER '08

FUCK JOHN MCCAIN

FUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOUUUUUUU

IF U SUPPORT HIM U CAN OFFICIALLY SIGN OFF MY BLOG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I SEVER ALL CONTACT WITH YOU?

YOU KNOW HOW MCCAIN REFUSES TO TALK TO ANYONE FROM ANY COUNTRY THAT MAKES HIM EVEN SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE? THAT IS WHAT I AM DOING TO YOU, ENTIRE REPUBLICAN PARTY (Uncle Peter, you are still OK by me, that trip to Germany was awesome! and I guess Aunt Lorraine can stay too..)

BUT EVERYONE ELSE FUCK YOU AND THE FOX NEWS YOU RODE IN ON.

this has been the most disgusting campaign ever. every time barack obama farts (he doesn't; he is perfect) they try to link it to radical arab muslim fundamentalist iraqi i.e.d. ayers. gimme a fuckin break. if he actually turns out to be working with terrorists they can behead me first, because at this point i'd rather have iraq osama controlling my country than a lady who thinks science is for faggots. don't get me started on christianity.  

a vote for mccain seems like a willingness to give up on basic logic. every time they push the alternative energy agenda i think of the billions of spent plutonium rounds that will soon be burning holes in every ecosystem on earth, while irradiated seals flop in the surf. and the idea that two people shouldn't be allowed to marry because they both have vaginas sounds liEK SOMETHING U READ IN A ANCIENT SCROLL THAT WAS MADE UP CENTURIES AGO AND DOESNT APPLY TO NETHING NEMORE.

i love you obama because the world loves you. they will never trust us again if we have the melting face of a bitter white man who hates "that one". we are not a sovereign entity hiding our secrets in blacked-out documents. we are a misrepresented stew of people trying to exist within an idea of freedom and justice for all. and we make great fucking music. so in the hopes that we can somehow change the course of this downward spiral the earth is watching us slide down, i am voting for barack hussein obama.

fuckmccain. 

POSSIBLE BLOG TOPICS) to be deleted after they are posted online this is the offline version

1. blog feelings. my feelings in general from day to day. 

2. music song. this is a song(s) i'm listen to right now (itunes)

3. placeholder

4. this could be a story section where i tell an interesting anecdote could be from a friend doesn't necessarily have to be a story i know firsthand.

5. if i'm feeling very sad

DISKLAIMER

so this is my new blog and i fucking hate it. i think blogs are stupid and fueled by narcissism. i'm voting for obama. while i am of the belief that blogs and most of the internet are inherently lame, i am a mild fan of the aesthetic that has bubbled up out of this lameness over the past decade or so. so i want to feed into that.

the marriage of technology and retarded people has somehow created an untraceably vast vernacular of joke words and quick-response abbreviations underscored by a sizable disregard for the language and grammar it's founded upon (hence the discontinuation of capital letters). while i agree that this latest development in social communication is harmful to the youth and their impressionable minds, i find myself continuously amused by the byproducts of this evolving monster. just ponder the implications of roflmayo.

so wait, i'm going to blog about this shit?

no, i guess this is more of a reaction to it, as well as a small contribution in it's own right. and also a place for me to put things that i value like this. and, you know, just bitch about shit nobody cares about, like how much i already hate the fact that i signed up for yet another fucking blog that will disintegrate into negative electrons probably a long time before i do.

so enjoy your time here, have a drink, relax. i'll probably give up on this long before it reaches its prime. 

- the management