tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86248772024-03-13T16:10:52.953-05:00Almost InfamousAlmost Infamous - Views from a Black IntelligentlemanDark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-46555145357783382072007-02-11T12:44:00.000-06:002007-02-07T12:40:17.768-06:00AdieuOK, folks. This is officially the FINAL post on this blog. I've completely moved into the new crib over on http://darkdamian.wordpress.com, and won't be updating this guy anymore. Please update your links.
In about 3 weeks, I'll be deleting this blog completely. Update them links, or be left wondering where I went. I'm serious. You think I'm gonna leave this nasty, gangrene, staph-infected blog up and running, while my new hotness is keeping me warm?
Think again.
So - follow me to the promised land.
And bring me something to eat when you get there.
ni-GAH!
Peace.Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-32941227107602796192007-02-07T09:07:00.000-06:002007-02-07T09:19:28.347-06:00Drumroll, PleaseDamn, folks!
A brotha takes a break, and you'd think the Colts won the Super Bowl or something. Settle!<p>
I'm still here.<p>
I've missed you all, but since none of you pay me to do this, it had to take a back seat (heh - I said "back seat") to my other responsibilities for a li'l bit. And though I'm still pretty busy and don't have time to give you a REAL post, I do have this little tidbit for you:<p>
My new blog is up.<p>
(cue cheering and throwing of bacon in my general direction)<p>
I'm still working on it, so I'm still not quite ready to take her out of dry dock just yet, but feel free to stop on by and have a look around.
<a href="http://darkdamian.wordpress.com/">
http://darkdamian.wordpress.com</a><p>
Wordpress' import feature finally allowed me to pull in my Blogger posts, which made my job somewhat easier. I still have to go into each post and apply the proper category to it, and I think I have to enable comments on all of them, so if you find that you can't comment yet, sit tight - I'm slowly plowing through my posts, from oldest to newest. Hey, HDW - I bet you know a thing or two about plowing, what with all the snow in Denver. Just remember: if you guys have to resort to cannibalism, black people taste like chicken and bad credit.<p>
So. Check me out, and keep checking out Squirrel, Please. I'm having a ball coming up with ideas for that strip. And y'all, I'm TRYING to accommodate the numerous requests for inclusion, which mostly sound like "I wanna be in the strip!" or "I swear to God, I will beat you if you don't make me a character", but I'm limited by the options I'm given on the site where I make 'em, and since I'm no graphic artist, it's tough for me to just invent and draw shit. I'm good with <span style="font-style: italic;">words</span>, not <span style="font-style: italic;">pictures</span>. So if you don't see a character for you, don't feel bad.<p>
You can, however, bribe me.<p>
OK - back to the grindstone, folks. Those paychecks don't sign themselves. Take care, and update your links accordingly. You will see me very soon.<p>
Hide your wallets.<p>
Peace.Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-7111894577691149142007-01-26T13:36:00.000-06:002007-01-26T13:46:07.609-06:00New Comic and Bye Bye Blogger<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This will most likely be one of my last posts on Blogger, because when I logged in today, it FORCED me to convert my blog to the new version, something I didn't want to do. So you know what? I'm out. I'm moving Almost Infamous over to WordPress, where I already have my newest creation, </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://squirrelplease.wordpress.com/">Squirrel, Please</a><span style="font-family: arial;">. I'll probably be out of commission for a while, because there's no easy way to move a new Blogger account over - it'll have to be done manually. And it'll likely mean I'll lose all my comments, which sucks mucho assholio, but what can I do? I was fine being on old Blogger, but when they forced me to change, that was that. It's gonna require a completely retooled template and sidebar, and it just THRILLS ME to have to do all that over again.
Can you feel the level of my pisstivity? Mad thanks to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Harris">Robin Harris</a> for coming up with that word. I'm at DEFCON 4 right now over this shit.
So stay tuned. I'll post my new blog address here once its up and running.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">For those of you who liked the comic strips, </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://squirrelplease.wordpress.com">Squirrel, Please</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> is where you can find the latest ones. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Y'all take care, and I'll holla atcha on the flip-flop.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1169680441494020842007-01-24T17:08:00.000-06:002007-01-24T17:24:19.746-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/24/2007<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Straight to it today, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >mi gente</span><span style="font-family:arial;">. I got no time to waste, and a new blog to work on. Enjoy!</span>
--------------
<span style="font-family:arial;">PHOENIX – A 29-year-old convicted sex offender from Oklahoma apparently conned two Arizona men into believing he was a 12-year-old boy, then moved into their home and had an ongoing sexual relationship, sheriff's officials in Yavapai County said Friday. The ruse was discovered Wednesday after one of the men tried to enroll the fake 12-year-old in a charter school in Chino Valley, about 90 miles northwest of Phoenix, using the name Casey Price. School officials became suspicious and called deputies, telling them the guardianship papers and birth certificate presented by a man who said he was the 12-year-old's grandfather appeared fake and that "Price" looked much older than 12, said Susan Quayle, a spokeswoman for the Yavapai County Sheriff's Office. "They were very upset when the detectives told them they had been having a sexual relationship with a 29-year-old man and not a preteen boy," Ms. Quayle said, referring to the two men. Sheriff's detectives investigating the case learned that the "grandfather" was Lonnie Stiffler, 61, who lived in Chino Valley with Robert James Snow, 43, a sex offender who failed to register with authorities, and the man claiming to be 12. Deputies served a search warrant at the home Thursday and found Mr. Stiffler, Mr. Snow, Brian J. Nellis, 34, and the phony preteen boy, who turned out to be Neil Havens Rodreick II, 29. Oklahoma Department of Corrections online records show that Mr. Rodreick was convicted in 1996 of a lewd and indecent proposal to a minor and served time in prison from 1996 to 2002. The </span><span style="font-family:arial;">records show that Mr. Nellis was convicted in 1997 of lewd molestation and was imprisoned from</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1997 to 2000. According to detectives, Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow said they met Mr. Rodreick through an Internet chat about two years ago, Ms. Quayle said, and they began trading sexually explicit photos. He convinced them he was "Casey Price" and was only 12, the men said. Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow went to Oklahoma and met Mr. Rodreick at a hotel, then brought him back to live with them in Arizona and began a sexual relationship, Ms. Quayle said. Mr. Rodreick apparently shaved his body hair and used makeup to keep up his guise, Ms. Quayle said. He also dressed as a juvenile and tried to act and talk like a preteen. "He looks young; I would not have guessed that he's almost 30," Ms. Quayle said, but added that he certainly looked much older than 12. When detectives unraveled the case and told Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow that "Price" was named Rodreick and was, in fact, 29, Ms. Quayle said, they expressed dismay and anger that they had been "conned." Mr. Nellis was apparently Mr. Rodreick's cellmate in an Oklahoma prison, Ms. Quayle said. Detectives have evidence that Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow enrolled Mr. Rodreick in other Arizona schools, possibly in Payson, El Mirage and Prescott Valley. "I think what we're looking at is that he's being used to troll for other kids," Ms. Quayle said. All but Mr. Stiffler are being held in lieu of $50,000 bond each on a charge of failing to register as a sex offender. Mr. Stiffler was booked on two counts of forgery and one count of hindering prosecution and ordered held in lieu of a $100,000 cash bond. "We can't charge them with child molesting because he [Mr. Rodreick] was not a child," Ms. Quayle said. "This is the weirdest case I've seen in 18 years," Ms. Quayle said. "Even the detectives said it was the weirdest. If it wasn't so sad, it would be funny."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >(breathe)</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Mr. Stiffler. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OK, OK. I'm OK now. WHEW! This story technically isn't funny at all - these two scumbags had every intent to keep a 12 year old captive as their sexual slave, and wanted to use him to lure other kids to them. But my GOD - how do you mistake a 29 year old man for a 12 year old boy? Granted, they said he looked young or whatever, and shaves his body hair, but still. Wouldn't the extra beard hairs in the Norelco be a clue? Or the Maybelline makeup on the sink? (Maybe he's born with it. MAYBE IT's MAYBENOT!) It's sick shit, and they need to be put UNDER the jail. But the law's right...technically (there's that word again), they aren't pedophiles. The guy was a grown-ass man. But here's the rub, folks: if I buy a bag of oregano from a cop, thinking it was pot, I'd still get arrested because I INTENDED to buy pot, regardless of the fact that I actually got a delicious spice instead. Then again, if a COP poses as a 12 year old and a sick-ass child molesting motherfucker comes along and tries to scoop 'em up, they get arrested, so maybe it's only when the police initiates it. Either way, they need to be released into general population as soon as they get to jail, with big signs around their necks that say "He was 29, but I thought he was 12". Now, the other side of this equation is this even SICKER 29 year old man who pretended to be fucking TWELVE, down to shaving, wearing some age-defying makeup (probably Oil of Olay, since they make good shit), and dressing the part. This man needs some serious help. If you're gay, that's fine. Each person lives his/her life in the manner they see fit. But couldn't he get a date? Couldn't he find that special someone who knew he was a grown-ass man, but let him play Dress Up every so often? What type of psychological damage must a person have to WANT to act like not just a 12 year old, but a 12 year old who enjoys sex with OLD MEN? Sick bastards, all of 'em. I hope they all get the gout.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">-----------------</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">TALLAHASSEE, Fla.-- A hunter's wife got a huge surprise in Tallahassee, Fla., when the duck killed" by her husband two days earlier raised its head and looked at her. The duck had been in the woman's refrigerator for two days, Noni Beck of the Goose Creek Wildlife Sanctuary told the Tallahassee (Fla.) Democrat. "It's just kind of freaky," Beck said. Laina Whipple of the receptionist at the Killearn Animal Hospital said the hunter's daughter brought the 1-pound, dark-brown female duck in Tuesday. The man's wife "was going to check on the refrigerator because it hadn't been working right," Whipple said, "and when she opened the door, it looked up at her. "She freaked out and told the daughter to take it to the hospital right then and there." The duck -- shot in the wing and leg -- has a 75 percent chance of surviving, a doctor at the sanctuary said.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >See this? This right here is why I don't hunt. And I'll tell you this much - if some wild animal I thought was dead looked up at ME, I'm a vegetarian, right there. On. The. Spot. I bet she left out the best part of the story, when she took the duck to the animal hospital: the conversation. Oh yes. I'm doing it.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "Damn fridge never works. I swear to Go-"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "*ahem*"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "..."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "I said *AHEM*! Do you not SEE me up in here, heffa?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "I... I... I..."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "Well, I didn't know you had THREE of 'em, but you humans never cease to amaze me, you dumb bastards. Where's that punk who popped a cap in me?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "Oh Jesus. Oh sweet baby Jesus. He's at work."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "Well, we wouldn't wanna disturb him while he's emptying those trash cans, now would we?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "You...you're supposed to be dead."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "And you're supposed to be pretty, so I guess we both lose."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "How are you ALIVE?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "Same as you - luck. You were supposed to be a stain on a sheet at a Days Inn in Savannah."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "You are awful! Get out of my fridge!"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Duck: "Tell you what - take me to the hospital, and I won't tell Bubba about the 'special' brownies down in the corner there."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Lady: "...Deal."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">-------------------</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">HILTON ISLAND, S.C. A man was charged with public disorderly conduct in Hilton Island, S.C. after being observed "in a physical confrontation with shrubs" by a deputy. The Beaufort County Detention Center's online log said the 23-year-old man, whose name was not released, smelled of alcohol and was taken to the detention center to await prosecution, the Hilton Head Island Packet reported. The deputy that took the man in said he was responding to a complaint the man had attempted to get into someone else's car. When the deputy arrived on the scene the man allegedly had moved on to beating the vegetation. The police report said the man ran across the street to get in one last kick on a bush before talking to police.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Guess he wasn't beating around the bush. Or maybe he was! I'm sorry, I HAD to make that joke. Union rules. What the hell did that bush do to him? Did he think it was George W. Bush? I think I might condone his actions if that's the case. His thought process must be a lot like mine: "Damn, my keys don't work. Fuckin' keys. Wait, I like keys. I really like Alicia Keys. She's hot. Hot like FIIIIIIIIIIIRE! BOW BOW BOW! I love that song. 'Osmosis Jones', bitch! HAHAHAHA! Hmm, who sang backup on that Prince song, "My Computer?" Ohhhhh yeah, Kate Bush. Yeah. Bush. I really hate Bush. There he is now, the fucker. DON'T YOU RUN FROM ME, PRESIDENT </span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >FOLIAGE!!!!" And when you go to the lockup after attacking shrubbery, you can't tell that to the dudes in there for assault and battery, oh no. You have to say this: "Yeah, I fucked bush UP tonight, man." When he sobered up, and the cops told him why he was in there, do you think they even bothered to stifle their laughter? You'd think the police in Hilton Head would have better things to do, like make all the black people leave the island. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1169486273219675792007-01-22T11:11:00.000-06:002007-01-22T11:21:00.743-06:00Squirrel, Please<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I need your honest opinion.
I'm digging making these comic strips. It's fun and easy, and I love the challenge of trying to be funny in three panels (as opposed to the War and Peace type dialog I usually use for comedic purposes). If you like them too, let me know, and I'll either make them a regular feature, or break them off into their own blog. Be honest. If it's not funny, tell me - I can take it. I just wanna know if it's something I should continue sharing with the class ('cause I'll keep making them, if only for my own amusement).</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">The strip is called Squirrel, Please. It stars Malcolm the ghetto squirrel and his gang of misfits.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/792596/sqplz_fred-012207.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/400/907894/sqplz_fred-012207.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/701494/sqplz-012207.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/400/104441/sqplz-012207.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-size:130%;">
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >I wanna know </span>
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" > What you're thinking. </span>
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" > There are some things you can't hide. </span>
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" > I wanna know </span>
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" > What you're feeling.</span>
<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" > Tell me what's on you mind. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">(God bless you, Information Society.)</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1169238894860492212007-01-19T14:29:00.000-06:002007-01-19T15:57:42.793-06:00Focus, Group<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't posted in while. But gimme a break, it was a holiday, right? Martin Luther King Week. I was chillin' like a villain, I know that's right.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">What? What's that you say? It's actually Martin Luther King DAY? Not week?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oops. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Well, at least I'm well rested.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">In all seriousness, my black ass has been BUSY this week. I even started a diatribe on Wednesday, only to get too busy to finish it. Then yesterday, when I had 4 minutes to get a flow going (it's all about the flow. If I don't feel it, I don't write), my PC crashed - BEFORE I could save a draft of my extremely funny shit. Suffice it to say that I didn't feel very funny after that, and though I tried to recreate my comedy, it was just gone. So I said "Fuck this 'tribe" and went on about my bidness. But I realize that some of you have been coming back every day, looking for a little somethin' somethin' to get you through the day. And though I'm not gonna diatribe (that ship has sailed for this week. Sorry), it'll be something for you to gnaw on while I prep for next week. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">So get to gnawin'.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Now. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Ever been in a focus group? I hadn't, until Wednesday night. Before then, focus groups were, to me, insane little gatherings of people who decided the path of some very important products and services. My opinion was that the people who went there were either dolts, or only had cats for company, or really loved stale coffee. Boy, was I ever wrong. I was wronger (new word) than that time when I thought 14 year old hands were strong enough to stop a moving motor vehicle that was hurtling toward me, doing 360s all the way. I was VERY wrong then, lemme tell you. But this time, it was worse because I misjudged the people who went there. They didn't go out of boredom or for the taste of day-old Folger's crystals. They went for the cash. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh yes, this was a PAID focus group. My opinion was officially for sale, and the asking price for 2 hours of my precious time was $100. I called the folks, answered the bullshit questions, and I was informed that I got the last available slot for the focus group that would be discussing...video games.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Are you KIDDING me? Video games? That'd be like Micheal Jordan attending a basketball focus group, or Andy Dick attending one about dickheads or bad actors or unfunny men or attention whores or men who smoke pole to succeed in Hollywood. Not that there's anything wrong with pole-smoking. So when I found out I was in there like swimwear, I was thrilled.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Wednesday night, I get down there, and they gather all of us around a table in a big room. The people were:</span>
</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Moderator (MOD)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">: The guy running things. </span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Lhasa Apso Mom (LAM)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Nice lady, looked just like the breed of dog. Not kidding. </span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Obnoxious New York Mom (ONYM)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: She lives in The Colony! She has TWO media rooms! Her daughter is #2 in the country in figure skating in her age group! Blah blah fucking blah.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Family Guy (FG)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Called so because he looked just like Peter Griffin. He didn't say much.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Slow-Talker (ST)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: I hated him. He didn't say much, either. It took him 10 minutes to give us his damn name.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Sista Girl Mom (SGM)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: She was the other black person there, and very nice.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Loud Man (LM)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Married, one kid, kept trying to sell us all cell phones. </span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Country Boy (CB)</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Very nice guy. Nothing bad to say about him.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">And of course, me.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">As we progressed through the questions, several things came to light. First of all, the focus group WASN'T about video games, per se. It was about a large chain of video and rental stores, the name of which I promised not to give, but I'll give you a hint: it may or may not rhyme with "cockduster". The second thing was that some of these people were clearly insane. Check it:</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Mod</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: So, ST, tell me about the gaming habits in your household.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ST</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Weeeeeellllllllll....I tell you whaaaaaaaaaaaat....I reckon my son... he's 17, you know...growin' right up, he is...I can remember when he was fiiiiiiiiiiiive, and he fell dooooooooown in the yaaaaaaaaaaaard one timmmmmme....funniest dang thing you'll ever seeeeeee-</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Mod</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Uh, thank you, ST. What about you, ONYM?</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ONYM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Well, I buy my kids a game at least once or twice a week.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Group</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: HUH? A WEEK?</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ONYM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Yep. 1 or 2 a week. I LOVE having a big library of games and movies. Every Tuesday I go to Wal-Mart and buy the new releases, even if I don't like 'em or don't know what they are. I just HAVE to have them. And it's no big deal, 'cause the kids have their OWN media room - and it's HUGE - and they keep their stuff there, and in OUR media room - </span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Mod</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: THANK you, ONYM. </span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >LM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: I BUY GAMES WHENEVER I WANT BECAUSE MY DAUGHTER IS ONLY 5 MONTHS OLD AND SHE CAN'T PLAY GAMES BUT I DO AND I LIKE GEARS OF WAR BECAUSE I CAN SHOOT STUFF DOES ANYONE NEED A NEXTEL PHONE?</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >FG</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: *sigh*</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ST</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Yoooooooooou buy gaaaaaaaaaaaaaames every weeeeeeeeeeeek? Wellllllll, I tell you whaaaaaaat -</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Mod</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: THANK you, ST and LM.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >LAM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: My kids get games on birthdays and Christmas. Period.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Me</span><span style="font-family:arial;">, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >CB</span><span style="font-family:arial;">, and </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >SGM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Same here.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ONYM</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: But why would you DENY them their games like that? Just get 'em when they come out! They're only $50 or $60, it's not that big a deal. We have a Playstation 2, an XBox 360, a </span><span style="font-family:arial;">regular Xbox, a Wii, and a Nintendo DS for each kid. By the way, I have a masters in chemical </span><span style="font-family:arial;">engineering, and I'm a stay at home mom.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >FG</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: *sigh*</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >ST</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: Weeeelllllll-</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Mod</span><span style="font-family:arial;">: THANK YOU, EVERYONE.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">And so it went. At the end of the group, we each got $100 cash. We all rode the elevator together, and I was scheming on how I could do this again, when SGM asked "Is it true that we have to wait 6 months before doing thing again?" And everyone threw their head back and laughed like they do on TV. LAM said "Hell no! I'll be back in here next week, doing another one. Just tell 'em you haven't done one in 6 months. They don't keep track." SGM beamed, and I did too. Slow Talker started to say something, but the elevator doors opened before he could get 2 syllables out.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Y'all, that's easy money right there. Do that shit.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cartoon Edit</span>: I'm laughing my ass off here. <a href="http://www.stripcreator.com/comics/actorbean/">Look what I made</a>.
Get better soon, Pirate.
</span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1168892895102602062007-01-15T14:24:00.000-06:002007-01-15T14:28:15.203-06:00Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day<p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">MLK's "I Have A Dream" speech. If you haven't read it...you should. Celebrate today, and what it stands for. Look around you and realize that, though we still have miles to go, we've come a long way. Remember the dream.
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</span></p><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream today.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream today.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1168726362703502882007-01-13T15:05:00.000-06:002007-01-14T14:56:52.080-06:00The White Rapper Show<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Oh.
My.
God.
I had heard rumors about this show, whispered quietly in corridors, far from the reach of caring ears. Eyes looked left and right before uttering the words, fearing reprisals from anyone within listening range who has any sense of decency and good quality television programming.
<span style="font-size:85%;">"Yo man, you heard about that show?"</span>
Yes. I had indeed heard about it, but I thought it was just rumors and innuendo. But last night, around 1am, I was randomly flipping channels while avoiding the concept of going to bed, when I ran across it, and I couldn't believe my eyes. It exists.
<a href="http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/white_rapper/series.jhtml">The (White) Rapper Show</a>.
Now, the simple fact that this cancellation waiting to happen was even on the air was enough for me to tune in, but as I watched, I noticed something peculiar.
No, not that they're all white. I got that from the title. Give me SOME credit.
As the the wannabe rappers were all lined up, getting talked to by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MC_Serch">MC Serch</a> from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3rd_Bass">3rd Bass</a> (and to be real about it, I LOVED 3rd Bass back in the day. "Gas Face" was the damn BOMB. Word to the 3rd), I noticed that one of the rappers was wearing a shirt that looked aswfully damned familiar. In my travels with my band, I've encountered many other bands around the Metroplex (AKA the greater Dallas/Fort Worth area. Memorize that). The shirt the rapper was wearing was one for the band Pimpadelic, whom we've played with numerous times. Pimpadelic is notorious for their live shows, which back in the day included naked women performing lewd and lascivious and delicious sexual acts on each other on stage, blatant visible drug use, and other wild-ass activities. They are quite well-known around here, so when I saw the shirt, I recognized it immediately. It struck me as odd, though...Pimpadelic is a southern rock/Kid Rock style band, that uses some chicken-fried rap with its David Allen Coe worship. I respect them, 'cause they've been around a while and have made a name for themselves, but they are NOT the type of band one would associate with hardcore rap. As I looked closer, I immediately knew why that guy was wearing the shirt. And I laughed like a fucking banshee.
He used to BE in Pimpadelic! <a href="http://www.myspace.com/halfmanhalfliquor">I KNOW THAT GUY</a>!
</span><a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.vh1.com/sitewide/showimages/white_rapper/characters/100proof.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.vh1.com/sitewide/showimages/white_rapper/characters/100proof.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >
His stage name is 100 Proof. Rumor has it that one night over in Ft. Worth, Pimpadelic was playing a show at one of the better venues there, when the lead singer, for some unknown reason (*coughnosecandycough*) took it upon himself to fire Proof and another band member -- <span style="font-style: italic;">right in the middle of the show.</span> While they were still on stage. For reasons unknown to this day, other than they somehow pissed the lead singer off. He's about as stable as a bowl of jell-o being carried by a Parkinson's sufferer during an earthquake.
I don't know Proof intimately, but I've witnessed some of his...activities. And he doesn't seem to embody the essence of real underground rap, not to me at least. I leave room for correction, though...perhaps this show will prove me completely wrong. But I laughed last night when Serch told him his rhymes weren't complex enough. He managed to stay on one more week, since the guy who got kicked off decided not to write any rhymes at all during the elimination phase, basically guaranteeing his departure. Serch screamed at him and cursed him for taking up a slot that some other person would've killed for, and then screamed at the people who DID right rhymes to bring it ever week, or else. This show is a train wreck, full of people vying to become the next Eminem. spitting rhymes I could write half-asleep and after a dose of Vicodin. Say, that can be my rap name. Vicodin. Big Vike rockin' the big mic, turn off the light 'cause you know my shit is tight.
Nah.
I'll stick to rock.
Peace.
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1168455833242763692007-01-10T11:45:00.000-06:002007-01-10T13:03:56.030-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/10/2007<span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >YOOOOOO!
It's that time again, y'all. Time to point out human fallibility, to showcase the error of free will, to demonstrate that mankind is just a half-step up from apes, and a whole lotta folks trip over that step on the way up.
Did you see where Bush wants to send more troops to Iraq? Let's hope that they get flak jackets, holsters, and other vital life-saving equipment that a lot of current soldiers lack. Families are having to scrape money together just to buy their sons and daughters bullet-proof vests. That shit ain't right. One of these days I'm going to rant about that. But not today. Today we celebrate people who DON'T serve our country. We celebrate that unique class of underachieving people whom I call:
The Idiotocracy.
Jot that down.
Let's 'tribe.
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MORGAN, Pa. - A high school English teacher and semifinalist for the 2007 Pennsylvania Teacher of the Year Award resigned after police said an underage drinking party was held in her basement. Christine Kosik resigned from South Fayette High School on Friday, according to district Superintendent Linda Hippert. Kosik and her husband, John, were charged with corruption of minors for the Dec. 30 party, which was attended by 40 to 50 teens, South Fayette Township Police Chief Louis Volle said. Police believe someone else brought alcohol to the house, but said the Kosiks were responsible for the party because they were home at the time. Police were called when the party became unruly. About 30 teens, including the Kosiks' 17-year-old son, were cited for underage drinking that night, police said. Kosik referred comments to her attorney, Romel L. Nicholas, who said she was not forced to resign. Kosik was not aware of drinking at the party, and she did not encourage, sanction or allow it in any way, Nicholas said. "There is a component in this case of minors sneaking in or bringing in alcohol without her knowledge," Nicholas told The Associated Press on Tuesday.
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">I'm sending this out to all the teachers out there. My mom was a teacher, as was my maternal grandmother and both paternal grandparents. I've been around teachers my entire life. Teachers, there's a simple rule of thumb to follow which will stop all y'all from getting into the jams you're finding yourselves in so much. Ready? Here it is: stop hanging out with your students. It's simple. Don't. Hang. Out. With. Your. Kids. You wanna be their friends? Fine. Do it in class, or wait until they're not your students anymore. Do not erase that student/teacher barrier. I won't deny that befriending them makes you more effective in your job, but it's hard to DO your job when you're at home watching "The Price Is Right" instead of monitoring lunch, just because you thought you'd try to be "cool" and show the kids how "hip" and "with it" you are. Go to school, cram some education in their thick skulls, and go hang out with adults. Back when I was in grade school, you NEVER heard about teachers banging students, or teachers giving 'em liquor or pot, or hosting wild parties at their house. Hell, we didn't even know our teachers' first names! Teachers either had the first name of Mister or Missus, or maybe Miss. We didn't know where they lived. We didn't know what kind of music they liked. We didn't know if they watched "The Dukes Of Hazzard" last Friday night. They maintained that professional distance that's required in order for them to remain objective and provide the best education to ALL the kids. Let's get real. Are the teachers befriending ALL the kids? Probably not. I'm sure there's a Harold or a Melinda in the class who isn't very social, and that kid is getting JUST as left out as always, only this time it's sanctioned by the reigning authority figure. I have a friend who is a teacher, and she works HARD to make sure that, no matter how fond she is of a kid or group of kids, she doesn't cross that line until after they graduate. And even then, she proceeds with caution, knowing that they still might have friends in her school. Does she really need her kids knowing that she likes to drink beer and party? Hells to the no. It's none of their business, and only undermines the precariously thin authority she has over them. Teachers, go to school, teach, and go home. Let the kids be stupid on their own. I once had my MOTHER as a teacher. Try getting HER to give you some Crown and Coke.</span>
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JANUARY 9--Eager to try out a new prescription for the erectile dysfunction drug Cialis, a couple in their fifties is facing indecent exposure charges after they were caught having sex on a balcony at a family resort in South Carolina. William McGinn, 57, and Patricia Scott, 53, were arrested Saturday afternoon when other vacationers at the Breakers Resort spotted them engaging in a variety of sex acts on their third-floor balcony, according to a Myrtle Beach Police Department report. One witness told cops that McGinn and Scott ignored requests that they take it inside, away from the view of guests, including children. When police confronted the couple, they claimed that onlookers were just "jealous," adding that if other guests "did not want to see them, then they didn't have to look." McGinn told officers that he had just received his Cialis prescription and, "he and Scott were in love." As she was being placed in a patrol car, Scott complained to one cop that she and McGinn were "just f**king" and "didn't see the problem." McGinn and Scott were booked into the Myrtle Beach Police Department jail.
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Ah, my home town. There just so much wrongness here. Let's begin.</span>
</span><ul style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"><li><span style="font-size:130%;">They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel. I know The Breakers. I've been there many times. It's RIGHT on the beach. If you throw a rock hard enough, you'll hit a jellyfish. Balconies have concrete floors. C'mon, surely there was a better spot than that.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel in the middle of the afternoon. Are these people insane? Honestly! I realize that this is the off season in Myrtle Beach, but there's still a ton of folks down there, just walking around in the sun and vacationing without the crowds. For the love of common decency, take that shit inside! And to claim that people were "jealous" and "didn't have to look" is about the dumbest thing I'll hear all week, and I plan to listen to President Douche tonight, so you KNOW that's saying something! People ASKED them to go inside so that CHILDREN wouldn't have to witness this bestial rutting, but noooooooooo. He had Cialis, and they're in love, therefore everyone should watch this display of humpback whale mating. And on the third floor, that shit is unavoidable. I'd say "get a room", but they already had one that they weren't using, the inconsiderate fucks.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel in the middle of the afternoon and they're in their FIFTIES! This is some shit you'd expect to see with a couple of 20 year old, not people half past a C-note. How awful! I'm gagging at the thought of it. And this wasn't Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie at age 50, either. These were some nasty-ass, white trash, broke down, 1988 Chrysler LeBaron owning, "Press Your Luck" watching, finger sniffing, WIC check cashing, grain alcohol drinking, flip-flop in the winter wearing, Member's Only jacket sporting, flea ridden skank bastards who should've considered fucking in the shower, 'cause at least their sewer asses would've been CLEAN then. Look at this nonsense:</span></li></ul><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" ><a style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/art3/0109071inside1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/art3/0109071inside1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">No. Just...no. They should be embarrassed to even be seen CLOTHED, much less naked. I wouldn't have sex with her if there were winning lotto numbers in her vagina. Ack.</span>
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ST. PETERSBURG, Fla., A Florida woman who was struck by a falling bullet on New Year's Eve has her bra to thank for stopping it. WTSP-TV, Tampa Bay, reported that Debbie Bingham was enjoying the New Year's fireworks when she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder "I grabbed my shoulder and noticed I was bleeding," she said. "And then I pulled my blouse back and saw the big hole and realized that it was a gunshot." But Bingham's bra had stopped the bullet from reaching her skin. "The bullet was halfway inside of my bra, and the other half right on the tip of my skin," she told reporters. "It was a very cheap bra. It wasn't very expensive and I'd love to have a couple more of those bras." Police still don't know who fired the gun, WSTP reported.
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Another case of breasts saving lives. I've said it before and I'll say it again: ladies, don't lament your large mammaries. Love them. Cherish them. Sure, they get in the way when you're golfing or playing tennis, and some of you may get black eyes when you jog, and it can be hard to get comfy in the bed at night, but aren't those small prices to pay when they can literally stop bullets and shrapnel? LOVE YOUR BREASTS! Don't listen to those idiots who say "more than a mouthful is a waste". They just don't know what to do with the rest. Embrace them. Hug them. Squeeze them. Press them together. Touch them. Lick—OK, I think I just exited "Adore" and entered "Creepy". My bad. At any rate, don't buy into the societal standard that there's such a thing as too much boobage. Well, maybe there IS such a thing as too much.</span>
<a style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pingmag.jp/images/article/pechakucha200614.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.pingmag.jp/images/article/pechakucha200614.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">This...is too much. But I bet THESE puppies would stop antiaircraft fire. </span>
Peace.
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1168298226685000482007-01-08T17:04:00.000-06:002007-01-08T17:17:06.743-06:00Devil Dog<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I have 3 dogs. And just like people, all three are completely different. Rocky is the oldest. He's a Germand Shephard/wolf mix, black and tan, about 80 pounds, and a wonderful dog. Max is </span><span style="font-family: arial;">the middle mutt, a shar-pei/chow mix, all brown, about 40 pounds, and dumber than Pauly Shore asking Anna Nicole Smith directions to Harvard. And then there's Nicky. Nicky is the youngest. She's a mutt of unknown breed or lineage, though we suspect she's got some pit bull in her somewhere. She's about 25 pounds of short white fur, and by far, she's the most ill-mannered, undisciplined, Houdini escape artist dog we have. She was acquired by DWW back in 2004 after she wandered into our yard, dirty and stinking, and basically made herself at home. At the time we already had 3 dogs, and I really wasn't wanting to add to the brood, but DWW (bless her heart) is an animal person, through and through. At one time, we had 9 cats and 4 dogs, in addition to several beta fish. Granted, the cats were indoor/outdoor, but still. The house was like a scene from "Dr. Dolittle", with all the animal traffic. Now, I'm not a cat person at all, but I tolerated them all. One by one, they all passed away (and no, I had nothing to do with it, 'cause even though I'm not keen on them, I wouldn't hurt them either), including one of the dogs, leaving us with our current kennel count. I was overruled on my opinion of the dog, and she came to join our family. And the trouble with her started immediately.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Apparently she had been abused earlier in her life, because whenever I would try to pet her or touch her to attach a leash, she'd either run, crouch in fear and whimper, or try to bite me. But only ME, leading me to believe that her abuser was a man, or that the little white bitch was racist. She even managed to bite me a couple of times, and it's a testament to my self-control that she's still alive today after that. She immediately began a struggle for domination with the other female dog we had, causing us to keep them separate at all times. At night she would jump over the barricade we used to keep the dogs in the kitchen (at that house, we had a 4 foot fence that enclosed about a 1/2 acre, giving the dogs plenty of room to run around and exercise. Apparently that wasn't quite enough room for Nicky. Soon after letting her out into the great expanse of the backyard, the dog showed one of her most endearing traits: the ability to leap over fences like a gazelle. For a while we couldn't figure out how she was escaping...we never saw her do it, and there were no holes dug under the chain link fence. We'd put her out, and 4 minutes later we'd see her running across the front yard like there was a steak on a string dangling in front of her. To me, this was bliss. Maybe she'd just keep on running one day, I hoped. Alas, she always found her way home. I tried trying her up to a chain, something I hated, but she actually chewed THROUGH a coated wire chain, and when I moved to a link chain, she figured out how to get out of her collar. We bought a kennel for her to sleep in at night (which she learned to escape from), so we resorted to using it during the day when we went to work. More than once we came home to find the trash completely scattered througout the house, and the litterbox strangely devoid of catshit. This dog was not allowed to lick us in the face.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">When we moved, the dog moved with us (despite my suggestion to just drive halfway to the new </span><span style="font-family: arial;">place, let the dog out to "pee", then drive the fuck off). But I was ready for her. The new </span><span style="font-family: arial;">(old) house has a 6 foot privacy fence. No way will Nickademous jump THAT bad boy. When I </span><span style="font-family: arial;">threw her into the back yard for the first time, I waited by the sliding glass door, crouched </span><span style="font-family: arial;">over like a 3rd base coach, giggling to myself. I wanted to see her hit that fence broadside, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">land on her back, look at it like it betrayed her, and then go lay down in the grass with the </span><span style="font-family: arial;">other two dogs. I waited for this moment like a kid waits for Christmas.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">That moment never came.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">She didn't even go NEAR the fence at first. I was silently urging her to just SNIFF it, but nope. She was happy. After a while, I gave up. I mean, I had WON, sure, but she denied me that sweetest part of victory - the humiliation of the defeated. I left her there, and went about my business. When I checked on her a little while later...she was gone. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">GONE.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I ran into the back yard, expecting to find her hiding behind the riding lawn mower (not working) or just being out of my range of vision. No, this bitch was simply not there. It was as though she threw down some ninja smoke and vanished into thin air. I went outside the fence to look for her, and before long she came back. I checked the fence for any gaps or holes, and finding none, I let her back into the backyard. Maybe I had left the gate open, I thought. No way she jumped. That's a 6 foot fence. This scene repeated itself over and over for the next couple of weeks, until one day, I decided to just sit and watch her. Eventually, when she thought no one was looking (I'm serious. She was all looking over her shoulder like a drug dealer near a police station), she took a running start toward the fence, hunched down, and <span style="font-style: italic;">launched</span> herself toward the top of the fence. "No way she clears that," I said. And I was right. She didn't clear it. But she </span><i style="font-family: arial;">did</i> land right on the tip-top of it, and <span style="font-family: arial;">perched there for a few seconds like some big-ass canary with fur, then gracefully jumped 6 </span><span style="font-family: arial;">feet down to the ground. I was flabbergasted. Never in my life had I seen a dog be able to do anything like that. Here's a graphical representation of what I saw. And pay special attention to the beautiful imagery, the clean lines, and the overall craftsmanship and artistry of this representaion.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/172528/evildog.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/320/186727/evildog.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I know, I know. Try not to gush over my Piccaso-like drawing ability. Or is it more like Monet? No matter. And I know the dog looks like an aardvark. Shut up; it's called 'artistic license'. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">One day, while she was in her pre-jump wind-up, I sprinted outside to catch her. She got to the top of the fence, then looked back at me as if to say "I"m going to lunch now. Please leave your name with my secretary, Max. Goodbye for now." And she was gone. Once I actually managed to catch her before she could jump to the other side. I grabbed her off the top of the fence, and tossed her to the ground. Oh, quit worrying. She landed on her feet. She feared me, since I was obviously the master of gravity, and for a while she didn't jump. But like that contented feeling you get after eating a warm chocolate chip cookie, it wore off.
This dog has continued to defy every attempt to contain her. And where does she go once she's jumped the fence? She goes across the street to the apartment complex, and climbs into the dumpster looking for treats. Whenever she escapes, she comes home dragging a trash bag full of God-knows-what, and tears it all to be damned across the yard. "So why don't you just leave her in the house, Damian?" I hear you asking this. When we leave her in the house, she jumps on the counter and eats any stray dishes or silverware or tupperware or ANYTHING available to her. She also destroys the trash, and takes shits the size of a Chevy Equinox in the living room. We put a gate up in the hallway, but she just jumps it. If we lock her in the garage, she destroys the boxes in there. When we put her in the kennel, she CHEWED her way out. The kennel is made of steel, people, and she chewed hard enough to bend the bars. If we lock her in another room, she claws the door and eats whatever's available to her, up to and including clothing, bedding, trash, toys, electronics, or anything else. Tying her on a chain only caused her to choke herself near death to get out of the collar. And in addition to jumping, she's also helped to chew holes in the wooden fence, with dumb-ass Max as her lackey. The only thing that works is putting her in the kennel, but outside with the other dogs. And only if the door of the kennel is pressed tight up against a wall. We have to walk her on a leash to make her go to the bathroom now, but the damn dog is so </span><i style="font-family: arial;">dainty</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> that she doesn't like to touch the grass with her feet, so she stays on the sidewalk almost the entire time. This morning, I walked her in the 30 degree weather clear around the block, only to have her pee just one time - right before we got back to the house. This dog is the devil. But the kids love her, so she stays.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">She better hope she never pisses them off, though. She'll be gone like "Nash Bridges".</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace. </span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1167944977864162322007-01-04T14:59:00.000-06:002007-01-04T15:09:37.996-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/4/2007<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Oh, it feels SO good to diatribe again! It's like I was missing something for the last couple of weeks...something vital, something sacred, something important. The need to talk shit proved to be strong in me, and it forced me to sit down and crank out what you people love so much. I used to wonder if eventually I'd run out of things to say about the stories I give you, but then I remembered:</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I write about people.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Stupid people, mostly.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Stupid people are in endless supply.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">My material basically writes itself.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I'll be </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;">fine.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Y'all ready to get this show on the road? Let's roll out, then. Pass the dutchie on the lefthand side.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Let's 'tribe.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">--------------------</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">(From Toledoblade.com) A man was retrieved from a vacant home early this morning in North Toledo after a section of a porch roof collapsed on him. The man, Marvin Dixon, 41, later died at St. Vincent Mercy Medical Center. Neighbors reported hearing the man scream and called authorities about 4:35 a.m. By the time the first crew got on scene, he was unconscious, authorities said. According to a Lucas County Coroner's report, Mr. Dixon was trying to steal iron supports from the home at 1127 Sherman St. at the time of the accident.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Life Imitates Cartoons. There's a Darwin Award with Mr. Dixon's name already scrawled on it in Sharpie. How. Stupid. Who WOULDN'T KNOW that if you steal support beams, whatever they SUPPORT will then be UNSUPPORTED, and might, just might, fall on your fucking head? What was he gonna do, throw his head back and blow real hard to keep the roof aloft? And who the hell steals iron supports, from a house, at 4:30 in the damn morning? The gene pool thanks you, Mr. Dixon. You have saved us the cost of your trial, and the cost of keeping your dumb ass fed and housed for however many years you would've gotten. Let's face it, Mr. Dixon - you would've been caught, and you would've been convicted. Because you were stupid. I bet he saw that shit on "The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo" or something, and thought he could be cool like that. WRONG! Say hi to the people who handle serpents in church for me.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">--------------------</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">TEMPE, Ariz. -- Dennis Green has joined a long list of failed coaches for the Arizona Cardinals. The franchise with one winning season in the past 22 years already is lining up candidates to be the next one to give it a shot. Mike Sherman is to be interviewed on Thursday, and five other NFL assistants were identified as potential hires. Green was fired on Monday, one day after the Cardinals concluded a 5-11 season with a 27-20 loss at San Diego. He finished with a 16-32 record at Arizona. The Cardinals will pay $2.5 million to buy out the final year of his contract. He was the seventh coach the Cardinals have had since the franchise moved to Arizona in 1988. The team has had one winning season since 1984, and Green was optimistic he was the man to turn things around. But his three teams in Arizona went 6-10, 5-11 and 5-11. "In the final analysis, when you look at the three years of wins and losses, we didn't win enough games," said Cardinals vice president and general counsel Michael Bidwill, son of owner Bill Bidwill.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Wow, this really sucks. Denny Green is a pretty good coach, and it's just terrible that they only gave him three seasons to rectify a situation that took decades to create. No one could've won under those conditions, especially not in that short-ass time frame. Vince Lombardi couldn't've done it. It's patently unfair. No, I'm not gonna cry racism - I don't think it had anything to do with Green being black. I think, more than anything, it has to do with the fact that the owners are unrealistic idiots, looking for a savior. Well, I don't know who they'll hire - probably a trained lemur with an 0-2 record against rhesus monkeys - but I do have a very intriguing candidate: <a href="http://beautyandthebeer.blogspot.com/">Laurie, from Beauty and the Beer</a>. It's SUCH a logical choice. NFL players need discipline, because paying them millions of dollars just isn't enough to make them do things like come to practice, play hard in the games, and stay out of trouble with the law. Implant Laurie as coach (ha! Implant! I kill me.) and all that will stop, post haste. Late for a team meeting? Shank. Miss a tackle, drop a pass? Shank. Get arrested on suspicion of being stupid late at night and far from home? Shank, shank, shank. That bitch would have the limpingest, bleedingest team in pro sports, but they'd be on time to everything. She's also a perfect fit because she's a local girl, and could </span><s style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">strike fear into</s><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"> inspire the community by using her unique blend of cursing, yelling, neck-punching, scissor-kicking, and eye-gouging to </span><s style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">frighten</s><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"> rally support for her and the team. And they wouldn't have to worry about her leaving for another coaching job, 'cause no one else would have her. She'd be worse than Delta Burke on "1st and Ten" back in the day, back when Delta was hot, and before she changed her name to Delta Airlines. Her press conferences would be just one long-ass bleep, with the only listenable words being "Thank you for coming" and "Get out." She'd rename the team "The Silver Bullets", and the field would either be called Keystone Arena or Starbucks Stadium, instead of that dumb-ass University of Phoenix Field. Seriously, what pro team would (a) name their field after a college, and (b) name their field after a college WITHOUT AN ACTUAL CAMPUS? The Arizona Silver Bullets, that's who. Reporters wouldn't dare challenge her coaching, because whoever did would find a sharpened #2 pencil protruding from their left retina shortly thereafter. And my God, her radio call-in show would be the most popular in the history of ever. And it'd have to be on Sirius Satellite Radio, due to "graphic content, adult themes, violence, crude language, sexual content, and gratuitous use of the phrase 'fuck this sport'." Right her name in, folks. Lobby to get that Eddie Murphy mouth heffa installed as coach. She's a natural for the position (no, not THAT position. Jesus.).</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">--------------------</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">ARTESIA, New Mexico - The Garcia family encountered a freak shooting accident on their annual fishing trip. Late one night, the family was walking along a trail when some of them decided it would be funny to sneak ahead, hide behind some bushes, and scare the others. Oh, they scared them all right. In fact, one relative was so frightened that he shot and wounded Felix Garcia, 36, three times before realizing who the culprit was. Felix was wounded in the stomach, hip, and thigh, but it wasn't life-threatening. Lt. Britt Snyder of the Sheriff's Department said, "The investigation is still ongoing to determine whether any charges will be filled. There doesn't appear to be any intent."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Felix: "Hey, Hector! Shhhh! C'mere, </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">ese</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">. I'm funna do some funny shit in a minute, </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">mang</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Hector: "Yo </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">mang</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">, it's dark out here and shit. Don't be doing no stupid shit! You'll get your ass shot out here!"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Felix: "This ain't Albuquerque, </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">puto</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">. Don't be a bitch. Don't nobody get shot out here. Check it, I'm funna scare Ricky."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Hector: "Right now right now? 'Cause Ricky was pissed about not catching shit, </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">mang</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">. And he lost his bandana. I wouldn't fuck with him right now right now."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Felix: "Ricky can </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">besa mi culo</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">. He owe me $4. I'm scaring his ass as a partial payment. Watch this shit."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">---15 seconds later---</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Felix: "BOOO!"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Ricky: "BANG! BANG! BANG!"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Hector: "I tol' you you was funna get shot out here. Who's a </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">puto</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"> now, </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">cholo</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Felix: "He...still...owes me...$4...the </span><i style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">puto</i><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;">Hector: "If you die, can I have your sister?"</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1167926757569979062007-01-04T10:02:00.000-06:002007-01-04T10:05:57.636-06:00New Year's Eve Pics!!<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The photographers at the show took over 3000 pics of the night. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">No way am I putting 'em all in here. You'll just have to click these links and look for yourself.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Enjoy!</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/ntlband/Thumbnails.html">Nonetheless Band Pics</a>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/thebands/Thumbnails.html">Other Band Pics</a>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/guests/Thumbnails.html">Guests</a>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/fire/Thumbnails.html">The Fire Breather</a>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/cooper/Thumbnails.html">
Marilyn Manson</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> (I forgot to mention this guy earlier)</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.totalphoto.biz/picview/models/Thumbnails.html">The Models</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> (Forgot to mention them, too)</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I haven't looked through all of these, so I'll be looking right along with you. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace!</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1167776912629160982007-01-02T16:24:00.000-06:002007-01-02T16:28:32.726-06:00Sleep Deprivation and Periscope Nipples<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Happy (yawn) New Year, people!</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I'm STILL recovering from the celebrating. At 35, I'm really becoming familiar with my limitations, especially as they pertain to staying up late and acting like I'm still 20, then getting up and being a productive member of society the next day. Now I just feel like someone heavy has been beating me about the neck and head with a large summer sausage. Which sucks, 'cause I love me some summer sausage. Is is possible to rock TOO hard? </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Our show Sunday night went GREAT! We had a wonderful turnout, and there are so many people to thank for their hard work in helping us get this show off the ground. Getting booked for a show is easy. Putting the show together yourself is incredibly hard, and I give much love to Rowdy and Trip for spearheading the whole shebang and really working hard to make this thing the blazing success that it was. I love you, girls. You rock balls.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">We started the show just after midnight CST, after bringing all the bands on stage and counting down. In addition to our usual set of original songs, we surprised the crowd with covers of "Bulls On Parade" by Rage Against The Machine, "The Red" by Chevelle, "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes, "Behind Blue Eyes" originally by The Who, "Sunglasses At Night" by Corey Hart, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, and "We Will Rock You" by Queen. We played Bulls on Parade, The Red, and We Will Rock You pretty close to how the originals were done, but we added our own Nonetheless special blend of herbs and spices to the others, making some of them completely different and new. In the midst of playing our set, we gave away t-shirts and raffled off prizes to keep the crowd pumpin'. And during our original song "Walking Time Bomb", we had a fire-breather blow HUGE fireballs right at the front of the stage. God, it was so awesome. And the whole thing was broadcast on the internet, so hopefully many more people got to hear us.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">And did I MENTION the people? That place was PACKED! It is such a rush when you get on stage, and people are literally elbowing each other trying to get to the front. It's so intoxicating to have that type of effect on people. It's addictive. It was just so cool to feel all that LOVE coming at us. When we played our closing song "We Exist", about 15-20 women got on stage and danced with us while we jammed. The funniest thing happened when this one girl, who had had about 10 too many to drink, started jumping up and down to the music until her left nipple started peeking out of her halter top, like a periscope on a submarine. I think it wanted to check out the show. Gordie, one of our guitarist, noticed it while she was on the floor still, and we both laughed our asses off. Well, she jumped on on the stage during "We Exist" and started bouncing even more, oblivious to her wardrobe malfuntion, until finally her B cup was just chillin' on the outside, enjoying the show. Her friends FINALLY told her, and she stuffed it back in, but not before Gordie and I died laughing over it. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">And did I mention that I got a little bit drunk beforehand? See, I rarely drink much at a show, because I simply cannot play when I'm drunk. I can't keep the rhythm, and on bass, that's pretty damned important. So I just don't, and that suits me fine, 'cause I'm not that big of a drinker anyway. But this was New Year's Eve, dammit, and we weren't gonna hit the stage until after midnight, so I decided to imbibe. I drank 3 rum and cokes back-to-back, and by "rum and coke" I mean Carissa the bartender filled the cup to the top with rum, and used a teaspoon to put the coke in there. There was JUST enough coke to make it slightly brown. I...was...drunk. For me, that's a shitload of alcohol. On top of that I took a couple of shots of...something. I don't ask when I don't have to pay for 'em. I stopped drinking at around 10pm, just so I could ride the wave on down until time to play. Fun times.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">On Saturday night, we rehearsed (for the 3rd straight night) and then went down to the bar around 10 to start decorating and making jello shots. We left there at 2:30. So you see, I'm getting to be MUCH too old for this. We need to make it big, and soon, so I can sleep all day like a vampire. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">And MAD PROPS to <a href="http://fyrchk.blogspot.com/">Fyrchk</a> and <a href="http://hotdrwife.blogspot.com/">HDW</a>, who both sent me Christmas gifts: a bacon bracelet, bacon band-aids, and "Kingdom Come" by Jay-Z from Fyr, and "Talledega Nights" from HDW. LOVE YOU GIRLS SO MUCH! Thank you!</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">OK, I need to rest now before starting with the 'tribe for tomorrow. I hope you all had a very happy, very safe, very fun time on New Year's Eve. 2007 is here, baby.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Let's make it real.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;">BY THE WAY:</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">It should be illegal to wear all leather, including pants and boo-stee-ay (screw you, I can't spell it the right way) and boots and purse, if you're over 50 and are neither famous nor a Hell's Angel. </span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/257431/122606_10331.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/320/772431/122606_10331.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Just sayin'.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1167434705208556712006-12-29T11:54:00.000-06:002007-01-16T16:14:56.310-06:00Happy Pre-New Years!!!<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, I know I missed the Diatribe on Wednesday.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, I know I haven't posted.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, I know I haven't commented on your blogs lately.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, I've been a slacker.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">But I give you this.</span>
[Removed, because I love you.]
<span style="font-family:arial;">Thanks, Fyrchk. Now it's in MY head. So why not share it with the world? Now y'all can have it in YOUR brain, too!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh yeah, HUGE New Year's Eve show for Nonetheless. Check it:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/593219/nyeflyerwebsizefinal.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/320/57894/nyeflyerwebsizefinal.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh yes. We're doing the whole thing OURSELVES. The sponsors, the food, the prizes for the raffles, the booking, the party favors, the decorations...all us. Last year, we played at The Adam's Mark Hotel, which was supposed to be a really big show with 5000 people there. Only...they made us play first. Before they had even opened the doors. It was fucked up. We were 3 songs in before the first patrons strolled through, and they had no idea who we even were. It sucked. There were a bunch of bands there, and most of the folks we talked with later on echoed our sentiments about the entire event. One guy jumped off the stage (at a height of 2 feet) into the crowd, and broke his ankle on his landing, which the judges scored as a 6.5. So this year, we took matters into our own hands. We're giving away all KINDS of things, and we're even having a wet t-shirt contest! If you're anywhere near This show ought to be fantastic. Seriously. I'll let you know how it goes.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Have a happy, safe, and fun New Year's Eve, folks! Mad love to you all!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1167118641151644212006-12-26T13:05:00.000-06:002006-12-26T13:07:08.006-06:00Pope Benedict = Darth Sidious?Merry post Christmas, everyone! I hope you all had a safe, gift-filled day with family, friends, or strangers you met at the bus depot. Because I'm in a charitable and giving mood (if you don't believe me, ask my kids. 7YO today said "Wow Dad, if parents had to buy all these things instead of Santa bringing them, it would cost a LOT of money, wouldn't it?" Right then and there I was SO tempted to pop his hopeful boyish bubble, but instead I gritted my teeth and said "Yes. Yes it WOULD cost a lot. If parents had to buy it all."
Hey, life'll come at him hard enough on its own. It doesn't need me behind it, pushing it like a soapbox derby car. Let him stay young and believe.
You, however, are jaded. As such, you will thoroughly enjoy these pics I <s>found on Fark.com</s> culled from the internet.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.news.com.au/common/imagedata/0,,5342678,00.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.news.com.au/common/imagedata/0,,5342678,00.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
"Feeeeeel the power...the power of the dark si - oops, wrong audience. Ave Maria."
Seriously, Pope Benedict looks like The Emperor from "Star Wars". If you reverse the letters C and A in "sacred", you get "scared". And you all know what C and A stand for. California. Coincidence? Hardly.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/1120/10361787.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/1120/10361787.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
Little did they realize that Jiong Lu secretly replaced some of the wine in the wine pool with his own urine. Will they be able to tell the difference? And after 5 glasses, will they even care? Stay tuned.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/1026/10163338.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/1026/10163338.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
"Well, I mean I TRIED to get him out, officer, but the little hook thingy just wouldn't grab him, and then our pizza came, so..."
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0726/9577687.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0726/9577687.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
Sour Cream Dreams, the new luxury cruise for overweight people, got off to a rocky start in September when one of the passengers spotted life preservers off the port side of the ship and yelled "Doughnuts!!!"
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0607/9334651.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0607/9334651.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
"Squirrel, please. I barely tapped your ass. Get up and quit acting like a little bitch."
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0501/9138423.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0501/9138423.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
Somewhere in L.A., Snoop Dogg's refined Smokey Sense is telling him that he needs to get to Mexico City, and with the quickness.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0417/8773014.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0417/8773014.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
Overflight, the new luxury airline for overweight people, got off to a rocky start in September when...oh wait, I already made this joke once. They all went to the back this time.
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0202/6680733_480X360.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.wftv.com/2006/0202/6680733_480X360.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
"Uh...HI! Ho Ho Ho! Yeah! Merry Christmas, officer! So, y'know, I was just gettin' an early start on Christmas this year, testing out the chimneys and all, seeing which ones need cleanin' and whatnot, and...oh fuck this, get me the hell OUTTA here, man!"
Peace.Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1166917051069789732006-12-23T15:50:00.000-06:002006-12-23T18:06:29.206-06:00Christmas and The Rocket Fishing Rod<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">So, I was watching TV today, on this 2 days before we celebrate the birth of Jesus (I said 'celebrate', 'cause I could go on and on about how, according to some theorists, Jesus was far more likely to have been born in the springtime, rather than December, and that Emperor Constantine of the Holy Roman Empire legitimized Christianity in the 4th century, and made it more palatable to the people by having the birth of Christ coincide with a pagan holiday known as Sol Invictus, the supposed day of the solstice and day of rebirth of the Sun - holy hell, that was a long-ass tangent), and I saw the most ridiculous thing ever.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" href="https://www.spinmaster.com/product.php?productid=16174&s=rocket&sessid=cb76797303adf1b3b05cfcd6bbf4eaa8">The Rocket Fishing Rod</a><span style="font-family:arial;">.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">When will rednecks stop inventing shit? Have you seen the ads for this? They go something like this:</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"Hello there! Do you love things you can launch like a missile, but your home owners' association won't let you buy those Russian black market surplus hand-held, shoulder-launched anti-tank weapons capable of firing an unguided rocket equipped with an explosive warhead? Do you love to go fishing, but hate that difficult 'back and forth' motion you have to make with your arm, just to get the darned hook into the water? Who needs THAT? All you want is to catch that pesky fish! What if I told you there was an easier way to catch fish AND satisfy your need for wanton simulated destruction? Well, now there is! Don't sit down, 'cause you'll just stand up again when you hear about...The Rocket Fishing Rod!</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://www.spinmaster.com/skin_swap/rocket/images/16174_08.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="https://www.spinmaster.com/skin_swap/rocket/images/16174_08.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"See how happy little Billy looks, holding his *completely* safe and non-toxic and non-radioactive toy/weapon? Even Billy the Bass (so what? They have the same name. We didn't name them. It's a coincidence. Good Christ, focus on the PRODUCT!) is excited, going so far as to say 'A rocket-launched fishing hook? Hell yeah, I'll bite!' And honestly, this toy/hunting tool couldn't be safer. Even if Billy here (the boy, not the fish) aimed the Rocket Fishing Rod right at a friend's face, all that friend would have to do is duck, and he'd be perfectly safe from harm. And Billy (the fish, not the boy) suffers no harmful effects from the rod, because a hooked lip and a concussion and post traumatic stress disorder are ordinary, normal conditions with fresh water fish. Just ask him. The fish, not the boy. The boy is dumber than open-toed sandals in Anchorage in February. Seriously, when he saw the finished commercial for the first time, his first comment was 'How'd you get that fish to talk? He didn't say ANYTHING to me, and we were together for 2 hours setting up this shot!' Just pray he grows up strong, fast, and can catch a football, or otherwise he's gonna be in a world of minimum wage hurt.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"Don't delay, supplies are running out! Sure, most of the product is being sold in Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Louisiana, Georgia, Florida, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, Texas, part of Montana, Idaho, and to four people in Illinois, but that's not an idictment on the South and of rednecks, but a testament to how well the marketing ploy - I mean, strategy - works. Order now and we'll send you a free subscription to the New York Post...so you can have something to wrap your fish in. We know good and damn well you won't be READING it, unless you stumble across Hagar the Horrible while looking for the Want Ads. Get out your credit cards, your debit cards, your Wal-Mart cards...hell, sell your kid's Hot Wheels racetrack on eBay and use PayPal. Rob your neighbor and sell HIS gear. Carjack his ride, kidnap his wife, and ransom her for the $39.99 you need for the Rocket Fishing Rod. Hell, once he hears how low the ransom is, he'll run right over to pay you post haste, unless her ass is trifling, in which case he's probably glad to be rid of her, and he's already changing the wallpaper and converting the den to a wet bar and game room. But I digress. Whatever you have to do, you do that. Get this toy/projectile launcher. Billy needs your help.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">The fish, not the boy.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">If he wasn't male, he couldn't count to 21."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace (on Earth).
Merry Christmas, people.
</span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1166655433109234612006-12-20T13:49:00.000-06:002006-12-20T16:58:47.290-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/20/2006<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3KS865kF3vo"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3KS865kF3vo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>
Givin' it on up to Homelessville!
Meh. I got nothin'. Let's diatribe.
-----------
Washington D.C. - A convict broke out of jail in Washington D.C., then a few days later accompanied his girlfriend to her trial for robbery. At lunch, he went out for a sandwich. She needed to see him, and thus had him paged. Police officers recognized his name and arrested him as he returned to the courthouse in a car he had stolen over the lunch hour.
</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >The amount of stupidity here is unquantifiable. How about another dumb criminal story, just to see if maybe I'll have something then?</span><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >
Los Angeles, California - Police in Los Angeles had good luck with a robbery suspect who just couldn't control himself during a lineup. When detectives asked each man in the lineup to repeat the words, "Give me all your money or I'll shoot," the man shouted, "That's not what I said!"
</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >Dear lord. See why I need to open a school for criminals? I've got it all planned out. See, I'll open the O.J. Simpson School of Criminal Tactics (OJSSCT), where I'll train the modern criminal on the hottest topics, like "A To Z: How To Follow A Plan All The Way To Completion", "Last Call: Don't Drink and Crime", "Never Use The Chimney and Other Insertion Techniques", and "Shut Your Piehole: How NOT To Talk About Your Crimes To Others". Criminals will enroll, pay their fee, then learn how to be smarter about their crimes. But that's not all, folks. See, I don't want all these newly-empowered felons out there jacking MY shit, so I'll sell my enrollment list to the local police department in each city my franchise supports. (You didn't think I would think </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >small</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >, did you? Please. I'm trying to get PAID. I roll fierce.) Then, when THOSE criminals get out of jail, I'll offer them my Advanced Degree courses, telling them that the cops are smart, too. Oh, I'll be rich. RICH, I SAY!</span><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >
GLENWOOD SPRINGS (AP) - A 32-year-old female teacher from the suburban Denver city of Parker has been arrested and accused of a sexual relationship with a male high school student on a trip to Glenwood Springs in western Colorado. Authorities say Darcie Esson is accused of felony sexual assault on a child by a person in a position of trust. According to investigators, Esson was a teacher at Elizabeth High School south of Denver last month when she accompanied the school's football team for a playoff game against a team from the town of Rifle. The group stayed in Glenwood Springs.
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Man, what is in the water in Colorado? I haven't posted a lot of 'em, but I see a crazy-ass Colorado story at LEAST once a week, usually in Denver. Is it the snow? The elevation? Is Allen Iverson the cause of all this ruckus? Teachers knocking boots with students is so passe now that I'm gonna retire this entire diatribe topic after this story. You'd think the teachers would know not to bump uglies with their kids by now, but hey...their kids have the best weed. What can you do? The thing that pisses me off is how hot (by comparison) the teachers are nowadays. In my high school, there was only one teacher even REMOTELY do-able, and even SHE was a stretch, you know, if it was late, and she was driving topless in her RX-7, and told me that I'd get that A in Honors English if I'd let her 'work on my diction'...well, let's just say, I'd get that A, but I wouldn't tell a SOUL how I did it. </span>
</span><p style="font-family: arial;"> </p><p style="font-family: arial;"> </p><p style="font-family: arial;"> </p><p style="font-family: arial;"> </p><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> LONDON (Reuters) - A devout Christian who said an accident at work boosted his libido and wrecked his marriage as he turned to prostitutes and pornography was awarded more than 3 million pounds in damages on Tuesday. Stephen Tame, 29, from Suffolk, suffered severe head injuries in a fall, transforming him from a loyal newlywed into a "disinhibited" character who had two affairs. He was in a coma for two months after falling from a gantry while working at a bicycle warehouse shortly after his marriage in January 2002. Doctors said it was a miracle he survived. Awarding him 3.1 million pounds in compensation at London's High Court, Judge Michael Harris said: "His life and the life of his young wife were shattered". His former employer, Professional Cycle Marketing, of Essex, had argued through their lawyers that his injuries were not as bad as suggested in court.</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">And thousands of men in London lined up to fall on their heads. You gotta feel bad for this guy - sorta. I mean...you know. This isn't the type of injury that a guy gets a TON of sympathy for, no matter the actual severity. This is a Snickers injury, meaning that people hear what happened, and initially they say "Awwww, man....", but then they start giggling. And to add irony to insult and injury, the guy's last name is Tame. </span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Female Visitor: "Oh, Stephen, you poor thing! What happened?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Stephen: "Well, I was working, and I just fell, and next thing I knew it was a couple of months later."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Visitor: "My gosh, that's so - hey, what're you doing there, sport?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Stephen: "You're SO hot. Do you even know how smokin' hot you are?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Visitor: "I'm 62, Stephen."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Stephen: "But a HOT 62."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Visitor: "And I'm your grandmother."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Stephen: "But you're a HOT - wait, that's really, really wrong, isn't it?"</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Visitor: "Keep talking, big boy."</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Stephen: "I'm cured. NURSE!"</span>
Peace.
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1166550655300300302006-12-19T11:09:00.000-06:002006-12-19T11:56:55.373-06:00The Not Feeling It Post<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Bleh.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I am not compelled to blog. I don't know why. I have nothing of note to say, really. I didn't even get to meet <a href="http://jali-jalishouse.blogspot.com/">Jali</a>, 'cause I got so busy that I couldn't even CALL her to find out her schedule while she was here. My bad, Jali. But seriously, get a phone that'll work in Dallas, okay? Promise? Good.
So, instead of giving you a big ol' bag of nothing, I offer you this to tide your greedy ass over until I have something of substance. Enjoy, and use some Scope afterwards, 'cause....onion breath. That's all I'm saying.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/93377/112806_12081.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/421420/112806_12081.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I saw this a couple of weeks back. Now, I know it's kinda hard to tell what the big deal is, but 1987 called, and it wants Homeboy on the left there to return its belt and tight pants. Damn emo kids.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/146792/112406_06331.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/286090/112406_06331.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Sirius Stiletto. In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/660248/121906_08041.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/532055/121906_08041.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Me, rocking the Dallas Mavericks Santa hat. Don't hate.</span>
</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/145571/PCDV0004.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/540981/PCDV0004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">The view from the roof of my house on Sunday. This is significant for several reasons:</span>
</span><ol style="font-family:arial;"><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I was on the roof of my house, hanging Christmas lights.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm afraid of heights. Really afraid.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Male pride wouldn't allow DWW to get up there.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I was on the ROOF, people.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">7YO there has one hell of a throwing arm. See the football in mid-air? Tight-ass spiral, too. Hello, early retirement! And see my little ghetto spiral light tree? Jealousy becomes you.</span></li></ol><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/631832/PCDV0008.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/722810/PCDV0008.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">My chimney. Also known as "The Place Where The String of Lights Stopped Working, Even Though They Continue Down To The Right, Around The Corner, and Down The East Side Of The Roof". I was pissed. But I wasn't getting back up there to fix it, either. Our house just stands out, that's all. GHETTO FAB!</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/732152/PCDV0005.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/391863/PCDV0005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Not to be outdone, 4YO stepped outside too, chillin' in his (my) Ho Ho Ho Santa hat with the bill on the front. The bill is on the front, just in case you wanna be pimpin', and push it to the side. Look how close to the edge of the roof I am, people. And 7YO wanted to throw the football up to me. I THINK NOT! Hell, DWW threw another box of lights up to me, and I nearly let it hit me in the face, 'cause I wasn't ABOUT to reach out and catch it. "Did I catch it, Dr. Lucky? And will my spine heal?" No.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/135063/121906_08031.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/447028/121906_08031.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">A closer look at 4YO with the Ho Ho Ho hat. Could he pimp it any harder? I doubt it.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/82931/121606_19241.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/336530/121606_19241.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">A fountain at a display of lights we went to see Saturday night. We were there for approximately 3 minutes and 41 seconds before I uttered the phrase "We WILL go home if you two don't quit acting like donkeys." The phrase was repeated many times throughout the evening.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">And </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://ww12.e-tractions.com/snowglobe/globe.htm">this game</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> held my attention for far, far longer than it should have. Seriously. I was like a monkey with a remote control for a bulldozer. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">God, I love my ADD.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1166202164929549782006-12-15T10:21:00.000-06:002006-12-15T15:31:54.006-06:00Tang and Bacon, Together At Last<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I finally did it.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I brought together two of my loves in a perfect union of holy culinary delight.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">That's right, gentle readers, I successfully created a concoction so rich, so delicious, so genuinely </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >right</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> that I just HAD to tell you about it.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I made Tang and bacon bars.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">[</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >pause for effect</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">]</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Cabanaboy gave me the recipe a while back, but I've been hesitant to try it. What if it didn't work out? You know what I'm saying. You've all had these two good friends that you just KNEW should get together, but in the back of your mind, you said "But what if it doesn't work out? What if they don't get along? Or what if they like each other SO much, they forget about me?" True, I'll never have to worry about either Tang or bacon not liking me - their love for me is unconditional - but I still worried that if I combined them, maybe I'd stop liking one of </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >them</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">, and that would be tragic. This blog is damn-near founded on my dual love for that citrusy astronaut breakfast powder and the bad-cholesterol meat product, and if I lost that love for either, I'd probably be reduced to writing incoherent babble and showing 10,000 pictures of me in a fetal position. No one wants that.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">But my company is having a dessert contest today, and I figured it was high time to whip out the recipe and give it a shot. There's a category here for Most Unusual Dessert, and unless someone strolls up in here with a Nike covered in Ready Whip, I should have this thing hands-down. Want the recipe for Tang and bacon bars? Get out your pens.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1/2 cup of corn syrup</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1/2 cup of sugar</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1/2 cup of peanut butter (I prefer Peter Pan, myself. Smooth, not chunky.)</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">3 cups of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal (any type)</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">4 teaspoons of Tang</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1 3oz package of Hormel bacon pieces (not Bac-Os. Those things are nasty.)</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Combine sugar and corn syrup in a medium sauce pan.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Bring to a boil on medium heat.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Once the mixture is boiling, remove from heat and add peanut butter.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Stir until smooth.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Add full package of bacon pieces and stir until blended.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Add Tang. Stir until blended.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Add cereal, one cup at a time. Stir until cereal is completely coated.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Press mixture evenly into a greased 8" pan. Let it cool completely before cutting it into bars.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Sounds easy, right? It IS! Here's what it looks like when it's done:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/618011/PCDV0020.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/41049/PCDV0020.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Whoops! That's just me, showing off the cannon. You don't need a concealed weapon permit for THAT gun, I tell you. Moving on.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/955680/PCDV0018.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/869603/PCDV0018.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">THIS is what it looks like. Yummy goodness. I made two batches of this, then I decided to make a batch without the bacon, just for the vegetarians in the office. (Most people wouldn't imagine finding bacon in a dessert item.) So on the THIRD batch, I removed the bacon and cut the Tang in half, thinking that the bacon flavor offsets the citrus of the Tang, therefore I wouldn't need as much. However, somewhere along the way, I made a crucial mistake in my calculations. When the third batch cooled, it looked alright:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/641361/PCDV0019.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/797450/PCDV0019.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">But when I tried to cut it into bars, it was like cutting this:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.egemstones.com/diamond.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.egemstones.com/diamond.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I almost broke a </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cutco">Cutco</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> knife, people! After finally using the hacksaw in the garage to carve out just one row, I thought it'd be better to just leave it the fuck home. I'll gnaw on it later.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I'll let you know how it turns out. The contest starts in about an hour. Wish me luck!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.</span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Winner's Edit: </span><span style="font-family:arial;">I won! I won! I seriously won a prize! I got this for Most Unusual Dessert:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/560678/PCDV0021.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/399243/PCDV0021.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I know you can't read what it says. It's a Starbucks gift card! I have no idea how much is on there, but since I rarely go there anyway, it hardly matters - the fact that I WON is what counts. When people were trying my masterpiece, I heard all kinds of reactions. These are REAL responses:</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"Well, THAT'S weird."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"Oh HELLS to the NO!"</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"This is different, in a good kinda way, but different."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"I'm sorry, but this tastes like crap."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"Is there really Tang in here? Seriously?"</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"I never woulda thought of that combo."</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"You got this off the internet? You DO know that some things from the internet are bad, right?"</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">"You know, this isn't horrible."
</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">"Only you."
</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Now I can go get a double grande mocha whip non-fat venti white chocolate pumpkin ginger latte iced expresso double-shot honey caramel mochacino frappacino coffee. With cream. Or whatever they sell there.
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Edit Numero Dos:</span> This...is too, too cool. <a href="http://urbanlegends.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://media.putfile.com/Wizards%2Dof%2DWinter%2DChristmas%2DLights">Check it out</a>.
</span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1166045969128350952006-12-13T15:24:00.000-06:002006-12-13T16:45:15.233-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/13/2006<p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Well!</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">
<span style="font-family: arial;">Now that I've completely screwed up my comments, it's time to get crack-a-lackin' on some tribes! </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Word!</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Let's do this.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">-------------------------</span>
</span><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(AP) MERRILLVILLE, Ind. - Instead of impressing "Honey Bunny" on Christmas morning with a 42-inch plasma television, "Big Papa" is facing a charge of theft. Richard Perez, 43, of Lake Station, was charged Monday with stealing the TV and a Sleep Number bedding system from a hotel where he worked as a security officer. Security video showed Perez walking into a room at the Radisson Hotel on Nov. 29 with an empty luggage cart, then leaving minutes later with a full cart covered with cloth, Merrillville police Detective Donald Toth said. Police said they searched Perez's Lake Station home Friday and found the Sleep Number system installed on Perez's bed and the TV underneath the tree, wrapped in green, Santa-themed paper. The attached card was addressed to "Mom, Honey Bunny from Big Papa, Daddy," Toth said. "I'm not sure if he's the Grinch or I'm the Grinch because I'm the one who took the items back," Toth said. Perez, who has been fired from his hotel job, was released Monday after posting a $10,000 surety bond. The Associated Press left a message seeking comment Tuesday for an R. Perez in Lake Station.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Awww, isn't that </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >sweet</span><span style="font-size:130%;">? Big Papa wanted his Honey Bunny to have the best he could give her, not realizing that the best HE could give her was her keys back to the house. Stealing is bad. Stealing from your workplace is very bad. Stealing from your workplace in a manner so inept that the cops catch you in TWO DAYS is just stupid for stupidity's sake. It's obvious that Bill Gates here didn't have the funds to buy these things, so what in the hell was he gonna say to HER, when she got the gifts? "Hey, baby, I...ugh...see, what had HAPPENED was, there was this truck, right? This Best Buy truck. And it was also carrying bed shit, for some weird reason. So, see, this truck, right? This truck, it hit this big fire hydrant, and it just tipped over, and a TV and a Sleep Number system fell out. But then the truck flipped BACK over, right, and the driver just kept on rollin'. I tried to flag him down, but he wasn't lookin', prolly 'cause was so scared, so instead of letting these things go to waste, I thought you might like 'em. See, I was thinking about YOU." Now he's thinking about keeping his chimney closed at night, if you catch my drift. And you do.</span></p><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">-----------------</span></p><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(Des Moines Register) A Des Moines man has been arrested and charged with assault for allegedly attacking a roommate with a hamster ball. Police were sent to 6500 S.W. Ninth St., about 5 a.m., today. When they arrived they found a shaken Kaleb Johnson, 20, in the hallway of the apartment building still talking on a phone to dispatchers. He told officers he was sleeping when his roommate attacked him. He said he tried to run but the roommate grabbed a hamster ball and hit him in the head with it. The roommate then took a curtain rod and hit him with it, then bit Johnson on the arm, leaving teeth marks. Johnson said he finally got away and called 911 Police arrested Chaz Adrian Denham, 19, on a charge of domestic assault with injury. He was taken to the Polk County Jail. Investigators took photographs of the injuries and a damaged curtain rod.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">You know...I don't think I'd mention that I got beat down with a hamster ball. I'd keep the part about the biting, and there's no shame in getting smacked with a curtain rod - they make GREAT blunt instruments - but the hamster ball segment would be utterly missing, were it me. I'd make up anything. I'd say the fool hit me with a ball of ice. I'd say he cut off his on hand, hit me with the nub, then grew his hand back like a fucking lizard. I'd say he raised his hands and summoned down a meteorite, which he then ate after it cold-cocked me. I don't care HOW bad the injuries are; when you're a 20 year old man, and you've been hit with a rodent's exercise equipment, your boys are gonna clown you. Hard. "Damn, Kaleb, you OK? I mean, those hamsters can run pretty fast, huh? Guess you should be glad he didn't hit you in the ass with the ball, or we'd NEVER find little Skippy. Hey, I've got a gerbil and a tiny unicycle. Wanna get revenge?" Damn all that. I'd say it was bowling ball.</span></p><p style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">----------------</span></p><div style="font-family: arial;" class="articleContent"> <p><span style="font-size:130%;">The possibility that a potential Democratic presidential primary matchup between Sens. Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama could lead to a Clinton-Obama ticket is raising concerns in GOP circles that it might be unbeatable. While Democratic strategists are more skeptical of the success of a ticket composed of two minorities, some Republican advisers to the White House and leading 2008 hopefuls Sen. John McCain and Rudy Giuliani see the ticket as an easy winner built on the enthusiasm it would generate in Democratic circles. Their theory is that Clinton would stand a good chance to pick up the states that Sen. John Kerry won in 2004. While not enough to win the election on her own, the addition of Obama would help push closely divided states like Ohio over into the Democratic column, thereby giving the Clinton-Obama ticket the White House. "Listen, we've got some lackluster people running on our side, and that is exactly the kind of ticket that would get their side in a fever pitch," said a Bush ally. Democrats aren't so sure it would work, though, because of Clinton's high negatives and Obama's short résumé and race. But the Bush adviser said those factors are actually winners: Obama could help soften Clinton's image and bring more African-American voters to the ticket as well as independents seeking real and symbolic change.
</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Oooooo-OOOOO! Whoa...I think I just orgasmed. I'm sorry about that. I really should try to be more professional. What I mean to say is, "OHLORDHAVEMERCYHALLELEUJAHYESYESYES!" Or something similar. I don't usually get political here, but man...a female president, and a black VP? Conservative Christians would spontaneously combust. The GOP would be smacking their prostitutes all day long. The Right would pop Oxycontin like Pez. Ann Coulter would shed her fake, human-like skin and expose her true, praying mantis body, and begin attacking Democrats and eating their heads. All while dropping copies of her book on the fleeing masses. It's time for a change, folks. This would qualify. I'm not sure if they could fix what's broken, but it's for DAMN sure that they'd at least come at it from a different angle than the current administration. Our entire governmental system needs a major overhaul. It's not right that you pretty much have to be rich in order to run for president. The overwhelming majority of today's candidates were already wealthy before considering the presidency, which takes them completely beyond the realm of understanding the plight of the common man. What would GWB know about wondering where your next meal is coming from, or how you're gonna make your mortgage payment? He's been wealthy his entire life. Here are my points:</span>
</span><ul style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:130%;">The president should be smart, motivational, strong, funny (yes, funny.), quick-thinking, wise, honest (to a point), and able to listen to those who may know more than he/she. They should NOT be rich.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">In fact, the presidency should be the highest-paying job that person has ever had. When they get elected, I want them to say "HOLY SHIT, that's my SALARY?"
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">And I want them to have to pay for everything too, just like a real person. You think they'd care more about the economy if they had to reach into their pocket to put gas in Air Force One? Hells to the yeah. Make them accountable, at a personal level.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">The president should be forced to re-take the SATs at some point during the race. Anything less than a 1300, you're out. Sorry.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Campaign budgets should be equal, and capped at $1 million. Period. You don't need $100 million to tell me what you're all about. Take out an ad in the USA Today.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">And no mug-slinging. At all. Get elected on your OWN merit, not on what the other person did/said/didn't do/didn't say. If I'm up for a position here at work, I don't get to say "Susie has a drug habit, and she deep-throated her high school swim team." Neither should candidates.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Candidates should be made to name at least 3 comedies and 3 dramas currently on TV. It shows they're connected to the real world, and not the 1954 world in their head.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Candidates should never be allowed to bring up religion as a point of differentiation during the campaign. No one cares. You are what you are. Enjoy it. We'll all meet up in Heaven and have a good laugh about the different paths we took to get there.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">The president must learn to play a musical instrument, if he/she doesn't already know how. And if they do know how, they have to have a recital within 90 days of taking office.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Unless convicted of a felony, a candidate's past or present life outside of politics should be off-limits. I don't care who they're fucking, or what school they went to, or if they inhaled, or what they did in the past. That's why we'll re-take the SAT.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Just like the NFL, at least ONE minority should be considered during every race. Even if they don't have a snowball's chance in Yuma of winning, put a different face up there. All these white guys in suits look alike. Hell, throw Flava Flav up in there.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Any president, male or female, should have one person on their staff whose primary job is to suck/lick them when they're stressed. The prez should be able to say "Send Margaret in here, and cancel my 3:30.", and immediately get some relief before going back to running Earth. This job should be a paid internship, with benefits and recommendations after the job is over. And it should be advertised on Craigslist.
</span></li></ul><p style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">I'm sure I could think of more, but that's plenty for now. All hail.</span>
Peace.
</span></div>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1165815446410660592006-12-11T08:08:00.000-06:002006-12-11T11:49:48.726-06:00Sometimes I Wish I Was a Jehovah's Witness<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">*Simply because they don't celebrate birthdays, not because I want to knock on your door at 7am on a Saturday morning, smushing a copy of "The Watchtower" under your door as you and the kids hide quietly just on the other side, pretending not to be home. Oh, I know how it goes down.*</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Another year gone. Since the average life expectancy of a black man is 70 years (or 22, if you live in New York City), I'm damned close to mid-life. *Sigh* What's a boy to do?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Keep on living, that's what.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Do you think for a Bolivian second that I'm gonna get all maudlin just because I've officially moved out of the 18-34 demographic, and into the "They're too old for us to care about marketing toward...just throw some Depends on top of a station wagon and call it a day" category? Think again. I don't roll like that. I roll </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >fierce</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">. Turning 35 is just opening the door to the rest (and best) of my life, and I mean that shit.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">How did I spend my birthday weekend, you ask? I'd LOVE to share!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">As you may recall, 4YO (yeah baby, he's FOUR now. He wants a Chevy Avalanche for his next birthday. Or maybe that's me who wants that. I forget) had HIS birthday on the 9th, and we had a party planned at Satan's Foyer at 10am. 13 kids showed up for this gala event, and at $10 per kid, plus drinks, the grand total for the party was $23,452.51. But it was </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >totally </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">worth it to see him laughing and playing with his friends from daycare.</span>
</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Arrival time</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">: 10am</span>
</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Departure time</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">: 2pm</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Four hours in Chuck E. Cheese is about three hours and 47 minutes too long, unless you lost your wallet up in there. The Humanity Neck Punch urge grew, and my fist balled up reflexively, like it does when I'm riding the subway in Washington D.C. or whenever I walk through Wal-Mart. I hate Chuck E. Cheese, with a passion I usually only reserve for driving in Dallas and Andy Dick.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">My band had a show Saturday night, a benefit for children with AIDS. We were the headliners, meaning we had to wade through several other bands until it was our turn to rock. Now, those of you who've heard our stuff will agree - we're not heavy metal. I mean, we can get </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >down</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> like that, but that's just not our thing. There were several heavy metal bands there last night, playing noteless songs and growling out repetitious lyrics like "DIIIIIIIIIIIIE! [loud, unintelligible grunting and growling] Reign in BLOOOOOOOOD! [more grunts, a moo, a couple of donkey brays, an alligator hiss, and the sound of two wild boars mating]" You can't even understand them! And the music...from a skill standpoint, those guys are very, very good. But when your music sounds like a jackhammer pounding a tin roof and french nails scraping a chalk board, it's more like noise pollution than actual music. A sneeze is more musical. And has less saliva. Our set was decent. We've played better, but when you don't start actually playing until after 1am, your sets tend to be subpar. We'll get 'em on New Year's Eve.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I had the distinct pleasure of going to Wal-Mart, where I had to park on the SIDE of the building, damn-near the Sam's Club parking lot next door. There were THAT many idiots - I mean, shoppers - there. I hated it, but I needed supplies, mainly Tang (or G-Vang, as I'm now calling it, since I buy the Great Value Orange Breakfast Drink Mix instead of actual Tang. Shit tastes the same to me.), a 100' extension cord, and outlet spike for the lights I had planned to put up on the outside of the bungalow. The Christmas section looked like Beirut circa 1987. I think I saw orphans. The very embodiment of the Christmas spirit occurred when, in one of the narrow-ass rows in that area, and old man looked me dead in my eye, scowled, and moved his buggy in order to prevent me from turning down the aisle I was aiming toward. My fist balled up again. But I just smirked and spun my buggy around and went the other way. I don't wanna punch an old man in the neck. Fuck that wreath. I was in the checkout line for 20 minutes.</span>
</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Arrival time</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">: 1:30pm</span>
</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Departure time</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">: 4pm</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">The rest of my birthday I spent chilling. I got some cool gifts from the family, and we put up our trees (we erect two Christmas trees - a 6 foot fiber optic one as the main tree, and a little 3 footer for the kids to decorate, so they don't pull the nice, expensive, and irreplaceable glass and ceramic ornaments off the main tree). It was quite nice. I appreciate all of you for the sweet comments, the text messages, the phone calls, and everything else. I love you all for it.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh! Check me out, pre-beard:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/514145/112606_15001.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/137903/112606_15001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">That's a soup-catcher, not a beard. Also known as a flavor-saver.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Here's me with a beard:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/387006/121006_19401.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/869932/121006_19401.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh, yes. Rockin' it HARD. See the grays right there at the chin? I'm OLD, baby.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Here's 4YO and 7YO at the party:</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/17849/J-4th_Birthday%20020.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/256625/J-4th_Birthday%20020.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">My wonderful offspring.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Here's me, rocking a tie today at work (RARE):</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/829800/J-4th_Birthday%20036.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/942647/J-4th_Birthday%20036.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Oh yeah. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Here's me, saying:</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Peace.
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Uncle Phil Edit:</span> JB(S), I'mma whup your ass when I see you again. Don't think I won't. Do you REALLY think I look like my man James Avery? Check it:
</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thehistorymakers.com/admin_hm/images/1079984123.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.thehistorymakers.com/admin_hm/images/1079984123.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-size:130%;">
<span style="font-family: arial;">Damn. I kinda do. </span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">*sigh*</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">That's your ass, JB(S). </span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1165599439586219832006-12-08T14:45:00.000-06:002006-12-09T09:34:36.846-06:00Random Jonx, 'Cause I Want To<span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >I don't have one big thing to talk about today, so I'm gonna give you some Damian <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/vignettes">vignettes</a>, just a little sumthin' sumthin' to get you by for the weekend. The weekend that includes my 35th birthday, just in case I didn't mention it 3945924 times already. Hey, at least I'm consistent. </span><ul style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" ><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.ntlband.com">Nonetheless</a> has a show tomorrow night at our home away from home, Tomcats. It's a benefit show, with all proceeds going toward Brian's House, a halfway house for children with AIDS. It's a good cause, so if you're in the DFW area, come on out. We're headlining ('cause that's how we roll, bitches), so we'll hit the stage around midnight. Come out and help the kids. </span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I got prizes! <a href="http://beautyandthebeer.blogspot.com/">Laurie</a> and <a href="http://hotdrwife.blogspot.com/">HDW</a> totally hooked a brotha up with birthday gifts, for which I'm very, very thankful. Aich Dee Dub got me a couple of things off my wish list - the Busta Rhymes CD (because who doesn't love Busta?), and "Every Dead Thing" by John Connolly, both of which I coveted. And Laurie got me THESE:</span></li></ul><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/373652/PCDV0006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/360316/PCDV0006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/1600/850593/PCDV0016.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3623/594/200/988899/PCDV0016.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Thank you, HDW and Laurie! Books, CDs, Samuel L. Jackson wallets, and fine bacon products (gummy bacon, bacon air fresheners, and bacon band-aids, to be exact). I am in heaven, or at least close enough to hit it with a thrown rock. You are both the shit. </span><ul style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" ><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Shaving has gotten to be monotonous and tedious to me, so in rebellion, I'm growing a beard. You see, with the gray and the turning 35, I just didn't think I looked old <span style="font-style: italic;">enough</span>, so I figured I'd add even more facial hair. Next I'm buying a pipe, some reading glasses, and some Metamucil. Wait, I already have Metamucil. Long story. Let's just say I've visited Colonoscopyville, and I did not enjoy my stay there. </span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Ordinarily I don't get all demonstrative in my Christmas displays, but this year...I don't know. My cubicle is ghetto fabulous with Christmas lights and a 10" pre-lit Christmas tree. There's no bah in MY humbug this year.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">And can I just say that it can sometimes SUCK being Santa Claus for your kids? Especially if your kids want every...single...thing they see on TV? How many times must I hear "Daddy, I want that. Dad, can I have that? Daddy, get me that" before my head implodes upon itself, leaving a black hole that sucks the rest of my body into it? Tell me so I can make them say it more often. I'm looking forward to that black hole. My stock reply lately is "Well, maybe if you stop acting like a donkey, you'll get some of what you ask for. And you BETTER be happy with WHATEVER you get, 'cause Santa works hard to get you little ingrates most of what you like. YOU GOT THAT?"
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">For some bizarre reason, I went out on Black Friday at 5am to Best Buy. It was my first Black Friday. It was my last Black Friday. I wanted to punch all of humanity in the neck.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Tomorrow is 3YO's birthday, and we're having his party in Satan's Foyer, better known as Chuck E. Cheese to all you non-parental units. Is there anything better than 15 or 20 3- to 4-year olds, running and screaming, playing loud-ass games and kicking your shins, all while demanding tokens and pizza and more tokens and something to drink and still MORE tokens? Yes. Everything else on Earth. I think I'd rather be beaten with a double-ended dildo than to work at Chuck E. Cheese. Hell, even going there gives me hives. Tomorrow should be a footlocker chock full o' fun.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I haven't seen "Heroes", except for the pilot. All the others were DVRed. The very next person who tries to tell me what happens gets a neck punch. That's all I'm sayin'.
</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://jali-jalishouse.blogspot.com/">Jali </a>is coming to Dallas next week, and we're gonna see about meeting up. I'm sure hilarity will ensue.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Wanna know what's funnier than me trying to hit the high notes while singing "Sunglasses At Night" by Corey Hart? Failing.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Please, please, please go vote for HDW, who is a <a href="http://2006.weblogawards.org/">Weblog Award Finalist</a> in the category of Best Diarist. Her blog is called Green Apple Martini. Help her beat Dooce and that other chick whose blog is utterly unreadable except by bulemic lemurs snorting aspirin while swinging upside-down over electrical substations. Please. <a href="http://2006.weblogawards.org/2006/12/best_diarist.php">Rock the vote</a>, people - she deserves it.
</span></li></ul><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" > Alright, that's enough randomnicity for now. Y'all have a good weekend. I'll hit you up on Monday, after 3YO's birthday and my birthday and the party and the gig and whatever else goes on in my wacky life. Peace! </span><span style="font-size:130%;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Peace!
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Happy Birthday Edit Numero Uno: </span>Thank you, <a href="http://pepepippy.blogspot.com/">Softball Slut</a>! I got the two books you sent yesterday. I appreciate it mucho!
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1165439188106098812006-12-06T16:15:00.000-06:002006-12-06T16:34:51.463-06:00Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/6/2006<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">HOLLA! 4 days, people. Word.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Today's diatribe will be brought to you by Anger! Get Anger, the most passionate of all the emotions! 2 for $14.99. I don't know why I'm so angry today, but the stories I picked just brought it all out. People are stupid. And they keep getting dumber and dumber, in a strange reverse-evolution, but to the point where even rhesus monkeys are pointing at us and saying "Jesus, Poncho, get on Ebay and bid on a clue! Shit, use Buy It Now!" I'm constantly amazed. I'm glad they're around, though. They give me something to write about. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Brown came back with Mister Black! </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">(Name that book.)</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">On with the 'tribe!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">-----------------------------------------</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">NASHVILLE, Tennessee (AP) -- It is considered polite to light a match after passing gas. Not while on a plane. An American Airlines flight was forced to make an emergency landing Monday morning after a passenger lit a match to disguise the scent of flatulence, authorities said. The Dallas-bound flight was diverted to Nashville after several passengers reported smelling burning sulfur from the matches, said Lynne Lowrance, spokeswoman for the Nashville International Airport Authority. All 99 passengers and five crew members were taken off and screened while the plane was searched and luggage was screened. The FBI questioned a passenger who admitted she struck the matches in an attempt to conceal a "body odor," Lowrance said. She had an unspecified medical condition, authorities said. "It's humorous in a way but you feel sorry for the individual, as well," she said. "It's unusual that someone would go to those measures to cover it up." The flight took off again, but the woman was not allowed back on the plane. The woman, who was not identified, was not charged in the incident.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >I...cannot... stop laughing... at this. There's embarrassment, there's mortified, there's utter shame, and then there's THIS. This is a level of shame unrivaled by damn-near ANYTHING I've ever heard of. Imagine having the pilot make an emergency landing, all because you farted. How bad was that fart that she had to light a match? I mean, wouldn't it just be easier to blame somebody else? Just come out of the bathroom, look back at it in disgust, and say something like "Holy shit, there's a foul bitch on this airplane, that's all I got to say." And go back to your seat shaking your head. How hard is that, unless your ass smells like a rhinocerous humping a termite mound in the summer? I'm glad she at least did the right thing and owned up to doing it, instead of having the NTSB shaking down every Muslim they could find. That took a LOT of courage, especially for a woman. Why especially for a woman, you ask? 'Cause y'all don't fart. That's why. And if you DO, you'd sooner admit to capital murder than to ripping out a wet one in public. What if she was on her way to Dallas for a business meeting or a seminar or some other time-sensitive activity? How the hell do you explain that you're stuck in Tennessee because your sphincter released something so hideous, your common sense packed an overnight bag and went to stay with its sister, while you decided to pretend you were at a Deep Purple concert and start waving a match around? We've all ripped one that made us flee our own stench out of fear and disgust (well, us guys, anyway). All I have to say is that must've been one heavy-duty work of flatulent art. She should've recorded it. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">------------</span></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" id="redesign_default" ><span id="1024_2_Column_Multi"><p>Salt Lake City - Utah Supreme Court justices acknowledged Tuesday that they were struggling to wrap their minds around the concept that a 13-year-old girl could be both an offender and a victim for the same act - in this case, having consensual sex with her 12-year-old boyfriend. The Ogden, Utah, girl was put in this odd position because she was found guilty of violating a state law that prohibits sex with someone under age 14. She also was the victim in the case against her boyfriend, who was found guilty of the same violation by engaging in sexual activity with her. "The only thing that comes close to this is dueling," said Associate Chief Justice Michael Wilkins, noting that two people who take 20 paces and then shoot could each be considered both victim and offender. And Chief Justice Christine Durham wondered if the state Legislature had intended the "peculiar consequence" that a child would have the simultaneous status of a protected person and an alleged perpetrator under the law. The comments came in oral arguments on a motion asking the high court to overturn the finding of delinquency - the legal term in juvenile court for a conviction - against Z.C., who became pregnant after she and her boyfriend engaged in sex in October 2003. State authorities filed delinquency petitions in July 2004, alleging that each had committed sexual abuse of a child, a second-degree felony if committed by an adult. The girl appealed the petition, saying her constitutional right to be treated equally under the law had been violated.</p><p><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Um...I'm not saying it's cool that a 12- and 13-year old were doin' the do, but to charge either of them with a crime is the height of stupidity. How about handling this like adults, and just beating their asses and not letting them see each other again? What happened to that option? No way I'd call the cops on some dumb bullshit like this. She was pregnant, for bacon's sake! Help her! Charging her with a crime and potentially sending her to juvy isn't gonna do a thing for that baby, who was already starting off on the wrong foot. If you're 20, and your mom's 33 and your dad's 32, you got issues enough. If one or both of them did time in the joint over the very act of conceiving you, you might wanna save up for therapy and your own bail. The very first sign of how crazy this is is the fact that they're saying the girl is both offender and victim, which just doesn't make any kind of common sense. Now, I'm glad there are laws in place to help out abused children, but this wasn't abuse - this was two young-ass kids wanting to get freaky with it, and that's where it should start and end, legally. Since when did we allow the judicial system to raise our children? Maybe if the parents had been watching little Billy and Mandy, she wouldn't've gotten knocked up by someone who would face the moral dilemma of whether to buy Enfamil or shoes with skates in the bottom.</span>
</p>------------
Andy Dick hasn't learned anything from the Michael Richards incident. According to sources, the hopped-up comedian hopped onstage Saturday at L.A.'s Improv comedy club and dropped the n-bomb on a room full of stunned clubgoers. Andy was heckling comedian Ian Bagg during his routine, when Dick allegedly got out of his seat, jumped onstage and began joking with Bagg. The subject of Michael Richards came up, but the two comics quickly moved past it. As Dick exited the stage, he suddenly grabbed the mic and shouted at the crowd, "You're all a bunch of niggers!" The stunned crowd gasped and stared at each other. Bagg tried to play it cool and move on with his set, but the laughs weren't there. Calls to Dick's rep were not immediately returned.
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">I hate Andy Dick. Can't stand him. He's a smug, arrogant prick with an overinflated sense of self and a gross misjudgment on how much talent he actually possesses. This hatred isn't a new thing; it's been simmering on low for years now, even back in the "Talk Radio" days when he was basically a smart-ass nobody. I've watched this fuck muppet grow his career like an infected weed, get part after part, banking on marginal talent and an incredible ability to kiss ass and be seen. He isn't funny. He can't act. The only thing he's good at is being Andy Dick, with a pronounced emphasis on the surname. He is living someone else's dream, leaving wine stains and little crumbs of ecstacy all over it. Wasn't it bad enough that Michael Richards said that during his routine? Wasn't that deplorable enough? Did Andy think that maybe he could reach just a </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">little </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">lower and offend even MORE people? I can't stand what Michael Richards did, and he's got a long way to go, in my eyes, to really show contrition and remorse. But in a way, what Andy Dick did was worse. Richards clearly wasn't going for jokes in his rant...he had fallen off the deep end, and into his own psyche. Dick was trying to be funny, using something he already knew wasn't funny as his vehicle. All you budding comedians (myself included), take notes. Attacking the audience CAN be funny (see Hicks, Bill), if you do it the right way and make sure they're in on the joke, too. But calling the audience by a hateful and derogatory racial slur isn't funny, no matter who you are. If the great Richard Pryor himself had done that, it STILL wouldn't be funny. Don't go there. I hate Andy Dick. He'll ride the wave of this minor controversy all the way to the bank. I hope he chokes on his next penis.</span>
Peace.
</span></span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1165298732120968392006-12-05T08:33:00.000-06:002006-12-05T08:39:57.833-06:00Everyone Loves A Ghetto Parade<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">5 days. I'm just sayin'. 35 in 5 days. Respect. My sister's birthday was yesterday, and she's 21 now. 21. We adopted her when she was 9 days old. God, I'm ancient. (Clickity-click on that Amazon button, my pretties. Daddy needs some prezzies.)</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Every year around this time, when the leaves all fall off the tree (and into my yard, because we just HAD to have the house with the most trees, and now every time I blow those evil things, rake 'em into piles, bag 'em, and breathe a sigh of relief, down come 244959223994 more, mocking me) and a chill is in the air (or in THIS case, a damn bone-numbing, warmth-lacking, witch's titty of a frigid cold snap), our thoughts turn to pleasant things (certainly NOT our credit card bills, or that bad case of Dunlap disease; you know, where your belly "dunlap" over your belt) like yuletide, caroling, jolly old St. Nick, and Christmas parades.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Usually we gather all our earthly belongings, made a few dozen gallons of hot chocolate, get on the southbound DART train (hopefully the one that doesn't smell like urine and unemployment), and trek into scenic (and by 'scenic' I mean 'utterly empty and devoid of human life except whenever I want to be there') downtown Dallas to catch the Christmas parade. I've watched and participated in numerous parades in my day, but I must say, Dallas puts on a nice one. Not only do they have floats and Miss Hicktown Hayeater riding on someone's Corvette, they have </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >balloons</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">. Real balloons, just like in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, only not quite as big. Still, they float way up in-between the buildings, and the handlers spin 'em around and around. It's pretty damn cool, but you have to get there at half-past the crack of dawn just to get a good spot on the street...otherwise you'll have a seat similar to Lee Harvey Oswald's, only with a much worse view. Then, in order to not get sucked into the 25,000 people who all decided to take the train, you wait around down there, eating lunch and walking about like a damn tourist until you think train traffic's decreased to the point where your claustrophobia won't kick in, and you take your hour ride back to your car, and then home. A whole day, basically, all to see a bunch of people walk and ride down the street. Damn all that.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">This year we opted for something simpler - the Plano Christmas parade. Plano is, of course, a suburb of Dallas, and much closer to where we live, so we figured why not? Well, as you might imagine, the Plano version offered a different flavor than the Dallas extravaganza offered. Pictures? Why, YES!</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0044.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0044.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I sincerely hope this was just for the parade, and that the cops don't really use these things to catch criminals. It's just a little...gay. No offense.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0045.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0045.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">This is Grinch #3 of the parade. I didn't get pics of the first two, because...well, who expects to see more than one? I decided to track 'em after I saw this guy.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0048.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0048.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Aw, isn't this the cutest thing? It's a miniature DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) bus. The full-sized ones go maybe 3 miles per hour faster than this one.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0049.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0049.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">What is this, "Back To The Future"? No. Digging the moose antlers on the Jeep, though. What's that you say? It's supposed to be reindeer antlers? My bad. Looks like Bullwinkle sittin' on 22s, to me.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0051.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0051.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Grinch #4. Pay close attention to the front of the truck. Can you see the little dog suspended there in midair? That was pretty cool.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0053.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0053.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Ooooo, it's a gingerbread house made of corrugated cardboard! I still saw a kid nibbling on it, though.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0054.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0054.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Damn. Couldn't even get the kid a real camel. Or is this a new species, </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >Radious Flyeris</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">?</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0055.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0055.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Too much acid, maaaaaan...way too much acid.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0056.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0056.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">I LOVED this float. I had never before seen a helicoptor float in a Christmas parade. I praise their ingenuity.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0060.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0060.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">As the driver drove down the street, he seriously yelled "What? It's a float! It FLOATS!" This is pure, unadulterated laziness here.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0061.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0061.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Grinch #5. Dear sweet baby Jesus. Couldn't anyone be a Frosty or a Rudolph or even Ralphie from "A Christmas Story"?
</span><a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0062.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0062.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Loving...this...costume. The presents as shoes? Priceless.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0065.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0065.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Hey </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://fyrchk.blogspot.com">Fyrchk</a><span style="font-family: arial;">, I heard he's available. Want me to get them digits for ya?</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0066.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0066.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Grinch #6. You have to admire their sticktoitiveness. They found a theme, and they ran with it. 6 freakin' Grinches. Perhaps they figured that we all had ADD, and wouldn't remember seeing FIVE OTHERS. Even I noticed that shit.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0068.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0068.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">"Mustache rides are free, guys. I mean, girls. Girls. Yes. Girls."</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0069.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0069.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Ghetto Spider-Man don't be swingin' on no webs, baby. Ghetto Spider-Man </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >strolls</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">. Um, can Ghetto Spider-Man borrow $5 till payday? No, YOUR payday.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0070.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0070.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Interstate Batteries and Christmas go hand in hand.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0071.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0071.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">At first I thought it was a Shetland pony. Then I thought it was the skinniest cow in the history of ever. Then I realized it was one of those Marmaduke dogs, painted up like a dalmation. All this dog needed was a saddle.</span>
<a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0073.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d186/darkdamian/Xmas%20Parade%2006/PCDV0073.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<span style="font-family: arial;">911 is a joke in your town.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">After this, Santa himself came down, fabulous in his splendor. He wasn't remarkable enough to warrant a picture. Just a regular ol' Santa, riding on the back of a flatbed through Plano, Texas. No sleigh, no reindeer, just Santa on a flatbed, just like nature intended. Next year, we're hitting Dallas.</span>
<span style="font-family: arial;">Peace. </span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624877.post-1165163767338811612006-12-03T10:10:00.000-06:002006-12-03T12:18:41.846-06:007 Days and Counting<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I laughed when I saw </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.blender.com/guide/articles.aspx?id=466">this</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> from </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://hotdrwife.blogspot.com/">HDW</a><span style="font-family:arial;">. She rocks. Voting the Insane Clown Posse number one was utterly brilliant, and a move I wholeheartedly support.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Also, I'm sure you all noticed the Amazon Wish List button over to the right, in the sidebar. Buy me birday (or "berfday", depending on your background) gifts for all the things I give you, like laughter and fights with </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://beautyandthebeer.blogspot.com">Laurie</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> and dumb people on the Diatribe. 7 days. There's some affordable shit there. Click...that...button. CLICK IT! Love me long time. </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Tomorrow I'll show you pics from the ghetto Christmas parade we went to yesterday. How do you spell "nutcracker" in the Plano Christmas Parade? </span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">N-U-T-C-R-A-C-E-R.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I only </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >wish</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> I was kidding.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">I'm gonna take this quiz, simply because it's funny.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">ARE YOU IN THE WORST BAND IN THE WORLD?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Take this simple multiple-choice quiz and save yourself some embarrassment!</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">1 How long is your drummer’s solo?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">a) He doesn’t get one.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">b) A couple minutes is all, and it’s very funky.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">c) Which of our drummers are you talking about?</span>
<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >They forgot d) He's too busy smoking a bowl to solo.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">2 What is the secret of your success?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">a) Inspiration.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">b) Perspiration.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">c) Butchering old soul classics in a manner beloved by middle-aged housewives and the mentally unwell.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >They forgot d) My friend's dad owns the bar we play at every night of every weekend, plus we play power pop. We're weak.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">3 How many times has your band’s lineup changed?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">a) Never happened, dude. If anyone left, it just wouldn’t be the same.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">b) A few. It’s so hard to find a good accordionist.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">c) 1,179.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >They forgot d) We just use a pre-recorded guitar track, and a cardboard cutout of a guy shredding his ass off. We try not to knock it down during gigs.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">4 The name of your band is…</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">a) A favorite phrase from a William S. Burroughs novel.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">b) An action verb, followed by an even number.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">c) Indistinguishable from that of an accounting firm.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >They forgot d) The result of Jagermeister, someone's middle name, and a hard sneeze.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">5 What is your favorite subject matter for lyrics?</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">a) The pain of loving.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">b) The joy of drinking.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">c) Dragons. Or dungeons. But mostly dragons.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >They forgot d) The proper way to administer The Shocker.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">IF YOU ANSWERED…</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Mostly a): Congratulations! You’re in a good band.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Mostly b): Commiserations! You’re in a not-very-good band.</span>
<span style="font-family:arial;">Mostly c): What’s that sucking sound? Oh, it’s you.</span>
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:arial;" >Mostly d): You're in 98.5% of the bands out there! Yay conformity!</span>
</span>Dark Damianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135033464317376348noreply@blogger.com4