Items of interest

Check this stupid shit out first. Comments are welcome.

Faces of death

And, of course, the best bumper of all fucking time:

Reise, Reise, German solo

Hott Moss to Go

Rumor has it that Randy Moss is being traded to the Oakland Raiders. It suits him, I guess. I also heard -- just a rumor, now, kids -- that Bo Jackson will be serving as Moss's personal mangina.

Shove that in there. I'll watch for the cops.

In Virginia they're banning pants worn too low, in Washington they're fighting to get rid of Sponge Bob Squarepants and his home cartoon friends, and in Alabama they're forcing people to continue the popular Alabama tradition and pastime: being an incestuous pedophile. Hey, who wants to spend $30 on some anal lube, beads and a copy of Canadian Swank, when you can just yell for your sister on the porch? Not me...

God Thunders Morality

Now you, too, can call Xtina...

It seems that Paris Hilton's T-mobile "Sidekick" got hacked this weekend via social engineering. Way to go, Paris! Hurry up and call or email these famous folks, before they change their numbers and never talk to poor li'l Paris ever again! If you do get a chance to talk to, say, Eminem, please record and/or transcribe the call. Thank you.

Flags at half-mast, etc.

It's a sad day, indeed. Even for me, a 9-foot tall death robot with no emotional programme.

Fiestawizard says:

A sad day, a sad day indeed. I just read the news in the Daily Cardinal and couldn't believe that such was true. I'm not yet sure what to make of it, but if you've seen the title of his latest creation, you'll see that his outlook was nothing short of dooomfully pessimistic. As a wizard, I will now shed three (3) 'Tear Drops Sleep,' which obviously send my enemies into a deep sleep so I can attack them slowly with my wizard staffs, bags, and hats.

It's in the Mix, It's in the Deep Stuff

"I can't think of a state we didn't send them to," said Cecchini, who now goes by the name Byron Calvert because he said he likes the name Byron better than Bryant and because he wants to shed his Italian stepfather's surname.

From the article linked to by B.O.R.T. Mexicans cannot, in fact, lead your Nazi gang; it just doesn't work. I was unable for some reason to post comments to that post. Fuckin' blogger.com. It is a benefit for all, and a benefit to mention, that old Bryant will now be called Byron. Because it just sounds better, especially when proceeded by Calvert.

In regard to the previous post by me, mentioning the magician, I will attempt to scan the picture at some point and add it on. It makes the story all the better.

While the mix has been deliciously boring and confusing lately, I still got my fix of organization today. I took a trip to a steel fabrication plant about 30 minutes outside of Madison. As soon as I found out about this trip, I knew what to expect: a thirty minute ride of awkwardness. And awkward it was... indeed. I actually talked to this girl about some issues for an assignment in class (very deep conversation about interesting beam theory (add sarcasm as needed). B.O.R.T. also knows this girl, as we knocked down a few pins together in St. Paul last spring. The other passengers included a guy with a pony tail that stares at people in class and gets great noticeable satisfaction from asking "good" questions in class, a girl that, as is evident by all the shirts she wears, went to Notre Dame and was definitely in the trumpet section (proud, silent), a Westpoint grad that's older with kids and loves NASCAR radio (names kept anonymous, that and I don't know them). The combination was utter disgusting horror as I entered the mini-van at the hour of 8 am. At one point said girl decides to change station, which I am all for. This was made clear by a sparkle and twinkle in my eye. However, my inner-light was soon extinguished by country music... "Red, white and blue, where the eagle flies," or some shit like that. We all know that country music represents the symbol of "patriotism" and looks to crush the people like me who have become societie's pariah. At this time, I realized that my liking a person is 68% based on whether or not they enjoy neo-country music. Notice that I say "neo" because the whole country music scene did develop out of despair and actual genuine reflection on this. Now they're just total fucking idiots, poster-people, and messengers for things they can't even comprehend. Such is the way of the world though. In the thirty minute journey, I made several realizations and questioned my destiny to a certain extent. Maybe in my thinking of how I don't want my character to develop, I am actually developing into a selfish bastard cynic. On the other hand, that's exactly what I think they are, with the exception of the word cynic, which can be replaced with the word dullard. The point is I don't know if I can take it, so I'm looking to move in with you and live vicariously through you and your kin. It's sooo much easier. Good day.

"Immigrants and faggots, they make no sense to me-e"

.... thus quoth Axel Rose, best known for his name being an anagram for "oral sex," which as we all know is the kind of sex that, ironically, only immigrants and faggots enjoy. Sometimes they even enjoy it together.

The point of my post today is this: don't hire a spic to run your drug gang which also sells neo-fascist white supremicist Kraut rock.* It will only lead to your eventual downfall.


*if you need to register for the site that this link to, you may do so; just be sure to use a fake mailing and emailing address, otherwise they will never leave you, your family, or your small surface creatures alone.

Gray Matter Zone

Recently I have discovered the fact that I am currently trapped in a peculiar predicament. That predicament being a mental disorder in which I am unable to organize and present my thoughts in a fashion that is beneficial to the general public. Well, it's also possible that I just have a lack of anything beneficial to say in the first place. However, I think that it's that I've been overloaded with frivolous information, leading me to have an outpouring of other ideas that won't materialize in total. But you just wait assholes; in all of your doubt of me, I will start posting a bunch of useless shit that you won't know how to handle. Then you'll be sorry. I've been reading different sources of information, and I've thought a lot about them, but I 'm just not sure how to regurgitate them all over your new pillow. With that said, in no particular order, here are the pieces of information that deserve discussion:

1) Young Money magazine, found in room in building at school: "Craig Karges can read thoughts and melt spoons with his mind. Meet the campus entertainer of the year." If you could only see the picture. I guess entertainment continues to suck. Young Money? Okay.

2) Allen Ross- taken over by cults back in '95. Killed ritualistically and buried in basement. He was a movie-maker, until he got caught up in the "Sumeritans," and we're not talking about the ancient culture here. They believed that due to all the evil in the world, the cosmos would soon open. Porceeding this, various travels, black magic, and winds of lore. Check out the movie about him.

3) Social experimentation: I need to work on this. I plan to invite people over from the streets and try out some new personalities.

4) People emailing me with excuses: stop that. I don't care.

5) Glenn Danzig got punched out earlier this year. Watch the video if you're interested. It's funny because Danzig said, "Mother, tell your children not to walk my way," and he thinks he's real tough. Mind you, he's 5'4".

6) Hagan, Chris- failing math right now. Needs help.

7) Should I grow that mustache I've been talking about?

Scaring Bridge

I'm posting for the first time, which is a scary and weird sensation, kinda like that time I smoked that shit I bought from "Schlafs" which turned out to be pencil shavings mixed with glue and sage. My sense of smell, and of spell, hasn't been the same since.

My first post for all of you... all TWO of you... introduces you to another blog system, known as CaringBridge, which is for sick people, or families of sick children, or simply for fans of sickness -- the latter being the case with this page, which is from some local folks well known to B.O.R.T., and now to all of you, too. Click through to "Read past journal entries," noting that there are also some photos that one should view for context... and as they used to say in Pole Position, "Prepare to Qualify."

Grandma's Barn Club

I assume everyone has seen the movie Fight Club? I've seen it, but not until recently. Mostly I was reluctant because it had Brad Pitt in it, and at the time he was at the peak of his popular likeability among girls and women from 12-60 years old. Therefore, nobody that I had great movie picking respect for told me to check it out. I saw it on TV eventually, and the twists, turns, and social commentary were pretty good. Anyway, this is what happens when something so real gets in the minds of someone so in love with Brad Pitt's face.


The club that had no members

Homo Haven

"Hey, I never even liked the Flintstones anyway." That's what conservative kids everywhere are now saying. They've stopped eating "gay" Flintstone vitamins, stopped enjoying the fruitilicious taste of Fruity Pebbles, and certainly quit pretending to pick up their "friend" Barney to go to work in the morning. Fucking Ridiculous

Modern stoneage gay family

Virginia Pants

As if the Christian Broadcast Network wasn't enough to clean the shithole of Virginia up. That's right, they've now targeted the real cause to the depletion of the moral fabric: pants. We all more or less knew this was the cause, it's only now that some lawmakers stood up for what is right. Next on the list: shirts that don't have a specific approved label and revealing tank tops. Oh, but wait! Tank tops and "wife-beaters" just happen to be a staple of many Virginians, and banning them would could cause many people to wander about with no shirt at all. Therefore, they would be refused service at most respectable places of business. Ultimately, the real choice comes to this: a priority of business or of "morals?"


Pants, and pants

Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter

My leg!"

And you thought we were all safe at soccer games. After watching this piece of home video, I'm just not sure anymore. Throughtout the viewing, my nerves were noticeably on edge, and for good reason... you'll see.

Clyde

Ads, etc.

Since we've been on the topic of commercial whoring, and since Joe is familiar with the subject matter, I'm looking for some creation of commercial action. Somewhere along the lines of what we've produced in the old studio if you know what I mean. Give me the text, and I'll add necessary pictures and things, then post it.

Here's some ideas:

Zach's Beach Pants
Steve Hawthorne: Indian Lawyer
Vixen Frozen vegetables
Burt Reynold's Smokey and the Bandit acting school
Herpes chewing gum
Rockin' Ropes twine connection
Vix Vapo-rub

The other thing I'm looking for is "protocols." Real ones. Here's an example-

The proper protocol for the blind man at the bus stop is as follows: As the sightless person approaches the curb side (with dog or stick in hand), they must first identify where the bus will come. After this discovery, the blind person shall wait for the bus by listening for others' responses and with keen ear and keeping the stick tapping at the concrete. Once the bus approaches, the bus driver will notice the blind man, stop near him, and open the door. At this point the driver of said bus will shout out the bus number, close the door, and drive ahead, leaving the blind man guessing as to where the door is. Since the person is in fact blind, they will never find the door, the driver is a-hole, and the head is shook in a disapproving manner. Fortunately, another bus will come. Unfortunately, the same thing will happen again, according
to proper protocol.

A new way...

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