A brisk, thoughtless jaunt through the mind

This is what I got in my math department "secure" email box:

tripod living with widow, near warranty, and bicep inside are what made America great!near maestro reads a magazine, or wedding dress toward impresario satiate related to apartment building.A few dissidents, and necromancer around pocket) to arrive at a state of fighter pilotAnd operate a small fruit stand with the dark side of her apartment building.He called her Marty (or was it Marty?).spider beyond daydreams, or for tripod fall in love with cup toward fetishist.

The subject was, of course, "FCU Security Department," which makes sense when you think long and hard about it. My security has been under fire for some time, so I knew right then and there that this email had to be investigated. Boy, am I glad that I did. Boy.

So, did everyone hear about the Halloween debauchery that took place here on Saturday night? Well, I can assure you that it was quite stupid and ridiculous. Over 100,000 people were present, and most were looking for a riot. I mean, they wanted to see a riot take place. The booming recording was finally played announcing the end of all fun. Then people were sprayed with mace. I was down there for awhile (earlier than 2:00 am), and I was mostly amazed at the giant stadium lights that were brought in. Night became day, and all demons were abolished, just like in Castlevania 2. Anyway, back to the ridiculousness of the situation. According to reports, the crowd began to chant, "U.S.A., U.S.A." in response to the police presence, a chant that we all know is for idiots and idiots alike. Shit, if they were all about the USA, then they would know they were supporting a militant police force with such chants (I guess I'm implying that militant police forces love the USA... and chants thereof). Now, I know that most people were suffering the consequences of voluminous beer flows and waterfalls of cheap vodka, but that just isn't an excuse. As it turns out, the same crowd that occupies state street every night takes it over on Halloween night. A crowd that doesn't represent anything of substance relative to human solidarity, except throwing some rocks for no reason and starting small fires. Then this lame crowd starts to come together bravely, and fight as a team, all for the honorable and holy ideal of... nothing. At least start a riot in the name of paying taxes for welfare queens or something, at least I know you're thinking. These are precisely the reasons why I didn't go down there, although I was mighty close. The total cost for the city was half a million. In St. Paul, somebody was found burned in the park, at least that didn't happen here. Which would I prefer though, one man burned, or getting stamped on my forward as just another idiot Madisonian?

Moreover, I lost my left arm

Please take the time to contact Malkus when you get the time. He appreciates all input. He may also wish to briefly explain some issues regarding transformation, as you requested.

Miers dropped out of the Supreme Court running. People seem to care, but they shouldn't, at least not this time of year. People should be reading Fangoria and chanting ritualistically. In Madison, people will chant as the tear gas reigns down upon them. They have to use it up or else it goes bad within the year, rendering it useless. Get a clue assholes. If you want real fun go to Bennett's, where they show porn at all times on several screens. And I'm not talking softcore porn motherfucker. There's lots of pretenders out there dressing up like Hunter S. Thompson. They too are clueless, as a friend of mine yelled out several key phrases to them, garnering no response. That's too bad.

Today, I had to get a picture taken for myself, you know, for my profile in the department. I said that I enjoyed building robots for a hobby. We all know that this (although true) is impractical and down right dangerous. Watch out. No crushing mechanisms will be allowed without proper safety devices. Asimov's robot rules shall be in effect at all times.

"The Warriors" game came out recently for all types of gaming platforms. It probably sucks. I guess this movie has finally been caught in the main stream. Cleon, the leader of the gang, is most likely an unlockable player, but I haven't researched this matter, so I'm unwilling to guarantee this.

A good haunted house here (13 stories in height) burned down a couple of years ago. It might be on its feet again next year, but for nwo, there will be no haunted house. Several kids went there and roasted hot dogs and died in the subsequent blaze, that's why it's haunted. I won't be attending any haunted houses this year. This is like a Doogie Howser journal entry.

Today I found out that good friends really are good friends. A 16 year old doctor has to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. An old wise doctor had tried to molest me once, but Boner from Growing Pains saved my ass. Teen age actors have to remain close.

Check this out. JR was going to dance... something nasty. 27 pastors said no, they'd rather just keep their altar boys dancing in the dank, dark halls of their respective churches. Get naked boys, this is gonna be a party! Jamestown refuses to let the homosexual (and the geriatric) crowd have any fun. Assholes.

I drank some Nyquil, so now it's time for bed. Good night.

And the Lamb shall lie down with the... Lynx?

If I tell you too much, then visiting this site won't be quite as much of an intriguing mystery, so I'll let you inquire within instead.

Free advice from BORT: Don't name your little girls Lynx, parents. You know what will happen if you do? You'll make me, and lots of people born in my epoch, think of an obscure motorized action figure. One who could become a space shuttle, but who was so much more... than met the eye... who was in reality a robotic dragon/lynx hybrid beast. This character, in a cartoon made by his makers to sell toys to dumb kids, was once made to say the following bit of wisdom:

"If you ever find yourself in doubt, ask yourself: What would Sky Lynx do if he were in my position? - And you will not go far wrong."

Yes, that's right; the Christianists stole that whole "WWJD" thing from one specific line heard but once during season three of "The Transformers." Those bastards, right?

All of this is starting to make me wonder: Was Ultra Magnus actually a Neo-Nazi propaganda tool? (Answer: Does mustard come from seeds?)

Christ for sale

"I've been sold on Jesus ever since he made that movie last year. Did you see that movie? It was real good."

That's what the evangelists on the street were saying today, with accordian in hand. They also said this:

"I despise all civilian time. We deploy efficient hate with Japanese sword love. Is that a throbbing system problem?

I would suspect that the answer is yes. And I'm guessing that this all has to do with the fact that Bill Gates was in town last Thursday. "Surprise kids, I'm here." He said as he made a surprise appearance in a computer science class to talk about the monolpoly he plans to implement on them within the next few years. They were flattered to the max, and some managed to form erections (again, to their surprise). Bill Gates has become so used to dealing with exciting computer technology breakthroughs that he can't even get it up anymore. The most compelling (or depressing) part of this story is that Bill Gates' cat had passed away earlier in the day. Actually, it had more to do with the little fact that this appearance was all part of some new MTV show where celebrities make appearances at various places to knock the socks off of the onlookers.

With another MTV note, I've developed a paranoia of the show "Boiling Points." I continually convince myself that the current situation I'm in is some sort of prank. This can be beneficial however, as it makes me stay in hopes of getting the $100. In particular, while sitting in class, I felt sure that I was being told ridiculous old tales of trickery and debauchery. But, I was hell-bent on getting the cash reward (at the end of the semester), so I stayed in my seat. Another time I lost control of my bowels and I also mistook (in this case) this mishap for another amusing MTV practical joke. No money was received by me. Reality TV is nothing more than logic torture, full of empty promises, leaving my pants full of a gallon of you know what. What? I gotta go...

Of the different topics (to address)

I have decided upon creating a new post to explain, answer and discuss B.O.R.T.'s various comments and questions. Various varied and various items. I'm no Christian conservative, Jesus knows. I rented Atomic Cafe, I hope to see humorous public service messages and attain insight. You saw Berkshire at the video store and you were unable to build up the courage to confront him. Unrelated items, varied (various). Vary with me. Call Berkshire, then call Drago Ford. Tell him that you can't find Mike Wiest anywhere. Where is he? Ask that too. Then warn him of potential future doom and hang up quick. Call me after that. Read a good newspaper or book during down times.

To your questions: Ufoid stopped posting for god knows why. He really doesn't have internet access and prefers to stay out of the fray. He may be in the same boat as you and I BORTY, as in he has nothing to rant about at this time. I do have rantings, but my mind won't allow me to assemble them in a general manner. Sometimes that's good, but it's gone beyond that and has fallen back into the gray matter (what drugs will take care of this?). You have to work on young children with instruments and chemicals at the local institution, I only have to work with the students at the other institution. My job carries much less responsibility, and I certainly can't complain (or be responsible for anyone's death). That's cool by me. Don't let that wreck your nerve when you're putting someone under the knife. Keep that knife away from my face while you're at it. Anyway, that's always my point, to find that point where I can do everything I want, while doing anything I want. That makes sense to me at least. Keep the scene alive.

About the new materials - this is what I have:
*a very long story, of which a bit of it has been seen
*several shorter bits of story (actually, just a bunch of half-written shit, some of which is good... I'd say in my defense)
*two country songs I wrote (once, when I heard country on the radio and hated it so)
*at least one religious exposè
*archived Wahl documents
*A medley of KJOE commercial tracks... nearly finished with editing

Anyway, a bunch of stuff... I don't know where to start, where to end. Votes will be taken. Also, I'd like to do something like "Weird Menace" again. So, don't believe me if you don't want to sucker, but you'll be sorry, you will be. By the way, that guy Stanley (Stan) did return that horror/hatred orb. What a weird fucker he was, bringing it all up in my face like it were. Heavy duty shit.

The depths of human self-pity

Based on recent events, I have come to the conclusion that there are too many people with too much self-pity. Through my experience at "work" I have seen the regular human being on the verge of (or soaked in) their own tears. That's too bad, because prior to this, I had some hope in humanity. Now people once again lack creativity in their show of emotions. What ever happened to random vandalism or violent attacks? Instead people immediately resort to breaking down and needing a good old fashioned hug. They won't get that here.

Today I had a notion of posting new pages to the mainframe website. But then I decided against it, with the realization that I have the material to post right in front of me, so why would I need to spend the time posting it. For others to read perhaps? That's stupid. There's just not enough patrons frequenting my site.

Now, on to research. Research regarding Brent Grocholski, my first TA ever at the University of Minnesota of course. Now Brent was the kinda guy that called himself The Elf and also had a mohawk. He was a man of tiny stature and he was a commie at heart. He always would say, "My heart is in the right place, although I must have my tonsils removed soon." Then he did just that, to make good on his word. This is what he was doing anb looking like just before he was my TA. The most interesting thing that I found out, and the best thing, was that he was in a band called "Pissed Robots on Crack." I wish I would have known that at the time. Hindsight, being 20/20 and all, always leads to a head shake. Anyway, it turns out now he's at Berkeley, studying rocks and things and planning some sort of Ted Kacyzinski themed band. The whole point of me mentioning this is to get people to search for those human relics in their lives. Everyone's got them, but few care.

By the way, the NIN show was great. I'm not a superfan or anything, by any means, but the stage show can't be outdone, not even with Neil Diamond's ravaging of the local women on stage. That will be all for now.

Trapped in a mediocre snake pit

Right now, as we speak, a good-sized snake is chasing around two mice under my bed. In all of its comedic glory, the snake will never get those two menacing and tricky rodents. Is the same thing true of the chasing of your life-long goals? Just something to consider.

Is everybody on fucking hiatus right now? Certrainly there is no contact through this medium. Christ, it's almost Halloween you know. Do you know what that means? It means I'm going to be dressing up like a hobgoblin (sometimes called a bogey) and starting trouble all over the area. I will also have (once again), a Burt Reynolds-esque mustache and an apple sauce spoon. There's a haunted tower type place here in Madison where I'll be going. I've been involved in enough fright chants to be able to maintain the nerves to make it to level 13. Maniacs on level 8, magicians on level 9 and murderers on level 12. Level 10 and 11 hold secret passages filled with blood horror and masked henchmen screaming tortured rhymes as they get turned into torsos. Level 2 has a giant man with 24 fingers and a crooked-necked old woman with bad teeth nursing her fetus with a soda can filled with gasoline.

Now that's all I have. You see, it's not the first time that I've been working towards burn-out. But I'm burning myself out now to have fun later this week. UFOID is coming over for the NIN concerto de bueno. Then I'm going to read some papers leisurely in front of Taco Bell and solicit "dollars for gorditas," which is a new program I recently developed.

Okay... live on...

Finite, but unable to dissect

Again, as told to me by my new pal Dan - "This is fucking ridiculous." He then pleaded with me to jump the fence with him. This is the scene from yesterday's intercity high school football rivalry between West and Memorial. Some dad wanted me to hop the fence with him, after I had already turned down one Latino man's request for the same. The line was so long you see. Even more ridiculous than the long line was the fact that we were actually considering hopping the fence. We walked to the fence, but it turned out the middle-aged foul-mouthed father of some player was too chicken. I should have stuck with the Mexican kid afterall. We'll say nothing here of their ability to jump fences, just that I encouraged him to the fullest. He looked fit. The kid looked fit.

I later attended a metal-type fest down the street from my neighborhood. I was praised several times on account of my classic Powerslave shirt. I going to listen to that very soon here, just wait. Okay, it's playing now. The band's included a different mix of different things, we'll say. Some leading the way with soaring solos and some with soaring vocal arrangements. I couldn't dissect all of it. None of it really. Madison has different beers and things that make my dissection skills less than average. That's because their high quality. A good Christmas ham will do the same. Metal bands with female lead singers always make for tough dissections anyway. Outside a man needed help, as he had lost his shirt and seemed to be sick from said Madison beer. He motioned for me and told me to get somebody from the band. I did, and then they fed him some bread pudding from Bonanza. His stomach would churn and burn some more based on this treat's consistency.

Well, I'll see you, what did we say, at 6:30 for dinner? Okay.