More Borat

Sorry for the double posting, but I'm taking my distractions where I can get them.

Borat went to the Whitehouse to try to disrupt Bush's meeting with Kazakh President Nazarbayev. Secret Service wisely kept him out the gate. That's not really interesting unless you can see the video, but in the article there's this little gem:

Shortly after Nazarbayev dedicated a statue in front of the Kazakh embassy, Borat denounced an official Kazakh publicity campaign running in U.S. magazines as "disgusting fabrications" orchestrated by neighboring Uzbekistan.

"If there is one more item of Uzbek propaganda claiming that we do not drink fermented horse urine, give death penalty for baking bagels, or export over 300 tonnes of human pubis per year, then we will be left with no alternative but to commence bombardment of their cities with our catapults," Borat said.

I can't get enough of this stuff.

And while I'm at it, I may as well steal from other Borat posts and put up the link where you can see what looks like all of his videos.

Cool space shuttle pic

Here ya go. Don't forget to click on the pic for a closeup.

YYZ video

Rush, having the most devoted of all fanbases, have inspired some guy to make an animated video for YYZ. It's surprisingly good, with tactfully placed jetliner overpasses and thunderclaps.

YYZ is the hard rock stripe of Rush that appeals to non-fans and fans alike. Given the wide misgivings about Geddy's voice, it doesn't hurt that it's an instrumental. In 1981 his voice was still pretty high.

The airport motif is due to the song's title. "YYZ" is the callsign of the Toronto airport. The song can't really be "about" much, but I do recall Neil mentioning in an interview that the warm sounding refrain towards the end symbolized the way it feels to come home.

I suppose all the sick bass licks and drum fills could symbolize frustration at the bafflingly arbitrary security.

Periodic Table

Here's a neato interactive periodic table, including all known lanthanides and actinides.

I hope you had nothing to do

Because I'm giving you every Simpsons, Futurama, South Park, Family Guy, and American Dad episode in flash format [editors note: the site has since been taken down, but you can get Family Guy here, South Park here and here, and everything should be here if you just search for it. This is also a good spot for finding online shows].

Did you hear that? That was the sound of work productivity dropping by 50% across the country. Or it would be, if I had a readership.

Yeah, the quality's not the greatest, but it's every episode! Sweet Jesus.

And somewhat related, here's 1500 80's videos. The hair! Oh god the hair! And the floppy jean jackets! This is entertainment gold right here people. Wow. I can't decide which is funniest.

If you're at a loss, might I suggest Take on me, by A-HA, the quintessential 80's vid.

UPDATE: Some of those 80's videos don't work, and despite there being 1500 options, the selection is lacking. Only one Debbie Gibson? And it's not Only in My Dreams? Pfft. And I'm sorry, but no 80's collection is complete without Holiday.

Oh my god, I just realized how much my older sister affected my childhood. What else did she do to me?! Does Dad know??

Fortunately, there's a link there to tons more music vids, including some good old Def Lep.

I just dropped the motherload of time wasters. Tell your boss I said to piss off.

Geography quiz

See how you do on this. I only screwed up the odd 'stans, in the upper right, though I admittedly got lucky on a couple others.

South Park and Islam

(I went off on quite a rant for some reason, so you may want to skip this one)

Here's an interesting interview of Matt and Trey, personal heros of mine.

"What we've stood behind for 10 years is: It's got to all be OK or none of it is," Parker told ABC's "Nightline." "Because as soon as you start picking, 'Well, OK, we won't do this,' then all of a sudden the ones you did about that shouldn't be OK either. So we were starting to say, 'I don't know that this is a world that 'South Park' can live in.'"

...

"People told us at the time, 'You can't really draw an image of Mohammed,'" Parker says. "And we were like, well, we can. We're not Muslim, so it's OK."

That's something that's never made sense to me either. The various rules of any religion only apply to members of that religion.

Islam forbids eating pork and depicting Mohammed. I'm not a Muslim. Therefore I can eat all the pork and draw all the pictures of Mohammed I want, and then pay for it in eternal hellfire if that's what happens when we die.

Of course it's not about souls, it's about intimidation.

In 2006, however, when Stone and Parker wanted to depict Mohammed in an episode, Comedy Central wouldn't let them. After all, Muslims worldwide had rioted over insulting depictions of Mohammed in a newspaper in Denmark.

It seemed odd to the creators of "South Park," who had been and were still allowed to depict Jesus in any number of profane ways. In fact, the episode in question, "Cartoon Wars," shows a cartoon (supposedly created by al Qaeda) in which Jesus defecates on President Bush. [editor's note: they actually crap on each other while standing on an American flag]

"That's where we kind of agree with some of the people who've criticized our show," Stone says. "Because it really is open season on Jesus. We can do whatever we want to Jesus, and we have. We've had him say bad words. We've had him shoot a gun. We've had him kill people. We can do whatever we want. But Mohammed, we couldn't just show a simple image."

...

Other networks took a similar course, refusing to air images of Mohammed — even when reporting on the Denmark cartoon riots — claiming they were refraining because they're religiously tolerant, the South Park creators say.

"No you're not," Stone retorts. "You're afraid of getting blown up. That's what you're afraid of. Comedy Central copped to that, you know: 'We're afraid of getting blown up.'"

I'm not trying to pick on Muslims, but they single themselves out by acting like babies. A small minority is responsible for the images and the media plays it up, but a deadly riot is still a deadly riot. Honestly, I don't understand why they get so angry at the smallest dig against their religion. I would think the pious would have an unwavering faith that could withstand all criticism.

I think part of the problem is that we look at humor in different ways. I think in Arab/Muslim cultures, calling out someone's faults is highly offensive. But to us, pointing out faults and hypocrisy through humor is almost doing someone a favor. Because how can you improve if you don't get ripped on from time to time? Part of the painful lesson you learn after overdrinking is the humiliation you suffer when your friends bring out the pictures of you hugging the toilet. You'll never do it again after that. It's a form of tough love.

This whole killing nuns and burning embassies over cartoons and things the Pope says has got to stop. You can't take that guy seriously anyway (most Catholics ignore him too). His choice of quotes seems deliberately provocative, but his point was that spreading religion by force is wrong. Acknowledging that he's right, that's pretty rich coming from a Catholic. See, don't waste your time listening to that old coot. No one else does.

The media laps all this death and rioting up and it's making you look bad, especially because there are all too few counter protests against extremism, though here is one such demonstration (including protest babes). Our mainstream media does report on anti-terror protests, but they don't seem to get top billing like loppin' heads or going after the Pope does. And no, I don't think it's racism, I think it's just them trying to sell advertising and nothing draws eyeballs like violence and strife. Unfortunately, this is what most protests in the Middle East are like.

I'm not stupid enough to say that Americans are loved the world over. I am well aware that our glorious leaders have squandered the sympathy we had after 9/11, with the exception of our true friends. But you have to know that you have a serious image problem too.

Everyone says the correct PC thing in public, but behind closed doors nobody trusts you. No, it's not fair, but that's just the way it is. Until we meet you specifically, and learn that you're a normal good person, we're going to be suspicious, especially at the airport.

I'm not trying to make fun, I'm just saying how it is so you know where you're starting from. No other American is going to tell you these things. I'm sure our reputation among Arabs/Muslims is bad too.

But if a bomb goes off in a crowded place somewhere, we just assume it was done by a young Muslim male. And we're almost always right. Every bomb is another example, another feather in the caps of our own extremists who want total war with you (ie - the kind of war wherein dropping nukes on population centers is justified). Sometimes I'm genuinely worried that you're skating on the thinnest of ice.

Fortunately for all, those people have very little sway right now. However, I am particularly worried about what the Europeans are going to do to their large unassimilated Muslim minorities once the jihad picks up there (you know how they get). Provoked Europeans are not the mamby-pamby wishy-washy pushovers they appear to be right now.

Before 9/11 we didn't give a crap about you as long as you were blowing yourselves up in your own countries. But ever since, we've been paying close attention to you and most of us do not like what we see. The religious leaders who claim to speak for you want to violently take over the world and convert us all to Islam. Because I make it a point to learn about the Arab/Muslim world, I know this isn't mainstream or anything, but that's how it's coming off over here. That really doesn't sit well with anyone, but it goes down especially poorly in America.

You could argue that America is the one taking over the world by force, and you would have a point. Our goal isn't to take over the whole world, but sadly I must concede that we are an empire, and an inept one at times. I can understand being mad at our government. I despise it half the time myself.

But ordinary Americans don't want to be an empire. Most Americans will deny that we're an empire if you ask them, so distasteful is the notion to us. And there are very few, if any at all, Christian leaders baying for blood with the forcefulness of your clerics (if we have any, they're extremely marginalized to obscurity). We may distrust you, but we don't want to kill you. And as I read our elites' motives, the purpose of our empire is for money and influence, not pride or religion, which is what I imagine the motive is for Arabs/Muslims.

You guys seem to want an empire, and too large of a minority takes pleasure in killing civilians/infidels (like, ahem, me). The ones who make the papers anyway, talk about restoring the caliphate and taking over the world by force (this is similar to pan-arabism). This seems to be a popular plan among Arabs/Muslims. I could be wrong, but that's how it looks from here.

And this is where I break from most westerners. If you're an extremist, if you want to convert us or kill us, and take over the world by force, I don't want to be liked by you. You can go and do disrespectful things with your mother for all I care. The way I see it, if a religious extremist of any stripe is insanely pissed off at me, I'm doing things right. So if you think I should be killed because I'm an infidel, you can just go ahead and kiss my heathen ass. I'll see you in hell, thankyouverymuch.

If you want to know, I think in the end Islam will probably win against the other religions, a thousand years hence. Because you're more ruthless than your competition. Christianity gave up the sword as a means of conversion a long time ago. Islam quite obviously has not. It's like the Seinfeld episode where it was debated who would win in a fight, Jerry or George. The answer was George, because he would fight dirty, bring a baseball bat or something. Terrorism is the baseball bat. You aren't constrained by principles when you have no honor.

I doubt any Muslims are reading this, since only about 5 people read this blog anyway, but if so, I hope you consider this friendly advice. It's not meant to inflame. Every Muslim I've ever met was intelligent and friendly, with one exception. I don't mean this to be a criticism of the majority of good normal Muslims who are happy to coexist with us non-Muslims. I'll even tolerate a little attempted verbal conversion; it happens all the time from Christians anyway.

But I have a different message for the radicalized ones: back to my vomiting analogy, you're not just hugging the toilet, you're drinking out of it. Don't you realize how stupid this sounds, "Say we're peaceful or we're gonna start slittin' throats!" Seriously. Grow up. Have you no sense of irony? There's only so much of your shit we're going to take before we hoist the proverbial black flag ourselves. You don't want tolerance, you want obediance. No. You're not getting it. Fuck you.

I know the majority of Muslims are great people who wouldn't hurt a flea. But until the good normal ones have finally had enough and stand up and root out the nutters in your own societies, you're going to be erroneously lumped in with them by a lazy western public consciousness. That's not good for anybody, but that really won't be good for your civilians if the bombs start flying, god forbid.

The media likes to sensationalize the "Arab street" or whatever, but let me tell you, the American street is far more deadly. All it takes is one leader who wants a war and a pliable public, scared by some disaster, to get the tanks rolling (hmmm, sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it?). Frankly, right or wrong, I'm disturbed at how easy it was to whip this country up for a war in Iraq. She may not look it, but the suburban soccer mom wields more power in her voting thumb than a division of antiquated soviet tanks.

This is why I don't get it when people say that we hate Islam or Arabs. Dude, if we hated you, you wouldn't be alive to complain about it. We would have hit the big red button a long time ago. We certainly wouldn't be spending blood and treasure in an attempt to democratize and capitalize some of your countries (and yes, siphon off your oil while we're at it -- look, we don't have that much control over our leaders).

But when your nutters start blowing our shit up, we're going to stop waiting for you to fix your own societies and we'll try to fix your problems for you. We're hardly perfect, but at least we imprison our crazies who deliberately kill civilians instead of lionizing them like some of you do. And the emphasis is on the "try". It's a messy ugly process, as is evidenced by Iraq (yes, we didn't have to go in there, and yes we created that problem, but now that we're there we have to root out the terrorists killing Iraqis).

I think it's safe to say that you won't like our help, since it comes in the form of the Marine Corps. That's more than understandable. I think we can agree that we'd all be better off if you just did it yourself.

We'd be happy to help if you like, but I think this really needs to come from within your own societies. You need to stop preaching the militant strain of Islam to your kids. It needs to be brought back to Islam's famous "peaceful" ways. Easier said than done, of course. But it sure would be nice to avert a huge war. Ya know, just sayin'.

Oh, and happy Ramadan.



[/unexpected rant] Where did that come from? Sorry for going all political. Sometimes I think it's pointless to say these things, because either I assume the message is already out there, or no one is reading this. But it bears repeating.


There's lots more in that article, if you care about South Park. The article isn't all about religion, but alot of it is.

"All the religions are superfunny to me," Parker adds. "The story of Jesus makes no sense to me. God sent his only son. Why could God only have one son and why would he have to die? It's just bad writing, really. And it's really terrible in about the second act."

But Parker says atheism is more ludicrous to him than anything else.

"Out of all the ridiculous religion stories — which are greatly, wonderfully ridiculous — the silliest one I've ever heard is, 'Yeah, there's this big, giant universe and it's expanding and it's all going to collapse on itself and we're all just here, just 'cuz. Just 'cuz. That to me, is the most ridiculous explanation ever," he says. "So I think we have a big atheism show coming."

...

"Part of living in the world today is you're going to have to be offended," Stone says. "The right to be offended and the right to offend is why we have a First Amendment. If no speech was offensive to anybody, then you wouldn't need to guarantee it."

That ought to be inscribed somewhere.

Hirsi Ali, national treasure

Sorry for the extensive quoting, I just love her story.

...Born 36 years ago in Somalia, Hirsi Ali has lived in Ethiopia, Kenya, Saudi Arabia and the Netherlands, where she settled in 1992 after she deplaned in Frankfurt, supposedly en route to Canada for a marriage, arranged by her father, to a cousin. She makes her own arrangements.

She quickly became a Dutch citizen, a member of parliament, and an astringent critic, from personal experience, of the condition of women under Islam. She wrote the script, and filmmaker Theo van Gogh directed, "Submission,'' an 11-minute movie featuring pertinent passages from the Koran (such as when it is a husband's duty to beat his wife) projected on the bodies of naked women.

It was shown twice before Nov. 2, 2004, when van Gogh, bicycling through central Amsterdam in the morning, was shot by an Islamic extremist who then slit his throat with a machete. Next, the murderer used another knife to pin a long letter to van Gogh's chest. The letter was to Hirsi Ali, calling her a "soldier of evil'' who would "smash herself to pieces on Islam.'' [editor's note: what's not mentioned is that the killer was unrepentant and taunted family members in court]

The remainder of her life in Holland was lived under guard. Neighbors in her apartment building complained that they felt endangered with her there and got a court to order her evicted. She decided to come to America.

...

Slender, elegant, stylish and articulate (in English, Dutch and Swahili), she has found an intellectual home here at the American Enterprise Institute, where she is writing a book that imagines Muhammad meeting, in the New York Public Library, three thinkers -- John Stuart Mill, Friedrich Hayek and Karl Popper, each a hero of the unending struggle between (to take the title of Popper's 1945 masterpiece) "The Open Society and Its Enemies.'' Islamic extremists -- the sort who were unhinged by some Danish cartoons -- will be enraged. She is unperturbed.

Neither is she pessimistic about the West. It has, she says, "the drive to innovate.'' But Europe, she thinks, is invertebrate. After two generations without war, Europeans "have no idea what an enemy is.'' And they think, she says, that leadership is an antiquated notion because they believe that caring governments can socialize everyone to behave well, thereby erasing personal accountability and responsibility. "I can't even tell it without laughing,'' she says, laughing softly. Clearly she is where she belongs, at last.

I think this helps explain the gulf of attitude between Americans and Europeans. Those who feel strongly enough just move to the other side of the pond.

More like her please.

Plugging Borat and Idiots

Borat's Myspace page is pretty funny. I can't wait to see his new movie, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, but I like that sort of thing (comes out November 3rd).

Bush is actually going to meet with the President of Kazakhstan about this movie. I suppose I can't really blame them for being upset, but Borat makes Americans look pretty bad too.

If you've never seen Da Ali G Show, you should check it out. He goes too far sometimes, but it's mostly hysterical. He has three personalities, only one of which is Borat the nutty Kazakh reporter. Ali G is his main character, a pathetic white guy who tries to act black. The other is a flaming homo.

And since I'm plugging stuff, I may as well mention Idiocracy, the latest from Mike Judge. It will be hard to outdo Beavis and Butthead do America and Office Space, but on those creds alone, you better believe I'm checking this out. He's also behind King of the Hill. No one seems to get white trash/redneck culture like Judge.

It's out as of September 1st, and is only in a few cities and wasn't advertised. So we'll all probably have to wait for the DVD. Here's a review. I imagine this movie will be pretty damn funny. The cities it's been released in are LA, Atlanta, Toronto, Chicago, Dallas, Houston, and Austin (so says Wikipedia).

Slutty Girl Appreciation DayTM

I say this on behalf of all men,

In esteemed dedication to one of the best of the all-time favorite types of girl:

Slutty girls, we love you! You're there to fullfill our physical needs when we need that, and nothing more. You ask and expect nothing more of us, and us of you. Us guys just want you to know that you're appreciated.

"I'm not looking for a relationship" might be the sexiest thing a girl can say, because we know she isn't going to nag us or try to change us. It's just going to be dinner, wine, and a sex romp. Bonus points for being on the pill. Wouldn't you say that's more honorable than faking love for someone?

And it sure as hell beats going to a strip club. I generally avoid strip clubs because I find it a waste of money. I suppose for some guys it's worth a hundred bucks to have a vapid semi-hot girl of questionable repute grind your crotch and then not screw you. I don't.

Of course, bachelor parties are an exception. They require a certain level of skankiness that only a stripper can provide. And women, really, strippers aren't all that great. There's no reason to get jealous.

They're usually only semi-attractive and dumber than this here der-knob. It's just entertainment, and a form of it that is way overpriced. I've laughed at all the strippers I've ever seen. They really aren't very sexy at all. Rest assured, your man is never going to leave you for a stripper.

I would rather find, you guessed it, a slutty girl. Oh sure, a rewarding meaningful relationship is what I truly want and is what we're all looking for. But who ever really finds that anyway? There are alot of fakers out there. You don't have to fake anything with a slutty girl, which is why "slut" shouldn't be a pejorative. We just happen to understand each other.

It's fine as long as you're honest about your feelings. Whatever you imagine the arrangement being, you really should clear the air before the sex. I find it makes for a better time. Unless she just goes right for it; then you can assume that it's just sex, and nothing needs to be said. And if you meet and have sex on the same day, there is no obligation to ever speak again. Don't think otherwise.

So slutty girls: here's to you! The Seattle Scribe stands aside and salutes you and your promiscuous ways. You perform a service that's sorely needed, and you obviously enjoy it. The world would be a less dangerous, happier place if there were more of you around (the Middle East, hello???). You are loved in that whole non-actual-love sense. Let's screw!

That said, any potential future daughter of mine will be allowed to date. When she's 35 (just kidding sweetie).

Aaaarrrr!

A little belated, but today is Talk Like a Pirate Day.

30 hours is enough

I just had the best fucking weekend. People aren't meant to have this much fun.

First, JB came up and visited. My credit card is still in Ballard somewhere. What was the name of that bar again?

I don't feel like recounting at this point, suffice it to say we partied like West Virginians. Funny, that.

After I threw his cell charger to him off my balcony, JB and his gf took off to do their own thing. Of course I immediately called up the girl I'm seeing.

She came over around 4PM Saturday. We drank. Alot. And watched football. I love this chick (not real love -- you know what I mean). I left her place around 10PM Sunday. Good times.

There are funny things I want to say, but now I'm hesitant because I don't know who's reading this.

I guess my parting statement will be that Farmhouse is one helluva Phish album. You heard it here, 6 years hence.

Self censored

The reunion stories are down because people from my hometown are reading them. If you didn't read them and you want to for some reason, I'll email them to you.

I really hope I didn't hurt anyone's feelings. The reason I blog is to have a record of my thoughts for posterity, above all else. This is not to entertain an audience, though if you find it entertaining, that's cool.

I don't want a wide readership and I'm not trying to write a popular blog. The true value of this blog is that it's a place where I can be completely honest and open about my life. A few close friends know about it, and a few random internet people.

Everything was fine as long as it stayed that way. But I know from the referral logs that people are reading this who shouldn't be, people who I'm afraid can't or won't keep their mouths shut. So there you have it. I censored my own blog.

And those of you from home who read the stories, please let me keep my private thoughts private. I did not intend for my thoughts to become gossip fodder. You know who you are.

UPDATE: It seems I may have overreacted, but I'm still going to keep these stories down for awhile. I was afraid that some of the people I said not-so-nice things about were reading them, and once the P-ville gossip train gets started, you can't stop it. I didn't pull them down because of CH or LS, if that means anything. Y'all are cool. [editors note: Slutter!]

UPDATE 2: Ok, I'm putting them back up. But if you're from my hometown and you read them and get offended, you were warned ahead of time. Do not read the stories if you think you may be offended by them. And please don't encourage anyone else to read them. If they find them on their own, fine.

Life rules

Maybe it's because this is the 5th anniversary of 9/11, or maybe it's due to my recent insight that I found on my trip, but I started writing down my unnofficial life rules. You could call this a tribute to 9/11 if you like, though I wasn't thinking of it that way. I was just trying to figure myself out. I suppose forging ahead is it's own sort of tribute, trite as it is.

I've always kept these in my head, but the time is right to put them down. There are more that I can't remember right now, but I'll list off what I've got so far.

Some of them are stolen from others and some of them are general wisdom. All of them mean something to me, and maybe you'll get something out of them too. Please feel free to add any of your own in the comments. I'm keeping the master list on my harddrive.

Drive your car like you stole it

If it's classy porn, your girlfriend will probably like it

Don't get a tattoo unless you or a close personal friend drew the design

If you love someone, tell them

It's ok to cry

No seriously, it's ok to cry, just don't get unhinged

Who you know is more important than what you know

Learning how to learn is more important than what you learn

Find out what you love to do, then do it as hard as you can for as long as you can

Don't graduate college early

This is by no means a complete list.


UPDATE: Here's another one:

Don't expect life to make sense or be fair

C'mon people, I know you've got nuggets of wisdom you're holding back.


UPDATE 2: This isn't really a life rule, but I thought it was funny. I found it at this pretty good site full of random observations:

No matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere is sick of her shit.

Reunion trip part 2

(long self-indulgent story alert)

If you're really going to subject yourself to this, at least make sure you read part 1 below first.

The main part of the story is basically over. This post will be mostly about my impressions on being back in WV and how it's changed my perspective on life (no, seriously). But I'll wrap up the events as we go along.

I left you off when RCR and I were scooting out the backdoor of the nicest hotel in P-ville. We went back to JB's, I tried to go back to sleep, and RCR went back to DC.

JB had his gf to hang out with, and I spent the next couple days hanging out with Smitten Girl. I don't really want to discuss her up here though, even though this is fairly anonymous. Long story short, she has a bf and wasn't going to cheat on him. This was the right thing to do, and I was a perfect gentleman. If you want to know more, call me and I'll talk about it.

So that takes care of Monday and Tuesday. Remember my good buddy Artificial Chicken? I never got a chance to see him enough, so I drove down to his place on Wednesday to stay the night.

I told his wife I'd be there by 5pm, but I intended on getting there earlier. I woke up in JB's basement -- did I mention that it's ridiculously off the hook swank now? -- and figured I had a few more hours to sleep. Just to be safe I checked the time. 1:58PM. Oh my.

Driving straight there without a shower or anything, I got there at 4:30PM reeking of booze. We ate dinner and then I went with AC to his church band practice. I wondered if they would let me in, being an unbeliever and all. Of course they did and they were all very nice, except the guy who tried to convert me. He was kind of a putz. Religious people, seriously, don't try to convert me unless you want to annoy me. If I want to be religious, I'll just start being religious. Just sayin'.

Which brings up an interesting point. We had a very cool discussion on the drive over and AC insisted that he rejects the term "religious" for himself. He says he's Christian, and that there's a difference.

I hope I don't butcher the reasoning here, but basically it boils down to that Catholics and their ilk are religious and Christian, but churches like his are simply Christian. To him "religious" means you feel guilty all the time and you can just buy your salvation through the priest (he obviously has a beef with the Catholic church). He said being Christian means you recognize you have problems in your life and that you need God's help, and it's that pursuit of God through Jesus that brings Christians like his church together.

It seems like a semantic trick, and I suppose maybe it is, but what I think matters most here is that he sees a distinction between just buying your salvation and truly earning it. How he names it is arbitrary.

I'm reading a really good book, The Elegant Universe, about super string theory, the supposed Theory of Everything, which could explain the entire universe someday. Religious people never like this subject (using the term loosely) and he naturally bristled at it. I agree that the thought of teeny tiny dimensions curled up all over space-time is kind of far fetched, but so were Einstein's theories of relativity when they were first proposed. And it does unify gravity with quantum physics, so all four forces are accounted for.

There are problems with it of course. Super string theory suggests the existence of lots of particles that we don't observe, and some of them would require a collider on the scale of the circumference of the Earth to test for. So it's no slam dunk by any means. But it does the best job of explaining the universe at this time.

Then I suggested he read Angels and Demons, the precursor book to The Da Vinci Code. In it there is a character who discovers a way to create matter and anti-matter using huge amounts of energy. Every particle of matter has to be created with a corresponding anti-particle. If they come into contact, they would annihilate each other and give off a tremendous amount of energy, the same amount needed to create them.

The implications of this, as one of the characters sees it, is that it shows that a being could have created the universe, because it's possible to create matter out of nothing. All it would need is energy and the ability to separate the matter and anti-matter. Keep in mind this is fiction, and as far as I know no one has ever created matter and anti-matter before. Still, it's an interesting philosophy.

Religion and particle physics aside, there was one really awesome aspect of AC's church: they have an electronic drumkit. When they were done, AC asked me to come up and jam with him. I haven't picked up a drumstick in at least 10 years. I was shaky at first, but it came right back.

We had an awesome 20 minute jam. I haven't felt like that since I was in highschool, when we used to jam all the time. I forgot how rewarding it was. I had dopamine coursing throughout my body and I didn't even drink any alcohol to get it there! Amazing!

This was more major of an event than you might think. I'm going out looking for one of those things tomorrow. I can turn it up on the amp if I want, or just use headphones and not annoy the neighbors. This is earth shattering for me. I have been without a musical intrument that I wanted to play for years and years.

And yeah, a real one would be much better, but I can't have one of those in an apartment building. Still, an electronic drumkit takes some getting used to. I hit the crash and it was sustaining too long, so I reached up to muffle it. That doesn't work on an electronic kit. I also tried to hit a few rimshots. Nope, not working either. [editors note: those functions work on higher end models]

There are a whole bunch of presets and I was playing with them. There's one that has voices on all but the essential drums, so you can keep a beat going and toss in an "Aaaaaaallllllright!" or an "Oh YEAH baby!" Awesome.

We picked up beer and vodka on the way home from church. Fun for the whole family! Yes, more drinking. Hey, that's what AC and his wife wanted to do. It would have been rude not to drink. I definitely wasn't up to my usual ways that night, but that wasn't the point. I was there to hang out with AC and his wife and that's what we did.

It felt so good to just chill on the back porch with him and drink beers and bullshit about the dual wave/particle nature of light and whatnot. I just don't have friends like him out here (I think I will be seeing more of JB after this). He went to bed around 1:30AM and I stayed up until like 5AM, trying my best to polish off that bottle of Vladimir. My heart wasn't in it, but I wasn't going to bed. [editors note: RCR used to dance around my basement in highschool with a bottle of Vladimir saying "Aye Vladi!" Good times]

Sometime around 3 or 4 I realized that I didn't want to be a lawyer. I'm not going to say I didn't want to be a lawyer anymore, because that would imply that I wanted that to begin with. I have no idea why I thought this was a good idea.

Luckily for me, I figured out what I do want. I'm not positive about the job, though I have some ideas. But I know where I want to be. I want a smallish but nice house on top of a hill, kind of secluded, with two dogs and a tesla coil. And why not a jacob's ladder while I'm at it? That would be effin' sweet! Hey, at least I have a dream, silly though it may be.

One of the dogs will be named Geddy. I also like Willy, but that name is currently taken by JB's cat. I called him that once and JB liked it enough to rename his cat. Cool.

This is the second epiphany I had over this trip. Those together would be that I need an electronic drumkit, and I know what my medium term goal is. But it doesn't stop there.

People always say that west coasters are rude. At least that's what they think of us in WV. I always disputed this, but now I think they may have a point. Everything in WV is a joke. Everyone is bullshitting with each other and making fun of themselves or each other, and it's a hoot.

If the lady at the grocery store misses the scanner on an item, you can say, "Having trouble with the scanner?" and she'll laugh and say, "Ahh-ve been doin' this fer 5 yeeeaars and I steel cahn't do the eggs on the first try!" and then it's a 5 minute conversation about nothing or everything. 5 minutes doesn't seem like a long time, but you notice it when it's gone.

And if you say "I'm tarred" everyone knows exactly what you mean and will probably go get you a beer. See, being "tarred" means feeling exhausted physically. Being "tired" means sleepy. This is what I was talking about in the beginning of the last post. Aren't you glad you held onto that little nugget until now?

I was at a bar last night here in Seattle and was being made fun of for drinking Miller High Life. I can handle that. Hey, cheap beer. I'm not paying 7 bucks for a mixed drink when there are 3 dollar beers. Happy hour here is still more expensive than normal prices in WV, but that's beside the point.

The guy next to me ordered one at the same time and I said, "Livin' the high life too, huh?" all friendly like. He just said, "yeah" and abruptly walked away. That would have been a 10 minute conversation in WV. I mean, the possibilities for self deprecation were endless.

Maybe it's just big cities in general, and maybe it's just by comparison, but I definitely notice the coldness here now. I can't help shaking the feeling that outside of JB, I don't have any truly close personal friends anywhere nearby (not counting my brother and his family).

That's epiphany three, how much I value a warm human spirit. I need to try harder to surround myself with as many warm and genuine people as I can find. I'm not really sure where these feelings came from, but I just want to shower goodness on someone, to thank someone for being who they are, but there's no one here who deserves it. Granted, I haven't been trying very hard to find them.

I don't give a shit if you think I'm lame or not, butthead (you know who you are).

There's an epiphany four, but I'm keeping that one to myself.

I'm making sure to go back to P-ville more often. I feel like a new person. It completely grounded me and opened my eyes to at least 4 fundamental things about my life. It may seem trivial to you, I don't know. But I didn't expect to find these things at all, and I certainly never thought I'd find it in WV. I am definitely visiting there more often.

Thursday I got up and flew home. The flight was uneventful, except that a good friend kept me entertained with text messages during my layover. And I don't understand why anyone would choose a seat other than the window.

So yeah. Sorry this one wasn't all about the boozin' and the cussin'. Every yin has a yang, etc. I'm just a little overwhelmed with all this new information to process. But I'm glad I'm feeling this way. I haven't felt emotions this strongly or seen such a clear picture of what I want in a long time. I forgot what it was like.

The Seattle Scribe got really drunk at his 10 year highschool reunion, shenanigans ensued

(long winded boring story alert)

So I got a few hours of sleep after my ill fated attempt to check in online. I woke up ok. Not hungover, just tired. Notice I said "tired" (that will come up in a later post for those of you silly enough to keep score).

I flew, I rented a car, I drove to P-ville, I checked into the Hotel of Shame. It's actually the swankiest hotel there, but you'll see why I called it that later.

And I'm going to refer to my town as P-ville, so as to avoid any google searches from people from my hometown. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. If you're from my hometown, and you found this somehow and know who I am and what this is about, you probably shouldn't read this. I want this to stay just between "us" (you know who you are).

The reunion lasted for three days and Friday was day one, the party being conveniently located at the back patio of the hotel I was staying at. All my college buddies were there too, for my good friend's wedding, so it was a great chance to meet up with everyone. After hanging with them for a drink or two, I got the nerve to walk into the reunion tent and see the highschool people.

Bad idea. I'm not going to name names, but an old friend of mine accosted me at the door, drunk as shit, and launched into her schpeel, "[my name long and drawn out and whiny] ... I'm the fat girl at the reunion!" all pouty and stuff, with a foot stomp. And yeah, she was. Boy howdy! Nice girl, I like her, but damn.

I tried to work my way across the room, but I immediately ran into the hottest girl of my childhood and word had it that she had been asking about me. Hell yeah! She's way hotter than she ever was, and that's saying something. Fortunately, at this point in life, I spent the better part of my dorky adolescent years forging a friendship with the object of my affection. She wanted to talk and party all night. I could deal with that!

We got separated, so I talked to a bunch of people I had totally forgotten about, and was glad I got that chance. Don't miss your reunions people, seriously. Good times. Some people show up and others don't, and some get huge fat ... it's all good.

My friends and I traded name tags at some point. There's an effing hilarious picture of our class president posing as a drunkard with BS's name on (people in the know know who I mean here). Funny shit. The aforementioned BS, my former Chicago roommate no less, paid $120 for the jacuzzi room at the Econolodge and ended up passing out on our floor instead. Funnier shit.

Before that, I left the reunion with the hot girl and her friend. We were good buds in 10th grade, by which I mean I drove them around while they tripped on acid. Ah well, we all do stupid things. Still, that one girl is super hot.

We went to a former gay bar ahead of everyone and they went straight to the bathroom. Ok, that's girls for ya, I thought. Two beers later they came out obviously fucked up. I was going to say something, but the hot one pulled me out to the dance floor and wanted to grind.

Um... allright! Not sure what they were doing, but also not complaining. Before the rest of the reunion showed up, I got in some happily received ass grabs and boob squeezes. Hell fucking yeah! The Seattle Scribe can deal with that shit!

I danced like a loon with grade school friends and there are pictures you're never gonna see to prove it. RCR finally got there from DC around 2am. Memory gets hazy here. I went to the hotel with RCR and BS passed out on our floor, as previously mentioned.

I feel bad for neglecting my college friends that night, though I spent most of my college years in the effing computer lab anyway. My take was I'd see them the next day at the wedding and reception.

Saturday morning was rough, real rough. I got up around noon or so, and my head was on fire. I got a shower and chugged a few glasses of water and threw on my brand new suit. BS and I got some Rally's and headed over to the wedding (they got some damn good fries).

I truly enjoyed the singing of Ave Maria. Done right, that song could make you cry. From what I hear though, that was not a full Catholic ceremony. I spent the whole time admiring the beautiful artwork on the ceiling and walls, wishing I had some drugs to appreciate it more. I paid absolutely zero attention to what the book guy was saying, though I did notice that he slammed the remaining wine after the communion. "That's what I'm talkin' about!" I said to BS. Then he poured more and drank that! Haha! My kind of religion. Except for, ya know, the whole god thing.

When my good buddy T was officially married, he came down the aisle greeting everyone. I said to him, and I quote, "Congratulations T. I love you. You'll always be my honky." I'm nothing if not classy, people.

We pealed out and showed up at the reception. They had an open bar and a chocolate fountain. I was too hungover to really appreciate either. Oh wait, who am I kidding? I exploited the open bar for all it was worth. The chocolate fountain not so much, though it seemed to be a big hit with the women and children.

What wasn't a big hit was the garter. When it was thrown to the guys, they scattered like roaches in the light. I got the garter at my sister's wedding because I didn't know any better. Some little boy was similarly scammed into it here. The repulsion of the garter isn't just the marriage thing though. What do I want something intimate off my buddy's wife for? What am I supposed to do with it? Make soup?

If I had been a good guest, I would have been in the crowd, scampering off with the rest of the guys. Instead I was slugging beers by the bar. The bouquet was quickly snatched up by the nearest bridesmaid.

I got a good chance to hang with my college buddies there. That was cool. I felt bad for ditching them the previous night just so I could feel up the hot chick, but I think they would understand. I'd effin' do it again and so would they, if they were all male and/or straight.

One of my old college roommates told me he never liked my ex-gf. It's too bad I didn't give a flip about his opinion back then. She was bad news. My only response was, "The crazier the chick, the better the sex." Eh, it wasn't that good anyway. Who would have thought a coke-head trust-fund-baby would have any insight? (notice I called him a roommate and not a buddy, there was an incident that I'm not going to discuss)

I'm going to see one of my other college buddies who still lives in Ann Arbor, once I get off my ass and figure it out (which means 2008-ish). And three others, two of whom are married with a baby on the way, live in Miami, which is close to where I'll be over Christmas. So hopefully I'll get to make up for lost time with all of them.

During the reception I practiced how I was going to greet people at the reunion. This was the best I could come up with: "Hey [insert name]! How are you? Wow, you've really put on weight! I mean, you were always chubby before, but you've definitely been packing them on, wow. [pause] What's your cholesterol level?" Despite my preparation, I shelved this and went for more standard fare when I got there.

So I left the reception to head over to Saturday's portion of the reunion, stinkin' drunk, appropriately located at one of the nicest bars in town. At least I had a swanky suit on. That may have been my saving grace.

I have to say, seriously, that alot of those girls from highschool are still effing hot. Dude. And for some inexplicable reason they all wanted pictures with me. This was heaven, or maybe the suit, or most likely my imagination. Then I ventured into the "real" reunion room off to the side. I wasn't too keen on going in because they ran out of beer.

Some girl who I absolutely do not remember at all barged over and introduced herself. I'm not telling this story to make fun of her, I just have no recollection of her at all, and I think it's funny. I looked at her name tag and then acted like I knew her. What else was I gonna do?

How are you? Rilly? Great! Me too! Yeah, well, you know... Rilly? Well it was great catching up with you! Ok, bye!

After 5 minutes of horrible small talk, some random hot chick started talking to me. I like talking to hot chicks, especially when they initiate the conversation. "I just have to say hi to you", she said while extending her hand. As I grasped it, I glanced at her nametag and freaked out. Hugs! Cool chick from forever ago who always had a crush on me! What the fuck is fucking up???

We were basically attached at the hip for the next 5 days from that point on. It's a long story that I'm not going to tell here, suffice it to say that I am officially smitten. Maybe you'll get the story later.

Several beers and ill timed photos later, my good buddy RCR said very loudly on the back patio, "What? There are no single girls who want to fuck me here?? Why did I come to this stupid reunion anyway??" or something like that. God, how I love RCR.

That got our porn-star-hot grade-school friend cracking up, and she advised him to not give up just because some girl has a boyfriend. She said, "You have to think outside the box". Me, being the witty sonofabitch that I am, replied, "Oh we're defintely thinking inside the box" (ba-dum-bum). I am nothing if not classy, people.

I left early with girl-I-be-smitten-with and her friend to go back to the hotel party, where my recently married friend and college buddies were. At some point BS walked in with a hometown girl we all know, and RCR said right off the bat, "You know walking into a party with BS is backpedaling a few steps," as the poor girl put her face in her hands. I'm still chuckling at that one. BS took it well. He said "I know" before stumbling over.

My recently married buddy was hugging the toilet around this point. As you can imagine, his bride was none too happy. I wonder, will he ever live that down? Probably not. Heh! Fucking P-ville baby! Classic.

It's a big smoky haze of backslaps and camera flashes from there on until we moved over to my room. That would be next door, after the hotel kicked us out of the first room. There was an interesting mix of hometown and college friends hanging out. Once again I missed out on really talking to the people I wanted to. I mean, I spent all my time talking to Smitten Chick, so, ya know. Her and her friend went home at just the right time.

About 10 minutes into being in me and RCR's room, the security guard came up and knocked on the door, "Y'all got 5 minutes to clear out before we call the po-leece". The worst possible person, BS, happened to answer the door, and he responded, "Gimmie ten" and slammed the door in his face.

Aww shit. Hysterical, yes, but the room was in my name. Of course we didn't make it before the police came. At least they were cool. But we can always say that we got the police called to the swankiest hotel in P-ville. I am proud as fuck about that. We are obviously the coolest people who have ever been there! Woohoo!

We probably should have felt guilty, but we all thought it was the funniest shit we'd seen in a long time. We made fun of JB for having his mom come pick him up at like, 4 in the morming, over text messages. I forget how it started, but it ended with the two best insults we could muster: fag, and queer. Sorry any gay people, this is just us being extraordinarily drunk. No offense is intended. The point of telling this story is how stupid we were that we thought that was funny. You should have heard the session of extremely off color jokes.

Anyway. Sunday morning, 3pm-ish, RCR and I walked out of the hotel to the background noise of the concierge saying, "Not saying a word, just not going to say a word" as loud as she could. You might think this is why I call this the Hotel of Shame. Oh no, it gets worse.

The wedding and reunion stuff was over by this point. I missed the goodbye lunch with all my college friends, like a douchebag, and deliberately skipped the picnic and highschool walkthrough because that was gay (if I hadn't lost them before, there just went my gay audience). Instead we headed over to JB's house to have a BBQ and hang with old friends, including one of my favorite people in the whole world. I'll call him Artificial Chicken, even though that was really a song he wrote about another long lost friend of ours.

I missed AC before he headed home, again like a douchebag. I wonder, is there some correlation between alcohol consumption and douchebaggery? Bah, no time.

AC and his cool wife had spent a few hours at JB's house hanging out with him and his Dad, and I effing missed it. Damn. I love them and JB's Dad (JB himself is merely pretty cool -- just kidding JB). But I picked up Smitten Girl on the way over, so I was happy. Oh, that and my two best friends from 4 and 8 years old were there too (JB and RCR, respectively), plus other friends.

We smoked, we drank, we grilled burgers and then we ate them. I was shitfaced. It was awesome!

One of my friends had a pack of Cubans. I'm looking at the last one. I don't really do cigars, but it's cool just knowing I have something illegal sitting right here.

JB brought his gf all the way in from Portland, and I think she may have been shocked at the level of debauchery us P-villians routinely engage in. She definitely can't hang, and I don't mean that in a bad way. Cool chick all around, I just hope we didn't scare her off.

Sometime around 5am I sobered up enough to notice that SG had been asking me to drive her home for an hour and a half. Uh... you expected a ride home? Didn't I just give you a ride here? Isn't it your turn now? I don't reccommend this to anyone, but I took her home. She only lives a mile away and there are never any cops in that area. I know. Stupid.

The next morning, 11am-ish on Monday, RCR shook me awake and we stumbled out of JB's fucking swank new basement and rushed off to check out of the hotel. We didn't even stay for the last night we paid for.

There's a backdoor, and we intended to use it. Except they deactivated our cards. So we sauntered up to the concierge desk and politely asked to get them re-activated. Everything was fine until we said "room X". Recognition flashed on her face as she put our unkempt appearance together with the shenanigans of two nights ago.

This may have been the most shameful thing I've ever done in P-ville, not counting all the stuff I forgot about. This is why I call it the Hotel of Shame.

To add insult to injury, me and RCR just went up, grabbed our shit, and skedaddled out the back door without actually checking out. I'm afraid to look at my AmEx bill. I doubt I'll be able to rent a room there ever again.

We weren't the coolest people in P-ville anymore.

If anyone can think of any more funny stories, leave them in the comments. There were four "swanks" by the way, please forgive my lazy writing.

... ... the story continues ... ...


UPDATE: I was checking the referals to make sure no one from my hometown is reading this, and I noticed that this post is the top result for a blogger search for "boob picture". That is so awesome, I don't know what to tell you. Thank you, anynomous person from Qatar. Since I don't have any boob pictures on hand, here's a place where you can find lots and lots of free boobie pictures (not worksafe, obviously). Happy wanking!


UPDATE 2: We didn't even make the police blotter. I am sorely disappointed.

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

I'm off to the big WV for a wedding and reunion. See you on the other side!

Have a great weekend everyone!