Up My Own Ass

11points had a piece up showing 11 comparisons of celebrities from their high school year books and current date public images.

About half of the year book photos resemble the celebrity that we know, love and hate today:

While others were just down-right surprising:

Not too shabby Seacrest… not too shabby at all.

Anyway thought some of you might get a kick out it, head on over and check it out.

Over the last few weeks you might have seen a warning window like the one above (or similar to it) when visiting the site. Unfortunately it looks like some WordPress plugin-tinkering that I did right before going on vacation introduced an obnoxious malware hook into the site (don’t worry, it’s nothing epicly horrible).

I just finished manually cleaning it out using talgalili’s tip here. The infection was an invisible iframe-hack injecting a reference to the m-analytics.net site in every single .php or .html file hosted on the site — really obnoxious but easy enough to clear out and tighten up everything in the process.

Sorry you guys had to deal with that while I was gone, we should be good now.

You will never. Ever. EVER. Hear the words “badger” or “mushroom” and not think of this from now on. You’re welcome.

Likewise, this is an EXCELLENT video to show all your friends so that forevermore “ring ring ring ring ring” will mean something special to you. Pretty special, dude…pretty fuckin special…

And if you are getting hooked now on the miracle of viral videos, you’ll be happy to know there is a whole series of Magical Trevor videos to get into. Here’s one to get you started.

A week ago I went to the NIN/JA tour, a farewell tour for Nine Inch Nails and a reunion tour for Jane’s Addiction. As I sit and reflect on just how good the show was, and it was great, I am still, a week later, having to lean to one side due to the enormous chunk of my ass that is missing from the ticket price. I loved this show but I paid far more than I should have and it still stings. I have been sitting on this article for awhile, partially to try to give myself extra cushion, but partially to see if my anger for the vicious fucking by ticket that my anus was treated to would subside or die down into that dull roar that is essentially the soundtrack/background noise to my life but it has not.

Now I know with that kind of set up you are probably left with a stomach twisted in knots to hear just how much Livenation, the ticket vendor,  stole from me like a mugger in a back alley. I feel like Bruce Wayne after seeing his parents gunned down for his mom’s pearls. I want revenge. Of course rather than dress in tights and fight crime I am just going to go ahead and bitch online. I don’t need to add broken bones to the shattered remains of my spirit and naive belief that a company might not try to gouge honest Americans of their hard earned dollars in the midst of such challenging economic times.

So here it is. I paid $20 a ticket. Well technically 19.91 but close enough. Now sure, you are probably going ‘Alright asshole, what is the deal? 20 bones for two alternative legends is a great price and you should be happy they let you in the door!’ I get that. I think $20 is a great price for this show. It was incredible. It was probably NIN’s best set I’ve seen and I’ve seen them five times. So why am I complaining? $19.91 is what I paid. The actual ticket price was-wait for it-$7.66

I am going to give that its own sentence.

I paid $20 for a $7.66 ticket.

So for those of you playing along and home, that means that I paid just under twice the actual ticket price in service fees. That is fucking criminal. Now again, if the ticket price was $20 full stop, I would have no problem paying that for this show. I would have paid a lot more. But I feel like I have really been had here. I have never felt so fleeced in all my life for $20 and I bought Brokeback Mountain without seeing it first (it isn’t because they are gay, it is because the movie showed things that should have been in a montage and skipped over parts that would have actually been interesting). A friend of mine was a bit slower with the ticket purchase and she had a $2o face price. She paid $34.

Let’s break it down here and see what sorts of fees we are dealing with. I mean, I want to be fair and you might be thinking that the fees were justified, that maybe everyone needs to be tightening their belts and jacking up the prices to continue to bring us entertainment in a time of severe ecconomic recession. Okay, fair enough, here it is: Ticket Fee-$6.25, Parking Fee-$6. Now, taken seperately, these don’t sound that bad or unreasonable. Sure they are roughly a dollar and some change less than the actual ticket price but whatever. Bullshit.

First and foremost, what the fuck is a ticket fee? I assume it is a processing fee or service charge but anyway you slice it that is a ‘extra shit tacked on so we can make some money.’ Now sure, the ticket service should get theirs for the show and their cut probably isn’t all that much off of the overall ticket sales. But you know, and maybe I am getting into semantics here, but don’t call it a ticket fee. The ticket fee should be the price of the ticket.  In fact, this should just be incorporated into the ticket price if you want to charge me a ticket fee. Don’t bait and switch me with an extra $6 after I have already agreed to get everyone tickets.

Sure, sure, if they did that less people may go but for a big marquee show like this, you could charge $75 and people would pay. Hell Coldplay charges $120 for shitty seats and people show up to the arena. You are going to get paid if you have a big act coming, you don’t have to be all deceitful and like the Federal Government. So don’t hand me a ticket fee after you’ve suckered me in. I honestly can’t believe this sort of thing is legal. I know it is, but I just don’t see how. At the very least it is disingenuous.

Now to the parking fee. It seems like the parking fee is easier to justify right? You are getting something for it and parking fees are always an extra expense when you go to a show. A parking fee is for convenience. You show up, you park, it is all good. That is fine. And if I were the only one in the car that would be just peachy. I bought 5 tickets and had four other people with me. We all paid $6. That is $30 for a parking space. That was five dollars less than a t-shirt at the show.

Again I have no problem paying for parking. Well, I do, and in cases where it is possible I like to park really far away for free and walk in. I would rather get some exercise than pay extra money so my car can occupy space. But in this situation, I don’t have a problem paying for a space. I do have a problem paying the price of a Blu-ray for it. The way I see it, the venue owed us five parking spaces. Right up until we parked my friend Jeff was lobbying for parking sideways and then setting up flares in the spots that my SUV won’t cover.  I don’t think it was a bad idea but the guy with the orange flag that was directing me to my space probably would have protested and I didn’t want to be ejected before I even got to see Street Sweeper Social Club.

When we got into the venue there were posters all around saying that you should carpool to the venue because it is better for the environment. I assume that the environment of which they are speaking is that of venue’s wallets because that is what is getting lined here. Right there it is proof positive that they KNOW that people are going to be showing up in groups and that $24 of that $3o is going straight to profit.

There needs to be some way to sort that out when you are on the website buying groups of tickets. I know that the counter-argument to this is that people can lie, but you know if the venue can steal then I can lie. I understand that, like the ticketing services, the venue needs to make money but given the fact that a large beer is $8 and nachos are your first and third children, I doubt the venues are hurting terribly much. That being the case, I think the best way to do it is just to do what they used to and charge a flat fee at the lot. That is what is fair. Or, again, incorporate the parking price into the price of the ticket overall.

I heard that Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails) chose Livenation because of Ticketmaster’s well storied egregious fuckings of ticket buyers and he found Livenation’s policies and charges to be more fair. If that is true I imagine that Ticketmaster must rape your mom in front of you while punching your dad in the balls while a henchmen holds you in a half-nelson and a third strip mines your bank account. Then they send a video tape of the proceedings to your girlfriend or little sister.  I looked up ticket prices for the upcoming Green Day show which is being handled by Ticketmaster and while there was a service fee, the prices were much less ridiculous and not even close to twice the face price on the ticket.

I am not sad I saw the show, it was great. NIN was awesome and Dave Navarro is a fucking monster on guitar. I wish I could have used an alternate vendor for the tickets though. I would really like to speak with my wallet on this and show Livenation how much I think they suck by not buying the tickets, but when it is the farewell tour of one of your favorite bands, AND Tom Morello’s new band is playing, they kind of have me over a barrel. How are you not going to see the show?  Moving forward, however, I intend to shout it to the mountain tops and go out of my way to not use Livenation again. I doubt they will ever notice but it makes me feel better. I hope bands in the future recognize the ridiculous gouging and discontinue their use of the service. As Billy Mays might say, ‘There’s got to be a better way!’

Oh and just for completeness here is my receipt for the transaction:

***************************************
Nine Inch Nails / Jane's Addiction at Cricket Wireless Pavilion
05/15/09 7:30 PM
Cricket Wireless Pavilion PHOENIX
Number of Tickets:
5 Adult

Lawn Special
Section GA LAWN, Row G63, Seat # 59
Section GA LAWN, Row G63, Seat # 60
Section GA LAWN, Row G63, Seat # 61
Section GA LAWN, Row G63, Seat # 62
Section GA LAWN, Row G63, Seat # 63

Tickets: $38.30
Parking Fee: $30.00
Ticket Fee: $31.25
Total Ticket Charges for Event: $99.55

***************************************
Ticket Charges: $38.30
Ticket Fees: $61.25
Delivery Fee for order: $0.00
Total Charge: $99.55

***************************************

Now, I had originally typed this post in a fit of rage over this exchange I had with this woefully misguided girl on whether or not gay marriage should be recognized.  She even went so far as sending me a message on Facebook telling me that she’s “sorry that I have been rejected by the male species so many time that I had to turn to a woman.”  She also said that every lesbian she met is “ornery, angry, and honestly straight up ugly.”  But, just to make sure that I knew that she was mostly okay with gay people, Ellen DeGeneres is her favorite talk show host on Earth.

When I pointed out that I was, in fact, NOT a lesbian and that I simply supported the happiness of others, I got a very lengthy, very sincere apology.  I am not certain as to whether I would have gotten an apology if I WAS a lesbian, but – nevertheless – I have to say that I think this girl is just one of a billion hopelessly brainwashed religious zealots who would rather take efforts to see others put down, rather than work on improving their own station in life.

Below is my original post…

Original Post

I have spent the last 12 hours engaging in a pissing contest with some Mormon vag that I don’t even know.  Would you like to know why?

Because she’s an ignorant bitch.  That’s why.

Here’s the back story:  A friend of mine who lives in California and is gay posted his sarcastic displeasure of proposition 8 – which prohibits same-sex marriages from being legally recognized in the state of California – on his Facebook page.  He didn’t swear, he didn’t call anyone any names, he just made a comment about how proposition 8 had been upheld for several hours and the divorce rate was STILL 76%.

So, some little bow-headed snatch decided to comment something to the effect of “I wish there was a ‘dislike’ button.  Seriously.”

The first stone had been cast.

She then went on to talk about how she was just trying to protect what is “right” and how her family had been egged and had rocks thrown at them because they had “good morals.”  Okay, we never discussed exactly what her morally superior family was doing at the time of the egg-and-rock assault, but I am guessing that they were probably out somewhere where they shouldn’t have been, cramming their morally perfect Mormonism down the throats of the very people that were affected by prop 8.

She also pointed out that “Homosexuality is NOT about love, it’s about SEX.”  Well, Homophobia is not about LOVE, either, sister…

Since this is my rant, I am going to go ahead and tell her (and every other self-righteous hate monger) HERE what I can’t tell her on Facebook:  I feel sorry for you.  You have been completely snowed by your church elders into believing that it is okay to be hateful because it is what God wants.  You have no right to judge anyone else’s beliefs or decisions if they do not directly impact you.  You are not gay and you are married.  Proposition 8 cannot be less about you, so why is it so important for YOUR beliefs to interfere with someone else’s happiness?  Perhaps being gay IS a choice.  It is not the choice that YOU made, so what possible difference does it make?

It is people like YOU  that take pleasure in spewing your own brand of religion-fueled intolerance.  This particular individual is Mormon, and since we know that the Utah Mormons have spent an inordinate amount of money and effort SUPPORTING Prop 8, we’ll have to throw them all under the bus.  Mormonism isn’t even a real religion.  It’s a cult and you are all brainwashed.  Based on your beliefs, it is okay for a man to take numerous wives to elevate his status in Heaven.  Women are servants to their men.  And, this is my favorite, since BLACK PEOPLE are the children of CAIN, they were banned from holding priesthood in the LDS church and therefore banned from the temple.  That makes you all racist.  I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised by your equal intolerance of same-sex couples.  Do you think God condones that sort of intolerance?  My God doesn’t, that’s for sure.

Wow…kind of sucks having your shit laid out for judgement, doesn’t it?

Fortunately, your God suddenly realized his mistake about 25 years ago and gave the Grand Poobah of Mormonism a divine revelation that, “Hey, we should stop being so shitty to black people.”

The Mormon Church realized that it just can’t continue with it’s absurdly outdated beliefs and practices, because it was incorrect, hateful, and unconstitutional.  This kind of sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

My advice to all of you is to shut your fucking mouths.  You sicken me with your contempt of other people’s happiness and basic rights and your insistence that you represent the moral gold standard by which others are measured.  Just because you are irretrievably trapped in your contrived little world of dutiful misery, does not mean that you get to project that same misery and intolerance on the rest of society.  You point out that “Prop 8 is about protecting the definition of marriage.”  Well, wrong again…Proposition 8 is protecting the initiative, rather than the actual definition of marriage.  That means any initiative that is passed in California that overturns Proposition 8 will be given the same consideration.

It WILL get overturned.

The whole lot of you can feel free to suck it… I will pray for you.  Nothing personal, of course.

Names have been omitted to prevent the needless waste of the eggs that people would throw at everyone for being such douches.

I am a huge believer in the laws of attraction, as well as meaningful coincidence.  I am also a big believer in heavy sarcasm.  Sometimes it can be hard to reconcile this juxtaposition.  I have recently begun practicing the theories behind the big, fat secret, and I know they work…just like running 100 miles a day will undoubtedly help you shed a few pounds, but it’s still a lot like work.

Interesting Sidenote:  Did you KNOW that it was, in fact, Suzanne Whang of House Hunters fame that introduced Oprah Winfrey to “The Secret?”  True, albeit weird, story.

So, anyway…the basic gyst of The Secret is that you ask the universe for something and then wait while the universe processes your order and then sends it to the fulfillment center which then fills your order, NO POSTAGE REQUIRED…seriously.  You can see where the sarcastic part wants to go for the jugular, right?

Well, I placed my order for a swimming pool to be installed in my backyard, so I will let you know how that pans out.

Seriously, the idea is that you have to want something SO badly that it consumes you.  It has to be the only thing you think about, and you have to think about it all the time.  I have wanted a handful of things in my life that badly, and I have gotten each and every one of them…so far, except the swimming pool.

You also have to create a “vision board.”  You should make it so that you wake up and see what you want every day, so that it never leaves your mind, and it inspires you to continuously think about this thing you want.  This is just one chromosomal abnormality away from stalking.  Just in case you are confused – it is OKAY to put a picture of black Christian Loubutin pumps on your vision board, but it is NOT OKAY to put Christian Louboutin on your vision board…you see the fine line?

I would like for the universe to know that I want money.  Lots of money.

I would also like for the universe to know that I am tired of seeing people that HAVE money piss it away on stupid shit.  I want my shower repaired so that I don’t have to duct-tape tiles back to the wall, and I want those little bastards down the street to stop spraypainting on the front of my fucking house.  I want the aforementioned Wild West Attraction to pony up the dough that they owe me, and I want the ladies that I spoke with to get gonorrhea.

I want to replace my countertops that are original to my circa-1972 house (white formica with a vein of gold).  I would also like the asshole that put up all the paneling in my house to get a boil in his armpit.  I want to refinance my house to a more reasonable interest rate.  I want for people to buy my books.  I want some cake.  I would like for the gecko that was in my bedroom last night to make it back to the safety of the outside.  I want some seed money for my fella’s photography business.  I want a new wardrobe.  I want to be able to get the brakes fixed on the car.  I would like to know how all the peanut shells got hoarded in the corner next to my couch.  I want more attractive feet.  I want REALLY GOOD bras.  I want to be able to afford to send my kids to college.  I want to go to Pinnacle Peak for dinner.  I want to go to San Diego.  I want a more even skin tone.  I want permission to punch people.

And yes, I want fries with that.

There, I really think I have this “secret” thing down pat.  I can’t wait for the swimming pool OR the permission to punch people.

The world is my oyster.

Writing a book is easy.  Promoting a book and finding avenues through which to sell your book and get gigs that allow you to whore said book is really, really hard.  That is why when we visited a famous local wild west attraction, I left with such a sense of pleasant surprise, that I almost floated away on a golden cloud adorned with glee beads and ribbons of satisfaction.

We even ate lunch at a REAL restaurant because we thought we had lassoed the moon.

It started with a simple email mentioning our books and how they made the cover of our second book.  It was well received, and within a day or so we were daydreaming over what incredibly spectacular, history-making shindig we might be able to plan if it’s within our modest budget.  We set up a meeting and waited.

Meeting day came and I dressed in my most responsible looking outfit, and all three of us traveled the requisite 12 miles and a hundred years from town to arrive in a timely fashion, hoping beyond hope that these purveyors of awesomeness would allow us to gaze upon their glory without making us avert our eyes in our lesserness.  Surprisingly, we were shown event prices that were SUPER affordable, they danced in joy circles over the spun gold that is both of our books (and couldn’t WAIT to stock them on the shelves of their 4 gift shops), and finally they carried us out on their shoulders while crowds of minstrels and onlookers broke into spontaneous song and threw confetti.  Doves were released into the sky.  It was a GOOD day.

Armed with prices written in black and white, I ventured towards a proposal that would have been a really fantastic Halloween event that INCLUDED the cost of the ubiquitous and ridiculously over-priced October attraction.  It was going to be a sweet money-making event for all parties involved.

Then the meds wore off.

When the proposal was sent to me, it listed prices that were never discussed in the initial meeting and were totally contradictory to the event pricing list that I was given by the very person preparing the proposal.  When I asked her to rework the numbers because she had made an error in her math, she told me there was no error and that was the cost.

“But I have this price list here that says UBIQUITOUS HALLOWEEN ATTRACTION is INCLUDED.”

No, it’s not.

Even after underlining and highlighting the text, then emailing it to her, she wove an intricate tapestry of bullshit explaining why I was WRONG and how she can understand how I might have MISUNDERSTOOD what it said.

But there was no misunderstanding because it SAYS “UBIQUITOUS HALLOWEEN ATTRACTION INCLUDED.”

That really should have been the red flag that ended my communication with this rickety whorehouse, but NO…I had to push the envelope.

Revisiting the excitement over getting the books on their shelves before the “season” ended, I rode the wave of urgency and ordered a box from the publisher because it was the fastest way to get them on the shelf.  At the meeting, I asked book lady what the customary breakdown on consignment book sales were and she told me, and I QUOTE, “Whatever you think is fine.”  Needing a teensy bit more guidance, I pressed on for more information.  She was still not willing to come up with a number or a ratio.  She wasn’t worried, so I wasn’t worried.  Seriously, am I HIGH?

So, the books arrive and I tell her what the books cost ME and I thought that we could take an equal split of the difference and she adamantly told me “NO.”  She would absolutely not take the books if that was all she was going to make.  This would have been helpful information to have at the meeting when I specifically requested this information but WHATEVER.

I go back to the drawing board and come up with a split that at least included a light smear of lube for Patrick and I, and she agreed to that.  I have the email.  I will show anyone the email that asks.  Based on that promise, we merrily travel twelve plus 100 back to fistville with a teetering constitution and a box of books.  She seemed happy, and the only thing she forgot was to grab a contract, but she’s going to put in a request for a check for the following Thursday. ****DANGER WILL ROBINSON…MAYDAY MAYDAY****

“No sweat” I tell her.  She is going to email the contract to me, we will print it, sign it, scan it, and send it back.  Easy as PIE.  We get lunch at a drive through, this time.

One case of books, three weeks, two emails, zero contract.  This is not good math.  I send one more rather curt email simply telling her to email the contract.  I get a reply!  She wants me to call her.  I fucking hate calling people, so I call her.  I can’t even really remember the EXACT words she used, but she more or less called me a thief and a liar, and she is sorry that she doesn’t have a contract because she can get these books directly from the publisher and make more money, and if her manager knew that this was the deal, we never would have taken the books!  She also stated that this was a bad business deal.  I replied, “Clearly it was bad for everyone involved.”  She once again stated that she would “put in the request for the check, but”…but what?  You have books that belong to me, you have SOLD books that belong to me and you have YET to make payment.  She even admitted that the books were selling WELL.  She stands to make three times what the author is making on each book, but that isn’t enough, and all for doing NOTHING.  It’s pure profit for them, but not ENOUGH pure profit.

Again, I have the email chain stating EXACTLY what our cost was and what we would take for the books, since we all want to make a little money off the deal.

So, between the time we walked out of the door of the gift shop and today, she never sent a contract and she never put in a request for a check.  Clearly, she never intended to pay us for the books, and now she is belligerently calling US thieves.  I am fairly certain my phone call was broadcast on two-way radio, as well.  This was all contrived to set some sort of precedent indicating that we are difficult to deal with, and that we are somehow shady and undeserving of payment.

This is why people suck.  This is why I have hate in my heart.  I wrote a fucking book, but I am a thief for wanting to make what amounts to ONE DOLLAR off of each book.  ONE FUCKING DOLLAR, and that doesn’t even include what it cost me to ship the books from Pennsylvania.

And this, my friends, is what ass rape feels like.

Editor’s Note: <insert goat.se picture here…>

You know, this could have been a perfect example of instant karma.

For those who don’t particularly give a shit, this is Miss California – Carrie Prejean – who recently found 15 seconds of notoriety by declaring herself a staunch homophobe at the Miss USA pageant.  She made it to the top 5, and was answering the question posed by Perez Hilton regarding whether or not each state should make the decision to legalize same sex marriage.

She said – and I am paraphrasing here – that “it’s great that people get to choose, but in HER country marriage is between a man and woman.”

Her country?  Wait…

So, anyway, Perez managed to stifle his urge to rip her jugular out through her throat, and she ended up finishing in second place.

Now, I ax ya…how the hell does she get to make moral judgement calls for an entire nation when she’s got her titties hanging out?  This is a perfect example of how indescriminately people bandy about the word “Christian” to describe themselves…Oh, so you were a “Christian” when you were standing on the stage telling the world that God hates gay people…well then, what were you the day you posed for this titty shot?

Jesus Loves Boobies!

No instant karma here because she gets to keep the title of Miss Tit-ifornia.  She said her titties were out because it was a windy day.

When I think of pirates I think of Johnny Deep as Jack Sparrow, Hall of Fame slugger Willie Stargell, and the Long John Silver’’ seafood chain. I think of a big drunkard on a dilapidated ship with a hook, a peg leg, and a stupid parrot on his shoulder.

Popular culture has made pirates into silly geese. Certainly not the vicious, murdering pricks they’ve been known to be. Surely these Somali bastards are pirates, in the old school sense of the term. Fox News has taken to calling them terrorists, which I think puts a much-needed urgency on actually doing something about them than does calling them something that your child dresses as for Halloween.

If you’re at a party and some pirates crash through the window, you and your buddies would laugh and say, “That’s hilarious. Remember last year when those ninjas crashed our party?”

But if a gang of terrorists arrives, holy shit, you’re out of there so fast, and even the smuggest of atheists is saying his and/or her prayers (It’s a well-known fact that most hermaphrodites are atheists. I mean, wouldn’t you be?).

Even I, whose great grandfather was murdered by the most famous pirate, Honus Wagner, think of that stupid Sirens act at Treasure Island in Vegas when I think of pirates.

I mean, think of it:

A bunch of so-called “Sirens” catch and kidnap a pirate named Eros. Then they dance and sing, and Ole Sexy Name is resisting because he’s clearly a homosexual. Then the rest of the gay pirates come to rescue him. They’re the worst pirates you’ve ever seen. They’re like the Mighty Heroes meets The Birdcage.

So it’s a battle between the sexy sirens and the gay pirates. The acting is atrocious because it’s this voice over on a PA system that gives the whole thing a Jem and the Holograms feel. The singing is almost as bad, like the Pussycat Dolls. You start wondering if the Pussycat Dolls have names like the Spice Girls: Baby Pussy, Ginger Pussy, Scary Pussy. Anything to take your mind off this abortion you’re witnessing.

Then the pirates start mimicking the songs of the sirens, and, soon, the girls sink their ship. Undaunted, the pirates swim to the sirens’ ship to save Eros. By now, he doesn’t want to be saved. He’s experienced a conversion, but the other pirates don’t care. It’s now “Cockblockers of the Caribbean.”  In the end, everyone’s straight and they all have an orgy. It’s truly a story with something for everyone. It has lots of sexual innuendo and skimpy outfits for the more liberal people, but also a gay conversion story for the conservative viewer.

Is that what these Somali guys are? Ambiguously gay, singing, dancing pirates? Hell to the no! They’re terrorists, like Al-Qaeda and the American Idols producers. So let’s stop calling them pirates unless we’re including the word “butt” in front of it. Stupid Somali butt pirates.

… yes, I just did that, I used that reference (skip to 1:34)

I was logged into Gmail today checking some mail and replying to some folks when I saw this on the right hand side of my screen:

You realize how those ads get there right? When those companies create ad campaigns, they type in keywords that they want to try and match their ads to. Given the email I was reading/replying to was about Dan Brown’s next book, I really have to wonder which exact keywords Shopping.com are paying for from my email that triggered that ad… and what text in my email made them think that female *******ing clips are a good eye-catcher for comparing prices online when shopping.

Super SEO fail… but then again, I did blog about it, so who knows… maybe it did work =/

I’ve been on a reading kick as of late… reading anywhere from 30mins to 2hrs at night before bed and loving it. I usually tend towards horror or sci-fi books, but also occasionally really enjoy a great biography or scientific book.

At the behest of a few friends, I am finishing up Isaac Asimov’s The Foundation Series right now and can’t say I really enjoyed it much. The writing seems shallow, like it’s written by a 20-year-old, and the story content itself feels weak… sort of like a PG-13 retelling of World War II’s most intense battles. It’s not that it’s inaccurate, but without the intensity of battlefield mutilation it’s hard to feel the “intensity” of the situation.

Anyway, Todd Swarthout mentioned to me this morning that Dan Brown apparently has a new book coming out. After 3 seconds on Google it looks like The Lost Symbol is going to be it — This September.

Apparently the book is going to take place in Washington D.C. and cover the Freemason lore. Color me “I want that book!”… I love stories like that, and given Brown’s pacing, story structure and detail that go into his stories to give you that convincing depth… I’m salivating.

While we wait, anyone else got some personal favorite books to share?

I’ve been going to the fair since I was a little kid. Nothing profound there but I have always been somewhat mystified by the experience and I look forward to it every year. It had been a few years since I had been and I was really bummed to miss it last year so I made sure I was up for a trip this time around.

The fair is always different depending on when you go, how often you go, who you go with and how old you are. I used to go a lot and with a variety of people be it friends, family, girl friends and (now ex)wives. There were a few years that my Dad was involved in the tractor pull and I was able to get in for free whenever I wanted. That was always a tough decision for me just out of high school, is getting in for free worth the risk of embarrassment of telling your friends that your Dad is in the tractor pull? Yes it is. Besides, no one ever cared and I was just an asshole post-teen who was still embarrassed by things my parents did. I am glad I am never having kids because I would end up with a conservative young republican kid who thinks that comics and video games are ‘gay’; then when I told him that we don’t use that word to describe things because, in addition to the term being derogatory and offensive, it can not be applied to interests as interests are not animate and cannot have a sexual orientation he would slap me in the face so he could laugh about it with his cheerleader girlfriend.

I went for concerts occasionally too. Some local shows and some bigger acts. I was once almost run over by Ben Folds in a golf cart. Those are the memories you cherish. It is also sort of cool when you are sitting there with a group of people bitching about how long it is taking the next band to come out and then they smile and nod and then get on stage and play their set. Awesome. Moreso when your buddy was unsuccessfully flirting with the hot lead singer who turns out to be married to the guitar player which explains much better why he had spent the last 20 minutes looking really smug and amused.

I’ve also been to the fair for dog shows. I had a girl friend who was in dog shows and we went for that a few times. It is like watching Best In Show on Old McDonald’s farm. Trying to go ride rides afterward becomes a challenge. ‘Hey can you watch my enormous golden retriever while I go down that 50ft slide in a burlap sack?’ Awesome.

Most people go to the fair for rides. I like those too, but I really go for the full experience, the exhibition halls, the crazy shows, the vendors, the people watching, the food and then the rides. I went last night with my girl friend and my best friend and I found the night to be a lot of fun but also sort of muted and understated by way of excitement. I am not sure if it is just that I have been so many times over the years or if it is that I am getting older, or a combination of both or neither but the fair has lost a bit of magic for me and it was not quite as magical of an experience. That I was operating on maybe three hours of sleep probably did not help.

We got there around seven and I wanted to check out the halls and all the display things before hitting up the rides. I also had a list of things I planned to eat which stemmed less from a real desire to eat all those things and more from having listed the things I liked to eat at the fair and it then becoming a challenge.

I got a corn dog right away. I did not get the foot long version because I was trying to pace myself and I wanted to start out slow.  I then followed up by tracking down the cart that does the fried desserts. They had a three for 10 special so I got fried oreos, a fried twinkie and a fried moon pie. The twinkie was awesome. When I say awesome I mean like a thing from heaven. The oreos are a bit much and they gave us four. I ate two and my girlfriend ate the other two. The moon pie was awful and I didn’t finish the whole thing. If they had used the banana moon pies I think it would have been different but the chocolate made the whole thing way too rich, which is really saying something when you are talking about something deep fried in hot oil.

We went to the exhibition halls next and looked at the arts and crafts. The items found here always run the gamut from great to god awful. The baked items were horrifying as we are approaching the end of the fair and god only knows how long those things have been sitting out. The apple pies looked more emaciated than Christian Bale in the Machinist. The photo part was really amusing as some of the pieces looked professional and artistic and some looked like they just snapped a shot of their daughter in a sun dress at best and a LOLcatz pic at worst. There isn’t anything wrong with those kinds of pictures, but you should dive into the family album for something to enter into a photo contests in the best of circumstances. When the photo you enter is aging worse than a meth addict you should probably just wait until you have something new for next year.

The exhibition halls really kind of disappointed because I remember seeing them with a certain wild-eyed wonder when I was younger. I am not sure if all the shiny gadgets being pushed by hucksters and the sorts of people you don’t want to leave your children alone with were cooler back in the day or if I just have a better appreciation for the value of a dollar than to waste it on badly hewn homemade clothing or glittery hard plastic 50 Cent and Wutang pendants, but I found the items to be underwhelming even for comedic value. Even the Pro-life booth, which in the past has had video playing and huge posters of aborted fetuses, was low key and sort of respectful. Of course, there were plenty of religious and political  booths to be had including the newly minted ‘Teabagging’ movement. I would make a joke about how hilarious it is that people who oppose the rights of homosexuals then use the name of a typically gay activity to describe the nature of their protests but MSNBC has been mining that particular gold for weeks now and the vein is pretty tapped. So I will take the high ground and not conjure any images of these people expressing a desire to dip their man bits into someone else’s mouth. Oops.

The religious groups at the fair really annoy me. I don’t particularly care what religion someone else is. I have my own spiritual beliefs and while I am willing to talk about them with people I don’t think that shouting those beliefs into a PA system is going to do any one any good. I also don’t appreciate being asked if I am going to heaven while I am trying to find a good price on an Indian Taco. When I answered ‘oh sure,’  I didn’t appreciate the follow up to be ‘how do you know?’ I wasn’t upset he didn’t get that I was quoting Bill Murray’s character in Ed Wood when he was getting baptised but I think it is fairly insulting to ask someone something like that. Of course the point is that  I am either supposed to fire back an angry ‘how do YOU know?’ which would then lead to prostelatizing for 45 minutes or I am supposed to break into tears and confess that I don’t know an I need him to tell me. Also, he got my attention by referencing my Red Sox shirt. So right there he has answered his own question. Had I been wearing a Yankees shirt, then sure my acceptance into heaven would have been called into question, but as it was the question was just redundant.

So after I realized I didn’t want to spend the amount I make an hour on an Indian Taco, I got a pizza on a stick and a cheeseburger. We stopped by the beer garden so my buddy Jeff could ply himself with alcohol and then it was off to the Midway.

Ride tickets have never been cheap but I am kind of surprised they don’t have a second line for ass raping because they might as well finish the process they started with the ticket prices. We got our tickets, which are put on a handy scan card so you don’t have to fumble with the things while waiting in line and went out to find a ride.

The first ride we went on was pretty basic. It takes you up really high and then drops you really fast. Then you get off and go about your business. It looks and sounds pretty tame unless you are so afraid of heights that you are in serious danger of wetting yourself when on a 10 ft step ladder. I kicked off my shoes because they were slip ons and I have the sort of luck would involve me getting the nickname ‘Left Shoe’ forever more and we were on our way. I have been on this sort of ride before. The scariest was the Big Shot on the top of the Stratosphere in Vegas. That was scare mostly because before the ride started I noticed a helicopter a few hundred feet below us and I realized I had really fucked up.  One thing that this ride did differently than the others is that rather than launching you up in the air at mach speeds it just made its way up lackadaisically. This made it much worse because you had a lot of time to see where your body will end up if things go wrong. We reached the apex and Jeff said ‘Now look straight down!’ I suggested that he spend some quality time with himself and his privates and clamped my eyes shut like I was facing down a Nazi firing squad after trying to blow up Hitler. Then we dropped and I screamed like a girl and stopped then screamed again because it took a lot longer to reach the ground that I thought it should. Then it was over and we wandered around to some other rides.

The next ride we went on was the Zipper. This is a perennial favorite at fairs and carnivals all over the country and my girlfriend had never gone on it. The Zipper straps you into cages and spins said cages around while the whole ride spins. There is a lot of spinning. When I was younger I remember the Zipper being tall and imposing. Now it looks like you could probably go ahead and fall off the top of it and not die. Sure you would break something but we aren’t talking about instant and absolutely certain death.  I’ve gone on this ride more times than I’ve had years on earth but it was scarier this time. I am not sure if it was because it was my girlfriend’s first time or if I have become some kind of pussy but it was more intense than ever. For Jeff’s part, the third wheel legend reared its ugly head and he was left at the gate having a shouting match with the ride operator regarding the ‘no single riders’ policy. He ultimately went up with an 11 year old boy. We had been pulling for a hot single girl but you take what you can get. Such is the plight of the single rider.

The rest of the rides were sort of a blur because I had to keep my eyes shut for most of them as they had more strobe lights than a questionable basement rave. Standing in line, however, we noticed a disturbing trend. Teenage girls can’t seem to help but to have their titties hanging out. I would normally not be one to complain about the public display of boobs but when said boobs are attached to a 15 year old, I have to respectfully ask they be housed in more modest accommodations. There is nothing worse than looking down at perfect, enormous breasts struggling to burst free from the oppressive confines of their Fall Out Boy T-shirt and then looking up to get a better look at their owners only to find that they belong to someone  who was born the year you graduated from high school. I think that if we can’t convince these girls to wear burlap sacks around everywhere then they should at least be required to wear some kind of badge announcing their age. I don’t think it is fair that I have to feel like a pedo every time I see a low cut shirt or shorty shorts.

The fair is an odd place. There is a lot to see and take in and there is a wide variety of people there for a wide variety of reasons. Reflecting on the loss of magic, I looked over and saw a little boy sleeping in a red wagon his parents were pulling around and I remembered what it used to feel like as a kid to go to this glittering place with crazy things and crazy people all around. I remembered the excitement I felt and just how I excited on the drive in when I saw the ferris while shining in the distance. It is easy to get cynnical about this sort of thing when you are paying exorbinate prices for things that you don’t need or might make you throw up or when you are standing in line for a half an hour for maybe a minute’s worth of thrills but there was a time when it was magic and wonderful and I think that is what keeps me going back to the fair. It may just be nostalgia but it is my nostalgia.

Thanks goes out to Laurence Hartje for sending along probably the most precious thing I’ve seen in the last couple of weeks.

Some folks were taking their recycling out to the trash and dropped a few cardboard boxes on their way down the drivway… on the return to pick the boxes back up, this is what had happened in the few mins that passed:

In our own independent testing we have in-fact confirmed the findings… a stray box around the house must be sat in as soon as possible.

Another example of boxes and cats are Maru and his best friend… big box:

and then of course Mr. Chubby Cat and his best friend, soda box:

Honestly, Oprah…what gives?  I set my TiVo to record Monday’s episode dedicated to the 10th anniversary of the Columbine shootings and, instead, I watch some prison bitch board an Amtrak train?

Evidently, the show focused too much on “killing,” so people didn’t want to see it.  What?  Killing?  We aren’t talking about Columbine: the Musical?  No shit?

I realize that Oprah stopped being a journalist a long time ago when she started walking on water, but I didn’t think that airing a television show about Columbine on it’s tenth anniversary was considered controversial.  In fact, since I have children in the public school system, I like to keep myself apprised of anything that might help me should I ever find myself needing to stage a bully intervention, and I am not even saying that in jest…I take school shootings very seriously and it’s a totally avoidable circumstance.  That’s why I was surprised to see that Oprah has decided NOT to talk about the issue on such a relevant anniversary based exclusively on the idea that it “focused too much on murder” and she simply bowed her head in acknowledgment of the Columbine victim’s families.

Why didn’t you just reach out your diamond encrusted hand and slap each one of them on the face?

Instead of devoting the hour to Columbine, we watched two segments…the first one was some useless bitch who was getting out of prison for the SECOND time for attempted robbery and how difficult her transition into society will be and how will her kids react to her when she gets home???

I don’t GIVE a frog’s fat, wrinkled ass, OPRAH!!!  Those would have all been relevant questions that she might have asked herself BEFORE she robbed someone for drug money.  She wasn’t even in prison for three years.  Seriously, it was less interesting than televised golf.  The SECOND segment involved Lisa Ling reporting on a child pornography ring that was discovered in Florida, and we heard a graphic retelling of events that involved a young girl of about 5 or 6, ankles bound to wrists, repeatedly raped by a grown man for 40 minutes.

Why are you telling me this?  How is my knowing THESE details helpful to anyone, especially that little girl?  What you have done, Oprah, is raped your entire audience at the EXPENSE of that little girl.  I am disgusted that you used that story to make yourself look like such a conscientious reporter, when all you really did was ignore the big elephant in the room.  Do you know what happens to abused children that fall through the cracks of society, Oprah?

Or is this too violent for you?

*****Don’t forget Columbine…the victims AND the killers were somebody’s kids. *****

… what happens when puppies do it?

Son of a bitch! We have another pandemic on our hands and I ain’t the least bit pleased about it.

I heard on the news today that somewhere - I’m hearing Kansas or New York or Mexico – one of those places (you know what I mean) - swine flew! Flew! Oh, they tried to scare us a couple of years ago with that whole “birds flew” business. Well, duh-huh-huh-HUH!

That, my friends, is what birds do.

This, however, is much more serious. I’m married now. They said it would never happen, but it did. And do you know how many dames told me they would date me when pigs fly? You can’t even count that high! No one can! Even an  Asian kid!

Now these girls are all getting away with gyping me out of my date. Well, I won’t stand for it! I’m taking my elephant gun – the one I used to kill the woolly mammoth last Thanksgiving – and I’m a hunting flying swine, and there’s not a damn thing the government can do about it. I’m calling Charlie Manson and the Big Bad Wolf and we’re baggin’ us some piggies.

Swine flew indeed!

And, while I’m at it, I visited my mother a few months ago and not once did I tell anyone that I flied to Dallas. So stop saying Dustin Pedroia flied to right his last time up, please, Mr. Baseball Announcer Guy. I’ve put up with that shit for 30 years. He flew! Just like these pork products that have ruined my life. You’d never say Thurman Munson flied into a tree in Akron, or that Corey Lidle flied into a Manhattan building, would you? No!

Oh, I’m having me some bacon wrapped in ham with a side of mini-weenies tonight. You can bet your coily ass on that!