stream of concious...

okay, i just got back from five hours lost in lakewood (aka, my job), and i'm always a little jazzed when i get back and must decompress, and lo and behold, today when i arrive, everyone in my family is sacked out, and i have a million and one things pinging in my head, so guess what? yep, that's right, o loyal reader, you get saddled with all my shit yet again.

first off, i just caught the opening bit of tonight's loveline, and adam corolla is talking about pandas, and he makes some valid points. like, why exactly are we fighting so fucking hard to save this species? it must be cause they're cute, cause they are some surly angry and lazy motherfuckers who would rather sit around looking cute and cuddly than fuck to save their species. i'm distrustful of any species that doesn't enjoy fucking, if for no other reason, then at least to propegate.

also, there is apparently a big stink between two new bands, the killers, and the bravery. alright, first off, everyone is saying, "oh, the eighties style bands are coming back. that kind of music is cool again." okay, you dozy pratts, here's the thing. those bands (i.e. the cure, joy division, bauhaus, new order, depeche mode, et al) that you seek to emulate, they weren't popular in the eighties. oh, yes, alot of us were listening to them (myself included, duh, like you needed me to clear that one up), but they were not, i repeat, not getting played on popular radio. as a matter of fact, i caught shit all through high school cause i listened to "fag" (i openly apologize to my pals to whom this particular slur would be most offensive) bands. so while all you teenie boppers who were shitting your nappies while i was crying in my bedroom to atmosphere or a night like this, shut up, you don't know shit about the eighties. okay, sorry, back to the killers/bravery thing. alright, the dickhead from the killers was saying shit about the bravery, that they were a copy band, and that they sounded just like the killers, blah blahddy fucking blah. um, hey pal, the phone's ringing, it's robert smith, he says "quit fucking stealing my voice stylings." oh, and that line on hold is duran duran. they say they want their music back. there are precious few bands out there who are not stealing from some other band in one way or another. and i like bands that don't have tiffs with other bands (although i readily admit that i like the killers, and will probably own their album, but will most assuredly say it's a gift for my wife when i bring it to the register).

in various parts of the richer areas of lakewood, there are speed humps to assure that plebians like you and me don't drive our eyesore vehicles too fast and disturb the upper crust's carefully created habitat, causing their rare night-blooming scarlet hydrangias to pull themselves up by the roots and kill the family as they sleep. what cracks me up is that invariably i end up behind a truck or suv that is higher off the ground than i am tall (6'1" in case you were wondering), and these guys slow down to almost stopping to go over these three foot wide, foot high mounds of asphalt. exqueeze me? suv. four-wheel drive. off-road vehicle. shit, dude, i gun my little camry to see if i can catch air like starsky and hutch every time i come to one of these, and then these guys go over it like their gonna drop tranny. sheesh.

and can we make a law that annoying acoustic-guitar playing female twins with whiny nasally voices aren't allowed to make music? please? and if we can't, can we make a law that radio stations aren't allowed to play them?

furthermore, i'm getting annoyed with all the truth.com and tobaccosmokesyou commercials. first of all, i get it, not everyone likes tobacco smoke. smoking is bad. second-hand smoke kills. etc etc etc. but if you listen to their commercials, you can hear how cleverly (or sometimes not cleverly at all) they bury the truth in fabrications of the imagination. for example, waitress talking with boss. waitress says, "oooo, i hate tobacco smoke." boss says, "too bad, cause even if you can't smell it, you're still getting hit with smoky cancer beams. pew, pew." bullshit einstein. if that were the case everyone in the world would have to quit smoking and all tobacco plants destroyed for any of us to be safe. at some point it quits being cancer due to second-hand smoke and starts becoming cancer due to air pollution. also, they use figures that include the phrase "tobacco-related deaths". what exactly does that mean? i mean, if someone gets into an accident and dies cause they were reaching for their lighter, does that count? what about heart defects? if i've got a heart defect, and i smoke, and my heart defect ends up killing me, is that a smoking-related death? if i smoke like a chimney, and get cancer of the pancreas, does that count? who all are we including in this? and now they are doing ones aimed at teenagers called "the insanity games". the one i heard on the radio tonight was some enactment of a guy snowboarding naked with raw meat strapped to his back in front of a pack of hungry polar bears. these always end with the line, "think that's crazy? try smoking. one in three teenagers who smoke will die" and by this time i have usually begun sputtering a long string of obscenities, cause is it, or is it not the dumbest fucking thing you have ever heard in your entire life?!!? comparing smoking to exreme sports. what the brainiacs at tobaccosmokesyou fail to realize is that some kid who regularly breaks bones doing dumb shit on his skateboard will only be fueled by the first half of your commercial and completely and utterly miss the point. the rest of us will be so annoyed, we will take up smoking just to spite you. i know, i did.

and in news on the home front, no. 2 goes in for surgery to put tubes in his ears on thursday. if the time no. 1 went in for surgery on his thumb is any indication, i will wake up screaming and crying from horrible dreams the day after the surgery, and the day after that. not to end on a downer note, but after no. 1's surgery, i woke up one morning bawling because i had had a dream in which i was bitten by a cobra, and shortly thereafter, no. 1 was also bitten by said cobra, and people were walking by and i was trying to get them to help us, and at the same time trying to keep no. 1 awake, but i knew that my time was also limited, because i was bitten too. and we were laying on this beautiful persian rug, and looking up at this gorgeous mosaiced tile ceiling, and dying. and nobody cared. the next morning, i awoke with my pillow soaked from a dream in which both of my children had been involved in an accident, and died. but the next day, they told me that no. 2 was miraculously fine, and handed him to me. but no. 1 was gone. gone, finito, not to be seen again. i'm almost bawling now just writing about it. fucking scary. i'm not saying anything will go wrong with no. 2, just that my subconcious will most likely have a fucking field day at my expense. and to think, before kids, i had scary dreams about nuclear war, torture, being beset upon by voracious and only dimly viewed beasts, and sundry other shit that wes craven and clive barker would just love, but never once woke up screaming or crying since i turned like 7.

anyways, i must really be tripping out, cause everyone is asleep but me, and yet i swear i keep hearing someone walk up behind me and keep turning around expecting to see no. 1 standing behind me with his blankie held to his nose and looking at me like "what the fuck are you doing on the computer at this time of the night, old man?"

and one more thing before i go: why is it that when the posting thing says "this may take awhile if you have a large blog" it only does so on my short ones? this blog will post like that! (snaps fingers), but if i write one line, ten minutes. i don't get it.

again, anyways,

darth sardonic