Rants & Ravings From an Aspiring Daydreamer

America: A Suit-Happy Nation

I’ve told you all we’re a suit-happy nation. If someone spills coffee on her lap she wants to sue McDonald’s. If someone forgets to put on his seatbelt and goes through the windshield, he wants to sue Ford. Now the woman whose son crashed his Cessna into the empty building… She wants to sue the people who make the drug he was taking for acne.

No one wants to take the blame for anything these days. No one wants to be accountable or take responsibility for the stupid shit they do. They look ignorant in front of everyone, so they want to take a power trip to wealth to feel better. Sue, sue, sue!

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Selective Astrobiology

Scientists recently began to believe there may be life on Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. They’ve been digging in Barrow Alaska through the ice, and they’ve found life there, despite its -4ยบ temperature. Lake Vostok, which is in the heart of Antarctica, may be their test ground for building a probe that would drill through the ten-mile ice layer on Europa. Lake Vostok is covered by a two-mile thick plate (sheet? layer?) – yeah layer of ice. If they can build a probe that will drill through the ice and sample the water beneath, we may have a shot at discovering whether or not there’s life in the waters of Europa. An alien lake.

You know what fascinates me though? I love Astrophysics and Cosmology and the study of other planets and their surfaces. But not for biology. Who the heck cares if there’s microbes living at the bottom of a Jovian lake? What good is it going to do us? For one thing, we have no way to kill all the microbes that live on our probes, so we may be populating the waters with our own trash. Unless we can keep our shit at absolute zero for a couple of years, then have a way to ensure that killed everything permanently, then furthermore have a way to knock all the dead things off once our probe is en route to Europa… It’s all useless.

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C.E.V.

There are only two or three things in this world that piss me off more than when I find piss on the toilet seat. And I can’t really think of them right now.

You see, the whole qualm I have with it – besides it just being low class and disgusting, not to mention lazy – is that when you work in a corporate office such as we have here, you should no longer be a child. Obviously we have children working here, because no one has taught them how to raise a damn toilet seat before they micturate. And nothing pisses me off (short those couple of things I can’t think of right now) more than going in there to take care of business and having to wipe someone else’s piss off the seat. You don’t piss on the seat at home, asshole, so why do you do it where you work? Because you know Consuelo will be coming in to clean it up, huh? Children. Even my dog has better sense than that (inset picture).

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Clans and Coffee Talk

I think I’ve reached boiling point. I’m so sick of all the bullshit psychic wannabes on the television. All these fruitcakes who can supposedly tell my fortune and my future over the phone. I really only have one word to say about these people: what the hell Ever.

What I’m real sick of is these clans and cults that form over the shit. That shit pisses me off. All these stupid asses that follow some dude that preaches that heaven awaits behind a comet. And get this: We’re all gonna kill ourselves wearing purple and having a roll of quarters in our pockets. Why? Well to call home when our spirits reach the ship, of course!

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The Sinister Sisters Behind the Curtain

There’s no doubting that women rule the world. Anyone who doesn’t believe that, try living with one for a few weeks. You’ll catch on. I’m just wondering why so many of them are psycho. You remember that movie Beautiful Girls? Michael Rappaport says it perfectly: “They’re all sisters. You never let them behind the curtain. They’re all sisters.” What a brilliant man he was. That’s exactly what they are.

Otherwise, how would they all know when we screw up? And you notice whenever you’ve been single for a while and you finally find someone worth checking into, that’s when they all come to call. When it rains it pours, gentlemen. They all know. It’s like a little alarm in their heads go off saying “Johnnie’s got a girl now! Set tits to stun! Go get him girls!” And they do. They all come around. But you never see that shit happening when you’re single. Well, unless you’re like me. But that’s beside the point.

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Nicotine Lollipops

Good day, Crater Faces. Another month is upon us, and another item of controversy has sprung up on the shelves. Every year we digress as a society, to the point of which we will finally become a sludge pit just like Palestine. Children are learning to kill at younger and younger ages, and all we do is feed it to them, on a shiny silver spoon we call television. In Europe they show nudity in commercials and on regular television. Here we show murder. Crime. Killing and rape, guns, drugs, and a whole slew of other bullshit that has somehow become acceptable. I’d much rather my children see a naked body than a dying one on television.

And don’t hand me that hogwash line “Well that’s the real world, Brandon”. Yeah, only because we make it that way. Anyway, to the point. This item I speak of is the latest development in smoking cessation. The nicotine lollipop.

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Good Friday

As we all finish out our work weeks today and prepare to go home for the weekend, I would like everyone to remember what this weekend stands for. This is Easter weekend. Today is Good Friday, the day our Lord was crucified. He rose again on Sunday.

So how do we celebrate it?

Well, of course… It’s obvious, right? A big fat bunny that lays eggs. We celebrate the death of the only sinless man ever to walk the earth by lying to our children and generally spreading old spoiled mayonnaise on the bread of truth for them. No one tells their children about Jesus and the horrible thing that happened to him – but the good news that he rose again. Even if you don’t believe it, it sure would make the world a better place if we taught our children to love. Instead, we make up some bogus crap about a bunny that – well, I don’t even know what the hell the bunny does.

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And they were none too happy.

She’d blown past us at the intersection. I looked out my window and shouted, but she didn’t hear. I told Flavio to speed up. We were on the way back from lunch, and now we sat stalled by a stop light. She was two cars ahead and one lane to the right. We couldn’t get her. Damn!

“She’s gorgeous, dude. You have to get up there so you can check on her,” I shouted. Before lunch I had said, “Should I bring my camera? In case we see anything happen during lunch?” He’d said yes. “Cool. You drive. I’ll shoot.” So I rode shotgun to Quizno’s.

Now we’re at the stop light. I’m shaking my head like a box of rice fidgeting. The camera! Yes. I reached back and unzipped it from its pouch and pulled it up. Cocked it, readied and focused. She cuts into our lane and turns left ah

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The Ever-Elusive Airplane Crash

I live near an airport. Well about ten to fifteen miles away, I suppose. But it’s the third busiest airport in the world. An international one. Thus planes are constantly flying right over my house, and generally pretty low, on their way to landing. My supposition is that these aircraft are somewhere between five- and ten-thousand feet. It’s quite common to be awakened by the sound of the engines screaming through the night, directly above me. Especially when I have my windows open.

So I started thinking last night about the plausibility of a crash landing in my bedroom. Here’s the control set I theorized under: The world as we know it will not end, ever, but will last infinitely. Aircraft will infinitely be flying over my house, as they are today, and the technology will remain fairly constant. Meaning they will still use conventional fuel and conventional thrust and drag technology. Assuming all this, my question was this: As long as they are flying over my house evermore, what is the probability that one would someday crash into my house?

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Storm’s Run-in with Tiffany

My associate and good friend Storm had a little run in today. Being a professional photographer, he “happened to be” at the Tower Records Playboy Signing tonight. so he caught some excellent pictures of Tiffany. Oh. My. God. I was just talking about liking Tiffany and that she’s in the new Playboy and everything then he suddenly comes along and sends me pictures of himself with her. Bastard.

I think she looks better in these photos than the Playboy ones. Well besides the fact that she isn’t naked, I mean, she just looks more natural. No airbrushing either. And those tits! I think the buttons on that shirt must have popped off. These are four of the fifty or so that he sent me. And of course, I bled the color out and pasted a tag on them for his benefit. But if you want to see more, you can carry your lazy ass over to his site and order the full size ones. Eat your heart out, kinetic kim:


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