Personal Request

To everyone I like and respect:

Please do not suddenly reveal your secret fandom for Sarah Palin. I wish to continue liking you.

I will pretend she does not exist if you will.

Notes: Transformers 2

This movie sucked so hard I could dryvac my floor with it.

Regarding Vista 64 Home Premium

Let's say you're in the market for a new toaster. You got to the store and look around, and you find a really good one. It's all shiny and new and has a lot of great features - some of which you don't need, but what the hey, it's the biggest and best one out there and you might as well get it.

One of the nice things about this particular toaster is that it has both a light and a dark setting. You think, hey, that's pretty handy. I'll probably want to make dark toast quite frequently. So you plunk down way too much money for this new toaster with its light and dark settings, and the cashier hands you a box. You take the box home, because dammit, you have bread to toast, and it's not getting any toastier all by itself.

Now, when you get that box home and open it up, I suppose you expect to find a nice toaster with a little dial on the front that says light and dark. That would make sense. But what you actually find is a toaster with a dial on it that just says light. No dark. Well, hell, how do you make dark toast then?

In the bottom of the box is a very politely-worded note explaining that you are a dumbass, and couldn't possibly be serious about making dark toast. It is a much too advanced process. But, if you really want to try to make dark toast (which is awesome, by the way), just mail in a check for $10, and they will happily send you ANOTHER TOASTER, which you technically already own, but which was not included in the box. This one will have a dial set to dark.

Oh, and the toasters both share a single unique power cord, so you can only plug in one at a time.

And everything else in the kitchen is powered by the toaster.

And if you lose or forget the serial number, the toaster dies.

And the toast tastes shitty.

Define Politics

Rudy Giuliani Rooting for Red Sox

"I'm an American League fan, and I go with the American League team, maybe with the exception of the Mets," he said. "Maybe that would be the one time I wouldn't because I'm loyal to New York."

Masshole Report: Special Edition

Three words:

Motor Excise Tax

Fuck Massachusetts.

She Said Yes!

Yay!

Quote of the Day

"And then there's pie..."

-Giant Animatronic Buffalo Head

What's a Cubit?

All relevant parties are fine, by the way. Just kind of hemmed in at the moment.

My God, it's True!

Back from Vegas. Pictures will be up sometime tomorrow. But I wanted to talk about something else first.

I have just seen something extraordinary. A vision of universal harmony and order. Something so unlikely that it must be the result of an intelligent creator. In the parlance of my more herbal, euphoric brethren, this video blew my fucking mind.

I took a certain short elective course in college - it's purpose eludes me today - wherein we were each tasked with proving a supernatural belief. Or something. It was fairly early in the morning and there were "auras" involved, so don't count on a comprehensive account. Suffice it to say, I chose to prove the existence of God. What's more, I chose to prove the existence of the divine via the property of mundane items. Namely fruit. How was I to know then that I was on the very cutting edge of theological science?

I could explain to you the logical pathway that allowed me to divine the existence of God from the mere physical dimensions of a certain yellow fruit. However, against all scientific principle and norms of human behavior, I no longer have to. Enter Kirk Cameron and associate:

The relevant bit is at 3:31, but you should watch a bit more. Some awesome stuff about eyes, Darwin, and the divine nature of patriotic soda cans. I was right! I was so damn right! And when Kirk fucking Cameron backs you up, you know you're on the right path. Hallelujah!

That's three irreverent God posts in a row, to be followed shortly by Vegas pics. I may be asking for trouble here...

BF2 Jesus

From a Tactical Gamer discussion that got.... wierd.

We ♥ OCD

The summer heat gives way to the newness and the oldness of fall. Such wonderful pandas! It makes me want to dance!

Oh, hello. We did not see you there. We have been busy rolling! Rolling rolling rolling, rollling everything up together in beautiful style. We quite enjoy it.

We enjoy it so much, in fact, that we have been staying up late. Far, far too late. Too late to make any appearances without looking very stiff and tired. That is the curse of the Katamari. The curse and the joy.

What's that? Your talking dog is also cursed? That is highly unlikely... Perhaps he would enjoy some rolling. Being cursed is not a very agreeable pasttime. Wouldn't you agree? Of course you would.

Anata no ke ha subarashii!

This is all over the net by now, but in case you haven't seen it:

Do you need hero style?

Do you lament your lack of an androgenous body, huge head, or tiny mouth and nose?

Are you prepared to know the amazingly COOOOOL fashion secrets of such famous figures as Kabuki Quantum Fighter?

Then look no further than MANGA HEAD.

And may the shougyou no kami have mercy on your soul.

Confusing Headlines

Barcode That Baby, Maybe Says Embryology Body

Mammal Ate Termites Before Anyone Else Did

The unsung role of Kung Fu in the Kyrgyz revolution

Australia Has Baby Boom After Gov't Push

Witness

It is 8PM. I am standing against a washer in the back of the laundromat. There are twelve minutes left for my clothing to dry. I am reading a book.

Several people step out the back door to do something - I don't know exactly what. The room grows suddenly cold, then suddenly hot as the night air and the heating system do battle over the threshhold. For the moment, I am the only person there aside from the attendant who speaks no English working in the back.

A young man enters, not much older than myself. He is wearing nice shoes and a long black wool coat that looks very warm. He approaches me quickly and stops at a safe distance.

"Excuse me, sir," he says, a little nervously, "but can I offer you something to read while you wait for your laundry?" With that, he holds out his one copy of Watchtower.

I explain to him in what I sincerely hope is a polite tone that, no thank you, I already have something to read. I hold up my paperback for him to see. It is a copy of American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

There is an awkward moment.

The young man apologizes, turns, and walks very quickly out the front door. He does not speak to the attendant who does not speak English. After a few seconds, several people return to repopulate the laundromat.

The Dark Chives of the Force

Words fail me... for the last time, Admiral.

Railyard Morality

A bitter pill to swallow. But if you have trouble following this one simple rule, the fine people of the NJ rail system have considered the alternative for you.