Things I Have Learned From the Movies

• The black guy always dies first, unless there's a scared Arab guy or a muttering white teenager lying around.
• “Brief, partial nudity” means a chick holding a sheet over herself with her back to you, from the waist-up. It is never worthwhile.
• Keaneu Reeves was only believable as a very confused man staring at his palm in The Matrix, and as a very confused boy staring at his hand in Bill and Ted.
• All haunted houses have either seven or nine people inside. If there are eight of you, be on guard.
• Make sure your one true love is sexually conservative. It will keep you alive longer.
• Bombs slow down in the last minute before they go off, just like football games.
• If you go back in time always make sure to do whatever it was you were supposed to do. Don't avoid doing anything else because you probably were supposed to anyway. Do check your pockets before you leave.
• If it can't be the murderer because they're dead, it is.
• Romantic comedies are good, comedic romances are not.
• Independent movies only seem better because no one wants to think they spent more time and effort to find a theater actually playing a piece of crap by someone of whom you've never heard.
• Slow-moving, murderous hulks are surprisingly agile when you're fleeing through the woods.
• "Remove the head or destroy the brain." Words to live by.
• The proper order for watching the Star Wars saga will always be 4, 5, 6 then 1, ,2, 3.
• Everyone pays for adult tickets after the age of twelve, even if they need a legal drinker present to see the movie.
• Everyone knows how to make a tourniquet.
• Subtitles make you feel smart, unless you can't turn them off.
• If John Connor could drive a motorcycle at thirteen, I should be able to at twenty-three.
• Everything “seemed” like a good idea at the time.
• Under no circumstances is one permitted to say, “Well, at least things can’t get any worse.”
• Nothing bad ever happens from secret government programs. Ever.
  
• Always believe the lying teenagers.
• Be constantly pregnant. Nothing ever kills pregnant women.
• Your high school history teacher significantly underestimated the number of explosions back then.
• Except for Batman and James Bond, bad guys get the best toys.
• There are apparently no unattractive young Asian women.
• Heroes have the best hair, no matter what exploded.
• Everyone knows how to drive stick.
• There really are seven different copies of Mike Meyers.

On Gyms

I'm starting to plateau in the kind of results I can see lifting weights at home, so I'm putting some thought into joining a gym.

Many people are embarrassed to start hitting the gym because of how they look, but I'm more concerned with looking stupid because I have no idea how to perform any of the exercises.

This, I gather, is why people who aren't in shape tend to go to the 24-hour chain gyms in the middle of the night.

Everyone seems to think this way. Go to the gym when it's late and no one's around.

If that's the case and everyone's there at midnight I'm going to start going to the gym at three in the afternoon when no one's really around.

On Intellectual Property Theft

Double Edit!
Apparently Hot Topic just fucking loves ripping off other people's shit.
Take note: Topic Crap one and two.











Cute, I must admit, but then here are the original buttons of copyrighted comic material from Kawaii Not:
Turned the puzzle piece, but didn't even bother to alter the camera beyond adding a flash. Same faces and artwork. Real shame, after all the integrity Hot Topic has….

Feel free to send your support/outrage to the appropriate sources. I'm fucking tired of people stealing shit and passing it off as their own. Especially this week. This week has been fucked up with it. Hope you choke on a pair of red-and-black striped knee-high Converse All-Stars.





EDIT: Actually it turns out these guys were very nice and apologized to Vera Brosgol personally. In their defense, they probably just bought an unethical designer's work, and they now are responsible for buying back a few thousand unsellable shirts, which Hot Topic and Merch Direct are already taking down.

That said, I'm simply going to replace "Pierce the Veil" and related links or terms in this entry with the words "Peanut Butter," because this blog is still a valid criticism on intellectual property theft, which is occurring constantly.



Sorry, but today's post has been preempted. Preempted by rage.

There will be nothing funny here, except perhaps the amusing ways in which i colorfully curse the band "PEANUT BUTTER" for being hypocritical money-grubbing cock bandits with no regard for personal property.
Fucktards PEANUT BUTTER, moronically labels themselves "indie," despite being signed to a record label and having their shit sold in fucking HotTopic.

They advertise every piece of merchandise they produce on their myspace, and I don't mean they advertise everything there, I mean they seem to have a different fucking ad for every piece of shit they sell.

Oh, but not all of it is shit. This piece is pretty nice:











Maybe because it's stolen from this:
an original piece by independent artist Vera Brosgol.

Please note, in addition to stealing it, emo bitches PEANUT BUTTER heteronormalized it into a straight couple. Then they made it inexplicably a straight couple of zombies, because maybe then we wouldn't notice.


OH BUT IT GETS BETTER!

Apparently being materialistic, unethical and avaricious is not enough for these walking retarded haircuts.

In their effort to gain fame and fortune strictly on the merits of sounding exactly like every other fucking screaming emo band in the last five years, these assholes have decided that if they're going to rip off someone no one outside the independent art community has heard of, they might as well make more money ripping off something everybody has heard of.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Glow Monster":
Yes, that is blatantly, flagrantly, and apparently fragrantly, Crumb, of Nickelodeon's Aaahh!!! Real Monsters. If there was any doubt in your mind as to weather perhaps Ms. Brosgol simply allowed her work to be traced, recolored and stripped of all its inherent meaning, this should dispel that.

I am reasonably sure that Nickelodeon did not allow their 1990s animated property to be reprinted without notation on t-shirts sold by a majestically foul band with zero popularity.

Face it, they couldn't even secure the rights to www.PEANUT BUTTER.COM. It's a redirect to fucking New Age book ads by a middle-aged couple that looks like it was recently moved over from Geocities.

In summation, friend these fuckers on PEANUTBUTTERbook, MyPEANUTBUTTERspace, wherever and tell them they're fucking asshats. Tell them they're thieving, criminal fuckers unworthy of even the small modicum of playing ability they've been granted by The Universe and autotuning studio equipment.

Fuck you, PEANUT BUTTER. You PEANUT nothing. You reveal nothing new of nature or music. You are untalented, thieving hacks.

On Diversity

No, this isn't awkward at all. Why do you ask?



I realized today that I don't really have any black friends.

I used to have a black friend but I haven't talked to her in a while.

Which kind of sucks because she was also my lesbian friend. It was very convenient.

Before my close circle of friends included a woman, a gay and a minority. Now we're just a bunch of overweight white guys who like drinking and using the word "nigga" ironically.

Which come to think of it is probably fairly awful now that we don't have black person sitting with us anymore.

Lando Calrissian: Space Pimp

Killer Whale Kills, Everyone Shocked and Appalled

I'M AN ORCA. I'M AN ORCA! SUCK MAH DICK, I'M AND ORCA!

Beloved orca in a string of many who, like Lassie, carried on the "Shamu" name, has apparently mauled and killed a trainer.

1. The whale had just been introduced to this new trainer. I guess he didn't like her.
   
   
2. This is a killer whale and we have decided to keep in in a confined space since 1992, its only interactions being with people wearing slick black wetsuits and flailing wildly like baby seals, the orca's natural food source. Brilliant.
   
   
3. Since this was a killer whale, and we all know whales are as intelligent as dolphins, dogs, and retarded blond children who fight ecoterrorists in small Atlantic coves, homicide detectives have been called into investigate.

I suppose it's going to be … a whale of a case.

On Hypotheticals

A few weeks back my friend Jay offered up a hypothetical question. He wanted me to seriously consider my answer before giving it and make sure that it was the precise answer I'd want to give.

The question was, "If you could pick any act to punch, once, in the face with no repercussions, who would it be?"

As an odd afterthought he added, "I might know who it'd be, and if you don't pick him when I say it you'll wish you did."

Now Dean answered right away with some possibly dumb, timely answer, but I sat there contemplating for maybe a good twenty minutes while I thought out my response. The conversation changed while I sat, thinking.

I am not a violent man. Nor am I a strong man. I have, twice in my life, diffused almost certain ass kickings of myself by pointing out how incredibly easy, unsatisfying and unproductive kicking my ass would be. However the thought persisted. I was to punch any celebrity. Regardless of how we came there, I was to strike a man–need it be a man? Could I strike a woman?–I was to pummel an actor.

The part of my brain the works through time-travel/predestination problems kicked in. If, in the future, I know I will be punching an actor in the face, who could possibly drive me to such an act?"

I considered my list of people who instantly piss my off, simply by seeing them: Ben Stiller, Ashton Kutcher, Sandra Bullock, Mel Gibson, Nicholas Cage, Keanu Reeves, but nothing. All these people I hate with a passion. I see them and I instantly are aware that they are actors. Every movie they appear in is ruined for me. I hate them all and I wish they would stop being alive.

But at the same time there are redemptive qualities. Nick Cage, for example, is a horrible actor, but I think he'd be a nice guy if I met him. Mel Gibson might be an antisemitic bastard, but he knows he's a bastard. i appreciate assholes who know they are assholes and don't try to hide it.

Yes, there are other actors I would desire to inflict pain on, personally, but I want this punch to really count. If someone punches Kevin Fedderline in the face this week no one is going to care next week. Likewise, if I smacked Sandra Bullock it won't stop her from making horrible movies that make divorced 30-somethings and housewives cry. Tom Cruise will still be just as insane, and what's worse he'll feel vindicated in the prosecution of scientology.

This punch needs to be for me and me alone. I can attain nothing from it. It must be high-profile but also satisfactory even if it has no lasting repercussions.

And the weird thing is I've known all along.

I tell Jay, "I think I've got one. And the weird thing is I'm pretty sure this guy could take the hit standing and then turn around and kill me with his bare hands-"

And this is where Jay reminds me and says, "No, it's cool. You get one hit, no consequences."

"-But I think I don't care. I want this one," I finish.

"Okay…" Jay waits.

"Tom Hanks," I say. "I would want to punch Tom Hanks in the face so hard I don't even care if he kills me after. He just annoys me. He seems like a perfectly nice guy in interviews, but he's too nice. I hate him and everything he's ever been in, even the things he's been in that I liked, I hate because he is in them."

"That's interesting," Jay says. "Most people who say that have only seen Old Tom Hanks, not his early stuff."

"I am aware of his early works," I say. "I have not seen them because I can't stand him, but I am aware of them. I can't stand his face. That stupid, confused face like crushed boyhood optimism straining under the weight of reality that he wears every day in every scene of every film frame. I cannot abide Tome Hanks and I am sure he is a wonderful person to sit and drink and joke with, but I cannot stand his stupid face and I want to punch him in it so much that my muscles tense at the thought. My adrenal glands secrete liquid energy, my eyesight becomes suddenly sharper, my hearing more acute. I become so enraptured with the idea of striking this man just once, to cause pain to him for everything he has done to keep me even the slightest steps farther out of touch with humanity at large and I become even slightly aroused at the idea. This is passion brewing. Pure passion unfettered by morality or logic, only a sense of carnal justice unleashed by the thought that I can cast off society's restraints and once, for a brief moment, indulge my baser instincts to destroy that which I hate for pride and honor and the chance to usurp what it has I feel so wrongfully been lavished with."

"So yeah," I say. "If I could punch any actor in the face it'd be Tom Hanks."

"Alright," Jay says. "I'd punch Hayden Christiansen. I just feel like he'd be a little bitch. I had a dream where I got to meet him and I realized I'd never get the chance again, so I apologized and just punched. Him. In. The. Face. He cried like a little bitch."

"I want to make him cry," Jay said.

On Dreams, Pt. II

I'm not sure how much I buy into the idea that dreams are wish fulfillment. Sometimes, yes, obviously.

Last night, for example, I dreamnt myself into a very awkward moment with a former romantic partner. Now we did not exactly leave on the best terms, so her desire for me could have been seen as wish fulfillment on my part.

However my brain knows what it knows. This person promised to be kissy kissy only because she was drunk and only after she was done making out with some girl she'd just met.

Essentially true to life.

So what could be the wishing was that I turned down sexy dream slobbers because I knew it was wrong. I also learned that I have a habit of being placed into dominant roles in relationships by manipulative submissive women, so A) my family screwed me up like everyone else but quietly and B) now I know and there's nothing you can do to stop me from safeguarding against that attack.


Anyway, I felt really good about denying that bitch the satisfaction of using me as a third-string chew toy. Still, I was rather upset that I ever have to consider this person at all, so I grumbled and went back to sleep.

But for resisting temptation even in dream where one can do anything, I was rewarded with a second dream where I received in the mail the latest Green Day CD with the single and some bonus stickers and other bands' demos and then got to go on an international (i.e. Canada) car trip with my friends Jay and for some reason Trips.

If that weren't wish fulfillment enough, after that I dreamed I had sex with an unreasonably attractive Mila Kunis double. At the bottom of a waterside.

Also, I was a pizza boy and apparently a high school geek and the jocks caught us cuddling the next morning and respected me. Fuck. Yes. Dream Dave.