This sculpture (*hee*) arrived in Portland sometime over the summer and has been the subject of countless jokes ever since. Some say that it resembles the male genitallia (*snort*) but Blog disagrees. While its long shaft (*snicker*) may recall the head of a penis and its dangling golden ball...
(*HA! HA! HA!*) fine, there's just no getting around it.
That "thing" across the street from Powell's Bookstore in downtown Portland, Oregon looks like a giant, semi-erect, perky....
With that, Blog has finished his eleventh and final post a good four minutes prior to the deadline. WOO!!! HOO!! IN YOUR FACE!!! He has conquered and now stands triumphant over the rest of the Bloging world. Have yourselves a merry little Thanksgiving, biznatches!!!
How about a little thoughtful political discourse to help fulfill this looming deadline?
Hmmm…er….uh….Arnold Schwarzenegger is a DICK who takes his DICK out far too often while George Bush 2.0 is a DICK of a different sort. If his wife, who serves as this site’s namesake, played with GW’s DICK on a more regular basis, he wouldn’t have time to make DICKhead moves like invading Iraq.
OK, fine. Blog is completely incapable of thoughtful discourse. Regardless, this is still a post and Blog is one step closer to his goal.
Henry Ford's Restaurant and Piano Bar may never again opens its doors. The iconic Portland business which delighted patrons over the years with its eerie atmosphere and fire-ball (fire BALL not fire DICK) spewing fountain closed its old location back in late February. A lengthy article about Henry Ford's, which was posted on Website earlier this year, can be found here.
The owners planned on opening an all new Henry Ford's. According to an Oregonian article from May, it was scheduled to reopen in June. Summer passed and still no word came of when Ford's would return.
Sadly, Blog learned earlier this week that the Ford family sold the proposed location last month. While it would have been a perfect replacement, the building was in almost as poor repair as the original. Located in NW Portland, the new Ford's would have inhabited an old French restaurant. From the outside, the building looked almost as mysterious as the one that once lingered over Barbur Boulevard. French windows overlooked bamboo gardens, immediately recalling a certain infamous house in Eugene OR. It could have been almost as great as the old Ford's.
So the fate of Henry's eerie portrait and the fireball fountain hang in limbo. Will Henry Ford's ever return or will it join the likes of the Organ Grinder? Only time will tell.
Blog loves the concept of Thanksgiving but has never been able to get into the spirit of the season. Gorging yourself on massive amounts of food in honor of Manifest Destiny is, admittedly, a fantastic idea for a holiday but why does turkey have to be the centerpiece?
Turkey is bland and flavorless. In a nation like America, shouldn't beef take its place? The effects of Tryptophan might make a nice metaphor for Thanksgiving but hamburger is more iconic. If such a thing as "tofurky" can exist, why not a steak shaped like a turkey?
Tomorrow, Blog will eat a single slice of turkey and attempt to make a meal out of mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Sometime later, he'll probably wander off in search of an open Taco Bell, like he does every year. This time, maybe he'll take along a copy of "David Copperfield" which just happens to written by Charles DICKins.
A while back, Blog sent his younger sister an Oreo cookie in the mail for reasons not worth mentioning here. What actually happened to this cookie is worthy of an entry in "Big Book of Revenge."
The Oreo was placed in a legal-sized envelope with no padding. Whlle Blog suspected the cookie would arrive merely crushed, it actually melted in transit. The vanilla cream, along with the cookie itself, formed into a gelatinous goo which seeped through the envelope. The goo destroyed several bills and covered her November issue of EGM in a thin layer of Oreo slime. For some strange reason, she's actually pissed about this and neglected to take a picture of resulting melee. Sheesh! No foresight at all! What IS the matter with that girl?
Blog, who is probably going to get a much deserved DICK kicking when she arrives in town tonight, has dubbed this "The Cookie Bomb." If a single Oreo can do this much damage, imagine what a manila envelope full of them could do. Or the awesome destructive power of three poorly-packaged king-sized Snickers bars! In fact, if US troops in Iraq had access to this kind of technology, the war would be over by now (instead of just "officially" over).
If you've seen an action movie in the last twenty years, then you've heard it. You've probably even joked about it. This infamous scream has appeared in all of the "Star Wars" and 'Indiana Jones" films along with "The Two Towers." Yes, it has a name. It's called the Wilhelm Scream.
Still not sure what this is all about? Click here for a WAV file.
The Wilhelm Scream is probably the most iconic sound effect in the history of film. Back in 1951, a series of screams were recording for the Warner Brothers film "Distant Drums." They were used in a scene where a man is attacked (and possibly has his DICK bitten off, Blog hasn't seen the movie) by an alligator. The recording was later tucked away in the studio's archives.
"Star Wars" sound designer Ben Burtt tracked down the scream recording - which he named "Wilhelm" after a character who let out the same scream in a film called "Charge at Feather River." Ben has since adopted the scream as sort of a personal sound signature. He and a small circle of sound effects people keep it in steady rotation. Most recently, the scream was used in "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind" and "Once Upon a Time in Mexico."
The pull of a website called Retro Crush proved too much for Blog's sleep-deprived mind and now he has a mere 3.5 hours to complete seven more posts!!! To make matters worse, his on the downhill slide of a Red Bull bender. It's high time he stopped DICKing around.
Will Blog be able to pull out of this tailspin while the rest of the world is on the road and in the air? Will he actually post anything but reckless self promotion and retractions? Is anyone actually reading this? Stay tuned!
If a shotgun fires in the woods and no one is around to hear it, can it still destroy a Macintosh monitor?
The answer to this question can be found at Blog's sister site, Website, where a new feature story was posted last night. Click here to see it for yourself. It's chock full of gunplay videos that will help you tick away the moments of this dull Thanksgiving Eve. Enjoy!
Whew, three down and it's barely noon. Time to eat peanut butter and listen to The DICKies on the ol' iPod.
Earlier this week, Blog mentioned the addition of J.J. Joe Jr's blog to the blogosphere. Blog incorrectly stated that J.J. had promised to post anything about bowel movements. This is erroneous. He merely stated that he would try not to post anything about bowel movements. Blog, who does not wear DICKies (hey, I never said they wouldn't be hackneyed) regrets the error and looks forward to any of J.J's posts on the subject of bowel movements, should he choose to post anything about said bowel movements.
Blog will be leaving tomorrow for the moldy pastures of Seattle, Washington where he will spending the holiday weekend chugging turkey-flavored soda while searching for the ghost of Kurt Cobain. What does this mean? No more posts until Monday. "But wait," you cry. "This isn't fair! You're cheating out of two days of Blog-gy goodness!" Worry not, dear friends for, in honor of the most gluttonous of all holidays, Thanksgiving, Blog has declared today TRIPLE POST WEDNESDAY!!!
Let's do the math. On an average weekday, Blog posts three times. 3 posts x 3 days (Wednesday, Thursday, Friday) = hmmmm...carry the 1...divide by the square root of 10541.67....and that equals 11! Yes, today Blog will commit himself to posting an astounding, amazing, record breaking, earth-shattering 11 times BY the end of his workday!!
Can Blog do it? Is he up to the challenge? If he is to succeed, he will have to overcome sleep deprivation, inquisitive supervisors, a nagging obligation to actually work while on the clock, the burn of fluorescent lighting, the pull of Ain't It Cool News and the pleas of his middle-aged coworkers to help them use Google to search for Jello recipes. Will Blog triumph over adversity and achieve true Blogger greatness or fail miserably?
The time is now 11:26 PST. Blog's shift ends at 18:00 PST. 6.5 hours remain. The clock is ticking.
But is this enough of challenge? To make things even more exciting and intense, Blog will force himself to use the word "dick" in each post and not out of context either!!! Why "dick," you ask? Well...uh...in honor of Thanksgiving, of course! The pilgrims were huge dicks! They were anal-retentive zealots, dressed like anal retentive zealots and conned their indigenous pals into giving them a free meal and survival tips before filling them full of smallpox. DICK Nixon might disagree with this interpretation of American history but, well, he's dead so who cares what he thinks?
Now, like any good-hearted American on Thanksgiving you can gorge yourself on all eleven posts in a single sitting or spread them out on the next few days. The choice is yours and yours alone. Think about it for a few minutes while Blog contemplates the next post while chugging his third Red Bull of the day.
Last month, the Safeway on 10th and Jefferson closed its doors forever. Unlike most Safeways, this one had a piss-poor attitude and a nasty reputation. No, it wasn't like all the other grocery stores. It hung around with a bad crowd on the wrong side of the tracks and smoked cigarettes. Over the years, this Safeway became known as..dun...dun....dun! PSYCHO SAFEWAY!
We will miss it.
Psycho Safeway wasn't just a supermarket, it was an experience. Hobos wandered the aisles. Elderly homeless women hung around the seafood department, professing their intentions to buy every single live lobster and release them in the Pacific...once they hit the lottery. Schizophrenics in leather jackets, gangstas, victims of Tourette's Syndrome and (GASP!) PSU students all shopped here.
The place was notorious and, over the years, teenage suburbanites traveled from miles around in search of anecdotes. Depending on the hour and the phases of the moon, they either found a carnivale extradionare or...a really old grocery store with a leaky roof.
Psycho Safeway still stands...for the time being, surrounded by a chainlink fence. A new Safeway has opened across the street but it will never be able to live up to the reputation of its predecessor. The place is spotless and looks like a Zupan's. When Blog visited it, there wasn't a single hobo or puddle of puke among its immaculate, spacious aisles. This new Uber-Safeway even has a Starbucks inside with overstuffed chairs and a fireplace with the following warning:
"Caution! Fireplace can be hot!"
Psycho Safeway, you are gone but not forgotten. Good night, sweet prince.
Armed Prophet has pinpointed the exact moment when he turned to the "dark side" of American politics. Evidentially, Dr. Zuess' "Big Bad Butter Book" brainwashed AP into becoming a liberal as a child. While his once bleeding heart has since turned into a gasoline fueled, GOP voting engine, he's still bitter and convinced that this mere kid's story was the culprit.
Is he joking? Knowing him, probably not. After being confronted with the tired "video games also make children violent," AP disagreed:
I'm not familiar with any video games that communicate to the player a coherent philosophy, but if one did, I think the same could be said for that. Books tell stories with identifiable characters whose actions are portrayed as having consequences. Video games may show violence as having little consequence, but there's no reason for a player to draw comparisons between the world of Grand Theft Auto and reality. But I can only be sure of that because children also get information from their parents, from school and church that violence isn't okay. A balance of input is necessary for healthy development.
First off, he contradicts himself here by acknowledging that children also get information from parents, etc. Furthermore, he's convinced "Grand Theft Auto" has less to do with "reality" than a children's book filled with fanciful cartoon characters and "Jigger-Rock Snatchems." If short, moralistic fables can single handedly sway a child's philosophies, why couldn't a video game?
AP argues that these games don't offer consequences for their characters. Really? If Mario accidentally jumps down a chasm, he dies. Game over. The moral here may not be as poignant as the late, great doctor's but it's still evident: If you're a plumber who's found himself in a fantasy world filled with giant turtles you should lay off those "power up" mushrooms. No, wait. My mistake. Jumping off cliffs = bad.
Take the example of the two teens in Tennessee who were allegedly inspired to shoot up a real-life freeway after spending too much time in front of "Grand Theft Auto." The case was thrown out of court and, at best, "GTA" was probably only the tip of the iceberg. These kids were obviously troubled to begin with. If the game hadn't inspired them, something else would have.
Perhaps a better example is "America's Army," "the first video game to be approved by the US military." The game is clearly being used as a recruitment device. If the army is willing to invest millions in a game that can sway people into devoting four years of their lives to military service, isn't this proof enough of their abilities? Possibly, maybe, but probably not.
So what have we learned here? Video games don't turn people into violent maniacs and "The Butter Battle Book" did not turn Armed Prophet into a preadolescent Dukakis supporter. If that were the case, Blog, who read 80% of Stephen King's catalog in middle school, would now be in prison for chasing people with croquet mallets. AP's early politics had more to do with his upbringing in a liberal house in a liberal town. If it takes a village to raise a child and if that village votes democrat, the kid is liable to do the same.
El Grillo Report #3: The Case of the Peek-a-Boo Popo
It's been a long time since the last report, nye on 1.5 months. If you've missed the first two installments, El Grillo is a Mexican restaurant attached to a strip club. Located in the heart of downtown Portland just steps from Old Town, it was used as example of "urban blight" in a certain Benecio del Toro movie. It's also a magnet for weirdness. In report #2, a drunk, obese woman abruptly began slam dancing to NWA near the cash register. Here's a series of incidents from two weeks back:
The place is empty except for a dancer from next door eating alone at the counter. A few minutes later, two guys in Fubu jackets enter and take a seat next to her. She's immersed in a copy of The Mercury as one tries hitting on her. Despite his attempts, she refuses to answer his questions and doesn't look up from the paper.
An elderly man wanders in with a basket of flowers. "Roses...Roses for the young lady," he sings. The dancer doesn't flinch. She's a stone, only moving every few minutes for another bite of enchiladas. Fubu boy hesitates and doesn't take him up on the offer. The man leaves and Fubu reads over her shoulder. Maybe he's trying to find out what's so fascinating.
She leaves, he's crestfallen and El Grillo fills with smiling club-hoppers. An on-duty police officer wanders in. He chats with one of the cooks and places an order. While waiting, he slowly creeps towards the door leading to Mary's Club. Sir Mix-A-Lot's words waft in and call to him like a siren. He hesitates and finally opens it, disappearing in a cloud of cigarette smoke and "Baby Got Back." His order sits on the counter for eons. What is this clean-cut cop doing in there? Surely, he's using the bathroom...right?
After ten minutes, Officer Friendly returns looking flustered and embarrassed. If he's spent that much time in a stall doing "legitimate business," the last thing he needs is Mexican food. Everyone stares. He grabs the bag and leaves.
"What if there was a species above us in the food chain? How do you think you'd feel if that species lost total respect for us?"
Blog finally saw the Jones/del Toro collaboration sober for the first time last week. Verdict? It's hardly a Oregon cinematic classic like "The Goonies." In fact, it's really quite laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmme.
"The Hunted" may be the first action movie shot in Portland since Burt Reynold's "Breaking In" but who can overlook the nonexistent plot, "killing machine" Benecio's cuddly feelings for his ani-pals and the movie-of-the-week conclusion? It will remembered as a unintentionally hilarious classic for locales. Those who don't live in Multnomah County have probably already forgotten about it.
Best scene: After riding a MAX train across the Hawthorne Bridge, Benecio scales a girder and swan dives into the placid, toxic waters of the Willamette. Fleeing authorities, he swims up river and magically teleports to a waterfall somewhere in Washington.
Armed Prophet, that slinger of DC-flavored divinations, has an error on his site. A link that should lead to The Loop, a sports blog devoted to the Oregon Ducks, actually leads to a different Loop. This second site is a health blog focusing on the gritty details of colon cancer therapy.
Is AP reading this? Regardless, how long do you think it will take him to correct it? Place your bets. Blog has five bucks on "sometime around MLK Day."
Apparently, the Japanese also enjoy humiliating their pets. This link, passed along by Sho of Wazeth Fame™ leads to what appears to be the j-pop equivalent of Fat Chicks in Party Hats. Blog, unfortunately, doesn't speak Nihongo but Sho of Wazeth Fame™ was also kind enough to pass along this translation of one of the entries:
"The necktie of black being attached to the deep-red shirt which is the very cute it matches to the handsome cat well necktie shirt it increases. When at the time and the like of the foam/home party, the just a little dress liking to raise even, it may participate. Of course, making the girl wear handsome, it is GOOD! Because you can install with the magic tape, installation and removal is the can tongue!"
Blog doesn't usually keep tabs on tabloid fodder (Prince Charles is a wha...?) but when the name "Michael Jackson" is involved, "Entertainment Tonight" suddenly develops hypnotic abilities.
Yesterday, the kind, decent folks at "Celebrity Justice" revealed disturbing evidence discovered at the Neverland Ranch. While searching files and computers, authorities allegedly discovered a hidden door in the King of Pop's walk-in-closet.
Now what could Michael Jackson be hiding in a secret room? Hmmmmmm......what could it be? A Hello Kitty diary? A stash of Playboys? Maybe a nickelbag?
No, it wasn't any of that....
...are you ready for this?
Are you sure?
OK, here goes....
The secret room contained countless pictures of bare-chested children. The centerpiece was an autographed shot of old-pal Macaulay Culkin with the words "don't leave me in the house alone."
That should provide with you plenty of snuggly, warm mental images. The King of Pop's arraignment is set for January. Kobe Bryant, eat your heart out.
MSNBC ran a story today about the progress being made on flying cars. The verdict? Not in our lifetimes. No one's willing to invest in research and imagine the insurance rates.
One company, Moller International, has designed a prototype it calls the Skycar. The machine can travel at speeds over 250 MPH and gets 28 miles per gallon It's still in the testing phase and, if it ever goes into production, the initial price tag will be a cool $1,000,000.
Meanwhile, Blog is still hold out for the "Steak Dinner in a Pill."
Is there anything more strange than the slow, downward spiral of Michael Jackson? At one time, he was his generation's greatest entertainer- an Elvis for the babies of Baby Boomers. Now he faces another round of allegations, a warrant for his arrest and a $3 million dollar bail. How could someone so talented fall so far and hard? Let's take a step-by-step look, shall we, at how Jackson destroyed the greatest career in the history of pop music.
1984 - Jackson success begins to buckle. Following the earth-shattering success of "Thriller," Jackson opts not to go on tour in order to record "Victory," a half-hearted collaboration with the rest of the Jackson 5. The subsequent "Victory" tour is a disaster. Fans refuse to pay $25 for tickets, at that time considered outrageous. The tour never recoups it loses. Also in 1984, Jackson's hair catches fire during the filming of a Pepsi commercial.
1985 - Michael's behavior becomes increasingly eccentric. He begins hanging out with child celebrities like Corey Feldman, who he visits on the set of "The Goonies." In March, he shows up at the Grammies with his pet chimp, Bubbles. His pallor is hard not to notice. His skin is noticeable becoming lighter.
1986 - 1987 - The King of Pop attempts a collaboration with Prince on his upcoming album, "Bad." Prince refuses. To drum up interest in the release, he concocts a story about buying the bones of "Elephant Man" Joseph Merrick. Jackson intends it as a practical joke but it quickly becomes a media storm. Not learning a lesson from this, he has his picture taken in a hyperbaric chamber and secretly releases leaks it to the press.
"Bad" sells well but the video for the title song is unintentionally hilarious. Directed by Martin Scorsese, the video features the scrawny Michael intimidating a gang of thugs while dancing in an leather outfit covered in zippers. According to rumor, it was purchased from an NYC dominatrix shop. The name "Michael Jackson" has become a punchline.
1988-1990 - Jackson opens the doors to the Neverland ranch to local children. The estate contains an amusement park with a recreation of Disneyland's Main Street and a small zoo. Children are allowed to stay overnight at "slumber parties."
1991 - Jackson returns with the release of "Dangerous." The popularity of '80s pop music has become mired in grunge. The album is over-long, critical reaction is mixed and it doesn't sell nearly as well as its predecessors. The controversial video for "Black or White," concludes with a music-less scene of Jackson inexplicably destroying a car with a crowbar. Parents and viewers complain. The segment is later cut from the rest of the video.
1993 - Jackson is criminally investigated on allegations of child abuse. The suit is settled out of court.
1994 - Lisa Marie Presley ties the knot with Jackson. The marriage is described as a PR move. They divorce two years later.
1995 - Jackson releases "HIStory" a two disc set consisting of greatest hits and new recordings. The set is mocked for its arrogant tone and critics describe the new material as paranoid and troubling. The set still hits number 1 on the Billboard charts but sells poorly in comparison to his earlier recordings.
2001 - Jackson attempts a comeback with the release of "Invincible." The recording costs $20 million and sells a mere 2 million copies in the US. It's considered a disaster both critically and financially.
2001 - Jackson, with a slew of celebrities, records the benefit track "What More Can I Give?" He has trouble finding a distributor, it receives no radio airplay and is later released on the web as a benefit for children.
2002 - Jackson dangles one his children off a balcony in Germany. Reporters on the street below are shocked.
2003 - The year is rife with high-profile lawsuits and controversy. Vanity Fair reports that in 2000 Jackson attended a voodoo ritual in Switzerland where a witch doctor promised that Spielberg, David Geffen and 23 other people on the entertainer's list of enemies would die. Jackson is allegedly angry at Spielberg for not casting him in the role of Peter Pan in the 1991 film "Hook."
A few months later, a British filmmaker releases the damaging "Living With Michael Jackson" on the BBC and ABC. The film is filled with bizarre details of Jackson's everyday life and his borderline abusive relationship with his children.
Yesterday, a second round of allegations emerge charging Jackson with sexual abuse. According to the California Penal Code, if the King of Pop is convicted of the crime he will face three to eight years in prison.
2099 - After years of controversial "age defying" treatments and an astonishing 102,567 lawsuits, Jackson, who's skin can now blind other humans, dies at the age of 141 while clutching a snowglobe. His last words are "Don't stop 'till you get enough."
Outside of Blog's window, beautiful, fluffy flakes are cascading to the ground. Area schools are closing and, as always in Portland when it starts snowing, everyone's going absolutely bat shit crazy.
There was a time when I used to laugh at these panicking cry babies. For me, snow used to mean "day off." Now that I've joined the "20 years of schooling and they put you on the day shift" crowd, the definition has changed. Now, snow = "fit throwing hell ride."
How could you do this to me, snow? You flounced into town, completely unannounced. Because of you, I showed up late to work today, smelly and unshaven. Tonight, if you start sticking to pavement, I'll have no way to get home. If you had to do this, couldn't you have put it off until the weekend?
Don't you remember the good times? When I used to stay home from school and we'd laugh at the cars skidding in the street? Or when we used to frolic in the park together? Don't those magical moments mean anything to you? *sniff*
That's it. I'm calling this whole thing off. I'm filing the paperwork tonight. I want you out of here and I never want to see your face again. Pack your things. It's over.
PS: Yes, I will be seeking custody of the sled, you no good whore!
Apparently, there is a burgeoning subculture of people who like to paint their cats.
Read that last part again.
Paint their cats.
Paint. Their. Cats.
They take paint. They grab their cats. And they use them as canvases. Don't believe it? Take a look at this:
There's even a book. It's called "Why Paint Cats?" and it's currently sitting at 2,706th on Amazon's sales list. The hardcover edition has sold over 500,000 copies worldwide. The authors, yes, there's two of them, even have a website, which includes an image of a clown on a cat's booty. Here's what one fan has to say:
"Being a cat owner myself, I adored the idea of making those svelte, gorgeous creatures even MORE beautiful....with those artistic designs. Needless to say, everyone I've shown the book to, has been enthralled and delighted. Please, do not let those 'nay-sayers' stop you from showing us more beautiful painted cats! They want to take ALL the joy out of life!"
Is there anything else that needs to be said? Didn't think so.
According to Variety by way of CHUD, New Line is holding a gala promotion for the DVD release of "The Two Towers: Extended Edition"...in a New York City subway terminal. At the Times Square stop tomorrow, actors in 10-foot tall tree costumes will mingle with those waiting to board. One train, running between 11:30 AM and 1 PM, will be covered in vines and filled with Orcs. An actor portraying Gollum will also make appearance.
The question must be begged: will New Yorkers even notice? Malnourished schizophrenics and dirt-covered hoards are probably a common sight during the average morning commute. CHUD promises pictures, which will posted tomorrow or on Wednesday.
On Monday literary. superstar Dave Eggers made a Portland appearance at the Aladdin Theater. He was the keynote speaker at a fundraising event for Writing Around Portland, a local writers collective.
When I arrived, the street in front of the theater was filled with squad cars and fire trucks. News copters were circling overhead. At first, I thought it was some sort of McSweeny's stunt. A line of wrapped around the block. Egger's personal appearances are noted for their practical jokes. Had Eggers' minions set the place on fire?
No, a house down the street was ablaze. It was quickly extinguished. Back at the Aladdin, the place was filled to capacity with people wrapped in vintage clothing. I was wearing the only pair of jeans in a crowd of over a thousand people.
WRAP supports local disadvantaged students. After a series of stories read by the homeless and AIDS victims, Eggers strolled out on stage, smiling like a clown, and oblivious to somberness of the evening. He began with a series of anecdotes from 826 Valencia, his pirate store/children's writing project in San Francisco.
In an effort to terrorize...er, teach kids the joy of writing, field trip groups compose short stories. To add a sense of immediacy and madness to the project, a volunteer plays "Mr. Blue," the fictional editorial overlord of Valencia. In a deep voice, they shout from a room adjacent to the children, demanding the stories be finished at once. When the children ask to meet with Mr. Blue, they are told he weighs 600 pounds, is covered in boils and never meets visitors. Written under great duress, the best of these stories are posted on McSweeny's, the author's online literary journal.
Later, Egger's read from his latest work co-authored with his infamous younger brother Toph. Titled "Giraffes? GIRAFFES!" the short picture book is an absurdist scientific journal on the speices. Apparently, all giraffes live n Indiana and love ceiling fans. Every ten years, they construct a gigantic elevator which they use to move their community from one state to another.
After Egger's giddy presentation, WRAP's writers returned with lengthy stories about overcoming cancer and tossing rape victims off bridges. The crowd, almost entirely fresh-faced and undergraduate, had come for, well, post-modern tales about giraffes. They shifted in their seats as an elderly woman detailed her despondent battles with her daughter. Out in the lobby, people were chuckling and drinking microbrews. I was sitting by the backdoor. It was like watching a movie of the week with a laughtrack.
Eggers returned for a second round and broke into a obscenity-filled story about a horny teenager's lust for his middle-aged neighbor. One quote from this: "I wonder what her lap smells like. It It should smell good, like Aquafresh! Not dusty and murky, like an antiques store." The author stopped himself before delving into a scatological passage, out of respect for the other writers. The audience muttered and let out a gigantic "awwwwwwwww!"
Later, I stood in a line to get my copy of "You Shall Know Our Velocity" signed. While waiting, I thought of various "witty" things to say.
- "So you're the guy that wrote the book about the guys who beat each other up and try to take over the world, huh?"
- "I know you answered this question twice during the presentation, but where the hell is Toph?"
- "Could you sign my tits?" (Blog does not have tits).
- "So you're the guy who wrote the book about the dinosaurs in a theme park, huh? I really liked that one."
When it came time to step up to the plate, here's how the conversation went down.
"Yup, that's me."
"Here you go Blog."
"Thank you. "
Is this as interesting as what happened at the following Chuck Palahniuk signing?:
"You really want to me to sign this 'To a dumbass?'"
"Why would you want me to do such a thing?"
"Uh, I don't know. It's neat?"
[Palahniuk starts to sign] "I have no idea what to write to a dumbass."
"Maybe something inspirational?"
Here's what Egger's wrote [real name removed. Why? Why not?]:
Blog thought he had dreamed the story a few weeks back but, according to the National Post, tomacco has become reality. A scientist in Lake Oswego has successfully crossbred tomato and tobacco plants.
There's just one little problem. Due the large amount of tobacco running through this plant's system, ingesting one of its fruits could immediately kill you. The cigarette industry will probably want to stick with the fags.
The real answer to the question: "What is the Matrix?"
This was originally going to be blogged on another blog but, due to technical difficulties, Blog will just have to do.
Now that the Matrix series has concluded, Harry Knowles, the Undisputed Heavyweight Champ of Flab, has explained the whole thing for you. According to his argument, the themes of this sci-fi series are as obvious as they are relevant. Have a look at an excerpt:
You see, The Machines, they're the United States and Capitalism. Ultimately they want society operating in the 9 to 5, eat your food, grab a movie, raise the kids, go to church and get back to work sort of daze. That's the Machine way. Don't worry about the 'MEANING OF IT ALL' just do your job, be a battery and power the big society forward.
Ultimately, Neo, Morpheus, 'the rebel alliance,' essentially...In a lot of ways...they're the bad guys. You see, they're fucking everything up. The come into our 'Society' blow shit up. Cause problems. Get all violent and shit. Do little hit and run missions. Neo is for his people...basically, he's Bin Laden living in a cave somewhere...and the Machines...they're drilling to put a stop to it all.
The Matrix as a political allegory? GW does kinda look like the machine head that pops up at the end of the movie. Blog reports, you decide.
Blog is still trying to devise the perfect recipe for Pizza in a Cup, the imaginary delicacy consumed by Steve Martin's character in "The Jerk." Last time, pizza ingredients were combined with angel hair pasta. The resulting concoction tasted like...angel hair pasta covered in pizza ingredients. It wasn't worthy of the name Pizza in the Cup but was later dubbed pizzghetti.
In a second attempt, gnocchi, which more closely has the texture of dough, has replaced the angel hair. These potato noodles are the dark matter of Italian cooking. Each, individual gnocchi (should that be "gnocchus"?) is the equivalent of 50 normal noodles. Gnocchi seems to expand in your stomach one of those dinosaur sponges. If you eat too much, you're liable to explode. If you ever prepare a dish with these noodles, proceed with caution.
The sauce, consisting of Ragu Pizza mix, cheese and pepperoni remained the same from last time. The end result looked like marbles covered in cheese but tasted like something intergalactic. The flavor is hard to define but Blog's stomach later felt like an overinflated balloon.
Second attempt? Unmitigated disaster.
The quest for Pizza in a Cup must continue unabated. This researcher will discover the prefect recipe, despite the hell cries of his guinea pig stomach. This whole new taste sensation will conquer the globe. Just you wait!
Anybody in the market for a slighty-used Space Mountain?
According to an article in today's online edition of Reuters, Euro Disney is hurting for cash. Analyst forecast a 2002/03 net loss of $59 million euros. This could mean that the fledgling theme park is headed for the glue factory.
The article points to the failure of the mouse house's new Walt Disney Studios park next door to draw more visitors along with France's frigid winters. Blog sure could use a Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Do you think they'll trade it for $2.67 and a dusty box of jambalaya mix?
You fools! The other "Matrix" sequel is decadent and depraved
(If you haven't seen "The Matrix: Revolutions" and don't want the ending blown, don't read this)
Put away those pens and pitchforks. Drop those snide remarks and put out those torches. You, hosebags. Dig the snot out of your eyes. You've got the wrong movie. You should have trashed and thrashed "Reloaded" last May. But noooooooo! Now you're taking out your geeky rage and resentment out on poor, little "Revolutions." Have you no shame?
Look, the last two installments of the "Matrix" series weren't what we expected and hoped for. But it wasn't "Revolutions" that derailed this sci-fi train, it was that red-headed middle child. Back in May, you refused to listen to reason. A few us tried to tell you that "Reloaded" sucked but, like with the blind faith usually reserved for Trekies and George Lucas devotees, you praised it. Even the critics were blinded by the hype. Together, you fools threw $281 million domestic at that mess of film.
"Revolutions" tries its damnedest with the resources available. Despite the repugnance of part 2, it did end with a decent cliff-hanger. Most of the criticism lobed at part 3 is due to the ambiguous ending. The war between humanity and machines ends in a truce and Neo dies for the sins of both sides.
And what the hell is the matter with that? From the get-go, Neo
is presented as a Christ-figure. Many argue that nothing is resolved. Take a look at this conversation which ends the film:
The Oracle: What about the others?
The Architect: What others?
The Oracle: The ones that want out.
The Architect: Obviously they will be freed.
The Oracle: I have your word?
The Architect: What do you think I am? Human?
What else do you need for closure? Agent Smith's virus like infection of the Matrix woke up humanity. After Neo purges him and everything returns to normal, some of its citizens decide to stay in a state of blissful ignorance while others immigrant to the "real world." Yes, it would have been nice to see a CGI shot of millions of people coming to the realization that their world is fake but how could that be conveyed in 10 seconds?
Another vague point is the extent of Neo's abilities. Has he realized that the world of machines is only another layer of the Matrix? Or has he simply learned to control his robotic captors? That's left up for you to decide.
Argue with the film's logistics and alleged plot holes all you want, you can't deny the movie is chock full of cool scenes:
- Neo finding himself stuck on an existential subway platform = cool.
- Zion's underwear model citizenry getting attacked and butchered by a rampaging hoard of "Squiddies" and Goliath drilling machines = cool.
- Neo having his eyes burnt off by a ruptured electrical wire = cool.
- Trinity getting a glimpse the sky for the first time = cool.
- The conversation between Agent Smith and the Oracle = cool.
- The fate of two worlds coming down to a single fist fight in the rain = really fucking cool.
Blog is still waiting to see a "Matrix" film where Neo blasts his way through a million realities in search of the end of the "rabbit hole." Unfortunately, that will have to wait until the inevitable fourth installment.
First you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women with the 1,903 body piercings
One day, two stepbrothers in Knoxville started shooting at cars on Interstate 40. They managed to kill one man and seriously injure a young woman. Now the victim's families are suing Rockstar Games for $246 million.
The kids were fans of "Grand Theft Auto" and, after mindlessly killing pixilated commuters, decided it might be fun to do the same in real life. Is the lawsuit ridiculous? Will it be thrown out? Should these kids be sterilized? That's for a court in Tennessee to decide and for Flog to pontificate on.
Meanwhile, Blog, who has yet to shoot up a high school or a freeway, has begun playing GTA again. After invading the mansion of kingpin Ricardo Diaz and shooting up the place with a bazooka, Blog is now resting comfortably at the top of Vice City crime world.
But absolute power corrupts absolute. Will Blog make the mistake of "getting high of on his own supply"? Will his passion for delivering pizzas and crashing fire trucks force him to neglect his duties as merciless drug lord? Is it only a matter of time before another fresh-faced Blog breaks into the place with a bazooka? Only time will tell.
While we're on the subject, does Absolut power corrupt anything other than livers and coeds?
This isn't the first time the alleged plot of the sequel has been released. A few years back, Ain't Cool News claimed part 2 would follow the grown-up members of the original gang as they scoured the Rocky Mountains in search of Native American treasure.
MTV News recently interviewed director Richard Donner, who revealed more details:
"The new group is called the Groonies, because they happen to live in a town where [Data], the Chinese kid, lives ... and he's got an electronics repair shop and all the kids hang out at his shop. He has this Chinese accent and he calls the Groonies the Groonies, and so the new kids call themselves the Groonies, until they get into a situation where the old Goonies have to save the new Groonies, or vice versa."
Donner is getting on in years. Did he really mean "Groonies" with an "r"? Maybe he was drunk on cough syrup.
No word on whether or not the new G(r)oonies will go looking for pirate or Indian booty. At the rate the production is preceding, it may be 2021 before we ever find out.
The story will be added to the G(r)oonies section of the site later today. The security block on Blog's company computer no longer allows access to Geocites. $#@%@#!
After mistakenly walking into a salon called Fusion and suffering the consequences, Blog washed away the pain at nearby Renner's Grill.
For those that haven't visited the historic bar, Renner's is a place with a lot of contradictions. Located in the black heart of Portland suburbia, it has done a great job of warding off the community's antiques-craving automatons. Still, battle scars show here and there. Cute, ceramic chickens linger over the front door. A Felix the Cat clock hangs near the bar. Postcard images of Portland hang in frames. Maybe they work like garlic; trinkets to ward off neighbors that would otherwise torch the place.
Renner's draws a crowd of burnouts, long-hairs and gawking Wilson high school alumni. At one time, each of the Renner's booths had a light switch, a favorite feature among the bar's booze hounds. Back in the day, it wasn't uncommon to see a patron catching a nap before the long drive home.
Sadly, Renner's has been forced to stop offering its signature "stubbies" of Olympia. The staff has prepared a small memorial though. Consisting of an unopened bottle, various labels and a receipt capturing its $1.50 price tag for all eternity in a large, deep frame, it currently sits behind the bar. Blog hopes that it will one day replace the clock or the chickens with this testament to the once mighty Tumwater Brewery.
Also: The Suburban Room sign is missing for some reason.
"Is this the same Blog who creamed every pair of jeans he owns over "Kill Bill"? Since when can you not condone bleak, hopeless mayhem and outright nihilism? What have you done with the real Blog? Now you're even picking on the glorification of school violence in "Elephant." Your review made me WANT to see it!"
Atky should not see "Elephant" and neither should you. What should be impartial look at school violence both exploits and condemns it (much like every news outlet in the country did for the real-life tragedy). Plus, it's a huge mess. All the kids are cut-outs from Abercrombie catalogs (real kids, Gus?) and the first hour of the movie consists of endless tracking shots of them wandering around a high school in North Portland.
Blog doesn't hate this movie because it's violent and exploitive but because, simply put, it's a contradictory piece of shit that somehow makes an incredibly interesting tragedy as dull as a blank wall.
If do you go see it, walk in an hour late for the unintentionally hilarious shoot-out scene.
At least someone out of there agrees. The perpetual teenagers at the Portland Mercury wrote this scathing review of "Elephant" last week.
Right now, the conservative, middle-aged women in Blog's office are passing around a Swiss Colony catalog. They're awing over cheese and fudge logs. Maybe Blog dreamed it, but one of them just mentioned a gift basket that includes a chocolate Jonah inside a glass whale. Does such a thing actually exist? If does, shouldn't it consist of a chocolate whale with a nugget Jonah?
Outside, the Air Force is doing maneuvers overhead. Sonic booms are shaking the windows ever so slightly. The sun is shining. God bless America?
An open letter to Gus Van Sant, the director of "Elephant"
Let me start by saying I'm a fan of yours. Not a big one, just a fan. I consider "Drugstore Cowboy" to be the finest movie filmed in Portland (waaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than "The Hunted") and, unlike 95% of those who saw it, I enjoyed "Even Cowgirls Get the Blues." You were trounced for last year's "Gerry" but I still stood by you. I argued that the movie was a interesting experiment that couldn't be criticized for its long takes and unusual direction. Despite its unorthodox storytelling, the story itself was fascinating and I loved the final shot. "Psycho," on the hand, is better left forgotten.
On Friday night, I went to the Fox Tower to see your new film, "Elephant," which was shot right here in Portland. The audience at the 7:30 showing was filled with kids that looked like extras from the movie. When your name came on the screen, they cheered.
In the first few minutes of the screening, a man with a middle-aged woman took the last two seats in the theater...right next to me. This man looked a lot like you (same bushy eyebrows and facial features) and spent the entire movie sitting on the edge of his seat. He intently watched the audience instead of the film with his hands held like someone praying.
It's my understanding that you recently moved from NYC into a loft in the Pearl District. I have no idea if this man was actually Gus Van Sant. If it was you, I refuse to apologize for what a colleague of mine said as the credits rolled. Yes, I too, cannot believe how unbelievably bad "Elephant" is.
When I say that your film is one of the worst ten films I've ever seen, it isn't an understatement. This is coming from a person that has sat through three of the "Isla" movies and has even seen both "Cool World" AND "100 Motels." None of these movies are as misguided, deplorable and ridiculous as "Elephant."
You began with an interesting concept. Reenact a fictional version of the Columbine killings in a real high school. You used real kids, real adults and improvised most of the dialogue. The utmost goal with your film was realism. Then why does "Elephant" seem so fake?
The film is populated with the most obvious of high school cliches- the dumb jock, the nerdy girl, the creative photographer, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. You even devote a good portion of screen time to a trio of cackling preppies straight out of "Clueless." Not content with this aforementioned stereotype, you even follow them into the bathroom where they purge their lunch.
Most of the film's running time is devoted to endless tracking shots of kids walking in and out of classrooms. It provides a dream-like effect but is hardly an honest depiction of a real-life high school. If these kids were wandering around like this, they'd be caught by hall monitors and sent back to class. Furthermore, why did you decide to waste so much screen time conveying nothing, avoiding the premise and the subject matter, when you've got such a fascinating topic sitting in your lap? You provide no character development so we have no reason to care about these kids when the bullets start flying.
Worst of all, you said this movie wouldn't provide easy answers- that it would be a cold, impartial look at teen violence. If that's the case, why do you show the killers watching Nazi propaganda films? Why do you show gratuitous shots of them playing violent video games? And, for God's sake, why, do you show them kissing in a shower.?!! If this film is impartial, then why have you depicted your main characters as goose-stepping, gay psychopaths? In those scenes in Alex's house you reconfirm every half-baked, moralistic theory surrounding Columbine. You pinpoint video games, the internet and even homosexuality. These ARE easy answers and they're all wrong.
In probably the most reprehensible shot that has ever appeared in an American film, one of the killer's brutally terrorizes a teacher in a hallway. The kid holds a gun to the man's head and then tells him he's off the hook. The teacher flees, and with an evil smile, he shoots him three times in the back. The scene is meant to be evocative and shocking- to induce nausea and tears. If a troubled kid watches this scene, do you think that's how they'll respond? If so, you're completely out of touch.
The scene glorifies murder. What troubled kid wouldn't respond to this by giggling and thinking "Coooool!" The final scene, where one killer plays "Eenie Meenie Mini Mo" with a pair of kids in a meat locker (!!!) will probably wind up on t-shirts in the near future.
Unlike "Gerry," this film has floored the critics and won the Palm d'Or. I can't understand why and can only conclude that no critic has the balls to condemn an "artsy" film dealing with such a sensitive topic. Roger Ebert inexplicably gave it four stars. He, like most of the critics that reviewed the film, has also not seen the inside of a high school in 30 years. Those at Cannes, far removed from American politics, can't relate or understand. I hate to be the one to tell you this but that Golden Palm of yours is the film equivalent of a tin badge.
Gus, your shots of the killers walking in slow motion with flames coming out of lockers looks like something out of a commercial for the Marines. You've made yourself a propaganda film for would-be Klebolds. This nihilistic film has nothing to say and will only further encourage teen violence. Congratulations, "Elephant" fails on nearly every level. It's probably for the best if it does the same at the box office.
Even if that guy wasn't you, you've likely seen this movie with an audience. I hope you got a good look at their response to "Elephant." It was probably rife with laughter and shaked heads. If, in the future, you decide to tackle a topic out of the newspaper, contact me at email@example.com. I will happily show up at your loft downtown and slap you upside the head.
PS: If someone fired a high-powered machine gun in an enclosed garage, it would tear their eardrums apart. Secondly, every cop in Portland would be there in five seconds.
PPS: The killer's Eminem mannerisms were incredibly lame and fake.
A while back, Blog predicted that one day every man, woman, child and pet on this planet would have a blog. That prophecy is quickly becoming a reality. In the month since Blog was born, several colleagues have jumped on the bandwagon.
In the last few days alone, two new blogs have emerged on the scene. The first belongs to the author of Whisking With Chlamydia. In its first few posts, Phooeyhoo has been devoted to goats, masturbation, Mormonism and the perils of using Internet Explorer. Yes, definitely a must read.
There is also "How I Will Get to Russia," created by d5o3. This blog is devoted to the authors plans to, well, get to Russia. By keeping even the most minute details of his personal finances in the public eye, he hopes to save enough $ to spend several months basking in the warm glow of vodka drenched streets.
Blog thinks he should throw himself upon the mercy of the internet and set up one of those "give me money" donation links. D5o3 could also start his own religion and steal enough from the collection plate to flee the country. Why live frugally when you can get other people to pay for your airfare?
What you see above is a promotional image from the tentatively-titled "Where the Isotopes Play," a delightful romp for the whole family! This enchanting story will debut on Website just in time for Xmas!
It's going to rock your socks off.
OK, fine. There's a good chance it will not, in fact, rock your socks off. Possibly a shoe, a single shoe, but it will not have the rocking capacity needed to fully, properly, rock your socks off.
Actually, at this rate, it could be St. Patrick's Day before "Where the Isotopes Play" debuts. The homecoming story still isn't posted. Stupid having to have a real-job that pays money instead of taking pictures and posting self-indulgent, rambling stories on the internet that doesn't pay squat all the live long day.
Hmmm...this is the sort of talk that starts Blogger wars. Blog should stop this business right now.
PS: Yes, that's a real cooling tower at a real nuclear power plant in the background. Yes, very exciting.
This is what cantankerous author Hunter S. Thompson had to say about his on-screen counterpart, Johnny Depp. If you haven't seen, or even heard about the Criteron release of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," you should probably head here. Criterion is a DVD publishing company that produces exhaustive collections for cult movies.
Their "F & L" release consists of two discs. The second includes all sorts of forgotten HST lore, most notable of which is a documentary produced by the BBC in 1977. The hour-long program follows Hunter and artist Ralph Steadman on a road trip from Aspen to Hollywood. After having Depp's portrayal burned into your skull, it's weird to see the real-life Duke chugging rum, firing magnums and sweating profusely. Johnny really did nail the part.
At the conclusion, Hunter consults a memorial designer about a gigantic grave he wants constructed after his passing. He envisions a gigantic, stone fist with two thumbs (the gonzo logo) on top of a 30 foot tall pedestal overlooking his estate near Aspen. During his funeral service, his ashes will be placed, along with explosives, inside the pedestal. While Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine plays, the ashes will rocket out of the fist and explode over the woods surrounding the estate. In the film, he's daunted by the final cost estimate. He's probably long since abandoned the idea.
Also on the first disc is probably the most interesting DVD commentary in existence. As various assistants and Criterion recorders try to keep him line, Thompson hoots and hollers through the film, occasionally letting out high-pitched screams for no apparent reason. After bad-mouthing everyone affiliated with the production, he makes phone calls to Depp and Benecio del Toro. Here's what he has to say:
-On Tobey Maguire: "That kid's a stupid wax doll of some kind. I can see why he got [Spiderman]. He's a perfect representation of the breed."
-On his own strange mannerisms: "If I ever saw someone doing that, I'd stab them with a fork from the dinner table."
On director Terry Gilliam: "He's a pederast."
On "What do you think a 17 year-old Mormon girl would think of this film?": "I think she would love it. It's a romantic deal."
On God and religion: "You think I'm one of those cheap, little freaks that insists there's one god? That's like one drug. HA! HA! WOOO! You may have one card in your deck mumble... mumble.......but one god? It's another scheme by Catholic priests to fleece the neighborhood and fuck the fat young boys...or whatever else they can get their hands on."
Left on Benecio's voice mail: "You jackass bastard. I've been hearing a lot about you and not all of it is satisfactory. And the fact you won't answer your phone is making me edgy. Well, what the fuck? Who cares about you, you fucking yellow-bellied, Nazi pig? Well, see you later. Bye."
No one comes to Blog looking for thoughtful political analysis. The following should not be mistaken for such.
On Tuesday, local voters shot down a ballot initiative to form a Multnomah County people's utility district (AKA PUD). The vote was a 68 percent to 32 percent, a washout pointing firmly to "no."
Many expected it to fail. Over the past few weeks, the local weeklies and even the Oregonian itself have pointed fingers at a "misleading" multimillion dollar ad campaign financed by privately-owned PGE.
Blog would like to think it's due to a lack of faith in local government, especially in Portland. In a town where City Hall is busily pursues MLB franchises instead of reigning in police chief Mark Kroeker (AKA Blog's favorite customer) and addressing everyday matters, is it any wonder that the PUD proposal failed?
Plus, like all those expensive ads claim, a publicly owned utility company would probably become a mismanaged, costly nightmare. Similar attempts to operate utility-related ventures (PGE Park anyone?) resulted in tax payers picking up the tab when everything went array.
Proponents, who have collected enough signatures to initiate similar ballot measures in other counties, argue that locally owned UCs are more efficient and have lower rates than their privately owned counterparts. The Willamette Week article linked to above points to EWEB as an example of an efficiently operated PUC. Ask anyone living in Eugene what they think of their power company and you're likely to have a tirade dropped in your ear.
What Blog's read in recent days seems to suggest that the defeat of Measure 26-52 is a mere roadblock. This issue isn't likely to go away in a state like Oregon. PUD is an inevitability, as are all the nasty rate increases that will come with it.
PS: The title is a no-so-clever reference to "CHUD II: Bud the CHUD," a long lost cinematic classic.
Nothing more to see here. Move along. Libel? Did someone say something about libel? Uhhh....
This very spot was the site of an intense Blogger war earlier today. Both parties, Blog and Flog, have resolved their differences and have agreed to an immediate cease fire. Incriminating comments, both untrue and exaggerated, have been removed from both sites for your safety. Further negotiations between the two parties will take place elsewhere. You may put away the ammunition, remove the kitty's bullet proof vest and leave the fallout shelter. The Blog DEFCON condition has been lowered to 5, normal peacetime readiness.
Tomorrow, Blog will return to its regularly scheduled blogging with a different example of potential libel: Hunter S. Thompson's thoughts on his doppleganger, Johnny "The Colonel" Depp!!!
Well, they did make it as far as the "Singing in the Rain" scene. Once the sissors came out, it was not one of the conservative, middle-aged women that changed the channel but a bald guy that constantly drinks Code Red. Here's what he had to say about the scene that once resulted in the film being banned from Britain:
Blog works in an office filled with televisions. One of these televisions is an HDTV that is required, by management, to remain on a channel called INHD. Right now INHD is airing "A Clockwork Orange." This office is filled with conservative, middle-aged women.
Blog wishes it could share pictures of their reactions to the "Milk Bar" nude statues but it's a logistical impossibility. Will one of them defy their superiors to switch the channel? Only time will tell and the "Singing in the Rain" scene is mere moments away.
One coworker just chimed in: "I haven't seen this movie since the '60s. I forgot how disturbing it is!"
Yes, you're right. It was originally released in 1971 but that's besides the point. This has to be a part of some sort of secret, psychological study. Is Blog paid enough to be a guinea pig? No, no Blog isn't.
Indeed it is. This gigantic statue belongs to a marine store located in Aloha. A looooooooooooooooooong time ago (nye on four years) Blog stumbled upon the bunny and took a picture of "Harvey" for the Oregon Commentator. Sho, of Wazeth fame, passed along this link detailing the history of what is evidentially a community icon with god-like powers.
Harvey the Rabbit is loved and feared by the residents of Aloha. Passing commuters honk at the statue in hope that doing so will prevent flat tires. People write to the bunny, confessing a wide array of emotions and thoughts. In 1987, when Harvey's head was removed for a cleaning, angry parents with traumatized children called the business demanding answers. Children in the local elementary school reported having nightmares.
You don't believe Blog, Dr. Jones? Just follow the link. You will believe!
Blog is disappointed to learn that Vinnie Delpino is not Christopher Moltisanti. The two characters are played by different actors. Max Casella (Doogie Howser MD) has not gone on to Sopranos fame but is pulling in cash as the voice of Daxter. Christopher is actually actor Michael Imperioli. Blog regrets the error.
The Blazer's bid to become a kinder, gentler NBA franchise lasted a grand total of 50 hours, 10 minutes and 12 seconds. Not surprising, but Blog put money on Reuben Patterson to blow it with a sucker punch to the back of Zach Randolph skull. Instead of courtside fisticuffs we get Bonzi Well's middle finger. BOR-ING!
Sticking with their declaration to fine players for inappropriate behavior, the head office fined Wells $10,000 yesterday. Instead of fining, they should be paying him. "Wha...? Wha...? WHAT," you say? That's right. Pay him.
The Blazers will almost assuredly win 50 games this season, head to the playoffs and lose in the first round. The franchise hasn't missed the playoffs since 1982 and, given the talent on the team, it's unlikely to blow it this year. Regardless, the Blazer's shitty attitude and poor off and on court chemistry won't get them much further. The Blazer aren't going to win back fans with mediocre results like this.
Since the administration is completely unwilling to ditch high-profile but problem players and rebuild the franchise, it needs to play up the Blazer's bad boy image instead of trying to eradicate it. Fines and half-hearted, Paul Schonely hosted PR stunts will accomplish little more than absolutely nothing.
As long as the Blazers continue to receive million dollar paychecks, their behavior is unlikely to change. What's a $10K fine when you pull in $48K per regular season game? At this point, Wells, Stoudamire and all the rest know the head office will never trade them so these fines and the resulting bad press are mere slaps on the hand.
The team is guaranteed to wallow in mediocrity until Paul Allen and Steve Patterson come to their senses. To draw back fans, why not encourage poor behavior? Hockey fans love a good rumble. Why not offer cash incentives for on-court fights? Fans could win Disney World vacation packages if a player decides to flip them off or jump in the stands to throttle them.
Think of the merchandising potential. Official Blazer Bongs with Stoudamire's face and NWO-esque t-shirts would fly off shelves. The GTA crowd would snatch up copies of "Reuben Patterson's Domestic Assault Challenge: Street Edition." Occasional home games could be held in steel cages. The head office could take a look at WWE for further ideas. The fans would love it.
The Rose Garden is located right next to an arena called the Coliseum. If this stubborn-minded franchise wants to pull in a profit this season, it'll need to toss some gladitorial mayhem into the mix.
Yesterday, Flog posted this link about Portland's new, improved John School. The program, which helps rehabilitate men caught paying for sex, was revised after a two year run to make it shorter and less confrontational. Offenders pay $82.50 to attend the course in order to drop their community service requirement to 16 hours from the standard 24.
Flog suggests that they can the course and give johns advice on how to increase their sex appeal. Forget that! "The City that Works" is sitting on a potential goldmine. Why charge a mere $82.50 for a course that will do little in the way of quenching these men's appetites? All those unmailed alimony checks will continue to flow into the pockets of "abusive pimps." This is lost revenue!
State and local government have no moral qualms about exploiting their most desperate citizens through other means. Video poker machines, which debuted in 1991, pull in millions of dollars every year.
It's no secret that Portland is hurting for cash. Why not put these girls on city payroll? The dollars taxed on each orgasm could help fund schools and lead to the purchase of any number of local utility companies. If legalized prostitution can work in an apocolyptic wasteland like Nevada, why couldn't it work in Oregon?
Now many would argue that even government-approved pimpin' still exploits women. Here's a simple solution: robot hookers! Machines are exploited every single second in this country and no one cares. State-sanctioned, self-cleaning BJ machines could be added to every corner in every tavern in Oregon. They could bring whole new meaning to the term "video poker" while "sucking" (there's no end to the potential double-entendres!)
dollars from the masses.
Do you guys really want a shiny new MLB stadium? The road to it is paved in semen stains.
Cross-Carrier Chuck and the Organ That Will Eat Your Soul
Halloween may be long gone but that's no excuse to put off a peak at the Midnight Society's website. The society consists of a group of New Jerseyites that spend their free time taking pictures in abandoned locales around the Garden State. It should go without saying that Jersey has some of the most interesting haunted places in the world.
Among the more interesting locations listed in the site's exhaustive archive is a section devoted to the Organ House. According to legend, the house was owned by musician that one day decided to brutally slaughter his family. Their spirits still reside in the house along with a wall mounted organ. If a visitor plays the instrument, the ghosts will materialize upstairs. What the author discovered after hitting the keys is hair-raising, if unbelievable.
The site also includes a section devoted to strange "local celebrities." One, Cross-Carrier Chuck, is an evangelist that wanders America totting a cross on wheels. According to the Midnight Society, he's cleared 22,000 miles over the years. On foot.
If it makes your heart stop beating then you know it's good
Kenny Nguyen has written a cookbook. Among the entries is the "Traditional English Breakfast AKA How to Take 10 Years Off Your Life." The receipe consists of six strips of bacon and four eggs placed between two pieces of grease-soaked bread (with the crusts cut off).
Despite its decidedly unappetizing title, the first installment of "Whisking with Chlamydia" is a brilliant work written by a brilliant mind. Blog only has one minor critique and that's the author's lament against Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. He describes it as "recycled cat shit" while everyone knows it's quite possibly the world's most perfect food. Kurt Cobain ate it with every meal...and was later driven to suicide by incurable stomach pains. Nevermind that! Mac n' Cheese is still the nectar of the gods.
Click here to get your very own copy of "Whisking With Chlamydia."