Be Prepared (So You Don't Do Something Stupid)

I think the Boy Scout motto is too simple: "Be prepared."

For what, exactly? Just a little more detail would provide some guidance, like "be prepared for natural disasters" or "be prepared for when you're bit by a rabid dog." For me personally, it should be something along the lines of "be prepared for anything, just so you don't make a STUPID decision" (or, alternately: "be prepared in case a clown hopped up on meth comes at you with a crowbar." Don't tell me it can't happen).

And that's why, even though the Civie is still driving alright,  I am preparing ahead of time and shopping for a new car now. I figure that if I do all of my research now I will know what I want to buy -- so that when my car DOES die I won't rush out in a frenzied, impulsive panic, and before I know it I'm driving home missing a kidney and 80% of my liver because I sold them as the down payment on a Bentley I can't afford.

Anyway. I'm hoping to avoid the Bentley-situation, so I've narrowed it down to three cars for very practical reasons:

1) Honda Accord/Civic - Dependability? Good gas mileage? WRONG. We all know that the Accord and Civic are the car models that are the most "Rice Rocketable," and we all know I be wantin to get my Tokyo Drift on on the suburban streets of Northern VA.

2) Toyota Matrix - This is one of the "crossover" vehicles, meaning that it's half-sedan, half-SUV. I need a car I can relate to and feel connected with, and this car understands what it's like to be a "halfie" caught between two worlds. This could be a good match for me.

3) Toyota Prius - I hear what you're thinking: "Yeah, it gets good gas mileage, but what about the massive recalls this year. And the sticky accelerator pedals. It's a death trap, man. Don't do it."

Well, you're probably right on all those accounts, but you're assuming that those would deter me because you  forgot HOW HARDCORE I AM. I want this car precisely because it IS dangerous, and because being strapped into a large piece of metal hurtling at high rates of speed, and possibly being unable to control or stop that vehicle, doesn't scare me. I live for it.

(No, but really...I hope Toyota fixed that pedal problem if I end up buying the car.)

You've probably noticed that my list is exclusively Japanese. I'm not called an elitist for nothing.


Anybody have suggestions or advice of their own?

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Weekly Selects #35

Enough small talk. Shall we do this? Let's do this:

-Via IM with Josh M, as we were discussing possible new cars:

Josh M: or you can have people cast votes
Josh M: mine will be for the stretch hummer with the hot tub in the back
Me: figures, man. always using me for my luxurious goods to impress the women
Josh M: well, since you weren't willing to buy me a diamond encrusted grill, i figured this would be a good chance for you to redeem yourself

Yes, Father Time has diagnosed the Civie, and it's not worth the money to fix my air conditioning unit -- so I'm taking Papa Dalton's advice and "run[ning] the thing into the ground" before I get a new one. This of course means that when summer rolls around, my car will be a stuffy, oppressive sauna, and I'm just going to start driving around in a towel.

-Via G-Chat with Ben, after I asked him how he's doing a week after his beloved Denver Broncos had traded three of their draft choices last week in order to draft Tim Tebow:

I passed quickly through denial. Spent quite a lot of time in anger.
I think I have moved onto bargaining.
"maybe they will be ok if they can get a running game going"
"maybe we can work in all three qbs"
"maybe our defense will show up this year"
I feel "depression" setting in rather rapidly.
And "acceptance" will be months or years away.
How are you?

Well, I am actually doing quite well, thank you for asking, Ben.

See, that's the nice thing about not really having an NFL team you have a vested interest in: No team can crush you emotionally when they make inexplicably crazy draft choices; or when they choke consistently during big games; or when they're picked every preseason to "make the playoffs" but always, always end up falling short; or just when they're never any good year after year (see Denver Broncos, Philadelphia Eagles, Washington Redskins, and Buffalo Bills, respectively). I'm telling you: A cool, sociopath-like emotional detachment is the way to go. I can sit back and watch NFL games without having to breathe into a paper bag every time the score gets close.

-Via Email from Jay, who sent an article about the Cub Scouts:

Headline: Cub scouts to offer offer video game playing pin

Durrrr...

As far as getting credit for sitting on your butt and contributing nothing of value to society, this award ranks right up there.

I have to say, though, that the best merit badge I ever worked on in Boy Scouts was my drug-dealing one. A syringe and bottle of pills were the logo. Requirements included "lurk in the shadows for an entire night and avoid detection by local law enforcement authorities," "ruin at least three peoples' lives by getting them addicted to your 'product,' " and "threaten those who haven't paid you yet."

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Google Knows All -- Photo of the Week 26 April 2010

Google has revolutionized our lives in so many ways, but have we thought about the implications of Google knowing EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU? Take this hilarious shot from Street View Google, fittingly captioned "Google knows of your daily torment":

Oh, the poor little boy being pwned by his little sister.

It's interesting, though, that we just kind of accept the omniscience of Google. I mean, everyone's concerned about "Big Brother" government taking over, but what about Google knowing everything you search for, the people you care about the most (Gmail, Gchat), what you shop for, what you read about (Google reader), what your schedule is (calendar), where you travel (Google maps), and that you get beat up by your little sister? Does this not bother anybody?


Anyway...happy Monday, all!

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Weekly Selects #34

Quick Civie update before we get started. I took her in to get fixed with a mechanic who has been fixing cars for local LDS people for what I'm sure has been decades. The mechanic's name is Howard, but I prefer to call him Father Time, because he is quite possibly the oldest mechanic alive. It would not shock me if he started a story with "You know, I remember what I was doing when I found out that McKinley was shot." But Howard's a stud, and knows what he's doing, so I'm hoping for the best.

Okay. Now to this week's highlights:

-Via Google Reader:

Rechristen Yourself with the Wu-Tang Clan Nickname Generator

I know you want to know what my Wu-Tang name is: Misunderstood Demon, son. And I also know that you want to try it yourself. Let me know if you get something you like.


-Via Email from Gina C:

Funny baseball interview: Park Chan-ho, the first Korean to play in Major League Baseball.  After a horrible first game of the 2010 season, Park Chan-ho pitched 3 innings of score-less relief in Game 3.  Reporters asked him what was the difference.  See the interview for his answer...

The funniest part is Park's inability to understand why his teammates are laughing so hard. Someone can correct me if they disagree, but my experience has been that people from east Asian cultures are much more open about discussing toilet-oriented topics.

-Via Email from BreakUpEasy.com:

Subj: JMill has something to tell you: We here at BreakUpEasy.com are sorry to be the ones to tell you that JMill no longer wishes to be with you. Because breaking up with someone can be hard, JMill has decided to use our website to give you this news.

The email expounds on the specific reasons for the breakup.

So they have a break-up websites, now. Huh. What else are cowards going to have the internet do for them in order to avoid confrontation? Beat up the bully at school? Tell the high school band teacher that they're quitting band? Unbelievable.

-Via Email from Drew, a coworker and a huge runner who advocates the "minimalist" approach to running shoes (it gets good around 0:45):

Nike Free Ad

I don't know why this is awesome, but it is. The disclaimer at the end is also a nice touch.

I always answer that if given three wishes by a genie, my first wish would be to be the best breakdancer ever. I think my second may have just become "be a Japanese DJ that mixes with Nike shoes."

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The Civie is Causing Some Noise

I am the proud driver of a 1997 Honda Civic. Besides the rusted tailpipe that dropped out on I-81 back in 2009, she's never given me much trouble. The Civic's nothing fancy, but she's reliable and gets the job done.

During our road trip to North Carolina this weekend, the engine started making crazy noises. It sounds like a cross between an air conditioner and The Smoke Monster on 'LOST', and it is embarrassingly loud when I slow down below 20 mph. My solution to this is to begin perfecting the skill where I pull into a parking lot, immediately shut off the engine, and have just enough momentum to coast quietly into my parking spot of choice. I will do it at work, in my apartment complex, and at the grocery store.

Although no functionality has (noticeably) been affected, I know I'm going to have to take it in to the shop. I guess part of me just hopes that it'll fix itself.

Another part of me hears that Smoke Monster noise and is half-expecting to walk outside one of these mornings and see John Locke in the parking spot instead of my Civic, staring at me with those crazy, intense eyes and holding an 8-inch hunting knife in his hand.

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BOOK I KNOW I LOVE -- Photo of the Week 19 April 2010

I'm a big enough nerd that one of the things I get most excited about is getting a new book.


I just got word that Sara Boo, bless her most thoughtful of hearts, just bought a new book titled: The Big Bento Box of Unuseless Japanese Inventions. I haven't seen it yet, but all I need to know about it is in the title, and I love it already. Here's one featured invention in it I found through Amazon:

The "Forward Backward Glasses." Just in case you have friends who are ninjas that like to sneak up on you from behind. Of course, if this friend is a smart ninja he'll realize that as soon as you put on these glasses, your visibility drastically shrinks from 180 degrees to about six degrees (combined between the two scopes), so sneaking up on you when you are wearing these glasses is actually easier than when you're not wearing them. Unuseless? Counterproductive? All of these words are interchangeable, really.

This book, combined with my Atlas from The Onion, are the only coffeetable books I'll ever need. I'm excited to get my hands on it, and excited to share some of its nuggets of hilarity with you.




Happy Monday, all!

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Attempting to Reclaim Past Glory

You probably remember that over a year ago Josh M and I attempted to grow mustaches, only to find that we were genetically incapable of doing so, and the whole thing quickly spiraled downward into a humiliating debacle.

Anyway, the whole me-with-a-mustache thing was supposed to be buried deep and never mentioned again -- like when Napolean was exiled to Elba. But like Napolean, some things aren't meant to be confined or suppressed, and are destined to reclaim their past glory:

Or not.

Yeah, that's pretty horrible. (Author's note: The stoned, swollen-eyed look is not indicative of a drug addiction, but rather the annoying onset of adult allergies. Damn you, Northern Virginia. And your high oak pollen count)

Two weeks ago, when I realized that I hadn't shaved at all for a few weeks, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to shave everything but the upper-lip, you know? I just wanted to see if any progress had been made in the mustache-growing department. Obviously, there had not; in fact, if anything happened, it was a solid step in the devolving direction. I believe this elicited a "OH MY GOSH JOSH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT" from AM, but don't quote her on that.

Anyway, I saw the below video, and it made me laugh:



For me, I would describe having my mustache as feeling like "wandering through a barren, desert wasteland with no oasis in sight, and only sporadic patches of grass scattered along the way." Or something. Vivid imagery was never my thing.

PS No need to fear, the mustache was "disappeared" shortly after.

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Weekly Selects #33

Now for the Nyquil-fueled edition of the weekly Highlights...

-Via TXT from Case, who took a trip to NYC that I was unfortunately unable to participate in:

Who is missing from this picture?

Well, knowing Case, I'm assuming this was an attempted guilt trip on me, but who knows? Case could be crazy and imagining he has his arm around someone.

-Via Email from JMill, another Japanese video with lots of ripping clothes and fire-breathing:



In my high school film editing class some buddies and I were going to do a Bruce Lee documentary, starring yours truly (who has never taken a martial arts class in his life). The opening scene was going to have a gong sound, me screaming with primal fury, and then my (pre-cut) shirt ripping from my body. Similar to this video, really, 'cept I can assure you that a black speedo was never, ever a remotely considered concept.

(JMill also sent me one or two (a Star Wars rap --If you want to see Darth Vader rap, the fusion of hip hop and Star Wars geek culture is awesome) other videos that are worth checking out if you happen to have the time.)

-Via Email from Nartker:

Mel and I successfully put together a LARGE dresser from Ikea today ...I'm not admitting how many hours it took ,but I thought of u everytime I looked at those ridiculous directions. I'm convinced that convicts in whatever country ikea is from are paid 13 cents an hour to come up with those directions.... It makes sense that there are no written instructions... They can't read or write!

It's the best theory I've heard about Ikea's frustrating assembly instructions so far.

-Via Email from Julie:

kind of gross, kind of cool

 from thisisfreakingridiculous.com

That's right. Things made from bacon that shouldn't be, including an AK-47, hats, and bras.

I actually had strong words with Butzie this afternoon because his G-chat status that read "pepperoni is the new bacon." When I challenged him on it, he responded with "I dare you to try the meatball pepperoni footlong from subway and then tell me that bacon is better." We eventually came to an agreement that if the pepperoni sandwich isn't better, I have free license to him with an actual sandwich.

I say we open up the challenge to anyone -- let me know how the pepperoni meatball is, and then we can collectively beat Butzie with subway sandwiches next time we see him.

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Teabonics -- Photo of the Week 12 April 2010

Love 'em or hate 'em, the Tea Party sure knows how to make quality protest signs, as compiled here. One of my favorites from there:

The movement should hire some 4th graders to proofread their signs. This is, as an American, palm-to-forehead-slap worthy. Ugh.

My only vendetta against the Tea Party Movement is not political, but personal. I was trying to get to a museum in DC once when their little "march" shut down the entirety of Pennsylvania Ave. Right where the museum was.

(The one bright spot of this inconvenience was seeing a gangly, awkward-looking teenage boy with an expressionless face holding a sign on a street corner that read: "My Anger is Real." Rage against that machine, my young, acne-faced friend. Rage on).


Happy Monday! I don't know about you, but allergies have virtually incapacitated me. Let's hope I get through the week...

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Weekly Selects #32

Was busy yesterday watching movie plot hole after movie plot hole unfold as undeveloped characters delivered cliched dialogue in a special effects extravaganza; and yet still found myself entertained. Thanks, Clash of the Titans. So here we go a day late with some DC, and I apologize to any readers who are not able to see embedded YouTube clips, as I received a lot of these this past week. Let's do this:

-Via Gchat from Banker:

something for your blog?

Um, yes, please, and THANK YOU. These are all great, but I honestly think Arnold was best in Pumping Iron, mostly because it was a documentary (the key: NO ACTING REQUIRED) and you just got to watch Arnold brag about himself in all of his bulging, symmetrical, Adonis-like physical perfection. In college we called the Blockbuster (back when Netflix hadn't rendered "video stores" obsolete) to ask if they had it:

Us: Hi, do you have Pumping Iron?
Blockbuster Dude: Um. Let me check The movie from 1977?
Us: Yes. That's the one.
Blockbuster Dude: Yes, we have it.
Us: Okay. We'll come get it right now. Actually, could you hold on to it for us? Just to make sure no one grabs it?
Blockbuster Dude: ...Uh, I don't think that's going to be a problem. But sure.

-Via Google Reader share, some selected analogies and metaphors found in high school students' essays. Aspiring writers, TAKE NOTES:

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef

There are just too many good ones here. If you are/know a K-12 teacher, please keep record of these. These are priceless, if not humiliating later in life for the children.

-Via Google Reader share, the best custom pizza I've ever seen:

"I be tossin' and flossin', my style is awesome."

-Via Email from Kate:

I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry

My personal favorite is the sister in the middle seat. The disdainful look of utter disapproval at her parents' insensitivity, coupled with the folded arms, is amazing. If I ever get a look like that from my future daughter I'll probably curl up in a ball and never speak again.

PS I need to kidnap an Asian child.

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OPINION: These Online Dating Services Are A Scam

These Online Dating Services Are A Scam
by Eldon Charles
Convicted Serial Killer

What a crock.

eHarmony.com. Match.com. Meet-an-inmate.com. All of these online dating services are scams designed to get you to invest your money and time into a process that returns no rewards. They prey on the emotionally vulnerable.

See, my life in Ionia Maximum Security Prison, Michigan, is one of mind-numbing repetition and monotony. A goldfish experiences more variety than I do. I spend 23 hours a day in a Hannibal Lecterian restraint mask and straight jacket; the other hour is spent tormenting brilliant but vulnerable FBI agents who are trying to find serial killers a la Silence of the Lambs. Kidding. Just some prison humor for you there. I actually spend my "free hour" in a roofless cement cell, gazing at the clouds, wishing it was night so that I could see the stars.

Anyway, all of that alone time lends itself toward serious introspection and reflection on what's important in life. Education. Freedom. A committed relationship with another person.

So when I heard about meet-an-inmate.com -- the website where "lonely attractive inmates in the USA seek penpals" -- I felt a glimmer of hope, that maybe...just maybe...I might find that special someone with whom I could spend the rest of my life with (after I fulfill my debt to society by serving my four consecutive life terms). Little did I know that my hope would be crushed. Crushed like it was when Stephanie Mason rejected me for senior prom. Or like the skulls of my 5th, 9th, and 13th victims. Whichever comparison you prefer.

Look, I may have killed 23 people in cold blood between 2002-2008, and the judge who handed down my prison sentence may have characterized me as an "unfeeling, ruthless sociopath" who is "incapable of feeling anything remotely resembling empathy for another human being," but that judge was wrong. I'm just like any other person. I get lonely. My family is no longer with me -- my brother died in 2000 (car accident); my mother in 1998 (stroke); my father in 2004 (my own hands) -- so aside from the usual, inane inmate chatter, I don't have a lot of people with whom I can have a serious talk with.

Meet-an-inmate offered that possibility. Finally, someone to have a real, heartfelt conversation with! So I registered six weeks ago. Posted my picture and filled out my profile and everything. The result? I haven't heard anything from anybody. Not a single thing.

My psychologist told me once that I tended to set expectations too high for newly forming relationships, or relationships that I just imagined in my head that had no basis in reality. He said that this led to debilitating disappointment when those expectations weren't met. Now, 5 years later, I'm starting to realize that maybe Dr. Collins was right. Maybe my expectations were too high. And maybe I shouldn't have killed him. Oops.

But that's not the point. The point is this: Is it too much to expect to have just one penpal? Does being the called "one of the worst serial killers in American history" automatically disqualify me as "dateable" material? If that's the case, America is in a sad state of affairs. Is it my profile picture?  Look -- I'm no Brad Pitt, but that mask makes me look at least 30 lbs heavier. And balder. I'd take it off but the last time they let me take it off for a picture, I tried to bite the photographer's neck, so the mask has to stay on. I frankly don't understand why I can't be accepted and loved for who I am -- what happened to tolerance?

I even heard rumors that a few guys like Andy (kidnapping 2nd degree with a firearm; 3-15 years) and Marley (armed robbery with a deadly weapon; 5-10 years) already have penpals off of that stupid website. WHAT IS THAT?!?! Newsflash, people: Andy and Marley are UGLY! And boring! What do those two have that I don't, besides the possibility of living outside of this prison again? What makes those two more appealing than me? It makes no sense.

A scam, I tell you. When I get out of here, I'm suing that website for false advertising.

Shame on you for making me hope, meet-an-inmate. Shame on you.

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NOT David vs. Goliath

Can we please stop calling the Duke v. Butler championship game "David vs. Goliath," just because the casual basketball fan hasn't heard of Butler? There's a reason Butler got a 5-seed in the tourney and won 33 games this season: They're good, and have been for years.

But, as the media is unwaveringly cliched and uncreative, they have resorted to the ol' David vs. Goliath comparison. Duke can still be Goliath -- that's an apt enough comparison -- but can Butler be some other physically large, though more obscure, figure?

JMill suggested Andre the Giant. Done. Insert any pro wrestler of your choice, really. And while "Andre the Giant vs. Goliath" doesn't quite roll off the tongue like David vs. Goliath does, at least it's more accurate.

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The Fab Five -- Photo of the Week 5 April 2010

For all you who will be watching the Championship tonight, this Sports Illustrated photo from 2007 should help you get prepped for the occasion.

Probably the greatest billboard. Ever. If only C Webb hadn't called that timeout that didn't exist.


Happy Monday! Come back tomorrow for RoSA's first Opinion post.

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Weekly Selects #31

some older ones i've been meaning to get to, and some new ones...

-Via Email from Saree, from Awkward Family Photos:

you must, must, must click on this link

 I only have two questions regarding the Bacon Brothers:
1) Are those vests textured?
2) Do we have a grill large enough to slap all three of the brothers on and get some breakfast going?

-Via IM from Josh M, with some high points during the first minute and around the 4:23- and the 5:00-marks:

More gems

It's like The Star Wars Kid, but in this case the kid actually knows he's being taped AND that it's going to go on the internet.

If you have the time, the whole thing is as watchable as a Barry Sanders highlight reel -- you know, if Sanders were an uncoordinated, mulleted marshmallow of a man aspiring to swordsmanship prowess, all while wearing a sweatsuit with cliched Asian logos on it.

The "DRAGON TWISTER" at 5:04 is a study in kinetic grace and beauty, like the Moscow Ballet (is that a real thing?) but I'm more interested in the origins of the name...The Kentucky Fried Chickens in Japan had a wrap called the Dragon Twister... and the kid has a nice little gut going, indicating overeating of something. Possible connection?

-Via Google Reader share, a New York Post article from the writer of the Battlefield Earth script, apologizing for writing the worst movie story ever. My favorite excerpt:

[Travolta] said again how much he loved the script and called it "The Schindler's List of sci-fi"

I make horribly outlandish and hyperbolized comparisons. But that was the worst I've ever heard of/thought of/imagined thinking of.

Well, I've been waiting for a decade for justice to be served, for some sort of atonement to be made for this awful excuse for a movie. Is an apology in a newspaper enough? Probably not. But it's a start.

-Via Email from Midge, a final video:

stupid, but fitting for a thursday morning

I'm a very active sleeper. Blankets and such usually end up on the floor, and I've been known to jump off a 2nd-level bunkbed before, but running into a wall headfirst is still on the to-do list.

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