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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