Caution: This post sucks

Hello readers. Have you missed me? I've missed you too. What's that? You haven't missed me?

Well then, I guess I hope you fuckin' die.

Seriously. I apologize to my reader for not posting recently... I don't have a great excuse. I've been slightly busier than usual, but not burdensomely so. What can I say. Here's what happened recently:

1. I got absolutely raped by the IRS this year. We owe. Oh, Lordy do we fuckin' owe. Not happy about it. So donations are now being accepted here at the ole' Meat factory.

The IRS is the rabbit, in case that wasn't clear.

2. Season 3 of the Wire is going incredibly well. I also started watching 24. I gotta say - it's like a Robert B. Parker novel - not great, but I'll be damned if I can stop watching the fucker. I ripped through Season One in about a week. I'm going to try something dangerous for Season 2. I'm stocking up on booze, snacks and recreational drugs, and I'm going to see if I can watch 24 episodes in 24 hours. What can I say, the wife is out of town, so I'm gonna live like a scumbag. And as my friend Jai once said, "there's only so much time you can waste taking baths and masturbating". And yes, that is a direct quote.

3. Saturday was... interesting. My friend Pax enlisted me to help him move his motorcycle from his old apartment to the new one. The bike doesn't run right now, hence the need for assistance. This entailed driving to his house in East Boston, picking him up, driving to the truck rental place in Cambridge, dropping off my car, driving the truck to his old apartment in Somerville, picking up the bike, driving it to Eastie, dropping it off, driving the truck BACK to Cambridge, dropping it off, picking up my car again, and then taking Pax back to Eastie.

This was exactly as big a pain in the ass as it sounds like. But hey, he's a friend, and there is almost nothing I won't do as a favor to a friend. So we did it. But here's the rub: This works better if you know my friend Pax, but it's still goofy. We get the truck, we're on route to the old apartment, and Pax says:

Oh, I probably should have mentioned this, but the bike is chained to a post. I brought a bunch of keys with me, but I'm not sure which one opens the lock.

Right. Awesome. Did I mention that it's 20 degrees outside and the world is covered with ice? Anyway, we park the truck, Pax pulls out a giant handful of keys and is fucking with them as we head to the back of the building. We get there and... and...

wait for it...

wait for it...

IT'S A COMBINATION LOCK. And NO, he does not know the fucking combo.

So we drive to a hardware store, buy a hacksaw, and cut the chain off. Goddamn. It wasn't so funny then, but it is now.

Anyway, after feeding me, Pax got sleepy so I went off to a different friend's house. It was around 4:00. And then he and I proceeded to get completely and utterly annihilated. I mean, RAGING drunk. I don't know where it came from. Surprised the shit out of me. Next thing I knew it was 4 in the morning and we were alternating between playing darts and firing a pellet gun in his basement. Yeah. I didn't drive home.

Sunday we had breakfast, then both Tim and I went to my place so he could hijack my music onto his new iPod. We then skated around on my back yard/ice rink. Much slipping and pain ensued.

So yeah. Nothing terribly exciting. But I felt obligated to post something, so there. More of substance (right) will come later.

Things that probably amuse only me...

... What the fuck, people. It can't all be about you.

Here we go. One of these things was written by the wonderful staff at The Onion, via their farcical (and fictional) columnist, Smoove B. The other is by Celtics player Delonte West, a 2nd year guard. You be the judge:

Item 1:

Yeah, we're going to my yacht. We'll pull up at the docks and got a guy waiting for us, open our door up and we walk down a lit-up dock and onto the yacht, where we have dinner set up on the boat and we just cruise out on the water. Sit down and have some dinner, some shrimps and steaks, keep it nice and breezy. Pop some bottles, some Moet Rose. The red Moet, we ain't popping no Kristal, it tastes like urination. We ain't popping no Kris, that's $500 a bottle. It ain't that serious. It ain't going to get you drunk. Make sure you put that in there. We ain't doing a $500 bottle, we're doing a $99 wine and dine. While we're eating, have a singer. Who should I have?

Do some skinny dipping, but keeping it clean fun, don't need to get all right to the point, you know, keeping it clean. Boom, get back, take her back home. Give her a kiss, tell her I enjoyed my night, let's do it again. I don't want her in a situation, because skinny-dipping, she'll already be shaky about doing that if it's an early date, but most likely she will [skinny-dip], but I don't want to end up in one of those situations where you're feeling the mood too much and you try to press the situation and you came all out your hook up. And now you leave feeling lame because you'd try to force the issue and she really wasn't with it, and I know that's happened to a lot of guys out there, you done and feel the night a little too much. So, just keep it nice and easy, and I think from there she'd have a good enough impression where she might want to do it again.

One more thing: When we're on the yacht eating, we're going to have some Popeyes chicken. That's for dinner. It's to let her know, put a mental image on her mind, first and foremost, if you ain't from the hood, you don't like Popeyes chicken. Everyone there loves Popeyes chicken and the biscuits -- phew. But that's just getting it on her mind, saying, you know, 'Yeah, I can wine and dine you, but I'm a little rough around the edges and I'm keeping it real with you. I can be romantic, but this is real, we're going to eat some chicken tonight. Chicken and biscuits.

Item 2:

I am capable of bringing you to a state of freakstasy that no other man could ever bring you to. You can try to find this level of sexual satisfaction with some other man, but know that if you break from me, I cannot guarantee that I will still be single when you realize that only I can satisfy all your senses. Then, you would be living in a cold, cruel world, and I would not wish that upon you. You are too special to me.

Damn, girl, you need to take the rest of the day off so I can break you off doggy-style in my bathroom.

Ever since we met two weeks ago, I knew you were the one for me. Your style, your booty, and your class are beyond all compare. In a world populated with many fine women, you are without a doubt the most fine. Let me take you out tonight or, if you are busy, tomorrow night to show you how I treat a lady as exceptional as you. Allow me to break it down:

First, I will pick you up from your house in a white limousine and take you to the finest dance club in the entire city. The people at this club will be attractive and the beats will be crazy. We will not be in the club for a minute before we get on the dance floor. Even though the other people will be good dancers, we will be the best. When you bump, I will bump. When you grind, I will grind. We will move together like twins who happen to like to freak.

At this point, we will go back to my place, where I will prepare a dinner specially suited for one as lovely as you. While I am cooking the meal, we will talk about your life, your hopes, and your dreams. At this point, I will unthaw a deluxe bag of jumbo shrimp for you to sample as the appetizer.

There will also be cocktail sauce.

So which is which? Which is a professional athlete who went to college (I guess), and which is a fictional columnist in a satirical newspaper?

Aw yeah.

Damn.

This is truly a disturbing universe

So here are the last eleven search terms that led people to my little corner of the interwebs.

1. you chew chupacabra (videos)
2. human mongrelization
3. uncooked meat
4. mike patton mom
5. garners windy, noise, and black skied storms
6. i hate oprah
7. my wife passed out party
8. brite fucks hard
9. built to spill mike jones
10. is meat good for you?
11. uncle too affectionate

I am officially concerned. I mean, yes, I have posted about pedophilia, Mike Patton, and the mongrelization of the human race. And I've obviously raged against Oprah Winfrey. And I suppose this is the price I pay for using tags that have nothing to do with anything. But... well, I'm particularly concerned with #'s 1, 7, 8 and REALLY concerned about #11.

I think I speak for us all when I say... "that shit is fucked up".

And what the hell is #1 all about, anyway?

Revenge of the Random Bullshit

The weekend was a hit all around. Chinese New Year was amazing - the food, the friends, the whole endeavor. I cannot recommend King Fung Garden highly enough. Don't be dissuaded by the fact that it looks like a dump from the outside (and the inside is pretty shabby too). The food was wonderful. Otherwise, the weekend was laid back and fun.

I watched Little Miss Sunshine again, and realized that a) it's a great, quirky, sweet and funny movie, and b) I have no idea how it got nominated for Best Picture. I mean, compared to the other two contenders I've seen (The Departed and Letters From Iwo Jima), it's a flyweight fighting in the heavyweight division.


I also finished Season 2 of The Wire, which wasn't as compelling as the first season, but still good. I ordered Season 3, which is where the show is supposed to really hit it's stride. It's an amazing show anyway, though it can get depressing in how realistic it is - the bad guys never really get caught, because the system is so fucked up it ultimately works in their favor more than for the cops. But if you want a truly gritty, realistic police procedural, you're doing yourself a disservice by not watching it.


And to wrap things up - some absolute lunacy. To quote Turkey Creek Jack Johnson : "I ain't got the words".... so simply watch it.



Yeah. It's like that.

Merry New Year!

Hello all,

I'm trying not to write a post about the damn weather for once (damn it's cold). On the bright side, the weekend is shaping up quite nicely (I'm fucking freezing). Tonight is drinks and dinner in Jamaica Plain, and tomorrow (can't feel my feet) is the annual celebration of Chinese New Year that my friends and I partake in, even though only one of us is Chinese. Every year, we trudge down to King Fung Garden in lovely Chinatown and gorge ourselves on a five-course Peking Duck meal.

This year (still fucking cold), there will be a ravenous 14 person horde descending (so very cold) on the poor King Fung. The great thing about the Fung is I think it only seats 14-15 people, so it'll be all us, boozing (oh God, my balls are in my throat) and feasting on the duckie. It's a tradition that my awesome friend "The Tong" started a few years back that we follow more regularly than birthdays.

So I will no longer bitch about the elements (seriously, my balls are frozen). Instead, I will be celebrating the Year of the Swine (can't... feel... fingers) and will do so in style tomorrow. Assuming I don't have to use a pick-ax to cut out a parking spot in Chinatown. So I hope y'all have a lovely weekend (so... cold... getting... dark) and stay warm. And given my new sunny attitude, I'm even (send... help) wishing a good weekend to Matt (Your hell will be an icy one, you fucker).

By the way, I updated the previous post with a clearer picture of the hockey rink.

Welcome to the Suck

Greetings from the Winter Wonderland of Fun Frozen Wasteland of Hell.

This is my back yard. The picture sucks because it's a) taken with my phone and b) taken through a glass door. But just in case you're wondering, that is not a swimming pool in the corner(get fucked, Matt). It is in fact a giant sheet of ice. Sa-weet!

Anyone wanna start a hockey team? I got a couple sticks in the garage.

Hey, weather? Go fuck yourself.

Here's today's forecast from Boston.com (copied and pasted):

"Today...Snow this morning...Then rain...Then snow...Freezing rain with a chance of sleet this afternoon."

My commute rocked this morning. It's usually bad anyway - takes me about 75 minutes to drive 25 miles. Today... let's just say it took a little longer.

I know, right? SUPER awesome.

Random bullshit strikes again

Several fun things have happened recently, but not all of them are worth writing about.

I helped a friend move on Saturday, which was the most fun I've ever had participating in such a thing. It helped that we were drunk for the bulk of it. And that a friend got us uniforms. I might post the pictures later, for sheer comedic value. We look like either action heroes or a traveling circus band.

Like this. But juuust a little different.

Friday night I saw Letters From Iwo Jima, which is absolutely amazing. Fuckin' Clint Eastwood is ambitious as hell, but damn if it didn't pay off. It gives a stunning glimpse into what life was like for "real" Japanese soldiers during WWII, showing them as something beyond crazy kamikaze samurais. It shows them as real people, and it's not always easy to watch. And the Battle of Iwo Jima is a fascinating, amazing, and sad moment in the war.


I also rented a couple movies yesterday, to recuperate from the drunken moving: Miami Vice and The Descent.

Miami Vice was unbelievably disappointing. I'm a big Michael Mann fan, and while I'm ok with the idea of de-cheesing the series, updating it for modern times - I'm not a fan of simply making it boring. And sadly, that's what it was. Plodding and uninteresting. Sad, really. Two more things: did we really need two shower scenes with Foxx and Farrell (I mean separate. They weren't showering together). And, for fuck's sake, take off the damn sunglasses.

Sucked

The Descent is awesome. It's a great turn-the-lights-out horror movie. Filmed with almost no artificial light, only the flashlights of the spelunkers, it's an amazing feat. Well acted, by a group of women I've never heard of. It is, at times, brutal. B-r-u-t-a-l. Get the one with the UK ending, and it will blow you away. And make sure you have decent surround sound - since so much of it is in darkness, having good sound is vital to the experience. It's directed by Neil Marshall, who did the underrated, clever and very fun Dog Soldiers*. Give that a shot too, it's a werewolf movie, but one of the few recent good ones.

Awesome

Finally, Thursday night was when I realized my job isn't always that great. My phone rang at 3:00 in the morning. I answered, and:

Caller: Mr. TK?
TK: mmmf
Caller: This is the answering service. I have Police and Fire on the line, there's an emergency at one of the developments and they require access.
TK: mmmf... ok.
Caller: Can you call them back when you've dispatched someone with an ETA?
TK: You got it.

Now. I don't know about you, gentle reader, by I am absolute luggage at 3:00 AM. Especially in a crisis situation. So I stumble out of my room, stagger down the stairs, and then... I think I blacked out. Then I realized that I am standing in my study, in nothing but boxers, carrying my cell phone, with the back door to the yard open. And I have no idea what I am doing. Nor do I have any clue what I'm supposed to do. I'm literally completely bewildered. I'm like George Bush at the State of the Union.

Like this. But nekkid. And darker. And sleepy.

Finally I realize I need to get a night crew guy on the phone. So I stagger out to my car (in boxers, in 20 degree weather), grab my phone list, stagger back in, call the guy, drag his ass out of bed (sorry!) and send him in. Call the cops back, mumble my way through some instructions, and collapse.

Fun stuff.

* Incidentally, in case anyone cares: There have been exactly six good werewolf movies in the last 30 years: An American Werewolf in London, The Howling, Brotherhood of the Wolf (or Le Pacte Des Loupes), Wolfen, Ginger Snaps, and Dog Soldiers. Seriously. That's it.

Proof that if there is a Hell, my friends and I are en route

Last night, over a couple of beers at a friends house, the following conversation took place:

TK: Hey, did you hear Anna Nicole Smith died?
Tim: *bursts out laughing*


That's all, but that's enough.

Good Music is Good For You, Part IV

Ah, the music post. The mark of a lazy blogger. And yes folks, I am that lazy blogger.

Today, we look at P.W. Long.


Long is a Michigan hillbilly who has done everything from punkish rock (with Wig) to country (P.W. Long's Reelfoot), to... well, a band called Mule, which can best be described as "cowpunk". Basically punk music, mixed with country, blues and hardcore music. Hard to define. But Mule's eponymous debut is hands-down one of my top ten favorite albums ever. But it's definitely not for everyone, so if you like a little blues, a little country, and a little nasty guitar and hammering drums, check it out. (also assuming you like lyrics like "you can wish in one hand, and shit in the other, and see which one fills up first"). But regardless of which style you prefer, it's all brilliant, whiskey-soaked goodness. Only difference is one makes you stomp your feet, one makes you want to cry.

But the video is from Long's solo work, which is much mellower, and much more depressing. He's not the greatest musician in the world, and his voice is not what you'd call pitch perfect. But he writes amazing songs, and knows how to use his abilities to create something beautiful. This is "I'll Be Your Angel", off the P.W. Long's Reelfoot album "We Didn't See You on Sunday". It's a moving song that is truly depressing (as if the line "I hid Daddy's whiskey so he don't go to Hell" doesn't give it away). It's a live performance, but a fairly well recorded one. Enjoy.

What the fuck is wrong with some people?

Government law enforcement agencies busted more than 2,000 people in 77 countries in a internet child pornography ring.

Sweet merciful crap.

I mean... seriously. What the fuck is wrong with people? I don't get it. I mean, I guess I can understand people who like to be tied up, or peed on, but kids? What is that?

I'll tell you one thing - I'm a pretty liberal person, even when it comes to crime. I'm not saying people who deal coke or knock over liquor stores should be treated gently, but I'll rarely take a hard moral stance on it. And I certainly don't have a problem with pornography in general, though I do get uncomfortable with some kinds. But shit like this...

They should bury these people under the fucking jail. And then melt the keys into slag. It's a sickness, and it has no cure. I truly believe that. I don't think they should be allowed out ever again. It strikes a chord so deep within me that it actually brings bile to my throat.



I don't believe in the death penalty. Let me get that out in the open right away. But I do believe in life without parole, and I also believe that it's ridiculous that you have to kill people to receive it. There are crimes out there that are so awful, so heinous, that you should never see freedom ever again. Murder in cold blood is one. Things like this are another. It's fucked up that there are child rapists out there who have done time and been released back into the world. Some things are unforgivable. And I know this is probably contrary to some things I have thought or said in the past, but I can't help it.

Silliness will ensue later, but I had to get this off my chest.

Even More Random Bullshit

Well, remember when I was bitching because they never closed school when I was in Madison?

Apparently they've done it now. It's -30 there. My friend Dan says his dog's eyes are freezing shut when he takes him for a walk.

My eternal question: Why haven't you moved, Danny Boy?

And yes, the Colts won yesterday. Let's all just shut the hell up and move on, shall we? Congrats, Lora. The game was pretty weak. I mean, my wife and I both like football, but by the 4th quarter I was asleep and she was knitting.

Some may be wondering why I haven't posted anything about the Great Lite-Brite Scare of 2007. I have abstained because it makes me too angry to think coherently. If you think Oprah Winfrey, government budget cuts and the weather make me rant and swear uncontrollably... brother, you ain't seen nothin' yet.



Let's just say this: It fucked up traffic for hours, made our esteemed mayor look like an asshole, and made me hate the world for a little while. But the guys responsible are hysterically funny, so at least we've got that going for us. Anyway, Chez at Deus Ex Malcontent posted more cleverly than I was able to about, so read his thoughts here. And for more on the culprits heroes of the day, click on Matt's piece here. Assuming you can get past his rampant, deviant pseudo-intellectualism.

That's gotta break my record for links in a post. Man, I'm tired.

Finally, some video. I never thought I'd ever post a video of a commercial, but this is probably my all-time favorite. I saw it once years ago, and never saw it again. It was almost an urban legend for a while. But thanks to the wonders of Youtube, here it is, making with the funny. One word of caution - for some reason, this clip is kind of loud.


"itchy rashes, full body hair loss, projectile vomiting, gigantic eyeball, the condition known as 'hot dog fingers,' children born with the head of a golden retriever, seeing the dead, bone liquification, possession by the Prince of Darkness, tail growth, elderly pregnancy..."

Awesome.

Look people, I'm not happy about it either

All damn week people have been asking me who I'm picking for the Super Bowl. Mainly because those people know I a) am a rabid (and now bitter) Patriots fan, and b) hate the fucking Colts.

So here it is, for whoever gives a shit. I'm picking the Colts.

It's a bitter pill to swallow. But I have to, you see. I have to. God I hate them. And Manning. But I'm picking them for two reasons:

1. Because then the world will shut the fuck up about Peyton Manning.
2. Because I cannot live in a world where Rex Grossman, aka The Sex Cannon, is a Super Bowl Champion. Now that will de-legitimize sports as we know it. It might actually cause a black hole to open up and swallow us all. And nobody wants that.

So there it is. Colts win, those worthless, baby-raping pigfuckers.

We will continue with my regularly scheduled nonsense later.

The truth about sports, and why I love them anyway.

Start here. Matt from A Bowl of Stupid wrote a pretty remarkable post about his issues with sports, which I confess is spot-on. It's a scathing condemnation of professional sports and what it has become, and the foolishness inherent in following it seriously.

The only problem is, I disagree. I originally wrote an exhaustively long comment on his site, but then figured it's not fair to bore his readers with my bullshit. Plus, Matt doesn't swear very much, so I always feel bad when I lace my responses with my usual fucks and shits. So I figured I'd respond here, bore my readers with my bullshit, and we could do a little cross-blogging. Anyway, read his essay first. Also, please note that this is written as it was originally drafted - that is, it's directed at him. So you doesn't mean "you", reader. Unless that reader is Matt. In which case, you means him. Or you. Or something.


Note: This is not me. Seriously.

I agree, in some way or another, with the majority of your points. However, I think that the argument is somewhat disingenuous. I will freely admit to being a pretty avid sports fan, as you may have figured out from some of the posts on my site. I don't delude myself into thinking that the players all truly "love" the game itself, or that it's not some giant corporate fuckwagon. That said, I still enjoy it. I enjoy the speed, skill and ability involved. I enjoy watching competition. I enjoy the sense of regional pride I get from watching the local teams. And yes, I know that Manny Ramirez and Paul Pierce and Tom Brady don't give a fuck about me, but who cares?

I think the fundamental oversight in such arguments is that you've chosen a specific media outlet for criticism, while ignoring the others. What makes athletes any different from actors? They're the same - they're in the business of entertainment, and some of them are genuinely talented individuals who love what they do, some of them are fucking hacks that are in it for the money and nothing else. What make the NFL or MLB or NBA any different from Hollywood? Hollywood is a machine just like the NFL is - it exists not for the art, but for the profit. It's about marketing and billboards and smaller theaters and wide releases and squeezing the most dollars out of what are usually inferior products.

Anyway. Assuming you're still reading this - I don't mean to shoot down your theory, because it's a valid criticism of an ugly aspect of today's entertainment industry. But since I know you're a movie fan, it seems a bit of a double standard. I don't think there's any difference between rooting for a sports team and having a favorite actor. There's no difference between the Super Bowl and the Oscars. It's 90% spectacle, sure. But to those who really do enjoy the medium, be it sports or film, can get some genuine enjoyment out of it. But the reason I make the comparison is because I've seen movie buffs or film snobs or pseudo-intellectuals or whatever you wish to call them - I've seen them repeatedly come down on sports and sports fans, without seeing that there is a fundamental similarity between the two. Not that you, dear Matt, are a pseudo-intellectual film snob dickhead.

Ahem.

Anyway. I love movies and sports, perhaps equally. Perhaps I just love anything that comes out that pretty, shiny box of noise. By the way, make sure to check out Matt's site (caution: shameless plugs may be flammable!). He's got some good stuff there, without the profanity-laced tirades you'll find in this fucking dump.