My dear, vast readership,
I apologize for the week long break in blogging (even we bloggers need vacation time), I've actually been driving all over the US delivering vehicles for my dad's drive-away company and doing the holiday thing and visiting family, so I haven't had much time to post...but I promise that starting next year I will start posting again.
If you are feeling insatiably thirsty for entertainment while I am away, I recommend you find the nearest theater to you playing this film, it looks fabulously awful, entertaining in its sheer baaaaahdness, and absolutely, positively hysterical.
Just watch the trailer and I guarantee that you will immediately want to see it.
Enjoy:
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Panda Bear - "Take Pills"
Today's song of the day is related to a recent Mindhacks post about the recent Nature article on the widespread use of pills. Enjoy:
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Getting in the Gift Spirit
Man, how true is this
Dave Barry:
Thus far all of the gift ideas I have considered getting a few of my guy friends have all been humorous or silly. Nothing a guy would need, but something that would definitely make him laugh is pretty much my philosophy for purchasing gifts for other dudes that are friends. Moreover there's not a lot of things that are soo funny that you just have to buy and send to some other guy for christmas, which is why the philosophy is so wonderful--it masks/justifies my animosity towards having to actually go out and waste my time shopping...
Dave Barry:
"I never give presents to any of my male friends, and they never give presents to me, and we're all happy as clams. If a guy ever DOES give a present to another guy, it is almost always intended as a joke. For example, just today I received in the mail, from my friend Jeffrey Berkowitz, an electronic yodeling pickle. (Really: You can order one at http://www.mcphee.com/items/11761.html.) I did not own one of these, and I am happy to have it. But I know Jeffrey sent it to me because he thought it was funny. He does not expect a gift in return. He would be stunned if, in response, I sent him some cologne, unless of course it was joke cologne, like Eau de Goat Flatulence."
Thus far all of the gift ideas I have considered getting a few of my guy friends have all been humorous or silly. Nothing a guy would need, but something that would definitely make him laugh is pretty much my philosophy for purchasing gifts for other dudes that are friends. Moreover there's not a lot of things that are soo funny that you just have to buy and send to some other guy for christmas, which is why the philosophy is so wonderful--it masks/justifies my animosity towards having to actually go out and waste my time shopping...
Fionn Regan - "Be Good Or Be Gone"
Today's song of the day. Note if you, like me, have horrible ADD, then you will most likely hate the music video Regan made for this song, since all the background noise is incredibly distracting when you're trying to listen to the song, but nevertheless its still an amazing song, a song which I haven't been able to get out of my head all week. Enjoy!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Underwear Communication
I'm not sure which sex these would appeal or sell to more, but I was certainly intrigued by the idea...I thought it would be a hysterical gift to give to my grandparents. I know my grandpa would love it, since my grandma has Alzheimer's...though she probably would, well, she wouldn't know what the hell was going on down there...Jabberjockeys consist of a pair of underwear (one male, one female) which discreetly inform a partner when the other gets aroused. By sensing subtle changes in temperature, moisture and pressure the undergarments detect arousal. The underwear automatically notifies the partner by activating vibrating motors sewn into the fabric of their underwear, thus enabling them to discreetly share their heightened emotions.
User and a loved one wear their respective pairs of underwear. When one becomes aroused, the other's underwear starts vibrating. This in turn causes arousal in the second party which causes the instigator's underwear to vibrate, causing a feedback loop of excitement.
VCU Study Points Out the Obvious
After all, guys need to use something to trick girls into sleeping with them...if their judgment isn't clouded, it will rarely be persuaded--and not all guys have charms and good looks (to all my feminist viewership I mean this in the most sarcastic of ways, but I definitely think it is perhaps one of the main reasons for the correlation this study says to have found. Guys are douche bags).
Via HealthScout:
Via HealthScout:
For girls, especially, having friends of the opposite sex during adolescence can raise the likelihood for alcohol use.Researchers at Virginia Commonwealth University analyzed data on 4,700 twins in Finland...
"Our findings suggest that girls may be more susceptible to their friends' drinking and that having opposite-sex friends who drink is also associated with increased drinking," corresponding author Danielle Dick, now of Virginia Commonwealth University, said in a prepared statement.
Snow Flakes & Church Aches
So I decided to spend my last day in Montreal reading in the magnificent chapel of Cathédrale Marie-Reine-du-Monde. I had originally planned on spending it in a Starbucks, sipping coffee and reading, but I eventually persuaded myself that a basilique would be far more grand. I picked up two books from my university's library, Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse and Marcel Proust's Swann's Way, and then made my way to the Cathédrale.
Unfortunately the weather was incredibly foul today. The wind was savagely gusty and the snow flakes had worked themselves up into a fury, so the walk was far less pleasant than I had hoped it to be. But I eventually stumbled upon the front steps of the massive facade and looked up at the row of saints, who have a beautiful greenish jade-colored hue, in front of the massive dome of the church. It was certainly a spectacle to behold and the cathédrale looked beautiful and wholly resolute in the swirling fury of snow and wind. I marched up the front steps and laboriously pulled at the heavy Gothic-styled doors. I stepped inside the rectangular corridor and marched another 10 steps to the next set of doors and was finally inside the chapel. It was absolutely herculean in size, the pews were all neatly in a row, the ceiling was arched and mesmerizing, and along the walls were various statues and paintings, the former of saints, and the latter depicting catholic missionaries "nobly" attempting to convert and save the indigenous savages, the Indians (one picture depicted a missionary in a canoe--who looked as if he had been inconveniently taken hostage by Indians--wielding a cross to the sky, while the Indian in front of him had his paddle cocked and ready to prod another Indian who was desperately clinching on to the side of the canoe, in the rough--and assumedly cold--waters). There were also two halves of a giant clam, which held holy water (which was almost unbearably tempting to drink, in my very thirsty state...)
I wandered around the mostly empty chapel, stopping and gawking at a number of items that were so gilded in gold that I sort of felt a self-pitying shame for my own species stupidity.
After wandering around a little more, I eventually claimed a seat in an empty pew among pews, and removed the two novels I had in my bag. Before I opened either one of them, a small yellow plastic bag with something in it, folded neatly on the shelf of the pew in front of me, grabbed my attention. I immediately began to fantasize that it had been left in that particular row, for a particular person, for a particular purpose, and was, therefore, curiously intrigued. I stood up and reached over the pew and grabbed the bag. Inside was a little black book with a very strange, mythical-esque, emblem on the front. A flood of fantasies now splashed against my mind--could this be a Da Vinci code object, with some secret message inside? could it perhaps be a book left by an Opus Dei member, revealing their secret practices?--but were quickly silenced when I opened the first few pages and realized that it was simply a hymnal book written in French... ah c'est la vie, why must anticipation always be better than realization? I slid the black book back into the plastic yellow bag, folded it, and put it back on the shelf of its original pew. I turned and picked up To The Lighthouse, flipped to the first chapter, and soon became wholly unaware of my surroundings, as I continued to read. The chapel was dark and only dimly lit by a few electric lanterns on the side walls and columns. I had to adjust my book in every which way, (like those toys that you have to jiggle around and maneuver in various ways in an effort to get the small metalic ball into the little crater), in order to evade the casted shadows that prevented me from seeing the words. Strangely enough, right as the thought 'Man I wish I had some more light' scrolled through my head, the overhead lights of the chapel flickered on and the entire room became brightly illuminated.
Its only too bad that I'm not a religious person, because if I were I could have entertained the thought that this was an act of God, looking over my shoulder, actually concerned with the amount of light I had to read with...who knows maybe he was.
I went back to reading and got through about 20 pages before I was distracted by an odiously loud and continuously irritating sound. I looked up to see what was responsible for this noise and eyed an old man, in a green, split-tailed coat, pushing a mop and bucket across the tiled floor. When he reached the middle of the chapel he stopped (and thankfully with him the noise) and began swabbing the tiles in an utterly audible silence.
I picked up where I had left off in the book, but was quickly distracted again by signals of discomfort from my derrière. Pews, as I'm sure all church goers are acutely aware, are incredibly uncomfortable (perhaps in order to keep the parishioners awake), especially when you, like me, have absolutely no meat in between the bones in your butt and the wood of the pew. I searched for a comments card in the small shelf on the back of the pew in front of me, because I thought it would be nice of me to inform this magnificent and gorgeous church how it might attract more parishioners: buy comfier seats. The only people that I had noticed wander into the chapel were old women, who were usually of equal height to the head of the pews, and incredibly amusing to watch shuffle by, because you wouldn't see them until they passed your row, and a few old men, who had by now inherited such a hard ass and numb nerves, that they were probably wholly unaware that the seats were uncomfortable. If I had found a comments card I would have also suggested that the church sell just a few of their golden relics (they had so many after all) in order to pay for a few rows of lazy boy chairs (which would be the front 5 rows, for the early comers), a few rows of leather cushioned couches (for the rest), and bean bags (for the children who could sit in the back, as they never pay attention anyways).
After a few more minutes had passed by I decided that it was probably best to relieve my aching arse from the torment of the wooden pew and made my way towards the front doors. The winter wind seemed still and the snow flakes looked weightless as they descended to the ground, it seemed that the weather had taken a turn for the better. I stepped out into the brisk, cold air and immediately learned that the winter wind had simply been waiting patiently for me on the stoop above the entrance, as it soon met my face with all of its excited ferocity.
Tomorrow I'd be home...
Unfortunately the weather was incredibly foul today. The wind was savagely gusty and the snow flakes had worked themselves up into a fury, so the walk was far less pleasant than I had hoped it to be. But I eventually stumbled upon the front steps of the massive facade and looked up at the row of saints, who have a beautiful greenish jade-colored hue, in front of the massive dome of the church. It was certainly a spectacle to behold and the cathédrale looked beautiful and wholly resolute in the swirling fury of snow and wind. I marched up the front steps and laboriously pulled at the heavy Gothic-styled doors. I stepped inside the rectangular corridor and marched another 10 steps to the next set of doors and was finally inside the chapel. It was absolutely herculean in size, the pews were all neatly in a row, the ceiling was arched and mesmerizing, and along the walls were various statues and paintings, the former of saints, and the latter depicting catholic missionaries "nobly" attempting to convert and save the indigenous savages, the Indians (one picture depicted a missionary in a canoe--who looked as if he had been inconveniently taken hostage by Indians--wielding a cross to the sky, while the Indian in front of him had his paddle cocked and ready to prod another Indian who was desperately clinching on to the side of the canoe, in the rough--and assumedly cold--waters). There were also two halves of a giant clam, which held holy water (which was almost unbearably tempting to drink, in my very thirsty state...)
I wandered around the mostly empty chapel, stopping and gawking at a number of items that were so gilded in gold that I sort of felt a self-pitying shame for my own species stupidity.
After wandering around a little more, I eventually claimed a seat in an empty pew among pews, and removed the two novels I had in my bag. Before I opened either one of them, a small yellow plastic bag with something in it, folded neatly on the shelf of the pew in front of me, grabbed my attention. I immediately began to fantasize that it had been left in that particular row, for a particular person, for a particular purpose, and was, therefore, curiously intrigued. I stood up and reached over the pew and grabbed the bag. Inside was a little black book with a very strange, mythical-esque, emblem on the front. A flood of fantasies now splashed against my mind--could this be a Da Vinci code object, with some secret message inside? could it perhaps be a book left by an Opus Dei member, revealing their secret practices?--but were quickly silenced when I opened the first few pages and realized that it was simply a hymnal book written in French... ah c'est la vie, why must anticipation always be better than realization? I slid the black book back into the plastic yellow bag, folded it, and put it back on the shelf of its original pew. I turned and picked up To The Lighthouse, flipped to the first chapter, and soon became wholly unaware of my surroundings, as I continued to read. The chapel was dark and only dimly lit by a few electric lanterns on the side walls and columns. I had to adjust my book in every which way, (like those toys that you have to jiggle around and maneuver in various ways in an effort to get the small metalic ball into the little crater), in order to evade the casted shadows that prevented me from seeing the words. Strangely enough, right as the thought 'Man I wish I had some more light' scrolled through my head, the overhead lights of the chapel flickered on and the entire room became brightly illuminated.
Its only too bad that I'm not a religious person, because if I were I could have entertained the thought that this was an act of God, looking over my shoulder, actually concerned with the amount of light I had to read with...who knows maybe he was.
I went back to reading and got through about 20 pages before I was distracted by an odiously loud and continuously irritating sound. I looked up to see what was responsible for this noise and eyed an old man, in a green, split-tailed coat, pushing a mop and bucket across the tiled floor. When he reached the middle of the chapel he stopped (and thankfully with him the noise) and began swabbing the tiles in an utterly audible silence.
I picked up where I had left off in the book, but was quickly distracted again by signals of discomfort from my derrière. Pews, as I'm sure all church goers are acutely aware, are incredibly uncomfortable (perhaps in order to keep the parishioners awake), especially when you, like me, have absolutely no meat in between the bones in your butt and the wood of the pew. I searched for a comments card in the small shelf on the back of the pew in front of me, because I thought it would be nice of me to inform this magnificent and gorgeous church how it might attract more parishioners: buy comfier seats. The only people that I had noticed wander into the chapel were old women, who were usually of equal height to the head of the pews, and incredibly amusing to watch shuffle by, because you wouldn't see them until they passed your row, and a few old men, who had by now inherited such a hard ass and numb nerves, that they were probably wholly unaware that the seats were uncomfortable. If I had found a comments card I would have also suggested that the church sell just a few of their golden relics (they had so many after all) in order to pay for a few rows of lazy boy chairs (which would be the front 5 rows, for the early comers), a few rows of leather cushioned couches (for the rest), and bean bags (for the children who could sit in the back, as they never pay attention anyways).
After a few more minutes had passed by I decided that it was probably best to relieve my aching arse from the torment of the wooden pew and made my way towards the front doors. The winter wind seemed still and the snow flakes looked weightless as they descended to the ground, it seemed that the weather had taken a turn for the better. I stepped out into the brisk, cold air and immediately learned that the winter wind had simply been waiting patiently for me on the stoop above the entrance, as it soon met my face with all of its excited ferocity.
Tomorrow I'd be home...
Clear Sign that the Apocalypse is Approaching...
I don't remember much from my readings of Revelation, but I'm sure that this was one of the things mentioned as a sign of the coming final apocalypse.
Paul Anka singing "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
Paul Anka singing "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
Twelve or Thirteen?
This shifting gif is driving me nuts. I can't figure out the answer, see if you can, and feel free to explain to me why.
Link
Link
Making Your Tattoo 3-DD
Canadian resident Lane Jensen is described as being a 'pretty traditionally manly guy', but after a recent visit to Brian Decker of Pure Body Arts, he has perhaps become physically a little less so. He's definitely the first guy I know of to get breast implants in his leg...
According to Jensen, the procedure was a breeze and his "leg breast implants are doing great one week after the implant was inserted, the one spot where the nipple rubs against my pants is a little sore. It'll callus up and be fine soon."
I have a feeling that many more people will soon be getting breast implants on their tattoos. My room mate was actually thinking about getting a tattoo; I wonder if I could convince him how cool this is and then when he gets it I can make fun of him for the rest of his life, and give him breast punches whenever he disagrees with me...man that would be great. Anyways click on this link to see more photos of the operation.
According to Jensen, the procedure was a breeze and his "leg breast implants are doing great one week after the implant was inserted, the one spot where the nipple rubs against my pants is a little sore. It'll callus up and be fine soon."I have a feeling that many more people will soon be getting breast implants on their tattoos. My room mate was actually thinking about getting a tattoo; I wonder if I could convince him how cool this is and then when he gets it I can make fun of him for the rest of his life, and give him breast punches whenever he disagrees with me...man that would be great. Anyways click on this link to see more photos of the operation.
Huckabee's Vague Past
Journalist David Corn knows a good story when he smells one and recently he's been investigating Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee's earlier life and has uncovered some intriguing information thus far, but I am sure that there is probably more to come...
"At Mother Jones, we discovered that that his presidential campaign and the churches where he served as a pastor for twelve years will not provide copies of the sermons he delivered. GIven that Huckabee campaigns as a self-proclaimed "Christian leader," his actions as "Christian leader" are certainly legitimate subjects of examination. Why is he sitting on them?
[sic]
Yesterday, I posted piece on a 1998 book Huckabee wrote that was filled with inflammatory fundamentalist rhetoric. In that book, Huckabee equated environmentalism with pornography and associated homosexuality with necrophilia. He dismissed those who advocate workplace equality for women. He denounced those Christians who accept a "misguided version of 'tolerance.'" He decried unnamed "modern government-sponsored social engineers" and claimed that "virtually every dollar poured into" government social programs is wasted. He also declared that people who do not believe in God tend to be "immoral" and tend to engage in "destructive behavior."
"At Mother Jones, we discovered that that his presidential campaign and the churches where he served as a pastor for twelve years will not provide copies of the sermons he delivered. GIven that Huckabee campaigns as a self-proclaimed "Christian leader," his actions as "Christian leader" are certainly legitimate subjects of examination. Why is he sitting on them?
[sic]
Yesterday, I posted piece on a 1998 book Huckabee wrote that was filled with inflammatory fundamentalist rhetoric. In that book, Huckabee equated environmentalism with pornography and associated homosexuality with necrophilia. He dismissed those who advocate workplace equality for women. He denounced those Christians who accept a "misguided version of 'tolerance.'" He decried unnamed "modern government-sponsored social engineers" and claimed that "virtually every dollar poured into" government social programs is wasted. He also declared that people who do not believe in God tend to be "immoral" and tend to engage in "destructive behavior."
The book's content was not shocking, coming from a Bible-thumping fundamentalist. But Huckabee is trying to pitch himself as a friendly fellow who, as he claimed in the last debate, can unite a "very polarized country." Huckabee is free to believe whatever he wants, but it's hard to see how a social conservative advocating such extreme views could bring together a divided society.
There's still plenty of digging to be done in the fields of Huckabee. Who knows what will be unearthed? Yesterday, my former co-author Michael Isikoff and a Newsweek colleague of his broke the story that Huckabee, when he was governor in 1998, allegedly blocked a criminal investigation of his then seventeen-year-old son. David Huckabee had been accused of killing a stray dog at a Boy Scout camp, where he was a counselor. The head of the state police at the time told Newsweek that Huckabee's office leaned on him to stop any inquiry. And the FBI chief in Little Rock back then also said Huckabee attempted to stop an investigation of his son. No charges were ever filed. Huckabee denied the accounts of these two men.
The Newsweek story didn't detail the grisly details of the dog-killing incident. But a letter sent to the head of the Boy Scouts in 1998 by the Animal Legal Defense Fund did include the specifics:
It has come to my attention that David Huckabee and Clayton Friday, two scout counselors, have admitted to the brutal killing of a stray dog at Camp Pioneer on July 11, 1998, and have been protected by the Caddo Area Council as well as Camp Pioneer authorities. The two boys allegedly hung a dog by his/her neck, throwing the body over a railing to a twenty foot drop. After realizing that this did not kill the dog, they slit his/her throat, and stoned the dog to death.
The Hush Sound - "The Artist"
Today's song of the day comes from the Indie quartet out of Chicago. I love (in this song, main) vocalist Greta Salpeter's, shall I say, empyreal voice. Anyways they have a bunch of other good songs so make sure you check them out on youtube, or better yet buy one of their cds. Enjoy!
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