Archive for January, 2010
I bear witness to the truest devotion ever to exist in the history of all histories in humanity.
::: outside of my complete commitment to all things Auburn, that is :::
I speak of a love that knows no bounds.
I speak of a love that burns brighter than the flames of a thousand suns!
I speak of a love more magnificant than Jim Eastabrook’s follicular masterpiece!!
I speak of a love unrivaled by even the craziest of crazy crazies!!!!
“Dolly is the guiding principle of my life,” Kattrin broadcast over the intercom system at our office before security could stop her. “If I even think Dolly would disapprove, I don’t do it.”
And that’s why I Kattrin!
Because – unlike some people who shall go unnamed but who’s initials are Everyone Who Doesn’t Know The Auburn Fight Song By Heart – she understands the power of pure love, ultimate sacrifice and well, more importantly, what can happen when your midday meal is a mix of mostly meds and Mohitos.
“Dolly has tremendous drive and talent! She is extremely witty, which means she is super smart because you can’t be witty without being intelligent. YOU JUST CAN’T!” she enthusiastically explained over the cacophony of approaching sirens.
“She wears horrendous clothes – and she does it with pride!” she continued as Officer Lasalde gently guided her out of the building. “Did you know Dolly is the 4th of 12 children?” she probed.
She recoiled in obvious disgust.
“So you didn’t know then that after she got famous, she took several of her younger siblings and raised them?! You didn’t know that? Seriously?!? Good GAWD! Uh, what about YOU??” she turned and asked of the ambulance crew.
“WHO FUCKING RAISED YOU PEOPLE?! ACK!!! My god – Dolly has the BEST stories about her childhood in Sevierville. Plus she strongly believes in her own faith – but you know why she is so wonderful? Huh? Do you? It’s because she doesn’t make me do the same AND she doesn’t judge me when we hang out. Because we totally hang out. Like, every day. All the tiiiiiime,” her voice trailed off as he IV went to work.
“You don’t understaaaaaand!” came a muffled cry as they drove away.
But I do.
… and you need her …
::: trust me – we all do :::
Bow down and be humbled by the total awesomeness that is Bon Qui Qui
Old and Busted: Telling people you’re religious
New Hotness: Telling people you’re spiritual
Because religious people are unattractive!
And now there is serious scientifical researchification to prove it!!
::: Not that I actually needed serious scientifical proofification – having grown up in the Bible Belt and having a firm understanding that faith and religion are two separate things and that people who go ’round jawbonin’ ’bout religion are usually a fug bunch of hyper-judgmental, bigoted jackbags that I’d sooner opt for eating shit-covered shoe leather than listen to their blah blah any day … but it’s good to have it for backup! WOWEE! Did you know I can see downtown from the top of my soapbox!?! :::
Aaaaanyway … according to the results of a wide-ranging mental cavity search of more than 15,000 North Americans recently published in the über-pfft Personality and Social Psychology Review, people tell others they are ‘spiritual’ so they’ll seem more attractive — especially to folks they want to make fuckey times friends.
::: … mmmmaybe, but a nicely wrapped package is a surefire attention getter … just sayin’ … :::
The survey’s author, Constantine Sedikides, says people subconsciously paint flattering pictures of themselves by revealing they have inner spiritual beliefs.
::: I used to do it by revealing the inner lining of my thong, but whatever – this could work too I guess … :::
The practice is quite pervasive in the United States and Canada, the two countries where Sedikides found it is most beneficial for people to let others know they are “intrinsically religious” because desirability – he found – goes down faster than the Philadelphia Eagles in the postseason if people portray themselves as “extrinsically religious.”
Uh huh – that explains it!
Well, actually – it’s here.
Straight from Land of NOOOOooooooooooo [but yes] comes a tale so tragic I *wince* almost *gak* can’t even *bghwa* get it out!!!
Yes I can!
Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘Mystery’ Visitor Fails To Appear
In a tradition that dates back to at least 1949, The Poe Toaster — some drunkass douche with nothing better to do a mysterious figure dressed in black [ooo], features cloaked by a wide-brimmed hat and scarf [ahhhh] – has crept into a Baltimore churchyard every January 19 to leave three roses and a half-bottle of Cognac at the grave of Edgar Allen Poe.
… every year.
Except this one.
“I’m confused, befuddled,” said Jeff Jerome, curator of the Poe House and Museum. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
::: I’m thinking the smart money’s on the dude being dead :::
“I’m very disappointed, to the point where I want to cry,” said Cynthia Pelayo, 29, who needs to get a fucking life had stood riveted to her prime viewing spot at the gate for about six hours. “I flew in from Chicago to see him. I’m just really sad. I hope that he’s OK.”
::: I’m thinking the signs are pointing to the guest being a gonner :::
This year marked the 201st anniversary of Poe’s birth, and some Poe-fficianados are speculating that perhaps – just maybe – the visitor considered last year’s bicentennial an appropriate stopping point.
::: I’m thinking the perplexing pilgrim has perished :::
Jerome said he will continue the vigil for at least the next two or three years, in case the visits resume. “So, for me,” he said, “it’s not over with.”
::: I’m thinking it’s kind of funny that the writer’s biggest fan ended that sentence with a preposition :::
A Michigan company is quite literally banking on the fact that there really is one born every minute.
Developers at Sarcasm Inc. have created a hot little mess they are marketing as the ‘SarcMark’ – a ‘new’ punctuation denoting sarcasm.
“Statements have the period. Questions have the question mark. Exclamations have the exclamation mark. When you see the newest punctuation mark for sarcasm, you’ll know the writer of that sentence doesn’t literally mean what they’re writing; they’re being sarcastic,” the company said in a release.
And, really, how fucked do you have to be head that you’d even need a such a symbol when you could just convey the wonderfully corrosive qualities of sarcasm via the written word?
If you didn’t catch the ‘casm in my description of Tara Reid as a delicious nugget of sophisticated elegance then you need to put down the crackpipe and open a dictionary.
If you didn’t dig the digs runnimg rampant all through my fumeration over all things Freegan then you need to rethink those morning Mohitos.
If you didn’t pick-up the total and complete put-down that was my tribute to the perfection of Jim Eastabrook then, ohfuckit … you’re the SarcMark demographic.
Take your dumb ass on over to sarcmark.com and fork over a dumbass dollar ninety-nine to download the dumbass software you’ll have to use to communicate the clever comebacks your dumb ass is too fucking dumb to disseminate in the first place.
… now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to create the SnarkMark …