Ode to eight things I'll never see again because I'm apparently not as good at locking my car as I ought to be

1. To the Game Boy Advance in the glove compartment, whom I never really played. Your shitty screen and it's need for sunlight caused my love to fade.
2. For the rechargable batteries inside that Game Boy, who were as dead as Josef Stalin. You were eco friendly, and barely used. Your loss is quite appalling.
3. Here's to Mario 3, who I'll never see.
4. And to Katie's Jackass: The Movie!
5. Here's to five dollars in change, which is sadly estranged.
6. And the headphones I bought at Sam Goodie.

But the losses most great, are seven and eight. I shall miss them most of all.

Goodbye MP3 player, and your car kit adapter... I think... I may start... to bawl...

Battle of the Nerds.

The following are two user comments taken from Amazon.com item number B0002JJBZY, more commonly known as the first three seasons of the original Star Trek.

Behold the splendor of the nerd in their native environment:

Are you kidding!, August 17, 2004
Reviewer: Mr. T. Herrmann "kingofrockandsoul" (Vernon Hills,IL) - See all my reviews

I love Star Trek. That said, you would have to be nuts to buy this package. $272 for all three seasons! If you buy them individually, they would cost $255! This is based on the $84 for the first season. I have all the episodes on tape. I will probably purchase the dvds for the sound and picture quality. But, I'm not stupid enough to fall for this.

This offensive comment could not be left alone. A champion must rise up and fight for all that is sacred. For the sake of William Shatner's staccato delivery of his lines! For the honor of every seductively clad alien! For the right to boldy fly model spaceships where no man has flown a model spaceship before!

(Note: This is much more entertaining when mentally read in the style of "Comic Book Nerd" from the Simpsons.)

I'd pay for this timeless DVD complete series., November 28, 2004
Reviewer: Biggest YES Fan Ever! "Star Trek Fan" (Frisco, TX USA) - See all my reviews

Unlike T. Hermann below, the "Kingofrockandsoul," I am willing to pay the listed price for the complete series and its "futuristic capsule" packaging. If you're a cheapskate and a penny-pincher (you're probably too destitute to make this purchase anyway, Mr. Hermann), then go elsewhere, perhaps a second-hand record store, and good luck! For a true Star Trek fan like myself (obviously unlike Mr. Hermann below), I think this is a good deal (only approximately $5.00 per episode, each of which will be watched many times). PS-If you're a cheapskate/tightwad, please go somewhere else to complain about your inability to purchase something due to your own destitution. It's nobody's fault but you're own that you can't afford to buy it. Get a life and, better yet, get a better paying job if you can't afford these prices. There are people that CAN afford and ARE willing to buy the things they love, like the complete original Star Trek episodes on DVD, and we don't appreciate reading your negative miserly comments. Thank you, Amazon.com, for offering this wonderful Complete Original Star Trek series on DVD. I've been waiting a long time for this to come out on DVD. Thank you!

No Mr. Biggest YES Fan Ever... thank you.

I'm going to tell you one of my biggest pet peeves. And that's people who sit in wheelchairs, and then propel their flabby lazy bodies around on their flabby lazy legs. "Jesus H" I cry, "how did this trend ever begin?" I shudder to think of how many times I've seen someone in the greater Portland metro area toolin' around on their fatty mobile (Probably nicknamed The Cadillac) with no better intention then to buy a pack of Virginia Slims and a Moonpie.

And then they whine about their disability! What 'bout people with honest to god handicaps?

Why should they get the priviledged parking spots? Why should they get to ride around in electric shopping carts? THEY'RE JUST LAZY WALKERS.

Okay. I'm done. Now click on something funny.

So, I'd like to give a warm shout out my homies over at Portland Office Furniture who saved me from what could have been a very crappy, crappy morning.

In short, they saved me from being late to work and left me with enough time to enjoy my morning cigarette.

"How is this possible??" you ask, shortly before I give you a wedgie and call you Sally.

The answer is simple. They sell office supplies. That means they sell white boards. That means some friggin' GENIUS who is probably getting paid less than they deserve took one of those white boards, wrote "Accident on the Hawthorne bridge," and left it where the passerby could easily view it.

Who am I to argue with a whiteboard?

I took their information to heart, detoured my normal route and hopped onto the Ross Island. Needless to say, I felt a bit smug when listening to the stories of those afflicted by the traffic.

So thank you Portland Office Furniture. Never in the past would I have thought to stop by your store, but this weekend I may be in the market for a new wacky mousepad.

Well, life's funny sometimes, ain't it?

I'd like to preclude today's post with a little something I read recently:

"Americans, let's face it: We've been a spoiled country for a long time. Do you
know what the number one health risk in America is? Obesity. They say we're in
the middle of an obesity epidemic. An epidemic like it is polio. Like we'll be
telling our grandkids about it one day. The Great Obesity Epidemic of 2004.
'How'd you get through it, Grandpa?' 'Oh, it was horrible Johnny, there was
cheesecake and pork chops everywhere.'"

-- Comedian Greg Giraldo, from "Underwear Goes Inside the Pants" by Lazy Boy

With that said, I segue now into today's observation.

Thanksgiving is upon us, and all the world's population (Except for those little Etheopian kids. And France.) will be gathered around their respective dining room tables for a moment of wholesome family togetherness, and unabashed gluttony. It's a time for Football... reflection... and enough triptophane to stop Grandpa's heart.

But mostly it's about Turkey.

Really, only once a year do we all get a chance to appreciate the Turkey for what it is. Sure, up until November we've all had our share of Turkey sandwiches, or Turkey... umm... hot dogs? What the hell else do you do with a Turkey except make sandwiches? Turkey penny loafers?

Sorry. As I was saying, only once a year do we get to see that beautiful golden bird in all it's glory. Lovingly basted in it's own meaty juices, with an aroma that fills the house and makes your nervous system lock up everytime mom or grandma open the oven door.

"Is it done yet? Is it done? Did the Turkey look done? How about the button? Did it pop? Whaddayamean it's not a Butterball? It's been cooking since four fucking A.M., is it done yet? BACK AWAY FROM THE OVEN, GRANDMA. DADDY NEEDS HIS FIX."

But I have sad news for you America. They're trying to take it all away from us. The anticipation. The scoldings caused by pre-meal snacking. The shifty "Turkey eye". They're taking it away, America.

For this.

Now, for those of you who don't have broadband I'll explain what's being displayed while the others are (hopefully) being horrified beyond the limits of their own sanity.

Deep fried turkey.

SEE? SEE WHAT IT DOES? It robs the capital T from turkey, and leaves the word naked and violated. It takes a reminder of a beautiful moment, and makes it cheap 'n' dirty. Like a used condom your little brother found in the trash.

"Look! What's this?"

"It's nothing! Don't touch that! Throw it away!"

See, I've heard about deep fried turkey. Just like I've heard that women have sexual relations in exchange for small amounts of crack cocaine. But hearing about a crack whore, and seeing a crack whore are two completely different things.

After watching this video, I witnessed two individuals completely crap on an American institution that's been around since America was friggin' NAMED America. One person was a young, hip male chef employed by the food network in order to give lonely housewives something to fantasize about while folding their husbands laundry. (You may email me at kungfuporcupine@hotmail.com, but do try to at least spell "chauvinist" correctly.) The other person was a young attractive girl... who I believe had never seen a turkey before. Maybe not even a turkey sandwich.

So there they are, making every effort to get through a five minute spot on how to destroy a turkey without tearing each other's clothes off, and over they prance to a fourty quart pot leading a platoon of bottles filled with peanut oil.

*Prance prance prance*

"Isn't ruining tradition fun, Bambi?"

So using some very clever scientific tricks they pulled from an episode of McGuyver, they measure the necessary amount of liquid needed to deep fry a turkey.

And fry it they did.

Oh ye gods, to see this 22 pound beauty methodically stabbed with a horse syringe full of "seasonings" and transformed into a heroine junkie before being slowly lowered into a bubbling pot of grease and evil... well... it made me a little sad... and then a little afraid.

Had the terrorists won?

"Oh, think of the time you'll save! By boiling poultry in fourty quarts of oil, you'll be closer to your family... and Allah!"

Okay, my point here is pretty simple. We as a society are too dependant on convenience. We want quick, easy, and a teflon surface you clean with a paper towel. But I just want to say that time, effort, and patience are the ingredients needed to make a little dish I like to call...

fucking appreciation.

Thank you to the two fans whose request for more bullshit has pulled me out of retirement.

Joshua... Dylan... this post's for you.

First and foremost, as a public service announcement, I would like to advise those of you intending to view the movie Saw to instead contribute your price of admission to a more worthwhile cause. Such as one of these useless bottomfeeders. This movie was one of the more painful cinematic experiences I have had in quite awhile. The best part of the movie is when you realize the tubby bastard trying to squeeze out some sort of realistic emotion is none other than Cary Elwes. I feel his dark portrayal of husband-powerless-to-save-his-uninteresting-family would have been better had the director been off camera silently setting a cheeseburger on fire.

Overall the whole movie could have been saved if the persistent police-officer-gone-schizo, played by Danny Glover, had voiced some kind of personal concern for being too old for this shit.

In other news, there's a possibility that I may be getting a roommate to move in with me 'n' the Missus. It'd be kind've fun to have a friend around the house with which to drink beer and play network games on the ol' computer. Aaah... long hours of network gaming... I can feel my skin lose it's pigment. More info as things develop.

Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you for now dear friends. Wednesday nights at eight o'clock mean one thing. Lost. After becoming painfully addicted to this show, I still can't tell if it's going to be really awesome or really gay. But until I figure it out, I'll be dedicating the next sixty minutes of my life to ABC.

Which doesn't stand for American Booby Channel.

Oooh, a new month is upon us. Innocent eyed and gleaming with the hopes of new possibilities.

Some people might say that this month is so new... it's "fresh."

A fresh month.

Yes, some people might say that. And both of them are outsourced as the WB's advertising executives. If I have to hear about one more "fresh" episode of Smallville during King of the Hill reruns, I swear to christ I'm going to get off my couch, go out on my back porch... and... smoke a cigarette. But I'll smoke it really mean.

Scare the squirrels right out of the yard.

Television is an enigma. I hate it so much sometimes, yet I've probably spent more time in front of the tube than your average American. Suckling the teat of corporate media in the hopes that unfettered entertainment might come my way.

This is why I love cable access.

I love it so fucking much I wish I had TiVo. I love it so fucking much I may buy TiVo. Or a VCR. What ever happened to VCRs, man? Who actually owns one anymore? Everyone's knocking back high fidelity components like shots of Jager, scrambling for Sony's flotsam.

There are simple principles in life. You will never be able to recreate the setting of a movie theater. You won't. Take that $2,300.00 plasma screen T.V. and shove it up your ass. My $8.00 movie ticket blows the hell out of your THX certified stereo components.

Sure, sure. Some may argue that with movie going comes a stadium full of careless strangers that interrupt your movie. Well how many times have you sat through a movie at home and not pressed pause due to some kind of distraction? To answer the phone, let the dog outside, bury another one of Stephen Baldwin's dead hookers.

God, who let him in here anyway? I thought we changed the locks?

What did you do this weekend?

Sort've a cheesy tagline, but it just about sums up the sense of pride you get from the chaotic explosion of creativity that accompanies the 48 Hour Film Project.

I have my reservations as to the quality of the finished product, however I invite you to judge for yourself this Thursday at the Hollywood Theater.

Seven o'clock, beyotch.

I think the greater outcome from this project, at least for myself, is the hyper localized need to continue making cinema. I for one have talked my self blue about movie projects, and buried myself under a drift of half finished screenplays. But working on a project like this forces you to focus and complete something without getting distracted by soft core on Skinemax.

And once you're done, that's when all the stagnant bits of creativity come to life. The unfinished ideas that had to be left behind due to time constraints. They all gang up and burrow a little spot into your brain.

I'm talking with my buddy about making a music video for his band. Nothing too complex, but I fully plan to rip off the ideas used for Radiohead's Street Spirit video.

I will most definitely post the finished product(s) for all to critique.

While looking for new and exciting tattoo ideas, I ran across this little tidbit that you may find interesting:
 
Last week’s article ended with the question in the Barna Survey that stumped the largest number of respondents.  "Is the expression 'God helps those who help themselves' in the Bible?"  Only 38% of all Christians correctly stated that the phrase cannot be found anywhere in the Scriptures.  Forty-two percent thought that this was a Biblical quotation, and 20% had no idea.
            Trying to pinpoint the origin of a statement is a difficult task, but one source indicates that the saying originated in Aesop's Fable of Hercules and the Carter.  A man was driving a wagon with a heavy load along a very muddy way when the wheels sank halfway into the mire.  The more the horses pulled, the deeper the wheels sank.  Finally the man threw down his whip, knelt down and prayed to Hercules, a mythical god, “O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress."  But Hercules appeared to him, and said: “Man, don't sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel. The gods help them that help themselves.”
 
Apparently, it was Benjamin Franklin who coined the term God helps those who help themselves. If your christian friend starts to get irritating, this may be a helpful tidbit of information.

Swung by Todai today for a little impromptu gluttony.

Sushi - 1
Dave - 0



Apparently, I parked longer than I had thought.

So, I've got a little loot saved up and I'm giving serious consideration towards the idea of purchasing a new bicycle.

But.

As Me 'n' Alicia are going to be moving by the end of the month, the prudent thing would be to continue saving money in order to to have the funds available to fix up the house. Paint, wainscoting.. fixing a doggie door for Stinky.

But.

I want a new bike.

Decisions, decisions.

As you may have noticed, the ol' blog-a-roo is currently under construction. It's something I've been putting off for awhile, and now I've had a little time today to venture forth and create. I'm staying home sick from work today in an effort to avoid going further down the path of sickness. I will be damned if my weekend is ruined by the flu.

Anywho, changes abound on the site. I can't decide on anything that looks right, and have been spending all morning hunched over my monitor trying to decipher various coding languages I never learned. Soon, my monitor may be flung out of the window.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!!! Does anyone remember this show? I LOVED THIS FUCKING SHOW.

In case you're curious, here's a few pictures of the house me 'n' Alicia are buying. It'll give you some idea of just how much redecorating is going to be needed in order to consider the house livable.

Be warned, I spent two seconds making this web page while having an epileptic seizure, so all the pictures are huge and unsorted. If you're reviewing this information on a 14.4 modem, you may want to consider revisiting the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.

The world can be oh so frightening at times.

omigod

Woke up this morning and it seemed to me,
that every night turns out to be
A little more like Bukowski.
And yeah, I know he's a pretty good read.
But God who'd wanna be?
God who'd wanna be such an asshole?

Well, it's been a long weekend that's finally coming to a close. I've managed to be headlong in a half gallon of whiskey for the better part of it, and have become mildly retarded at times. Today I'm laying off the sauce, as I can hear work calling for me to wake up and get ready for school from the edges of my subconscious. Major plans for my last day of memorial vacationing include going to Todai as well as to the new Coldstone off Hawthorne. I haven't been to a Coldstone since I was eighteen or nineteen, and I sincerely hope it's as good as I remember. Everytime I think back on good ice cream, Coldstone drifts to the forefront of my recollections. But the only one that I knew of was out in B.F.-Tanasbourne. Up until recently, wherein they practically open one in my back yard.

Drugs.

Nice segway, eh? Let's talk about drugs, as last nite I was on several of them. The naughty kinds, not Advil Cold and Sinus. Rebecca and Adam came over, bringing with them several kinds of illicit delights for "artistic inspiration". The idea was to attain a state of mind where shiny things are super awesome, and then paint something. Now, unless you count kindergarten, I have never painted. I don't know anything about techniques or brushes, and the only color I can mix is vomit. With that said, I do feel that I painted one item that was kind of bitchin', but it's still in the basement and I haven't checked out anything sober. So, once I get off my butt and take pictures of our paintings, please click on the dancing fatty to see more.

Up until now I was making some kind of attempt to find inspiration that may lead me towards bigger and better things with my weblog. Up until now I was making some genuine creative effort. Up until now I was trying to find something a person with the moniker of "KungFuPorcupine" might use to assist in the visual aid of their awesomeness.

And then, the train of thought leaving Chicago at 8:35pm travelling at a rate of 55 miles per hour crashed headlong into the train of thought leaving Palm Springs travelling at a rate of 47 miles per hour.

Somewhere around Kentucky I think.

I stumbled across one of Marvel's many bastard brain children (Ooh Marvel, but you are a charming drunk). A disgruntled government employee called Porcupine. I haven't corrected any of the spelling mistakes, as I feel this was a transcription of the original cocktail napkin which gave birth to the original plot outline for Porcupine:

Real Name: Alexander Gentry
Occupation: Professional criminal, former weapons designer for the US goverment
Other Aliases: None
Place Of Birth: Unrevealed
Marital Status: Presumed single
Known Relatives: None
Group Affiliation: Former member of Batroc's Brigade II, Maggia, former partner of Eel I, Scarecrow, Unicorn, former employee of Justin Hammer, Count Nefaria, Cowled Commander, Nebulon
Source Of Powers: None, but wears a battlesuit
Powers: Above normal intelligence (in battlesuit): enchanced strenght and durability, in his battlesuit there are a wide variety of weapons; Razor-Sharp metal quills, laser beams, concussive bombs, small rockets, tear gas, sleeping gas, smoke screens, torch flames, liquid cement and high voltage blasts
Cause Of Death: Falled upon one of his own quills
First Appearance: Tales To Astonish #48
History: Alexander Gentry a weapons designer for the US Army, conceived the idea of designing a battlesuit in imitation of a porcupine.
Gentry spend months working overtime to create the battlesuit. He believed that his invention was worth a fortune, but was let down by everybody.
Angrily, Gentry decided to keep the battlesuit and use it to make himself wealthy through crime.
As Porcupine, Gentry fought alot of superheroes among others Ant-Man, Wasp, X-Men and Captain America (see: Captain America I; Pym, "Hank"; Wasp; X-Men)
After many defeats Gentry decided to quit his life as a supercriminal and once more tried to sell his costume. The only one who would buy it was Captain America, mostly because he thought that if Gentry really wanted to go straight, Captain America would help him.
This porved fatal for Gentry, because Captain America persuaded Gentry to a plan for the purpose of capturing the Serpent Society (see: Serpent Society).
During the fight between Captain America and the Serpent Society, Gentry tried to escape but fell on one of his own quills and died).
After the death of Gentry, the Porcupine battlesuit was sent to the Avengers Mansion.
List Of Appearances:
Tales To Astonish #48 (fought Ant-Man)
Tales To Astonish #53
Fantastic Four Annual 3 (alongside a bunch of super-villains attacked the wedding Of Reed & Sue Richards)
Uncanny X-Men #22-23 (teamed with Count Nefaria, Eel, Plant-Man, Scarecrow and Unicorn fought X-Men)
Captain America Vol.1 #130 (joined Batroc's Brigade II, fought Captain America)
Captain America Vol.1 #158-159 (teamed with Eel I, Scarecrow and Plant-Man simuloid)
Defenders #37-38
Defenders #63-64
Iron Man Vol.1 #127 (as employee of Justin Hammer)
Avengers Vol.1 #167
Captain America Vol.1 #285
Captain America Vol.1 #315 (tired of his criminal ways, tries to sell his battlesuit, fails. Makes a deal with Captain America, to capture Serpent Society, died when he fell on one of his own quills)
Final Appearance: Captain America Vol.1 #315

Fucking. A. Right.

I hate everyone on the internet.

Okay, this is a little hypocritical since you're not exactly reading this via writing in the sky, but I was just minding my own business and ran across some fraction of a sentence about someone who likes to "sink their teeth into a good vampire novel."

Jesus fucking christ. Is this considered clever? I can't shake this out've my head.

"Hi, my name is Onyxvampira mistress of my uncle's basement."

And I enjoy sinking my teeth into a good vampire novel.

FUCK, man. On a scale of Awesome to Suck, people like this generally fall between Michael Eisner and a painful sore on one's naughty bits.

So this brings me to things that don't suck.

www.hurrah.com/~elkinsd/iloveyouimahologram
maddox.xmission.com
www.moderndrunkardmagazine.com
www.seanbaby.com
www.80stees.com
www.homestarrunner.com
www.yesmoke.ch
www.netflix.com


Umm... that's about it. There's some other stuff that's pretty awesome on the internet. It generally involves naked chicks. And there's my page. Which is awesome. But doesn't have any naked chicks. Yet.

Hi.

I have a question.

It'd be silly to clean your floors with baby wipes, right? They'd get dirty every six seconds and you'd have to continually change them out with a new one. Kind've a waste of time and energy, right?

Okay, that's why I'm taking a quick break right now from cleaning on this mother's day to encourage you not to buy a Swiffer wet.

It's retarded.

Basically Proctor & Gamble stole a bunch of handi-wipes from Kentucky Fried Chicken, packaged them along with an easy to use broomstick handle and put the whole package out on the market for $9.95 a piece.

Please. To all the housewives who are being hypnotized during One Life to Live's commercial breaks, don't be a tool of the consumption that's been blindsiding America since the dawn of mass communication. Don't purchase this product. Besides the obvious issues that any type of non reusable cleaning product is probably about as good for our fucked environment as a bag of disposable diapers, there's another reason why something like mopping the floor hasn't changed in hundreds of years.

Y'know, smart people have to mop their floors too, and I doubt they like it any better. You'd think if there was truly a better way to do it, someone like Da Vinci or Thomas fucking Alva Edison would have done it by now. Not Proctor and fucking Gamble.

Let me introduce to you Gary Spivey. I just found out about him by watching the Jerry Springer show. I have a new hair hero (Sorry Jack).

Apparently Gary is a love psychic. And yes, that simply has to be some kind of hair hat that sits garishly upon his head. If there is a God, he never intended anyone to look like an albino brillo pad.

I strongly suggest watching the informative video on his recreational getaway/talk to angels seminars. You'll see that he has, "created an environment where people can come to discuss and learn about spirituality and get in touch with God and their angels, a place where no-one will judge them or tell them what's right or wrong because as much as they learn from me I also continue to learn daily from meditations as well as from each and every person who attends my spiritual retreat, because believe me…I don't have the market cornered on spirituality."

No. You may not have the market cornered on spirituality... but you definately have the market cornered on hair hats.

Argh, the pictures are gone again! THIS WILL NEVER DO! Today, being a blissfull saturday of lay-z-ness, I shall begin the rejuvination process of ye olde blog! I have some pictures and articles that I feel must be documented and shared with the world.

THE WORLD!!