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!!

::Listening to Nancy Sinatra::

"I updated my blog today..

I typed a lot with little to say..

Bang. Bang.

I wanted a Coke..

Bang. Bang.

I stubbed my toe..

Bang. Bang."

Okay, so I check my Blog religiously (Mmmm... maybe as religiously as a struggling Catholic.. about once every month, and only when I think there's something in it for me) to see if there's been a random comment or whatnot. Y'know, peek in just to make sure all the dustbunnies have happily gone forth to multiply the lands. Generally I have no ambition to post. This is partially due to the fact that my image server had apparently gone tits up, and I'm much too lazy to attempt to find a new one.

For some unexplainable reason this is not the case anymore.

Today I make my monthly spot check only to find that the pictures I had so lovingly placed ages ago had somehow magically reappeared.

As if by Satan.

And if Satan put 'em there, it's gotta be time for me to jump back in the saddle, right? I mean seriously, we're talking about Satan here. Whose going to argue with Satan? Not me! That's for damn sure!

So, over the next few days, I think I'll make an effort to update this blog. Mainly to give those who might still have it bookmarked a reason to feel good about their hopeless lives as a useless packrat.

Well, I finally sent a nasty letter to that guy who's dicking me out've a fine velvet painting. Just thought I'd share with the rest of the group my "Collection Letter".

Augustus -

You have three days from today's date to reply to this email.

If a response is not made, I will be taking actions via Paypal's Buyer Complaint form and eBay.

What this means to you:

$10.00 Chargeback fee.
The closing of your Paypal and eBay account.

The resolution for this is simple, you may contact me on or before 12/23/02 via email and supply the following information:

* An agreement to electronically refund the amount paid.
* A USPS tracking number verifying the item has been sent.
* An agreement to send the item, if not yet sent, and a USPS tracking number to verify the date, destination, and delivery status.

Thank you,

- David Biastock

I dunno, I was pretty proud of it. Hopefully this butthead will mail it before I have to drive to San Jose to pick it up myself.

Oooh, goodbye sweet Shizzolate... hello Miguel translator! Yes kids, that's right, now everything I say can sound like Miguel! Creative genius behind Fat Chicks In Party Hats.

ARGH... you guys. I'm sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been so friggin' insipid lately that I don't feel I ought to waste anyone's time writing about it. I believe that my lack of shenanigans and those who inspire me to do so have caused me to become muddled and uncreative.

I think I wanna have fun without getting drunk. (Man, I can only imagine the synchronized double take this statement has made to anyone whose reading this.)

I'm mildly excited about Christmas in the giddy - starry eyed way, but with it comes a vague sense of guilt and anxiety.
Guilt because the only family member that I give two rats about is my Mom, and honestly if I don't hear from her until my thirty second birthday, I'd be pretty cool with that.
Anxiety because... well, I need to buy a bunch've crap this weekend and am now realizing that I don't really know anyone that well anymore and it's weighing heavier than I'd like it to. Imagine the house you grew up in was bought by someone else who left the outside exactly the same, but redecorated the hell out've the inside. For some reason this is how I feel about my friends and loved ones right now.

But let's move on to good things..

Yesterday was good. Alicia and I went Christmas tree shopping. I'll be goddamned, but I had no idea that a Christmas tree shorter than me would be sixty five dollars. Instead of picking one up we headed on back home and invited Donnie and his lady-friend over for mulled wine and gingersnap cookies.

Saturday was good. Visited with Wade and had sushi. Yes, that's right Wade, I'm coming clean and I'm coming clean right now. Alicia, me 'n' Wade didn't have India Oven for lunch... we had Todai's. It's been weighing heavily on my soul and I thought you should know the truth.

It was good and I have no regrets.

Plus it was completely Wade's idea.

In other news, I have won a mild victory. Due to my seniority, I managed to win my shift bid at work. I will not be moved from my current schedule, but shall remain working Monday thru Fridays from Noon until Nine. My ability to oversleep shall not be hindered.

I also fear I have lost a minor scurmish. One of my eBay paintings has yet to arrive. I feel that I've been dicked out've sixty odd dollars without the complimentary dallop of lubricant. Anyone have a suggestion for cruel and unusual punishment befitting for such crimes?

Hey kids!

Thanks to my good friend Joshua, I've added the coolest most awesome feature to my Blog. If I may kindly direct your attention to the link over on the left hand side of your screen, you will now notice the Shizzolate! option. Basically, I have added this feature for your benefit. Whenever you find a post of mine boring, shizzolate that shit!

You may not have known this, but Snoop Dogg works tirelessly twenty four hour a day personally reading and then re-editing web pages. He's actually capable of typing 1,945 words a minute and he has eight arms with fifteen fingers on each hand.

"I got somethin' better than love"

AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH.

I'M FREAKIN' OUT AND I DON'T KNOW WHY!!!

There's a dance party in my head, and everyone's invited! EVEN STINKY UNCLE STAN!

HE'S SO STINKY! BRING 'IM ALONG!

I'VE GOT CHEETOS AND A HALF RACK OF BEER AND MY CAPS LOCK IS UNCONTROLLABLE! It's walkin' down Compton with a chip on it's shoulder and a vanilla milkshake screamin', "HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?"

HOW YOU LIKE ME NEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWW

Ebay has taken hold..

Witness the spectacle that is my frenetic purchasing.

BEHOLD!

1976 Pabst Blue Ribbon Calander
Arabian Women On Velvet
Pabst Blue Ribbon Neon Light
Painted Clipper Ship On Red Velvet
Huge Tiki/Polynesian Painting

Keep breathin'

Well, the time has finally come. Last nite, after what was probably my worst rendition of Hell, I've decided to retire it from my Karaoke repertoire. It's a sad day that's come, but I haven't sung the "hell" out've it since my first drunken attempt.

I'm listening to Street Spirit for the first time in awhile and remembering how I'd listen the hell out've it when me and Alicia broke up for a whole day and a half. Reflection on past melodrama makes me smile.

I'm adjusting more and more to this whole full time gig. My new supervisor is wicked awesome. OH YEAH... when I answered the phone today, some jackass from New York asked if I was from Canada. What the fuck? People, those who know and love me, c'mon. Do I sound Canadian? For some reason I was viciously offended by the inflection of his voice when he asked.

Jackass.

I'm kinda weirded out by the comfortability of my current relationship status. I've been with Alicia almost two years... I don't think I've ever spent two consecutive Holidays with any one girlfriend. I came home ungodly loaded a few nights ago. Every other word out've my mouth was "fuckin' bullshit". Now, for those of you who don't know Dave when he's had about four pints of vodka and cran plus countless pints of beer, I tend to say "fuckin' bullshit" a lot. Your average conversation tends to wind up like, "mumble mumble mumble.... FUCKIN' BULLSHIT, MAN.... mumble mumble mumble". I never mean it in a truly negative connotation, I just use it like a sort've period in my sentence structure. Anyway, I was in fuckin' bullshit mode when I came home, and apparently I told Alicia, and I quote, "When we get married, we're gonna have lots've babies". Well... it probably came out more like, "Wheh we geh mahrrid, we'z gonna have lotsa b*hic* lotsa b*hic* lotsa babies". I recall none of this conversation, and would still be skeptical of such things if it wasn't for the fact that I don't think Alicia is capable of telling me such an outlandish lie. Therefore, it has to be true. Anyhow, you know it's impossible to be sly or secretive when you're drunk, and your more honest (and usually misguided) thoughts tend to spill out like some kind've subconscious leak in your brain. But, I digress. It's good. Things are good. I worry sometimes about marriage, but y'know what? That's fuckin' bullshit.

Ravyn is my hero

I have been shown the way... the truth... and the light. Homestarrunner.com is the revolutionary work of genetically enhanced Flash animators, whose oversized brains will give you such tantalizing delights as Email Strong Bad. These things will make your day 99 1/44% better. Just like Dove soap... in the butthole.

Cabin Fever

Day two: my bathrobe is making me itchy. I may have developed bed sores. I keep hearing the voice of my dead grandmother calling out to me.

"Daaaaveeey.... it's time to get up."

No... NO.... NO! hALLUcinations continUE.

I am still sick... I am still mostly bedridden... ridden with bed... I have almosted finished Stranger in a Strange Land... I have almost grokked it's entirety... except for the hippie love bits... I am still trying to grok those.

Normally I detest these little online tests... bah... bahahah.. detest the tests... tests I detest..... but my weakness of will let my boredom take over... I have come to find:




"Which Donnie Darko character are you?" by Shay

I'm not too sure if I'm surprised with this result at the moment...

True story... today... while I was alone in my house... I was pooping... and I swear on my Gamecube that I heard someone typing on my keyboard. I'm just really glad that I was already pooping when I heard it.

Oi vay...

So, I'm at home nursing some yogurt and wishing my nose would stop running. The floor next to my side of the bed is covered in wads of kleenex. It looks as if a tiny army was trying to raid a castle using catapults filled with soggy tissue.

Alicia was kind enough to loan me three dollars before leaving for work today for the purpose of purchasing soup from the deli next door, but I've decided to opt out. Anything that requires me to get out of my bathrobe doesn't seem worth the effort.

On another note, visited Yur's over the weekend. This bar quickly wormed it's way into my heart and layed it's eggs. The waitstaff was helluva friendly, and the Pabst was exceedingly reasonable in price. I hear the jukebox is free plus they have two tournament sized pool tables. All this I never got a chance to visit since my ass was lovingly caressed by one of the many overstuffed black vinyl booths, and the siren song of PBR was drawing my full attention. Four star drinkin', baby.

Well, that's 'bout it for now. Think I'm gonna go dose up again on Robitussin and watch The Wizard of Oz while listening to Dark Side of the Moon.

Ode to Donald

So, I know this guy who goes by Donnie.
He's a friend to you and a friend to me.
Once long ago, when Donnie was wee,
Donnie was bitten! By a monkey!

Bit on the thumb to the monkey's delight!
Bit on the thumb, such a terrible sight!

His mother shrieked and his father yelled!
They called the cops, and the monkey was jailed.
Thrown in a cell under lock and key,
he dreamt of bananas and those days carefree.

And then came the day for the monkey's release.
He had a tattoo and four types of fleas!

He hopped on a bus, bound for the train.
He looked out the window and sighed this refrain.
It was something he learned from Father O'shea,
a poem to walk the Lord's path without stray.
"A monkey I am, and a monkey I'll stay.
There ain't no cure for a wicked monkey's way.
I bites me some thumbs when I gets the itch,
but time in the hole is a sonuvabitch."

Wanna get high?

Ever have a conversation with someone and realize just how much you don't know about 'em? How a sentence or two can completely deconstruct a previously built (and up until then previously infallible) image of someone's personality? And how quickly we are to assemble a new representation to replace the old.

Like busy little ants after someone threw a car tire on their home.

Random thoughts for the day.

HEY! Quit looking at porn! Look at this instead.

Now mister hand down his pants, how is this going to change you?

Will it?

Should it?

I guess maybe it's a little late to not seem preachy.. sorry, guess I was doing some mental spring cleaning and found my soapbox.

Autumn Twilight

I'm feeling quietly content today. I don't have much to say, but I'm smiling a lot.

Things are good.