Sunday, October 02, 2005

Clay Aiken is Ridiculously, Ridiculously Gay.

I saw him catch a ball thrown by Jimmy Kimmel the other day. He did the queerest catch of all, the double arm under catch. And it was during some NFL game. I could see Jimmy's desire to show just how queer Clay is just bursting out. He even did a slow motion replay. But WTF is up with ABC pushing that fag's PR harder than Clay pushes at his male fans? Just milking the "is he gay or straight?!?!" conundrum as much as they can. Future folks will look upon our Clay worship on VH1 with shame.

I read that Paris Hilton and some guy broke up. Her vagina is just a shell of what it once was. I mean, she just gets dug out by everyone. Must be nice to live in a coked out coma, or maybe it's a disasterous nightmare, I dunno. I mean, how low can one's self-asteem really get? Or is that what passes for a life in the American no-class elite?

Bling Bling America, Bling Bling indeed.

What else, what else....

I'm addicted to Rome, watch it whenever I can and discuss it on the messenger boards, that's just the way it is. Everyone is murdering everyone, and their morals are very pragmatically relative. No very hard stances really. And the afterlife isn't limited by the same sort of hinderances as in judeo-christian hang-ups.

Bored.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Talking To Myself....

Falvin Shmavin. Bored off my ass so this post will be all over the place.

Britney had a kid today, a boy, through C-section. No loose pussy for Cletus, I tell you what.

My Buddy Amir is in Odessa, shooting a film, they start on the 8th of October. Super Duper. I may get to lay it down on an up and comer. Or I may get slapped down like a bitch.

Almost Convinced Dolph of the concept of Global Human Consciousness. Not Quite, but getting there. Hung out with Chuck today, he's a pretty fucking cool guy, and knows his stuffie stuff out here in the Permian Basin, which goes a long way. I have had the opportunity to work with some kick ass geologists: Chuck, Kevin, Dolph, Mike, and Chad. Yes people, Chad is one hell of a scientist, he just hides it under his ape ass exterior.

What else, what else... In Texas, displaced kids are starting fights in their new schools. In Boston, displaced kids are being stabbed in their new schools.

Apparently, you can play soccer with a ripped cock. Those wacky Germans just love their footie. Or is it Footie cock, I dunno...

It turns out that GW is Human after all, thereby destroying about 90% of the wacko theories out there, specifically those that speculate he is either Jesus or the Anti-Christ. Very odd how the country can divide the same man into 2 wholly different concepts. I just think he's a douche. Or a turd sandwich.

Next Time my vote is going to ripped cock guy. Any man that tough is going to make a fucking decision when he has to!

Delta and Northwest have filed for chapter 11, probably need to stop paying the board and officers so damn much when they are losing money. Also, most airlines are run like shit, and price gouge smaller markets.

This damn well is going at fucking 50 ft/hr so I am hating life. At least C-dub got some reefer in his system, maybe he will chill the fuck out from his bad mood.

The jokes on us, they are making a 5th bladed razor. And even though we laugh, we know that our dumb asses are going to buy it. I think the 7th blade is the 6th sign of the apocalypse. Did you know Gillette is a $50 Billion company?!? I mean, shaving cream is the business to be in folks.

Ok, I'm bored.

rockreeder

Monday, September 12, 2005

"You Must Be From Texas."


After just passing the sphincter of America, lovely Eunice New Mexico (or Anus, as I like to call it), the brilliant Adolphus and I arrived at our new home for about a week, just outside of a little town called Nadine. Needing water, Dolph suggested that I go grab some at the nearest local store, the Town & Country, about 4 miles down the road. Walking in, I notice a very cute Hispanic Girl smoking (INSIDE the store, take that hippies!), who quite obviously was The-One-In-Charge. Passing pleasantries took place and I walked on to procure the necessary supplies.

I arrived at the counter line, behind some of the finest Americans I have ever seen, both socially and genetically, and eagerly waited my turn to discuss further pleasantries with said cute Hispanic Girl. Upon my turn at bat, I notice an entire shelf of liquors from 750 ml on down. Mouth agape, I say, "Oh, shit, liquor on convenience store shelves." Her reply, "You must be from Texas." I smile and reply, "Yah, good guess. We can't do that because if we sold it like that in Texas, we'd shoot many more people."

Awkward Silence ensues.

"$6.94, sir."

I pay and leave, smirk on my face, secure in the knowledge that I have either weirded out another girl, or made her fall in love. Either way, she will most likely not forget her encounter with this Jewish sharpshooter.

5-7 days till decompression.

reeder

Monday, September 05, 2005

Labor Day Wishes From Republican Fuckjob McShithead



Hello, this is your friend and neighborhood Republican Fuckjob McShithead. I hope everyone out there is enjoying their catered bar-b-que lake picnics and box seats at the stadium this weekend, because I know I will.

This morning, my wife and I discussed having missionary sex but decided against it, so I retreated to our lake house kitchen where our servant LaKisha prepared us eggs benedict and biscuits made from scratch. I had a bite and scolded LaKisha for putting too much cream in the hollandaise sauce. I fed the rest to our dog Buchanan. I opened the Sunday paper but quickly tossed said paper when I saw that the only news was about those worthless Negroes that can't seem to find a job down in New Orleans. I mean, how long am I going to have to listen to their complaining? This is simply God punishing them for being such hedonistic slouches. They should just bulldoze the town and throw the bodies in the Gulf. I mean really! Just thinking about it makes me angry, so I bit off the end of my Cuban cigar but couldn't find a light. I pulled out the smallest bill in my wallet and lit it on the stove with LaKisha's help of course. I don't know how these blasted things work. As I moved the $20 to the end of my cigar I began to feel relaxed again. My robe, my cigar, and my porch that's all I need. Ahhhhhhh.

Labor day is tomorrow and I simply don't see all the fuss. It's just another day to me. I haven't had a job since daddy paid me $200 to mow the patch of grass in our front yard. I would always say, "But daddy, why doesn't Pedro do it?", to which he would reply, "You have to learn some responsibility somehow, son." Words I will never forget. I made my three passes with the riding mower and then I was a rich man. Nothing like a hard days work. That's what these... Negroes don't understand, a hard days work. Labor Day is just another excuse for them not to work. To hell with Labor Day and to hell with casual Fridays and to hell with bonuses and the eight hour rule. Work, that's what makes you a man, work!

LaKisha asked for the day off to see her two kids and husband back in her home town, but I told her that if she left me and Mrs. McShithead's side I'd be forced to replace her. She cried a bit but got over it quick. The workers at my Bible factory wanted off as well, but I reminded them that Jesus' work is never done and that I would default on all their pensions if they didn't show up. They got the picture. They realize that I'm teaching them a lesson. I'm teaching them the importance of work and that maybe one day they will be as rich as me. Muahahahahaha. 'Rich as me', I kill myself sometimes.

Tomorrow I'll be dining with governor Perry and discussing some Railroad commission documents that will have to be shredded in order for me to cash in on this $63 a barrel oil. Ricky understands money, which is a quality I found that all politicians have. After that I may go for a round of two of golf and a cocktail at the club. It's good to be me, Fuckjob McShithead.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Another Katrina/New Orleans Rant.


I figure every other jerk-off in the world is putting their dime's worth of bullshit in about the relief effort and the death of the only honest town in America, so now it's my turn. The only real mutha fucka saying anything worth a damn is Kayne West, laying it on the shoulders of the man where-the-buck-stops, or at least in other days it did. It sure as shit ain't the me decade, but the "What, me?!" decade.

And Lets face it, America hates poor black people. We never show them unless it's in some contrived version of reality. Bill Marr showed 2 pics, one of white kids with food, and one with a black kid with sodas. I'll let you guess where the "looter" and the "finder" tags came into play. I mean, what the fuck were these people supposed to do? No money to get out, no vehicles to drive them out, no door to door operation to get people onto the non-existent buses waiting for them. No free commercial or military flights to evacuate folks out. No Internet or cable to provide them the information they needed. No National Guard troops (partly because of the war and partly because of ineptitude) guiding people to these non-existent venues of transport out. No trains, no ships, massive budget cuts to your only national disaster organization, and no sense of true leadership by anyone.

The fucking new head of FEMA, Mike Brown, is a complete moron who didn't even know folks were still in the Superdome 2 days ago. The schmuck was an idiot who was a was simply a GOP supporter, fired from his previous job as a commissioner for the International Arabian Horse Association, had no experience in the field, and was given his original post as deputy by his old buddy, the previous head of FEMA for the Bush administration.

Contrast this to the head of FEMA during the Clinton Years (These are only for references Dolph, but the shoe fits), who was credited with revamping the whole agency from it's previous position as the bastard child of the Fed. James Lee Witt, the Clinton Appointee, would shit his pants at the shame this bastard has brought to his previously accredited organization. I met his Nephew Coy at the failure that was the 2004 Democratic National Convention. Great guy who was interning for Sen. Clinton, the balls of the operation, at the time. We got drunk a lot on Yachts from free champagne, and met people from the Real World. I should have known right then the whole ship was crashing in for the Dems, when Fucking CJ from Paris is crashing your parties.

But, on a lighter note, I have a plan for New Orleans. I call it: The "Escape From New York Plan!" plan. Get everyone out but the roaming gangs, wall the fucking place off with 50 ft walls, with snipers posted about every 100ft from secure and covered positions. Every now and again we would have to send in a Snake Plisken when a foreign dignitary or President crash landed there, but that's a small price to pay for such a fantastic solution! Stamp every inmate with a mark of the beast aka deep embedded chip, and match up a nice AWAC plane to keep tabs. This country loves making jails, so why not! I mean, we love them so much, we even have companies building and running them for us. Think of it, New New Awlin', brought to to you by Halliburton! Just Brilliant!! It is the solution for the new century, surely marking the upswing of a dying nation, one city at a time.

BTW, this years Mardi Gras is being moved by the administration to SLC, Utah! 3.2 beer, here we come!! No surviving black people allowed.

Friday, August 19, 2005

A Night In L.A.

The exclusive back room of the club who's name escapes me looked like the remnants of a velvet sneeze. Giant mustard yellow couches, oversized lemon yellow chairs, and orange-yellow velvet drapes hung on the wall splattered with random art arranged much like a game of tetris. I don't entirely remember how I became the focus of everyone's attention, but I had just done some coke in the bathroom with Chloe Sevigny and was talking incessantly. My monologue was given a soundtrack by the club music playing distantly. I looked out at my new captivated friends stricken with their beauty and fashion. All drinking designer martinis and wearing expensive shoes. I don't remember the subject of the conversation but I do remember everyone laughing and nodding in agreement while they hung on every word I said.

I also remember saying, "If you ask me we're looking at the beginning of the end of Johnny's career. Two more pirate movies and using Michael Jackson as a source of character acting is simply a joke. Next thing you know he'll be staring in 21 Jump Street The New Class on the WB."

A wave of giggles and affirming smiles crossed my loyal listeners until something caught their eye off to my right. I looked to see what could possibly divert their attention from my engaging banter. There stood Johnny Depp. He gave me a cold glare and walked out of the room briskly.

I looked back and my crowd had betrayed me. Looking away, coughing, and mumbling to themselves. My comments had gone from mildly humorous to callous and humiliating. "Fuck this." I said to myself. My Manhattan was empty and I was suddenly bored.

I excused myself and walked to the dimly lit private bar and ordered a shot of Johnny Walker Blue Label.

"Make that two.", a scratchy voice from behind me said.

Mickey Rourke lit a cigarette and leaned against the bar frightfully close to me. I've always feared this man and here he was blowing smoke in my face. The drinks came quickly and we toasted each other silently. He was wearing red tinted sunglasses and a white tee shirt tucked into his jeans that were held up by a belt buckle with two nine millimeters and a rose engraved on it. He tucked his Marborro Reds back in the brest pocket of his leather jacket and continued.

"You know what's wrong with this town? Too man assholes. Look over there, assholes, and over there, more assholes. If it wasn't for all the coke and Mexicans this town would fall into the goddamn Pacific.", he took a deep drag off his cig. "Did you hear about that Power Ranger who killed a man and stole his yacht?"

"Can't say that I have."

"He tied his leg to an anchor and sank him to the bottom of the fucking ocean. You never know about people these days. My little nephews and nieces used to watch that shit all the time never knowing that deep within the heart of their hero the Green or Yellow or whatever-the-hell Power fuck Ranger, was a bloody murderer. It's only fitting if you ask me. Everyone is nuts. If it wasn't for the zanex I'd probably have murdered someone by now too, but people would just say, 'I saw it coming.' Now, why do you think they would say that?"

I was growing weary of his ranting "Because everyone knows you're a drug addicted psychopath?"

Yet another cold stare. Next thing I know I'm lying on the floor semi-unconscious. I felt Mickey going through my pockets taking my money clip, cigerettes, and what little cocaine I had left right before I passed out. Fade to black.

I woke up naked sitting in a hot tub somewhere in what smelled like Malibu Beach. There was a party going on and I needed a smoke. I grabbed a pack that was convienently placed by my head. In the wrapping was a business card with a note, "Sorry about the nose, Jackie will take care of you." The card was for a dry cleaners in Hollywood, where I assumed my clothes was. I touched my nose and flinched in pain. I hope my eyes weren't blackened by the once semi pro boxer's jab.

A large breasted Hispanic woman eased her way into the hot tub and grabbed my cock. "Welcome to Earth again, gorgeous."

"Hi, yourself. I guess you're Jackie. Where the hell am I?"

"Malibu."

"Yeah, but who's place is this?"

"I thought it was yours."

"It very well could be. Who are all these people?"

"There's a party going on."

She continued stroking my cock while I sucked down my smoke. "How the hell did I get here?"

"Shut up, baby just go with it."

Four more equally beautiful women eased into the water at the other end of the mammoth tub. "Sounds like a plan to me, sugar."

"I think this man wants to talk to you.", Jackie

I looked up and it was Johnny Depp. Silently he bent down and gently kissed me on the cheek. I was so stunned I couldn't say a word. He looked at me, smiled, and disappeared into the party. The girls started to giggle and I was wondering what the fuck was going on.

To be continued...

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

God I Love Texas

As I was driving through Hobbs a few days ago, a sudden feeling of jubilation tore through me like a case of ex lax: Soon I was to be in Texas. As that feeling ripped through me, I looked up and saw that beautiful sign of entrance into this great land. Texas gets in your blood, you just know when you are home.

I missed all the insanity, the friendly folks, the 4.2% beer, the blonds, the legs, and of course, the guns. Just a few minutes ago, the man I believe to be the tool pusher (you can usually tell by the air of authority, though be it drunken) asked me if the geologist, company man, or other mudlogger was still here. I said that only Jim, the other logger, was here but asleep. He said ok, and that he and some hands were going to shoot off some rounds, but that he would wait till Jim woke up. Of course, I said my lips were sealed, not being a ho ass trick of a rat, and inquired about the guns. Me wantie to shoot gunny!

That's the kind of place this state is, just a fucking free for all. Just don't shoot the BOP.

And really, isn't that a good lesson applicable to everyday life?

Chad was right about Austin, it is a changin'. No longer the hippie/rugged individualist's town, it's become flooded with Dell Yuppies (or as I call them, cocksuckers), NY and LA rejects that couldn't make it, coked out Paris Hilton wannabes, reality show rejects, and all the Fazooli's you can handle, and then some. . Of course, there is a great deal of room for cross genres. Point of fact, Brad's (of Brad and Chad fame) girlfriend cheated on him with a bachelorette reject. I saw them at Kenichi, along with about 3 coke dealers (no bullshit). So sad on so many levels

Interesting sidenote, at bars, coke dealers are the ones who keep wiping their noses AND lead girls to the bathroom. Both prerequisites are necessary to make the distinction.

So Chad, you aren't a Townie, especially since you don't live there anymore. 4th street has created a world so far away from what Austin once was, filled with people who don't belong, that it ain't what it use to be.

I miss you Austin, but still, Yahweh bless Texas.

Fazooli.

rockreeder

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Last Game Of Poker

I love poker. I love it too much. I replaced my alcoholism and drug use for the game of chance. I'm a gambler, but when you waste over four hundred dollers a month on a sport that you are obvously not good at it's time to reevaluate.

I'm done. It's over. No more poker. I decided this last night when my two pair didn't stand up against my friends top pair that tripped up on the river. One last stand. One last oportunity to show my stuff, and out of almost 3o players I placed 3rd. About two hundred and thirty dollers later here I sit. Drunk as a skunk and typing on my computer.

I'm not running the spell check on this bad boy because It should remain raw. I know I"m a bad speller. Everyone who knows me knows that I'm a bad speller. You all know what I'm saying so fucking deal with it.

The big gamble. The chance to risk it all for the big bucks. We all have a bit of that in our system. Some of us tend to thrive on the feeling of victory that occurs when the odds work out in your favor. That's the rush I seek. That's the feeling I wish to never give up, but the fact is that that feeling doesn't always happen. Sometimes you lose shitloads of money, sometimes you lose the rent. Sometimes you take it too far and sit back and wonder what the fuck you were thinking. That's all over for me now. There will be no more reckless gampling. Good bye party poker and good bye house games. Tonight was it.

I met a beautiful woman at the game though. Wooing her will be a chore. She's new in town and I really don't make the best boyfriend material and lets face it I've got to do more tha....

Four Days Later

That's where I trailed off and passed out on the sofa. I don't know what I was trying to say there at the end but I'm sure it was something like: ... hit on her drunker than Cooter Brown. I went to see her the next day in a truly sad display. As an offering of friendship I caught her at the end of her shift at a campus non-corporate coffee house and gave her a picture that I had taken of her the day before, "I look retarded in this picture." She said almost sweetly. I had been so blind to her beauty that I didn't realize that she really did look retarded. I was immidiatly embarassed. "I'm leaving for a while now so I won't be at the game to bother you with my drunkeness anymore." I said. No responce, just a smile. She was leaving work and told me to have a safe trip and gave me a light pat on the back while I swirled the sweetner into my decaf. Out the door she went and as did I. I tossed the coffee and drove back to the place I was staying.

On this trip back to Ausitn I also went to the local trendy clubs that have sprung up since I've left. Six, Foundation, Glass, and Light. What a bunch of assholes! I've never been in a bunch of bars that were filled with such smug and unfriendly people. The only friendly people there where the managers and the staff who were people I've known since I worked downtown. Beautiful women, but all keeping to themselvs or making out with the one guy that brought them there to get them drunk enough to get her to agree to have his dick in her ass. I got out as soon as I could.

I just don't fit in in Austin anymore. Not being a student means I'm just a resident when I visit, a townie. Being a townie means you have to be some counter culture coffee drinking starving artist or a well dressed prick. I'm neither. I'm nothing in that town without my student status. I still have great memories down there though and the food is always fantastic. Which reminds me, I ate at Flemmings and had a wonderfull evening with an ex of mine. At least I thought we had a wonderfull evening. I found out the next day that I had apparently ruined it by playfully asking for a kiss. She seemed fine with it at the time, oh well, Mr. Smooth strikes again.

Another girl I wanted to see canceled on a date with me. Jesus I'm lame. If you can't tell I'm a little depressed about my female situation. Wasn't this post about poker? Fuck it. Nobody reads this shit anyway.

Monday, August 01, 2005

Governmental Systems as Stop Flow Controls for Monetary Transferance/Teenage Sex Map

An Odd thought occurred to me last night about the real purpose of any governmental institution. There is, of course, the concept of the "social contract" in that governments, whatever they may be, are chosen by the populace to implement a stable system of rules and programs to benefit them. These social contracts varying widely often based on the cultural/violent tendencies of the people bound, and vice versa, by them.

This old notion, in our advancing understanding of the interrelated fields of policy, foreign and domestic, and economics (again, bound by whatever arbitrary rules are put in place by the populace), is, well, all bullshit.

This idea, this concept, came to me very insidiously, as I was trying to sleep, yet watching the sky move from black to light blue. It is the notion that governmental systems are really just valves on the monetary flow in-between the social strata, the acceleration rather than the velocity, if you know what I mean. For example, a dictatorship concentrates the vast plurality, if not majority, of money into the hands of the dictator. The very basis of this governmental system allows for, essentially, this form of class differentiation to continue forever, or at least until such time as the dictator dies, and/or possibly his offspring are unable to maintain the dictatorship, don't want to maintain the current standard, or are simply clubbed to death by their insanity-threshold-long-passed nannies who hated them all along. Possibly by double-sided cocks, a la Lock Stock, a classic film if ever there was one. The other option is to establish a dynasty, which we as a species just fucking love, thus creating a monarchy.

I will continue with examples to further imply my notion.

America, bastion of the sort-of-free. Great fucking place, although definitely in decline. Just watch MTV or the new generation of semi-retarded morons with, literally, no clue about consequences or really, what the fuck is going on. China, in a very confrontational way, sees this and is going to exploit it for the next 50 years, thanks to Wal-Mart. Thanks Wal-Mart! India is doing the same, but in a much more Western-friendly style. Plus, India has a class and dignity China is probably pissed off about, due to their lack of a Maoist leader who felt all should forget the past by killing those with historical knowledge, and possibly eat them.

Ok. My point is America has a Capitalist Republic form of government. This is good for a multitude of players, though definitely not the majority, as well as the greased wheel. This form of government allows for a relatively fast acceleration of money from one hand to another. This is why Texas oilmen can lose $2 billion in a month betting on the silver commodity trade. This form of government allows the people to move up or down said social strata in a span ranging from days to lifetimes. Problem with this is, in our evolving perception of the global economy, we ourselves are becoming victims of this virtue by the loss (maybe diffusion is a better term) of our greatest tool of wealth gathering: information. Though that is a very relevant and interrelated point, I am off topic, and digress.

America is also changing. Our laws have become such that the flow of wealth is becoming a one-way sieve, where everything flows up, and nothing down. Like pulling apart Chinese finger cuffs. This is of course, a foolish form of government made by ideological idiots, banking on the fact that being 17th educationally in the world, we will all be too stupid to notice. Don't Agree? Look up: Recent Bankruptcy law, recent Medicare law, recent energy bill, and, of course, the famous Bush Tax cut, giving %50 of the cut to the richest %1 of the populace, because they bought a $10,000 plate dinner to fund our current corrupt joke of a system.

The problem with this sort of system, and we saw this very same sort of problem in the late 90's-early 00's, is that without the constant back and forth within the varying social strata, the money supply cannot grow naturally, and thus various concentrations of wealth, i.e. corporations, who are particularly in fear of dipping down into a lower strata, begin, in a sense, to manufacture money. We all love Enron. They use to do it with banks, but now any large aggregate can do it with, essentially, creative paperwork.

No real surprise here that this happened/happens/is going to happen, as we follow the lead, and our government has been doing it for years through deficits. The modern form took place in WW2 to finance the war (although this was a much more noble outing with an explicit deal between the Federal Reserve and "Actual" government to buy and sell shitloads of bonds and notes, and in fact helped define our current financial system, at least the good part), and eventually became twisted and corrupted by these various monetary aggregates, using, of all things, paranoia, propaganda, and slight of hand.

I find the happiest balance in England. A moderately socialist system, free health care (which does a great deal to stem much of the negative backlash of the wide variances of social classes), great educational system, and, the linchpin, stable enough governmental system to provide that those at the top cannot plummet too far too fast (though it does happen, usually through financial institutions dealing with south east Asian options and commodities markets. It too happened in the late 90's). This helps to alleviate the potentially dangerous paranoia, which leads to the aforementioned magic money making schemes. Not to mention the avenues of advance are still open, available to the quickest intellectually and socially. Or at least, those who care about that sort of thing. Hell, they even have a pseudo-monarchy providing the perception of monetary stability. This blends very well with Chad's killer Celebrity theory.

So what does this all mean? Well, various aggregates/corporations/concentrations have learned that the greased wheel can lead to a one-way system of monetary flow, without nagging social responsibilities such as paying taxes. The Homeland Security Act had an interesting amendment slipped in that allowed for mainland companies in the US to go "overseas" (Caribbean) and establish nominal HQ's, removing almost any requirements to pay any Taxes, Federal or otherwise. Arthur Andersen Consulting, of Enron document shredding fame, pushed for this very big, changed it's name to Accenture as to not be remembered for the nasty deed of that "other" company, transferred it's HQ to the Bahamas, and then got a $10 Billion logistics contract with Homeland Security. What a Country!

Companies are doing this all the time. Wal-Mart is practically in-league with the Chinese, responsible for the majority of their technical expertise as well as the massive, massive outflow of U.S. currency in a huge trade deficit, which they turn around and buy U.S. Bonds and t-bills with. Can anyone say Currency Crash? Wal-Mart grossed $256 Billion in 2004. It has become the model of a nationally detached company, being able to set it's own priorities regardless of any outside commentary about policy. And though I have not seen its tax sheet, I can only speculate.

The wall was worn down over years, before it ever had a hammer put to it. If policy continues the way it has, eventually we will be unable to pay out the interest on our debts, defaulting, thus signaling the decline of our once dominant rule

Now, onto the
TEENAGE SEX MAP!

Friday, July 29, 2005

My Open Invitation to Fight You

Would you like to fight me? I'm ready, ho. Anytime you want. I can't wait till we finally meet in the flesh again, so I can knock that fat melon of yours around. Remember the time you told that guy, who told the other guy, about that shit you said about me? Yeah, that time man, that other dude told me. And I'm fucking pissed. It's been a while since I fought someone, and even longer since I got to cold-cock a shit talker. I can't wait to start picking your teeth out of my knuckles, or watch the inevitable ambulance cart you away. Hey, we can video tape it! That way I can see the knockout punch or choke hold that finally puts you under, just like in Menace to Society. Except of course, you probably won't be Asian, and I won't shoot you. Also, come on, do we need to start talking about each others moms? I mean, please, have some decency.

Anyway, I'm ready. I've watched Rocky 2 several times today, and can feel the righteous vengeance building inside, ready to explode all over you in an orgasmic explosion of fury.

Maybe afterwards we can grab a pizza. Or Chinese, fucking love Chinese.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

The General is Angry

I figure, if, on average, lets say I get laid twice a week, in my employer's eyes (monetary value), that adds up to about, oh, lets say $500 a week, minimum. But, this doesn't include interest/inflation. And this interest/inflation scale is not exponential, but geometric, in that it is an exponent of itself, i.g. X^X. So, the longer I wait, the greater the buildup of interest/inflation, thus the greater the value of my loss. I figure some equation like:

Sum [(G)*(n+1)]^(n+1)

where G=average value of General activity and n=incrimental days without activity

I begin the value at of n=0, so n+1 is necessary for a true calculation.

right now, we are talking heavy coin.

I'm on day 44. Had I a diagram, it would jump off the scale, even if I reduced n by a factor of 7.

And I feel like I am dying very, very slowly, especially when that special someone talks dirty to me.

Oh yah, to those of you who don't like me out there, go fuck yourself and I will meet you in the back alley. You shit talkers know who you are.

To the rest, I love you all.

rockreeder

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

My New Cell Phone



I love new gadgets. You can often find me perusing Gizmodo. com in search of the newest doo dad or thingy. My FUCKING POS Nokia I bought not even a year ago won't turn on. Granted I ripped the on/of switch off with my teeth, but still. Anyway, I had to drive to the nearest town to my current location which was Hobbs. If anyone has ever been to Hobbs they know it's a genetic cul-de-sac of washed up oil men and Mexican gangs. New Mexico is a sespool but Hobbs is the turd in the sespool. After much searching I was able to find a Radio Shack that would accommodate me. They sold me on this pricey little number but didn't really inform me of all the features.


Voice activated dialing
Camera
Video camera
Speaker phone
Relaxation mode that stimulates the brain while it calms and soothes
Stun gun
Laser pointer
Cures prostate cancer
Can eat a whole chicken including the bones in one sitting
Internet
Day planner
Stopwatch
Power saw
Cork Screw
During use blind kids can see
Cures erectile disfunction
Does your homework
Gets you a job
Finds your keys
Walks your dog
Retractable antenna
Power steering
Anti-lock brakes
Four different kinds of ringers
Two screens
Teaches Spanish
And can tell you if your girlfriend is cheating on you.

Man this thing was worth the money

If I Had My Druthers

They say that money reveals the man, so in order to get in touch with myself I meditate on having more money than I would know what to do with. Here are only five of the many contributions I intend to make to society.

1. Generate Multiple Illegitimate Children

Why are we here? We're here to 'do it.' "Be fruitful and multiply." the good lord said, and that's exactly what I intend to do. I would pray on woman's lust for men with money and power by luring them into my luxurious top floor at Ceaser's and spread my DNA across the land. My infidelity would be color blind. I would travel to every part of the world to impregnate the fortune seeking women of the world and leave them with a little token so they never forget the night I said, "It's ok baby, I had a vasectomy." I can easily support the child and visit them occationally. I assume they would all be after my fortune but in the end I will be buried with all my wealth and possessions simply because they are mine.

2. Open A Chain Of Topless Defensive Driving Schools

I, like most men, hate speeding tickets and love boobies. This will be my little lugi in the eye of the entire system. The girls will get paid training and teach the class on only Saturday and Sunday afternoons. If they make $500 a class that's $1000 a weekend, not to mention what they make of off lonely salesmen and drunk frat boys the following evening. Not only that, but they getthe skills for a job that they can do with their shirts on. If you can't tell I have a special place in my heart for strippers. Two girls would teach the two 6 hour classes. They'd put on a show, choreographed by yours truly, that would both educate and entertain. Things like drawing road signs on each others stomachs and the guy who gets it right gets to lick it off or lap dances for those that score %100 on the test. If that's not motivation, I don't know what is. The course would hold about 25 guys all paying $300 a piece. That's $7,500 a class. Three classes a month is $22,500 and $270,000 a year. That could surely cover the All-U-Can-Eat buffet and rental of the strip club. I don't even have to make money, this one's for the guys. With any money I generate I'll simply open my own chain of strip clubs called "The Box."

3. Destroy MTV

I don't know how I'm going to do it yet, but it's something I have to do. When I was a kid I thought that MTV was the nexus of all that was cool. That was back in the day when videos were new and rock n' roll was still kinda alive. If you're my age and you don't remember that chick on the hood of the car in that Whitesnake video or Peter Gabrial's video to Sledge Hammer you were obviously living in a hole. MC Hammer parachute pants, Michel Jackson getting blown away on the roof of a car, Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, and Billy Idol's Rock the Cradle of Love video all come to mind. The shows were sparse but of quality like Bevis and Butthead and Liquid Television. The Real World was awesome until it wasn't so real anymore. After LA the series went straight to hell. MTV perpetuates the manufactured music community. Brittney, NSuck, and the whole lot. It's lost it's soul. It's package-wrapped-bought-and-sold corporate shit and it cannot go on any longer. If I have to look at another Ashlee Simpson or Mudvein or Limp Bizket I think I'm going to fucking vomit!

4. Surprise Me!

Every rich mogul needs a place to hang out. My restaurant will feature semi-fine dining in a bistro setting. You have your pick of the family style menu or the individual entree menu, but there is a special option at my restaurant. You can pick a dish directly from the menu or just say, "Surprise Me!" and the chief will whip up whatever he feels like. It could be lamb chops to fried chicken, but the catch is you can't send it back and NO REFUNDS. It's for the adventurous eaters only, like myself. I will sit in the biggest booth in the corner working on bringing my next bastard child into this world.

5. Build a Monument to Johnny Cash...

Because he's the fucking man

Monday, July 25, 2005

My Letter To Max




My email to Max Boot, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations, in response to his fucking kick ass article in the LA Times. All of you had better start thinking about the future of conflict on this planet, because it is inevitable, on some front. Read the article (Link below) and Max's discussion of the concept of "Unrestricted Warfare."


Howdy Max,

I just read your most recent article "China's Stealth War on the U.S.," and was struck at how much farther along your thinking was on this subject than pretty much everyone else writing on the subject.

I have a few questions on the subject of possible inter-related foreign actions. I wonder about China developing possible alliances with various Middle Eastern countries, shoring up their need for oil at the expense USA's interests, perhaps even the West altogether. Maybe, I acknowledge this in a very extreme case but possible, using various radical groups as proxy groups to carry out attack of all
sorts inside the US or our various scattered interests. But, like Chinese military philosophers favored way of using surprise to exploit the enemy, a combination of oil restriction, proxy attacks on mainland US, and a currency dump, far ahead in the future, would seriously destabilize America on all fronts. Throw in an attack on various crucial Internet nodes and satellite systems, and complete chaos. Or these could happen in on a longer time scale than just concurrently.

I guess my real question is, do you think, in part, that Iraq is a long term hedge while Manufacturing companies develop more practical energy techniques, such as the hybrid, fuel cell, etc., to prevent such instability on the energy front? And are these hypothetical actions really a possibility, noting China's aggressive past behavior?

And who, internally would profit the most from the sale of Unocal?

And is anyone looking at these possibilities besides you, besides pundits and screamers?

I know your time is very valuable, and I really do appreciate any efforts on your behave, even just reading this email.

Stay cool,

rockreeder


Max, we love you buddy. You are one smart SOB!

Indeed Max, stay cool....

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Chad's Last Ball Just Dropped

Those Japanese can make a fucking robot, no doubt. The fucking thing may only move at 1.5 km/hr, but baby steps dude, baby steps. Find it here, and breath a little bit easier.

rockreeder

Marry Me Jessica!



My dearest Jessica I know you don't know me from Adam and this may sound a little creepy, but will you marry me? Wait, wait, don't get all creeped out on me just yet. Let me explain myself.

First off, I've never seen an episode of your show. I don't watch it because my extreme jealousy of Nick Lashey will only drive me to express it with destruction of public and private property. I've also shunned MTV ever since The Real World went to New Orleans and TRL became a big hit. Even if there was a video that I liked, they never played the whole thing and even that was drowned out with, "Oh my God! I'm Hillary from Miami and I think Puff Daddy is the Bizzomb! Tee hee!"

Anyway, on with the proposal. Being the all American girl that you are, you need an all American guy. Nick is simply a metrosexual automaton riding your coattails. A real man has sizzle on his chest and doesn't use gel by the gallons. A real man gets fucked up with his buddies and talks about gambling, guns, and pussy! I don't see Nick doing that. Can't you see he's using you! Nobody knew his freaking name before he married you. "Nick LaWho?" they would say. More like Nick LaNobody. What does he do anyway? Maybe if I watched the show I'd know, but he looks like a soap actor to me.

While we're talking about America, I want to apologize on behalf of America for putting you second to Brittany Spears for so long. I don't know what was wrong with us. Man, what were we thinking? Her wholesome virginity was blinding, but once the vail of corporate imagery was lifted we can now all see very clearly.

The truth is, I've never heard any of your music or even know much about you, but I do know that... well... you're intellectually lazy. No problem here! That makes you perfect in my eyes. All I ask for is blind devotion and the willingness to satisfy my every sexual desire. Is that so much to ask? You truly are the only chicken of the tunafish in the sea for me, baby!

If you happen to see this post, please let me know. I have lawyers on retainer to make your separation painless and am willing to sign a prenup.

As for your sister, I would like to keep her around so I can verbally berate her every chance I get. I don't think I could get tired of telling her to, "Shut the fuck up!" or, "Get the fuck away from me!"

There are those that will call me a fool but didn't they also call Einstein and Galileo fools? I liken myself to them only because, to me, this task is as monumental as the realization that the world revolves around the sun and the theory special relativity.

I'm only an American man chasing the American dream. So baby, like ABBA said, "Take a chance on me!"

Friday, July 22, 2005

Bound to Happen...

As Mike so accurately stated, yes, two roughnecks fought, but only one was left standing, giving light to the creed "Two roughnecks enter, one roughneck leave." This contest featured two of our previous friends: Dave, who is on the outs and lost his wife and kids to one of Wyoming's doughnut chompin' finest, and Marcus, the Sam Elliot dude who is cool as fuck, and yet looks like he could punch through you, thus being able to wave to the pretty girl you were making time with a few seconds previous to your demise. Ever since Dave lost a whole lot of shit, things have been missing around the rig grounds. Marcus lost a few of his tools, and decided to engage in a heated debate about the recent whereabouts of his personal effects. Dave tells him, basically, to go fuck himself, following up with a line he will not soon forget: "Bring it Old Man!"

Now, I know a few things in life, how a clock works, what licorice is the best brand (red vines, ho), when to walk from a blackjack table, and so forth. BUT, what I know for certain is that you don't talk shit to a man from Louisiana, who looks like Sam Elliot, who spent time in prison, who has worked with his hands his whole life, and who outweighs you by about 40 lbs, and whose forearms look like they were carved out of stone. Dave, too, now knows this very difficult lesson, after losing a chunk of his ear and probably about half a million neurons.

Dave was not smart to begin with.

Apparently, he is probably going to run his mouth off to the head office, even though it happened off site, technically, and he should fucking know better than to steal Marcus's stuff.

But, then again, Dave is not smart.

we are about 5600 ft from being back in the hole, and my ass is about to go office space on this piece of shit printer Tim still has not replaced. Or the fucking Air conditioner that sucks balls. I take that back, if it sucked balls, it would have a purpose, instead of being a worthless lump of shit that blows air the equivalent of those stupid battery-powered hand fans. WHEEEEEE!

Yesterday, Mike, Todd and I cruised up to the waterfall by the reservoir that the locals had no idea existed. Quick nerd calculations figured that about 250-300 gal/sec poured over just a fantastic view of the basin below. Then Todd regaled us with the many fantastically tragic stories visited upon him.

I don't feel sorry for him since he found a woman to be the receptacle of his ejaculate just the other day. Her man was in jail, and, well, drink 'em if you got 'em.

Other than that, I finally opened up a Wells Fargo Account that I cannot access until I bring the detective's name (Detective Greer 512-974-4402) and case number (5015067) of my fraudulently used but closed checking account. BTW, Fuck University Federal Credit Union. If you see a heavy set black man, age 25-35, 5'8"-6' tall, saying his name is Reed Marshal Becker, please call me and the police. That fucker needs a block dropped on his head, in a very equal opportunity way. Maybe by a Semite even, I dunno, maybe....

I Love you all, and would take my time makin' love to each and every one of you very special people.

rockreeder

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Mad Bastards

Well, the world continues to revolve at 7.27 x 10-5 radians a second (a circle has 2pi radians, the earth's circumference is 24,900 miles, so figure it out yourself, you lazy bastards), and I am here marking time while the mill tries to fish out the 3 cones lost off the drilling bit. Driller here is a little, uh, spun up, so he got aggressive with the weight on bit last night. Good guy, but always seems pissed. Fuck it, the guy gave me a respite, so he's aces in this dirty Jew's book (fine Chad, half-Jew, you fucking cocksucka!). Doing the actual job is quite a bit more stressful, but oddly more satisfying. After my tower was done, my fat ass went over to the motor man's trailer (he brings his own) and hung out with him and these 2 chick he brought over. This is a fucking rarity, chicks on (thought technically not "on-site") site are sort of rock stars on a 1/400th scale, in that everyone wants to be near them. Todd, the motor man, is cool. He does too many drugs, drinks too much whiskey, smokes too many Marlboro reds, and curses like a sailor fucked another sailor, had a kid, and that kid married a truck driver, and they had a kid. Yah, that kid. But he is an honest mutha fucka, and that goes a hell of a long way in my book. And, despite his worst intentions, is a good dude with a rough life. Todd reminds me of Ronny on "Run Ronny Run!," but not the Hollywood version, the actual one. Missing 2 front teeth, no shirt on half the time, loud as all get out, and like Chad, no filter. And it is fucking great. Anyway, these 2 gals were pulling the "mother-daughter routine," but seemed pretty cool, just looking for a bit of fun in this placid universe. If they were looking for interesting, they sure found it. The rig is a place of personality if there ever was one. As I hung in the trailer doing things I shouldn't be (like I give a fuck), a procession of roughnecks came on by. Leo is this huge black dude, a rarity in this good ol' boy world, and after this line of wells, he's out for good. He has a fishing tour business out in Victoria, about 50-60 miles outside of Corpus, and will take you and 4 others out all day for $450. The man is a champion fisher, sporting various shirts the envy of all lesser fishers, and knows all the hot-spots where even lesser fishermen, like myself, can catch all day long. Sounds like a road trip to me.

Ricky, or whatever the fuck his name is, is a 26 year-old roughneck who has the confidence of a bullfighter. In his words: "I ain't ugly, I make good money, and I'm a fun guy." I get the feeling he's trying a bit to hard to come of as cool, but then again, everyone measures their dick once in a while. When he boldly entered the trailer, he announced "where's the pussy? I need to fuck!" After concurring with his assessment of 18 year old women, I was jokingly asked to leave by Todd. But, seriously, this job, with it's non-user friendly 24-7 philosophy, does not allow for me to receive any warm body next to me at night or the morning. And, it is killing me, a lot alot. Finding time to jerk off is near impossible, and I almost jumped at Dave's offer to take up the "mom" in the deal. But work and a healthy fear of herpes kept these pants buckled, thank God. Also her ran roughshod sandpaper face didn't secure the necessary mechanics of the deal. The General needs stimulus!

Dave, by the way, walked in on his wife with their neighbor, an ex-cop, and subsequently lost his place, his car, and his kids because of this woman, who never had a job the entire time he was with her. Gotta love people.

Cold tots await me back in the trailer. Oh, anyone want to go to Vegas on the 20th for a few days? Chad? Dolph? Abi? Jesus? I am going for sure.

Lots of Love,

reeder

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Zombie Preparation




When the zombie invasion comes, will YOU be ready? Will you be ready when Darwin's theory does a 180 and he returns from the grave to chomp on your poodle. Will you be ready when you're faced with the decision to blow out the brains of your vacant eyed lover? WILL YOU BE READY, when the gates of hell are opened and disembowlments become status quo? I've devised a simple guide that will better prepare you for what will be a true test of your survival skills.

Know Your Zombie
When engaging with a zombie you have to know his strengths and weaknesses. Here are a few questions you should ask yourself before you do battle with the undead. What is the zombies top speed? Do you have the crystal meth zombies of 28 Days Later or the standard slow moving Night of the Living Dead zombies? You want to avoid zombie engagement at all costs so knowing how they sense you is very important as well. Do they smell your brains, do they simply hear you, can they see, or do they stumble around aimlessly until they bump into something worth sinking their teeth into? How mushy are your zombies? The decomposition of their flesh can very depending on the method of zombiefacation. Some zombie viruses give the flesh a soft, easily ripped apart, texture while others simply keep the human meaty firmness. To test it, simply bludgeon it with a baseball bat or pipe wrench. What is the zombie's week point? We all know that destroying the brain is the most popular method, but you never know with fuckin' zombies. Is the virus spread via biting or is it an airborne virus? How smart are your zombies? Are they super-smart-hyper-evolved zombies or are they mindless cannibals? The best way to determine this is by simple rouge like coming up behind them, tapping them on the left shoulder, and shifting over to the right. Their reaction time and realization of what's going on can help you determine their intelligence.

Arm Yourself
When picking weaponry you'll need a long range firearm, a short range firearm, a club of some sort, and plenty of ammo. I would suggest a .45 Cal rifle and a sawed off 12 gauge shot gun, but really whatever you can get your hands on will do. At this point in the game a sporting goods stores gun shops are fair game. It's important to take advantage of the looting before the zombie virus gets too out of control. Find the closest Wal-Mart or Crazy Bob's Gun Bonanza and lock and load. For a bludgeoning device I would suggest an aluminum bat or long handled axe. If you can find a mace or a samurai sword, you've hit the mother load. If you can find explosives, it would be a good idea to grab those as well. You never know when you'll have to clear a bloody path through the legions of the damned.

Fashion
You'll need to wear clothing that isn't too loose but allows for good body movement. You don't want those flesh eating bastards to grab your coattail so they can chew on your balls like Cheddar-peppers do you? Tuck in and avoid loose clothing. Leather or spandex would be optimal. You'll also need plenty of straps and harnesses to holster your weapons. The toes, fingers, and head are all major bite points. Steel toe boots, leather gloves, and head gear are all good to have. Goggles or sunglasses can keep splattering blood from your eyes. You don't want to get caught in a potential zombie dog pile situation because you got the local librarian's blood in your baby blues.

Diet
Fluids, drink lots and lots of fluids. You would be amazed at how fast you become dehydrated when your adrenaline is pumping at a critical concentrations and you've been swinging a chainsaw through corpses all day. Eat plenty of carbs and sugar to keep your energy up. Avoid deep fried foods and red meat. Lentils and beans are also a bad choice. Absolutely NO pizza!!!

Proper Transportation
When you have time it would be good to equip your vehicle with anti-zombie gear such as a brush guard or large bumper. All terrain tires and four wheel drive are a must. Good ground clearance is necessary for when you have to plow your way through the living-challenged. Pack the car with plenty of food and water because you might have to stay there for a while. Extra gas tanks or canisters have to be kept on board. No time to stop at the gas station when running from the damned. Large cargo holds are good for picking up stragglers and well informed survivors like yourself.

Finding A Hideout That's Right For You
When the zombie reckoning comes, the best thing to do is head for the least populated areas. There you will find minimal zombie activity and plenty of open space to travel in. If you've picked up a few tag-alongs along the way you may want to find some sort of Knights of Columbus hall or community center. If the day of zombifacation occurred in the summertime or on a weekend you might want to scope out the local school. Schools will have plenty of food, cooking equipment, and bathroom facilities. If your party is small simply confiscate some country mansion. If the residents are still at home, who cares, it's the goddamn end of the world here! Inform them that their money and property now have no value and the rules have changed. They may have to be restrained until they figure out that you mean business!

Well there you go. Just sit back and tune in to your local radio or TV stations (until they go off the air that is) and watch the chaos unfold. While you're watching the footage of zombies using your neighbors skull for a cereal bowl full of their own brain matter you'll be saying to yourself, "I'm sure glad I was ready."

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Post Multiple Sex Partner Hilarity!

I have seen many, many videos on the Internet, of all sorts. But this one here takes the fucking cake. The dude's reaction to Maury is just the best, leaving no trace of ambiguity as to how he feels about the announcement. Just fucking great.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

The Robot Armageddon




Anyone who knows me knows that I'm constantly in preparation for the Robot Armageddon. If you don't know what that is, you better start doing your research. Sure, Robots now are simple floor vacuums and lawn mowers, but just wait... Just you wait. Already American companies are experimenting with robots called S.W.O.R.D.S. These robots can carry machine guns and/or grenade launchers. In conjunction with IRobot's swarm programming, we may see the end of human casualties of war. Drone robot planes that are controlled remotely can be shot down without the worry of military death or capture by the enemy. These are all positive aspects of these robots but I see the inherent danger in such power.

There are two ways the Robot Armageddon can come about. First, we can't rule out the possibility of the single mad genius on the loose in search of global conquest. The Hitler of robots he will be called. The world will be the biggest Battlebots field ever where the winner not only gets a golden nut, but the glory of world domination.

Second, there is always the possibility of self awareness. It starts off like Terminator, where some small malfunction leads to armies of Arnolds and Robert Patricks coming for your children. Oh yeah, it could happen. Next we are enslaved in some sort of Matrix senerio where we are pacified by virtual reality programs run by evil agents wearing suits, but in the real world there is no Neo. There is no Morphious or Trinity or whatever the fuck that French guy's name was. We will all certainly be screwed.

The only way to prevent either one of these peradigms is to prepare. So, when I saw this Neo-Mech for sale on eBay, my eyes lit up and my heart skipped a beat. Finally a way for citizens like you and me to engage the enemy and prevent what surely will be the end of us all.

Forty thousand for a prototype Mech unit was quite a chunk of change. Even if I sold my recently-dented-to-shit truck, I could never afford such a device. I would have to cash in my life insurance and rob several fine spirit establishments to achieve my goal. Before I went out on this rampage of thievery I needed some questions answered so I contacted the creators of Neo-Mech.


Sirs,

I'm incredibly curious about your Neo-Mech. How long did this endeavor take? Where did you get the parts? Why are there limitations on the reach of the step? Can bend down and lift? What about hand launching capabilities? Are the cartridges for the flame throwers in a safe location on the Mech? Have any of you sustained injuries while operating the Mech in it's beta stages? Is Alaska really cold? It looks cold. Does it have shields? Can it wield a shield? Hold a weapon? Grip? What kind of maintenance does it require? Does it have a weak point? What is the prototype's reaction time? Can it tip over a car? Have you guys ever bought, sold, or taken massive amounts of drugs? Let's say that I'm a crazy investor with a lot of money to spend, tell me why I should invest. Remember, I am crazy.

Chadwick Hintz

I was quickly given a response:

Most of these questions can be answered on my website, www.neogentronyx.com, I
aplogise for the seemingly short and consise email, I just have a lot of other
emails to reply to, so please dont think that this is me blowing you, off, but
really those questions you asked are all answered in my website.

All exept the drugs and whatnot, you sort of lost me there. I get a lot of
questions however your the first to ask that one, I can tell you that no I do
not use drugs, nor do I work or associate with anyone who does. I have better
things to do with my time.

Alaska is cold in the winetr and hot in the summer, just liek anywhere else, 87 yesterday.

Sorry, no sheilds, at least not on this first prototype;)

Hand launching? thats a good idea, I'll write it down.

Yes the flame thrower fuel is in a safe location,a nd cannot sustain damage where its at.

No there have been no injuries sustained on or near or because of the mech.

WHy should you invest?

Nascar started out as a bunch of guys driving around a track for hours on end, and then they would win a trophy.

Nowadays Nascar is a bunch of guys driving around a track for hours on end winning a trophy and makiing tens of billions of dollars a year.

Mecha will do for the future of robotic sports entertainment, what Nascar did
for the automotive industry.

Bottom line is, this is a considerable opportunity for the right person with
the right vision.

If there are any other.... questions.. you would like to ask regarding (this
project), please fell free to ask.

Carlos Owens

www.neogentronyx.com

(This is an actual responce to an actual letter, I assure you.)

I like what I hear Carlos... I like what I hear.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Dance of the Mind



The job gives you free time. Say you are watching the shale shaker, and you begin to compare the erratic vibrations of the filtering mud/cuttings to the gravitational well of a black hole. Noted Quantum Mechanic work by Stephen Hawkings describes the interesting phenomenon of photon emission by black holes. The nature of our universe, multiverse really, shows that all outliers are possible, given enough time, and since time is just another dimension, one that moves, these outliers will occur. The structure of a black hole is such that the space-time curve has reached it's maximum, so as it emits these outlying photons, it gets smaller and begins to excrete more and more of them, eventually reducing to nothing. The shale shaker is similar, though obviously dependant on different factors. Screens, amount of water (which is based on other factors, but I digress), strength of the motor, etc. But I notice how every once in a while, a shot of mud lands on me, mike, or the Louisiana roughneck pimp who reminds me of Sam Elliot. All of us outside the shaker boundary by 2 feet. If it was a closed system, eventually it would all shoot out, though not on the crazy 10^64 year scale of a black hole. The freaky string nature of the universe, makes you wonder. Non sequitur, here is the Chad Reed Conversation on women:

[00:06] thechdwck: how about why women are destroying the world
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: What happened
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: Tell me
[00:06] thechdwck: nothing
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: I will fold you in a warm platonic digital embrace
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: haha
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: women are lost
[00:06] SgtCrunktastic: very lost
[00:07] SgtCrunktastic: Feminism taught them free thinking and free love
[00:07] SgtCrunktastic: but didn't explain to them their desires
[00:07] SgtCrunktastic: now they just want to be seen as beautiful
[00:07] SgtCrunktastic: without structuring the inside
[00:07] SgtCrunktastic: They never understood that their mothers had to build the world they already occupy
[00:08] thechdwck: write about that
[00:08] SgtCrunktastic: so they assume all problems are everyone else's fault
[00:08] SgtCrunktastic: I'll paste it in
[00:08] SgtCrunktastic: Women had to STRUGGLE FOREVER
[00:08] SgtCrunktastic: as the beating polls of humanity
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: now everything is new
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: and they don't understand the consequences of their actions
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: nor the fact that they have to live everyday with the knowledge of what they have done
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: it's why coke is attractive to many
[00:09] thechdwck: YES!
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: keeps everything surface
[00:09] thechdwck: That's what I want!
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: I want a deep understanding
[00:09] SgtCrunktastic: and a great lay

I love you all, you fucking bastards.

rockreeder

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Movies! I Love Movies! / Celebrity Theory




I'm just back from seeing the Fantastic 4. They are pretty fantastic but the movie is what I call 'Movie Light.' Not too complicated, nothing too deep, no outstanding acting, no huge plot twists, but entertaining none the less. I could just stare at a poster of Jessica Alba for two and a half hours and say the same thing probably. The best part of the movie was the transition the characters make from scientists and pilots to super heros. From their first super hero act to the end they had a very believable presence in New York. They could have picked a better villain though. Dr. Doom was played by that guy from Nip/Tuck. I've only seen two episodes and can't say that I'm that impressed.

I hate to digress, but I can't stand TV dramas. Let me be more specific: TV dramas that don't appear on HBO. Everyone told me that Nip/Tuck was awesome, eh. Everyone told me that The Shield was awesome, eh. I even gave Buffy the Vampire Slayer a try, eh. X Files, eh. Monk, eh. In fact, I'll go so far to say that anything not on HBO or Cartoon Network, besides the Simpsons, isn't worth my time. That's why I love movies.

Nobody's going to movies anymore. Attendance been on a five month decline and the movie business is in a slump. My theory is that people like their home theaters. DVDs are a great quality medium and now you can rent online or in the store with no late fees. People are paying big bucks for huge high definition, plasma screen, light pulse, and all manner of home entertainment and if you're paying upwards of $5,000 for a television you're probably going to get good use out of it. Speaking of cash, a movie ticket in LA costs $15 to $20 bucks. I don't even go anymore unless it's a matinee even then I have to pay $6! Insane!

I still love going to the movies though. War of the Worlds was something that you just can't experience in a home theater. When I saw this movie the people in the theater were reacting to the sheer awesomeness of this si-fi classic. It was the most cinematic experience I've had since I saw Jurassic Park. Now when I say cinematic, I don't necessarily mean it's a great movie. It means that it's something that is meant to be seen in a theater. The action is larger than life and requires a gigantic screen and an audience to join you in the crescendos and grandeur of the film. This is why I still think that 'The Beard' is the best movie maker of all time. Peter Jackson is an approaching second, but Spielberg made Jaws. Enough said.

While we're on this subject can we PLEASE leave Tom Cruise the fuck alone. Is he gay? Is the marriage real? Is it a scam? What is all this scientology bullshit? Good glory hole! Can't we leave well enough alone? First, what does it matter anyway if Cruise has concocted this GIGANTIC scheme with his personal life to hide the fact that he loves cock? What does it really matter if he worships space aliens and doesn't take Prozac? I know people that are ten times as strange as Tom Cruise but they don't make the news every GD day. Everyone's got an opinion on the guy. My opinion is that he's one of my favorite actors. Overactors like Pachino and Cruise are my favorites. They're passion and craziness is so out of control that it leaps out of the screen, grabs you by the shoulders, and says "Listen to me! I'm saying something passionate!" I love that cheezy shit. But Tom plays it pretty low key in War of the Worlds and he sells the shit out of it, because he's a great actor.

Some of this craziness around Cruise can be explained by something that either Eric Idle or John Cleese or one of those Monty Python guys said once. They said that people were meant to exist in groups of 500. That way everyone knows who 'The Warrior' is, who 'The Hunter' is, 'The Intellectual', 'The Politician', 'The Smithy', or whatever role that fills a particular need of the group. If you think about it, it takes about 500 people to provide all the services it would take to sustain 500 people. It's really a perfect number. Since some people are more essential than others it becomes an evolutionary necessity to know who certain people are. Thus a celebrity is created. Times have changed. Now our brains have to get used to living in a world with cable news, cell phones, and the internet. Hell, it hasn't been that long since the telegraph. We're living on a global scale here and it's hard to wrap our minds around the concept that these actors are known by millions and millions of people. Our brain says that this is important since everyone knows them but it isn't important since they don't impact our lives. In turn, not only do the celebrities themselves have the luxury of having no boundaries as far as what they can do with their money, but also an awareness that the world is watching. I think that their brains and our brains can't quite handle it. It doesn't compute and that's why we saturate our lives with theirs. It's just a theory, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense.

Ok, back to the movies. Batman isn't my favorite of the summer but it is definitely the best movie I've seen this summer. I was pleasantly surprised with how well put together the story was. The cast was stellar. Morgan Freeman, Michel Cain, Liam Neeson, Gary Oldman, Patrick Bateman... I mean Christian Bale, and, yes, Katie Holmes were all awesome. Quite a flick.

So, get your ass to the movies. I've completed my GRE studies so now I can concentrate on writing my script again. "The Hulked Out Indians vs. The Out of Work Wrestler" (It's a working title) will eventually be completed. Apparently writing it is the easy part it's the whole selling it that's hard. If it does make it to the big screen, please don't wait for the DVD.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

The Hilly Wilds of Neola Utah 83053!

Being the adventurous sort, and having spent just about as much time as one can in a trailer and on the Internet (mutually inclusive), the itch to explore the area took hold, and I was off. The area around the rig is fucking beautiful. Mostly sand with frequently spotted plants and trees. I kept running into the strangest shit out there. Old Jars and cans, Blown up trailers from 1987, either by accident, Tornado, or Redneck C-4, and I grabbed what looked like an Old West Laudanum bottle. Really beautiful. I wandered until I was about 2-3 miles out, decided I wouldn't find the waterfall everyone keeps talking about today, and headed back in. No snakes, some lizards, lots of bugs that imitate rattlesnake sounds by flapping on surrounding vegetation. Or at least I speculate. Fuck I wish I had a camera.

I get back to rig, head up to the doghouse to chat with the old boys. More stories of 2 million lbs blocks, 4500 horsepower rigs that can go 27,000 feet down, which of course, I fucking love. The guys talk about the rigslike they do about their trucks, or better yet, their own little toy with which they rip apart at the forces holding the Earth together. Trying to learn so much so quickly, but I have to admit, I love it out here. Damn those progressive ideals! But it is fun as hell.

Everyone out here is cool. Usually no one is trying to fuck with anyone else. Everyone feels necessary, everyone out here works hard, everyone out here makes good money. Kinda of like a traveling burning man. Shit, on more levels than one.

Well, some short dicks try to stump your cord too. One dude Jon bitched about me to the company man for hanging around "too long" just to watch the end of The Missing. Get some balls, talk to me, I wouldn't have had a problem. Then the dude accused me of taking his fucking business card book. Of course, again, not to me.

Dude....

This ain't the 80's.

Some pricks look at this gorgeous mug, and just can't help but try and piss on the pants leg.

I digress...

Everyone on this rig is cool. I'm hear for a month, the shit is kick ass, Cartman style.

My broke ass has to find some food.

Glorious Respect onto The Chad!

Out from Utah.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Dynamite Monkey



I had to put this up. I saw this on Fark.com and had to post it. The title of the photoshop was The last picture I took before it was too late.

Monday, June 27, 2005

My New Neutered Life

Jew here.

So, my days are like this:Get up around 4-5 AM, fall out of the top bunk of the trailer bedroom onto the floor... hard, say the word "fuck" about 5 times, walk to the kitchen, make 12 cups of coffee that would make a spoon stand straight up, drink 2 of them, open the door and look out to a 100 foot metal structure holding about 200-300 thousand lbs of steel piping extending about 9000 feet into the ground, then realize that, shit, I'm in fucking Colorado.Did I mention I am about 50 miles away from civilization, or that I am walled in a canyon about 3000 feet high? Or how about the brown bear that cruised about 100 feet away from our site today?

The modern world of drilling is pretty f-ing crazy. Most of what I do is grab core samples, clean 'em, place them on a sampling tray and a porcelain tray, look at them under a microscope, both white and UV light, then run some standard chemical analysis to view both rock composition and hydrocarbon traces. I'm sure Launch Box has already said all this bullshit already.

But every now and again there is a pump fire, or the rig falls over, or the roughnecks kick the shit out of each other, or they tell me how they shot up meth and kicked the shit out of their girlfriend,her dad, and threatened the judge. You know, that old chestnut.It's like the ultimate boy's club out here.I've been in 5 states in 3 weeks, averaged about 3 hours of sleep a night, been screwed over by countless people back home, climbed 2 different, unbelievably gorgeous trails, and have not had sex since the 7th.

But I finished my fucking homework.

rockreeder

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Cyberphobia and Gerontophobia

Old people kinda creep me out. Growing up I never felt completely comfortable around my aging father. Not much has changed. Anyone over 55 gives me the willies. There are exceptions though. Close family and aging hipsters don't bother me so much, but the rest are just plain creepy.

Take this guy I'm training for example. He's in his late 50's and missing a tooth which doesn't help matters any. You sit this guy down in front of a computer and you'd think he was under the interragation lamp in Guantanamo Bay. He shakes, stutters, can't get the right words out of his mouth to ask a question or answer one, and is visibly uneasy. It is obvious that computers are the elderly's kryptonite. They think that every little move they make on a computer is going to erase all the data. No matter how often I tell them that it's very hard to make a mistake on a computer, they still need to have their hand held through every little cut and paste. It's like watching a monkey try to fuck a football.

In Joe Rogan's stand up he says that just because you're 65 doesn't mean I have to respect you. If you've been an asshole all your life why should I respect you now when you're an old asshole? Why should I respect you if you haven't made the effort to retire gracefully and drive off into the sunset in your new RV hopping from casino to casino and national park to national park. That's the way to go! That way you can't bother anyone, especially me. I know this sounds cold and all but I hate driving behind them, smelling them, and watching them eat. Have you ever watched an old person eat? You can see the extra skin flapping on their jowls when they chew, they don't seem to ever get the whole bite in their mouth, and they always concentrating heavily on the chewing process. Old people eat weird things too like eggs with green olives, Vienna sausages, and boiled cabbage.

Talking to old people is hard too. How can I possibly relate anything in my life to what they are going through: sickness, death, bladder problems, walkers, doctor appointments, and metimucial. Every time I call my 76 year old father on the phone and I ask what's going on, 2 out of 5 times he will mention that someone he has known for ages has died. I don't ask anymore. When they tell a story from their youth, it's usually hard for them to remember and pieces are left out. In the end, about 30 minutes of my life is wasted listening to them.

"Back when I was in college I was escorting this gal to some thing. It was this.... Uhhhhhh.... We danced to Benny Goodman and... I... We... Zzzzzzzzzz"

On my trip into town today, I just saw George Romero's "Land of the Dead." When I left I went to Walgreens to have some pictures developed. At the checkout counter I heard this horribly raspy voice behind me. When I looked up I had to do a double take because this guy looked like a fucking zombie. Sunken buggy eyes, pale, and visible veins lots and lots of visible veins on his face. Guaaaaaahhhhhh! The aging process was not good to this guy. He's not alone though, most old people's faces look like cakes left out in the rain.

Ok, this is an intensely gross story but it's relevant. There was this hot chick in my summer chemistry class at Blinn College that worked in an doctors office. She had the greatest stories. She was prepping this sweet old lady so the doctor could take a look at her old floppy vagina which by now looks like someone buried an axe in a rotting pig's carcass I'm sure. When she went to help her remove her panties her FUCKING UTERUS FELL OUT!!!! It fucking fell out! I had no idea it could do that! "It's called a prolapsed uterus.", she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry dearie, that's what I'm here to see the doctor about.", the old lady told her.

No shit! They proceeded to tuck her withering organ back into her barren cavity and staple it back into place. This is why I'm not a doctor. I'll watch every zombie movie and gore fest out there, but to actually have to deal with it on a daily basis isn't natural.

In summary, old people freak me out so I get a kick out of watching them suffer in front of a computer.

FYI: Orange & Creme KitKats are the FUCKING SHIT!!!!

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Destination: Adventure



For a man who wears bikini bottoms and fake boobs, Leslie has more balls than anyone I know. This guy woke up one day and said, "You know, I don't want to work anymore and dress up like a woman every day.", and he fucking did it. The rest of us suckers have to go to work every day and pretend to be satisfied with our lives. This abomination is happier than a pig in shit 24 friggin' 7. It's amazing really. I'm all for reckless abandon, but Jesus!

Speaking of reckless abandon, I did about 3 days in Austin a week ago and did the best I could. I managed to lose $100 in poker the first night I was there and lost another $100 the second night to the same guy. I made quite an exit that second time. I stood up and said, "That's the second time you've done that to me in two days, John Parks!" as I stormed out I shouted, "I'll see you at the bar!" Off to Cain and Able's I went.

Everyone was so young there. "Jesus, I used to fit in here", I thought. I did my best. I sat down to a table with two hot chicks and said, "Hi, I'm all by myself right now would you ladies mind if I join you." I couldn't do that back when I hung out here, but time and travel have made me numb to social situations such as these. The one named Liz was trying to get her friend to break up with her boyfriend. As the drinks went down Liz went from hot to smokin'. I couldn't stop taking her picture. She was digging me, I could tell, and they invited me to their place after the bar closed. I walked Liz back to her place and immediately hit their bottle of Jack. Drinking games commenced. After about 45 minutes or so it was my turn to make a rule. I got up and pointed to Liz, "The rule is that you have to make out with me!" Silence. Then the other guy in the room, who I'd forgotten about, said that I had overstepped my balance or something like that. Then there was talk of a supposed boyfriend she had. Nobody seemed to have a sense of humor about this situation. They were obviously not accustomed to such candidness. Feeling awkward, I turned around and walked out the door without a word. John, like the savior that he is, was right there to pick me up.

Liz, you don't know what your missing sweetheart

The next day was filled with music and friends. On the greens of Zilker Park we sat, drunk, and relaxed. A run in with the Balloonatic and some Dimatap flavored margaritas left us giddy.


Three days later I found myself white water rafting the Snake River in Jackson, Wyoming and camping out in the Tetons getting drunk off of a bottle of Southern Comfort.


Two days ago I was in Denver, Colorado touring my uncle's garden while sipping on a rum and Coke when he told me, "I've found out that poor people can live anywhere, it's the rich people who have to live in certain places." So true.

I may not be to the point of happiness that Leslie has reached with his reckless abandon, but I'm sure trying.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Primer



Primer is one of those movies that you see sitting on the shelf of Blockbuster and put it in one of two categories: Foreign Crap or Indy Crap. This movie is neither. It's definitely Indy but certainly not crap.

Two engineers developing doo dads in their garage in their spare time stumble upon an amazing discovery. They make a time machine. Not your standard time machine but one that works on principals that are unprecedented in the movie world. The idea is that you start the device at say 12:00 PM and let it run for 24 hours. You then shut it off and clime into the device where you sleep for 24 hours and wake up when you started it. At lest that's how I think it works. I'm smart, but this movie is smarter.

They start out by investing in the stock market and betting on sports games but the real action comes at the end of the movie. Here is where I have no idea what happens. Well, I have an idea but the way it's put together doesn't make it quite clear to me.

The spookiness of the movie comes from the fact that the device seems so plausible. The reality of the situation comes from the engineering parlance and the fact that they don't know exactly how it works either. The only real problem with the movie is that it's about engineers and if you know one you know what I'm talking about. YAWN! The movie does keep you interested with the discovery of what they've created and the madness that ensues.

If you have any idea about the end of this movie I would like to hear from you. Of course the chances of someone who's seen this movie and is actually reading my little blog are very slim. I realize this.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Monday, May 30, 2005

Delicious Sandwich VS. Hot Chick



As debates rage on across the country about filibusters, UN appointments, and the war in Iraq I think we should ponder more relevant questions to our everyday lives. The question I refer to is the delicious sandwich verses the hot chick conundrum.

This may seem like a simple question at first, "Dude! Are you gay? The chick!" most would say. A typical macho response but once we analyze the situation more closely you will see it's not so simple.

First we start with definitions and assumptions. The sandwich is most definitely delicious and can be whatever your heart desires, but it must follow the two slices of bread and filling standard. No pitas or gyros or anything of that nature. For example, my personal favorite sandwich would be a deli-sliced-blood-red-roast beef with lettuce, thinly sliced tomato, red onions, melted sharp Cheddar cheese on a lightly toasted Kaiser roll, and horseraddish mayo. There are a number of things I would do if bribed by this particular sandwich including pissing on any number of gravesites, kicking and old lady, puppy, kitten, etc., or even vandalizing a church. Judge me if you will, but hey, free sandwich. The chick is not defined by inner beauty or some little crush you had in high school. The hot chick has to have breasts, legs, ass, vagina, and the like. No trannys or fatties or whatever weird fetish you may have. We're talking Maxim cover girl quality here. The details you can fill in for yourself, just like the sandwich. I would like a slightly tanned white girl with blond hair past her shoulders, C cup breasts, small waist, round volleyball butt, no muscle tone but shapely, 5'10", squeaky voice, perky nose, blue eyes, and velupuous lips. Let's call her Mitzy. As you can see my sandwich and chick choices are as American as the fourth of July.

With that established we can get down to it. The question at hand is entirely situational and there are a lot of factors to consider.

Sandwich: When hungry will fill you up pleasantly
Chick: Will fill you up only if you have the taste for human flesh

Sandwich: Available whenever supplies or money is adequate
Chick: Available if you're a hot guy, have lots of money, or Tao of Steve game

Sandwich: Can satisfy you sexually if you don't mind getting mustard on your Johnson
Chick: If properly motivated will either satisfy every sexual desire you have or lie there unconscious. Either way, you're satisfied.

Sandwich: Does not have a face to fuck
Chick: Might let you fuck her face

Sandwich: Will be out of your system in 3 to 4 hours
Chick: Will hang around until morning, for a couple of months, for a couple of years, until a hotter chick comes along, until a hotter guy comes along, until your money is gone, or for the rest of your life.

Sandwich: Costs anywhere from $1.25 to $10.95
Chick: Costs you anywhere from $20 to EVERYTHING YOU OWN

Sandwich: Will rarely turn on you if the ingredients were well preserved
Chick: Has the capability to turn on you in a heartbeat

Sandwich: Portable
Chick: Demanding

Sandwich: Will let you take advantage of it during lunchtime
Chick: Will let you take advantage of it during lunchtime

Sandwich: Not very good to spoon with
Chick: Perfect fit

Sandwich: Can be messy
Chick: Will straighten up your apartment

Sandwich: No reproductive organs
Chick: Will have a baby weather you want it or not

Sandwich: Cannot eat in the shower
Chick: Can eat in the shower

Sandwich: Cannot eat underwater
Chick: Can eat underwater

Sandwich: Can eat at a Minor League Baseball game
Chick: Possible but not likely unless you are some kind of sociopath

Sandwich: You can share with your friends
Chick: Depends on the relationship

Sandwich: Can be bought and sold
Chick: Can be bought

Sandwich: Goes great with a diet coke
Chick: Goes easy with a couple of martinis and a mazaratti

I hope I've shed some light on this conundrum, but as you can see this dilemma is entirely situational. If presented with the choice after living in a North Korean prison camp for 10 years eating only a maggot filled rice water, then the sandwich would be a nice change. If I've been out working in the middle of Utah for the past month watching every episode of My Sister's Hot Friend I would go with the chick. But these are drastic situations. The dilemmas lie within the spectrum of the middle ground. Armed with these tidbits hopefully you will choose wisely when the time arrives.