Novi's Tale

"I never known a man in the world who wouldn't rather fuck just as soon as look at me," said Novi as the sunlight filtered through her hair where she stood brushing it above me on the steps one warm April morning. She looked like a Roman Goddess.

"Your father," I said. Novi frowned. I had her. I was so clever.
Her breasts were magnificent from this angle. Young ripe and supple.

"I didn't have a father. I was raised by my grandmother."
"Everyone has a father."
"Yeah, well I never knew mine. And for all I know he never knew me. So if he saw me today he wouldn't know I was his daughter. And he'd probably want to fuck me."

She finished brushing her hair and tied it back in a tight quick tail using a hair tie she had deftly stored on her wrist.

"That's disgusting."
"What? Fucking me? No it isn't. I'm a great lay."
"I can only imagine."
"And that's all you'll ever be able to do baby."

She hopped over me and descended the stairway, one foot in front of the other in that classic Jayne Mansfield gait that makes a girl's ass wobble like a peach. I sat up and watched her disapear down the sidewalk and into street. Two cars stopped, their drivers leaned out and both whistled in unison. Novi laughed and tossed back her hair as she looked over her shoulder to wink at me.

It was so innocuously flirtacious and sexy. She was just brimming with sex appeal. It sort of made me wish for a brief moment that she could find a guy who would appreciate her for her brains as much as for her body. Made me want to be that sort of a guy...

But then she blew me a kiss and ran off down the road. Her breasts bouncing. Magnificent at a distance. Her long legs tan and perfect.

Who was I kidding? I'd do her in a fucking heartbeat.

Misconceptions

Sleep is so much more appealing in the morning.

At night you never want to go to sleep

In the morning, you never want to get up.

This somehow strikes me as similar to Newton’s First law of… um… First Law of…

CHANGE OF SUBJECT:

Misconceptions:

Leslie is my special friend. He has a galvanic personality. Everyone loves his exclusive parties. He is also queerer than a two dollar bill.

Lately however, he has been suffering from what I like to call “14-year-old-girl syndrome”

Something wasn’t right in his life and so he has decided to drastically redefine himself.

It’s hard to have a friend going through a rough time when you’re far far away. You wish you could be there to help them through it. Talk to them in person rather than through a static-ridden phone-line. We want them to be the friends they were, to be happy. But in the meantime, they’ve got a rough road ahead, and I can sympathize with that.

We’ve all done that at one time or another.

I know I have.*

{INSERT, enter mad_scientist mode}
So, seeing as how protonium is not only verifiable, but also able to be produced in non-trivial amounts, , and given that Protonium atoms are bosons of zero charge...

…if this is indeed true

Anyone? Anyone?

Fryy? Fryy?

Protonium Bose-Einstein Condensate, !! This may be an intriguing new way to keep matter/anti-matter from annihilating at macroscopic quantities,
by keeping it in a single superpositional state.

Oops, I just invented the antimatter bomb. So sorry.

{exit, retrieve mad_scientist mode}

Washington DC, (OSG PRESS) A NEW White House Study shows that “Life is Shit” according to White House Press Secretary Tony Snow…

HEY! LIARS,

FUCK OFF.
Love, DMM

There are certain code words that people use to let you know that they are lying to you.

A) A twitch of the eye _;-)

B) Sarcasm _{(yeah, that’ll work)}

C) Frequent Fuckin Use of Swear Words

D) Their statement contains the phrase, ``according to White House spokesperson Tony Snow”

Partway through our delightfully vegetarian dinner, Leslie leaned over and told Novi* “Cleary The Masked Man and I are twin brothers who were separated at birth.” And she agreed! Now, let me explain. We look nothing alike, So I would be inclined to think that it was just the alcohol shaking her head and not her cognitive agreement with the statement. But the thing is THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED.

Since we look nothing at all alike, the whole thing really tickles me. I like having a lot in common with Leslie and we get along great, but I really don’t know how I feel about being compared to a very very gay man.
Very Very gay. Very.

I’m not about to pull a Kramer. I’m not homophobic. Leslie and I get along like pears and gingersnaps. But the cold hard fact is that there are homophobes out there just drooling for the chance to pass off some sly discrimination.

What if one of my co-workers had overheard this conversation? What if my boss had been there!?

You never know who you’re going to offend, and hell anything you say can be taken as harassment. The thing with modern harassment laws is that’s its defined by the victim. So technically, anything you do can offend someone and be construed as harassment. Like if you start talking about your new cute pet kitten, and some girl across the room hears you and she had a traumatic childhood experience involving a weekend in Colorado in January when her family got stranded in the cold with just their mini-van and a bag of crackerjacks and they were forced to take shelter in a nearby cave which happened to shelter a hibernating Cougar who they then proceeded to accidentally awaken, leading to the death and sever mutilation of her 4 sisters and her little brother Timmy. She could feel harassed by my remark about kittens, because it brought up all these unwanted memories for her… and then she’d tell my boss and then I’ll end up dropped from my job, homeless and starving, making ends meet living paycheck to paycheck doing urinal maintenance for the Pittsburg Pirates.

Holy shit I just said ‘like pears and gingersnaps!’ It’s starting! Quick, chin up! Chest out!

The need for red blooded males to go out of their way to avoid being grouped with pooftas is overwhelming.
Think about male strippers.  (Hypothetically, dirtbag.  Get your mind out of the gutter.
(I'm using them as an example.(NO!  I'm not using male strippers.  (Quit quoting me out of context!!))))
My point is that those guys have it worse than anyone.
They are supposed to pay meticulous attention to keeping their bodies clean fit and gorgeous,
and know how to dance exceptionally well… but also be into women.

Not, not fair.

Shit.  I was supposed to be talking about Misconceptions.

Comics are not always funny.
(Doonesbury, fuckers)

it's not sloppy to
       start a thought on one line and
finish it later

(even in haiku.  It is.  Don’t tell me it’s a style choice.  You’re a style choice!  Fuckers)

Return of Pinnocchio is Exceptionally wholesome family entertainment.
(It’s wood and it gets bigger and bigger.  Fuckers.)

Garlic keeps Vampires at bay.
(um. misconception.  Fuckers.)


Another misconception is that I am not fun .
Wrong. I don't know where you got that idea from!
I love having fun, with hot babes

in hot tubs 

naked

!!!

GROWL.

Overcompensation sometimes works against you. But you can’t have too much of a good thing. “This is not a misconception, sources say it's true. "That’s why we’re taking US Troops out of Iraq,” says White House Press Secretary Tony Snow.


For all this and more of the news that's not fit to print nor print to fit
tune in tomorrow to:
-DMM
's blog
(Fuckers.)

KissHanksAssianity

This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first: John: "Hi! I'm John, and this is Mary." Mary: "Hi! We're here to invite you to come kiss Hank's ass with us." Me: "Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who's Hank, and why would I want to kiss His ass?" John: "If you kiss Hank's ass, He'll give you a million dollars; and if you don't, He'll kick the shiat out of you." Me: "What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?" John: "Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever He wants, and what He wants is to give you a million dollars, but He can't until you kiss His ass." Me: "That doesn't make any sense. Why..." Mary: "Who are you to question Hank's gift? Don't you want a million dollars? Isn't it worth a little kiss on the ass?" Me: "Well maybe, if it's legit, but..." John: "Then come kiss Hank's ass with us." Me: "Do you kiss Hank's ass often?" Mary: "Oh yes, all the time..." Me: "And has He given you a million dollars?" John: "Well no. You don't actually get the money until you leave town." Me: "So why don't you just leave town now?" Mary: "You can't leave until Hank tells you to, or you don't get the money, and He kicks the shiat out of you." Me: "Do you know anyone who kissed Hank's ass, left town, and got the million dollars?" John: "My mother kissed Hank's ass for years. She left town last year, and I'm sure she got the money." Me: "Haven't you talked to her since then?" John: "Of course not, Hank doesn't allow it." Me: "So what makes you think He'll actually give you the money if you've never talked to anyone who got the money?" Mary: "Well, He gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you'll get a raise, maybe you'll win a small lotto, maybe you'll just find a twenty-dollar bill on the street." Me: "What's that got to do with Hank?" John: "Hank has certain 'connections.'" Me: "I'm sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game." John: "But it's a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don't kiss Hank's ass He'll kick the shiat out of you." Me: "Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from Him..." Mary: "No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank." Me: "Then how do you kiss His ass?" John: "Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of His ass. Other times we kiss Karl's ass, and he passes it on." Me: "Who's Karl?" Mary: "A friend of ours. He's the one who taught us all about kissing Hank's ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times." Me: "And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss His ass, and that Hank would reward you?" John: "Oh no! Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here's a copy; see for yourself." From the Desk of Karl Kiss Hank's ass and He'll give you a million dollars when you leave town. Use alcohol in moderation. Kick the shiat out of people who aren't like you. Eat right. Hank dictated this list Himself. The moon is made of green cheese. Everything Hank says is right. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom. Don't use alcohol. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments. Kiss Hank's ass or He'll kick the shiat out of you. Me: "This appears to be written on Karl's letterhead." Mary: "Hank didn't have any paper." Me: "I have a hunch that if we checked we'd find this is Karl's handwriting." John: "Of course, Hank dictated it." Me: "I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?" Mary: "Not now, but years ago He would talk to some people." Me: "I thought you said He was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shiat out of people just because they're different?" Mary: "It's what Hank wants, and Hank's always right." Me: "How do you figure that?" Mary: "Item 7 says 'Everything Hank says is right.' That's good enough for me!" Me: "Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up." John: "No way! Item 5 says 'Hank dictated this list himself.' Besides, item 2 says 'Use alcohol in moderation,' Item 4 says 'Eat right,' and item 8 says 'Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.' Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too." Me: "But 9 says 'Don't use alcohol.' which doesn't quite go with item 2, and 6 says 'The moon is made of green cheese,' which is just plain wrong." John: "There's no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you've never been to the moon, so you can't say for sure." Me: "Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock..." Mary: "But they don't know if the rock came from the Earth, or from out of space, so it could just as easily be green cheese." Me: "I'm not really an expert, but I think the theory that the Moon was somehow 'captured' by the Earth has been discounted*. Besides, not knowing where the rock came from doesn't make it cheese." John: "Ha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!" Me: "We do?" Mary: "Of course we do, Item 7 says so." Me: "You're saying Hank's always right because the list says so, the list is right because Hank dictated it, and we know that Hank dictated it because the list says so. That's circular logic, no different than saying 'Hank's right because He says He's right.'" John: "Now you're getting it! It's so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank's way of thinking." Me: "But...oh, never mind. What's the deal with wieners?" Mary blushes John: "Wieners, in buns, no condiments. It's Hank's way. Anything else is wrong." Me: "What if I don't have a bun?" John: "No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong." Me: "No relish? No Mustard?" Mary looks positively stricken. John: He's shouting. "There's no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!" Me: "So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?" Maryn sticks her fingers in her ears."I am not listening to this. La la la, la la, la la la." John: "That's disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat that..." Me: "It's good! I eat it all the time." Mary faints. John catches Mary: "Well, if I'd known you were one of those I wouldn't have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shiat out of you I'll be there, counting my money and laughing. I'll kiss Hank's ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater." With this, John dragged Mary to their waiting car, and sped off. -By James Huber

Below Average

The Dead Sea Scrolls
The Bhagavad Gita
The Masked Man's Blog

Classic.
Classic.

Funny story. When I logged onto my computer earlier it alerted me that my password will expire in "1 days"
Would I like to change it now?

1 days.

Some genius programmer can get my computer to work on a network, allowing any number of over 3,000 company employees to log into my one machine, and even keep each login on a timer set to expire passwords on a separate and autonomous timescale. But the real technological cutting edge is apparantly in getting the prompts to distinguish between the singular and plural.

Like King Kong on his
Desert isle. This big white egg
holds a DRAGON! Oooooooh!

Sometimes physical landscapes impose themselves on our pysche and, the theory goes, sometimes we impose our moods onto the world around us.

In this vein, I was in the mist of depression.
Working a shit job and playing that charade where I tell the gang I will go out to their parties but then ditching at the last minute.

I'm losing weight too.

Anyone else miss the cherubic luxury of college food here? *raises hand*
So damn convenient. Even if the food sucked donkey balls. Which it frequently did.
The soup was watery, even when it was 'cream of" something.
The meat was stringy and hard.
The fruit was either too fresh to be ripe or too old to be edible unless you're 90 and have no teeth and all your food comes in a mushpaste anyway.

Ah! But the salad bar! Heaven sent I tell you.
O! Lord do I miss it!

Warm ceramic plates topped with shimmering spinach spring mix and plump moist cucumbers. Liberal Cauliflower and broccoli sprouts dotting a thick layer of grated white and yellow cheses, feta spread, a blanket of shreaded carrots, bacon bits, a river of dressing and a freckled finish of croutons.

Oooooh!

Aaahhh!!

So its been awhile since Ive done anything like this, but whoot!

Who gives a flying rats ass.

Granted, yes it sux. but you'll get over it eventually.

Today's game (yaygame) is antoehre excitign editnino of
CAPTION THE PICTURE ALREADY
Ready, set, heregoes:

CAPTION THE PIXTCUR ALREADY!
I'm off for an evening of pure, unapologetic relaxation. Don't call me. I'll bite.

auro cenotauralis

I’m not a religious fanatic when it comes to any particular belief. 
You can believe in any God you like as long as you take the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, that's where I stand.  Ok, ok, that's not true. 
As long as you believe the same thing I believe in we're cool.
Haha, just kidding again.

I'm an atheist.  I believe in, um Athee.  Um... what were we talking about?  Oh right... religion.

Well I only bring it up because of a little matter of mistaken identity and misplaced zeal. 
ok, again, that's a lie.  Only not really.  Almost everything I do involves either one or both of those things.

Couple weeks ago I was thinking about beliefs after a long illuminating discussion with my longtime buddy Doug.  He's a scientist.  Some sort of engineering as I recall.  We actually weren't talking about belief at all but we were talking about Doug's love life, or the lack thereof, in comparison with me.  Senor masqueDon Juan.  

"How is it that ladies see something in you?" he asked, not even trying to disguise the disgust in his voice.  But he was feeling vulnerable, so I let it slide.
"Maybe it's the mask.  They love a good mystery."
"That's one hypothesis," said Doug. 
As a scientist he's always using meaningless words like Hypothesis and Kilometer.

"I think it's a matter of priorities," said Doug after a long pause.  "I have dedicated my life to science.  To the collection and execution of organized data collection and rational analysis.  The world, to me, is a series of number and patterns which, although I will admit I do not understand all of, I believe thoroughly can all be explained thoroughly and wholly."
"Yeah, I don't believe that at all," I said.
"That's exactly my point.  Exactly!  See, you're more touchy feely right.  Your world is about hidden agendas and misinformation."
"No, I wouldn't say that," although thinking back on it, as a guy who lives his life behind a mask, that was a pretty insightful observation by Doug, "It's just that I allow room for doubt.  I admit that there are things I don't know about the world and concede that they simply may not be known.  There is so much at work in the universe that is unseen and unseeable.  Even in our everyday lives.  Ghosts, coincidences, Deja Vu... there is a whole world of mystical and unallignable allignments going on out there, and I just sort of go with it and try not to understand it."

Doug paused.

"How can you... um... 'try not to understand it?'  See, I can't do that.  I have to understand things, that's the way my mind works."

And that's about the gist of our conversation.  I couldn't answer his question.  We're good friend and all, and we talk about just about everything together but sometimes even the best of roads end at an empsase. 

So I went home and got to thinking about science and irrationality.  About very open Doug, and closed me.  About causation and mysticism.  About analysis and faith. Then I remembered the hymn about the two brothers who sat in darkness and in fear...
that hymn always seemed to answer a vague and persistent question which haunted my young soul

Religion, for me, was about accepting that there are a few things in life which we can never know.  Taking solace and comfort from the fact that although we can make up explanations for the unseen, it really all comes down to faith that things are going to turn out.

It's not fair that my co-worker's one uncle who has been a drug addict for 25 years is going strong and looking great, while his other younger uncle who was the epitome of health-concious-conservative now has a crippling degenerative heart condition.  Anyone trying to overlay order or reason on these kinds of things if foolish and has fools for friends.

I don't want to discount science.  But I don't want to stumble into some sort of emo blissfest titled "drowning in a sea of love" either.  All I'm saying is, there are some things we can understand, and other things that we have to believe in our hearts without any proof.  It's the balance of belief, and heartfelt insight, that leads to a successfull life.

And this is just about bigger-picture-religion btw.  I'm in no way getting into the semantics of church doctrine or the specifics of different divisive demoninationisms.

I do wear a mask.  Let's keep this broad broad.

As Doug's little brother says:
Badness sucks, but coolness is awesome

Religion can be good for moral upbringing, and some people are way against that sort of control.  But generally where most religions agree is that if we all treat each other with compassion it will be better off for everyone.  So don't be bad.  Stay cool. 
This blog was going somewhere else but I've lost it.  Narrative gone.  Tune in tomorrow.  We'll make a game of finding it.

in brief and in summary:
Doug can't get laid.  That's his issue. Scientists.  They're all incurable sentimentalists.

I have trouble relating to people who believe in things so thoroughly that they can't open their eyes to the possibility of other ways.  That's my issue.  But I wear a mask and deal.

My coworker's uncles must reconcile their mother's generation's faith with the truth that we cannot know why things happen the way they do.  That's their issue.  And I wish them the best of luck, and prayers.

And Doug's little brother?  He is an idiot.  And unfortunately, that's everyone's issue. 
"Crap on a stick," -Abe Lincoln

and then this morning

and then this morning
after many many failed attempts

I read a story about a woman in Colorado whose neighbors forced her to take down a peace wreath from her yard because it was “satanic” or “anti-american”. First the Christians. Then the pacifists. I'm thinking about putting a crucified Santa Claus in my front yard.

and then this morning
She convinced me

She offered me a cigarette

And I accepted

‘cus it’s been a very long time.

As it burned to the end

I thought of the girl no one could ever forget.

everything good that happens in my life clutches something bad with it

and then this morning

its so good being free

in related news…

Manchester, NH (OSG PRESS) The Entire State of New Hampshire kicked the bucket this morning, finally living up to their 200 year pledge to either “live free or die.” Outgoing New Hampshire Congressman Jeb Bradley (R), having safely endured the mass suicide, from his Washington office was reported saying, “does this mean that I don’t get to repeal more of their civil liberties?”

As a representative for a non-existant congressional district he will be allowed to serve out his term in Washington. Bradley says he is planning a bill to repopulate his home state with prisoners and political undesirables so that he will be able to retain his position next term.

“Hopefully we can back on our feet and maybe change the motto to ‘die free or live’ or something a little easier to reconcile with the realities of 21^st century democracy.”

and then this morning

yearning for tomorrow, Spent

It's Monday. I'm cold. It's cold. It's overcast. I had to work this morning. Not only work, go to a meeting where I had to pretend I was intelligent. I have a headache. Did I mention I was cold? Lessee... My face is sore, my clothes are too tight, my house is a mess... And I'm cold. Please eXcuse me whiel I stab out my eyes!

Or my spleen.

Don't know exactly why, but it's getting harder to pretend that I'm happy everyday.
Would you believe me if I told you that all I wanted to do yesterday was settle down with a cup of tea and watch Scooby Doo? Because it's true.

Because it’s true.

and then this morning

fortunes turning, sunlight burning, figures yearning, life affirming

DMM REVIEWS: Darren Aronofsky's THE FOUNTAIN (WITH PICS!)

I haven't seen a movie in a theatre for a while. So I was real excited to go and see Darren Aronopfsky's The Fountain this weekend. Sadly, and much to my dismay I discovered that movies in the theatre cost upwards of $10!

"I'm not paying that shit!" I said, storming out of there and straight over to Chinatown where I found a friendly old street merchant who sold me a DVD rip-off of the movie for only six dollars! Heckofa deal.

I scooted back to my place, popped in the unmarked DVD and away we were.

Darren Aronofsky's THE FOUNTAIN is one of those roller-coasters of a movie!

The version that I saw was a bit skewed. The volume was all shifty and the film clarity was often like watching a movie projected underwater. Also, the subtitles sometimes started to take over the screen in scenes with lots of dialogue...



So sometimes it was kind of hard to follow between the charismatic subtitles and the less than audible volume. But what I gathered was that The Fountain is not a movie I would recomend to my parents' generations of moviegoers. In fact, it was graphically violent and obscenely profane. Often reminding me a lot of Resovoir Dogs, or Kill Bill...


And Star Studded! let me tell you. Lots of actors I recognized from other movies were in The Fountain, and they all played their characters so brilliantly that I almost forgot they were acting. Which was quite a feet. In fact the story itself was filled with such odd characters, I would even say it was an entirely character-based script, the action just a string-along excuse to feature these eccentric oddballs who are not all bad villians, nor righteous heroes.



It was more like several episodes of a TV show thrown together. Three or four main plots interweaving occasionally and told in chapters following various low lifes, & underbelly of society types. I've never see anything so genre bending. Each chapter has sort of a winking wit about it, as if the director knew how cool this world he has created was, and was only going through with the action to let us all in on the fabulous absurdity of it.


But then, as soon as you start to think of these characters as next-door neighbor sort of people talking about cheeseburgers and footmassages, it goes and does something Really Friggin Crazy just to remind you why you thought it was cool in the first place.


Darren Aronofsky's THE FOUNTAIN is not a picture for everyone - Its definitely a glorification of sheltered little evil people, and simultaneously, like, a Comedy Gangster movie.


The film grabs you by the balls and doesn't let go until the entire 114 minutes have expired. Everyone should go see it, its probably even worth shilling out the ten bucks for a legitimate theatre experience rather than going out and buying a cheep bootleg like mine.

If you do see it, I have Just one question.

What exactly was the thing that was glowing in the suitcase? It's been buggin the hell out of me
I won't tell you anymore since I don't want to spoil this great movie for you. It's got Oscar written all over it, and I'm glad I got to see it before anyone one else.

-DMM

What they Say is The Perfect Way to End the Perfect Day

with a kiss.

Dice Not Included. Islamic EXTREME(ism) Expansion Pack sold seperatly

Lots of thoughts about the massive array of stories we amass within our lives, our days, our thoughts each second. Nothing is new, no new thought exists and the entire human condition can be summarily executed in a single moment of time. Been thinking about this but am not ready to write about it yet so:
CONTRASTING VIEWPOINTAGANZA!

what happens but once, might as well not happen at all
if we have only one life to live, we might as well not live at all.
Why hold out my hands tonight, you will not take my hands
Why breath when you won’t tell me each breathing is worthy
Why wait when I could have everything and never have to wait

Immerse yourself into Wednesday.

...where there is Big nooz.
The Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act says even non-violent animal rights activists can be classified as terrorists... and we all know what we do to terrorists now... This is scary stuff. I gotta give them credit for being slick about it, but not all of us are as stupid as they seem to think. Destroy habeas corpus first while most of America is still retarded about terrorism, THEN redefine terrorist.

GAME DAY!
GAYME DA!
GAM DAEY!
DAME YAD!
(yaydameyad!)

TERRORIST GAME

1. Train with a group of erstwhile unsuspecting middle eastern extremists in a remote Yemenese paramilitary facility
2. Draw a special skill card from the deck
3. Correspond with your classmates via bi-weekly modulating cellphones and email addresses. Stay chummy, but DON’T TELL THEM YOUR REAL NAME! Plausible deniability.
4. Roll two dice to determine who goes first
5. Target a major international landmark or sporting event but don’t tell anyone what it is.
7. If the player in the role of “Organized Western Style Government” cannot guess which target you have, tell him to “Go Fish”. He will then draw another card and forego his turn.
8. Turn over the hourglass to begin a timeline for destruction
9. Spin the wheel on the axis of evil
10. Yahtzee!!
11. With your teammates in place, perform an act of terrorism in a secret target of your choice. If you don’t get caught by a UN War tribunal, YOU WIN!!
13. If your terrorist activity ends in Martyrdom, congratulations! You will live forever in eternal bliss with your choice of endless cloudfields of either Ripened virgins or yaks.


What if you really could live forever?

Today I embark on a somewhat strange journey.
I'm going to the movies. Now, I know this may be a regular occurance for most people, but with all the things compacted into my busy schedule it makes it hard to catch a picture now and then. I'm seeing Darren Aronofsky's "The Fountain", which I heard was "quite the experience."
We'll see how it goes, won't we?

Err. Maybe not 'we'. But I will. And if you're lucky I'll tell you what I think.
Because I have a doctorate in Boo-Yah.

-Dr. DM'd Man M.D.

Superficial

Today is вход в галактику

Met a girl who’s a bio major and a bit of a sado-masochist.

"my love, you are my oxygen. now, pretend im myoglobin and let me bind you!"

More? More. More!

Some people phrase statements in the form of questions. It's friggin hilarious and more than somewhat endearing but hard to represent typographically. Makes me think of my buddy Doug. Because Doug talks...like this? A lot? He always will ... have short pauses? Followed by phrasing his statement as a question? And it's awesome. Doug is teh awesome.

Hypothetical Kevin Smith Soothsayer Character Line of the day:
"The end is extremely fucking nigh "

I'm working right now. Manning the phones.
Daydreaming about the newest of my newly discovered fetishes through hypnotherapy- Streets paved in boobs!

Cus Superficial is the best of all the 'ficials'

THANKSGIVING TIP:
Two hours after the meal you're already hungry for more. Or are you? Keep in mind cravings are often tastebud based superficial impulses -- a hankering for flavor variety that can manifest itself as hunger. Nutrition experts suggest a mental trick to untangle the wiring of your cranial circuitry and stop your salivating: Imagine a hot, heaping portion of your most recent meal -- an exact duplicate of what you've just polished off. If your craving seems to go away at the prospect of more of the same, it'll prove that it's not borne of hunger -- but rather, a common case of flavor boredom. Pop a stick of sugarless gum, or sip some flavored seltzer with a twist of lemon or lime. You'll please your palette without OD'ing on calories!

Speaking of Thanksgiving,
I have no plans as yet and I've
heard that Vegas has a topless classic
rock show about lesbian vampires!!
Um. Buh. Buh. Whuh?

customer service hold music, like, makes me want to jam large rodents covered in razor blades into my ears... RODENTS OF DOOM! I know where you think I'm going with whole "jamming rodents" thing, but I'm not so don't go there ok?! it's so that once they've been stuck, headfirst, in my ear canal, they can gnaw away at bits of my inner ear.UAGH... This music makes me feel stupid. MAKE IT STOP!!! KENNY G-esque SAXOPHONE!!! ARRGGHH!! ELECTRIC PIANO!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Its written quickly.
Random fun! Surreal Haiku.
Cockroach bitch!

Ok ok ok. Tomorrow is game day. Thoughts? Suggsestions? Honk if you're interested? Please tell your friends to read my blog. The 1,00th reader tomorrow gets a tootsie pop. It's some new promotional technique I'm trying. The old technique of punching random readers in teh teeth just wasn't working.
and that's it.
tHIS Has been your daily dose of Masked Man.

SO STFU ALREADY!

now it comes to this

They are creatures of the moment, and they’ve created a dream glove to wear over the hand of injustice strangling America, ney the world. Suffocating righteousness with a purposeless indulgence to rule of law. Penetrated with a spirit of vile intent, and touting erudite expressions idolizing second-hand inventions of phrase and fable. Do not be taken in by their words. Do not fall blind into their limitless limited scope. Admitting the presence of evil men does not negate their strives towards evil deeds.

Beyond that deep chrome precipice sleeps an unweeded garden of intolerance, our nations heart, wherein has blossomed an unrestrained refinement of the art of exclusion. An apathy and malaise so vehemently opposed to the benefits and necessity of adaptation and change to the point of cartoonish perversity.

How has this come to pass? Does evil exist at the heart of man from the frail tears of conception or does it incestuously melt away from the core of virtue when left unchecked, like a rough and smoky seed of sin? How does a man come to judge love as a vice? War as glorious and honorable? Lives as expendible? Does a seat in the lap of luxury whet an appetite for disregard towards those less shrouded by dexterous and illusory comforts? Perhaps the resolve to perch on a seat of inhumanity is natural, perhaps it is nurtured by ignorance. I am willing to give man the benefit of the doubt.

One explanation for the derivation of heartless men is that they are the product of an irreconcilable worldview. In youth, we are connected to our collective pasts, the lessons gleaned therein, and the constant bombardment of new memories reinforcing hope and excitement, the creative vitality of being young. I need not point out that these salad days fall away as years pass, straying towards the melancholic twists and turns of cold and uncaring reality. But the mind of youth years to remain, the carefree nurtured labyrinth of vanity undistilled, an ego fettered milk at breast, a outlook out of pace with realism. No place to remain, anger and a sense of futility drive the joy and compassion from a tortured soul, clouding pleasures behind the frustrated pragmatisms of necessity, leaving callous corpses that stare unseeing eyes at distant horizons obscenely, atrociously, and nightmarishly sheltered from the very fabric of innocence that they self-servingly claim to cling to the harshly battered remnants of.

We are left with slaughter. Weary stale and crowded kingships flushing galled salt teary eyes over purity defiled, with no one to blame. Sumos quod sumos, not that this is any justification. Nor indictment. I simply cannot sit silently while good men pay for some one elses let downs. And yet I am mutable in my anger, chiming tender tones of regret waved in a suffocating sea of scores of acute griefs.

The Great Mustache Comeback 2006: Volume Two

I'm not going to say this topic is back by popular demand, but the argument can be made that the mustache as a male fashion statement certain is.

After this post I did back in June, I've tried not to press the mustache agenda since most people are either indifferent to, or vehemantly against them.  But after a trip to the movies last night wherein I was forced to sit through a half hour of previews, I can only come to the conclusion that Mustaches are BACK!  If not today, then very very soon.  See for yourself below.  There are New and some older examples I missed before.

Is the mustache Back?  You be the judge!

Eddie Murphey and Jamie Foxx in a promotional still from the new movie Dreamgirls. 
Beyonce Knowles was quoted as saying that she will not star in a movie unless her male leads have mustaches. 
It must be true or else how would we have this:

Boys, take note.  Hot girls like Mustaches. 
(Even if you're a bumbling idiot.)

Asked about the Mustache Comeback,
Former James Bond actor Pierce Brosnan was quoted as saying,
"Get the F*** away from us.  My mustache and I are reading the F****ng  Paper.  F**!"

Speaking of cool people.  Here's William H. Macy and Matthew McConaughey. 
Both fully swarthed in both stylish suits and facial hair.
Still not convinced?  How about:

Ray Romano: "Everybody Loves Ray's little Raymond"
Ok, bad example.  How about:

Danny Glover.  Classy Dude.
"I've only got one thing to say to you," he said, when asked about his choice in facial hair...
...needless to say I didn't stick around to ask him. 
He's kinda freaking me out.  Moving right along...

It's not just movie stars baby.  Burgeoning Rock Gods, The Killers reimagined themselves
for their hit album Sam's Town last month
as mustachioed desert balladeers. 
Brandon Flowers even tattooed a mustache underneath his real mustache just in case some crazed groupie does something stupid to him while he's passed out backstage!

Oh look!  It's Sirius Black in the new Harry Potter Movie!
Or wait?  No, its just Gary Oldman,
showing the world that he and his choice of facial hair are THE SHIT!

"Look!  Up above my lip!  It's a mustache bitch!" 
Says Will Smith, former Fresh Prince and star of the upcoming orthographically challeneged "Pursuit of Happyness"

 

And who better to prove the comeback of the Amish Beard's missing cousin, none other than this years biggest Box Office Kazak:

BORAT!

 

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  The mustache is on it's way back in.  The evidence is out there people. 
Hollywood is giving America all the warning signs for an impending onslaught of facial hair.  Now it's up to you to believe it.
Or do your part and grow a mustache of your own. 

I did:

And the ladies love it.

Keep it classy San Diego,
-DMM