sometimes, asian culture confuses me.

i ate lunch the other day at a new restaurant that recently opened in my town. the "old town buffet" is a chinese/american buffet, with a pretty shitty selection of american food. i don't go there for the american food, though. i go for the steaming heaps of americanized chinese dishes such as general tso's chicken, lo mien noodles, etc.
my wife alerted me to the presence of something strange at one of the buffet tables.

she said, "go check out the peach-shaped pocket thing over there."

i'm thinking to myself, what the hell could she be describing? so i make a trip over to the buffet, and i'm looking for something that fits the description she gave me. only, that wasn't her description; that was the actual name of the thing. you know how they label everything at the chinese buffets? well, there was a little white sticker that said "PEACH-SHAPE POCKET", next to the "BREAD TOAST" and "DRY SALT STEAK". i love engrish. anyway, when i looked at what lay in the steaming food tray, i was at a loss for thought. i just stopped and stared at whatever the hell was in front of me. at first glance, it seemed like some kind of cream puff-type dessert. but it wasn't with the desserts; it was with the egg-drop and sweet and sour soups. this was no dessert. cas snagged one of these things so i could take pictures. the unsettling effect this thing had on me can't be conveyed with a simple picture, so just trust me; this thing is fucking disturbing:



i took one back to the table with me, and poked at it for a bit. it was soft, like a firm breast, but shiny and smooth on the outside. it smelled vaguely of rice, or maybe nothing at all. i was curious, and afraid at the same time. i had to know what was inside. my instinct was sending me signals, saying that an alien would inevitably pop out if i bit into it. it reminds me of some kind of alien egg, kind of like the ones that the gremlins emerged from in the movie Gremlins.
unable to suppress the urge any longer, i bit into this otherworldly mass. the exterior did not give easily, and i had to work at it a bit with my teeth. finally, the outer shell gave way, revealing a light, airy, bread-like texture inside. then came the really confusing part. below is a picture of the interior of the one i brought home and dissected:



the core of this bizarre food item was brown, but definitely not chocolate. i'm thinking it was made of figs, or maybe martian shit. perhaps the alien had jettisoned from this pod, leaving behind only the excrement from his long stay inside. yes, this was probably an escape pod....but where were the control panels? the bottle of Lysol kitchen cleaner is there, just in case the thing tried to spray me with some kind of noxious goo. okay, i just forgot to move it. you can see in the picture below where the brown stuff is spreading into the white area, much like a disease....



i ate some of the dense and moist filling, and i still had no idea what it was. it was a little sweet, and reminded me just slightly of what dirt tastes like. i finished most of the...fuck i just don't know what to call it.....the thing, after waiting a bit to make sure i wasn't poisoned. the one i brought home for examining is sitting on my computer desk, not 10 inches from me as i type. every few minutes, i keep thinking i'm hearing some kind of distress signal emitting from it. i'm going to have to put it somewhere secure, because i don't know if i can sleep tonight knowing that it is still here. but i can't get rid of it. i have to know what it is.

DeoxyriboNucleic Acid (cloning......what the hell?)

the DNA talk will come in a minute. it's come to my attention lately, through numerous resources, that i am a bitter and resentful bastard. after thinking this theory over for a lengthy 30 seconds, i would have to say that i agree. people always ask me the question, "why are you so angry?". generally, the people who ask me this haven't taken the time to read the entries i've made in this weblog. a more appropriate (and easier to answer) question would be, "what aren't you angry about?". now that's a good question. unfortunately, no one ever asks that. and i'm not about to answer a question that i asked myself. that would just be crazy.

after careful consideration, i've decided to conduct an experiment. work with me on this, and we just may achieve some successful results. the experiment is this: i am going to try to be less hateful in my writings. this is only temporary, of course. if, however, the experiment produces favorable results, i may just continue down the road of happy bunnies and general contentedness (yes, it's a word). well, as content as i can be. it is me, after all. in a nutshell, i'm going to try not to bitch and be hateful so much.

an online acquaintance brought up the subject of cloning. i've never gone to great lengths to ponder the subject, as i see my role in the cloning world as rather insignificant. there's not much i can realistically do to effectively support, or oppose the whole thing. but, i started thinking about cloning. it's a multi-faceted subject, really. cloning is done on many levels, from DNA cloning to reproductive cloning.

DNA cloning, which has been around since the 1970's, can make several copies of the same gene for scientific study.

reproductive cloning, which has proven more news-worthy in recent years, is a technology used to create an animal with the same DNA as one that already exists, or has existed at least. this type of cloning is what brought the freakish "Dolly the Sheep" into our world. Dolly lived only 7 years, compared to the average sheep lifespan of 11-12 years. although not in this case, cloned animals often have serious health complications. this should be a red flag for those people that think cloning humans is a "neat idea".

that was a brief science lesson for those of you completely unfamiliar with cloning. i have just come to learn much of this myself. there is much more to the subject than what i have written, but i'm not going to get into all of that. the big thing that's keeping me from taking a firm stance on either side of the cloning issue is the morality/naturality of it.

a question keeps coming to mind when i think about this. "is this really what we, as humans, are supposed to be doing?" regardless of your specific religious beliefs, you have to wonder if the higher power(s) really meant for us to be doing something so unnatural. humanity has been obsessed with preservation of life ever since the thought first popped into some primitive scientist/doctor's head many centuries ago. people have invented (or discovered) so many methods of extending and preserving life. medicine, surgical procedures, organ transplants, the list goes on and on. i have to wonder if we should just let people die when nature determines that their time has come. Death does a lot more on-the-job waiting around than he used to.

should we just accept death when it comes knocking on our door? i'm not sure, but it's something to think about.

my goodness!

well, that last entry was just plain hateful, wasn't it? i suppose that's what you've come to expect, if you are a regular reader of this blog. i remain steadfast in my opinion that, if there weren't so much to be angry about, i wouldn't need to bitch so much. that being said, if you find a way to put a stopper in the constantly flowing sewer pipe of douchebaggery, let me know. i will promptly close this weblog. i have to use the restroom, but i just sat down to write this. as unhealthy as it may be to hold it in, i will finish the task at hand! i'm having a difficult time learning how to make the color brown from liquid dyes. i know very little about that type of thing, but i would imagine mixing the primary colors in some fashion would create brown. i suppose i could resort to more natural methods of creating the color, and by "natural", i mean shitting and putting it in a bottle marked "brown". but who would use that? why am i so preoccupied with creating brown, you ask? i seem to have forgotten.

you can go to the grocery store, and find countless magazines discussing which celebrity is cheating on their significant other, who is on a diet (and whether or not cocaine is an integral part of said diet), and so many other seemingly important facts. i've stayed away from all that, and i seem to be surviving quite alright thus far. i'm not on life support or anything, so i'm beginning to wonder whether the excessive media frenzy over the lives of celebrities is really all that important. it's about as necessary as the cigarette industry. on one hand, it's negatively impacting society as a whole. on the other hand, if we were to remove it completely, then there would be a sudden, massive unemployment problem. what to do? i'm just going to sit here, and surf the internet. i just hope i'll get by without the mandatory marlbory and the latest issue of National Enquirer.

floored by the stupidity

oh god. television has removed my hope for mankind. we're all absolutely, and most positively doomed. it began many years ago, and some may say it truly started when the television was first invented. but i won't go back that far. we'll start with what really started hammering the nails into our collective coffin. to the best of my recollection, it began with programs like Survivor. you know, the "reality" shows. no, scratch that, i remember The Real World now. that one was fucking terrible as well. and the talk shows, particularly the sleazy ones. the viewing audience was not meant to see this shit. people airing their dirty laundry for millions to see. we don't really need to know who the father of your child is, and we certainly do not need to hear Sylvia Browne tell you that, yes, your father passed to the other side, and yes he does have a message for you. the message is this: "STOP WATCHING THE GODDAMNED TELEVISION ALL DAY AND DO SOMETHING THAT REQUIRES BRAIN ACTIVITY."

Fear Factor. Extreme Makeover Home Edition. WifeSwap. Nanny 911. American Fucking Idol. Amish in the City. The Bachelor. The Bachelorette. Bachelorettes in Alaska. Big Brother. The Swan. Trading Spaces. The Ashlee Simpson no-talent Extravaganza. Average Joe. the list goes on. here's a particularly trashy one:

Joe Goddamned Millionaire: "hey, let's get an average guy to lie to a group of superficial, snot-nosed cunts about how much money he makes. then we'll see what depths these "women" will sink to for the guy's affection, just to get to his imaginary fortune. yes, it will inadvertently be a disgusting social commentary on today's society, but think of the RATINGS!" brilliant fucking idea.

the worst to date has to be the shows where the producers take two families, and switch the mothers. that is just fucking disgusting. why would anyone do that to their children? we're having a hard enough time raising children properly in this world without turning the whole thing into a goddamned reality show. yeah, put the black mom with the white kids, and stick the white mom with the black family. watch as white mom displays the deep-seated, hidden racism that has been pounded into her head since birth. watch as black mom marvels at the level of articulation with which the white children speak. no, black mom. your children do not have to speak like that. if you would take the time to enunciate properly, you would sound like every other goddamned intelligent person. it has absolutely nothing to do with the color of your skin, or your heritage. you're just too lazy to speak properly. white people do it, too. from now on, if i can't understand someone, and they're not retarded, i'm just not going to bother. why would you do that to yourself? why would you portray yourself in such an unflattering manner? i have black friends who speak perfectly normally. fuck that. this isn't going to be about color. it's about color TV!!!

we're all spiraling downward (yeah, NIN reference, fuck you), and i don't think any of us is going to be too pleased with the end result. and now, i would like to clear a few things up:

toilet is pronounced TOY-LET, not TOR-LET.

the proper spelling is T H E. not TEH. i don't care how much you want it to be spelled T E H, that's just not the way it is. and it's not funny when you repeatedly spell it that way, either.

NUCLEAR, not NUCULAR. who the fuck started that shit? just look at the word, it pronounces itself.

and last, but equally important: JEWELRY, not JEWLERY. the E comes before the L. it's so simple. the word JEWEL, followed by a quick RY. no problems here, but somehow you shits keep screwing it up. learn to speak like the smart people, and the world will be a slightly better place.

more hatred for public places

in my last update, i bitched and moaned about going to one of the local bars. how pleasant. so if you're in the mood for more, read on:

today, i visited the laundromat. to many people, doing laundry in a public place is something perfectly tolerable. some people even view it as a social experience. not me, though. i can't fucking stand doing laundry around people i don't know. i don't have room in my apartment for a washer and dryer, so don't even start on that shit. it bothers me to think about all the unsavory citizens that have washed their dirty clothes in those washers. especially when i have seen people come to the laundromat, and wash their clothes with NO FUCKING SOAP. that's right, they put their filthy clothes in the washer, pump it full of coins, push start, and close the lid. they didn't forget to add the soap. they skipped that step on purpose. as if the hot water alone is going to rid their disgusting rags of all the dirt, sweat, dead skin cells, food, drugs, whatever. that is just revolting. i'm so sick of all these nauseatingly dirty people walking around in my city. have some self respect, you pieces of dog shit. god, how i wish i could get in my car and just go "GTA" on them all. anyway, back to the subject at hand.

so i'm sitting in the laundromat, listening to my portable CD player, and this sumo-sized woman waddles through the automatic sliding doors. she just oozed trashiness. stretch pants, stretched to the limit. stained shirt with some outdated "bad attitude" phrase on it. you know, the kind that say, "I go from zero to bitch in 4.0 seconds" or some such shit. her hair is sticking out in all directions, and not in that "i'm too cool to care" way. it was more like, "hairbrush? if i bought a hairbrush, i wouldn't be able to buy 40 million lottery tickets with my grocery money!" so this blob of a woman walks over to some unsuspecting laundromat patron. she proceeds to flap her fucking gums for 45 minutes about who knows what. i don't know, because i was too busy trying to block her banshee-like voice with my headphones. i almost felt sorry for the other person, but then i thought, "eat shit. if you don't want her to talk to you, tell her to go stick her ugly face on a hot barbecue grill."

and then there are the stupid fucking crane machines. you know, those godforsaken contraptions that you put coins in to try and win a stuffed toy. i was indifferent to them, before this particular laundromat was built a couple years ago. the bastards who built the laundromat installed 3 of those damned machines, in addition to a few arcade games. i frequent this laundromat, because it has an adjoining gas station. two of the crane machines are in the gas station portion of the building. i can't begin to count how many times i've walked into the gas station, and some piece of shit asshole is standing at the crane machine, repeatedly putting dollars into it. there are dozens of morons in my town who stand at that goddamned machine and spend 5 or 10 dollars at a time, just trying to get a fucking 6-inch tall donkey kong toy. or a fucking spongebob squarepants baseball cap. there is so much useless shit in those machines. you'd be better off giving a dollar to a homeless man and asking him to kick you in the ass. i can't fathom why these worthless scumbags throw their money away in the hopes that they might go home with a fucking piece of colored cloth stuffed with fluff. and i just know that these dicks are the people that sit at home and collect unemployment checks because they're too fucking lazy to get a job. i'm not saying anything about disabled/unemployed people in general. i know life is hard, and it throws you a lot of curveballs. sometimes it just drops a big grand piano on you without warning. but there are way too many lazy shits collecting money from my paycheck. simply because they convinced their doctor to label them "unable to work". the government may as well just level with us all, and make a statement something like this:

"People of America! We, the Federal Government, are going to take a substantial portion of your hard-earned money, and spend it on stupid shit. Some of your money will go to worthwhile causes, but most of it is basically just getting flushed down a toilet in the middle of the ocean. Oh, and you know all of your money we are setting aside for this whole "Social Security" thing? Yeah, ummmm, that's not going to happen. We're just going to keep taking that out of your paycheck, but we decided to squander it on hookers and cocaine."

i'm not holding my breath for that special message from the president.

what is it about the bar?

I'll tell you what it is about the bar. it's not the smoke, the music, or even the exorbitant prices of alcoholic beverages. alright, it is all of those things. but do you know what it is about the bar moreso than anything else? it's the people. going to a bar would be so much more tolerable, enjoyable even, if it weren't for all the assholes roaming around.

i don't know why i continue to go to these places. i suppose it's some kind of futile effort to connect with the rest of humanity, although i honestly can't think of a valid reason to do that. i won't go alone to a bar; only when i am invited by a friend. it's a nice gesture, i suppose. "hey, do you want to go out saturday night?" thanks for the invite, and yes i will go out saturday night. but i'll be damned if i'm going to go home afterward with a smile on my face. i enjoy playing pool. i would enjoy it even more if i could do it in the comfort of my own home. pool is the sole reason i will go to a bar. that and to "hang out" with my friend. there are others i talk to, and play pool with, but i don't think i would bestow them with the title, "friend". friends are something i've always considered to be optional. i enjoy having a few friends, yes, but i'm very selective about who i call my "friends". i can think of perhaps 3 or 4 people i have that are friends. plenty of acquaintances, but few friends. i'm straying from my intended subject...

so i'm at the bar, and i'm hating all the people. rude people who won't step out of the fucking way when i'm taking a shot (while playing pool). there are countless people at this bar. countless socially retarded imbeciles who can function and converse perfectly well in their own little flock of simple-minded fools. but once they place themselves in a public place, it becomes quite clear how bungling and inept they really are. is it really me who is unfit for placement among other humans? wait.....no, it's all the other assholes. people who think it's perfectly considerate and kind to invade personal space so they can get another beer. it's vitally important that they get to the bartender as quickly as possible, because they might run out of beer! there are a million fucking beers behind that counter, dickhead. goddamned cavemen, the lot of them. and yes, there's the smoke, and the terrible music. the AC/DC live album sounds like shit, and should be solely used as punishment for prisoners of war.

so, if i hate all this so much, why do i continue to attend the watering hole in question? i can't say. i want to say, but i don't know why. i'm a human, and humans do dumb shit most of the time. as much as i hate people, for some reason, i continue to voluntarily place myself in situations where many people are present. it's confusing, and i don't know if i'll ever understand that part of the psyche. probably not. now that i have that out of the way, i can talk about music.

i am currently listening to the new Behemoth album, "demigod". thus far, having listened to the first five tracks, i am impressed. another fine piece of work by the polish black metal masters. Pain's 2002 release, "Nothing Remains the Same" is also receiving heavy rotation in my playlist. a wicked cool album, that one. there is a fantastic cover of The Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" on the album. there are many more, lesser-known bands that i'm listening to, but this isn't a music weblog, so i won't go on about them all. regardless, mention should be made of the tragic passing of Bloodstained Dusk's vocalist. he died in an automobile accident january 24th. so pay respect, fuckers.

LOLROFLMAODIEDIEDIE

i just wrote a really long post, and tried to post it to my blog. the server fucked up and i lost the whole thing. i don't even know if i feel like doing this again, so here goes.

i'm getting tired of all these eleventeen year olds running around on the internet. i've just recently decided to put an end to my long-term misanthropy online, and join the forums over at www.crapville.com i love that website. go there when you finish reading this. for a long time, i didn't converse with anyone online. i hated forums, instant messengers, and e-mail. i wanted nothing to do with any of it. i enjoyed the isolation i experienced online. a few weeks ago, i got the itch. the one that says "blagh! the only way to scratch me is by joining the forums at crapville, you hermit bastard!" anyway, i like conversing with the people in the forums there, reading all the humorous/thought-provoking shit that gets posted. however...

as of this post, there are 422 members of the forums, and a majority of them seemingly have no intelligence. not one fucking brain cell amongst them. there are plenty of cool people; it just seems that for every one of the good ones, there are 10 little prepubescent retards. and they believe that it's thouroughly acceptable to post utter shit. i will give you examples:

"hi people watz up talk" --i don't even know what that means. it's completely indecipherable.

"so watz the wors thing u have done" --the worst thing i've done is read your incoherent bullshit posts, ass hat.

"OMG i'm goin shoppin wit gurlz and i think i mite get sum! i need advise!" --i've got some advice for you:

1. join the real world
2. go brush your teeth; it's time for your bedtime story. tonight, mom will be reading a heartwarming book entitled, "shoot yourself before puberty sets in"

"ok, im hngry and cant decide wat 2 eat so help me chose" --i choose that you eat 3 bottles of aspirin, and wash it down with a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner.

"woot woot! anybody hear like hip hop? lets talk bout music!" --if anyone here did like hip hop, they wouldn't talk to you about it because they would need a moron-to-english dictionary. and i don't even think they make those. also, hip hop is not music, fuck you.

"have you ever fancied your mates mum??" --yes, yes. i fancy my mate's mum holding a shotgun to your head and pulling the trigger.

"u ppl r so mean 2 me. y dont you eva ansewr my posts?!" --because we're too busy trying to find your home address online so we can come and punch you in the nose, asshole.

well, that was hateful. why am i so bitter, you ask? because it seems like 99% of people are exactly like the retards i've been complaining about. hey, you saw the title of this blog before you read it. on to greener pastures:

i've been listening to the band "H.I.M." a lot lately. i've had the "Razorblade Romance" album for a while now, and it just fucking rocks. i can't put my finger on exactly what it is about this band that attracts me. i can tell anyone precisely what i like or dislike about any band/musician i've heard. i pay attention to things like that. i like to completely immerse myself in the music i listen to, and really understand all aspects of it. but for some reason, i can't do that with H.I.M. i guess it has something to do with the fact that they write love songs that don't make me want to vomit. i absolutely hate all the sappy, sickeningly sweet pop music shit about love. it's all so goddamned shallow. but H.I.M.'s music is sincere and emotional. so, call me a pussy if you want. just be aware that i will pin you down, carve a heartagram on your chest, piss on the wound, and stomp on your head to the beat of "Poison Girl".