I am living my last moments, just pacing around my glass house. For the past three weeks, I've become progressively more ill. The peeling sore on my side has grown to incredible proportions, leaving my left side a nasty sight since most of the skin has already been eaten away and pretty soon I think my insides will be spilling out of me (if I live long enough). My left appendage has atrophied, leaving its counterpart to do all the work so that it has become swollen. My breaths are shallow now and becoming more shallow as time goes by. Air bubbles seem to be stuck inside of me, making intake difficult and painful.

I am changing colors rapidly- what once was blue is red and then it is green and back to blue again. This is a sign of the fight inside of me. My body is swollen and my scales are sticking out like goosebumps. My tails are ripping apart, becoming weak and breaking off perhaps because nutrients have all been channelled into a futile attempt to keep what is essential strong or else nutrients are not being taken in at all, which is probably the case considering my state. And I really used to be such a mighty stud! Sometimes I remember the golden days and I begin to strut and dance and dart around. At those times, she would smile. Speaking of she...

Last night, taking actions towards making me as comfortable as possible, she changed the water in my glass house. I imagine the stench was so bad that she probably wanted to vomit in her mouth a little but she showed no indication of this. Unfortunately, the water was a bit too cold; shocking me a for a few long moments, leaving me to lay immobile at the bottom of my house. I thought this was the end. I thought finally, she killed me. And it wasn't going to be like last time when I died and she cried and I came back. But it was like the last time again.

It is the day after the water change. I don't think I can do this much longer. She's resigned to my fate as well. It's getting harder to fight. I am keeping afloat at the top but I'm getting tired of treading. I sink and hit the bottom every now and then, lay still, and then I come back to my senses and swim back up. But the end is soon for me.


-Zombie Jesus Pheonix Fish

---------------------------------------

So excuse me for being so emo about my fish dying but after Rainny killed Queen Elizabeth, it's just sad that gking4ever had to give Zombie the shingles. Especially after last winter when Zombie died on the LIRR and I started crying because I was already so stressed out. And then he fucking came back to life and I almost killed him again for doing that to me. Anyway, he actually died while I was rewriting this entry (I had written it but accidently lost it; don't ask; I could have sworn the first one was better). He would really be floating at the top, all of a sudden sink and then as if he had just woken and was confused jump up and swim back up to the top. I like to think he was fucking around with me. But he hasn't moved for a very long time now so I'm pretty sure he's actually dead. I will keep vigil over his little body until the morning and then bury him.

By the way, I don't mean to detract attention from the seriousness of your illness by saying you gave shingles to Zombie (even though I know you did, bastard)...So, feel better, Eric and as a sign that I really mean it here's pictures of BoA saying "sang-rang hae-yo":
She's so sweet!!!

-CalamityJANE

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I have been driving amongst the mongoloid freak babies of Albuquerque for a few months now, and as their ability to navigate such difficult obstacles such as immobile poles, concrete dividers, and straight, clearly delineated road surfaces seems to decrease (significantly) with the passing of every day, my own already considerable driving talents have been steadily increasing toward (but never reaching) infinity.

Verily, with the advent of the first week of school, the roads are filled with passing college-age pedestrains who have confused the street for a larger-than-normal, oddly colored sidewalk. I've been enjoying this immensly--something that goes without saying, really. Every morning, on my way to school--or to work from school--I drive like a bat out of hell: tires squealing and leaving behind a metric ton of burnt rubber as I careen madly (is there any other sort of careening) down the main drag of University Blvd.

Here's some of the words i've been able to pick out of the masses as they dive out of my right-of-way, prior to my breaking the speed barrier in my Taurus, that is. (the ensuing sonic boom kinda drowns out all extraneous squabbling noises):
"I'm a person, WALKING!" (yes, and now you're a person, DIVING.)
"Crazy Maniac Kid!" (would that function as a sort of double negative? Crazy AND maniac, two negative attributes, when mathematically calculated, return a positive. "Kid" is acceptable, because i'd loath to be labeled an adult.)
"Asshole!" (okay, I'll let this one fly. It's applicable.)

Other people attempt to shout words at me, as if i'd be able to hear them with Tool blasting my eardrums bloody, and shape numerous obscenities with whatever hand and body gestures they can. Mostly, their attempts at claiming the road as the sidewalk have proven fruitless. So long as I stay the course, it will remain my domain forever, and rightly so.

--HK_Newbie

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With two full-lengths and one EP under their belts, Swift have returned with "The Absolute Uncontrollable". The band has promised something completely new and unexpected to emerge for your listening pleasure. Rightly so, as their first two albums clearly lifted a page from the vastly influential catalogue of The Deftones early works (Adrenaline, Around The Fur). And while Swift was able to pull off the characteristic sound with complete competency, it left you hungering for the talented upstarts to press off on a path all their own. The needed metamorphosis began its early stages during the recording of their EP "A Communication Manual" that was penned following the departure of their original guitarist. "Manual" began displaying the band's love for a more traditionally metal tinged edge which was richly accented by their new guitarist's talents. They have since welcomed their initial strummer back into the fold and the dual bladed assault on their new effort appears to be everything the band has ever desired and more.

Aptly named, "The Absolute Uncontrollable" delivers its sonic punch right from the get go. Opening track "Charger" kicks off the brutal aggression and never lets up until the classically Spanish acoustic closer "...Built Us A House". Every song in between is a lesson in what it means to be a heavy band and there are plenty out there that should take notes. While in their primitive days they had channeled the spirit of The Deftones maiden productions, they instead have developed the perfect melange of the former's more recent developments along with elements reminiscent of Poison The Well and old school Metallica. Machine-gun guitars blast through the speakers in a barrage of caustic dissonance and unexpected beauty. There are even a few well placed solos interspersed throughout the set. However, instead of sounding gimmicky in a vain attempt to try and gain a sort of nostalgic appeal, they feel entirely necessary and fit the vibe perfectly. Frontman Gary Forsyth shifts effortlessly from terrorizing barks and screams to his captivating monologues and soothing falsetto with so much efficiency that he seems as though he were placed on the Earth for this sole purpose. His style is quickly becoming trademark and could someday find himself in the ranks of other vocal revolutionaries such as Chino Moreno (The Deftones, Team Sleep) and Maynard James Keenan (Tool, A Perfect Circle).

Swift have created with "The Absolute Uncontrollable" what could be the album of their career and easily one of the finest released this year thus far. Their seamless patchwork of old school meets new school aggression is unparalleled by anything released to this day. While the scene becomes more and more convoluted with bands attempting this formula, Swift have managed to champion the sound with so much ability that it's almost scary. And while some may not be able to easily digest so much ferocity in one package, those looking for the cutting edge of heaviness need look no further, for the men in Swift have crafted a veritable concept album on the topic.


-RaiNny

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In just a few short years and two full-length releases Dredg have been able to secure themselves a coveted position among other current prog-rock greats such as The Deftones, Tool, and Radiohead. Casting aside their early rap-metal niche in favor of a more promising and creative outlet, the four-piece crafted two of the more memorable albums in recent times. Leitmotif and El Cielo both featured sounds not commonly heard to most ears. The aural landscape was vast and overwhelming, drowning the listener in a wave of shimmering guitar riffs, viscous low-end, punctual percussion, bleach-clean vocals, and the occasional singularly oddly placed, random (though in the end essential) instrument. Interludes and instrumental breakdowns were common fare throughout both journeys. Though, instead of retracting from the overall flow of the opus', they were key pieces to the puzzle the men had planned to the point that one feels almost required to listen to them start to finish.

Those already familiar with Dredg's past work will notice a stark contrast to their former days. Though musically the album will sound customary to the well-prepared, there is definitely something very obviously missing. Namely in their trademark segways. While they have successfully combined the energy of their debut with the expanse of their followup with flying colors, much could be said about the lack of demanding intellectual and emotional involvement present. Whether or not this is due to label pressure for a more easily digestible product or was of their own volition, "Catch Without Arms" feels much more streamlined. Even though some of their strongest and most potent work is represented here ("Ode To The Sun", "Bug Eyes", and "Tanbark") one cannot help but feel that something has changed. And sometimes change is not a good thing.

There were high hopes lain upon the shoulders of one of the most promising bands currently on the scene. And for a band that never seemed to disappoint, Dredg have sadly done just that. While they may have produced a more focused and accessible sound on this outing that may garner them some additional financial reward, they have also taken away so much of what made them so propitious in the first place. The only thing left to do is hope that this is just one of their expertly crafted segues into more prosperous territory.

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A good henchman is hard to find. I’m sure, as fellow megalomaniacs, you’ve found it more and more difficult to acquire and retain storm troopers/willing victims as your plans reach higher levels of devastating fruition. Whether his role is to walk in the same predictable pattern—alone— in front of the main entrance to your top-secret mechanized army laboratory, or run into a crowd of rioting townspeople shouting “repent” and blowing himself up—it is essential for a steady stream of reliable henchmen to be available at a moment’s notice. That’s why I wrote this handy-dandy guide on obtaining and keeping your henchmen on hand, in large numbers, and alive (for as long as convenient).

I call it “Cannon Fodder: The Tao of the Red Shirt Dude from Star Trek and other Techniques for Enabling a Henchman-Based Takeover of the World”. Here’s an excerpt:

Firstly, you should locate an establishment known for housing the sort of henchmen-esque quality of people on whom you need to test your super-soldier formula (or high-capacity death laser or exploding pen bomb or whatever). I highly recommend a store such as “Radio Shack”. Why Radio Shack, you wonder? Allow me to explain: Stores of that nature are generally the last resort of the alone and gullible. If you see some longhaired loser buying a HAM radio manual or a BEAM robot PCB, chances are he’ll work quite well as a mindless drone. Try going late at night (when the normal freaks go to their 3rd floor apartments to eat cold, day-old Chinese takeout and dream of firing laser guns uselessly at retreating heroes’ backsides) and the TRUE freaks come out. These guys make the day crowd at Radio Shack look NORMAL. Popular even! They are that inept at being human, which makes them all the more suited for the role of henchman. Hell, no one will even miss them after your experiment on “the effects of 30-foot bass speakers on the human body” goes generally how you expected— except with more brain and bits of skull. Really, there’s a surprising amount of brain compressed into one head. Trust me on this.

After convincing your potential henchman to follow you to your secret lair of evil, after signing an NDA and passing the urine test, you should submit him to all sorts of degrading, de-individualizing treatment that forces him to realize the only point, the only purpose, of his pitiful life is to work for your diabolic organization (or revolution or junta or whatever). Inundate him with malevolent evil-guy babble like “Burn Invaders, BURN!” and “Where shall my blood be spilled?” Soon enough, he’ll be making up his own threatening one-liners and you’ll be as proud as a Montanan father watching his son build his first anti-government pillbox in the woods.


I hope you've found this excerpt to be enlightening. This is only a small taste of the best-of-breed methodology my own organization has perfected through thousands of years of trial and error. You may want to pick up a copy for yourself, because soon our plans will come full circle and you won't even have a chance to build your own underground lair or army of red-shirted henchman; for the 4MR will own and control ALL!!!!

--HK_Newbie

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I've heard from reliable sources that loose lips have been hanging around the vicinity of the celestial restaraunt. I would be forever grateful for some fucking discretion in this matter. Because, as we all know, what we think we know is not necessarily true--escpecially if it hasn't been independently verified. Personally, I wouldn't vouch for the veracity of ANY claim on certain subjects (this being on of those subjects), if I haven't seen it myself.

"Why, Newbie" You might ask?

"Because it's fucking stupid" I may reply.

No harsh feelings or anything. It's actually kind of funny, but it could have recursive effects, right? Let's not allow recursion. That sucks. Majorly.

Sincerely,

HK_Newbie

(other readers: You probably don't understand what just transpired. Don't worry! It's not due to any failing on your part. This is private, encrypted tranmissions for the 4MR and its affiliates. Your regularly scheduled programming will return shortly. In the meantime, I leave you with another picture of the UNHOLY CARROT DEMON OF CUTH CUTHULU CLAMTORE)

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First, we’ll start off with the utter and complete uselessness of guns for home defense. As everyone knows, I enjoy shooting. I could shoot all day if “the man” would let me, but he doesn’t so I don’t. But you know what? Guns are absolutely, 100% useless if you want to use them to defend yourself against home invaders or Russian paratroopers ala “Red Dawn”. In 9 out of 10 cases, the firearm that the homeowner was going to use to “kick ass” and “defend my property from the commie trespassers” (which, in Texas, is basically ANYONE who is foolish enough to walk on anything resembling “my proper-tay!” Honestly, these people are still stuck in a McCarthy-like mindset where anyone they don’t intimately know is immediately a commie bastard here to steal your land and launch ICBMs into key political targets from your barn) is uselessly discharged into the wall directly behind the target (and succeeds only in making up their mind to definitely kill you; whereas before they were going to make you lemon wedges and do your laundry while you sleep). That 1 out of 10 is when the firearm discharges into the homeowner’s HEAD multiple times because he’s to damn stupid to aim properly when a million cc’s of adrenaline and fear are coursing through his veins, and his spasmodic trigger finger goes berserk.

The absolute best way to defend your home, puny mortals, is through a series of progressively more difficult traps and riddles told by ancient demons and the occasional rabid zombie dog as the invader draws closer and closer to your inner domain. The old “crushing ceiling of death”, “fall away floor into a pit of rusty spikes”, and “man-eating giant plants” are all tried-and-true means of defending your home from those pesky invading special-forces teams or annoying super burglar from France. These instant death traps should be distributed liberally around the periphery of your “giant mansion in the woods” or “gothic church in the mountains” (whatever appeals to you most, really). Additionally, your doors should require multiple keying interfaces— like a red gem that fits into the eyeball of a tiger and a blue gem that fits into the belly button of a lemur. These two gems should be hidden, for example, in the middle of the floor where your “ceiling of crushing death” will do its thing upon the lifting of said gem, or temptingly placed in the tendrils of one of the “man-eating giant plants”. Just in case your enemies get any smart ideas, make sure the doors are doubly reinforced with steel beams, concrete, and self-destruct mechanisms if they are opened any other way than through the intended interface.

Take that, rocket launcher-wielding chick in the red dress! Thought you were smart when you blew away that door without first locating and turning the purple key of Azkazam after I went through all that trouble of hiding it?! Eat ceiling!

As I said earlier, riddles told through an ancient flesh-eating demon from the gibbering chaos realm are always a classy approach if you don’t mind the chance of it escaping from its ethereal bonds and devouring your soul in retribution for summoning it forcibly from its comfy 6th dimension to ask impossibly difficult questions to random invaders and subsequently biting off their heads. I’d limit myself to one or two quasi-godlike demons, given they take up a lot of room in my palace and they’re a real mess to clean up after. But they do make excellent cocktail party conversation starters.



Perhaps later I will discuss means of training and recruiting security guards/experiment victims.



--HK_Newbie

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Don't have much time right now. I'm just dropping in to pass a link over to you guys: Meet the Fucking Machines.

Enjoy!

It reminds me of Battle Bots. Sort of.

-Calamity JANE

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BATON ROUGE, LA - Today marks exactly 13 weeks since Sharon McCugh (22) went missing. Sharon was 4 months pregnant with quintuplets and was slated to marry her High School sweetheart when her family last had contact with her. It is presumed that the Mother-to-be was a victim of a vicious shark attack or abducted by a miscellaneous black man wearing a red hooded sweatshirt while she was vacationing on the island country of Trinidad & Tobago.

Friends and family are heartbroken over the tragic circumstances. When interviewed about the situation, her Father, Minister Terrence McCugh, had this to say: "I can't believe something like this could happen to my little girl. She was capable of so much. And I pray everyday to Jesus that she return safely." Among Sharon's many accomplishments, she was recently awarded with "The Whitest Dumb Slut Party Girl" superlative upon her graduation from Baton Rouge Community College where she received her Associates Degree in Business Management.

The surge in shark and black people violence on white women seems to be directly linked to the record breaking heat wave currently in our midst. The sick and elderly are reminded to stay in a cool area and not do stuff. Stupid white sluts should not be dissuaded however and are advised to continue life as usual, "getting crunked" in the clubs on their parents' trust funds.

When asked of her opinion on the recent weather phenomenon, Paris Hilton stated simply "That's hot." Ms. Hilton is of course currently dating newly divorced Brad Pitt. Posed with the same question topic he was quoted as saying the following: "The restraining order said 50 feet! And where are my pants!?!" Pitt is also under hot debate for his recent involvement in the Michael Jackson adult molestation trial. Neither party would respond for comment on this issue.

Celebrity sex scandals seem to be on the rise as of late. The undead corpse of former President Ronald Reagan was again indicted for sexual misconduct. The trial and reburying of President Reagan will be featured non-stop for the next 18 days on our network affiliate. The second party involved is Reuben Studdard of American Idol fame. The matter in question occurred 4 nights ago when President Reagan was in attendance of a live taping of the popular series. He was asked to be on stage for the finale. However, as the pyrotechnics showered the contestants, viewers were shocked to witness Studdard giving fellatio to the decaying genitalia of the former President. Studdard claims that it was all an accident and that it happened because he slipped on some loose meatball sandwiches during his final pirouette.

The live debacle has much of the country outraged. John Stanley recently penned on his internet blogsite: "The world is most assuredly going to Hell! Babies are being killed, evolution is taught in schools, and Presidents are getting blowjobs! You must repent now lest you burn eternally in the deepest bowels of Beelzebulb's den!" All news and commentary from now on will be taken directly from internet blogsites due to it being easier than actually doing our own work.

-RaiNny

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Yes, submissive life-forms, that's correct. I have once again enrolled in a higher-learning facility wherein I will be slowly reprogrammed to agree with all the views and mindsets of my University of New Mexico teaching drones. I've given some thought of how to transform myself into more of the "ULTIMATE STUDENT" and here's what I have so far:

Ingredients for the ULTIMATE STUDENT
A pinch of no social life (that won't be a problem)
6 foot adamantium chain permanently looped around throat and random desk in library when not in class
2 handfuls of energy drinks, liberally dispensed during peak study hours (i.e. 3 and 5 am)
A sprinkling of anti-people clothing that emits loud beeping noise whenever potential friends or mates invade "danger zone" (I'm thinking about a defensive arc of electricity when they penetrate the "critical zone")
Mix in 50 lbs. Of pencils, paper, pens, and ridiculously over-priced text books that must be printed in pure fucking gold and TRANSPORTED STRAIGHT FROM MARS (the planet, not the candy maker) to justify the sticker price.
Boil on high in one big-ass, hot, sticky, actually kinda nice, campus (where I imagine I'll be lost fairly often)
Serve up the ULTIMATE STUDENT along with a shitload of weak, pathetic undergrads that will eventually be thinned out by sickness and predators (some are cool, but most suck. I'm glad I was never an undergrad). Serves 5-8.

I'm only taking a couple of courses. I don't imagine it will be THAT difficult, but I'll be working full-time as well. At least I have my own place in which to enter my cocoon of video games, books, papers, and alcohol and emerge looking something like this:







Except, you know, more bad-ass. And surrounded by hot chicks with guns...and videogames. And money. Did I mention, bad-ass? Because that's really quite integral to the whole "ULTIMATE STUDENT" image.

--HK_Newbie

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I'm not sure if this is really cool or really gay. You decide!

-RaiNny

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Announcer: Hello Newbie

Newbie: Hi, asshole. (the crowd titters appreciatively)

Announcer: Welcome to another exciting episode of "THIS IS YOUR LIFE!" (the crowd joins in, as if on cue (actually, it was on cue) and cheers maniacally for 5 minutes afterwards)

Newbie: why am I here? untie me, now!

Announcer: Sorry about the midnight kidnapping, Newbie; but this is how we roll at "THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!" (once again, about 5 minutes pass until the audience either calms down or collapses from exhaustion). Now, shall we proceed on with the show?

Newbie: Yea, sure. Whatever. When I get out of here, I'm going to do something mean and irreversible to certain orfices of yours.

Announcer: Boo-ya! Excellent! (the announcer makes little gun shooting motions with his hands at the temporarily helpless newbie) Mr. Newbie, sir, as you know, you're unbelieveably, almost incomprehensibly old right now (about 23 he whispers in sotto voice) and as you approach the end of your lifespan, your enemies thought it would be best to recommend you for our show: "THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!" (approximately 3 audience members' heads explode).

Newbie: My enemies! I knew it! Who put you up to this? Was it General Tso? Eric "USP Master" Cho? GOD? or....was it...::gasp::...GORDON RAMSAY?

Announcer: BZZZzzzzT!! Negative! We don't reveal our sponsors, monsieur Newbie. Now, as I was saying--

Newbie: You weren't saying shit, bitch! Now let me out of here, before I eat your fucking liver with a coconut glaze!

Announcer: My, my, it looks like we'll have to use the ballgag after all. BALL GAGGER GANG! (4 men dressed up in old-school "Jack Ketch" (i.e. the guy who cuts off heads in Ye Olde England) outfits enter from stage right, doing all sorts of somersaults, backflips, forward roundoffs, and other gymnastic manouevers whose proper names the writer is unaware of. They quickly and effectively shove a ballgag in newbie's mouth and exaunt stage left)

Announcer: Oh! ho ho ho! Don't you just love the ball gagger gang?! Now, if there are no more interruptions (he looks at newbie suggestively)

Newbie: Psshaatttaetaet! mtteohatearpshe! (trans. Prepare yourself for severe pain of the worst sort, pathetic human blood-bag!)

Announcer: I didn't think so! Let's start with something recent shall we? Do you recognize this voice?

A disembodied voice: I was just running up and down the stairs, as imaginary hallucinagen-induced pigs like myself are wont to do. But he had to get his dog and shark knife and start hunting me down like I actually existed! Damn, he one caaaa-razy motherfucker!

(Newbie stares at the Announcer. Amazed, pissed, and a bit famished)

Announcer: That's right, Newbie! It's the ravenous man-eating pig from your deluded mind, here to pay you a special visit!!! HUZZAH, bring it on out!

(A gigantic razorback pig comes dashing out, stage right, and charges right to Newbie, knocking him down. It begins eating his feet, pausing only to bow now and then to the crack-fiend cheering audience)


That's about all I remember. Jesus, no wonder I have trouble sleeping.

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I know we've all had some form of higher education. I also know that most Universities and Colleges have a base writing competence requirement. As such, do you think that you could follow some modicum of traditional English decorum? i.e. Proper punctuation, grammar, and for God sakes CAPITAL FUCKING LETTERS!!! I realize that this may seem trivial to some of you but I have a reputation to uphold. One day when I'm running for President of the Universe I can't have my association with people unable to comprehend the most elementary of literary etiquette shoved in my face for my opponents to gain leverage (who will most likely be either Arnold Schwarzenegger or Bruce Campbell, both arduous adversaries with a filmography besting my own thus far). In closing I leave you with what could quite possibly be the greatest .gif of all time!


P.S. Using spellcheck every once in a while wouldn't kill you guys either. Faggots!

-RaiNny

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god, where is everyone?

so a lot of people have been asking me and i just want to state for the 4MR readers that yes, i was in the philippines for a whole month but NO, i did not partake of the balut aka hard-boiled duck fetus. i did have the opportunity every now and i believe my mother had one or two but ultimtely, i didn't really have the stomach for it. (i was living on fruits and seafood mostly.) i do, however, have a treat for you. i don't think anyone's really seen the inside of a balut egg up close before so, i decided to treat you all to a balut photo series. not my own photos but i'll take the credit anyway.
















personally my favorite part is cracking the egg just a little bit and drinking the liquid that's inside the egg. after that there's really only the non-fetus part of the egg and the fetus. the fetus is last in my "favorite part of balut" list.

--Calamity JANE

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FURRIES DO NOT EXIST.































--Calamity JANE

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this toilet is so very near perfection!!! upon entering the stall, i was automatically intrigued by this toilet. you can probably guess why...THERE'S PLASTIC ON THE SEAT. and a big red button the side (the red arrow on the left hand side of the toilet is pointing to it) that you press to change the plastic. when you press the button, the plastic moved like a little conveyer belt around the toilet seat. this made me a little suspicious though because how do i know that new plastic was coming out and that it wasn't just rotating the plastic? looking back i really should have tested it out, marked a part of the plastic with something and then pressed the button to see if the same part would come back out...but anyhow, regardless of my suspicions, i still thought this was incredibly awesome. that's really, the only really great thing about this toilet. i mean, it's a class A toilet stall- comfortable size, toilet is just the right height, toilet paper was placed justin the right place, little marble shelf behind toilet to put your stuff on if you carried anything in and the flush button was pretty cute (silver button on left side). and it was so very clean and simple. it wasn't an automatic flushing toilet but those always freaked me out a little and i hate when they go off and you're still sitting on the toilet. and it didn't talk to you or anything. nor did it have any sort of the bidet-like functions i've heard existed in some toilets. but it was still quite an excellent toilet.

well, that's all about toilets.

it's so goddamn hot here in new york. it's way cooler in the philippines. and for some weird reason, i'm really lonely. i guess i just got used to having all these people in the house all time or at least hearing people around the house. but i'm glad to be around more familiar people/hearing familiar voices and for once speaking to someone who's closer to my level of english (although of course, no one really is that close to MY level of english). well, i'm going to go do stuff other than unpack/put things away because...there are so many other things to do!

--Calamity Jane

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hey everyone!! i'm finally back and sort of settled. and since i've been gone a month- you're all going to be getting way too much of me on the blog. for now, here's a highlight from the philippines that i wanted to share:

in the states, we have something called build-a-bear, right? well, in the philippines, we don't have the money or the resources to make such high quality teddy bear materials such as cotton stuffing and plastic eyeballs. however, we do have an abundance of livestock. here is some photos of a new craze hitting the philippines called "build-a-cow."


for just 10,000 pesos, less than 200$, you get enough skin, organs, bones, limbs, and a full-sized cow head so that you can build your very own cow!! it's all delivered right to your door by trisecad.



all you have to do is call all your friends over to help, fit all the cows pieces together, and fill it up with blood. it only takes a few dead babies to fill up your cow!!


build-a-bear vs build-a-cow?
-cows are delivered to you by a skinny filipino man with a machete on a trisecad, teddy bears are bought in stores or delivered by the UPS.
-teddy bears are full of yucky cottony stuff, cows are full of organs and baby's blood and sometimes disease.
-teddy bears sit on your bed and stare at you, build-a-cow cows decompose and collect all sorts of interesting insects as the weeks go by and in the end can become a long-lasting supply of bones to chew on for your family pet!!

it's no contest!!! building cows are way cooler than building teddy bears.

--Calamity Jane

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I know everyone's thinking I'm crazy for even mentioning this, but I'll put it out there anyhow: I'm seriously contemplating getting a tattoo. Something big and awesome. Something that will hurt alot and give me cause to regret my past (as if I don't already have enough cause). I've discussed this with some local New Mexican "experts" and here are some idea's we've come up with; what do you think?

Tattoo Idea 1:





These will be on my shoulder blades, and rising in a curve between these tribal thingiebobs will be the words "UNETHICAL" in a gothic looking script. Much like the famous "West Side" rapper tattoo, my unethical tattoo will allow all observers to know just what kind of person I am-- with my shirt off, that is. (NMG has her own version of it which I should scan and submit).










Tattoo Idea 2:




Ah, yes. The classic golden koi/carp yakuza tattoo. I think it's so damn awesome, I could almost hurl. I would remove the lettering in the upper-right shoulder and keep the fish and waves. Then I would go swimming and running and buying groceries completely naked and dare anyone to fuck with me. God help me if any real yakuza are nearby though when I flash the fish. Maybe I'll combine the "unethical" tattoo with this one? "unethical the golden yakuza koi"? It sounds like a morbid saturday morning cartoon. Perfect.











Tattoo Idea 3:




Now I know for a fact, that if no one who reads this blog likes the previous ideas, you HAVE to love this one. This is a totem devoted to the "great ones" of video games. I couldn't argue with this individual's selection, since he is much older and wiser than myself. But personally, I would pick more recent great ones to reflect my generational videogame gap (Solid Snake, Ryu, Jill Valentine).







Let me know what you think. And before you mention it, yes i know tattoos are forever and they hurt. So much the better.


--HK_Newbie

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hey!! i'm in korea!!! i am super excited...i'm shaking all over. i don't really know why.

boarding time is soon. internet was 3 bucks for 60 minutes.

whew. ohkay, i'm not excited anymore. now i'm sleepy. which is good. it's 5AM in new york. i should be asleep. there are many things i should be.

that's all for now...i still have to go poo before boarding. the incheon international airport bathroom facilities have been deemed worthy by my bowels!! AND HAHA, i'm leaving my shit in korea!!!

oh and by the way- crocodiles love me!!! or rather, i guess, i love crocodiles.

--Calamity Jane

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1. General Chaos
Type: Action, Strategy
Platform(s): Genesis

Championing in at the number one spot is the little known but monolithic General Chaos. There really are no words that could adequately describe my love for this game, but I will make my best attempt. First off, let me just say that categorically there are no comparisons to General Chaos. It literally was in a class all its own. Featuring a unique blend of action and strategic elements, the cart was so perfectly crafted that you couldn't understand why no one had thought of this before. It felt like it was a crime that you had been denied such a pleasure until that moment. Like its name implies, General Chaos was overflowing with entropic spirit. As General Chaos, or conversely General Havoc, you were set upon the not so easily accomplished task of overtaking your opponent's land and subsequently holding him prisoner for his insolence. The game unfolded with a small map that gave you the choice of several areas to attack. After one skirmish was won you moved on to the next region and so on until you invaded your enemy's capital. Battles were fought in a deceivingly simple manner. Before a duel you were given the opportunity to select your troops. In all, you had a total of 5 different classes of soldier and it was quick to find your favorite among them. There was the Flamethrower, MachineGunner, Grenadier, Dynamiter, and my personal favorite the BazookaMan. The character design for the game clearly lifted a page from the SNK portfolio and was incredibly reminiscent of the plush Metal Slug line. As such, you got highly unique looking sets and actors that when put together was both appealing to the eye and decidedly hilarious in execution. As for the actual gameplay, it was both incredibly simple on the surface but once one dug deeper it boasted unnoticed depth. Terrain and obstacles had great effect on the outcome of a battle as units behaved according to set laws. Bazookas and gunnery couldn't go through hard obstacles but one could throw a grenade or satchel of dynamite into the nest. Similarly if a man with a flamethrower went into the water it would be rendered useless for a short period of time. Additionally the characters could get into close quarters combat that was as capricious as the rest of the game and even if you thought you had won, your opponent could whip out a sidearm and blow you away if lucky. The use of medics added another layer to the already wild hysteria on the screen as your characters scrambled to help each other out. Though the game truly came into its own when played multiplayer. Being one of the few games at the time capable of having 4 people playing at once, General Chaos truly lived up to its name with this bonus. If there was ever a game deserving of a rerelease it would be this one. Never has another name come along bearing even the slightest resemblance to this timeless classic. And with the possibilities of just a simple facelift and easy to find multiplayer scenarios it would be more than justified.









Honorable Mention: Wizardry
Type: RPG
Platform(s): Macintosh

I spent a good portion of my childhood life playing this game. And while it has been given countless sequels over the years, the original that I played on my Apple Macintosh has left an indelible mark upon my psyche. This was most definitely the first RPG I ever played and still one of the more memorable. Being one of the earliest forms of RPGs on one of the earliest forms of home computers, playing the game was as basic as you could get. Most of the time you spent clicking one of the arrow keys as you weaved your way through a 10 level maze in search of an evil wizard that you were destined to destroy. Other than this you had no other objectives. There were no sub-bosses or sidequests to accomplish yet it was incredibly addictive thanks to its character classing system. At the onset your first job was to create a party of characters. Following along with the non-structured storyline you could make them out to be anything you wanted. And the only thing set in stone were your race and alignment. For a race you could choose Human, Gnome, Dwarf, Elf, and Hobbit. Each race had certain classes they were better aligned to for instance Gnomes were good priests, Dwarves excellent fighters, Elves made well equipped wizards, Hobbits were given over to thieving, and humans were the jack of all trades and were neither good nor bad at anything. The best part of the game, which is what made it so addicting, was the ability to change your class when able. Upon reaching a new level your stats (IQ, Piety, Strength, Vitality, Agility, and Luck) would rise or fall and if they did so in the right way you could choose to be a new class. Only Fighter, Mage, Priest, Thief, Bishop, and Samurai were initially selectable upon character creation and it was nearly impossible to create the last two right off the bat. There were only two other classes in the game: The Lord and Ninja. I myself have never seen either of these classes in the game. Even after years upon years of level building my characters were never able to acquire these jobs. I'm actually partially convinced it was all a farce and it's all together impossible. Also, I never was able to find the The Evil Wizard Werdna even though I had successfully mapped and explored the 10th and final level. Sadly, I no longer have my Apple Macintosh (even though it worked until the day we gave it away, which now seems to be a horrible mistake as I would love to still have it if not just for its collectability) and finding a suitable Emulator for the OS is proving to be more than difficult.

-RaiNny

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Okay, I was just gonna delete Gking's post concerning myself and the japanese chick who strangles dogs (I will never have a japanese girlfriend on the basis that they are all totally bugfuck crazy) but i realized that doing so would be stifling his right to free speech. And that's what a blog is all about, no? Exercising one's god-given right to say whatever stupid shit we want to say, no matter how trite or unbelievable. Or unfunny, as the case might be. So, by all means continue Gking, in your futile battle to annoy me, THE AMERICAN "BEAT" TAKESHI. You may just get what's coming to you...an ass kicking of stunning proportions represented perfectly by this picture:



--HK_Newbie

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I banged my head really, really hard on a cabinet near the refrigerator in my apartment a few nights ago. I could have sworn I heard a monkey playing behind it, or in the freezer, I wasn’t sure which position the hidden monkey could be in (I only had a little to drink). So of course, I pulled the entire fucking thing out and rammed my head into the pointy edge of the cabinet closest to the refrigerator. I must have left a pound of scalp and hair behind because I now have a quite prominent bulging bald spot.

I went out to the bars later the next evening, on a solo run, when it struck me. MY HEAD STARTED CAVING IN. The only other person in the bar saw me clutching my melon with both hands in an attempt to stop whatever was inside from exiting in a magnificent burst of grey matter, cerebral-spinal fluid, and tiny shrapnel-like pieces of skull, and trying to stop my pate from caving in on itself at the same time. “Dude,” the guy asked me “are you okay?”

“Sure!” I replied, still holding the peak of my aching head with both hands, “I think my twin brother just got a baseball bat to the skull though…”

He gave me a strange look and moved to the other end of the bar.

Two cool things could result from this: one, It could wake up some latent telekinetic power trapped within my brain (e.g. John Travolta in “Phenomenon”) and I become a super-villain; two, I could die. I’m hoping for the former because I would really enjoy being a super-villain (and I’d be an awesome fucking super-villain too! Not some cheap, loquacious loser who describes all his plans for world domination to the hero and lets his twin brother stay locked up in a tower with an iron mask hiding his identity. For more super-villain rules and regulations see the evil overlord list). Also, dying would suck.

I’ve been ingesting prodigious amounts of X-tra strength Tylenol in the hopes that it will somehow reduce the swelling, balding, seething pain that has become the focal point of my life these past couple of days. No luck so far though. !@!#!Asasdaw!@$#….

Hello humans, I am pyramid head. I have taken over this carbon-based life-form’s consciousness through our patented cabinet point injection system in order to initiate my races’ plans for world domination. Make your peace.

!$^&#aASDD…What the hell? What was I saying? Shit. I don’t remember. Man, my head hurts.



--HK_Newbie

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3. Dragon Force
Type: Strategy, RPG
Platform(s): Saturn

If there was ever a reason to own the long-forgotten Sega Saturn it could be limned in just two words: Dragon Force. This was it. This was the game, that even with all of the other greatly underrated titles produced for it, should make you want to shell out hard earned funds to purchase a Saturn. Dragon Force was a game of truly epic proportions. Combining the best of both worlds of Strategy and RPG gaming, Dragon Force completely consumed your very being with its addictive gameplay. I can still vividly remember the first time I pressed down the power button and began my adventure. I spent the entire night at a friend's house, while he slept, playing non-stop until the sun began to rise and burned my eyes, already blistered from TV radiation. Digressing, Dragon Force placed you on the continent of Legandra in a medieval fantasy land being ripped apart by a bloody revolution. There were several countries to choose from all boasting different traits. For instance, there were the Elves of the East commanding vast armies of archers, magi, and soldiers. At the same time other lands controlled harpies, cavalry, samurai, monks, beastmen, and even hordes of dragons and zombies. The strategy aspect was actually quite simple as each unit had easily discernible strengths and weaknesses. For instance, Dragons were commonly thought of as the best unit as they were able to pulverize nearly every other choice into the ground, but pit them against a much smaller group of samurai and they'd be cut to pieces. In addition, you could choose the formation of your battalion which would yield better results according to your opponent's decisions and could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Finally, you had your charismatic General who had the ability to produce special attacks capable of destroying the opposing army, hitting the opponent directly, or both. Outside of the military aspect of the game is where things got truly gripping though. There were tons and tons of mini-adventures and sidequests were everywhere. This allowed for your company to become quite vast as you recruited more and more Officers to your side and eventually led you to become the unifier of the land and dispel the evil gripping your countryside. A sequel was eventually made but sadly was only released in Japan, dashing all hopes of regaling the experience on an even grander scale.

2. Baseball Stars
Type: Sports
Platform(s): Arcade, Neo-Geo, NES

The only true sports title to make it on the list is SNK's Baseball Stars. With copious quantities of athleticism being ported to the masses, nearly all choices have become stale and redundant over the years. Nearly every game is the same with very little distinguishing characteristics between them, save for a few roster and graphical updates. Baseball Stars threw all that out the window years ago. There are no superstar names to be found and the graphical quality is deemed completely irrelevant upon comparison of its gameplay (though, if remade a graphics upgrade would be greatly appreciated). As mentioned before, the rosters were comprised entirely of fictitious characters. And easily the best part of the game was creating your own team of rookies. By winning games you earned money that could be spent on training your players and increasing their attributes. Or, if you wanted you could fire a player and hire a new one, restarting the process over again. One of the more enjoyable aspects of this was the ability to hire female players who were in all facets equal to their male counterparts (in fact, there is a computer controlled team by the name of the Lovely Ladies that is nothing but women). Even underhanded female pitchers were available adding a nice little touch to the style of the game. The team building aspect allowed for countless hours of gaming and made VS. games with your friends all the more enjoyable. It's completely inexcusable that developers have missed this mark an incalculable amount of times when Baseball Stars was able to do this 15 years ago.

-RaiNny

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Hello American Scum and other unworthies! I welcome you to lick the soil and blood from the bottom of my Vass calfskin loafers (soil, from my daily stroll in my garden; blood, from my daily stomping of some upstart yakuza punk). I write to you today, prior to my noontime “random explosion of extreme violence”, to let you know how proud I am of the Four-Man Revolution and all its accomplishments. You can ascertain the extent of my joy and jubilation by gazing into my coal black eyes and twitching, battle scarred face; realizing, later, that you just stared at me: the one, the only “Beat Takeshi” and lived. That is an honor I will allow you, dear reader, only because of the high regard in which I hold the 4MR.

The first thing that drew me to the 4MR, is the inherent “bad-assitude” that must be present for any up-and-coming junta, gang, or revolutionary group. I, in my own way, am a one man revolution of epic proportions and what I lack in numbers, I make up for in sheer kick-ass, bad-ass, shut-your-mouth, violence; or, as I like to call it, “extreme-talking”.

Like me, the 4MR is deficient in members through choice, not neglect. We realize the importance of minimizing excess characters so as to not detract from each members’ special brand of coolness (especially that HK_Newbie. I imagine he is the leader, given his multiplicity of natural ass-kicking talents and debonair life-style). Allow me to list, what I perceive to be each individual member’s role and how they might be compared to the progenitor of all that is cool: I.

Gking4Ever: Well, he has insanity on his side, which adds a layer of unpredictability that I can appreciate. My own perceived random acts of violence are actually coldly calculated years in advance, because you see, I KNOW THE FUTURE. Also, he owns a certain expertly made “brush” that, if used with skill, can create a “portrait” with my favorite paint on my favorite canvas: blood on concrete.

Rainny: His hair is quite impressive. He’s also a crack shot with the shotty. That’s a bonus when encountering large groups of cannon fodder/rival gang members (is there any other sort?). Obviously, I need no such riot gun to deal with large groups of enemies: all I need to do is bust out my katana in one hand and my glock in the other, and they fall like wheat before the scythe.

Calamity Jane: She’s a chick that shoots, drinks, and kicks ass. What more need I say? If I were a chick, I’d be Calamity Jane.

And last, but not least, HK_Newbie: Certainly, I could go on and on listing the nearly infinite character traits and physical attributes that went in to creating, (dare I say it?) THE AMERICAN “BEAT” TAKESHI, but brevity, as you might have noticed, is one of my many strong points. Suffice it to say that if God, Buddha, Gordon Ramsay, and HK_Newbie got into a fight, only Newbie would be walking away unscathed and then he'd suddenly commit ritual suicide just to prove a point and fuck with your mind.


--HK_Newbie

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5. Jackal
Type: Action
Platform(s): NES

Heading into the final five we begin with one of the mainstays of 8-bit technology. Jackal took the classic side-scrolling textures everyone was used to at the time, flipped it to the opposite plane of axis, and threw you in a heavily armed jeep. The premise of the game was simple: maneuver your jeep around (with the option for a second player of course) a multitude of obstacles and artillery shots, rescue as many P.O.W.s as possible, and blow up as much as you can. However, execution of this all proved to be incredibly difficult, though not impossible as many NES games at the time were. With just the right amount challenge and an incredibly fun interface, Jackal became one of my all time favorite NES games. Just like a good dusting off of the original Contra, CastleVania, or Ninja Gaiden will do, Jackal can reinvigorate your love for the simpler days of gaming.






4. Haunting: Starring Polterguy
Type: ???
Platform(s): Genesis

Haunting is a game that defies description. Really, the only other game made in its genre would be the Spy VS. Spy title for the NES. As such there really isn't a category you could fit it into. This proves to be its strongest point though. Simply put, this is one of the most original games ever designed. As Polterguy, you were set the task of evacuating an unwanted family from your humble abode. Being a subject of the undead you could not do this directly. Instead your supernatural powers were used to set traps on everyday household objects (a concept clearly lifted from the aforementioned Spy VS. Spy title) in hopes of delivering a terrifying shock to the family members often with hilarious results. When frightened enough the unit would run screaming from the building never to return (not until the next level that is). This power didn't come without a price however and you were expected to replace your waning ectoplasm in a treasure hunt scenario through the underworld. Games like this truly only come along once in a lifetime. I really wish the developers (and gamers) would get out of their one dimensional views and strive for more unconventional ideas.

-RaiNny

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7. Alien VS. Predator
Type: Side-Scroller, Action
Platform(s): Arcade

The mere mention of these two and a half words brings to mind a mixture of thoughts. On one hand you have the laughably bad cinematic release, on the other you have what is undoubtedly one of the best arcade games of all time. Alien VS. Predator was a dream come true for any gamer that was even mildly a fan of either franchise. Even if you weren't a fan, the beautiful gameplay and style of the title was enough to draw you in and keep you hooked. Following suit of many of the other quintessential names in the quarter-muncher hall of fame, AVP featured swift play with a plethora of action and explosive super attacks as either a stalking Predator or battle hardened Space Marine. And yet again, this was another face absent among the yearbook of console alumni.





6. Sengoku
Type: Side-Scroller, Action
Platform(s): Arcade, Neo-Geo

The fifth and final of my pleas for side-scrolling remakes is none other than the little known Sengoku. If you were looking for some kick-ass skirmishing with a Japanese biker or American cowboy, wielding Samurai blades and capable of awesome transformations into supernatural beings, then you had found what you had so desperately sought. Sengoku was one of those games that from the moment you laid eyes on it you knew this was something you wouldn't forget. Even to this day I still have lucid daydreams of my time spent hacking and slashing hordes of ninja assassins to miniscule pieces. It was simply too bad that owning a Neo-Geo at the time was a near impossibility. And as SNK's grasp on gaming became more and more tenuous over the years, your hopes of ever owning or playing again any of their timeless classics became thinner in turn. While it is true that you can still play this and many of my other picks on emulators for your PC, nothing matches being able to go through the struggles with the masses at the arcade or even in front of your TV with a few friends.

-RaiNny

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The Definitive Loser Newsletter
For Losers, By Losers


A Word From the Editor
--Hello, fellow Losers, and welcome to your first issue of the bi-weekly Loser Newsletter. This will, I hope, become your first and only source for the most up-to-date, depressingly loserish news…and letters; hence the name, Newsletter. Let’s move on to what I hope will become a standby opening for each new issue of our highly professional and marketable newsletter: the (drumroll please) LOSER OF THE WEEK.



The Loser of The Week
--Our loser this week is a very special individual who holds a place in all of our hearts. He touched us all in a place that, upon being touched, we feel quite uncomfortable and embarrassed on behalf of said individual. Yes! This person’s embarrassment is so acute, so powerful, that we, the losers of the world, actually FEEL his pain as if it were our own. I speak of no other than: The Star Wars Kid.

The Star Wars Kid, or Ghyslain, as he is known in his strange country of Canada, first appeared on the internet accidentally as some “friends” uploaded his video to a website (we, as professional losers, know that there’s no such thing as friends, and these people were of course enemies masquerading as such) and from there it went on to about a million remixes, parodies, and other forms of finger pointing and laughter.

Allow me to describe this video to you: Imagine a fat kid. Okay? Not too fat. Fat enough, though, to ensure no sex or social life, but still maintaining the necessary mobility that results in a hypnotic body jiggling whenever he engages in excess movement-- the sort of jiggling that would need a full-body sports bra to keep contained. Put a broomstick in his hands and tell him it’s a light saber. Now pump him full of methamphetamines and videotape him spin around like an obese dervish with delusions of Jedi-hood. To add insult to injury, make him a Canadian, and you, my fellow loser, have created the ULTIMATE LOSER. You can see him here; if you dare.




Tell-Tale Signs of a Fellow Loser
--Generally, we can tell each other from the “normals” with just a cursory glance. The smell; the look; the poor table manners; all these aspects and more go into making a true loser stand out from the crowd. But what is a loser to do when his fellow has successfully hidden his or her true nature through duplicitous means? How can we tell, for sure, that Mary or Joe-Bob is a perfect example of the quintessential average American citizen, or a crypto-member of a subculture that will, one day, rule the world with an iron-fist? Easy! You just use my handy-dandy list and check off as you go!

1. Pay an attractive member of the opposite sex to talk to the potential “L”. If he (for simplicity’s sake, lets allow “L” to equal a man) begins sweating profusely and stammering, or, forsaking all the usual embarrassing precursors, jumps headfirst out of the closest means of egress (i.e. window or door), chances are he is a crypto-“L”. If, however, he engages in friendly conversation in a way that suggests prior interaction with attractive females, then chances are good this subject is not one of our kind and should be avoided.

2. Walk past the potential “L” wearing a loser-related T-shirt. Odd video game referential T-shirts work particularly well. Pay close attention to the subject’s eyes as they peruse the text and context of the shirt. If you detect even a glimmer of recognition, or the individual’s thumb twitches convulsively, you have broken through the mask and revealed a true loser. If he gives you a strange look, insults you, or otherwise kicks your ass for blocking his view of the surrounding non-losers, then he probably never picked up a joystick in his life. Proceed to slash the tires of his car, and write “Wizard Needs Food” in red paint on his hood. Let him figure THAT one out!

3. Place a sign using poor grammar along the possible “L’s” path. Something like “Kittinz 4 sale---Cheep!” and watch as he shudders in disgust. As we know, all losers revel in the use of proper grammar and syntax, and any straying from that path would result in a world of unbearable pain and teenie-bopper AIM speak(OMG, Like WTF, he totally fucked her, LOLZ@!!!). If, however, he says something like “Oh, Kittens” and continues down his path to normalcy, then, obviously, he won’t want to trade DVD rips with you.

If you attempt these three methods, I can personally guarantee that you will determine, one way or the other, the orientation of the potential “L”.

Loser Quotations
--What follows is a recent list of overheard loser quotes. They are fairly typical of losers, and may seem somewhat repetitive given their nature:

“Why doesn’t anyone ever email me??!” (there are variations of this, e.g. “why didn’t anyone call me last night” or the ever so famous “I have a million friends on my AIM list and all of them ignore me!”)

“Did you pee on me?” (Losers typically get drunk in groups, it enables conversations to reach a plateau very rarely attained…unfortunately it also leads to weird situations best attributed to the aftereffects of binge drinking than on anything else.)

“I shave my pubic hair” (At this moment everyone stares at the speaker for an entire minute, considering the topic at hand was the best (or most lucid) story penned by Faulkner. Losers often, given their poor social skills, attempt to “break the ice” through witty bon-mots. More often than not, the joke goes south, and turns into something frighteningly bizarre; and, like alcohol-related memories, are best forgotten.)

“The Matrix sequels rocked!” (Losers, unfortunately, are unable or unwilling to admit that some of the objects in their canon of loserdom are unequivocal and utter crap. The “Star Wars” and “Matrix” movies being chief among those artifacts that would serve the population of losers better as paperweights or Frisbees (if losers played such sports, which they don’t.))


--HK_Newbie

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And to prove to you all what an amazing, supercalifragilisticexpealadocious time was had by myself in the wonderland of high-culture and friendly wildlife of Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, and wherever the hell else I was--I will show you pictures!

Picture Number 1: Me with my fun face on!

Look at me! On top of Signal mountain in the Teton mountain range surrounded by love, and joy, and happiness. Oh, Would that I had died atop yonder mountain; verily, Angels would have borne me into the magestic aether realms where I would spend the rest of enternity wandering through that moment in utter happiness!










Picture Number 2: How is so much FUN even humanly possible?!


This is me making the rigorous climb up some originally named cliffside in my sneakers. There were about a million fellow climbers at the same time, so most of my journey was spent looking squarly into the ass of some individual other than a chick whose ass I wouldn't mind staring into. But still, I trudged on, in the hopes of finding some remotely attractive female buttocks to "accidently" walk into repeatedly. None were located. I did see a mean looking bull moose and some black bear with an arm jutting out of its mouth. That brought a smile to my face (only because I imagined it being my arm in there, and it was my free-floating soul watching my body being devoured).









Picture Number the third: You better stop enjoying yourself so much, it could catch!


There's "Iraqi Special Forces Newbie" with Crav Maga neck-snap action. I was standing on a cliffside in Glacier National Park on my way down from one of the remaining receding oversize icecubes otherwise known as "glaciers". I jumped into the melt water basin on the top, hoping the freezing water would numb me and allow me to sink gracefully to the bottom, where I would subsequently be frozen alive at the height of my awesomeness and then thawed out a million years later to kill our alien overlords and bang all the hot chicks (for repopulation purposes, of course). Unfortunately, some jerk reached in, pulled me out, took my picture, and told me to "hit the road". Damn you, nameless rescuer! DAMN YOU!!!








Picture Number 4: The deer that will destroy you all!


This picture was taken seconds before my personally trained killer deer "El Ciervo Asesino" tore the throat out of its hapless victim and feasted on the bounty of blood that flowed forth. "L'il Killer", as I like to call him, also trains the rest of the local deer population in the art of rapid carotid artery removal; within a year, they will be legion and the human race will be under the control of the deer.









Fear the deer, assholes. Fear the Deer.


--HK_Newbie

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