He'll flip ya. Flip ya for real.

Holy shit. I think I have a job. Those of you that know me know I've recently moved back to Florida due to the massive amounts of legal problems I was having in TX. (Where the state motto is "Come for vacation, leave with probation.") The search for work has been a difficult one, and was about to settle for a role as Dante at the local Circle K. So today I get an email from a guy at a local telecommunications company who saw my resume and wants to offer me a management position. So, I want to know...who leaked the nice gay gentleman hiring me the information about my penis size?

Fun with Insomnia!

I know I'm not the only one who feels that there needs to be controlled breeding. In fact...there needs to be controlled dating. I mean, think about this. People have been going on and on about the over population of homes in the trailer parks and inner cities, and they're assuming rampant procreation is the cause. But...it has to start somewhere, doesn't it? Tonight, as I struggle with the concept that I'm probably not sleeping, I saw something. Something very disturbing. Two people, and it's a stretch calling them that...in the beginning stages of a relationship. This is the kind of relationship that Roman Polansky was thinking about when he came up with the ending of "Rosemary's Baby." The male, who we will refer to heretoforth as Lummox, is the standard muscleheaded oaf that was so grandly portrayed by the character Ogre in "Revenge of the Nerds." The female, who from this point on will be referred to as Ick, is your standard candidate for surly walmart cashier. Mental imagery all set? Perfect.

Now, here's the natural progression of things from this point. There's always some kind of dating ritual, even on a minor scale. In the average relationship, it's usually a few nights on the town, which, if everything works out, leads to a little of the ol PROTECTED in-out, in-out. After a certain amount of time, the average couple gets married, and when stable, has children. Now, in situations similar to Lummox and Ick, the courtship is usually short, laying between the "Gimme dat pussy now bitch" scenario or an evening of Steven Segal movies, Tony's microwave pizzas, and PBR. After which follows fornication. Now, it seems that the women that fit the same category as Ick tend to become easily impregnated. This results in an abnormal amount of children.

All of this ties back to one thing. The Origin. The meeting. The point where Lummox and Ick stared across the "Used Chewing Gum of the Stars" stand at the local flea market, locked eyes, and decided to, for lack of better term, get drunk and fuck. So, the key to preventing the overload of children that aren't getting the required attention from adults is to prevent these two from meeting. It's like, seeing the after effects of a plane crash, but being able to go back and prevent the pilot from drinking. My solution? Standardized testing and house arrest for those that don't pass. They will not be allowed to communicate with the opposite sex outside of the internet.

Ok, maybe my idea is somewhat fascist. And I apologize. But I really want my service to improve at Wal-Mart.

A Nightmare Realized

Now, I know I'll end up catching flack from the "remember the 80's" crowd on this, but...Saved by the Bell? What the fuck? Has anyone actually really watched this show? Ok, let's do a character run down: First and formost, there's Zack...possibly the most annoying front man presence in TV history next to the television rendition of Ferris Bueller. Parker Lewis would take both these jagoffs out in a Triple Threat Hell in the Cell match. The preppy, witty asides to the audience are just..why? They're horribly unneccesary. I'm half convinced the canned laughter at this point was out of spite. I have to think this was the first point in my life where I actually wanted to see a live beheading.

Next? Screech. The name alone is like fingernails on a chalk board. If I remember correctly, nerds were supposed to be SMART! This cat wasn't just socially awkward, he was an IDIOT! Ok, atleast with some of these highschool smartass shows, the Dork character had some redeeming qualities...Jerry? He had that trench coat with everything known to man in it. Screech? Hair. That's about it.

A.C. Slater. I've never wanted to strangle a man with his own entrails before. The Jock character. I will admit, as far as jocks go, he fit it to a tee. Irritatingly smug, dumber than a post, and possibly gay. And I don't know who the actor is, but I'd be willing to bet he's doing softcore porn on Skinemax.

Speaking of softcore porn, hello Jessie. Lovingly referred to as "legs". Now here's where things got weird. She played the hot smart chick, and later went on to be a whore in Showgirls. I know EVERYONE knows someone who ended up like this. She's probably the most true to life character on the show, next to Mr.Belding, the highschool principal who pokes the prep squad in the doo doo hole while peeping at the video camera in the boys lockerroom.

Lisa. The Token Black Character. WHO IS WHITER THAN EVERYONE ON THE SHOW! She makes Screech look like Shaft! The big issue on one show? Jessie found out her grandparents were slave traders. Lisa? DIDN'T CARE! Why? Because HER ancestors were probably slave traders too. I don't think anyone on this show pissed me off more. Usually, a token character of a different color (Be it black, white, mexican) is on the show to provide diversity of thought. Lisa? NOTHING! No, "You white folk are crazy!" NOTHING! Hell, Lisa was probably a card carrying clan member.

The Tiffany Amber Theissen Character who was so dull I couldn't even remember her name. So, I'll refer to her as Steve. The Cheerleader. Where the fuck was Jason Vorhees, Mike Meyers, and Freddy Krueger when you actually needed them. This character was so forgettable, I can't even think of a reason to hate her other than her being a cheerleader.

So there's your cast. Why the hell was this show on for as long as it was? And more important, why did I sit and watch it when I woke up this morning.

I have sold out.

I couldn't help it. I felt so alone. Everyone has blogs now. I was standing all by myself in the frozen tundra, when the ghost of Frank Sinatra appeared. He said he'd kick my ass if I didn't conform to the current trend and post my thoughts and observations in a manner that was entertaining and informative to almost noone but myself. When I asked him how he would kick my ass, what with him being dead and all, he said "I'm Frank, baby. I'll do whatever I damn well please."

So because of this, I am now posting my 2 cents on the web in a forum where the man can't keep me down. I will be updating this as the mood strikes me.