They call him boss.... boss ******

They rode into a white man's town bringing black man's laws. Part legend, part devil, all man.

"Uhh, sir... you are interrupting our breakfast. We never discuss business while we're eating."

Great premise, great action, great dialog and great, great, GREAT song. Turn the volume up and check this out.

Other cultures are weird

Exhibit A: Japanese (?) video. I don’t even know what to say about this. The description says it best – it’s a video about learning English, self-defense and getting some aerobic exercise. Like we needed any more evidence (aside from this…) that the Japanese are fucked up beyond repair.


Exhibit B: A U.S. military video of an Iraqi citizen engaging in sexual relations with a donkey. If this is typical of their sexual options and proclivities, maybe we’re doing them a favor by bombing then back to the Stone Age. Wait… they never evolved past the Stone Age. Hmm… I’ll have to get back to you with a more appropriate phrase.

The hidden cost of beating off

This article is awesome. A German woman is suing a foster agency and the reason is because her foster son jerked off to naked pictures of her (they were worth a lot) and subsequently ruined their value.

The woman whored around with an artist 25 years ago and posed for nude pictures with him. When the artist became famous, the pictures values rose. That is, until her teenage foster son discovered the pics, pulled his pud to them and splooged all over them. Restoration experts were unable to restore the pictures and they sold far below their non-jizzed upon value at auction. Now mother wants the foster care agency to pay the difference between what she would have received and what she, in fact, received.

There are a few of things to comment on here. First of all, is it okay that the kid beat off to pictures of his foster mother? Birth mother is out of bounds, that goes without saying. But she’s NOT his birth mother and he’s only been living with her for two years. So where do we draw the line here? (I should point out that the kid didn’t know who he was jerking off to). The next thing that I wonder about is: why did he actually come on the pictures? Was there no towel handy? Nothing? I mean, are there people who actually come on the material they’re using to arouse themselves? If it was a video, would he have felt it necessary to jizz on the screen? After he came on the pictures, did he not clean up the mess or did he just let the pearl jam sink in and stuff the pictures back where he found them? Did he just put the pictures back all splooged on and figure no one would notice? Can I write another sentence that ends in a question?

The last thing that comes to mind is the fact that there were restoration experts that tried to restore these pics. How would you like for that to be in your job description? When some dipshit kid comes on the wrong thing, your job is to try and clean it up. I mean sure, your studies were probably more geared towards restoring paintings that haven’t aged well or something like that but the fact of the matter is some of these people went to school for a long time to learn restoration procedures and their most recent job was to clean up some dried up and crusty baby batter after some dick-face came on the wrong pictures. Oh well, that’s what you get for studying something so patently ridiculous in the first damn place.

And in other news, the sky is blue

According to this report, people with a lot of money are happier than people with no money at all. Do we really need scientists to tell us this? They say money can't buy happiness but it can buy food. Ask someone who's starving if they're happy. Money can also buy shelter and other necessities. And when that's taken care of, it can buy things that DO make us happy. Things like, Tool concert tickets, trips to Ireland, yachts and Russian brides (if, you know, you're into that).

Another Flickr update

I've put up pictures from the Ireland trip and a couple of other things on my Flickr page. If you're retarded and/or have forgotten the link, click here.

Ireland

I’m back from the Emerald Isle… and I’m not sure what to make of it. I’m guessing that this trip was something that will be remembered more fondly the more time passes. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time. It’s just that I had higher expectations for Ireland and it didn’t exactly deliver. The country side was awesome but the towns and cities were dirty and the people were dodgy unless you engaged them directly; then they were really friendly. It was kind of weird.

I arrived with Kathi’s sister at Dublin International and my first hint of the backwardness of the country was the fact that we deplaned directly onto the airport tarmac. I can’t pinpoint exactly why this little point stuck in my craw but I guess it has to do with the fact that I associate that kind of thing with backwater regional airports, not – you know – a country’s largest airport.
Kathi’s sister’s friend, Rocky, met us at the airport. We climbed into a taxi and got ripped completely off by the cabbie. This didn’t help my first impression of the country. Nevertheless, we dropped our bags off at the hotel and headed for the pub. This DID help my impression of the country. Rocky and I had a great time because there was beer involved. I had to drink a pint of Guinness because I was in Ireland. Rocky and I did shots and had more beers before calling it a night. Kathi’s sister just kind of sat there so she was probably happy when last call came and we were forced out.

The next day we met with Rocky again and Bea was with us this time. She had rented a car so we could drive to the west coast of the country. We then spent a good hour on the M-50 motorway that circles Dublin because no one could find the exit that we needed to take. This would become a theme while driving around Ireland. Roads are poorly marked when they’re marked at all. It’s quite frustrating. We finally made it out of Dublin and drove across the whole country in two or three hours’ time. I also found out this interesting tidbit: Ireland has ten times as many sheep as it has people. If they get to be a country, then I’m claiming my back yard in the States as an independent nation., like Peter Griffin did in Family Guy.

Anyway, we drove to the west coast near the town of Kilkee and stopped there at some cliffs on the coast. We drove on to Loop head, got out and took some photos. I slipped and my knee fell in the mud, effectively ruining one of the two pairs of pants I brought with me. Someday I’ll learn to pack more pants. Or not.

After nightfall, we headed back up the coast to Lahinch, secured some lodgings and then headed out for a pub again. The next morning we climbed back into the car and headed for the Cliffs of Moher. The Cliffs are the highest in Ireland and they are the place where the Cliffs of Insanity scenes from “The Princess Bride” were filmed.

We left the Cliffs and drove back to the Dublin metro area where we (surprise!) headed to another pub – this time it was the Harp Lounge in Swords. I taught Bea and Rocky the wonderful game of Spinners in Lahinch and they were eager to play again but Kathi’s sister vetoed that for a tamer version of Mexicali. Unfortunately we were forced out of the bars early because it was a Sunday and the bars close early in Ireland on Sundays.

The next morning we were able to sleep in late since there wasn’t any travel on the agenda so we did exactly that and caught a late bus into the city (our hotel was actually in Swords, just north of Dublin). We did a bus tour of the city which is a shit way to see a city but our time was limited. I ended up deciding that the tour was crap though, so we climbed out early and explored what we could on foot. The cool stuff isn’t that spread out but the sun sets around 4:00 p.m. and all light is gone by 5ish so we had to boogie in order for it to make any sense to take pictures.

After exploring the city, we met with Rocky and Bea again and headed off to the Temple Bar district for eats and drinks. I had an awesome sirloin steak at a place called the Porterhouse and then it was back to Swords for more drinking. We went back to the Harp Lounge and played Spinners again. Unfortunately, Kathi’s sister had too much too fast (she wasn’t even playing!!) so we had to call a cab back to the hotel so she could chunder up her fish and chips, and that’s pretty much how I spent my last night in Ireland. Bad times. Decent trip all in all though.

Curses!

Well, my string of good luck has run out… if you consider going to another Tool concert an end to good luck. Which it’s not.

Here’s the back story: I’m going to Ireland this Friday and I knew that some time ago. I also noticed that Tool was playing in Mannheim this week so I took some extra days off to attend the concert too. I’ve had this ticket for a long time as opposed to the Stuttgart show which was something I wanted to go to but the realization of that goal was pretty much a lucky and spontaneous happening. Not so with Mannheim.

Unfortunately, I had failed to come up with a viable plan for transportation to and from the show. I mean, I know there are trains to and from Mannheim but the actual nitty gritty details were something I planned to deal with later. As it was getting close to do or die time, I looked up my options on Sunday and realized that the logistics and expenses of the trip were far more complicated and expensive than I first though. My mind explored an as yet unconsidered method of getting to the show: Sandra*. You see, she expressed interest in going to the Mannheim show but felt that she wouldn’t be able to pay for the gas again. As it turned out, the price of getting to and from Mannheim was 130 Euros and the train back to Munich didn’t leave until about 2:45 in the morning – and we’re not talking about the high-speed ICE train, we’re talking about a regional train and a 4.5 hour journey back.

I considered these things and realized that it’d be cheaper for me to buy Sandra another ticket to the show AND give gas money. On top of that, I’d be able to leave Mannheim at a reasonable hour and have some company (I should point out that Sandra is cool as hell and I had a great time hanging out with her during the Stuttgart adventure. In other words, yeah, it would have brought time and money benefits to go with her to Mannheim but it would have been cool to hang out again too). I asked Kathi’s sister if she’d have a problem with this and the surprising answer was no so I text messaged Sandra to see if she’d be up for it. Her answer was something to the effect of, “I have to ask my boyfriend. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” It doesn’t take Stephen Hawking to realize where that was going. The next day, my doubts were confirmed when she wrote back that she couldn’t go. Luck has betrayed me for the first time.

Undaunted, I made my way to the train station and purchased my train tickets. I climbed aboard the train in the afternoon and three comfortable and quick hours later I was in Mannheim. And lost. Luckily, I met up with two other dudes from out of town and one of them had received some good advice on how to get to the venue. We arrived at the arena together and then went our separate ways. This is where I put my diabolical scheme into action. I had contrived to sneak my camera into the arena with me and discreetly shoot some video of the songs from the new album. This would be my fourth Tool show and I knew the entrance procedure: you show your ticket and then endure a half-hearted frisking. During the previous three friskings, not one ventured any further south than my mid-calf area. So with that in mind, I tied my camera to my ankle and pulled my sock up over it. My genius was rewarded when, again, the frisk only went down to my knee. I had done it.

I ventured into the arena and Mastodon had just started. Quick note on Mastodon: they’re actually pretty cool. Having heard their material three times now, I can authoritatively say that it’s solid and I may actually purchase an LP or two in the future. Nevertheless, it was a good time to hit the merch counter and pick up a souvenir shirt. I’m not big on tour shirts but seeing as how it was a European tour shirt and I’d been to three of the shows, I felt it justified the purchase. I found a spot at the back of the arena and untied my camera and got it handy. I looked for the perfect place to go but couldn’t find a suitable area in terms of view and distance from security personnel. I instinctively headed for the barrier and was surprised to find that it was the perfect location for filming. Where I ended up was on Adam’s side again but further left than normal. I was still close and I wasn’t within the security’s main field of vision. I also noticed a very large man in a Chicago Cubs hoody filming Mastodon from the trench and thought it might be Danny. He finished up and headed backstage again and I could see that it had, indeed, been Danny himself. In any event, Mastodon wrapped up and they switched stages and before long Tool had arrived. Maynard was in his tour uniform: jeans, gasmask, shirtless and Danny was wearing and #24 “Carey” Lakers jersey. I have to point out that he was wearing an Elton Brand Clippers jersey in Stuttgart. He’s a sports bigamist…

Camella, Adam’s wife, was in the trench for the first two songs. The handful of pictures of her that appear from time to time on the Tool website don’t do her a bit of justice. She is pretty in person. For the record, the first songs were “Stinkfist” and “Swamp Song.” They did the extended version of “Stinkfist” only this time, Justin was doing some crazy tremolo picking during the first half of the extended part. After “Swamp Song,” I got ready for “Jambi” and sure enough Adam started right up. I got my camera out and discreetly slipped my arm over all but the lens so as not to attract attention. After that came “Schism” with the speed metal bridge again. Then “Lost Keys/Rosetta Stoned.” I took my camera out again to catch Adam’s solo and Danny’s ass-kickery during that part and got the rest of that song too. After that they played “46&2” and then had their set break. After their break, they started the “Wings” songs and someone (not me) took a picture and Maynard freaked out. “No flash photography! No flash photography! No flash photography during this song! Please, no flash photography! No flash photography,” he bellowed. One got the impression that he didn’t want people taking photos during the “Wings” songs. I, however, had other plans: the piece de resistance of my recording efforts was to be the “Wings” suite. This is where luck betrayed me for the second time. A security guard noticed me filming, grabbed me and said, “what’ve you got there?” SHIT. He asked to see the camera and I politely refused. He said that I could let him inspect the camera or I could be thrown out altogether. Taking this new information into consideration, I responded with something along the lines of, “since you put it that way, kind sir, you may examine my photo device to your heart’s content.” After the camera proved baffling to him, he called over the main security dude and he motioned me to follow him to the side of the stage. I was forced to delete everything I shot and they gave me a number and instructions on how to reclaim my camera after the show. SHIT. No more camera, all my footage gone and a lost spot on the barrier. Luck is a fickle mistress.

I was thirsty and right near a refreshment stand so I bought a water and started chugging. But why does my throat burn? Oh, because it’s that fucking CARBONATED PIECE OF SHIT WATER THAT THESE FUCKING RETARDS DRINK HERE!! I had neglected to take that into consideration and luck had bent me over yet again. Now I was in pain, gassy and no less thirsty than when I started.

After that ordeal I found an ideal spot to watch the rest of the show: the handicapped area. They’d set up an elevated platform for wheelchair people and there were only three utilizing it so I got comfortable and started kicking myself. This was the PERFECT place to film. The location was good and there was no way I would have been discovered there. Shit on a stick. To rub salt in my recently exposed wound, it certainly seemed like every asshole was filming the show or taking stills with their camera phones. Fuckers. Just then, however, a most unfortunate thing happened: Tool completely crapped the bed. They were still playing “Wings” and Maynard came in at the wrong time for his “Give me my… give me my… give me my wings” part after Adam’s solo. This ruined Adam’s timing and they actually floundered for a bit trying to put the song back together. Oops. The rest of the song went off without incident and afterwards another ludicrous thing happened: I was told to sit down. Ostensibly, people aren’t allowed to stand in the handicapped area since that would defeat the whole purpose of setting aside an area for wheelchair-bound people to watch the show. While I understand this rule, I also understand that my back was against the back railing and therefore there was no one behind me whose view I was blocking. But it’s a rule so it must be enforced! FUCKING GERMANS AND THEIR RULES!

The show concluded with “Lateralus,” “Vicarious” and “Aenema.” The full set-list was as follows:

Stinkfist
Swamp Song
Jambi
Schism
Rosetta
46&2
-set break-
Wings
Lateralus
Vicarious
Aenema

When they finished playing, they did their customary group hug at center stage but took no bows and didn’t throw out any trinkets to the crowd. I have to admit they seemed kind of detached for this show. No banter from Maynard at all and the picture thing during “Wings” must have really pissed him off.

The lights came up and I headed to the sound board to see if there was anything I could scrounge. The set-list was still there so I called out to JR (I only know his face and name because there’s a picture of him holding a wedge of cheese on the band’s main page right now) and asked for it. He hooked me up and the first thing I noticed was that the set-list was wrong. The official set-list has “Swamp Song” and “46&2” switched. Not that it makes any difference whatsoever but it’s kind of cool in a way.

Afterwards, I headed out to claim my camera. Every other person in the line was American. I can’t tell if it was some weird coincidence or what but it seemed that only Americans were trying to sneak in cameras.

After the concert, the shitty reality set in that I had nothing to do in a shit two except wait for the train to Munich. The concert ended at 11:20ish and my train was at 2:43. I wandered around a bit but had to take the last s-bahn (a regional type of train) to the main station or else I would have been stuck near the arena. I got to the train station and everything was closed so I collected my stuff and took out my iPod to kill the time. I found a nice table by a closed restaurant and sat comfortably for about 20 minutes until a guard came up to me and said the train station was closing. Fucking closing. I told him I still had a train to catch and he told me that I would have to wait for it on the tracks outside because they were closing. The fuck? I had to spend a couple of very uncomfortable hours freezing my ass off on the train tracks.

Follow up rants: The train to Munich was a regional night train and took 4.5 hours to make the journey. I got some light sleep on the train but looked forward to getting to the apartment and really sleeping. I got home and Kathi was still at home. She says, “some dude is coming to check the radiators (heaters) today so you can’t go to sleep yet.” It was 7:45 in the morning and she had to go to work. The heater dudes were supposed to show up between 8:00 and 9:00 so I was unhappy but able to deal. What time did the asshole actually show up? 10:45. If that wasn’t bad enough, he smelled worse than a bag of smashed assholes. I’ve never dealt with B.O. that bad and I live in Europe. I literally had to open up the windows in the dead of winter to air the place out after he left to get rid of his stink.

Methinks I should reconsider the nature of my fandom. Nah, fuck that. I’d do it again if I had to.

*Sandra from Dachau; the one I wrote about in my last post. I also wanted to include this side-note for Oscar. Yes, you. If you didn’t get the joke Bryan wrote, it’s probably because you are unaware that Dachau is the home of the Nazi’s first Concentration Camp complex. Not the first work camp ever, but the first complex and the model for all other complexes including Auschwitz. They did mention the Second World War during history at Sunnyside, didn’t they? In any event, Bryan was making a tasteless (and therefore, funny) Holocaust joke. Please note that his surname is Rosenbaum. That is all.

I still rule the barrier

Another night, another Tool concert.

This road to this show was an interesting one. I wanted to attend this show (in Stuttgart) but since I’d already seen them in Düsseldorf and Munich – and was going to see them in Mannheim as well – I didn’t see spending the money on a ticket and transportation for another show. That is, until one of my students mentioned that she wanted to see Tool and offered to drive me to the show if I bought her a ticket. Considering the price of a train ticket to and from Stuttgart, it was a freakin’ sweet deal and I accepted after about a nano-second. Unfortunately, Kathi’s sister wasn’t so hot on the idea of me going to a concert in a different city with a young, female Tool fan. What neglected to take into consideration, however, was the fact that a murderous leper could have offered me the chance and I still would have taken it. I mentioned that I could give HER the ticket and WE could go to the concert together and she reconsidered her position.

In any event, Sandra was on time to the minute even though she had to drive to Munich from Dachau. We hit the road and chatted on the way up there but time was getting short. Fortunately, I’m a master with directions and managed to get us to the arena with a bit of time to spare. We entered and I hit the toilet for a pit-stop before the upcoming battle. Then we went onto the floor together. We actually managed to get to the arena before Mastodon started so I told her, “when the lights go down, we’re bulldozing our way to the front.” “Why?” she asked. There was a dude with grey hair and a grey goatee standing on the barrier in front of Adam’s position and I said, “see that dude? I want to be where he is.” I don’t think she liked that idea very much. We also got to chatting with three Army dudes that had just gotten back from Iraq two weeks ago. Sandra seemed interested to know that these were the dudes we were sending to fight our war. They were two Californians and a Texan and, as cool as they were, they were drunk and probably not terribly bright even when sober. They were loud and obnoxious and funny to me but a menace to everyone else around them. They did little to improve international relations between the two countries.

When Mastodon started, we were about three people behind the barrier and had space to maneuver comfortably. What a bunch of pansies there were in this crowd! Still though, Sandra wasn’t entirely comfortable there and after Mastodon ended, she left to get something to drink and then watch Tool from safer confines. I, on the other hand, spied my opening. I was now one person behind the barrier so when the lights went down for Tool, I grabbed the barrier with my left hand and waited to make my move.

They opened with “Stinkfist” again and I was having an incredibly easy go of it up at the front even though I wasn’t on the barrier. I actually contemplated staying right where I was because there was absolutely no struggle, no pushing and shoving whatsoever, and I could see over the dude in front of me with no problem. I still kept my hand anchored on the barrier in case I changed my mind or in case things got a little more rowdy (i.e. I’d have a base to hold on to so I wouldn’t get taken away with the flow). I quickly changed my mind when the guy in front of me’s boyfriend started trying to knock my arm off the barrier (they knew each other and, considering the fact that they were European, I can only assume they were fucking each other too). In any event, I gave him a jab with my elbow that was intended to convey the message, “look, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere so just relax.” He responded with renewed attempts to knock my arm loose so I said, “fuck it,” worked up some forward momentum and very forcefully and aggressively inserted myself between him and his boyfriend right onto the barrier. Tool hadn’t even finished playing “Stinkfist” yet and I was already on the barrier. European crowds are cake.

The dude didn’t like me being there though and I actually attracted the attention of the security forces but they just motioned for me to take it easy and backed off. In the meantime I was being called names by the dude on my left so I told him, “Look dickhead, I was content to stay where I was and just keep my arm on the barrier but you tried to knock it off so fuck you. Now you have a lot more of me to deal with.” He kept complaining to me and even appealed to the security guys. What kind of pussies am I dealing with here? Like there’s never been an instance of pushing and shoving at a rock concert before. He called me names after the song ended and I just responded with the put up or shut up taunt, “fuck you. Do something.” With that, he let it drop and I had my place ten feet away from Adam with a close up and unimpeded view of everything. My place was doubly good because I was getting the guitar sound directly from Adam’s amps and Justin’s and Maynard’s feeds were coming to Adam from a monitor directly in front of me so I could hear every bit of music from every member perfectly and very clearly.

The set list was almost identical to the show in Munich except they played “Swamp Song” instead of “Sober” which was cool as shit just because it was so unexpected. The “Wings” songs were awesome again but the thing that stands out most when watching Tool from that close up is how they communicate with each other during the concert. For example, Adam and Justin weren’t in sync during the first part of “Lost Keys” so Adam simply looked over to Justin and provided a count with his foot to let Justin catch on and that’s how they worked it out. Before “Schism,” Justin and Adam just looked at each other, nodded and started playing together. Before “Lateralus,” Adam and Justin kept their eyes on Danny who nodded to them to let them know when he was ready to start. Before “Vicarious,” Adam turned his delay on, did a palm-muted rake across the strings and on the fourth repeat they just started playing. Last cool thing I remember was during “Swamp Song” when the instruments drop out then the song starts off again after Maynards, “My warning…” line. The music stopped and Danny and Maynard looked at each other and laughed about something for a second and after a beat, Maynard just asked, “you ready, Dan?” and Danny gave him a “yeah – what the hell…” shrug and started things up again. Sweet.

After the lights came up, I found Sandra again and we headed out of the arena and began our journey back to Munich. We had to find a gas station because her Honda Civic gets craptacular gas mileage. We left Munich with three-quarters of a tank of gas and the gauge was reading empty by the time we left Stuttgart. Things were a bit hairy for a while because we couldn’t find a gas station on the Autobahn and didn’t know when another one would materialize. We passed a Shell station on the way out of the city but she didn’t want to stop there because she was uncertain about how to get to it. I was confused but it was her decision so that was that. The funny thing is: we got back to Munich and got lost. After driving around Stuttgart, a city neither of us knows at all, and making it all the way back to Munich without a single problem, we got lost and had to drive around a while to find my apartment. We finally did find it though and we said our goodbyes. It was just past two in the morning and I had to work the next day (although – luckily for me – not until 10:30). I slid into bed after washing up and brushing my teeth and Kathi’s sister half-heartedly asked how it was. I tried to explain Tool’s godliness and my rulehood on the barrier but, again, she was unimpressed and sleepy. She was, however, slightly more interested to know that Sandra and I didn’t spend the actual concert together. Methinks she slept a little more soundly after I shared that information…

PORNO!!

When I get back to the U.S., all of you owe me drinks. Why? For enriching your lives with my blog posts, that’s why. For example, I am about to share with you one of the most brilliant websites on the whole internet: MS Paint Porn.

This site has it all, from the funny writing on the introduction and history pages to the random capitalization in the picture titles. Last but not least, there are the pictures themselves. There’s a little something for everyone: bestiality for Randy, gay pictures for Andy, Hentai for Roger, interracial stuff for Billy, scat for Jeff and so on. Awesome.