Bullshit.

About the Pregnant Man who gave birth this week:
You can't call yourself a man if all you did was sprout facial hair and have breast reductions. I think it's degrading to men and to women in general to do so. Society should have called her bluff. Just because your feelings might get hurt doesn't mean you can't hear the truth. I'm all for empowerment but not at the cost of other people's dignity and respect. She's more in need of a mental health professional or a reality show rather than being labeled a "man".
Society, grow a pair already and tell it like it is. What's next? A guy will get breast implants then impregnate a woman and then we'll call it the second immaculate conception?
It pisses me off that she boils down being a man to facial hair and no breasts. If that were the case then Earth's population would be more male heavy.

Happy Independence Day!

Chockablock

Like a loving cat bringing home a mangled bird corpse, I bring you this:
Five movies that will enrich your life immensely and make your friends appreciate you more.

1) The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai across the 8th dimension - As a young child I loved this movie greatly, it played a major part in creating the ideal of "cool" in my fresh and impressionable mind. The hero wasn't some imperfect alcoholic struggling with decisions, making moral judgments. NO! He was the epitome of cool, given it was an 80s cool, but cool none the less. Brilliant, cool under pressure, on the cutting edge of fashion. And this was the first movie to set the "Aliens as Rasta dudes" trend. My favorite part was the alien guy pulling on the jelly teat-like appendages in order to drive the giant meatball.

2) Ishtar - Technically this movie was a flop (as was Buckaroo Banzai), but it features all the good stuff you expect from an 80s action buddy adventure. Think Lawrence of Arabia meets Seinfeld. Hilarious dialogue and wacky situations make for a good time: I want to buy a blind camel! HA! My sister and I would play out the vultures in the desert scene every time we had a huge expanse of sand to crawl around in. And not to mention Isabelle Adjani... For you folks out there that are drawn to her like a dung beetle to a campfire: let's just say it'll do for you what the alien pulling on the jelly teat-like appendages did for me, as a young boy.

3) The Fifth Element - In my personal opinion, this movie is the cream of the cream of Luc Besson's repertoire. The first time I saw this movie I really wasn't impressed, but what did I know, I was just some lame teenager. I saw this movie again later on in life and I really enjoyed it. I got all the quick one liners and appreciated the most excellent vision of the future that it portrays. If you enjoy the technicalities of films then this is a really tight movie. Layers of details and the different story lines come together to make it a great film. And for all you fashionistas: Jean-Paul Gaultier did the costume design work, and while you're watching try and guess who's a model and who's an actor! Really a great movie and one of my all time favorites, I really think this could have been the new Star Wars, instead of those horrible new Star Wars'.

4) Last Tango In Paris - I think this is one of Marlon Brando's (May the blessing of Jah the most High be upon him) best roles. The dialogue is absolutely outstanding, some of the best writing I've heard yet, and I think a lot of it was improvised. It's got everything (and probably a little more) you could possibly want from a Euro flick. Wild cut scenes of the movie within a movie. Long soliloquies in a foreign language. An overwhelming sense of laissez faire malaise (Parlez Vous?) smeared all over it. I love this movie because the French avant-garde parts are really French. The American one-linerism is really American. And the absurdity of the "let pretentious art fall flat on it's face" Italian surrealism brings it all together. If none of that made any sense then your BS detector is set on high. But seriously, this movie will get a response out of you one way or t'other. I personally think that this is such a great comedy (Commedia dell'arte if you will) that those with less finely tuned comedic feelers will view this strictly as a tragedy. I mean come on! "I want you to smell the dying farts of the pig"! Don't tell me you wouldn't giggle a little bit at that!

5) John Carpenter's The Thing - As far as science fiction movies go this is one of the best ones. The special effects are great non-cgi. The plot is suspenseful and thrilling, and it will leave you questioning which of your friends are human. But it has more than just that: It is also an excellent filmographic treatise on human nature. Throughout the film there is an underlying revelation of our desire to push ourselves as humans almost to the brink of destruction to better know what we are(you really should turn down your BS detector). The ending is left open, but in my opinion it is a fitting end to the discussion: Only a human that isn't infected by the hyper-survivalist alien thing would take a drink of alcohol. It's a very artful and subtle balance between leaving an opening and firmly closing the book that makes this movie one of my top picks. Plus it has Wilford Brimley!

The Chaubwegee Chronicles 2250: The Legend of the Great Editor Pt. 1

I walked down Main St. just past the library in the ancient capital of the NWO, Orange, Old New Jersey. I had just finished conducting business with a client. She had searched for decades for an authentic Dr. Henry Jones Kotobukiya figurine from early in the millenium. I had three(thanks to my connections at the Revered and Most Holy Council of Chaub Wegee). She paid handsomely for the figurine and after I had paid my business fees to the Beloved Council of Chaub Wegee, I made about 17,462.58 Yuan. Enough to finally get me a liter of gasoline to extend my life by another 3 years beyond capacity.
I rounded the corner to Lincoln avenue when I heard shuffling in the dark alley behind the Post Office. I pointed my middle finger at the void and scanned with my SuperMegaBlackBerry. The reading came back as two humans with 33% Methcrackoine content combined. At those levels they were probably just spammers or Myspace tweakers. I continued on, as I passed I heard them moving.
"Hey, how old are you?" one asked in a raspy rattle. Awww CRAP!!!! "What ethnicity would you say that you identify with the most?" the other one chimed in in perfect sequence. I started to run without looking back, I knew what they were.
"Would you like to take a quick survey? It will only take 2 minutes!" the raspy one yelled out picking up his speed in pursuit.
"We just want to ask about your satisfaction level!" the other yelled.
Advertisers. The dregs of society. And these were the lowest of the low: Focus Groupies. In the year 2012 all advertising had been banned when extensive global research and the subsequent proofs from the knowledge base of the Alien Overlords showed that there were no direct correlations between sales and advertising. Most of them found quasi-validation as bloggers and "educationalists", but the majority slithered into the underworld with the Mole People or out into the vast wastelands of New North Canada and Minnekotia. Out there they formed large bands that roamed the countryside compiling databases and demographics info, sending Hunter/Seeker teams into civilization to update their files and mailing lists. "We would like to know what radio stations you listen to!" old Raspy asked again hoping that I would stop just enough for them to water-board answers from me. I knew their game, after they had squeezed out all the useless information from me, they would drill out my brain to ensure that nobody else got the info and that there were no duplications in their system.
My training at the Revered Chaub Wegee Academy had only reached Simple Disarming and Completing the Sale techniques. I hadn't yet been given clearance in deadly hand to hand close quarters combat. I ran down an alley hoping to lose them, only to discover that it was a dead end. I turned around and pushed my back against the wall. I wasn't going down without a fight.
They stopped a few yards from me. Raspy pulled out a drill while his partner rolled back the sleeves of his pink Armani shirt. "We give you coupon at end of survey," Raspy wheezed out. His partner tittered and stared at my head with googley eyes.
Just then I heard glass breaking above me.
"That's: We will give you coupons at the end of this survey!" I heard an angry and fed up voice scream down. A blur came crashing down on Raspy, crushing his body and ruining his wool three-piece suit and throwing his trendy retro style eyeglasses by my left foot. I saw a flash of steel and Raspy's friend flopped to the ground in two halves.
I looked at the hulking mass before me. It was mostly machine parts but I could see the basic outline of a human form.
"They was gonna kill me..." I blubbered. "They WERE going to kill you," it corrected me as it turned around and pointed a huge sword at my face. My eyes went from the tip of the blade, to the cybernetic arm, to the piercing eyes. I looked down and saw that it wore a name tag. Hello, my name is... "RENGRI" was scrawled in blood red.

"It's YOU..." I whispered in awe.

Ich Liebe Dich

I'm sitting here now, in my changing room. I can hear the audience. They're restless. They're impatient to see the greatest Marlene Dietrich impersonator that ever graced the stages of Off-Broadway. It seems so long ago, that night that changed my life forever.

It was a hot sweaty summer night. The kind where everyone's drunk and cruising in their pickup just to stay cool. Drunk driving wasn't a problem there because if you passed out you'd just wake up in the morning and have to walk into town to get gas.
I went into town with a couple of the farm hands, Red and Tex. Red was a hard man, he'd spent most of his life traveling from farmstead to farmstead digging out stumps and working over livestock. Tex was different. He looked as young for 42 as Rex looked old for it. Tex was supple and gay, like the first springtime shoot. He always had a joke in mind and always managed to get the ladies to dance. Tex was a tractor driver, he could maneuver a tractor like he was leading a town-lady at an Oklahoma two-step. We were all men. Bronzed, rugged, American.
We walked into the arcade with pockets full of change. We'd spend what was left of our foldin' money here after hitting up ole man Jenkins' hooch shack.
As soon as you walked in the smells hit you. The cigarette smoke heavy in the air. The smell of fried taters and hot dogs from the eat-shack. The stale sour sweat of the high score. Rex slapped me on the ass and pointed over to a new game.
Big Rigs: Over the Road
There were a couple of Riverdale kids hanging around it. We hated them as much as they hated us. In their varsity jackets and smelling of the latest French perfumes from the town drug store. We derided them for being in their cage of a town, and they looked down on our boundless wandering in the country.
One of them laughed out loud and gave the game a kick. "This thing sucks!" he yelled out, his freckled face turning red, looking for a dummy to tackle. He glanced over at me and signalled to his team mates. "Hey farm-boy! Here's a game for ya! Ahoo hoo hoo! Shyeeeeeeeet!" his friends joined in the merry-making and they huddled over by the dance dance console.
I gritted my teeth. Tex held my wrists and whispered in my ear in that soft country drawl, "It'ss alright sweetheart, don't let them get to you. Let's just have a good time,". Rex slapped my ass again, "Let's check that game out, maybe Tex can get the high score on it?" He grinned and winked at Tex. "No, I'll do it, I'll show them," I walked proudly over to the game and sat down in the seat.
I dropped in two quarters and changed my life.
There were no boundaries, no limits. I could do anything I wanted. I was free. I didn't have to stay on the road, I could go wherever and through whatever I pleased. I could even go beyond the edges of the map. I drove for hours that night, and I was always a winner. That night changed my life forever. I was beyond the arcade, beyond the town, beyond the farm. I was beyond the world. There was nothing to stop me or slow me down. I had broken through.

My mother sobbed as she hugged me goodbye. My father shook my hand and told me to do the right thing. Red held me long and hard. We swayed back and forth on that train platform before Tex tapped him on the shoulder. Tex pressed his wet cheek to mine and kissed it softly. I'll never forget how his mustache was wet with tears. He whispered the line from the game into my ear:

"You're Winner"

The beginning with the Dr. or How I learned to stop worrying and love the Monster

I write this in an attempt to clarify how and why the Dr. and I did what we did. Over the years the liberal media has tried to portray the Dr. as some kind of maniac. Amoral, psychotic, blundering, and foolish. This is not how he was at all.
I shall try to be concise with this story. Perhaps in telling it from my perspective, from the beginning, it will help bring back some of the luster to the brilliance of the Dr.'s tarnished and sullied memory.

From the very first he was ahead of his time and treated as such out of envy or fear. He was ridiculed and labeled a lunatic by the more offensive members of European(and in some instances American) academia. He had applied to all the great schools, hoping to gain funding to study and prove his theories of reanimation. Everywhere he turned though was a dead end. The only place that allowed him a small room and a meager stipend was the Sorbonne, and even then it was only to ensure that they were able to control him and keep an eye on him.

Things did change however, soon after his uncle died. Leaving him heir and sole inheritor of the Frankenstein estate. He hired me on as his assistant, not only because I was the sole applicant for the assistant job, but in me I think he saw a kindred spirit. We were both outcasts, him with his marvelous ideas and I with my physical deformity.
I set to work. I gave all my time and energies to him to repay the kindnesses he showed me throughout our wonderful time together.
I bought all we needed, beakers, test tubes, electrodes, surgical tools. Some of the things were harder to find, but nothing was impossible for my beautiful Doctor... Generators, capacitors, scanning electron microscopes, and gas chromatographs.
The tricky part was in finding the parts he needed for implanting into the subjects for his experiments.
It was in this environment that our friendship blossomed. We found solace in each other's company on those long cold nights. He was a caring human capable of the greatest emotions. His favorite game was to chase me around the lab with whatever he could find.
Those were days that I shall always hold close to my heart.

Then came the trials where I was granted immunity for testifying against him. He never knew it but I secretly had gone to the police with his crimes. But he denied it all, just like he denied my love.

Volunteers of America

I was a young, naive, and bright-eyed idealist out to change the world for the better.
I arrived at my new hometown after an 8-hour long, bumpy, bus trip. And not one of those luxury buses with a bathroom and shock absorbers. This had 4 wheels and that was enough.
I was met at the bus station (a bush with a signpost) by my host and translator Abu. He knew enough English to smooth over the embarrassing social situations and I knew enough Wolof to communicate with the babies and other foreigners.
We hiked back towards the cluster of mud huts. I was surprised to see a satellite dish near one of them. I asked Abu about it and he stated "Chaub Wegee". This word wasn't in the Wolof vocabulary builder courses I had taken so I shrugged it off.
A group of kids had formed as a tail to our procession. Yelping with glee at the new "Toubab" that had arrived. All of them were decked out in the latest from the Shady Limited line, and they all wore Air Jordans. I found it interesting that they all chose to wear the same name brands, but I didn't make a big issue of it. I was still new to the village after all.
Abu brought me to his home. Out front of it sat a Peugeot 205 riding on some serious dubs. We entered his hut and he introduced me to his wife Aissata and his children Ali and Mahmud. His wife was a charming woman with her hair coiled into tight little buns and his children were little balls of mischief grinning impishly. His wife was wearing a Louis Vuitton print dress that suited her perfectly. His hut was stocked with the latest in kitchen ware and home gadgetry. He had a stainless steel stove that looked like it could prepare dinners for a whole army. His fridge, microwave, and dishwasher were all stainless steel too. I was struck dumb. I asked him how they were able to afford such luxuries. He told me about the program that the previous Peace Corps Volunteer had started. It consisted of a local workshop that employed the artisans of the village in creating traditional crafts and then selling those crafts online.
I was amazed by it all. Abu offered to show me the whole operation and the "Chaub Wegee"(which I assumed was what they called the crafts they were making) after lunch. But I was too impatient and asked him to show them to me immediately. He smiled and agreed, understanding that I was still on Toubab time.
He showed me the hut where the artisans were creating traditional silver jewelry. They were very intricate and beautiful and fetched a high enough price online that the villagers did not want for anything. I was still curious about this Chaub Wegee though. I asked Abu if this Chaub Wegee was the head chief or the local protective Animist Spirit that the village prayed to. Abu laughed heartily and slapped me on the back. He grabbed my hand and ran over to the hut with the satellite dish. He ushered me in and pointed to the middle of the room. In the middle of the empty hut was a plastic table, a chair, and a computer. On the computer screen was Chaub Wegee.

Another go at it.

It was another lonely day on the metro when I spotted her. She first caught my eye when I noticed what she was wearing. A pocketed skirt in camouflage pattern and an interesting t-shirt. She had on strappy sandals which went well with the skirt. Her luxurious blond hair was held back with a whimsical hairpin. She wore glasses but her eyes were a beautiful and deep green color. The same color as the Mediterranean Sea in full sunlight. She wore a nostalgic wristwatch on her left wrist and she was listening to her magnetoscope through headphones. She had a series of fashionable bracelets on her right arm with bright colors and patterns, reminiscent of the trendy models from the popular Design Houses.

I worked up the courage and shuffled over to where she sat. "Hello, I love your hairpin," I tried to sound nonchalant. She looked up, not hearing me through her heaphones. I smiled and nodded and waved my hand in greeting. She smiled back, a smile that gave me wings. She took off her head phones. Je fuis la loi the headphones blared just before she turned down the volume. "Sorry," she giggled sweetly, "I'm learning French,". I melted a little more inside.

My dream woman, right here, under my nose in this boring old city. Classy, smart, cultured, fashionable and gorgeous. That's when I truly knew what love was about. Love for her, love for the city, and love for life.

Test, test.

Here's a little something I worked on as a guest blogger post. I'm hoping that it's up to par and grammatically... grammaticly... correct. The blog for Chaub Wegee is hilariously witty and I don't want to make a complete ass of myself... Huzzah!

THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR!

Yes, we’ve all heard these words before but not with this sense of urgency or expectation. For whatever reasons you believe will bring it about, there is no reason why you should not be ready for it. In this post I hope to provide you with an idea of the basics you will need and want.

Firstly, and most importantly, you will need a shelter. Underground shelters are a little bit more expensive but they provide the best protection from meteorological disasters and roving bands of heretical devil worshipers, to airborne space bacteria or the long arm of the law. I also recommend setting yourself up with a good quality composting toilet. The more you pay now for quality, the less plunging you do later, and you can use the compost for your herb garden! As for the rest it's all a matter of personal preference so I'll let you decide on that.

Now, the next most important survival related issue: Nourishment. I prefer your good old fashioned MREs. High caloric content for joules of energy, plus an excellent variety to suit any occasion! Remember to buy in bulk! Because there won't be any convenience stores to shop at after the Communists take over! Ha Ha!...

You probably will want to supplement your MREs with some goodies. Cakes, puddings, meats, breads, and special bachelor treats are all exciting options! You may also want to look into special drinks and food alternatives. And it all doesn't have to be bought food! Some of the best meals I've ever had were ones that I procured and prepared myself(Nucular fall-out permitting)!

For the tertiary area of concern: What to do? You will want to fill your hours with activities that don't take up a lot of space. I'm an avid jigsaw puzzle enthusiast so I have a lot stored in my bunker. As we jigsawers say: the higher the piece count, the higher the fun count!
FYI: Just make sure you don't lose any of the pieces though, it's a long long time to live with disappointment...

You may want to bring along a pet with you. I strongly recommend a cat or small dog. Anything larger and they tend to take up too much space. Anything smaller than that really won't provide an emergency supply of food if your rations run out early. And stay away from noisy birds.
I've got a little nook all set up for my Mr. Bootsy the Cat. And I've got treats for him too! He can provide his own compost, fun for everyone!

Now I hope that you have a better idea of what it takes to survive the upcoming Second Coming of Christ. And have fun with it! Let this post be your guide to a new world of your descendants!

Remember: Survivalism, not just for luddites and militamen anymore!

p.s. You may want to order your items soon before the United States Postal Service is activated to do it's real job. Avoid embarrassing shortages by buying in bulk!