Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Good Lord No
Tonight, I was at my girlfriends house, and her brother was watching "Fear Factor". Tonights episode...the little that I caught before being too repulsed to watch...had three teams, each consisting of one adult and one of their children.
Now, these children were by my estimation twelve years old each. A twelve year old can't really "volunteer" for something...their parents generally have final say over whether the child will get to do stuff or not, or whether they have to do something. Children, up until about 15 or 16 years old, are incapable of deciding things and fully weighing out the pros/cons of stuff.
The adults, in the event I watched, would stand back as their child was locked in a fiberglass box, with their head sticking out on top and their hands locked in a stocks-like appendage.
Then, live cockroaches...about a fifty-gallon bucket worth...were dumped in on the child.
The parent had to move enough roaches with their mouth to fill a box to a red-line level. Then, they would get a set of three keys to give to their child, one of which would unlock said child and release them from the roach box.
As I watched, in horror, the child in this particular case was complaining that he was being bitten periodically by a roach. The dad took big mouthfuls of live...gigantic...roaches, and put them in another bucket.
At this point, I was far too disgusted to continue watching. Leah and I left.
I don't know which is worse: that people will sell their dignity, or that the price is so low. The Fear Factor prize is a pissant little 50,000 dollars. I would never...ever...bathe in live cockroaches for 50 grand. At least, I like to think I wouldn't.
But I can safely say that even though I hate kids, I would NEVER put a child...much less my OWN child...in a tub of live insects for any amount of money. Ever. Period. It frightens me that anybody would do this to themselves, or their children, for any amount of money at all. I am sickened and thoroughly disgusted.
Comments? Leave one, or e-mail me directly at deepfnord@yahoo.com and I'll either ignore you or say something insightful. Or maybe just ramble on, like I usually do.
Friday, June 25, 2004
It's baaaaaack...
WHO CARES is back, with a new attitude and a new look. Check it on out, folks. I'll try to be less than a year between updates this time.
WHO CARES is back, with a new attitude and a new look. Check it on out, folks. I'll try to be less than a year between updates this time.
Today, I had an adventure: I actually left the sanctuary of my home for a while and went out into the great, wide world. I visited the local CVS-brand pharmacy chain store, which was air-conditioned and generically organized for my convenience. Additionally, while still advertising themselves as a pharmacy, CVS has added millions of useful everyday not-strictly-pharmacological items for my shopping and perusing experiences and pleasure. For example, in addition to my breathing meds (Albuterol and Intal {cromolyn sodium}, for those of you interested) I could pick up a new set of tires, about a trillion varieties of candy-flavored preservatives, greeting cards from the hallmark aisle, or writing implements. In addition, they sell by my estimation at least fifty varieties of condoms.
The reason I know this is partly my own fault. YOu see, I had my script called in about three weeks ago, and then I promptly forgot to go get it. I need these drugs, because if I don't have handy access to my Albuterol I'll theoretically shrivel up like a leech in a salt mine and then die a choking, gaspy death. My Intal...or Cromolyn Sodium, which is fun to say...is ust a pre-emptive drug to take before I exercise, should I ever get off my lazy ass and do so. HA HA HA! Oh, man, that's killer funny. I really should exercise, though...otherwise when I get older I'll turn into one of those fat lardasses that I so deride. Then I'll have a massive heart attack and die. Wheee!
In the "Excitement Plus!" section of this post, I should tell you all that I got my new Dell MP3 player today, with a 15-GB memory capacity. I don't think I yet have 15 gigs recorded on my PC...although I am rapidly approaching that particular landmark, by a rigorous process of ripping two to three CDs daily. I am, in fact, recording a Guster CD as we speak.
I'm a Gusterphile. Anybody who really enjoys their music can easily understand why.
So, I've been reading a lot of Robert Anton Wilson lately, and let me tell you it's like an LSD trip. Not that I've ever taken LSD, but I imagine that if I did, it would be a lot like reading RA Wilson. He forcibly shifts your perspective and makes you view the world as though you actually were a character in the book; you can feel your perspectives changing while you read. It's an enchaned reading experience, somehow. I don't know what exactly it is, but the mere act of reading his work has definitely made a major impact on me, for better or worse. Or, as he might argue, there's really no better or worse that you can define outside of a certain world-view.
At any rate, I'm going to go and pretend to be productive and do something. I may eat; I may bathe; but I probably won't be shaving, if anybody's keeping track.
The reason I know this is partly my own fault. YOu see, I had my script called in about three weeks ago, and then I promptly forgot to go get it. I need these drugs, because if I don't have handy access to my Albuterol I'll theoretically shrivel up like a leech in a salt mine and then die a choking, gaspy death. My Intal...or Cromolyn Sodium, which is fun to say...is ust a pre-emptive drug to take before I exercise, should I ever get off my lazy ass and do so. HA HA HA! Oh, man, that's killer funny. I really should exercise, though...otherwise when I get older I'll turn into one of those fat lardasses that I so deride. Then I'll have a massive heart attack and die. Wheee!
In the "Excitement Plus!" section of this post, I should tell you all that I got my new Dell MP3 player today, with a 15-GB memory capacity. I don't think I yet have 15 gigs recorded on my PC...although I am rapidly approaching that particular landmark, by a rigorous process of ripping two to three CDs daily. I am, in fact, recording a Guster CD as we speak.
I'm a Gusterphile. Anybody who really enjoys their music can easily understand why.
So, I've been reading a lot of Robert Anton Wilson lately, and let me tell you it's like an LSD trip. Not that I've ever taken LSD, but I imagine that if I did, it would be a lot like reading RA Wilson. He forcibly shifts your perspective and makes you view the world as though you actually were a character in the book; you can feel your perspectives changing while you read. It's an enchaned reading experience, somehow. I don't know what exactly it is, but the mere act of reading his work has definitely made a major impact on me, for better or worse. Or, as he might argue, there's really no better or worse that you can define outside of a certain world-view.
At any rate, I'm going to go and pretend to be productive and do something. I may eat; I may bathe; but I probably won't be shaving, if anybody's keeping track.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Apparently, I'm tewnty now. Huzzah! No longer must I be tied with the epithet "teenager". I can still be immature, but now that I'm "more adult" people will call it "sophistication".
HA HA HA HA! Wheeee!
So, thanks to all who made my birthday cool. My friends, and Leah, and my family. It was good. Thanks to all!
HA HA HA HA! Wheeee!
So, thanks to all who made my birthday cool. My friends, and Leah, and my family. It was good. Thanks to all!
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Apparently, Ronald Reagan has recently died. Everybody seems very surprised and upset about this. But for chrissake, why? Let me explain some things to those sheeplike masses of you that were surprised and/or upset:
Regarding your surprise, he was ninety-something years old and he had Alzheimers disease. What the fuck did you expect, he was gonna live forever? People die, man...get over it. He was born, therefore at some point in time he's gonna die, just like you and me and everybody else.
In regards to the upsetness of people: Reagan was a dick of a president. Remember Osama Bin Laden? I see a few hands...good. Remember who put him in power? Oh! Right! REAGAN funded him and gave him weapons! Saddam Hussein? Remember that guy and his funny mustache? Who funded his war against the Iranians? Oh, right! REAGAN gave him tons of money and support and stuff! Shit, looks like all of our worst enemies were empowered by whom? REAGAN! That crazy old rich whiteboy!
Which reminds me, he also (to my knowledge) implemented "trickle-down" economics, which states that rich people shouldn't have to pay fair taxes because if they get to keep their money it'll eventually drift down into the economy. HA HA HA! yeah, right. Rich people are rich because they don't spend their money; if they do, it's not going to the economy at large.
Reagan also enabled Bush, Sr. to get into office, which enabled Bush Jr. to get into office. And there's no way that can be seen as a good thing; Bush is a horrible president. And it's interesting to me that he's spent his term cleaning up Reagans messes.
In short, my opinion is thusly: Reagan died. No surprises here, and furthermore, there's no mourning for him; he was an awfully bad president, and he fucked our country right up the ass. Maybe he was an okay person, on a one-to-one basis; I can't say one way or another about that. But I never knew him; I'm not gonna mourn. Bah to Reagan, and bah to the hordes of republican-colored sheep who mourn the loss of such a colossal asshole.
And wait! before anybody accuses me of being insensitive to old white guys with Alzheimers, let me tell you that my grandfather happens to be an old white guy with alzheimers. So I can say I know what it's like. It's horrible. But Reagan-wise, I don't give a shit. I figure it's just Karma coming to get him.
Regarding your surprise, he was ninety-something years old and he had Alzheimers disease. What the fuck did you expect, he was gonna live forever? People die, man...get over it. He was born, therefore at some point in time he's gonna die, just like you and me and everybody else.
In regards to the upsetness of people: Reagan was a dick of a president. Remember Osama Bin Laden? I see a few hands...good. Remember who put him in power? Oh! Right! REAGAN funded him and gave him weapons! Saddam Hussein? Remember that guy and his funny mustache? Who funded his war against the Iranians? Oh, right! REAGAN gave him tons of money and support and stuff! Shit, looks like all of our worst enemies were empowered by whom? REAGAN! That crazy old rich whiteboy!
Which reminds me, he also (to my knowledge) implemented "trickle-down" economics, which states that rich people shouldn't have to pay fair taxes because if they get to keep their money it'll eventually drift down into the economy. HA HA HA! yeah, right. Rich people are rich because they don't spend their money; if they do, it's not going to the economy at large.
Reagan also enabled Bush, Sr. to get into office, which enabled Bush Jr. to get into office. And there's no way that can be seen as a good thing; Bush is a horrible president. And it's interesting to me that he's spent his term cleaning up Reagans messes.
In short, my opinion is thusly: Reagan died. No surprises here, and furthermore, there's no mourning for him; he was an awfully bad president, and he fucked our country right up the ass. Maybe he was an okay person, on a one-to-one basis; I can't say one way or another about that. But I never knew him; I'm not gonna mourn. Bah to Reagan, and bah to the hordes of republican-colored sheep who mourn the loss of such a colossal asshole.
And wait! before anybody accuses me of being insensitive to old white guys with Alzheimers, let me tell you that my grandfather happens to be an old white guy with alzheimers. So I can say I know what it's like. It's horrible. But Reagan-wise, I don't give a shit. I figure it's just Karma coming to get him.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
From http://www.sss.gov:
"Notwithstanding recent stories in the news media and on the Internet, Selective Service is not getting ready to conduct a draft for the U.S. Armed Forces -- either with a special skills or regular draft. Rather, the Agency remains prepared to manage a draft if and when the President and the Congress so direct. This responsibility has been ongoing since 1980 and is nothing new. Further, both the President and the Secretary of Defense have stated on more than one occasion that there is no need for a draft for the War on Terrorism or any likely contingency, such as Iraq. Additionally, the Congress has not acted on any proposed legislation to reinstate a draft. Therefore, Selective Service continues to refine its plans to be prepared as is required by law, and to register young men who are ages 18 through 25."
This means trouble. When the government actively denies something, you can safely bet that there's something brewing.
"Notwithstanding recent stories in the news media and on the Internet, Selective Service is not getting ready to conduct a draft for the U.S. Armed Forces -- either with a special skills or regular draft. Rather, the Agency remains prepared to manage a draft if and when the President and the Congress so direct. This responsibility has been ongoing since 1980 and is nothing new. Further, both the President and the Secretary of Defense have stated on more than one occasion that there is no need for a draft for the War on Terrorism or any likely contingency, such as Iraq. Additionally, the Congress has not acted on any proposed legislation to reinstate a draft. Therefore, Selective Service continues to refine its plans to be prepared as is required by law, and to register young men who are ages 18 through 25."
This means trouble. When the government actively denies something, you can safely bet that there's something brewing.
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Incidentally, I haven't posted in some time, as you all may have noticed. Not out of spite or whatever, but mostly out of laziness and pathetitude.
I work a three-night stretch starting Monday night. Man, night shift pays good, but the hours can be a bit of an adjustment. Night people are cooler, though...and the whole place is more mellow. Life is better after the normal people are sleeping...indeed, I would venture to say that nighttime is better all-around.
Went to Linda's with Casey J. today. I still don't think there's a difference between Coke and Pepsi; both of them taste like carbonated crap to me. And whats with Sierra Mist? Why not just make a soda called "We Want To Be Mountain Dew"? Who the fuck do they think they're kidding?
No more. I go to play games with my cool self now.
I work a three-night stretch starting Monday night. Man, night shift pays good, but the hours can be a bit of an adjustment. Night people are cooler, though...and the whole place is more mellow. Life is better after the normal people are sleeping...indeed, I would venture to say that nighttime is better all-around.
Went to Linda's with Casey J. today. I still don't think there's a difference between Coke and Pepsi; both of them taste like carbonated crap to me. And whats with Sierra Mist? Why not just make a soda called "We Want To Be Mountain Dew"? Who the fuck do they think they're kidding?
No more. I go to play games with my cool self now.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Thanks very much to eveyone who came to my graduationy thing today and were all about me. I appreciate the show of "Holy Shit, He Did It!" I would also like to thank all the people for their lovely gifts, and say that they will be greatly appreciated.
But somehow, I'm depressed. It's all over. Now I have to be a responsible adult again, even when I go back to college for a few classes and try to work for that Bachelors degree.
After the party, Aunt Marie and Memere and Leah and her parents and Zach, Chad, Kara, and Kacie came over and we partied hardy for a while until I kicked them out. Then, I got my messages from Christy, and Leah and I bopped over to her house (Yes, we bopped over. Shut up.) and hung out there. Then, Matt showed up, and Christy's cool friend Mike Something, and we chatted for a while. It was good clean fun.
I recieved mostly kitchenwares today, which is excellent; that's exactly what I was in need of to get started and stuff. I already have a towel set, too. All I need now is a house or apartment to put all my cool stuff in. And I may be able to rent out my Uncle Johns house, if everything comes together properly. That would be freakin' cool.
Anyway, I'm supposing I should be off. I'm going to go stay up too late and play mindless games, insuring that I sleep late tomorrow and don't hang my laundry out for far too long. Oh, well...
Stuff I got, because I need to brag about it:
A cast iron skillet
A pizza tray set and a book of pizza recipes
An inspirational book and wall hangy thing
Cards from everyone
A sculpture and a bowl from Leah, both awesome and hand-crafted by her
Comics from Matt, which are amazingly well done and really cool
A DVD player from Mom and Dad
...and much more cool stuff. I just needed to be materialistic and brag about it.
But somehow, I'm depressed. It's all over. Now I have to be a responsible adult again, even when I go back to college for a few classes and try to work for that Bachelors degree.
After the party, Aunt Marie and Memere and Leah and her parents and Zach, Chad, Kara, and Kacie came over and we partied hardy for a while until I kicked them out. Then, I got my messages from Christy, and Leah and I bopped over to her house (Yes, we bopped over. Shut up.) and hung out there. Then, Matt showed up, and Christy's cool friend Mike Something, and we chatted for a while. It was good clean fun.
I recieved mostly kitchenwares today, which is excellent; that's exactly what I was in need of to get started and stuff. I already have a towel set, too. All I need now is a house or apartment to put all my cool stuff in. And I may be able to rent out my Uncle Johns house, if everything comes together properly. That would be freakin' cool.
Anyway, I'm supposing I should be off. I'm going to go stay up too late and play mindless games, insuring that I sleep late tomorrow and don't hang my laundry out for far too long. Oh, well...
Stuff I got, because I need to brag about it:
A cast iron skillet
A pizza tray set and a book of pizza recipes
An inspirational book and wall hangy thing
Cards from everyone
A sculpture and a bowl from Leah, both awesome and hand-crafted by her
Comics from Matt, which are amazingly well done and really cool
A DVD player from Mom and Dad
...and much more cool stuff. I just needed to be materialistic and brag about it.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
I've been getting lots of e-mail from people who want to help me improve my life through the miracle of penis expansion lately. I get probably four or five messages a day telling me that "You must be small". This amuses me, for many reasons. I mean, do these people actually make any money? What kind of man is going to see an ad for the "Miraculous Penis Expander Spring" and think, "Wow! I can add eighteen inches to my manhood overnight!"
And furthermore, what kind of woman wants a man whose penis drags out from his pants legs and trails behind him? I mean, seriously, are people insecure enough to believe that their lover wants eighteen inches of cock?
I laugh at these ads. I am perfectly secure in regards to the size and proportions of my naughty bits. Just thought you all would like to know.
You know how some men drive real fancy cars to compensate? Well hey, baby, check out my '93 Tercel.
And furthermore, what kind of woman wants a man whose penis drags out from his pants legs and trails behind him? I mean, seriously, are people insecure enough to believe that their lover wants eighteen inches of cock?
I laugh at these ads. I am perfectly secure in regards to the size and proportions of my naughty bits. Just thought you all would like to know.
You know how some men drive real fancy cars to compensate? Well hey, baby, check out my '93 Tercel.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Last night, I had to go to work. Work is usually alright; sometimes, it can be boring and stuff, but usually I enjoy it enough.
Last night was different. Matt and I were at the nursing station on the second floor, and he made some kind of sarcastic remark to one of the nurses. So, she pulled out a 10-cc syringe full of saline flush and sprayed him with it.
This was just the beginning. Initially, when Matt ran away, I stayed behind and laughed with the nurses. Then, I got up and went to the blood gas lab to find him. He was standing over the sink, with a 20cc syringe, filling it with water. He walked out to the nursing station, found the nurse, sprayed her, and ran away. She chased for a moment, and then laughed and went into the med room. Matt went and refilled his syringe, and then waited outside the med room. When she opened the door, hr sprayed her again and ran off in a fit of sadistic glee.
However, the nurse in question had some things we did not: a 60cc syringe, and a CNA and another RN on her side. She splashes Matt with the syringe, the CNA points an empty one at him, and he scuttles away. I, foolishly, went to the nursing station shaking my head and laughing. The second RN looks up, and says "Ben, we need to chat." I look up, puzzled, and she squirts hand cleanser onto my arm and says "You defected to Matt's side--this means war."
So, I run off and grab two 20cc syringes and fill them with water. Briefly, I had contemplated using a 3-liter "Super syringe" that we use to calibrate the PFT machines, but I decided against it.
I walk back to the station, find the first nurse, and smile evilly. She laughs, and from behind me, the CNA comes out with two 60cc syringes full of water and soaked me to the bone. My shirt was completely and utterly soaked in water. This scares the hell out of me, being an ambush and all, and so I missed with my 20's and had to run for cover.
This went on all night long; I got soaked, but I managed to get them back, too. It eventually escalated to the point that we (Matt and I) took two-liter bags of humidifier water and went hunting through the second floor for them; when they saw us, they ran like hell, man. It was excellent.
So, the bottom line is, I learned a few valuable lessons: night shift is much, much cooler than day shift. And also, next time I will be getting myself a few of those 60cc syringes for tactical usage.
Last night was different. Matt and I were at the nursing station on the second floor, and he made some kind of sarcastic remark to one of the nurses. So, she pulled out a 10-cc syringe full of saline flush and sprayed him with it.
This was just the beginning. Initially, when Matt ran away, I stayed behind and laughed with the nurses. Then, I got up and went to the blood gas lab to find him. He was standing over the sink, with a 20cc syringe, filling it with water. He walked out to the nursing station, found the nurse, sprayed her, and ran away. She chased for a moment, and then laughed and went into the med room. Matt went and refilled his syringe, and then waited outside the med room. When she opened the door, hr sprayed her again and ran off in a fit of sadistic glee.
However, the nurse in question had some things we did not: a 60cc syringe, and a CNA and another RN on her side. She splashes Matt with the syringe, the CNA points an empty one at him, and he scuttles away. I, foolishly, went to the nursing station shaking my head and laughing. The second RN looks up, and says "Ben, we need to chat." I look up, puzzled, and she squirts hand cleanser onto my arm and says "You defected to Matt's side--this means war."
So, I run off and grab two 20cc syringes and fill them with water. Briefly, I had contemplated using a 3-liter "Super syringe" that we use to calibrate the PFT machines, but I decided against it.
I walk back to the station, find the first nurse, and smile evilly. She laughs, and from behind me, the CNA comes out with two 60cc syringes full of water and soaked me to the bone. My shirt was completely and utterly soaked in water. This scares the hell out of me, being an ambush and all, and so I missed with my 20's and had to run for cover.
This went on all night long; I got soaked, but I managed to get them back, too. It eventually escalated to the point that we (Matt and I) took two-liter bags of humidifier water and went hunting through the second floor for them; when they saw us, they ran like hell, man. It was excellent.
So, the bottom line is, I learned a few valuable lessons: night shift is much, much cooler than day shift. And also, next time I will be getting myself a few of those 60cc syringes for tactical usage.
