Monthly Archives: September 2009

What I Have Learned.

I’ll admit, I often come up with some ideas that could be termed, kooky.  A great many of these have to do with our bodies and how we use them, and what we are capable of with them.  Look, I figure, if I’m gonna be stuck in this rotting flesh bag for a gaggle of decades, I may as well see how many tricks it has before it disintegrates like an ed hardy t-shirt after three wearings.  As a result, I do my best to keep up with the most current medical research.  It is with this idea in mind that I present,

What I have learned.

We are little teensy-tiny infants in terms of how much we know about our bodies, how they work, and ultimately what their capabilities are.

Exhibit A:

People can learn to fucking echolocate.  Uh huh, like a bat, or a dolphin.  If you keep practicing it, eventually your brain will learn to process the sound coming back to you through the audio AND visual portions of that slimy gray lump you call a brain.

Are you following me here people?

Audio, and VISUAL.  Meaning, yes, you can basically learn to “see” in the dark.

According to the researchers: “The higher the frequency, the more precise details you can see”

http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/06/echolocation/

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Exhibit B:

I have always loved biology as a subject, but oddly enough I could hardly stand to sit through the many courses I took in it throughout high school and college.  I believe this can be attributed more to the quality of instruction than the actual subject matter, but I digress.

Ah, the human body.  A wonder of evolutionary engineering!

Break your arm, it heals.  Cut your thighs because mommy didn’t love you, they close.  Drink until you end up in a five man bathroom stall gang-bang, and your swollen liver will filter it out.  Boy, we sure can bounce back from shit can’t we?

But this happens all the time.  Whether or not injury is involved, our bodies are constantly regenerating our cells.  Cells die, we make new ones.  Well, everywhere except for one place.  The brain.  This is the part of the course where I would shake my head and mutter something like, ‘think we need a few more evolutionary cycles people’.

The MOST essential organ we possess.  Does NOT regenerate itself.  This is biological canon.  You lose brain cells, bye bye brain cells, forever.

I have never been a fan of this view.  Because for starters, evolution is cruel, opportunistic, and merciless, but it isn’t stupid.  Having a brain that is unable to re-growre-wire itself is not evolutionarily sound.  It is not A priority organ, it is THE priority organ.  However, like most commonly held beliefs I find ridiculous based on principle, I lack the time and resources to conclusively prove them otherwise.

Luckily, I don’t have to.  It seems there are still some open-minded smarty smart pants folk left out there.

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/birdbrain.html

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Exhibit C:

“Oooh, mah belly hurts!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have eaten an entire bag of fronions and washed it down with a six of pabst blue ribbon, sucka!”

“No, no, I think it’s my appendix!”

Junior may, or may not be correct about that.  However that matters little.  The fact is, your appendix gets funky, you toss it like a diaper genie that got too full and will render you unconscious should you even think of attempting to change the bag cartridge.  Yes, I have done this.

No appendix, no problem, right?  It’s a vestigial organ! It has no use!

Hm, okay, it certainly seems that way, how-ever, I have one eensy-weensy problem with that.  Our body allots precious resources towards its maintenance.  Blood carrying oxygen and nutrients is delivered there the same as anywhere else it is needed.  Evolution is a lot of things, but it isn’t…see above.

Turns out, Evolution wins again.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/08/090820175901.htm

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As a whole, very few things about people are actually set in stone. Our DNA is constantly changing. How? Simple, DNA is basically a thin row of protein “dimmer” switches that for the most part stay within a certain predetermined range. However, something as simple as repetitive thought, or a highly charged emotional event is enough to evoke a change. Imagine what will happen as our world continues to change the way it is, and mutagens begin to proliferate and intensify. This is not science-fiction. This is fact.

Let’s get some X-Men up in this bitch.

I call shot Wolverine!

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Until it’s revealed that Cookie Monster is Beasts bastard half-brother,

Live it, Love it (me want celery!!…..huh? what the fuck?)

~T

Overexposure.

I saw a picture today of what was,
And another of what is to be,
Neither one included me.

What a pretty face in that painted space,
Flowing strands between delicate hands,
Roughly knitted top replaced.

I tore you all out from emotions assigned,
But it seems as if yours burrowed deep and entwined,
Some way to remove it, one day I’ll find.

In the meantime..

I’ll go get wasted,
‘Til sorrows not tasted,

I’ll take a beating,
‘Til most of mes bleeding,

I’ll let life take its course,
And then scream ’til I’m hoarse,

But, in the meantime..

I saw a picture today,
Things look so good,
I’m so happy this way,

What a thrill it must be to now have control,
You will learn, while I burn,
But never know it at all.

I’ll continue the pretense, dispense all the intense,
Nonchalance is a virtue,
‘Cause I’m fine here without you..

No, really… seriously, it’s not even about you, no, I mean somebody else.. before you,
It’s cool, listen, be safe okay?  I’ll see you around sometime,

But in the meantime..

I’ll date here and there,
Try not to compare,

I’ll go back to the bottle,
Right back to that bottle,

I’ll write a sad poem,
With hardly a meaning,

I’ll wait ’til it’s late, so I can sleep and keep dreaming..

But…

In the meantime…

I’ll try to be quiet when I wake up at night,
Convulse into tears, but hold them in tight,

Like everything good and the long painful bad,
I know that you too, must also come to pass,

But in the meantime I’m here, and it hasn’t left yet,
I miss you so much,
But I’ll try to forget.

He blinded me with science.

Aside from “Pygmy”, the new novel from Chuck Palahniuk, I am also reading, “Six Easy Pieces” by Richard Feynman. It isn’t so much an actual book, as it is portions of his famed lectures given in the late sixties.

I have taken passages from his books in the past, and with good reason, the man was what everyone should mean when they utilize the term ‘genius’.  However, the passage I love the most in anything I have ever read from him is merely a sidebar, an afterthought at the bottom of a page in small print.

Here it is:

“Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars- mere globs of gas atoms.  Nothing is “mere”. I too can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them.  But do I see less or more?  The vastness of the heavens stretches my imagination- stuck on this carousel my little eye can catch one-million year old light.  A vast pattern- of which I am a part- perhaps my stuff was belched from some forgotten star, as one is belching there.  Or see them with the greater eye of Palomar, rushing all apart from some common starting point when they were perhaps all together-”

“What is the pattern, or the meaning, or why?  It does not do harm to the mystery to know a little about it.  For far more marvelous is the truth than any artists of the past imagined!”

“Why do the poets of the present not speak of it?”

What men are poets who can speak of Jupiter if he were like a man, but if he is an immense spinning sphere of methane and ammonia must be silent?”

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And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Richard P. Feynman.  Nobel Prize winning physicist, Brazilian samba band member, Manhattan project member, the list goes on, and on.

I took the liberty of putting my favorite portions in bold italics.

People speak of Whitman, and Frost, and Dickinson, and so many other poets whose work has lasted generations.

Nobody will ever mention Richard P. Feynman in the same breath.

But they ought to.

Jon Gosselin Assaulted!

Exclusive! (booyaka!)

TWYL has obtained images from a video shot earlier today of an altercation involving the “octo-dad” himself! In the two stills you can clearly see Gosselin mouthing off, and then getting a fist right in that gaping food hole of his.

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Here’s the first still, showing an angry Jon Gosselin yelling at a much smaller man.

And here in number two, public longing is fulfilled at last!

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We have also obtained the identity of the suspected assailant in the video:

The alleged suspect (hero) in the video is none other than Nintendo superstar Little Mac.

He was last seen wearing pink sweats running away along a pier with a scenic view of New York City scrolling by. It is believed that he may have had some help escaping arrest from a bicycle riding boxing trainer named “Doc”.

Go, Lil Mac Go!

But what’s IN it Mr. Wonka??

There has been some confusion regarding the term “hooba-face”, which I have used to describe Jon Gosselin. So, in order to clear this up, I have included a full recipe on how to make a douchey turd like him of your very own.

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First, you take the classic, and timeless Mr. Potato Head toy,

Then, you add a healthy amount of horseshit into the mix. Make sure your horseshit is steaming hot and then smear liberally onto Potato Head

Finally, you add some extract of Doug Robb (lead singer of Hoobastank. Shouldn’t be too hard to get these days, you had a good run boys)

Let this mixture settle overnight, and in the morning you should see,

Viola!

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And there you have it.

Them funny words.

Lately I have been on a reading tear.  Having rid myself of all but one or two friends (who I don’t see that often), has given me quite a bit of time to indulge, so I have. 

I seem to have reverted back to a time when I would routinely turn down social invitations to immerse myself in something likely written by Robert Jordan, R.A. Salvatore, or anyone writing a story involving swords, magic missles, andor the occasional interstellar cruiser.

I have just finished ‘How I Became a Famous Novelist’ by Steve Hely.  It was fucking amazing. 

This is Pete Tarslaw (the protagonist), at his ex-girlfriends wedding, where he had planned to show off as the famous novelist he had become, and smile in triumph knowing that she regretted her terrible mistake (not staying with him, obviously).  The excerpt is from the moment (my favorite moment) when he realizes his own terrible mistake:

“No one could fake someone out like she could.  She was amazing.  I’d loved her for it.  But walking down that aisle, beaming, she was not faking.  I could tell.  And it broke my heart all over again.”

What occurs after this moment made me laugh harder than any bookmovieyoutube video ever has.

If you don’t like reading books, make an exception.

Helen Keller? you wish.

I was flipping through the radio dial this morning when I paused for a moment on some morning show blabbing about entertainment news.  Normally, this would elicit a sigh of disgust and another flipping, however, I listened for about 30 seconds and found myself raging at my radio.

The two smarmy jocks were discussing how the girlfriend of hooba-face (aka: Jon Gosselin) had angrily updated her twitter.  The gist of it was that people were misinformed about them, and that if we believed such and such we could go screw.

She ended her ‘tweet’ with, “Bunch of Helen Kellers!”

She was of course, referring to the public, in an overall way.

I thought, well now, I suppose she just called me Helen Keller.  Alright, lets all learn what that means together.

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Helen Keller was a woman born healthy in 1880, who at the age of 19 months, contracted an unknown illness, and was rendered deaf AND blind.  Can any of you imagine suddenly going blind?  Or deaf?  Then throw in the fact that she was a toddler, just starting to understand the sensory information that would shape her as a human being.  So in essence, the child was abruptly thrown into a pitch black vacuum.

Bear in mind, this was the late 19th century.  Doctors were still called ‘leeches’ in some parts.

Despite this, she managed to learn how to communicate, and became a writer.  She graduated from Radcliffe in 1904, becoming the first (and probably only) deaf and blind person to earn a Bachelors degree (BA in Arts).  She became involved in numerous social causes, wrote countless newspaper articles, and campaigned tirelessly in support of the views she believed in.  She was also a founding member of the ACLU.

Do I have to even say it?

The woman was a fucking GIANT amongst people.  I look at her list of accomplishments in awe, knowing that if I even do a small fraction of what she did, I will have done much good with my life.  This is all coming from a woman who could not see, or hear.

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And who exactly is Hailey Glassman?

Some spoiled fucking snot-nosed little bitch, who is known because she is dating a fat, philandering, despicable quasi-samoan pseudo celebrity.

Enjoy that gravy train while it lasts my dear, because my watch is showing this whole sordid tale at about the 13 and a half minute mark.  Which may, or may not leave you with roughly a minute and a half.  This all depends on whether Mr. Potato head actually keeps you around that long.

So in closing, thank you Ms. Glassman.  May we all find the inner strength and courage to be as great as Helen Keller.  And may your future as a crack-whore with Potato head hooba-face as your pimp be nothing short of blissful.

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Until that uppity cunt gets her apology,

Live it, Love it (RESPECT it bitch)

~T

“Dumb as a Rock”

I rarely see anyone actually ‘fall off’ anything from laughing.  I mean, that would have to be one hell of a har, har.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a har, har, big enough to fall off shit laughing.

And yes, I fell sideways off my chair gasping.

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An open letter from three members of the Transformers (1,2) set crew:

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“This is an open letter to all Michael Bay fans. We are three crew members that have worked with Michael for the past ten years. Last week we read the terrible article with inflammatory, truly trashing quotes by the Ms. Fox about Michael Bay. This letter is to set a few things straight.

Yes, Megan has great eyes, a tight stomach we spray with glycerin, and an awful silly Marilyn Monroe tattoo plastered on her arm that we cover up to keep the moms happy.

Michael found this shy, inexperienced girl, plucked her out of total obscurity thus giving her the biggest shot of any young actresses’ life. He told everyone around to just trust him on his choice. He granted her the starring role in Transformers, a franchise that forever changed her life; she became one of the most googled and oogled women on earth. She was famous! She was the next Angelina Jolie, hooray! Wait a minute, two of us worked with Angelina – second thought – she’s no Angelina. You see, Angelia is a professional.

We know this quite intimately because we’ve had the tedious experience of working with the dumb-as-a-rock Megan Fox on both Transformers movies. We’ve spent a total of 12 months on set making these two movies.

We are in different departments; we can’t give our names because sadly doing so in Hollywood could lead to being banished from future Paramount work. One of us touches Megan’s panties, the other has the often shitty job of pulling Ms. Sourpants out of her trailer, while another is near the Panaflex camera that helps to memorialize the valley girl on film.

Megan has the press fooled. When we read those magazines we wish we worked with that woman. Megan knows how to work her smile for the press. Those writers should try being on set for two movies, sadly she never smiles. The cast, crew and director make Transformers a really fun and energetic set. We’ve traveled around the world together, so we have never understood why Megan was always such the grump of the set?

When facing the press, Megan is the queen of talking trailer trash and posing like a porn star. And yes we’ve had the unbearable time of watching her try to act on set, and yes, it’s very cringe-able. So maybe, being a porn star in the future might be a good career option. But make-up beware, she has a paragraph tattooed to her backside (probably due her rotten childhood) — easily another 45 minutes in the chair!

So when the three of us caught wind of Ms Fox, pontificating yet again in some publication (like she actually has something interesting to say) blabbing her trash mouth about a director whom we three have grown to really like. She compared working with Michael, to “working with Hitler”. We actually don’t think she knows who Hitler is by the way. But we wondered how she doesn’t realize what a disgusting, fully uneducated comment this was? Well, here let’s get some facts straight.

Say what you want about Michael – yes at times he can be hard, but he’s also fun, and he challenges everyone for a reason – he simply wants people to bring their ‘A’ game. He comes very prepared, knows exactly what he wants, involves the crew and expects everyone to follow through with his or her best, and that includes the actors. He’s one of the hardest working directors out there.

He gets the best from his crews, many of whom have worked with him for 15 years. And yes, he’s loyal, one of the few directors we’ve encountered who lowered his fee by millions to keep Transformers in the United States and California, so he could work with his own crew.

Megan says that Transformers was an unsafe set? Come on Megan, we know it is a bit more strenuous then the playground at the trailer park, but you don’t insult one of the very best stunt and physical effects teams in the business! Not one person got hurt!

And who is the real Megan Fox? She is very different than the academy nominee and winning actors we’ve all worked around. She’s as about ungracious a person as you can ever fathom. She shows little interest in the crew members around her. We work to make her look good in every way, but she’s absolutely never appreciative of anyone’s hard work. Never a thank you. All the crewmembers have stopped saying hi to Ms. Princess because she never says hello back. It gets tiring. Many think she just really hates the process of being an actress.

Megan has been late to the sets many times. She goes through the motions that make her exude this sense of misery. We’ve heard the A.D’s piped over the radio that Megan won’t walk from her trailer until John Turturro walks first! John’s done seventy-five movies and she’s made two!

Never expect Megan to attend any of the 15 or so crew parties like all the other actors have. And then there’s the classless night she blew off The Royal Prince of Jordan who made a special dinner for all the actors. She doesn’t know that one of the grips’ daughters wanted to visit their daddy’s work to meet Megan, but he wouldn’t let them come because he told them “she is not nice.”

The press certainly doesn’t know her most famous line. On our first day in Egypt, the Egyptian government wouldn’t let us shoot because of a permit problem as the actors got ready in make up at the Four Seasons Hotel. Michael tried to make the best of it; he wanted to take the cast and crew on a private tour of the famous Giza pyramids. God hold us witness, Megan said, “I can’t believe Michael is fucking forcing us to go to the fucking pyramids!” I guess this is the “Hitler guy” she is referring to.

So this is the Megan Fox you don’t get to see. Maybe she will learn, but we figure if she can sling insults, then she can take them too. Megan really is a thankless, classless, graceless, and shall we say unfriendly bitch. It’s sad how fame can twist people, and even sadder that young girls look up to her. If only they knew who they’re really looking up to.

But ‘fame’ is fleeting. We, being behind the scenes, seen em’ come and go. Hopefully Michael will have Megatron squish her character in the first ten minutes of Transformers 3. We can tell you that will make the crew happy!

-Loyal Transformers Crew”

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Holy shit.  After I was able to catch my breath, I re-read this thing several times in order to fully absorb and appreciate the scope of this unbelievable lambasting.

“So maybe, being a porn star in the future might be a good career option. But make-up beware, she has a paragraph tattooed to her backside (probably due her rotten childhood) — easily another 45 minutes in the chair!”

I was giggling until I read that classic, nonchalant sounding observation.  Then I just fell apart.  That entire letter is a roasting masterpiece.  Film crew?  Those three ought to have fast-tracked memberships into the Friars club for this gem.

Sigh, Megan Fox.

Honey, don’t you know you come a dime a dozen?

Perhaps what she needs is a short outing to the local video store instead of ancient monuments.  Because there at least she can be shown something of value.

Rows and rows of ridiculous, low budget, straight to DVD films.  All of which “star” women who often look just as good, if not better, than she does.  With a much tighter make-up budget mind you.

That ‘block-head’ has a lot to learn. It’s a shame it appears she will be learning it the hard way.

(Hey, anybody seen that Austin-Greene character lately? hm?  Go ahead and re-read my earlier post ‘Til death do us, what?’ see that last paragraph…? uh huh, I’m fuckin’ psychical and all that, yea boiii!)

Why Kanye AND MTV are useless bags of douche…and a quick note to Timbaland.

At this point, I think everyone and their dried up grand-mamas has said something somewhere about how big of a dick-bag Kanye West is.  Justifiably, of course.

However, why isn’t anyone pointing their pretty little fingers at MTV? (I’m looking at you Perez)

You mean to tell me, any old idiot can drunkenly jump onstage and be allowed almost a full minute to humiliate and embarrass whomever happens to be up there at the time?

I can hear you now reader, “Whoa there pokey, Senor Kahhhnye aint just some drunken fan!”

No, he isn’t.

He’s a drunken spectator with a ridiculous fade (who’s his barber? king tut?), who abused his privilege as an audience member.  Not to mention, he is a well known loudmouth and troublemaker, the moment he started blathering his shit, a couple of security guys should have simply picked his midget-ass up and hauled him away.

Well gee whiz, that sounds fairly sensible, no?  Sooo, how come this did not occur?

Here’s why:

Kayne: “Beeeyoonsayyy be da bomb, I be Jesis Chraihhhssst muthafuckaahhhsss!”

Security: “Okay that’s enough Mr. West, please step this way.”

Kayne: “Why I gotta step dis way? Huh? Why a bratha gotta get pushed off stage?? HUH??? Ya’ll is some racist muthafackas! MTV be racist-ass behtches! Holla!”

And the next day:

Kayne Da Blogger Yo: “YO, AH NO WHAT I DID WAS WRONG, AND MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES AND SYMPATHIES GO TO THAT FINE-ASS WHITE GIRL WIT DA STATUE AND SHIT, BUT THAT WAS SOME STRAIGHT UP RACIST SHIT RIGHT THURR YO! YOU KNOW WHAT IM SAYIN, IF MY BLACK ASS WAS KENNY CHESKNEE AND SHIT YOU KNOW THAT SHIT WOULD NOT HAVE GONE DOWN LIKE DAT YO! DATS SOME STRAIGHT UP BULLSHIT, THEM RACIST COWARDS AT MTV IS BUGGIN YO! KANYE OUT!

If there is anyone out there who thinks his response would have been anything less than a full out klan hooding of MTV should he have been dealt with properly, please, by all means, feel free to correct me.

So, if you take the above into account, can you really blame MTV for sitting by and allowing Kayne to completely spoil the moment for that poor gorgeous hick?

Yes, absolutely. Fucking pussies.

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On a somewhat related topic, a have a brief message for super-producermusic money tree Timbaland.

Hot catchy lyrics and a sweet hook + Cannonball by The Breeders = monster hit tune

Take a listen to that track and tell me it doesn’t reek of, “Oh my good god!”

…your welcome

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Until people stop buying Kayne’s shitty music,

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Live it, Love it (Taylor Swift got a tongue purr-tier than a twenty dollar whore…and she sounds like a million bucks)

~T

Jaunt.

One moment I’m lying in bed. listening to a pre-recorded thunderstorm. The next, I am gyrating madly on a dance floor. It did take some convincing, but in the end, I must admit I am glad I dragged myself out. I needed the exercise, in both the mind and body sense.

There are hardly many healthy outlets these days. I would enjoy a few whacks at a golf ball were I not in manhattan, but that may have to wait anyway, as my body likely would not appreciate any strenuous movement anytime soon.

I’ve been noticing lately, even when everything seems to be so very loud, it stays so quiet on the inside. Little things become big things, which is why I think we don’t often notice the symptoms of change as the process occurs.

There is that old saying, be careful what one wishes for. It feels a bit more serious than it used to.