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Tag: I am right (page 1 of 3)

A list of things that DO and DO NOT combine well

Here are some things I think mix well.

  • Brown gravy and cranberry sauce.
  • Tater tots and honey roasted peanuts.
  • Grind and electro.
  • Sopressata and goat cheese.

Here are some things I think mix poorly.

  • Genitals and zippers.
  • Yams and marshmallows.

Expect further updates to this list in the future.

On a completely unrelated note, here is a photo of me from just a moment ago. I am wearing Sue’s amazing Christmas sweater.


Santa, “The Great Imposter”

santa_as_satanIn the wake of the Christmas holiday, I wonder how many of you fully understand the true threat of Santa Claus. Obviously, Santa, as a clear anagram of SATAN, is the Great Deceiver in disguise, leading our youth into degeneracy and sin. Santa wears red; Satan wears red. Santa goes by the moniker “Old St. Nick”; Satan goes by the moniker “Old Nick”. Santa has a beard; Satan has a beard. Truth be told, the parallels are far too many and too clear to be anything but the honest truth. Here, hard, cold logic prevails in proving that Santa Claus and Satan are THE ONE AND THE SAME—the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Flies, The Great Deceiver, Beelzebub, Lucifer.

Don’t believe me? Well, get the full low-down right here:

SANTA CLAUS: The Great Imposter

I think my favorite piece of “logic” from the page I’ve linked is this:

What about Claus?

Is “Claus” another anagram for “Lucas”?

It’s no secret Lucas and Lucis are new-age “code words” for Lucifer. The Alice Bailey founded new age, occult publishing company was originally named Lucifer Publishing Company but in 1924 the name was cleverly changed to Lucis Trust. By the way, the Lucifer worshipping Lucis Trust is a major player in the works of the United Nations, formerly located in the United Nations building but now located on prime-time 1200 Wall Street.

Claus sounds a lot like “claws.”

Maybe Santa Claus means “Satan’s Claws”? Like a lion’s “claws”?

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour:
1 Peter 5:8

The emphasis is mine. What sterling, marvelous reasoning is presented here! Clearly “Claus” is just a secret, “new-age” (code for lesbian witch satanists who hate America) way of conjuring the Devil’s name: Lucifer. Duh. I mean, isn’t it obvious? Anyone can see the truth in that!

Here’s another marvelous gem of deductive reasoning.

Everyone knows Santa lives at the North Pole.

Brrr. . . Why the north pole? Nobody lives at the North Pole. . . Why did they pick the NORTH Pole?

Could it possibly be because someone else lives in the north?

Then he brought me to the door of the gate of the LORD’S house which was toward the north; . . . Ezekiel 8:14

1 Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness.
2 Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King. Psalm 48:1-2

The Lord dwells in “the north, the city of the great King”.

By the way, remember what Lucifer said in Isaiah 14:13, when he rebelled against God? Remember where he was going to exalt his throne?

12 How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!
13 For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north:
14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. Isaiah 14:12-14

Where else would Satan (oops. . . it’s just too easy to get those two mixed up) Claus be but in the NORTH?

Oh, jeez, of course! Santa live in the North Pole, and Satan, who wants to be like God, ALSO LIVES IN THE NORTH. Therefore they are the same person! Wow! I can’t believe I never recognized this before.

Well, now that all you good boys and girls are saved by hearing the Good News I have relayed to you here, remember that Christmas time is a time for remembering Christ (who was not born in December) by decorating a cold weather evergreen tree (not native to Israel), giving gifts (like the Magi, I’ll give you this), and surrounding yourself with northern European symbols of winter (zuh?) and the solstice! It is not a time to revere the heathen image of Santa (SATAN) Claws for he is naught but the Devil himself in Disguise!

Don’t forget kids, Jesus loves you and he wants you to hate those that are different, i.e., non-white, non-Protestant, both of which categories the historical Jesus falls under!

Merry Christmas!

Samurai Zombie

I absolutely need to see this movie right now. RIGHT NOW. Here’s the official page on which I can understand exactly zero words.

Does this not look awesome? Holy crap. I can’t wait.

The Duggars & Severe Torture

Contrast is often the source of tremendous humor in my life. Juxtaposition is the root of all hilarity.

I am at work right now, assisting on two jobs (Comcast and Rosetta Stone) and doing what comes naturally while waiting to be useful—reading random crap on the internet. Today I’ve been reading the homepage of The Duggars, the family in Arkansas that has like, what?, a million kids? I thought my dad, with 11 kids, was a prolific breeder, but these folks definitely win that contest. But that is neither here nor there.

By extension, I was also reading the site of the eldest of the Duggar children, Josh, and his new marriage. Fascinating stuff.

Here, working at the office all weekend, I’ve had my metal playlist on shuffle by album. I’ve had a sampling of Neurosis, Machine Head, Napalm Death, and a bunch of other bands. All good there. It’s been intense, at a relatively low volume since two editors are working. Pig Destroyer played at a manageable volume is still enjoyable.

The Duggars are a devout Christian family with a heavy emphasis on traditional, Bible-based morality. They believe that their family is a work of God and that they exist on this planet to serve Jesus. I’m not going to argue with that. If you want to believe that, fine by me. You got to do what you got to do, you know?

Do you see where I’m going with this?

I’m reading the Duggars’s site’s section where they talking about talking to a Christian medical doctor when something in the back of my brain starts yelling at me about something, something I should be noticing. I was not fully aware of the music playing since I was intently reading the site. But the yelling in my skull got louder and louder until I took and breath and heard what was playing on the speakers behind me. What I heard was this:

[audio:st-sawn_off.mp3|artists=Severe Torture|titles=Sawn Off]

Are you fucking kidding me? That shit is awesome. I was sitting reading the most conservative text I’ve read in ages and behind me the gnarliest Gore Death Metal is playing? It was absolutely perfect. It reminds me of when I was a teenager, 14 or so, and I’d come home and put the church channel on and play Deicide through the speakers as a point of contrast. Hilarious. There’s nothing funnier than images of saints and angels while “Once Upon The Cross” plays in the background. So imagine how great it is for me to have that happen completely unintentionally. It was like magic! BLACK MAGIC.

Definition – “Song Rape”

song rape (song raped, song raping, song rapist) — the act of singing or playing a catchy and/or annoying song with the intent of getting it stuck in someone else’s head. Can also be applied to the unintentional sticking of a song into someone’s head if pleasure is taken by the person originally playing or singing the song.

The concept of song raping originated a few years ago when I was in the great Philadelphia area working on a friend’s film over a long weekend. We, the crew, were all cozied up close to each other in a house for five days straight and every time I saw the first camera assistant Mike I would sing the opening doobie doobie doo doo doo whoa ohs from Annie Lennox’s supremely song-rapetastic “No More ‘I Love You’s”. In case you don’t remember the song, here’s a reference:

Edit: Apparently Sony BMG is no fun and disabled embedding of their videos on Youtube, so here’s one that works.

After a few days of this, he began to sing to himself when marking focus or cleaning the lenses or whatever he was doing. When he noticed that he was singing the song he would curse me for implanting the song in his head, like Quaid’s memories in Total Recall or that orange glowing ball he pulls out of his nose in the same film. Here is a mildly pertinent image.



Once the entire crew started singing the song, I knew I was on to something. This phenomenon needed a name. My older brother, Mike, had been using the term “brain rape” for some time and I thought it was a pretty good concept and something I was well acquainted with, even if I had not known it had a name.

brain rape — the act of deliberately describing something so horrible that someone is incapable of not visualizing it, thereby inducing cringing and disgust.

From there it is obvious where the term “song rape” derives its name. The neologism (can I call it that?) both builds on the established greatness of “brain rape” and takes it in an entirely new direction. It provides a name for something that everyone has experienced, yet no one really has a name for. As an added bonus, the word “rape” really draws people’s attention.

Since I began spreading the Gospel of Song Rape, there have been occasions when I have heard it referred to as an “ear worm” which is a horrible term. The song isn’t in your ear; it’s in your head. And what does a worm have to do with it? And how am I to know that an “ear worm” has anything to do with the song repeating in my head ad nauseam? And the word “rape” really goes a long way in conveying the forceful nature of the song implantation. Therefore, “ear worm” sucks; “song rape” rules. This isn’t Wrath of Khan, people.

And, as an act of benevolence from your Space Pope, to show that I am not free of the ill effects of song raping, here are 3 songs I’ve song raped myself with in the last 48 hours.

I know. Two of those three are Wham! songs. I’m sorry. Sometimes you just can’t help it. I defy you not to get “Careless Whisper” stuck in your head.

A funny passage from Peter Carey’s Theft.

I am reading Theft by Peter Carey right now and I must say that I am enjoying it. I like how he bounces between two imperfect narrators to reveal aspects of the story that might not come through just one narrator’s internal filter.

Anyway, I was reading on the subway as I do, and I read something that made me laugh aloud. Here you go. A passage from the book used completely without permission.

The taxis in New York are a total nightmare. I don’t know how anybody tolerates them, and I am not complaining about the eviscerated seats, the shitty shock absorbers, the suicidal left-hand turns, but rather the common faith of all those Malaysian Sikhs, Bengali Hindus, Harlem Muslims, Lebanese Christians, Coney Island Russians, Brooklyn Jews, Buddhists, Zarathustrians—who knows what?—all of them with the rock-solid conviction that if you honk your bloody horn the sea will part before you. You can say it is not my business to comment. I am a hick, born in a butcher’s shop in Bacchus Marsh, but fuck them, really. Shut the fuck up.

Black Friday Embarrassments

Dear America,

Do you remember my last posting?

I thought I was annoyed then, but now I am truly mortified.

Did someone working at Walmart really need to die so that you could get discounted Dora The Explora’ merchandise for your kids? Are you kidding me? Not only is this tragic, but it makes me so fucking sick I could throw up all over everything. I’ve said this before, but they are just things, people. That TV or whatever will be there tomorrow. No one needs to die for you to fulfill your consumer tendencies.

Look, new TVs are cool. I get it. I have a TV. I like it. It allows me to watch films and nature shows at home. It also allows me to waste time and sleep killing Super Mutants in Fallout 3 on my 360. I get it. That stuff is good. But no one needs to die for you to get your Rachel Ray fix. The worst part about it is that the guy died at a Walmart which means that he didn’t even die for a luxury item like a Ferrari or something, not that it matters, but come on. I walked into the store casually, purchased the television and had delivery arranged. NO ONE DIED. Amazing, right?

Call me crazy, but I don’t think saving 10% on some crap I don’t need anyway is worth the stress induced by massive swarms of people like wasps attacking someone who has violated the sanctity of their nest. It brings to mind a day last year when Juli and I went to Macy’s to buy some plates because we were going to have people over for Christmas dinner. We were in the basement and carefully tried to select plates without any chips or nicks. When we got home, she discovered a plate with a minor chip on the bottom lip and she suggested I go back an get my money for it. I nearly flipped my shit at the prospect of wading through the thronging mobs at Macy’s on 34th Street just to return a fucking chipped plate. Maybe I overreacted (just a tad), but there is a reason I do most of my shopping at off hours and online. I cannot take the crowds and craziness.

So believe me when I say I cannot comprehend the mindset that drives people to stampede a big box store on Long Island and kill someone working the door. Just crazy. In the end I am not surprised; people have tremendous potential for idiocy and mania. It is sad that something so utterly trivial prompted such bad behavior.

And India? Wow. I don’t even know what to think about that yet.

Humanity, you need a time out.

A (day-late) Thanksgiving post

Because I was too incapacitated with turkey yesterday to sit down at the computer and actually type anything out, here is my day-late list of the things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving in no real order, though I am more thankful for some things than others. See if you can figure out which ones! It’s like a game!

  • Family. Duh.
  • Friends.
  • Metal.
    [audio:torture_ballad.mp3|artists=Pig Destroyer|titles=Torture Ballad]
  • Cormac McCarthy.
  • Mexican food.
  • Chicken & dumplings.
  • Going for walks.
  • Having Friday (i.e., today) off.
  • Robots.
  • Wizards.
  • Unicorns.
  • Ninjas.
  • Dax Riggs.
  • Sausage.
  • Cast iron cookware.
  • Bacon.
  • Beer. (I miss you.)

If you didn’t call your important people yesterday, call them today. A day late is better than not at all.