Life's our oyster and we're gonna suck that bitch down with a champagne chaser.

  • Behavioral Therapist
  • MA Developmental Psychology, Columbia
  • BS Psychobiology/ French, UCLA

  • Movies to See:
    Mission Impossible
    A Dangerous Method

  • TV Shows to Watch:
    The Life & Times of Tim

  • Book to Read:
    Game of Thrones
    by George R.R. Martin

  • Album to Listen to:
    The Black Keys
    El Camino

  • Person to Hate:
    Newt Gingrich

  • Group of People to Despise:
    Fox & Friends


Bitchin Links

Blogs and Writers of Note

Mary's Website

Mary's Blog

Ravi's Blog

Lauren's Blog

Cheryl's LiveJournal

TV Squad

The Soup


Best Week Ever

The Chive

On Location Vacations

Cute Overload

Michael Moore's Blog

Joel Stein Columns

Maureen Dowd Columns

Secular Coalition of America

Richard Dawkins

Personal Stuff

My Facebook

My Twitter

My YouTube Videos

My DVD Collection

My Books

Machatz Self-Defense

For Politics and Political Satire

The Huffington Post


The Daily Beast

The Onion

The Colbert Nation


The Daily Show with Jon Stewart

For Entertainment

Ain't It Cool News


Rotten Tomatoes

DVD Active

Movie Stinger


The Daily Wav

Movie Mistakes

For Humor and Other Things

HuffPost Comedy

Funny or Die

The Lonely Island

Shit My Dad Says

F My Life

Daily Python

College Humor

Super Mario Crossover

People of Walmart

E-Mails from an Asshole

Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

God Checker

Church Sign Maker

Strong Bad Email

Japander: See Actors Embarrass Themselves Abroad

Landover Baptist Church: Jesus Loves You Sometimes

For Bruins

The Daily Bruin

Bruins Nation

Bruin Basketball Report

UCLA Bruin Marching Band: The Solid Gold Sound

The REAL $UC Application

Old Stuff

March 2003

April 2003

May 2003

June 2003

July 2003

August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

November 2003

December 2003

January 2004

February 2004

March 2004

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

September 2007

November 2007

January 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

June 2010

August 2010

November 2010

December 2010

February 2011

April 2011

May 2011

July 2011


Monday, June 26, 2006  
The Perished and the Profiled
On the way back from a play at the Mark Taper Forum yesterday starring Morpheus himself (highly recommended), I noticed two shocking examples of the deterioration of American society. No, the Republican National Convention wasn't in town and I think Paris Hilton is in New York or something. The first example was something so simple and mundane that one wouldn't think it would be so harmful. It was a simple billboard on La Cienega Blvd typically reserved for movie, TV or car advertisements. However this particular billboard was an ad for, of all things, a mortuary service. All right, fine. People need mortuaries to honor and bury their loved ones. But this ad went above and beyond simply displaying their services. If only I had my digital camera to prove to you, the readers, that I was not making this up, but all I can say is that I swear on my beautiful Mustang that I am telling the whole truth with no exaggerations.

Across the top of the billboard read the title of the mortuary company: Forest Lawn Mortuaries (they sell gardening equipment on the side when people aren't dying). Underneath the title read the various services they offer, funerals, cremation etc. In the center of the billboard, however, was when my jaw began to drop. It was a picture of a senior citizen in her prime, I guess, by some sort of pier (perhaps Santa Monica).... riding a Razor scooter. Now those contraptions are dangerous enough for pre-teens, but for a little old lady wearing sunglasses on her 4th titanium hip, it's not recommended. However, the tagline by the picture was when my pupils dialated:
"I'M GOING OUT IN STYLE." I wasn't sure whether to feel offended, sorry or sad. Either she's going out in style with a nice coffin or cremation...or she's diving headfirst of that damn pier in her scooter.

Offense two. Leaving home for downtown at 7pm, I saw a long line outside the Wilshire Theater across the street and noticed that they had a "Def Comedy Jam" show at the theater. I thought that that would've been really cool to go to, but alas, it was not meant to be. I won't be coy by evading the fact that the vast majority of the people in line were African-American (or is it Black?). In any case, we drove by and headed on to downtown to enjoy the play. On the way back, on the very same boulevard which housed the previously mentioned morbid billboard, not 4 or 5 blocks down, in front of the Beverly Hills Tennis Center (where champion 80+ year-old Bridge players compete...they must love that billboard) there was a row of police cars and flares. I thought there must've been an accident of some sort, but I couldn't see any signs of one. Just rows of policemen, policecars and police motorcycles. Also, a set up of chairs and tables in front of the community center. Needless to say, I was perplexed. However, a 100 yards or so down, I saw why there was this elaborate BHPD setup. On a giant orange sign read the words (paraphrased), "Slow for Drug & Alcohol Testing Checkpoint." Aaallll right? In front of senior citizen central at 10pm, seems reasonable. But as we turned right on Wilshire, and noticed that a certain show was being let out from the Wilshire Theater, who would be taking La Cienega to get to the freeway. If this isn't racial profiling, I don't know what is. I don't remember seeing this police blockade after David Peter Osgood's Bar Mitzvah which was celebrated at the Wilshire Theater last week. But it is unavoidable, I suppose. In the eyes of Beverly Hills, the innocent audience of "Def Comedy Jam," who was just looking for some laughs and a good time, is seen as a bunch of drunken hoodlums looking to terrorize the rich white citizens Beverly Hills. I'm not sure how many of them were stopped and tested, nor do I know if they even stopped anyone at all. But the point is is that they thought it had to be there. A few months ago Billy Crystal's stand-up show ran for a couple of weeks at the Wilshire Theater and I do not recall there being a checkpoint for the audiences of that show, a comedy show of another variety.

Perhaps that ol' Civil Rights Movement didn't take. Perhaps we need a Civil Rights Movement for our geriatric citizens. They're not meant to be shuffled off into coffins on an assemblyline. This assumes that I'm expecting more from our cynical and cruel society. But I don't. And I shouldn't. This is the unfortunate reality. Death shall be celebrated on billboards. Blacks shall be demeaned by the police. Science will be challenged by religion. Liberals will be criticized by conservatives. Bruins will be accosted by Trojans. If this is the nature of our society, why should we be so shocked or appalled by it? The answer is to ask the question of why we should even be subjected to these things so much that we eventually accept them and see them as normal.

2:05 AM


Saturday, June 17, 2006  
Of Flies and Men
The theme of my recent posts, if you've noticed, has been the general stupidity and frivolity that encompasses the human mind. Now I could continue this theme of attacking others by speaking about someone like Beelzebub reincarnated, Ann Coulter. But I won't. Reasons for this include thinking about that haggard wench gives me the hibbly jibblies, I don't want to give her any sort of publicity or space on this website and I'm hoping that if I pretend she doesn't exist, she/it'll disappear.

Or I could talk about how Dharma herself, Jenna Elfman, and her boyfriend accosted and nearly physically assaulted this man for wearing such an ingenius t-shirt:

But I won't....however, if you're searching for the perfect birthday gift for a certain someone's upcoming 21st, you know what to look for.

Instead, for a change of pace, I will portray to you how human stupidity stretches into the infallible (ahem) mind of yours truly. As many of my fellow Bruins are more than aware of, these past couple of weeks have been filled with the misery that is studying for finals and the actual finals themselves. Many of us, in our years of experience in ths vicious quarter system, know that the human brain can only sustain so much stress and erroneous factoids and formulas. After a while, the brain just starts to... leave. It eventually returns of course, upon completion of said studying and exams, and with enough time spend watching the sweet salvation of television, but it is a difficult and frustrating time and it takes its toll.

It is during this time of studying and cramming that we find ourselves doing the oddest and most neurotic things. In my case, I just develop odd habits during finals week. I take walks around my apartment for no apparent reason. I stare at the fish in my tank for five, ten forty-five minutes. I decide to raid the kitchen cabinets for snacks and then go to websites for those items (I recommend for great chip tips). In addition, my TV is kept off, an oddity in my room, in favor of my radio or iTunes. As a result, I hear and notice more things as I'm constantly looking for reasons to look away from my notes. It is in this vain that I found myself in a battle with the insect kingdom itself on Monday night of finals week.

As a immersed myself in the bowels of Neuroscience, which is a subject that I actually enjoy, something was amiss. A persistent buzzing kept appearing around my head. No, I wasn't having a stroke, instead I being victimized by... a housefly. Rudimentary shooing away sufficed at first, but then it became ridiculous. My mirrored closet doors are directly parallel to another set of mirrors by my bed creating a peak into oblivion itself. As a result, any fly that is caught in this mirrored vortex is sent into a frenzy. This fly went particularly apeshit as it zoomed between both mirrors, crashing into one then proceeding to crash into the other, all the while passing by my eyeline as I studied. The fly finally took a breather, landing on my computer to rest its weary...stick leg things. Now was my chance, to end it all. I grabbed a pack of Post-Its (blue) and hurled it at the wily beast, knocking several knick-knacks and accessories to the floor.... to no avail. The creature evaded my well-thought out attack.

The fly pranced around my room once more, smug in my failed attempt to take its life. I returned to my studies as the fly took its domain in my abode. Minutes passed until I noticed the insect had landed on my bed...the place where I sleep at it rubbed its meaty paws (do you notice how flies do that? Rubbing their hands together like they're planning something. I hate that). I had my chance. I stood up very slowly... and hurled my neuroscience textbook at the fly, notes flying everywhere. I missed once more. But this time, as the fly rose from the debris... it charged at my forehead! It hit me right smack in the middle of my forehead and flew off again. And the game was on.

As the buzzing played in and around my head, as if the beast was taunting my every move, I lept upon my bed, like a poor man's Spider-Man, with a can of air freshner in my left hand and a copy of Unforgettable Places to See Before You Die in my right (which I recommend as a great stocking stuffer). Crouched upon my bed, like a poor man's Tarzan (but way hotter), I was prepared to do away with the primitive creature once and for all. It finally landed on the mirror by my bed, as if trying to communicate with its own reflection (idiot). I quickly unholstered my can of Glade Air Infusions Clean Linen scented spray and gassed the cunning bastard. Stunned, it flew away, seemingly confused yet enamored with the enchanting fragrance, and descended upon my quilt. I looked Tim right in the eye and struck him with Unforgettable Places to See Before You Die. I slowed my arm down as it came crashing down just so the monster could see the irony in what I was about to murder him with.... and the deed was done. The buzzing had ceased, silence, and clean linen scent, filled the air. I saluted the housefly before raising the book off of the carcass. As I slowly raised the book, no corpse could be found, but the buzzing had not returned.

I'd like to think that the fly had been vaporized into the afterlife after my crushing blow, but one cannot be sure. I still do not know where the animal's body is. Perhaps I shall never find it. But as I looked at my torn textbook on my bed, my notes strewn about my room and my computer desk decorations in shambles, I knew who had been the victor that night.

And for that sense of perverted accomplishment, I thank Tim.

2:30 AM


Sunday, June 11, 2006  
So Dark the Cons of Men
The majority of you play witness to the human condition every day, whether it be in person, on TV or otherwise. This condition drives humans to commit foolish acts (such as not posting anything for two weeks due to days and days of fruitless studying) but it is in their nature so we cannot always hold it against them...however sometimes these acts become so mindless and so stupid (Hail to the Chief) that, as my previous post suggested, cannot be forgiven.

When I stumbled upon the article about a boyfriend beating his girlfriend to death, I thought nothing more of it. I assume that anything that happened in a god-forsaken place such as Uniontown, Pennsylvania couldn't be avoided. But it wasn't a typical murder case as the following quote suggests...
McCann, 54, asked Fordyce to heat a roast beef sandwich for her around 5 p.m., Rutter said. Fordyce refused.

"She told him he would heat it up for one of his 'whores,' " Rutter testified about the statement. "At that point, he became enraged and threw the microwave at her."

Now I don't want to make light of this poor woman's death at the hands of this deranged hick... but I couldn't help but laugh out loud when I read her cause of death... a microwave hit her in the head. In addition, the man claims that the incident was an accident. Yes, I've oft heard of microwaves being placed into people's hands and subsequently turned into a projectile targeted for a loved one's noggin'.... by accident. However, it is soon after reading this that I became enraged. What could have been a tragic story with a pretty funny twist (a MICROWAVE!) turns just tragic and disgusting.
With McCann on the floor, Fordyce stomped on her chest at least twice, Rutter said of the statement. Fordyce then grabbed McCann's hair and slammed her head on the floor, according to the statement.

Fordyce then carried her to an upstairs bedroom, placed her on the bed and spread a blanket over her. Emergency medical technicians found her in that position about seven hours later, when a neighbor called 911.

Now as if it wasn't bad enough to throw an appliance at the poor woman's head, he had to go ahead and brutally beat and kill the woman... then tuck her into bed. You could've done something with your murder, Walter, but you just had to go ahead and taint it. Needless to say, this gem of society is being sent away for a long while. He still insists that he loved the woman... the woman he threw a MICROWAVE at.

As it were, it being finals week, a microwave to the skull wouldn't be so bad. I shouldn't be too over-dramatic though. I've made a hobby of crashing and burning during this time of the quarter. It comes three times every school year so I've become very proficient at it. Going into my senior year, you would think I would have gotten the hang of it. Not so... not so. Perhaps Walter Scott Fordyce had the right idea. Who knows, a kitchen appliance to the head could proove to be a big GPA booster. I smell a seminar...

3:30 AM


This page is powered by Blogger.Humor Blog Top Sites