sadness

Sometimes when I'm sad, i like to shake my fist at the sky. I pretend I'm a cop, and my partner has just been shot on his last day before retirement, getting married,having a baby, and inheriting a million dollars. A Columbian drug lord is responsible for my partner's death, and as I shake my fist at the sky, I yell his name, which is the same name as the thing that is making me sad.

Goodbye, other Marcel

Marcel Marceau, the second most famous Marcel (after Proust) is dead.

In honor of his art, I will be miming the rest of this post.












































farewell, Monsieur Marceau

heads

This article is about an armless man who killed another guy in a fight. With a head butt.

1. Never have I wanted to be armless until today.
2. On the other side. What a humiliating way to get beat.
3. One unanswered question from the article: How does he drive "his truck"?
4. Ha ha. Georgia.

Bring back the draft!

Let's face it, the United States does not have enough troops to fight the Iraq war and the all the other wars we want to fight. Therefore, I think we should bring back the draft, since I am now too old to be drafted. As a male in his late twenties, I find most men between the ages of 18 and 26 annoying. Also, they are better looking, fitter, have less body hair, and have not had the rosy promise of their youthful dreams crushed like I have. If we draft all the young straight men in America, there should be more younger girls around for me to bother. Also, the people who are really worth hanging out with, like the rich, the entitled, the loudmouth radicals, the mentally handicapped, and the gays, will still all be around to entertain me. Fight on, young America!