I hate Harry Potter.

Some people write openly about what they're feeling, post it on the web for everybody to read. Not us cowards, though.

Nope, we stomp on kittens.

Meow.

Turns out, I'm retarded.

I'm on the cusp of writing a lot again. If y'all care, and if y'all beleive me (I wouldn't), There shall be more words here. Can I get a Hallelujah? No? Can I get a Yay? How about a Meh?

Forget it.

If you can read this and you know it, clap your hands.....or send me an email.

Did you know that 'honkey' is not kosher with Microsoft's spellcheckers? 'Honky' is, however. Who knew? I always thought that both spellings were acceptable. Thank God that Microsoft is on the ball, and has taken the initiative in defining acceptable racial slurs along with everything else.

Anyway, TV. I used to not watch much TV. I went maybe a year without really watching anything except the Discovery channel (not the faggy design shows, you fags) or the History channel (not the faggy diving shows, you fags) or other non-sitcom type goodness. I didn't avoid TV to be cool, but the separation from the constant onslaught of commercial advertisement and repetitive jokes that are only funny because the laugh track tells you its funny gave some insight. It sort of gave me this holier-than-thou attitude towards people who spent their days gushing over episodes of Stupid Actors Being Lame or Unoriginal Exploitive Reality Show.

Recently, my situation has changed, and I've had free time in the evenings. This is a novelty; I've been working at night for years and years. Since I've been working nights for years, I don't have any kind of social life to speak of at night. Therefore, I have resorted to television.

I'm off the wagon.

The only difference between then and now is that now I just look down my nose at the shows themselves instead of the people who let themselves get carried away with them. I still hate TV, but now I hate it the way heroin addicts hate the smack. I'll curse its name as I'm pushing the plunger.

There is so much to write about how and why I hate TV, but I don't feel like typing any more, and really, isn't one short newsy columny thing a day for two days more than you ever expected? Sure it is. Now fack off.

Alias does standup...

As both of you know, I write stuff on this website approximately once a month. So, I felt it was about time to write more, in order to keep my approximations approximate. I don't have anything to write about, so I'll just riff off of the crowd, like those nifty Hollywood-style stand-up comedians and comediennes, who for some reason are spelled different just because they lack the all-important penis.

Hey, so I see we have some jews in the audience tonight! How about them jews, huh? Oh, I'm supposed to capitalize that. Somehow, Jews think they're good enough for capital letters. Fucking Jews....Some black folks too, huh? That's a race a man can get to love. Hard working, them black folks are. They just need a little encouragement. (Insert rimshot here) I'm just kidding, my soul sisters and brothers! Black people though, those black people, I tell you....um....I got nothin. OH! Here we go.

A black guy walks into a police station, and he gets shot. BADA-BING! Ouch! What the fuck? Security, remove those people throwing glasses at me? Yeah, the brown ones in the front there. Thanks.

Sir, you in the front, what is your name? Hernandez? OOOOHHH! We gots us a spic here! How's them beans, paco?

What?

Come on, that was funny! You fucking people....I'm leaving. You people have no sense of humor. You'd think that the fucking ACLU annual fundraiser would have some fun people at it...Jesus....

(Alias walks off stage. Sounds of a mauling are heard.)

FUCKING GREASY WOPS! AAAAAAARRGHHHH!

I put up a new movie to look at. I think it's sorta funny. You might too. Gander at it.

In lifely news, in five more days I shall no longer be duly employed. As a member of the elite group of Americans with only one job (and one that pays slightly more than minimum wage, at that) I shall have countless seconds of free time on a monthly basis during which I may compile random groupings of words into 'stories' or 'columns' or 'articles' or 'incoherent drunken ramblings.' Whichever suits my mood.

Furthermore, fuck all of yous. Hard. In the ear. With a shotgun. KA-POW! Like that.

This is sort of good, I guess. I thought that working my ass off, I would lose my creative urge, and my need to put horrible, disturbing things on paper or hard drives. Turns out, I was wrong. I was a little worried that a regular job might turn me into a happy, normal, functioning person. I was wrong. I'm not worried about that any more. I will always be a fucking mess, turns out. Good for the world.

You all suck, by the way. If you're reading this, you suck. But at least you aren't watching TV. The longer I go without watching TV, the more I become convinced that it is a horrible invention. It was a great step up to something else, but somewhere we got lost, and stayed on that step, buying MopNGlow and Oreos. Donate your TV to somebody who really needs it: the trash.

   Upon further review, it becomes clear that there are no happier subjects. I start my new job tomorrow. I should finish a good book this morning. Neither of those things gives me any great joygasms. I feel the urge to punch brick walls and stomp on babies, like those French people making wine...but....out of babies...I will call it L'Enfant du Pieds 2005. See, writing it in italics made it foreign. Oh well, I try to sleep now. I will giggle and seethe at this incoherence in the morning, methinks.

again...

     Yesterday morning (not for you, yesterday morning for you was two days ago for me) I woke up, and nobody was home. This is normally a good thing, as I go into my Tom Cruise impersonation and go to the Scientology center to be audited about my past lives and engrams and whatnot (ha, ha, you thought I was going to say I danced around in my underwear, didn't you? Joke's on you, whores...I dance naked) but this was a different kind of nobody home. Nobody was home on Earth. I walked around and there was nobody there. This was the best day of my life.

   I mean that. I had dreamed about this day at least once every day for the last 10 years. I was free to blow things up, eat all the food in the supermarket, blow things up, steal cars, blow things up, smoke random plants in the police station, and blow things up. The first thing I did, though, was take a nap. That was a bad idea. See, I wasn't the only person left behind for a day, or stuck in a time gap for a day, or put in a bad movie for a day, or whatever. See, it happened like this...

    I was sleeping in a park, on a bench. I've always wanted to be homeless, you see. I woke up, and the first thing I saw was, I thought, Mount Rushmore. Well, one of the faces from Mount Rushmore. Then, my vision cleared, and it turns out it was just a zombie. I screamed, like any normal person, because the zombie had a hand on my weenie.

     There is something undeniably horrifying about waking to a zombie grasping your tool. But it got worse. The zombie said 'How old are you? Sham-BOOIE!' And then, its nose fell on me. I then realized that, no zombie this, it was Michael Jackson! I slapped that pale bitch across the face (all of which came off in my hand, like in South Park) and ran like a dirty little whore, which is what I felt like after being probed so indecently by that weenie-hungry me-o-phile. And I ran. I ran so far away. I ran all night and day. Well, all day anyway. At some point, I woke up again and it was this morning and I had to go to work.

     Thus endeth a stupidly long news post that contains no news whatsoever.

     fin

     People die, man. That's what people do. You're going to die. I'm going to die. Your mother is going to die, if the bitch hasn't already. Hell, you might help her along there. If everybody dies, and its a known fact, why the HELL does everybody get all fucking weepy when somebody shits the farm/kicks the bed/buys the bucket/etc.? You can look at any baby and go 'YOU'RE GONNA DIE!' Its mother will take it away from you, and people will think you're evil like me, but at least then maybe they won't be so surprised when the thing dies on them.

    Don't get me wrong, I know that it can be sad for somebody to die. If it's a kid, then of course it's sad. Dude got gypped, man. But, if its somebody with more than five decades under their belt, you gotta know it's coming. You can't look at your overweight, 68 year old neighbor with no hair and false teeth and think "that guy is TOTALLY going to be around to see Haley's comet next time!" If you're really close to somebody, fine, you can miss them. If it's your spouse or parent, okay, you mourn them, because it profoundly changes your life. But unless that dude got hit by a bus, you shouldn't be so surprised...

    Back to ol' Popey. The guy is over eighty years old. I'd tell you exactly how old, but it doesn't really matter, and I'm too lazy to check. He's EIGHTY. It is time for him to die. It's not like we can expect him to hold out for another two decades. For some reason, though, Catholics around the world are praying for him to recover. This says two things about Catholics.

     One, they are HUGE suckers. They still believe in the 'prayer' thing, when it hasn't done jack shit for them. If that shit worked, I'd be a millionaire, my parents never would have caught on to my marijuana usage, I would have gotten laid at the age of 12, I would be driving a Maserati, and all of you would be dead.

     Two, they don't understand how people work. The whole dying thing, I mean. You gotta die. Are they hoping for a miraculous recovery so the guy can just die NEXT week? Even if that happened, the idiots would still be surprised and get all weepy and shit. Doesn't that strike anybody else as monumentally retarded? The people who believe in HEAVEN are crying because the holiest man on the planet just died at the age of EIGHTY something (yep, still lazy). Let him die! When he dies, go 'YAAAAAY!' Not because he's dead and no longer in pain and, as you catholic folks believe, has gone on to an eternity of happiness, but because he lived so fucking long. Give the guy a 'YAY!' for what he did, not for what he didn't live long enough to do. That goes for the rest of the people who surprised the world by dying before never, too. Friend of yours have a relative die? They lookin' for some sympathy? "Be happy he's dead!" That'll earn you a black eye, but maybe, after the swelling goes down, you can explain to them why you said it, and maybe they'll be a little happier. If they are, shoot them. We don't want people TOO happy.

     (To anybody who actually read this ridiculously long post, email me for a free cookie. You're welcome.)

     Anyway, from the future, I'm here to tell you to all stop being such dumbasses. I already know that none of you will listen, and lots of bad things (the Great Donut Shortage of 2021, alien invasions in 2006, 2013, and 2021, that last causing the Donut Shortage, the huge cloud over the Atlantic that smells like farts, the huge cloud over the Pacific that smells like homeless people, and the huge cloud over the Indian Ocean that rains farting homeless people, not to mention World War IX, in which Ed Deroches saved the world) will happen. But my conscience requires that I try, anyway, in case Star Trek was right and you CAN change the future FROM the future, even though for you it's the present, and it is already happening, so you can't hump your grandmother or any of that jazz.

     In closing, don't worry so much about North Korea....its fuckin' Nepal you have to keep an eye on....Shazbat and Shalom, biatchbots. (That's FUTURE talk for 'Shazbat and Shalom, biatches')

     I got a new job. That might explain that crazyness up there. Yay, money. Boo, getting up before noon. The sun is not a thing to be seen as much as a thing to hear about secondhand, as far as I'm concerned.

     This website, now. Oh, this website....what is there to say that has not been said? Nothing, that's what. I'll settle for repeating myself: This site sucks. Blow me.

Turns out, much of the stuff I had on the old AHEMM.org existed only there on the web server. I had no other copies.

Additionally, turns out, somehow all of the old web bits got magically fucked up. They got magically fucked up very, very badly. They're so magic and fucked up now that I have lost much of my 'work.' The only saving grace being that the word 'work' has to go in quotes for a very good reason. Oh well, c'est la vie. (That's French for 'fucking kill me')

This site is dead. I buried it. I put a stake through it's heart. It began to decay. My muse went on vacation to South America and became hopelessly addicted to cocaine, had a sex change, and began working the beaches in Brazil.

Then...KAPOW, ZING, and BAM! That crazy zombie virus from those video games came and brought it back to life. The site, not the muse. Now it wanders through my mind, its face a shambles, its wiry hair clotted with crumbling earth, looking for brains to eat. Alas, I am fresh out of brains, so I will feed it all I do have: repetitive strings of words torn from an extremely limited vocabulary.

I apologize in advance for any upbeat attitudes expressed on here in the near future. I didn't mean it.

At any rate, I should have the site totally done soon. I mean like, you'll be able to look at junks and read craps that I have writted, just like you could do before I dove into the world of multiple colors and different fonts...and gaudy hyperlink effects...I hate rainbows.

12/8/2004

There really isn't much to say here. The site is still being worked on, and I think that with more boredom and the oncoming misery of winter there will be much more to read here.

In my life news, I am and have been out of school for a while now, and am the proud holder of what is likely to prove a useless degree. The years I spent in school weren't useless, I learned a lot of shit, but the subject I degreed in...well, degrees don't do much for folks in that profession. If I only knew then what I know now, I would have just become a pimp. Pimps have it made, man. All that pimp slappin and pimpin and wearing faux fur. That's the life...