I will glue myself to the floor and attack watermelons — it’s cool! Everybody’s doing it. Peer pressure.

My apartment is shrouded in pollen. I pretend not to know what it is that I’m breathing, but somehow that doesn’t help. I would wear a surgical mask, but that would just look silly.

I would run to escape it, but it seems that the entire state of California is layered in a fine yellow dust.

It reminds me of protein.

(vector_black pollen simulator)

“Hey, do you work here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if you have any books on how to grow pot?”

“We might somewhere, but I really don’t know.”

Apparently, he asked everyone in the library before the night was through.

Today, I celebrate.

Ethanol is fun. Thus, I celebrate ethanol.

Indeed, the potato is fun. Thus, I celebrate the potato.

Also, I celebrate bagels.

(vector_black ethanol club)

Today at the dollar store I noticed that they had a CD rack with what appeared to be actual music CD’s that were actually not for toddlers on it. For a dollar. They had a few rock acts, one called Anthrophobia, one with a name I couldn’t begin to pronounce whose track list suggested some very, extremely, incredibly bloated music in the genre called prog. Looking back, the proggers would have been funnier, but Anthrophobia was the way I went.

And I have to say, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. They were selling it for a dollar, but I think it was probably worth at least twice that much.

Now we can all enjoy watching Dennis Hopper get blown to bits by a Bob-omb anywhere, anytime.

Few know, if any, of my all-consuming quest for a FREE RADIANT SILVERGUN ISO XXX BOOBZ. I have struggled for years (in Internet time; months to you and me) for this most heralded of files which, even with the most advanced Saturn emulation technology, would allow me to experience Treasure’s GREATEST WORK EVER!!!!!113 at a whopping six frames per second. It does not exist. It cannot be found. Everytime I come anywhere near this mythic rom, I only find myself farther away than I initially started.

My computer is filled with software to help aid in my journey. Should anybody from one of the Internet’s many rom trading outposts desire pirated Playstation games, I have software which allows me to detect any possible security measures implemented on a CD, more software to bypass any of these security features, and still more software to then rip images, sounds, movies, or even the entire damn game straight from that black-bottomed PSX disc. But wait, there’s more. I can convert ISOs to BINs, BINs to ISOs, and provide you with any format of sound file you can possibly imagine. I can burn these things to CDs, create virtual CDs, or compress them into anything from a .zip to a .tar. All I need is somebody who is willing to trade FF7, ripped and compressed into a single 4-disc ISO, for their own copy of what will surely provide non-stop shooting bliss.

But, as I’ve said before, this search has gone on for months and has yielded nothing. I am a beaten man. But the end of one quest merely signals the beginning of another. I have a new treasure to hunt… DRACULA X: RONDO OF BLOOD! Considered by many to be the pinnacle of the Castlevania series – Konami’s single greatest work – Rondo of Blood will be mine, even if I must destroy the Internet to get it. I have the tools, now all that remains is action.

Sound off!

Parish has stopped tearing things apart with wit and a surprising lack of obscenity, so now the nerd community will have to turn to me, so that I can tear things apart without wit and with a surprising omni-presence of obscenity.

Matrix 2 sucked. That’s the short version. For the long, spoiler riddled version, go here. But remember that it is spoler filled!

WARNING! SPOILERS!

WARNING 2!!

My copy of the first issue of Transformers: More Than Meets The Eyes arrived this morning and I’ve been rather impressed with what I found inside. The book, which bears a strong resemblance to a comic book, is the first of a series of eight such books which provide detailed profiles and images of nearly every G1 transformer. Issue one covers transformers with names starting with A-C, with the names of gestalt teams taking precedence over the names of team members. The book also contains profiles on other characters who never appeared in the original series such as various Armada characters and even several Pretenders. Sadly, several “minor” characters, who add a tremendous amount to the Transformers mythos despite never appearing in toy form or occupying much screen/page time, are absent. However, chances are most people won’t realize neither A-3 nor Beta (who toppled the Guardians and drove the Quintessons from Cybertron, as seen in TF74: Forever Is A Long Time Coming… Sorry.) is anywhere to be found. The highly detailed art, produced by the same artists who work on all of Dreamwave’s Transformer comic line, is fantastic. The text itself, which consists of biographical information, weapon details, and the strengths and weaknesses of each transformer, is rather trivial. Overall, the book is highly enjoyable and I strongly recommend it to all the other Transformer fans who read this site (all zero of you). Hopefully subsequent issues will include other characters like Orion Pax and Unicron who, despite having yet to appear in Dreamwave’s comic series (I assume they haven’t appeared. I try to stay as far away from that mess as possible.), are extremely important characters in the Transformers universe.

I deeply apologize for the increased amount of Transformer nerdery leaking into my updates as of late, it happens every now and again. But a little Olde DORK Club style rambling never hurt anybody. Except that one guy.

Also: be sure to wish me luck before I venture to Target tomorrow to try and convince the poor employee manning the electronics department to give me a Gamecube demo disc for free. Basically, I intend to point out that each disc has the words “NOT FOR RESALE” clearly printed on its back. Failing that, I intend to sulk and beg. Should be an entertaining experience for all parties involved.

I was walking through my neighborhood when I saw the most fascinating sight. It was a used condom, lying in the middle of a cul de sac. Well, when I say used, I think I’m stretching the definition of the word, since it was empty of all bodily fluids.

However, there had clearly been something very…impressive…inside it. I am not exaggerating to say that I could have probably fit my arm into it, with some effort. I could then have paraded around through the town, wearing it as a very tall hat. I’m not kidding.

My best guess as to what happened is that a combination of her lover’s freakishly large penis and the, erm, squalor of screwing in the middle of a suburban cul de sac frightened away the intended recipient of this loverly condom. She ran into the moonlight, and then hid under some bushes.

The man with the giant wang shrugged, removed the condom, and tossed it over his shoulder as he walked on into another day, and another search for a woman who enjoyed the feeling of pavement against her butt.

At my old job, I had to restrain my sense of humor considerably, because my mom was my boss’s boss. And you can bet she would have heard about some of my more colorful commentary. So I did not make referance to, say, prostitutes, on a daily basis. Nor would I have read passages aloud from silly sex books, or discussed the shortcomings of the kama sutra with my co-workers. But now that I work far, far away from my mother, all that has changed. If I open my mouth, it is usually to say something at least vaguely offensive–or make a sound like a cat. It’s not that I consider these valid human interactions, but I like to pass the time with people that are otherwise boring to me by mocking society. It makes me vaguely happy.

Which has gotten me something of a reputation. (Also, I suspect, the constant sexual harrassment of an undesirable co-worker, but I digress.) They call me twisted, demented, and, “the funny one.” One co-worker commented to me, as we were walking through the library, that I should be a comedian. This was overheard by an elderly gentleman co-worker, who took it to heart. He doesn’t know what’s supposedly so funny about me, as we work in completely different departments that are all the way across the building from each other, but each time he sees me, he begins to laugh.

Strange, hollow laughter, like an animal mimicking a man.

I am a little uncomfortbale with this.