Kos had an amusing thread on Bill O'Reilly's "enemies" list (compare to Homer's), so I decided to summarize my blogging career with my own:

George Lucas
Cables and cords
Dick Cheney and Joementum
Entropy
Long Beach Nissan
The wrong thing you pull out of your pocket
McDonald's Wendy's
The Simpsons writers
Ants
Wal-mart
KPFK
Right-turn blockers
Empire Today, LLC PC Mall

Nothing else to see here, folks.

Defense contractor who supports the troops (!) with defective bulletproof vests spends $10mil on his daughter's bat mitzvah. Aerosmith, Tom Petty, Don Henley, Stevie Nicks, 50-Cent, Kenny G, they all playin' Sun City.

There's a Coke machine in the warehouse that other people are leaving their change in, or just messing mine up all the time. Today I put in a dollar, was supposed to get 40¢ back, but instead got ninety. The one next to it with snacks makes up for it by always making me put more in.

GW continues to outdo himself, this time no Photoshopping required:

After Life (Japanese title: ワンダフル・ライフ) was a movie that actually made me think something other than "I wish I were that guy" (which, yes, applies to more than just pr0n). The obvious, of course, I'm still unsure of, what with the less-than-ILM production facilities and the theatrical screening. But funding for even those studios and video equipment must come from somewhere… could there be a full-on ghost-run economy, complete with corporate logos for all Heaven's subcontractors?

Story like this one reminds me of my own ant roommates, how (1) they've taken to swarming around the plastic hair catcher in my bathtub, even though I clean it out every morning—they that hungry, foraging for my discarded epithelials—and (2) I drink an awful lot of Mountain Dew.

I have nine more of them now. (I cleaned out our petty cash, and deliberately gave Chipotle a $20 for their last one.) I can feel the monetary singularity collapsing in on my wallet. The Treasury Department is bound to come knock down my door and make me disappear.

I've had a word or two to say on the subject of the McRib, but after learning last night of its Farewell Tour, I hit up a former employee now doing our planning for some insight into theirs; he defended the near-yearly rotation by indicating that the sales spike at its return would always be followed by just as sharp a drop. I'd like to see those figures, honestly. They couldn't possibly justify the bland chicken sandwiches. No, there's more to this.

“The real conspiracy is the air of secrecy. If people knew what
was in the McRib they’d stop eating them,” [MU professor of
German Brad] Prager says. To him, the whole meaning of the McRib
is about consumption and how cleverly disguised McDonald’s
markets its products. “Once you set desire in motion people
respond — they feel like something is lacking in their lives.
Obviously something is lacking, but it’s not the McRib.”

Surely you've noticed the dearth of $10-bills lately; instead of one of these we're always getting two fives. And it's not like cashiers are hoarding them: peek into their trays and they're empty. I have managed to collect four of them so far this week, and that's more I think, than I've seen all year.

I've yet to develop a complete picture of what I believe to be going on here (or one that's in the very least adequate, even for a nobody's blog), but suffice to say that it's my proof of the Establishment trying to further our nation's descent to third-world status by eliminating the middle class.

Came home one day to find the following note taped to my doorknob:

[b/w contact info]
Now if only it had this URL listed at the bottom, I might have called… I kid, of course; what perverse pleasure there is in having a woman come do maid-work in a maid's outfit escapes me. Especially with this disclaimer: デリバリーヘルスではないので性的サービスは一切いたしません、ご注意ください！

Ha! Of all my high-profile rentals lately, AVP turns out to be my favorite. Greater of lowest expectations? Guilty pleasure? Doesn't matter, Paul W.S. Anderson, Ain'tItCool's whipping boy, always seems to deliver for me. Doom's still unavailable for me to complete the sweep, but Mortal Kombat certainly KO'd Street Fighter, and Resident Evil outgunned Tomb Raider (boobs notwithstanding).

Intelligent Design wins 6-4 in Kansas. Way to start children's education, by telling them they're too stupid to know the answers.

Was gonna rent Alien Versus Predator last night, but saw Miike's Izo on the shelf so I took it instead. I'll probably go back for AVP tomorrow night (gotta use up these coupons, you understand), but I bet I still won't know whether I made the right choice yesterday… I mean, wtf? A samurai ghost travelling through time to hunt down the rulers of existence—one of whom is Beat Takeshi—should have been the greatest movie ever, well, at least as good as the aliens from Aliens against the Predator from Predator. Right?

So the Hitchhiker's Guide wasn't nearly as offensive as I imagined it would be, though could've been starting to watch at midnight already on a few hours' sleep lowered my defenses—or offenses, however that works. (Batman Begins even less so, despite being further removed from the source material. Still, I regret I'll never live to see Hollywood converge to the level of realism in Year One from, what, 1986?) I can forgive the compromises to the storyline, but to the characters themselves? Arthur particularly is robbed of his defining lines, "Ah, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' of which I wasn't previously aware" and "It's at moments like this, when I'm trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die from asphyxiation in deep space, that I wish I had listened to what my mother told me when I was young." Could've saved millions by leaving those in and jettisoning the pointless new Viltvodle excursion; Adams wrote it himself, apparently. Maybe it should've had more musical numbers.