God, Please Save These Troubled States

There is an insane fire burning the Hollywood Hills right now.

The band Silverstein is in town and they've got Buzznet phones. Here are a few videos:

Number 1

Number 2

Number 3

Number 4

Number 5

Marc Brown captured this:



It has now morphed into something about.....5 times larger than that. Black and orange smoke.

For relevance:



UPDATE!!!

Flames have now come over the mountain and are only a few thousand feet from the Hollywood sign. Holy hell, I hope it burns down!

Those six words sit on my wrists as a reminder. What I was. What I went through. And who I want to be.

I was tortured as a child. Ok, that's a dramatic choice of words, but when I think about sitting in Row 5, Seat 6 in Mr. Bauer's P.E. class in 7th grade, it's hard to me to think of anything else.

See, I was made fun of a lot. For being Mexican, but unable to speak Spanish. For being poor. For being a nerd. For wearing shitty/dorky clothes. And, most doggedly, for appearing to be gay.

I grew up in a suburban area of Riverside, but one that was soaked in poverty. Many social, economic, and psychological factors led to what I consider the worst year of my life. It was during my 7th grade year that I was coming to complete terms with my sexuality, my inherent nerdiness, and my massive unpopularity. And when these three factors colliding, everything went to hell.

I sat, Row 5, Seat 6. November of 1996. It was before Thanksgiving and not long after Halloween. I had something new to worry about: My gym shorts had shrunk in the dryer the previous weekend and they now rest another two inches above my knees. (It was now cool to sag your shorts or to wear shorts 95,000 sizes too big. My mom refused to oblige me, despite how much I complained.)

A common occurrence with most kids, I'm sure. But when the harrassment started, it never seemed to end.

Curtis Tiegler. I'll always remember his name. I'll always remember that he started it. He was the first to call me a fag. To make sure people hated me for not being a regular guy. For dressing different. For listening to different music.

There came a point in 7th grade where (literally) no one would talk to me. Teachers made fun of me. Counselors insinuated that maybe if I didn't appear so different (read: gay), I'd fit in better.

So I swallowed a bottle of aspirin. It took only a few hours before, in a drug-induced stupor,  I threw up my insides. Atleast it felt that way. And the next day, my mom thought I had the flu. I stayed home for a couple days.

The pain is real, Gary Glenn. So when you fight against legislation that will protect your state's homosexual kids, it makes you out to be a complete and total asshole. (Read: Not a Christian.)

Growing up sucks. Plain and simple. But you know what? When you're done growing up and you reach that inevitable plateau of "Adulthood" that you're told to work for all your teenage years, you realize one thing:

This sucks even more.

Keep your youthful enthusiasm. Don't buy into our American dream. It's ok to be a freak. Ironically, you're not alone.



He had a stack of dimes for a dink that he kept hidden from his young tormentors.
She crapped her pants and when it started to stink they laughed her up a railing high above the river.

A goddamn beige curse.
She couldn't imagine worse.
She once was known for her art.
Not anymore.

His mom caught him jerking when she got home from work and it drove him to stick needles in his arm.
She gave one blowjob in the back of a van and the clap quickly spread across her lips.

Oh fuck! There's a fucking curse!
She couldn't imagine worse.
They thought she was such a nice kid.
Not anymore.

A bumpy road for thimbledicks and pube-less dweebs.
You with the natural perm!
The brown-toothed
the bald-spotted
bottle-glassed puds
(Fucking Halfhead).

Boneracked spazzed with limp handshakes,
zit cream ordered by mail.
No-boobed girls, man-boobed boys.
His mom picks his clothes and
SHE smells like pee.

These are the mean streets.
Don't kill yourself yet. Adulthood's worse.
Don't kill yourself at all. Yet.

In a wholly baffling move, the Marines will soon ban all large tattoos below the knee and elbow.

Their logic? 

Tattoos of this nature are  "...harmful to the Corps' spit-and-polish image."



Definitely a spit-and-polish image.



Yep. The Haditha Massacre is definitely good for their image, too.

So was raping a 14 year-old, setting her on fire, then killing her family.

Shakes already made those points, so I'll add another one to hers:

Why wouldn't you want your Marines to look scary as hell with lots of tattoos??

COUGHING.

Ok. This is absurd in every sense of the word. I am trying really hard to wrap my brain about the (lack of) logic used in this story.

But coughing? Was the pilot worried that the other passengers might.......what? I can't even think of a scenario that would fit whatever was in his head. He says he was acting in the best interests of the passenger and everyone else. How is dumping them in a strange city in their best interest?

You've been warned.

I will not be surprised.
I will not be surprised.
I will not be surprised.
I will not be surprised.
I will not be surprised.

Move on. It's business as usual in the United States.

Well, goddamnit. There's goes my excitement about the Iraq Withdrawal Bill: sucked dry by the most openly sexist statements I've heard in ages.

Oh, and they're from a woman. What the fuck?

Phyllis Shlafly was speaking at Bates Motel College yesterday about.....I don't know. Nutbag right-wing garbage? And she gave us the following two golden nuggets:

•  At one point, Schlafly also contended that married women cannot be sexually assaulted by their husbands.  "By getting married, the woman has consented to sex, and I don't think you can call it rape," she said.
  

• "Women in combat are a hazard to other people around them," she said. "They aren't tall enough to see out of the trucks, they're not strong enough to carry their buddy off the battlefield if he's wounded, and they can't bark out orders loudly enough for everyone to hear."

For real? You actually mean that?



If women are so weak, Schlafly, what the hell are you doing standing up for anything? Shouldn't you be in the kitchen, not writing books or speaking your mind, or being an independent woman?

Be careful with that mic, by the way. It's a bit heavy and you're weaker than a man, so it might be too much to handle.  

Oh fuck. I can't believe it. It's real!

2008 is far away, but OH MAN! IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED!!!!!

EXCITED!!!!! AND STUFF!!!!

In a somewhat-baffling example of homophobia-gone-awry, a South Carolina-based chain of hotels rejected a gay couple from staying in one of their rooms. Why?

They might share the same bed.

I think y'all know I get a bit feisty whenever I read about such occurrences in the world. (Yeah. I'm biased. I can admit it.) But this really does get under my skin, for two reasons:

1) The attempt to cover up the event. Initially, the front desk agent bluntly told Pickel and Darren Black Bear that they did not rent to gay people. Flat out.

When the local news station contacted the hotel, this was confirmed.

...News19 contacted the hotel, posing as a potential renter, and inquired about two men staying in the same room. The receptionist who answered the phone told us the following: "Our policy is we don't rent to two people of the same sex if we only have one bed." "Is that your policy," we asked. "That's corporate policy because they only have one sleeping area." We then asked, "Okay, but they can't share the bed?" "I suppose they could, but most men don't want to," she said.

However, when the actual owner was finally tracked down, the reasoning was changed.

Carroll Atkisson said that it wasn't about discriminating against homos, there was a big confusion -- it was simply about "trying to stop two single people from being in the same bed."

No. Own up to what you believe and stop being a wuss. First of all, that simply doesn't even make sense. Do you interrogate every couple of people asking for a hotel room to determine their relationship status?

My guess? They're trying to backtrack so that they don't lose business.

Affordable Suites can be contacted here. And you can complain. And you can make sure that if you're ever travelling in North/South Carolina or Virginia, you don't stay there.

2) Homophobia is sooooooo 1981. Get over it, America. You're not going to get rid of gay people.

It's still meat and I still won't eat there, but I do appreciate that, of all companies, Burger King is making strides towards supporting more humane slaughtering. (It's still slaughter to me, but no vegan preachin' from me today.)

Burger King announced yesterday that they would begin purchasing pork and eggs from farmers who did not keep their animals in cages.

I don't need to link you to any wacky PETA videos and such. Any person with just a simple imagination could probably figure that conditions at farms that breed chickens, pigs, and cows for human consumption aren't too pleasant. Yet, at the same time, so many people truly do fail to realize just how horrific that kind of existence really is.

And now, one of the world's largest fast-food organizations, is actually doing something responsible: consciously choosing to support more humane industries.

I've long been of the school of thought that what you don't purchase is an effective (and easy) form of protest. It's why I don't shop at Wal Mart. Buy Nike. Avoid restaurants that don't cater to vegans. It's about complicity and idealism, sure, but it's a way for me to atleast make a small difference everyday.

Apparently, the eggs and pork will initially cost more; but that's where you come in. If you're not vegan or vegetarian and you do find yourself eating at Burger King, spend the extra buck or two and choose to support them. Make it so that they can expand these industries and show some more humanity for our non-human friends. And maybe other companies will soon follow suit.

You can make a difference.

Is it possible to give a city one collective high five? NYC certainly deserves one.

I've blogged in the past about my rather extreme distaste for Wal Mart; my friends know I hate it there and I will boycott them until I rot in the ground. So, needless to say, I had a smile on my face this morning reading about NYC's successful efforts to fight Wal Mart's presence in their city.

In fact, they've done such a good job that now Lee Scott, Chief Executive of Wal Mart, actually hates the city.

Glorious.

SPOILERS BELOW. DO NOT READ AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE.



This week's "Lost" wasn't so much of a disappointment as just....well....how do you follow up last week's spectacular cliffhanger?

Anyway, it was nice to find out where these two "Losties" came from. I kind of want to go back and watch the pilot to see if they were indeed in that scene or if they were all composite shots done after the fact.

Seeing Ethan on the island: creepy.
The walkie talkie: Creepy
The conversation in the Pearl Station: Massively creepy.

But how about the Medusa spider scene? I have a slight fear of spiders, so I was a bit freaked. However, the whole "buried alive" plot twist was AWESOME. It was as if the writers wrote in our hate for these characters. (We can all admit that no matter how hot Rodrigo Santoro is, both his and Nikki's lines were all awkward and pointless.)

Next, Kate and Juliet will brawl. I think it's a Kate-centric episode.

Yeah. One of my favorite albums is going to have interpretive dance set to it.

Weird beyond words.

Seriously though! What are they going to do during, "Breed"? "Territorial Pissings"?

That was quick.

Tony Lovato was released from jail early this morning after the DA reviewed the case and decided not to prosecute Lavato. The case was ruled as self-defense.



Now Lovato will return to musical obscurity. (Thankfully.)

This time, I'm unphased. But seriously....is he really worried about wasting cock?

Isn't that.....freakish?



Thanks for the appropriate image, Shakes. I love you!

Especially when it makes John McCain look even dumber than he already is.

Check out this wonderful bit of hackery. After McCain's people stole someone's MySpace design AND stole bandwidth from his server, Mike Davidson plotted his revenge.

Since it was all on his server, he merely changed the hosting image to this:



OH
MAN
SO AWESOME.  I support hot lesbians too.

This could be the most significant piece of news in all of 2007.

We are missing one crucial part of our Constitution: A guarantee that basic rights will not be denied to a human being based on their sex.

U.S. citizens are guaranteed to their rights on the basis of race; but we, as a nation, have failed twice to add an amendment to the Constitution to guarantee, on a general and overarching basis, to secure those rights regardless of whether you're a man or woman.

Until now, that is.

House and Senate Democrats have reintroduced a bill to begin the ratification of a new amendment: The Equal Rights Amendment.

This is huge. HUGE. It means that discrimination based on gender will be taken completely and utterly seriously. It means that these words will soon be added to our Constitution:

Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

Vote for it. Push for it. Support it. Protest for it. Make it a reality.

This sure is an odd story.

The Guantanamo Bay Detention Facility, ever-shrouded in mystery, is about to release a prisoner to his home country. (Granted, to finish out his service, but still.)

David Hicks appeared to have gone along with some sort of plea-bargain for providing material support to a terrorist organization.

His punishment?

He gets to go home.

As Shakes points out, what the hell? After this current administration made such a huge deal out of terrorists, enemy combatants, and their dedication to ending terrorism around the world.....this is all he gets?

Look, I'm not a fan of this war. Or Guantanamo Bay. Or the way David Hicks was probably treated. But seriously, this doesn't add up. At all. Here's your terrorist! He said he's guilty!

Sigh. Nothing seems to make sense anymore.

Honestly. Is this shit ever, ever going to end?

Salon.com just posted a disturbing and revealing article about soldiers being sent to training camps despite being unable to walk and being pregnant.

Pregnant.

Over a dozen soldiers were shipped out to the training facility in Ft. Irwin, CA, even though doctors and physical therapists thought it was crazy.

Anyway. No ranting today. Read. Inform yourself. Get angry. Act.

Darwin, Australia, to be exact. Which is kind of ironic and kind of awesome.



LOOK AT THAT SON OF A BITCH!!!!!

This simply means that I'll just have to wait until summer to discover exactly how much I dislike it.



Tom Gabel says "mixing issues" have put the disc off until the summer months.

Booo.

More exciting news from the Bad Religion/Epitaph camp!

Check out an interesting interview here that Greg gave to an UCLA-affiliated paper about teaching, Bad Religion, and evolutionary theory.

In addition to this, Epitaph released the artwork for the forthcoming Bad Religion release, "New Maps of Hell."




Life is good!

Despite having one really terrible album, I've always liked this band and their live show. So, needless to say, I'll be at any Southern California dates I can get to.

June 15, 2007	Palladium - Dallas	Dallas, TX
June 16, 2007	Stubb's BBQ	Austin, TX
June 18, 2007	Jannus Landing	St. Petersburg, FL
June 19, 2007	House of Blues- Orlando	Orlando, FL
June 20, 2007	The Masquerade	Atlanta, GA
June 22, 2007	House of Blues - Myrtle Beach	Myrtle Beach, SC
June 23, 2007	Tremont Music Hall	Charlotte, NC
June 24, 2007	The Norva	Norfolk, VA
June 27, 2007	Nokia Theatre	New York, NY
July 4, 2007	Centre de Foires-Quebec City	Quebec City, QC
July 5, 2007	Olympia Theatre	Montreal, QC
July 7, 2007	Arrow Hall	Mississauga, ON
July 9, 2007	Evolution	Williamsville, NY
July 10, 2007	Club Zoo	Pittsburgh, PA
July 14, 2007	Myth	St. Paul, MN
July 16, 2007	Winnipeg Convention Center	Winnipeg, SK
July 17, 2007	Prairieland	Saskatoon, SK
July 18, 2007	Shaw Conference Centre	Edmonton, AB
July 19, 2007	MacEwan Hall	Calgary, AB
July 22, 2007	Victoria Curling Club	Victoria, BC
July 23, 2007	The Fenix - Seattle	Seattle, WA
July 24, 2007	Roseland Theatre - Portland	Portland, OR
July 26, 2007	Big Easy	Boise, ID

I told you today was a strange day for news.

I'm going to put aside any commentary about how this is the LAST band I would ever expect to hear linked to something of this nature.



Yep. That guy. Allegedly stabbed to death his ex-girlfriend's new beau.

Self defense? Bitter jealousy? We don't know yet.

But fuck it. I have to say it:

Mest??????

Such a bizarre day for music news.

Dominic Davi, bassist for Love Equals Death (he used to sling the low end for Tsunami Bomb too) was arrested in Fullerton, California on Friday for the alleged rape of a Virginia woman last year. He's currently waiting to be extradited back to Philadelphia.



This is so odd. I've met Dominic and he's totally a nice guy. Of course, I'm not foolish enough to believe this exonerates him of anything. Still, really weird.

I'll keep you updated.

I cannot contain my laughter / seething anger.
I'm trying.
Not working.

Corey Andrew puts a resume up on www.careerbuilder.com.

Army recruiter Marcia Ramode sees it. She contacts Andrew about a position in our country's military.

Andrew rejects her offer, mostly because he is gay and opposes our military's ban on homosexuals in service. Thus begins a three-day email exchange that will cause your head to explode.

Are you ready?



Well. That was professional, understanding, and completely necessary.

More, you say?



Well. Um. Yeah.

I want to tear apart her spelling. Her grammar. Her use of all caps. Her.....ignorance.

I think public embarassment is pretty good, though. Right?

Here is the full exchange from both sides.

EDIT: To be fair, it appears Andrew also threw a racist insult back at her.

He's fucked. And it's about time.

The Associated Press reported late Friday evening that Gonzales indeed approved the firing of 8 U.S. Attorneys, despite earlier this month claiming he had absolutely no part in this scandal.

Is that so, Albert? (Can I call you Albert?) On March 12, you told the whole world you hadn't seen a single memo. No meetings. Nothing. Nada.

But it's very apparent that you flat-out lied to all of us. Because you sat in on the meetings. You approved the plan. You signed off on it. You develop the five-step plan to get rid of them.

You knew the whole time, you deceitful motherfucker. And I hope you get reamed for this.

I figure it this way; even though I'm gay and I've never seriously thought of crossing to the dark side, this venture might help me gain some money to support my addiction to vinyl records and vegan food.

And really, I'm only here on earth to make money and procreate, right? So shouldn't I try to kill two birds with one stone?

Texas State Senator Dan Patrick is making that a reality for me and, needless to say, I'm pretty excited. (This comes from the same guy who wants to make it illegal to give safe abortion care, but really, I can let this slide after getting my portion of $500. More on that in a second.)

He wants to sway pregnant woman in Texas from getting an abortion by having the state government cut them a check for $500. All you've got to do is sign over your parental rights of the child within 30 days of the kid's birth and then, no more than 30 days later, $500 is yours.

In addition, all doctors who perform abortions will be legally acquired to pitch this win-win money scheme to all their patients.

Nevermind that this appears to be a government-sanctioned form of baby selling. This is truly the best way to both overpopulate our planet AND earn some some money to stimulate the economy. (I did say this was a win-win situation, right?)

So this is what I'm gonna do. I'm moving to Texas. Probably a month after the bill passes. And I'll start taking one for the team and finding desperate, soulless, and immoral woman who also want to make a quick buck. My plan? The chick gets $400 and I get $100. (Let's be fair; it's not like I'm gonna have to carry our commodified merchandise for 9 months, but I should get some credit for the creation of the little bugger.)

I figure I start out small, work some odd-end jobs to keep my head afloat; maybe Buzznet will let me keep my blogging job from afar. I start plowing chicks. Not too many at first, but enough to secure some sort of future. And in about 10 months' time, the babies start flowing out.

Perhaps I'll open a business. Have an office. Applications. (They'll be easy: Are you fertile? Want to make $400?) Since everyone wants to make money, and since babies are just so gosh-darn cute, it's really a fail safe plan. If I get a few hundred woman to go along with this, soon I'll be making enough money to never have to work a day in my life. Hell, I could probably start inseminating woman and take sex out of the whole equation.

Thanks, Sen. Dan Patrick. You're making the world a better place for people like me.

There are many times each week that I wish that the things I'm blogging about are totally false. And I'm a liar.

But nope. Remains from the 9/11 attacks have allegedly been used to fill potholes in New York City.

As Shakes also says in her blog, I don't give a shit what happens to me when I die. I'd prefer being nuked or cremated because there is no point letting me rot in the ground and take up space. Shit is redundant.

But....don't think you think they should have asked someone? You know, for permission?

Smooth driving ahead!

Look, there's ignorance. There's political maneuvering. Even crafty ways of avoiding the question.

But is John McCain so stupid that he not only doesn't know the answer to this question, but he answered it in a manner that made him look even dumber???

COME ON:

Q: “So no contraception, no counseling on contraception. Just abstinence. Do you think contraceptives help stop the spread of HIV?”

Mr. McCain: (Long pause) “You’ve stumped me.”

Q: “I mean, I think you’d probably agree it probably does help stop it?”

Mr. McCain: (Laughs) “Are we on the Straight Talk express? I’m not informed enough on it. Let me find out. You know, I’m sure I’ve taken a position on it on the past. I have to find out what my position was. Brian, would you find out what my position is on contraception – I’m sure I’m opposed to government spending on it, I’m sure I support the president’s policies on it.”

OK. Hold on a second. Back up the Straight Talk Express. Not only do you NOT know if condoms help stop spread of HIV, but you don't even know your own position on contraceptives?

IT'S YOUR OPINION. HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW? It's not like some ancient bank transaction.

Fucking hell.

Menu Foods isn't having a good week.

First, at least 16 pets died from being poisoned after consuming pet food made by that company. Today, we learn that there was rat poison that contaminated an innumerable number of brands and types.

Even worse? The motherfuckers knew about it at least a month ago.

Assholes.

He should be lucky that we allow him to walk around unharmed.

I'd like to think I have a tough skin. That things don't phase me. That I've heard it all. That I'm prepared.

But I'm pretty sure I just lost my appetite for the rest of the day. And I'm not even angry, which would motivate me to do something constructive about this. I'm just flat out depressed that someone would ever say something like this:

MICHAEL SAVAGE: "San Francisco police are trying to determine whether the slaying of a transgender victim found naked near the Interstate 280 freeway is somehow linked to reports of a nude woman seen walking on the same freeway two hours later, authorities said. ... [San Francisco police inspector Karen] Lynch said it appeared the victim had been in the process of becoming a woman." Yeah, process of becoming a woman -- psychopath, should have been in a back ward in a straitjacket for years, howling on major medication.

[...]

SAVAGE: And then they go into "she said transgender victims" going on and on "extremely violent" going on and on "are frequently left partially clothed or completely nude, it's making a statement and humiliating the victim," blah-blah-blah. I am so beyond fed up with freaks. I live in freak city. You know, I don't mind freaks. I used to go to Ringling Brothers when I was a little kid, and the freak show was my favorite part of the circus. I didn't go there to mock them. I liked to see the one-breasted man. I liked to see the mustached woman.

But when I wake up as an adult and I find out that they're actually all Democrats today, passing themselves off as normal, I'm sorry, someone's gotta say this is a freak show, time out. And what's this sympathy, constant sympathy for sexually confused people? Why should we have constant sympathy for people who are freaks in every society? I didn't say hurt the freaks. I didn't say do anything to the freaks.

But you know what? You're never gonna make me respect the freak. I don't want to respect the freak. The freak ought to be glad that they're allowed to walk around without begging for something. You know, I'm sick and tired of the whole country begging, bending over backwards for the junkie, the freak, the pervert, the illegal immigrant. All of them are better than everybody else. Sick. Everything is upside down.

This is what he believes.

Breathe, Mark. Breathe.

Michael Savage, weren't you born Jewish? Weren't you born to a family that faced difficulty in making ends meet? Didn't you get divorced from your first wife?

Didn't you use to travel with Allen Ginsberg?

Aren't you obsessed with Metallica? Pantera? Other "hard rock" bands?

And even though your radio show reaches nearly 8 million people, isn't that just a tiny sliver of the American population? Aren't you in the minority, Savage?

The truth remains: You are a freak, Michael Savage. For your painfully arrogant, hateful, and ignorant views. Because, even if you're "right," you're still in the minority. You aren't in sync with everyone else. Making you a freak.

You're a freak because you're old.
You're a freak because you have a beard.
You're a freak because you have a radio show.
You're a freak because you have opinions.

Don't you get it? We're all freaks. We're all different. We're all fucked up. And for you to assert that you've somehow found some social and philosophical zero, that absolutely everything about you is perfect and normal, is.....well. Isn't that impossible?

But I suppose that I come from a different world than you do. In my existence, I've found that these differences are what make being alive so interesting. So rewarding. So meaningful.

But it seems you want us all to be the same. Michael Savage, that is so overwhelmingly depressing.

I'm not going to provide any commentary. Just read this:

A convicted child molester and his father took turns sexually assaulting a 6-year-old boy while the molester's mother watched, then they choked the boy to death, according to an indictment issued Wednesday. The indictment charges all three family members with murder and child molestation in the slaying of young Christopher Michael Barrios, whose body was found last Thursday inside a trash bag dumped by a roadside.

Here are some more details. I warn you; this is gruesome and will probably offend you.

The indictment contains grim details about the case that police and prosecutors had not previously revealed. It says Christopher died from asphyxiation March 8 — the day he was reported missing — after the suspects choked him while "ignoring his complaints that they were hurting him." The indictment does not say which of three caused the boy's death.

It also claims George Edenfield and his 58-year-old father sodomized the boy and forced him to perform oral sex while Peggy Edenfield watched and masturbated.

"They deserve the worst, for them to torture my son like that, every last one of them," said Mike Barrios, the slain boy's father.

Yeah. They do deserve the worse.

SPOILERS INSIDE. PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE.



EVERYTHING. Everything has changed. I currently feel that last night's episode, "The Man From Tallahassee," stands as the best episode of the entire series: emotionally harrowing, suspenseful, well-acted, well-directed, beautifully shot, and with the most head-scratching cliffhanger I think I've ever seen the show give us.

We know why Locke was paralyzed.
We know that Ben knows that Locke is "special."
Jack and Juliet got royally screwed over.
And HOW THE HELL DID LOCKE'S DAD END UP ON THE ISLAND?

Please discuss and help me make some sense of this.

I'm trying to use humor to alleviate the shock I'm going through right now. But I'm truly at a loss for words upon reading that the country of Angola will be holding a Miss Landmine competition. With a magazine as well.

Um.
Uh.
??????????????????????????????????????????????

Yeah. It's real.

EDIT: Ok, I was just going to let this stand and not say anything. But this makes absolutely no fucking sense. Yeah. I love the idea that they're supporting these woman and proving to them that they can still be beautiful. That's commendable. And I love how they're trying to spread knowledge. Also awesome.

BUT A BEAUTY PAGEANT????? So they can tell one girl, "You are so beautiful! But not beautiful enough to be LANDMINE QUEEN!!!"

WHAT THE MOTHERFUCKING SHIT????????

This is precisely the same message that some right-wing Republicans wanted to send to victims of Hurricane Katrina.

Texan Rep Jeb Hensarling introduced an amendment to add on to the Gulf Coast Hurricane Housing Recovery Act of 2007. This amendment would have required that any person who wanted (or needed) aid for housing because of the effects of Katrina would first have to demonstrate that performing 20 hours per week of approved work activities.

So.

Without a house (or while living in substandard conditions), these people were supposed to find jobs? What if they were homeless? Without a home address? Without a telephone number? Do you know how hard that is, douchebag?

Luckily, the amendment was graciously defeated.

CNN has either mistakenly or purposely misled people with their story about a teacher getting fired for deviating from the curriculum on evolutionary theory.

Always a rough spot, no?

CNN ran this title on the front page:


It's under "Education." "Biology teacher fired for referring to Bible."

As the Disgruntled Chemist points out, this sounds like a travesty. What's wrong with referring to the Bible?

Nothing, of course. That's not what he did:

The red flag went up last week when parents were asked questions by their puzzled students about information that was being discussed in their freshman biology class. Concern mounted when parents examined materials that Helphinstine was distributing to his students and they brought the matter to the attention of high school principal Bob Macauley.

According to Rahm the material was "conspicuously intelligent design type information or teaching. Actually if you took the material and Googled the crucial passages it takes you to a creationist Web site called Answers in Genesis, www.answersingenesis.org, that is run by Ken Ham. ... One of the lines in his (Ham's) mission statement for the Web site is any statement which contradicts the Bible is inherently false," Rahm said.

Oh. Lord.

Because, both by precedent and constitutionality, you will most certainly lose this battle of epic proportions!

That's right. Bush said it was ok for Congress to speak to Karl Rove, Harriet Myers, and other presidential aides......but off the record. Not under oath. Not in public. No transcripts. Meaning entirely in private.

So Congress rejected the offer and will be issuing the subpoenas anyway.

IT'S BUSH VS. CONGRESS! Grab a bowl of popcorn, gather the kids. This one's gonna be a doozy.

It's a sad state affairs in our nation when I'm happy that our government isn't working. And they're about to be publicly embarrassed/destroyed.

But really, I can't wait for all this to finally come down. It now appears we have evidence that the Justice Department has been deeply entrenched in the firing of 8 U.S. Attorneys for political reasons, despite that we were told it was for "performance issues."

Please let something happen. Please let someone be accountable for this.

I am so getting a free ticket to Hawaii the next time I fly on a plane.

For I would decree that every person involved in this experiment be immediately executed for rampant stupidity.

If you've clicked on that link and returned here, your head hurting, your eyes watering, let me placate your disbelief:

Yes. You read that correctly. The United States' Department of Defense actually considered, in all seriousness, constructing a fart bomb to distract the enemy.

A fart bomb.

A.
Fart.
Bomb.

But wait. You may have noticed there are other links in Shakespeare's Sister's blog. Links that direct you to the knowledge that the United States' Department of Defense actually considered, in all seriousness, constructing a gay bomb to make the enemy inpossibly attracted to one another.

A gay bomb.

A.
Gay.
Bomb.



Let's review:

Fart bombs
Gay bombs
Halitosis bombs
Porphyria bombs
Rat bombs
Wasp bombs

This is what we do with our freedom.

Someone please come enslave us as soon as possible.

Because Ann Coulter's new book has NOT been cancelled.

Bummer. I was looking forward to getting into that whole thing they call, "religion." Guess I'll to stick with being a hedonist.

But let's talk about this anyway. If Democrats Had Any Brains, They'd Be Republicans. She's kidding, right?

It doesn't matter what party you belong to, Ann. We're all fucked anyway, right?

So, in the quest to find terrorists out in the big bad world, we found out that the FBI had "mistakenly" collected information from normal American citizens. It's illegal, but, as of right now, no one is getting punished. I'd be surprised if anyone did.

And even now, with Congress warning the FBI that they could lose their power, I don't believe much is going to happen.

Cynical little me.

No witty banter here. This is just disturbing and sad.

After being missing for two months, the body of Wade Steffey was found in his dorm's electrical room. After a night of drinking, he had been looking for his coat, entered the utility room, and had electrocuted himself inside.

He was found by a maintenance worker at Purdue University.

I can't even begin to imagine finding something like this.

Everything in one place. Makes it easier for all parties involved. (And I'm obsessed with organization.)

February 17th:
The Beginning / Tucson, Arizona
February 19th:
Tucson, Arizona. Part II




March 1st:
The Beginning. Part II. Lake L.A.
March 2nd:
Davis, California. Revenge of the Cows. Berkeley, California.
March 3rd:
Early Berkeley Morning.
March 4th:
San Bernardino, California.
March 5th:
Bakersfield, California. I Am Lion, Hear Me Roar.
March 6th:
Pinole, California. The KMart Secret Police.
March 7th:
Chico, California. ...but home is nowhere.
March 8th:
Medford, Oregon. Mob.
March 9th:
Kirby, Oregon. Crescent City, California. Klamanth Falls, California. Eureka, California. Trees of Mystery.
March 11th:
Eureka, California. 666.
March 13th:
Eureka Re-Cap
March 14th:
Route 666
Sin City
Sin City II
March 15th:
The End: An Introspection



Photo Gallery: 1,108 shots of the band live and everything else along the way.

Videos

Tucson, AZ:
It Begins. I Like To Party Fuckin' Hard.
So They Party Hard.

Berkeley:
Reno Attacks My Arm
Reno Humps My Arm

San Bernardino:
Butts Up Round 1
Butts Up Round 2
Butts Up Round 3
Butts Up Round 4
Butts Up Round 5

Medford, OR:
Hail.

Crescent City, CA:
Seaweed Whip.

Klamanth, CA:
Breaking Into The Trees of Mystery. Fuck The Ocean.
God Hath Spoke.
The Lightning Tree.
The Impossibility of Paul Bunyon's Birth.
Crazy.
I Call Shenanigans.
Success!

Eureka, CA:
Hunter. Earplugs?
Hunter Opens A Gift.
The Gift Is Open.
Just Another Crowd.
Dog.

Lancaster, CA:
Dying of Laughter.

Las Vegas, NV:
I'm Completely Crazy.
And This Is Why.
Goodbye, Stardust.
Cloud.
Asbestos.

Calico, CA:
Zombie Miner

Please don't steal my shit. Just give me credit.

If it's real, that is. There are rumors that the ZUG Superbowl Light Takeover is a hoax, but even if it is, this is a fun read.

Enjoy. (Video at bottom of this page.)

Only this time, it's even more blatant that our government really doesn't seem to care about our troops.

The Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where many injured troops have been sent, was publicly embarassed by it's poor conditions that troops were being kept in.

And now, to make matters worse, it appears that there was one area they got right: Their six VIP suites.

The Army's under heat today after photos of the VIP suites were run in a story by the USA today, announcing that Congress will be investigating as to whether or not the maintenance of these suites is what contributed to the poor conditions in the rest of the hospital.

Support your troops, guys! Unless you're the Army, of course.

A man wakes up in first class on a flight from Delhi to London and finds a dead woman being seated down next to him.

Too bad she didn't turn into a zombie. That would have been sweet!

New Maps Of Hell

Released: July 10, 2007



Tracklisting:

1. New Dark Ages
2. Grains of Wrath
3. Fields of Mars
4. Germs of Perfection
5. Requiem
6. Submission Complete
7. The Grand Delusion
8. Honest Goodbye
9. Prodigal Son
10. Before You Die
11. Lost Pilgrim
12. Heroes and Martyrs
13. Dearly Beloved
14. New Chapter
15. Murder
16. 52 Seconds
17. Scrutiny

Awesome. 'Nuff said.

I am so witty.

I don't claim to know too much about Tila Tequila, except that she's famous on the internet. (I first learned she existed last December.)

I just tried to do a Google image search to see what she looks like, and I learned she also likes to take her clothes off. Quite often.

All right, well now I know two things about her for certain. Internet fame. Lots of nudity.

But after reading this article on TMZ, I feel as if I know oh so much more. Perhaps more than I care to know.

Turns out she has about 1.7 million friends on MySpace.

Read that again: 1.7 million.

It's painful to have just short of 80,000 "friends" here on Buzznet. Trust me. But 1.7 million? Why?

It's probably best not to ponder that. Tila Tequila also wants to pursue a career in music. (Which is obviously the next logical step after showing your naughty bits to the entire web. I know that it's my next move.) So she released a single on iTunes this past week. It's called, "I Love U." Very appropriate.

Just doing the math, I could only imagine how many singles she could sell! I mean, 1.7 million friends?

Let's assume 20% of those friends are fake. Not actual people. Fair assortment. Subtract 340,000 friends. That puts her at 1.36 million friends.

Ok. Now let's also assume that a good 60% of those friends are alpha-males who just want to stare at her breasts with a box of tissues nearby. Subtract 816,000 friends. Now she's at 544,000 friends.

Moving on. Let's grossly assume half of these people like her, but are unwilling to shell out $0.99 for a song. Fair enough, right? Then Tila Tequila is down to 272,000 friends who will possibly buy her single.

Now, this is all, of course, some gross guestimation. I don't claim to be any sort of expert on online marketing. Hell, I'll admit that I don't even really think about it. But guess how many singles this gal sold?

























13,000.

Stifle your laughter. I'm not done.

I try to be open-minded about music and I realize there's a whole lot of music I don't like. Either I'm not a fan of the genre or I don't "get" it. And we all have different tastes, right?

However, this evidence leads me to believe that my initial calculations are wrong. I should correct myself.

1,700,000 (Friends)
-
340,000    (Fake profiles)
-
1,000,000 (Guys just wanting to stare at her naked body)
-
347,000    (Everyone unwilling to shell out $1 for her music)
_________
13,000 singles sold

Here's the sad reality, Tila Tequila. While you may think it's pretty awesome that you're trying to go the DIY route, you flouted that a long time ago. I don't count whoring yourself out on MySpace as any sort of revolution in music. (And really, taking your clothes off for money....isn't that the correct term?)

The sad reality (for you) is that you equate your success with numbers. You wanted to be #1 on the Digital Charts. And you worked oh so hard making sure the number of friends you had was ridiculously high. (And gosh darn! That's hard work. Have you ever tried to add like 10 friends at a time? I swear I'm getting carpal tunnel!)

But the numbers have spoken: You've got 13,000 people who either:

-Love shameless pop that's badly produced
-Want to emulate your "success"
-Think you're hot and bought a song only to think about you naked in the shower
-Purchased the song by accident.

Congratulations. You did this all by yourself.

So, unless rocks are your normal habitat, you've heard that Alberto Gonzales is rightly fucked.

To fully understand what's going on, watch this.

Now, ABC is reporting that Karl Rove is behind all this! Not Gonzales! (Though I'm sure he had a part.)

OH PLEASE LORD. I don't believe you exist. But if I'm merely a pompous, arrogant fucktard and I'm wrong, and you are up there, use every ounce of your divine holy power to smote this pompous, arrogant fucktard. Please. Please!!!!

I, for one, hope he doesn't make it to the top.

I'll state here and now that I don't like Rudy Giuliani. I don't think he's anything special, I don't like his opinions, and I certainly don't think he did anything spectacular after 9/11. (Appearing on TV doesn't make you a hero, dude.)

And he's not making it easier:

1) He failed to appear at the Presidential Forum held by the International Association of Firefighters.

2) The president of the Association, Harold Schaitberger, is NOT pleased at all, both with this and the acts of Giuliani to the NYFD after 9/11 happened.

3) Rudy's NYPD Commissioner is in HUGE trouble with the law.

4) To round this all off, it turns out his law firm is on the payroll of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.

Bonus points for absurdity, Mr. Giuliani. And a few more tacked on for impeccable timing.

Especially considering that, since records have been kept, this past winter was the warmest winter on the face of the planet.

Ever.
Ever.
Ever.
Totally ever.



Look at this photo Yahoo is running. Wintertime. In Central Park.

For the record, I think winter last just short of 40 days in Southern California. It was probably less.

I awoke Tuesday morning to the sunlight peeking through a space in the curtains; I hadn't pulled them shut entirely the night before. I turned to my right; Desiree was putting on makeup and Dan was still asleep.

It's time to go home, I think. It's time to leave this place. I wanted there to be another show that day. I wanted to sit in a car for hours on end, with some faraway locale as the ultimate goal. Where the only people I would know would be my friends in the vehicle and the guys on the stage.

This is not what was going to happen.

I gathered my shit together and surfed the web for a while as the others got ready. We had to stop by Ronald's Donuts again so I could pick up a couple dozen for my drummer. His birthday was the next day and his girlfriend want to surprise him with some yummy vegan treats.

It was a hot day in Vegas again; it certainly felt as if summer had arrived. I wished I had a pair of shorts. We drove down the strip with the windows down. The buildings were still there, except the gaping space in the skyline where the Stardust once stood. Vacancy.

We stopped at Ronald's around 11:30 in the morning. This kid and his friends were at the shop already. I didn't know them, so none of us said anything. Apparently, according to his blog, that makes me an asshole. Ooops! (He deleted my comments/refutations. Nice.)

And so the ride home began.  I stretched out in the back of the car and felt the desert sun beat down on my from the rear windshield. I tried drifting off to sleep, hoping to pass the time, but, as I've mentioned before, it's nearly impossible for me to do so. I found myself staring endlessly out of the window as the Joshua trees and stark mountains rushed by.

We were talking about places to possibly stop and get something to eat when we made a last minute decision to stop at the Calico Ghost Town. It's off the 15 about 10 minutes or so from Baker. I'd been there as a child, on my first trip to Las Vegas. It was something that always stuck with me; I distinctly recall begging my mom to take us on a tour of the mines, but she was paranoid that we'd get lost in some underground maze or something. So, upon learning we'd be visiting the place sans any parental control, part of me was excited.

Calico is a ghost town, for sure, but not in any sense I expected. It was abandoned nearly 100 years ago, but is now populated by people who appear to only want to make a buck off of a shithole in the middle of the desert.

You're charged $6 just to enter. Water ranks around Warped Tour prices. All of the tiny shops along the main street hae overblown prices for unoriginal products; there's virtually nothing here you can't get somewhere else for much less.

These are the true ghosts: The soulless assholes who operate this pit of desolation. Every bit of culture and history to this place is set alongside a complete commodification of itself. The original buildings are somewhat preserved, but everything is modified to such a degree that I didn't feel as if I was seeing any actual artifacts. Just recreations.

We marched to the top of the hill, stopping in the shops to stare at overpriced items. At the top, we were all surprised to find a vegetarian friendly menu in the restaurant that overlooked the desert valley. But after tasting their terrible Icee and after the Sprite had no syrup and after the iced tea was rotten, we opted not to support anything else here.

At the top of the town, the moutains were behind us and this is what lay before us. Nestled in a descending valley, I had an urge to run down the hills, hop over the "DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT" signs and disappear into the mountains, to explore every mine shaft and crevice I could find. But the sun bore down us and my headache was coming back. I was bored.

We gave up on our Calico expedition out of sheer frustration. I felt cheated. Driving down highway 40, back to the freeway, I wished this place would go the way of the Stardust Hotel. Poof. Gone.

We made a pit stop at the In N Out in Lenwood, a small city next to Baker. I ate with a sense of defeat. We were only a couple hours from home. A couple hours to termination.

I don't remember much of the ride from this point, as I magically found the ability to catch some sleep. I awoke when we were on the 210 near Monrovia. Unlike nearly every stop of our trip, I was surrounded by other cars. Ah. Southern California traffic. Not something I missed.

After a bit of misdirection, we headed to Hollywood to pick up my keys. My friend had been watching my place and checking my mail. He wasn't home, but he had left them on top of his door.

We pulled up to my place on Wilshire next to the old Buzznet offices. I remembered we'd moved.

Dan and Des helped me load my shit into my place. We said our goodbyes and they drove off.

My apartment smelled like paint. I guess I'd forgotten what it was like. My nose wasn't used to this.

I didn't even bother unpacking. I sat on my "bed" and pulled out my acoustic guitar. It felt good to hear the notes and feel the strings under my fingers.

It was weird to be surrounded by so much silence. I'd gotten accustomed to the blaring stereo, the sound of the car chugging along, feedback, chanting, conversations. And now it was quiet.

We traveled over 3,000 miles. Saw AFI 8 times. And when we were furthest from home and familiarity, the boys in AFI (and Smith and Fritch) did their best to make sure that we felt like we belonged.

Thanks to AFI. For the songs. The dedication. ...but home is nowhere. Overexposure. The finger points, the sing-a-longs, the fiery passion. For being the familiar faces night after night when everything is foreign. For caring.

Thanks to Smith for being so kind and letting us in all those Meet and Greets.

Thanks to RJ for the vegan Philly cheese steaks and all those setlists.

Thanks to Fritch for your humor and conversation.

Thanks to all the kids I met along the way. Katie and Kayla. Jessica, Jeffrey, and Carl. Carrie and Melissa. Barbara and Leah. Sarah in Chico. Lee and Shawna. You made this trip so much more fun than I could have anticipated.

Thanks to all my friends for coming along as well. Ramon and Karen. Ian and Sonia. Andrew, Ed, Jess, John, Luis. Nick and Sam. Shane. Mitchell. Adam.

Thanks to Dan and Desiree for driving endless hours and for having no filter when it comes to your sense of humor. Things are better that way. Let's do this again.

Willie Nelson said it best:

I can't wait to get on the road again.

I love moral relativism.

It's just so.....delightfully convenient, don't you think?

This is a long case I've been following, so let me try to break it down for you, Buzznet:

1) Jason Fortunay executes the Seattle Craigslist Experiment. He posts a stolen ad from another city in Seattle's Women Seeking Men section. His experiment was to see how many responses he could get in 24 hours. 24 hours later, he then posted all the responses -- in their entirety -- to Encyclopedia Dramatica and his own LiveJournal.

2) Michael Crook copies Jason Fortunay, with the only difference being that he continued to pretend to be a young female and coaxed more "embarrassing" responses out of various men. He posted all of the responses publicly. This is the response made by Jeff Diehl of 10 Zen Monkeys, including the one that ultimately causes Michael Crook to apologize to the entire internet.

3) Using the Digital Millenium Copyright Act, Crook issues a Cease and Desist to 10ZenMonkeys for infringing on his copyright. Diehl used an image of Crook on FOXNews without his permission. Soon, many major blogs who also use the image are given C&D orders as well.

4) The Electronic Frontier Foundation sues Michael Crook for his bogus claims against them. FOXNews owns the copyright, not Crook.

5) Crook has the nerve of sending another C&D to BoingBoing and they rip him apart.

6) Crook backs down in the face of the EFF lawsuit. Backtracking at it's best!

And the icing on the cupcake?

As part of a settlement with the EFF, Crook had to publicly apologize to the entire internet.

It's not sincere at all, but still hilarious.

And just for good measure and to rub it in his face some more, here is the image he tried to bully everyone over:



And again:



And again:



Fuck you, Michael Crook.

For reals. This is getting ridiculous.

FOX News, as we all know, isn't the den of equality and fairness, despite what they tell us. But it appears people are finally standing up to them. Finally.

Both the Nevada Democratic Party and the Congressional Black Caucus have rejected sponsorships from FOXNews mainly because of the frequent track record of being openly racist, ignorant, biased, and homophobic.

Online activists ColorOfChange:
"Fox News is not a ‘fair and balanced' source of information or political debate, and it has repeatedly proven itself hostile to the interests of Black Americans," says a letter online activists can sign on the group's website, www.ColorOfChange.org. "Fox on-air personalities and regular guests consistently marginalize Black leaders, culture, and institutions."[..]

"No network that calls Black churches a cult, implies that Senator Barack Obama is a terrorist, and uses the solemn occasion of Coretta Scott King's funeral to call Black leaders ‘racist' should be given a stamp of approval by the CBC Institute," said James Rucker, Executive Director of ColorOfChange.org. "Validating Fox as a legitimate source of news hurts Black America."

AfroNetizens:
Irrespective of their rhyme or reason, we implore you to join Color of Change and Afro-Netizen in urging the CBCI to lead with integrity and to not make another deal with the devil.

In September of 2003 the Congressional Black Caucus co-sponsored a Democratic presidential candidate debate with Fox News at Baltimore HBCU, Morgan State University. Progressive-minded Blackfolk should have acted then, and we simply have no excuse not to act today towards keeping it (and any of its affiliated organizations) accountable.

Think Afro-Netizen and other concerned members of the netroots community are over-reacting?

Need more proof of Fox's vitriolic anti-Black agenda? Then, watch the following FoxAttacks video clip and draw your own conclusions . . .

I'm going to submit "blatant white power imagery" to the jury.

The Case:




Facts:

1) USC linebacker Clay Matthews created a Facebook group for him and four other fellow teammates: David Buehler, Brian Cushing, Dan Deckas, and Dallas Sartz. All are caucasian.

2) The group was reportedly made to expand on racial joking between players.

3) All 5 players apparently think the internet is invisible.

Verdict:

While these players are ironically protected by the First Amendment, since it appears this was not created to explicitly cause harm, all 5 USC students are complete and utter morons. The joke was poorly made, both because the joke is an inside one and therefore must be explained to anyone else. If this was an attempt at satire, it is too blatant for it to be witty or effective.

While there have been apologies issued, the jury recommends that all internet access be stricken from the five defendents' possession indefinitely.

Idiots.

The anonymity of the internet, along with the disparate nature of posting opinions online, has contributed an ugly sore to journalism, reporting, and editorializing. I'm sure we've all had experiences with nutcases saying whatever they feel without any repercussions for their statements. (Batonblub, anyone?)

And, while I certainly don't want to insinuate that liberal blogging is completely guilt-free, it seems that right-wing bloggers are quick to resort to petty name-calling, baseless allegations, and flat-out discrimination of all sorts. This is our next example:



That's Steve Sailer. Say hello. It will be the last time you'll be nice to him.

Steve Sailer is a conservative. No problem there. He's also a conservative who likes to speak his mind. Good. I like that. I also support not only freedom of speech, but any person who feels passionately about something that they want to let others know as well.

Any respect I might have had for Steve Sailer stops there. I am not of the camp that respects all free speech. I'll support it, as I don't believe people with opinions I don't like should stop speaking ttheir mind. But that doesn't mean I'll support the context of what you're saying.

Sailer is not a fan of those who are African-American, as shown very nicely by Shakespeare's Sister. In fact, he gives all the appearances of a full-blown racist: his opinions are based solely on negative stereotypes of a specific ethnicity. And he has no problem spreading these stereotypes and making ludicrous judgments from them.

Case in point:

Sailer, whose columns appear on VDARE.com, wrote (again, link removed, see Media Matters piece for link) on January 2: "The brutal truth: Obama is a 'wigger'. He's a remarkably exotic variety of the faux African-American, but a wigger nonetheless." Sailer's column linked to a Wikipedia entry on the word "wigger," which, at the time (as well as currently) read: "Wigger (alternatively spelled wigga or whigger or whigga) is a slang term that refers to a white person who emulates mannerisms, slangs and fashions stereotypically associated with urban African Americans; especially in relation to hip hop culture."

Definitely some final journalism.

But his keynote opinion came when he was "reporting" on Hurricane Katrina. (Once again, I use the term "reporting" very loosely.)

Following the Hurricane Katrina disaster, Sailer wrote in a September 3, 2005, VDARE.com column that the "unofficial state motto" of Lousiana, "Let the good times roll," is "an especially risky message for African-Americans," adding: "The plain fact is that they tend to possess poorer native judgment than members of better-educated groups. Thus they need stricter moral guidance from society." Sailer also wrote that "there was only minimal looting after the horrendous 1995 earthquake in Kobe, Japan -- because, when you get down to it, Japanese aren't blacks." Later, he stated: "Poor black people seldom cooperate well with each other because they don't trust other blacks much, for the perfectly rational reason that they commit large numbers of crimes against each other."

Ah yes. Reason and judgment is determined by the color of your skin. Obviously!

SPOILERS BELOW. DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE.




We were met with a Claire-centric episode last night, and boy, was it a doozy.

We were given full confirmation that Jack and Claire are indeed sisters brother and sister. (I can't believe I said they were sisters.)
Claire now knows that Desmond knows Charlie is going to die.
A seagull was sent off with a message attached to it's leg.
Sayid, Kate, and Locke have broken into the Other's barracks, only to discover Jack having a blast.

These episodes are getting better and better as we're slipped more and more (small) answers.

And next week, it's Locke's turn. We find out about the accident that left him wheelchair-bound. (This also means the episode will probably center around The Others and the Jack rescue mission.)

Here's the episode description:

The Man From Tallahassee: When Kate and Locke arrive at the Others' camp, Ben promises to tell Locke the island's secrets as long as he stops his destructive plan, and Kate learns that the Others have offered Jack a deal.

Excited. Discuss.

I begrudgingly woke up on Monday, March 12 at 11:30. I had a headache from my constant sleep deprivation. My body was slowly reaching a point of refusal: SLEEP. NOW. OR I WILL PUNISH YOU.

But I stayed awake. We checked out and met our other friends in the parking lot. We talked for a short while and then parted ways. We were heading back into the city while they were going home.

We knew our first stop that day was Ronald's Donuts. All my vegan friends and the drummer of my band have highly recommended this nearly all-vegan donut shop, located about 10 minutes off the strip on Spring Mountain Road.

The shop is inconspicuous and looks like any other donut shop I've ever been. But it's been a long time since I had a donut, so I was eagerly anticipating a donut in my mouth.

I was not disappointed.

They were absolutely magnificent. There is no way you could tell they were vegan at all.

This, of course, led us to become frighteningly close to slipping into a sugar coma, so we decided to see if we could find a hotel to stay at. But, in typical Vegas fashion, every advertised price had a catch. (Seriously, The Frontier actually advertised a room that ended up only having a couch bed. Assholes.)

We found a (relatively) inexpensive Travelodge at the north end of the strip near Circus Circus. Whatever. It had beds and a toilet. All I care about.

I posted on the messageboard while Dan and Des took a short (but much-needed) nap. Then I forced them up to complete our adventure.

First, we crashed the Frontier's pool. From afar, it looked gorgeous and refreshing. (Considering it was 84 degrees out, the only thing I truly wanted to do was submerse myself in a body of water.

Bad idea. The water was about 40 degrees. Not fun at all. I chilled in the hardly-warm jacuzzi for a while, just to get wet, but I quickly bored of that as well.

After drying off and redressing, we decided to walk down the whole strip, with The Excalibur's buffet as our ultimate destination. (It was actually pretty good the last time I was there.)

The first place that stuck out to me was The Venetian. Their reconstruction of the Venice canals is eerie:

That's inside. Not outside. The ceiling is painted and lighted to appear to be a bright spring day. Weird!

As we progressed down the strip, I came to remember how little I actually liked Las Vegas. It's not just that I don't have much money; nothing about the entire subculture that surrounds it appeals to me. (I certainly don't mean this in any elitist sense; I'm just a different person.)

It's amazing how alone you can feel when you're surrounded by thousands of other people. Vegas brings that out in me. I stare at the towering buildings and the tourists rushing past, drinks in hand, smiles plastered on their faces. We had also happened to be in Vegas when Spring Break started for a lot of colleges. Popped collars. Abercrombie and Fitch. Flip flops. Camo shorts. Hats tilted to one side.

Give me a fucking rifle. Put it under my chin.

The strip got darker. Excalibur was much further than I thought. We passed through Caesar's Palace. It's pretty fancy in there. We walked through New York, New York. I wanted to ride the rollercoaster, but I figured I should wait before I spent anymore money.

The buffet at Excalibur wasn't as good as the last time. I blame it partially on the fact that I had eaten 5 donuts that morning. Plus, they didn't have the rad veggie section like the last time. However, I had fun weirding people out as they walked by.

After this, we began the dreaded trek back to the opposite end of the strip. We tried to cut through the MGM Grand to take the monorail. Fuck that hotel. It's huge. However, on our way out, we found a movie theatre and decided to catch 300. (Read my opinion on it here.)

The walk back to the hotel was uneventful, except for a bizarre experience on the opposite side of the street as Treasure Island. I was walking slightly ahead of Dan and Desiree. I passed two obvious frat boys and both of them looked me directly in the eye as I went by, nodding hello. Sort of strange, I stopped when I realized that my friends had stopped walking. I leaned against the makeshift wall behind me (surrounding the new extension to the Wynn Hotel) and waited for them.

The two frat boys come back. White. One has a green track jacket and a white polo shirt, color upturned. I want to rip it off. The other is bald. Or balding. I can't tell. Brown leather jacket. Wild, happy look in the eyes.

"Hey man, how are you?" asks the guy in the green jacket.

"You cool man?" The other asks.

Uhhhhhhh....I don't know. Probably not.

They laugh. "You're cool bro. You're cool."

Crucial pause.

"You know where we can score some blow?"

I fucking hate Las Vegas. I gape at him and I don't even know what to say. They look at me, eagerly anticipating an affirmation.

What the fuck? No. Of course not. Why would you ask me that?

They aren't phased. "Cool, bro," says the second guy. "You have yourself a good night!" They're gone, dissipated into a crowd of hundreds just like them.

I fucking hate Las Vegas.

We make it to the hotel. Just after midnight. I bid Des and Dan goodnight and take the laptop over to The Riviera, where I'm stealing internet from. I figure the connection will be stronger if I'm closer.

I sit in the section where all the horse races take place. No one's there, since no races are run at night, and no one gives me any trouble. About an hour after sitting down, two couple sit next to me and smoke up a storm. Eat endless buffalo wings. Spill their beer on my leg. In a way, I'm flattered. I've become invisible. I don't matter to these people. I'm perfectly fine with this.

I decide to give up around 2am. I feel as if I'm going to fall asleep here. The city lights and the smoke are compounding my headache. I need air. I need sleep.

I walk out to Las Vegas Blvd to discover hundreds of people wandering the streets. Bewildered, I find myself wandering too. Turns out that I was just in time to watch the Stardust Hotel get blown up.

I position myself directly in front of the building, opposite side of the street. My camera is ready. you're supposed to film these type of things, right?

The people around me are buzzing with excitement. I'm standing alone, quiet, thinking. I see a group of guys to my left and one resembles my friend Erick, who I haven't seen in years. A memory sparks. Chinatown. 2003. My second date ever. We ate at a sushi joint off of Cesar Chavez; the avocado wasn't fresh and I ended up going hungry. I just wanted to hang out with him, so I didn't make a big deal. I said I had lost my appetite.

We wandered around one of the art galleries on the east end of Chinatown that day. I'd been a frreshman at Cal State Long Beach for just shy of two months. He went to USC. Art major. We peered in at the different galleries, sharing what this painted invoked in each other. Pain. Loss. Rejection. Victory.

I stared at this guy on the Las Vegas Strip, waiting for the destruction to come. Dark hair buzzed down. Stubble along his bold cheek bones. Pink tie. Blue stripes, tiny, on a white dress shirt. He turned to look at me. He even had the same pensive eyes as Erick. Always in thought.

I turned away. Caught. I felt myself blush. Or maybe I was just sick.

The fireworks started to go off. That day in Chinatown. A young kid, maybe 8 or 9, had set off a strip of firecrackers in my path and I had laughed as I jumped over them. He stared up at me, his shiny black bowl of hair gleaming with each spark. He smiled back.

Erick and I sat on a bench that was the back of a dragon. The tail whipped up next to me and Erick said it.

"I think we'll make great friends."

Me too. I had a good time today.

"I think my boyfriend would like you."

The firecrackers go off again and my stomach is in my throat.

The fireworks go off and my heart is in my stomach. The countdown begins as they finish. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6........

Destruction follows me. As the dynamite pounds into my ears, as the crowd cheers in celebration, as the building begins to fall to the ground, destruction follows me.

I know that I'm returning home the next day. The tour is over. The trip is done.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

I run back to my hotel as the cloud of dust begins to creep over the city. It's going to swallow us whole. Dan and Des wake up as I come back in, shaking dust off my head. I excitedly tell them that I just watched a building explode. I don't share anything else.

I climb into bed, my head still pounding. It's 3:00am already. We've got to get up early to head back to Los Angeles. The trip isn't over yet, I tell myself. Just one more day.

And one more blog left.....