That weird brown spot in my otherwise green right eye is not a birthmark, like I’ve always thought. It’s actually sectoral heterochromia.

Back to your grindstones, ants.

Working in a dive bar is one of the greatest jobs I’ve ever had. In fact, perhaps even more than playing with the Exhibit(s), I’ve felt like a rock star in my nights behind the bar over the past two years. Working just about anywhere else in the bar industry — clubs, where the bone-dusting thump of techno attracts the lowest common denominator of rednecks and Guidos (sadly, Birmingham and New York City aren’t that different — only the names change at last call), lounges with their pretentions that alcoholism isn’t as sad if it’s dressed up, restaurants where the regulars can blame their daily drinking on the call of cheap wings or the widescreen TVs on the walls — just isn’t the same experience, and never could be.

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Not so much bored in the sense of “I shouldn’t be sleeping, so instead I’ll find busy work.” Because I should be sleeping.

More in the sense of, “Two years I ago, I was a non-stop whirlwind of action and creativity. Now my days are filled with work, work, and the occaisonal X-Box hour.”

Time to refocus, and change is a good place to start, no matter how superficial.

And really, can you get any more superficial than a cow-flavored blog? I think not.

Things fall by the wayside. Interests, projects, passions, friends, family: try to juggle too much and eventually, you start dropping the balls.

“Muslim or Christian, Mullah or Pope,
Preacher or poet, who was it wrote:
Give any one species too much rope
And they’ll fuck it up?”

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As we sit at our desks, programming our websites or writing our magazine articles or doing our homework, the world keeps turning, and 32 people are fatally shot at a school in West Virginia before the killer turns the gun on himself. We pick through every shred of evidence, tangential or not, trying to pinpoint what video games or music or law passed by the other side is to blame. We eat up media time with every new development, speculating without having the full picture, blaming anyone that seems to fit our idea of the bad guy. If he’s Korean, then by god all you Orientals are under the suspicious eye. And hey, aren’t most Koreans Muslim, anyway? Continue reading →

Kurt Vonnegut has finally claimed the sleep that he earned many times over.

May you find a chrono-synclastic infundibula waiting for you. Me and CM will have a drink in your honor tonight, and maybe even get the room together in a middle-finger salute to God, just for you.

There’s an even better one here that demonstrates what all dogs look like in my eyes. Yes, even your little shitbag chihuahua looks exactly like that. Why do you people insist on bringing your evil, evil demon hounds anywhere near me?

Sure, you insist that they’re really nice, and loveable, and cute. But I’m convinced that pictures like these are taken just before Cerebus there swallows your beloved offspring in one quick and simple gulp.

Originally uploaded by Yankees Man, who takes a helluva photo.

Of course, if it’s that wrong, it’s gotta be reposted here.

Via Break.com