Thursday music

A few weeks back I sat with a couple of friends discussing music. After much discourse we delved into our guilty pleasures. Taking a trip down memory lane we thought of all the musicians we used to listen to in our youth who cause us to now hang our head in shame. Many 'artists' were thrown about, such as Living Color, Faith No More, Def Leppard, and even Debbie Gibson.

Looking back at the conversation there was one band I can't believe I left out. Van Halen was a band I loved when I was young, but even though I know better whenever I hear their songs a smile comes across my face remembering the times I pretended I was Eddie.

Many fans have their favorite era of Van Halen, but I'm mostly indifferent. Back in the day I loved the band so much it was like choosing between Scarlett and Salma. Yes I know their music is pretty shallow and pointless, but damn if I didn't rock the air guitar whenever I heard them.

Feel the suckitude.

"It's always a Catch-22 situation. They hate you if you're the same, and they hate you if you're different." - Eddie Van Halen

Wiwille is not mature

Today I came across a news item that made me all giddy. Warner Bros has decided to make a movie based on one of my all time favorite cartoon characters Marvin the Martian. True when I find out that Hollywood is going to remake a beloved cartoon character from my childhood I cringe a little, but this my friends is something that gets me all giddy. Similar to the reaction I felt when I learned they'd be making a G.I. Joe movie I want to enter the theatre feeling like a kid again, but sadly it'll probably end up sucking as hard as the Flintstones film.

I grew up in a time when senseless cartoon violence was still very funny and wouldn't result in some angry phone call from some parent trying to protect their precious little one from animated brawling. Ahh the good ole days where Tom got the frying pan to the face, Elmer got shot up numerous times with his own shotgun, and Porky would get punted by a crazy duck on a regular basis. Such good times before everything became all nice and fuzzy.

I used to do a great impression of Marvin the Martian when I was young. Really hooked in the ladies with that one. What I lacked in good looks and charm I made up for in cartoon voices.

"The only time a wife listens to her husband is when he's asleep." - Chuck Jones

Wiwille is a big winner.

WIGSF has honored me with the prestigious Artey Y Pico award. It is my understanding that this is given because of one's ability to inspire other bloggers and spawn the creative process through this sphere of online amateur entertainment.

I'd like to thank the academy and everyone who enjoys the ramblings of a self important simpleton with a mild obsession over Scarlett. I promise to continue to bring stories of impairment due to alcohol abuse, criteria of news events, and of course good cleavage.

It's also come to my attention that upon receiving this award I must follow these four rules:

1. You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award through creativity, design, interesting material, and also contributes to the blogger community, no matter of language.
2. Each award should have the name of the author with a link to their blog.
3. Award winners have to post the award with the name and link to the blog of the person who gave them the award.
4. Please include a link to the Arte Y Pico blog so that everyone will know where the award came from.

So after much thought, okay a few minutes worth, here are the five blogs that I pass on this prestigious award:

1. WIGSF 2.0: A good blog indeed that takes no issue in being politically incorrect. The always responsive and anonymous author entertains his audience daily with musings on music, food, and various observations about women as well as his disdain for the dating process. Filled with sarcasm and anger I enjoy my daily dose of WIGSF.
2. The Country Mouse Tales: The good Claire has a true gift for the written word which always makes for a pleasant read regardless of the subject matter she chooses to broadcast. It's always entertaining to hear about a slice of life from across the pond.
3. The Blank Top Chronicles: A blog that is update way too infrequently, but each post is always a laugh filled one. The Blank Top Chronicles tells the story of Brian, a taxi dispatcher who has the privilege to abuse stupid customers on a regular basis without fear of being fired. If only we all had such power.
4. Somethings Gotta Give: Sort of like a weird game show you never know what you're gonna get with Miss Ash. It runs the gamut of shopping to observations about bad television shows to anything going on in her personal life. Unafraid to spout off on any and all subject matters Miss Ash never disappoints her fans.
5. Memoirs of an oversized Canadian: The man likes boobs. Nuff said.

Congrats to all who have won this award. I'm sure their parents are very proud. Wait a minute? They didn't even have to sleep with me to get this. I really should be more corrupt.

"Wiwille of Erik’s Ramblings just ’cause I like reading his blog and he usually gives me ideas for things I could blog about." - WIGSF

Wiwille is no longer disco

So how was everyones' weekend? Did you all have a good time? Was it filled with hard drinking and good nudity? Yes? Well that's good. I'm happy to hear it.

Let me tell you about how the last few days was spent by your author.

Wednesday night:

I had a potluck at work and everything seemed to go okay. That evening though I was on the phone with a friend when it happened. Suddenly my stomach started cramping up and I felt the pain of indigestion. Ye gods my co-workers are trying to poison me! Settle down now. It's just food. It'll pass. Get some sleep and get better.

I spend the evening tossing and turning. The pain was so severe it kept me up all night. I called in sick to work and figured I may need to give this more time. I tried to rest some more, but sadly not even Pepto would cure my ails.

Thursday night:

I start to worry. I'm sick as a dog, but I'm not showing any symptoms of indigestion other than pain. I still have my appendix and I started to deduce that I may have ruptured it. If I don't get it checked out soon I might..you know..die. It was then I checked myself into Valley Medical Center's Emergency ward at 8pm.

I admit myself in to the hospital and wait. I sit watching ESPN on closed caption listening to the agony of the elderly as well as infants sitting in their chairs longing for a cure for their body's torment. It's been years since I've had to seek treatment at a hospital and I almost forgot how horrific some of the sights and sounds of one could be.

After what felt like forever they finally call my name and allow me the privilege of putting on a hospital gown. Even though I've never been to Valley Medical Center before as a patient I actually was in the same room they placed the Jiggaman when I took him there.

The hot nurse asked me a few questions then told me someone would be with me in a couple of minutes. Two hours later a doctor came and asked me a few questions. He said they were going to give me a CAT scan in a few minutes. The hot nurse returns with a beaker filled with some clear liquid on ice and orders me to gulp it down. It had a bendy straw, but she wouldn't give me a curly one. The liquid tasted like flat diet Sprite, only worse.

Two hours later I get the CAT scan from the most bubbly tech on the planet. She said I would have the results in a few minutes. At 2 am a doctor comes in to inform me that they have found an abscess on my left kidney. Nothing fatal, but rare so they want to keep an eye on it especially considering I'm adopted and they can't keep tally on my family medical history. He said he would make some calls and get back with me soon.

It's now four in the morning. The doctor finally arrives and tells me they don't have a urologist on staff that can attend to me so they're going to transport me to another hospital. He said an ambulance should be by shortly to take me to Overlake.

I sit and wait some more. Babies are sobbing, families are arguing in various languages, and other sounds of pain and associated technologies are filling the air as I await a ride to another place. I wanted to drive myself, but the doctor didn't think that was a good idea.

Friday morning:

A young paramedic named James comes into my room at 6 am and introduced himself. A chipper one was he as he cracked jokes and told me he would be escorting me to Overlake. Him and his friend placed me on a stretcher and buckle me in and took me out of the hospital and into the vehicle.

I was strapped into the stretcher as the ambulance drove up I-405. James made small talk with me as he checked my vitals. He noticed my blood pressure seemed a little high. I told him that probably happens a lot when someone has a mystery illness. He laughed and continued some good conversation.

Sleep deprivation and starvation started to kick in as I was admitted into Overlake. The paramedics put me in a room and wished me the best. The nurses attended to me and asked me the same questions I've been answering over and over again for over 10 hours. They prodded me for more blood and stated that I can't eat or drink till the doctor came to which they promised should be soon. To my surprise the doctor showed up promptly.

Wow progress. A doctor who's available to see me. Amazing. The American health care system is working efficiently. The wonder of it all.

He said he was off soon and another doctor will take over my case. Sigh.

The other doctor came in at around 8a and said he would review my file. After hearing my stomach growl he agreed that food would be a good idea. Hurray I get to eat hospital food. Uhh, I'm cheering for hospital food? Damn I must be hungry.

In all seriousness the food wasn't that bad. In some cases it was actually pretty good. Now when I say good I mean compared to my own cooking, which is comparable to the diet of your average prisoner of war. The taste of the mass processed grub was probably enhanced due to the fact I hadn't eaten in over 12 hours. Still the nourishment felt great and my stomach thanked me, loudly.

They plugged me into IVs and monitored my vitals constantly. I tried to sleep only to be woken up all the time for vitals, blood sampling, more questions, etc. My folks kept calling as to be expected. My mother was an absolute wreck. She even came down and annoyed the staff. Good ol loving ma.

They told me I was going to have a procedure that would test my nerves, if not my sanity.

WARNING: IF YOU HAVE A SENSITIVE CONSTITUTION STOP READING NOW.

I MEAN IT.

YOU'RE ABOUT TO LEARN INFORMATION YOU NEVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT ME.

Okay I warned you.

They were going to stick a camera in my groin and go through my artery and take some photos. Okay I thought. Whatever helps in the name of my health. They said there were so many people having this done that I couldn't have this completed till the next day. After starving me since breakfast and giving me this news at about 5p I was ready to chow. Another fine hospital meal.

Saturday morning:

The nurse comes in and says he'll have to shave me.

WTF? Shave me? I'm to be emasculated? I'm going with a porn star shave? For the love of each and every Greko-Roman God I'm to be well shorn in the groin? Does good health really matter this much to me?

Yes, sadly it does. I'm now clean shaven and it's freaking me out. I warned you to stop reading.

So they lay me down on some high tech machine and probe. I said 'probe'. Before hand they took my blood pressure and noticed it was a bit high. They asked me if I was nervous. Hmm I'm lying on a table with my clean shaven nethers exposed about to have a tiny camera stuck in my groin. Not exactly a natural task. It actually wasn't that bad as they numbed me up pretty good.

After the prodding the doctor said my condition wasn't that bad at all. I had a blood clot that disrupted my left kidney and killed about a 1/5 of it. It was rare to be sure as he's only seen three cases of it, all of which turned out to be fine. This just happened to them and nothing became of it. Plus the kidney's will still function at 100%.

Great so I get to go home?

No.

Since they can't find out about my medical history they elected to keep me around and run more blood tests, keep me on blood thinners, and watch me to see if everything checks out. I try to sleep again, but again they keep drawing blood, slow dripping IVs, vital checks, etc.

Late that nigh I awoke to the nurse asking to check my vitals. He starts to monitor my blood pressure and then says this is one of his favorite shows. I look at the TV to find Cheaters. Some gal named Shawanda took a garden hose to her boyfriend who's been sleeping with her cousin. Stay classy reality TV.

My Saturday night went sleepless.

Sunday morning:

I awake for them to take more blood. I have so many track marks I make Sid Vicous look like a pansy. Still I wait for more blood test results, and around noon they give me my prescriptions and discharge me. Finally.

I thought lying around watching TV would be a perk of hospital life, but really cabin fever sunk in quick. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and have a nice piece of chicken. Still my first overnight hospital visit went well. The outpouring of love from friends and family was overwhelming and luckily nothing serious happened. Then again the shaving has permanently scarred my psyche.

"How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Prison sex

Robert Soloway is a name unfamiliar to most, but he's touched the lives of many. Offering such products such as Viagra, genital enlargement pills, and various get rich quick scams Soloway held the dubious honor of being referred to as 'The Spam King'. Estimated to be netting over $700,000 a month (yes a month) off of jackasses who believed that an over the counter item would make their penis bigger, Soloway preyed upon the gullible while breaking the law.

The Spam King has been sued by various corporations such as Microsoft for illegal use of server resources, but he continued to thumb his nose at the CAN-SPAM act while he bombarded people's inboxes with nonsense. Finally the government got around to prosecuting him sentencing him to 47 months in pound-in-the-ass prison for tax evasion, spamming, and fraud.

A lot of computer users equate spammers with pedophiles, cause they find it really annoying to click the delete button or set up filters. I too have a loathing for these dingleberries who believe I should take my time and view their bullshit. Yesterday I got a friends add request on IM from a Denise. I figured it was the Denise I work with, so I approved the request. When Denise then asked me if I wanted to see her naked in a chat room with another girl I figured something was awry. I wanted to respond with something really dark, but it seemed automated anyways.

How in the hell did unsolicited email get the term Spam? No one can answer this for me. Who was it that said 'hmmm I just received some bulk advertising. I think it reminds me of a meat product that's popular in Hawaii. Henceforth it shall be dubbed as Spam."

"Like almost everyone who uses e-mail, I receive a ton of spam every day. Much of it offers to help me get out of debt or get rich quick. It would be funny if it weren't so exciting." - Bill Gates

Top Spammer Sentenced to Nearly Four Years

Is blogging news?

So often have I read columns and op-ed pieces about the state of blogging and the general election. Bloggers such as Huffington Post and Daily Kos have made it their mission to bitch and moan about the mainstream press and their choice of which stories to print. The print media complain about bloggers' apathy and lack of fact checking. It's a strained relationship for sure. People who bitch about media bias can't seem to grasp that choice of news stories are based on market standards and not necessarily bias. And those elitists who scorn blogs don't understand that the internet viewing public would rather read the opinions of someone with a fifth grade reading level than William Buckley. That's why O'Rielly is so popular.

I make no pretencions about Erik's Ramblings. When I do write about events past or present I'm just taking information already set by the mainstream press. Why should I have to do all the leg work after all? Thanks to them I get to spout off my opinion about any and all subjects, cause I'm arrogant enough to believe that my thoughts are worthwhile reading. Why I'm not sure. I have issues.

So thank you mainstream press for keeping mildly coherent thoughts alive and well on the blogsphere. You maybe a bunch of pretentious douche bags, which makes it easier to rip you off, but I am grateful. And to you bloggers who make a living whining about everything that you're not good at I thank you for trying to be the check and balance of the press and believing you're telling people something they don't already know. Keep the faith fearless guardians of truth whoever you may be.

That was a long post about nothing.

"A Conservative is a fellow who is standing athwart history yelling 'Stop!'" - William F. Buckley, Jr.

Wiwille observes small town bar

This weekend I headed up north to hang with my folks and some friends. Friday night I went to Custer, WA which is a bustling metropolis to be sure. The town is situated on four corners and had a bar on one of them.

I walk in with the girls I was with and noticed that I was way overdressed for such a place. It was brightly lit and had three older men sitting at the bar in flannels and hats that advertised various local businesses and there loyalty to a John Deere tractor. The three regulars were sipping their light beer and playing pull tabs and spending what's left of their paychecks after child support. Drowning the sorrows of a hard life I imagine they were bitching about Obama and illegal immigrants and were still bitter about the cancellation of The Fall Guy.

I sit down at the bar watching a group of younger people sitting around a table. Sporting jean shorts and baseball caps they were consuming various amounts of Coors and Bud Light. They seemed like your typical working class Nascar fan types. Nice people for sure and one of them even recognized me from a previous job I worked at. I didn't recall her when she approached me, but it was nice to know I don't look that much different than I did over ten years ago.

I ordered a Guinness and thankfully they had it. It wasn't on tap, but it was better than nothing.

In the bathroom they had an advertisement for Custer Days, a festival of sorts celebrating the town complete with a parade, market, and lawnmower races. Yes lawnmower races. I think I need to go back just to check that out that action.

Finally after being stared at enough we made our way out of the bar. One of the girls apologized for taking me there. I told her not to be sorry for it felt like being in my hometown. Nothing like a little bit of redneck flavor to make me homesick.

"You ask me if I will not be glad when the last battle is fought, so far as the country is concerned I, of course, must wish for peace, and will be glad when the war is ended, but if I answer for myself alone, I must say that I shall regret to see the war end." - George Armstrong Custer

Wiwille assualts women, ends poorly

Years ago I was involved in a relationship that lets just say was unhealthy. The girl I was seeing was an angry one who was loaded with daddy issues and a string of ex-boyfriends who scorned her. She was a jealous sort who didn't like the idea of me being out of her sight claiming I was cheating on her at every opportunity.

One evening I wanted a guy's night out. A few friends were upset that I wasn't spending too much time with them so I threw a little get together where me and the boys would hang at my place. When I told this to my then girlfriend she was none too happy and proceeded to throw a fit on the phone. After patiently listening to her scream at me and accuse me of infidelity I told her to grow up and hung up the phone.

This did not have the desired effect I was hoping for.

A few hours went by as a few guys and myself were sitting around enjoying our beer. It was a pretty quiet evening as we just sat and listened to music and just had normal guy chatter. A rapping at the lock came upon the door and suddenly she waltzed in. She stopped and observed us for a moment, then slammed the door and proceeded to scream at me. She was accusing all of us of being drunkards (which wasn't too much of a stretch) and how we were a bunch of pigs. She went on to yell about how she believed we were hiding girls somewhere and started searching the place.

I went after her in an attempt to calm her down, but I failed miserably. I only made her more angry and her behavior became more irrational as she opened drawers and was throwing the contents on the floor. She was looking for midget floozies apparently.

Finally her display of wanton bitchiness came to a close. After ordering her out of the place numerous times she finally consented, but not before flinging various profanities at me. She strutted through the living room ready to make her exit. Her back was turned to me as I made a pretend kick at her butt. As I lifted my right foot my left one slipped causing an inadvertent connection of my foot on her ass. Making matters worse the connection to her butt made her fart loudly.

Everyone freezes in position no matter what they were doing. Gasps were heard. No good can come from this.

She turns around grabbing her own butt. Her face started to glow red as her body shook with fury. Her fists started to clench and I knew what was coming next. I just left my hands at my side and took a closed fist jab to the jaw.

See this is the thing I can't figure out about that night. She barges in and proceeds to embarrass me and herself throwing a tantrum and ransacking my home. Still I believed that because I tapped her in the butt with my foot I deserved a punch to the jaw.

I take a couple steps back and look at her. She was still visibly angry, but quiet which was a nice change. I grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to her car. I made it clear I never wanted to hear or see her again. The insults and screaming started to take place again as she let me and the rest of North America understand how much of an asshole I am.

She called the next day asking if we could work it out. I told her there would be no chance of that ever happening. That was the glorious end to a two month relationship.

"If you give me any problem in America I can trace it down to domestic violence. It is the cradle of most of the problems, economic, psychological, educational." - Salma Hayek

Thursday Music

As most of you are aware I am a huge fan of movies. Sometimes when watching a film I not only get turned on to knew actors, directors, or writers I also get exposed to new music.

This can be a bad thing and if you read yesterday's post and watched it's accompanying video you'd be aware that some soundtracks can offer painful renditions even though the movie may be enjoyable. There are those gems, however; that have a good story as well as equally compelling music.

Few movies have captured my attention as did Run Lola Run, a very creative exercise in assaulting the audiences' senses. If you haven't seen it I suggest you do. Yes Miss Ash I know you'll get around to it someday. So today dear readers I bring you the star of the film Franka Potente singing 'Believe' from the Run Lola Run soundtrack.

I haven't decided if she's hot or not. Sometimes I think so, but often I'm just not taken with her. It's really confusing. Not like I have a chance with her or anything, cause she's way better looking than me and the odds of a meeting are slim to none, but I can't make up my mind. Help me out here guys. What do you think?

"I think when I'm in love, I really am very good with calling, little faxes, and visiting and I really put a lot of effort into it. I'm really not the one that's not available because of work and I'm very sad when I actually leave." - Franka Potente

Wiwille's movie reviews part 54

Jack Burton says, "What the hell." Such is the philosophy of the hero of 'Big Trouble in Little China', an adventure in San Fransisco's Chinatown. Jack is a truck driver who's a class act. On the grill of his semi he has the silhouette of a naked lady which includes the 'Haulin Ass' slogan, words used by many a clever trucker. He also broadcasts his wisdoms via CB to anyone who's listening. I mean who the hell is so arrogant to believe that their thoughts are worth sharing with a bunch of strangers? Oh wait.....

Jack takes his old friend Wang to the airport after winning all his money gambling. Wang is there to meet the love of his life, a green eyed gal from China he has flown into the US. Of course things don't go simply as she's kidnapped by some Chinese gang and taken to the mysterious Lo Pan.

Of course Jack and Wang pursue Lo Pan and attempt a daring rescue of the beloved damsel. Hijinks ensue as they encounter enemies with paranormal abilities, a big ball of fat with a bunch of eyes, monsters, Raiden from the Mortal Kombat video game, various Asian stereotypes, and most horrifying of all, Kim Cattrall.

'Big Trouble in Little China' is not high brow cinema, but as a parody, or dare I say tribute, to Hong Kong theatre and old movie serials this film is highly entertaining. Played tongue in cheek by Kurt Russel, Jack Burton is just damn cool and sports some really funny footwear. The film is laugh out loud funny, has some great one liners, and action scenes that are fun. The movie works in the fact that it never takes itself seriously and has a great sense of humour. I think I should add this to the 'Bad Movies I Love' list.

As I'm constantly reminded by the handsome Mattbear I can be a bit of a movie snob, but there are times that films such as this can entertain me far more than Citizen Kane. If you haven't figured it out already I recommend this if you're ever in the mood for a fun romp.

Thanks to WIGSF for submitting this. Wanna see a film reviewed by Wiwille? Drop me an email or comment and you'll see it soon on Erik's Ramblings. Rules are posted here.

"The high-octane action comedy takes all that was worthwhile from decades of B-flicks and distills it into a maximum-concentration explosion of cinematic TNT." - Phil Villarreal

Ralph Nader has gone batshit

Ralph Nader, once a Robin Hood like hero to the left, now a thorn in the side of everyone who anticipated Bush losing the election in 2000. Unable to forgive his participation in the democratic process liberals have all but forgiven the consumer advocate's role in helping Bush get elected, or at least they like to forget he even existed at all.

Myself I do hold some respect for the man. No one can doubt that he's a big reason why our products have been safer. Mothers can feel safer that their precious little snowflake is all buckled safely in their car seat and we can rest soundly now that phones aren't radiating us thanks to his efforts. I don't blame him for costing Gore the election since really the only one to blame for that is Al himself.

Now the man everyone loves to hate has gone completely nuts. Not only is he still insisting on running for president, but he's now debating a dummy. Seriously he's debating a Charlie McCarthy type puppet. The lifeless body will answer as if he were one of the major candidates while Nader rails against corporate interests.

I see what he's doing here, but man how the mighty have fallen.

"Turn on to politics, or politics will turn on you." - Ralph Nader

Wiwille is offensive

I was reading an article about the Coalition of Fat Rights Activists (Cofra) and how they are upset with the latest Pixar film Wall-E. According to Cofra they feel the anti-consumer message went too far in portraying the future of mankind as a bunch of gluttonous obese people who allow technology to take care of each and every need they may have.

They go a step further in stating that the stereotype of obese people being lazy and/or stupid is wrong and hurtful. Now even though I'm unattractive and chunky I have no idea what it's like to be Marlon Brando huge. I sympathize with the fat folk, even though they might consume in one meal what the entire country of Zaire eats in one day, but that's not for me to judge one way or another as I shouldn't care. I hear a lot of research that the heavy folk are just as healthy as the skinny so I guess you should stop prodding them with a stick. If being a fatty boom-ba-laddie is indeed a genetic problem and not a lifestyle choice, as some researches concluded, then it's unfair to indeed make fun of them.

That being said I feel we should teach our children that consuming fast food and not exercising will turn you in a big fat ass that would be unable to do a simple task such as bending over to pick up keys and Wall-E did exactly that in a humorous fashion. Bravo to Pixar I say.

Actually the film should've taken it a step further and shown resentment to people who drive mini-vans, those who enjoy Patch Adams, and the popsicle guy.

BTW I caught him this morning watching Full House. He must be stopped at all costs.

"There's a lot more to life than how fat or thin you are." - Kirstie Alley

Reply all

As most of you are probably aware I work for a software company. It's a great place to work and includes some of the brightest minds the industry has to offer. In this company we have many vendors and contractors who may handle a specific order of business that often times does not include software development or support. I don't expect a computer user to be a tech god any more than I expect a car owner to be a great mechanic; however I do ask both to use some common sense of proper usage.

Someone created an email alias and for some reason included a few thousand of us by mistake. Of course an employee sent an email to said alias which hit a wide distribution of people. I looked at the email and wondered why I'm even on the list as the message had nothing to do with my department. I went to an internal link to remove myself from the list, but before I could click the remove button I started getting swamped with e-mails.

Yes numerous folk were hitting reply all to ask to be taken off the distribution list, which they need to do themselves. Then there were those who hit reply all to tell people not to reply all. Then there were those that got angry and left nasty messages to people to not hit the reply all button. Over and over again my inbox was hit with another message. Each being the same as the one previously. It just wouldn't seem to stop. Even after people left instructions on how to remove yourself from the group there were mentally incompetent folks that still insisted on replying all and ignoring the proper procedure.

In the span of a half an hour I received at least 40 emails about this. I shook my head in disbelief. I mean I work for some of the brightest minds of our time. How can people act with such wanton displays of jackassery?

Then I received this gem:

'There are days I sit back in meetings after seeing people come up with great solutions to very hard problems and wonder how in the world we could be so lucky to have so many smart people working in this great company of ours… In fact, I sometimes doubt my own abilities and should I even be here based on how smart the people are around me. Most of the time I don’t even feel worthy of being in their presence…

Then there are days where I see the below… and I know I deserve to be here… if nothing else to send out emails like this.

Use: http://_____ please to remove yourself from the alias… geeezzz….

xxx

PS: Thanks for making me feel worthy…'

Beats my idea of just taking the alias of each person who hit reply all, compose an email, and say "I can't believe some of you jackasses make more money than me".

The emails are still coming, up to over 50 now. This is comical.

"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure." - Mark Twain

Thursday Music

I was never a big Jane's Addiction fan at least not in the sense that everyone seemed to be frothing at the mouth at the sound of their lyrics like a fat kid on Halloween. Still I never hated them, but I found the band to as divisive as Dave Matthews. Most people either worship them as Gods of modern music or hate them with the same contempt film buffs save for Patch Adams.

I guess I'm in the minority when it comes to being mildly entertained by their music. That being said it may come as no surprise to anyone that I fall into the legions of folk who love 'Jane Says'. I remember years back I made a mix CD for a girl I was dating, a girl who admittedly had little interest in music. She asked me to include a lot of my favorite songs, which ranged from Ministry to Beethoven. It was a unique CD as the genres varied, but I remember she loved 'Jane Says' and it was one of the few songs she would sing along to in front of me.

While a lot of people may consider this song overrated, and they may be right, it will always put a smile on my face as I hear the steel drums play. That's really the point after all.

"Sometimes to realize you were well, someone must come along and hurt you." - Perry Farrell

The mouths of babes

Occam's razor has been widely debated, but nothing throws a monkey wrench in that theory as the mind of a child. For example when I was a wee lad I was sitting in the back of my parent's car watching my father grow impatient with a traffic light. My dad was never one to show up anywhere on time so he would often get disgruntled with anything that stood in his way of arriving to his destination. He would often display his anger by yelling at traffic lights.

My four year old reasoning ability made the assumption that since no adult would do something so foolish as to yell at an inanimate object I figured that there must be a little man in the traffic light that responds to drivers impatience. He was kind of like the guy that turned the light off in the fridge.

This belief went on for a while until one day I asked my folks if I could meet this little chap who operated stop lights. Upon hearing this I believe my parents wanted to drop me off at the nearest street corner and keep on driving.

I was reminded of this incident on Father's Day. I asked my dad who the idiot was really was. He just smiled and replied "everybody should raise a smart ass."

"Simpler theories are, other things being equal, generally better than more complex ones" - William Ockham

Checkmate, TKO

In my daily news browsing I came across a sports article that intrigued me. It's a new sport called Chessboxing which combines the pugilist art with the game of kings. Participants engage in a round of chess for four minutes, then put on the gloves and beat each other for a three minute round. The game continues until checkmate, knockout, or points are awarded after eleven rounds have been played.

When I first saw this I was perplexed, but after much thought I think this is one big bag of awesome. I love chess, although I haven't played it in years, and I used to be a big fan of boxing before it became the abortion it is now. Combining the two though; is like chocolate and peanut butter. I can't think of a more physically grueling sport than boxing or a more cerebral challenge than chess, so it works well. I so want to play this sport.

I think we should have a Monopoly/Pole Dancing competition for the ladies. You know to combine the skill of negotiation with....oh I don't know. It just seemed appropriate for reasons I don't understand.

"Why waltz with a guy for 10 rounds if you can knock him out in one?" - Rocky Marciano

Chess boxers slug it out

Wiwille's movie revies part 53

Horror is quite often the genre that baffles me though. While most of it is absolute crap, there are a few films that surprise me. I'm not sure why most have to be so low quality; however I can speculate, but that's for another post.

Sarebeth recommended Cannibal for review and I was hesitant. Looking at the box art it seemed like nothing but a low budget gore fest, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Anything for my readers after all.

Cannibal, aka La Peau Blanche, is a Canadian film taking place in Montreal. The story is actually about the love struck Thierry, who fall instantly for Claire for reasons he can't understand. After they start seeing each other despite her protests Thierry starts acting strange and his roommate begins to question the nature of their relationship. After further investigation Thierry finds out a haunting secret about his lover and her family.

This is not high brow cinema by any means, but the love story had me engaged. Plus the racial tensions displayed in this film was interesting considering it hails from the country north. This feels less like horror and more like an art house mystery probably due to the lack of gore, surprise ending, and it's seemingly low budget. Still the acting is hardly that good and the dubbed copy I got was painful so if you see this, which I recommend you do, definitely get it in subtitles.

Wanna see a film reviewed by Wiwille? Drop me an email or comment and you'll see it soon on Erik's Ramblings. Rules are posted here.

"Far from a horror film, in the guts and grue sense of the word, Cannibal is the best example of a type of horror that passed on with Alfred Hitchcock and Jacques Tourneur - a film that works your brain as much as it works your nerves" - Bloody-disgusting.com

Thursday Music

All last night and today we've been having thunderstorms, which is unusual for this area, but I've been enjoying it immensely. In the late evening after martial arts class I sat back and watched the lightning bright up the horizon and heard the thunder blare. I put on some Tori Amos and just soaked in nature's own little fireworks show.

Well it's not the Tori Amos you would expect actually. It's really DJ BT's mix of Blue Skies with her providing the vocals. Bizarre I know, but I've loved this song for years and I ask you dear readers to take a trip down memory lane with me:



"For the most part, pianos are female to me. Sometimes they're dykes, and they're always good fun." - Tori Amos

Celebrity news you can use

InTouch magazine, known for it's high brow Pulitzer material, has rated the best celebrity breasts. Yes today I forsake bringing you information regarding the current election, free trade agreements, and nuclear disarmament to post about good boobs, cause after all I'm a giver.

The magazine that's known for it's hard hitting journalism has rated the following celebrities in order with the best pair of mammories:

1. Jessica Simpson
2. Tyra Banks
3. Scarlett Johansson
4. Carmen Electra
5. Lindsay Lohan
6. Katherine Heigl
7. Audrina Patridge
8. Jennifer Aniston
9. Megan Fox
10. Beyonce Knowles

Jessica Simpson? Hmm. Granted I'm sure they're a great pair, but how would I know? I've only seen two of these ladies assets. I mean where the integrity? Where's the research? More importantly where's the evidence? What would Horatio Alger do?

Since InTouch is very concerned about keeping it's reputation I feel that this list is useless without pictures of said breasts so the readers can decide for themselves on this important issue. Oh it's also useless without Anne Hathaway and Alyssa Milano, but that's another matter.

Wiwille, bringing you important world news.

"She's got double-Ds! You can't cover those suckers up." - Joe Simpson

Jessica Simpson has the ‘Best Breasts’ in tinseltown

Scott's blog contest

Scott, author of Life is Grand, Love is Real and Beauty is Everywhere!, posted an interesting contest which I thought I'd partake in. Interested participants in the no-prize contest would choose a scenario he outlined and write about it. Listed below is the one I chose:

"4. A husband and wife are meeting in a restaurant to finalize the terms of their impending divorce. Write the scene from the point of view of the busboy who keeps going to the restroom to snort cocaine."

Here goes:

Stupid fucking people. Slobs they all are. Just look at this? Eating this wretched diet of trans fats and tipping a slave's wage. How do they expect one to live off this shit? I keep this dump clean for them to gourde themselves on biscuits and gravy while their whiny brats scream up a storm complaining about eating applesauce. This couple, for example, put their snot drenched napkins for me to touch and toss.

I can't wait to quit this rat infested eatery. I'd like to see all these fucks who participate in wanton displays of jackassery get hit by a bus and get peed on by a bum. So tired. Need to hit the can.

The Defavre couple just walked in. I hate them. They argue constantly over stupid shit. She's a self absorbed whore who drives a SUV and is nowhere near as hot as she thinks she is. Her husband is some fucking dope. Looks like a middle management type, probably works in software and is nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is.

"Be nice to them Darryl," Cheryl says. "They're going through a divorce." Cheryl is a waitress not unfamiliar with scorned love.

"Fuck them," I say to her. "They never tip worth shit anyways."

"Darryl," she says all authoritative like. "Be nice. Your job is to make people happy."

"My job is to clean up their dishes and plunge the toilets."

"Just go clean up table six," Cheryl says. "I'll have them seated."

Sigh. Table six was occupied by two soccer moms and a couple children who made Damien seem angelic. Another table mix of cracker crumbs, spilt ketchup, and french fries scattered all over the joint. I hate these people.

Cheryl goes to sit the Defavres. Fucking trendy nonsense couple they are. Yeah I know their type. She probably spends hours fucking her tennis instructor while he cries jerking off to reruns of Three's Company.

So they're getting a divorce. Good for them. Hopefully they haven't spawned any rugrats who'll grow up as miserable as they are. Look at them. Under that pancake makeup she shows signs of aging. Her mustached needs to be waxed, again. She'll never find someone to love her now. She used goods and no man wants to get a woman who's certified pre-owned.

He's a different story. Look at him sweat. He knows he'll be taken to the cleaners and he won't be able to afford lush gifts for his 22 year old secretary. Beer gut is filling out nicely.

Screw this. Time for the bathroom. I enter the stall and pull the devil white from my pocket. Just a quick shot to get me through the end of my shift. Hmmmmmm. Devil white. You come at the right time.

"Where the hell you been?" my boss Arivo asks as I exit the bathroom. "We got tables that need cleaning."

"Well Arivo," I say smirking. "I was in the potty. I can give you details such as consistency, time, weight, splash, whatever you want."

He's not amused. He just points.

Another spill. The Defavre couple are arguing over some shit like frequent flyer miles. Her arms got all wavy and knocked the coffee cup conveniently towards her soon to be ex. This should be fun.

I don't say anything to them at first. They don't apologize. Typical. I just clean it up and offer them a new mug. She responds without even looking at me. Fuck she's got great boobs.

Oh man that devil white. It's starting to, oh shit. What the hell. I need to clean this table up more. No wait the bathrooms need to be scrubbed. I'll head on over there. No the silverware needs to be sorted. On second thought I need to fill the ketchup bottles.

Oh no. It's happening.

Cheryl starts talking to me. What the fuck is the nonsense she's babbling about? Wait. Maintain. It's just the white. Calm yourself Darryl. Oh hell they're all looking at me. Bathroom. Go to the bathroom. Wait, is that Chad my dealer? Oh my god he's come to collect. I have fucking nothing.

Bathroom. Into the bathroom. You're safe now Darryl. They won't come in here. I need more white. Devil white. Ahh you crafty stuff you. I can handle them now. They're all going to remember the name Darryl.

I step out of the bathroom. Everyone is staring. Can't make a word of what they're saying.

It's now or never Darryl.

"It's all about the mother fucking green."

What the hell did I just say? Doesn't matter. Those two shots I fired in the ceiling have them scattering. Defavre's a coward. Ran like hell crying. His wife is just frozen.

Two more shots and a scream of "hit the floor bitches" sends most to the ground. They're throwing wallets and purses at me. Yeah even Chad is terrified. Good. He's been ripping me off for too long.

"Get your money out," I say gripping the sweet metal in my hands. "NOW."

Cops arrive. They won't do nothing as I've got hostages. Fucking pigs can't shoot worth sh-

The end.

Well that was fun.

"So, since everyone who blogs or reads blogs is in one way or another a writer, I have decided to come up with a little creative writing challenge. There are no prizes or anything but I think that it will be fun. What I have come up with is a series of writing prompts. What I would LOVE is for as many of you as possible to complete this challenge. Pick one and write something. It doesn't have to be long, just have lots of fun with it." - Scott