tribute...

New great band idea: Ride the Right Ring - an Asian Tribute to Metallica.

fuck you.

timing...

The other day at work I farted. At the exact same time a motorcycle outside revved it's engine. Talk about invigorating.

Stop hAARPing on it.

Anyone born before 1955 is still utterly and totally shocked that airlines don't serve meals as a standard practice on every flight.

Sun fan protection

I just want to go on the record and say I think it was a big mistake for the Sun to draft Tina Charles #1 overall. She is wildly overrated, and I think it is clear that Coach whoever could have used a perimeter shooter and scorer like Monica Wright or a back-down defender like Chanel Mokango. Unreal. Really really unreal.

The important thing though is it is almost May and you know what that means...WNBA SEASON!

goons...

I live in an apartment that takes up the second and third floors of a house. Our neighbors live on the first floor. They seem like nice enough guys whenever I've talked to them but they aren't the type I'd ever really hang out with. We have had absolutely no problems with them what-so-ever. Tonight they had a party and were kind of on the "loud" side. No big deal, it's a Friday night. This is the first time I can remember them ever having a party and we've had two or three that have been pretty noisy. I left to get food around 9:30 or so and when I got back about half an hour later there's a brand new Ford Mustang parked in the driveway behind my roommate's car. I park behind the Ford Mustang. It doesn't belong to any of the neighbors and I feel more entitled to park in my own driveway that this guy. Whatever. I know I'll have to move it later in the night or early tomorrow morning. My driveway, right? I go about my night and have an absolute blast doing so. About fifteen minutes ago there's a ring of the ol' doorbell. I ignore it. About fourteen minutes ago there's a continued frantic ring of the doorbell as well as an absolute pounding of our front door. I concede to the demands of this goon guest and get my shoes and pants back on. I took them off because it's my goddamn free time and I will choose to do with it whatever I damn well please thank you very much. When I get downstairs I am greeted with an open door to their apartment. A living room full of drunk folks that do not live here are looking at me blankly. I feel I deserve more than this seeing as how someone just treated my door the way Ike Turner treated his wife Tina. I give the collective goon squad a "what the fuck?" look. Eventually one of them says "Are you that CR-V in the driveway?" I then nod and get "You're going to have to move" to which I go outside without saying anything. This is the fate I chose when deciding to park in my own driveway behind a guest vehicle. While in my car, I back out of our difficult to navigate driveway and into the driveway located directly across the street from ours to wait for the owner of this modern day muscle car to move his so I may regain my position in the driveway. Notice I have not made mention of my neighbors, their parking habits or the rough estimate of the Ford Mustang owner's phallus. A lesser man would easily try and insult all of those things but I am above that. All of those things are fine in my book. If the neighbors want to park in the driveway that's fine. I know nothing of the man driving this new silver Ford Mustang other than he was sort of rude at getting my attention after 2am. Anyway, while turning his way out of the driveway he scraped the front of his car on a concrete wall, while I sat and stared at him. He had to play it off like nothing happened even though he now needs a new undercarriage or front bumper. Quite the glorious payoff to a scenario like this. Even Ike Turner would agree and that guy is currently writing catchy soul songs inside of Satan's ass crack right now. An audience of one is a fine attendance indeed. And this my friend, is why you* can't have nice things.

*Owner of aforementioned Ford Mustang

soon...

what...

My dad called me today and asked me if Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem were in the Rock and Roll hall of fame. I told him they weren't and he asked why. Instead of telling him that they weren't a real band and were a creation of the Muppet Show I told him that it took Black Sabbath 6 years to get in after being eligible*.

If you've ever wondered why this blog is the way it is here is why; I was raised by a man that likes the work of puppeteers more than rock musicians yet he's been playing guitar since he was fourteen years old. With all these mixed signals it's kind of a surprise I waste time on the internet instead of spending my days with attempted burglary, selling fake drugs or being gay.**

* This was wrong, they got inducted after 8 years of eligibility.

** All can easily be done on the internet.

Shaft 2

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

deaf...

I once pretended to be deaf rather than give directions to a motorist. And that's just the beginning.

church...

Today I asked my friend Reginald what he's doing for Halloween. Reginald and his fiancee are going to be hanging out with some of their friends. These particular friends have children, one of which is soon to be baptized. Reginald is slated to be this child's Godfather. I told Reginald he needs to get this kid a present and it doesn't matter what it is but he needs to wrap the present up in the shape of a horse's head. If that's not a good punchline I don't know what is.

doppelgangers...

This is a picture of Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at a recent show in Boston...

And this is a picture of Galactus: Destroyer of Worlds...

And this is a picture of me not wearing pants...

And this has been the nerdiest post ever on Blog and Main. Thanks for reading!

transportation...

I don't take kindly to bicycling. Ever since a simple ride one summer lead to me getting a skull fracture, multiple concussions and a (debatable) mental condition. It literally took me 8 minutes just to think of the phrase "mental condition". Anyway, today was the day where I found my glorious dream bike. Without any further ado...

Seriously? You really think you need to lock this thing up?

telemarketing...

Last week, while at my place of business, I got into an argument of sorts with a telemarketer. Recently, all the telemarketers that call us are "calling on behalf of the yellow pages" to "update their free business listing" and "annoy the god fucking shit out of me personally". Whenever you try and stop them they tell you that your workplace is already subscribing to their services. I recently tried stopping one of these fools. The conversation went something like this.

Him - "Hello sir, this is ______ calling on behalf of the yellow pages!"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "But sir, you are already subscribing to our services!"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Sir, [he said a bunch of stuff here but I wasn't listening, just saying "Can you please take us off your list?" at least three times]"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Sir, you are just saying the same thing over and over again*. Could I please speak to the owner or manager?"

me - "Can you PLEASE take us off your list?"

Him - "Fine... I will put you on the 'Do not call list'. Have a good day."

*Normally I'd probably call him out for saying the say thing as well but I wasn't about to break character. Now, I realize he's not the real asshole in the situation, nor am I. The real asshole here is the fucker that owns the company this poor bastard works for. I've decided that in the future it will be my new goal to get these people to hang up but without me being rude to them. The only obvious way to do this is to tell them jokes until they realize you aren't even close to a responsible human being and stop talking to you. He's a transcript of today's battle with one.

him - "Hello sir, this is David calling from (I forget but it was some company on behalf of the yellow pages)."

me - "David, I have a proposal for you"

him - "Okay sir..."

me - "If I can make you laugh will you promise to never call here again?"

him - "Sir, I will put you on the do not call list right now. Have a good day."

So what's going on here? I ask politely to be taken off the list and it takes me ten times to successfully do so then when I'm not trying they think I'm a psychotic clown and want nothing to do with me? Do they have that little faith in a stranger's sense of humor? I was just trying to brighten his day and still failed. Next time there will be no formalities, I'm coming out swinging with my best joke (it's about fish) followed by my second best joke (also about fish).

Stop Interneting

When was the last time someone over 50 years old sent you a "FWD:" email and there was any sort of payoff whatsoever?  Fucking old people.

Nine Eleven

My nephew is only 6 years old, so today before he went to school I had to explain to him the signifigance of this day. You see, 9/11 is a day where we all look back and reflect on our favorite 9/11 jokes.

Why were all the brokers at Goldman Sachs fired? Because they were told to get pepperoni for their last meeting and all they got was plane.

doppelgangers...

I met one recently. I am the less successful/well known one of the two of us. It's kinda fun being a bum. I'm sure it's fun having a cult following if you're in the band Explosions in the Sky though. Oh well. Good for us.

Animal Cruelty: Dogs shouldn't have to be Cowboys

One day, when the magic of Mr Clean's Magic Eraser hits the common man, there will be no more graffiti.  But until then, graffiti is the only true mirror of society.  And thank god for that.  How can art be so perfectly insane but also insanely perfect?  This reminds me of the portrait of the virgin Mary in my grandmothers house where the eyes follow you no matter where you look at it from.  It's creepy as shit, downright evil, and you wanna look away...but it is soooo good.

letters...

We hate things here that involve the letter "A". The state of Alabama, the Oakland A's, anxiety attacks and antiquing are all perfect examples. Another great example of this is the fact that we rarely post on months that begin with the letter "A". Sorry for the delay but that's just how it goes around here. Another group of people hated the letter "A". They were puritans that famed author Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about in his classic tale "the Scarlet Letter". The main difference here is that we love woman with little or no morals. If I could go out to a bar and tell which girls liked being moral-less* just by a single letter sewn onto their cloak that would make things a HELL of a lot easier for me. Anyway, since N. Hawthorne and I share a birthday and are both accomplished writers I thought I'd take a stab at updating one of his many stories. Not totally a sequel but not too far off. Here's part one....

The Scarlet Letter: the updated version for someone of my caliber

This takes place remarkabley close to the setting of the original story of shame and banishment, my current domicile.The apartment I am currently living in occupies the second and third floors of a fairly unassuming house on the outer edge of a (ie THE) major New England city. The occupants of this apartment have all lived here longer than I. Things have been slightly shakey since moving in. Just slightly though, you know, a blocked in car here, a few hundred dollars there nothing predominately as noticeable as one of those richter scale shakedowns on dramatic television. Most of the time there is hardly any interaction between us. There are six of us total and yet, for the most part, if I need to see someone they must be sought after. Conflicting work schedules help this but my room is the only bedroom on the second floor. The rest of the dwellers tend to dwell on the third floor in their designated rooms. The only rooms on the third floor that are not bedrooms are bathrooms. Two full baths right next to one another. Either the result of an architect with a stutter or a landlord that almost took segregation to a new level. He'd allow mixed races to live in the place he owned but they, for absolutely no reasons whatsoever, share a bathing chamber. Hypothetically, of course. The other five residents tend to their bathrooms while I use the THIRD full bath on the second floor. Excessive? Well this isn’t the puritans America anymore. They went through all their hardships so the philistines of the modern times didn’t have to walk up or down stairs to urinate or bathe inside. So on my morning commute through the dining room and kitchen to the semi final destination of the bathroom went by just like it does every other day. Upon my entering of said bathroom I was greeted somewhat abruptly with a very large, ahem, shall we say “suprise”, waiting for me in the bowl of the second largest device in that room. It had been therre for some time and was rather unpleasant to look at. The flushing of said device was soon to follow but not before I noticed that there was a lack of assistance paper in that watery hell hole. Though unpleasant I found this scenario wildly amusing. Since we live in the modern day city life and not say, colonial times or say, "inside of a run down gas station in Atlanta that once gave me nightmares" it’s generally not something I’d ever expect to see. Maybe in a college dormitory but certainly not my own home. Clearly, someone was sending me a message, a rather serious one at that. Why else would someone defecate within a bathroom and not flush? But whom could it be? Which of the over dwellers would do such a thing? I am a firm believer in the notion of the person you suspect the least is the most obvious candidate. Mankind tends to be devious and I'd have it no other way.

conclusion to follow...

*boned

Genesis: English Progressive Rock or First Five Books of the Torah?

.

Let me just start out with a standard disclaimer:  I like black people.  Some of my best black friends are black people.  In fact, aside from the inability to be judged on who you are versus what you look like, I would kill to be black.

On second thought, I think I just hate white people.  White people use to be creative.  White people invented bad ass crap like wheels, fire, even KFC.  Shit, even 8 of the apostles were white.  And come to think of it, I think that is where this white races' collective creativity came to a screeching halt.  

You have to name 12 apostles and you use JAMES fucking twice?  Jesus fucking Christ, you are making up the god damn book and you can't even come up with some original names?

This is where black people have the white people licked now.  We use to lean on the fact that two separate names would make everyone unique, maybe you would need a third, or middle name, to tell two people apart.  Not any more though.  F that.  Every name is unique.

Take the University of Georgia backfield for example.  Let's look at their once proud football team and JUST SPECIFICALLY their running backs.  Last year they graduated someone named KNOWSHON (pronounced: NO shawn) and then bring in someone named Washaun (pronounced: WAY shawn).  NO WAY!  They even missed out on a recruit named Storm Johnson...which sounds generic as shit and then all of a sudden you are like "that's a freaking bad ass name!"  For comparison sake, a school like William And Mary graduated 13 "Mike"s from the football squad.  (editors note:  by "graduate", I mean Knowshon completed 15 credit hours and then signed a 23 million dollar deal with the Denver Broncos.)

So here is the challenge whitey.  Blog and Main will GIVE $1,000 (in store credit to our yet to be created B&M Store) to any white couple that names their kid Sussudio.  Think about it?  Phil Collins totally gave you less creative white people a jumping off point and I don't think anyone has used it.  You better hurry before Brangelina picks up some Pretorian orphan preemie and your kid spends the rest of their lives listening to Sussudio Pitt go on and on about how unoriginal "Aden" is.

warning...

Blog and main presents: the best sign you will ever see on a fence.