DISTRACTIONS

Sitting in the past and looking at the present can sometimes be a diversion. Thinking about all the stupid things you’ve done and all the changes you could’ve made along the way. I’ve made it my life’s pact never to look back unfondly, however, a bit of me always winces when I think of the times lost. Eras played to with distractions not only poison but also mindnumbing.

One of the greatest distractions of time and memorial can and is Torchwood, the ultimate spinoff from the famed Doctor Who. With characters such as Captain Jack Harckness, Torchwood has taken the Whovian universe to new heights and yet grounded in a bastion of earthly thoughts. I like Torchwood.

Fuck. That’s lame. That’s the lamest, most unfocused crap I may have ever written.

Lou Dobbs is presently talking to Sen. Obama without actually inviting him on the show. He’s asking for an apology but doesn’t want him on the show. National debate by bringing the attack personal.

ACLU is the enemy. Fearmongering bastards. Or so that’s what I’m told. I don’t buy it. No one should buy it.

I need a shot of scotch. That makes everything better.

Where’s Nader? He entered the race and no one noticed for more than a minute.

I guess its better to have a third party candidate with national appeal that no one cares about than no third party candidate at all.

The economy is falling with the sky. Like little feathers floating to earth, each carrying with it the dreams of children and families to own their own home and somehow reach the American dream.

The American dream is dead.

Only Scotch lives. And cigarettes. And nicorette because I have to quit smoking coz everyone has banned smoking.

Wasn’t the freedom to smoke in your home part of the American dream? Oh yeah, that’s right – dreams over and no one owns their damn home anyway.

We’re a bunch of pigfuckers.

Spitzer Sex Scandal. 2qwajnh6666666666

That was the cat.

Popcorn apparently causes cancer. Just the smell is enough to cause lung cancer. Second Hand Popcorn Smell is becoming a massive problem in America. We need to pass laws to prevent lung cancer to innocent bystanders in the workplace who do not want to experience the evils of popcorn. A fatty food. A trial to our ethanol producing state. We need to use this corn to produce biofuels and save the world not give ourselves cancer. I am putting forward a petition to our government here in Minnesota to add a provision to our Freedom to Breathe act. Popcorn must be banned in public places.

(See Website)

Hillary’s eyebrows are fucked up. Albeit fake, but she needs a tan underneath the makeup that you can see from Nevada. I agree, women get an extra attack on their wardrobe and hairstyles to such a degree that when a woman who is speaking in public has a bit of a bad hairday, everyone stops paying attention to what she is saying and focuses intensely on their hair.

-Oh, her hair is bad. What is she thinking, showing up public like that? God, she must have had a late night last night. I wonder why? Is she married? No? Was she out drinking? Or maybe it’s a very sketchy love affair with a rough man. Maybe she’s a whore. She’s sleeping around with everyone and drinking too much. Her voice doesn’t matter. That stupid cunt. I hate her hair.

Sucks to be a woman.

Doesn’t make Hillary qualified. Or the best candidate. Some woman will be. Some day. Hopefully soon. But not her. She’s a murderer. Remember Whitewater?

To paraphrase Dr. Who, She looks tired doesn’t she?

On the Eve of Super Tuesday 2.0

On the eve of Super Tuesday 2.0, the primaries in Texas, Ohio, Vermont, and Rhode Island and the Texas two-step caucus, politics as usual have reared their ugly head, as NAFTA has become an oblique issue of intrigue at least in the Ohio race. With the Canadian consulate releasing a memo of a meeting between Obama’s chief financial advisor and a Chicago embassy official regarding the political rhetoric of Obama’s anti-NAFTA stance. This latest attack by Hillary’s camp follows on the heels of the famed Obama in Kenya-dress picture.

The simple fact that Senators Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are in the midst of Round 12 of a brutal battle royale that has left a string of black and blue states across the country does not pose well for a party recently recovering from a shattered visage in the early 21^st Century now attempting a coupe de tat following 2006’s Democratic takeover of Congress.

If this contest continues without a victor, while John McCain sits in the wings taking pot shots like the Air Force pilot he was, the Dems may face a complete backlash against either candidate as seen in the recent 3AM phone call theory.

If Ohio’s voting machines have their traditional problems, we may see litigation, extending this to the Convention. If the Texas two-step of a primary and a caucus causes mayhem, we go to Convention. If the contest is split down the middle, we go to Convention. If Florida and Michigan get to revote, we go to Convention. Any way you look at it, the contest is too close, we’re going to Convention without a candidate and the Republicans can continue the campaign in the midst of the Dems’ deadlock. This is hare kare at its worst, the mad war will continue and more children will die.

I guess the only bright spot of the last two weeks is the band The Arcade Fire playing a two-night stand in support of Obama, accenting the fact of the continued war of the age groups. Screw race, gender, and nationality. This is battle of young vs. old.

Fortunate Son:

The story of how

John Fogerty was sued

for copying his own song.

1995 Rancid.

Tweak out on the drugs and worship Satan if you know what's good for you.

2006 Arctic Monkeys.

Whatever floats your larger sized ass.

1997 Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

It's so scary the obtuse reality of nothingness that envelopes the less fortunate.

1956 Elvis.

McDonald's french fries are nothing without their transfat. And we all love transfat.

1979 Blondie.

Is it wrong to feel like dancing when you hear Debbie Harry?

1995 The Presidents of the United States of America.

A Georgia Peach is worth a her weight in platinum and a comparable amount of palladium on the precious metals indexes.

1987 Prince.

Tom and His Jones got nothin' on this bastard's kiss. But The Man doesn't need my support or anybody else's. He just wants your extra time and your kiss.

1952 Billie Holiday.

The Hippy Hippy Shake.

1998 Underworld.

We live in a postmodern world of downloading, mass construction, precision warfare and big brother self control. Lovely isn't it?

2001 Ani DiFranco.

Makes me want to fix things and open jars and lift weights and other guy shit.

1967 The Doors.

Rebellion has never had such a meaning as the man named Jim Morrison. Some day the people of Mars will mention his name with a quieting whisper like he was some kind of legend. I'll keep telling myself that.

2005 Konye West.

Never before has such a sight been laid upon the visual cortex as the mindfuck of this. Drink Miller.

1992 Alice in Chains.

That monkey is staring at me. Fucker.

1966 The Who.

My Generation will never be and has never been again before nor after either ever again or once more.

1996 Oasis.

Ripoff. Hack. Liar. Player. Pretender. Poser. Amazing. Music. Badass. Hardcore.

1994 Green Day.

Sweet lookin' rice crispy treat if you ask me. Especially from behind.

Never Mind My Blog Here's

1977 The Sex Pistols.

Fuck them.

2004 Jay-Z.

There's nothing worth workin' for anyway.

2003 Flaming Lips.

Can't quite get the rhythm right, is it 5/4 time or 3/5 time. No one will tell me.

2002 The White Stipes.

I'm thinkin' about my doorbell when you gonnas pay for it?

1976 Queen.

So much for burning out.

1989 Skid Row.

All hail Sebastian Bach.

MY OBSESSION WITH PEER TO PEER

Can't Stop, Won't Stop. It's Free Now, it will be forever.

You can get everything.

Paranoia takes hold. I sware off downloading. And then I smell something I want. My nose goes whiff whiff. I need every fucking Lovin' Spoonful song. And every Troggs song. Maybe some really obscure shit from some band named Booster Gold's Revenge.

The argument.

Stealing? Not really. I've bought every damn bond movie on video and half of 'em on dvd. Rented em like a dozen times, watched the Spike Marathons. What the hell? How much do I gotta give?

It's like downloading the Beatles. Fuck, it should be public domain. I've bought every damn record in at least 1 format. Every single movie. The anthology videos, CDs, et cetera.

Music, movies, programs, random videos of US Soldiers brutally murdering Iraqis.

FREE MODERN PROGRAMS FOR THE VERY CHEAP MODERN MAN

Travel beyond the wildest dreams of freeware into the triumvirate of necessary programs to overtake the corrupt powers-that-be. Mozilla, OpenOffice, and the Gimp. The coolest programs of the past year or two. These are programs every self-respecting loser surrendering himself to the grasp of the computer must procure. Why pay for constantly updating programs that do the same thing and cost you hundreds of dollars. Why let Adobe and Microsoft run you're life to such a degree that you might as well be advertising for them on your forehead.

But, Mr. Galore, is this not an advertisement for your so-called “triumvirate of necessary programs?” Why no, not at all. Why would I parade these most amazing exploitations of commercialism around like some fucked up trolley in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood? That would make me a sellout, no. Or maybe I've bought in. Yeah, that's it. Bought in. Mozilla's bought and sold me something like a dozen frankenputers ago.

With the Wild West of the internet collapsing under fear, persecution and the extinction of the buffalo. These programs are the last vestige of freedom. Electronic Manifest Destiny has brought us to the socialization of computer use. These programs have no longer become a want, but a need in modern society. And with all the cost present with just existing in modern America, some exercise in communism must be adopted. If we're ever to get out from under the thumb of the tyrant, Fuhrer Gates, we'll have to support this true freeware. Remove Microsoft from your computer and build the first true interspanning operating system on the planet. THE operating system. A mass link of digitized madness free for the worker.

Cinco De Mayo

Drench myself in blustering amounts of Modelo and Two Fingers Tequila.

May 5 is the anniversary of the Battle of Puebla in 1862 where Mexican troops fought the narcissistic Emperor Napolean III and forever freed North America from French influence. The holiday is best celebrated by every American as a day to get wasted. Wasted and do one thing.

Watch Trek.

I've recently rediscovered Trek, much like I rediscover much of my youth with drastically overwhelming regularity.

It first began a couple years ago, as I sat, drunk out of my mind, watching a boxed set of DS9 Season 3 at my friend's house. Ah, the good ol' days, I thought. Before the movies had run their course and Enterprise polluted the timeline.

Then came TNG on Spike. As I was blown away by Spike, I was even more turned on by the overwhelming barrage the network promoted Next Gen. Every day 3 to 4 hours. Some days 5! Damn near a quarter of the airtime was devoted to one measly show. Albeit, the best show ever.

Commercials rocked the screen and little ads blurbed across the bottom, portraying Picard and Co. as the baddest, most hardass space explorers ever. Kirk, who?

I garnered new affection, burnt every damn movie onto DVD and fell in love with the documentaries on StarTrek.com and downloaded tons of episodes on P2Ps.

But then came 2.0. Completely destroying the former love of simply watching the episodes, I was now a part of everything. I took part in the great experiment, to adapt ancient television to the future of mankind. I adopted a persona, Galore 187, motha fucka! And hardcored my ass onto the screen with the man, the myth, the legend, Mr. James TIBERIOUS Kirk! Hells yeah.

I bought into the SpockMarket. Bought low, made a million Federation Credits.

And to top everything off, the tally of Uhura undie shots just keeps on risen.

And that's where I find myself tonite, watchin' the show and chatting with the droves of Star Trek connoisseurs. Boldly going where no one has gone before.

And getting tanked doin' it.

Vive Cinco De Mayo!

Coca-Cola Advertising in Cocaine

Most people in America take their carbonated sugar water for granted, but on college campuses nationwide, a union of activists have sprouted up, demanding Coca-Cola Bottling Company respond to allegations that the use of paramilitary guerrillas in Columbia and their practices in general must be halted.

Recently, NYC Councilman Hiram Monserrate took a 10 day trip to Columbia and discovered at least 179 human rights violations, including 9 murders by the Coca-Cola Bottling Co.

In India, the Coca-Cola Co. has essentially destroyed the ecosystem of some areas in order to better sell its product, selling toxic sludge to farmers as fertilizer and bottling contaminated water, leaving vast amounts of Indians dehydrated and poisoned.

The United Steel Workers Association has filed suit against Coca-Cola regarding their practices for the simple motivation of economics. If Coke continues its practices, the bottling company will face harsh responses from the international community, leaving many American workers without a job, or indeed Time Magazine's Product of the Century without many buyers. This would be remarkably bad for the United States and our control over worldwide soda-pop demand.

While avoiding Coke products in general is almost impossible, what will Powerade and Dasani, any true American revolutionary knows when its time to step up and this Atlanta, GA company must respond to these allegations. No red-blooded American should stand for this type of disgrace. We represent the best of the world and in no way should this all-powerful sugar water company destroy the good graces we have set out upon the world.

I recommend doing what you can to avoid Coca-Cola products, boycott the venues that sell them and make a stand the best way we Americans know how—with our pocketbook.

Say NO to Coke.

As you were.