The Emancipation Declarative Statement

I think that's a double negetive...

I done broke outta Shawshank!

Toiling for months under the iron fist of a totalitarian regime of capitalism and supply and demand, life was grim. My freedom of speech eroded, my basic human rights on the brink of collapse, my laughter silenced. All was dull in an already dull world.

Big Brother was Magick Island Technologies. They offered internet service. For an outrageous price, you could get spotty internet service at random times while unusual websites were blocked. Such was the case with HMNIG. When I tried to access it, it told me the site was restricted because it was porn. Porn! When has Gorgeous EVER had porn? What about the site makes it even remotely resemble porn? It was outrageous. It was unjust. It was...my only option for internet service.

So I abided. Another broken soul claimed by The Man.

Two days ago, I got wind that Magick Island Technologies no longer blocked porn. I didn't care about that. But Gorgeous was, apparently, porn. So I tried it. I was greeted by a striking picture of David Coverdale (see below), the new poster boy for literary freedom. Apparently Wick has been at work, though just barely. My reemergence can hopefully spark his creative genious. That is, if it can fight through the bourbon haze surrounding his brain.

I have been emancipated. The bonds of bondage have been un-bonded.

Cats: Nature's Assholes

I don't like cats. I don't like people who like cats. I don't like people who like people who like cats. Most people who like cats remind me of this:



I can hear you all now. "But cats are cute!" Wrong. "Cats are nice!" Wrong. "Cats are your best friend!" You're delusional.

I just ate your soul

Cats are sneaky, evil assholes. They operate independantly to carry out devious missions of assassination, espionage, and mayhem. They are ninjas.

I killed Lincoln

People think they own their cats. Wrong. Cats have no human master. They take orders directly from their unnamed leader, seen here. He is part cat, part god. He is the reason ancient Egyptions worshipped cats. And that's the reason Egypt is a smelly pile of third world filth today. They worshipped evil.

Walk into the home of someone who has cats. Cover your nose first, or you might vomit. Immediately ask the person where their cat is. They have no idea. That's because cats can be anywhere at any time. A dog runs to greet you as soon as it hears your keys jingling in the door. As soon as a cat hears you, it finds a place to hide to scare the shit out of you.

Let me just throw these wet clothes in the HOLY SHIT!!!

Cats attack anything. If you think it's just humans, you're as wrong as you are about everything else. Cats attack everything from grass to paper clips to other cats.

I'll make this look like suicide...

When I was about eight years old, I slept over at a friend's house. Austin had two cats. One was black (obvious sign of evil), but pretty laid back. For a cat, anyway. Obviously, she was a high-level operative. A leader of ninjas. But the other one, Scotty, was a menace. We were getting ready for bed, and Austin turns to me. "By the way, sometimes Scotty likes to sleep on people's chest when they sleep. So if you wake up and Scotty's on your chest, don't make any sudden moves. If you do he'll attack your face."

I didn't sleep that night.

No sudden moves...

Scotty was a pure assassin. And he was good. Possibly the best. Austin and I once saw him in the front yard, hunched over something. We went over to him and he was eating a chipmunk. Now, I'm eight years old. One of my favorite cartoons is "Chip and Dale." Not the Rescue Rangers bullshit, but the original from the '40s. But Scotty ate Chip. The bastard ate Chip!

We also once found him eating a bat. A bat! How the hell does a cat catch a fucking bat? Bats fly! A lot!

In addition to the standard assassination and espianoge, cats dabble in sabotage. Why doesn't my TV work? Cat. Why did my power go out? Cat. How did the condom break? Cat.

The yellow one is video

To date, I've only found two weaknesses. Food and water. But be careful about the water; it usually just pisses them off. Then the next time you open the freezer...POW! Right in your face.

Overdose

I...am going...to kill you.

Cats are the worst. And they stink. It's easy to tell if a person owns a cat: they smell like kitty litter and urine. The whole kitty litter concept is ridiculous and disgusting. Here's an idea: fill a box with stuff that smells like piss and shit, fill it up with actual piss and shit, and then leave it in your house. Cause you know what would freshen this place up a bit? Feces.

Nature's assholes.

Blue/White 2008

The sun rose early that morning, crowning over Mt. Nittany and washing the Sacred Ground in its light. Beaver Stadium responded in kind, redirecting the light off its windows, beams, and flagpoles. The Bryce Jordan Center tried to do the same, but realized only shitty teams play there. Somewhere between the two, the caravan arrived.

I haven’t been to the annual Blue and White Game at Penn State since 2005, a fact that I made sure everyone in attendance was well aware of. I wanted to make this a good tailgate, and had to make everyone aware that it had damn well better be.

Our tailgate area was in the grass next to the stadium, a lush section of turf that I credit to the Turfgrass Management majors. Within the first hour I had my sandals off and was prancing barefoot through the dark green shoots. That lasted until the dogs started peeing everywhere. Then I had another beer and the sandals came off again.

The Bloody Mary bar opened early, immediately followed by beer pong. Some of the guys we were tailgating with had the Drinko board going, with proceeds benefitting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Proceeds from beer pong benefitted the Get Pennypacker Drunk society. Donations were large and tasty.

Everything went well. I saw some good friends, people I hadn’t seen in a while, and nothing got out of control. Even the mandatory flip cup game was mild, despite Steve’s glorious proclamations from on high. There were even only two high-lows doled out. But the one was AWESOME, we thought dude broke his neck. It was well executed by myself and Jason.

Don't interrupt him, just look how happy he is!

Towards the end of the day, the cars started to leave. Around this time, certain individuals decided to behave like their canine pals and piss in the open field. Since most Penn State tailgates bring in extra uniformed and undercover cops from outside State College, this probably wasn’t the best idea. Hell, a few years ago I got busted by undercovers for taking a slice of pizza from an unmanned tailgate.

Overall, a great time. I didn’t get too drunk (rare), I hung out with some good friends, and the next day my sandals smelled like piss. Dog or human, I’ll never be able to figure out.

Love/Hate List

It's Friday, and that means more things I love and hate:

Love

-When guys get older and fatter, their ties get longer in order to end at the same place on the belly. See illustration.

In this example, y = the height of the tie, from neck to bottom. This is not a measure of distance. The length of the tie is measured by x. In a normal adult male, x/y = 1. In the fatbody pictured on the right, x/y = >1. This is because x has been increased in order for y to remain constant. x is elongated in order to compensate for the curve of the belly, which is quantifiable as the function -(x^2-x)=y.

-Lupe Fiasco's new album, especially single "Superstar"

-Black-eyed peas

-The upcoming live-action GIJoe movie

-Puppies

Hate

-My standing

-My Microsoft Paint skills (top of page, this article)

-The Jonas Brothers. Who the fuck are these hippies, and why are they in Thursday's USA Today and all over the radio?

-Accidentally erasing all the music on my iPod yesterday

-Foreigners