Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’, slippin’…

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Monday 17 February 2003 10:39 am

"Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so."
– Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

When I was in school – elementary to high to college – I was operating under the assumption that once I was done grinding through the education mill, I’d simply have oodles of time to do whatever I wanted. I was obviously working under a very false assumption. As the rest of you semi-responsible adults know, it’s all a big fat lie. You younger folks who happen to traipse through here and read this, consider this a warning.

After your schooling is done and you’ve got your ed-ju-mi-ca-shun, all that time spent in class and elsewhere doing your projects and homework is supplanted by other things. If you’re a normal productive member of our warped little society, and you like to eat and live in something other than a cardboard Maytag box in an alleyway behind the "adult" cinema, you join the great American workforce. You get a job and work, work, work. You young pups out there might not see this as a problem. You say "Hey, I was in class for eight hours a day, and doing homework on top of that – working will be a breeze!" You know what? You’re right… for about the first year. Tops.

A job gets old reeeeeal fast, I don’t care how much you like it. The problem stems from repetition and lack of control. How would you like to dine on the exact same meal every day? Add to that an eating schedule you have little or no involvement in, with precious few breaks in the routine. I don’t care if it’s your favorite meal you’re being fed. I love Chinese food, and I joke that I could eat it every day, three meals a day – but I’m very sure that after the first week that shit would get real old, real fast.

Ok, so now you’re working eight hours a day not including travel to and from your job, lunch breaks, etc. Once you get home, you’ve got other responsibilities. Feed the cat, cook, feed yourself, do the dishes, wash-dry-fold-put away laundry, take out the garbage and so on. That’s a lot of crap to do no matter how thinly you spread it. Let’s not forget that if you’re married and/or have kids, you definitely want to spend time with them, and there is a whole new set of duties that go along with that too.

Unless you’re a complete waste of skin, you’ve got some friends or family you like to hang out with now and again. We’re not all social butterflies, but we do like to interact with other people on occasion. That takes up time as well. You go out, have dinner and a few drinks maybe, start talking and *WHOOSH* hours have passed (in some cases days, depending on how many drinks you have). Let’s face it, human beings are one of the most social animals in existence. We crave companionship and stimulation on every level from physical to cerebral. We must interact – it’s a driving force we unconsciously act upon that stems from our very DNA.

Sleep. Here is the one thing that gets universally abused. If you’ve gotta work, do all the things necessary to live from day-to-day and run with the herd too, then something gets neglected and it’s usually sleep. It’s the easiest thing to skimp on, and is done in so passively – you just don’t do it. It’s that easy. What’s the loss of a few hours of rest when you can visit with your pals who have come over for dinner? Especially when the wine is good and the conversation is better? Nothing. Why sleep on Saturday night when you’re out on the town, when you can catch it up Sunday evening? No reason, whatsoever. The eventual problem is, all that lack of sleep you’ve been getting catches up with you. You start to get fatigued, and it flavors everything you do.

The human body isn’t like a battery, you can’t run your charge down over the course of several days (or weeks) and get one good night of rest to fully re-charge. You need good, solid rest on a regular basis to stay at your peak. You’ve gotta top that battery off every night. The horrible fact is that we don’t, so the world gets filled with brain dead zombies with an overactive social life.

Here is where I live. This is my life. I work a job that ain’t too bad, but nonetheless eats up a good part of my life. I have a wife that I love, whom I don’t get to spend as much quality time with as I’d like. By the time we get home from work, cook and eat dinner and do the chores, we’re exhausted and it’s time to hit the sack and start the vicious cycle all over again. We’ve got a multitude of fantastic friends that we try to spend as much time with as we can, which never really happens because we all spend the weekends catching-up the things we can’t get done during the week. As everyone knows a five-day workweek lasts eleven days, but a two-day weekend lasts four hours. Top all this off with my bad habit of having more irons than fire to put them in, and a computer/internet addiction that makes most hardened burnt-out heroine addicts look like a lactose-intolerant kindergartener during snacky-time. I don’t get near as much sleep as I should, and it’s starting to add up. Unlike most people, I have a fatigue battery and its charge is full, it’s bulging, corroded and ready to pop.

There aren’t enough hours in a day to do all the things I need to do, much less all the things I want to do. If I were to clone myself and establish a sympathetic, empathic, telepathic link between the two of us so we could share our experiences as if we were one entity, send that clone off to play while I worked, I might get caught up. Actually, while I’m riding the wave of the whole clone delusion I might as well make a third clone to sleep for us. "She touched my pepe, Steve."

It’s not all bad. I’ll eventually lose my mind one day. Many years from now they’ll find me in my little one room cardboard summer cottage behind Billy Bob’s Smut Multiplex and Salad Bar. I’ll have vast amounts of time then to mumble to myself and drool, pick through dumpsters, soil myself and scratch at one spot on my scabby scalp until the hair there won’t grow back. I’ll be willing to bet that there’s plenty enough real estate behind the porn theater for a few of my friends to join me. We can pass a bottle of Ripple and drool in unison. It’ll be a little slice of heaven.


There’s a kernel stuck in my throat.

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Monday 10 February 2003 10:40 am

What is a commercial?

There are several ways to define it, but only two are of concern to me right now. We as consumers see them as an advertisement that is sponsored by a business or organization for a service or product in an effort to stimulate revenue. Third parties, such as broadcast television and radio stations, view them as their primary source of revenue generated from the businesses or organizations that are paying to advertise, and use that income to cover the cost of operations so as to keep their transmissions free to the consumer. In the case of most print media (newspapers, magazines, etc.), advertising is used to supplement the cost of operations so as to reduce their cost to the consumer – and indeed there are many free publications as well that, like TV and radio, have completely covered their operating expenses.

There is a disturbing trend I’ve seen lately. It’s been creeping up on us slowly and gaining momentum. Movie theatres are entering the mainstream advertisers market. You’ve seen them – the car ads, the sports drink commercials, the jewelry store spots with the idiotic grinning and nodding employees – showing up when the "previews" start, and in some cases even earlier. Now, I’ll wager that you’re sitting there reading this and wondering why I’m making such a big deal out of a few silly commercials before the movie starts. I’ll take the long road to explain.

Movie theatres don’t own that movie they show you. They rent it, in a sense, from the distributors that are owned by the film studios. They get it for a specific block of time for a certain price, and in some cases, a percentage of the ticket sales. When we buy tickets to see a movie, most of that goes toward covering the cost of the movie and the actual overhead of running the theatre – the lease, electricity, employees, etc. In New Orleans, the going adult rate is $6.50, but elsewhere around the country, a movie ticket can cost anywhere from $9 to $12 and higher. Ticket prices have only gone up, and they continue to climb every year.

Once you get into the theatre, you’re enticed to the concession area – this is where they make their profits. You may not have been paying attention lately, but those snack prices are a little on the high side. The local theatres charge $4 for a "large" popcorn which consists of $.05 of popcorn and $.10 of bag. Not too shabby a profit margin if you ask me, and those lines I wait in to get a drink are no shorter these days than they used to be.

If entertainment and media sources are using commercials and advertising to reduce their out-of-pocket operation expenses in an effort to lower (or eliminate) their price and raise their attraction to the consumers, why the hell aren’t movie theatres doing the same? Surely they’re not just giving that premier advertising space away? I’ll tell you why.

They. Don’t. Have. To.

People want to see movies on the big screen – which is the best way, actually. Prices go up, and folks will grumble – much like I am – but continue to go anyway. They’ve got a captive audience who have just gladly paid $6.50 or more each to race into that theatre and plant their butts into a seat and stuff their faces with overpriced munchies while answering the same tired old trivia questions again and again. In most civilized cities there isn’t much competition amongst theatres anymore. In New Orleans there are two large franchises that own most all the theatres, the meager few others are independently owned. The rest were squeezed out. Currently, competition is light for a product in demand, therefore it’s a seller’s market. They feel they have no need to discount our tickets just because they’re generating other revenue from advertisers and commercials.

Don’t get me wrong… for better or worse I’m in favor of Darwinism in business enterprises. The smaller theatres got shoved out because they wouldn’t, or couldn’t get the first run movies, they were shabbier, lacked a certain charm, or didn’t fill a niche and survive. For example, we have a few small theatres that are choosier about their content and specialize in more cerebral movies, both independent and mainstream, and do well in their own right. The larger theatres have wider movie and snack selections, nicer, cleaner and more comfortable theatres, better quality prints to show, blah, blah, blah. The downside is the massive throngs of bodies you have to fight against while there. It’s like a slow-moving riot… with popcorn.

Theatre prices are affected by many things: the actors demand more money to make a film, the studios pay more to make their films overall, they charge more for the theatres to show them, and the theatre jacks up it’s price for ticket sales. It’s trickle-down economics plain and simple. Ultimately, nobody is putting a gun to your head, and you don’t have to go to the theatre, or if you do, buy those expensive snacks. Stay home and watch TV, read a book, love and spend time with your children.

In the foreseeable future the theatres will skip the crummy trivia and previews altogether and fill to the brim the time between the end of one movie, and the start of another, with commercials. The moviegoers will see no benefit from this revenue generated by the theatres in the way of lower ticket and concession prices. If you wanted to boycott those theatres, there are precious few others to go to if you want to see the latest Hollywood flick on the big screen. The average moviegoer is also a happy member of the big herd, and will not go to any length to raise his voice in concern, or use products that don’t advertise in movie theatres. Moooooo.

So, what recourse do we have? This answer and more, after a word from our sponsors…


On open letter to my out-of-town friends.

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Tuesday 4 February 2003 9:19 am

Dear Pals-O-Mine,

As you may well have noticed, contact from me has been notably absent – pretty much since you left my immediate sight. Occasionally, when the planets align, the seventh seal is broken, and the time of the year is right, lets say, around Halloween or Mardi Gras, you’ll hear from me, or I from you. These times of year trigger strong, welcome memories that remind me of good times gone by, and henceforth remind me that there are some people that I’ve been sorely out of touch with… regardless of the fact that email is free, letters are obscenely cheap to mail, and long distance phone charges are pretty damned affordable these days.

I have come to the conclusion that the blame lay squarely on your shoulders. That’s right, it’s your own damned fault. If you hadn’t jumped ship, pulled up stakes and run like cowards I never would have lost contact with any of you, not even once (some of you local folks can shut the hell up right about now). Really, every single one of you knows that my memory fails faster than the Hindenburg did after the Blue-Flame society got on board, and I’m more easily distracted than a crow in an aluminum recycling plant. What? What were you escaping? The crime, grime, negativity, poverty, corruption and record murder rates in this fair city? Pshaw, those things can be overlooked easily. What were you seeking? Peace of mind? Cleaner air? That and fifty cents will buy you a newspaper (although it’s likely a dollar fifty where you are). No, it’s clearly your fault.

Where do we stand, now that I’ve uncovered your critical flaw? Well, we continue on as we always have. We live our lives, thinking fondly of the past, and looking forward to the days when our paths cross in the future… and they will cross, one way or another at LEAST once a year either by phone, email or visit. When they do cross, we’ll have a grand old time laughing at the lesser mortals around us, drinking, having a cigar and generally living it up for the brief time we do have. Once that time is up, we’ll swear up and down that we’ll keep in touch, exchange our information again because the old info is out of date, and part ways.

Our intentions are good, they really are. We never mean to go on living our lives, being so shallow as to deal only with those people in our immediate world, it just… sort of… happens. We’re human, and as a human in this day and age we have too many irons in the fire – too many things that we HAVE to pay attention to that we can’t always give enough attention to the people and things we WANT to. Unfortunately, that means that only those things that touch our immediate day-to-day lives get the lion’s share of it. It’s a sad fact, but true nonetheless.

Having said that, I want to let you know that the brief time we do get to spend together, either in the same room, state or even miles and miles away, is no less enjoyable. They become the fondest of memories. Because they are so infrequent, we treasure them all the more.

So, regardless of the lack of communications being exclusively your fault, let’s try an experiment. Let’s not swear to heaven and hell on earth that we’ll call each other every other day, or even every other week. Let’s try a realistic goal. Let’s try that free email thing I mentioned, and let’s try and do it, oh, let’s say once every two months or so as a start. If we opt for more, great – if not, great. Also, I’ve got this silly blog thing here, and I know for sure that most of you have something similar – we’re all professional ranters, so what better way to get a feel for what’s going on in each other’s lives than to read what’s on our collective minds. This ain’t a-gonna be too hard, seeing as we all spend about half (or more) of our waking hours on-line doing the digital equivalent of watching paint dry.

For now I’ll just raise my glass and toast to future contact. Cheers! I’ll see you guys in the funny-papers, and don’t take any wooden indians.



Granny Weatherwax and infinite wisdom.

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Monday 3 February 2003 11:47 am

This is a passage from Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett that I found extremely amusing. I am an unwashed heathen, and have some very strong opinions on religion and those who have it. I have a great deal of admiration for people who have the stones to stand behind their faith or lack thereof, who firmly believe – or don’t – with all their heart. The majority of the people with their ass on a pew are doing it just to hedge their bet, or keep up appearances, not because of an unshakeable belief. That, my friends is called hypocrisy.

"This Om … anyone seen him?"

"It is said three thousand people witnessed his manifestation at the Great Temple when he made the Covenant with the prophet Brutha and saved him from death by torture on the iron turtle–"

"But I bet that now they’re arguing about what they actually saw, eh?"

"Well, indeed, yes, there are many opinions–"

"Right. Right. That’s people for you. Now if I’d seen him, really there, really alive, it’d be in me like a fever. If I thought there was some god who really did care two hoots about people, who watched ’em like a father and cared for ’em like a mother … well, you wouldn’t catch me sayin’ things like ‘there are two sides to every question‘ and ‘we must respect other people’s beliefs.‘ You wouldn’t find me just being gen’rally nice in the hope that it’ll all turn out right in the end, not if that flame was burning in me like an unforgivin’ sword. And I did say burnin’, Mister Oats, ‘cos that’s what it’d be. You say that you people don’t burn folk and sacrifice people anymore, but that’s what true faith would mean, y’see? Sacrificin’ your own life, one day at a time, to the flame, decarin’ the truth of it, workin’ for it, breathin’ the soul of it. That’s religion. Anything else is just … is just bein’ nice. And a way of keepin’ in touch with the neighbors."


I’d like to thank all the little people…

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Monday 3 February 2003 9:49 am

Shakespeare said "All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players." Quite frankly, I’d rather be backstage with the crew than out front with the cast… the crew has so much more fun, and has more to offer.

Every so often I step outside of myself and look at the world around me, and realize that I hang out with some very cool and interesting people. None of us are people of note in the grand scheme of things, but naturally we’re all very individual personalities nonetheless. There are some very common traits we all seem to share: intelligence, open mindedness and a rather eclectic taste in what we find entertaining.

For example, one these folks is a die-hard metal band enthusiast (but not all metal bands, mind you) and would be more than happy to discuss with you for hours on end the virtues of that musical genre. This same guy will then turn around and talk to you about the time he spent working in the theatre and share with you his love of modern and classical musicals. The more you think back to the conversations about metal bands, the more you realize that a lot of it was concerning the proficiency of the musicians, and detailed discussions of how hard they work to master their art, not "Hey bra, they fucking ROCKED!" He has even found in his travels performers that combine the finest elements of hard, sharp edged music with the poetry and grace of elegant storytelling and clever orchestration – bands that will never see mainstream airplay, but are oh so much more deserving of it than those who do. His attention to detail and ear for music knows no bounds or bias, and he isn’t hung up on any one style. He may not like everything he hears, but he can appreciate the work and instrumental skills that went into it.

Another close friend of mine, a young gentleman of twenty we’ll call "Zygote" for the sake of this immediate paragraph. Zygote is another media fan with a voracious appetite for music and movies. On the surface, his musical preferences seem to be a more alternative-rock-rap flavor. If you listen to his playlist long enough, you’ll be a little taken aback by a few things you hear – Harry Nilsson’s Coconut song, movie themes, etc. He also startled me one day by asking me if I had Guys and Dolls on DVD, knowing that I have a fair collection of musicals in my library, and another day snatched The Lion King off the shelf and started watching it with the claim that it was one of his favorites. By this point I shouldn’t be surprised by what Zygote might do or say. He’s one of those hyper-intelligent, "I could give a crap what you think about me or the things I do" kind of folks who will do calculus in their heads for fun, and prove that there is more to a person’s personality and character than just the sum of their years. Those years are still relatively few, but there is a strength of will that exists there that you’d be hard pressed to find in most forty year old professionals.

My own taste in film will bounce from Gilliam to Woo, Scorsese to Kurosawa, Tarantino to Kubrick. I firmly believe that a movie can completely blow chunks, and still stand slightly on technical merit. I am a fan of the stage – drama, comedy and musicals alike. The only two genres I haven’t developed a taste for are opera and ballet (I’m so low-brow, what can I say). The music I listen to ranges across the charts in both artist and style. I’ll swing from a Vonnegut novel one day, to a Lobo comic book the next.

I don’t expect everyone to enjoy the same things I do, nor do I expect to groove on the same things you do. I do, however, expect to be able to have a decent conversation with you about any of it and have both of us part ways a little wiser for it, rather than agreeing to disagree because it’s not your or my bag.

Most of our society has come to the incorrect conclusion that once you reach a certain age you should stop learning new things. They think that their mind is like a door, and should be closed, locked and barred against the outside world lest the world get in and rearrange the furniture. Unfortunately, this happens very early for some people, and others could really use the redecoration at any age. Your mind should be a revolving door, letting shared information and experiences in, and allowing it out to be shared and experienced with those around you. When you stop learning new things, you stop living – in the metaphorical sense. Plant my body in the ground when I stop learning, ’cause I’m already dead and just haven’t stopped moving around yet.

I have a plethora of nieces and nephews, and they’re growing to be exceptional people. The two youngest – one each niece and nephew – are in their middle teens right now and are showing great promise of becoming intelligent, well educated human beings that refuse to walk the middle-line. They’re very distinct and individual in their tastes and interests and keep their minds open to new things, even the wacky stuff that dear old Uncle DmentD throws their way.

My wife and I share a great many interests, but remain individual in our own specific tastes. It’s what makes us who we are, those little differences. Where our paths cross is divine, but I enjoy the discovery of the traits that are uniquely hers, and revel in the features I know and love.

I started with a quote from Shakespeare, and I’ll end with one from Aunte Mame: "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Carpe that Diem, baby.


I am GEEK, hear me… um… creak, I guess

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Thursday 23 January 2003 11:32 am

Y’know, sometimes being a bona fide geek has its rewards. Well, actually, MOST of the time it has its rewards if you are enough of one. I’m not just referring to geek-ness in a strictly computer related sense, but in the aspect that a geek is someone who is so into something, that they not only enjoy and are very good at this something, but they also have a tendency to be consumed by it. Computer geeks, math geeks, science geeks, sport geeks, A/V geeks, bookworms (reading geeks), rennies (renaissance fair geeks), gearheads (car geeks) and so many more.

A long while back I was given the nickname "Stuff" by a group of folks who not only appreciated my many-faceted geek abilities, they depended on it. I was master of all things computer, A/V, electrical, construction, destruction, repair, effects and prop related to name a few. You could lay money on the fact that I had a tool or device on hand to do anything you needed done – if there was a need for a solar-powered chainsaw, the chances were good that I had one in my back pocket. These days I still retain the old skills, dusty as a few of them are, but have acquired a few new ones along the way.

Amongst my geek merit badges is a Rennie one. I am one of those folks who not only likes going to the occasional renaissance fair, but believes that the only true way to enjoy them is while in costume. See if you can keep up with me here… I get to wear a wonderfully comfortable outfit, don a certain amount of anonymity, and strap on medieval weapons of personal destruction, i.e. a sword and daggers, all the while looking down my nose at the scant few people who have shown up in their street clothes because they, THEY are the weirdos who look out of place. Heh. I love that.

Being a Rennie has other side benefits as well. Friends of mine are co-organizers of a Mardi Gras organization – The Krewe Of Excalibur – which is Arthurian and medieval themed. The last few years they have asked my wife, a few of our other Rennie friends and me to help out with their Ball. We’re to dress in our renaissance fair finery and contribute to the general medieval atmosphere while members of the organization arrive and await the beginning of the event. In exchange we can remain in costume, and after the event begins we have reserved seating where we can enjoy the ball, a full meal and all the benefits of an open bar – a $90 value for each of us. Now, if you’re not familiar with Mardi Gras balls, let’s just say that it’s a strictly formal event (tuxedos and gowns) and is a fancy la-de-da evening of entertainment that precedes an actual Mardi Gras parade that the organization will have a few weeks after. Now, let me point something out to you that you might have missed. We, the Rennies, get to arrive and stay in costume, which I have already described as a "wonderfully comfortable outfit" complete with "medieval weapons of personal destruction" while those around us are stuck in penguin suits and sequined gowns laced up so tight that a barely perceptible amount of air actually makes it into the lungs. Oh, and after an initial bout of looking medieval and menacing, we get to enjoy the remainder of the evening seated amongst the suits and gowns… for free. Did I mention the open bar?

************* BEGIN UPDATE *************
Here we are in all our glory at the ball…


************* END UPDATE *************

I may be a geek, but I sure do have a lot of fun.

Now, computer geekdom has its own set of side benefits as well. There is a tremendous amount of power a computer savvy person wields, especially when dealing with the technologically de-evolved. When I was a site-technician, I could walk into the office of a company’s C.E.O. during a high level meeting, and he would gladly cut the meeting short, surrender his big comfy chair to me and fetch me a soft drink if I so desired – and thank me for the privilege of doing so. The trick was to not abuse that power… I always operated on the light-side of that force. Computer geeks also usually take care of their own. If one is having problems, others will always swoop in to help, rallying other troops as necessary. It’s a brotherhood of sorts, except without all the silly secret handshakes.

Let’s not forget some of the other benefits – the gaming, the music and other multimedia entertainment. Navigating the internet like Long John Silver en route to Treasure Island. Gathering information on anything and everything with a few quick flicks of my fingers. It’s a good thing.

These days, when someone says the word "GEEK", it’s usually with an air of reverence rather than hostility. It’s a badge of honor, a symbol of respected proficiency that is sometimes envied by those who do not posses it. Geekdom also knows few boundaries of sex, race, creed, color, religion or appearance. You are judged by your merits as a capable person – knowledge and skill above all else.

If this day and age should teach us something, it’s the proper care and feeding of your household geek. Treat them well, and you’ll reap the rewards that go with it. We certainly do.


Four wheels, six cylinders, and a nagging desire to KILL!!

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Wednesday 15 January 2003 11:23 am

Ok class, time to learn a little DmentiA driving terminology today:

  • L.A.C. = Law Abiding Citizen. These are the folks who will cruise in front of you doing exactly the speed limit. Inevitably you are behind them on a two lane highway when there is bumper-to-bumber traffic in the other lane so you can’t pass. Ok, I know that I should be doing the speed limit too, but that’s my problem, not thiers.
  • ROLLING OBSTRUCTION = This category includes the old, the infirm, the mentally ustable, the mentally incapable and anyone who is a driver’s license holder in Topeka. These people are the ones who will do well below the speed limit for any barely conceivable reason. The most frequent version of the Rolling Obstruction (henceforth known as the R.O.) is the Cadillac in front of you that is driven, apparently, by a sentient pair of knuckles – that’s all you can see operating the vehicle… no human, monkey, alien or otherwise (usually it turns out to be a 148 year old lady whose cartilage has compressed so much that she’s actually only 23 inches tall, but still retains the arm length of her youth gone by – and she drives using her Jedi "other sight" powers because she clearly can’t see over the dashboard). R.O.s are usually doing 27 MPH on a 45 MPH road, with their right side blinker on for 15 miles, and clearly, there is no place to turn right except into the heavily wooded forest populated by 1,000,000 angry rabid squirrels (and the whole time you are wishing she would turn right just so that image of the old lady being swarmed by piranha like rodents would come true – it ends with her walking out of the forest bristling with furry creatures, each of which is latched onto her body with their foaming little bucked teeth – ala Gary Larson).
  • Junior Lawman = The guy in front of you who will, upon seeing you approach at a faster rate of speed, slow down in an attempt to slow you down too. It is also the fellah who will switch lanes in front of you when you switch lanes to keep you from speeding then too. He wants to "teach you a lesson" and punish you for your evil, evil speeding ways. I have a little lesson in return for these people… it’s the one about how to pull yourself from a burning car that has been run off the road and flipped 7½ times only to strike a tree and rupture the gas tank, dislocating both of your shoulders and shattering a kneecap in the process. I hate these fuckers the worst. Look, if you don’t like my driving, don’t take the law into your own hands. According to popular law enforcement theroy I’ll eventually get busted by a cop and he’ll teach me the error of my ways. Sooooo, piss off and leave me the hell alone.

Look, I do drive a little faster than the posted speed limit, but I do so in a safe and controlled manner. It’s not like I weave in and out of traffic while I’m driving – I leave that to the Camaro drivers with the 3 inch penises. I don’t drink much, and I don’t endanger others. All I ask is a little common courtesy. Drive at least as fast as the limit, or clear a space for the faster vehicles. I swear, I won’t flash my high-beams at you, and I’ll go around you if I can, otherwise… get the FUCK out of my way!



New look, new feel… same old crap

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Monday 13 January 2003 1:32 pm

Well, after too much time of doing two things with this site… "jack" and "shit"… I’ve decided to update it a bit – it is, after all, my namesake.  I’ve "growed it up" some by eliminating all the annoying background graphics, took out the fugly graphic navigation buttons and made the site overall a little more pleasant to visit.  So for the two of you who visit here regularly, enjoy.

I’ve also added this little WebLog thingy here so I have a spot to regurgitate all the lovely things that come to my mind and need saying to the world in general.  I guarantee nothing.  There will not necessarily be regular postings here, as it’s strictly based on my whim.  I also don’t promise a rose garden… it is very likely that I will not only step on someone’s toes with what I might say around here, I might just turn those toes to ground round.  If you don’t enjoy what you read here, don’t read.  On the other hand, not everything I post will be offensive.  It’s a gamble.  Oh, and if your delicate nature is offended by off color language or concepts, you might take the non-reading path as well.  My stream-of-consciousness contains a lot of nastiness, and I don’t intend to censor a whole lot, so tough shit (see, wasn’t THAT fun).

So strap in, take your Dramamine and get ready for the anti-climax.


"Which Enemy of the Christian Faith Am I?"

Posted by DmentD | Uncategorized | Friday 27 December 2002 7:16 pm

Well now, this was fun.

I’m an Atheist!

Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?

Take More of Robert & Tim’s Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim’s Cartoons

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