Cylons, The Tin Man, And Toasters...

The Internet is a waste of my time.

Keyboard Shortcuts: press Ctrl with: B = Bold, I = Italic, S = Publish, D = Draft

I can never fall asleep when I want to
I sometimes fall asleep by accident and then end up staying up even later than I would've normally
I miss my dead cat more than I miss my early twenties
I spend more time reading about comic books online than reading them in real life
Today, I understand more, which means that I speak in public less
In 2006, so far, I groan 3/4ths of the time when I have to bend and grab something
In 206, I groaned a lot less
I am drinking a Bud Light and a Vodka/Redbull/Pomegranete
I am the best bartender ever
I hate bartending
In the twenty years that my work has existed, they've never made as much money or had as many young, crazy fuckers as they do on my Sunday nights
I make beautiful things happen for everybody else, but all of the beauty that I get ends up drowning inside my own head
I'm glad to be alive and still here
It's 2:05 and I finally feel awake
Taxes are like Herpes but don't involve a pretty face
The Arcade Fire reminds me of me living in my first three apartments - this is a wonderful, fucking horrible thing because who wants to be reminded of how amazing it was to be so energetic, Naive and completely fucked-up?
My girlfriend is asleep right now all wrapped up in blankets on the living room floor, she made me watch a horrible movie, she earlier was organizing a bunch of closet stuff and was transferring a box of pictures to a new and smaller box - this didn't necessarily make me feel any way in particular - this just made me not want to look through or talk about the pictures
Sometimes I sway in front of the keyboard
I very rarely write anything worthy of the imagery that this projects
one should attribute these things to Carl Orff, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Bill Gates, Hitler, Jack Kirby, Jesse and Gary Owens, Chris Ansari, Adam Langlois, David Hamamotto, Lee Adama and Tom from MYSPACE
Last night I saw groups of cars threatening to shoot each other in the park across the street from my house, and tonight I watched rain fall in the same place
Right now
I'm exactly where you are today...
thinking
these
thoughts

I Never Lie.

Well, no - not really...

Sometimes not when writing, anyway.

When visiting my girlfriend's work today, I was getting out of my car when an Amish couple asked me for directions to McDonalds.

I am not kidding.

I was of course, completely polite and cordial, but even as I was giving them the directions my mind was working in overdrive and totally excited but absolutely dumbstruck...

Amish people in Orange County?

And McDonalds?

I just don't get it.

This is my life.

Ha Ha Ha's

followed by many

?'s ?'s and ?'s

Mean.

Instead of bartending for eleven hours, why can't one be writing for the same amount of time?

We Fought For Lincoln...And The Ford Won...

Funny thing about
the lack of parental love
is that
as time passes
and the more that
you actually
get a hold
of what happened
or didn't
and when
you actually
get the ability to
put yourself outside of the box
and forgive
time has passed
and you've usually
just learned to forget to remember

by the time that you realize that what really mattered back then
when things were huge
when things were earth-shaking
when your parental Pearl Harbor was constantly being bombed
and you were just fleeing the constant fire from the sky

now
so much time has passed
you've lived the majority
of your life now without this person
how does this make you feel?
trying to place blame is like Brazil 2006 Nazi-hunting
like saying light on Earth from a galactic star
was cooler way before everybody knew about it
like loving a writers work posthumously
and telling others that he was a lot better
when he was alive

If Comic Books Were Beers - Then I'd Sell My Liver On eBay...

Right now my house smells like the mall.

Earlier today, TARGET sounded exactly like being on a cruise ship.

Also, I see a horrible piece of writing in my future.

See? Here it is. The post, not the picture, you penis.

Doctor Doom And Darth Vader Are Brothers...

Dude.
Seriously.
Totally un-funny today.
un-everything today.

I guess this would make me a Communist, also.

Man Killed The Dodo And The Dodo Killed Man...

For every ten psychotic thoughts
I have one moment of clarity

For each bone that I break
A muscle will get stronger

Today
When bored and dull
Tonight
My dreams will become lucid

Mirthless socially
Clever in my own head

I am the earth-quaking stompings
Of a million giants with ADD
And Restless Leg Syndrome

I am a creature not stirring
I am a quiet mouse

I am continous smoldering embers
And the Napalm of Dante's Inferno

I am the sun, the moon and the stars

Eventually killed by Avian Bird Flu

Bye, little girl...I'll miss you.

how much
is too little
to make
that big of a deal of

when a big thing
that seems so small
in the grand scheme of things
gets taken away from you
are you being
selfish
unrealistic
do you straighten up
wipe your misty eyes with your wrist
or do you swim with it

when something withers

does somebody hear the tree fall in your heart

I like to shut off certain aspects
of my emotions because
I am either too old
tired
or have already
worked it around in my head

been there
done that
felt that

everything acknowledged
not forgotten
but no need to be an emotional CUTTER

scars heal
scars remain, though

everything’s just tragic
and always beautifully overlooked

everything is nothing
and sometimes
my little
nothings
mean
everything
to me

Rest in peace, "60"

Love, Kevynn

Chico...

My dog smells like a baby.

A baby who shit his pants.

Citron This...

There's something wrong about accidentally finding a bottle of vodka in your cupboard.

It's kind of like The Gods on Mount Olympus chucking down ice cream cones to retarded, screaming fat kids.

(Maybe I shouldn't have written that out loud.)

So Much Hair On His Palms, He was Chewbacca's Hand Model...

Jesus, work is boring.

Last time I did anything this repetitive,
I was ten...and then couldn't touch it again for like, a week.

George Romero vs. Barbasol...

How come you never see zombies with facial hair?

or have I not been looking hard enough?

Hello, Mr. Poetry Bastard...

and so what do you do?
you try
you try to make it better
but nothing happens
the gods on Blog Olympus don't get back to you
rain
fire
silence
are all happening at once
now that I'm forgotten

serves you right
dumbass

for feeling comfortable

Kill Me Now, Please...

It'd be cheaper, at least. My fucking teeth are always cracking, my goddamn bones are always breaking, my eyes fucking suck, my knees are shot - Somebody just kick me dowm some fucking stairs already.

Fuck.

Found On "The Office" Website...

Kevin Malone
Thursday, January 19th, 2006

"Kevin Malone, Accountant that is bald, over-weight, often scowls. Plays in a Steve Miller tribute band and is a very subdued man."

There's a guy named Kevin Malone on The Office?

I'm going to sue. He should be an Accountant that is balding, under-weight, often scowls. Plays in a POISON tribute band and is a very subdued man.

Walking After Work...

in the parking garage,
I had a hard time deciding
if it smelled like flowers
or urine.

Is this weird?

Brokeback Mountain: Starring Lenny And George From Of Mice And Men...



You know, I really wouldn't mind the whole-fuck-it-I'll-just-save-my-money-and-buy-a-small-piece-of-land-in-Colorado-or-Wyoming-and-live-on-a-ranch-thing.

A small place.

Open areas. Ominous clouds on the horizon. A couple of horses wearing sweaters.

A monkey ranch hand family to do all of the chores.

Zombies to help maintain the banana groves.

Pens of small children to feed to the zombies.

You know - nice. Peaceful.

Just a simple ranch filled with clothed horses, monkeys and zombies.

Relaxing.

Away from society.

A break from normal life.

I Need To Run My Remit Report And Get Out Of Here...

A birthday attack is a type of cryptographic attack which exploits the mathematics behind the birthday paradox, making use of a space-time tradeoff. Specifically, if a function yields any of n different outputs with equal probability and n is sufficiently large, then after evaluating the function for about different arguments we expect to have found a pair of different arguments x1 and x2 with f(x1) = f(x2), known as a collision. If the outputs of the function are distributed unevenly, then a collision can be found even faster (Bellare and Kohno, 2004).

Digital signatures can be susceptible to a birthday attack. A message m is typically signed by first computing f(m), where f is a cryptographic hash function, and then using some secret key to sign f(m). Suppose Alice wants to trick Bob into signing a fraudulent contract. Alice prepares a fair contract m and a fraudulent one m'. She then finds a number of positions where m can be changed without changing the meaning, such as inserting commas, empty lines, one versus two spaces after a sentence, replacing synonyms, etc. By combining these changes, she can create a huge number of variations on m which are all fair contracts. In a similar manner, she also creates a huge number of variations on the fraudulent contract m'. She then applies the hash function to all these variations until she finds a version of the fair contract and a version of the fraudulent contract which have the same hash value, f(m) = f(m'). She presents the fair version to Bob for signing. After Bob has signed, Alice takes the signature and attaches it to the fraudulent contract. This signature then "proves" that Bob signed the fraudulent contract.

To avoid this attack, the output length of the hash function used for a signature scheme can be chosen large enough so that the birthday attack becomes computationally infeasible, i.e. about twice as large as needed to prevent an ordinary brute force attack. It has also been recommended that Bob cosmetically modify any contract presented to him before signing. However, this does not solve the problem, because now Alice suspects Bob of attempting to use a birthday attack.

The birthday attack can also be used to speed up the computation of discrete logarithms. Suppose x and y are elements of some group and y is a power of x. We want to find the exponent of x that gives y. A birthday attack computes xr for many randomly chosen integers r and computes yx ? s for many randomly chosen integers s. After a while, a match will be found: xr = yx ? s which means y = xr + s.

If the group has n elements, then the naive method of trying out all exponents takes about n / 2 steps on average; the birthday attack is considerably faster and takes fewer than steps on average.

There are a lot of potential band names up above, me thinks.

Read On A Message Board Re: Zach Braff's Newest Directing Gig...

"Garden State was a cinematic pyrmaid scheme to get our people laid, between him matisyahu and larry david our perception has shifted to ridiculously wealthy, marijuana smoking ultra sensitive emotional sorcerers."

I can't stop reading this.

I don't know why. I think I love it, but am unsure...

Yo Te Llamo, Madre Cass...

I swear, the alcohol's eating away at my already-atrophied brain. Some mornings there are Word documents that I don't remember writing. Sometimes there are new desktop shortcuts. Sometimes I'll create a new blog that I always end up erasing.

Last week I found four pictures on my desktop of a naked woman that had to of weighed at least 800 pounds...

I'm hoping that I thought that the pictures were funny.

Seriously, because you never know about some people when they're drunk...

I Just Bought The Powers Definitive Hardcover And The DEMO Trade...

Anyway. Just read this on Warren Ellis' Bad Signal mailing list.

(I was reading older ones that I hadn't gotten around to. This might've been a month old)

This was about TV shows that he had recently checked out - and one review said:

LIFE ON MARS: wasn't as bad as I
was expecting. In fact, it was clever,
surreal stuff in places. The short
version is that a 2006 cop hit by
a car finds himself in 1973, and
still a cop. (The title refers to the
Bowie song, playing on his iPod in
2006 and on the eight-track
cassette in his car in 1973.) (I
believe there was a Japanese show
with a similar conceit a year or two
back.) 33 years extra knowledge
of criminology gives our boy a
certain edge, but the "polite" and
procedure-driven police service
training of 2006 is no bloody good
in 1973 Britain, when policing was
a lot different, a lot more ground-
level, more basic, and, yes, more
violent. John Simm, in the lead, is
a good actor, and Philip Glenister
is fine as his charmingly monstrous
boss Gene Hunt. Worth a go.

God, what a great fucking idea. I mean, it's not like fucking GOLD - but how rad is that, anyway?

I'd like to check it out, but my mind would be swarming while watching it and I'd ruin the whole experience for me. Much like I just did with my newly-purchased and soon-to-be-eBayed Ultimate Avengers DVD.

p.s. Does anybody know what the hell I'm typing about half the time? And even if you don't - do you mind?

Tuna.

Oops, sorry. I meant to say "goodbye".

Malone Shoots Fellow Hunter...



It sucks to be stuck
in a body
and not
be able
to just float around freely
like some kind of
creative Santa Claus

Some writers
are content
to treat the Internet
like sooty chimneys
but I can’t do this anymore

I can’t do the once a year thing
can’t do the whenever I get around to it thing

I am not a good writer
I am tolerable at best
you get the discounted coupon’s amount versus the overall cost

I am last year’s Tsunami
I am Katrina
I am slippery mudslides
I am city-leveling earthquakes
I am Nino
Nina
The Pinta
Fresca Soda
The SATAN Maria

I am Red Tides and methane emissions
I am Carbon Monoxide poisoning and Oxygen Bars combined

I am everything that killed the dinosaurs

I am the inevitable Avian Human Flu

My mind is the reverse SETI

I will constantly be searching for intelligent life at home in my brain

I want to NOT be the light that burns twice as bright burning half as long
I want to be the result of constantly splitting atoms

ALL THE TIME

I’m getting there

My Life As A Comic...



First time that I told jokes on stage was after high school in 1993. I was with friends at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles – I was only 18 years old at the time and got in with a fake ID that said that my name was Mario Fernando Jimenez and that I was 5 foot 6 inches, had short hair and lived in Anaheim. I had about four beers or so when the MC after the show said that an open mike night was going to start up and that you could sign in at the manager’s booth and –

No. Just kidding. The only stand up I’ve done has been everyday, reluctantly before work.

Ba Dum DUMB.

Anyway…

Seems that lately, not since the 90’s have previously deceased villains and defunct crime-fighting sidekicks been coming back to life in mainstream comic books.

We have Bucky Barnes, the once kid partner, coming back to haunt Captain America. I’ve noticed this because I’ve grown weak as of late and actually purchased some Captain America comics. I’ve always hated the Star Spangled Bastard. He represents everything that America stands for (e.g., ultimate gayness and lame dialogue and tepid stories that seem like they were written by our current administration.) Alien threats! Terrorism! (A.I.M.) The Red Skull! The Cosmic Cube grants unlimited power to its holder! Arrgghhh! Gee, Cap – don’t let the bad guys get it! Life as we know it could end! Wheeee!!!! Fart. Boring. Now that I look up at the beginning of this sentence, KID PARTNER of Captain America sounds kinda homo-suspicious doesn’t it?



Speaking of suspicious relationships – The once dead second Robin, The Boy Wonder is back now too. Remember? He was also a little boy who an older, sweaty man took as his ward. Yeah, he’s back – and nobody’s happier than Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Manor loyal butler. That means that he can break out the old 8 MM camera again. (He was getting tired of watching all of those old reels of the both of them wrestling together in The Bat-Cave.)



Back from the dead. Now, whom else? Colossus. That big, old, metal-lookin’ Russian bastard from The X-Men. He died and came back too. He likes to draw. This means that he’s gay too.

Oh yeah – Spiderman also! Yeah, of course you don’t know that he died because you actually have a life…no…wait – no, you don’t. Here I was going to make fun of myself for getting all trapped up in soap operatic monthly episodes that sometimes deal with people that fly around and wear spandex – but YOU, yes YOU – watch TV, don’t you?
Yes. You do. And that shit is built for morons, so I take back what I was going to say. Shit, I’d rather help Wonder Woman try to find her invisible jet in the morning after a drunken night at Superman’s house than watch The George Lopez Show. Yeah, so Spidey’s back. He ain’t dead no mo’.

Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern – the guy who was named after an appliance. The guy who was lucky that he didn’t find a crashed alien that gave him the powers of The BROWN WASHBOARD. Yeah, he’s back too. I don’t like him either, yet I almost DID buy a comic of his today only because at the end of the story Batman tried on his Green Power Ring. The whole giving-in-to-peer-pressure that GL was giving BATS had a whole TRYING-REEFER-FOR-THE-FIRST-TIME aura to it. And…AND, check this out – I almost bought a variant cover of the issue. Variant issues are something that the comic book companies do to make you become an Uber-Geek and to further deplete your already-skimpy wallet. They might draw a different picture on the cover and only make a 1:10 ratio of it available. This means that you spent the same amount of money for something that is the exact same in the other, but same issue. Ten bucks or...let’s see? $2.50? Kids could spend the mark-up on booze. Talking about comics has never helped me get laid. Being a writer has. So, what if I were a comic book writer? Comic book writers need girlfriends. Not unless you’re into belly fat and scruffy beards with shards of Big Mac lettuce in them. Thank god that I have one. (A girlfriend – not a Big Mac.)

I heard that The Invisible Woman AKA the girl from The Fantastic Four is supposed to die soon. No big loss. Ay, now here’s the rub – I think that having an invisible wife would be great. Awesome, Fucking spectacular amazingly right-on – BUT…she’s actually supposed to be hot in the comics. If she was ugly, turning invisible while having sex would seem advantageous to both parties then, huh? You wouldn't have to get up to turn off the lights. AND Mister Fantastic does have ELASTIC powers too. Can you imagine that? Your ugly wife is watching Extreme: Home Makeover Edition in the living room and you don’t even have to get up out of your chair to have sex with her? Just stretch the ol' penis into the other room. Too bad you couldn’t erase her vocal cords either, though. I’d take a mute companion over an invisible one any day. But, do her invisibilty powers make it easy for her to cheat, though?

“Honey I called for you all day. For like, six hours and couldn’t find you!”

“Oh. Sorry dear. I was gardening naked while invisible in the backyard and had my iPod cranked up. I guess I didn’t hear you.”

Actually, who would need to cheat – when you could turn invisible? You could follow home sexy movie stars and just masturbate while standing on their bathroom counter.



The Vision died and came back, sort of like in a programmed/resurrected consciousness kind of way. He was an android from The Avengers who had a wife who turned crazy and it turns out that she imagined the whole thing and that they never actually had children anyway because she was Bat-Shit crazy. DUH. He’s a fucking robot. I’d imagine sex too if I was married to A TALKING DILDO.

Donna Troy was dead for like, a year or so and then she came back. Who cares? I’ve never read anything about her. I know that some super heroes were probably sad. And then happy again. Then she named her daughter Helenov, or something like that. (waiting for you to get the stupid joke)

Jean Grey/Marvel Girl/Phoenix comes back all the time.

Blue Beetle came back, but is supposed to be a different guy than Ted Kord. What kind of situation is this? How much of an effect does this have on the regular nerd? Would your reaction be like, a “oh my god – nobody could EVER replace Liberace!” or a “Why does Darren from Bewitched look kind of different – ah, who cares!” type-of-thing?



Firestorm died saving everybody from some big thing. Some other guy inherited his powers. Nobody reads about this guy either, so everything’s the same, so sit down, that-one-guy-in-Georgia-who-owns-his-every-appearance. SIT DOWN, NERD.

Speedball dies in the upcoming Marvel: Civil War and will inevitably be coming back sooner or (hopefully) later. The only people who care about this are the fidgety people who are parking your cars and stealing all of the change in your ashtray for their nights fix of Heroin and Coke.

Oh yeah, and Hawkeye. He’s an Avenger also, who shoots arrows and died. He’s been popping up all sly and Boogeyman-ish lately. So, he’s back. Hopefully, when I eventually land a comic book writing gig – I can have his arms and limbs amputated. And then I’ll write a whole 58 page comic special dealing with him trying to roll away as a Hawk tries to peck out his eyeballs.

Funny. I was going to write about people in my life that I never write about and it turned into this. I was going to give them codenames and everything. But this was funnier and unfortunately longer.

So this is what you get.

Whatever I was going to write about before is DEAD.

DISCO dead.

Those Def Jam Fighting Video Games Would Be Fun To Play...

I feel like a dork listening to Snoop in the office.
I will not nod my head to the music.
It just seems like it would look...wrong. Just wrong for me to do it.

Very THE OFFICE. Very guy listening to NWA in his car at the beginning of Office Space. Very...not the place to appreciate a good song. Maybe with friends and drinking, but...here?

Ugh. This place just reeks of THE WAVE:LOVE SONGS FROM THE COAST or whatever the hell that staion's called.

I need me some Kenny G or some of that John Tesh, nigga!

A Lack Of Color, A Little Soul, A Mess Of Blues...

Girlfriend cries out

I stop typing
....
...
..
.

Honey what's wrong? Look at all these animals around you...

they woke me up

I'm right here honey. Over there. Writing. (puts covers closer to her shoulders)

(she makes sleepy, pouty face)

I'll turn out the light. (then kisses her forehead)

(Her pouty face subsides. Her eyebrows become unforrowed)

Good night, sweetheart.

(mumble, mumble)

Good night, honey.
.
..
...
....

I start typing.

Girlfriend dreams.

This book is made up, of course, but the story I had Bonnie tell actually happened in real life - in the death house of a penitentiary in Arkansas...

MALONE, KEVYNN T

TITLE: ( y'know? I was going to make a list of what I got at the library today - but I stopped due to a combination of my laziness, the existence of efforts for minimal hee-haws, the soup that I'm making on the stove, my lack of focus, my guilt for not paying attention to the girlfriend after she was so understanding after I've spent the last two hours re-writing and re-typing my small play that won't be included in Joel Beers' play that I should've given to him a week ago and now she's fallen asleep, movies to be watched, comics to be read, early hour employment nastiness, thoughts to be thoughten, bringings to be broughten, beers to be forgotten...)

I'm here.

Trying to waste time how I want to.

Oscar And Felix Should’ve Worked More...

In the last three days my girlfriend and I have barely seen each other.
Roommates see each other more.
This is how it’s been for the last five years between us.
BUT, I do work two jobs now.
But, anyway – I had a quick question –
When people ask me how long we’ve been going out – should I say, like, two and a half years to be more accurate?

My stupidity is purposeful and extremely well crafted...

I dreamt that my friend’s mother and her mother’s friend had read this website and I freaked out because I had previously written in an entry saying that the mothers friend was tall, fat and ugly or something like that.

And then the mother’s big friend kissed me.

So, say that you made ten bucks an hour somewhere. Anywhere. What’s that break down to? I’m horrible at math, but what would every ten minutes that slowly ekes by be worth to that working person?

So, say that this working stiff spends an average 8 hours or so-or whatever amount of time, looking at the clock until he gets to go home.

This person’s exhausted. Their job is hard or boring – maybe both. This person now wants to relax. This person likes to go to bars and so then goes to his neighborhood tavern, sports bar, etc. thispersonthisperson

He likes beer. Lets say that the average price of a bottle of beer is 4 bucks. How many beers does this guy drink in the first hour? Let’s also just say that he’s being social on an average level and that this person is not interested in a member of the opposite sex that night. (Drinking would be more expensive and their duration at the bar would increase also)

He has three beers in that first hour and then four more in the second. (Does that sound like a lot to you? They’re Amstel Lights and he’s an alcoholic.)

7 beers total @ $4 a pop = $28

+ $10 in tips (cheap bastard) = $38 to drink for the night.

So the guy made $80 bucks at work – take out $12 for taxes and lets take off three for various SS and all of that crap. $65 bucks for his workday then.

This means that the guy worked 8 hours for $27

Is that like, $3.37 an hour?

It’s basically, a crappy fast food hamburger
A comic book w/tax
A tip
Change you get back from buying a big box of kids breakfast cereal
A small coke at the movie theatres
3/4ths of a pack of cigarettes
A side of bacon
A movie rental
A Library fine
That’s almost the price of a beer! Without the tip. (You cheap bastard)

What does this all mean? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m bored at work and can’t wait to get some drinks afterward.

I don’t like Amstel Light, by the way.

And I drink way more than that and am never by myself and I tip a lot better.

I Want To Be As Famous As Pat Sajak But With Beautiful Hair Like Nuno From The Band, Extreme...



That is totally not true.

I DID once, have long hair - sadly, yes...almost exactly like his.

This was 68 years ago.

Anyway.

...Oh yeah, an hour ago I was offered to be an extra in a movie right down the street from my house through a friend. They said that they needed a tall, handsome guy to be in the background or to stand around shivering drinking hot chocolate that tastes like tepid donkey diarrhea or something like that. Thank you for pretending that I'm handsome. Thank you for thinking that I'm tall too, Brandon-Mr-Six-Foot-Two.

I said no. He really didn't believe me that I didn't want to do it. I said that I had a writing project that needed to be done (which is true). He asked me if I had a deadline. I didn't lie. I said no. That I just didn't want to do it and that I'd rather write instead.

This, ladies and gentleman, makes me feel like a million dollars. Years and years ago, I would've dreamt for the opportunity to be "discovered" or to just even be around small productions, blargh, blargh, etc...I had pictures taken once. Which still get pulled out every now and then by drunken friends and screeched at HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gone to extra casting calls, etc.

NOW? I just want to sit home write, read comic books and drink light beer.

Acting? Gross. Vomit. Poo.

Writing? Excellent. Virgins await me in heaven. Candy for everyone.

Just kidding. Fuck that. Of course I would still like to act. Hell yeah. I'm a complete idiot on stage, on camera and in front of a microphone. I'm every Easter ham ever ingested. I am Jack's lack of dignity. I am Jack's expired prescription of Ritalin.

But writing is easier - and you're just as much of a helpless whore by doing it.

This just means that I'm lazier.

And, by the way - I just got done emailing a friend back that works for a famous Talent/Lit agency in L.A. and that wants to help me out with submissions, etc.

I like this.

BUT, still - if comic book companies would ever pick up the scripts and synopsis' that I've sent them - than I wouldn't need all of the kind bastards all across the universe to help me turn into a butterfly, now would I?

Gay butterfly.

Now watch Brandon get a speaking role and then become as famous as Kevin Federline and then never speak to me again.

And then I'll be a fat, baby endangering Brittney Spears.

Anti-Media...

Okay...let's pretend that certain dumb TV programs, movies, music, etc. don't exist.

And once we nominate something, it actually WONT EXIST ANYMORE due to our combined magical powers.

It's that easy. So that the next time that you're bored or stoned off of your mind and watching a sitcom that you've always hated, or forced to see a movie that sucks or exposed to somebody else's crappy music - you can remember and say, hey - I forgot about Fat Free Milk Anti-Media! I'm NOT really watching, listening to this, etc.This is a figment of my imagination!

You can yell at it - I KILLED YOU! YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!

That's all it takes.

People don't count though, bitches...

I get to nominate one first...

Ummm...

Say, Thank You...

I just wrote something ten thousand times
more boring
than this sentence

I erased it
because I don't want you
to feel ten thousand times more unsatisfied

Than now

I Only Went To Target To Get Toilet Paper...

DRESS SHIRT FOR WORK -
ST. PADDYS DAY MENS SHIRT
ST. PADDYS DAY MENS SHIRT FOR MY GIRLFRIEND
TOILET PAPER
3 PLAIN WHITE T-SHIRTS
X BOX SALE VIDEO GAME
WHAT THE HELL IS SCOTT MGA RL?
A DVD FOR THE GIRLFRIEND
A TEA POURER
A TEA CUP
STATUARY 2 @ 12.99
STD? (WHY IS IT CALLED THAT? GROSS) PILLOW 2 @ 2.99
CASTROL GTX
PHOTO FRAME
SHADOW BOX
STD PLLW CVR(S)

TOTAL? $126.86

I AM A GAYWAD, HOPELESS, BROKE LOSER...

Here's a copy of the email you sent through the International Campaign for Tibet...


















Message: Dear Google,


As a Tibet supporter and someone who wishes to see increased human rights and
democracy for Tibetans and Chinese living in China, I am dismayed to read about
your decision to begin actively censoring the content of google.cn on behalf of
the Chinese government.

Your decision to support the repression of Chinese and Tibetans seeking
alternative information and voicing alternative views is a sad day for the
people of China and Tibet and makes Google complicit in the Chinese Communist
Party's shameful distortion of the truth of its own history in Tibet.

I have read your Company Principles, "Ten Things Google Has Found to be True",
and would like you to read "Ten Things You Won't Find to be True on Google.cn":

1. The consistent non-violent efforts of the Dalai Lama to bring peace to Tibet
through understanding between Chinese and Tibetans.

2. That Tibet was independent before invasion in 1949 and has not always been a
part of China.

3. That hundreds of thousands of Tibetans have died as a result of the Chinese
occupation.

4. The abuses of human rights, the imprisonment of hundreds of nuns and monks
and the destruction of monasteries in Tibet.

5. The abduction of the 6 year old Gendun Choekyi Nyima, 11th Panchen Lama of
Tibet, by Chinese forces in 1995. He has never been seen since.

6. The UN Investigator on Torture's Beijing statement of 2/12/2005 that there is
a "consistent and systematic pattern of torture" against Tibetans in China.

7. The number of Tibetans who die every year trying to cross the Himalayas to
escape into exile.

8. The damage being done to the Tibetan environment by projects the Tibetans are
forced to accept from Beijing.

9. The destruction of large parts of the holy city of Lhasa to make way for new
Chinese development.

10. The population transfer of Chinese to Tibet, making the Tibetans a minority
in their own land.

The internet is one of the few ways the Tibetan people can seek justice, voice
their opinion and have their view heard by others inside China. Google has
joined the Chinese government in robbing them of that opportunity. I ask you to
reconsider your decision to be a partner in this evil act.

Kevynn Malone
kevynn75@hotmail.com

I have no idea what a meme is, but I saw Sarah Brown doing one - so I thought that I might do one also because I'm a follower/lemming/automaton/poo-head...

Four jobs I’ve had:

Puppeteer at an amusement park for toddlers
Pizza maker (like, three times - I think)
Content writer for an internet animation team
Bartender

Four Movies I can watch over and over:

True Romance
Empire Strikes Back
Fight Club
Shadowlands

Four Places I’ve Lived:

Alta Loma, Ca.
Placentia, Ca.
Fullerton, Ca.
My Own Sick Head, Ca.

Four TV shows I love:


The Twilight Zone
The Real World
History Channel
Discover Channel


Four places I’ve vacationed / Who’s Almost 30 But Has Never Left The Continental United States Except For The million trips to Mexico...

Austin, Texas
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Park City, Utah
Fullerton, California

Four of my favorite dishes:

Bud Light
Pickles
Olives
Processed Meat

Four sites I visit daily:

Fat Free Milk
Golden Fiddle
Things Overheard In New York
Newsarama.com

Six places I would rather be right now:

Downtown Sante Fe, New Mexico
Echo Station, Hoth
Market City In Austin, Texas
The Tower Of High Sorcery At Palanthus, Krynn
Brooklyn, New York
Wayne Manor, Gotham City

Four bloggers I’m tagging/slightly alienating:

Wil Wheaton
Warren Ellis
Kevynn Malone
Maddox Jollie Pitt

Dear MY COMPUTER,



I’m glad that you’re feeling better now and that the nice man fixed you. You’d been gone for a long time and I was starting to get worried. At first I was lonely, but then, as time passed – I realized how much more I was reading and then didn’t really miss you as much. I realized that you were a leech and like a technological equivalent of a fat bag of weed on a coffee table.

You are a tool of convenience, MY COMPUTER. Nothing more. Effective immediately, I will not talk to you, I will not play with you or shoot the shit with you. I will USE YOU for email, writing assignments, eBay, iTunes, Fat Free Milk and for porn. That’s it.

Thank you.

Kevynn Malone

Four Year Old Niece Says To me...

Her - Say, "Ow, my hip!"

Me - Ow. My hip.

Her - You're not hip. You're old.

Like Fallujah Mortar Fire...

I have a farting problem.

I honestly think that there's something’s wrong with me.

I’m scared.

What if my ass pops?

Percent Daily Values Are Based On A 2,000 Calorie Diet...

I hate feeling nostalgic.
I remember when I was younger, and I didn’t hate nostalgia so much.
Man...those were the days.

Teddy Roosevelt said:



"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

And my worthy cause will be to get very drunk tonight.

Thank you, Teddy. *clink*

Reverse Medusa Meets The Man With The Achilles Brain...

Girl cut me off this morning. My car almost slammed into hers. I started cursing at her and ended up at the same light as her. She was going to make a right at the light and I was going to go straight.

Her window starts to go down. I start to get excited because I think that for some reason, she’s going to say something to me. Yell at me. Why? I don’t know – but I’m about to whip up a verbal shit-storm when –

I see her and…she’s really pretty.

Doink.

And she says, “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Chapman Street?”

And do you know what I did? What I said to this distracted, horrible bitch of a driver that only seconds before had put my well-being and maybe my whole life in jeopardy?

You got that right. I totally changed in an instant.

Before I knew what was happening, a big smile crept up on my face, my voice changed and I became very, very helpful. I even apologized because I couldn’t give her better directions.

Yeah. (sigh)

Now...there’s nothing wrong with me. This is wrong with all of us. You, me and everybody, dogs and cats included too.

Pretty people get away with EVERYTHING.

And we let them.
We run faster to help them.
We pretend we’re interested in what they’re saying.
We marry them.
We have kids with them.
We watch movies with them in it.
We let them cut through us with fiery swords.
We let them walk all over us.
We let them into our lives and we love it.

We let them.

Yes, we do.

And I must not be that pretty then...because people give me shit all of the time.

In Da Office. Word Up, Sucka.

I am doing so much nothing today that it's messing up my shit.

The Slow Assassination Of Kevynn Malone...

I swear to Zeus that the girlfriend and the various domesticated animals in the house have conspired to not ever let me have a proper sleep. I'm an insomniac, Restless Leg-syndrome Nerd, and all together Mr. Nightmare-sweaty-scream-in-your-sleep anyway, but...how many times can a guy be woken up when he's savoring that last two hours before he has to get up?

Throw a pillow by my head?
Fucking cats using my head as a Twister mat?
Dog burrowing in the sheets Like Cheney does for Oil?
Landlady measuring windows outside?
Girlfriend deciding to ask me questions? Now?

I AM ASLEEP.

Was, actually.

It's hard enough to get anything that mimics human speech patterns when I'm awake.
When I'm asleep? You get what it sounds like when live baby piglets get thrown in campfires...

Go away and let me be Jabba The Hutt.

Fuckers.

The Sky Looks ILM Fake...

he checks his pockets for scraps of paper
he swears he had things to do
but there were no papers

so now what
he thought
what am I missing

will these things
hit me in the head when I'm at home
will I have to get back up

are they that important

no
no no no

out of sight
out of mind
or out of mind
out of sight

no

no no no

ATTENTION:

Men over 40 that wear colognes that smell like fish, ass, grass and the cigarette smoke of dive bars?

STOP IT. Thank you.


Also, I earlier had put my half-eaten submarine sandwich in the office fridge. Later on, I went back to grab a Coke and noticed that the whole fridge now smelled like my sandwich. I wondered if anybody had taken something of theirs out of the fridge and then were grossed out by the now over-powering smell of my Sub.

I felt like I had just silently farted in a crowded elevator.

At Least They Have Jillian Barberie...

You wake up this morning from having horrible nightmares to Kevin Federline being interviewed on The Fox Channel. You try to go back to the nightmares. The day can only get better.

1,2,1,2,3,4
[whistle]...


It's kind of funny.

I've been bored at work and reading, reading, reading various crap on the internet.

I think to myself, "I should write something, but then I'll have to go back to Blogger, type in my password, wait, and then blah, blah, blah, It takes too much time."

So I go to Blogger anyways and...Oh shit - DON'T have to type in my password because last time I was on it, I checked the little box that asked if it wanted it to remember me. Which, apparently, I guess it did.

And so there I was with a blank space in front of me, no delays, everything that I complained about in my head didn't exist and...so I typed...this.

This?

Hmmm...It's kind of like somebody giving you a free pass to Disneyland, but then when you ride the Tea Cups - you shit your pants.

The White Mountains...

The phones are acting weird today. Calls disconnect. I can hear a click when I get on the phone – kind of like somebody else is getting on the line right after me. There is also a faint hum in the background that I never noticed before. The computer’s are sluggish and I can see the silhouettes of shuffling feet from beneath the door, but every time I yank it open, there’s nobody there.

When you drive home tonight – watch out, try to keep your eye in the sky, avoid being tailed, lock your doors and turn out the lights when you get home.

My Car Smells Like Cat Pee Too...

It’d be convenient if I had a computer attached to my head. Then I could write about stuff while it was happening instead of sporadically firing away when time allowed.

But considering how much I fall down when I’m drinking – I guess my Head-Computer would be broken a lot.

I also never carry eggs or light bulbs in my pockets for this reason also.