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God Drops Ball on Giants

October 15, 2001
San Francisco, CA
Noonan Pricely/AP
Barry Bonds monopolizing God's time lately.
T
he Supreme Being, variously known throughout the world as God, Jehovah, Allah and other aliases, admits to fumbling the San Francisco Giants' chances for post-season play in the recent Friday night game against the Los Angeles Dodgers. It was a mistake that was more costly than -- and almost as memorable as -- the time Jose Canseco had a fly ball bounce off his head and over the fence for a home run. Score that E-Almighty One.

"Yeah, I guess I kind of fucked up on that one," Mr. Being said with a sheepish, omniscient grin. "What happened was, I got so excited by seeing Barry Bonds break McGwire's home run record that I like totally forgot that they needed to win that night to stay in the pennant race. The plan had been for them to win all three games against the Dodgers, while...Read more...


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February 16, 2004

Click for Biography

The Rotten Stink of Valentines

Goddammit! Another V-Day, come and gone.

According to nebulous website statistics, one in five Americans is single, but as we know, polls taken at pornographic sites are debatable. The truth is probably somewhere in between—all my neighbors are married or in serious relationships, yet nobody at the commune can maintain a significant other for more than a week. All I know is, if those estimates are anywhere near close, that leaves a lot of pissed off people who spent last Valentine's Day stewing in their homes.

Somehow another Valentine's Day passed and I survived, and more over, I didn't get drunk and call up any ex-girlfriends on the phone. Sure, I browsed the internet looking for the loneliest blogs I could find, just for company, then I searched for a while to see if anyone else remembered that show Tales of the Gold Monkey, but that isn't really on topic. What's important is I maintained some level of dignity by keeping my indignity within the walls of my apartment.

There are different arguments about Valentine's Day, I suppose. Some would say it's a soulless commercial enterprise driven by the almighty dollar to shill tiny greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, and chalk-flavored hearts; others are retarded, and disagree. These fucks are hopelessly whipped by whatever gender's genitalia they're dating.

Whoever first expressed the need for love, for one human being to find that special connection to another...Read more...


º Last Column: Patriot Chains
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April 1, 2002

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Queen of the Doomed Relationship

The showbiz life can wreak havoc on your love life. Havoc? A "c," no "k"? That never looks right. But it's true. Havoc or havock.

Having the necessary charisma and magnetism to make it big in the entertainment world is no guarantee you'll be successful at love. In fact, in my world it's been the opposite case. All my relationships have fizzled into burnt marshmallows at the bottom of a pissed-out campfire.

My first boyfriend was my third agent, let's just call him Mort R., for the sake of confidentiality. Old Rothstein, that's what I always called him, he was a sucker for girls who looked young. And I looked young, being 12 at the time, so we were a perfect match. We had everything in common, we both liked McDonald's and Alf, we both wanted kids. Well, he didn't want kids the same way I wanted kids, but we were working through our problems when my parents and his wife made us break up. You may have seen the news article in The Star or the Fox movie of the week. They could have at least done me a favor and cast me as myself, I definitely know the part.

I didn't have a real serious boyfriend again until I was 15. We were married in California, only to find out Reverend Jughead didn't have state sanctioning so it never was legal. When we found that out, things just disintegrated. That and one argument about what constitutes "enough" oral sex and the storybook romance was over. Yeah, a storybook—the title of this story was "Sleeping...Read more...


º Last Column: The "M" Stands for Music!
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Quote of the Day
“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I did not get my head blown off by a gorilla fluent in sign language and wielding a shotgun. He was only a man in a gorilla suit, and the weapon a mere .38 handgun. I just wanted to sound important.”

-Mack Twain
Fortune 500 Cookie
It's about time you learned to play bass. The bad fish you had last weekend will finally cause food poisoning sometime in the next week. With great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes, executive bathroom privileges. Lucky numbers 86, 75, 30, and 9.


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BY Southern Elvis Brandon
6/10/2002
The Negative Sum of Numbers
There was something disappointing about going home from New York Art College. A depression set in as soon as Smythe drove his middle-class luxury car across the borders of his old California hometown, Burnt Pines. He was here to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation before flying first class to Europe to live life as a starving artist, where he would make a killing.

Mom and dad couldn't meet Smythe at the airport because he wanted it to be a surprise. Also, they were emotionally distant and mom was haunted by the sexual abuse of Smythe by an uncle that she couldn't prevent; but mostly because it was supposed to be a surprise.

Only one person knew about Smythe coming in, his best friend Eddie "Big Fucking Junkie" Joneser. Eddie was supposed to meet Smythe at...Read more...

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