E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
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|September 28, 2007|
You Might Be A Part Of The Taliban If...
...You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to beer.
...You own a $300 machine gun and $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can’t afford shoes.
...You have more wives than teeth.
...You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.
...You've ever opened a can of falafel with a mortar round.
...You used a Stinger missile given to you by George Bush Sr. to shoot at a helicopter sent by George Bush Jr.
...You’ve ever had your camel repossessed.
...You can't think of anyone you HAVEN'T declared Jihad against.
...You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry ammunition in your robe.
...You’ve ever been asked, "Does this burka make my ass look fat?"
...You think "The Kite Runner" is the funniest book you ever read.
...You’ve felt the urge to rub one out after seeing a woman’s exposed ankle.
...You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.
...You’ve ever uttered the phrase, "I love what you’ve done with your cave."
...You wipe your asswith your bare left hand, but consider bacon "unclean."
I thought you'd like this. I wrote it, but I'd be amazed if I was the first guy to think of it. Feel free to post it. Feel free to modify it. If you use it, please post a link or give me some sort of credit (or blame). - gord
Somehow I'm guessing, "Nothing burns like a Deere" wasn't the slogan they were shooting for. None the less, nothing burns like a Deere.
some explosives + a wasps nests + a camera = some angry fucking wasps
a little something off my first album: the yankee or dixie test. i'm down to 42% yankee, i'm slippin
i don't know about that, father. your guy may be bigger than my guy up there, but my guy is bigger than your guy down here.
|September 27, 2007|
Nothing A Good Bitch Slap Can't Fix.
An update an Astrum - current HMFIC is Chris, followed closely by El Guapo. So far, no scores from Dusty, Lucky, or Ned. (Anyone catch that?)
Remember the Dumbass who raised all the hell at Circuit City for not showing his receipt and drivers license? Apparently he's reached an agreement to avoid prosecution. Not that I think refusing to show your identification is exactly the crime of the century, but being a complete asshole should have its downside. To boil twenty long winded paragraphs down to the good stuff: The District Attorney agreed to drop the charges, if Dumbass agreed not to try and sue the city. So here's what he accomplished by his little Constitutional shootout at the Circuit City Coral. One, he spend over $7,500 in legal fees. Two, he created a lot of heartburn for his family. Three, he created a lot of work for an already overburdened legal system. Four. Yeah there really is no four. That's all he accomplished; a great big waste of time, money and effort.
To those who believe he was standing up for his rights because he had no legal obligation to show his photo ID, I say to you, "Who the fuck cares." Showing your drivers license is about the most benign request an officer can make. So to illustrate my point, we're going to secretly replace the photo ID with a different request we can all agree would be unconstitutional, but at the same time remain equally as harmless. Let's see if anyone notices...
Officer: So it's my birthday today.
Dumbass: Uh, okay.
Officer: I Want you to sing me Happy Birthday.
Dumbass: Excuse me?
Officer: Sing me Happy Birthday.
Dumbass: Why should I have to do that?
Officer, Well, if you don't sing me Happy Birthday, I'll arrest you.
Stop right there. This scenario can only end one of two ways. Either the Dumbass complies with the officer's unconstitutional, but otherwise completely harmless, request or he doesn't. What's the potential cost to him if he complies with the cop's request? That would be nothing. Zero. Zip. Zilch. So let's look at how these two scenarios would play out...
Dumbass: Okay. Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday... ... ... Happy. Birthday. To. You.
Officer: Okay, thank you very much and have a nice day.
That's it. Now Dumbass goes about with his already privileged life and has a neat little anecdote to tell his family around the dinner table come Christmas time. Or there's the other way...
Dumbass: I'm sorry, I have no legal obligation to sing you Happy Birthday.
Officer: Please turn around and put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent...
Dumbass is then arrested in front of his family, causing young children to cry. He is taken downtown and booked. He has to spend let's say... $500 on bail. He has to hire an attorney who milks him for an additional $7,500. He now has to live with the stress of being arrested and wondering what his future holds. He starts shooting meth. His teeth all fall out. He develops an ulcer and can only eat boiled chicken and rice for the rest of his life. His father starts drinking and loses his job after his coworkers all come dressed up as inmates for Halloween. His mother, desperate to pay for her son's legal expenses, starts sucking cock for $10 a pop a the local truck stop. His dog runs away. His X-box breaks. His lawn dies. And in the end, both the arrest and the constitutional showdown end up canceling each other out, leaving nothing behind but a financial and emotional burden that could have so easily been avoided right at the giddy'up.
So no, I don't think he was standing up for his rights, I think he was standing up for being a grade-a number-one dickhead. If you want to see people standing up for their rights, look no further than this kid in Missouri; the cop was later fired for his behavior, but the teen involved is still faces harassment by the local police. Want to see where the police would be spending their time, when they're not forced to cater to some pantywaste who thinks he's a law professor? They would be tracking down the people who shot this seven month old infant execution style. That my friends, is what the police are for. That's when you call need to call 911, not when you want to get into a slapping contest with the local electronics store. So fuck you, Dumbass, a baby died because you didn't want to show your receipt. I hope you get hit by a drunk driver.
This happened right here in Vernon, B.C. How can you not notice that you are carrying a light post? Notice it's an Alberta truck. Why you shouldn't drink & drive! This driver hit the left turn island traffic light at 48 Ave. and 27th. street sheering it off at the base and then kept driving on about 2kms. to squires four pub. I am not sure if he stopped because the truck dumped all its oil or if the cops pulled him over but you would hope it was not for more beer. The truck was then towed back to Vernon Towings yard about 2.5kms. with the light still pinched between the two tow hooks and bumper. It took several hard pulls with the backhoe to get the light free. - Barry "Oh hell, it was a breeze getting here. I hit nothing but green lights all the way." M.
This is a little one from a prosecution file of mine. Let's just say it wasn't hard to convict this guy of drunk driving... - Alan
And to answer everyone's email, no I don't think it's Kari from Mythbusters. As far as I know, all those photos were actual porn edited only to comically render them 'safe for work'. So I would feel pretty comfortable in saying the producers of Mythbusters did some research and made sure they weren't hiring an ex-porn star for their science show. Sorry to all you nerds out there.
hey look everybody, it's neo! the wikihow article on how to dodge bullets. there is no spoon.
the fifteen worst celebrity plastic surgery disasters you will ever see
the top ten similarities between howard stern and iranian president mahmoud ahmadinejad
|September 26, 2007|
Third Time Is A Charm.
As is custom, the next Game Challenge announcement before we get the good stuff. The skills required to play the next game: 1. Click your mouse. 2. That's it, just click your mouse. It's a very simple premise and it's easy to play but difficult to get a high score. You're a circle. You move by clicking and holding the mouse when the arrow rotating around your circle points in the direction you want to go. Your job is to collect yellow stars. Anything red is bad. I got 2,165 after a few tries but you need over 6,800 to top the leaderboard of Astrum.
There are four movies that I have never watched to completion, because the amount of suck that was spilling over into my livingroom was just too much for me. Showgirls; even Elizabeth Berkley naked wasn't enough to save that piece of shit. The Thin Red Line; how such an amazing cast can make such an amaazing piece of shit, I'll never know. A Night At The Roxbury; Fuck you, Flaherty, I told you this was going to be a piece of shit. And believe it or not, Raging Bull; I know, it's a Scorsese flick, it had DeNiro and Pesci, I just couldn't get into this piece of shit. All of these movies were so fucking bad I actually stopped the movie, took out the DVD, and rubbed dogshit in my mouth to get the taste of suck out.
There are two movies that I have seen to completion, that I wish to hell I hadn't. Not because the movies were bad; quite the contrary. But because they were so fucking depressing. I have vowed upon all this ta good and holy, that I will never, ever see these movies again. The first is Chasing Amy. Why? Joey Lauren Adams. Sweet, delicious, wonderful, cuddly wuddly, Joey Lauren Adams. He could have had her. But he just couldn't get over his pride. So I'll have you Joey, I'll have you right quick. In fact, I'd love to screw you some place uncomfortable. Like the back of a Volkswagen. But no, she wanted Ben Affleck. This movie was a pimply faced teen's heartbreaker. Oh how I yearned for you. I was depressed for three days after watching this movie.
The second is Leaving Las Vegas, pretty much for the same reason only with a different girl. Elizabeth Shue, or as I like to call her, Ali-with-an-I. Nicholas Cage could have had her but no, the drinking got in the way. Oh man, the drinking. Oooohhh, man, the drinking. I'll have you Elizabeth. But noo, instead, someone did screw you some place uncomfortable, and it wasn't in the back of a Volkswagen. I was afraid to drink for three weeks after this movie.
Why am I telling you this? Because now I can add this to the list...
Back in the day, a buddy of mine and I shared a house. We were fresh out of school, had jobs and were productive members of society. Our house became party central, since all of our friends lived in little, one or two bedroom hovels, and we, being the smartest of all of our friends, decided to pool our rent money and live in a better neighborhood, better accommodation, better life. This is all prelude.
One of our friends was in Med School, but we were already calling him Doctor. It started out as Doctor J (his real first initial), changed to Doctor of Style and eventually to Dr. Sleazeball: he started dating strippers and "exotic" dancers, exclusively. He was very clear in his objectives, they had issues, they had good bodies, he had the were-with-all to treat them and he got serious sex for the attention. Eventually he was dating one girl more than all the others. She was semi-cute but had a hard, well toned, and totally bitching body. He brought her to all of our parties. Anyway, this girl Melissa, took to my buddy JJ and I on the second visit. She would sit in the kitchen with us, match us shot for shot and just ask us questions then discuss with us why we answered the way we did. She was not the smartest of girls, but inquisitive (plus she always dressed so hot.) This went on for months. Whenever she was over this same routine took place. We both found it rather interesting. One night Dr. Sleazeball told us that she was dancing at a certain club, so we decided to pay our respects, so to speak. At the club the strippers were as you described so accurately, on the prowl for suckers. (Let me throw in my favorite W.C. Fields line here: You have a moral obligation to take advantage of a chump." Moral obligation, isn't that priceless?)
Melissa came out to do her routine and saw us, we had 5's and 10's ready, we were going to make her the talk of the back room, but she never came down to our end of the bar. At the end of her routine she went back stage then came our onto the floor in a robe and asked us to leave. Why, we asked, and she told us that she never expected much from the good Doctor; she knew that she was just meat to him, but we treated her different; we talked to her, did not paw her, did not stare at her tits or cooch, did not make overt suggestions as to what we would do to her with vegetables or power tools. We were special to her and she wanted to keep it that way, because the rest of the world sucked, but not us.
I am writing this because she is dead now. Turns out that an ex-boyfriend came back and spent the night and gave her the bug; she died of AIDS in less than a year. Dr. Sleazeball never told us or went to the funeral.
Your piece on Striptenders was spot on. I've known a lot: the reason I moved in with my buddy JJ is because a Striptender moved out of my place and took everything she and her Striptender friends could carry. They left me with the sofa bed (too heavy) the refrigerator (way too heavy) and my records (took the stereo, hated my music.) But this little girl called Melissa was not like the others and she died alone. I don't mean to harsh your mellow, but I just wanted to say that maybe one, maybe only one, was different. Or not and I am sucking wind. I don't know any more. - Kiss of Death
Harsh my mellow? Nah man, don't sweat it. Here, do me this small favor. Can you hold on to my drink for a second? Yeah, I'm just going to make sure my dog has a couple days worth of food before I go into this back room here where no one can see me and BLOW MY FUCKING BRAINS OUT. Thanks, dude.
Ever felt worried about someone? Not quite sure about who you were dealing with? Suspicious that something might be horribly wrong -- but not sure what? In the old days, you had few choices except hiring an expensive investigator or living with the nagging doubt. The Internet was supposed to change all that, providing access to the kind of information that would replace fear with security...
roll out the barrel, we'll have a barrel of fun. roll out the barrel, we've got the blues on the run
so honest question - why does the ship have to stop? i mean i wouldn't expect to chain myself to a bus without getting hurt
do you like meat? no, not like flaherty's sister like meat, i mean the edible kind. take this test
debunking the myths of hurricane katrina: a popular science special report
|September 25, 2007|
A Paradigm Shift.
Back in the day I used to hate seeing that phrase, because it always meant I was going to be spending the next four or five hours in some stupid fucking team building class. Well I'm using that phrase here today, and trust me, this ain't no team building exercise. Instead I want top talk to you about your expectations from two very important aspects in life: strippers and bartenders.
A bar that I tend to frequent down here, which shall ahem... remain nameless, has an all female bartending staff. Said female staff must wear bikini tops. Hence the customer draw. So without needing to use your imagination too much, you can understand that it takes a certain caliber of woman able to feel comfortable enough to wear a bikini while serving alcohol a bunch of drunken slobs that spend more time staring at the bartender's tits than they do the televisions. Furthermore, I'm sure you wouldn't be too shocked if I told you that most of said women are former strippers. I call these women, Striptenders. Now one would think working around crowded places with lots of booze would make strippers fantastic bartenders. And here's where I'm going to blow your fucking mind. Here's where I'm going to tell you that down equals up, black is white, and good is bad. The truth is, nothing could be further from the truth. Because here is where I tell you that strippers make horrible bartenders. Yes, it's true. I didn't want to believe it either. But that is the only conclusion that can be drawn after weeks of painstaking research performed by none other than yours truly. I've poured over my data, and have come up with a theory which I think explains this phenomenon. I'm going to share my findings with you now.
I believe the reason why strippers make horrible bartenders is, the behaviors necessary to succeed in either of these two occupations independently, are mutually exclusive of each other. Allow me to explain. A bartender should be like a busy little bee, buzzing around to all the different flowers (customers) and spreading pollen (beer). A bartender spends a little time talking to all of their customers, getting to know the regulars a little bit, and encouraging a little cross pollination between the bar's patrons. Maybe even gather everyone around for a cool bar trick or two. Yes, a good bartender certainly keeps their time evenly distributed among their entire flock.
So if a bartender is a bee, what does that make a stripper? A spider. At first they sit quietly in the shadows, surveying the crowd of potential victims and following some quick assessments of vulnerability vs payoff, they select their prey and silently move in. Once the victim is snared in their initial web (usually a lap dance) they begin to wrap their victim up in a cocoon and drain the life out of them. Nothing else matters to the spider when busy ensnaring their prey. And when a Striptender applies these ideals in a bartender capacity, the result can be nothing other than a catastrophe for it's patrons. Invariably, the Striptender will fixate on one of their patrons and ignore the rest. Beer glasses will go empty, food orders go untaken, tables will go uncleared, new customers will go ungreeted. All while the Striptender carries out their ritual of seduction with some poor bastard who only stopped in to have a beer.
I present to you, a case study. Let us examine the following profile of one of the Striptenders I have studied extensively. Where does this information come from? Uh yeah, that would be the Lee County Sheriff's Department website. Normally I'd just link the Striptender's arrest record right on the LCSO website, but since it contains such sensitive information as home address and telephone number -- something really I think they should not display -- I'm going to edit this information for broadcast.
Now look, I'm all fucking for giving someone a second chance; let he who has not felt the cold embrace of a pair of handcuffs cast the first stone. But eleven felonies and nine misdemeanors? Uh.... yeah. But how does this come into play, one might ask? Well, let us draw a hypothetical comparison. Anyone who has ever patroned a strip club before will attest that at any given time a good portion of the strippers are fucked up. Drunk, high, coked up, whatever. And I don't know, perhaps that's one of the tools they use to cope with working in the industry. Far be it from me to judge. But impaired as they might be, they can still accomplish their job, which is to pretty much take their clothes off and show me their pussy for $1. Now, do you really want the person responsible for dishing out the booze to be drunk and coked up? Again, while one might initially embrace this idea, from my extensive research I can assure you the real answer is no. If the level of service from a sober Striptender is abysmal, the service from an impaired Striptender is just human wreckage.
So there you have it folks. Much to my surprise, going against everything I would have guessed, going against everything my male instincts were telling me; take it from me when I tell you strippers make shitty bartenders. I don't think they do it on purpose, I just think the two occupations require two very different skill sets. Each job requires a very different animal. One can not walk away from ten years of bring a bricklayer and expect to tame lions at the circus the next day. So all you bar owners out there take heed. Big tits will draw us in, but empty beer glasses will drive us out. Me? Good thing I only go for the NTN trivia.
Oh, and O'Malley told everyone else to fuck off and die. New challenge tomorrow.
you only get one chance to make a first impression. i recommend you avoid
the following icebreakers...
twelve of the most horrifying torture devices in history. mmmm, guantanamo bay....
|September 24, 2007|
The First Time I Ever Used The Word Nigger.
Before I get into the meat and potatoes of today's post, I first want to update Jet Boost, which will be ending tomorrow. This is the closest scoring game challenge to date. The top four scores are all within 175 points of each other. Omal with 486,020 - Nathan with 486,100 - Topher with 486,125 - Tufrabza with 486,190. Pretty crazy, especially considering I can't get past level two.
Okay. Believe it or not, this is a post I've wanted to make for some time. It just never seemed like the right time -- until now. With the mailing list starting up again, the Random Offensives are flowing pretty good. Of course among this weekend's posting, mixed in with some Arabic jokes, some Indian jokes, some pedophile jokes, some Chinese jokes, were a couple of black jokes. Now there's an art form to telling racist jokes, be they black or anything else, but I'll use black jokes as an example because it's easier to illustrate my point. It involves the use, or more importantly, the non-use of the word nigger. Because contrary to what most people think you don't have to use the word nigger to tell a black joke, any more than you have to use the word 'chink' to tell a Chinese joke, 'sandnigger' to tell an Arab joke, or 'kyke' to tell a Jew joke. In fact, using those words when you don't have to, dumbs down the joke in my opinion. Example:
Q. What's the difference between a motorcycle and a baby?
A. When the motorcycle is black, you can still show it to your parents.
Ha! Ha! Ha! As odd as it may sound, I don't consider that joke to be racist because the joke is still funny without having to resort to the blatant racism of the word nigger. I would hope that an educated, intelligent person understands the real humor comes not from a dislike for blacks, but from the (presumably) white person's hidden desire to accept black people in private but not in public. I can see an intelligent, educated person telling this joke without intent to offend anyone. Now let's make one small change...
Q. What's the difference between a motorcycle and a nigger baby?
A. When the motorcycle is black, you can still show it to your parents.
There, instantly the joke turns into the drunken blatherings of a slack-jawed ignorant redneck with a rebel flag flying on the back of his pickup truck. And for me, the ignorant undertone ruins the joke. Instead of laughing at a joke that has a lot potential, I find myself wondering what other skeletons this guy has in their closet. Now, on the flip side, there are some jokes that believe it or not, do require the word nigger to get the full punch. Again, example:
Q. What do you do if you wake up in the middle of the night and find your television floating?
A. Grab your gun and yell, "Drop it nigger!"
In order for that joke to work, you have to say it. You have to push it a little further and drop the N-bomb. Now granted, that may not be a joke I'd tell at an NAACP fund raiser, but it doesn't mean that the joke teller is racist, either. The joke simply doesn't work otherwise. Here, let's P.C. it up a bit:
Q. What do you do if you wake up in the middle of the night and find your television floating?
A. Grab your gun and yell, "Drop it AFRICAN AMERICAN!"
See, that's stupid. So boiling it all down, Just because one tells racist jokes, does not mean that one is racist. Why did I go through this whole speech? Because I received an email in response to this weekend's randoms:
At 01:14 PM 9/23/2007, Terrence wrote:
Dear Ernie, What do you think about black people?
Uh nothing special. Same as me only I can see their bandaids. Why?
At 06:53 PM 9/23/2007, Terrence wrote:
No reason. I'm a black college student. I've been on your list since I was about 16 back in 2001 and I am about to graduate from [college name deleted] at the end of this semester. Sometimes, I think I take a few of your offenses too seriously. It's just good to hear some reaffirmation that jokes are jokes. Of course...I don't know why the hell I get so offended anyways....I always laugh at the next joke. Keep it up big guy. You take it easy and God bless, Terrence
PS...Is there anywhere to read the random offenses from back when the stick figures were going doggy style on the entry page?
And this struck me as odd because why after six years does he suddenly decide to write in and in no uncertain terms, try to find out if I'm racist. The jokes I sent out this weekend were actually pretty tame when compared to others I've sent out. And it took me reading over Saturdays's mailing three times before I finally caught it. One of the jokes went out like this:
Q. How many nigger college students does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A. Only one, but he gets six credits for it.
And then the lightbulb (ha!) went on. There's a perfect example of the completely unnecessary usage of the word nigger. And you know what Terrence, that was a complete and total mistake on my part. Part of my process in compiling the Random Offensives is to go through and remove all the 'niggers' and the "kykes' and the 'spics' if they don't contribute to the joke's delivery, and I missed that one. And I can tell you exactly how it happened. For the Q/A style jokes, I'm a little OCD in how they're written. I like it as "Q. xxxxx" and not "Q: xxxxx". I know it's trivial, but that's it's just something I've done since the first batch. So whenever a Q/A style joke comes in that is Random Offensive worthy, the very first thing I do is make sure there's a period after the Q and the A, and not a colon, semi-colin, or space. That joke came in with "Q. xxxx" and I was so happy I just copied and pasted it into the mailing without giving it any further thought. And I missed removing an unnecessary nigger and made myself look pretty ignorant. My bad.
But to build upon this, I do believe there are niggers out there. There are black people, and then there are niggers. There are white people and then there are white trash (there really is no word for white people with the offensive equivalient to 'nigger', is there? 'Cracker' just sounds stupid...). And there are Hispanics and then there are spics. The difference between all of them isn't the color of their skin, but how they show respect for themselves and others. Those people that are honest, hard working, respect others, and raise their children to do the same are black, white, and Hispanic. Those people that lie, cheat, steal, litter, and have a general disregard for their fellow man are niggers, white trash and spics. And before you ask, yes I'd rather have a black neighbor than a white trash one (but I'd lock my doors, hahaha).
Which to close out today's little gem, funny story. As an itty bitty Ernie, somewhere in the third or fourth grade, one of my best friend was Anthony Marshall. He was a black kid. When he'd come sleep at my houe, he was the only black kid in our entire neighborhood; when I slept over at his house, I was the only white kid in his. But that didn't stop us. We played Atari, we bowled, we but models; never once considering each other's skin color. Anthony had an older brother, I think he was like 16 or so at the time. During one of the overnight stays at their house, we got to playing Atari with his brother. A lot. And somehow it turned into a $1 per game bet. He and I went back and forth for several hours. Anxious to bring the contest to a close, we decided for a best-of-three contest for the whole enchilada - my entire $5 bankroll versus his. We each got to pick one game, and then the tie breaker would be something we'd mutually agree upon. He picked Bezerk since it was a game they owned and I didn't. Not surprisingly, he beat me. I chose River Raid because let me tell you folks, nobody fucking beat me at River Raid. And as expected, he didn't. So with the series tied 1:1, the contest came down to Chopper Command. It was their game so he was more familiar with it, but it was a game I just took to like a duck to water. And folks, I turned out to be a little white Chopper Command playin motherfucker. I beat his ass. I mean I tripled his fucking score. And when I was done I slammed down the joystick and scooped up my $10 pot just as pretty as you please. To a nine year old, that was big fucking cake, baby! Well apparently to a 16 year old, that's big cake too, because as soon as I scooped up the money up, he scooped up me. By my shirt collar. And lifted me off the ground, thrust me against the wall and demanded, "Gimme me fuckin money back." Which I did.
So later that day when my mom came to pick me up, I was of course crying when I came out to the car. "What's wrong?" she asks. And before I could even think about it I blurted out, "That nigger stole my money!"
Yeah, I didn't get to sleep at Anthony's house anymore.
PS, if you do a Google search for "ernie", you get over 18,600,000 results. I'm number one.
"ever tried. ever failed. no matter. try again. fail again. fail better." ~ samuel beckett
here are the top ten internet scams that all of us must be aware of. as the doctor always prescribed - "prevention is always the best cure".
|September 21, 2007|
Well I've Been A Busy Beaver.
Been getting a list of things done on the site over the past few days. T-shirts updated, side menus updated, all the featured pictorials laid out. So you better have a look around and tell me it's fucking great. And yes I plan on readding the rest of the feature links, I just want have to create uniform size thumbnails for everything 2006 on back. You people still running 1024x768 are killing me. For Christ's sake, buy a fucking widescreen, will ya. Also, there's the rebirth of the mailing list. What things can you expect to land in your inbox? Little gems like this. So if'n you wanna be a prt of the fun, be sure to sign up -- remember two days ago I flushed the list as clean as a virgin's asshole, so if you were signed up before that you do have to resubscribe.
Iranian President Ahmadinejad is denied from visiting Ground Zero. Good, and so he should be. As for his scheduled speech at Columbia University? Eh, what do I care. Columbia is a just a bunch of hippies anyway. Oh and here's a video of five people being hanged in Iran. Their crime? They're accused of being gay. With obligatiory, "Allah Akhbar!" chants as they swing. This Ahmadinejad asshole is a young charismatic dude; he's dangerous, I'm tellin ya. Nuke em while we can. Or send in a Lego special agent to kill him. One of the two.
Oh, and happy birthday to Stephen King, you sick twisted bastard. Also happy anniversary to Fonzie, who thirty years ago jumped the shark. An event so preposterous, it's worthy of a Wikipedia article. And best of luck to Professor Randy Pausch who is diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. Sad story but great lecture.
Hey Ernie. My friend was taking photos for a porno website and caught this accidentally in the background. The shark is estimated it to be as long as 34 feet probably a tiger or great white. To put this in perspective, the largest great white ever captured was only around 18 feet. and the fictional shark from Jaws was only 25. The dude surfing saw the shark up close but wasn't attacked, apparently it swam under him and began to circle around and he paddled like hell to shore. HAHA. I would too. Later man, --Andrew
Greetings, Hunting al Qaeda Parts II and III are now ready for you. Video included. Am heading back to Iraq in a few days to keep the raw information coming. Your support is very important and greatly appreciated. V/r, Michael Yon [Ernie's note: Part II includes the phrase, "This man was moaning and groaning. He was badly wounded, having been hit in the testicles, among other injuries."]
Game Challenge. Blending a fine balance of mouse coordination and luck, I bring you Jet Boost. The in game directions are kind of words, so I'll break it down for ya. Click once to jump into the air. Collect the little red and yellow arrows to continue flying updards. White balls make you go even further. Black balls are bad. You must reach a minimum altitude to unlock levels 2 and 3. I can not. Besure to grab a screen capture of your score BEFORE you try to submit, as I was getting an error when trying to do so.
Does anyone work for Google? Or know anyone who works for Google? I have a couple questions that I'd like to ask people 'in the know'. Hit me back, if you do. In the meantime, I'm going to the movies because today is finally it's finally Zombie day!
think you're smart. you're not so smart. or are you. how smart are you again?
if you haven’t discovered “tilly’s story” of surviving the 9/11 attacks at the world trade center, now might be a good time read it...
|September 20, 2007|
Hey Can You Open This Beer For Me?
Hey look everybody, I caught a fish!
About three weeks ago, I was at PetCo and the local animal shelter had brought in about a dozen dogs looking for adoption. They had two big circular playpens set up, because obviously you can't let the dogs roam around the store. Me being the sucker that I am, had to go through and play with each one of them. One of them was a black lab just under a year old. Very sweet and playful pooch. After spending a few minutes with her, I moved on to give attention to dogs in the second pen, but she wasn't having any of it. She lept up and tried to scale over the fence. The front half of her made it, no problem. The back half, not so much. Her back paws got hung up in the fencing and she was literally hanging by her back toes. She let out a cry heard round the world and me and another guy went hauling ass over to scoop her up; he made it before I did. The poor dog was yelpin from one end and pissing from the other. How she didn't break her toes, I have no idea, but she was unhurt and all she ended up doing was scaring herself. So with that little story in mind, can anyone tell me how waiting for the blood to come, but thankfully it never does. Bad Brandy!
Well, it looks like Allen will be taking the prize on the Nudge contest. For the next challenge, tune in tomorrow. Same Bat time. Same Bat channel!
Ernie, I shot this picture Friday night at Virginia's Richmond International Raceway where NASCAR racing takes place this weekend. The photo is cropped to show just the dude wearing shorts and red cowboy boots. Truly a WTF moment. -Guy
Man, I sure am glad I don't have to put up with that big city bullshit down here. Here's a great collection of webcam girls with cheerleader outfits on. And believe it or not, no need to warn anyone because while it's certainly risque, there's no nudity. See, you don't have to always see nudity to have fun. In fact, if you ever wanted s snapshot of the world around you, consider this. A video of the UF student getting tasered (hahaha!) during the Kerry forum has just over 1,500 views. Another video which was posted at roughly the same time, has over 2,600. What's the second video? A kid getting busted fucking a blowup doll. Ha! See for yourself. It's a pretty slippery slope we're on, eh?
are you and your brother on a mission from god to save an orphanage? then perhaps these quotes on the almighty might help.
the meeting of two of the internet's most famous memes– postsecret and lolcats.
|September 19, 2007|
Remember, It's Talk Like A Pirate Day. Yarrrr.
So ye best not be forgettin to talk like a pirate, lest ye swing by the rope before we even make it to shore.
Maintenance Update. Game Challenges have been brought up to date for ye, and they be and broken up into four pages to be loadin faster. The movies section, well it be kind of a work in progress. Just a raw grab from the archives, but it be still more updated than it was before. Definitely more tinkering to be done thar, but there's only so many hours in the day before happy hour begin and the grog starts flowing. In ye meantime, Jim be havin too much time on his hands.
Here be the top ten celebrity performnces... as strippers.
The contrast in this video be pretty bad, but this wench sure does have a fabulous workout body. And she be eatin cheeseburgers at the end.
Ye can vote what Marc Ecko does with Barry Bonds homerun baseball. Me, I be votin for brandin it. Ye should too, if ye know what's good fer ya.
Oh, ye better be stockpilin up on shotgun shells, gas for ye chainsaw, and sharpen ye cutlas... the be zombies coming. Oh, and one last partin piece of advice. When ye be sleepin on the ground in spider country, be sure to zip closed ye tent, lest ye receive A BIG FUCKING SPIDER BITE IN YOUR FUCKING EYE. Yarrr.
top ten most humiliating ways your body can betray you in bed. here, here, number six.
here’s a list of the first .com domain names in history. of course, the internet precedes the world wide web, which is why these domains are all from the 80s.
|September 18, 2007|
If You Ain't Cheatin' You Ain't Tryin'.
"Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, Ernie defending the Yankees, mass hysteria." - Dr. Peter Venkman, Ghostbusters.
Actually, I'm going to be guaranteeing the apocalypse by defending now only a New York Yankee, but the New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick, if he can tear himself away from his lemon party long enough. Anyway, this is a extraordinary event because normally I'd like to see either of the two die in an enormous roadside explosion.
First, New York Yankee Shelley Duncan, who yesterday when asked for an autograph by a 10 year old Red Sox fan signed the notebook, "Red Sox Suck! Shelley Duncan". Good. And so he should have. For two reasons. No pussy Red Sox fan should have even wanted the autograph of a New York Yankee. That's just Boston law. If this kid was weak enough to ask for a Yank's autograph, he got what he deserved. I think Duncan should have taken a turn on the kid's mom, too. Given the choice between accepting an unmolested $1 bill and a Yankee signed $100 bill; any good Sox fan will go searching for the local McDonalds so they can find something to eat off the dollar menu. Period. And reason two? Duncan is a Yankee; it's his fucking job to hate the Red Sox. Just like it's our job to hate them. There is no negotiation, there is no degree of hate. It is as simple as it is pure. Parents; If your kids to take the heat, you need to start hitting them harder.
Patriots. Far be it from me to say I'd shed a tear if their team plane went down in a fireball. Especially if Tom Brady was getting a tour of the cockpit at the time. But their coaching staff was caught spying on the Jets' defense, trying to steal defensive signs? Well, duh. Isn't that their fucking job? Why the hell else do coaches cover over their mouths when calling plays into their microphones, other than to block the opposing team from reading their lips? It's part of baseball for one team to steal the others' hand signals, so why not football? And last week the Patriots took it to the next level by using a video camera? So fucking what? Don't want to get filmed, turn your back. Again, more people getting pissed off because the Patriots' management was doing its job. You're only pissed off that your team didn't think of it first. Besides, I think professional sports should focus their investigative efforts on drug testing instead where the the cameras are pointed.
Who's tryin at Nudge? Why that'd be Walt with 166, and Walt has us on the leaderboard today. I challenge you to do any better!
And now, some more youtube videos...
so here's a full ten minute video fo a girl showing off her stomach fat. i'm not kidding.
remember the alec baldwin 'art of the sale' speech two weeks ago? here's an extended version.
the first five minutes of mr. woodcock. eh, it really doesn't seem all that funny now. kinda lame actually.
your favorite old school wrestling stars, then and now. i'm surprised dusty rhodes is still alive. mr fuji looks the same.
he still had the speed. the quickness. the agility. and one thing he never had, size. yep, samuel l. jackson is making a comeback.
...and a metric assload of more movies at hunterjunk...
|September 17, 2007|
Now I Give Them A Stand-Up Routine In F-L-A.
I had a horrible fucking nightmare last night. Well, I guess technically it was this morning since the clock read 3:42AM when I woke up in a sweat. My pulse was racing, and I had a knot in my stomach. It was one of those dreams so horrible that the instant you come awake, the sudden realization that it was all just a bad dream mercifully washes over you like warm bathwater. As I lay there licking my lips and trying to get my heart to slow down, my mind devoured all the promise and opportunity of reality. What dream was so terrible as to keep your favorite webmaster up for another thirty minutes before drifting back to sleep?
I dreamed I had my old job back.
As I'm sure my loyal readers are aware, I have never spoken about my employment, former or present. I always thought it was bad form. Mainly because I was doing most of my site updates from work, HAHAHAHAHA. But seriously. I am what you call a nerd. Admittedly not as much of a nerd as I was say, ten years ago, but still a nerd none the less. When I was in the (Ch)Air Force, I was your friendly neighborhood IT guy. I fixed computers. I fixed user accounts. I helped my users with spreadsheets and presentations. I fixed their home computers on occasion. And I read their email quite often. That's what IT guys do. When I left the blue suit and ventured out into the civilian world, my first position was for a company called Frederick Computers Plus. Despite being a relatively small company -- less than 100 employees -- as nerd jobs go it was a pretty kick ass. Companies would contract us to provide the next tier of support to their in-house IT guys. We were billed as the, "Help Desk to Help Desks." The only higher level of support you could get was go right to the software vendor themselves. Our level of customer satisfaction was in the 98% percentile - placing us above such big names as IBM, Microsoft, Sun, Cisco. Very uber-nerdy, and the job treated me very well for several years. Well, as is a too-common thing here in America, this small mom and pop shop was bought out by a bigger company, called Entex Information Services. I feel comfortable giving both these company names, as both no longer exist. Anyway, as anyone who has worked for a smaller company will tell you, that lots of changes take place when such a takeover happens. More bad than good, unfortunately. More rules, more paperwork, more managers. Less benefits, less opportunities, and less comaraderie. It wasn't all bad; I learned a lot and made some friends I still have today. But when they moved the office to some 60 miles from my house, being able to play Quake at work just didn't seem as shiny, and nature took its course.
That 'Help Desk to Help Desk' position gave way to my most former place of employment. I was still doing customer support, but this time at the vendor level. And what did the Greatest Webmaster Of All Time support? Voicemail. That's right. Voicemail. I went from supporting the networks of Fortune 100 companies to, "My voicemail doesn't work." It was a tough change to make because I had a very difficult time understanding the sense of urgency. I could hear the words coming out of the customers' mouths, I just didn't understand them. Let me explain. A good portion of you are at work right now. If your entire network went down, the place would be thrown into a panic, am I right? No email, no orders, no video conferencing, no secure transactions, no internet commerce, no nothing. The world would just about end, yes? (Well, the work world anyway. Me personally, I'd go beat off.) But instead of the network, what if I told you that just your voicemail went down. Meaning you your phone still worked -- you could still make and receive phone calls -- you just couldn't could send or receive voicemail. Thus if someone called you, your phone would ring its designated 3-4 times and then that caller would be sent off to never-never land. So... they'd have to call back. Wow. Big whoop. So ask yourself: Is that really a show stopper? Is that really worth paging a half a dozen people and setting up big ass conference calls at 3am? I just couldn't grasp the concept. I mean the temporary work around is so simple: just call the fuck back.
Anyway, I played the voicemail game for a lot longer than I would have expected myself to last. Almost six years. At the end I would have to say my most prevalent emotion towards work was apathy. I just didn't care. And no disrespect to my formers customers, many of whom read EHOWA. I liked all you guys. I really did. And if you called me up to instead shoot the shit about the Sox game, or your new roof, or your kid's little league game, or what barbeque place just opened up near your office... I'd have been all ears. But I reached a point that if a customer called up and reported an entire platform down, while I might have outwardly reacted with a feigned sense of urgency, inside I just wanted to blow my fucking brains out. As soon as the word 'voicemail' came through the earpiece, my eyes glazed over and I silently prayed for the ceiling to collapse on my head. I would have cared more if you told me the mayonaise on your sandwich made the bread soggy, than if your entire voicemail platform wasn't taking any calls. I'm sorry. That's just the way it was. I don't know if I was burned out from just voicemail, or burned out from customer support as a whole. All I do know is, I just didn't care anymore. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't care.
This monotony and pain droned on for about a year or so. It was further exasperated by events at work; watching friends and good people get laid off while the office cockroaches lived on. Budget cutbacks. Dickface boss after dickface boss. Watching your CEO fuck everyone over and give himself a $600k bonus, while you were handed a new shirt embroidered with the company logo. While I was being compensated very well, I hated my fucking job. Each morning as I arrived to work, I would turn my car off and sit there for a minute, steeling myself up to go into the office. Each morning I would say aloud to my steering wheel, "I hate this fucking job," before pulling the door handle and pushing the door open with my shoulder. I was dying inside. At some point I sat back and took stock in all of this and realized I had to make a decision. So I either had to make a quality of life change, or shut the fuck up and quit bitching. And believe it or not, it wasn't an easy decision to make. No matter how unhappy you are with it, walking away from the relative safety of a well paying job with decent benefits is harder than you might think. I could argue a hundred reasons to stay and a hundred reasons to leave.
But in the end it all came down to this. I knew things weren't going to get any better. Management recognized that morale was in the toilet, and just didn't give a fuck. Countless suggestions were either ignored or implemented in such an incompetent way as to render them utterly useless. An outside consultant likened management's actions to, "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." And to add just a bit of spice to it, the new guy they just hired to be our direct boss was a complete fucking asshole. In fact, in one of our final meeting brokered by HR, I told him just that to his face. I had to fight back against The Man.
And thus to quoth the Speedwagon, "I believe it's time for me to fly." I decided to live the American dream. To tell my boss to kiss my fucking ass, move someplace warm, and seek my fortune in the world. Knock on wood, I haven't looked back since.
"In the Shadow of the Moon" features exclusive NASA film footage including astonishing space shots re-mastered from the original film rolls to reveal the Apollo program with a visual clarity and impact it has never had before. The mute 16mm rolls shot in Mission Control have been painstakingly lip-synced with the 16-track audio recordings of the mission controllers' voice loop to re-unite the pictures and sound of many historic moments for the first time, lending a striking immediacy to many dramatic scenes. UK Release November 2, 2007.
Some final thoughts before I sign off for today. What's the company in question? While I'm still not fomfortable saying so outright, just do a Google search for "ceo stock option fraud fighting extradition from namibia" and you'll get a pretty good idea. And the cum guzzling stick-up-his-ass dickface boss I got into it with? Laid off a few months ago. Good, fuck him. He can kiss my balls. I hope his ears are filled with the cries of his hungry children.
17 strange facts you didn't know about my friend and yours... adolph hitler
yeah i'm just sitting here, rollin in my $782,012.67. look here's an atm receipt to prove it.
some call bruce willis and ben affleck. impact craters around the earth
|September 16, 2007|
Insert Your NEW Favorite Weekend Joke Here.
|September 14, 2007|
You Live. You Learn.
"People can cry much easier than they can change." - James Baldwin (1924-1987) African-American writer.
So without busting anyone's balls - I'm serious when I say all feedback good or bad is welcomed -- here are some of the more noteworthy replies I've received regarding the changes I've been implementing. Honestly, no reprisals on my part, not even with rubber bullets.
first off, i love your site! i have been a fan since 2002 or so...great stories, great pics, and great links. but... i dont like the new size, i have to scroll back and forth to read the stories. and as for the new format of the embeded pics, that is a hassel also.i prefere them to open "in a new window" oh well just my 2 cents. keep up the great work! Chris
Actually, the change in page width was an unintentional fuck-job on my part. It happened for two reasons so truth be told, I double fucked it. First, as I increased the number of thumbnails to ten per row, it increased with width by an additional 75 pixels. That doesn't sound like much, but it was just enough to inflate the screen beyond anyone running 1024x768, which accounts for just over one third of EHOWA's visitors. To resolve this, I'm reducing the size of the thumbnails to for ten in the same width I previous fit nine. Also, just to make sure I cornholed the job up real nice, the American flag banner at the bottom of the September 11th posting was too large for the 1024x768 screens as well, although that problem would have fixed itself once that post scrolled off the bottom of the page and onto the archives. But either way nice catch, Chris. That's probably something I wouldn't have caught on my own.
Ernie - The one downside to your new image script is that we can't save a copy to keep or send to friends (complete with the ehowa watermark). I know some sites block that because they don't want you to be able to get a copy of an image, but somehow I don't think that's your style. If you could cook up a way to let the user save the image, that'd be great. regards, Tom
Au contraire. Nothing has changed in this regards... right click on the photo and select "Save Picture As..." and you can save a copy the same way as before. In regards to the watermark, that's a touchy subject. I originally started watermarking some of my content about 3-4 years ago when I got a call from my hosting company letting me know my bandwidth usage was going through the roof. I did a little investigative work and found a few sites out there were *entirely* made up of my content. I mean it was their domain name, their html, but all their content was stuff they were pulling from my servers. This led to a big brouhaha, some ceast-and-decist orders being sent out, all kinds of crazy shit. With the htaccess thing we're all so intimately familiar with now, that's not so much a concern anymore.
So now watermarking serves the same purpose as your dog peeing on a tree; to mark his territory. On one hand it's a pretty inexpnsive way to get your name out there, especially if you can stuff in a clever commentary with the photo. One the flip side, you have to be careful you don't heist someone else's work. Examples. I'm sure everyone and their grandmother has seen the Navy Terorrist Catch and Release photo that's been passed around a million times. A Google search yields just shy of 1,000,000 results. Well, take a closer look right below the text of the photo. See that dark spot, with distinct vertical and horizontal lines? Now take a gander at this pic that I posted some time after the 9/11 attacks. Yep, I was the one who first coined that caption over four years ago. Moi. I did that in PowerPoint 97 if memory serves, which is why the text is so blocky. But do I really care my site name got clipped out? Nah. I get a little laugh every time I see it posted somewhere. No biggie. Now when people send in new photos (like this one Chris sent in, or Scott who sent these in) or if I come up with some witty comment like this one, I sometimes stick "ehowa.com" on there somewhere in hopes of getting the domain name out. I try to do it fairly small, so in case anyone really, really wants to edit it out, they can. For those that come in with someone else's name on there already, like the Audi-R8 crash photos from yesterday, the name stays on or if possible I'll link back to the original post, whichever makes more sense. By the way, here's the original uniedited photo I and a few others, have used.
Ernie, your new picture viewer is sweet! My only comment - and it is more of an observation than a complaint since it could be my settings and not your script - is the link does not change colors after the picture is viewed as it used to. Keep rockin'! Kevin
Dude, I know exactly what you're talking about, since I see the exact same thing. And I haven't got a fucking clue as to what's causing it. Not a fucking inkling. As far as I knew it was just me experiencing this quirk. Thankfully it doesn't prevent you from viewing anything, it just makes navigating the phonecam list a little clumsy. I truly have no fucking idea. So if anyone has any suggestions, fire away. And it's not all sunshine and lolipops, here at EHOWA HQ...
Hey I put up with the pictures never showing on your site what the hell it made the page load faster without having to look at the sponsored bullshit. But now after you took of the java script and replaced it with the lightbox one we can't see shit. Why not just have the picture load in a new window. Used to enjoy this site now it's just a pain in the ass. DELETING FAVORITE L8R Todd
So this one kind of confuses me. "I put up with the pictures never showing on your site..." but then "...took of the java script and replaced it with the lightbox one we can't see shit." So what you're telling me is that you didn't see anything before, and now that I've changed something you can't see more of what you couldn't see before. Uh, huh. My hearts weeps for my one less reader. One less stupid reader, I might ad.
Ernie, Loved your site for a long time but I gotta say that I'm not a big fan of the new format for the picture links. Bob
Yeah, thanks for telling me why, Bob.
new pic's things good put close button at top of pic's. lazy. Big Dean
Ernie, The new pop-up picture format has one disadvantage over the old one. The only way to close the picture is at the bottom right corner. Simple enough except that most of the pictures are large enough that you have to scroll down to get to the "close" button. Maybe a move to the top corner of the picture box? Anyway, I'll keep scrolling if need be because I enjoy your site so much. J.Pittman
See, this is how I can tell who reads the front page, and who skips directly to the pictures index. Too lazy to read the front page? Too lazy to find the unbelievably simple shortcut. Anyway, touching back to the oversized American flag banner on the 9/11 post...
I meant to send this earlier in the week - but time and small business ownership got the best of me. Just wanted to say how much I... well, 'appreciated' isn't the word, but re-reading your 9/11 post brought back a slew of emotions - remembering where I was that day I read it, and reminding me (something I didn't need, as it's never far from my thoughts) of the dirty motherfuckers who perpetrated this heinous deed.You're a good man, Ern. I appreciate all the effort you put into EHOWA and the entertainment it provides folks - and that you're a real guy who gives a shit about the important things. Those ducklings, Daisy, etc.That's all for now. Be well.JP in Montana
One thing I tried to stay away from is reposting all the pictures of carnage that we've all seen a thousand times before. I'm not suggesting that we try to put these images or the events in question out of our minds, kind of the opposite. Is there a person alive who hasn't seen the blurry photo of some poor bastard in a white shirt falling to his death? Or the brilliant orange fireball of the second plane impact? The confused look of the guy in the white collared shirt hauling ass towards the camera, as the first tower collapsed over his shoulder? Nah, we've all seen them so I didn't see any sense in taking a few scraps of flesh off that already dead horse.
Okay, who speaks Spanish? Apparently this talk show host was filmed getting her fuck on at the beach, and the footage was shown during her television show. She's doesn't look too embarassed at first, but once you see her lean over and start sucking peener, she jabbers off at the mouth about something. What'd she say? What'd she say?
Ya know, you'd think that a picture of a girl using a live octopus as a bikini would be a once in a lifetime shot, right? And you'd be wrong. Huh.
masturbatus interruptus - top 10 masturbators caught on camera
|September 13, 2007|
Yeah, It Does Look Better, Doesn't It.
Hey here's a little newsflash for ya. Let's say your wireless plan is for 450 peak minutes. And let's say that you have unlimited TXT/PIX messaging. Did you know that while sending a TXT message from your phone does NOT chew up any airtime, but sending a PIX message DOES. So for the sake or argument, let's say your hobby was sitting at a bar for lunch and sending PIX messages of the bikini clad bartenders to your former coworkers. Each time you send a PIX message, you're not paying for the individual PIX message itself, but one minute of peak airtime is being ticked off your monthly allotment. So if you were to send 450 PIX messages during the day, you'd go through my months worth of airtime without uttering a single word. Who knew?
Anyway, as promised here's your next game challenge. Your goal is to use your mouse to Nudge the ball around to various portals (they look like little rings). There are ten portals per level. Gentle mouse movements move the ball slowly and deliberately. Fast movements ping the ball and send it flying. Various obstacles stand in your way. It's part billiards and part miniature golf. The soundtrack isn't bad, but you'll probably want to drop the volume a bit, via the options. And look at me, I even made the Top 10 for today. Remember to include EHOWA in your screen names!
Yesterday, Tony from shockinghumor posted this video of a drunken brawl at a baseball game (fourth one down at the time of this posting). The chick in green - not a bad rack btw - to the left of the camera is wearing a green Phillies shirt, so that thrashed my original theory that the drunken asshole who started the whole thinsg was a Yankees fan. So he showed me the Phillies schedule for August and we concluded it was probably against the Mets. So you know what that means. Yankees fans are going to Mets games now.
Alive Day Memories: Home from Iraq features many veterans with visible war wounds. It's easy to see a lost limb, or several, but U.S. Army Pvt. Dexter Pitts (the big black dude) bore more internal injuries. "I have physical injuries but the big thing with this war that the media is giving a lot of attention to now is the PTSD that soldiers are coming back with," said Pitts. "It's been kind of hidden and it's out there. I'm proud to be that person because I'm a voice for a lot of people who are afraid to stand up and say what's on their minds, what happened, because some injuries go away but memories are forever. I don't mind playing that part and being that person." [read more]
Working more on the baseball fight thery, the fifth video down here is a collection of the top 10 player fights. There's no crying in baseball! Especially when you try to fight Nolan Ryan. Old man's got skillz.
That tequila thing. What is it again? Lick, slam, suck... right?
the audi r8 is a mid-engined sports car released by the german automaker audi in 2006
the audi r8 is a mid-engined weed whacker endorsed by your landscaper in 2007
|September 12, 2007|
Something that's been on my Get-Around-To-It list for quite sometime was the revamping of the script that displays pictures. Those keen observers out there notice that I got around to that yesterday. The old and busted way of praying for change, compared to the new hotness. I know some people are resistant to change -- perhaps even prefer to take a rocket to the nuts than try something new. But there are several benefits to the new script: it's more compatible with newer popup blockers, opens faster, automatically resizes to the dimensions of the image so there's no need to scroll, it uses less bandwidth on my side of things, and perhaps more important than anything else...I think looks pretty sweet. Sweet like honey. Now one of the features that I implemented in the old way was you could close the window by clicking anywhere on the image itself. This was very convient, as was pointed out in an email from Matt yesterday, since you didn't have to do any fancy maneuvering with your mouse to find a close button. Yes I know the new way has a close button, but here's a little gem: you really don't have to click it to close the window. Just click anywhere on the darkened webpage behind the image and presto! Here, see for yourself. So please stop picking on me Matt, I'm a very fragile person ya know.
So what else is coming down the pipe? I've expanded the number of thumbnail links from 18 to 20, making the post a little wider. If you're still running 800x600, I'm afraid you'll have to go fuck yourself. Let's see... what else... whenever I get bunch of pictures sent in I create a seperate page for them. For example, Paul sent in these pictures of this ugly ass Lamborghini he found in Coral Gables, Florida. So let's say a month later you want to show said pics to someone. Right now there's no central index page linking all these pictorials together. So unless you remembere the exact text from todays post, you'll have a devil of a time trying to find them. So I'm going to create a little table of contents for all the features I've posted over the past few years. That should make navigation much easier for you, Joe Reader.
I've implemented Google Search for the entire site, and combined that with a month-by-month archive link and the contact links, all on one search page. And the game challenges. Ahem, yeah they need to be kind of updated and stuff. Also the Best Tits voting, along with the mailing list, have both been fucked for awhile now, and I plan on unfucking those this week, or at least trying.
The phonecam pics aren't being updated on some of the content pages, but that's not a big deal since they're updated here on the front page, and it'll be working by the end of the week anyway. I also plan on creating a page where you, Fair Reader, will be able to post your pics directly to the site, just like I do. For obvious reasons, I'll only open this feature up to people I know and trust, since I'm ultimately the one responsible for the hosted content. Current people on my list of cool kids are: a few cops, a metal worker, a USAF bomber pilot, a couple douchebags I used to work with, a Pentagon employee, and a bartender. That should be a nice little cross section of EHOWA life, eh? If you think you're worthy of being included in this list, lemme know.
Okay, that's about what I have for today. Give yourself a chance to get used to the tweaks, and I'm sure they'll grow on you. In the meantime, word to your moms.
a very large collection of very NSFW videos. different site than before
|September 11, 2001|
I actually took this Tuesday morning off work, so that I could take my car in to get it's 5000 mile service. Traffic was a exceptionally bad, so I was flipping through the radio stations trying to find something to listen to. It seemed every station was talking and talking and talking about mundane crap as many morning radio stations often do. I finally settled on one and began to settle into the fact that I'd be creeping through traffic for the next hour. Then the morning show host mentioned how a coworker was running into the station... it seemd a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.
Ha, I thought. Another bonehead tourist plane probably. The old building can take it. I remember reading that back in 19'some'odd when an Army Air Corp bomber crashed into the Empire State building in dense fog. Darwinism, I thought.
They finally got around to playing a few songs, which was a welcome break from the talking I had previous mentioned. Then the host breaks into music, right in the middle of a song, and states that a second plane, a big commercial motherfucker, had crashed into the World Trade Center also. At this point, I got angry. How dare they publicize such a stupid prank? How dare they? This isn't funny. This is horrible. I was actually contemplating picking up my cell phone and calling in to bitch someone out. And the thought occured to me... check another station. So I did. And they were talking about it too. And so was another. And another. This was for real.
I arrived at the dealership and there, in the customer lounge, were salesman, customers, managers, mechanics and receptionists all gathered around the television. There was an image of the peak of the World Trade Center Towers. There was a lot of smoke. People in the room were talking about terror and tragedy. After a few seconds later, the news media replayed footage of the second plane impact. I remember thinking that since he impacted the corner of the second tower, it looks like the guy missed his mark. I was somehow almost grateful. Imagine the loss of life if the whole fucking tower had come down in the impact.
We, a group of stunned and horrified people with only our American blood as a common thread, watched for a while longer. The coffee machine remained untouched. People were glued to the TV. Footage of victims and the rescue qorkers assisting them began to make their way around to the news media. Then the news broadcaster said they the windows in the building he was in shook. He heard a bang. He looked out of his window and saw people running away from the Pentagon. Hmmm. A car bombing maybe? Christ there's going to be a few hundred people killed in this attack, I thought.
Then the unthinkable happened. Right in the middle of Peter Jenning's sentence, right before my very eyes, the burning hulk that was once one of the two World Trade Center Towers, collapsed. Right before my very fucking eyes. There was dust, a mushroom cloud of it and the top of the tower just disappeared into it. It almost looked like it had been imploded, like you see on the Learning Channel late at night sometimes. It was gone, just like that. I can't imagine how many people died, right before my very fucking eyes. I turned to the gentleman sitting next to me, "is this really happening?" I asked. We were all stunned to find that one of the pilots of the hijacked planes lives in Dracut, Massachusetts. That's two towns over from where I live.
Surely the other one can't fall too. The media said that plane was much smaller, and it hit so much higher up. It can take the hit I thought. It'll be okay.
But I was wrong. Before too long, that tower collapsed too, killing with it not only the few thousand unfortunate souls still trapped inside but probably hundreds of rescue workers trying to aid the victims of the first crash. It's radio attenna on top dipped a bit, wavered left, and then too cascaded in a monster cloud of dust. And the news confirmed another plane had crashed into the Pentagon. I guess it wasn't a carbomb after all. Now all the airports are closed. And the railways. And they say another plane just crashed near Pittsburg. There is speculation that it didn't crash at all, but was rather shot down by Air Force fighters after the plane refused to respond to communication attempts and was headed directly towards Camp David. It's circulating now that perhaps that was just a rumor. God bless their souls either way. I fear the final body count in this whole ordeal, which in my uneducated estimates will climb into the tens of thousands.
Speculation is abound as to who is the root of all evil. The usual suspects turn up, as one might imagine. The news media is going through extraordinary steps of political correctness to not suggest any one of them is more or less likely to be the mastermind behind it, so as not to offend anyone.
Fuck that. We all know who is behind it. That tall, skinny, limping fuckhead Osama bin Laden. I know it, you know it, we all know it so let's cut to the fucking chase.
Some people say this is a time for restraint. I again reiterate my words of wisdom of, Fuck that. This is NOT a time for restraint. Restraint was yesterday. Today is a time for action. A time for downright coldhearted asskicking revenge. A time for retaliation justified ten thousand times. A time for stealth bombers and tomahawk missiles. A time for napalm. This is not a time for politicians to use words like 'dispicable' or 'cowardly'. I want them to use words like, "Yeah we found out who it was, and we kicked their fucking ass. We bombed them, we watched their families burn to death, watched their houses burn to the ground, and then I went and pissed on their ashes." I do not want my government to give a measured calculated response. Fuck that. I want them to react in a furious rage blinded by the visions of burned bodies on the streets of an American city and bomb any fucking person or persons or foreign government that ever did, does, or we suspect ever will coordinate a terrorist attack on US soil.
And to you Osama bin Laden, I tell you this. I may be stunned, I may be angry, I may be shocked, but I am NOT terrified. No, I drove home from my job today, which will be open tomorrow, and I drove through McDonalds and got a super sized Big Mac extra value meal. Businà3ÉëÉÈ…Éu