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I Have Never Felt So Alone and Vulnerable In All My Life.

Lately I've been buying a lot of shit from online want-ads like Craigslist, Armslist and such. Last week I was making arrangements to pick up something from a guy over in Ft Myers, and since I was already planning a Costco run, I suggested that we meet in a nearby Publix parking lot since it's a well known and well travelled area. So I hopped in my car and was already crossing the Cape Coral bridge over to Ft Myers when it dawned on me: I forgot my cell phone home. Shit. Furthermore, as soon as I realized that, I also realized I left the house before confirming that the seller could indeed meet me at 12:30, like I had asked. I had just fired off an "ok-meet-me-at-so-and-so-at-such-and-such-a-time" and ran out the door. So now I don't know if the guy is even coming to meet me, nor do I have any way to communicate with him to check. And if I turn around to go get my phone, then I'll be late and risk pissing off said seller. In the end I just decided to wing it, show up at the specified time and park my car out away from everyone else so it was very obvious; thankfully I had the sense of mind to mention what kind of car I drive in my last text message. I get there a few minutes early and my plan is to use a public phone to call the guy, since I had a bill of sale printed out with me and already had the seller's information filled out. I get out of the car and glance around the plaza, but there are no "PUBLIC PHONE" signs to be seen. I decide to risk a quick lap around the stores to see if I can spot a phone somewhere, but of course come up empty.

Insert Your Favorite Weekend Joke Here.

I Was Going To Say 'Regained' But That's Not Quite Right.

The new One World Trade Center is to vault past Empire State Building today and become tallest building in New York City.

A Final Piggyback Ride. The Space Shuttles, Not Your Mom.

Using dozens of different video sources and countless audio versions of Shuttle launches, this guy mixed this little clip together to mimic as close an experience to the real thing as possible. The exact sequence of countdown events is somewhat compressed and not time-accurate but I was going more for the feel of a high energy launch experience rather than a technical documentary. Throttle Up and SRB Separation are sounds as might be heard from onboard acoustic transducers picking up resonant vibration in the vehicle's structure. Please take care not to damage your sound equipment during playback. He did not boost the low frequency roar of the Shuttle during liftoff but the SRB and SSME thrust noise may be taxing to even high quality sub-woofers and speaker cones if played too loud. THIS IS FUCKING COOL.

Yeah, it's That Special Time of The Year Again.

I like to think that the Navy SEALs mission to kill OBL was a special birtday present done especially for me. And until someone proves otherwise, that's the way it's going to stay. I tried to dig up my old How Much Sam Adams have I Drank spreadsheet, and holy shit, score one for the pack rat. As of this morning I have been drinking legally for 6,940 days and when I first started out beer was my first choice to wet my whistle, my tastebuds have since changed to bourbon. Now that's not to suggest that I don't still indulge in beer; I still do. Just not to the degree that I used to, tapering off to maybe 4 beers a week last year, but now back up to 5 beers a week now that the Dublin Ale House has opened so close by. So after plugging in the current date and my recent drinking schedule, here's what it spits out at me:

This Contains The Most Disturbing Image I Have Ever Seen.

I think what frosts my ass the most about this Martin/Zimmerman debacle isn't the fact that there was so much misinformation out there at first -- shit I even fell for some of it -- it's that two months on, there's STILL new misinformation being added to the mix. It's like ehat the fuck, is there no sense of honesty in journalism anymore. For starters, if you read this piece by some gun-hating cunt from The New Yorker, you'll believe that, "Zimmerman shot Martin in the chest. Martin did not survive. Zimmerman was not charged. Outside Orlando, the story was not reported." Never mind the fucking fact that two weeks before that article was written, Florida State Attorney Angela Corey, announced that George Zimmerman had been charged with second-degree murder. Are you fucking kidding me? And then you've got this asshole from The Atlantic reporting, According to other reports, Zimmerman's gun was loaded with hollow-point bullets -- bullets that expand upon impact, maximizing internal damage and the chances of death. You don't need hollow-point bullets to stop a pit bull. And you don't need hollow-point bullets to stop a robber." What a fucking douchebag! Now the latest trend seems to be jumping on Zimmerman's Myspace page from fucking 2006! Now I'm hoping that some of this race-baiting will cool down now that Zimmerman is suing Al Sharpton and a few other people. Thank fucking God thre are a few state Senators who will still stand up for Stand Your Ground laws.

So I Played and Completed The Original Doom Again. Ahhh, It Was Nice To Reminisce.

Remember, Chocolate Doom is the way to go for a little trip down memory lane!

Insert Your Favorite Weekend Joke Here.

"Treat All As Your Own Self, Do Not Have A Double Standard." - Sri Sathya Sai Baba

CALLING AL SHARPTON, COME IN AL SHARPTON. JESSE JACKSON, DO YOU READ ME? HELLO? HELLO, IS ANYONE OUT THERE? My fucking God, can you imagine how this might have turned out if Gamble were armed and legally justified to STAND HIS GROUND? Oh the humanity.

Where The Wild Things Aren't Anymore.

In honor of Maurice Sendak's death, I feel it's only appropriate that we revisit Christopher Walken reading the children's classic, "Where the Wild Things Are."

Sometimes I Be All Quoteworthy And Shit.

"I don't think anyone is suggesting that a Church be forced to allow a gay couple into their place of worship and a be forced to perform a religious ceremony that is against their religious beliefs. What we're saying is religion lost its monopoly on the concept of marriage the minute I had to apply for a marriage license, get taxed differently by the IRS, and can make legally binding decisions on behalf of my spouse. Once that happened, everybody should get the same rights. Everybody. And not separate but equal rights, but the same rights." -- MUTHAFUCKIN ME.

I Wonder What State He Would Choose To Live In?

The definition of the word pocket is a small baglike attachment. The reason for this particular definition is that the pocket was not originally sewn into garments as it is today. In fact, the first pockets were actually small pouches that hung from the belt where one could carry valuables and coins. The word itself comes from the Anglo-Norman word pokete and traces its roots to the Germanic root word 'bag', which is like the Old English word pocca. The pocket has gone through many changes. There are various other pockets of note, such as hip pockets, thigh pockets, etc. Other pockets with specific uses include a pocket on a woman's purse for carrying a mobile phone and the unusual mitten pocket found on some woolen scarves, for storage of the matching mittens.

This City... Is Stalingrad. *Stalingrad*! This City Bears The Name Of The Boss.

One rifle that I always end up taking to the range is my Mosin Nagant. It's old, it's sturdy enough to use as a club, it's got a foot and a half bayonet, it belches flame and it kicks like a fucking mule. Oh, and it's cheap to shoot... $0.17 /round as compared to modern .308 which is around, eh, $0.48/round. The trade off for this economical shooting is older Eartern Bloc ammunition is corrosive, which means the firearm has to be cleaned immediately after a trip to the range, as opposed to letting it sit for a few days which you can do with the modern non-corrosive stuff. The accepted story says if you don't clean your rifle barrel that day, by the next morning it will be so rusted it will look as if you've left it out in the rain for a week. True or false, I dunno, I just clean my shit and don't take the chance.

Insert Your Favorite Mothers Day Weekend Joke Here.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

I Am Quite Thankful To Be That Less Than That One Percent.

Look lady, I'm really sorry you had to spend your Mother's Day without Trayvon, but you should be ashamed of yourself for helping to propogate the 30,000 gun deaths myth. I think you should take a long look and ask if this woman should have been sentenced to 20 years in prison. The Stand Your Ground law is sound, the problem is it's just being applied by fucking idiots as of late. By the way, don't forget that "Justice For Trayvon" copyright.

An Incumbent Who Doesn't Deserve A Second Term, Or A Challenger Who Doesn't Deserve A First?

UK radio hosts Dave Berry and Lisa Snowdon ask Avengers star Chris Hemsworth to break some awkward news to a listener, while in character as Thor.

I Keep Telling My Cop Friends That I Am Not "Anti-Police" Just Anti-Police-State. But, It Is Wearing Thin. - Doug Harman.

Unmanned drones could soon be buzzing in the skies above many U.S. cities, as the federal government green-lights the technology for local law enforcement amid widespread privacy concerns. Boy, there sure have been some big changes happening over the last ten years, yes? With that in mind, Dragon's Breath is a zirconium-based pyrotechnic shotgun round. When the round is fired, sparks and flames shoot out to about 48 feet away from the gun, as demonstrated by FPS Russia and his two unlucky mannequin. While its tactical uses are very limited, the visual effect it produces is impressive, similar to that of a short-ranged flamethrower. They can also be used as means of intimidation to the opposing forces. The pyrotechnic shell is expensive compared to other types of shotgun ammunition, costing around 5 US dollars per shell. There is little to no record of its use in actual combat and Dragon's breath rounds are banned in many locations including Florida (sigh), due to their inherent fire hazard. The Taurus Judge is a five shot revolver designed and produced by Taurus International, chambered for .410 bore shotgun shells and the .45 Colt cartridge. So I think Dragon's Breath + Taurus Judge = some pretty awesome drone skeet shooting opportunities! Maybe a little Drone Flambé?

One Would Think That Would be Obvious, But Nooooo.

One man gives his brilliant fucking solution to the perennial problem of cats pissing on his car. Brilliant!

So That Would Be Surprising Nemo, Then?

Just so we can start this post off in the right perspective...

Insert Your Favorite Weekend Joke Here.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend. I've Come To Talk With You Again.

So yesterday afternoon I let the pooches out the front door, only to discover a rather morbid sight. Evidently an egg fell out of a bird's nest that was somewhere high up in the Royal Palms in front of my house, and made a balut omlette on my sidewalk. It took me a few seconds to figure out what I was looking at, since my first thought was an unusually large bird turd, most likely from one of the ospreys that call my neighborhood home. Ants had just started to take notice of the carcass, whose unopened purple sockets stared vacantly into the summer sky. Remnants of the shell seemed to be light blue, so I presume it is/was/supposed to be a robin? The victim was stretched out, but I don't know if that was from the impact from such a great height, or the final movements of a creature who entered this world far too early. I had to clean it up quickly -- i.e. Bianca would have tried to eat the fucking thing -- so after some handy hosework, all that remains of the fatal tumble us this stain on the sidewalk. Either way, dead baby birds are just creepy, man.

Cen·Ten·Ni·Al [Sen-ten-ee-uhl] Adjective - Pertaining To, Or Marking The Completion Of, A Period Of 100 Years.

Marine aviation officially began on 22 May 1912, when First Lieutenant Alfred Austell Cunningham reported to Naval Aviation Camp in Annapolis, Maryland, "for duty in connection with aviation." As the number of Marine Aviators grew, so did the desire to separate from Naval Aviation, a dream realized on 6 January 1914, when First Lieutenant Bernard L. Smith was directed to Culebra, Puerto Rico, to establish the Marine Section of the Navy Flying School. In 1915, the Commandant of the Marine Corps authorized the creation of a Marine Corps aviation company consisting of 10 officers and 40 enlisted men. The first official Marine flying unit arrived with the 17 February 1917, commissioning of the Marine Aviation Company for duty with the Advanced Base Force at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Here is a message from the current Commandant of the Marine Corps, Gen. James F. Amos, commemorating 100 years of Marine Corps Aviation.

And I Thought The Street Naming Convention In Cape Coral Was Weird.

Watch what happens when a member of the Ghost Recon: Future Soldier team applies for an internship at IGN and uses his training and futuristic equipment to climb the corporate ladder.

I Can't Believe Big Papi Is Still Playing. I Thought Steroids Aged Your Body Faster?

The other day I was cruising around Netflix -- I gave up and resubscribed to their DVD service, btw -- and stumbled across Turner and Hooch and spent the next two hours split between laughing my balls off and reminiscing through my teenage years. But then something kinda hit me: that movie is from 1989. Hooch was probably eh, 2 years old maybe? And a French Mastiff's lifespan is only 5-10 years, if you can believe it. So that means odd are, ol Hoochie didn't live to ring in the new millenium. And the same goes for most of these awesome dogs that managed to save shitty movies, with the exception of maybe that German Shepard from I Am Legend (done in 2007).