GHETTO NINJA

This dude is just straight Gangsta! I would love to see the Ghetto Ninja pair off against The Real Dwight Schrute! Battle to the death. FINISH HIM! Click through for the video, trust me, it's worth it!

via Reddit More »

The Real Dwight Schrute

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Believe in Yourself

VIA Reddit More »

Cee-Lo Brings It Down Home Again

What's the best way to say "fuck you" to a girl that you loved? Cee-lo Green Style. Def the jam of the late summer. More »

Drew Landry: Cajun Heartbreaker

Drew Landry, crawfisher turned oil field worker, steals the show the first Town Hall meeting of the Presidential Oil Commission. In the song he pleads about just wanting a job and how hard it is to make a living. Well Drew, I don't t'ink you need to worry 'bout dat no mo!

VIA Gawker

UPDATED: Well it turns out he's more of a musician than he is a crawfisher/oil rig worker. This doesn't make him any less of a songwriter/singer for a cause, but it does make the story a little less genuine when it seems he might have been using the platform to actually get himself a record deal and not JUST for the people of the Gulf Coast. I'm still gonna check out his music though. The song i'm listening to right now is about the WWF and the chorus is about the Junk Yard Dog, so it can't be all that bad. The Dirty Cajuns

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The Side Door At Beacon Restaurant : Pop-Up Intro Menu

Saw this yesterday around lunch time and was highly intrigued. I hung around long enough and she gave a me a five dollar coupon. That left me with a bill of 5 bucks for a high quality lunch. Chips (Wise All Natural Potato Chips), Soda (Sprite or Coke) and Tax Included! Click through for menu, photos and all the other scrumptious details.



This is the Beacon at Night. The Side Door @ the Beacon is pretty self explanatory to me, but in case you need further explanation it's actually to the right side of the door. Oh and it's really only half a door which kind of looks like a window.



This is what they actually look like...but they taste much better than they look. The hotdog was stellar, two all beef dogs crammed into a po-boy roll. The sweet relish was the perfect balance of sweet and sour. I didn't taste the parmesan though. Although, I didn't really give much time to savor the flavors cause it was so damn good I ate the thing it almost one fell swoop.

Don't get me wrong, the burger was great too. I had heard there were probablems with not letting the patty wrest and you ended up with a bun that was covered in blood. Not so today. It was all in all delicious and a steal for even $10 dollars in Midtown.

CLICK MENU BELOW TO ENLARGE.



UPDATED:

Went back again today. Note to self. Don't show up at the supposed "opening time" of 11:30. Didn't open til 12pm. I guess the dogs had been sitting in the heater since the half. Buns were rock hard. I don't mind eating withe a knif and a fork, but come on. Still will go back next week though. 12:30 seems the most opportune time. Or call. The numbers on the menu above. I still can't figure what's all in the relish, though. Answers in the comments would be appreciated. (chips and pickle and keyboard in picture below do not come with...)








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SAY YOU GOT A CASE OF THE HIVS

Satan as imagined by the creator of The California Raisins.

This is the from the movie The Adventures of Mark Twain (1986). It is a claymation version that surrounds the characters from his writings and general life musings from the author. In a particular stirring clip (after the jump)we see the children meeting Satan who goes on to explain his meaning of...well...life. I guess. Pretty scary stuff seeing as the age of the viewer was probably 5 - 8 years old.


Yeah, well. I'm fucked up. This video is a bag of coke thrown to Lindsey Lohan in after party. I know this video is old but someone threw a bag of coke to me at a Lohan afterparty. It was large and in charge. So, I'm still dealing with it. I found the full movie here, but I keep forgetting to link to it. Sorry for being so disconnected, but I am SOOO disconnectected. I'm sure that is a proper use of a comma but a horrible use of spelling. so eat a dik wit aids.






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Bollywood's Chiranjeevi Would Kick Chuck Norris's Ass

Warning: Many horses and extras were violently injured in the making of this awesome chase scene.

Ask an American what the best chase scene in cinematic history and they say bullshit like Bullit! Or The Man With Golden Gun! If they are a badass they'll say, Smokey and the Bandit. Ask any Indian (dots, not arrows...) or anyone thats a true movie expert and they will tell you it's Alluda Majaka starring India's version of Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, Stallone and Schwarzenegger and Jean Claude Van Damme all rolled into one. Chiranjeevi! I mean, just look at this dude!

This a doctor smoking a cigarette with a gun who can kick Chuck Norris's ass.

Click thru for the most badass chase scene you will ever see. As well as a TRACTOR FIGHT. That is all.




PopTen

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Tyra Banks is Batshit Crazy

I have always hated this woman but now I have a reason. More »

Cigarettes

I used to know this girl. I'd go to her place to have a beer, the toilet and whatnot. She'd meet me down at the front after the respective phone call with a match. A match so exhausted I could smell her skin singe.

She never, ever, flinched though.

It was routine. I'd puff my cigarette twice and sit alone on the worn out couch. Worn down by pain, love and cigarette sin. I'd puff it twice more and take one long draw off the half filled glass of stale beer and we'd silence and watch the Earth move. No words, no emotion, just listen and watch.

We watched mostly through this picture frame that hung shantily on the living room wall. The futon that faced us relaxed eagerly suggesting the obvious but she and I weren't interested. The smoke filled the room and the picture changed moods letting the voices on the other side dictate the degree of aggression that was illustrated by it.

Cigarettes and empty ashtrays later we would awake from that moment we waited for. That shattering separation from reality that only that picture frame could give us. More »

KETCHUP

On Sunday morning, post Easter, Jesus had been resurrected from the dead. I was non- plussed. Not being a catholic and drinking myself into a coma on a weekly basis, I didn’t think anything of it. Instead, I bathed in the darkness of my bathroom, slowly washing away the cave of pain that surrounded my life. After partially drying myself off with a dirty towel, I dressed in random articles of clothing I found between the bath and the bed. I stumbled down the stairs to hear the vibrancy that was Bed Stuy. Bill Withers blared. Actually, that’s wrong. He can never blare, cause he can never be too loud. He reverberated. He shook the halls and the mailboxes so that bills fell from their respective places and people forgot their debts and over-arching problems. I traipsed on.

Squinting my eyes I avoided the locals and wished I would have bought a pair of shades. They are seasonal in my lifestyle. Like fans, space heaters and ramen noodles, they all come at a typical time of the month or year.

I walked into the restaurant I go to now that I don’t go to the other one and yelled out my order in Spanish and stared at the table. Still wishing I had the glasses. On it were three things. Salt, pepper, and fucking ketchup. I moved in a way that made the table shift and the ketchup bottle fell sideways. It was resting on its top. It was Heinz. The first thing I read was “only the best tomatoes for the best ketchup” and realized that this was how I was going to get her back.

I had lost my confidence years ago through a series of poor choices and accidental mistakes and had an idea. I often did. Unfortunately most were forgotten due to the loss of memory that excessive drinking often causes. I would make sure that the best tomatoes for my best ketchup would be her tomatoes. And, like Heinz, if there is any quality control, my ketchup, and therefore, her tomatoes, would be mine.

In order to do so, it would be a slow process. I’m sure mister Heinz didn’t come up with his commercially viable recipe overnight. It would take time. So in order not to rush things I decided I would think of her as muse and do one simple thing a day. Write one word.

And so i set forth to reconnect with the woman i hoped to be my muse. The sweat that came from the trying follows.

Click thru for the bullshit...

The first would be the word “hope”

Hope sounded like dope. What did that mean. I guess it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t sound like anything either.

It felt like everything, though. It felt like a birthday party. It felt like being washed ashore. It felt like coming clean from lies that kept you washed in filth.

The second word would be “despair”

It sounded like the last grains of the hourglass falling onto the ones before it.
Like the people singing the last words of happy birthday as you entered the room from coming from the bathroom.

The third word was “faith”

It was the place to you would find to spread your ashes so no one had to clean up after you anymore.

The fourth word was “jealousy”

This is the party that I wasn’t invited to where you were invited to and I hoped I could talk to you.

The fifth word is “solitude”

These are the evenings that I spend talking to myself so that I will know what to say to keep you from leaving me next time the morning comes.

The sixth word is “desire”

The emptiness I feel on a daily basis because my hunger strike is not for a noble cause, but one of selfishness. Unlike Tibet, I don’t want freedom, I only want to be chained to you.

The seventh word is “regret”

Because instead of saying I love you, I only said I’m sorry.

The eighth word is “promise”

Because I don’t have to say it if we are together forever.

The ninth word is “love”

Don’t forget that the heart not only pumps blood out, it sucks it in. Without the two actions, death is inevitable.

The tenth word is “alone”

A man that cannot enjoy his own company can’t truly enjoy the company of others. But without the company of others, his enjoyment of his company cannot be shared.

The eleventh word is “broke”

This has to be not having a quarter to call and say I love you.

The twelfth word is “walking”

Because I would do so like hazel motes with glass in my shoes to get to you.

The thirteenth word is “absolution”

All of my hopes and dreams will be washed away when you will be here in my dying days. Choking and coughing, love and my blood, never tasted so sweet.

The fourteenth word is “ran”

Past tense because it happened. Going forward because it was what I need to get to our future.

The fifteenth is “law”

As morally obligating as ‘til death do us part’ might seem, it is still not binding. However, being apart til death kills me every day.

The sixteenth is “fidelity”

Our life has had a series of rainchecks. How many days will it have to rain before I can cash them all?

The seventeenth is “child”

If I am lucky it will be a girl and it will be as beautiful as you. If I am not, it will be a boy and not be as smart as me.

The eighteenth word is "explosion"

It gets larger as the day that gets longer still only gets longer.

The nineteenth word is "TEXAS"

Cause the meaning of YES in Texas is worth more than the meaning of NO anywhere else.

The twentieth word is "replace"

Because 6 figures will never replace the 7 letters that I will miss every day.

the twentieth word is naked

because when i am seemly i am covered in ashes and hope to be surrounded by the molten lava that is you.

More to come.

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I'M HUNGRY!

The Ross Sisters singing bizarrely about potato salad and a bunch of other weird shit. More »

Juggalost

Wow. Mind Blown. Juggagenius. Watch and understand. Juggalos on Bill O'Reilly. "WTF, I'm sitting here with a painted face?" More »

Garden-Hose

I was in a Volvo leaving something that I should have stayed for. I had a guitar and a set of knives that served as forks with sharp edges. They were called knorks. You could cut ravioli and tomatoes but they were advertised as something that could cut meat.

Qvc could not help this. This was my product. I tried to sell it and failed.

I pulled the car into a slow town in Louisiana in hopes of finding an easy take on the knorks. I found nothing but rain and a church. I found solitude with a water spout that was surrounded by a garden hose. I missed my family very much. It had been days since I had bathed in cleanliness and hope. I stopped there and stepped out and washed myself naked in the rain in hopes of being whole again. I was. The parking lot was empty in the back of the church, however, the gutters were full with free water. I was clean and resting in the backseat of the car that was full of beer cans, beef jerky packages and stolen hotel shampoo bottles. These, I used under the gutter to wash myself to sleep. It was like my own shower. I went back in the car after the nature bath. I fell asleep like coma patients waking up. Click through for more, it's worth it.



The sun came and started shining in my mirror. My radio had died and light was in my eyes. I stumbled across the street to a diner I had never been to with a handful of door to door items I hoped to trade for breakfast to no avail. I had them in my pocket. I ordered pancakes and solitude and left the waitress alone. This didn’t work because when the food came I was lost. I had seen this person before next to a swimming pool at a motel in Arizona. I was sure of it. She told me quick and clean that I was getting a ticket and towed. This was strange cause I had never been here before in my goddamn fucking life. It didn’t stop then.

My wallet and my clothes and my gun was in that in that car. I needed everything. She gave me access to nothing. I knew that what was happening was not an accident. The thing that I had been escaping from had finally caught up to me here in New Orleans. There were no more Mardi Gras or churches or green garden hoses or weather reports that could save me. I was good.

I traipsed back to that church and Volvo and thanked the rain. If I tipped my head back I would drown like poultry. I didn’t. I went into the back of the car and looked for an umbrella in order to maintain my dignity.

I broke a hole in the church window and went inside. I went into the bathroom and found the toilet paper and wrapped it around the handle. 3 or 5 times. Strung it to the door. Pissed all over it and closed the door and brought it to the top of the broken window.

Then ran like hell.

I ran down the street through an alley over an overpass through a bathroom to another window that I climbed in hoping I would get away. But again, I found myself back to that car in the church parking lot,later. It had my gun, my clothes and it was the place where it rained when I arrived. It was where all the answers were reconciled during a later date.

The roof of the church was nice. The garden hose could be a rope (or a noose). The church served as a venue. I fell into the past but stepped into the future. Delusion wasn't a nightmare but a dream of the same sort:

I went to the back and climbed up the set of steps with Eve's green shackles wrapped around my neck. And as I did, I stepped gingerly up the iron necklaces that kept me bound to the excuses that were you.

I knew that I wasn’t going to make it in that town. I knew I was going to fail. I had too many things in my pockets to sell to so many people that did not want to buy them. I gave up and…

I fell down those steps before I charged up them. I ran before I lost it. When I did, I swam up those steps and life to make sure that I went forward. Face forward. Into a pool without water. Into a pool without hope. Into a parking lot with a garden hose, drowned by the greenness of the rain that came from Jesus himself. I hung myself faster than I started to tie the knot.
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Fill in the Blank: Marmaduke = Dog _ _ _ _

Owen Wilson! Keifer Sutherland! Fergie! All in one movie! My Dreams have come true! Oh wait...it's about dogs? No...they are dogs? No...they are the voices of dogs? Oh, then this movie must be dogshit. Seriously, this must be one step of the 12 in dealing with addiction cause i see no reason why this pill popper/alcoholic/meth whore (respectively) would ever sign on to do a movie like this. I mean, come on, if George Lopez is invited to the party going to the party should not be an option. A drive by, yes, devoting a few months of your life in voice over work is a definite no.I would rather get mouth raped with a crowbar than sit through this piece of shit. But uh...do me a favor and watch the trailer while nodding in agreement. More »

Hard Ticket to Hawaii Online

Wow, this movie is awesome. A piece of cinematic genius that makes Die Hard look like a home movie. IMDB summarizes the movie as follows:

Two drug enforcement agents are killed on a private Hawaiian island. Donna and Taryn, two operatives for The Agency, accidentally intercept a delivery of diamonds intended for drug lord Seth Romero, who takes exception and tries to get them back. Soon other Agency operatives get involved, and a full-scale fight to the finish ensues, complicated here and there by an escaped snake made deadly by Toxic Waste!

If they wanted to be more accurate they should have said:

Two big breasted Playboy Playmates (Dona Speir,March 1984 & Hope Marie Carlton July 1985) hang with 2 badasses, one of which whose name is "Rowdy Abilene" who track down bad guy druglords, actions scenes have razor bladed frisbees and crack dialogue such as, "If brains were bird crap, your cage would be clean."

They ingeniously reshow ALL the nude scenes (of which there are plenty) during the credits. That's the way to keep'em in their seats. The DVD even has easter eggs or hidden footage (of fifteen seconds of naked chicks) that the normal viewer wouldn't know about. (This is just for serioous pervs but to access go to Main Menu, highlight Bonus Features and press right.) The director Andy Sidaris is very loyal to the girl/gun genre. This is one of his first films so he has yet to perfect the art of...well, directing. To get an idea of how awesomely bad the character/action scenes are in this movie watch the clip after the jump. And I even found a copy you can watch online so you don't have to witness the embarrassment that comes with the snobbish video clerk silently judging you behind his zits and glasses. I'm telling you, I haven't witnessed anything this bad since my elementary school rendition of Little Donkey in the third grade. Enjoy.




Watch Hard Ticket to Hawaii online streaming, HERE.

Other mumbletomyneighbor movie reviews, go HERE.

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SurvivingTheWorld.net

Found a pretty cool blog thats great for one click boredom and a chuckle. That is all. Have a good weekend.


Survivingtheworld.net

From Reddit. More »

How to Make It In America - Dopest Ass Theme Song on TV (Aloe Blacc, Good Things)

There have been quite a few good shows that have started up recently. I really like White Collar, Justified, Human Target and now, How To Make It In America. Especially since Margarita Levieva has joined the cast. She's really hot. In case you don;'t know anything about the show I would say its produced by Mark Wahlberg and is similar to Entourage in the sense that it is about a group of young friends coming upon the age of success. Oh, and it's sat in New York not in the horrible Los Ang-e-les. Oh and it has the dopest theme song I've heard in a long time. Video up above. Click through for more on Margarita. Also, you know what Marky Mark was doing before producing TV shows and making big hollywood movies? He was making hilarious workout videos. Thats after the jump too. Enjoy.

Now this scares the shit out of me. They are yelling and screaming at the beautiful woman. If they started tazing her I would think she was a heifer at an auction


To check out the hilarious workout video, go HERE.
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Make A Shoot to Win Arcade Game From Trash

This is not supposed to be your girlfriend.

A friend of mine at work got this little mini hoops thing that was not being put to use, so seeing as I have no social life and ample loads of duck tape and loads of love for the only Canadian worth his salt (MacGyver) I decided to figure out how to turn it into one of my favorite childhood games. Shoot To Win. You know, the thing at Chucky Cheese where you have to make the basket but never could, cause you were smaller than everyone else and rolled off your fingers like a little pansy? Well, at least it did for me.

Fear no more.

Now you can make your own after the instructional provided after the jump. And you can place it as close as you want! No more far away shots that you'll never make. no worries about tickets you can't buy beer with. It serves to build your confidence and everything.
All you need is a mini hoop, some ducktape and some drunken ingenuity. It works quite well and I am a MacGyver genius. Especially after you see the video after the jump as proof. Just kidding I am not quite well. But you'll be surprised at the result.


So it starts off by getting your mini hoop. Get that affixed it to a chair. Any chair that you used to have that no one will be using because no one uses any chairs in your house except your recliner that you sleep, shave and watch TV in. Oh, and it has to be wood. Guess they call them dinner chairs? Table chairs cause they are around a table? Whatever, I don't use them anymore. I forget. Better if it's wood and has slats, you'll need this to create the wire hanger guides which will descend towards the bottom so the ball comes back to you after you miss constantly. (So you don't ever have to leave your recliner to pick it up.) This is key.

Wrap the hanger so they create a guide at an approximate 45 degree descension to rest your netting on. (Comes later.) Make it tight, also important.

Find something stiff, a piece of cardboard or something that will have a slight bend with time. Bend it 2/3 rds of the ways. Duck tape this to the front. This will provide the descent in which it falls back to you. This is important, too. (If it is a long shot you desire, make it stiff and only slightly bent. This will cause for a longer roll. If not, God help you. you are shooting buckets two feet from your ashtray.)

Now, for your net (not the one around the rim, mini hoop should come with this) that will serve as the catch and the chute to put it in the same direction of your poison of choice. When the ball falls, it should fall right next to your vice so you can pick the ball up and if you make it or depending on how bad your aim is, (this is the point of having Shootin Hoops in your house) treat yourself to your vice or console yourself in your defeat. You make the rules, (REWARD OR PUNISHMENT), I just break them.

In order to make it I used a rubber rug stop from IKEA that I had two of. I draped it around the wire hanger descending ever so slightly so it was taught at the beginning but drooped towards the middle...much like many of the intimate moments of my life which is weird now that I think of it. The link is above above but if you don't have the $1.99 I'm sure you have a bloody sheet or a trashbag that will achieve the same affect.

Affix the net to the top of the chair close the backboard. Make sure it's close to the top so it creates a ridge around the wire guides. It's hard to explain. Just see the video. No special effects. Try and make a better one and put it in the comments, I have an amazing one to beat yours. I dare you. Don't expect much from that statement cause I'm sure that there as many reading this as there were who followed Winter Olympics Curling, but I like to build myself up before I let myself down.

Peace.



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apologies from yesterday

SOMETIMES YOU CAN KEEP SAYING SORRY BUT SOMETIMES YOU KEEP SAYING NO. More »

Envelopes of Warmth

I've spent

five days wasting

In the moment between heat

And all the hope

that will keep us warm...
____
I have died inside

When everything that's strong inside

is warm...
________

but I give you an envelope

that is absolutely full of hope

and soft and warm.
_________

you're--life

bleak ... and soft to me

will be ... the storm ....

_______

but I give you an envelope

that is always full of hope

and soft and warm

________

you are the best thing

that I have ever seen,

circles and their crosses have came to you

but I have given you Jesus and his hope for me.
____

I wait for you.

i wait for you.

i will,

forever,

wait for you.

i love you. my love. forever. More »

Roast Beef and Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

Christopher Wool, If You, 1992

I did not write any of this. I reappropriated some of the words to fit a more lifelong lesson that many could use, including myself. (The reappropriations are the words in parentheses) For the full unedited article please look at Cube of M. A blog I've never read but will start. I only give you the interesting deets in the beginning. It has a very interesting Paulo Coehlo feel to it for fans of The Alchemist. For fans of the rest of his work, well, I'm sorry. It's all the same.

Click through for the meat of the non-Disney introspective-philosophically important tale. I know those two words together sound redundant but when you get introspectively philosophical you'll see that they aren't.

In 2004 I was in Brazil, walking down the hill in Lapa to get some lunch. I was with a friend who I had met in the hostel I was staying - his name was Ofer. We were having a discussion about intelligence, and what role it plays in success.

Then out of the side of the road stepped a man. He was holding a knife in one hand and a bottle in the other hand. He spoke to us in fast portugese, clearly asking us to hand over the things we held. I stood there, not very sure what to do. Ofer started speaking quickly to the man, telling the man not to rob us.

What you have to know about Ofer is that he had been an Israeli soldier. He hated violence of any form, but he knew how to be violent.

The man threw the bottle on the floor and it broke into pieces, he picked up the bottle and lunged at us. I ran a short distance off, and Ofer stood there and dodged the man, all the while talking to him. The man attacked several times, and each time Ofer just moved aside.

Then finally, Ofer kicked the weapons out of the guys hands, punched him, and he fell. He then told me to run, and we ran down the hill to the restaurant.

We sat there and he continued what we had spoken about. He said: That demonstrates what I mean. The man with the knife did not know how to use that knife. If he had been as trained in knife fighting as I was in hand combat, he would have been able to destroy me. But he had a tool that he felt gave him an advantage, but it's nothing compared to a person who has no tool, but has worked to develop what he has.

Again, this is from Cube of M not from me.

Intelligence is like a knife. If you are intelligent, you are at a clear advantage against people who are not intelligent. But if you are intelligent, and another person is not as intelligent, but the other person is willing to train harder than you, the other person will very quickly overtake you in ability.

How your intelligence will destroy you

People who are born intelligent start off life with everything easy for them. They don't have to work hard to get good grades, they never really have to do much to get ahead. The major challenge of early life is school - and school is designed for average people. So intelligent people just breeze through.

But there is a point where every intelligent person faces something that requires more than intelligence. It requires hard work, it requires the ability to fail, it requires being able to do tough tasks, boring tasks. For the first time in their life, in spite of their intelligence, these intelligent people are challenged, and they start failing. Like when they first attempt to (make themselves successful).

And that's where most of them retreat. They focus on things they can't fail on, and ignore the other important things. They start to blame other things (like vices). They procrastinate. They refuse to face new problems because they know they will not be able to handle them, and this does not fit into their worldview that they are invincible.

Let me tell another story. In 2007, I had dinner with the father of my girlfriend in Paris. He is currently a vice president at one of the top 5 consulting companies in the world. He is a jewish french immigrant from Morroco - he came in the 70s to France with no money and no connections, and he made it up to become Vice President, even though he studied to be an engineer.

I asked him: How did you do it? How did you start from being an immigrant to become executive material? He told me: I got this far because I'm intelligent. He continued: But there were many many people as intelligent as I am who graduated together with me. They are still engineers right now. The difference between me and them is that when I arrived, I knew that I did not have family here in france, I did not have connections. And I knew there were a lot of other people as intelligent as I was, and who had all these advantages. The only way to be successful then would be to gain a slight advantage over them - I had to work and train harder than they did, I had to get to know more people than they did, I had to learn more about more things that they did.

We started off equals, but at some point all the effort I put in started to pay off, and where they stopped improving themselves, I continued, and I got better and better. Where they were afraid to try new things because they would fail, I tried and I got better and knew more, till I was good enough for the job I hold now.

How this relates to you

Being intelligent is like having a knife. If you train every day in using the knife, you will be invincible. If you think that just having a knife will make you win any battle you fight, then you will fail. This believe in your own inherent ability is what will kill your (success). Success comes from the work and ability you put in becoming better than the others, and not from some brilliance you feel you may have within you.

So don't believe that the brilliance of your idea is what will make you successful. What will make you successful is when you are out there every day, doing something new, challenging yourself, trying new methods, studying new ways, having a lot of small failures, then getting better every day.

I am in no way trying to make you understand The Secret of Life. Only Dave Chappelle can do that.

More »

OK Go - This Too Shall Pass, Awesome Rube Goldberg Video

I've never listened to these guys, but I think I'm going to have to start. This is one of the coolest music videos I've ever seen. Wired. Com explains how it was built, with how it was done videos from the band and the lab that created it, HERE.

For more mumbletomyneighbor posts on Rube Goldberg, go HERE.

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Spider Guy 27b/6 Shut Down by Australia's Government due to Censorship Laws

First things first. Australia has now joined the forward thinking China in implementing the censorship laws.

Second, the spider story above was all over the internet awhile ago. The man behind it is hilarious. His modus operandi is to start an email exchange that creeps ever so closely to borderline madness. Once he gets the victim frothing at the mouth, he tones it down and reels them back in again. Well, David Thorne (27b/6 guy)decided to have a go out the folks that implement the censorship. Well, he went a little too far and they yanked his page. Fortunately, I got the text before they did so. Here you go, it's funny. After the jump...

From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 26 February 2010 8.12pm
To: Michael Harding


Subject: Censorship

Dear Mike, Thank you for your letter. At no time have I condoned the use of drugs. I simply stated that I wish to purchase and sell them at a profit. I do however understand the importance of censorship. Without an enforced system of guidance from agencies such as yours, people would be forced to exercise their own discretion. Regards, David.



From: Michael Harding
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 10.27am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Censorship

David, your obvious disrespect for authority doesn't change the fact that soliciting money for the purpose of purchasing and selling drugs is a criminal offence under South Australian law. I advise you to remove the article and I will check that you have done so by 5pm tomorrow. Yours sincerely, Michael Harding


From: David Thorne
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 10.44am
To: Michael Harding
Subject:Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Michael,Despite your assumption, I have the highest amount of respect for authority. I actually wanted to become a police officer but failed the IQ test when I arrived on time at the correct building. While not exactly a police officer, when I was about eight I desperately wanted to be Tom Selleck from Magnum PI. I painted my Standish Selecta-12 bright red and constructed a moustache by clipping a large amount of hair from the neighbour's cat and gluing it to my upper lip. This is how I discovered my allergy to cat hair. Dragged to my neighbour's house, my apology through lips the size of bananas came out as "Imsryfrctnheroffyrcat iwntdtobemgnumpi." I also wanted to be frozen and thawed out in the 25th century due to Wilma Deering's jumpsuit but despite emptying the refrigerator and sitting in it for over an hour, the only result was mild hypothermia and a belting.

I have been considering sitting the police exam again as protecting the community from burglars, murderers and blogs must be very fulfilling. I am fairly fit due to regularly thinking about jogging and I once performed a jumping jack. It was unintentional and involved a spider on the bath mat but still counts. I am also experienced in self defence and recently built a moat. Sometimes, I dress as a French mime and pretend to walk against a strong wind to the delight of those around me. Everybody loves a mime. This skill would obviously come in quite useful during police stealth operations.Due to restrictive Australian gun laws, I do not have much experience with weapons but I did construct my own bazooka when I was about ten using a length of pipe, a securely tightened end cap, a golf ball and a three to one ratio of chlorine & brake fluid. While the design was flawless, the resulting broken collar bone from the kickback and two inch hole through two plaster walls then a television set brought a swift end to my foray into ballistic research and development.
Regards, David.


From: Michael Harding
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 2.09pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

David, this isn't the first time we've received complaints regarding your website. You have until 5pm tomorrow to remove the article and I'll be checking your website regularly. You might not take this seriously but I can assure you that we do. Yours sincerely, Michael Harding


From: David Thorne
Date: Saturday 27 February 2010 3.18pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Michael, I do indeed take the matter seriously and will attempt to facilitate your request by 5pm tomorrow despite the fact that I am extremely busy this weekend. I need to bury the two dead backpackers I have in the spare room as the smell is starting to attract suspicion. And wolves. It is a fairly large job as one of the backpackers is American and will therefore require a hole several sizes larger than normal. On the plus side, the other is from England which obviously means no dental records. I could hire one of those mini bobcat tractors for the day but will probably just let the children out for a game of 'best digger gets food this week'. I am sick of hearing "I want my parents" and "Please don't lock me in the spare room again, it smells funny" but many hands, no matter how small, make light work.Also, I was watching Crime Stoppers last night and was wondering if you need anyone to play the perpetrators in crime re-enactments? I have several years acting experience convincing co-workers that I am listening and care about their relationship issues or what they did on the weekend while really thinking about robots or what would happen if a car made of diamond drove really fast into a wall made of diamond. I would prefer to play either a black professor or an Asian bus driver.

Regards, David.


From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 10.26am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

I suggest you spend the time deleting the page as you have been requested to do rather than writing about dead backpackers. What is wrong with you?


From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 2.02pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Mike,

My apologies for not getting back to you earlier, I was busy torching my vehicle. Did you know that if you report it stolen the insurance company gives you money to buy a new one? I usually do this every eleven months as it saves having to pay for an annual service.I do not have dead backpackers in the spare room. I was just being silly. There is no space in there due to the hydroponics system, pots and bags of nutrients. I read somewhere that it is ok to have up to three hundred and seventy marijuana plants for personal use. Correct me if I wrong. As I do not have a backyard and the plants take up most of the apartment, I sleep in a hammock stretched between two of the larger trunks. It is like sleeping in a jungle and sometimes I pretend I am a baby monkey. Due to the 24 hour UV lighting, my electricity bill this month is nearly four thousand dollars but I have an awesome tan. In regards to the website, rather than deleting the article, I will amend it to be about cats. Is this acceptable to you? Regards, David.


From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 2.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

It isn't legal to grow even one plant which I'm sure you already know. Possession of less than 100g or one plant has been decriminalised but still carries a fine. Changing the page to be about cats is fine. I will be checking to see if it has been done by 5pm. I strongly suggest that you do so.
From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.17pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Dear Mike,


5pm eastern standard time or ours?


Regards, David.


From: Michael Harding
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.41pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Ours. I've had enough of your nonsense. If the page is not removed or changed within the next 20 minutes I will be filing an order under the e-crimes act of 2006 to have the website shut down.


From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 28 February 2010 4.59pm
To: Michael Harding
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Censorship

Done.

Here's the full spider story...

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The White Buffalo - Love Song 1

I really dig this guy. Reminds me of Seven Mary Three which is a sore spot for most music purists, but I dare you to listen to the song that follows and tell me it's not good.

"Rise Phoenix out of her. Twice no one dies she says."

Actually, that version is pretty shitty. It's a hard to find B side so I didn't look hard for studio quality but the warble of the two singers is pretty spot on. More »

Russian Married With Children

This is the Russian version of Kelly.

Click through for the awesome video. The guys Ed Bundy impression is really good. Also a link to some...um...Christmas photos.




More Darya Sagalova Pics HERE (NSFW)

From Reddit : If you constantly find yourself wondering how would a Russian version of Married w/Children look like, you can now stop. More »

Drinking Like Sunday Morning

The rain fell on me like yesterdays breakfast. I was hoping for an early flight but only found an easy reason for mourning. I drank as much as they would give me but was back in New York and barely knew I had felt like I was under anesthesia. I put my bags at a friend’s house and quickly sat myself at the old local bar. It took him 20 minutes to leave and lock me out for ever. I moved in to an old bartender's house who later usurped herself as my lover and went on my quest to be a flown in employee for a future I would not expect. I showed up in poor shoes and horrible clothes only to be sent back in shame. Shame was something I was good at however because it was the only thing that fit me well and I did not have to adjust it to my frame. I went to work and toiled back and forth trying to find my rhythm until it found me. In the supply closet, not looking for supplies, she came upon me in tight pants with a light smile and I coalesced. The first date was a night in a dingy bar that had couches that were made for dingy sessions. Days led to evenings. Her obsession became my demise. I slowly moved in with her and into her. But it took enormous feats like scaling walls and jumping ropes to make it last. At the end, we were naked on rooftops and killing ants. This was the beginning of the best days of my life. More »

Here's the website of the guy who crashed a stolen plane into the IRS after burning down his house...

Want to read his crazy diatribe? Click through for the full letter before it was yanked from the internet. First a creepy excerpt:

This (an audit from the IRS) left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

Click through for the full letter which has now been taken down from www.embeddedart.com by the FBI.





Well Mr. Big Brother IRS man...take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here?

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.

On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.

In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer... and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).

SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL - Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. - This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. - The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:

· "another person" is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.

· "taxpayer" is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.

· "individual", "employee", or "worker" is you.



Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.

Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.

So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.

I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.



The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.



Joe Stack (1956-2010)

02/18/2010




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BLIZZARD OF 2010

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Mormon Explanation for the Origin of Black People

Black people aren't down with Jesus.

I used to know this kid in High School who was Mormon. Besides having a weird girl name (Cary) he was fairly normal. We didn't have any black people at our school so I never got see him enact with anyone except for white people in a one on one situation. But according to this cartoon, he thought they were aliens and not cool with Jesus. Now that I think about it, we used to screw with him in the locker room because he was still wearing cartoon underwear in the eleventh grade...so I guess that's pretty weird too.

"They decided to put all of Elohim’s many children on a planet, and that the planet needed a savior the bid, for it came down to Jesus and to Lucifer. But Jesus won out because he had unselfish reasons. But then Lucifer revolted and turned many of Elohim’s children against him, and they were banished to the earth, never to have physical bodies. The people who were on the side of Jesus were very light skinned. And the people who remained neutral in the battle, their skinned turned black and this is the Mormon explanation for the black race."

Mormonism Exposed



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