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Politicians don't seem to realize how silly they sound when they try to be "hip" and "with it." Face it, it just doesn't work. Regardless of how cool Pong is.

Today, I'm going to write about People for Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). Before I begin, let me say that the following hogwash is based on stereotypes and my own personal assumptions. This is because, quite frankly, it's easier to make stuff up than to do research. Moving along, one of PETA's primary mantras is that all animals have the right to live. That's why they become vegetarians, and complain loudly in fast-food restaurants. I ask, why are they so shallow in worrying only about animals? What about plants? Surely, they have just as much a right to live? Vegetarians are murderers just as much as us omnivores. Or is it a matter of intelligence? PETAians must believe that animals can feel the pain of death, while plants cannot. They also think that animals can't defend themselves. Plants are even worse at defending themselves. They just sit there. Maybe someone should form a group called We All Need Green (WANG). It will consist primarily of carnivorians, who feel plants are getting the raw deal. The symbol of this fine organization would probably consist of two coconuts and a long cucumber. Yep, I can think of nothing suggestive about that. Anyway, let me get back on topic (?). I probably would not join either of these organizations because I find the idea of animal & plant ethics absurd. Also because I'm a sadist, but I won't get into that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to garner my salad with a pound of bacon. Peace.

Uh-oh, looks like there's a new James Bond on the block. Meet Mr. Daniel Craig...

This guy is going to be 007 in the newest Bond film, Casino Royale. It's to be released... hang on let me check... possibly 17 November 2006. It's crazy because the dude is blonde. What the hizzle? James Bond isn't supposed to be blonde! Well, whatever.

If you'll excuse me, I have to earn a couple more "silent assasin" ratings in Hitman: Blood Money. A bloody good game if I do say so myself.

Dude, this is awesome. I sure hope this gets incorporated in whatever Windows does next. Y'know, after Vista. That's already been delayed enough.

Other good stuff includes one of the funniest YTMNDs ever: A-ha

And now, a review...

Warning: The following review is for an American manga, or amerimanga if you will. That being said, lets begin...

Aoi House
by Adam Arnold

It's not exactly bad, but not really great either. It's so-so. You take this manga in like water. As far as I can tell, this is essentially Love Hina Does America. It's another harem comedy. The story revolves around two guys named Alex and Sandy, who bear a striking resemblance to Love Hina's Shirai and Haitani. After getting booted from their generic dormatory, they move in to an anime club-based dorm. What they didn't realize is that the place is filled with five yaoi-crazed females. Elle (Naru) is the club-leader, and very high-strung. Morgan (Su) is the sugar-addict that forever dangles from the two guys. Nina (Kitsune) is the smoker, joker, midnight-toker. She's very laid back and seems like a dominatrix. Maria (Shinobu) is the obligatory quiet, glasses girl. Jessica (Motoko?) is in nursing school, and is the token fifth lady. No, she has no sword, unless you count a scalpel. All of them, except Maria, are shameless flirts. They all act kind of the same, too. While this does offer some story potential, I have yet to see any of it. Don't get me wrong, it is indeed quite funny. The lack of story is just what gets me down. The creator also relies heavily on fan service, if you know what I mean. I won't go in to that, but it's all over the place. The artwork is good though. If the dialogue was not so clearly American, it could pass for Japanese drawing. In all, I neither recommend it nor... um... anti-recommend it. If you feel like picking it up, go ahead. Nothing's stopping you. I know I won't. I'd be busy buying, y'know, real books. Peace out.

On an unrelated note: Woah.
Unrelated note #2: I'm thinking about submitting this to b3ta.com, what do you think? Is it cheesy enough?

On the ever-important drive between work and home, my mind began to wander towards the topic of toilets. It began with a thought about feminists. Namely, do feminists learn to work the toilet seat? I have read articles about feminists crushing any form of male chivalry, and I wonder if this trifle is included. I can only imagine the kind of pyrotechnics that would ensue if a honest-blooded gentleman put the seat down. I'm sure death would be too good for him. Then I thought about public ladies' lavatories. Do they actually have seats that go up? What would be the point? As far as I know, not even a feminist is man enough to urinate standing up. Well, I figured the seats are dynamic just for purchasing convenience. Yep, regular old assembly-line toilets. That's an assembly line I wouldn't want to work on. Imagine your child asking what you do for a living. "Well son, I attach the seat to the toilet... Don't look at me that way! This job is the utmost of importance." Faster than you can say faux pas, your child stops inviting you to school events. I can also think of a good addition for any toilet. It would probably be chep to produce, too. Get this, a magazine rack that attaches to the side of the toilet. It's amazing in it's simplicity. Maybe with this I can earn the ever-elusive billion dollars. I gotta work on it. Peace!

I don't really have anything nifty to say today, so I give you...

While I'm at it, let me also say, "WTF?"

I was drinking Gatorade a few days ago, when a thought struck me. Granted, it was a stupid thought, but I'm going to ramble about it nonetheless. I recalled a jovial cognomen for Gatorade that was "flavored sweat." I thought about this, then I figured, what better thing to put in your body after sweating a heck of a lot than, well, more sweat. The flavoring is nothing more than an added bonus. I work in the backroom of a mattress store, and on a busy day, I know I would be willing to drink sweat. It's wet and moist, which are the two primary criteria I need (for the record: no, I was not trying to make a sexual reference). I'm sure athletes probably feel the same way, though I don't have much experience in this field (bam). Anyway, I guess Gatorade's title as "flavored sweat" is being challenged by its own counterpart, Propel. According to the press package, it's "how Gatorade does water." I want to say I did a double-take when I first heard this, but I honestly didn't give it much thought until now. This stuff is the definition of flavored sweat. It's primary ingredient is the same as that of sweat: water. With this water, Propel adds, you guessed it, flavoring. They also add some other stuff to energize you, or something. So Propel  is essentially Gatorade Lite. Exciting, isn't it? If you answered "yes," then send me all of your money. I don't think you'll be needing it. For everyone else, peace out!

Near the end of Lewis Black's book Nothing's Sacred, he asked the ever important question "what would you do with a billion dollars?" I liked his idea. He would get a personal ball-washer. Nothing sexual; just someone to keep his ovaloid compatriots squeeky clean. I was at work when I read this, and my laughter arose curious glances from my coworkers. Anyway, as if on cue, some guy in a Sports Utility Gas Guzzler (SUGG) drove by the store blasting his rap "music." I then decided what I would do with a billion dollars... after getting a personal ball-washer, of course. I would fund some research and development into a handheld anti-electronic gun. It would be lightweight, easily concealable, and probably illegal. To use it, you would aim it at whatever electronic you want knocked out and fire a disabling something-a-rather. Naturally, it would be completely silent. Cell phones would be a prime target for me. Especially those users that feel the urge to communicate their banal existence loudly in such places as the library, grocery stores, and much any place outside of the home. Frankly, the billion dollars would be well spent just for that purpose. Cell phones aren't the only pet peeve I would prey upon, however. Let me get back to what brought this idea on. My reticule would also be placed onto those SUGGs with the huge sound systems and subwoofers set to "volcanic eruption." I would be happy just to silence the ear-splitting rap/rock/country/scatalogical music, but why stop there? I would not only have my anti-electronic gun; I would dual-wield that with a genre-alternator pistol. Imagine some dude blasting his rap music in the college parking lot. With a pull of the trigger, his Eminem will suddenly and inexplicably change to, say, Rina Aiuchi. He'll be unable to change back, of course, but if he does, I'll pull the anti-electronic gun and eliminate the problem. He would either lose face, or a sound system. It would be worth the billion dollars just to see the bewildered face. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to try and earn a billion dollars. Excuse me, reader, but do you have any spare change?