I have to confess. I have a guilty pleasure. You see, I'm generally a strict Classic Rock music listener. However, I do enjoy some music from the genre that some music circles refer to as "complete and utter crap," also known as Alternative. What can I say? It's catchy. Let me try to defend my views, as I'm sure to be next on the musical crucifixion list. I don't like it for the reason most fans of the genre do. Alt fans, I'm assuming, enjoy the music because it provides a good metaphor for their miserable, insignificant lives (that's right: Alt fans have more than one life each). They're sad and angry, and Alt provides lots of cathartic yelling. Also, it's the select music of a certain subculture (which I shall not name for fear of catching the emo). Why this subculture proliferates is beyond me, but then, I don't understand why my own subculture, the geeks, proliferates either.

The point I'm trying laboriously to reach is why I like Alt Rock. While I make fun of my life frequently, I actually lead a relatively good life. I'm not in dire need for money, I have a decent roof over my head, I have no troubling relationships, I have a car, and I don't have to go to the laundromat every week. Plus, I'm white*. None of the two fan criteria apply to me. The reason I like Alt Rock is because I find it simply adorable. They're just so angry. It's like watching a bunch of kittens playfully jumping all over each other. Every now and then, I'll find myself grinning in the car while listening just because I picture the lead singer screaming into the mike as though he or she is not being paid gratuitous amounts of money. It just makes me want to go "awww~". Plus, as I mentioned in the fifth sentence of this review, it's catchy. What more is there to say?

*Okay, I suppose that joke is in poor taste.

Here's an interesting result from Google's auto-suggestion feature. Go ahead and read through them: it's bound to hit you.

Click for full image

I think I'm going to treat you all today with some photos I took while hiking yesterday. I hike these trails alot, so I know them like the back of my hand (which I do keep tabs on). Of course, I will try to keep you all entertained. Enjoy!

 

Nothing says welcome quite like an unexploded ordnance sign.

The beavers in these woods are getting quite efficient.

I love the shade. It keeps everything nice and coo- SQUIRREL!

Is it just me, or are finding virgin sacrifices for the volcano gods getting harder and harder to come by? Part of this, I suppose, has to do with the economy. Early on, I used to be able to visit the local college's literary club, computing club, or some other abstinence-assuring organization and abduct as many virgins as the gods desired. Now with this crummy economy, the market is flooded with cheap prostitutes, so even these dweebs can get a little tail. It's so frustrating when I make a sacrifice to the gods only to find out afterward that the person wasn't actually a virgin. Talk about embarrassing. The gods get pissed! All of this child safety fear-mongering is having an effect, as well. I used to be able to stroll into a school and snatch one of the teacher elected hall-monitors. Now, they hardly even let the students out of the classrooms. I blame those school shooters, who do nothing for the planet but make the gods angry. I need to find a new source of virgins to sacrifice. The gods aren't as patient as they used to be.

Look people, I'm just trying to help you. I understand that you are worried for the future of your self, your family, and your friends. I want to tell you that I am too. I voluntarily take up the job of gruesomely sacrificing supple virgins to appease the gods so they do not start destroying the planet. It's getting harder, and the gods are getting angry that their virgin supply is dwindling. You can sense it in the world around you. If you truly want to help the world as a whole: send me as many virgins as you can, and I will happily sacrifice them to the gods in due time. No fat chicks. Men need not apply.

In my excitement for Otakon, I just had to start taking stock. Sorry for the low quality; my camera is crap. The lower shelves are pretty well packed, though it's hard to see. They are actually stacked on top of each other and couldn't fit another book if I tried.

I have finally done it. I have identified the job that I want to aspire to. It came to me while I was watching a commercial. At the very end of the advert, it said something along the lines of "if you call in the next twenty minutes you'll get [an additional serving of completely useless crap you don't need]." It's so obvious that I'm amazed I didn't notice it before. There has to be a person at these advertising companies that actually has to count for twenty minutes after the commercial's conclusion for the people answering the phone. I'm picturing a bit like the beatmaster on a slave galley. He sits at the head of the cube farm and keeps the time. "There are fifteen minutes left! Push the sale!" "Seven minutes folks! Start using that hold button to push them over!" "We're at two minutes! Stall! Stall!" As soon as that twenty minute mark passes, he blows a big rams horn signaling that the sale opportunity has passed and the price has returned to its normal level.

Of course, the job is probably far more complicated, but I think I can do the challenge. I have to keep track of all the commercial airings in the country and organize the phone answering peons by commercial airing zone. I'd have a large evil villain-like electronic map with timers for all the regions. I'll cackle maniacally as the timer for a certain region reaches twenty minutes. A grin will spread on my face as I think of those poor sods who foolishly did not call immediately. Oh yes, it would be well worth the effort. I just have to figure out who to talk to.

Y'know, it makes me wonder how so many morality groups can claim that condoms and birth control encourages sexual promiscuity, yet products like this probably go unnoticed.

I tell you, I wouldn't mind being able to just meet a hot girl and almost immediately start sucking face with her. If a Colgate Wisp can get me there, I'm all for it, but I'm not going to go out and spend the extra money and carry those silly things around with me just to find out. Plus, as a guy, where would I put those things? In my hat? No sir, if I want to freshen up my breath I'll reach for a delightful, cancer-curingly godlike stick of Orbit gum. Orbit gum... the best a Jimbo can get.

Okay Orbit, I held up my end of the bargain. Now release my Yuki Nagato PVC figure and I'll walk away and forget this ever happened.

Yes, today is the Fourth of July, or, as it is known in most other civilized countries of the world, the fourth of July. Truly, it is a day in July which revels in the fact that it is the fourth in a long succession of chronologically numbered days. It is a glorious day that only comes around once per year. As a Saturday, it also has the advantage of giving most people the day off from their soul-crushing jobs. Where I live, the weather is beautiful, making an already dandy fourth day of July even more significantly dandy. I believe that I shall celebrate today with a grilled steak and potatoes in the evening and several rounds of Rise of Nations. Cheers!

Incidentally, it has come to my attention that today is also Independence Day. Who knew.

Welcome lords and ladies to another trouser-rousing edition of Cooking with Jimbo. Last time, as you may recall (it has been a while), we cooked up a heaping helping of Moors and Christians. I hope, this time, to be slightly less sacrilegious (sacriLICIOUS!). This time, we are cooking up a dish I lovingly refer to as Chicken Thighs with Leeks and 'Shrooms à la Internet. This recipe will feed two regular people, or approximately 0.9 hungry college students. Let us begin.

Step 1: Purchase the ingredients
As always, purchasing the ingredients is one of the most important and most frequently forgotten steps (which is unfortunate when you’re standing in your kitchen ready to cook). You need the following ingredients. 1 large leek, 3 chicken thighs, flour, oil, about 4 ounces of shiitake mushrooms, chicken broth, tarragon, salt, and some red wine. The wine was a particularly entertaining purchase for me. I had to collect all of the wine connoisseur knowledge from my European heritage in order to ultimately decide on the finest, tastiest, and, most importantly, dirt-cheapest wine for my poor college ass. It even came in a box like my apple juice as a child (now, as an adult, I buy my apple juice by the keg).

Step 2: Take a knife to the ingredients
It is now time for the most cathartic step. Take your sharpest knife and begin with the leek. Dice up all of the white and light green areas and put them aside. Go ahead, take a big bite (of the leek). It's great. Refreshing. Next, cut off the super mushroom stems and cut the caps into strips. Third, cut the bones and fat from the chicken thighs. I do not recommend laughing maniacally while doing so when your neighbor might hear you. Lastly, cut the wine. You need about one-quarter of a cup. Be careful, since wine cutting is exceptionally difficult and messy.

Step 3: Fry up the chicken-izzle
Take about two teaspoons of your oil and coat the bottom of a pan, and heat it up to medium (on the stove, preferably, but over some burning heretics would work just as well). While waiting, coat the chicken in flour. Once evenly coated, add the chicken to the hot oil and cook each side about three minutes (until it starts to turn non-alchemically to gold). Once it’s good and gold, take the chicken out and cover it with some foil.

Step 4: Light up the 'shrooms (and leek)
Add about another teaspoon of oil to the pan and throw a few more heretics onto the fire until the heat’s up to medium-high. Add the chopped up mushrooms and leek to the pan and cook a little less than five minutes, until they're soft, while stirring frequently. I do mean frequently. Don’t think I won’t know if you don’t stir frequently. I’m watching you through the monitor.

Step 5: Throw in just about everything else, willy-nilly
Throw in half-a'-cup of chicken broth, quarter-a'-cup of wine, a pinch-a'-salt, and bring to a simmer. Some chefs would recommend adding a mysterious ingredient called "love" at this point, but I’ve never cooked with it and do not recommend doing so unless you have experience with it. Besides, it apparently isn’t available at most grocery stores (I’ve checked). Put the chicken back in there and let it cook through, turning occasionally. Give this about four to six minutes. Make sure to check that the chicken isn't pink in the middle anymore. If it's been thoroughly purified, you can remove the amalgamation from the burning heretic pile and add about half-a'-teaspoon of tarragon, if'n ya fancy.

Step 6: Eat
While it is good manners to eat it directly from the pan, some bizarre social circles encourage using plates and forks.

Hello? Oh, hey boss. What’s up? … Come to work on Saturday? Mmm… I can’t. I have to get my picture taken. … Yeah, sorry. You see, I’m a registered sex offender, so I have to carry this card around with- … Yeah, it’s true. It’s a bit funny. I had to stop and visit each of my neighbors and show them my card. It’s expired now, so I have to renew it. It’s a real hassle. I mean, they don’t even let me have video games in the house. They think I’d use it to-what’s that? … Oh, it was a while ago. The cops found what they called “child pornography” on my PC. I tried to explain to them that Lustful-Lolitas.com was an avant garde site, not pornography. It was an artsy-type project. The uncultured swine, however, didn’t see it-hmm? … It wasn’t pornography! Sheesh, you’re just like all of my neighbors. They didn’t get it when I explained it to them, either. Well, the point still stands: I can’t come in on Saturday. … Uh-huh, yup, sorry. No, no, whatever. Right, see you Monday. Bye.