The symptoms my diminish, but you never know when there’ll be a flare-up.

This time, he’s written a letter to Take-Two Exec’s mother. ‘Tis classy stuff, but, then, Thompson is a a class act, what with his witty comparisons to the Hitler Youth, bible quoting (in the midst of hateful rhetoric, no less) and quotes such as:

The pornography and violence that your son trafficks in is the kind of stuff that most mothers would be ashamed to see their son putting into the hands of other mothers’ children, but, hey, your son Strauss has recently assured the world that he is “a Boy Scout, everybody knows that.” I’d love to see the merit badges that Scout Troop handed out. Is there a Ted Bundy merit badge? If so, your loving son deserves one now. It should be red and green, for obvious reasons.

Yes. Class act, indeed. It makes you wonder when a cure for Herpes will be found. None too soon in my opinion.

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What happens when you change/re-implement a feature that a large portion of your user base loves to something they don’t, then insist that the new way is the “right way to do it”? The peasants revolt. That’s what.

For those who are annoyed enough to switch to other products (personally, I’m waiting for 2.4.2 to see if it gets better), there’s a massive list on Wikipedia.

If Digsby ever incorporates MySpace chat, I’ll switch to it everywhere in a heartbeat.

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DHS grounds air marshalls for having names similar to the no-fly list - Boing Boing

Excuse me while I build up some sympathy. This may take a while.

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Finally, something I’d go to Canada for!

(Evil Dead: the Musical Homepage)

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Ben Heck (of Portable PS3, wooden NES and Xbox 360 Elite Laptop fame) has done it again by turning an Apple IIgs into a laptop.

Awesome-ness!

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So, Michelle, Crystal, myself and the kids all went to dinner tonight as Sake’s Japanese steakhouse near the Green and it was an…interesting dinner.

Interesting in the Murph-ical sense.

We ended up with an Indian cook on our hibachi. Now, when you go to certain restaurants, you have certain expectations. For example, if you go to a Mexican restaurants, you expect Mexican servers; be that expectation right or wrong, it’s what you expect. What I do not expect at a Japanese steakhouse is Habib.

Now, all things withstanding, I’ve no problem with having an Indian hibachi cook. And things wouldn’t have been bad had his idea of cooking not been “here let me just bang my utensils REALLY hard on the cook-top and maybe people will think I’m good!” No, people will think you’re banging really hard on the cook-top and will look with envy upon the other hibachis wondering “Why couldn’t I get that guy? Hey! he just flipped his spatula in the air and caught it behind his back!!! My guy sucks!”

Now, I’ll also admit to some not-so-politically-correct text messages to Michelle. Things along the lines of:

Would you like to buy a sushi slurpee?

He’s a hibachi terrorist!

BONZAI!!!! ALALALALALALALALALA!!!

and the obligatory:

Thank you, come again!

Bad, I know. I can’t help it.

On top of that, Logan managed to grab two plates and drag them off of the table and have them smash on the floor. And the sushi was warm.

All-in-all, it was still a fun night.

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Words escape me. How do people get funding for this stuff? And how does it make it on Apple’s trailer website?

Still, it combines two good movie past times.

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Emailed to me by, of all things, a former marine. Enjoy!

The following is a true story…. told from the point of view of a young Marine.

I had a date the other night at my place. On the phone the day before, the girl asked me to ‘Cook her something she’s never had before’ for dinner.
After many minutes of scratching my head over what to make, I finally settled on something she has DEFINITELY never eaten.

I got out my trusty case of MRE’s. Meal, Ready-to-Eat. Field rations that when eaten in their entirety contain 3000+ calories. Here’s what I made:

I took three of the Ham Slices out of their plastic packets, took out three of the Pork Chops, three packets of Chicken-a-la- King, and eight packets of dehydrated butter noodles and some dehydrated/rehydrat ed rice. I cooked the Ham Slices and Pork Chops in one pan, sautéed in shaved garlic and olive oil.

In another pot, I blended the Chicken a-la-king, noodles, and rice together to make a sort of mush that looked suspiciously like succotash. I added some spices, and blended everything together in a glass pan that I then cooked in the oven for about 35 minutes at 450 degrees.

When I took it out, it looked like, well, ham slices, pork chops, and a bed of yellow poop. I covered the tops of the meat in the MRE cheese (kinda like Velveeta) and added some green sprinkly things from one of my spice cans (hey, if it’s got green sprinkly things on it, it looks fancy right?)

For dessert, I took four Pound Cakes, mashed ‘em up, added five packets of cocoa powder, powdered coffee cream, and some water. I heated it up and stirred it until it looked like a sort of chunky gelatinous organism, and I sprinkled powdered sugar on top of it. Voila - Ranger Pudding.

For alcoholic drinks, I took the rest of my bottle of Military Special Vodka (yes, they DO make a type of liquor named ‘Military Special’ - it sells for $4.35 per fifth at the Class Six) and mixed in four packets of ‘Electrolytes - 1 each - Cherry flavored’ (I swear, the packet says that).
It looked like an eerie kool-aid with sparkles in it (that was the electrolytes I guess… could’ve been leftover sand from Iraq).

I lit two candles, put a vase of wildflowers in the middle, and set the table with my best set of Ralph Lauren Academy-series China (that shit is EXPENSIVE… my set of 8 place settings cost me over $600 on sale at the Lejeune PX ), and put the alcoholic drink in a crystal wine decanter.

She came over, and I had some appetizers already made, of MRE
spaghetti-with- meatballs, set in small cups. She saw the dinner, saw the food, and said ‘This looks INCREDIBLE!!!’

We dug in, and she was loving the food. Throughout the meal, she kept asking me how long it took me to make it, and kept remarking that I obviously knew a thing or two about cooking fine meals. She kind of balked at the make shift ‘wine’ I had set out, but after she tried it I guess she liked it because she drank four glasses during dinner.

At the end of the main course, when I served the dessert, she squealed with delight at the ‘Chocolate mousse’ I had made. Huh? Chocolate what?

Okay… yeah… its Chocolate Moose. Took me HOURS to make… yup.

Later on, as we were watching a movie, she excused herself to use my rest room. While she was in there, I heard her say softly to herself ‘uh oh’ and a resounding but petite fart punctuated her utterance of dismay.

Let the games begin.

She sprayed about half a can of air freshener (Air Freshener, 1 each, Orange scent. Yup. The military even makes smell-good) and returned to the couch, this time with an obvious pained look.

After 10 more minutes she excused herself again, and retreated to the bathroom for the second time, I could hear her say ‘What the hell is WRONG with me???’ as she again send flatulent shockwaves into the porcelain bowl.
This time, they sounded kinda wet, and I heard the toilet paper roll being employed, and again, LOTS more air freshener!

Back to the couch. She smiles meekly as she decides to sit on the chair instead of next to me. She sits on my chair, knees pulled up to her chest, kind of rocking back and forth slightly. Suddenly, without a word, she ROCKETED up and FLEW to the bathroom, slammed the door, and didn’t come out for 30 minutes.

I turned the movie up because I didn’t want her to hear me laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my cheeks.

She came out with a slightly gray pallor to her face, and said ‘I am SOOOOOO sorry. I have NO idea what is wrong with me. I am so embarrassed; I can’t believe I keep running to your bathroom!!’ I gave her an Imodium AD, and she finally settled down and relaxed.

Later on, she asked me again what I had made for dinner, because she had enjoyed it so much. I calmly took her into the kitchen and showed her all the used MRE bags and packets in the trash can.

After explaining to her that she had eaten roughly 9,000 calories of ‘Marine Corps Field Rations’ she turned stark white, looked at me incredulously, and said ‘I ate 9,000 calories of dehydrated food that was made 3 years ago?’

After I rogered, she grabbed her coat and keys, and took off without a word.

She called me yesterday. Seems she couldn’t shit for 5 days, and when she finally did, the smell was so bad, her roommate could smell it from down the hall. She also told me she had been working out nonstop to combat the high caloric intake, and that she never wanted me to cook dinner for her again, unless she was PERSONALLY there to inspect the food beforehand.

It was a fun date! She laughed about it eventually and said that that was the first time she’d ever crapped in a guy’s house on a date. She’d been so upset by it she was in tears in the bathroom while I had been in tears on the couch.

I know .. I’m an asshole, but it was still a funny night!

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Wal-Mart loses trademark on smiley face.

Sadly, since the Wal-mart opened up in our area, I have to admit to shopping there more than I’d like. As any bargain shopper will tell you, it’s difficult to resist.

I still wish it had been a Target that went in instead.

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I’ve always thought breasts were explosive in their own way, but this is a little overboard.

This laugh and sudden fit of depression over the current state of affairs is brought to you by the letters T, S and A.

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