In a varying amount of hours, we'll be celebrating 2000 years of a totally arbitrary calendar. Exciting, huh? As usual, we choose to encapsulate and round off the glory of mankind by abusing poisons until we act like we're about four evolutionary steps down from where we apparently are. In fact, if aliens were to establish visual contact on that (this?) very day, and stare down upon the multitudes of prone figures lying in their own vomit, naked alongside some other intoxicated soul they picked up with the semi-word "Murrgghh", they would speculate that all the skyscrapers and cities were made for us by some higher civilisation, who left in disgust.
Really, since we've been alive for a maximum here of about 30 or so years out of the 2000 we're celebrating, it's all about honouring the ancestors, or history in general. We're healthy and free enough to celebrate, and we owe it to those who passed before us for making what we have, and what we can do. And what better way to [Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan]earn it[/Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan] than to lose equilibrium and be arrested for property crime / possession / indecent exposure. What's yer poison?
Share what you plan to do, and then share what you did, to "earn it".
To help you along, here's an inspirational picture of Tom Hanks -
Earn it!
Nah, I'm not inspired. Here's the real one.
Earn it.
*bang*
________
See you in the next thousand years. By gum, that sounds cool.
Edited by: The Icon Fairy at: 8/3/01 7:00:31 pm
Sometimes, all that's needed to throw a crowd into a frothing mass of patriotic feeling, willing to do anything in the name of some higher power, is either a big guy who talks like he's got something stuck in his throat all the time, or Tom Hanks. I'm glad that you made the right choice of which to use, Pepper. Sometimes the media can get snippy over Mr. Goose-step.
So, after your glorious riling up of the grand masses, my posting here is almost "superfluatory" (does Will Ferrel impression). But I feel it "wouldn't be prudent at this juncture" (does Dana Carvey impression) to miss out on the oppurtunity to show my name to the masses. Or, of course, I could just throw my name into the "lockbox" (does Darrel Hammond impression).
Yep, it's time to look at what transpired over this glorious year. Here's a timeline, starting right from the begining.....
January 1st, 12:01- after a cacophony of noise intended to drive away the crashing planes, we all stood stark still and waited for the police sirens to whine, that being our signal to start rioting like Palestinians/Miami Cubans/Laker fans. Unfortunately, after about five minutes, our primal instincts surged upwards so we grabbed the nearest member of the opposite sex and began dragging it around by it's hair (To all those upset about me referring to their gender as an it, you should think twice about that). It was grand fun, and in some cases, empowering to the woman no matter what end she was on, and it was generally agreed to have been a great way to end the night off.
January 1st, late afternoon- we woke up and fed the cat, watered the plants, and ran out to get the morning paper. Then we remembered the importance of clothing, and went back in to get our Honey Nut Cheerios boxers on. At some point, the TV switched on by itself and channel-surfed on it's own, while it reminded you of how many bills you had left to pay and that "dear, it's cold, put on a sweater". We all smiled, and kissed the TV in relief saying "if you were gone, I wouldn't know what to do with myself". The TV sniffed back that "it loved you too, but your toast is ready". Then the coffee machine ran away with the mini-fridge, crying "I needs a strong man to love me".
Evidently, life was going on as usual. We opened a can of meat and ate it with an old, half-broken chop stick while we watched TV. It seems armaggedon hadn't happened, and someone was going to get sued.
Spring- sat around and laughed at the Masturbating Bear skit on Conan. Used ATM machines, they ate our credit card and spat out old Russian bills, then told us to "Por Lavorie Moros Telguato". Business as usual.
Summer- watched Wheel Of Fortune re-runs, fed the cat, and ate the dog.
Fall- whined about how Bush and Gore are "just the same" and made lockbox jokes. Watched Saturday Night Live, and laughed. Watched Bush and Gore make appearances on SNL, and burst into tears. Was comforted by a bunch of baby spark plugs. Cute little kids.
Winter- didn't have a prez. Didn't care all that much. Nothing good on TV. Began posting on Dark Side Of The Monkey. Good wholesome fun. Fed the cat again.
Yet again, another post without a point, which was what our year was like. There was no kickass movie that rocked, Gladiator didn't have enough nudity and X-Men didn't have enough of swearing. The music sucked ass, what with the creepy guy with weird hair dancing around and the other creepy guy with weird hair named after a candy. The porn sucked ass too, but that's a good thing.
In general, life sucked. But isn't that just our own views clouding it? Yes, but is that all that life is, our perceptions coming across the true vista, the cosmic forces conspiring against us in a grand game of fate? The answer is no. Or is it?
The rants are my friends, people. I'll be ringin' in the New Year by not bathing, and lying about reading a new stack of comic books. Boo yah, let's blow this fucksickle joint.
Edited by: The Icon Fairy at: 8/3/01 7:01:09 pm
I guess that Prince song is no longer hip? A) Silly Pointless Reply in D-Minor with Extra Cheese:
For this New Year's Eve I intend to honor and celebrate the 2000 years that have come before. My night is scheduled (all times are EST USA) as thus and thusforth:
10:45 AM - Begin replying to Pepper's thread about what I'm going to do today/tonight.
11:24 AM - Invent the printing press.
11:25 AM - Make endless copies of Jewell's poetry and distribute to my neighborhood hookers.
11:58 AM - Get a piece of paper jammed in my machine and call a tech to come over and fix it, just so I'll have someone to talk to.
12:30 PM - Invasion!!! I lead my forces into some piss-ant little country that has no weapons and no deodorant and pillage the fuck out of the place. By "forces" I mean me and the printer tech.
12:35 PM - I forgot our Viking hats!!! Retreat from piss-ant country and drive to a costume shop at my local mall.
12:40 PM - Invasion!!! Hah hah!! We're back, and sassy this time!!!
1:00 PM - Declare Church of Thunder the ruling body of government throughout the land.
1:01 PM - Discover some very basic laws of Physics that completely overturn every doctrine established by the Church of Thunder. Cast myself off into exile and curse myself a heretic.
1:02 PM - Blame my printer tech for everything that has gone wrong on this day. I cast him off somewhere too.
1:47 PM - Write a few plays and perform them in front of royalty and peasants alike. My work receives amazing reviews, and one describes it "Reminiscent of Shakespeare himself," and "an eerie echo of the works of Hamlet, Macbeth, and Romeo & Juliet."
1:50 PM - Sued for plagarism and copyright infringement by Shakespeare's Publishing CompanyŽ for stealing the plays Hamlet, Macbeth, and Romeo & Juliet, and performing them word for word under my own credit. I'm taken off to be put on the rack.
1:51 PM - I pass a law that cruel and unusual punishment should be illegal. I am then taken off to be shot instead.
1:55 PM - I pass a law that allows me one phone call while I'm detained. I go to call my printer tech.
1:55 PM and 12 seconds - I remember that I need a telephone first. I excuse myself from the execution and run home to invent the telephone and call my tech. Ahoy Ahoy!!
1:57 PM - nap
10:16 PM - Wow, I must have slept through my execution!! Oh well. I wake up to see all kinds of new stuff around me: electricity, automobiles, cotton gin, democracy, the Berlin Wall, communism, fascism, the fall of communism, the fall of the Berlin Wall, rock and roll, jazz, liquid paper, the fall of liquid paper. I'm still groggy.
10:18 PM - nap
11:59 PM - Noise all around outside. But something called a "show" starring someone called "Dick Clark" about something called a "Rockin' New Years Eve" seems to be on something called a "television" so I watch that. "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve"? Man, I wish I'd invented that one too!!!
B) Sincere Reply:
I'll probably go to a local bar with some friends and have a couple of beers and be bored.
Edited by: The Icon Fairy at: 8/3/01 7:01:35 pm
LOL, I can count on you two
Well, I'm back, and because of the time difference, as I type, Ray is probably dancing the bolero on some guy's car whilst singing "I am the lizard king, I can do anything" after sniffing some bad comic ink, and Thunder is probably sitting ramrod straight at his computer, waiting for the first inspiring LOL from the gallery at his post, and wishing the idiots outside would stop that infernal countdown. To both, LOL.
*****
Projected goal: Travel to coast with large delinquent expedition. Get drunk and have a good time.
Actual reality: Traveled to coast with large delinquent expedition. Spent all the light hours looking for a place to stay. Cursed wildly. Stayed sober, had a rotten time.
*****
Where I went wrong appears to have been staying sober, but the real answer is situation. Drunken beach parties are in actuality, disgusting. Nothing could better illustrate the absolute superiority of monkeys over humans than the hive of later-regretted, totally intoxicated sex and aggression that I encountered.
Obvious smartass retort #1: "Obviously he didn't get any". *smug punchable grin*
You're right, Phantom Predictable Smartass, but forgive me if I'm old fashioned, because I like my women to be AT LEAST:
1) concious and possessed of intentionality,
2) lacking any tentacles, barnacles or snout-like orifi,
3) unable to hide Soviet tank batallions under any variety of skin folds,
4) able to refrain from throwing up until after sexual relations, and thus with valid reason,
5) identical in physical appearance to Andrea Corr (j/k)
before I would even consider screaming like an animal as "courtship", mounting, impregnating, and vomiting all over them afterwards. Sadly, women of such description were scarce where I was when the new millenium rolled in. Flipside for men, too. Sadder still, this sort of behaviour is obligatory, especially on such an occasion. I won't go on, and I apologise for the serious overtone.
Hope you guys fared better,
Pepper.
P.S. It's tempting to blame the Church of Thunder for all this depravity, but it's really not its fault in any way, shape or form within any laws of causality. *dons holy poncho, and chants aside* "I swear by almighty Thunder... Damn Hell Ass Llama Bitch..."
*****
[Edit: Oh, all right. Happy New Year, everyone, from a sober someone who means it.]
New Year's is boring
Friday night, December 29th - Went to a pitiful but valiant attempt by my church to throw a New Year's party for college-age singles (I mean, c'mon....when you think 'party', you think 'Mormons', right?). You may ask why it was on December 29th. Well, they wouldn't hold it on New Year's Eve because it was Sunday and they wouldn't hold it Saturday because it would still have to run into Sunday. Some nonsense about violating one of those meddlesome "Commandments"....
Earlier tonight - Little get-together with the family. I was pretty comatose for most of the night. Not that it wasn't fun. My family's
[Edit by Pepper: Mandard was a little lax when writing the above, and decided to post it without finishing it. Obviously he's been to the Kubrick school of conveying meaning ( j/k), making something as ambiguous as possible, and letting others speculate and thus create a perceptive-based meaning for it, when in actuality the "meaning" behind Mandard's unfinished symphony is non-existent, other than he was lazy. So don't worry about him, he's twisted, but otherwise fine. ]
Edited by: The Icon Fairy at: 8/3/01 7:02:28 pm
Your family is WHAT?
LOL. Gotta love the mighty server power of ole EZ. Entire paragraphs can be wiped out in a single... spoink.
LOL at everyone on this thread. Pepper, your high standards for beach-nookie are inspiring and noble. But, I wonder if you've considered ALL of the possible benefits of "tentacles". I'll let that thought soak in for a while.
Well, my last... 4 NYE have completely sucked. I haven't had a good one since college (and high school before it). I was on a roll from 1990-96 with massively fun NYE experiences. Then... college ended. Sucked big time. So, this year I just hung out at our neighbors apartment and was FORCED to watch "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve".... except without a hint of IRONY!!! Aggghhhh!!! I was just joking about that show in my earlier post; I never watch it. Man, some people actually LIKE NSynch and Mandy Moore and would rather listen to that then my "Pure Funk" CD. What happened to taste, man? Ricky Martin rather than Kool & The Gang??? C'moooonnnnn!!! I walked back to my apartment at 12:10 AM. Woo....... hoo.....
Well, at least the nacho dip was good.
Edited by: The Icon Fairy at: 8/3/01 7:02:50 pm
anal vomit is nothing compared to good ol' fashioned oral
Quote: My tummy hurts.
Ow ow ow.
Ow.
An hour later from the time at which I wrote this, I was bent forward over the same toilet throwing up the familiar contents of hearty welcome-home soup. You see, I had caught the bug, and not in the playfull "got yer nose" kinda way. This was more painfull than playfull, really, and caused at least two of my close siblings to join in with me and for Papa Bear to faint from the combo of nausea and dizziness.
It's ironic, irony is. This was the first time the reactions I forced on others with my posts actually came back to bite me in the.....mouth? No, that's not quite right. That's one of the sublime pleasures available to Canadian preteen geniuses, and not the nine-hour long horror I was subjected to over the course of the night.
It did give me a chance to show my true responses to various pop culture icons.
Quote: Mamma Bear: Oh look what's on television, my little man. It's a replay of that Britney Spears concert you so avidly changed the channel from.
Me:*mildly intrigued but still repulsed salvo of vomit*
Pappa Bear: Remember those books you liked to read when you were much younger and less wiser? The idiotic vampire thing with the forced eroticism and legions of preteen punk Sailor Moon fans? What's she called, Anne Rice?
Me:*preteen punk Sailor Moon-ish vomit*
Sister Bear: Hey, how about all those movies you liked that were complete box office and critical bombs? The Cable Guy, That Thing You Do, all those ones that starred Rosie O'Donell.....
Me:*just plain vomit without all them frills*
I used to hear how Kubrick went through a list of possible titles for "2001 : A Space Odyssey" and the only ones he was truly adamant about not being used were "2002 : The Longer And More Confusing Odyssey"* and "Leon Spinks Does Dallas, Then Becomes A Starchild"**. I now know why.
go guitars
I guess mine wasn't that bad. I spent most of my time in the dungeon-like back room of a relatives' house. Gave me a chance to reflect, and reflection is almost always positive, except when you realise that last year you were at a theoretically awesome beach party and now you're being stopped in the hall by the same gramps every five minutes with him telling you how tall you've grown in languages long or always dead. Still, it wasn't so bad. I just shut my eyes and let my mind wander to the sensual pleasures that only Canadian preteen geniuses can provide.
Round 10pm 31st December, about the same time last year that I had hoped, nay resolved that I would be furiously sexing a being composed only of silken thighs and long blonde hair, charades began with the kinsfolk. I excelled at the acting portion of charades, doing a sterling and easily recognisable rendition of the film "Dead Man Walking", however fared not so well on everything else I acted out, which were all incorrectly interpreted by my team to be "Dead Man Walking". Around this time I became more lenient towards asparagus and came as close as anyone ever had to overdosing on vitamin C tablets. Winning the 13th annual "we're watching MY movie" family fighting championship, I subjected everyone to "Dead Man Walking", which I had never before considered as a family comedy before then. Such was the spirit of goodness upon the movie's completion that spontaneously the 14th annual "we're watching MY movie" family fighting championship broke out. Luckily, during the "Walking" bits of "Dead Man Walking", I had read up on the tournament rules and discovered that the gramps who kept on telling me how tall I'd become wasn't directly related to me, which made it OK to kick him in the face. With him out of the way, another screening of "Dead Man Walking" was a mere formality.
In fact, here's a picture of exactly what I was doing when the clock struck twelve:
L-R: younger cheating cousin, me being charitable
Not Pictured: being composed only of silken legs and long blonde hair
Quote: Dick "Android Messenger From Post-Apocalyptic Future" Clark
j/k), making something as ambiguous as possible, and letting others speculate and thus create a perceptive-based meaning for it, when in actuality the "meaning" behind Mandard's unfinished symphony is non-existent, other than he was lazy. So don't worry about him, he's twisted, but otherwise fine. 
Edited by: 
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