Thursday, September 30, 2004

I Feel Funny

I drank my dinner last night. This was possible because I attended an event where the drinks were either A.) free or B.) paid for by someone who wasn't me. I certainly got a good buzz going and I managed, as far as I've been told, not to make a bigger ass out of myself than I normally do.

The unfortunate side effect of the all booze no food was this: it took forever for me to fall asleep and for some godforsaken reason I was wide-awake at 5:30 in the a.m. Since then, I haven't been feeling terribly well. I'm nursing an extremely mild hangover. It's one of those where I just feel kind of achy and out of joint because the vitamins have been leeched from my system, not one of the "ohmygodturnthegoddamnlightsoff wouldyoustopscreamingwaitaminute i'mtheonewho'sscreamingaboutpeoplescreaming" hangovers.

In some ways, I'm proud. A wise man once said "Never be hungover on your own time," and I'm living that dream.

That was Lao Tzu, I believe.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

loooong day

First things first: Napoleon Dynamite is really funny. Imagine Rushmore set in rural Idaho, and Max Fischer as less popular, more spastic, and Mormon, and that gives you the general idea of what ND is like. Well worth the price of a ticket.

I went to see the National Injun Museum on Sunday. It looked nice from the outside, I must say. I've read it's pretty amateurish on the inside, but I wouldn't know, because the line to get in was way too long for this impatient young man. There was a stage for scalping dances and tents with beads and shit outside, so Cyborg Squirrel's SSO (Significant Slavic Other) and I milled about out there. That was nice. The most significant thing I have to report is this: there are some fine ladies from the tribes of the Pacific Northwest. Lord have mercy.

Work sucks again.

This is a great idea for a drunken night out. (from gawker) Not being one that normally goes for empty orchestra (karaoke, for those who only sling the Nihongo) no matter what my level of inebriation happens to be, I think I could belt out "Breaking the Law" or "Bomber" or "Angel of Death" or any number of metal classics. Yeah....I'd definitely be down.

Death to False Metal.

from somethingawful

Saturday, September 25, 2004

All Periods Have Been Replaced With "Bebe" In Honor of the Birth of Roscoe the Furious Mick

I have been so g-damn busy lately I've hardly had time to blink, much less post bebe My readership is obviously less than impressed with link posts, which is okay, since they're cop outs anyway bebe

I won't bore you with the minituae of how and why I've been so busy: it would be boring to type and even more boring for you to read bebe Suffice to say I don't recommend trying to get someone from the African continent a visa to go anywhere bebe It's not a fun process bebe

`Twas not all doom and gloom, fortunately bebe I did get to eat lunch at an Italian restaurant that I couldn't patronize lest I sell the soul of my firstborn to Diner's Club bebe It was on somebody else's dime, as you might imagine, although it would be a much better story if it was a dine-n-dash bebe Actually, the fog has now lifted from my memory and it was a dine-n-dash bebe Very dramatic, car crashes everywhere, innocent bystanders slaughtered bebe bebe bebe In other words, the standard Chulius-Caesar-Escapes-From-His-Adversaries scenario bebe Nothing like a little atrophied baby cow to put the fleet in my feet bebe

Tonight, I'm going to see Napoleon Dynamite, a movie that even if it's no good is worth seeing because the preview uses the original Bon Scott version of "TNT" bebe Bon Scott died for our sins, and our appreciation for his sacrifice must be shown at every possible opportunity bebe

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Best Album Review Title Ever

No Chickens Were Actually Fucked During the Making of This Record

Despite being the best title for an album review, I barely have an idea of what the album is called/sounds like/whether or not it is good.

Life, she gives with one hand and she takes with the other, I guess.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Oh Man Oh Man Oh Man Oh Man

Tuesday, September 14, 2004


If I were to get a tattoo that could generally be described as "old skool," for example like this

or like this

...well, would I have to go rockabilly?

I mean, I like rockabilly music well enough, especially the psychobilly of the Rt. Rev. Horton Heat, but I think me wearing biker boots and rolled up 501s and a even greater amount of hair treatment than I already use might be a bit much.

I'd appreciate your thoughts.

(both pictures stolen from Jason Eisenberg's portfolio at Jade Monkey Studios)

Monday, September 13, 2004

streaM OF cOnsciousness but not really when the gimps embrace the sunset

The fine folks who bring us Defamer and Gawker bring us a blog about John Waters' latest opus, A Dirty Shame. Have you ever wondered what Selma Blair would look like with comically huge grabbies? You can find out there. Or you can wait for the movie. It opens nationwide the 24th of September, with the best rating of them all: No One Under 17 Admitted!!!! Pervasive Sexual Content!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, John Waters, bless your queer little-moustachioed Balmer soul.

I have it on good authority that Jackie is going to get something similar to this on his neck. And you can take my sources to the fuckin' bank! They're gold!!!

The ladies at Go Fug Yourself bring us a game everyone can enjoy, the Busey or Nolte? game. It's fun for the whole family, ages 24 to 33 1/2.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Furious Jessy for sharing in her treasure trove of digital music. Like the Pilgrim freshly landed on Plymouth Rock, I was bereft of auditory enjoyment, alone and starving in this New Jerusalem of ellektrisitee and comepyootrrs. Then Jessy came along like the cowboykiller of yore and shared the bounty of her online harvest.

Thus goes the story of the first ever Thanksgiving in the Empire of Chulius.

Jessy, I'll try not to give you smallpox and convert you to the One True Faith.

But I can't make any promises.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Happy Little Trees....And, Ooh, Look, There's a Happy Little Cloud

During my daily meanderings around the innernet, I managed to come across an interesting and well put together blog on a topic that has captured my interest from time to time, and it's not porn. "Quelle surprise!" you say. I know, it surprised me too.

The site in question is worldchanging (by way of futurismic), a blog about ecological and progressive matters. Some articles I particularly enjoyed include one on how open source software can help developing nations leapfrog from dependence on the primary production of resources into societies independent from the pre-existing developed world proprietary information regime and another on how advocacy networks could replace the non-governmental organization with a more effective method of agitating for change.

The article that most captured my imagination, for reasons I don't think I can entirely explain, is about the various ways vitality and other nice things can return to the rural windswept areas of America (and, one would assume, the rural windswept areas of other countries as well).

In my more wistful moments, I think about how it wouldn't be so bad to get away from it all, move to one of the more remote parts of our great land, go off the grid in some ways, and grow wouldn't be bad at all if I could download pictures of the nekkid ladies at broadband internet speeds and shoot at shit.

Then the reverie will end, and the realization takes hold... the realization that were I actually to follow through with this little plan, I would become that most hated of woodland creatures: the dirty, dirty hippie. No one likes dirty hippies. That's why dirty-hippie-hunting season lasts all year long, like crow-hunting season.

Still, I'm all about decentralization and anarchy and all that fun stuff. My dislike of The Man is well known, and if these things come to pass, a smile will appear on my hippie-hating lips.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Fun Facts!!!

--The West Africa correspondent for Agence France Presse (the French wire service) is named Zoom Dosso.

me: Good morning, I'm Chulius Caesar, Imperator Mundi Scripsi.
Zoom D.: Good morning, I'm Zoom Dosso, AFP West Africa correspondent.
me: Muthafuckin' Zooooooooom!!! Irie.

--You and me baby we ain't nuthin' but mammals etc etc etc... (link via my.bicycle)

--SaintAdam's mix, as predicted, pales in comparison to the wonder that is my mix. Pales, I say.

--On the metro this morning, I saw a man who looked exactly like Harlan Pepper of Best in Show fame.

Monday, September 06, 2004

I had just as much fun as anyone else this weekend.

Ah Labor Day. The day without labor. Bless thee.

So, extended weekend recap. Saw Hero on the Day of Freya. I really, really liked it. The story, from what I've read, means a lot more to the native Chinese audience than it does to us foreign devils. It has to do with how China became one country blah blah blah. The action sequences are good in a Crouching Tiger kind of way. The cinematography, however, is fantastic. Would I go so far as to say it was sumptuous? Yes, I believe I would. The cinematography was sumptuous.

The rest of the weekend I basically did fuck all. Well, that isn't quite true. But to fully appreciate what I did do, a little background is in order.

SaintAdam, Hokmayen, and myself are engaged in a full-on, landwar-in-Asia style battle. Yours truly launched the first volley with my Disco At the End of the World mix. Besides being an absolute masterpiece, it's a collection of remixes and mashups of various pop/hiphop favorites. Highlights include mashes of Kelis' "Milkshakes" and L7's "Shit List," Eminem's "Superman" and the Prodigy's "Firestarter," and Eazy E's "Sippin' on a 40" and the Clash's "Lover's Rock."

Now that the fray has been joined, the Saint and Hokmayen are preparing their counterattacks. Their efforts will pale in comparison to my initial onslaught, but they will look very cute while they're trying. Nonetheless, I must be prepared to distribute the decisive blow that will once and for all cement my authority as Master of All I Survey.

In that spirit, I spent more time than is probably healthy combing the nooks and crannies of the internet, finding the rounds to fill my figurative clip. In the course of so doing, I found the best mashup ever created. Hokmayen and the Saint (along with any innocent bystanders) will shit themselves whilst having epileptic seizures when they hear it. If only I could be there to witness it in person.

See, I had just as much fun as any of you who attended some "tequila night" in buttfuck, arkansas. Much fun just as had I.


Thursday, September 02, 2004

Because my readers need to know...

what kind of sex advice tattoo artists have to offer.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Metaphors are by nature misleading. That is why I use so many of them.

I got a haircut yesterday. If I didn't have facial hair, I would probably be taken as a somewhat suspicious member of society, as opposed to the Level Elmo threat to Mom, Money, and `merica I currently appear to be. At least that's the impression I've been given by the reactions of various security services operating in and around the District, US Customs being top of the list.

Hrmmm...what else?

I watched The Year of Living Dangerously the other night. Mel Gibson, Sigourney Weaver, 1983. It was eh. Okay at best. Fairly heavy-handed for my taste. People say things like: "I thought you were different. I thought you were a person of light!" Earnest plus hackney does not equal quality cinema in the Book of Chulius. Usually. Full frontal nudity makes everything better.


Wouldn't it be funny if, right before Furious Jessy's water broke, Jackie for no reason whatsoever yelled at the top of his lungs "Look out! She's gonna blow!"? Maybe he'd be watching Blatz stand too close to an open flame with a bottle of high-octane aperitif in his hands, I dunno. I think it would be funny. Not, like, funniest thing ever funny, but kinda funny.

For anyone slow on the uptake, I'll spell it out for you: I am incredibly bored right now.

__________EVEN MORE!!!!!___________________________________

I think this is a more accurate version of the future than this.

God hates Florida. A lot.


I deleted the previous post because it sucked baLLz. Afraid of historical revision I am not.