Holidays are meaningless

Let's be honest, that's all today really is, a meaningless holiday. Isn't it stupidly amazing how now one give's half a rat's big toenail about holidays? I mean, we Americans care nothing about that, and have turned every important holiday into something food-related.


PROVE IT?!


Okay.


We'll start at the start of the year, and end at the end of the year.


New Year's Day- Bring in the start of the new year! How? By eating cabbage, black-eyed peas, and pork! Why? Good question!
Valentine's Day- Celebrate the love and romance associated with the horrific death of Christian martyrs! How? Candy, chocolate, and those chalky heart things.
Easter- Commemorate the resurrection of Jesus! How? By eating candy and eggs!
Memorial Day- Remember the soldiers who died in service of America. How? By cooking out, stuffing your face, and getting wasted! After all, it's what they would've wanted. It's what they died for.
Independence Day- Give tribute to the founding fathers who started this great country! How? Cooking out again! And blowing crap up.
Halloween- Celebrate death, horror, and ancient ancestor worship! HOW? Candy! Seriously, what is it with celebrating with candy? What good does that really do for anyone?
Thanksgiving- Give thanks for everything and everyone who has blessed your life! How? By shoving turkey down your throat!
Christmas- Remember the birth of Jesus and the origins of Christianity! How? Ham! Stuffing! Those awful fruitcakes!
New Year's Eve- Finish off the year with a bang! How? Booze! And a lot of parties have those nuts and gross square mint things.


As you can see, culture has tainted and crapped on holidays by filling in food where meaning should be. It's kinda hilarious and kinda pathetic. Actually, it's really hilarious and disgustingly pathetic.


But in the spirit of Memorial Day, a big thank you to American soldiers for fighting through hell and making it out (dead or alive), so we can sit here, not care, and gorge ourselves on lust and food! It's the best we can do to show how much we don't really care.


(sarcasm and cynicism aside, soldiers have my deepest respect and admiration for their sacrifice--thank you)


Moral of the story: eat, have fun, whatever, just remember what you're celebrating, and why you're able to do that stuff.

Well, it's true.

This is my idea for a T-shirt. I don't know how to make it real, though. Wouldn't that be great, though? Creepy, yeah, offensive, probably, but still cool, right?

Life Lessons with Mainerd--Fudge

Hey, there! I’m not dead, so it's time for another segment of

LIFE LESSONS,

WITH MAINERD

Now how about that? I’m still alive, I’m still learning, which, of course, means that YOU get to learn from ME! And what more do you want from life?

I mean, really. There’s nothing else as important as today’s topic, which is something very important that we all should learn about. Today is a lesson about fudge.

No, really. Fudge, man. Fudge.

Fudge is a delicious thing, but like all good things, enough of it will cause your arteries to explode. And blown-up arteries inside your body are bad, right? Right.

Fudge is probably one of the most delicious substances on the planet. Which is cool. But eating too much makes you sick and throw up. Which is not cool. I was at a graduation open house (another fun fact, stay away from those cakes, they usually taste like nothing but icing, which is gross) and there was fudge. I was in Heaven, because there were like, six different kinds and I wanted to stuff my face. But I knew I’d get sick. Surrounded by all the tantalizing fudge, I realized that I was in Hell.

I had a couple pieces and that was enough. But keep in mind, kids, in large enough doses, that which is awesome will kill you.

Moral of the story: I think this should be pretty obvious. I've only said it five times.

Where I lived

Since sharing is fun, I'll share what my desk looked like! Go sharing!

Lovely, no? This is after I rigorously cleaned it, too.

And there's all the stuff I cleaned off of it! Books and cracker boxes included.

Putting the two together, and there was nothing I could do with that desk even if I wanted to. And trust me, I didn't want o do anything. It was rather frightening. Man, there were papers from the beginning of the semester all up in that. Freaky, maaaaaaaaan.

Moral of the story: keep things clean as you go along so that that (^) doesn't happen. Called 'preventive maintenance,' and it's a good idea (in theory), it just sucks to actually do.

HAPPY SUMMER!

Yay! That's right. Summer. Like, no school summer. That summer.


Ya dig?


Soooo, as such, posts and updates will be LESS frequent. If that's a problem, it shouldn't be. But it is, because you all love me and will miss me. Dunno how things are going to work out from now on, but I'm not giving up on you. I love you, too, you know. And by Jove, as soon as I find a ring....

Fireside Chat

Oh, hello there. I didn't see you. Please come in. Help yourself to some beverages. Or some steak. Take a seat in a comfortable chair by a fireplace that's a little too close so you feel constantly uncomfortable, but not enough to say anything about it because you don't want to seem impolite after I just gave you steak and a nice beverage, so you just sit there sweating distractedly, trying to make small talk, but it just doesn't happen well because all you can think about is how hot it is by the fire.

Then I become amused by your misery and offer you a seat closer to the not-fire, and we're all set to talk, but since this isn't a real-time forum, it'll be me doing most (and by most I mean all) of the talking. So enjoy your beverage and steak and not-too-hot position in the nice chair and listen to what I have to say.

Is the steak good? Thank you, it is nice. It was on sale at Meijer, so I thought it most prudent to take advantage. And the beverage? Yes, a nice vintage. It's been sitting in my pantry for about three months after the expiration date. Oh, that's only for wine? Well shoot. It still tastes good, right? Indeed not, you say? Very well, then.

Now that the obligatory preliminary conversation is dispensed with, I'll begin my soliloquy.

It's the end of the year. I was going to share with you some reflections on the past year, but soon realized there's nothing to reflect on. Just another wasted year full of wasted relationships, wasted time, and, worst of all, wasted opportunities.

Oh, you say, but surely a man of your distinguished tastes in steak and expired beverages would never have problems with wasting opportunities. You must live quite well off.

Yeah, I would reply, well up yours too, buddy.

Let's see, how do I put this... I'm an idiot? Yeah, let's go with that. Fear is an irrational emotion that I've never really learned to live with. Partially because no one ever taught me or helped me through it. Partially because, as I said, I'm an idiot, and for some strange reason, I enjoy torturing myself with what I'm convinced is impossible even though I obsess constantly over it. It's like a slow, mental suicide. I know I can stop, I just don't know how, and for some reason, I just don't stop.

I kinda wish I would've had someone in my life to teach me things like this. Tell me how to deal with fear, life, and buying new groceries. How not to hide behind masks. How to fish, shave, deal with those female things you see on TV. Almost, like... a father? Sure, that would be nice.

Well, my dear guest, this is where I must draw to a close this conversation before I start off with things people aren't supposed to know about and before I start swearing.

I'm sure you can find the door yourself? It's the X at the top right of your screen (or the red dot at the top left if you're using a Mac). Or if you're using tabs, there's an X... ah, you see it? There you go, then. Oh, and don't mind the fourth wall, I can put that back up later.

And be sure to learn from my mistakes so you don't have to make them for yourself. Take care.

Waldo Sandiego

Ronnie James Dio, requiescat in pace

News story here.



:(


So passes a legend. Stomach cancer eventually killed him. He put up one hell of a fight though. Even put out a full album just a year ago. The guy was a tank, kept up to the end.


That sucks.


Dio was a phenomenal singer and performer. One of the type that doesn't seem to sound their age. 67 years old and he sounded as good as he did thirty years before.

Yeah, he was totally the guy who started that hand sign.

Requiescat in pace, Dio, in Heaven or in Hell.

"I am virgin,

I'm a whore.
Giving nothing,
The taker,
The maker of war.
I'll smash your face in,
But with a smile!
All together
You'll never
Be stronger than me."

JOYEUX ANNIVERSAIRE à MOI!

I think that translation came out as 'joyous birthday to me,' but I didn't take French. I don't care.


BUT it's the 100 post anniversary of Mainerd's Asylum! Seems like just a hundred posts ago that I first started this site because some book told me to and I complained about people filling the sinks with their hair (they still do that--actually, I found the kitchen floor covered in hair recently... yeah, the kitchen... go figure).


So, in honor of this joyous occasion, I'll do a countdown! Starting from 100, I'll give things that are related to that number. Something.


100 Dalmatians. (okay, so it's 101, but I'm pretty sure one of them died)
99 luftballons.
98 bottles of your favorite beverage on the wall after you cheated and chugged one, you pig.
97 ways to kill your friends with only a pair of scissors, some yarn, and a radish that's not quite ripe.
96.... you know what, this idea sucks chunks. I give up.


No moral today, in celebration of awesome! Go be immoral. Kick a kid, I don't know. Have fun.




Update: after deleting several posts, this is no longer the one hundredth rendering this post as irrelevant as your future.

XLERATOR!

IT MOVES THE FLESH WITH ITS AWESOME FORCE.
IT'S NEW.
IT'S POWERFUL
IT'S... THE XLERATOR!

Advertising PART II

Advertising PART I

How unfortunate PART III

Woohoo! At the expense of my own well-being, I bring more fortunes that will all come true, trust me. This is a good batch, I tells ya. Especially the last one, which I stole from a friend just a couple hours ago. I think she's okay with it. She was just gonna throw it away anyhow. I saved it. You're welcome.




You'll be made happy by receipt of good news.
As opposed to being made sad by good news? Even for a fortune cookie, that one's pretty obvious.


The real secret of happiness is not what you give or what you receive; it's what you share!
What about herpes? Giving is bad, receiving is bad, but sharing is happy?
"I love you, honey."
"Babe, I just gave you herpes."
"Aw, how sweet of you! We're sharing!"


This is a good time to finish up old tasks.
No, two weeks ago was a good time to finish up old tasks. Why wait until now?


Soon you will be sitting on the top of the world.
This is either insinuating that the reader is going to become a global dictator or is an obvious observation that if you rotate the globe a certain way, anyone seems to be "on top of" the world. Either way... what?


Stick to things as they are, distrust novelties.
So never, ever change? That's right, I guess. Don't diet, quit bad habits, get married, improve job performance, graduate....


Do not be afraid of computers. Be afraid of the lack of them.
If SkyNet ever becomes self-aware, I'm blaming this. Computers have actually shot culture straight to hell at the price of speed and convenience. Lack of computers isn't necessarily something to be "afraid" of.


Moral of the story: you will live to realize that you are indeed alive.


Worship me, for I am Prophet.

Texting

Mango crotch

Someone janked my laundry soap. I don't know why. There really isn't a need to steal soap. There wasn't even much in it. Maybe they thought it was theirs? Doubt it. My soap is unique.

(actual photo)

So CLEARLY someone has stolen my soap. Seems about as worthless as washing your hands after you pee, but whatever.


But, since people normally just leave soap lying around the washroom (another reason that stealing would be stupid), I just grabbed the first bottle of detergent and used it. It happened to be some fancy mango scented crap. As for the title, I'm doing whites now. Which means socks and underpants. So my crotch, butt, and feet will smell like succulent mango delight until my unbathed body rubs up on them so much that they start smelling like death.


I'm afraid someone's going to sniff my balls and compliment me. Worse, I'm afraid I'll start sniffing my balls and liking it.


Moral of the story: don't steal soap. You'll just create misery for everyone. Including yourself, because if I ever find the jerk who stole my soap, I'll use my arsenal of coarse insults, racial slurs, and  your mom jokes until they cry or give me back the empty bottle of soap.






Update: okay, so they don't smell at all like mangoes. Just really wet socks. This whole post is irrelevant now. And my day is ruined.

A sight that will never be forgotten

Imagine a goat, in all its splendorous splendor. Imagine it standing idly in a pen, enjoying his glorious personal space and just loving life.


Now imagine and ugly mass of wool (aka sheep), in all its smelly smelliness. Imagine it being a tool and totally invading the goat's personal space, breaking the barrier of the goat's majestic realm and bumping up against it uncaringly.


Imagine, if you can, the PURE BALLSY FURY that the goat would feel and express after some nasty sub-peon gets all up in his grill.


THIS IS THE SHOWDOWN I WITNESSED.


THIS IS THE MAGLORIOUSJESTIC BATTLE I SAW.


THIS IS THE SIGHT THAT WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.


So the goat, sexy with his horizontal pupils, was just minding his own when some ugly-as-sin sheep decides it wants to bump into him. So the goat just goes crazy, see, and HEADBUTTS the CRAP out of the sheep. BAM! One right to the skull. BAM! Another one. BAM! They lock heads and run each other into the opposite fence. The goat JUMPS up on a table and BAM headbutts the stupid sheep again. The sheep gets the idea and decides to give up but NO, the goat won't have that! He leaps to another table and BAM hits the sheep again, then stands his ground in ethereal splendor.


Standing like a king atop the table, he watches his enemy walk away in shame and defeat. The goat has won. The sheep got its bum handed to it. All is well in the order of things. The kingdom is secure.


Long live the goats!


Moral of the story: respect your fellow goat. If you wish to approach one, treat it like royalty. Try offering food, or maybe your firstborn. It'll respect you.

Rock out with your sock out

Josh, Nick, and I made this for a class. It's the best video ever. Except for the IronMan 2 trailer.

Harecut

Things are starting to get a little... hare-y.

Philosophy is bunk

It occured to me lately that all philosophy is BS. I mean, there're a lot of great ideas, and the world would be worse off without it, but I'm talking about modern philosophy. Y'know, the kids in their bathrobes sipping fancy root beer talking about philosophy and arguing about life... that kind. The arguing/discussing/debating kind. It's pointless. Of all the things to argue about, why choose life?


Princeton defines philosophy as "the rational investigation of questions about existence and knowledge and ethics; any personal belief about how to live or how to deal with a situation."


So why do people argue about it? Life is based on perspective a lot of times. One person might belive a certain way because of what and how they've lived, but to another person, it wouldn't make any sense. So philosophy is relative. What works for one person wouldn't for another. So why would anyone waste their time talking and arguing about it?


Worse, is the teaching of philosophy. Not even an educated discussion, but someone telling you what to believe or how you should live. Funny how philosophers who call themselves "free thinkers" think their way is the best or only way to live. That's not really thinking freely... kinda narrow-minded if you ask me. Also contradictory and hypocritical.


Teaching philosophy is stupid, but teaching free thought etc. is great. If you can think for yourself, you can mold a "philosophy" out of your life and out of what you see and feel and experience, not molding your life and thoughts and perception around a pre-packaged "philosophy." Honestly, why would anyone say "Hey this philosophy is cool, I'm going to change my life around and live by it?" Why would anyone choose to live by a certain set of thoughts and beliefs?


Moral of the story: think for yourself. Learn, experience, explore. This counts for religion, too.

Be my asylum.

I just don't know what to do. All I can do is keep living, but... is this really living? I keep saying no. This isn't living. If I were to die tomorrow, God forbid, I will not have truly died, because I have not truly lived.


I'm lonely as a hermit in the mountains in a post-apocalyptic alternate reality where no one but him speaks English and all the mountain animals are either dead or turned into psychotic mutants pumped so full of radiation they glow fiercly even in broad daylight.


It's been getting worse. And all these humans being so stupid with love and being so pathetic and absolutely mental just makes me want to punch a hole in their chests. Honestly, I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how many more people I can watch suffer and wither away because of their own senseless stupidity. Maybe that's conceited. I don't care.


It's really getting to me. Every day, that aching and painful, burning longing grows deeper and more intense. It's killing me. I'm dying. Slowly. Fortunately, suicide has never, is not, and will never be an option.


Then, there's the fun, dreadful monotony of life. Every day is just the same as the next. Every week is the same as any other. It's like I'm going through each week, then rewinding the clock and living it again. And again. And again. I'm trapped. And again. Can't escape. And again. This is mad. And again. I'm dying. And again. Nothing changes. And again. This is killing me. 


This is all just so ridiculous. I hate it. But there's not a thing I can do about it. And that's the hardest part. Seeing everything fall to pieces, fully aware, but chained to a rock, a Prometheus, with the eagles tearing out my liver. Not able to do anything even if I could. 


Ergh. I hate everything. I need a vacation. Or a punching bag.


Moral of the story: he who hasn't lived can never die.


I guess that means I'm immortal?