I Know It's Wrong...

...but I just couldn't pass this one up. I know I'm supposed to be too mature for this kind of humor, but I couldn't read it to myself without laughing out loud.

From our friends across the pond at the BBC.

Update: Online Store

For any of you who actually feel compelled to buy apparel and housewares emblazoned with the tojo2000 logo this is your lucky day!

We have two new items at the store, a Jr. Baby Doll T-Shirt (by popular demand) and a Big-Ass Mug!

Now I don't want anyone out there to feel like I'm pressuring you to buy these goods; I don't actually make any money off of them. If, however, you (like me) are tickled by the idea of wearing the logo of a website that has under 400 hits and has been called "self-serving" by its only troll, then I urge you to head on down to http://cafepress.com/tojo2000 and buy yours today!

Send In the Clowns

Part of me wants to be angry that three men dressed as clowns were able to walk up to a nuclear missile silo and beat on it with hammers, but I can't stay angry; they're clowns! I'll admit, the thought of a clown pouring his own blood on the ground in a misguided attempt at protest turns my stomach a bit, but hey, they're clowns! No matter what they do whenever I see them I just choke back the bile and laugh and laugh and laugh. Okay stop it now, it's getting creepy. Seriously. Mom!!!

(Note: Actual clowns not pictured. These are merely reference clowns.)

The Little Girl Giant...

...scares the crap out of me. Seriously, what is this?!? I can't sleep now. I was almost able to maintain my composure until she started licking that popsicle. This is the most disturbing thing I've seen on the Internets since...well...I won't say because I don't want anyone to know what I've seen.

Click here to be revolted.

Visit the New Online Store!

That's right! CafePress is willing to give any idiot with a webpage and an email address their own online store. Far be it from me to let this opportunity go to waste.

Click here to be BLOWN AWAY by both of my items!!!

Way To Go!

Sit back and relax and monsieur crazylinkz will regale you with tales of the 25 craziest deads(sic).

I Don't Know What They're Saying...

...but I know what I like! (and apparently it's crazy-dancing korean girls. Is that wrong?)

My Hero

It's about time somebody said it (on the floor of the Senate, anyway).

Senator Chuck Hagel, a Republican from New England had this to say today:

Congress fails in its duty when we do not probe, when we fail, we do not ask tough questions, and we fail when we do not debate the gate issues of our day. There is no issue more important than war. The war in Iraq is the defining issue on which this Congress and the administration will be judged. The American people want to see serious debate about serious issues from serious leaders. They deserve more than a political debate. This debate should transcend cynical attempts to turn public frustration with the war in Iraq into an electoral advantage. It should be taken more seriously than to simply retreat into focus-group tested buzz words and phrases like “cut and run,” catchy political slogans that debase the seriousness of war. War’s not a partisan issue, Mr. President. It should not be held hostage to political agendas. War should not be drug down into the political muck. America deserves better. Our men and women fighting and dying deserve better.

Damn skippy.

On the Off-chance You Haven't Seen This...

Connie Chung has her very own "William Shatner Singing Rocket Man" moment. I guarantee you'll watch this video with one hand over your face peeking between your fingers.

Global Warming Solved by Halliburton!

...but you'd better get that promotion quick.

http://www.halliburtoncontracts.com/about/index.html

Update: In case you hadn't figured it out, this is a hoax, perpetrated by a group called the yesmen.

Divisadero

I'm only a few blocks from my car. It's midnight, and I'm walking alone down a quiet street in San Francisco, noticing how many black tarry bubblegum scars are splattered over the sidewalks. There doesn't seem to be any pattern to it; spread erratically but relatively evenly over the sidewalk is evidence of the heavy traffic that this area sees during the day. Right now, though, I'm the only one out here.

I love the empty city at night. The silence of the nighttime seems so much more complete when you can contrast it with the day. Instead of being loud against the quiet backdrop, the darkness somehow absorbs my footsteps and the sound of my breath. Cold, clear light from the streetlamps sharpens the edges of the buildings and plasters my dark reflection to the path before me. I feel so free. It's easy to imagine that I'm the only person out here and that I can do anything I please. My backpack adds to the fantasy that I am a traveller, a vagabond on a carefree open-ended tour of wherever the hell I want to go.

A car stops at the intersection in front of me, waiting for the light to change, and my world shrinks a bit. I try to see if they are looking at me without letting them know I'm checking, and my fantasy receeds in the light of my self-consciousness. As the car finally passes, a man appears from between two parked cars, crossing the street a quarter of the way down the block, headed straight for me. There is nothing threatening about him, yet suddenly I realize that the isolation I found so invigorating a second ago translates directly into vulnerability. I grip my backpack straps tighter and try to move to the edge of the sidewalk in as nonchalant a manner as possible. I don't dare look at him as he passes, but I listen to hear the sound of his steps retreating. Once I'm satisfied that he's not sneaking up behind me I start to watch where I'm going again.

Settling into my car later, I find myself releasing tension I didn't even realize I had. As I turn the key, the doors lock automatically with a satisfying click.

I Hope You Brought Some Lemonade...

...because this world is going straight to Hell.

Go Out In Style

I want to be buried in a giant coffin shaped like Mil Mascaras.

In Ghana my dream may finally become a reality.

What a Rip-off!

I lost my phone today. I guess it must have fallen out of my backpack on the train to San Francisco on my way to work. I just filled out my lost equipment form, and I noticed that the exclusions on my insurance are a little strange.

II. EXCLUSIONS We will not pay for “Loss” caused directly or indirectly by any of the following, and such “Loss” is excluded regardless of any other cause or event that contributes concurrently or in any sequence to the “Loss”:
First we'll start with Q, which is the most straightforward:

Q. “Loss” due to normal wear and tear, gradual deterioration, inherent vice or latent defect.

Makes sense. Moving on.

A. Nuclear Hazard, meaning any weapon employing atomic fission or fusion; or nuclear reaction or radiation or radioactive contamination from any other cause. But we will pay for direct physical “Loss” caused by resulting fire if the fire would be covered under this “Coverage Certificate”.

Okay. They won't cover my phone if I blow it up with a nuclear weapon, but if it catches fire after being exploded by a fission (or fusion) nuclear bomb, then it might be covered. Something tells me that if I'm close enough to a nuclear explosion to catch fire, my cell phone will be the least of my considerable worries.

B. War, including undeclared or civil war; warlike action by a military force, including action in hindering or defending against an actual or expected attack, by any government, sovereign or other authority using military personnel or other agents; or insurrection, rebellions, revolution, usurped power of action taken by government authority in hindering or defending against any of these.

Do they know something I dont?

C. Governmental Action, meaning seizure or destruction of property by order of governmental authority including economic and trade sanctions as provided under
applicable law and U.S. Treasury Department guidelines.

Apparently the current administration mandates a new kind of insurance: "NSA Coverage".

D. Indirect Loss, meaning any delay, loss of market, loss of use or any other
consequential loss, interruption of business or inconvenience; an increase of “Loss” caused by or resulting from the delay in replacing “Covered Property” due to interference at the location of replacement by strikers, other persons or any other cause of loss.

Ah, yes. The famous "Teamsters" clause.

E. “Loss” due to acts caused by or resulting from rodents, insects, vermin, or
other wild animals.

The now-famous Courtney Love clause.

F. “Loss” due to the intentional parting of “Covered Property” by you or anyone entrusted with the property.

What?!? I don't have "I gave my phone to my friend because he didn't have one" insurance?!?

J. “Loss” resulting from faulty repair, adjusting, installation, servicing, or maintenance unless fire or explosion ensues and then only for “Loss” by ensuing
fire or explosion.

No coverage if the repairman damages it, unless it explodes. Check.

K. The discharge, dispersal, seepage, migration, release or escape of “Pollutants”.

The "Cabbage and Broccoli" clause (a.k.a. the "OMFG I just sharted" clause).

N. Use of the “Covered Property” in a manner for which it was not designed or
intended by the manufacturer, or failure to follow the manufacturer’s installation, operation or maintenance instructions.

From here on referred to as the "Body Orifice" clause.

P. “Loss” or damage to batteries (unless covered as “Accessories” as part
of a “Loss” to the “Covered Property”); personalized data, or customized
software, such as personal information managers (PIM's), ring tones, games,
or screen savers; or to “Loss” or damage to antennas, external housings or
casings that does not affect the mechanical or electrical function of the
“Covered Property”.

And finally, the "Flying Toaster" clause. (more geek points for that one)

Congradulations, Dad

This weekend my dad got his Master’s degree from San Jose State. I wish I could say that my father’s graduation was an exciting and inspiring affair. Don’t get me wrong – the fact that he was graduating was both exciting and inspiring; it’s just that the ceremony itself was one of the worst drudgeries I’ve had to endure in a long time. My three-year-old nephew was there, and he was bouncing out of his seat. Luckily we had the great fortune of being in a location where small planes must pass as they land at the nearby airport, or I expect his head would have exploded about a third of the way through the ceremony.

The biggest ass-number (as in something that numbs your ass, not a number comprised of asses) of the event was the speech by Mike Honda, a member of the California legislature who had graduated from the same university. I have to admit that I liked what he was saying much of the time, but he basically made us sit through three speeches. The first was about his family’s experience in the interment camps during WWII, which somehow segued into his experiences a the University surrounded by political and artistic visionaries and finally wound up with a speech about keeping the civil liberties that were built into the US Constitution by the Founders intact. Each one of these individually would have been very interesting, but the confluence of all three made for one long speech.

One of the problems with boring a stadium full of people is that it’s not like the old days where there was nothing else to do unless you had the prescience to bring a book. Everyone has a cell phone these days, and every time the ceremony started to drag you had 2,000 people jumping on their phones and calling not only their friends, but also the graduates, so there was a cacophony of conversations something like this: “No, no, we came in the west entrance! Where are you? Bill is in the fourth row, can you see him? Hold on, I’ll call him and tell him to wave at you!” Once the ceremony was over, it was almost difficult to express our excitement through the exhaustion when we finally were able to join the line slowly stuttering down to the field toward the graduates.

As a family we couldn’t be prouder of him, although probably only my mom knows just how much effort and sacrifice he’s been pouring into this. Along with the other things he learned, his proficiency with the computer has increased, and he’d been thinking for a while that he’d like to get a laptop. My mom had the idea of buying him one for his graduation, but she wanted it to be a surprise. It’s probably best that she was in charge of organizing the event besides the actual technical details of setting up the new computer, which of course fell to me, because I am horrible at keeping secrets, and her plan worked too well for me. Every time he brought it up she would say, “Oh, what would you do with a laptop? We have a desktop that works fine! You don’t need a laptop.” I would probably have broken down and somehow let him know, because I’m a wuss like that. He was definitely genuinely surprised, though, when we gave it to him after the graduation ceremony, with the whole family sitting around the dinner table.

I am so proud of my father. That he was able to go back to school after all these years and get this degree means so much to me. He is the smartest, wisest, kindest, and most knowledgeable man I know, and I’m proud to be his son, and although I don’t feel that I can ever truly live up to his example, it’s something I strive for. As a matter of fact, the only complaint I can think of is that he has a compulsion to take the devil’s advocate side of almost any conversation, which I unfortunately inherit. It comes in very handy for analyzing problems, but if you’ve ever come home from a hard day at work and just wanted to complain to let off some steam, you can see where it could cause problems. He impressed upon me early in life the value of learning, and that more than anything else has shaped the course of my life. I would not be as successful in my career today if I had not been instilled with an insatiable desire to learn everything there is to know, in part because it seemed like he knew something about everything. Now he’s getting his degree, and part of me swells to think that now the world knows what I know, and is giving him some recognition in a life as the quintessential educator, and the best teacher I’ve ever had (literally – I had him as a teacher for fourth and fifth grade). The university, of course, isn’t taking all that into account when they give him this award, but to me any recognition he receives is back pay for a life of service. I’m proud to lift you up to the world and pronounce for anyone who wants to hear that “This is my father, with whom I am well pleased” -- If you’ll allow the sacrilegious paraphrase.

Way to go, Dad.

The Body

I don't know the story behind it, and I don't know anything about the author, but I stumbled across this piece, and I liked it. Written from the perspective of a girl, you can click on each body part to read a narrative about it. Introspective, humorous, and humiliating, these vignettes focus on a specific piece of her, and yet paint a surprisingly complete picture of her as a whole.

'my body' - a Wunderkammer &

UPDATE: I just want to emphasize to my readers that I in no way condone abusing literature in the way described on this website.

Banana Show

So I'm at work, minding my own business, typing away when I hear my director telling my boss that he's going to go to Amsterdam. My half-height cubicle is on a major thoroughfare and people are always walking by. I tipped my head up and raised an eyebrow asking, "Why do you have to go to Amsterdam?"

Amsterdam is excellent fodder for low-brow jokes, so I was kind of expecting a wisecrack as he walked by, but instead he stopped and asked me, "You've been to Amsterdam?"

I sit on a well-traveled aisle, so I get a lot of people passing through. I really wasn't expecting a conversation, but I told him what I tell everybody (nobody believes me), that if you're going to Amsterdam, you should stay in Haarlem. It's a beautiful, quiet Dutch town with a great cathedral in it, and it's a great place to retreat to when you're done hanging out in the business of Amsterdam. He countered that he preferred staying in Amsterdam so he could stumble back to the hotel drunk without having to take a train. Somebody finally brought up the red light district (as people are inexorably drawn to do).

"Yeah, I've been to the red light district," I said," Everybody should walk through there at least once. It's a surreal experience." Then I added, "I didn't get a chance to see the Banana Show, though," chuckling at what was basically an inside joke. When I was walking through the red light district, there were a bunch of signs directing you to the "Banana Show", which I had no desire to see, but the idea struck me as hilarious.

The director stared at me, shocked. For a brief, terrifying instant I thought I'd gone too far. My workplace is pretty laid back, but I thought maybe I'd crossed the line and the director was going to rebuke me for my offensive speech.

Instead he looked me in the eye accusingly and said, "Who told you about that?" Then he turned to my boss. "I can't believe you told him about the Banana Show!"

"What? What Banana Show?!?" we both asked in unison, genuinely confused.

He wasn't buying it. "I can't believe you told him that story! You told him about the Banana Show!" The confused look on our faces remained, and finally he started to walk away, unsure of what to believe.

I'll probably never know what that was all about. I'm probably better off not knowing.