Fighting My Place In the World

New deal: Stuff Owen Likes # 0

2009-04-27T01:33:00.004-05:00

So this blog basically died when I started taking my degree seriously, but now my dgree is basically over and I think I've got an Idea on how to revive it. In addition to my oh so insightful quips about living the life I do I will begin a series of installments called "Stuff Owen Likes". This will be loosely modeled after the popular "Stuff White People Like" blog. By the way I've never actually read this blog as 'blogs' are not included in the "Stuff Owen Likes", but I have heard of it and I think I understand the basic premise. For tonight though I will just say that this weekend I have been doing, consuming and listening to far too much "Stuff Owen Likes" for me to write anything that would do said stuff justice. I'll just say that as soon as tomorrow, dear readers I will begin sharing with you, the wonders of the reality in which I exist, (or seem to anyway). Should I add ad nauseum? I think I shall.

Fighters Fight

2008-07-15T00:32:00.003-05:00

In an interesting turn of events the name of this blog now holds a bit more water as I have recently undertaken boxing as a passtime and source of excercise. If theres one thing I know about boxing it's that boxers need cool nicknames in order to win bouts. So I would like to open the floor to any suggestions of what my boxing nickname should be. To get the ball rolling I've included some ideas I've come up with myself.

Rocky
Mr. Punchy Pants
The Mighty Hemmorage
Rocky II
Owen "Not in the Face" Clark
Rocky III
Mr. Motts (a refference to the term Tomato Can)
Jiminy Rickets
Rocky IV
Mr. Can't We Just Hug Instead
Owen "Why Didn't You Tell Me He's Allowed to Hit Me Back!" Clark
Rocky V
The Coma

Pick your Favorite or send me your suggestions, your help is appreciated.

Sequential Pulp Fiction

2007-05-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

I really like comics. I also really like old detective stories and film noire. Here's a short list of some Pulp style comics that are currently being produced and are available at your better local comic book store.

100 Bullets
Here are 100 untraceable bullets an untraceable gun and a dossier on the person who ruined your life... you have carte blanche do with it what you please. This is the premise of the hugely popular series by Brian Azerello and Eduardo Risso. The first several story arcs of this series are amazing. The art is expertly drawn and coloured, and much of the writing is Ellroyesque to the bone raw. Many of the early trades can be read as stand alone stories while the latter volumes start to piece together a labyrinth of underworld political intrigue. Personally I preferred the series as an apparent collection of one offs but the weaving together of supposedly unimportant characters into a massive world of criminal intrigue is expertly done and does keep you guessing where everything is going to end. I personally think Volume V "TheCounterfifth Detective" is the best comic I ever read I would also recommend Volume VII "Samurai" Which is a particularly gritty prison horror show that is well worth picking up. (if you like Samurai and want to read something in the same veinHellblazer: Hard Times, by the same author and artist, is one of the most savage prison stories I've ever seen)

Stray Bullets
1970's (or is it 80's?) Small time hoods, thugs and psychos. David Lapham pulls no punches in his nihilistic crime series where the reader is forced to abandon any notion of justice or fair play. This series has an outstanding juxtaposition of the brutality the criminal world and the everyday banality of those who get wrapped up in it. The series also features really cool pen and ink art that completely suits the coked out rock 'n roll pace of the story. Volume I left me gasping for air at the unapologetic brutality of human misery, while Volume II takes crime out to small town America where even the simple life can get pretty bloody. Not what you would call a feel good book but worthy of attention for it's kick in the guts honesty.

Criminal
This is a fairly new series. The 6th issue just came out this week. The first story arc, "Coward" follows a professional heist man who lives by a strict code of rules. When he is forced to bend the rules against his better judgement everything goes to hell. Likable characters, good art and a great story. The first issue of the second arc just came out featuring the same writer artist team of Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips. From what I can tell all the stories revolve around the same secondary characters in the same sketchy Tavern, "The Undertow". So far so good, the new arc looks promising too.

Fell
Another brand new one. The first collection of this series just came out in trade, and a very attractive although more expensive hardcover formats. Each issue is a straight up police story where Det. Richard Fell must navigate his new beat of Snowtown, bust the bad guy and save the day. I really like how each issue is resolved by the last page, essentially allowing the reader to pick up any issue out of sequence and still enjoy it without all the back story. The series also seem to cover all the bases of police work including the classic interrogation scenario as well as domestic disputes and more bizarre serial killer plots. Both the writing and the art, (by Warren Ellis and Ben Templesmith), scrape the edges of the surreal in an incredibly compelling way. Or maybe it's so real it just seems surreal... wow, I just blew my own mind. It might be too soon to say but this may be my new favorite comic.

Pick em up, read em, let me know what you think... if you want to borrow any just let me know. Cheers.

First Impressions are Key.

2007-05-20T01:01:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to a birthday party for my friend Mike (read his blog, "sneaking out the hospital"). I got really really drunk. By the time it took three tries to swallow a sip of beer I knew that the party was over for me. I stumbled outside and jumped into the cab one of my friends had called for themselves. "C'est quoi ton nom?" the cabbie asked. By some miracle I managed to remember who the cab was actually for and forced the monosyllabic password the driver was looking for. "Chhhh---ad" I said, and we were off. Once I was home I striped down to my undies and climbed into bed. As I breathed heavy drunken breaths and told myself I was home free, the shifting darkness of the room started to do things to my brain and stomach. That's when everything went wrong big time. The spins may have taken hours to set in but then again it might have been seconds. I had no sense of time. Once my mind had ascertained that there was no way around it and that I would indeed be throwing up, I jumped from my bed. Unfortunately in my haste I had overlooked the impaired nature of my equilibrium and promptly fell thunderously onto my end table and ultimately onto the floor. This no doubt caused quite a bit of noise, but there was no time to worry about that. I jumped up again and ran as fast as I could to the washroom. I almost made it too. But alas, my stomach would not wait to revolt and just before I could open the door a buckshot blast of bile burst from my pursed lips and onto the floor. Still reeling for this preemptive strike I managed to complete the evacuation of my stomach contents into the toilet bowl. Once that was out of the way I began to worry about the vomit on the hallway floor. Well, necessity breeds innovation and I took to the task of cleaning up the mess with the only absorbent at hand, toilet paper. It was at this moment, half naked, drunk and on all fours trying to clean up my mess with fistfuls of soggy Charmin, that the door to my roommates bedroom opened. Like an animalistic reflex I blurted "Sorry. I'm the worst. Where's the mop?". The shadowy figure at the end of the hall sympathetically responded, "Don't worry about it." and proceeded the saunter past me to the kitchen. Once within a foot or two of me I noticed something different about my roommate, "Did you get a haircut?". Before the sentence was fully past my larynx I remembered, Katrina's mother was going to be staying with us this weekend. Immediately I realized the full gravity of the situation. The apologetic grin I had been wearing seemed to jump from my face and leave a look of puzzled humiliation in it's place. I stood up, keenly aware that I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a thin layer of puke and momentarily contemplated holding out my hand and introducing myself. Luckily panic set in at that moment and I quickly but proudly walked back to my room. This was too much... I'd deal with it in the morning.

Rain on Pavement

2007-05-15T01:07:00.000-05:00

Went out for a smoke tonight on the balcony of my new apartment. It was Raining. For the first time in months I could smell rain hitting pavement. It was a moment. I'm glad I had it.

Happy Zombie Christ Day

2007-04-08T21:56:00.000-05:00

I love easter. No, not the chocolate, or painting eggs, and no I'm not particularly religious. But I do love zombies. Any day that commemorates a man rising from the dead is a day I want to be a part of. So heres to easter, or as I call it Zombie Christ Day.

No I'm NOT Stalking You!

2007-03-30T00:38:00.000-05:00

I'm not what you would call a social butterfly. I'm certainly no hermit either. But I'm not the type of guy would walk up to someone in the metro who I had a class with three years ago and might have said two words to at a party once and start a, "so how have you been?", conversation. Having said that, I will say hello to a co-worker that I pass on the street, or drop in on a sick friend just to make sure they're ok. So when three different people in three different circumstance accuse me of stalking them in the span of a week it really sticks in my prick. I mean, what the fuck? Am I supposed to snub you as you walk by and then be all chummy next shift we both work? Or do you want me to avoid you like the plague when you're feeling shitty and let you die alone?(well maybe in that case it's not unreasonable) I for one like it when someone acknowledges my existence in this largely homogenous urban terrarium. Personally I get a little lonely in the anonymous crowds. When someone takes the time to say, "Hey, I know you." it makes me feel a little more connected. Of course I blame technology for this phenomena of forced avoidance. Cell phones, text messaging, instant messaging, Facebook, etc... These inventions have forever altered the socially acceptable means we have of communicating with one another. Where it was once normal to knock on someone’s door when you were in the neighborhood, we now send a text message delicately asking if they are busy and if they would mind if we swung by. It's gotten to the point when we can't even call people without a furious round of instant messaging before hand just to make sure the conversation will be worth the effort of actually speaking the words. It's sick. It's driving us apart as humans, (who are social creatures by the way). I'm of the mind that I don't want to live in world where every friendly "hello", "how ya doin" or "wanna hang out" needs to be proceeded by an obnoxious digital bleep in order for it do be deigned legitimate. SAYING HI IS NOT DEVIANT BEHAVOIR DAMNIT! So screw, those of you who can't handle a hello on the street or a random visit, I ain't stopping and I'm switching my cell phone to silent.

A Moments Contemplation for a Fellow Human Being

2007-02-17T14:49:00.000-06:00

Ryan Larkin is dead. My roommate told me this as we shared a pitcher last night sitting at the very table in the very bar that Ryan used to drink at all the time,(Copacabana). I pondered this, remembering the day I walked by the bar and saw him sitting right there with clutching the academy award that was won for the film based on his life. I felt sad at first. Then I felt a great sense of appropriateness being where I was when I heard the news. For those of you who don't know who Ryan Larkin is, he was a ground breaking animator who inspired a generation of animators,(Wikipedia for more). He fell on hard times and I first met him panhandling outside of Schwatrz's deli. I don't claim to have know Ryan at all. I tossed him a few quarters once. I still felt sad upon hearing of his passing. It made me mad that a guy who was just starting to put his life back together again would get snuffed out right when things were starting to go his way. Last time I saw an interview with Ryan he had just completed his first animation in decades and he seemed genuinely happy and hopeful of the future. When I really think about it though. His timing wasn't that bad. Sure he never got a chance to be nominated for another Oscar or make any more substantial animation, but he did make it to the other side of the worst part of his life. It makes me think. The only difference between a happy ending and a sad ending is where you decide to put those two little words, "The End".

I Hate Passwords and the Internet and Technology and Everything.

2007-02-15T17:07:00.000-06:00

Ok, so it's been over a month since my last post. Sorry. But I have an excusse. Blogger, (the website that host's this blog), has been bought by Google,(big surprise). As such I had to sign up for a google account in oreder to get access to my blog. This meant getting a new Google account name and password. Fine no problem. So I did that. Still dind't work. So I tried it again. Nuthin. So I gave up and cursed Google for all the convienences it afford us all in internetland. Finnally after weeks of feeble attempts to figure out what was going on I finnally have my new Google account and password. Phew. Thank Gates. Anyway. Bahh Im so dsgusted bythe whole ordeal I don't think I can finish this. I'll get back to you later.

Mike Gillis Doesn't Read My Blog!

2007-01-13T12:57:00.000-06:00

This is a picture I drew of my roommate Mike. He is an enormous pain in the ass. He won't link this site to his own, (which as you can see I have linked to this one). Anyway, his site is hilarious dispite him being an unsupportive wanker. Check it out and tell him to link me.

The Curse of the Food Service Industry

2007-01-13T01:51:00.000-06:00

I work in a restaurant. As a student and an un-skilled, un-talented and for the most part un-educated person working as a waiter,(or as a busboy as the case may be), has it's advantages. For one you make more money that you should by all rights. This is due to the fact that, on top of the minimum wage per hour you take home every two weeks, you also get to beg your patrons for spare change at the table. Some people call these "tips" but the only thing that differentiates them from the change a crackhead manages to guilt or scare you out of on the street is the social tradition which stipulates that certain people, working certain jobs deserve more than what their employer deigns to pay them. I happily reap the benefits of this archaic convention. On a side note, historically tipping is frowned upon in areas undergoing true socialist revolutions, due to the fact tipping is seen as an act of class identification. Basically, in a classless society the server and the servee are socially on the same level and tipping becomes superfluous, and to be honest can be seen as a sign of supiriority. Not a good idea around revolutionaries. But I digress. Another benefit of working in the service industry is the flexibility of schedules. In any restaurant, their is always someone who wants more money and someone else who wants more time off. Ergo, it is easy to dump shifts on people if you don't mind eating wieners and beans for the next week. Which brings me to my point. While I actually enjoy eating wieners and beans, I still can't afford to loose shifts due to my high standard of living. Thus in order to make any money I consistently work Friday and Saturday nights,(the two "money" shifts). What this means however is I always, without fail, miss out on all the fun on said nights. While to me they are the "money" nights, to everyone else they are the "party" nights. After raking in my ill begotten tips, I find myself cabbing home, drinking whatever I managed to smuggle out of the resto by myself, and crying myself into a drunken stupor wondering what all the beautiful people are doing, or have done that night. Next time you're out having the time of your life remember me in my post work depression, call me, I just made a load of tips and don't mind buying the drinks.

Happy New Year Destructo is Comming!

2007-01-02T18:00:00.000-06:00

I myself don't care much for the holidays. For example the endless crap movies on T.V., the implied mandate to boost the economy by venturing into retailers to purchase material goods for people that they don't even want or need, and all the brain blistering clichés that go along with Christmas drive me fucking crazy. Plus I HATE turkey! However this year, Christmas didn't follow the script as it were. When I woke up Christmas morning and looked out of my parents living room window,(I had to sleep on the couch in my childhood home) my heart swelled with joy at what I saw. GREEN. Well, more like a shitty browny, gray green. I would be spared the relentless drone of that venerable child beater Bing Crosby and his godawful "White Christmas". This unseasonably warm weather has continued even into the new year, which has aroused mixed feelings in me. I live in Canada. It's Fucking cold in the winter. I hate the cold. However, I understand that cold is the way Canada is supposed to be. This warm weather, while being welcomed by my own delicate internal thermostat, can mean only one thing, GLOBAL WARMING. That's right, what all those scientist and movie stars have been telling us for years is finally starting to rear it's pleasant but apocalyptic head. We haven't done anything about this problem even with all the warning, and I think I know why. When people say global warming it doesn’t really scare me. It makes me think of hug, one enormous worldwide hug, what's scary about that. I say bring on the hugs. What those stupid scientist did wrong is give the most catastrophic environmental crisis the world has ever seen a lovable name. So I propose that we rename global warming something a little scarier. From now on I will refer to it as DESTRUCTO. Now that’s got punch. Imagine you turn on your T.V. and Peter Mansbridge or George Snufalupagus or whoever, tells you that DESTRUCTO has destroyed villages in the Asian pacific with a giant tidal wave, or that Destructo has killed all the polar bears. Man, anything that can take on all the polar bears and win has gotta be some tuff. Polar bears are bad mother fuckers. I think the name change could have a greater effect that all the ugly ass hybrid cars in the world combined. So there ya go. My New Years resolutions is to change the name of global warming to Destructo. Make it yours as well.

Poopernova

2006-11-28T23:02:00.000-06:00

I share my hometown with Lucas Rossi. This makes me wonder, if circumstance were different could I be the lead singer of Supernova? I wonder what would have had to be different for this to come about. Whatever they would have been I thank god above and satan below and santa clause and Nietzche and Jimi Hendrix that my path was laid out differently. I also wonder if he every slept with any of my old girlfriends, laws of probability say not likely seeing as I had a total of two girlfriends in my 18 years in Ottawa. I wonder if he hung out in any of my favorite bars, (I doubt it, the bars I hung out in would have kicked his ass in). I wonder if he knew any of my friends. I wonder if any of the people I knew back home ever met him and had the good sense to lay a fierce and unforgettable beating on that human puddle of wasted ejaculant. Seriously, I don't get how the personification of obnoxious full sensory assault, (and I mean that in a way that he shouldn't take as a compliment) grow up in my home town and go undetected? I am saddened and appalled that the good people of Ottawa didn't take it upon themselves to carry his infant body into the Gatineau hills and expose him to the elements at birth as the ancient Spartans had the foresight and good sense to do to their children. I wonder if such a policy could be implemented retroactively?

If You Look Hard Enough You Can Spot 'em

2006-11-28T22:51:00.000-06:00

I am often exposed to people that make my stomach turn. People with no moral compass, and not in a funny socially redeeming way either. Sometimes I get pretty down on humanity in general. Sometimes think that that villain in that James Bond movie, (I think it was Moonraker), may have had it right when he wanted to wipe out the whole corrupt lot of us and start over. And it's not just the evil bastards that get me down. More than anything it's the douchebags. People that open their mouths and all manner of irritating drivel spews out. But then other times I just sit back and think about people for a minute and realize that it's not really our fault. We get royally fucked up somewhere around gradeschool. Civilization can be a real drag on being human. Anyway, I don't really know where I'm going with this. I guess, sometimes you just gotta realize that we were all beautiful babies at one point. It's still there somewhere, under it all.

Go See My Play

2006-11-20T06:49:00.000-06:00

Lil' Ainsley Laces Up

2006-11-05T23:59:00.000-06:00

Greg was 18 when he moved to Montreal. He was one of the funniest Kid's I ever met. I was on my way to work one day and I saw him putting on these skates. "I found 'em in the dumpster out back... awesome huh?". He said as he laced them tight around his sockless feet.

Open Forum... Post Your Thoughts.

2006-10-21T01:39:00.000-05:00

Is it just me, or are the contestans(correction:CONTESTANTS) on the price is right some of the dumbest people in the world?

I've got TV on the Radiation Burns.

2006-10-17T21:32:00.000-05:00

Update!
The best band in the whole world is now TV on the Radio. What an awsome show. Before this I had never been to a concert where the band actually played all the songs I wanted to hear and only the songs I wanted to hear. Not only that but they made each one sound way awsomer than I could have imagined. I don't care if the walk home in the cold gave me bronchitis, that show was worth every minute of the suffering I'm going through right now. The only side effect of such a stupendous performance, (other than bronchitis) is that I can no longer listen to the studio recordings. Because of the unmatchable intensity of the live show the albums now sound like tired half thawed versions of what I know to be the best fucking tunes in the world. Thats all, get downloading. Or better yet go out and buy the albums ya filthy beggars,(they'll tide you over till the next show).

Sometimes the Wolf, Sometimes the Man.

2006-10-14T02:54:00.000-05:00

Do you remember that scene at the end of White Fang where the guy sends his wolf off into the wild? Only the wolf doesn't want to go because he loves the man to much and he knows the man loves him? So the Man starts yelling at the wolf an throwing things at him and saying really mean things like, "I never liked you anyway"? And finnally the wolf leaves the man even though he knows he's lying just to get him to go? Well... sometimes I feel like the man... and sometimes I feel like the wolf... and sometimes I feel like both at once. That's all... thanks for reading.

I Love You Giant Robot.

2006-10-10T20:22:00.000-05:00

Sweet Jesus. I am jaded no more. My faith in humanity has been restored, and it's all thanks to a giant fictional robot. If you haven't already guessed, I just finished watching, "The Iron Giant". Oh my GOD what an awsome movie. If you haven't seen it, STOP READING AND GO SEE IT! Every boys dream was to have a giant robot to do their bidding and that kid had one. And then when the robot sacrifices himself to save the whole town, Including the soldiers that were trying to kill it in the first place. Man... I'm not afraid to admit it... I cried like a baby. And then what happens, after they tear your heart from your chest? You find out that he is slowly repairing himself on some glacier in Iceland, one day to reunite with his long lost little buddy. Thats when I really broke down. Giant robots with hearts of gold get me every time. Reminds me of my own giant robot that I had when I was a kid. When are you comming home Stompy? WHEEEahahahahuhuhuhnnnnnn? You were to beautiful for this world. Why did they have to take you away form me?????? Wahhhh Haahhhhahahah.

Let's Do the Time Warp Agaiaiain!

2006-10-07T05:20:00.000-05:00

How the Fuck is it six o' clock in the morning? So, here I am.. tanked and eating home made garlic bread... six AM huh? I'll fight you!!! What the fuck happened during the last 5 hours?
During what part of my night did I pass trough a time warp? I'll bet it was during the bike ride... eiter that or the drinking... I'm sure it will all become clear tomorrow... g'night folks... drink welll.

You Smell Purdy.

2006-10-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

I was on the bus today and this horrible, loud, tacky, cell phone talking woman got on. From my seat I could see her argue with the driver about something or another all the while keeping her cell phone firmly pressed to her face,(I hate that). Once their debate was resolved she started walking towards the only empty seat on the bus. The one right next to me. An unrestrained sense of doom overtook me at the thought of having to spend part or all of the next hour of my commute sitting next to this sterling example of sensory offensiveness. I had already decided to bail at the next stop. I figured waiting half an hour for the next bus in the rain was better than spending any extended period of time next to this ringtone harpy. But then something strange happened. As she sat down and unapologetically invaded much more of my personal sapce than was necessary, something went off in the olfactory part of my brain. She smelled like caramel. I once loved a girl who smelled like caramel. Ahh... caramel. In an instant all the malice and hate I held for this woman turned from stone to sand and poured harmlessly through my fingers onto the floor of my psyche. I almost felt wings spout out of my back as I was aromatically reminded of a beautiful love I once had. Then I remembered how that girl dumped my ass and all of a sudden I was out in the rain waiting for the next bus. Isn't the sense of smell strange and wonderful?

For Those Of You Who Were Wondering.

2006-09-30T00:45:00.000-05:00

Why Do They Have To Make It So Hard To Ride The Bus?

2006-09-29T00:21:00.000-05:00

I lost my fucking buspass!!! Oh yeah, I hear your indifference. I hear you muttering to yourself "so what there's only three more days in the month anyway." Well the jokes on you I never even had the pass part of the "bus pass". All I had was the stupid student i.d. picture. DON'T THINK I DON'T HEAR YOUR INDIFFERENCE GROWING EVER STILL! I know the i.d. part of the pass only costs 12 bucks. But that’s not the point. The fucking trials I had to go through to get that picture... you don't know man you don't even know. I had to bike downtown in potentially fatal Montreal traffic, I had to wait in line only to find out it was the wrong line then go wait in another line surrounded by the type of people that frequently cause me to run screaming though the halls of the university. Then I had to get back on my bike and bike through even more physically offensive downtown traffic to go to the fucking Metro terminal. Then I had to wait in another line only to find out that I didn't have a proof of residence that is vital to claim my fucking 35 dollar a month transportation. Then I had to run out of time running around trying to find all this shit. Then I had to loose the fucking form somewhere in the vortex that is my apartment. Then I had to go through all that shit all over again. Finally, after all that stupid bureaucratic bullshit I got my little plastic i.d. card in my hot little hands. By this point it was already midway through the month so buying a pass was not cost effective. I put my pass safely away on the floor of my living room where i knew where to find it when October rolled around. But alas, that poor little i.d. card would never have the opportunity to fulfill it's destiny and couple with a monthly metro pass. I searched for it high and low but it was gone. Now I am faced with the apauling notion that I'll have to go through all that shit again. WHY DOES THIS SHIT ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME

Van Doo is Twenty Two in French

2006-09-20T22:07:00.000-05:00

Your secret is safe with me "OLD MAN!"

2006-09-20T19:44:00.000-05:00

I was taking the bus home today and I saw something you don't often see. While pulling upto a red light I looked out the window and beheld what apeared to be an old man on a rascal scooter barreling down the crowded sidwalk at at least 20 Kph. This in and of itself was not enough to arouse my suspicion but what I saw next sent my mind reeling. This sidwalk speed demon, this walkway racer, jerked his handlebars to the right, putting his rascal on 2 wheels and slammed head on into the wall of a three story apartment building. The impact sent his cane, which was percariously balanced on the front fender of his scooter, flying into the wall ricocheting off the brickwork back into the man's outstretched hand. Amazingly unfazed, this aparently decrepid octegenarian, leapt from his wreck and darted into the apartment buildings door like "the damn eff bee ahh that put the damn radio in mah brain" was chasing him. The guy sitting next to me saw the whole thing and as he leaned back into his seat he said with a laugh,"betcha he stole it". At first this seemed to be the only logical explaination. Only logical explaination for a CYNICAL BASTARD maybe! What I saw today was not a case of late life larceny, Oh No! What I saw today was my first glimpse of a real live super hero. Think about it. What better way to hide yourself from the undeworld elements that you hunt than to disguise yourself as harmless old man. And the speed... the only way a rascal scooter could go that fast was if it had been modified by a superhero's secret scientist buddy in his super secret undeground lair. And had he been a petty thief simply trying to evade capture would he have shown such compassion to the pedestrains? Nay, says I. He would have just mowed them down. My final peice of evidence to the super human nature of this phalanx of frailty is the cane. Yes the cane was clearly made from elemnts not of this world. How else could it sense its masters hand and direct itself accordingly? I don't know what wretched hide of scum and villany was lurking in that aprtment building but I don't envy the odious evil doers that were concealed within. Yes my friends we can all rest a little easier knowing that OLD MAN is protecting our streets. Godspeed OLD MAN, godspeed.

DEVO! Not Il Divo! GAWD!

2006-09-19T23:04:00.000-05:00

Girl: So what kind of music are you into?
Me: umm.. I've been listening to a lot of DEVO lately.
Girl: You like DEVO!?! Wow, I love Devo. Are you going to see them next week?
ME: WHAAAAAT? Are you telling me DEVO has reunited and is comming to town?
Girl: Yeah, they're playing with Barbra Streisand.
Me:........ DEVO! Not Fucking Il Divo! Whats wrong with you! Why would you even ask me about music if that's the kind of acidic diarrhea you listen to? Isn't that shit for old people with no hearing? GAWD! (storms off and vomits)

That was my first encounter with this new sick phenomena that has been spreading through the cities and towns of this great nation. Imagine, confusing a great band like Devo with the worst kind of shit encrusted gorllia smegma that gets encoded onto compact disc. The tragedy of it is, in subsequent Devo misunderstandings, (and there have been many) it was I who bore the undeserved stigma of being confused as an Il Divo fan. I have ,on more than one occasion, found myself frantically fighting to clear my name as a lover of the great 80's innovative rock band DEVO, (you know with an E) and not of the abomination that is Il Divo. Its gotten to the point where I am ashamed to admit that I listen to Devo for fear of undeserved recrimination. And thats just wrong! I myself have had enough! I send out a call to action to all DEVO Fans everywhere. We must re-claim the word DEVO. If not for us than for our children. Remember... they'll be comming for you next!