Welcome to my brain. In my never-ending quest to
insure everyone is exactly like me, I've compiled about a million of my thoughts and put
them all down onto this page. I think, if you look hard enough, there's a brain-cell here
for everyone. After looking through this page for a while, you may ask yourself "what
the hell is the point?" Well, if you find yourself asking that, I can only say
one thing . . . you're a total idiot and you should be taken out back and shot along with
the fifteen-year-old poodle that pisses all over your floor (if you don't have a poodle,
substitute"fifteen-year-old poodle" with "ninety-year-old grandpa").
Those of you left can simply click on a brain and catch the wave of your choice.
Stupid, Stupid Adults (11/7/97)
Crimson Thoughts (10/22/97)
Taking down Mr. Bill with American Express (7/17/97)
It's not what's on the outside that counts, as long as there's no glasses (5/18/97)
Forget the wedding, I can't believe it's diet! (5/11/97)
Cute Vs. Ugly (5/1/97)
Sniff Any Good Butts Lately? (4/24/97)
Jesus Versus the Easter Bunny (3/30/97)
I'm all Scared Now (3/23/97)
Liar Liar, Brimstone and Fire (3/23/97)
Cereal Killer (3/15/97)
Dirty Thoughts (3/14/97)
Cellulite on the Net (3/13/97)
Stupid, Stupid Adults
I hate adults. Their yellow stained teeth, and donkey breath - breathing all over my once uncorrupted face. The older I get, the more they surround me. Their artificial smiles, and boring, mundane, predictable comments entering my once uncorrupted ears.
They want me in their world now. Sort of like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," only they're not after my body . . . they want my soul. They think it's time I become like them.
"Why don't you grow up?" They ask. "When will you act your age?" "You need to learn how to be responsible." And then they go off to their golf games, their committee meetings, their latest Lamaze session. Once there, they'll make make some boring, mundane, predictable jokes; and their boring, mundane, predictable friends will all laugh. "Oh, Bill - you're such a hoot."
Later on, if they can find a babysitter, and if they don't have to work the next morning, they'll head off to the supper club. Have a "few too many," just so they can remember what it felt like to be young. Alcohol lets them shed their boring, mundane, predictable skin for a few hours. And it feels good. But they have to be going; they need to pick up their kids, and lecture them about how drinking is wrong, and how they need to be more "mature." How they need to be boring, mundane, and predictable, like mom and dad.
Oh how I loathe them. They're all just an act. The older I get, the more they surround me. They want me to join them. They open their doors, but I'll never come in. I think this is one mother fucker that they won't corrupt.
I caught the stomach flu from a friend of mine, and puked a lot. I also shit a lot, but that's embarrassing to admit, because, like most of us, I must keep up the image of being a "shitless" human. So I guess I'll hide it (or, is it too late?). Anyway, I puked up all my seizure meds, about three times, which isn't a very good thing. Then I went into this weird kinda withdrawal/seizure/pain-in-the-ass thing that drove me smack dab into the middle of my very first near-death experience.
Why am I telling you this? Because the last thing I can remember thinking about before nearly dying is the movie "Crimson Tide." Why the FUCK would I be thinking about "Crimson Tide" before death?!? Everyone else has their life pass before their eyes, and I get some third-rate, "greatest clips" edition of some Jerry Bruckheimer/Don Simpson "Rah-Rah," USA rules flick?
Was this the "Generation Next" form of "dying with my boots on?" More importantly, is this what my life has come to? An overblown, testosterone drenched movie??? Is that all I'm worth???????? Then again, it could have been "Revenge of the Nerds 2."
People are freaks. Ever take the time to observe a HUMAN? To actually try and figure out what motivates them? People are idiots. Ever try to have a REAL conversation with someone you just met? Ever try to have a healthy debate with a person, over a political issue, without getting into a heated argument? Ever talk to a person who knows what a political issue is? People are power hungry. Ever watch how power goes to a person's head? Ever see the smile in someone's eye, when they're ABUSING that power? People are assholes. Ever watch how cruel people will be to others? How they'll pull one person out of a group, and pick on that individual until he or she BREAKS? Ever watch how easily a person will BETRAY you? But, more than anything, people are followers. If there was a sign reading "free lobotomies - be like everyone else!" I can guarantee there would be a line of humans from California to New York, just waiting to give their brains away (then again, there wouldn't be much to give, would there?). People want to fit in. They want to BELONG to something. People are nothing. I wish we'd just go extinct.
Taking Down Mr. Bill With American Express
There's nothing more annoying than buying new software, bringing it home, having it not work, and then calling up technical support, which is always long distance, and having them ask for your credit card number. Something about a lower-to-middle income person, such as myself, paying two or three-hundred dollars for a software product that's made by a multi-billion dollar company, and then having them charge me when their product doesn't work properly, seems like kind of a rip-off.
Imagine if you picked up a pizza, brought it home, and it had the wrong toppings. Then, to get a new one, with the correct toppings, the pizza place asked you to return the defective pizza to them, and proceeded to charge you for replacing the pizza. Would you stand for it? Not unless you're completely brain-dead (or Rush Limbaugh, which is sort of the same thing).
Yet, we buy a product from Microcock (better known as Microsoft), bring it home, have it not work, and are asked to pay them phone-sex like prices to have some big, fat know-it-all give us technical support. I think Microcock should pay us for their releasing of buggy products. I think they should pay us for having to spend hours on hold. I think they should pay us for having to endure years of looking at Bill Gates' nerdy face.
Speaking of Mr. Bill, what he gets paid in a single day could pay for all the tech. support calls Microcock receives in a year. But, instead, he's out buying really stupid looking glasses and getting amazingly goofy haircuts. So, to sum this whole thing up, next time a company asks you to pay for their mistakes, give 'em Mr. Bill's credit card number, and take down his monopoly, one faulty CD-ROM at a time.
It's not what's on the outside that counts, as long as there's no glasses
Ever seen the movie Sabrina? How about Superman? Friday the 13th part 7? What ties these, and thousands and thousands of movies and t.v. shows together? Glasses. Hollywood seems to have some twisted contact fetish.
Producers, screenwriters and directors obviously believe that under each homely face and pair of glasses lies a beautiful model. In the remake of Sabrina, Julia Ormond plays a "homely" (Hollywood must also believe there is no such thing as an "ugly" person. Well, there are some exceptions to the rule, namely Jon Lovitz, but you get the point.) woman, until she goes to France (or something), takes off her glasses, and comes back as a beautiful woman.
What does this say about Hollywood's grasp on reality? What does this do to the glasses industry? How many pairs of contacts have been sold because of these plotlines? And, lastly, if I started dating some ugly chick with glasses, would she give me an instant erection when I removed them? Maybe I should start stocking up on extra condoms.
Forget the wedding, I can't believe it's diet!
What's the deal with all these television ads lately? The ones where a human values his/her friend/lover/fiancée/wife/husband less than a can of Pepsi, or some other insignificant item. There's the one where three or four sexy girls hang out with this guy, until they empty out his bag of chips, then they leave him for the next Dorito-bearing dork. There's another where some girl gets left at the alter, and sits, crying, as her father tells her "he won't be coming back." Well, it turns out that her lost husband-to-be is insignificant to her, it's the great new taste of Diet Pepsi that has her all teary eyed.
Oh yeah, can't forget the Tostitos ads that started it all. The ones where Chris Elliott rips open a bag of chips and dip, to get a bank loan, and then everyone dances around like a bunch of idiots. After the idiotic dancing, Chris asks "so, do I get the loan?" and the bank dude goes "no, you don't get the loan," and everyone laughs and begins dancing around like dorks again, eating up the last of poor Chris's Tostitos.
Only rich executives would find the appeal in these ads. I can just imagine the president of the Pepsi-Cola company watching the ad where the fiancée's stood up at the alter, but is crying over how "amazing" Diet Pepsi tastes, and thinking, "it could happen." Maybe in the millionaire-dollar-a-day world of ad execs, people really do value products over human life. Still, I think the majority of us "common" folk just find it annoying. Now I better stop, before this rant starts having a message, or something. That would be scary.
Cute Vs. Ugly
Okay, we all know that a lot of people automatically assume good looking people are self-centered and stuck up, but does that also mean we think ugly people are selfless and full of love? I doubt it.
Okay, that was my thought. See ya tomorrow.
Sniff Any Good Butts Lately?
We humans like to think of ourselves as a pretty sanitary, wholesome specie. Certainly not the kind of animal that would lower itself down to the level of sniffing another's butt (well, my ex-fiancée might, but that's a whole 'nother thought all together). Ironically, we basically do just that, every single day.
How do humans sniff each other's butts? Two words: small talk. Just like a couple of dogs, trying to become acquainted with one another, we have to sniff around a bit, make sure the other person smells okay, before pulling our noses out to risk talking about something more challenging than the weather.
"Nice day, isn't it?" *sniff* *sniff* "heard we're 'sposed ta get rain tonight" *sniff* *snort* "Gonna watch the game tomorrow?" *sniff* "So, where do ya work?" *sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiff* Afterward, if the answers to our butt-sniffing questions don't suit us, we throw out an insincere "see ya later" and go on with our day. But, if we do like the scent of the verbal-fumes that we're inhaling, maybe we'll ask the person out for a cup of coffee.
So, the next time you look at your boyfriend, or girlfriend, husband or wife, try and remember the delicate butt-sniffing moments the two of you had. It's very romantic, and might give you some stories to amuse the grandkids with. A couple nice little tales to tell when they're sniffing your butt someday.
Jesus Versus the Easter Bunny
Well, here comes Easter. Yet another Holiday where we convince children there's some strange fictional character bringing them presents. Santa Claus is weird enough but, how can you POSSIBLY take Jesus dying, and then coming back to life, and then dying again, and then coming back to life, and then dying a few more times and then going to Heaven and equate it with colorful eggs and a dorky bunny?
Why don't we just have images of Jesus hopping around, giving out candy? Or like, on Christmas, God comes down our chimney and gives us material goods? What's up with all this fairy tale crap?
So, think for a moment? Who would you rather have delivering your Easter-basket? Jesus, or the Easter Bunny? Cast your ballot here.
I'm all Scared Now
Do you think I'll go to Hell for that last thought?
Liar Liar, Brimstone and Fire
I just saw the movie "Liar Liar" today and, it got me to thinking, what if a Catholic Priest had to tell nothing but the truth for one whole day? Church would probably get so exciting, people would actually attend it. On the way in, while the Father greets his flock, you'd get a veritable shopping list of sins. "Hey, Bob, still cheating on the wife?" "Hi, Charlie, sobered up yet?" "Hey, Bill-my man, what's up? How's the impotence?"
And, communion would take on a whole 'nother dimension, too. "Piece of dry bread . . . Piece of dry bread . . . what the HELL is that on your tongue . . . Piece of dry bread . . . ooh, you should really do something about that breath of yours . . . piece of dry bread . . . piece of dry bread."
The actual sermon might just include a bit more hellfire and brimstone than the average person (excluding Born Again Christians) are used to. "Translated, what the Lord is actually saying is 'YOU'RE ALL GOING TO HELL!'"
Then again, this thought probably comes from my childhood daydreams. I always thought it would be kinda neat to just watch the priest do something crazy like, shoot an alter boy, or something. Um, wait, that IS a normal boyhood fantasy, right? *gulp*
What's up with all these cereal companies constantly putting out new and "improved" flavors of their cereals? I know it's a publicity stunt but, if kids had any damn tastebuds, it should really be a publicity DISASTER. Lucky Charms was a perfectly great cereal. It was frosted, it was charming and, damnit . . . it made a person feel lucky. Then, one day, they added "new . . . BRIGHTER marshmallows." That day, Lucky Charms should have changed its name to "Frosted Lucky Shit," "it's magically horrific." ICK! That stuff has so much food coloring now, it made my feces green for a week. I went to the doctor to explain my techno-colored bowel movements and, the first thing he asked me was "you been eating that frosted lucky shit again, Alex?" Of course I said "yes," paid up my $1,000 hourly visit fee and, went home. An even BIGGER disgrace is the new and "improved" Trix. ICKY-ICK! The flavor is so ENTIRELY different, it's basically a new cereal with a familiar name. The way it tastes now, it's new catch-phrase should be "Trix are for FREAKS." By changing the flavors of our favorite cereals, the cereal manufacturers are basically taking away the root of America. This country was founded on Corn Flakes and became the powerful nation it is based on Captain Crunch (which added "new . . . BRIGHTER Berries!"). If we are to just change the flavors of our favorite cereals, what's next? Shoes that glow in the dark? Oh-oops, well, you get the point.
Why do we call movies with a lot of sex in them "dirty?" The word would seem a more appropriate title for a Republican convention or something. Is a videotape containing sex really dirty? I've destroyed hundreds of tapes and wasted about a million headcleaners trying to find out.
After years, I've decided that videos with sex aren't any dirtier or cleaner than the ones without. I actually found a few more specks of dirt in the Lion King video than I did in the hardcore porno Lactation Nation (which, in theory, should have been about the dirtiest tape ever). And, what about dirty money? Does dirty money contain nudity? Is there a picture of George Washington's schlong hanging out or Abraham Lincoln spreading his buttocks? Why is it that the Republicans receive so much more dirty money than the average Joe?
This, once again, brings up an eerie correlation between
the Elephant party and all things containing filth. Looking at all the facts, you would be
forced to conclude that it is indeed conservatives that are "dirty." So, next
time, instead of asking somebody whether they vote Democrat or Republican, ask if they
vote Democratic or Dirt. Well, since Bill Clinton is the President, once
again this term, I 'spose, for the 1996 presidential election, you would have to ask
someone if they voted for Dirt#1 or Dirt#2, but that's a whole 'nother tangent altogether
(I voted for Ralph Nader).
Cellulite on the Net
Why does it seem that every female that goes on-line is "a little overweight?" I've met lots of cyber-friends in chat-rooms over the last couple of years and, whenever we get to that classic "describe what you look like" moment, any female I talk to will go through their facial-features, hair-color, height, body-odor and/or whatever else and then, when all is said and done, they will invariably proclaim ". . . and, I'm a little overweight." I'm looking forward to the day where I'm chatting with a girl and she says "I have long, brown hair, a few freckles, I'm about 5 feet tall and REALLY FUCKING FAT." Or, a fair-cyber-damsel will tell me "I'm about 5'5, I have medium-length, blonde hair, buck-teeth and I'm REALLY SMALL and SCRAWNY."
I don't believe there's anything wrong with being "a little overweight" but, can't we have any variances in the world of cyber-space? Excluding the cybersex-rooms, where a bunch of horny-guys sit around and tell one-another that they're sexy-blondes with big boobs, I have never heard a female claim she's skinny, average or huge. She's just "a little overweight."
But never fear, I think I may have just found the answer (and, that's what you're here for right?) maybe we can ditch all the Playboy's, Hollywood-stereotypes and JCPenny Catalogs. Maybe we can accept that "a little overweight" is actually average. That's it, everyone, buy the man a cookie! None of these girls are "a little overweight," these girls are AVERAGE but just making up for years of being told that, if you weigh more than 98 pounds, you're FAT.
You can remind me how thoughtless my thoughts are at: firstname.lastname@example.org
These thoughts are ©1997 Alex Sandell although, I don't know why the hell you'd wanna copy them, anyway.
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