If you are a superhero who can FLY, and you are in a giant cathedral while federal agents are searching the pews for you, what do you do? Bear in mind that you can FLY.
A) You hide in the rafters.
B) You fly to the ceiling and crash out through a window.
C) You fly up, land behind the agents, walk out the damn door, and then fly off again.
D) You hide in a goddamned motherfucking confession booth from which there is no escape, hoping maybe that the person who discovers you has his own agenda and lets you go, which let's face it, would be luck of the dumbest kind.
If you chose D), you are Peter Petrelli, the stupidest character in prime time.
David Cronenberg has expressed interest in doing a sequel to Eastern Promises (true!).
Why?
My theory: there was not enough of Viggo Mortensen's bouncing testicles to satisfy the great director in the first film. The sequel will feature a box in the lower right corner of the screen, displaying a constant close-up detail of Viggo's junk. It'll be like closed-captioning, but with a cock-and-balls.
You heard it HERE!
You may be aware of this service called Twitter, a micro-blogging site which, according to the mainstream media, is swallowing our children's souls or something. I am part of the new micro-blogging revolution, and as a result my maxi-blog has been terribly neglected, for which I am sorry. Twitter is shiny and new, and Vox is comparatively old and busted. Thus are the cruel vicissitudes of the Internet.
There is a phenomenon of celebrity Twitterers, and I in general have a rule where I don't follow celebs, because they are for the most part vaccuous and self-serving Billy Hufsey-esque strokers of their own egos. However, a few are cool, and actually provide amusing content.
There are porn stars who use Twitter, and the one that I follow is Sasha Grey, for the simple reason that she is the greatest porn star in the world.
The interesting thing about her Tweets is that they are almost wilfully mundane, as if to say, "Hey, Internet wankers, I'm more than a dick-sucking machine." I appreciate this, especially in Grey's case, as she has proven that her ambitions extend beyond leather sofas and restroom floors. Good for her. If her Twitters were all about getting drilled in the ass, I probably wouldn't bother.
However!
Her role as a satisfier of selfish male sex fantasies will always be a part of her public image, no matter how many Stephen Soderberg movies she makes, so is it too much to ask that she mix just a LITTLE bit of smut into the feed? You know: "I went shopping and found the best pair of shoes, but not in my size! :( Then later, I sucked three cocks."
That would really be terrific.
If you were sent to prison for an undefined amount of time, what would you miss most?
Probably being able to masturbate in private.
Furthermore, ONCE AGAIN, VOX, fuck your fucking sponsored QotD's that graffiti your greed all over our blogs.
While being waved into a parking spot at the temple, shortly after talking about the Special Olympics.
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Me: Oh, look, they even have a "special" guy directing traffic.
Jill: No, Kevin, that's just a Boy Scout.
Jill, Nanda and I went to the Holi Festival, or the Festival of Colors, at the Krishna Temple today. I don't practice or believe in any religion, but she insisted that the Festival is a good time and that the temple is beautiful; both claims turned out to be true.
If you don't know what this fesival is all about, it's this: a bunch of hippies and teenagers gather together and throw colored powder on each other. I may possibly be simplifying things. I'm sure it's a celebration of life or Krishna or both, but mainly it's an excuse for people to throw green dust into strangers' faces without getting punched. At one point, a fellow walked by and said, "Here's some color for your beard," whereupon he massaged blue into my chin. Nobody was harmed.
Here's what I looked like upon our arrival:
A couple hours later, the hippies started going nutso:
The peace and harmony reigned until we got in the car to drive home, at which point everybody turned into a rude cunt. This angered me:
All in all, it was a good day, and I'm glad I went even if I'm still blowing dust out of my nose.
So, today Jill got a mystery envelope in the mail, and told me to close my eyes. Later, as I opened them, I saw that she was sliding an authentic Special Olympics medal over my head. She had bought it on eBay, and it appears to be a generic medal that you get for participation.
Now, the fact that she bought me my own Special Olympics medallion is of course incredibly cool (if insulting), especially with this whole hullabaloo about President Obama making a Special Olympics joke on The Tonight Show, but I can't help thinking about the back story.
This medal once belonged to an actual Special Olympian. The ribbon is faded, and the medal itself is scratched and cloudy, like an old coin. Is there a 45-year old guy with Down Syndrome somewhere who is now deprived of his medal? Am I wearing the medal of a dead retard? Did some special guy just decide that his glory days being behind him, he'd rather not possess this mocking reminder of his winning youth?
Who knows?
The point is that I now have the foundation element of the best Halloween costume ever.
Here's a photo of me looking a bit like a Special Olympian with my medal. In truth, I was only smiling this widely because Jill was having trouble with the camera.
I changed things so that it won't post my Twitters here anymore, and I deleted all the old Twitter posts. It was turning my blog into one of those blogs I hate, and plus, it was giving me the impression that I was posting content when I wasn't. So, if you want to read my Twitter, you'll have to actually join Twitter and follow my feed.
Maybe this will spur me into posting more interesting content here, like I used to before Twitter swallowed my soul.
1. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would it fit in my trunk?"
2. "Has the Rohypnol kicked in yet?"
3. "So, I read that most women prefer a below average to small-sized penis for anal sex. Guess who just hit the jackpot?"
4. "Is it hot in here, or is it just the cleansing fire I started in the restroom? BURN, SINNERS!"
5. "Could you help me? I need some assistance opening the cap on my Cialis prescription."
March 22nd is "As Young as You Feel Day," so show us something that makes you feel young.
