solopipe

fuck the iphone, i just found the coolest gadget to come around since the refrigerator. introducing, the solopipe. it’s all you need! (also features a cute blonde who sounds like she’s been smoking longer than she’s been alive). anyways, my birthday is august 19th. hint hint.

the solopipe. it’s all you need.

ipwned

here is a good example of how to underestimate your market audience.

tetris cube for an iphone

however, if you take a look at the products imagination games creates, it’s easy to see why they think their target market is nothing but special ed. students. these games do look appealing…if i were the kind of person that needed a bib to eat cereal. perhaps they were expecting users more like her (clearly the feminine object pronoun already denotes a significant drop in intelligence). way to ruin the fake demo meredith! now everyone knows how nbc employs cheap marketing gimmicks to fool the masses.

cars worth trading in your child for

i was bored today and decided to check out some sweet rides. here’s what i came up with.

audi r8

this car reminds me of a woman. the kind that doesn’t need words to let you know you have no shot.

jaguar cx-f

this car actually reminds me of a jaguar. the side view mirrors look like ears.

ferrari 599

i watched this car being made from scratch on a discovery channel documentary and since then, i’ve been in love.

bmw neiman marcus limited edition individual m6 convertible

50 were made and all were sold in a record 00:01:32.

each of these cars not only lets the ladies know that you’re a refined gentleman with mountains of cash, but also that they should expect to be turned over a few times in bed.

dream log #2: capture

another weird dream last night. extremely unusual in format and story, at least for me. this log will not be as prolix as the previous, since i don’t remember it as well. i heard that sigh of relief, ass.

i go to a bar with a friend, we get drunk. the bartender is really hot, i think she’s a celebrity, but i don’t remember which one. i black out. i wake up at home next day. parents explain i was caught in car smoking pot by cops. they indict and convict me of an obtuse felony. i get no trial. i have one day before i have to report for transport to prison. i’m freaking out. also, i find out i slept with hot bartender, however, the hot bartender turns out to be my long lost evil-sister, even though she looks like a celebrity, possibly brooke langton, that chick from the replacements. i reel in disgust and hatred at the hot bartender. i’m very distressed at going to jail. i’m not sure if it’s all real. i ask to see proof and documentation. parents show me. i begin to realize the gravity of several months of jail time. i freak out. i wake up. i think, ‘o good, it was just a dream, i don’t have to go to jail’. i’m actually not awake. in new dream, i awake from old dream to have parents explain it wasn’t a dream. i still have to go to jail. i freak out even more now, because i think i’m really awake this time. i go over everything i have to do before going to jail. i’m very angry at mums for no reason. i think i blame her for giving me over to the law so easily. she cries. i yell at her not to because she doesn’t deserve to. i think about my girlfriend. i want to see her before leaving, but i also have to attend some strange mandatory test-prep course. i have no time. i’m extremely upset. i miss her. no choice though, i go to attend test-prep. it has a pretentious fat lady as teacher, teaching two uptight teacher’s pets. the kind of students that live off the smell of the large intestines and are overly prepared for every small task relegated to them. the kind that think value is assigned somehow only by people of authority, no matter how idiotic or off-kilter the authority is. you know who you are, you straight A students that couldn’t break 1400 on the SATs. this is a nightmare for me. i wish nothing more than to strangle them all to death. then i wake up.

i’ve never believed so strongly in a dream before. i was very scared of going to jail. i think i was more scared in my dream than i would have been if i were lucid and awake. strange.

moral compass – quit your preaching

recently, i posted a video about a starving child and charity. it was funny, i think. however, some people may say it was distasteful. go shove it up your ass, some people. i have been known to be callous and insensitive, laying down little sympathy for others, but i would now like to discuss why my lack of concern for starving children and war torn nations is completely appropriate. the problem with charity is that it’s measureless. it’s only value lies in human perspective. there is no objective measurement of utility for which we can gauge the fundamental worth of compassion and altruism. that being so, there is no measure of how much charity is enough charity, thereby making every charitable being on earth who donates to others as a ’selfless’ gesture, a hypocrite. because of the objectively valueless nature of charity, no one can ever say that they have given enough. if you can donate $10, why not donate $15? if you can donate $15, why not donate $10,000? and then consider who you’re donating to and what you’re trying to accomplish. are you trying to save those starving children in africa? well, they subsist on around $1 a week, so, until you live like that, there is still more you can be doing to help their situation. you can donate your entire salary to them. you can sell your car, sell your house, live in the streets. there is an infinite amount of sacrifice you can make for others and in the end none of it means anything. what have you truly accomplished after sacrificing your life for theirs? you’ve added one more impoverished person to the world. i haven’t even taken into account the implementation of the money you’re donating. you spend it all, thinking you’ve made a difference, but you will never know where that money goes, or who it helps. the fact is that that is absolutely fine with the average tight-assed do-gooder. the truth is that they don’t want to save anybody, they simply want the satisfaction of knowing they saved somebody. how much they contribute is a measure of how ignorant they are of their own ineffectiveness. the more ignorant you are of things, the faster you’re appeased. the less ignorant you are, the more in-depth you will go to save others. in the end, however, it is still a matter of appeasing your own desire to feel good about yourself. some might say, ’so what? you’re still helping others, that’s what matters.” to you i say, keep your mouth shut if you don’t know enough to contribute. you clearly don’t grasp the concept of objectivity. helping others is not what matters because as i’ve already explained, altruism is measureless. it matters only through human perspective. the planet cares little for dying children in africa. the sun shines regardless of the conflicts in the middle east. nothing changes but our own experience. nothing objectively ‘matters’. now, am i saying that everyone should stop being charitable? of course not. what i would like to see is charity becoming recognized as an egocentric matter. we do it for ourselves. i am not wholly uncharitable. i will be kind and offer my aid when the emotion strikes me strongly enough to force my hand. if a man came to my door, with an unconscious child in his arms, begging me for water, i would gladly share it with him. i am not without a heart. however, i do it because the emotions at the time are so strongly compelling that i would not be able to turn a blind eye to them. i do it to appease my own conscience, not because it’s what’s ‘right’. i don’t believe in investing my time and energy into a cause that itself holds no true value to me when i can easily enjoy myself in other activities. i will not extend my efforts beyond that which my emotional response calls for. to do so would be an utter waste of time and an act of futile immaturity. if saving the world was truly what made you happiest, beyond anything else in life, then i would expect to see you on the next plane to africa with a peace corps badge and a ‘for sale’ sign up on your lawn, but saving the world is not what makes you happy. thinking your altruism puts you on a pedestal above others is what makes you happy. satisfying the unavoidably nagging sense of duty is what makes you happy. these are instinctual emotions built to facilitate human survival. however, that pedestal is artificial. your worth is no greater than that of the money whoring executives of enron. your bodies are still made of the same chemicals and the plants on this planet will just as easily digest your corpse as they would any other. value garnished from altruistic behavior is completely perspective and ultimately valueless, just like the behavior itself. so please, don’t tell me what’s right and wrong, because in reality, you don’t know. no one does.

why should you care?

made this w/ a buddyi see your point, santa

dream log #1: fleeing

unbelievably realistic dream i had last night.

my girlfriend and i are in an unnamed country in the middle east, probably afghanistan, and are wandering a major city street. american military presence is strangely absent. we window shop, looking towards street vendors and convenience stores. the city appears to be more modern than i would assume afghan cities to be, however, i’ve never been so, i don’t know. suddenly, i hear people yelling down the street, and then, gunshots. i look and see a truck full of men with AK-47s driving towards us. people are scattering, running inside, hiding. i grab my girlfriend’s hand and lead her into the nearest building. there’s a counter to the left immediately inside. there’s a couch and recliner a few yards to the right, facing a tv that’s running the news. i lead her to the couches, and there i tell her to crouch behind a couch. i kneel down and cover her with my body, hoping this decision is enough to keep us alive. then i look up and notice an old woman sitting in a couch near us. she looks down at us and i peer back, we are both silent. i hear the truck drive by, and men running along behind it, yelling in a foreign language, arabic, farsi, idk. they shoot their guns into the air. they pass the building we’re in. i feel slightly relieved, which is short-lived as the old woman gets up and runs to the door, yelling something out to the street. i don’t know what’s going on, but i don’t imagine it is good. i grab my girlfriend and tell her to get up and follow, and whatever she does, stay low. i look around and see a door in the back. we rush to it, our backs bent forward, heads tucked in. i look and see that it leads into a stair well. i close the door behind us and lock the conveniently located bolt lock. on the other side of the stairwell is another door that appears to lead outsides. i walk to it and look out. there’s a parking lot just beyond it and i think that we might be able to make a run. i open the door slightly and am about to lead my girlfriend out, when from the corner of my eye, i spy a man with an AK, walking away from the building, apparently patrolling. i quickly and quietly hold my girlfriend back, as i slowly shut the door again. i turn around and start making my way up the stairs. we make it to the second floor, which happens to be the top floor, and i look through the door window. there are no armed men, just a main room with a hall way full of open door frames. i open the door and we walk through, looking around carefully. we start walking down the hall, peering through the open doors as we do, and slowly, i begin to realize that we are in a hospital of some sort. i think it might be a mental facility. it’s full of people in gowns, walking around, slowly, droning about their day. some are in their rooms sleeping. others are just up, doing whatever. there seems to be no security. i lead my girlfriend around, and figure we can hide in one of their rooms. i look around and i find a room with a boy our age who looks caucasian, sitting and drawing. i walk in and ask him if we can join him. he agrees and we sit down next to him at the table where he’s drawing. we talk with him, because he apparently knows english. the conversation was vague and unmemorable, however, though i am hazy on this detail, i do believe i ask him why he’s in the facility and he tells me he suffers from a disease i can’t remember, probably because it’s not real and was just garbled gibberish, but i take it to be something that has to do with eyes or sight, not in the physiological sense, but psychologically, as in he has a mental disorder related to eyes or sight. his name is john, or joe maybe. as we start to explain to him about us, i begin to feel nervous, slightly tense. i’m not sure if we can trust him. i vividly imagine that he attacks me with his pencil, going after my eyes, all as i’m sitting peacefully across the table from him. my girlfriend carries on conversation as i walk over to one of the two beds in the room. eventually, i fall asleep on the bed, and when i wake up, my girlfriend is lying next to me. i lean over and kiss her neck and whisper that i think the men with guns have probably left. she turns to me and says that john (or joe or w/e) had already told her the men had left. i smile and hug her. then i wake up.

this was very likely a culmination of my watching huff, apocalypto, and my ongoing interest in the middle east.

henry ‘lego’ ford

this is sicker than a boy with leukemia. that’s hella ill, son! i mean, sure i could do the same thing in about 1/100 of the time, but only because of my engineering genius.

vroom vroom mf’ers!

omg, i want an iphone shuffle

get ready apple freaks, i’m about to blow your minds, and then some. introducing apple’s product plans for the 2008 fiscal year!

if that’s not the sexiest phone you’ve ever seen, then you clearly live in south korea. who cares if you can’t dial the numbers you’re trying to call, it’s a single button. that’s called style.

election 2008

voting is important. change happens slowly, and you have to constantly work to keep it rolling in the direction you want. i don’t like gays and their butt-fucking ways. can’t i get a president who will kill all the gays? not likely, but maybe if you push in that direction, and keep at it, one day, maybe not in your life time, but someday, your children might live in a gay free world. what’s that? you hate blacks? well, if you vote for a white man with a background in snobby white southern business, or anyone who boasts an elephant pin on their lapel, you’re taking a step closer to exiling all those lazy blacks from america. it’s hard work, figuring out the candidates that fit your needs, but if you want change, you have to do it. luckily, some places make it easier for you. i recently found this site and it helped me gain insight into which 2008 presidential candidates are best suited to facilitate my dreams of being an upper-class millionaire, ordering a legion of underpaid laborers to do the work i’m unwilling to bother with, all so i can support a lavish and luxurious lifestyle with my close friends, and preferably the top 25 most beautiful models in the world. it also stimulated growth in my bald spots, helped me lose 47 lbs, increased my focus and memory, and even enlarged my penis. check it out if you don’t believe me. take the quiz, and in 15-30 days, you will see instant results. but seriously, take it and learn something. i’m not gonna be dramatic and tell you that the fate of the free world rests in your hands, because bono has that all under control, but you do have the power to push for slight changes that may evolve into reforms that heavily impact your life in the future and the lives of your family and friends. do the right thing. learn a new trick. when the time comes, vote.

http://www.selectsmart.com/president/2008.html

this isn’t the only research you should do. it’s just a good way to get started. once you find your political champions, learn a few things about them. make sure they don’t dress up in leather and fuck filipino ladyboys on the weekends, or do, whatever floats your boat. what’s important is to understand what your choices are and what they stand for and whether they can help you get knee deep in pussy, the fine brazilian variety that’s so poor, she’ll fuck you simply because you’re a middle-class american. those are the best kind because poverty dissolves inhibitions.

fyi: i got barack obama (63%) and al gore (62%)!