Yes it's long...no, you don't have to read it

"Jike strode into Clarence’s station, his arrival trumpeted by the thud of the metal door striking the plastic stopper. Jike scanned the store and took in its sights and smells. Coolers of beer, soda and trendy energy drinks. Walls of overly-sugared and salted treats. Sandwiches tarrying to serve as meals for those who do not consider taste, nutritional content or personal safety when managing their intake. Jike finished his inventory with the wall of cigarettes, and the two filthy men arguing in front of it.

“I don’t care, the name’s gotta go.”

Jike slowly moved toward the soft drinks, stealing frequent glances at Clarence.

“But Clarence, it’s been Melville for over 60 years. What’re we gonna call the place?”

Jike took one more quick look as he ducked down, opened the glass door and grabbed a Refresher. He cracked it open and took a drink in one swift movement.

“Don’t care, just not Melville.”

“Just what in the hell is so bad about it?”

Jike smiled and moved to join the polemics at the counter.

“One, Melville never set foot in the town couldn’t give two craps about us…”

“Clarence, you are conscious of the fact that this municipality was incorporated a mere fifty-one years after the novelist’s death are you not?” asked Jike.

“Shut up boy! Where’d you get that Refresher?”

“I simply glaumed it from the infrigidator. You may subtract it from my wages.”

“Goddamnit! Put it back. You’ve eaten your last three checks and you owe me $43.60 more! Why do you have to talk like such an idiot? And yes, Goddamnit, I know that they named the stupid town after Melville was dead, but I meant that he wasn’t from here and never wrote about the area or nothin’ like that.”

Jike calmly stared at his employer. “If it weren’t a sin, I would wager that you have not even so much as skimmed the pages of Moby Dick, much less his poetry, short stories or letters. How can you possibly know that Melville did not have a special place in his heart for Wisconsin? Speaking of sin, I find it somewhat perturbing that I shall not see you again after this life is ended due to the fact that your flesh will be burning and you will be enduring the torment of wicked beasts for all eternity as a permanent tenant of Hades. You took the Lord’s name in vain twice in the course of one ignorant rant. And speaking of speaking, I find it especially ironic that you would refer to my vernacular as ‘stupid’ when the very phenomenon responsible your anger is your fear. The circumstance that is instigating your fear is your ignorance. As people like you often confound ignorance with stupidity, you remarking that I, ‘talk stupid’ is the very epitome of ignorance as well as stupidity itself. Oh, the irony is gummous.”

The third man piped up, “He’s a retard, but he’s got a point. Have you read every goddamned letter that Melville ever sent? Do you know of every goddamned train he ever got on? How do you know that Melville didn’t love the goddamned place?”

“Everybody shut up! Do you know what a person from Melville is called? A Melvillian. It’s got the goddamned word ‘villain’ right in it. We’re a town full of villains that happily accept everybody else’s shit…literally! That’s it. I ain’t gonna debate it no more. The name’s gotta go. And you, fat boy, put the Refresher back and get to work, goddamnit.” Clarence yelled.

“I’ve already consumed nearly half of this callibogus. How could I possibly put it back now?”

“It’s not a goddamned ‘callibogus’. It’s a goddamned soda and you better find $45 or find another job, you fat little turd.”

“You may subtract it from my wages.”

“Shut up. We’re gonna go and get a coffee.”

“There’s coffee right here Clarence,” said Jike, motioning to the counter.

“We’re gonna go get a coffee that hasn’t been there all goddamned day, and isn’t setting next to you.”

“Again, you realize that you’re going to Hell?”

Clarence rolled his eyes as he motioned violently with his head for his friend to follow him across the street. The two men strolled off quickly, leaving Jike to languish behind the register."







If you'd like to read the other 90,000 words, please send annual payments of $72,000 to my attention.

It's a simple question

Which is the larger number: 60% or 2/3?

This isn't a trick or a riddle. Twice in the last week someone has told me that they aren't very good at math, so I asked them this simple question in order to see just how bad at math they are. The first person answered incorrectly and really had no idea how to figure out the answer (if it isn't readily apparent). The second person answered correctly, but then completely blew it when trying to explain.

Both of these people are college graduates (and presumably finished the fourth grade). It's not like I am all that great at math myself - I'm not trying to imply that I am or to feel superior to anyone. I just can't believe that there are reasonably intelligent adults that can't answer that question.

You Decide!

Sting of Nostalgia

I'm not much for emotion. Most of them are just annoying to me. However, when I found this picture while going through a gigantic file marked "personal" it nearly made me cry. Couple that with the fact that my recent birthday was so bad that it replaced the one that inspired me to write a song called "Worst Birthday Yet" and all signs are officially pointing me home. I just hope that at least some of it still looks like it did when I left.

Storytime

Once upon a time (six months ago) I lived in a small suburb of a moderately sized midwest city (now I actually live within the city limits of the same moderately sized midwest city - Movin' on up!). It was a decently well kept suburb and my neighborhood was mostly filled with your average middle class people. There was one family, however, that I would consider to be a bit trashier than the rest (no, not me - I put up a nice facade). I lived in a circle at the top of a hill and three houses counter-clockwise around the circle lived the trashy family. It seemed as though neither of the parents worked, their yard was never kept up (another neighbor mowed their lawn a few times because he was sick of looking at it), and the police visited a few times on domestic disturbances calls. So yeah, one of those families.

Anyway, one fine spring day I was sitting in my living room watching television. I noticed that the kids from the circle (including several from the trashy house) were playing baseball in the street - my house would have been their left field wall. They weren't actually using a baseball, but some kind of hard rubber ball. I watched them for a while and they ran through my yard several times to get their ball - no big deal. But then I noticed that the left fielder kept running through a flower garden that we had planted in the yard to get the ball, when he easily could have gone around. So I said something. My wife was semi-appalled and called me a grumpy old man yelling at the neighbor kids to stay off his lawn, but it wasn't really like that. The kid ran through the garden and ended up right under the window, so I asked him not to run through the flowers. I was even polite. But, of course, it scared the shit out of the kid, who wasn't expecting a voice to come from the house.

So, the kid apparently runs back in and tells his dad that I yelled at him. But the dad is a huge coward and doesn't want to confront me. Instead he comes out and picks up the bat and tells the kid to throw a pitch. The guy points his bat at my window - calling his shot. I was actually hoping that he would break one of my windows, because it would have been fun to fuck with him over it. Instead, after all his bat waving and posturing, he swings as hard as he can and pops the ball high up in the air. But not towards my house. The ball came down squarely on the roof on my next-door-neighbor's car, which was parked in his driveway, and set off the alarm. This, of course, was even better than what I'd hoped would happen. The trashy guy lived up to his reputation and dropped the bat and ran inside like a coward before my neighbor came out of his house.

Our Gang

This is just unbelievable. I find the candidate's stupidity as offensive as her comment, to tell you the truth. How is it possible that she could be that dumb? What possible outcome was she hoping for when she made that remark?

Politicians (I am totally non-partisan: they all suck) continually do things that elicit this reaction from me. Their job security depends on good public relations. No matter how good a lawmaker may be at the lawmaking portion of their job, they will not be a lawmaker for long if they continually put their foot in their mouth (or if they attempt to pay an undercover cop to put his dick in their mouth). Is it too much to ask for them to restrain their stupidity while they are in public?

I have similar feelings about professional athletes. They won the genetic lottery and many get paid millions of dollars to play games. Why would they risk fucking that up by carrying loaded weapons into airports, or participating in dogfighting, or drinking and driving? What an incredibly stupid risk to take.

My New Video Game!

So I've come up with a new video game that's a cross between an Mmorpg and a Battlefield 1942-like online action game. Check out the details!

The game takes place on earth several hundred years from now and Earth is divided into 3 factions. Players can choose one of two factions when they create their characters and level up by fighting battles untill eventually they become the most powerful players on the planet! All action is real time twitchy player skill based, but the player can level up to power up his weapons and abilites.

The three factions are:
1. U.S.-China-Japan Commercial Concern (UCJCC)
2. United Socialist Republics of Europe (USRE)
3. The African Union (AU, non-player neutral faction, gaining points with them can help you on the battleground)

UCJCC controls North America and non-Russian Asia.
USRE controls Europe, Russian Asia, Australia and S. America.
AU controls Africa.

Resources are important in the game and several player classes are devoted to gaining and delivering resources. Resources include ammo, armor, food, powerups, tools and other items that players will need on the battleground.

There are ten player classes to choose from. Each player faction has a unique class. Each class has unique abilities to help her faction on the battleground, and all factions will be necessary from true victory on the battlfield.

Player Classes Are:
Ninja: (UCJCC only) Infiltrates enemy lines to assasinate personell.
Pirate: (USRE only) Infiltrates enemy lines to steal resources.
Driver: Drives supply vehicles to the front (trying not to get killed) and eventually gets to drive tanks in battle!
Mechaneer: Controls mechs and robots that can take on the roles of other classes.
Pilot: Flies planes in either recon, bombing, or dog fighting roles.
Anti-Air: Focuses on destroying enemy aircraft and placing strategic decoy placements.
Rifleman: Specializes in firearms mastery
Mauler: Specializes in melee mastery
Grunt: Proficiency in ranged and melee combat, mastery of neither.
Medic: Heals battle damage and applies preventative buffs in battle.

90% of all game time occurs on the battleground, from level 1 on. Players earn XP by completing battlefield objectives. Winning low level battles helps the high levels in that faction, so even the newbie can help win the battle!


Well whattya think? Sound fun?

Abort, Abort!!! Yeah that's right, it's an abortion!!!

To quote Mark Oliver Everett, “I hate a lot of things, but I love a few things. And you are one of them.”

I am pretty sure that every industry has at least one product per generation that is the result of a dare. You know, something like:

“Hey fellow high-fashion eyewear industry executive?”

“Yeah Dawg?”

“I bet you can’t get women in Montana to walk around in public wearing enormous goggles.”

“You’re on, bitch!”

Man, do I hate those sunglasses that women are wearing nowadays. Ladies – no matter how attractive you happen to be, when you’re wearing these $138 sunglasses every heterosexual man within a 30 mile radius and I are thinking about this man. Please believe me, you are not doing yourself any favors.

There have to be a million examples of dare-related fads. Here are a few more of my guesses:

If you’re really, really hot and you just want to go to the mall without desperate erection-plagued men showering you with gifts and marriage proposals every step of the way, you should wear one of these. It’s absolutely guaranteed to drive away all but the most perverted among sexual sociopaths…the guy who makes lewd suggestions to pregnant chicks. That’s right – you can feel free to trollop from one mini-station of capitalism to another disguised as a woman who is seven months pregnant…and has terrible taste in clothes. Now there’s nothing wrong with pregnancy. I’ve witnessed the glow of pregnancy emitting from more than one female in my day. Pregnant women can be attractive. They can also be successful and athletic. However, I have never heard a woman say, “Oh God, I just wish I looked like I did when I was pregnant!” Except of course when they verbalized the equivalent of this expression, “I love this fucking baby doll top!” at the mall the other day.

...so I got about that far in the first draft of a column for the West Virginia Surf Report when I stopped to take a break and read this. Stupid Maddox. What really, really sucks is that his was funnier.

Labels Poetry

Lazy old people probably will have sex with you young people, sisters.
Labels suck half of the truth.
Emoticon's goals: No longer a fat guy.

24 in 1994

This is a link to a video.

http://www.engadget.com/2007/11/09/24-in-1994-the-lost-pilot/

It will remind old people who think they're still young people that, well, no. You're not. Save the bit about the pace of technological change, too. Only old people say that.

Answering Your Biggest Questions About Me

Hi. Thanks for all the questions. Here are the top three:
Q: Are you still a really, really fat guy?
A: No. I am no longer fat at all. Thanks for asking.

Q: A long time ago I declined an offer from you for sex. I declined mostly because you were so fat. I'd now like to reconsider. Will you have sex with me now?
A: Probably...

Q: Why don't you provide labels for your post?
A: Mostly because I don't care if people read it or not.

Well Okay Then

Just wanted to say that I am here. I was going to write a long entry that talked about stuff, but then I couldn't get my camera phone to work. So yeah...hey Walker, Can you say motherfucker on this blog?

But When Do I Get Paid?

Wait, you mean to tell me we're in this for the love of blogging? Aw, man!

Also, I use emoticons when I blog ;)

Get used to it sisters!

What If I Tried This...

this is g&tPOP.
I've never seen my letters in a blog. Here are all the bad-assed things i can do.

Hello... is this thing on?

Ok, Half of the Truth is a blog by four guys that enjoy writing and arguing, but are too lazy to maintain a website. We've each tried to varying degrees and each attempt now lays cold and dormant. If each one of us can post something to this blog whenever it strikes us, theoretically we each will on have to do 1/4 of the work of a normal blog, which is just about perfect for us. Our goal here is to entertain ourselves - and if others find their way here and enjoy reading what we've written, that's a bonus.