A Reclusive Life Doesn't Have To Be a Disengaged Life

I promise I am not complaining. Really, I am not, although it may sound like I am. In doing battle with pirates everywhere, I have recently been unable to avoid the question...

WHERE ARE ALL THE NINJAS???

I understand that we are difficult to pick out of a croud, and that we sorta specialize in the whole "solitary assassin" thing. If someone asked me, "hey, koalaMan, I am starting a ninja-union, do you want to join?" I would be like, "no way man! That's totally lame!" But really, you think that with my precision, my speed, and my general rage, I would sense a ninja from time to time, but the radar is pretty much flatlined these days, which is not cool at all.

Don't get me wrong, I am not scared of pirates. They are totally wusses, and ten pirates wouldn't stand a chance against even a modestly-adept ninja (say, one that has a weakness for the biscuits or something.) However, we do need to get down out of the tree, unsheath our shurikens and our laser guns, and get George Washington on their Martin Van Buren asses! Like the 8th president of the United States, pirates may be dense, hairy wusses, but also like ole' kinderhook, pirates stick together and help their own to get ahead. Furthermore, they have recently been demonstrating a disturbing aptitude for improving their image through various media, like music and cinema. Every day it seems like I see some person who seems okay at first, but then is like, "yeah, I love pirates! They are really cool!" Why? I think you know, and so I'll spare you the tirade. But seriously, ninjas-- time is short. Remember, especially while you Yanks are giving thanks today, that a real ultimate holiday is coming up, and then it will be time to show thanks. Flip out on a pirate. Eat a bagel (or a muffin) while wailin' on a scone-eater. Do something, anything, just to show that we're out there. We gotta start biting back, or we'll be drinkin' rum and reelin' like vermin before you know it.

Vengeance must and will be mine

Okay, so obviously, I had better apologize for not having gotten a post up for a year. To be honest, I was getting a bit too comfortable up in the tree. It seemed that we ninjas had the whole "pirate problem" under control. As if their insipid music weren't enough, their complete and utter aversion to electric guitars was a sure sign of bad taste. Yeah, life seemed good...

... but only because I had my head stuck up in my, err, tree!

The other day, while I was tryin' to rub the sleep and the blood from my most recent victim from my eyes, I heard one of my wee ones screamin' "arrrrrrrrrr....." What? What is this? I cannot be. "Little one," I asked, "what was that?" Surely she was just practicing her frisbee-folding techniques or something I thought, but again she yelled, "arrrrrrrrr....." To which I responded "What is that?"

The next thing I heard had me looking for a laser guided, scone-coated, frisbee of death.

"I'm a pirate daddy! arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....."

Okay, so it's like that now. Can't fight me wuss-to-marsupial, eh? Have to go after the Joey's huh? Well, now it's on. You know that look that women tend to get when you tell them that men are better drivers, or that barristas get when you tell them their espresso is almost as good as Starbucks? Well, that's me now. I am that barrista, and I am that women. Err, or not. But you get my point. I am totally pissed, and pirates are going to get hurt. And not just by me either. No, I am calling up the real ultimate ninja: George Freakin' Washington! Yeah, and we're going to put a hurt down on anyone who gets in our way. Pain is coming, and it's coming hard and fast. By flipping out and wasting pirates all over the world you can be sure: we are going to save children, but not save pirate children. Oh yes, make no mistake: the world's scurvy rate's are goin' down for sure.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, the Joey's are all fine now. I'll tell that story one day, but for now, I cannot make merriment until pirate faces are hurt.

VolksWagon VS Terrorism

Loin Life (Pant has moved to San Francisco )

I'm here.

I would like to start by apologizing for not posting EVER.
especially the post about the Thomas Kincade edition Lincoln Navigator: Im sure it would have been funny. I am hoping I will be writhing more.

We just moved stuff into our apartment on Tuesday, so we have been settling in, but it was not long before we saw some miniature Jello molded to the likeness of San Francisco.

meet my purpose-driven Louisville Slugger

Were we all made for a purpose? Sure. And what on Earth are we here for? Community of course. If I wanted to, I could explain to you the five pillars that support both of these claims. However, I would instead like to take a moment to introduce something else: my purpose driven Louisville Slugger.

This thing is long, slim, and can apply a total beat-down to any pirate, dog, old lady, or wannabe gangsta to which I may apply it. Unlike Pant's intellect, it cannot be stopped. Seriously, this thing is bona fide.

Like all important issues that you face in life, this bat's significance can be characterized by 5 central points, that is, it ROCKS:
1.)R: it Represents true ultimate power.
2.)O: it Opens a can of whoop ass on those who deserve it
3.)C: it is Cool and sweet and awesome and makes me want to crap myself
4.)K: it Kills anyone to whom it is applied
5.)S: it is Stealth, so that by the time it has struck, you are like, "WOW! I am totally dead!"

See, my bat ROCKS.

But if one person's bat rocks, then anyone can ignore that. But what if you, that's right, you were to apply these simple principals to your life? Then there would be two bats that rock. That's two purpose driven bats... imagine!

Now, let's keep this going. Lets say we had the whole of Chucktown totin' purpose driven bats. Imagine! We would all be like, "I am totally pissed! I wanna kill, kill, kill!", and so all the pirates would be crapping themselves, like, "Oh my god! We are so totally dead!"

Well, you get the idea. The nation, the whole world even, united under this simple ROCKS principal, then we would all be totally sweet, and all the pirates would be all beat up, and bloody, and not even dead, but like, "aw, man, this totally hurts! I would kill myself, but I am not even cool enough for that!"

And what a great sight that would be. But it all starts with you. And with me. I know that you probably have all sorts of complicated questions, but I assure you that it is really simple. Just go and do. Be purpose driven. Don't let questions and doubt get the better of you. If we all just go out and do it, then we cannot be stopped.

All clothing should be black

A thought occurred to me while stalking a crepe vendor the other day. Whereas I don't wear any clothing, I do notice the clothing of those around me. After all, humans all look alike to me, and so while instructing younger pastries, I'm all like "No, kill the one in the green shirt." What I've noticed is this: while so-called hipsters have been wearing vintage clothing for years, now all of the major clothing chains are selling faux "vintage" shirts. I'm talking like Abercrombie and Fitch 1972, or Old Navy hopscotch team and shit like that. It's kinda lame, but I am looking forward, in fifteen years time, to being able to go to the Salvation Army and purchasing a shirt that is both real vintage and fake vintage at the same time.

I despise younger pastries

I've been visiting the Violent Dismemberment Happy Bakery and Deli where I was born this week, and I'll tell you, I wasn't as disrespectful or obnoxious as the confections you see nowadays. First of all, what ever happened to just a regular, tasty, non-hugemongous, un-nasty muffin? VDHB and D is now full of some freakin' obese muffins. Just because you are a source of simple carbohydrates, that's no excuse for carbo-loading all the time you disgusting bran-piggies. Also, muffins should not smell like ham.
Another thing, I'm not a racist, but the music these doughnuts are listening to these days really get my filling. (Oh, I'm sorry, that's the REAL spelling, not your hip doughnut vernacular.) I'm just saying that the bakers really need to put their feet down; these delicious baked goods are fresh out of the oven and don't know what's up, they need guidance. Good thing they have an older brother to show them how to throw down. Me and some of the kiddies went on a field trip to assassinate some prominent squirrels in the area (I hate me some fuckin' squirrels). I brought the doughnuts, bearclaws, muffins, and croissants, but not the bagels, as they are a bunch of chewy momma's boys. We staged a daring midnight raid on a major squirrel stronghold, i.e. a big tree. We fought long, fought hard, and occasionally, fought well. By morning, the crack-addicted mammals lay defeated, and several pigeons too. Only half of my squad was killed by the squirrels, pigeons, and morning rush-hour traffic. If that price seems steep, bear in mind we come in pans of twelve.

it's a rough job, but someone's gotta do it

OK, so one thing is certain: no one wants to be the guy posting after the mountain that is " Cap'n Romeo the Lusty and Juliet-san." So, consider this the follow-on post. It was going to be a disappointment no matter what, so no loss.

Now that it's out of the way, maybe we can move on with our mortal lives.

Cap'n Romeo the Lusty and Juliet-san

ACT I
First Mate Mercutio: Argh, why be you bummed, Matey?
Cap'n Romeo: My damn ship sank and I lost my booty.
First Mate Mercutio: Suckage, she was hot.
Cap'n Romeo: Arrgg.

Later
Romeo: Methinks this parrrty sucks. It be a costume parrrty and everybody be garbed in the black of the Ninja. Harr.
Mercutio: We be at Clan Capulet's party, me matey.
Romeo: (eyes going wide) Avast! I'd like to be abonin' that wench.
Across the stage
Juliet-san: I'd like to sheath his katana. Hai!
Tybalt-san: Hmm, Pantaloons, scarves, he's either Axl Rose or a pirate, by damn. Hai!
Sensei Capulet: There's no place to plug in your electric guitar in this room. Slay him later. Hai!

ACT II
that night
Romeo: Ahoy! What wench through yonder window be-abreakin?
Juliet: Damn, I broke a window. Hai!
Romeo: Hi!
Juliet: WTF? Hai!
Romeo: Hi, already. Wanna feel the motion of the ocean?
Juliet: But you're a pirate! And I see you have a laser! It can never be!
Romeo: C'mon, you're like sixteen, where's your bad-boy complex? Gimme some sweet Rum.
they kiss
Juliet: I'll not be walking your plank tonight, but we'll meet tommorrow for some sweet carnage. Hai!
Romeo: Um, Hi. Tommorrow then, (yeah, sweet!)

the next day
Romeo: Ahoy, I'll be gettin' some later, I need my "deck swabbed". Aye, I've got warts with their own tattoos.
Robot Apothecary: Bzz, you have a very complicated case of VD. You have gonorherpsyphamydia. Beep, bring the female unit with you later, I may be able to inoculate her. [End of line]

later
Zombie Nursemaid: Brains?
Romeo: Yeah, I'm the scurvy dog (scurvier than you know). Tell the saucy wench to meet me at the family planning clinic at 2.
Zombie: Brains!!!
Romeo: I know she's a ninja dammit! But she's the only booty on my hidden map (sigh).
Zombie: Brains.
Romeo: I'm glad you understand. 2:00 then. Arrrgh.

again, later
Zombie: Brains!
Juliet: But I want to do him! Not in the assassination sense.
Zombie: Brains, Brains.
Juliet: Meet him at 2:00? I can't wait! Hai!

around 3:30 (pirates are always late)
Robot: Do you promise to use this topical cream every day?
Romeo: Argg!
Robot: Goto 10
Juliet: Hai!
Robot: I pronounce you momentarily non-contagious. You may kiss the female. [End of line]

Act III
around 3:37
Romeo: Arrrr, arrrr, arrrr, almost to port!
Juliet: Hai, Hai, Hai!
Romeo: Shiver me timbers!
Juliet: I'm trying, baby!
Romeo: Arrrgg, X marks the spot. So, get me a beer.

the next day
First Mate Mercutio: you be whack, fool!
Romeo: Wait, I'm confused. Are you black in this version too?
Mercutio: Whateverrr. She's a ninja from Clan Capulet, you stupid honky mutha.
Romeo: Arr, I care not, I shall never be separated from me booty again.
Mercutio: Tybalt-san's gonna cap yo ass. Arr.
Tybalt-san: There you are! Time to flip out! Hadoken!
Mercutio: Scurvy honky crackers! I'll be keel-haulin' you in hell! (dies)
Romeo: Wow! you're a dick. I'm the one sailing your cousin's waterways!
Tybalt-san: Nice blouse, bitch. Prepare to die. Hai!
Romeo: Wait, um, your guitar popped a string!
Tybalt: (looks away) WTF?
Romeo: Die scurvy dog! (lasers him) Oh no, my girlfriend is gonna be pissed!

ACT IV
Robot Apothecary: So you see, no pirate has ever killed a ninja. Therefore you are not a real pirate. You must leave town. [End of line]
Romeo: I'll not part from my booty!
Robot: Clan Capulet will kill you. Leave town and I will contact you later. BZZZ beep!

later
Juliet: He could not have been a real pirate! He lasered Tybalt-san!
Zombie Nursemaid: Brains.
Juliet: True dat, the exception that proves the rule. And Tybalt was kind of a dick. But this is all my fault! To redeem Tybalt-san's honor I must commit Seppuku, Hai!
Robot barges in.
Robot: Pirate unit wants to contact ninja unit. At his request I have developed water soluble frisbees. Commit Seppuku with this and go into a meditative trance until Cap'n Romeo pours water down your throat. You honor Tybalt unit and can still tap that ass. [End of line]
Zombie: yay! Brains!
Juliet: Yes, a worthy idea! Hai!

After Zombie and Robot leave, Juliet-san shoves frisbee into face until it is no longer visible.

Act V
Lame Italian pirate on moped: Yo Cap'n Romeo, your booty's getting buried.
Romeo: Arrgh! It's drivin' me nuts! (Sails offstage.)
Robot: (Enters stage and looks around frantically) Must transmit plan. Error, Error.

the next day
Juliet lies dead on a bier, Romeo sails in.
Romeo: Yo, ho! She lies destined for Davy Jones' locker. Bummage. (Pulls out laser and bottle of rum) A drink for me (downs a swig) and my wench (pours some rum down her throat). Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! (lasers self)
Juliet: (Awakening after several minutes) Gawd, it's a funeral, can't he EVER wear black? Wait, he used to have a head. Oh no, no! (Flips out and kills self. Fails to wail on electric guitar.) Hai!
With thanx to Guttervoice,
Pirate/Ninja Relations Liason.

less flipping out, more killing

So the other day, as climbed back up into the tree after a long day of tripping out in between naps, I was greeted by the sight of two of the lil' joey's sitting quietly on their "time out" branches. "What'd they do this time?" I asked. "They were saying 'HIYYYAAA!' in the tree," my mate said. I was shocked. "So What?" I asked. Are you trying to sissify them by crushing their will to flip out?" "No," she replied, "I just want to teach them good values, you know, raise them right."

Damn. That's just lame. I don't like to cramp mama's style, but this was too much. I didn't want to burn the tree down though, so I figured I'd explain my position; you know... elighten her. "OK," I started, "but think ahead. What's gonna happen when a dog, or a pirate, or some vegetarianian comes up to to devour them? Are they supposed to stay chill just because they're in a tree? Doesn't that sorta undermine the whole 'I'm gonna make you go die and not even care' values we are have been working so hard to instill? Did you think of that?"

Then I got a reminder as to why mama tends the joeys.

"Sorry, dear. I didn't realize you were trying to raise samuri. I just figured that if they were announce their intent to destroy to all creation that they would probably reduce the liklihood that they would convert their detructive energies into a proper slaughter. I see your point though. From now on, I won't try to stress precision. I'll just let them bounce around attacking everything that moves, and figure they'll probably land a strike sooner or later."

What was I thinking? It seems I had lost my balance. Is not caring important? Sure. And do we need to flip out and go nuts sometimes, killing all bystanders without even thinking twice about it? Absolutely! But let's not forget the value of stealth, precision, and focus. Sometimes we conquer with the sword, but other times victory is won with some well placed bunji sticks. Man, I gotta hand it to her. She's one heck of a mom.

Ninja•Gram

Somedays just suck beyond the telling...

Just Freakin' Batshit Disorder

Lately, I've been reading up on abnormal psychology, and it's fascinating and hilarious stuff. (Though some of the sexual disorders do hit kinda close to home.) However, many of the crazier people I've met either fit too many of the diagnostic criteria to have merely one class of disorder, or exhibit symptoms that don't really fit any disorder. The DSM-V is coming out soon, so I propose a new Axis I disorder- Just Freakin' Batshit Disorder. To be diagnosed with JFBD, a client must exhibit two or more of the following symptoms for at least one year.
1. Exhibits eccentricities that hamper normal functioning in society not including hallucinations, paranoia, catatonia, or just being freakin' retahded. (See Just Freakin' Retahded Syndrome)
2. Believes oneself to be a pirate, ninja, robot, viking, cyborg, marsupial, or baked good while actually knowing very little about real pirates, ninjas etc.
3. Just generally freaks people out and leaves others muttering under their breath "What's his deal, man?"

Famous Batshits: Howie Mandell, Johnny Depp, John Quincy Adams, Erik the Red, Snoopy

I'm back and I'm proud

I mean Im not just a gay man, I'm a proud gay man,
no... no thats not right either.
I'm not even sure that I am proud...Check it out, Im not even gay.

but I can tell you this.

The women standing behind me wants to touch me in the butt!
HARD!

I can sense these things you know (ninja! duh)

I owe FNFG some posts, but in the meantime

this is CNN.

it's all relative, man

So there I stood, exhausted, frazzled, and in desparate need of some grooming. I hadn't eaten for hours, and my feet were killing me. To make matters worse, my mate was even in worse shape, barely able to breathe on acoount of the pain, and yet barely able to stay awake due to exhaustion. As the time passed, I could feel my desire to totally flip out and kill something, anything, growing ever stronger. Then, something most unexpected happened. A combination of amniotic fluid and other gelatenous goo shot forth from, well, were those things come from, and into the unsuspecting doctor's open mouth. She laughed and proceeded to explain the flavor. After a few more moments passed, she smiled and handed me the newborn, and asked if I needed any help determining the sex. Normally such a snide comment would have cost her her head, but for that one night, my lust for vengance rested.

I'm fine with his raw food kick, I've been baked for 25 minutes at 350.

Why would a delicious breakfast snack seek to master the ways of ninjitsu? Self-preservation, bitch! Since I've escaped the burning burningness of my steel womb, I've fought a never-ending battle against those that would devour me. I'm succulent, is that my fault? The path has been difficult; it is very hard to assassinate hungry commuters when you lack limbs and sensory organs. My favorite technique is to hide poison needles in my paper cover, waft my delicious blueberry odor at my quarry, and when they lean in to grasp me, BAM! they die. As for Koalaman, good luck with the raw food thing, now I might not have to kill you. As for the rest of you, Fear my blueberry vengeance!

Enzymes: the real, ultimate power!

Well, its been a week, and giving up cookies turned out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made. My new all-natural lifestyle has lead me into a whole new world. During this week, I have discovered the true secret to real, ultimate power... the life force of the enzymes in... raw food! It turns out that cooking food past 116 degrees Farenheit causes the food's enzymes to break down, which in turn causes the food to lose most of its "life force." Sure, cooked food can sustain life, but can it give you the strength to overcome lameness? In most cases, it cannot! Man, if only I had found out sooner, maybe I could've gotten the clan together, downed a few pine nuts, and we could have saved the world from pirates, dogs, and suburbia in one fowl swoop. Truly, a life without life force is not worth living.

Armed with the power of this new knowledge, I have only one choice. I am going to go to the store, then I am going to by a dozen bags of double chocolate Milanos, then I am going to repent of my stupidity by committing seppuku (frisbee style of course) with them. I know it sounds crazy, but that is just how pissed off I am right now. How could I have been snared by the same twisted idealism that is usually reserved for the guilt-ridden business elite and their hemp jewelry-peddling spawn? I feel dirty, and I don't know if I will ever feel clean again.

Ninja Bee Winner

A new leaf for me

Tonite, as I ascend back up into my cozy little habitat for a bit of respite from my canine foes, I stare down at the endless rows of nodescript man-houses and despair. Why do they settle for mediocrity? Why this insatiable need to be surrounded by those that are just like them, safely nestled away from anything that could do them harm? It has occurred to me that maybe they don't care, or maybe they have been dulled by the instant gradification culture of the day. Take the way they approach food. Are you hungry? Don't go kill something and feast on its still-warm flesh, or rummage in the open wilderness for fresh, wild berries, just go grab a cookie. Cookies require no work, they taste great, and they hit the spot. Besides, there are hundreds of different kinds of cookies, right? You can eat a different kind of cookie every day, and never even have to eat the same type of cookie again for months. Eventually you may even believe that you like a wide range of snacks, just like those people who say they like "all kinds of music, but when you ask for clarification, they say something like, "Led Zepplin, Metallica, Rush, the Beastie Boys, even Jewel. You know, everything, really." Perhaps, in many ways, the cookie represents at that is wrong with advanced civilization. People are so enamored with the luxuries afforded to them by their cherished technogolgy that they often forget the deeper joys of life.

You know, I think I am going to give up cookies, once and for all. From now on, it's all natural for me. I want true variety. You can keep your Oreos, your Chip's Ahoy!, and even your E.L. Fudge. You can even keep those overpriced girl scout cookies... save them for when you're watching someone else live out their dreams on "Survivor" or "American Idol." As for me, I am going to take the high road, and you know what? I think I'll be all the better for it.

For general Ninja health and hygiene

Ah, Spring is in the air!

Ah, I love the smell of Spring. The flowers, the warm breeze, the little birds chirping in the trees... I just can't get enough. Anyway, as I was contemplating my favorite napping position, I felt at piece with the world; if only for a moment, I was at peace!

But then I remembered about scones. Man, do scones piss me off! I can sort of understand the saps who prefer muffins to bagels as the preferred on-the-go breakfast, and even doughnuts have some redeeming qualities. But scones?

Come on man, really. Straight from the makers of haggis, we have baked shortbread that makes cardboard taste like cotton candy.

Next time someone says something to me like, "yeah, I like bagels with lox, but a nice fruitted oat scone just can be beat," well, I just don't think I will be able to guarauntee their safety anymore.

I love Spring, but man do I hate scones.

Pirate pride, ninja nay-saying

Thank you Chris for the great article, you can link to the article in its orignal context here.
Kristy in PA sent me this link, we have her to blame.

Pirate pride, ninja nay-saying
By Chris Holt
Opinions Columnist


Alright, that does it. I'm tired of these ceaseless "debates" that are nothing more than one group talking at the other, spewing venom without making any head way. Our campus has been in an uproar over this last week; things have been tenser than a Newsweek editors' meeting.

I'm talking, of course, about the annoying debate between the Ninjas and the Pirates. Last week was the beginning of Ninja Respect Month and also Pirate Pride Week, a scheduling conflict that is equivalent to hosting a presidential address the same night as the World Series.

Although The Daily reported about Ninja Pride Week, the Pirates were remarkably absent in the press. When I went to White Plaza, though, all I saw was Pro-Pirate demonstrations. The Pirates had planned a "Blackpearl Remembrance Day" that happened to coincide with Ninja Week. Both groups held rallies peacefully, but their sentiments were about as peaceful as an A's fan-base.

It all centers on what happened several decades ago. The Pirates and the Ninjas had an altercation that they to this day, are still fighting about. Something about a pirate wench they both claimed, I dunno. She's pretty old now, bruised and rough. But they are still fighting over her.

No, instead of flipping out and killing everyone as an unstoppable partnership that would leave robots, chickens, and robot chickens in fear, they remain divided.

Unfortunately, despite our progressive-minded university's best intentions, no one has curbed this hatred. While both groups speak of "pride" for their group and claim that they want "peace," such statements always preclude bashing the other group. Being pro-Ninja means that you condone Ninja killings of Pirates, or that you are Anti-Piratical. It's them or us. You can't show pride in being a Pirate or a Ninja without then saying how "the Ninjas are yellow-bellied bastards" or "the Pirates lack honor or good hygiene."

The rest of this article can be found here. at the Stanford Daily.

Somehow this feels like cheating ...

Did you ever have one of those days where it felt like everything was coming to you waaaay too easily? Fortune smiling on you so much that it's starting to feel more like a creepy leer?

Cut that out, man ... hey, are you stalking me? Aaaah!

No?

Oh, never mind then.

let me tell 'ya somethin....

Ok, so I was doin' my thing, chillin' out in the paint store, looking for a cool green paint for my lil' tike-to-be's branch, and enjoying some of the eucolyptis mints I so love. And then, this ole' bag walks up with her little yipper and says, "hey! kids love dogs? Say, why don't you get your younguns to pet my dog? Besides, my dog has only been around kids once before... this would be a great experience for her!"

So I was like, "ahhhh, naw man! This ain' real!" I wan'ted to unleash the fury of my fierce claws, but then I remembered my kids, and how they need to see the big bear keep hiz cool. So I just focused on the inner power animal, and the mints... mints... ah, mints. I just gathered the crew up and said, "nah, we don't dig on no dawgs." But this wench wouldn't leave me be! So, we just grabbed our paint and split.

What's a marsupial to do? I guess that's what I get for leavin' the home tree with the kids. Next time I need some cool green paint, or really any other domestic maintenance supplies, I think I'll fly solo, so that I can break out my shaolin treewalker style on the next scallywag that disrespects.

Don't let the sweet taste fool ya, lest you forget that I F&*'in represent.... peace.

I can't possibly be the first person to notice this ...

The new pope:

Emporer Palpatine:

Coincidence?

My High School District (Suffolk county) has an Awsome shirt

I didn't see a vagina up-close until I was 18. Today, at 22, I've seen at least seven of them. My name is Jakob Lodwick, and I sell T-shirts.

A side note

To my great disappointment, I was informed today that the Kawasaki Ninja is not, in fact, a genetically engineered, vat-grown clone assassin manufactured specifically for the Tessier-Ashpool corporation.

It is actually a rather lame sport motorcycle that is prone to breakdowns and humiliation in the quarter-mile.

In other news, pirates still blow goats.

The Ninja Zeitgeist

It has been stated in certain comments to entries on this blog that ninjas have not fully grasped the zeitgeist of the time. While this was clearly some sort of wrongheaded, rum-fueled tirade from a sodden-minded pirate lover, I would still like to take this opportunity to rebut.

Ninjas don't need no stinkin' zeitgeist. All they need is the ability to ROCK. And flip the fuck out. Hard. And anybody who says any different clearly is in need of a serious ass-whooping. And I'm sure a ninja has already set out on a quest to dispense just such a beating to the stinking, swashbuckling, laser-wielding pegleg who originally brought up this whole zeitgeist thing.

So pirates, beware. Any further talk of a zeitgeist will get you an ontology shoved so far up your ass you will wish that you had a frisbee (so you could do the honorable thing and commit seppuku).

Moto has poor impulse control

So I woke up Saturday morning with a mission. It was a gorgeous day, and I was going to go for a ride.

My trusty old Bandit 400 had been coughing and sputtering, and the battery was dead. So I was gonna push-start that sucker and get it to the Suzuki shop for a nice spring cleaning and new battery. I packed my backpack, grabbed my helmet, and proceeded to waddle at high speed with a motorcycle between my legs trying to get the damn thing to turn over.

See, the longer a motorcycle sits unused, the harder it is to get it to start again, and I hadn't ridden the old girl in quite a few weeks.

Twenty minutes later, half a mile down the street, panting and defeated, I decided it wasn't going to happen. I would push the still-silent bike back to the house, get in my car, and go buy a damn battery.

Five minutes later, huffing and puffing even harder, I was almost back to the driveway and decided, just for shits and giggles, to pop the clutch one last time to see if the engine would crank. VROOM.

I still should have just gone and bought a new f*ing battery.

But, never one to let an opportunity pass me by, I took advantage of the fact that my bike was running and rode directly out to the Suzuki shop. I told the service guys what needed done, and they said they'd be finished around Tuesday.

Crap.

I just rode my motorcycle (which I doubt I can get started again, BTW) out 15 miles from home, my roommates are still probably in bed, and I'm not getting my ride back for at least four days. Worse yet, I don't get to take advantage of this gorgeous weather for a nice long ride.

"Ah, well," think I, "Maybe I'll just peek at the new bikes on the dealer side of the shop, and dream of a day when I have a bike that's reliable and fast and maybe with a little less rust and peeling clearcoat. I'll entertain myself for another half hour, then bug my roommates to give me a ride home, like I should have planned before this little expedition ... "

... Two hours later ...

Okay, so they had a really really appealing financing deal, and now I own a yellow Suzuki SV650S. It rocks HARD. Pictures to follow.

By the way, the Bandit's still going to be in full working order middle of next week. Know anybody looking to buy a bike?

This may get a little creepy...Grab a snack!

Sorry I have not posted in so long the past couple weeks have been grueling. I may quit.

I will start a Rock-A-Billy band. We will be called Cletis Membrane. Our lyrical forays will be confined to breakfast foods found around the country and sex with loose women. At the height of our fame will eschew huge venues in favor of playing all occasions, including bar Mitzvas all over.

Songs like:
"I'm Gonna Make That Waffle Behave!",
the sultry teaser- "I Won't Be Able To Identify You Later If You Wear That"
the incomparable "This Omelette May Have Socialist Underpinnings"
and the crowd favorite "Blintz On All Fours"....


...will be timeless classics set to the parodying melodies that both 13 year girls and the Beach Boys will agree is ghastly, but endearing.

I will leave Cletis just before tragedy befalls the band, I will not however make it out unscathed: stricken with irreversible damage to my liver and speech patterns.

I am so glad muffin is here. However I am sorry that I was not able to post sooner and show my gratitude, as well as other things that end in "tude". IE my longitude as well as my girthatude.

When is MotoMike going to post?

Quote of the day:
When asked if he could walk with us (instead of making us stop so he could slowly and painfully articulate a question having to do with 50 cents) He pointed to the tree and delivered a loving gaze to a small tree that was busy shading multiple cans of Slitz Malt Liquor...

"Naw..sorry I cant walk wit-choo; I got obligations,"

Not being able to argue with that, Tom handed over the change.

Sin City, should be more about food, less about vengence

Muffin is SO right. With that much vengeance, torture and feverish disemboweling, I thought that there should be a balance. It could be offset with some sweeping shots of large meals splayed out as the fruits for such difficult work.

Women, lose weight

Well, it is spring in glorious Clemson, and so I've once again resumed my hobby of ogling, barking, and walking into lampposts. However, over the long winter, I do believe that most of the women in town have gained a few pounds. This is an outrage. Why should the quality of my leering be decreased just because these women don't have the self-control to starve themselves in the weeks before spring? Thus, we must start a campaign to reduce the self-esteem of the entire female population, making them more eager to please us.

My pants are gonna teach you some important lessons

I'm here now.

Sorry It took so long. I had spring break and not much reason to go online. But now, I promise that everytime I procrastinate writing a paper, doing research, or turning in homework, that when I'm not masturbating over picture of your mom, I'll be posting.

Real Ninjas' In Every Bite!

My abilities are ALL impaired today, as well they should be since the amount of alcohol consumed last night will make normal activities challenges for weeks to come. The level of stupidity I have exhibited today is simply scary. Putting on a sweater, getting out of a car, depositing a check all become insurmountable feats. Later, I looked with anxiety at simple tasks before me, just trying to guess how I was going to manage to make it excruciating and painful. They just kept feeding me shots!

More when my brain is slouching less.

My plot to take over ends now!

It has occured to me that I may be too hungry, and too despondent to take over the world just yet. Perhaps a muffin may help.

Plus! Its too HARD! I know you hear what Im saying (and it sounds like waaaHAAAAAA! its hard to make a difference, it just seemed like it would be so easy to change everything to my clever altruistic ideals, but its not, its ...Sniff WAAHHHHHH!)

A Recent muffin craving may have got me down

But I will get up again.

Tommy Manley better post to this blog soon.
or I will HURT him in the FACE!

HARD

awwwwHELL! Dont make me come at you with this pencil.

I dont EVEN give a fuck. I will come at you and throw this pencil down HARD. I will draw parts of your body you aint-EVEN seen in a mirror. I will humiliate you, and you WILL cry.

My plot to take over begins now!

The restaurant staff below our office hiked a beautiful slab of food up the stairs and served it to us (HARD.) This reminded me of the importance of having an intercom linked directly to coffee (and the occasional fruit wedge). While seated and being productive, simply press coffee intercom and friendly personS will get it to you without skipping a beat. Law offices and advertising agencies have this service because they can afford to install such institutions on the premises, We however can make a mighty compromise by affording to work above a coffee shop. Incidentally, coffee shop staff can provide a healthy link to the outside world: assuming they are not pirates. My plan is of course coming together perfectly, I can feel it in my pants. .

Now back to our regularly scheduled melancholy.

Every day would be great, if it was not part of living... so have a nice one A-HOLE!

A-HOLE= ( * )

It smelled of burnt pig parts...

Fueled by fowl smelling chinese food, and no will of my own to live, I have decided to flip the fuck out. Entirely. Too depressed to go through with the drudgery of Seppuku I turned to jazz.

Kick Ass

Testing my Ninja Blogging Skills

Not that Ninjas need to test their skills, that kind of weakness is only for Pirates.

The Four Ninja Food Groups

This site will be about Ninjas, for Ninjas, by Ninjas all in Ninja time.

No Pirates will be allowed!