Let's say you're going to go to your county fair. Let's say you know that the seating (which is a large wall of giant concrete steps) in the county fair fills up pretty quickly so you get there early in order to get a good seat. Let's say you've brought your own chairs because it's much more comfortable to sit in your chairs than on a slab of hot concrete. Let's say there is no rule stating you cannot bring your own chairs and you're not the only ones who were intelligent enough to do so. Let's say you've found a decent spot and you've set up your chairs. Let's say you're in a group of five people. Let's say two of you get up to go get something and three of you stay behind. Everything's good so far, right?

Now let's say the seating area is full. Every spot is taken. Now imagine, if you will, a pair of rude bitches, who may or may not be lesbians (and not the good looking kind), walk in front of you. You politely allow them in front of you, because you think they're just going to pass. But let's say these two sit down in front of the empty chairs that your friends will be returning to any minute now. And by sit down in front of, I mean their backs are resting against the chairs. When your friends return, they will be unable to sit down. So you politely tell the bull dykes that your friends will be returning soon and could they please move. Of course you know what the answer was, because I would not be writing this otherwise.

They then tell us that we should not be taking up two rows and they are, in fact, going to sit there. I tell them our chairs are only taking up one row, because they are chairs and can, by their very nature, only take up one row, otherwise they would fall, because the legs all need to be level. My friend tells them they should have gotten there earlier if they wanted a good seat. They say they've been there since three. We got there at six, so they had three full hours on us to get a good seat. It looks like they didn't use their time wisely. I look behind me and see some empty space. I inform them they can sit there. They say they can't because our chairs are in front of it and they can't dangle their legs. Boo hoo.

So I drop the subject for a minute. I'll just wait for my friends to return. Then we can rumble. I start talking to my friend about how if certain other people were here, there would be a fight and possibly a stabbing. I'm sure the bitches can hear me. Suddenly they stand up. They've spotted another place to sit. "You lucked out. A couple spots just opened up," one of the bitches informs us.

We lucked out? You lucked out, bitch. We were minutes away from beating your stupid ass. As the bitches walked away, I noticed the shirt one of them was wearing. I'm not making this up. Guess what the shirt said. "Democrat". I turned to my friend and said, "Well, that explains everything."

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

So I went camping last night. Everything went just spiffy. I did everything my usual way and no humans were injured in the process. Something strange happened in the middle of the night, however. After my rampage of man against nature violence, I went to sleep. That's to be expected. But during the night I heard noises outside. Noises that were not other people.

Rustling sounds came from behind my tent. I listened for a moment to determine their source. Better make that sources, because suddenly my tent was surrounded by the sounds of yet to be determined creatures. The rustling sounds grew louder and were soon accompanied by squeaks and pitter patter. Soon small objects were hitting my tent. Each hit made a small pelting sound, followed by a soft thud as the projectile hit the ground. The final straw was the scratching. Something was scratching at my tent. It wasn't strong enough to tear the fabric, but whatever it was, it wasn't alone. All around my tent small woodland creatures scratched and clawed and tossed berries and nuts and pebbles. The squeaks came from the commanders of this animal army. I was under attack! Nature was seeking revenge!

I knew my time was limited. I quickly threw on my shoes and loaded my weapons. If nature wanted me, she wasn't going to get me without a fight. Well armed and ready to rumble, I threw open my tent and emerged a one man army. The small creatures scattered in fright. I launched a warning rocket into the forest. The heat seeker found its way to a deer. Guts splattered throughout the woods, painting trees with the blood of the first fallen soldier. Yeah, it was on.

The first wave was easily defeated. A small tide of squirrels washed in. They leaped into the air, claws out and teeth bared. A shotgun blast took most of them out. As the remainder fled, I lit one on fire with my flamethrower. It ran into the woods, certainly feeling a pain like no other. It wasn't long until the trees were ablaze and several animals were toasted.

It didn't end there. The second attack came from above. Birds of prey dropped an assortment of living beasts on me. As each one fell, I quickly disabled it with my knife. But I knew this would continue for hours unless I stopped the flyers. I pulled out my sniper rifle and took aim. Within minutes, the birds were no more. I took a moment to rest. A moment was all I got.

I suddenly found myself surrounded by bears and wolves. Nature's mortal enemies had teamed up to take me out. The wolves moved in first. What they had forgotten was that I have a way with dogs. They love me and are obedient. I spun around as they were about to lunge. "Don't you realize who I am? I am your master!" I shouted. "You are at my command!" The wolves listened. I ordered them to take out the bears. A battle took place as I stood and watched. Blood and fur flew through the air, mixing with the ashes of the growing fire. I took the time to pack my things. It was time for me to leave.

As I made my way out of the woods, I witnessed animals fleeing for their lives, either from me or from the fire, I didn't care which. As I neared the forest edge, the ground shook beneath me. Suddenly the ground split, and my exit was blocked. Something didn't want me to leave. A blue light engulfed me. I looked around in awe.

All around me, pixies and sprites and woodland nymphs appeared. I could hear the harp of the satyr in the distance. The magic of the forest was being revealed to me, for the first time in my life. But why?

Out of the opening in the ground arose a giant fairy. She was in every way beautiful. It was the Queen Fairy of the Forest. Every forest has one, and they report directly to Mother Nature herself. The fairy introduced herself, "I am Nala, Queen Fairy of the Forest."

"Hi, I'm Jackington. Nice to meet you."

"Nice? We're at war, Jackington. You come into our forest and you do nothing but destroy it. Why must you bring harm to us?"

"I'm a woodsman. It's what I do."

"Can't you find other ways to enjoy our forest?"

"Look, lady, I don't have time for this. I'm an American. I get to do whatever I want. It's nothing personal. I tear this forest apart out of love and respect. If I didn't like this place, I'd simply pave over it and build a mall. I don't destroy anything that can't be replaced. The trees will grow back and the animals will make more animals. It's what they do. When you attacked me, you caused me to do more damage than I had planned. That's on you now. If you had just accepted things the way they are, no more creatures would have had to die."

The fairy stood there and contemplated what I just said. After a moment, she replied, "Okay, let's cut to the chase. Personally, I agree with you. I don't really care what you do. I know you're not really doing any serious damage. I'm not one of those tree huggers. But let's look at the situation I'm in. I gotta report to Mother Nature. If I let you get away with this, I'm gonna get fired, and I don't wanna get freakin' fired, you know what I'm sayin'? There's not a whole lotta jobs out there for a six foot tall fairy. I'm just trying to do my job. Ya think we can come to some sorta compromise?"

"What do you propose?"

So we sat down and figured out the situation. I get to kill 'X' amount of creatures and burn down 'Y' amount of trees per visit, and I'm allowed 'Z' number of visits per month.

"What if I go over my ration?"

"We'll be forced to attack."

"What if I kill one in self defense?"

"Don't go near the limit and that won't be a problem," the fairy stated.

"Oh, I get it. I see what you're trying to pull here."

"I'm not trying to 'pull' anything."

"Yeah, sure. How many fairies am I allowed to kill?"

"Well, none. We'd be hidden from view. You'll have no idea we're even here."

"Like right now?" I asked with a smug grin.

"No, I'm not hidden right now. Can't you see me?"

"I sure can, princess," I said as I loaded my rocket launcher.

"No, I'm the queen. I already told you that."

"I'd like to add one fairy to that agreement!" I launched the rocket at the giant fairy queen. As she exploded, fairy dust filled the air. Don't breathe that stuff in, it'll fill your lungs and kill you. The pixies and sprites and woodland nymphs ran away screaming. The satyr's music became filled with sadness.

I ran as fast as I could and jumped over the chasm. As I exited the forest, I remembered a very important detail. I never signed the contract! I took a deep breath and yelled into the wind. My echo carried itself all the way back to Mother Nature. "When I drop a fairy, you know I am only getting started, bitch! See you soon!"



Special thanks to Robot Chicken for the fairy dropping line.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

It's outside. There are trees. There's nature. There is an assortment of wild beasts. Give up? I'm going camping! Tonight!

That's right! I'm going to rip mother nature a new one. I'll be cutting down trees and killing animals left and right. I'm gonna start so many fires you'll be able to see it from space. When I get finished, there may no longer exist what is known as outdoors.

I'm a woodsman. It's in my nature to be violent.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

I just watched an old movie. Not really old. Like, early 90s old. It's a movie that's so bad it's good. It's based on a video game. The only similarities is has with the video game are the names of the characters. It stars Bob Hoskins, John Leguizamo, and Dennis Hopper. Give up? It's Super Mario Bros.! I own it on DVD!

I remember seeing this movie when it first came out and wondering why they couldn't just stick to the original source material. See, it had most of the characters from the games (minus Princess Peach a.k.a. Princess Toadstool; instead they had Princess Daisy), but they were changed into things they were not. Goombas, which were evil mushrooms in the game, became large, stupid reptiles. King Koopa (Bowser) became Dennis Hopper, a human who descended from a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Daisy was a human who descended from dinosaurs, as was Toad. Big Bertha, a large fish in the game, became a large black woman with a thing for Mario. At least Yoshi was still a dinosaur.

According to the movie, 65 million years ago a large meteor struck the earth and caused it to split into two parallel worlds. Mammals ruled one world and dinosaurs ruled the other. They both eventually evolved into humans. Okay then. So the reptile world is all desert except for a single city, which is ruled by the evil King Koopa. He wants to merge the two worlds and then use a de-evolution device to turn all the mammalian humans back into apes. Okay then. In order to do this, he needs a small piece of the meteor that broke off. If it's placed back in the meteor, the two worlds will merge. Okay then. Princess Daisy's mother steals the meteor piece, takes it and her unborn daughter (who is in an egg) through a portal to our world and leaves her with some nuns. Now that she's all grown up, King Koopa sends his men to bring her and the meteor piece back. You see, she's the only one who is able to place the piece back into the meteor, as anyone else who tries will die. Okay then. Around this time, Luigi starts dating Daisy. On their first date, she gets captured. So Mario and Luigi go to rescue her. I don't need to tell you the rest, because it's just as bad as you're imagining.

Now, twelve years after the movie was released, I've watched it again. It's really quite entertaining, as long as you go in expecting something completely ridiculous. Fans of the games will have fun spotting all the references placed throughout the movie, such as a place of business named Thwomp's. And there's a hilarious scene in an elevator where Luigi gets a bunch of goombas to dance, all without them knowing he's there. The ending of the movie sets it up for a sequel that, for some inexplicable reason, never got made.

The best thing about this movie is the fact that, despite being totally different from the games it's based upon, it is not the worst video game movie ever made. Perhaps it's the most unfaithful, but you can do far, far worse when it comes to entertainment value.

Also note that this wouldn't be the last time John Leguizamo and Dennis Hopper would face off in a movie. They recently went at it again in Land of the Dead. So there's that.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

I have seen The Devil's Rejects and it was... good? Huh? That's right folks! Reject the notion that this movie is bad! Sure, House of 1000 Corpses kind of sucked, but it all had a purpose. See, House of 1000 Corpses simply introduced these characters and showed you the things they do. The Devil's Rejects doesn't need any of that nonsense and just gets right into it. Before I continue, I should give you a fair warning: you're entering spoiler country. There. You've been warned.

The movie begins with the cops making an attempt to arrest our fine family of murderers. They must pay for their crimes from the first movie, as well as dozens of murders that took place before that. There's a shoot-out, some cops die, a family member dies, and the mother is arrested. Two of them escape and attempt to meet up with their father, who was not at the house at the time. What follows is scene after scene of hardcore violence. You really don't see this kind of violence in movies anymore. Sure, zombie movies can get gory, but those are zombies. Rob Zombie movies, however, inflict a disturbing amount of violence on innocent human beings. I'm talking head shots, bone splintering leg wounds, stabbings, sexual violations with a gun, face removals, and my personal favorite, a woman being hit and splattered by a semi truck. You think you've seen somebody get hit by a truck in movies before? You haven't seen anything yet. You'll see detailed shots of internal organs squished all over the road. All of the violence is done in such a detailed and shocking way that you'll be cringing as you view it.

Rob Zombie doesn't just succeed with the gore factor. He also made a damn funny movie. There are so many hilarious moments, you'll think you're watching a comedy. I missed several lines due to the excessive and hysterical laughing by me and everyone else in the theater.

And then there's the nudity. Oh my, there is a lot of nudity. This is something that's been missing from horror movies for years. It kind of disappeared during the 90's after the horror genre decided to become clever rather than just an excuse to show naked teenagers getting slashed to pieces. Rob Zombie certainly brought it back, hopefully to stay.

What Rob Zombie has done here is basically get away with filming whatever deranged ideas he wanted to see in a movie. Considering what actually made it into this 'R' rated movie, I have to wonder what he was forced to cut. I'm not quite sure how he managed to get an 'R' rating with this much violence, nudity, and filthy language.

There's not much to the story, and there doesn't need to be. It's just about three mass murderers running from the law and the people they torture and kill in the process. But what was done with this minimal story is amazing. See, when the movie starts, these killers are really bad people who deserve some tough justice. You really, really want to see them pay. Then when they go out and violate and kill an innocent family, you begin to really hate them. You want them dead. But then something happens. Without them doing anything redeeming, you're suddenly rooting for these characters once justice really does come for them. You want them to live. The tables are turned and the killers are now the victims and you just can't wait for them to kill the "good guy".

The truly amazing accomplishment is that Rob Zombie took a movie which was so bad that it absolutely did not need a sequel, made a sequel anyway, and made it so good, with characters so compelling, that I'm actually tempted to watch House of 1000 Corpses again. I'm not sure if I will, but one thing I am sure about is that I will be buying The Devil's Rejects on DVD when it comes out. An unrated director's cut seems likely and welcome. I'm now actually looking forward to Rob Zombie's film career, which is a total reversal of my opinion from just yesterday. Amazing.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

"There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going.
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing.

Is it raining?
Is it snowing?
Is a hurricane a-blowing?

Not a speck of light is showing
So the danger must be growing.
Are the fires of hell a-glowing?
Is the grisly reaper mowing?

Yes!

The danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing."

"Stop!" I yell to Jeeves. He slams on the brakes and I am flung forward. I roll across the limo floor and slam into the seat ahead of me. I pull myself up. "Jeeves, when I said 'stop,' I meant stop reciting poetry. Not the car!"

"So sorry, sir," states Jeeves, "I thought you'd seen another sexy lawn mower ride."

"Don't I wish. But we're off to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

"Precisely why I was reciting the boat ride lyrics."

"But Jeeves," I correct him, "Willy Wonka does not recite those lyrics in this new movie."

"So sorry, sir," states Jeeves. He starts driving again. We make it to the theater without another incident. Unfortunately, that means I did not see any more sexy lawn mower rides. Maybe next time.

"Wait in the car, Jeeves."

I enter the theater and proceed to the ticket stand. I've got a gift card burning a hole in my pocket. Everybody, without exception, is here to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, including the little old woman in front of me. For once I manage to purchase my ticket without incident (no fist fights today, no sir!).

I enter the crowded theater room and search for a seat. That one over there next to that hot chick wearing sandals and red painted toenails looks good. Real good. It's second row from the top, but in this particular theater, there really are no bad seats. Unless you happen to be near a snot nosed brat, also known as a child. I was not, until the previews started, that is. Suddenly, wave after wave of snot nosed brats filled the theater and quickly filled all the empty seats.

The next two hours was filled with loud candy noises, crying babies, stupid question after stupid question, and bad parent after bad parent answering little Timmy's retarded question rather than telling him to shut his goddamn mouth because he is in a crowded movie theater where talking out loud is considered very, very rude. How idiotic were the questions? Let me give you an example: "Why is he tall and thin?" (referring to a stretched out Mike Teavee). Damn, you stupid little shit, they just explained not two minutes ago that he was to be stretched out (since he was tiny from being teleported into the television). Why must small children be retarded? Also, this goes out to you parents with babies, your infant does not need to see movies in a theater. Do not bring them. At best they will be frightened and start crying. At worst someone like me, who has no patience for idiocy, will walk over and kick them in the head until the crying stops. I did not pay good money to listen to your stupid retard children make noise. If they can't behave themselves in public, lock them in a closet until they are eighteen. Let's have some common courtesy people. Gosh!

Once again, the trailers were crap. Except, that is, for Corpse Bride. That is a movie that will be an instant classic, much like The Nightmare Before Christmas, which has the distinction of being both a Halloween and a Christmas movie. Corpse Bride, directed by Tim Burton, who is also the director of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, stars Helena Bonham Carter, who is also in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, as well as other recent Tim Burton films, Big Fish and Planet of the Apes. Coincidence? I think not! So, yeah, I can't wait for Corpse Bride to come out.

So let's get to the movie review, already. I liked it. I'll buy the DVD. That much is certain. But how well does it compare to the classic Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? Well, it's different. But it's also similar at the same time. See, it feels like it's missing certain scenes that made the first movie work, and added scenes that didn't need to be there. I've never read the books upon which these movies are based, so I don't know how accurately they are portrayed.

In this movie, we learn about Willy Wonka's childhood. Sorry, but I didn't need to know any of that. Willy Wonka should be a mystery. We don't get to see Charlie's life outside of his home, which takes away some of the challenges he faced every single day. The world outside of the chocolate factory feels like it's from a Tim Burton movie (and it is!), when it should feel cold and real. The chocolate factory should provide an escape into the imagination, not just make your imagination more colorful.

The children in the movie are little brats with personal stylists. Except for Charlie, who is a little too nice and caring, and Augustus Gloop, who is a fat bastard and as he should be. Unfortunately, the movie focuses so much on Willy Wonka and his history, we really don't get to see the children as anything other than annoying brats. They're just kind of there until it's time to get rid of them. Especially Charlie, who, considering he is the title character, is hardly in the movie at all once they get to the factory.

The movie is funny, much funnier than the original. There is less singing, which is a good thing. Only the Oompa Loompas sing. All the Oompa Loompas are played by the same guy. I dunno. I prefer the orange midget Oompa Loompas from the first movie. Although this Oompa Loompa is closer to the Oompa Loompas from the original book, which were, in fact, pygmies.

I prefer Grandpa Joe from the original movie. He seemed more grandfatherly and realistic. Charlie's other grandparents, however, are much better in the new movie. Especially one of his grandmothers, who first introduces herself to us by saying, "I like grapes." Every time you see this woman, she has a ridiculously silly smile. I laughed every time she was on camera. She's definitely my favorite character from the movie. That's a problem because it really shouldn't be that way.

Johnny Depp did a great job as an alternate universe Willy Wonka. He is not playing the Willy Wonka you know and love. He is playing a childlike Willy Wonka. His character is completely different from the one played by Gene Wilder. It's not a bad thing. It's different. It works in the context of this movie. In fact, had Johnny Depp simply imitated Gene Wilder, the movie would not have worked.

The two movies can stand side by side. They are two different interpretations of the same story. Neither movie is better than the other. They both have their flaws, but in the end they both work. Which will better stand the test of time? The original. It already has. It exists in a timeless vacuum. The new movie is already dated. But it's good now and it works now. It works now, in 2005, better than the 1971 movie does in 2005. But in 34 years, which movie will be considered the classic? Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, not Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Between now and then, I hope they make another. Why? Because I'd like to see Marilyn Manson star in an 'R' rated horror movie version, simply titled Willy Wonka. I want to see the chocolate factory portrayed with a gritty realism (still wondrous, mind you, but shown in a way the doesn't defy the laws of physics and technology) and the bad children killed off, rather than simply sent home. It will be great, I tell you.

So that's the review. The movie ended and was greeted with applause. Considering half the audience was under the age of sixteen, that's impressive. The theater was almost full for the 11:45 a.m. showing. Based on those two facts, this movie is certain to make large, LARGE, sums of money.

I make my way out of the theater. Unfortunately, Jeeves is nowhere in sight. Where did he go? I wander through the parking lot, searching for my ride. How am I supposed to get home?

Suddenly the limo pulls up. I get inside. Wait a minute. This can't be my limo. There are other people in here. Not that I'm complaining. They're females. Two of them. I look to the driver. "Jeeves?"

"Surprised, sir?" queries Jeeves.

"A little bit, yeah. What's going on?" I reply.

"You don't remember us, do you?" asks one of the girls.

"Not this again," I say. "Look, it can't be my kid. I used protection. Get your money from some other dude."

"No, silly," says the other girl. "Remember the sexy lawn mower ride?"

"Oh, yeah," my memory suddenly returns. "I didn't recognize you with all your clothes on!"

The girls remove items of clothing. "Is this better?"

"A little bit, yeah. Jeeves, take the scenic route home."

"As you wish, sir."

"Oh, and Jeeves?"

"Sir?"

"Good looking out. You're a good man."

"Thank you, sir."

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

Oh. Hello. I didn't see you there. Well, now that you're here, I guess you're probably wondering what I'm doing. Right now I'm making myself a sandwich. Do you like sandwiches? I sure do. Here, I'll show you how to make a sandwich. First you start with two slices of bread. Three if you're daring, but since it's your first time we'll just stick with two.

Next you've got to decide what you'd like on your sandwich. How about peanut butter and jelly? That sounds good, doesn't it? Let's start with the peanut butter. Take a butter knife and dip it in the peanut butter jar like so. Swirl the knife around and get a nice glob of peanut butter. Now spread it on one of the pieces of bread. Very good. Now wipe any excess peanut butter on the other slice of bread. There shouldn't be much, but you want to make sure the knife is clean before you stick it in the jelly jar.

Now comes the tricky part. We need to get the jelly out of the jar and onto the bread without making a mess. Some people find this to be easier with a spoon. I prefer to continue using my knife so there is less silverware to clean. Tip the jelly jar above the bread and scrape out some jelly. That looks good. Now spread the jelly evenly over the bread slice. Since we're only making one sandwich, you can lick the knife clean. What a treat.

Next you'll want to take the two slices of bread and put them together. Make sure the peanut butter and jelly are on the inside of the sandwich. If they're not, you've done it incorrectly. That sandwich sure looks tasty. But we can't eat it just yet. First we need to clean up our mess. Put away the peanut butter and jelly jars and make sure you seal up the bread. We don't want it to get moldy.

Now we've got a delicious sandwich. Take a bite. Yummy. This sandwich sure is delicious. But you know what's better than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? A Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson sandwich. I'll show you how to make one of those next time.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

So I went to see The Island this evening. See, I had free passes because I gots the hook-up. Okay, I stole them. Anyway, this movie kicks a whole lot of ass. Which is good, because that gives me hope for the live action Transformers movie that Michael Bay is set to direct. I'm not going to detail to you my whole day and then spoil the whole movie for you as I did with my War of the Worlds review, which, by the way, is my favorite post I've ever, uh, posted. Go read it if you haven't. It's great. Really. Which is why I'm not going to do the same here. How could I ever top that? So I'm keeping it simple. Go see this movie. As soon as you can. There doesn't seem to be a lot of hype about the movie. I'd only vaguely heard of the movie before snatching the passes out of the hands of a fat kid. That means the movie needs your help in order to do well.

Oh, did I mention Scarlett Johansson is hot? She's not Jessica Alba hot; she's a different kind of hot. If Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson were pieces of bread, I would like to be the lunch meat in the middle. What kind of meat, you ask? Maybe salami. Or bologna. No, wait. Definitely salami. I want to be the salami that slides between Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson. I'd cover them in my mayonnaise. Yes I would. Yeah, I know. I'm a sick bastard.

Go see The Island. It stars Scarlett Johansson and Ewan "Obi-Wan" McGregor. But not Jessica Alba. Which is a shame.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

Have you ever taken a pair of scissors and cut a nice, juicy chunk of skin from one of your fingers? Not just any skin, but the skin that's loose in order to allow your fingers to bend? The skin that's full of veins and other blood-filled pathways? No? I have. Fortunately, I missed the veins by mere millimeters. I'm not a bleeder (quite the opposite), so there was no mess. It hurt surprisingly little, and it would have gone unnoticed were it not for its gruesome appearance. Even when soap, antibacterial fluids, and rubbing alcohol were applied, the sting was minimal. I reapplied the flap of skin and covered the wound with a band-aid. Mere hours later, the wound is almost fully healed. My body did not reject the reapplied skin, it simply reattached at the seams. My mutant power must be super healing. Envy me.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

It's Independence Day. This holiday is very specific to the United States of America, but it really should be celebrated all over the world. Independence Day is about more than just our independence from Britain. It's about freedom. Independence from any particular nation is irrelevant when you've got freedom. Had the British been treating us fairly and equally, allowing us the freedom to do as we please, our independence from them would not have been necessary.

The reason I bring this up is because it applies to many countries the world over. Most countries do not have the size or manpower to either gain their independence or keep it once they have it. It is for this reason it is necessary for America to intervene in the matters of other countries. We have the power to free the world. Unfortunately there are those, in this country and around the world, who would choose to have us do nothing, and then complain when we stand idle as mass genocides take place.

Currently, we're trying to bring freedom to the people of Iraq. Our original purpose for going over there was to find and dispose of WMDs, which turned out to be non-existent or possibly extremely well hidden. Regardless, WMDs are no longer our goal. However, our plan was never to go over there, destroy the WMDs, oust Saddam and then leave. Bringing freedom to these people was always part of the plan. Another part was to give them independence. Unfortunately, I don't believe that is possible. If we fail to keep Iraq under our watch, it will quickly become what it once was, only much, much worse. If we leave and allow dictators to gain control of the country, resentment of the United States will become stronger than it has ever been. If there were no WMDs before, there certainly will be in the future, and they will be aimed squarely at us. It is for this reason I believe we should make Iraq a permanent part of the United States. We should offer them not independence as a country, but independence from the dictators and thugs who would seek to control the country and its people. As a part of the United States, they would gain something far more important than independence: freedom.

As you celebrate this Independence Day, be thankful for the freedom you've got, but don't be so stingy as to deny that freedom to the rest of the world. Independence Day is not just about drinking, partying, fireworks, and kicking British ass, although those things are certainly important, too.

Freedom isn't free, it costs folks like you and me. And if you don't throw in your buck oh five, who will?

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.

Allow me to detail to you some of the significant events of my day. Allow me.

So I leave my estate, which is located atop a hill in the middle of a rolling meadow (I am a Republican, after all, which means I live the life of luxury, sucka), so I can go see War of the Worlds. I bid my gardener good evening and tell my driver, "To the theatre!" Along the way I was fortunate enough to witness a sexy lawn mower ride. Imagine, if you will, two extremely hot and supple young women, wearing string bikinis, their golden skin glistening under the hot sun, and straddling one another as they mow the lawn. "Pull over, Jeeves," says I to the driver.

As I approach the young ladies, I can tell that they can tell I'm filthy rich. I whisper naughtiness into the ear of one of the girls. She then whispers into the ear of her very sexy companion. I've no idea what she said, but giggling could be heard. Hot, sexy giggling. They leave their tops on, but the bottoms come off, because that's just plain hot. What a lucky, lucky lawn mower seat. I inquire as to my chances of joining these two fine female specimens on their sexy lawn mower ride. "Only if you think you can fit," says the hot one. The other hot one continues to giggle. I don't know what was up with that.

I'm about to mount the lawn mower when I remember Jeeves, my driver. I look over and see him peering through the car window, puppy dog like with the big eyes and everything, and he's got to be thinking to himself, "Please, kind sir, there are two of them. Mightn't you share?" And then I remember the movie. I really want to see this movie and time is a wasting.

Well, there's still two months of summer left, so this opportunity is certain to present itself again. But the opening weekend Saturday matinee for War of the Worlds will only happen once. Ever.

"I'm sorry, ladies," I say as I'm zipping up my pants. "I've got a movie to see and you've got a lawn to mow. Another time and another place, this might have turned out differently. It's not you, it's me." I give them no time to object or giggle or puppy dog eye me. I turn my back to them, toss behind me a couple business cards, and leave. "To the theatre!"

We arrive at the theatre. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I've got a movie theatre gift card burning a hole in my pocket. What the crap? There's a line. A freaking line. Screw that. I head over to the automated machine. You know, the one where you don't have to actually deal with another human being. Terrific devices they are, only they only take credit cards. So I actually have to pay my way in. Fine then, it's only a matinee.

I've got my ticket and enter the proper room. Or I at least try to. But I'm stuck behind three extremely sloven and lazy people. They are, in no particular order, a woman so fat her ankles have to be made of reinforced titanium in order to support her rotund self, a fat, probably mildly retarded child whose sex has yet to be determined, and a redneck who looks like he tried, really tried to join the Hell's Angels, but instead got an ass beating for showing up on a Yamaha. A Yamaha! Anyway, this group of rejects moves at a pace so slow the earth is actually moving faster, which makes them go backwards. I get fed up with this B.S. and push the retarded child to the ground. I quickly jump over the kid and find myself a seat.

Dammit, I've missed the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory trailer, which I really wanted to see. Really. The other trailers were mostly forgettable, and as a result, I don't remember what they were. Except one. Into the Blue. This movie looks to be a total crapfest. Except for one thing. It stars the amazingly hot Jessica Alba, who may be, as the Artist formerly known as Prince and who is once again known as Prince would put it, the most beautiful girl in the world. She's even hotter than the lawn mower chicks, who, now that I think about it, may have been sisters, which makes the above tale even hotter. Go ahead and read it again with this new knowledge. I'll wait. ... See? It's hotter, isn't it? Yeah, that's the stuff.

Anyway, back to what I was trying to tell you. Into the Blue looks like a total crapfest, except that it stars the very fine Jessica Alba, who may be, as Prince would put it, the most beautiful girl in the world. I mean, seriously, she's that hot. The girl must start fires as she walks around. You know, men's pants, even the gay ones, must freaking burst into flames when she gets near. I saw it happen in the theatre. Dude was sitting there, watching Jessica "I'm wearing a small bikini" Alba swimming in the blue (the movie's term for water, not mine), doing this wiggling thing with her body that is so not necessary for swimming, but I would recommend she continue doing it, if only for my own personal pleasure, and suddenly, and without warning, his pants just burst into flames. They should put warnings on these trailers.

So yeah, the movie looks like a total crapfest. But that girl is so freaking hot in that movie, I might have to see it. I'm conflicted. See, I managed to avoid Honey. But this. This I don't think I can resist. But first I'll need to get myself a pair of fire proof pants. Something in a nice shade of pleather.

Movie time! We're here to see War of the Worlds, which I must warn you, does not star the incredibly hot Jessica Alba. You'll instead have to settle for Tom Cruise or Dakota Fanning depending on whether you lean more toward being a gay man or a child molester, you know, if you're a dude. If you're a female, and some of you are, you've got your Tom Cruise, who is now crazy BTW, which should be enough for you. Because it's Tom Cruise, who I hear even ultra famous lesbian Rosie O'Donnell enjoys. Good enough for the bull dyke, good enough for you, I always say. Moving on.

What I have to say here might enter the range of spoiler material, so those of you who don't want the movie to be, you know, spoiled should go out and watch the movie first, then come back here and read the rest of my short, yet rambling, review to find out whether or not it's worth your time and precious gems to go out and view this movie in a theatre, rather than sitting at home wearing nothing but a sock on your johnson whilst downloading the movie and a shitload of porn (or pr0n, as the kiddiez say it) and Mandy Moore MP3s and yet another video of that damn Star Wars Kid, only this time he's an astronaut doing his thing on the moon!

So Tom Cruise is this dude who has two childrens and a baby mama who's married to this other dude. The kids love new daddy better than real daddy. This is intended to create some drama between the kids and Tom Cruise, because the drama of an alien invasion is just not enough. So baby mama leaves the kids with Tom Cruise. Why? Because they're going to visit family in Boston where, apparently, kids are not allowed. So Tom Cruise gets them. What follows is fifteen minutes of child rearing gone wrong. The son won't do his homework and the daughter orders some sort of disgusting food and manages to pay for it, even though she has no discernible source of income. She must be a Democrat. I kid, I kid. Then the son, who is not on his best behavior, steals Tom Cruise's car, which he loves more than his kids.

Now, enter the freak lightning storm, which, if you've got a brain, you'll realize immediately is not your everyday lightning, but is created by the aliens. It's uses are threefold. 1. It scares the bejesus out of people. 2. It is a transportation vehicle for the aliens to get to their ships which are located deep below the surface of the earth and have been for millions of years. Apparently. 3. It sends out an electromagnetic pulse, which fries all electronics, thus rendering them useless. That means no power, no cars, and no wristwatches. It seems, however, it does not disable video cameras, because this dude is using one to film the alien invaders as they bust out of the ground. He was probably going to sell the tape to Hard Copy or something, but his plans were nullified by an alien death ray which vaporizes all who dare cross its path. The video camera managed to survive, so maybe some lucky chap will happen upon it and get rich selling the footage to Hard Copy.

So as the aliens go around zapping people and buildings Tom Cruise manages to avoid them. He's a really lucky guy, you see. He goes home, finds himself covered in the ashes of dead people and freaks out a bit. He then washes up, gathers his kids, and steals a car (like son like father) which has had its solenoids replaced and is thus the only working car in the area. He somehow manages to drive through the streets and highways, which are littered with dead cars, yet have a path through which Tom Cruise can drive, and he goes to his ex-wife's house, where, as of yet, nothing bad has happened. But it will. After a fight about peanut butter sammiches, they decide to sleep in the basement (where it is safer and you'll find out why soon enough). That is not without father daughter drama, because the little princess wants to sleep in her own damn bed, thank you very much. But, as Tom Cruise states, this is a nice basement.

During the night, it seems as though the aliens have arrived to destroy this very nice neighborhood (certainly occupied by well to do Republicans). Tom Cruise and his children sleep in fear. In the morning it turns out it was simply a plane crash. The plane just happened to crash on their house. What are the odds? A team of news reporters is out examining the remains. One of them is a deaf black guy. See how they did that? Two minority roles filled by just one actor. That's terrific. Good looking out, Steven Spielberg. After one of the news reporters explains to Tom Cruise just what the hell is going on, they leave. Jerks.

Tom Cruise and family leave the place, because it is ruined. They do so by hopping in the stolen car, which was not crushed by the airplane, and driving down the road on that path Tom Cruise seems to always find, which has nothing blocking the way. They stop for a potty break, during which Tom Cruise Jr. tries to join the army, but is soundly rejected. Worry not, he'll get another chance later on.

They make it to a large crowded area, get mobbed and car jacked, and then meet up with an old friend, who seems to have time for formalities, despite all the running away from the aliens she should be doing. Then they manage to get onto a boat, which is leaving now even though it can hold more people. Some poor folks manage to grab onto the side of the boat ramp and hang on as the boat speeds away. Junior decides to be a hero and he saves these people from falling. And then an alien ship, which is being very mean, tips the boat over, sending Tom Cruise and pals Into the Blue (see how I tied those things together? I'm a clever bastard indeed).

Tom Cruise and his resourceful kids manage to swim to shore and then avoid some more alien attacks. Then they encounter the army. Junior enlists after a fight with his pops, Tom Cruise, and then appears to be blown up, mere seconds later. Tom Cruise gets an invite from a strange man to stay with him in his basement. Of course Tom Cruise's daughter is more than welcome to join them.

The dude they're staying with gets drunk on peach schnapps, explains how they're going to fight back and win armed with only an axe and a shotgun, and then explains to Tom Cruise's daughter, who is ten, how he will take care of her if something were to happen to her daddy. Very creepy. Tom Cruise puts a stop to the future love fest by explaining to Captain Creepy that he has nothing to say to his daughter. All conversation is to be had only with Tom Cruise. Then a mechanical alien eye serpent enters the place and does some searching. All three humans enter stealth mode and do some damn good hiding. Once the eye finds the coast to be clear, some aliens enter and decide to have a look around. They're enjoying themselves just fine until the bell rings and shore leave is over. They leave.

Next we find the real reason the aliens are here. They want to take our bodies, grind them up, and then spray the guts all over the freaking place. They're hanging from trees, running down the sides of houses, forming blood rivers in the streets. It's crazy, I tell you. This freaks out Captain Creepy and he morphs into Captain Crazy. "Not my blood!" he shouts over and over, as he digs a tunnel to nowhere. Tom Cruise has had enough, so he kills our friend, the Captain. He and his daughter go to sleep, only to be awakened by another mechanical eye serpent. Tom Cruise goes to town with an axe, which, surprisingly, works. Missile launchers don't work, but axes do. Captain Creepy was on to something.

During the axe fight, daughter Cruise runs outside. Why? I dunno. Anyway, she gets abducted. The aliens are into that now. Vaporizing is so last year. Tom Cruise finds a car, grabs some grenades inside (how convenient!) and gets abducted, too. Abductees are stored in Easter baskets which hang below the ships. He is reunited with his daughter, and then he is selected. For what, might you ask? He's to be turned into gut spray. This time, the people in the baskets aren't going to take it anymore. They grab hold of Tom Cruise and pull him from the grasp of the alien birth canal that does the selecting and gut sprayifying. When he's safely back in the Easter basket, he reveals that the grenades have been properly inserted into the alien ship. The ship blows up and they all escape. To Boston.

Upon arriving in Boston, they discover the alien ships have gone bonkers. Nobody seems to know why. But now that they have, birds can land on them, which opens them up to being destroyed by rocket launchers, which didn't work previously because they are not axes. Once the world is safe from the alien invaders, Tom Cruise and daughter find his ex and her family, and, believe it or not, Tom Cruise Jr. who was not, in fact, blown up (how convenient!).

Then Morgan Freeman, who is heard, but not seen in this movie (good looking out, Steven Spielberg), explains what happened. Our bacteria, parasites, and Super AIDS, which we are all immune to, are deadly poisons to the aliens. They all got sick and died. Their space ships are run on love, and when the aliens die, so does the love. That opens them up to attack from non-axe items such as rocket launchers and sling shots. Go figure.

So what did I think of it? This movie was fantastic! Go see it in the theatre, and then purchase a bootleg copy to hold you over until the DVD comes out, which is sure to be fabulous and probably one of those super-duper two disc collector's editions. Tell a buddy and bring a friend!

But wait! There's more! My day did not end there! After leaving the theatre, I got in my car. "To the party!" I shout to my driver, who is named Jeeves, in case you've forgotten. We arrive at the party. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I set up camp, because I am staying the night, despite having a driver. Then your typical party things happen.

When sun sets, the real fun begins. Fireworks. It's time to blow up the sky. We're Americans and we have every right. Every right. So we make with the booms for a couple hours and then the cops arrive. Now, this is quite odd because the cops never come to this place. We've shot stuff. We've blown stuff up. We've played with fireworks here for years. There were never any cops. Until now.

Somebody complained. Who would do such a thing? I'll tell you who: somebody who hates America, that's who. We're out here celebrating our freakin' freedom and some liberal hippie Communist America-hating Democrat sissy bastard calls the cops to shut us down. I'm going to get a bit vulgar here, so you sensitive types should avert your eyes.

I'm sorry, but FUCK YOU. Who the FUCK do you think you are, MOTHER FUCKER? Who the FUCK calls the FUCKING cops on people FUCKING shooting FUCKING fireworks on FUCKING Independence Day weekend? Get a FUCKING life. Get the FUCK out of my FUCKING country you FUCKING Commie prick. I FUCKING swear this to you, MOTHER FUCKER, if I ever FUCKING find out who the FUCK you are, you will FUCKING die. I'm not FUCKING kidding. I will take my FUCKING knife and FUCKING gut you. I hope you FUCKING have kids because I want them to FUCKING watch me remove your FUCKING entrails which I will use to FUCKING decorate your FUCKING house like they were FUCKING Christmas lights. What the FUCK?

I can understand calling the cops during the week on some random non-Independence Day day, but during Independence Day weekend, people shoot fireworks into the sky. Any jackass who can't appreciate that does not deserve to live here. Plain and simple.

So the cop, who was just doing her job, lets us off with a warning. No fine. But now we've got a ton of fireworks that haven't been used. Fortunately, we've secured another location to launch our colorful boom lights and we will be doing so tonight. And I dare somebody to call the cops this time. I dare them.

The party wasn't a total bust. We did some good drinkin' and I don't even have a hangover. If I did, this post would be nowhere near the length it is. I was, of course, the last to go to sleep, because I am a party animal and refuse to miss a thing.

In the morning I woke up, went out to breakfast with my friends, and then had Jeeves drive me home. Along the way we passed the lawn where I encountered the sexy mower sisters. The lawn was fully mowed and there were no more sisters. The only evidence of the encounter was a piece of fabric from one of the bikini bottoms which somehow got shredded in the lawn mower. "Pull over, Jeeves," says I to the driver. I get out, collect the fabric and return to the vehicle. "To the Jack Cave!" I shout to Jeeves. We arrive at home. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I approach my front door, and then a thought enters my mind. I head back toward the car. I hand Jeeves the bikini fabric and say, "Keep up the good work, my good man." Jeeves smiles. I've made his day. Good looking out, Jackington Viego.

This is a reposted story which was originally published here. The contents may have been altered and external links may no longer work.