OH HEY.

Dearest Readers,

So I have a confession to make.

I started this whole blogging thing in order to get in the habit for England. But I didn't want to start blogging about my life until it was interesting/when I moved to Nottingham, England. In the meantime I lied and cheated and made this blog, The Fluky Jive. And while The Fluky Jive was entertaining and well-meaning, it was merely a dream.

There is, however, a new blog, which is made of awesome and British things. It is located here, and is entitled, The Savvy Bollocks.

Please read that one instead of this one. You could very well continue reading this blog, but I'm afraid it will not update itself.

Anyway, good luck with your endeavors. Make good life choices. Drink your milk.

Sincerely,
Stanza Marloch

An Angry Tribute

WOW I haven't written in a while. It's probably because nowadays I sit around freaking out about things rather than being productive. Also, Coke has become my lifeblood/main reason to pee.

Anyway, have you ever heard of this book?

Truly an epic of epic proportions.

Well  if you haven't read the first three novels in the trilogy (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, and Life, the Universe, and Everything) then I'm afraid I have some very, very bad news for you: not only have you NOT lived a fulfilling life to date, but you also have no notion of the word, 'random', and you might as well continue to flail about your meaningless existence with espresso machines for limbs, because that is how useless you should feel without having read these books.

Just look at his importance: he has fists growing out of his forehead.

Yes, Douglas Adams is important. I'm not even going to explain anything about his works, because they speak *loudly* for themselves about the nature of the universe, as well as other important things. In fact, his books are considered to be of such monumental importance, that many who have both read the series and scaled Mount Everest have found the two experiences incomparable. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is simply that important.

An amusing movie adaption of the first few books was made before Mr. Adams died. In fact, he even wrote the screenplay. Here's a snippet of the song which plays when the Earth explodes. MEMORIZE IT. AND THEN SING IT TO YOUR KIDS.

I will find this banjoist and he will play this song at my funeral.

So this is all an elaborate buildup to an explanation of my favorite character in the entire Hitchhiker's Guide series. THE ENTIRE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE SERIES. His name is Bowerick Wowbagger.

Bowerick Wowbagger is an immortal being who became immortal due to an accident with "an irrational particle accelerator, a pair of rubber bands and a liquid lunch". He spends his infinite life insulting every living thing in the universe in alphabetical order. At one point during the novel, he informs the main character (Arthur Dent) that he is a complete asshole. And then he freaking flies away!

I don't much care for lemons. Jerks.

Bowerick Wowbagger is my hero. He spends lifetimes doing things you probably shouldn't spend lifetimes doing. Just. Can you imagine traveling around in a spaceship called the Tanngrisnir, letting everyone know that they're horrible? It'd be the best thing ever! But also really mean. I'm sure most people don't deserve to be called jerks. Still, on the worst of days, the idea is most tempting.

I guess that's all. Next time, I'll have something more profound to say. In the meantime, here's a picture of a little kid hugging a kitten to restore your faith in humanity:

Awwww. Kittens are jerks, too. So ungrateful.

The Top Ten

Yay! I've compiled a list of my top ten viral videos from around the web! Get excited. And then watch every single one. If you don't, I'll know.

10. The Ghost Car
I actually hate this one, so let's get it out of the way first. Seriously, this seemingly ordinary car does some crazy things.

9. The Russian Singer

Just. No comment.

8. The Cuppy Cake Boy

Isn't he cute? I may or may not have this song on my ipod.

7. The Ugly

Satire at its best. I feel so much prettier now!

6. The Banned Commercial

Kids: sex is bad. Just look what happened to this guy.

5. The WTF Blanket
Because normal blankets are for losers.



4. The WOW Freakout
His level 80 Paladin would be so disappointed.



3. The Goat Argument
This is what you get for POKING AN IBEX YOU STUPID, STUPID MAN.

2. The Tough Guys
*sniffle* It's just... so beautiful...

1. The Tangerine

I don't even know how to explain this one. It just gets in your head. And then it stays there. Tangerine.

Don't you feel so much more versatile now? Go conquer the world with your new repertoire! (Or maybe post some of your favorites?)

   

How to Break the Internet

   

When I'm bored, I commit to something. Whatever that something is, be it a book, videogame, crossword puzzle, or one of those fake lightsabers, I will beat that shit. Just give me an hour.

For me, the beauty of college is that boredom=procrastination. It was fate that I happened upon this internet game during one of my Shakespeare papers I was allegedly writing. The game changed my life. It holds a special place in my heart, and it will continue to divert my attention from important things as long as the internet isn't dead.

This game is "Bloons Tower Defense."

Look! It's a monkey. With a cannon.

Now admittedly, I was skeptical upon seeing the game appear on my screen: "Really? A game with monkeys and balloons? Whatever, it's trippy, I'll try it." The first levels went by slowly. And then suddenly I felt an overwhelming urge deep inside of me. It was an unhealthy urge, my grades can attest to that; however, it was an urge that made the endorphins flow. Screw exercise. I had monkeys.

Soon I was joining tournaments in my dorm. Together, my friends and I decreased the wireless internet signal by at least 75%. Nearby students couldn't complete their homework assignments due to our gaming aspirations. But it was okay, because our monkeys were pwning.

Example track. Go, monkeys, go!

Bloons Tower Defense is a game in which players use a variety of weapons--namely dart-throwing-monkeys, or monkeys with laser vision--in order to pop each balloon before it exits the track. As players pop more "bloons," more weapons become available (such as corrosive glue which eats through balloon layers every two seconds).

As the game progresses, the "bloons" become more devilish. Soon, blimps, DOUBLE BLIMPS, and even un-explodable balloons venture onto the track. It is your job to destroy them.

In no time at all, you may become THE SUPREME MASTER OF ALL THAT IS BALLOON-SHAPED AND POPABLE!

Even though you only have to endure 50 levels (50 rounds of balloons) before you win each track, that addictive edge inevitably kicks in. If you're anything like me, you will never be satisfied. Eventually, your map will look something like this:

Yes! Feel the wrath of my missiles and banana factories!

Wired Magazine calls "Bloon Tower Defense" "pop culture at its best." I couldn't agree more. (It's a sad fact, I know.) Anyway, make sure you play the latest version (4). Do it! Do it now!

Let the popage/time wasting begin!

http://www.ninjakiwi.com/Games/Tower-Defense/Play/Bloons-Tower-Defense-4.html

(or try the expansion levels):

http://www.ninjakiwi.com/Games/Tower-Defense/Play/Bloons-Tower-Defense-4-Expansion.html

 

The Manliest Man Currently Living

   

Meet Isaiah Mustafa, a.k.a. "The Old Spice Guy"

Way to go, advertisers! Finally there's a commercial involving a scantily-clad MAN prancing around the screen. And man, is he a man:

Reportedly, this was all done in a single take.

Originally a football player at Arizona State, Mustafa auditioned for a commercial with Old Spice in February, 2010. His Youtube videos now have over 10 million views, and his channel is the third most subscribed to of all time.

This guy is probably the best thing since women, except that he's a man. (Did I mention that he's a man?) Not only does he smell good, but his bathroom monologues are some of the most random/endearing/eloquent/unique things ever. My ears just about melted. I suppose it helps that his voice sounds like liquid chocolate, which flows from a mountaintop stream surrounded by exotic wildlife somewhere in South America.

Recently Mustafa has responded directly to Tweets on his Twitter page. As a result, he decided to create a series of personalized videos, which apparently were all ad-libbed. (Though how he comes up with subjects like bacon factories, top-hat-wearing-falcons, and giant octopus wrestling is beyond me.)

In one such video, Mustafa proposes to some guy's girlfriend on his behalf:

Oh, Old Spice Guy. You can propose to me any day.

According to CNN.com, people are so inspired by Mustafa's videos that parodies have begun blossoming. This one was created by university students. (They did it in 9 hours!)

If I weren't in a committed relationship, I may consider spending time on a private island in the Caribbean with Mr. Mustafa. But I suppose I'll just have to deal with erecting an elaborately-decorated shrine in his honor. Just kidding! Maybe.

So will I buy Old Spice products? Will I give into mindless capitalism because of some abs on a horse? There is a distinct possibility. How can you say 'no' to such a suave, self-assured manly man?

In this way, it seems that the Old Spice Guy is comparable to previous manly men. I'm sure we can all agree that the manliest man currently dead is Andrew Jackson.

What a beast.

    

Allow Time for Head Implosions

Consider the movie, Back to the Future (the only good thing that came from the 80s). Just kidding! There was also U2, Nintendo, and MTV.

If you have not yet seen the aforementioned epic series, which contains confounding time conundrums, please click here.

If you have, then perhaps you could illuminate the situation. I finally got around to watching all three movies. In a row. Naturally, I had a few questions, the most important of which is this: is the story a paradox?

Secksy.

According to trusty ol' Wikipedia, the definition of a time paradox is as follows:

"A paradoxical situation in which a time traveler causes, through actions in the past, the exclusion of the possibility of the time travel that allowed those actions to be taken.

The typical example is that of the grandfather paradox, wherein a time traveler goes back in time and kills his grandfather before his mother or father is conceived. It is a paradox because if this occurs, he will never be born, and therefore never be able to travel back in time to kill his grandfather, thus allowing himself to be born."

BECAUSE YOU'VE SEEN THE FIRST BACK TO THE FUTURE, you know that there are no grandfather killings. Instead my inquiry resides in character relationships: the scriptwriters make no mention of how Marty and Doc Brown know each other at the beginning of the movie. Does Marty work for Doc? Are they friends? Neighbors?

Emmett 'Doc' Brown. My hero.

I thought that because Doc Brown actually meets Marty in the past/1955, he simply sought out future Marty in 1985. Throughout the "Marty's-about-to-disappear-forever" ordeal, Doc emphasizes the danger of knowing one's own future. So perhaps Doc chose not to say anything too revealing until after Marty came back from the past. In this way, Doc Brown and Marty would not have met unless Marty went back to meet him in the past. And Marty would not have gone into the past unless he knew Doc Brown. Voilà! Paradox.

After watching Back to the Future 2 and 3, however, Doc explains to Marty that creating a time paradox would disrupt the space-time continuum, essentially 'sploding the universe. What they must create, then, is a time loop. They must alter as little as possible in the past or future, thus ensuring the consistency of the current 1985, but inevitably an alternate 1985.

For example, Marty and Doc Brown meet at Twin Pines Mall to perform Doc's time experiment. Yet after Marty accidentally enables the flux capacitor, sending him back to 1955 in the first movie, he runs over one of the pines.

See the difference?

We must remember that the 1985 to which Marty returns is not the same 1985 from which he left. Therefore Marty and Doc knew each other regardless of whether Marty went back in time or not. His going to 1955 just arranged an earlier meeting.

So, no paradox. Just alternate universes. Right?

THEN WHY DOES DOC HAVE THIS WESTERN-LOOKING GUN!?

Back to the Future 3, anyone?

It's Revolution Time

I have sweaty hands. It's gross, unnecessary and embarrassing, but that's not even the worst part.

Because of these,everything is approximately 107x slipperier.

Doorknobs= door + water

Pencil= pencil + water

Book= soggy book

Ice= double ice

Handshake= hands + slip 'n slide

For years I've had the great misfortune of watching people wipe their own hands after shaking mine. It kind of put me in an awkward position. On one hand (ha-ha), I could say I have a condition. But then people keep a noticeable distance from me, fearing that I may sweat on them. On the other hand, I could lie and say I'm nervous. In the end, though, I've decided to look for alternative greeting techniques. Thus far, there is only one possibility.

The fist bump.

Remember this?

Unlike other basic methods of greeting, the fist bump has infinite variations. According to this website, there are at least 35. (My favorite is the "Napoleon Bonapound"). The fist bump is an ingenious invention. No more having to worry about sweaty hands, palm germs, or if people used soap after peeing. This is raw knuckle action, man.

In this article, fist bumping is said to have originated in the 1970's with NBA players. (Though arguably it is credited to the Wonder Twins in Superfriends). Wherever it came from, the act of fist bumping is surprisingly easier to pull off than a high-five.

Say no to high-fives.

So anyway, let's all push for a National Fist Bump day in honor of those with slightly less socially-acceptable hands. Mmkay? How 'bout August 10th?

Also, this is the greeting of the future:

Need a read?

  

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is a gesture toward women everywhere. Each chapter begins with a devastating fact about abuse and domestic violence. But then the Swedish author and journalist, Stieg Larsson, introduces us to Lisbeth Salander. And Lisbeth Salander is--I apologize but there really is no other way to describe her--one badass motherfucking chick.

Example badass motherfucking chick (Noomi Rapace)

I can't tell you exactly what Lisbeth Salander does, because somehow that would diminish the sickening joy you feel when she performs some of her badass antics. They're just too ball-crushing. I can tell you, however, that she rejects normalcy and patriarchal society in pursuit of a strictly reclusive, secretive lifestyle. She also doesn't let anyone influence her personal morals. And she rides a motorcycle. Naturally, I find myself increasingly infatuated.

Okay enough Salander appreciation. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is a mystery/thriller novel (and a recently-released movie, but everyone knows you should read the book first). Anyway, journalist Mikael Blomkvist is framed and convicted of libel early in the story. Soon Blomkvist finds himself involved in an investigation of a gruesome series of murders and a missing girl. Cue Salander, who teams up with Blomkvist to kick butt and take names. Oh yeah. But that's all imma tell you.

Throughout the book, the plot does everything imaginable: it thickens, it twists and turns, and it spirals down an ever-darkening tunnel of ultimate doom, rendering readers mildly incapable of muscle movement. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But not really. Read it. Read it now.

You know you want to.

Alas, the mysterious past of the girl with the dragon tattoo cannot be contained in one volume. Thankfully, Stieg Larsson wrote three badass books before he died in 2004, all of which have since been published in English.

Believe me when I say that this book is captivating, masterfully paced, sometimes poorly translated from its original Swedish, intelligent and suspenseful. AND SUSPENSEFUL! It will leave you off the edge of your seat, squirming on the floor. In fact, I'm still there now. 

The Bieber Effect

Justin Bieber: the sixteen-year-old pop sensation who's sweeping the nation. We all know him. We all have some kind of one-way relationship with him, be it loathing or unwavering love.

Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus. Coincidence? No. They're the same person.

Peculiarly, many of Bieber's fans maintain imaginary romances with him. This so-called "Bieber Fever" can become so intense at his performances that fans will lose control of their limbs, flail violently toward the stage, foam at the mouth, and injure themselves in the process.

According to this article, psychologists recommend limiting Justin-Bieber-stalking-time to twenty minutes a day. (Apparently, some fans spend an average of seven hours every day following Bieber's every move on teh internets.) I feel like these people haven't heard of video games. Then again, maybe they're playing Justin Bieber video games.

But would there be this much widespread commotion/obsession if people knew the REAL Justin Bieber?



Well his album IS called: "My World". Maybe he's not as familiar with the real world.

Also,



I guess he doesn't know what glass is either.

The only possible conclusion that I can come to is that Justin Bieber is an alien: he's communicating with us through the power of song, sending telepathic, subliminal messages through phrases such as: "Like baby, baby, baby ohh."

So next time you hear Justin Bieber on the radio, don't wildly excalim, "OMG JUSTIN BIEBER YOU'RE LIKE TWELVE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT REAL LOVE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Instead, consider the possibility that the Earth is going to explode soon, and Justin Bieber was merely sent as a warning.

The Kazoo of the gods

   

Can you hear that? That's 120 decibels of pure majesty.

These are vuvuzelas. They represent all that is annoying and glorious on this good Earth.

Most commonly encountered at certain South-African soccer matches, the vuvuzela can be heard blaring fervently for miles.

Also, I want one. My hope is that during the summer, I will traverse across town, triumphantly blowing my vuvuzela at any sports event I manage to find. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to distract any of the players. I simply want to recreate the intensity and excitement of the World Cup.

Maybe one day I'll build one of these in my backyard:

Oh, and here's a vuvuzela symphony, courtesies of Mysteryguitarman, whom I love and will eventually adopt:

Yay!

The Rest of my Life depends on This

  
So M. Night Shyamalan's "Avatar: The Last Airbender" is coming to a theater near you on July 1st. Unlike most movies this summer, "The Last Airbender" maintains quite a following. And unlike most fans, airbender fans are not prepared to be disappointed. I'm one of these fans.

My spine is tingling with so many awesome.

It's about time someone stepped up to the plate to film the Avatar series. But M. Night Shyamalan? The skepticism is understandable considering his past movies.

Personally, I've followed the Nikelodeon cartoon from the beginning. I even watched the un-aired pilot episode. And I'll admit, it doesn't offer any insight into the human soul. Avatar: The Last Airbender is a kid's show. But it's smart, witty, and refreshing. It bends the limits of anime. Ha, see what I did there?

Anyway, I've prepared a list of grievances concerning what I know about the movie thus far:

1. Uncle Iroh isn't fat.

Shaun Toub (Yinsen in "Iron Man") needs to eat approximately 5000 pizzas. Immediately.

2. The live action movie is entitled, "The Last Airbender" thanks to James Cameron. FREAKING. He could have named his blue people movie after ANYTHING IN THE WORLD. Also, did he even look at the definition!?

Avatar (according to this place):

1 : the incarnation of a Hindu deity (as Vishnu)
2 a : an incarnation in human form b : an embodiment (as of a concept or philosophy) often in a person

Where did he get "the brain of a cripple inside of an alien" from that?

3. Prince Zuko's scar looks like a paper cut. His face says, "Owies I has a booboo" instead of "GRAH I JUST GOT SEARED PAINFULLY BY MY OWN FATHER!"

4. I hope the trailer does not contain every single epic scene in the movie. I guess we'll find out.

5. I have yet to see Momo anywhere.

How can you say no to a face like that?

In any case, I am prepared to shave my head and paint blue arrows all over my body for the midnight premiere of this movie. If I find out that I did it all for nothing, and that the second and third movies were merely rumors, imma have to bust some caps.

Toy Story Signals the End of my Childhood

So I went to the midnight showing of Toy Story 3 with my girlfriend.

This was it. We'd been waiting eleven years for the final chapter of our beloved toy story.

What struck me first of all were the number of badass people attending the movie. Seriously, these kids came straight from battling narwhals and jumping off of exploding planes to come see Toy Story 3. It was just touching to see everyone embracing their inner child.

Example badass person

The second thing that struck me was the short before the movie. It was quite unlike any previous Pixar short, and was actually less three dimensional, despite the fact that we were looking through 3D glasses. How to describe it? It was certainly visually stunning. And cute, of course. That's a requirement. The short was definitely an indication as to how far Disney and Pixar's relationship has come.

Then there was the movie. Toy Story 3 reminded me a lot of Rugrats All Growed Up in that it shared many of the elements of the two previous movies, but it wrapped up the series nicely. Andy is, as I suggested, all growed up, and heading out to college. We, the audience, get to see some inner turmoil because Andy can't just bring all of his toys to school. That would be ridiculous. And unmanly.

I was most saddened to discover that many of Andy's toys had already been given away. But I guess that's realistic--I'd keep Woody over Bopeep, too. Most of the cast is still there, though: Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Joan Kusak, Don Rickles, and John Ratzenberger (who has been in every Disney-Pixar film to date). There are several newcomers as well, like Whoopi Goldberg and Michel Keaton.

Toy Story 3 is finally out of the box

All in all I rather enjoyed it. I won't go too much into the plot, but Woody and company mistakenly get sent to a day care center, where a number of seemingly friendly toys welcome them to their own retirement-ish home. A conspiracy is exposed, blah blah blah, and three unlikely/otherworldly heroes save the gang from sure destruction.

Awesome. Also, in what was arguably one of the best scenes of the movie, Buzz runs around speaking spanish and lusts after the gorgeous Jessie.

Though a lot of the humor was slapstick, I greatly enjoyed the film. And now my childhood is over. There is simply nothing left to hold onto.

My inner child today

Who knows? Maybe they'll make Rugrats into a live-action movie...

Actually I hope they don't do that.

This needed to be done a long time ago

      
    
I have taken the liberty of annotating "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. My own comments appear in parentheses below:

I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan (So far, so good. I wear cardigans, like, all the time.)
welcome to the land of fame excess, am I gonna fit in? (I dunno... are Disney Channel kids "normal"?)
Jumped in the cab, (/limo)
Here I am for the first time (Psh, why would Miley Cyrus go to Hollywood? It's not like she's a movie star or anything.)
Look to the right and I see the Hollywood sign
This is all so crazy (I have to applaud the figurative language, here.)
Everybody seems so famous (Even the famous people are famous!)

My tummys turnin and I'm feelin kinda home sick (Those pine-scented cab fresheners'll do that to you.)
Too much pressure and I'm nervous,
That's when the taxi man turned on the radio (Cab Driver, from this day forth you shall be known as... TAXI MAN!)
and a Jay Z song was on (Oh, Jay Z. What a character. With his swagger and his empire state of mind.)
and the Jay Z song was on
and the Jay Z song was on

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They're playing my song,
And the butterflys fly away (Jay Z does have that effect on people...)
Noddin' my head like yeah (Like what?)
Moving my hips like yeah, (I really don't think that "yeah" is a legitimate simile...)
And I got my hands up,
They're playin my song
I know I'm gonna be ok
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (Except actually it's in Los Angeles.)
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA)

Get to the club in my taxi cab (/limo)
Everybody's lookin at me now
Like "who's that chick, thats rockin' kicks?
She gotta be from out of town

Okay, time out! Here's a snapshot from the music video:

She's hardly wearing anything, and she's dancing/"moving her hips like yeah" in front of a shiny, metallic background. I don't think people (namely guys) are gonna be looking at her feet. Just sayin'.

So hard with my girls not around me (In the music video, she's surrounded by *female* backup singers.)
Its definitely not a Nashville party (Again, in the music video, she's in a dust-covered parking lot, wearing cowboy-esque things, standing in the back of pickup trucks.)
Cause' all I see are stilletos (Apparently stilletos constitute a genuine city party.)
I guess I never got the memo (No, you just flew to LA on a plane by accident.)

My tummys turnin' and I'm feelin' kinda home sick (Parties make me feel that way, too.)
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the D.J. dropped my favorite tune (Thank goodness!)
and a Britney song was on (Oh no...)
and the Britney song was on (I guess she got over Jay Z.)
and the Britney song was on (It was probably "Womanizer"...)

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They're playing my song,
And the butterflys fly away (Not surprising. I imagine that if Britney Spears were around, butterflies wouldn't be.)
Noddin' my head like yeah (Wait... I'm starting to comprehend this...)
Moving my hips like yeah, (Never mind. 'Still doesn't make any sense.)
And I got my hands up,
They're playin my song
I know I'm gonna be ok
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA)
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA. It still would have rhymed, too! If she had just kept her story straight.)

Feel like hoppin' on a flight
Back to my hometown tonight (...I'm noticing a trend.)
Something stops me every time (Cue taxi man.)
The DJ plays my song and I feel alright! (She could just get an ipod and not have to worry about any of this DJ business...)

Blah blah blah chorus line followed by insane laughter and people doing flips in a cage. (wtf?)

Oh well. Is it too much to ask for a STAGGERINGLY BRILLIANT LYRICIST nowadays!? Apparently. I'm not saying Miley Cyrus is a bad person. Certainly the entire preteen population of America is somewhat infatuated with her charms and annoyingly catchy melodies. Either that or it's her show on the Disney Channel. (She has the best of both worlds, ya know.)

Don't even get me started on Selena Gomez.

No Cape!

I admire Rorschach, because quite frankly, he pwns. Rorschach is a Watchmen superhero who considers his mask to be his true face. The ever-morphing images displayed on this mask/face are based on designs from the Rorschach Inkblot test. (Yay for complex algorithms and psychological interpretations.)

Dis Rorschach Kickin' Ass

I admire Rorschach because he sees his world in black and white.

His World.

I admire Rorschach because this is how I see my own world:

Mine.

Demetri Martin, How I love thee

Srsly though, I love that man.

Demetri Martin is a rather witty comedian, actor, artist, musician and writer. *swoons* Mostly known for his work on The Daily Show, he also hosts his own show on Comedy Central.

Oh, and he dropped out of NYU Law School a year before graduation to pursue stand-up comedy. HE DROPPED OUT OF NYU LAW SCHOOL. TO PURSUE STAND-UP COMEDY. Yummy.

Meet Demetri Martin.

Meet Demetri Martin in 3D. (You have to look at the red picture with your left eyeball, and the blue picture with your right eyeball for the full effect.)

Anyway, like I was saying, I would win a jousting tournament for Demetri Martin. Then he would shower me with love and affection and handkerchiefs.

Did I mention that Demetri Martin also writes poetry? The following is a palindrome poem he wrote, which I found to be particularly impressive/amorous:

"Dammit I'm Mad"

Dammit I’m mad.

Evil is a deed as I live.

God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.

To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.

Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?

Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.

I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.

Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,

In my halo of a mired rum tin.

I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.

Is evil in a clam? In a trap?

No. It is open. On it I was stuck.

Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.

Be still if I fill its ebb.

Ew, a spider… eh?

We sleep. Oh no!

Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.

Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.

Both, one… my names are in it.

Murder? I’m a fool.

A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,

A Goddam level I lived at.

On mail let it in. I’m it.

Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!

A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.

Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:

“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”

Evil is a deed as I live.

Dammit I’m mad.

(Courtesies of Here)

(Palindrome= a word, verse, sentence, or number that reads the same backward or forward, like "1881" or "Racecar")

I'm not actually obsessed with Demetri Martin. I just wanted to prove that I'm a better fan than all ya'lls. Also, I appreciate the fact that he owns a unicycle.

Hell to the yes.

O Brave New World!

Just ef why aye, the title of this post is considered one of the most commonly misquoted lines in all of literature. It actually has nothing to do with what I'm about to say, and everything to do with dystopian societies, suicide and crazed, uncivilized savages.

On that note, I suppose I ought to establish my niche in the blogger world. My own little nook for my own--quite public--blathering.

Here at The Fluky Jive, we do pretty much whatever we want. Unlike the act of pooping, we try not to spew forth uninformed nonsense. Instead, we illuminate subtleties in our eclectic collection of pop-culture references and entertainment media. So think illumination and enlightenment. Not poop. Poop = bad. Illumination and enlightenment = good.

Don't get me wrong, most of what I say is nonsensical in the sense that the larger context is often ignored.

To illustrate, let me briefly explain my fascination with space pickles:

Example Space Pickle

When I was young, feral and illiterate, I used to draw pictures of space pickles--normal pickles with red capes. (Presumably, the red capes enabled the pickles to fly.) These space pickle adventures always took place in class. I would draw them in comics, or doodle them flying across my notes. More often than not, terrible things would happen to these space pickles.

Example Space Pickle Comic Strip

In essence, my space pickles endured everything horrible for me. I didn't have to deal with anything in real life. And this was a great relief. They entertained me, they spontaneously imploded, and then they flew away. All was well in the world of Stanza Marloch.

In the grand scheme of things, space pickles don't really matter. But they were funny and mildly entertaining, and they refocused my energy toward something constructive.

You simply have to treasure these little things, as well as the spirit in which they implode.

Welcome to The Fluky Jive!