I_WILL_RULE_ALL's Xanga

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 21:52:04 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

Given the eventual immenence of presidential elections, I think it's my personal patriotic duty to inform you, the electoral pond-scum of America, of the options placed before you on the grand executive menu. Traditionally speaking, there are only two real options when deciding whom to cast your ballot for; the U.S. Democratic Party (www.PleaseGodAnybodyButHilary2008.com) and the U.S. Republican Party (www.PleaseGodAnybodyButPatRobertson.com).

However, I feel you all should know that there are plenty of alternative choices available to the discerning voter. After all, isn't the very essence of the American Dream the ability of any Average Joe with four teeth and a fifth-grade level education to declare himself a demigod and run for the position of Leader of The Free World? Of course it is! That and having car parts strewn about your lawn alongside month-old uncashed Alimony checks. So here, for all the world to see, is a clear and concise listing of your other-party choices. For your convenience, I've chosen to leave out the truly whack-job outfits populated solely by pajama-sporting misfits, such as The Libertarian Party and anything that has ever so much as snorted the name Ralph Nader, and list only those parties with which you, the choosy balloteer, might wish to identify yourself for years of potential shame and social ostricization to come.

WARNING: THIS SECTION CONTAINS BLATANT AND EXTREMELY LUDICROUS ATTEMPTS BY THE AMERICAN PEOPLE TO PUT SOMEONE WHO EXPRESSES THEIR IDIOTIC VIEWS INTO OFFICE. I ABSOLUTELY SWEAR THAT I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP- IT'S ALL REAL FOLKS.

The American Party_ Thank goodness, here's an honest to goodness American political party concerned to all hades with your protection from all enemies, both foreign and domestic. Unfortunately, in the eys of th AP, these ominous enemies include none other than the Rockefellers, the New World Order, the Illuminati, the UN, Communists, and Jews. Thank you, American Party, for keeping our nation safe!

Christian Falangist Party of America_ This fun-loving group of individuals has banded together to promote such old-fashioned Biblical values as wearing jackboots and tattooing swastikas onto their shaved white heads. To show just how scriptural their doctrine really is, they have adopted as their party-platform icons such beloved church leaders as Benito Mussolini and Fransisco Franco. Mmm... just like Mary used to make!

The Pan-Sexual Peace Party_ Rather than saying something witty about this particular group of imbiciles, I will simply quote their stated party motto, word-for-word. It goes, "Sex is Good, Sex is Great, Yaay Sex!". Yes folks, long has this country needed a political interest group based around the needs of bong-wielding, viagra-popping horndogs named Moonflower. Thank you PPP, we salute you!

Libertarian National Socialist Green Party_ Any history buffs out there? For those of you unfamiliar with the term "National Socialist", let's brew up a little historical bullet point menu to jog your memory.

Things the original National Socialist Party accomplished: 1. Started World War II 2. Exterminated more than 6.3 million Jews 3. Wore dorky-looking riding pants with the thighs puffed out really huge so that they looked like angry Aryan J-Lo's wearing monocals.

Got it yet? That's right, Nazis! And on a further note, the "Green" in the party's official name indicates a concern for matters affecting or damaging the natural environment. So, at long last, we have within our borders an organization comprised entirely of Politically Correct, multicultural/multiracial, hemp-smoking, tree-hugging Nazi Stormtroopers. No Joke. As well as combining your usual Environmentalist/Militant Fascist agendas, they are also apparently dedacated to the preservation of "conventionally repressed Nazi history". In fact, as soon as you log on to their site, you will be treated to the heartwarming tale of how environmentally-minded Aryan scientists established a number of centers for the advancement of the Human race on the moon as early as 1942. Blumen, Blumen ueber alles!

American Nazi Party/American Communist Party_ These are both italian words for 'penguin'.

Family Values Party_ The spiritual brainchild of noted theologian and raving lunatic Tom Wells (the party's only candidate). According to his party website, which by the way does not look at all as though it were encoded by retarded orangutans, Wells declares that one night in his sleep he was instructed by God to run for president. That's a pretty good premise for a political party to have, especially when it seems to hold no discernable oppinion of anything else. Incidentally, God has also commanded all of you to vote for him, so hop to it!

Natural Law Party_ One of the countless parties with which of course we're all familiar based on the teachings of renowned politician and crackhead Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (a.k.a. Billy). This somewhat, er... unique little group is founded on the idea that everything on earth in fact works around a system of cosmic vibrations, which can be positively influenced by regular transcendental meditation excercizes. No word yet from the Yogi on the situation in Iraq, but it would seem that his position on marijuana legalization is positive, to say the least. Interesting factoid: in the 2000 Presidential Primary, this party recieved a total of 83,000 votes nationwide.

World Socialist Party USA_ According to their site, this party runs on a clearly logical political platform, whereby its members are not allowed to vote. That is, they can't vote for anybody, not even other party members. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Grassroots Party/U.S. Marijuana Party/U.S. Pot Party_ Exactly what it sounds like.

The Revolution_ This party's scary and somewhat dramatic-sounding official name belies the fact that they appear to stand for absolutely nothing apart from the legalization of a number of vices, namely drug use and prostitution. Expecting bloody hands holding AK-47's (and maybe some fuzzy handcuffs), I was surprised to see that they had opted for a rather, um, cuter look for their Revolution. Rainbows. Lots of Rainbows. And a smiley face. Totally serious here.

So, there you go. Don't you feel more educated? No? Not even a little bit? Okay, fine. I guess I'll just go back to slaying ogres and throwing balls of fire around.

Good night, good luck, and vote safely!

Now, get me a sandwich!

Friday, April 21, 2006

Fri, 21 Apr 2006 02:23:43 GMT

JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE JACKIE!

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Sat, 01 Apr 2006 16:05:42 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

I realize that it has been a while since my last update, but I hope you can all understand my sound reasons: I have suddenly begun to hate you. Wait, no... I was going to say something a lot easier to sympathize with. Oh well, I guess the cat's out of the bag now anyway.

Moving on to the topic of High School drama, there seems to have been an intense spike these past few weeks of what is scientifically referred to by my colleagues as "dumb High School dating crap". Allow me to illustrate via an off-the-cuff parable entitled "The Saga of Bob and Bobette".

One day, many hours ago in a faraway land called The Miamisburg Commons, a young angst-ridden, hormonally unbalanced, slightly overweight teenage girl named Bobette was pouring her heart out to her best friend Bobina. "Bobina", she cried, "Bob's just been arrested by the po-po! They say he set my ex-boyfreind's car on fire for having possibly one day made a grunting sound that could be taken in some bizarre African language as something moderately offensive toward me!" Just then a messenger arrived, carrying a tear-stained and horribly misspelled note written in what appeared to be prison tattoo ink. Bobette picked it up and read: This is teh furst chans i got 2 wright 2 u. it Is bad here. It is not fuhn here. wunted 2 tell u that I hearded what u sead abowt us and it is not kool and now I will killz myseff goodbyy wurld (Bang I is ded uuug...) "No!" she shrieked, tears welling up in her eyes, dripping cheap blackish-green eyeliner down her Green Day shirt. "I don't know what I'll do without him! Those were the most magical two and a half days of my life." And with that, Bobette pulled out a safety pin from her pants and stabbed herself 14,896 times with it, killing herself instantly. Just then, Ricardo walked up and grunted. "Ricardo!" exclaimed Bobina, "Why did you have to make Bob burn your car?" "Silence, wench!" he cried, and with that they started to make out. "I've always loved you, Ricardo!" whispered Bobina. "I know", he replied, "but we can never be together." He started to tear up as he spoke. "Bobina, I just found out that I'm... I'm... a lesbian!" Bobina gasped, clearly puzzled. "But you're a boy..." she said. "I KNOW!" he screamed, "I need some time to figue this thing out. Besides, my dad just kicked me out of the house for selling part of his secret stash of crack to pay Bob's bail." At that moment, a meteor crashed to Earth and they both died, though due to the size and velocity of the meteor nobody else in the Commons was hurt. Then a fight broke out over half a cookie.

This would be a whole lot funnier if crap like this didn't happen every single day of my school life. Except for the meteors. None of those so far.

Now, get me a sandwich!

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 02:01:10 GMT

Bailey &Coaco

Bailey

Coaco

Photography by the one and only Daniel L. Parson

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Sat, 28 Jan 2006 18:56:09 GMT

Hello e-peons!

Given the imminence of Guvenitorial Elections, I'm sure the more politically inclined among us have noticed somewhat of a... decline in campaign measures as of late. For hypothetical purposes, lets look at the heated race between the semi-fictional candidates Mr. Doodlethorpe and Mr. Crubbs, exemplified by the following semi-fictional radio announcements...

This is Allan Doodlethorpe with an urgent message for all Ohio voters. Due to the exponential increase in the number of drug-related shootings in the Cincinatti area, I have proposed a plan to entirely eliminate all drugs within Ohio's state limits. I will accomplish this by calling down my supernatural rays of sun-shiney goodness and morality upon each and every house in this great state. My opponent, however, has never openly commented on this matter. Perhaps it's because he's been too busy... busy EATING BABIES! (Sounds of static...)

I, David Crubbs, have personally brought to justice more then thirty-five members of a local Al-Qaeda cell throughout my distinguished six-year political career. However, during the course of my daily conversations with both Billy Grahm and the Khoffi Anan, I have ascertained that my opponent, Doodlethorpe, has in fact been involved with former SS members for the past two decades in persecuting and, whenever possible, bludgeoning members of the Lord's chosen people, the minorities. (Static...)

As the totally unaltered photograph appearing on my official campaign website clearly shows, our old friend Crubbs here has a nasty little habit of dancing naked around an inverted crucifix while passing around a crack pipe fashioned crudely from the bones of St. Peter... (Static...)

...this completely authentic image of my opponent Doodlethorpe, getting wild at a certain mansion named after a certain well-known adult publication, in the company of best friends Jefferey Dahmer, Antiochus IV and Hitler... (Static)

Wouldn't it be nice to have a governor who wasn't afraid of foreigners and minority groups? Well, as my impressive array of mistresses will clearly show... (Static)

Doodlethorpe has allegedly promised that, if elected, he will come to your house and kill your beloved pets with a waffle iron. If I am elected, however, I solemnly swear to institute justice, freedom and free healthcare for all... (Static)

...wherein, under my opponent's traffic law revisions, it is estimated yearly traffic-related fatalities in the Dayton-Metro area alone will rise by as much as 24 Billion, which campaign sources indicate is more than four times the current population of Earth... (Static)

Totally Unslanted Research Co. has indicated a more than 600% chance that my opponent is a poo-poo-head... (Static)

Paid for by the offices of Allan Doodlethorpe, 2006, completely devoid of contributions by organized crime syndicates or any organization employing more than 800 illegal Latin American immigrants per thousand... (Static)

...side-effects-may-include-nausea-indigestion-heartburn-pregnancy-cancer-Irishness-hemophilia-vampirism-incontenency-war-munchies-death-damnation-or-sexual-dysfunction. Do-not-take-Crubbs-if-you-are-pregnant-nursing-insane-dead-gay-or-South-African. Call-your-doctor-if-effects-last-longer-than-acceptable-term-of-office-under-U.S.-Constitution.

Now, get me a sandwich!

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Tue, 24 Jan 2006 02:00:08 GMT

so seeing how austin has taken too long to update and all i think ill take the liberty of doing so. from a long time of personal indepth inlightenment from someone special and i was told to talk about drugs. so in what i think austin would say here I go;

So drugs, yeah not good for your body but man do they bring in the green and are a great accessories for Whores. And Crack is for negros, Meth is for crackers, Opium is for the Chineese, weed is for mexicans, and acid & ecstasy is for ppl who goes to Raves and so on

: so its not as long or as insightful but at least its an update!

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Sun, 04 Dec 2005 16:55:05 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

First off, allow me to answer the approximately 5,483,097 questions I have recieved regarding my new SN: Lakedaemon (pronounced LAK-eh-DAY-mone) refers to the ancient Hellenic warrior-race known as the Spartans, while cerise is a color most often described as "blood-red", the color of a Spartan Knight's battle cloak. Happy now?

Anyway, as many of you are aware of, we are now effectively within the crosshairs of the holiday season. What holiday is that, you ask? Why, don't be silly little child. That Holiday, of course, is Kwanzaa. Now, obviously none of my enlightened readers need so much as question what this great feast celebrates, much less why we have it. I, however, in my usual effort to remain a politically-correct step above the rest of you honkeys, put in the extra two cents (roughly .032 Euro, or 2 Bazillion Iraqi Dollars), and really uncovered the meaning, the spirit, the when where and why of Kwanzaa. For your intellectual pleasure, I now present to you the story of The Little Kazoo Player Who Saved Kwanzaa.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away (but no quite so far away as, say, England or Chad; really more like Harlem or Detroit or something), there lived a little kazoo player named Kanjaganeeka. Every day, little Kanjaganeeka would go out to the bars (the ones where whitey didn't go) and play his kazoo for the wondrous enjoyment of all. Then one day, a kindly old man called Kanjaganeeka over to his table and whispered to his ear, "Son, you're the best kazoo player I've ever heard. Tell old grampy Foobaloo what you want for Kwanzaa this year." What, wondered Kanjaganeeka, was Kwanzaa? Though he had never heard its name before, it sounded magical to his ears. "Well sir," he said, "I must say I'd really like a nice pimp hat.". "Very well, then!" said grampy Foobaloo, and with a swish of his magic old hat, he was up in the air, shining like a glorious star, wings and crown and all. Then, with a 'poof', Kanjaganeeka found in his hands the biggest, reddest pimp hat his little eyes had ever seen. "Wow! How'd you do that?" yelled Kanjaganeeka to the floating man. "Why son," said Foobaloo, "I'm the Kwanzaa fairy! Every year I go around to all the little boys and girls that whitey keeps down and grant them all their greatest wish." Suddenly, there hence a bustle from all around the bar. "Whoa, that just aint right! He's got wings and one of them little crowns like some kind of fruit!" Kanjaganeeka could see that some of the men were getting angry with old grampy Foobaloo, and for a moment he was scared. "Hey now everybody just take a second and calm down here!" cried Foobaloo. "Maybe I wasn't in this business when you all were kids, but that doesn't mean you can't get some presents here and now!" And with a swish and a swoosh every hand in the room held a great big bottle of Krystall. "Whoa!" said the men. "I guess you are for real. So does that mean you aint a fruit?". "Now now," said Foobaloo, "Some things I just feel are better kept secret!". So on and on they reveled, each and every one of them awash in Kwanzaa cheer. Then, with a great and mighty crash, the door to the bar burst in, and in the frame stood the meanest, baddest figure in town. In a great silk suit and a big black hat, there was Whitey, mad as could be. "Now what in tarnation y'all think yer doin' hereabouts?" he yelled. "Why," said Kanjaganeeka, "We're all celebrating Kwanzaa, the most magical time of the year!". "Magical?" laughed bad old Whitey. "Silly negroes! There aint no such thing such as Kwanzaa. That there Foobaloo done made it all up one day just so he could have an excuse to to wear that fairy get-up! That boy's lefter than a panzy stand.". All of a sudden, with a snap and a crack, old Whitey's head did explode, and it did rain joyous showers all across the bar. A great cheer went up, but all fell silent when bad old Whitey's head began to grow anew. "Now just what y'all thinkin'?" he yelled. "You can't get rid of me, I'm worse than a cockroach. I'm Whitey!". A great dispair fell o'er the room, till in one bright and wondrous instant, little Kanjaganeeka had an idea. "Maybe soul power can't get you, Whitey, but how 'bout old-fashioned lead?", and with that, Kanjaganeeka whipped out the gat he carried when going through the meaner parts of town, and began to fire into Whitey's suit. "Hey, that aint a halfbad idea!" exclaimed the men of the bar. So one by one, they all took turns busting off a cap in Whitey's chest. Then, when the ammo had run out and Whitey was sure not to bother them again, the bar boke out in glorious song, lead by little Kanjaganeeka's kazoo. "Well, my work here is done!" shouted Foobaloo, and with a giggle and a poof he patted the big man next to him on the butt and vanished into thin air.

And that, my friends, is the true meaning of Kwanzaa. It's not about guns or liquor or fairies, but rather, it's a message of love, and most of all, soul power.

Jetzt, gib mir ein Kasebrot!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Tue, 08 Nov 2005 00:26:25 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

Well, it's official. I've started that which will hopefully flourish and grow into a rewarding, successful career. I have begun accepting mule money from the Colombian cartels. Heh... I wish. They were all like "Well, your resume is impressive, 9 people killed, ethics scores the lowest we've ever seen, but wait... what's this? It says here you have a problem swallowing potentially fatal objects larger than your own thumb... I'm afraid you're just not what we're looking for." Talk about hard to get into. Not just anyone can be hired to swallow ballons full of 'snow' anymore, you have to really be disposable, and my IQ score was 30 points higher than the maximum they hire. Sheesh... At least I was able to get away unnoticed after garroting the recruiter with his own rosary beads.

But seriously, I'm an author now! I'm currently at work on my first two manuscripts, which I have yet to officially name. But alas! I know that many of you out there are just dying to hear a little excerpt, so here it goes, in all its best-selling grandeur:

From Page 4, Chapter One: "The"

Now what kind of publisher could shake his head at that kind of raw talent? Factually speaking, I have preliminary work done for about 56 titles, and I'm hoping for an appointment with Bantam Publishers, a fine corporation which I'm sure none of you have ever heard of. Lord permitting, this will turn itself into a full-time career, signifying the fulfillment of my life-long proffesional dream. I ask for your prayers as I proceed, and while I realize that many of my friends are for all intensive purposes illiterate, I would appreciate any help in proofing as I go about the various drafting procedures.

While I realize that this installment has not been very funny, I can absolutely assure you that the next entry will not only cause you to congratulate me at a later time, but perhaps even cause you to read it! At this time I am considering either an essay on applied exospheric aerodynamics, or the usual, a column of somewhat random cracks and obscure if not amusing references.

By the way, it seems that I have accidentally deleted my old IM screen name, katanaaustin. Until I figure out how to get it back, my new SN is LakedaemonCerise.

Until next time, my little test subjects, please go and promptly FETCH ME A SANDWICH!

P.S. Little Real-Life News item here for you. Bear in mind that these people are professional journalists, who are trained specifically not to say things like this on TV, or for that matter in any public setting. In reference to an effort made by LEBANON in the war on terror, of which the plural is LEBINESE: "Today, Lesbian forces have... oh, I'm sorry, I meant Lesbianese forces, have begun to..."

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Thu, 25 Aug 2005 20:00:22 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

Well, school's back in session now. Once more into the breech, for this senior. But just for right now I wanted to talk to you all about something far more important than school or biscuits or even Turtle Wax; I want to talk about the power of love. Now for many of you out there love is only another five-letter word, but this is not so! Love has four letters, many of them different and unique in the individual sounds they make. Now the power of love can supposedly do just about anything, or so we're tought from early childhood. But recently, I've been putting the power of love to the test, with disturbing results. Take the other day, for example, when a friend of mine dropped and broke his TV from the back of a Jeep. Myself and some friends who will not be named here, including Daniel Parson and Alex Chittum, decided that the best course of action would be to hug the damaged set until the might of our love caused the shattered internal image-thingies to peice themselves together again and shine with the strength of a thousand suns. However, while part of the problem may have been that Alex wasn't really hugging as much as he was trying to get away from the rest of us, it was our unanimous conclusion that the television screen was not only lacking the power of a thousand suns, but was in fact still completely broken. Strike one, Cupid.

Only a while later, while I was moving my Oma down from her home in Georgia, our moving truck broke down in the loading area of the storage place we had chosen. Well, nothing seemed to work in our efforts to breathe new life into the vehicle, even the time-proven method of endlessly turning the key the exact same way and saying "ah, crap". Then, it hit me; the power of love could certainly get this truck moving! So Daniel and I leaned over and hugged the dashboard, but lo and behold, the truck failed to start. We loved the truck with all of our power, though keeping it absolutely platonic, but still it would not go. So I sat and I pondered, "What could make something work under terriffic stress despite its most heartfelt desires to roll over and die?". Then an idea came: slave spirituals. It worked for a quarter of the population of Africa, why couldn't it work for our truck? So together we started on Swing Low Sweet Chariot, and within mere seconds the truck was running like nothing had ever been wrong. It seems that while depressing and off-key music would suffice for now, the power of love had failed once more.

Thirdly, I met a girl named Lucy. Love had finally struck out, and taken out a left fielder and several spectators in the process.

So there you have it, the power of love (if it even does exist) is entirely worthless for any practical purpose. When life doesn't go your way, or if your spleen is ripped out with a spoon by angry Amazon drag queens and left to rot in the sun, don't bother loving it; just sing an old spiritual and all is guaraunteed to be fine.

By the way, I have absolutely no hard feelings toward Lucy whatsoever. What I said earlier was nothing more than a joke, and in poor taste at that. Lucy, please please please don't kill me...

Now bring me a sandwich!

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Sun, 10 Jul 2005 04:51:15 GMT

Hello, e-peons!

Well, as many of you know, I'm leaving in less than two weeks for Berlin, then the Mediteranean Isles. Be sure that I shall be bringing you all back something, mostly in the form of excuses for not actually purchasing anything for you. You foreign-culture afficianados out there will probably realize that Berlin is, even by European standards, completely insane. One thing you'll find is that they're all very sensitive about the whole National Socialism thing. If you dare to even bring up the topic of Nazis in Berlin, there's a good chance that several jolly, open-minded citizens who must BY NO MEANS be considered or even associated with Nazis will pack you into a cattle car and send you to a special camp for sensitivity training. It must also be understood that Germany is a very "Euro-Enlightened" kind of place, by which I mean that the extremely modest will occasionally wear clothing, but even then only on occasions such as funerals or visits by the Pope. This also means that being an American, especially one who actually admits to being from America, is the rough European equivilent of eating a mound of babies. It's not that they hate us, it's just that they believe very strongly that we should apologize pathetically for everything our country has ever done and might do in the future. In fact, the German courts are currently tied up in legislation which would require all American people in Germany to wear a distinctive yellow Star of Davi... oops. Anyway, the Mediterainean nations are much more relaxed about this kind of thing. Actually, the Mediteranean nations are more relaxed about almost everything. They are an extremely easygoing group of people in general, to the point where people are now hired by the state to prod cafe-goers with sticks to see that they are, in fact, still alive. Somehow Italy in particular has managed to build up an image of near-mechanical efficiency and speediness, when the reality is that whenever someone there feels the need to steal some rest they are liable to park their cars and take a nap without ever actually getting off the highway. However, you will probably never find a friendlier set in your life; last year alone several tourists were accidentally crushed to death while receiving a passionate, heartfelt embrace from a total stranger. Of course, this brings up the unpleasant subject of La Cosa Nostra, or its better-known counterpart the Mafia. How can such a cheerful, easygoing populace have spawned some of the most vicious and blood-soaked criminals in the past four hundred years of European history? I for one think the answer is traffic. When I was last in Rome, we spent a while looking for a good taxi, defined as the one least likely to explode once driven off a bridge. Once we were settled in, the driver did what any good law-abiding citizen with under three inches of room on either side of his car would have done, and floored it to hades. There were technically lines painted on the road so as to define seperate lanes, but these were largely ignored in favor of the ever-popular "Death Before Yielding" rule of driving. Sidewalks were generally not driven on, due to the fact that (I swear I am not kidding) several Gypsies were busy building open fires on them. Of course this grabbed noone's attention other than ours as unenlightened Americans. We as Americans also tend to have certain expectations as to what is and is not cool to do in public. Europeans, especially Mediteraneans, are totally unaware of any such restrictions. This means, though, that birth announcements and the like are much more easily spread around.

Maria: You won't believe it! Vito and I are going to have a baby!

Ansi: Yes, we know. You conceived on our porch remember?

Anyways, I have to go for now, so I will leave you with one final parting thought:

Nah, just kidding. Now get me a sandwich.