Things are getting dire. Current mood: annoyed First, a disclaimer: In the interest of your happiness, if you are completely content with the state of your life, and/or the world around you, DO NOT read this blog. It will only serve to 1.) give you a headache, 2.) make it rain just a little on your otherwise sunny day, 3.) hurt your feelings/pride, and 4.) soil your pants. If harsh language offends you, do not read this blog. If you are easily offended, go watch The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and leave me alone. Now, on with the show, hmm? Starting in 1997-ish, a genre of music was birthed, bloody viscera and all, into the American music scene. Screaming and crying, it made the rest of us sit up and take notice that, by God, women were not going to fucking take it anymore (by screaming and crying, I mean whining and caterwalling). These women wanted to make it known that they too could write incredibly shitty half-assed folk music AND have a music festival to boot, comprised of lots and lots of armpit hair and unkempt vaginas. This festival was known as the Lilith Fair. Why these profoundly unattractive, bitchy, unlikable folkstresses would name their festival of liberation after the literal God-forsaken first wife/demonic succubus Lilith is beyond me (oh, wait... oh yeah). Literal thousands of women would gather, some dragging their sex-starved husbands/boyfriends/living dildos along for the agonizing ride, to scream for women who were making total bank off of this faux revolution. Sarah Mclaughlin, Jewel, Meredith Brooks, Paula fucking Cole, and others sold countless records and were featured prominently on every shitty radio station and every VH1 special for at least a solid two years before, I believe, an equally shitty, but more testosterone fueled genre took over. Nu Metal, riding on the success of some of the worst bands of all time (Limp Bizkit, Korn, Slipknot, motherfucking Linkin Park), overtook the fledgling bitch-rock movement (Meredith Brooks made it o.k. for guys like me to call it/them that without being labeled masogynist with her Grammy award winning song, appropriately titled "Bitch"). These women may have thought they were doing the women's movement a world of good, but quickly learned that a revolution with no substance is just a... well... bitch-fit. Today, ten years removed from the agony and embarrassment that was the Lilith fit, there is a new fast growing beast of a baby in the music scene. That of the mealy-mouthed, inconsequential, not-even-energized-enough-to-try-to-make-a-statement, much-less-be-called-bitchy jingle singers (that's a fuck-lot of hyphens). If you aren't sure what this is, let me paint you the picture. My belief is that this new missed-abortion-opportunity started with one soul-shitting succubus by the name of Norah Jones. This Grammy award winner made an album called "Come Away With Me", which has sold 18 million albums. That's 18 million albums of a chick with a throat-ache voice, a piano, and the highest tolerance for boredom of anyone on this (or any other) plane of existence, singing about totally non-threatening shit with the same enthusiasm as Terry Schaivo watching Nova. Following in her shuffling footsteps, we've been bombarded with more women with a message writing super shitty music for the doped masses, all with incredibly poignant things to say, set to the sparkling jingle of a Kotex commercial. Feist was nominated for FOUR Grammy awards for her moving song "1234" wherein she struggles with the very real problem of not being able to correctly count to ten. I mean, who the hell can? An excerpt of her moving lyrics (I shit you not): "One, two, three, four, five, six, nine, ten, Money can't buy you back the love that you had then." Excuse me for a moment, I feel so moved, I might cry. I mean, I couldn't get that shit right when I was 2 either, and it was just... so hard. Moving on. Following the success of this masterpiece (made famous by the iPod commercial played 75,000 times a day), a new jinglestress has hit it big. Yael Naim (who will clearly still be famous ten years from now) is everywhere with her song "New Soul". You have heard this piece of shit on the Apple notebook commercial, but if not, you should really get yourself something nice as a reward for keeping that small part of your brain alive. This is like - not kind of like, but exactly like - the Feist Sesame Street song (which I call "Requiem for a Count"). This one, however is less beleaguered by counting and instead focuses on practicing your first sounds as an infant. Lyrics include (I shit you not): "La la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la." Fucking moving. Others are now popping up everywhere. Colbie Caillat, Leona Lewis, Sarah Bareilles, Natasha fucking Bedingfield (who wrote The Hills theme "Unwritten", a call for young, rich, spoiled bitches to not let anything hold them back from their goal of letting go and dancing their tits off at all the hottest clubs in town), and the Rock of Gibraltar, never-going-to-fucking-die-ever Cheryl Crow are enormously popular right now. I will give those Lilith, um, ladies one thing over this new breed of estrogen-juiced songstresses: at least they were pissed about SOMETHING. These new dead-behind-the-eyes moneymakers can't even get the enthusiasm to be pissed about anything, even in today's world, where i frankly find it VERY fucking easy. This leads to the four whores-men of the apocalypse, coming this weekend. Get out your Estrace cream and martini glasses, Sex and the City: The Movie opens May 30th. Men, prepare to be approached by empowered, wrinkled, lasagna-bellied old ladies who totally want your johnson and now, because of Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha, feel they don't have to hold back their libidos, or language, anymore. Sarah Jessica Horseface is leading her troops of middle-aged sluts forward to battle Indiana Jones and Iron Man, and is praying to Lilith that all the fans of the show still give a shit and tag along. One hope for us: Oprah is backing the hell out of it, so it is pretty much destined to tank. She has a really bad track record for box-office performance when it comes to movies she thinks America "needs to see". Sex and the City (or as I call it, Sluts in the Shitter) is an assault on feminist thought, and should be offensive to anyone who truly knows anything at all about the women's movement. I'm sure Ariel Levy is putting her head in her oven right now, knowing this is coming out. If you plan on seeing this, do me a favor. Don't think it gives you the right to go to your favorite restaraunt with your other girlfriends and talk LOUDLY about how much you love to suck a cock, and how it makes you feel powerful, and how just talking about it (loud enough for everyone else to hear) with other chicks in public is just so fun, because Sarah Jessica Horseface said it was o.k. This does not make you enlightened, attractive, or empowered. It makes you a slut. A dirty slut. Sex and the City is fiction. If it were real, by season 5 Samantha would have the clap, crabs, and the drip so bad she would have cut her labia off with a soldering iron. If Sarah Jessica Horseface was totally unknown and unfamous, she would have to pay she-male prostitutes to have sex with her. Charlotte would, well, Charlotte would probably be the only one to survive, at least for as long as it took her HIV to really kick in. Don't get me started on the facial abomination that is Miranda. That woman wouldn't get laid if you tied her legs open in the middle of a pit-bull breeding pen with a dog-porn on endless loop above her head. Sluts in the Shitter isn't real, or good. It's demeaning, mindless tripe dressed up as a show you can enjoy with your gay friends. Last thing, I promise. Please stop asking for politicians to apologize every single time they say something a little gray. We are a country founded on the idea of free speech. How free is our speech when we have to apologize for every controversial thing that comes out of our mouths? That's America for you. Home of the hypocritical. Love to all, and thanks for reading. 3:23 AM - 7 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday, January 08, 2008 Ice Spiders, Fire Serpents, and other wacko conspiracies Current mood: aggravated More than a few people in this country truly believe that our government - our ludicrously inept body of elected/appointed officials - is behind the myriad of unexplained, mysterious, or disaterous events that have influenced our society. Moreover, these people actually believe that the same group of people who couldn't supply a moderately liveable amount of electrical power to Iraq after making a plan to do so pre-war could convince literally thousands of people to cover up the 9/11 disaster. These people completely buy the fact our Presidents are assasinated by CIA planted operatives, alien crashes are covered up, and the Pentagon was eviscerated by a missle instead of a jumbo-fuck-jet that loads of pedestrians saw with their own eyes (it flew over a busy morning interstate, for shit's sake). Our current president, who couldn't form a complete intellectual sentence without Freuding about fucking cows, apparently - in their minds - masterminded the worst terror attack in our nation's history. They faked the moon landing to piss off the Russians. We can cover up a fake fucking moon landing, but not an Oval Office B.J. from an intern with cankles. This irritates me like no ass-pimple ever could. We live in one paranoid fucking society. When we can't believe that a hurricane can strike New Orleans and kill a crap-load of African-Americans without suggesting the President had a hand in it, we've put our collective brain in the logic toilet and flushed. Twice, just to make sure it went down. There are no aliens, there is no communist plan to take over America by the liberals, God doesn't plan out hurricanes with W., and Christmas is not being threatened or stolen from us by the ACLU. There are terrorists that hate our fat-fuck rich asses, there are weather balloons that look like UFOs, and sometimes - sometimes - natural disasters kill people without regard to race. God doesn't punish America with terrorist attacks or hurricanes for allowing gays to be gay, or babies to be aborted, or donkey shows to be performed, or tits to be flashed for beads at Mardi Gras. As much as Todd and I look forward to California dropping off into the Pacific, when it happens, it won't be because God hates Hollywood liberals and gay-pride parades. It will be because the tetonic plates in the earth moved, and the San Andreas seperated the fucking state from the rest of the Continent. God will have nothing to do with it, and neither will the government. We are the cause of our own plights. We move our trailers to tornado-ridden plains and retire to hurricane-plagued beach-front houses. We piss off other countries. We eat fattening shit all damn day, then wonder why we can't fit through our front fucking doors. We have unprotected sex with disease-plagued partners. We drive wrecklessly fast in flimsy-fuck cars around oil-tankers on deer populated highways. We have meaningless, pointless wars in the name of "freedom". People volunteer for the military while said wars are waged, then wonder why they are being shot and killed by a bunch of other people who do the same pointless shit. There is no global Illuminati guiding our every step. As much as I would love to believe dragons will erupt from the streets of Los Angeles and rain down unholy terror on the fashionistas and activists below, I know this will never happen. Why? Because I have a firm grip on reality, and know that Occam's Razor applies everywhere. Skepticism is realism. The Neverending Story tells me Falcor can fly without wings, and Rosie O'Donnell tells me the Republicans are responsible for 9/11 and Katrina. Same unfiltered bullshit. Start thinking for yourself. Question what you have learned, if only to show yourself what is real. Read more than periodicals and Oprah's book of the month. Stop buying what is being sold to you by Fox News, or the Democratic National Committee, or Hollywood, or your own family. Stop believing that which doesn't make sense, or those things that carry no weight. Britney Spears is not being pushed into crazyland by the media, and Michael Jackson is not an alien (he did, however, have a baby that's whiter than me, so... that's wierd). However... There is one conspiracy theory that I whole heartedly buy. Although I haven't heard anyone specifically propose this theory, I am sure there are plenty of fans who will agree with me. The NFL will not let anyone but the New England Patriots win the Super Bowl this year. You heard it here first. There is no way in God's green hell that any other team will be given the chance to win over the Hitler Express - I mean the Belichick led Patriots. The first team to ever go 16-0 in the regular season? you gotta be kidding me. This is great for the NFL. Do you know the draw for the Super Bowl if the Patriots are going for a perfect season? It will be astronomical. I am stating right now that the officiating in every single game from this point on will be suspect in the Patriots advantage. I'm fucking saying it. They want this to happen, and it WILL happen. Tom Brady's capped-teeth fuck grin will be plastered on every magazine and T.V. program for the next 6 Godsmite months. You'll have to see that stupid Patriot logo superglued on every advertisement and T-shirt in the United States. That pretentious assed Native American-butchering Patriot will haunt your fucking dreams. Fuck the Patriots. If, however, I am wrong come February 4th, I will have no idea why this portion of this blog disappeared. I'll guess it was the government. Love to all... (except you, Tom Brady. Kill yourself.) Josh 11:01 PM - 7 Comments - 13 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday, December 11, 2007 Just Ask (an old story revisited) Just Ask. When I was 22, I conned a very rich alcoholic redneck landlord out of $400.00. Not my landlord, by the way. A very good female friends' landlord. Anyway... She, he, and I were very drunk; however I was a sort of 'professional' drinker (I have the t-shirt!), whereas the landlord (who I'll refer to as Dan) was a lush - mind you a very wealthy lush. Dan's only apparent love in life was impressing others with his money, house, land, and guns. Yes, guns. This man had his own arsenal. Wasted, we all shot round after round from automatic and semi-automatic weapons into a tree-line behind his house, but that's a different story... At around 2 am, for some God-known reason, Dan decided to brag. Brag about drinking, money, war, guns, chicks, how badass he was, how he could do ANYTHING he wants because of his cash-flow, et cetera. I was in an extreme "Fight Club" fix at the time, so I decided to do just what the story said: just ask. I asked him point blank that, since he was so rich and could do anything he wants, why not give me $400.00? Hey, I said, you can do anything you want, right? What's $400.00? Challenge a rich redneck landlord in front of a hot blonde tenant, and you've got the dealer in your pocket. So he left, and returned with a check made out to cash in the amount of $400.00. That fucking easy. On the memo line, it read, "For Joker." Could've been because of the malignant rictus that had taken over my face from the sheer delight this was actually working. I set my alarm for 8:00am so I could get to the bank and cash the check before Danny-boy changed his mind. The teller gave me $400.00 cash. In fucking hand. I felt like Tom Sizemore in "Heat." I parked in the mall parking lot and waited the 2 hours until it opened, walked directly to the sports store, and bought a $130.00 skateboard. I'd never skateboarded in my life, mind you; just thought a Bob Burnquist model was a nifty damn idea. He had, after all, just won X-Games' skateboarding competition. Hell, I'd watched it on my own T.V., not 2 weeks before. Who wouldn't think, "Wow. What an excellent purchase. Clearly the item to buy first thing off the bat." I used the board once. One damn time, as a kind of bobsled to fly at mach 2 into a muddy rain gutter. I have no idea where the other $270.00 went. No clue... 6:01 AM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Sunday, December 02, 2007 Movies for mourning Mountaineers. Current mood: aggravated On this sad day for Mountaineer fans (I have coined, and will now exclusively use the moniker "Mountaintears" when referring to our choke-fest champion team), I am making a list of 5 movies to represent the five stages of grief, so that we can all get through this travesty together. Oh, and if you aren't a fan of WVU, or think it's immature or petty to be upset by a football game, well, you clearly aren't really my friend. So poop on you (how's that for mature?). 5). Live Free or Die Hard. John McClane blows the shit out of everything from minute 5 to credits. Non-stop action, violence, and death. Get your anger out with this one. 4.) 300. I know this is an older one, but the message is still the same: WVU football players are not, and will never be Spartans. Way to defend the homeland from invading neighbors, jackasses. Oh, and in the end, everyone dies anyway, so... that's happy. 3.) 30 Days of Night. Monstrous Vampires show the hell up, devour everything and everyone in sight, then leave when the Alaskan snow looks like a 7-11 slushie tanker accident. At least Alaska doesn't have to worry about their FOOTBALL FUCKING TEAM ruining what's left of their weekend. 2.) Fight Club. Classic, I know. And for what should seem like an obvious reason, but actually because in the end, all that's left is Jack and Marla, holding hands and watching the world burn to chaos around them. Thanks, Steve Slaton and Pat White. I hope your bunkbeds were close enough to let you hold hands while you drifted off into a dreamless loser sleep last night. 1.) Into the Blue. Because seeing Jessica Alba run around in a bikini for two hours is enough to make anyone remember that there's more to life than football. Like Jessica Alba in a damn bikini. R.I.P WVU. Thanks for your time. 6:53 AM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Monday, November 19, 2007 Movies 2 Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities Hello again, fellow Movie lovers. This is kind of an all time crap-movie list, being that I have only just begun. Pay attention, for these are the best of the best (of the worst) in NO PARTICULAR ORDER. You should go ahead and prepare yourself for the top 10.... now. Everyone's seatbelt nice and tight? Goooooood. Here we go. 10) Troll 2. If you haven't experienced this achievement in shit-film making, you have yet to live. Troll 2 is the (THE!) worst/greatest movie of all time. Trust me, when 10 year old Joshua pees on the kitchen table, and his dad gives him a stern lesson on said peeing, you will cry/laugh/change your underwear (and think twice about peeing on a table full of Nilbog-preparred food). 9) Dead and Breakfast. No, you haven't heard of it (unless you have, in which case you are officially my best friend). A group of friends get stranded in a BFE town (I know, HEARD IT) with a dumbass friend who unlocks a box-o-demons. Oh My God. To top it off, the soundtrack is written by Zack Selwin (of Attack of the Show fame), and is totally download-worthy. 8) Wrong Turn 2. GARBAGE, but knowingly so. Just the right recipe for awesome-stew. This movie reminded me what is was like to experience Evil Dead for the 4th time (the first three are reserved for other flicks). Gore, gore, gore, and shit-acting; what more do you want? 7) Scarecrow Slayer. Besides the fact this is a sequel to an even shitier movie, Scarecrow Slayer has the absolute worst CGI fight scene ever. God bless 'em. 6) Demon Child 666. I picked this gem out at random a few years ago at the Blockbuster in Morgantown, and - by God - it didn't disappoint (unless you count "shitiness" as a disapointment). I fell asleep with about 15 minutes left, however, and I regret every second of it. You can't go wrong with demon-babies. 5) Starship Troopers 2. The first one was a cynical pot of gold. This was billed as a zombie space epic (which I am all for), but turned out to be a Josh laugh fest. 4) Masters of Horror: We All Scream For Ice Cream. Jesus help us all. This gem included children melting (MELTING! - and not the gore way) their parents by eating Ice Cream served ny a vengeful, dead, retarted, NOT SCARY clown. I am scared of clowns (as I believe we all are), but this cured my Phobia. Thanks, Masters of Horror! 3) Death Proof. This just plain sucked. No real redeaming quality to it, other than.... well.... nothing. Quinten Tarantino blows, and that is all there is to say. 2) American Psycho 2 (yes, two). Hot chick, dumb shit. Perfect for a night where you get shit-canned and don't care what you watch, as long as it's funny. 1) I know I said "no particular order", but this circumvents the rule. TURBULENCE 3: HEAVY METAL. This movie will change you in ways you never thought possible. Amazingly bad plot, astoundingly bad acting, abhoredly bad direction. Trust me on this, you owe it to yourself. A metal concert on a plane goes horribly wrong. Hilarity ensues. Thanks for reading. See you in the future. 2:28 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Friday, October 26, 2007 Recent flix I’ve loved (that you have to watch) Current mood: good Starting at the top: 1) Planet Terror. Planet freaking Terror. This movie is unbelievably good. Gore, guts, puss-dripping zombies, Rose McGowan as a Go-Go dancer with a machine gun leg, this movie has it all. Literally everything I've wanted in a shock gore-movie for a long time. 2) The Invisible. If you aren't at least sniffling by the end of this movie, you have no soul. 3) Halloween (Remake). If you missed this in the theater, you shouldn't be allowed to drive, or work, or vote, or at least you should have to pick up trash off of the highway until the DVD comes out. Two words: Danielle fucking Harris. 4) Gravedancers. One of the Horrorfest films, and to me it's the best one. Well, best one second only to... 5) The Abandoned. This is one gritty, scary-ass claustrophobic movie. Reminds me of being a kid and getting totally f'ing freaked going in the abandoned house near my old house. I about pee'd when the person walks by the door in the background (watch it to know what I'm talking about). 6) Fantastic Four 2. I felt like a ten year old child again, and I was very freaking happy about it. 7) Shooter. Mark Whalberg as a badass sniper who's framed by the f'n Government. Watch with your eyelids taped open so you don't miss stuff. 8) Black Snake Moan. Oh. My. God. This movie is so good (not just because Christina Ricci gets naked in it - good reason, however) I almost can't believe it. Sam Jackson is one bitter bluesman, and my current freaking hero. Need a boost? Watch this movie ASAP. 9) 28 Weeks Later. Fan-damn-tastic. One hell of a movie. 10) Black Sheep. Not the Chris Farley film; the killer-fucking-sheep film. Yes, crazed, psycho, CARNIVOROUS killer-fucking-sheep. Believe it. and lastly for today, 11) Flight of the Living Dead. Zombies on a plane. Let me repeat myself (clears throat)... Zombies. On. A. Plane. Holy crapping toddlers, Batman. Thanks. Check back for more. Goodnight and goodluck.