Surgical Sound Specimens from the Museum of Skin

i guess it is just that kind of day

2012-02-13T14:59:00.001-05:00

2012-02-13T14:50:00.001-05:00

“One of the few good things about modern times: If you die horribly on television, you will not have died in vain. You will have entertained us.” — Kurt Vonnegut

2012-02-10T15:48:00.001-05:00

2012-02-07T14:18:00.001-05:00

2012-01-12T10:59:00.001-05:00

John Carpenter's The Thing - Done with Pingu

2012-01-06T13:51:00.001-05:00

Paddy Ashdown: The global power shift

2012-01-05T16:00:00.001-05:00

2012-01-05T15:41:00.001-05:00

2012-01-04T15:33:00.001-05:00

“When I was young, I believed in three things: Marxism, the redemptive power of cinema, and dynamite. Now I just believe in dynamite.”

- Sergio Leone

2011-12-29T14:51:00.001-05:00

Prometheus

2011-12-23T14:34:00.002-05:00

2011-12-21T14:37:00.000-05:00

Weary traveler, calloused and sore
Time and gravity followed you here
Rest my sister and tell me all about the ocean

Weary traveler, calloused and sore
Time and gravity followed you here
Rest my brother and tell me all about the ocean

Look at your eyes
I've never seen the ocean
Not like this one

2011-12-21T14:00:00.001-05:00

When Gotham is Ashes, You Have My Permission to Die

2011-12-19T13:40:00.001-05:00

2011-12-19T13:30:00.001-05:00

2011-12-16T12:15:00.001-05:00

2011-12-14T15:26:00.001-05:00

2011-12-13T13:50:00.001-05:00

2011-12-12T13:50:00.000-05:00

2011-12-12T13:42:00.001-05:00

2011-12-09T13:19:00.001-05:00

2011-12-07T13:13:00.001-05:00

2011-12-04T14:10:00.001-05:00

I don't know why this makes me laugh so hard, but it does.

Day-Lewis as Honest Abe

2011-12-02T13:51:00.001-05:00

Upper Class Twit of the Year

2011-12-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

Would I Survive a Nuke

2011-11-29T17:19:00.001-05:00

www.wouldisurviveanuke.com

2011-11-29T17:00:00.001-05:00

2011-11-22T15:06:00.001-05:00

Star Wars: Identities

2011-11-22T13:51:00.001-05:00

I love this purely for the sound. That awesome, frightening sound.

2011-11-15T11:30:00.001-05:00

2011-11-14T14:18:00.001-05:00

2011-11-09T12:37:00.000-05:00

The raving derelict sometimes, continually shouting

and mumbling

and stuttering

about the end of the world and

his lot in life and

the low low prices at home depot.

Rebellion against commercialism,

though he hates all the hippies sitting on wall street right now.

We are the all American anti-everything,

taking a stand against whatever you can think of,

waving our flag and yelling

we are mad as hell and we don't know why.

But the mad is really just a cover

for the sad, and sad doesn't sell t-shirts.

The sad don't protest.

The sad don't make a scene.

They sit at home and

drink a beer and

watch tv with the sound off because

if they hear one more goddamn ad

about some new medication that

they absolutely need with

a million side effects they

will break down and cry.

That is what he feels, overwhelmingly sometimes,

coming from our damned human race.

Each age seems to have their emotion.

The 60's were angry.

Now we are just all blinded by sadness,

stumbling around

with our hands out and

our eyes shut and

our mouths wide open.

Waiting for someone else to shove food in.

Cursing the television for its stupidity,

while still blindly following its every word.

We don't trust or

believe or

love anymore

and those that do

feel guilty for it

because their private happiness

is something that is so rare.

So so rare.

2011-11-07T14:13:00.001-05:00

2011-11-04T21:10:00.001-04:00

The Day After Trinity (1980)

2011-11-03T14:01:00.001-04:00

2011-10-31T13:00:00.001-04:00

The Nordin Bombsight

2011-10-26T15:02:00.000-04:00

by Lemony Snicket

2011-10-21T13:18:00.002-04:00

Thirteen Observations made by Lemony Snicket while watching Occupy Wall Street from a Discreet Distance

1. If you work hard, and become successful, it does not necessarily mean you are successful because you worked hard, just as if you are tall with long hair it doesn’t mean you would be a midget if you were bald.

2. “Fortune” is a word for having a lot of money and for having a lot of luck, but that does not mean the word has two definitions.

3. Money is like a child—rarely unaccompanied. When it disappears, look to those who were supposed to be keeping an eye on it while you were at the grocery store. You might also look for someone who has a lot of extra children sitting around, with long, suspicious explanations for how they got there.

4. People who say money doesn’t matter are like people who say cake doesn’t matter—it’s probably because they’ve already had a few slices.

5. There may not be a reason to share your cake. It is, after all, yours. You probably baked it yourself, in an oven of your own construction with ingredients you harvested yourself. It may be possible to keep your entire cake while explaining to any nearby hungry people just how reasonable you are.

6. Nobody wants to fall into a safety net, because it means the structure in which they’ve been living is in a state of collapse and they have no choice but to tumble downwards. However, it beats the alternative.

7. Someone feeling wronged is like someone feeling thirsty. Don’t tell them they aren’t. Sit with them and have a drink.

8. Don’t ask yourself if something is fair. Ask someone else—a stranger in the street, for example.

9. People gathering in the streets feeling wronged tend to be loud, as it is difficult to make oneself heard on the other side of an impressive edifice.

10. It is not always the job of people shouting outside impressive buildings to solve problems. It is often the job of the people inside, who have paper, pens, desks, and an impressive view.

11. Historically, a story about people inside impressive buildings ignoring or even taunting people standing outside shouting at them turns out to be a story with an unhappy ending.

12. If you have a large crowd shouting outside your building, there might not be room for a safety net if you’re the one tumbling down when it collapses.

13. 99 percent is a very large percentage. For instance, easily 99 percent of people want a roof over their heads, food on their tables, and the occasional slice of cake for dessert. Surely an arrangement can be made with that niggling 1 percent who disagree.

Conditions of My Parole

2011-10-20T16:15:00.001-04:00

Sweet baby Jesus on fire
Ima need a damn lawyer and a miracle
to pull my ass out of this
Devil kept pokin' the bull
So I shipped her ass to Mozambique
Cause I was over it

Shoulda dumped my gat into the Verde
But what if she's a zombie or a dracula
I better hang on to this
Lordy with my hand upon the Bible
Swear I shot the damn devil, not a bitch
But the po po don't give a shit

Lordy won't you show a little mercy
I've been on the straight and narrow
since the judge and the warden done paroled me
Rat poison devil kept pokin'
So I shipped her ass to Mozambique
Cause I was over it

God damn judge found me guilty of public 'toxication
Public urination and parole violation
But the CSI couldn't find the body
to corroborate my bullshit story

Sweet Jesus, don't let the judge release me
What if she's a zombie or a dracula
and tried to fuckin eat me
Devil walked away from a plane and jumped to Mozambique
Help me outta this

2011-10-17T13:12:00.001-04:00

Arkham City Launch Trailer

2011-10-14T15:56:00.002-04:00

2011-10-12T14:42:00.001-04:00

“Superman is the American Dream. Batman is the American Truth.” — Bryan Edward Hill

2011-10-11T12:29:00.001-04:00

2011-09-26T15:29:00.001-04:00

2011-09-23T16:41:00.000-04:00

Get More: Music News

2011-09-23T14:02:00.000-04:00

The Rum Diary

2011-09-19T12:46:00.003-04:00

2011-09-08T13:06:00.000-04:00

Shot on location during Zardoz.

2011-08-30T12:52:00.001-04:00

The 8 Saddest Real World Superheroes -- powered by Cracked.com

2011-08-29T15:04:00.001-04:00

2011-08-29T13:43:00.000-04:00

2011-08-22T15:15:00.001-04:00

2011-08-18T22:53:00.002-04:00

2011-08-18T15:19:00.001-04:00

2011-08-17T16:52:00.000-04:00

A Cold

2011-08-15T11:52:00.000-04:00

2011-07-29T14:10:00.001-04:00

2011-07-19T16:07:00.001-04:00

Stateless Enemies with the Power of 10,000 Suns

2011-07-19T14:31:00.001-04:00

2011-07-19T13:35:00.000-04:00

Ah ha...

2011-07-18T16:01:00.005-04:00

I woke up this morning at 6am to a tree limb through my car roof, glass and metal looking like someone opened up a 12 gauge inside my vehicle.. Later I listened to a woman with rhinestones in the sole of her foot complain about her two boyfriends and her five children.. Does this mean anything?

Glancing over my shoulder at the way I have come, the darkened street, I shift the weight to my other hand... that familiar weight.. comforting.. disconcerting.. friend.. Eyes forward now... focus.. walk.. find and follow the tracks.. there is too much to do..

"DARK. Sinking the shovel into the wet earth, he snickered to himself. How cleaver a man he was. He had fooled the devil himself and now was about to walk away the richest man in this shitthole. Not only clever, but strong too. When the devil had found out about his plan, he had set that big fucker on him. His grin returned. He had thrashed him good. They would think twice before crossing.. crossing.. he stopped. He couldn't remember his own name. However odd that may have been, it did not stop him for more than a few seconds. He shrugged off that instability and continued to dig. He had showed all of them. He had taken the forbidden fruit right off the tree, then gone back for seconds. The rain had picked up past a drizzle. He bent and dug faster at the thought of getting on with his new life as a king in this country of beggars. He felt like laughing. Once he was finished digging this hole he would fetch the boxes and be on his way. He had left his prizes in a safe place. He couldn't remember where but that did not matter right now. He would find them. He would show them. He just had to finish this hole. He pace slowed again. Another thing that struck him as odd. Why was he digging this hole? He stopped and stood up straight to survey his work. He was standing stomach deep in a hole that was just over five feet long and around a foot and a half across. As hard as he tried, he could not remember why he had began this hole. It was then, at that moment, the small trickle of fear poisoned the well of his thoughts. He tried to slow his breathing. Tried to retrace his steps. THUNDER. Right over head. THINK DAMMIT!! WHY ARE YOU HEAR?

'Work like that sure does develop a powerful thirst.'

The voice startled him so much, he pissed himself. He spun around, wielding the shovel like a club. He knew who it was though he did not want to believe it.

'Can I offer you something to drink?'

He was the only one who could drink that shit. Tasted like rot to him.

'So you have nothing to say now? Why only a few days ago you were more than anxious to bend my ear to your bullshit. I suppose you reached the limit of you mental capacity.'

He was trying really hard to think of something, anything that could keep him alive. On top of that, why was he in this goddammn hole? His eyes darted around looking for that big fucker Body. He was out there. He was always out there.

'I did not mean to interrupt your task at hand. Please continue. I can wait'

'I think I am done with... whatever it is I was doing.' he managed to stutter. He gained a little confidence. 'I hope your big friend wasn't too banged up.'

He could see the gold glint of his teeth, indicating a smile, 'Oh his face told a story, but not the one you intended it to. You have gone above and beyond what I expected of you. I found all your handiwork. Every little bit. I must say you showed your true colors. Let me be the fly in your ointment though and ask you this. How much do you remember? Still can't figure out why you are here? Or where you left my property? Or your own name?' He paused. 'Do you even remember how you got here?'

He had lowered the shovel. He had lost feeling in his jaw, causing his mouth to slack open. The only thing he could remember was the devil standing over him at the edge of this goddamn hole, holding a bottle of that rattler whiskey. He was shaking. Why couldn't he think?

'I think we have wasted enough time, don't you?'

The devil turned his back to him. He wanted to scream at him and bring that shovel down on his head, but he couldn't. All he could do was stand there, slack jawed and stupid. He started to gargle something in an effort to speak when the impact threw him forward against the edge of his hole. His chest hit the wall of mud, snapping his head forward like a rag doll. After such a sudden bit of violence, everything seemed so still. As he slowly slid down the wall into the mud of his hole, he thought he heard the hiss of a snake behind him. He hoped he would have a big breakfast tomorrow. He always like a bi g b r eak f st .

The rain on the hot gun barrel gave off a hiss as steam mixed with smoke of the 10 gauge. Body stood silent, breathing hard as always, and watched as He uncorked the bottle and dumped the remaining whiskey and the dead snake into the hole. Body shouldered the 10 gauge and waited. Life was leaving. Death remained.

'Get down in there and take what is mine.'

Body holstered the 10 gauge on his back and jumped down into the hole. Pulling his knife, he tore open the shirt and went to work on the rat's back. He hit bone, broke it, he hit lungs, punctured. Elbow deep now in the corpse, he found what he was looking for and pulled. He wrapped the warm object in leather and climbed out of the hole. He was already saddled up on the horses by the time Body made it back to their horses. He packed his bundle into one of the saddlebags and swung up onto his horse.

'Almost.'

Don't care."

To Morrow

2011-06-25T18:40:00.002-04:00

From Sean Connery to Steve Jobs with Love

2011-06-23T13:07:00.004-04:00

Lens Flare

2011-06-23T13:07:00.001-04:00

T90 shot taken by Photron camera at 18000 fps

2011-06-23T13:01:00.001-04:00

2011-06-18T22:12:00.000-04:00

Later on Big Man.

Quweet Quweet

2011-06-17T01:08:00.002-04:00

The following true story transpires in the span of about 8 seconds.

While in traffic the other afternoon, I watched something remarkable. I sat waiting for the light to change, music of the profane ringing through my speakers, thinking on god only knows what, when flying by me in the right lane comes a car. Black in color, black in containment, thumping the whole way. As it passed, my eye was drawn to the rear window because of something spelled out there upon. "QUWEET QUWEET" in an italicized, script-like font was written in white vinyl. What could that mean? I gazed upon the car as it motored by me in bewilderment. While staring at this peculiar thing, I noticed that the car was doing something out of the ordinary. The driver seemed to have very little control over the vehicle and began swerve. It was shortly there after that the car mounted the curb, slammed on the breaks and impacted into a light pole. The driver threw open the door and exploded out of the car. Angrily yelling into her cellular device, she cursed the person on the other end, cursed the traffic which I was a part of no less, cursed the car she drove, cursed the light pole, cursed the sky and cursed the cellphone in her hand. She repeatedly asked God to damn all of these objects, casting them into the lake of fire with Satan himself. She, very vocally, made it apparent that it was not her fault and began telling whomever was listening that she was an innocent victim and the blame must be placed elsewhere. Where do you ask? I don't know. Us probably. I wished to linger to hear more and to see the law enforcement officer arrive on scene to take down her account of how she was victimized. Unfortunately, the light changed, and I had to press on. I left Quweet Quweet there on the side of the road, yelling to her gods to punish all us sinners.

I knew then what Quweet Quweet meant.

Retard. It meant retard.

2011-06-14T15:55:00.000-04:00

You're Getting Old
Tags: SOUTH
PARK Stan Marsh,Randy Marsh,more...

2011-06-06T12:39:00.001-04:00

It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is seldom a mistake.

- H. L. Mencken

2011-06-03T16:02:00.000-04:00

2011-05-24T14:53:00.001-04:00

2011-05-23T16:43:00.004-04:00

The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

2011-05-10T10:39:00.000-04:00

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain’t the time for your tears

William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain’t the time for your tears

Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn’t even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain’t the time for your tears

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now’s the time for your tears

2011-05-09T18:04:00.003-04:00

2011-05-03T13:51:00.001-04:00

This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion.

Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time - Meatloaf Mayhem

2011-04-16T14:15:00.000-04:00

She Knows the Score

2011-04-12T11:38:00.001-04:00

A Well Written Police Report

2011-04-01T10:09:00.000-04:00

Orville Smith, a store manager for Best Buy in Augusta, Georgia, told police he observed a male customer, later identified as Tyrone Jackson of Augusta, on surveillance cameras putting a laptop computer under his jacket. When confronted, the man became irate, knocked down an employee, drew a knife and ran for the door.

Outside on the sidewalk were four Marines collecting toys for the “Toys for Tots” program. Smith said the Marines stopped the man, but he stabbed one of the Marines, Cpl. Phillip Duggan, in the back; the injury did not appear to be severe.

After Police and an ambulance arrived at the scene, Cpl. Duggan was transported for treatment.

The subject was also transported to the local hospital with two broken arms, a broken ankle, a broken leg, several missing teeth, possible broken ribs, multiple contusions, assorted lacerations, a broken nose and a broken jaw… injuries he sustained when he slipped and fell off of the curb after stabbing the Marine.

Record Release Performance

2011-04-01T09:21:00.001-04:00

2,053 nuclear explosions occurred between 1945-1998

2011-03-23T11:06:00.000-04:00

A visualization of that fact.

This Ain't No Place for a Hero

2011-03-16T10:12:00.001-04:00

2011-03-15T14:32:00.001-04:00

2011-03-02T11:28:00.001-05:00

2011-03-01T14:23:00.002-05:00

Praise god I feel incredibly destructive.

I want to burn bridges and sever ties. I want to collapse then fences I have mended. I want to flail around, destroying things I have worked so hard to create. I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration. I want to injure others. I want to throw your kindness right back in your face. I want to mock what is important. The more others don't curse, the more I fucking want to. I want to be childish, throwing temper tantrums wherever I see fit. The more you plan, the less I stick to it. But I hate the impulsive nature of the non plan. I don't have a plan. I want to self destruct. I hate what you love. I love what you hate. Fuck peace, make war. BORING! FUCK FUCK FUCK BORING!! IS EVERYONE THIS BORED?!? DO WE HAVE TO MAKE BORING COOL AGAIN?!? I must bore others out of their skull with my predictability and stupidity. Self centered egotistical asshole. Again and again and again. Maybe that is what pushes. I feel my mother's side of the family in me, stubborn and selfish. I feel my father's side, quick tempered and isolated. Put that all in the pot and pull out a fine american mess. Maybe this is what he felt before up-heaving everything. It would make sense. Ahh fuck it.

Who knows? Do you? I sure don't. I can't find a thought in my head that makes me want to. Is that what all this is? An attempt to destroy? What would that accomplish? What are we trying to accomplish? Does anyone care that the uphill climb leads nowhere? Are we climbing up a volcano? Years of hard labor to fall into a pit of despair and death. What are you going to do about it? What am I going to do about it? It is easier to destroy. Not to say it doesn't give the same rush of life. But fuck it man, why climb and climb and climb when I can trip others and laugh about it. I can cut their safety lines and watch them fall screaming into the dark. I can stomp my feet and anger the volcano. I am the Samoan god of death and chaos. I will incarnate your fears and frustrations. I will make life harder for you. I will torment you for the rest of your days or at least until the end of the commercial break. fuckit. Who am I kidding? Myself? You? God? HA! Stammer Faulk asked that and ended up buried in a shallow grave with a snake and cheap whiskey, chest collapsing, struggling to breath under the oppressive weight of his fear.

She exists in the eye of this storm of destruction. She is immune to it which is only by the grace of god. She is the only thing I am sure about. All the rest can burn in a fiery shit hell. Hallelujah and amen.

2011-02-23T14:48:00.003-05:00

"The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter." --Winston Churchill

To their credit they keep at it. Hammering away at the foundations of all that is holy. Trying to boil us all down into that bland shit-pudding that they all love so much. Speaking in fragments and sentences made of words that don't exist, they love to abbreviate even when completely unnecessary. FUCK ANTHROPOLOGY. If language is defined by the people who speak it, I DON'T SPEAK. Each self aware man looks at his current state as worse than that what came before him. We all believe we will see the end of days in our lifetime. Humans like to put that much importance into their existence. We also love to give finality to things because eternity scares us. We want to see an end. Even fearing that end is better than not knowing one.

Even as I put my fist into stone and wood, I wonder. I wonder more than I should. I try to silence myself. The physical abuse is an avenue to silence, but the questions remain. This is nothing new. We are nothing new. People will always be what their masters instruct. We will only focus on what is important to us. Change is only when permitted by these things. If we are comfortable in dysfunction, what motivation is there to move out of it? Poke and prod all you like, the bear only moves when he becomes uneasy.

And why shouldn't he? What reason is there for any of it? At what point does self improvement really become masturbation? My mental state determines my actions and if I care to put my cane through your windshield, who are you to lecture me on what was appropriate? As always, I rail against those who tell me to calm down, to focus. What right do we have to any kind of democracy or representation of the common shithead? Why do I care to get to know my neighbor? My knowledge of him should be limited to his threat level of me and vice versa. If the entire world bought into the hippie bullshit that everyone seems to be peddling and we all lived in peace and harmony, my instinct tells me to commit the first murder of the pussy age. We are not passive creatures. We have made ourselves believe it to be. But it is not true. It never will be. Even when we are brains in jars, we will order our robots to kill the one who gives us shit. There is civil of course, but this is beyond civil. This is weak.

Bitch bitch bitch...

In a years time, things will be different than they are now. I will be different. But this throbbing headache will not go away. I will still stuff cotton in my mouth and attempt a smile. I will still swallow past the lump in my throat. I will still feel and think and hate. I will still beat my chest in frustration. I will still balk at others definitions of all things. Still laugh at their pain. Still give shitty advice. Still blow off the good and open arms accept the bad. Still love with the same intensity that I hate. Still feel that life boiling up inside me. Still find her utterly fascinating even after 10 years. Still fall on my face. Still yell at people in traffic. I will still be a melodramatic asshole. At least she loves me for it.

It shouldn't be surprising, but it doesn't stop it from being a source of apprehension leading to fear and right on into sadness. Grief for a child unborn, laden with guilt and struggling under the yoke of our sins.

Chernobyl: The Lost Film

2011-02-04T10:32:00.001-05:00

The Decay of Heaven

2011-02-02T16:12:00.000-05:00

The Decay of Heaven

An Accurate Review

2011-01-27T15:38:00.001-05:00

The Undertaker

2010-12-27T11:54:00.001-05:00

Thank you for making me
feel like I am guilty.
Making it... easy to...
murder your sweet memory.

You were way out of line,
went and turned it all around on me again.
How can I not smell your lie
through the smoke and arrogance?

But, now I know.
So, you will not get away with it again.
I'm distant in those hollow eyes
for I have reached my end.
So...

Thank you for making me
feel like I am guilty,
making it easy to murder your sweet memory.

Before I go, tell me...
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be?

Either way I must say goodbye.
You're dead to me.
So I...

Thank you for making me
(thank you for making me)
feel like I am guilty,
(feel like I'm guilty)
making it easy to
(making it easy to)
murder your sweet memory
(murder your memory)

I'm severing the heart line,
(severing the heart line)
I'm leaving your corpse behind...
(leaving your corpse behind)
Not dead but soon to be, though.
(not dead but soon to be)
I won't be the one who kills you,

I'll just leave that up to you.

I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm not gonna be there to revive you.
I'm gonna be the one to say "I told you so".

"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I told you so..."
"I sold you, so..."
"I sold you, so?"
"I told you so..."
I told you.

Severing the heart line,
("I told you so...")
I'm leaving your corpse behind.
("I told you so...")
Not dead but soon to be, and
("I told you so...")
I'm gonna be the one to say "I told you so".

All of the Known Galaxies in the Observable Universe

2010-12-08T15:32:00.002-05:00

We are not only looking across the universe but also back in time, where our notion of physics falls apart and our conceptions of space and time are but a thought. Life itself is but a dream, a vision. Nothing exists except space and you, and you are but a thought.

Eat Your Young

2010-12-01T16:15:00.001-05:00

come to me
eat me eat me eat me
fight kill feed
eat me eat me eat me

skin down the spine
eat me eat me eat me
dont foul the blade
eat me eat me eat me

waste not the flesh
eat me eat me eat me
take out the heart
eat me eat me eat me

lay silent, still
eat me eat me eat me
breath not, want not
eat me eat me eat me

curl round the kill
eat me eat me eat me
cry for your steel
eat me eat me eat me

pick out the buckshot
eat me eat me eat me
slide the hand inside
eat me eat me eat me

the wasted gift
eat me eat me eat me
the forsaken prize
eat me eat me eat me

When none is left
eat me eat me eat me
look for the next
eat me eat me eat me

stand behind the throne
eat me eat me eat me
watch your brother die
eat me eat me eat me

stone eyes of fear
eat me eat me eat me
hand of the father
eat me eat me eat me

lift his limp body
eat me eat me eat me
beg for help
eat me eat me eat me

draw the knife
eat me eat me eat me
pull across the throat
eat me eat me eat me

skin down the spine
eat me eat me eat me
don't foul the blade
eat me eat me eat me

eat his flesh eat
me eat me eat me eat
waste not his heart eat
me eat me eat me eat

2010-11-18T15:32:00.000-05:00

A Hawk's Breath from Victory

2010-11-09T12:44:00.001-05:00

Rapture

2010-11-03T16:04:00.000-04:00

2010-11-02T15:32:00.002-04:00

2010-10-28T13:21:00.004-04:00

"I asked you a question."
The gruff voice brought me back to the table. My mind had been on other things. I was sweating again.
"Are you familiar with the story of Samson?"
He tapped his bible that was on the table. That damned bible. He always had it with him. That and his .45.
"Hell of a fella, that Samson. Killed a thousand men with a jawbone."
Here we go. Another lesson from the good book. My eyes darted about. There had to be a way out of this. I checked the dimly lit room for escape possibilities.
"He murdered even more just over a riddle."
His boot thudded on the floor and he brought his leg down and leaned in.
"Do you think you have that kind of convictions? Would you murder someone over an answer?"
"I'm not much for games."
He smiled a slow smile. His gold teeth glinting in the lamp light.
"That's why I liked you."
He leaned back and took a swig from the Rattler Whiskey on the table. The dead snake in the bottle staring at me with white eyes. It almost looked like the creature was laughing at me, mocking me with an empty stare. At least the snake ended his days in a bottle of whiskey. Wish I could do the same. But first I had to deal with the snake at the table, eying me for a meal. He was the only one that could drink that shit. Made my stomach turn.
"When I found you, I thought I had a regular Samson on my hands. It seemed like there was nothing you couldn't do. I suppose I was wrong. I suppose that's my fault for assuming as much, and for that I apologize."
"You have a 10 gauge to my back and you are apologizing to me? You really are fucked up you know that?"
"Well, you of all people should know, the importance of being honest with another person. That's what got you where you are at this moment. I just wanted to have a clean slate with you before I paint the walls with your insides."
This wasn't good. I needed a plan. Had to keep him talking long enough that the big fella behind me would ease up on that trigger.
"So tell me about this Samson. You said you thought I was like him?"
"What I didn't like about you, however, was your constant belief that you were smarter than me."
He picked up his .45 and thumbed back the hammer. My eyes widened.
"Samson died for his god and his pride. It seems you will have at least that in common with him."
"Now wait a minute. It wasn't--"
The muzzle flash lit up the room for one brilliant second. The two men in the back cringed as my blood and brains spattered all over them. The force sent me backwards in my chair. As I fell my leg hit the table, knocking the whiskey over. The snake in the bottle slid out and hit the floor with a wet plop. He cocked his head a bit and stared at the snake, coiled up near my lifeless foot. He picked up his bible and stood.
"Bury the snake with him."
He holstered his gun and put his hat on.
"The Devil will recognize the both of them."

Samson

2010-10-18T15:12:00.003-04:00

I'm a longhaired freak
With a weakness for women
I drink I curse I laugh

I fanned the flames
And kindled the hate
By killing their men and their pride

[break]

I was a god
I had my image
As one who was born of the sun

I am no hero
Fuck their faith
I only wanted their praise

[chorus]
With the jawbone of an ass
I made an ass of them
With the jawbone of an ass
I have killed a thousand men
Out of the eater
Something to eat
Out of the strong
Something sweet

For my pride
They took my hair
As that bitch Delilah laughed in my face

They cut out my eyes
And scourged my flesh
A shadow of the man I was

[chorus]

I slaughtered them
I spit and mocked
Left them for dead for burning my bride

Father-in-law too
Burned for my riddle
Ashes left as the Alter of the Nazarene

[chorus]

I fell from grace
And landed hard
For breaking my oath to my god

Till I gave
My hide to her
Just trying to slake my lust

[chorus]

God
I am sorry I
Cut my hair please
Give me my strength to
Kill them for what they've
Done let me kill them please
Let me kill them please
Let me kill

[break]

So I'll pull the pillars
And break the temple
To give back to my vengeful god

I'll serve him
By serving myself
Over and over again

I am a hero
Murder paves my way
Right up to the pearly gates

2010-10-13T14:39:00.001-04:00

It's a Jersey Thing
Tags: SOUTH
PARK Randy Marsh,Eric Cartman,more...

What Does Marsellus Wallace Look Like?

2010-10-05T11:53:00.001-04:00

Death Buy Lemonade

2010-09-27T01:14:00.001-04:00