SWEET NEPTUNE’S FUNKY NOSEHAIR IT’S SOUNDGARDEN!

You wouldn't recognize these. Because no one PLAYS with LEGOS anymore. By the way, if you tell a girl you like legos and she makes a derisive sneer, she has no soul. Do not fornicate with her, she will attempt to suck out your own lego-loving soul to try and fill her own empty shell.

Hello how are you? I haven’t seen you in about fou- fuck it, SOUNDGARDEN HAS A NEW SONG. If this isn’t the centerpiece of your dinner conversation, your need to seriously reconsider exactly who you should be dining with.

In case you aren’t from Seattle and have no idea who, or what, they are: Soundgarden is the only Grunge band which applies discernible lyrics and excellent instrumental work to their music. I’ve always found it interesting that one of the best bands harkened from a genre of almost pure god-awfulness. Indeed, Justin Bieber was terribly astute in comparing himself to Kurt Cobain. Neither have any musical talent and are the iconic sex symbols of pubescent females across the land.

Anyways, enough about a genre which is the auditory equivalent of inserting your head into the rectum of a robot who recently consumed an entire taco truck. Let us talk about the auditory equivalent of turning one’s entire body into a clitoris and taking a bubble bath: Soundgarden. So yeah, they have a new song, not a new album because this isn’t the rapture or some shit. Soundgarden dished out their last serving of ear sex in 1993, also around the time when MTV stopped having anything to do with music. But then their lead singer (Chris Cornell) peaced out and hooked up with Rage Against the Machine to form the superband Audioslave. Which was maybe an even better band, but not so much because it had Cornell, but because it was Rage Against the Machine without Zach De La Roche’s whiny fifth grader I’m-overcompensating-for-something-guess-what-it-is voice. Audioslave had a good three album run. However, the U.S. government, using the authority of anti-trust laws,  ordered Audioslave to disband because it had the monopoly on good music. Since then ol’ Cornell has done some solo projects including the intro theme for Casino Royale. These solo projects were a lot better than the average twat with an acoustic guitar, but it was a shattered shadow of splendiferous Soundgarden.

By the hoary hordes of Hoggoth, the Avengers doesn't have Dr. Strange! But they have the Green Arrow.. whose super power is to rip off Robin Hood.

Chris Cornell took a whole decade to realize this, and decided to give Soundgarden another go, kind of like how Jesus gave living a second go. I don’t know what the rest of the Soundgarden’s former members did during this time, but I also hardly give a single fuck, but whatever they came back as well. And now we have Soundgarden again. So here is one of their first new songs since they’re back in action, making a tune for the Avengers. Two of life’s best things: comic books and great music, coming together in holy matrimony. This better damn well be dinner conversation.

Oh and, having just actually listened to it. It’s actually good.

Post Script: Yeah, I’m well aware they had a new album recently that wasn’t Down on the Upside, but it was more of a compilation of old songs; as well as a few unreleased songs from their REALLY old days. But they sucked harder than a collapsed star back then (it sounded like ACTUAL Grunge) so I ignored it.

Post Script 2 ELECTRIC BUGALOO: If you weren’t aware of Grunge, and began to wonder what it sounds like throughout this article, kill that curiosity dead. If you went to high school, you must have known that group of dudes who call themselves a “band,” and play their instruments mostly by colliding them with blunt objects, while the singer screams loudly with his voice cracking more often than the San Andreas Fault line. There’s a name for that kind of music, it’s called Grunge.

Breakfast with Mornings

Despite my two month hiatus, which I wish had a better reason than pure lethargy, I assure you the quest to provide you with the finest (this is an odd gap screw formatting)

A showerhead (duh).

dinner conversation has not eluded my mind. I hope you are not too put off by a title with words such as “breakfast” and “mornings,” these are not the words of dinner.

Dear reader, consider your mornings. They define your day. When you wake up, do you take a shower? Or do you consider that a nighttime activity? There are many schools of thought and considerations on this subject dating back to when indoor hygiene became a “thing”.

1. You smell nicer if you shower in the morning, however no morning hygiene does mean you get to sleep in a little later and other people’s nostrils be damned.
2. If you are a gentlelady or a Spartan, you may have rather long hair, showering at night gives you time to let your hair dry, but I believe that is what blow-dryers are for.
3. This is a regional problem but it begs consideration, we all know mornings are cold. Okay, were considering more than that though. Stepping out of the shower in the cold morning may just not be worth it, it is easily the fifty-third worst feeling in the world. The afternoons tend to be quite a bit warmer and thus being naked and wet not nearly as traumatic.

But the morning doesn’t end there. You have to eat. Well you don’t have to, but 11/10 doctors recommend that you do. Now we can debate what kind of cereal you have but such is hardly a dinner time discussion. That kind of discussion could rival the presidential primaries, and that’s before you get started on what kind of milk you use, (good lord, some people even still use WHOLE milk).

Waffles or Pancakes? Oh, I DID just go there. And I caution that if you bring this up at dinner make sure no one chokes. The reason being everyone assume they agree with their own preference. For example, I know for a fact that waffles are far superior. Now If you too, are wise enough to support waffles, this comment will seem as foolish as confirming that the earth is a sphere (well, which technically it isn’t, it is oblong, stop getting sidetracked though). However, if you support pancakes, I hope you had a warranty on the computer you’re reading this on before you threw it out you window.

And now the arguments rages, and the debate doesn’t end here. Once the plates settle in their shattered state on the ground and the superficial wounds stop bleeding, ask if their chosen breakfast should be buttered. I went around asking people if they buttered their waffles at my school, but everyone assumed if I was coyly asking if they partook in masturbation. Sick-minded plebeians.

Photic Sneeze

Pepper of the sky.

One of the most appalling sensations on Earth is that of not being able to finish a sneeze. According to popular myth, a sneeze is the equivalent of one twelfth an orgasm, thus creating the illusion that you were robbed that fraction of an orgasm. It feels that way too. “People” will advise you, as they’re often inclined to do, to look at the sun.

I rarely take advice that requires me to stare at an object that could blind me from doing so. However “People” are not full of it this time.

There is a genetic condition called photic sneeze reflex which causes individuals to sneeze in reaction to light. This condition is called photic sneeze reflex, and is autosomal dominiant.

When Philosopher Aristotle wasn’t preoccupied with being laughed at for being Macedonian by Greeks or tutoring Alexander the Great how to murder those Greeks, he pondered why people sneeze when looking at the sun.

From Aristotle’s Book of Problems:

“Why does the heat of the sun provoke sneezing?”

Aristotle deduced that the sun’s heat on the nose was the culprit. It took two thousand years for the greatest scientific minds to refute Aristotle’s idea. Philosopher Francis Bacon of the 17th century countered Aristotle’c claim by stepping out into sunlight with his eyes shut; Bacon did not sneeze.

Bacon’s was uncertain how Sol did cause sneezing, however he reasoned it was likely due to the watering of the eyes when looking at light irritating the nose: thus causing a sneeze.

Since he was a philosopher and not a physiologist, he could not have known that a sneeze reflex is far too rapid to be caused by the rather slow tear ducts of the eyes. Little modern study has been put into photic sneeze reflexes, however this is the best thing that the medical community put forward:

The trigeminal nerve, which senses irritation of the nose, is responsible for both sensation and motor control. The trigeminal nerve is awfuly close to the optic nerve, which is the nerve relevant to sight and thus light. When a sudden flood of light flows through the retina -part of the eye- the optic nerve fires an impulse to the brain to restrict the retina to avoid damage. What supposedly happens now is that the trigeminal nerve sense that impulse from the optic nerve, and translates that as sheningians in the nostrils. The trigeminal nerve tells the brain to sneeze to purge those shenanigans, and thus a sneeze.

Neurologist Louis Ptacek of University California, San Francisco, plans to look further into this condition, as he believes it is related to epileptic seizures.

SOURCE: http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=looking-at-the-sun-can-trigger-a-sneeze

Seeds

Pure guesswork.

How did we find out seeds grow into plants?

Oh it seems so obvious now, hindsight being 20/20. Just like how trying in school, not getting a liberal arts major, or using protection seem perfectly obvious NOW. But to our dim-witted ancestors, how did they even find out the wonderful potential of seeds? Think about it, you have these worthless little black dots that fall off plants , or even less obvious, that pollen crap.

A) It should occur to ancestral man that their precious time, usually spent trying not to die, should be wasted burying these insignificant specs. No points if these plants aren’t buried at the right time either.

B) With marvelous insight, ancestral man must then decide that their precious fresh water, usually spent on themselves so that they don’t dehydrate and die, should be best be spent on the ground that harbors these worthless specs. But not too much water because that would be wrong. No points, if ancestral man decides to stop watering that insignificant spot because they need to use that water for not dying.

C) When the plant begins to grow, ancestral man has to correlate that plant to where they put that seed months ago. Which is a damn impressive feet when you can’t remember where you put your wallet this morning.

In summary, the ancient man who discovered agriculture must have been a complete dumbass with no self-preservation.

P.S.

Out of desire for this Blog to be at considered somewhat professional, I will abstain from ruminating how we found out about sex, especially that it lead to children. I assume it was probably because people eventually noticed ugly people never had kids.

The New “Ear-Ring”

This is an incredibly nifty piece of technology that has yet to hit market. However, I highly advise that you follow not only this product but the company. They are making some pretty innovative steps in the smart phone era. As of right now, most smart phone technology is essentially remaking the wheel. This product, although wheel shaped is new, not improved.

The O.R.B (shown above) twists open to turn into an ear piece so that you can receive calls.

The O.R.B is the flag ship piece of technology from Michigan-based company Hybra. The product appears normally as a ring on the users finger (as that is usually where someone puts rings, you can put it on your toe if you have a particularly obese toe, but it ruins the point). There is an E-ink display (whatever that means, pretty sure that’s pretentious for “LCD”) on the ring which syncs to your smart phone.

The rings vibrates and alerts you to calls, texts, and calender appointments. The ring vibrates and shows the respective caller ID, text, or appointment.

To answer the call, you twist open the ring and place it on your ear as an earpiece (as that is usually where you put an earpiece). The ring is adjustable to fit multiple ear sizes. This ring is military-grade (a now technologically meaningless word) and water-proof (which is substantially more interesting).

The ring comes in multiple sizes to fit well… multiple sizes.

So why is this game changing?

1) The ear-piece market is on the rise with more and more states requiring drivers to use ear-peices on the road.

2) Most earpieces do not show caller-ID thus you still need to take out your phone to check who it is before you waste your precious, important time talking to them.

3) Earpieces are not exactly convenient to carry around, although they are small, they are awkward of shape and would feel quite odd in a trouser pocket. No one wants to hear “is that your earpiece, or are you happy to see me.”

4) It’s flipping cool.

SOURCE: http://www.hybratech.com/products/orb/

Evertop

The city of Castellfollit de la Roca.

Before I was a reporter (although my paychecks have my title as “worthless peon”), I used to want to be a writer. And before you make a smart ass remark, I mean writer as in books not newspapers. I still do. And I used to be good at that, or so I was assured by the same friends who also told me that in no way I was fat. This was a piece that I submitted to some literary thing that I didn’t win. Probably because it wasn’t whiny enough. I would have had a better chance submitting my last post.

Let us begin, as all stories must do if they really want to get anywhere in life, with a man. No, on second, thought the former syntax is misleading. In no way do I mean to suggest that a story must start with a man, only that it must start somehow. I believe we are past the misogynistic era where the protagonist must be male. The story could start with a man or a woman, even a flower.

A flower, come to think of it, dearest listener, a flower actually seems a more appropriate item to begin with. This specific flower is a dandelion. Not the deceased kind of dandelion that may first come to mind, but one that is bright, yellow, and alive.

It is an interesting and relatively little known fact that should you peel the stem of such a dandelion and place it in water, it will curl very tightly into a circle.  You may want to try it yourself one day, it would make a lovely ring for the environmentally minded flower child in your life. Should you be so unfortunate as to have one in your life.

Now there is nothing especially interesting about this dandelion at all. The only remarkable thing about this piece of flora is that it is alive despite the fact it is overshadowed by a very large and brooding cliff face, which thus deprives the dandelion most of its sunlight.

And yet it lives.

The same could be said for the inhabitants of the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff.  This was a tumultuous time for the city of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff. The city of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff, was having elections. Although this was not reason time was decidedly tumultuous for the town of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff.

The following portion of narrative will discuss some of the residents of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff. I highly advise you do not grow attached to these characters. They are merely transitional tools and will be discarded to the grave as soon as this morbid injunction has achieved its purpose.

The presiding mayor’s way of life was going to come to an end very shortly. He was not deft enough at his political craft to have taken credit for anything his underlings did, and not foolish enough to have done anything stupid enough for his PR department to make look bold. He was regarded by the inhabitants of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff, as a rather pleasant and amiable seat warmer for the next mayor. Although this is not why the presiding mayor’s way of life was going to come to an end very shortly.

At this time the mayor was lying. The mayor was also giving a decidedly dull speech to the crowd, who really ought to have been doing better things with these last few precious moments of their lives, about how he had been single-handedly supporting the town of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff, in his tenure as mayor.

May I remind you, the mayor was lying, his burdened and unappreciated assistant did most the work. But even the unappreciated assistant was not truly the supporter of Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff, although, it would take a very gifted geologist to tell you the truth. This is because the question is not whom single-handedly supported Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff, but what?

Let us observe a gifted geologist. I suggest you stay silent for a while, I would prefer we not alert her to our presence. This gifted geologist’s ears have been honed to hear the very minute and subtle moving of the rocks.

And she did not like what she was hearing today.

She grumbled and mumbled and moved away from the only open spot on the dirt floor in what only a generous person would call a “house.” She picked up her stethoscope with her pudgy yet precise fingers and waddled back over to the open spot of dirt and put the stethoscope to the ground tap the dirt and listened to the earth’s response again.

And she did not like what she was hearing, especially because now, with the stethoscope, the sound was even clearer.

She grumbled a mumble with a minutea of marvel and waddled over to a table. Well at least I believe it was a table, but due to the pool of papers and the cascade of clippings falling out of the pool of paper and into a raging ocean of reports, it could have easily been just a table shaped  skyscraper of stationary. Once she had made the laborious waddle of about six feet to the aforementioned “table,” she began to viciously tear at the docile documents in a similar fashion to that with which one might tear at wrapper off a bar of chocolate which they had failed to successfully give up for their new diet.

The gifted geologist would never give up chocolate though and would certainly never diet. She didn’t exactly worship chocolate as the best thing ever, that would be the earth, but chocolate came in as a damn close second.

The gifted geologist found the notes she had been so viciously searching for in the wealth of writing. The gifted geologist let out a raspy sigh of relief, a miscalculation was found. The city would not end abruptly after dinner. She waddled over back over to the open spot of dirt, and put the stethoscope to the ground. She tapped the earth again, its rhythm only different to one with honed ears.

She did not like the news she was hearing, not only was it worse, it was clearer. The sound resonated like a tuning fork to her ears, which were honed to hear the very minute and subtle moving of the rocks.

The city would not end abruptly after dinner, it would end a scintilla before supper.

She decided that she probably liked chocolate a lot more than the earth. Her rather pronounced stomach roared a rather pronounced roar. She put a hand to her protesting stomach. It was nearly supper time.

This brings us to a very special rock at the base of the brooding cliff, although I doubt anyone besides a gifted geologist could tell you it was special. The reason this rock was so special was that it was the “what” that supported Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the brooding cliff. This rock was not all that large, and it had been holding up this brooding cliff for quite a while, and the literal pressure of the cliff was about to turn this rock into diamonds.

If you are not a geopsychologist, You may be surprised to know that this was not desirable for this special rock. Should that rock have turned into diamond, it would have mined and broken into many different tiny pieces. Such a horrible fate for anything, even a rock.

What the gifted geologist heard was the farewells of this rock to its fellow neighbours. A very teary goodbye if rocks could shed tears, these rocks had been through earthquakes and landslides together for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. But even so, the rock rolled away avoiding its fate of dissection, so collapsed the brooding cliff, so collapsed Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff. So collapsed the lying mayor, the gifted geologist, the crowd who should have spent their last minutes in a better fashion, as well as everyone else who lived in Evertop, the city precariously perched upon the edge of the brooding cliff.

As they fell to their death, I wonder if they laughed at the irony of their town name. I rather doubt it. However, you will be happy to know that the aforementioned dandelion survived the brooding cliffs’ abrupt ending. Or maybe you care not; I certainly cannot police my readers for those sympathetic to flora.

Hardships (Another List)

As horrific as this image may be. It does have a silver lining, I love these kind of toilet paper holders, so easy to replace.

Sometimes, the world throws every problem it can at you. But we must overcome these hardships. One of the best ways to overcome these hardships is to bitch about it as a community. Someone far more clever than I called a similar entry dubbed “White Wine”.

You pull up to the gas station and forget which side of the car has the gas tank on it. You will always get it wrong, always, and have to drive the car around and move to another gas pump. Meanwhile you are sure the rest of the gas station denizens are pointing and saying “Haha, look at that fool, see how he doesn’t even know about his own car. What a bumbling buffoon I bite my thumb at him.”

The toilet paper roll is empty, so you must shuffle with your pants down to the pack of toilet paper like a naked corpulent prisoner squirming away from a pack of ravenous lions with your legs bound by a sinister pants-like contraption. After this harrowing experience you will certainly not replace the roll, instead you will just place it on the water tank of the toilet. Which leads to next one.

Replacing a toilet paper roll, it is a completely unnecessary hassle.

As you lie in bed, texting your dearly beloved, gravity, being an unloved bastard, takes control of your phone and makes it fall directly on your face. Extra woe be unto you if you hit send. A similar problem is trying to sleep on your side using you smart phone, which then helpfully switches to the wrong screen mode. Hard times for those of us forced to have touch screens on their phone.

When I write emails to my lady friends, I usually start out with a obnoxiously romantic header, such as “Dearest Caitlin,”. When I do this, the chances of the phone sending this message are five to one. Thus ensuring a damsel will receive a message simply stating ”Dearest Caitlin” which is incredibly creepy.

Your comforter is askew from a significant number of sexual encounters. This leads to your feet getting cold a night. The horror, the horror.

You’re sitting alone, in a bathroom. Minding your own business, taking pride in a thunderous bowel movement that Thor himself could not have achieved in a lifetime of training, when suddenly your hear a women’s voice. Holy shit, there are shenanigans afoot, this is a men’s restroom, for MEN. At least you thought so, you try and recall the door sign, but can’t. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe this is the women’s restroom, for WOMEN. Your palms begin to sweat, your terrified. The police will surely arrest you, send you to a gulag and siberia, put you on the sex offender list. Then you hear the voice say “daddy, I’m done,”. It was a child, a deceitful little child, they sound so much like women sometimes.

And sometimes I actually wonder why my newspaper doesn’t let me do columns.