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    In Honor of Halloween

    2009 - 10.30

    Ah, Halloween. One of my favorite times of year. It’s the thick of football season, horror movies abound on TV and at theatres (although I don’t have cable), and full-grown adults can dress up like idiots and pour grain alcohol all over themselves and it’s ok. The last two years, I’ve been in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, for what’s become an annual tradition. But this year one of my friends that always organizes the thing got married, so we all went to his wedding instead. So I find myself back amongst the plebians this year. I’ll be attending what is shaping up to be an epic party with Roman, Squalls, Holly, and some other hellians. I’m sure there will be some stories to share on Monday, so stay tuned for that. Today I’m gonna share a Halloween adventure with you from the last time I went out, roughly 3 years ago…

    The Biloxi Von Lutz Like Scale

    The Biloxi Von Lutz Like Scale

    Halloween 2006 was nearly the end of my reign of terror in Milledgeville, GA, but I still had one good Halloween left in me. There was this girl (there’s always a girl) that I really really liked. She was probably second only to my dream woman on the BVL Like Scale. We met under strange circumstances and I’m honestly convinced that God intervened on that one to keep me from making a rather huge mistake elsewhere. We dated for a bit, but unless you liked projects, I was a difficult person to date at that time. She and I remained friends though, and I would often stay at her house when I was downtown (I lived on the lake at this time).

    This particular Halloween, Gornto and I decided to go out with this girl and a few of her friends. We did some bar hopping and got absolutely hammered. Overall, not a bad night. Then we went back to her house where Gornto and I were gonna crash for the night.

    I had spent a considerable amount of time working my way up the ranks to get bed privileges. Basically, I got to sleep in her bed rather than sleeping on the sofa or the floor. It sounds like a minor thing, but it’s not always easy to do when you’ve previously dated that person. She had a pretty kick ass bed too. That didn’t hurt. This particular night, she decided I didn’t need to sleep in there though. Using my drunk logic, I decided to talk her out of the decision, but that just resulted in her closing the door in my face.

    I wandered around the house incoherently for a bit, before devising a plan. I needed to get this girl on lockdown before she slipped through my fingers. How do you put a girl on lockdown? You profess your undying love for her, preferably in a letter. I searched around the house until I found the necessary materials; a piece of printer paper and a marker. I sat down at the kitchen table to write my love opus.

    After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally finished. I have no idea what I wrote, but I know it took both sides of the paper and it probably ended with the lyrics to an Air Supply song or something. I folded the paper in half, walked down the hall, and slid it under the door. I puffed out my chest, confident that I’d done the right thing, and promptly passed out on the living room carpet.

    I awoke the next morning to this:

    “Biloxi, what is this crap?” She asked, holding up the letter. “Does this even say anything?” Once the fog lifted and I was able to form a coherent thought, I realized what I had done. That familiar wave of embarrassment washed over me, as the enormity of the situation came in to focus. Then by the grace of God, I realized that I had written on both sides of the paper with a permanent marker and each side had bled through to the other, making the entire letter unreadable. “I was trying to talk you into letting me sleep in there, so I wrote you a letter.” I replied. She laughed and threw the letter in the trash. “You dumbass. I told you I had to get up early for work and I needed to sleep. That’s why I wouldn’t let you in there. Now get up so I can give you a ride to your car.”

    I did as I was told and on the way home, I told Gornto what I had done. “Biloxi, you dumbass.” He said. “Why don’t you ever ask my advice on these things beforehand. She’s just not that into you.”

    Yeah. No kidding.

    Author’s Note: I’m asked often why I write about these embarrassing encounters. One, failure is far more entertaining than success. And two, if you talk about how you actually succeeded in a particular relationship, that just makes you Southside Steve, and nobody likes that douche.

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    The Dangers of Teaching High School…

    2009 - 10.29

    This has gotta be one of the funniest stories I’ve heard in a while, and quite honestly, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often…

    One of my good friends, Bryan (an alias), is a 10th grade teacher at a high school in middle Georgia. I suppose he’s a pretty good looking guy and the beanheads seem to like him, so it’s no surprise that a student or two might have a crush on him. But one day after class, two of his female students came up to him and said, “Mr. Bryan, can we talk to you for minute?’ “Sure.” He replied. They went on to tell him that in the course of passing notes with another student, we’ll call her Amanda, she was saying some rather odd things concerning herself and Bryan.

    One of the girls had passed a note to Amanda asking her if she was going to some event that weekend, and Amanda’s response was “I don’t know. I might be getting engaged.” Obviously that begs the question “To Whom?” Her answer? “To Mr. Bryan. We’re probably moving in the Spring. I might be pregnant…”

    Whoa. Bryan was freaked the hell out by this, so he thanked the girls and hoofed it to the Assistant Principal’s office to tell him about the situation. The Assistant Principal didn’t seem too disturbed by this revelation and said that Amanda had said similar things before. Evidently, she had some psychological issues. He said they’d discuss the matter with her and her parents, and transfer her to another classroom.

    “Well what would you suggest I do in the meantime?” Bryan asked.

    “I suggest you stop sleeping with her.” The Assistant Principal replied.*

    Touche, Mr. Assistant Principal, touche.

    *Just in case, this slipped past you, Bryan did not have anything to do with the student. She made the whole thing up.

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    Adventures with the homeless

    2009 - 10.28

    Atlanta, like any major city, has its fair share of homeless folks, or Urban Outdoorsman, as I like to call them. However, the current economic climate has definitely sent some otherwise decent people scrambling to find a warm place to sleep. I don’t typically put a lot of thought into why someone winds up homeless, but from the sheer number of encounters I’ve had with them, I’ve gotten fairly good at determining which ones are just down on their luck and which ones would never amount to anything anyway. I’d like to share some encounters with Urban Outdoorsman with you today…

    My first real one-on-one encounter with a homeless man came when I was about 18 or 19. I was a Senior in High School and my brother lived down at the Ford Factory Lofts next to the Murder Kroger on Ponce. He had gone into the store to buy something and I was milling around in the parking lot. An Urban Outdoorsman came up to me and started hassling me for money. I honestly didn’t have any and told him so, but he wasn’t easily dissuaded. My brother came back out and I told him to give the guy some money and he replied, “Hell no, I’m not giving that guy any money. He better do a trick or something.” So, in response to Jay’s request, the guy took his thumb and twisted it all the way around. It was quite gross, but I learned a valuable lesson. If you’re gonna donate money to the homeless cause, you might as well get them to do something cool. This may sound like exploitation, but if you went to the circus you’d be pretty pissed if the trapeze artist took your ticket money and went straight to the liquor store with out even attempting to go across the high wire.

    Welcome to Atlanta

    Welcome to Atlanta

    Usually I don’t deal with the itinerant homeless folk. They’re just drunks and frankly, that just hits too close to home. But a month or two back I was wandering home from the bar and a homeless asked me for some change. So I told him to vote for Obama. Hahaha, not really. He looked fairly harmless, and I was in desperate need of some Pepperoni Pizza flavored Combos and a Gatorade, so I just told him to come with me. He followed me up to the gas station and I bought him some Thunderbird. He was very grateful and for the first time, I really felt like I was making a difference in someone’s life. It really is fulfilling helping out the less fortunate.

    Another time, I let a homeless guy sleep in the back of my truck, when there were was an old mattress in there I was getting rid of. I parked it on the street at that time, so there wasn’t any real danger to me from letting a random person sleep in it. I told him not to steal my truck though. My exact words were, “If you steal my truck, it will end badly for you.” He didn’t steal it, so all was well the next morning. I felt like that was a nice thing to do. Jesus said something about opening your door to those in need. The tailgate on El Chup is kinda like a door…

    My favorite run-in with an Urban Outdoorsman is actually a recurring one involving a female crackhead. I can’t say for sure that she is actually a crackhead, but she’s certainly not right. She typically works the area on Boulevard between North Ave. and Ponce. Chances are if you frequent this area at all, you’ve seen her. she stumbles around on the curb by the Marta bench and then when traffic stops, she’ll wander out in between the cars to bug you for money. She doesn’t just ask you for money, she demands it. In a sort of Carl Childers, Sling Blade voice, “Mmmmm give me some money…” The best part (depending on your tolerance for nasty) is when she does her little dance and shows her chest (Breasts is too kind a word for whatever those things are). The image will be burned into your retinas for quite awhile after that, I can assure you. My most memorable account of her occurred at the corner of Ponce and Boulevard. As I pulled up to the traffic light, she wandered out in front of El Chup and hollered at me to give her some money. About that time, out of nowhere, I hear a booming voice over a loud speaker, “Get out of the road!” The woman jumped and looked up to see a police van sitting there. The woman looked up and flicked off the cop, who then got out and arrested her. I had a good laugh on that one. Obviously it didn’t stick, because she was back the next week.

    If you’re visiting Atlanta and you’d like to visit the homeless in their natural habitat, there are two prime locations to watch without being in any real danger. The first is the corner North Ave. and Spring Streets near the Bank of America Plaza and All Saints Episcopal Church. They like to sit out on the steps and heckle passers-by. It’s really pretty entertaining. The other is slightly more sketchy. There’s a ditch between City Hall East and the Ford Factory Lofts where the train tracks are. Often times, the homeless will get liquored up and congregate down there. They get in arguments and sing and all sorts of entertaining hijinx. I wouldn’t recommend actually going down there, but some entertainment can be had in the Murder Kroger parking lot too. If you know anyone that lives in the lofts there, that’s you’re vantage point. Believe me, they have some stories to tell.

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    Some outside articles…

    2009 - 10.26

    I’ve started writing for a website called Helium.com. Essentially, you just write about what you know. I’ve written a few articles on there you can check out if you’d like. Hell, you might even learn a thing or two…

    Ten things every man should be able to do
    It seems to me that men have lost a bit of their self-sufficiency in recent decades. We’ve become a gender that now relies on others to do the things we once took pride in. Here’s my list of ten things that everyman should be able to do.

    (Read More)

    First Guitar: Acoustic vs. Electric
    The guitar is far and away the most popular musical instrument to learn to play. It’s prevalent in nearly all kinds of popular music and kids and adults alike to seem to gravitate towards it as their instrument of choice. It’s an extremely versatile instrument and in terms of instant gratification, it’s probably second only to the piano. By the end of your first day with a guitar, you should be able to play at least one or two popular songs. That being said, the decision on which guitar to purchase first is not one to be taken lightly.

    (Read More)

    What’s the better rock song: Freebird or Stairway to Heaven?
    To be honest, before seeing this article, I’d never really thought of “Freebird” and “Stairway to Heaven” in the same terms. They are both epic rock songs and have a good bit in common. Both start out slow and build into frenzied guitar solos featuring amazing guitar work from their respective musicians. That being said, I feel as though “Freebird” is the superior rock song.

    (Read More)

    Will the United States still be a Democracy in 50 years?
    Although the United States of America is technically a Republic, or a system where the people elect officials to represent them and then the officials vote on the issues, I do believe that our current system will still be around in 50 years, and I suppose that is the question posed in this article. In order for the U.S. to be a true Democracy, the populace would have to vote on issues rather than representatives of the populace. It’s easy to see how that could be quite a logistical nightmare. As a country, we’ve been through far more trying times and our system of government has remained relatively unchanged. The government has grown exorbitantly and intrudes far deeper into our lives than the forefathers ever intended, but the system they set forth in the constitution to elect officials and their governing methods are virtually the same.

    (Read More)

    Guide to Underground Atlanta
    Underground Atlanta is essentially a mall that’s been built underneath a section of Downtown Atlanta. It was built when the city raised the level of the streets above and an area underneath was left over, so the city decided to make a mall out of it. Like many things in Atlanta, it’s a good idea in theory, but executed poorly. The area is really neat architecturally, and it has always had the potential to be a great area to visit, but the City of Atlanta has never quite figured out how to attract the right clientele.

    (Read More)

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    The Dead Kitten Standard

    2009 - 10.21

    Since everyone now believes that the Dollar is spiraling towards its fiery death as the world currency, and the liberal hippie douches* have finally figured out how to implement their Communist Utopia, a new currency will need to ascend to take the almighty Dollar’s place. In the new Communist Utopia, tentatively called Commubabwe, there will be no room for traditional capitalistic currencies like the Euro, the Yen, or the Chinese ______ (insert sound of fork falling down steps now). No, in Commubabwe, a completely new currency is needed. Here’s my proposal…

    If you’ve ever been caught trying to drown a cat in a burlap sack, then you know that liberal hippie douches (LHDs for the remainder of this essay) frown on that sort of thing. Anything remotely cool or capitalistic is denounced by the LHDs as being detrimental to the existence of kittens, usually with some ass-hat reference to that Bob Dylan song, Blowin in the Wind. “How many times must a kitty-cat drown, before we decide to let them be…”

    Anyway, LHDs love those sumbitches and since according to them, everything has a detrimental effect on the Earth. Thusly, everything kills kittens. It is my proposal that we measure the cost of all products and services in Commubabwe in terms of the impending doom laid upon cats from their purchase. This may seem slightly odd, but cats are a fairly abundant resource, and their destruction is quantifiable. Perfect for a communistic society whose intention is to destroy wealth. The death of a cat represents the death of some part of the environment in an actual, tangible sense. Not just some theoretical, “the polar ice is melting” ┬ákind of hysteria. Pretty heady stuff.

    You can’t just run out and declare one day that a gallon of soy milk is worth three dead kittens. It has to be tied to something, at least at first. Just like Dickie Fahrenheit did with his temperature scale. It’s based on the freezing point of pickle brine (which totally explains why water freezes at the arbitrary 32 degree mark).

    exchange rate

    exchange rate

    The Toyota Prius is the high-water mark for all things LHD. It’s good for the environment (because it runs on magic) and it’s built by a foreign company (and everyone knows a foreign company has no interest whatsoever in making money). Therefore, it’s the perfect thing to peg the Dead Cat Currency to. Alas, even the most environmentally friendly vehicles kill kittens, and for every Prius built, according to my calculations, roughly 1000 kittens die. That’s a nice round number and makes an easy ratio to compare products. So, if you’d like to purchase a Prius, you’d have to take 1000 live kittens to the dealership to offset the environmental cost. Keep in mind that you’re not actually paying for the production cost of the vehicle, just the cost of the impact to the environment. That’s all that matters.

    Since the only thing you’re paying for in Commubabwe is the environmental cost of a product or service, you won’t actually be able to purchase a Prius. It’s just a mark on the scale to help determine costs. Also, just because an item costs more in today’s traditional Dollars, that doesn’t necessarily mean it will cost more in Dead Kitties. It’s environmental impact might be less than a traditionally more expensive item, and therefore cost fewer Dead Kitties. I’ve included some graphs to help explain things.

    Now, to tie up a few loose ends. To actually pay for an item or service you have to bring some live kittens to the table. This makes the term Dead Cat currency a bit of a misnomer, but it actually represents the poor innocent kittens that will die because of your selfish, capitalistic purchase. You give 1000 live cats to a dealership, and a few live and a few die. They pay their suppliers with live cats and breed the difference. Everybody’s fat and cat happy. Basically, this means you better get real good at raising felines and equally as good at dodging the ASPCA.

    How to calculate the cost in dead kittens

    How to calculate the cost in dead kittens

    Dead Kitten price for popular items

    Dead Kitten price for popular items

    *It’s satire, Bitches. Get your head out of your ass and laugh for once… As soon as you figure it out.

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