Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Poetry Corner: Revolution Unzipped: Voice of the Pantsless
Revolution Unzipped: Voice of the Pantsless
I invoke your spirit, Thomas Paine,
for you once dealt with a crisis
similar to the plague we now face.
"Common Sense" released us
from the chafing grasp of a corrupt king,
saved us from the Redcoats.
But it will take divine knowledge
to break us from our current chains.
Friends, comrades, we are living
under the false pretenses
of a puppet government.
We are the last pocket of resistance
against a cruel and unjust ruler.
Too long have we been persecuted,
oppressed by pants, shackled by shorts.
We must struggle to escape
the verticle stripes of corduroys
the prison bars holding humanity.
The enemy is no longer stiff,
brittle as the metal pants of yore,
but dynamic, ever-changing.
Pantaloons become breeches,
trousers, acid wash jeans,
Hammer pants, and Bermuda shorts.
They have invaded every facet of life,
snow pants for the arctic climes,
waders for the aquatic. We must take up arms
against the seperation of knees,
seperate but equal. Battle for the peacable
assembly of thighs and our constitutional
right to bare legs. Free your families
from the captivity of Capris.
The two-legged bacteria have evolved,
diversified, even developed stain resistance.
But we still have the power, the freedom,
to press the pant menace from existance
before it rides up the ass of America.
-
Et voila. If anybody wants the poem read at some socialite party or congressional meeting, I'd be happy to read. If however I am unable to attend, I recommend Samuel L. Jackson as my understudy of sorts.
Catch-ya. I'm ghost like Swayze.
The Ferris Wheel
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Joey Two-Tone
This photo was originally from This Guy on Flickr.)
Mines Goggles 2.0
Cake. That's what... but I digress.
Let me run through the list of updates for y'all.
First of all, you may have noticed the music that started playing when you loaded up Mines Goggles (Click the square if you want it to stop, the double arrow to go to the next song... if you don't know the drill by now, then screw you.). I've embedded a nice little flash media player in the Blogger bar that links to my Webjay playlist, so you have to listen to what I want you to. Currently, the playlist is as follows:
1. Chris Parnell and Andy Samberg - "Lazy Sunday" (A hilarious SNL rap about the
Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia)
2. Annoying Webjay ad
3. Calexico - "Guero Canelo" (A different version than I'd heard before, but free and legal)
4. Dangerdoom - "Benzie Box"
5. Fall Out Boy - "Dance, Dance" (We all know it and love it)
I suppose I'll try to switch it up once in a while, but it's tough to find and use good songs that aren't copyright-infringing.
Next, I'm trying to switch up the little quotes under the "Mines Goggles" title every now and then in a lame attempt to keep myself occupied (idle hands being the devil's playground and all...)
Finally and, coincidentally, at the bottom of the page is the Technorati... thing. You can now easily search through the content on my blog, view my Technorati profile, and see what sites link to mine (none right now...sad face). Perhaps most importantly is the pagerank (PR) icon at the very bottom. If it ever gets up past, say, 2, then I'm officially a geek. For the time being, though, I'm just an internet wastrel...which is good... I think.
Al.X out!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
An Explanation
NOVEMBER IS A COMMUNIST!
That's right, people. November's a goddamn kitten humping pinko bastard. Just look at what November does to the trees:
I bet that tree wishes it was in China... poor misled sprite... It had such a shining democratic future ahead of it before it was taken in by November's communist ploys... promises of universal health care and social equity coursing through its now-vermillion* lifeblood.
Let this be a lesson to you, children. You may have to endure your share of hanging-chads, but eventually democracy will prevail. Jesus wanted it that way. And remember, a red heart is no good without the whites of your eyes to lead it and the blue of the sky to contain it.
*Vermillion is a fancy word for red, you uncultured swine.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Random Quotes
"Graphs are fun and learning!" - (Therodynamics homework conclusion)
"I'm not Fred Flintstone, but I'll have sex with you." - (No explanation)
"Nice shot, No-Shot."
"Eat cock, No-Cock." - (Beer Pong banter)
"You just got beat by a drunk guy!" (Mr Mustafalees in Halo)
"I can't believe that's not butter" (Dan, with reference to the chemical structure for margarine)
Friday, October 07, 2005
A New Addition
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Tech Geeking
Before I get my nerd on, I'd like to announce the current Sausage Factory standings:
Game 1: S.F. vs Fighting Owls - Win, 18-5
Game 2: S.F. vs Death Squad - Loss, 10-14
Game 3: S.F. vs FCA - Win, 11-6 (or something of the sort)
Game 4: S.F. vs Shadow - (forecasted) Win 15-7
Game 5 S.F. vs Sigma Nu A - (forecasted) Win 9-8
I'm just guessing we'll win the next two games... the Sig. Nu game should be a thriller, eh? I'll keep you loyal fans posted.
Anyway, here's the list of what's keeping my geek quotient up lately:
-First of all, after a month or so break, I'm back on the Halo 2 scene... still kicking ass and taking names (currently a lvl 27 in Team Slayer, thank you), though Mr Mustafalees seems to be significantly better and Dr Dru seems to have gotten a lot worse. This online game thing does seem to be a decent way to keep in touch with old friends and a good way to waste time with new ones.
-Trillian's automation functions. Along with a plugin I got from ceruleanstudios.com, there's actually a fair amount of stuff that can be accomplished to make Trillian smoother and more personalized. Nice mousegesture/hotkey commands are giving my computer that edge they were missing. And the ability to play sounds for any imagineable trigger is nice as well...
-"I keep hearing this loop of mus-Oh, god, playing around with Audacity. Jesus." Those are WuTang's thoughts on my newly discovered (and free) music editing program. I used this to clear some fuzz from live jazz recordings, cut stupid silences and lame track extending bullshit from otherwise good songs, and to amplify some overly quiet songs I had in the library. Mostly, though, I've been cutting small clips from songs to combine with Trillian's automation. Now whenever Erik signs in, I hear the riff from "Feel Good Inc," when Dan signs in, the Ghetto Boys yell "Die mother fuckers, die motherfuckers, still," and when anybody says "midget" in an IM, a clip from Benefit's "If I Owned a Midget" melts from my system.
-Finally, Flickr. If anything has a chance of filling the void left after my disillusionment of Facebook caused by CERTAIN events (D, you know what I'm talking about), it's Flickr, newly purchased by Yahoo. A sort of photoblog community, I think it should keep me busy for weeks... or until my free hosting limit runs out for the month.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Volk Bouldering Club
As with the Sausage Factory, T-shirts are on the way. Here's the currently proposed logo.
Sweet. Peace.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
The Humble Abode
And the door's always open... more or less, so check us out.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
WTFuck, Mines?
AL.X OUT
Thursday, August 25, 2005
What is going on?
Sausage Factory
Rockin'? Yeah, I think so. Anyway, practices should start soonish to anybody who cares... if the weather turns nice and this damnable Colorado wind dies down... God willing. So, if anybody knows God personally, could you talk to him about that? That'd be great. Ciao, people.
Thursdays with Alex
Monday, August 22, 2005
Back to the Mines
Official 2004-'05 Bro/Ho Ratio - 4/1
Actual 2004-'05 Bro/Ho Ratio - 2π/1 (That's right. Eat it.)
Official 2005-'06 Bro/Ho Ratio (Freshman class only) - 4.5/1
Actual 2005-'06 Bro/Ho Ratio - Depressing
Average Date Auction cost of a woman at Mines - $50
Average Date Auction cost of a man at Mines - $3.75 (supply and demand, bitches)
New girls on the Sausage Factory frisbee team - 1
Alex's credit hours last semester - 20
This semester - 16
Current point score - 2 (D knows)
Ghetto factor at the W-Towers last year - Da-amn, bee-yi-yotch!
Ghetto factor at Mines Park now - Fresh Prince of Bel-air
Time spent playing videogames so far - 7 minutes
Number of man-stains on the new couch - 0
Average cost of reupholstering a couch - $120
Cost of books (without Thermo or McBrizzle books) - $566.94
Cost of text books' weight in silver - $435.73
Number of ladies who have sat in my comfy chair - 1
Dudes - 6
Midgets - 0
Holes on the MP Frisbee golf course - 9
Par - like... 8
Cost of a a broken window - $400
50 meals at Mines - $250
75 meals at Mines - $1000 (must be some advanced calculus going on down at the cafeteria)
Well, that's all for now. Don't feel too bad for me... I'll make the fat bank if I ever do get out of this place. I'm sure I can scrounge up some good new statistics later on. Al-X OUT!
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Rant Number Two: Sneering
www.dictionary.com defines a sneer as "A scornful facial expression characterized by a slight raising of one corner of the upper lip." The look I'm describing is more dramatic than this, however. The HTS does involve a raising of one side of the mouth, but it also involves a heavy slackening of the jaw, leading to an open mouth. It gave me the impression that perhaps the airport girls had split a botox treatment between them, each having one half of their face juiced.
Now, I wouldn't have thought much of this except that I've noticed it on a few seperate occasions in the short time since then - a moderately to highly attractive female with the I'm disgusted-with-the-world sneer distorting her face. Blondes appear to be at higher risk for HTS abuse, from my experiences thus far. Abstent-minded activities (such as driving) may also pressure you into HTS use. I truly hope this is not a growing trend and that I've merely been unlucky over the past half-week. Women (and men as well, I suppose), please refrain from using the Half 'Tarded Sneer in the future. Check the mirror every morning and if you find HTS on your face, do what you can to get rid of it or see a doctor. HTS use is not "cool," nor does it make you seem "sophisticated." Stop it, people. Just say no!
Monday, July 25, 2005
A Declaration of Peace: Asshole Style
Mines Goggles Mercenary
L-Dub (slick dick the ruler)
Friday, July 22, 2005
Top Ten: Things Not to Pack
10. Fireworks. Not because it's a hazard, but because it's the 22nd of July. I'm lookin' at you, Graham.
9. Safety scissors (My brother had a problem with this last time we got on a plane).
8. Toenail clippers (Again, the airline industry has several of my family's clippers).
7. A hand grenade filled with safety scissors and toenail clippers. Authorities tend not to appreciate the pseudo-irony here.
6. My collection of illegal immigrants... but they're so cute!
5. Strippers. Though technically not a security issue, they make getting through security take A LOT longer. Believe me.
4. Large calculators. Every single time I brought mine tucked inside my turban I was pulled over for a "random" security check.
3. Body/limb casts of any sort. Apparently airport authorities think your will to live (and thus your likelihood of not blowing up a plane) decreases immensely when you have a gimp of any sort.
2. Fat people. I'm pretty sure they left one of my bags behind to accommodate an extra large dude one time.
1. Condoms. They break...and my body can't handle that much cocaine at one time.
And when you're packing, remember the immortal words of Dave Attell:
"Just grab a pile of shit. We'll get a bag at the airport."
I'm Sailing Away
Q: What has two legs and bleeds?
A: Half a cat.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Poetry Corner: Circles
Circles
Raindrops fall, the infinite eyes of an unknown god,
to the callous ground. Only the worms,
cylindrical engines made to plow the earth’s heart,
understand:
The writhing commonwealth, no longer veiled
beneath the mysterious folds of silt and gravel,
throws itself upon a cracked, grey cul-de-sac,
alter to their god. They await curved ritual blades,
and are not disappointed. Magpies, sparrows, ravens
spiral from the heavens, arriving neither early nor late.
The peacock struts, consumes the eaters of the earth
and turns. Pearls of moisture fleck his bespectacled plumage,
the all-seeing eyes of Rousseau and Jefferson.
The worms know they will one day collect their lost brothers,
cornerstones of the collective consciousness.
The birds know one half the circle only.
We are the second pi, the lower concavity
on which they cannot perch, cannot feast.
We do not feed the birds. They merely consume us.
The earth shall consume them and we shall feed upon the earth.
We feed ourselves. We feed the circle, our circle.
Life, Time, is cyclic, circular.
Oh, I'm still not sure that I'm finished with this poem, so keep the peepers open for another draft/version.
Bringing the Troops Home
Red, Red, Red, Was that a "Fuck you, you fucking fuck" you left on my comments? Classic, I must say. Where's the nasty backup friend comments on my blog... or yours for that matter? I was expecting more from a bastard like you... unless you don't have any friends. Nonetheless, you don't have "The Asshole" on your side. I can see how you'd puss out. Anyway, before you comment on my blog again, please, please, please clean the sand out of your vagina (I rented a dump truck for you) and come up with some better insults, you mealy-mouthed crotch pheasant. Ale.x out.
P.S.-Don't cry too hard before you go to bed tonight, Red.
P.P.S.-I fucking hate P.P.S.'s and I hope you do to, bee-yi-yotch!
I apologize for my strong language, but it needed to be used. And with that, peace, all.Wednesday, July 20, 2005
A Note to Assholes Everywhere
Poetry Corner: The Chase
The Chase
The mysterious dance of the coyote
and the roadrunner, high speed pursuits
halted repeatedly by a descending piano
or anvil from the sky. The open plains
and high plateaus are your playground.
I bow to you, blue king of the American
Desert Roads. You have no equal here.
Why, then, do I persist? Why do I?
Your sinuous body, a runner’s physique,
cannot possible contain enough calories
to justify my inexorable efforts.
True, it would require much less energy
To saw off my own limb with a hacksaw,
consume it, and grow a fresh one
than to continue my hunt. But it is quality,
not quantity, I desire. Your azure feathers
contain the most tender of meats. A delicacy.
In a secluded ravine, I light the fuse
on my brand new red ACME rocket.
You sprint by, sapphire streaks
against sunburned sands and pale cacti.
Will I capture you? “Meep, meep!”
The canyon walls whisper impossibilities.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Ladies and gentlemen, now for a word from my friend, "The Asshole."
*Disclaimer - The following message has been brought to you straight from the mouth of my bud, L-Dub. The views expressed in the remainder of this post do not necessarily reflect the views of Alex or any of his subsidiaries. Alex does, however, find the aforementioned views to be hilarious and appropriate in the description of his buddy, Red. Oh, and on a side note, L-Dub is one fly, though gimp-legged, cat.*
Greetings from the ‘Glenn in Colorado where it’s straight up gangster bitch. This is L-Dub, the man, the legend, "The Asshole.” I spend time in a land where there is no shortage of people to rip on, Golden Colorado. Ale.x and I reside at the Colorado School of Mines, where the beer flows like diamond water and the women spawn like mangled disease infested salmon. I have reached mythical asshole status in the eyes of my peers at Mines and I made quite a career for myself. Whether it’s trashing international students, resident weirdoes, republicans, Showtimers or the terminally fucking retarded they all stand in awe of the sheer rawness of the Dub. I was asked to talk about the 40 year old petter-ass that has been harassing my man Ale.x on his blog thing. To tell you the truth there is no more spectacular a nut less ass licker than Red Peters. Red, my man you are the most pathetic piece of excrement that I have come across and I lived with someone from India for god sakes (take as much offense as you want, Jukas). To think that a fucking adult has a website completely devoted to finding stupid political Photoshop pictures is beyond my comprehension. Didn’t your sister teach you how to masturbate, you fucking loser? Jesus, man, you act like you were born face down in the god damn shit house… oh, I forgot you said you where from North Carolina. You obviously have deep-seeded issues that must have come from your dad beating off to you tongue kissing a sheep. Why don’t you exercise your second amendment right, buy a gun and put a 45 to your fucking skull. The best thing you got going for you right now is that you have dellusions of grandeur while updating your website. I can only pray that you don’t find some toothless succubus roaming the shit head plains of North Carolina to spread your seed and pass your plague of impotence and ignorance. Well we have scratched the surface Red… the next move is yours. And let me say this, if you are anything but gay, I will be surprised. It has been a pleasure writing for you and I hope to be back to ridicule and harass anyone who wants to step to this.
Peace,
L-Dub
The adventures of Red the gay redneck...coming soon to Fox
Poetry Corner: Falconnet's Cupid
Falconnet's Cupid
called Love and Eros
he raises one finger
to alabaster lips
mischeviously bidding
onlookers to keep
his secret
a remaining hand
poised over a quiver
of marble arrows
ashen wings raised
one slightly higher
than the other
he sits idly
on a mountaintop
or cloud
a granite rose
placed tenderly
at stone feet
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Mines Goggles?
Chorus:
Back home never looked so good. (Omit first time only)
I've got goggles on my eyes and I don't know what to do.
Mines Goggles on my eyes and I'm lookin right at you.
Goggles on my eyes, you look better than you did before
Give it a month or two and I'll be ready to jump your bones.
Nothing I can do to control these wild hormones.
Your medicre body shakes me to the core.
Helping people get laid since 1874.
Chorus
You'll look like Cindy Crawford on a double shot of Jack.
Let me grab my goggles and it's time to hit the sack.
The first time that I saw you, you weren't worth a second glance.
But now I've got my goggles and there's a tent up in my pants
Chorus
Mines Goggles! Mines Goggles! Mines Goggles take me away! (repeat 2x)
There you have it, the official unofficial Mines theme song. If anybody would like to propose a new verse, feel free to leave it in a comment on this post. There's always room for more.
Mountains
Alex's Very First Geek Rant
What the hell? Why do people cheat on videogames. It's 'tarded, and let me explain why. Basically cheating-through whatever dastardly means you choose-in a video game makes you a poser-geek. How lame is that, folks? I'll tell you: the lamest of the lame, lameness that has settled to the bottom of the lame pool and is currently seeping into the aquifer of life, poisoning it with... well, lame. (Phew) If you want to be a part of the geek phenom, just join in, and do it properly. Let's just say that a nightclub tailored to people with pasty skin and a sack full of different sized dice would be far from exclusive. And, not surprisingly, the geek community (the thing I'm using the nightclub as a metaphor for, for those of you who didn't catch on) is not difficult to enter into. Trust me... I'm writing a rant about video games in my own blog after all. Now, maybe these cheating street-urchins don't want to be part of the geek arena and are just in it to mess with the geeks, high school style. In this particular case, then, they're spending something like $70 just to piss people off. This would, hypothetically, put them in a lameness bracket that i cannot even begin to imagine, and I'm a published poet.
So, in conclusion, if you're not good enough to play with the big boys (i.e. myself), just don't play with them. Oh, and don't cheat either, you poser-geeks. ALE.X out!