Chain Blog

I've tried this, and it works! In fact, if you don't repost this blog and send it to 50 people you know, the girl of your dreams won't send you a letter at midnight tomorrow, thereby robbing you of your chance to receive a free PlayStation Portable loaded with your favorite ringtones!

All that's required of you is for your dumb ass to click here, fill out a silly questionnaire regarding how much you've changed in 10 years or what you like to do on Tuesdays, and post it as a bulletin labeled "How much I love God" or using nifty euphemistic code words corresponding to your initials.

Once you've finished that, simply wait a day or two to find out how you, too, can earn money filling out worthless surveys about how women really do "like 'em big," while making a living in data entry from the comfort of their own homes.

Before long, Tom will threaten to start charging your for your worthless MySpace, unless you start having pointless "MySpace comment" conversations with people you've never met about your best friend's favorite shirtless MySpace profile picture of himself.

Act now, because you are the 1,000,000th visitor to this site, and supplies of Xbox 360s aren't shared with the 1,000,001st visitor. If you fail to act now, we'll ship your free gaming console to a voyeuristic True.com dating site model, who'll in exchange tell you about a great deal for everyone to get rich by mailing 75 random people $1 each.

Don't delay. After all, you can find out who visits your MySpace page!

The "What the F*ck?" Awards, March 2007

The WTF Diplomacy Award
Iran, with all the recent uproar about wanting to open relations with the West, decided to kidnap a bunch of British sailors. I'm pretty sure they meant open "good" relations, but I could be wrong.

The WTF Movie Award
Homosexual writers tend to think that heterosexual males are fans of the movie 300 because, deep down, heterosexual males are all latently homosexual. Never mind the kick-ass carnage, the historically-based story, and the insanely good cinematography...

The WTF Politics Award
Sean Hannity, right-wing radio pundit, called John Edwards a piece of shit for staying in the Presidential race, implying that Edwards is trying to use his wife's cancer as publicity.

The WTF Music Award
Sanjaya, the talentless, identity-less, teeny-bopper icon has somehow managed to not yet be eliminated from Season 6 of American Idol.

The WTF Television Award
The two pointless new Lost characters, Nikki and Paolo, are eliminated from the show after several pointless appearances, a few pointless lines a dialogue, and a pointless episode pertaining to their pointless existence on the pointless island.

The WTF Science Fiction Award
Just go read any of my previous blogs pertaining to Battlestar Galactica... you'll get the idea.

The WTF Military Award
Not having any sort of clue what to do with Iraq, Afghanistan, or our military in general, the House and Senate voted for a timeline to pull out of Iraq. I'd rather have a timeline to get rid of the Army's embarrassing 'black beret,' but whatever.

The WTF Actor Award
Jeremy Piven, star of Entourage, apparently ran out of money and left a DVD set of his show as a tip after a dinner at an exclusive restaurant.

The WTF Humanitarian Award
Iraq suicide bombers posed as people giving away free flour.

The WTF Health Award
Nicorette gives me gas.

Battlestar What-the-Heck-tica

At the end of the second season of Battlestar Galactica, the writers of the show decided to leave us with a bad taste in our mouths by jumping "one year later" and robbing us of much plot and character development. Not a mistake those same writers would let go quietly, they decided to one-up themselves and leave us with a bad taste in our mouths by concocting a ridiculous, forced, and plot-narrowing ending to season three. Way to go.

For those of you who haven't seen the Season Three Finale yet, I don't care, I'm filling this blog with spoilers anyway.

To be quite honest, the episode itself was a good one. It continued Gaius Baltar's trial, ended it well, and, as far as all things Baltar are concerned, set up his character for season four nicely. But then, the season four lead-in... holy crap, Batman, that was a bunch of holy crap.

All season long, the writers have been setting us up for the reveal of the "Final Five Cylons." I need not mention that this aspect of the subplot concerning the 12 "human" models of Cylon was, in and of itself, a lazy way out of trying to sneak five new models into the surviving human fleet. Here's how the writer's meeting must have gone: "Let's see... we've got seven; we've done a good job of sneaking those seven into the show; there's five more; up until this point, there's been no implication that these last five were anything special; we're out of ideas... oh, I got it, let's cook up some really stupid backstory so we can claim the 'final five' are actually unique, unreplicated models, and then reveal those models (four of them anyway) to be some of our favorite human characters." Response: "Which, oh by the way, gashes open several plot holes the size of Battlestar Galactica herself; contradicts much of the character and plot development that we've already established; reveals once again how lazy we are as writers; adds another nail into the coffin of a waning television show."

Two things are going to happen from here: 1) Tigh, Tyrol, Anders, and Tory (lot of T's, there) will eventually be revealed as not Cylons, but more Human prophets, similar to what Roslin is, or 2) Tigh, Tyrol, Anders, and Tory will be Cylons, opening the floodgates for nitpicky fans such as myself to point out the hows and whys such a phenomenon is pragmatically impossible, even for a fictional show.

Let me just point out one right now... Tyrol and Cally's baby would have shown up as "odd" after blood tests, sort of like how Helo and Athena's baby shows up as "odd." Oops.

I'm pissed. I love this show. But it's totally pulling a George Lucas Star Wars Prequels, and it's irritating the crap out of me.

The writers were hoping we'd all be asking who the fifth and final Cylon is, but instead we're asking for a new batch of writers.

Given the way it's going, don't hold your breath.

Options

What a day again. My current uncharacteristic streak of having good days is somehow continuing under its own power. I don't know why, and I don't really care. Well, I don't really care as long as it holds up, that is.

Last year, I wrote a little blog about how my employment options were nil. No matter what I did, I couldn't get a significant job to save my fucking life. My resume is narrowly tailored to two things: being a filmmaker; being a soldier. Yes, the irony is that, shortly after I wrote it, I landed a job as an engineering and marketing assistant, but that's not the point. I couldn't get a job that I actually wanted.

Somehow, and once again I don't care how, all of that has changed within the last week or so. The irony here is that I'm already immensely busy without these new occupational developments. Followers of this blog know that I am busy producing a short film, pre-producing another short film, writing several scripts, and traveling a lot. But... now I have a job offer in lovely Reno, Nevada, to possibly work for a television commercial company (they do the NBA commercials for MTV, and have just landed an OLN network development deal). I also have fishing line and bait in the water for a possible (but, admittedly, unlikely at this point) job in Wilmington, North Carolina. And there's the persistent option, option three: Los Angeles.

Make no mistake, my ultimate goal is still Southern California with all of the bad traffic and crazy people, but the first two options certainly will help me get to California much more effectively (but not more quickly).

Anyway, I don't want to sound as though I'm bragging, because I'm not. I'm just a little surprised at my good fortune this year. Of course, last year more than made up for my lack of bad luck, but I'm moving on.

I guess I'm going to see what happens.

Short Film Fever

This is a bit related to my "On a Tear" blog from a couple days ago, and is partially both a cause and an effect of being on a tear, but whatever...

I am totally motivated to start making some short films. Anyone interested?

Early in February, a friend of mine from film school approached me with a script, asking if I wanted to work on his short. At first I was hesitant, as I've got other things on my plate, but he sent me a written pitch that was just short of phenomenal. Very good pitch, it was, and it made me want to read his script. So I did. And I liked the story.

Admittedly, I wasn't too fond of the first draft, but who the Hell is ever fond of a first draft? I gave some notes, some advice, and surprisingly, my friend asked me to help him write it. So I did. And I had fun.

After we bounced a few rewrites back and forth, I came to the conclusion that the structure wasn't quite right, so I asked him if I could rewrite the story, basically from scratch. Now, usually when you're working on someone else's short film, the director (or whoever's "vision" the film is) is very vain, very protective about it. Any and all significant changes will come from said director, and that's it. Once again, however, my friend surprised me, and told me to give it a shot. So I did. And he liked it.

And then he asked if I wanted to produce it. Um, yeah.

Anyway, now I'm on a short film tear. Somehow, both deliberately and accidentally, I surrounded myself with a lot of people who want to start making shorts, and that's what we're doing. Sure, it's not features, nobody is going to make any money, but damn... it's filmmaking, and that's why I'm here, right?

But I don't want to stop at just one short. Oh, no. I want to make a dozen, maybe more. I don't care if they're my scripts or not. Anybody who knows me knows that I love seeing projects other than my own come to life almost as much as I like my own scripts to be filmed. I just want to make movies. Who gives a shit if they're just short 10 or 12 minute ones?

That being said, I've got one film to make first, and that's my friend's. Rest assured I'll be writing about it for everyone to read, and I hope reading about the process will almost be as interesting as my experience doing it.

Let's rock 'n roll.

A Profoundness in Film

Prior to September 11th, 2001, there was always that occasional film that critics would proclaim as an insight into the world, into humanity. Usually, these films would be nominated for an Academy Award or twelve, and they would fade away into the obscurity of a small box office followed by a resurrection of sorts into curricula the world over for film students. But, at least for the moments that belonged to them, those films would make an impact. Maybe lasting, maybe not. Regardless, someone would probably shout out that this film would change the world. Ultimately, however, it wouldn't, but its lingering frames of celluloid relevant vision would remain in the thoughts and imaginations of the next generation of filmmakers, resulting in yet another "temporarily profound" film venture.

After that infamous date, however, it seems that more and more of these films are making their way into the consciousness of the various pop cultures of the world, and, for better or worse, staying there. It has long been held by the intellectual elite of this world that we are mortal. We live, we die, and with the exception of a few great or heinous people, we are forgotten. Lately, though, this mortal perspective has been passed on to our entire planet, our very species. We are dying as an element of the universe; we are killing ourselves.

Terrorism and the environment lead our headlines. We are in a constant situation of, no matter what we do as individuals, our fates lie in the hands of others. As a result, our art, specifically our film, is beginning to reflect that reluctant nihilism that we are all a part of. We can be killed walking down our own streets, working in our own offices. Indeed, we will be killed walking down streets of foreign lands; breathing the air and drinking the water of our future. Our existence is coming to a head and, for whatever reason, be it profit or a genuine sense of love, Hollywood is trying to warn us.

Take a mere slice of the recent films that have graced the silver screen: Babel, Children of Men, even Al Gore's foray into film, An Inconvenient Truth. Warnings all. They make no effort to disguise their intents. We need to change, and change now, or we're all fucked.

It's almost irony that in a world where people are living longer, our lives can change in less time than ever before. In one second, a building can fall. In one second, a species can be erased from history. In one second, a life can begin and end.

Art has long held the key with which people react to their environments. Almost anybody with half an education can name a painting whose inspiration was death and destruction. Monkeys can probably spout the titles of no less than a dozen so-called war songs. Even the theatre has lent its hand, withered hand it is. But politics? How many people know the history of politics? The great decisions in the last century that led us to where we are today? Not many. Pop culture, it seems, is far more important to most citizens, especially of this country, than any other subject. And finally, Hollywood has taken notice.

There was once a time that supposedly incendiary films were squashed, or relegated to the art house circuit. It wasn't too long ago that the original Manchurian Candidate was finally released after being hidden from public view since JFK's assassination. It wasn't too long ago that the filmmakers behind movies such as Brokeback Mountain would have been admonished. But now, there is an overwhelming sense that humanity is running out of time, and every topic the world over is being brought to the forefront, perhaps in vain attempts at vanity, but perhaps due to the necessity that we need to figure out what's really important right now.

We truly are in a strange new world. China is once again, after centuries of absence, a world power. America is no longer the moral leader and savior of the world. The Middle East, thanks to the proliferation of nuclear technology, is no longer a footprint in Imperial plans. Make no mistake, the power struggle for tomorrow's world is more volatile than it has ever been before. Unfortunately, the average yahoo on the street isn't capable of understanding the minutiae involved in running societies, despite the fact that every yahoo has a definitive opinion, however uneducated, of how such actions should be done.

Which leaves us with film. The ultimate art form. No other art form in the world has the ability to be as affective, nor as pervasive, as film. And, thankfully, we're starting to use it as such. A few years ago, nobody, save naturalists, probably even gave a damn about penguins, then March of the Penguins arrives. The drug trade was seen as black and white, then Traffic. Even television shows like Battlestar Galactica are joining the fray, portraying several sides of several arguments in dramatic ways that laymen can comprehend.

I usually hate it when Hollywood decides to rear its head into the political world, primarily because there was always an overt agenda. But, now I see the necessity of it all. The powerful will continue to maintain and gain power; the stupid will continue to become even more stupid. Hollywood can educate, should it want to. And I think it finally wants to.

Let's hope for the best. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of time.

On a Tear

I don't know what the Hell caused it, but I'm on a creative tear as of late. Maybe it was because Clandestine's Daughter was so often delayed, my creative waters finally busted through the dam.

No, probably not.

Maybe it was the short film script that my buddy had me rewrite, reawakening my motivation to get my own short films off the ground.

Eh, possibly. But probably not.

Or maybe it's the fact that, unlike last year, I'm actually going to the movies on a regular and frequent basis. After all, it's the movies that makes people want to make movies, isn't it?

Sounds likely, but probably not.

Actually, it's probably a combination of all three, but I feel like rambling and, therefore, this blog entry will have no coherent structure whatsoever. Is that a little lame? I think so, but I don't care. I feel like writing, and it doesn't really matter to me how random the tone or poor the quality of it is.

Besides, there's always that really bad poet out there who reminds me that no matter how bad what I write is, there's always something worse. And that makes me laugh.

And laughter motivates me to write. Funny how that works, isn't it? Did I just use a pun? I hope not. Puns suck.

I'll leave you alone now.

300: The Review; The Controversy

Once upon a time, Frank Miller was much like fellow comic uber-great Alan Moore, in that Mr. Miller wanted Hollywood to have absolutely nothing to do with his comic work. Unlike Mr. Moore, however, Mr. Miller's works have made a stunning (and creator-blessed) return to the silver screen, and we, the audience, get the dividends.

As I mentioned in my "One-Line Review" on my film website, 300 is a veritable tour-de-force of comic filmmaking. It is everything that a comic adaptation could and should be. Colorful, highly stylized, extremely violent, equally sexy, it's a kick ass ride into cinema, as worthy of being called a film as it was of being called a graphic novel.

That being said, it may not be everyone's cup of tea; it's not really intended for the film snob crowd. It is also, again, extremely violent. And, for those who are misguidingly going to see it for the historical effect, it is pretty much entirely historically inaccurate. But, a roller coaster of historically inaccurate violence it is, and that was kind of the point to begin with.

All things considered, it's a good movie. To some, it's a great movie. I have it somewhere in between good and great, but it's certainly going in the DVD collection when it comes out.

Moving on... the controversy.

It seems that some scholars in Iran are complaining about the film, saying it's another prejudiced way in which American Imperialist culture is trying to portray Iranians as a global negative. I mean, what else would a film showing Caucasian Occidentals fighting black and Arab Orientals have in mind?

Um, entertainment, maybe?

I have something to say to those scholars: shut the fuck up. I'm willing to guarantee them that 300, in no way, shape, nor form, was made with any intent to offend Iranians, or any other Persian peoples, for that matter.

Evidence:

1) It's common knowledge that comic book adaptations are popular in contemporary American film culture, and 300 is a product of that popularity. Given that Frank Miller's previous comic adaptation, Sin City, made such a splash, it's only natural that someone obtained the rights for 300.
2) Related to the first point, period war films are also now popular. Personally, I think 300 was more of a reaction to that horrible film called Troy than anything. As in: "Troy sucked, we can make something better."
3) As much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure the average American has no idea that Iran is located in the heart of the former Persian Empire. And since this is the case, I'm pretty sure few Americans in the audience made any sort of Xerxes/Persia/Iran connection.

Case closed. Go see the damn movie.

What a Day, Week, Month, Year (So Far)

Whew. Some of you know why I just wrote that, most of you don't. I know I'm pretty open about myself on this blog, but I think those that know and those that don't will remain who they are for the time being. I squeezed by something that was a make or break point today... by the skin of my teeth. I quite literally went against all professional advice, stuck to my gut, met the obstacle head-on, and... well, whew.

Let me repeat that for good measure. Whew.

One more time... HOLY SHIT. Whew. What a fucking day.

On that note, what a week. In the last seven days, I've rewritten and rewritten a short script that I've been unofficially commissioned to rewrite and rewrite; I've been to Manhattan to see Phantom of the Opera; I've been studying and learning my new job based out of Dallas; I've been preparing to greenlight a short film production; I've been, well, whew.

Long-time readers of my egomaniacal blog remember that 2006 was unequivocally the worst year of my life, and while 2007 had strong signs of being much, much better (indeed, even maybe considered "good"), it is only now that things are finally falling into place.

I'm headed to Europe no less than three times later this year; I'm finally hard-scheduled to move back to Los Angeles; I've fixed my credit; I'm involved in several film and television projects (some paid, some volunteer); I'm in the best health of my life (my resting pulse is 15-20 beats per minute slower than a year ago); and I'm walking around with a smile on my face.

And, as an added bonus, I finally found a hair stylist in this dirthole I'm stuck in who knows what to do with my crappy hair.

Hair is important, don't laugh.

Thanks are in order to many people. They know who they are. My friends, my family, my coworkers, my Muse, my cats, my dogs, my readers (my editors, basically, not my blog readers... but I guess I can thank most of you, too).

So far, 2007 is the year of the whew... and the wow.

Rock 'n roll.

Letters, Labyrinth: Two Reviews

I wasn't going to blog about movies today, but given the bad taste in my mouth still lingering from that crap-tacular comic adaptation, Ghost Rider, I just felt that I had to.

First up is the Japanese-language, Clint Eastwood-directed World War II film, Letters from Iwo Jima. Earlier, I implied how good Eastwood's other World War II film was, and now, I must say, Letters from Iwo Jima blows that one out of the water in every conceivable aspect. The acting is better, the pacing is better, and despite the fact that both are about the same battle, the plot and story are better. It's definitely the cleaner of the two films, feeling much less sloppy than the hash editing that hurt Flags of Our Fathers.

The film follows the Battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese point-of-view, which turns a story about the so-called villains into a story about a valiant last stand, one full of honor and loyalty. Admittedly, it was a little strange seeing Americans so clearly depicted as the "bad guys," but it was a little refreshing, and more than a tad relevant. As with its sister film, Letters from Iwo Jima follows a select number of characters, revealing their pasts, hopes, and dreams, leading up to the ultimate revelation that our enemies were not so different from us. A great work of art, this film... Eastwood's real World War II masterpiece.

Next is the Mexican film, Pan's Labyrinth. Also set during the era of World War II, but solely focusing on the Spanish Civil War (or rather, its aftermath), the story follows the adventures of a young girl who joins her mother to live with a cruel Spanish officer. While there, the girl discovers a faun living in the middle of what's basically a glorified hedge maze. The faun reveals that the girl is a soul from another world, and that she has to prove her worth to return to that world as a princess. The girl sets off on her adventures, and the audience is given one Hell of a cinematic experience.

Pan's Labyrinth is a gorgeous film, with style, color, light, and music all working together to create a realistic, yet ethereal tone. Part war movie, part horror film, and part fairy tale, it's a breath of fresh air, and a must-see. To give anything else away would be an injustice, so just take my word for it: go see it.

Also go see Zodiac, but I'll rant about that another time...

NYC DST

So I went to New York City last Friday. And so I came back Sunday night. So I had a blast. A fun, if abbreviated time. And thanks to the timing I realized one thing: daylight savings time needs to go away.

But first, a brief spiel about New York.

I had a strange flight there, that's for sure. I flew from Reno-Tahoe to Sea-Tac first, which is a little odd. At Sea-Tac, I ran into a friend from the Army that I hadn't seen nor heard from since 2003, which was a little odd. And then flew a little over five hours to Kennedy. Even though I began my journey at 5 AM, Pacific Standard Time, I didn't arrive at my hotel in Times Square until nearly midnight, Eastern Standard Time.

That's right, my hotel in Times Square. The W at Times Square to be more specific. Those of you who know will probably be supremely jealous. Those of you who don't... eh, who cares what you think?

There I was greeted by my enemy and friend, Lisa, who looked marvelous in all of the New York glamour, and then I basically went to sleep. Long day, after all.

Saturday was spent roaming around Manhattan, primarily Times Square, but Saturday night was the icing on the cake: kick-ass seats to Phantom of the Opera at the Majestic. Those of you who know... eh, why finish this sentence?

And then, the sour milk to the wine. My departure time from Kennedy was a tad early, to say the least, and I had to catch the airport shuttle at roughly 4:45 AM, Eastern DAYLIGHT Time... which, in reality, was 3:45 Eastern Standard Time. Which meant about three hours of sleep, probably less. Anyway, my damn cell phone didn't switch with the time, so my alarm was useless. In fact, had the service not called Lisa's phone, neither one of us would have made it to the airport.

So, I packed in a matter of seconds, stole all of the Bliss hair and skin-care products out of the bathroom, and hauled ass down to the shuttle.

And yes, I made my flight. My six-hour, cross-country, under-the-jet-stream, boring-ass flight... to Seattle. Yet another weird layover. Whatever, I made it safely, so who cares?

But the point of this pointless blog: DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME has to GO.

We're in the communications age, we're approaching another technological revolutionary age, we don't need daylight to function. People are becoming more and more used to operating on 24-hour clocks... FUCK DST!

Studies show barely a 1% savings in energy consumption, and other factors are less than significant as well. It's retarded, it screws people up, mother nature doesn't do it, why the fuck should we?

And it came close to screwing up my New York trip.

GET RID OF IT!

I'm done now.

Ghost Rider: Half-Cocked Superhero

If you can avoid Ghost Rider, do so. Unfortunately, I saw it last night, and am wondering if I can make a deal with the Devil to get my time back.

Ghost Rider is Nicholas Cage's long-awaited foray into a comic book film. Everyone knows that he once had the rights to the Superman franchise, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he gave them up. Anyway, Cage appears here as Johnny Blaze, "The Ghost Rider," and the results are less than fantastic.

Written and directed by Daredevil's writer/director, Mark Steven Johnson, the only thing that Johnson managed to accomplish was to finally convince the public of what Ben Affleck has been saying for years: Daredevil being a bad movie was not Ben Affleck's fault.

Seriously, the plot sucks. It's typical fare, of course, with the Devil offering a young Johnny Blaze a deal: sign here and I'll cure your father's cancer (but I'll kill him anyway). So, Johnny signs, watches his father die, leaves an uber-hot girlfriend who winds up a reporter that happens to interview an older Johnny Blaze. It's revealed that an old Ghost Rider screwed over the Devil and hid some contract, which the Devil's son and miscreant friends want to find to take over the world, so Johnny Blaze turns into the new Ghost Rider and whoops some ass. No, really, that's all there is to it.

Ghost Rider has no weaknesses. At no time did he seem to be in any sort of mortal danger. He whoops one demon in a few seconds by wrapping him in a flaming chain-whip. He whoops an air demon in a few seconds by spinning his flaming chain-whip really fast, thereby making a tornado and sucking in said air demon. He whoops a water demon in a few seconds by "flaming on" and boiling said water demon. And he whoops the main demon in a minute or two by shooting him with a shotgun, and burning the souls from the contract. No, really, that's all there is to it.

The characters, dialogue, and plot were all half-ass. The love story? Half-ass. The acting? Oh, man, don't get me started. Everything was half-ass. There was even this admittedly cool scene in which the new Ghost Rider, on his kick-ass chopper, and the old Ghost Rider, on his kick-ass horse, ride off to fight the bad guys. Only, the old Ghost Rider disappears after they get there. No fight, no nothing. Just disappears. No, really, that's all there is to it.

No wonder Eva Mendes had a "that's it?" expression on her face the entire movie.

Musings Early in the Month of March

How come those vitamin supplements that have "not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration" are never evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration?

Would cloned meat that isn't allowed to develop a brain or a heart be considered a vegetable?

Why do Christians feel that revealing that Jesus had half-siblings, a wife, and/or a child would be harmful to their religion? How would having a family affect, in any way, the morals and philosophies of Christianity?

Why do people go to movies just to check their text messages?

How the fuck did "bling bling" work its way into our vernacular? And does the originator of "bling bling" even know what vernacular is?

Anyone ever notice how Marines and Soldiers always argue about who's better, but the ones that have served in Joint Task Forces keep their mouths shut because they know there's no difference?

Instead of outlawing cell phones while driving and smoking sections in restaurants, can't we just outlaw stupidity instead and cut out the middleman?

Proof that capitalism creates a better society: America's post-secondary education system.

Proof that socialism creates a better society: Canada's healthcare system.

Brazil receives way too much praise for trying to be the first nation to have every car propelled by ethanol. Guess how they're ensuring they have enough land to grow the necessary crops? Cutting down more rainforest.

If fundamental Islam and fundamental Christianity could truly co-exist peacefully, they would have figured out how during the various Crusades. There's a reason there's a saying, "moderation in everything."

Truth.com pretends to be liberal by hiding behind the pretense of destroying big business (tobacco) for the sake of society. Problem is, they preach a fundamental hate, which tends to be slanted as a conservative point of view. Tell me I'm wrong.

According to a recent report, narcissism in college students is on the rise. If everyone would've listened to me, this wouldn't have happened.

Since I don't like watching marathons, does that make me racist?

Why is being lazy frowned upon? Can anybody tell me ONE invention that wasn't invented for the ultimate purpose of making doing certain things just a little bit easier?

If pre-marital sex is a sin, why don't animals have weddings? Does that mean all dogs go to Hell?

If Hillary Clinton becomes President, does anybody think she'll hire an intern to get back at Bill?

Good night, everybody.