Attack of the Killer Parasites

A trailer compiled entirely of public domain footage from B-movies and campy educational films touting the Mental Floss article on horrific killer parasites. [Found @ Neatorama as posted by Miss Cellania]

At last! Heterosexual men's fashions and models on the runway. [Found @ Jubba Jubba]

Are you suffering from Adultitis? Find out the facts and seek the cure and spend an Adultitis-free 2008 here at Bonez.

Technorati: Bonez, parasites, killer parasites, Mental Floss, Neatorama, Miss Cellania, heterosexual, Jubba Jubba, Adultitis, 2008

How to Travel Through Time

According to Ronald W. Francis of Las Vegas, Nevada, Time Travel is real and it is for sale on eBay. That's right, for a mere ten million dollars the secrets to time travel can be yours. Reading the eBay posting is a gem of a paranoid delusional's dream in and of itself.

Some researchers claim that time is literally running out and will finally come to a standstill. This theory also opens up the likelihood of alternate dimensions.

Technorati: Bonez, time travel, time, eBay, paranoid delusions, alternate dimensions, alternate reality, Las Vegas, Nevada, sci fi, science fiction, hoax

Naked Paris Hilton Promotes Wine Sacrilege

Israeli scientists inscribe entire Hebrew text Jewish Bible onto space less than half the size of a single grain of sugar.

Wine in a can? Paris Hilton naked and painted gold? I guess it takes a sleazy social parasite to promote an equally sleazy degenerate wine idea. What kind of wine sacrilege will they come up with next? Wine in a frakkin' box? Well, since it seems Paris has lost her family fortune, she must need the work to make ends meet.

Technorati: Bonez, Paris Hilton, naked, wine, red wine, UB40, sacrilege, wine in a can, wine in a box, sleazy, social parasite, Israeli, Hebrew, Jewish, Bible

Christmas Canon Rock

Trans-Siberian Orchestra performing Christmas Canon Rock.

Technorati: Bonez, Christmas, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Christmas Canon Rock, music video

Them Good Ol' Days - 1977 JC Penney Catalog

~ Posted for Carol M. from e-mail submission~

A JC Penney catalog from 1977. It's not often blog fodder just falls in my lap, but holy hell this was two solid inches of it, right there for the taking. I thumbed through it quickly and found my next dining room set, which is apparently made by adding upholstery to old barrels:

Also, I am totally getting this for my bathroom:

There's plenty more home furnishings where those came from, however I'm not going to bore you with that. Instead, I'm going to bore you with something else. The clothes. The clothes are fantastic.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in elementary school:

Just look at that belt. It's like a boob-job for your pants. He probably needed help just to lift it into place. The belt loops have to be three inches long. And way to pull the m up to your armpits, grandpa.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in high school:

This kid looks like he's pretending to be David Soul, who is pretending to be a cop who is pretending to be a pimp that everyone knows is really an undercover cop. Who is pretending to be 15.

Here's how to get your ass kicked on the golf course:

This "all purpose jumpsuit" is, according to the description, equally appropriate for playing golf or simply relaxing around the house. Personally, I can't see wearing this unless you happen to be relaxing around your cell in D-block. Even then, the only reason you should put this thing on is because the warden made you, and as a one-piece, it's slightly more effective as a deterrent against ass-rape.

Here's how to get your ass kicked pretty much anywhere:

If you look at that picture quickly, it looks like Mr. Bob "No-pants" Saget has his hand in the other guy's pocket. In this case, he doesn't, although you can tell just by looking at them that it's happened - or if it hasn't happened it will.. Oh yes. It will. As soon as he puts down his matching coffee cup.

Here's how to get your ass kicked at the beach:

He looks like he's reaching for a gun, but you know it's probably just a bottle of suntan lotion in a holster.

How to get your ass kicked in a meeting:

If you wear this suit and don't sell used cars for a living, I believe you can be fined and face serious repercussions, up to and including termination. Or imprisonment, in which case you'd be forced to wear that orange jumpsuit.

How to get your ass kicked on every day up to and including St. Patrick's Day:

Dear god in heaven, I don't believe that color exists in nature There is NO excuse for wearing either of these ensembles unless you're working as a body guard for the Lucky Charms leprechaun.

In this next one, Your Search For VALUE Ends at Penneys:

As does your search for chest hair.

And this -- Seriously. No words.

Oh wait, it turns out that there are words after all. Those words are What. The ? I'm guessing the snap front gives you quick access to the chest hair. The little tie must be the pull tab.

Also, judging by the sheer amount of matching his/hers outfits, I'm guessing that in 1977 it was considered pretty stylish for couples to dress alike. These couples look happy, don't they?


I am especially fond of this one, which I have entitled "Cowboy Chachi Loves You Best"

And nothing showcases your everlasting love more than the commitment of matching bathing suits. That, and a blonde girl with a look on her face that says "I love the way your junk fights against that fabric."

Then, after the lovin', you can relax in your one-piece matching terry cloth jumpsuits:

I could go on, but I'm tired, and my eyes hurt from this trip back in time. I think it's the colors. That said, I will leave you with these tasteful little numbers:

Man, that's sexy.

Technorati: Bonez, JC Penny, catalog, 1977, humor, funny, seventies

'Twas The Night Before Cheney

Image via Freaking News © 2003 - 2019

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the White House
Not a bedbug was stirring... (well, maybe one louse).
The fishnets were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Cheney soon would be there.

The twins were nestled all snug in their beds,
Out cold from the cocktails that danced in their heads.
And George in his bustier, and I with my whip,
Had just settled who'd be the first one to strip.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my harness to see what was the matter.
To the window I flew with oblige noblesse,
Tore open the shutters and whipped off my dress.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave a golden luster to the rose garden below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a pimped-out ride, and eight NeoCon reindeer.

With a hired-gun driver, and bling laid on thick,
I knew in a moment it must be Old Dick.
More vapid than newscasters, his hangers-on came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"NowWolfowitz! now, Libby! now, Feith and Yoo!
On,Rumsfeld! On, Perle! On, Decter, and Bolton too!
To the top of Halliburton! To the top of the World!
Now cash away! Dash away! Our flag is unfurled!"

As cockroaches before the light o' day fly,
When there's none left to steal, they mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top, the NeoCons flew,
With a sleigh full of flak jackets, and St. Cheney too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slashing and clawing of each cloven hoof.
As I hiked up my garters and then turned around,
Down the chimney St. Dick came, that snarling old hound.

Dressed in skins flayed from Dems on Congress' floors,
His camos untouched by the horrors of war.
A bundle of dirty bombs he had flung on his back,
And he grinned like an asshole while opening his pack.

His eyes – how they glittered! His dimples – how merry!
His cheeks were caved in, his nose sort of hairy!
His crooked little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And the jut of his chin made him look a bit queer.

A stump of an arm he held tight in his teeth,
And the stench it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a pale face and a little round belly,
His teeth they were pointed and smelled like New Delhi!

He was chubby and plump, like a war profiteer,
And I laughed when I saw him, hiding my fear!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had so much to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Assembling his wankers for a big circle jerk.
Then pressing his pecker upside of my nose,
With a nod and a growl, up the chimney, he rose!

He sprang to his limo, to his wolves gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a newk-u-lur missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"I'll soon own the world, as you suspected I might!"

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays to all. Please pass this on, with attribution. Thanks!
Copyright Lisa Wines 2007
Cross-posted atPoliticsAfter50 and Omyword!

Blondie Doors Mashup Godzilla Attacks Ron Paul & IRS

The Doors with Jim Morrison (with whom I share my birthday) and Debbie Harry from her Blondie days (who is still a frakkin' smokin' Hottie at age 62) mix it up with Rapture and Riders on the Storm. Here is another version of the mix with additional eye candy footage of Ms. Harry. Lookin' good, Debbie!

We can all sleep better at night knowing the Japanese Army would be able to deal with Godzilla. Problem is what if Godzilla or one of his cronies attacks anywhere outside of Japan? We're totally screwed!

Speaking of totally screwed. Hop over to the Americans For Fair Taxation: FairTax.org and play with the Fair Tax Calculator to see just how much more money you would have if the Fair Tax is implemented and the IRS and the current tax systems are scrapped.

Technorati: Bonez, Ron Paul, Blondie, Debbie Harry, the Doors, Doors, Jim Morrison, Godzilla, IRS, taxes, Fair Tax, Japan, Japanese, Army, Cloverfield, Rapture, Riders on the Storm, eye candy, December 8, tax calculator, FairTax.org

What Have You Done To His Eyes, You Maniacs?!?

I went out and got myself a nice upgrade yesterday. Gone are the days of grainy, blurred images obscuring my objectives. Everything looks gorgeous now, with full anti-aliasing, anistropic filtering, bump mapping, and all sorts of amazing visual doo-dads leaping out at me. I have moved from the world of bland and muddy textures running in low resolution to the astounding clarity of full HD. What exactly was this upgrade? Did I invest in an 8800 GTX? Nope, already got one. ;) Was it a new monitor? Sorry, not even close. I finally went out and invested in a nice pair of glasses. And let me tell you, this world doesn't look anything like I've been imagining it all these years.

Sometimes we just have to face the facts and acknowledge certain things about ourselves. I finally came to grips in the last year with the fact that I am not a 7 foot tall ripped and muscular sex machine. In reality, I'm only 6'1". And although that ONE trait prevents me from being a paragon of human perfection, these features are only skin deep. (Except my toned and ripped abs. Those are muscle deep.)

But of the attributes that go beyond merely the physical, my eyesight is the one causing me the most distress of late. About a month ago I put out a moratorium on passengers in my car after dark. I felt I could no longer vouch for the safety of anybody in the vehicle beyond myself. If I go careening off the road and slide into a busload of handicapped children, I'm gonna be really embarassed if one of my friends is there to see it.

So, in the interest of NOT being made a fool of by the court system, I decided to go ahead and get my eyes checked. Much as I suspected, my eyesight was slightly less than perfect, in the same sense that Rhode Island is slightly smaller than Jupiter. So, after taking all of their fun tests and trying out a few frames, I settled on a pair that I liked and ordered away.

Yesterday I received the call that they were ready and I rushed from my office to pick them up. Well, rushed in the sense that I sat in 11 miles of traffic for an hour, as this IS Atlanta at Christmas time. After picking them up I headed outside to face life with halfway decent eyes for the first time in who knows how long.

And I have to admit, I giggled like a schoolgirl doing whip-its. I spent the next 20 minutes in traffic flipping my glasses up and down to compare life with and without them. The difference is quite astounding, really.

My favorite moment was noticing that a car in front of me had a 3 foot wide sign in their back windshield....but only if I had my magic glasses on. Without them, it was just a normal pane. With them, a white and blue sign said "BROOKLYN". And just like any other green blooded reptiloid, I took note of that location for "future reference".

If you have been reading all of this expecting some amazing insight or witty rejoinder, you're out of luck. I have no philosophical diatribes to launch into. I will not begin with the, "I never saw the inhumanity of man until I SAW humanity" type crap. The tale is fairly simple. I couldn't see. I got glasses. I can see now.

And yes, now that I can see, it will be WAY MORE FUN to slide into busloads of handicapped children. At petting zoos. Feeding the elderly. I'll take my camera, I swear.

As with everything I post around here, you've just been tricked into reading my verbal masturbation just long enough for me to grab your wallet. I'm heading for Mexico. Peace out, y'all.

Technorati: bonez, glasses, eyes, 8800, hd, sex machine, abs, children, bus, atlanta, jupiter, brooklyn, david icke, zoo, al gore

Don Siegelman Victim of Bush League Justice and Americans are Mad as Hell

Scott Horton has followed the case of former Alabama Governor Don Siegelman and written often about it. Siegelman's case connects Karl Rove, the Department of Justice under Alberto Gonzales, and the corruption of the news media by political interests controlled by the Bush administration. Part 2 of Scott Horton's interview

Is ex Alabama governor Don Siegelman a modern day Man in the Iron Mask after being framed, railroaded and silenced by the Bush regime's control of the Department of Justice? U.S. citizens should be mad as hell and refuse to take this crap any more!

Drinking green tea may reduce the risk of prostate cancer, according to a study by researchers at Japan's National Cancer Center.

From the It's About Damn Time department we hear that someone finally has the balls to call for hearings to impeach Vice President Dick Cheney. "No serious student of the Constitution would question that sufficient grounds exist to impeach both President Bush and Vice President Cheney."

Technorati: Bonez, Don Siegelman, Alabama, governor, victim, Bush League Justice, George W. Bush, Bush, Dubya, mad as hell, citizens, Scott Horton, Karl Rove, DOJ, Department of Justice, Alberto Gonzales, Man in the Iron Mask, green tea, prostate cancer, cancer, Japan, National Cancer Center, impeach, Dick Cheney, Vice President, President, Constitution, President Bush, Vice President Cheney

Sweet E's Boob Phobia

Saudi history in four minutes taken from the movie The Kingdom. [Found @ The Daily Galaxy]

E. has been bitching and moaning about how unfair it is that his "writing art" has to compete with the base instincts of the average web surfer. He's referring primarily to the connoisseurs of free porn (or is that "pr0n"?) and particularly those who cannot seem to get enough breast viewing in their day. Well, tough nookie, Sweet E. Grow up and accept the obvious truth that more people of both sexes prefer peeking at or showing off a nice pair of boobies than they do reading "writing art".

5 Awesome Sci-Fi Inventions that would actually suck if they were real.

Warning: NSFW (not safe for work) images of Khajuraho, one of India's "lost" cities. "Khajuraho is a famous tourist and archaeological site known for its sculptured temples dedicated to Shiva, Vishnu, and Jain patriarchs. Internally and externally the temples are richly carved with excellent sculptures that are frequently sensual and, at times, sexually explicit."

All I See is Pornograffiti, All I Hear is Pornograffiti

Like many others here at Bonez, I pride myself in striving to put forward the very best original content I can muster. Whether this endeavour is successful is ultimately a subjective decision. I'd like to think that at least one or two of my missives offered a minor amount of mild entertainment to somebody, though I'm sure at least one of my works has caused someone to spontaneously claw their own eyes out while screaming for me to get out of their head.

All that being as it may, I cannot help but notice a fact, of late, that I've discovered to be a tad disheartening. As you may or may not have noticed, over there on the right panel doo-dad, we maintain a list of the "Bonez Top Hits". Like anybody else that posts here, I strive to make my material of a quality that attracts an audience and a few hits. Truth be told, I've managed one or two posts that seem to find their way onto (and back off of) that list regularly. But there is a darker side to that list, and it is a trend I've seen plastered across these multiwebs in various manners. I've tried to stay silent on the topic for ages, but the time at last has come for me to speak.

Take, for example, the Bonez Top Hit List of the last 24 hours. At the time of this writing, here are the top 10 entries. Let's see if anybody can spot the trend:

1) Orangina and Kyla Ebbert Exposed
2) Beauty and the Breast
3) Interwebs Porn Wins Over Iran Nukes
4) Female Porn
5) Japan's Tiny Butts No Contest For World's Best Bottom
6) NSFW Video of Hot Cam Babe Stripping
7) Flexible Women and UFO's
8) HOOPZ is Sexy Latin Dance Video
9) Free Viagra Robot Sex Cow Molesting Aliens
10) JK Rowling's Boobs Make Personal Appearance

Did you spot it? Don't be upset, it's easy to miss.

Now, please don't take this as an indictment of my fellow Bonez crewmembers. I am not denigrating their work or contributions, nor am I implying anything. It's just hard to deny what the big draw is here.

Let's go for another example. I'm going to give you two possible titles for this entry. I want you to select the one that will get me more hits:

1) A Personal Diatribe on the Overabundance of Sexual Material Apparent in Internet Trends and a Discussion for Methods of Reversing Them

2) Totally Naked and Hot Brazillian Chicks Doing Dirty and Naughty NSFW Things in Schoolgirl Skirts

Again, who do you think the winner would be here? I'm gonna have to go with number 2, though stranger things have happened, I suppose.

As I stated before, this isn't a Bonez related trend. This can be seen across all of the intarwebs. Let's look at the trends on Wikipedia...

Number 4 - List of Big Busted Models and Performers
Number 6 - List of Sex Positions
Number 10 - List of Female Porn Stars

Need I point out that Wikipedia is a fucking ENCYCLOPEDIA? Yeah, I think I'll go spank it to Britannica, back in a few. Usually when I'M hitting Wiki, it's to, I don't know, LEARN something? I like to feel like I leave the encyclopedia a little fuller than when I arrived and not emptier. [wink, wink, nudge, nudge]

Seriously, folks, there are a great many people out here who are trying to offer content. Substance, if you will. It can be a bit annoying to put forward your best effort (good or bad as it is) knowing that you'll automatically lose out to the SAME SHIT YOU SEE EVERYWHERE ELSE. It's not really hard to find porn on the net. It's kind of like trying to find grass in a field.

I've discussed this dilemma with Bonez himself on many occassions, as I refuse to stoop myself to writing about any of the following: breasts, boobs, milkbags, jugs, tits, winkle, vibraphone, booblies, perky erect nipples, hot and ready women, and/or Edison wax cylinders. I just can't bring myself to do it.

Does this make me an elitist? I guess it's how you want to look at it. I just consider it having some boundaries. I'm not offended by it, I'm not upset by it, it just seems like it's all kind of been said. I'm not certain what position, perversion, or fetish hasn't been written about by now.

For the record, said perversion would be photopyrobestialpedonecrophilia, which you now know is the act of achieving sexual gratification by having photos taken of oneself having sex with flaming dead baby animals.

Dead animals? You disgust me. You sick, sick pervert.

Technorati: bonez, boobs, boob, boobies, breasts, nsfw, stripper, sex, sex positions, oral, anal, missionary, tits, wikipedia, pron, pr0n, pornography, sexual, porno, sexy, babe, babes, hotties, sexy time, romance explosion

I Want to be a Mind Control Cult Leader

Learn how you too can start your own mind control cult and become a living god with no money down. Actually, the video is a great education into the tactics of basic mind control or brainwashing that is not used only by cults but also by the CIA in their secret experiments.

Save Journeyman, Save Smart TV and Save the World. How can such a noble cause be achieved? Simply by purchasing a box of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat.

An obvious Bonez Crew member worthy candidate, "Justin" shares his hilarious thoughts on the 10 worst toys of 2007 and why he got his Christmas shopping done early.

Hottest Robot Goddesses featured at Maxim displays both good and bad fembots.

In a press conference today, Japan's top government spokesman said UFOs are real and the government should collect information to confirm that fact.

In other science fiction and fantasy news today, President Bush says, "We have fabulous health care in America".

Technorati: Bonez, mind control, brainwashing, cult, cult leader, mind control cult, CIA, secret experiments, Journeyman, TV, Rice-a-Roni, San Francisco, Bonez Crew, Christmas, toys, robot, goddess, Maxim, Japan, UFO, government, President Bush, health care, science fiction, fantasy

Tune in Again Tomorrow, Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel

It always begins the same way... I walk into the backyard of the nameless man, who then greets me and leads me to a fenced in area. The man is dressed in a dingy safari style outfit, complete with pith helmet. It's apparent that I know this man and have known him for some time. In the middle of his yard is the fenced in section that is filled with a loose dirt. When I first came across him, there was nothing but the mound of dirt. With each subsequent visit human bones have begun to pile up. At first just a skull, but by now there is a pile a good two feet thick. He always seeks to entice me into the fenced in area. At first I had no reservations about this. It's always been apparent that I knew what he was doing with the bodies, and until recently he seemed to accept that I wouldn't say anything. But a hint of malice is now starting to cross over him on my visits, and I am becoming more and more wary of entering that area. I was further upset last night by him mentioning the need to dig a mass grave to "get rid of some of his problems". What am I supposed to do? Should I join him in the fenced in area? Am I one of the "problems" or am I part of the solution?

You're probably reading all that wondering what the hell I'm on about. Everything mentioned previously is part of an ongoing dream I've been experiencing. Dreaming for me has always been a strange phenomenon. I rarely have just a regular one-off dream that comes and goes over the course of an evening. When I dream, it tends to be a serialized affair. I will have the same dream every night for a month or two. For the first couple of weeks they will progress a little bit further until I reach a point where I am presented with a challenge. My goal is to determine the correct approach to that challenge. Upon determining the correct answer, I always get two things:

A) Some insight into my psyche that allows me to understand what it is the dream is telling me about my life
B) The dream will go away and I will never have it again.

Sometimes the dreams will go away for months at a time. Once they return, I will have them almost every night. Every dream brings a different feeling. This particular dream started out just fine. Oddly enough, I was never put off by the grave or the bones. But the comment the man made last night shot me awake and sent a cold chill through my blood.

As a good example, let me mention my favorite of these dreams. I had this particular dream recurrently around the age of 21. Even though the content seems grim, I never had an ill feeling in it. I was always calm and at ease.

I was walking down the street and would be approached by a man wearing a white suit. He would always look at me and offer enlightenment, if I would but follow him. Every night I would follow and we'd end up at his house. Inside this house was a small room, perhaps 10'x10'. The floor was covered in pools of coagulated blood. Set around this room was a series of shelves, each covered in human heads. Around this time I would turn and face the man in the suit, who was now brandishing a sword.

"The path to enlightenment lies in the destruction of the self. Do you understand?" he would ask me every night.

The answer was ultimately to nod and bow forward, exposing my neck to him. He swung and my head fell. I watched through my own eyes as it dropped, hit the floor and bounced.

As always, I received my insight upon recognizing the question. At 21, I was still pretty freshly out of my teenage years, and I hadn't always been the best person up to that point. I was a manipulator and ultimately untrustworthy. My dream awakened in me the insight that to blossom as an adult I needed to do away with the negative portions of who I was and metamorphose into what I have since become. After some self-imposed exile and a LOT of reading I came to complete grips with what it was telling me.

Ultimately, it was a very eye-opening and positive experience. It almost always is. Though the insights are not always so profound, they do help me sort out my personal issues. They are simply the manifestation of whatever turmoil is rattling inside my head, be it unseen, ignored or otherwise unnoticed.

I have yet to meet anybody else who dreams in this manner. They're not recurrent insomuch as they do tend to change over the first week or two. Once they've provided me with the choice, they are unchanging until solved. They are both exciting and terrifying, and the current one fills me with enough dread that I don't wish to have it again, though I know that ultimately what it's trying to tell me is a good thing.

But fact is fact, and last night's statement of the graves had a pretty profound impact on me. If you've ever seen the episode of The Twilight Zone called "Twenty-Two", then you'll have an understanding of how I felt. It was the same as the woman emerging from the morgue saying, "Room for one more". [shudders]

Technorati: Bonez, bat time, bat channel, dreams, enlightenment, Twilight Zone, graves, bones, grim, blood

Huckabee Dog Slayer Jedi Porn for Girls

[Found @ Boing Boing Jedi Bootcamp]

Bowing to global pressure? Saudi King "pardons" rape victim sentenced to jail and 200 lashes but says punishment and sentence was justified and appropriate. What a jerkwad.

Republican presidential hopeful, Mike Huckabee's dirty laundry beginning to come to public view. Huckabee's son tortured and hung a dog at a Boy Scout camp in 1998. Sounds like standard deviant behavior for the son of a preacher man.

Porn for Girls by Girls. 'Nuff said.

Japan releases the world's first super high-definition (HDTV) images and videos of the moon.

Technorati: Bonez, Jedi, porn, girls, Boing Boing, bootcamp, Saudi, king, rape, Mike Huckabee, Republican, presidential candidate, president, porn for girls, HDTV, Japan, moon, Cloverfield, trailer, deviant behavior, preacher

A Christmas Memory

I guess now is as good a time as any for a little literary thievery. Yes, that's right, I'm stealing the title for this missive, so my apologies in advance to Mr. Twain. I know that you're probably aghast by this point. I've already admitted that I'm stealing the title of this piece wholesale from somebody else. What about the contents? Well, I stole those too, FROM MY OWN LIFE. Deal with it.

Let me take you back a few years to a simpler time. A time where folks were friendlier, when the roads were paved with gold and the world held hands to sing songs of harmony and understanding. I am speaking, of course about 1988, the idealized salad days of my youth. And let me tell you, to a teenaged boy in 1988 there was no grander wish for the Christmas season than a Nintendo Entertainment System.

Mind you, I'm speaking without hyperbole here. The NES is one of the progenitors of the modern day geek movement. Go to any male between the ages of 25 and 35 and ask him the "Konami code". Chances are very high that they'll know it. (For the record, U,U,D,D,L,R,L,R,B,A,Start...add a Select before Start for two players.) This little baby sold 60 million units and birthed Super Mario Bros, Metroid, Zelda, Castlevania and a number of other popular and still active series.

This wasn't just a game system, this was a cultural movement and my lack of ability to play Super Mario Bros meant that I was falling behind the curve and would assuredly reach the end of my life a failure, incapable of even the most basic social interactions because I lacked proclivity at claiming and consuming mushrooms and fiery flowers.

As any child around Christmas time is wont to do, I made it known at every conceivable opportunity how fantastic and appreciated a gift like a Nintendo would be. Assuredly, I would be the most contented child on the block who possessed the two greatest and most loving parents of all time because I got an NES.

Though I made every attempt to interject my passion for all things Nintendian at each conceivable moment, I found my efforts somewhat rebuffed by a pair of parental overlords who did not seem to view the holy gray machine with the same misty eyed adulation that came so naturally to me.

Nevertheless, I found my countenance undeterred as I optimistically believed in my dream coming to fruition. And not long after my sister returned home from college a large wrapped present found its way under our Christmas tree. Seeing that box only made the long wait until Christmas all the worse. Knowing what was in it caused my insomnia to flare up again, as I mentally pictured the hundreds of hours of digital entertainment awaiting me when sleep should have been taking me. Mario... Zelda... Contra... Metroid... So many fantastic worlds for me to explore and so many new characters to interact with.

Still the days crept by ever slower, the tree and it's promises mocking me each morning on my way to school and presenting themselves so tantalizingly real and yet so untouchable in the evenings. Which set did I get? Did I get the one with the robot? Were any of those smaller packages games? Which ones would they be? Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the big day arrived and I paced the house, eager with anticipation, salivating at the thought of holding my beloved NES.

When present opening time came you know which one I wanted to rip apart first, but rules are rules and that was the "big final present". So, we maintained our yearly tradition and opened the presents from Grandma first. Grandma's gifts were always good for a laugh. I don't know if she purchased these gifts with a smirk of irony, or if she really just didn't care. One year my sister actually got a bag of catnip and some bobby pins, no kidding. Grandma's presents this year were par for the course. A set of thick brown socks and a jigsaw puzzle. Actually, not bad considering...

Gift after gift made its way through the room and we each opened ours in turn. After making my way down to the final box, I couldn't help but notice the complete lack of Nintendo games that I had opened. But oh well, it kind of made sense, as they wouldn't want to give away the big surprise. And finally all packages were accounte for, save one, and the time arrived for the big reveal.

Intending to give everybody their money's worth, I opened the large package as slowly as possible. Hands trembling with excitement, I began removing the paper coating from the box. After removing a portion of it, I noticed that the box underneath was plain cardboard and not the black glossy box I would have expected. That was fine, though, they were just playing a trick, hiding the NES in a larger box so that I couldn't possibly guess what it was.

After having removed enough paper to see the uppermost section of the box, I undid the tape holding the flaps together and slowly pried them apart, waiting for the choir of angels to burst forth with their trumpeting and the golden light of holy electronic love to bathe my face in its irridescent glory.

Except, there wasn't another box to be seen. Just some logs. Plain old firewood. And a shit encrusted cat box scoop. My mood, which seconds before had been bursting with joyous anticipation immediately dissipated. A large and painful lump encased itself deep within my throat as I began to notice the sounds. Laughter. From everybody in the room, directed at me. Eyes watering, I looked up to see what the joke was, and as I feared it was me.

"If you want a Nintendo so bad, do some chores and earn the money for one," they said to me between bouts of laughter.

To my young brain this was proving to be too much. Was this serious? Had they planted this...JOKE under the tree for all these weeks? Surely, any moment now the laughter would stop and they would run to a closet and pull out my real gift. Right? But no such luck was to be found for me that night. Although I kept waiting for the reassurance that it was all just a mean spirited joke and here was your Nintendo, it never came. That lump stayed in my throat the rest of the evening.

There was no joy to be found in my other presents. No consolation in the fact that I had gotten other gifts. Hell, to this day I can't name ANY of the real gifts I got that year. The only gift I can name is the crushing sense of how unfair life can be at times. It was definitely a hard pill to swallow and to this day sometimes it is referred to jokingly. I can put on a fake smile and "laugh" about it now, as an adult, but even all these years later it stings me when I think about it, and a slight sense of anger always comes over me on Christmas Eve.

As a side note to this story, I got a job managing a restaurant in our town (it was a VERY small town) shortly thereafter and did, in fact, buy my OWN DAMN NINTENDO with my OWN DAMN MONEY. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

Technorati: bonez, christmas, truman capote, nintendo, nes, konami, konami code, super mario, contra, zelda, castlevania, geek, robot, soul crushing

Set in Stone Faeries and Angels

Set in Stone created by students at the Art Institute of Vancouver.

Similar to Nintendo's Brain Age game, The Bionic Assessment Test (BAT) by NBC and the Bionic Woman TV series strives to test your own bionic capabilities. So, just How Bionic Are You?

This spiral effect optical illusion will freak out your eyes and brain. In fact, I am having a problem typing this line after viewing it!

J. Corsentino's Time of the Faeries where the artist demonstrates his creative manipulation of photographs of attractive young women into images of angels, faeries and other mythical creatures. Great stuff!

Technorati: Bonez, faeries, angels, Nintendo, Brain Age, Bionic Woman, optical illusion, J. Corsentino

We Suck Young Blood

It's funny how life can work sometimes. I've been struggling to come up with something to say for awhile. It's not so much that I have nothing to talk about, but more like my mind has been a bit clouded and unable to arrange all these letters the way I'd like. It's a common issue with me and one that I rambled about pointlessly on my personal blog. But regardless, I have slowly been clawing my way from the funk which has so completely ensconced my brain as of late. Myriad topics have infiltrated my mind and it has taken everything I have just to keep pace with it all. But that's all neither here nor there.

Since successfully ridding myself of my lifelong nicotine addiction, I have been trying to slowly incorporate a few healthy habits into my life. Not too quickly, mind you. I don't want to shock the system. ;) Anyways, one of these habits is power walking with my sister a few nights a week. There's a local mall that's a circular design and just happens to be about a mile around on foot. So we make our way up there and walk it three to four times, striving for the best time we can achieve. Tonight we were making very good time. (10 minute laps!)

As we were doing our third lap, I noticed a little girl who couldn't have been more than seven years old walking to our left. I primarily noticed her because she kept looking over at me with a rather sad expression in her eye. I took a quick mental note of myself. No offensive t-shirts on tonight, tattoos completely covered. Truly, I had no idea what was catching her eye. After about the fifth look she cast at me, I flashed her a quick smile. No sooner had I done this than she started to cry. As she was walking the mall alone we couldn't help but stop to see what the problem was.

After my sister snapped into maternal mode and asked the girl what was wrong, we discovered that she had lost her parents. She was wandering the mall looking quite terrified and really had no idea where they could be. We tried to find out what store she had lost them at, but we really couldn't understand what she was telling us. So my sister took her hand and we made our way to find either the store or someone capable of paging her parents.

Amazingly enough, the little girl seemed to have a pretty keen memory as to what her parents were wearing, and the reassuring touch from my sister seemed to calm her. We had her with us for about 5 minutes before she saw her father. She took off running and we watched until she made it to him. We then smiled and waved and continued our walk.

It really kind of bothered me at the time, to be honest. I'm a decently nice guy and I actually do have a little bit of a heart, even if I do tend to hide it. But the fact is that I'm a bit of a softy when it comes to little ones. That poor little girl was terrified and reached out for help. But as an adult male in the 21st century, I'll be damned if I can offer it. All I could think as we were escorting this girl is that I can't hold her hand. I can't give her a reassuring hug. I can't touch her in any conceivable way. If I do, I can rest assured that a lawsuit is headed my way.

This country is so helplessly terrified of its own shadow that it has become inconceivable that a grown man could actually just CARE about the well being of another. It's beyond the realm of feasibility that I cannot stand to see a child crying or that I just want to help them find their parents. Nope, I MUST be Ian Brady and my sister is Myra Hindley.

Pardon my French, but at times I just want to scream at this country, "Va te faire foutre!" When I was a kid, every single adult wasn't out to kidnap, torture and rape me, only to discard my dessicated corpse in an abandoned field. In fact, when I was a child we were told that if we got lost the first thing we should do is "Find an adult". Kids today must just look at the adult world as nothing but snarling perverts and deviants.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't the parents of today the kids of yesterday? Seriously, if we didn't spend our entire childhood in fear of the gnashing teeth and sharpened blades of the adult populous, why do we feel the need to inflict this fear on our offspring? It's rational and natural to worry about your children's welfare, but it's easy to reach a point where your concern becomes self serving and ultimately damaging to the childrens' psyche. Is it necessary to terrify them with nonstop tales of horror? Yes, there ARE bad people out there. Yes, bad things DO happen. But not every day and not to every kid. Teach them common sense. Don't get in the rusty van with the stranger offering candy is a good lesson. Don't ask anybody in a crowded mall for help when you're terrified? Not quite as useful in my book.

I'm glad we were able to help that kid, and I'm glad that it's still somewhat socially acceptable for my sister to offer comfort, but truth be told the system is broken and somebody needs to fix it. At least, that's how I see it.

Technorati: Bonez, blood, suck, nicotine, addiction, health, mall, sister, Ian Brady, Myra Hindley, French, va te faire foutre, kidnap, torture, rape, corpse, perverts, deviants, parents, fear, psyche, PC, kids