So, yeah, I tend to mishear things.

This is what I thought I heard:
Russ: I am filled with Rice Kitchen anger.
Me: Then go take a Shit of Fury.

He just stared at me.

Apparently, he said he was filled with righteous anger.

This is how it works: I kinda hear something, put it in context with what they might be talking about, and see if it makes sense. Now, "Rice Kitchen anger" is not a common phrase, but when you consider that A) he ate a whole dinner size of orange chicken and was moaning about it all day and B) it's fucking Russ--it made sense to me.

I've also misheard the name of my friend Liz's Japanese TA. Apparently, to my ears, "Takashima Sensei" = "Taco Chip Sundae".

MMmm. Sundae.

Posted by Tyler at 12:27 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)

So, I got a 3.0 on a psych exam that I didn't study for, didn't even read everything for, and didn't fuckin' go to class for.

As Russ pointed out, I must just guess, and use logic and reasoning, really well.

I got to thinking: isn't that what we just do every day anyway?

Don't we all just see things in multiple-choice format?

You've finished a nice meal at a restaruant. Do you now:
A) Pay the bill, but 'neglect' to leave a tip
B) Pay the bill, and let the waiter keep the change, amounting to about a 25% tip
C) Jump on the table and take a dump
D) Pay the bill, and wait for the waiter to give you change, so you can give him exactly 15%

Wow, and just like any multiple-choice problem, there's always that one you can eliminate right away.

Unfortunately, life doesn't fit into A, B, C, and D options. If we tried to standardize the multitude of options available to us in every encounter, that'd be a fucking huge scantron sheet--options A1-Z1 and A2-G2, or something to that effect.

Life doesn't have right answers either. So long as I wind up paying the bill, I've done the right thing. Of course, there are some who would say I'd have to pay the bill and tip the waiter before I could be considered as doing the right thing. "Right" is relative when it comes to decisions in life--whereas grammatical, mathematical, and scientific rules are generally constant and exceptions are few and accepted.

It'd be a lot easier if time would stop anytime a hard decision was about to happen, and ghostly white phantom letters would appear in front of me in the form of a multiple-choice question. I could take my time to choose, and even after I chose, I could still go back and revise my answer. There have been a few times when I wish I could've changed the first choice I made.

But, shit doesn't work like that. One slips on shit, shit happens when one least expects it, shit hits the fan, and we're always cleaning up after our own shit, but we can never unshit shit.

Life wouldn't be as interesting if all the choices were known to us right away. It'd be like playing a video game the second time through--you know the story, you know where the traps and ambushes are, and you know where all the bonuses and weapons are.

Still, I'd love to see ethics on the SAT. How would we study for that? Furthermore, colleges could consider that into admissions, though I see one problem: the law school would no doubt be accepting applicants based on the WRONG end of the spectrum of that score.

Posted by Tyler at 10:27 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

I haven't slept much for the last few days. Bits and pieces, really. Stress is high, and patience is low. Oddly enough, it's these conditions that make the most random thoughts surface (often when I don't need them to). Below is just another random, detached stanza of poetry.

The one who never has to say, "Goodbye,"
Is the one who never said, "Hello,"
And the one who never dies,
Never really was alive.

Posted by Tyler at 12:42 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

I know how the world will end.

Think back about a hundred years. Companies were small; they remained separate and from this, advertising came to fruition. Corporations realized that people want information about the products they buy, and that they can be easily swayed based on the advertisement. Look at ads from the early 1910's: loaded with information and mellifluous language: women were the ones who bought the products, and they appreciated the language that was geared toward them. Over the next 80-some years, advertising has become the most aggressive war waged in the world, causing dramatic cultural change in places thousands of miles away.

America is still colonizing countries thousands of miles away; instead of warships and muskets, we are now using colorful cartoon characters, leggy models, and bright, vibrant logos.

And what else has happened since those humble days of Mom and Pop businesses? Merges and takeovers. Companies have joined forces against other competitors with the aim of either working with them, or buying them out.

I know how the world will end.

Enter the international companies Viacom and Altria.

We all know Viacom from when credits run on TV shows and movies; they control an incredible number of media outlets. The lesser-known Altria is actually the parent company for Phillip Morris and Kraft.

Get this: Viacom owns all MTV-related programs (MTV, MTV2, MTV-U, ect.) as well as VH1. Altria owns 25 different brands of cigarettes, including Marlboro and Virginia Slims. They also happen to sell the top four brands of oven- and microwave-ready pizzas, along with dozens of other major companies selling everything from cheese to cereal.

These two companies are juggernauts, standing by other giants like software king Microsoft and automobile baron General Motors.

These massive conglomerates are snowballing over the smaller companies, either assimilating them into their bulk, or crushing them. Eventually, I can see these hulking business overlords deciding to join up into some unholy King Arthur's Round Table, and that's when the Apocalypse will start.

I'm sure these companies' combined gross income yearly vastly surpasses what the American government pulls in. Begin bribing. Begin assassinations. Begin under-the-table deals that go all the way to the top. Next thing you know, Maybelline will be testing radioactive makeup on children, and no one will be the wiser because Viacom will have control of all media outlets.

Forget about Asian bird flu. Watch for when Phillip Morris markets cigarettes that actually kills the smoker...and then reanimates them. When Kraft begins secretly using a toxic, and less expensive, flavor additive to Tang that causes violent psychological disorders to manifest. When cell phones made by a company owned by Viacom actually starts causing cancer.

Capitalism will replace democracy, and everything will be controlled by Big Money. Boycott will be impossible; every product necessary to survive will be made available through the Conglomerate. This is how the world will end. Though, to be technical, it'll be because of the zombies spawned from (more) toxic cigarettes eating us all.

Posted by Tyler at 14:14 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

For my Visual Rhetoric class, I needed to create a "visual argument". Having my Photoshop skills didn't help here, at first. The assignment called us to take on an issue that means something to us, and face it head-on. One of the examples given to us was the clever creation of the peace symbol, only fashioned from hundreds of firearms.

So, I sat and thought, "What issues affect me most? What issues do I deal with every day? What kind of things are happening out there in the world that I hate to see? What is wrong with this world that I should stand up and say something about?"

And about five blank minutes passed before I turned to Google for answers. I believe my search string was, "most troubling issues today". I felt a bit pathetic as I hit the enter key. How was it possible that my mind couldn't dreg up any issues that I feel strongly about? I remember briefly considering the rights of the disabled community, the AIDS epidemic, the controversy surrounding abortion, and the superficiality of culture in TV, among others.

But nothing hit me. Disappointed (both in myself, and in my lame Googling efforts), I ate dinner. As I chomped down whatever slop I chose to eat at the caf, I wondered, "What is wrong with me? Why aren't there things that I stand up for all the time? I've never been on a soapbox. I've never championed for anything. I've never even been part of a protest!"

The thought occured to me to just simply do an argument for apathy--"I just do not care." It actually sounded really good; my mind was already composing a visual for it. I discarded it, though. I knew there must've been something I felt strongly about.

"Gun control. I like guns. Gun control would be a good one."

That fell short real quick, but it did lead me to an inner dialogue about the war in Iraq. I began to think in general about war. How war can lead to great things, like the establishment of our nation; how war can lead to nothing but death and stalemate. How man likes to think war is something they make, and make work for them. Every war has losers, but not every war has a winner.

It was then that I really started to feel disgusted for the first time about the long, drawn-out conflict in Iraq. I've heard so many justifications, arguments, reasonings, jargon-laden media press releases, and diatribes for and against our involvement...that they've just blurred together and become background noise for the last few years. All reasons aside, be them valid or falsified as they may, what I found myself crashing into over and over was, "How many people are dead?"

According to icasualties.org, two-thousand three-hundred and seven American soldiers have died in the conflict. iraqbodycount.net declares that anywhere from about 33,500-37,000 Iraqi civilians have died from the military intervention.

Those are the numbers.

And I found my issue.

This is what I came up with. Click on the image below for the full-size image.

I'm happy with the way it came out. Interpret it as you will.

Posted by Tyler at 21:37 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

Toys suck.

Russ needed to pick up some paint thinner for his model paints, so I tagged along with him to Meijer last night. Bored, I took a look around at the other toy aisles.

Toys really suck now. Where's the originality? Where's the attraction? It seems that the toy industry, unlike the film industry, refuses to rehash old ideas that were successful and re-introduce them into production (the end-result always remains to be seen if it will too be a hit).

Even franchises and lines of toys that were wildly popular and a part of my childhood are crap now. Take Lego, the toy that literally manifested my imagination for years. Judging by the packaging, it looks like the parts that make up their creations have been vastly simplified into larger, more intricate pieces. Whatever happened to figuring out how to make a curvy-looking piece from a couple 4x1 dot plates? Take this admittedly cool-looking thing from Lego:

I don't see a single piece on him that remotely resembles the classic Lego.

Some Legos actually require batteries now, to operate glowing fiber-optic cables and such. [sighs]

Legos seem to have moved onto a different direction. Gone are the days where rectangular blocks could create things that were anything but rectangular. If our children these days need curvy pieces to make things look curvy, so be it.

Now, perhaps it's just that Meijer has a crappy selection of toys, but the toys they carried were unimaginative and utterly boring looking. Packaging for action figures desperately tried to showcase its manly prowress and combat skill, but failed miserably. It was like looking at Dennis Rodman in a dress--it's still Dennis Rodman, and that toy still looks like crap.

I was at least pleased to see the level of mediocrity has not changed with popcap guns, which are still sold at Meijer. It's almost impossible to make those things appealing at all, and they still aren't.

I did not venture down the girls' toys aisle. Never have, never will. If I ever have a daughter, she can go in there, grab what she wants, and I'll buy it. I couldn't possibly tell her to put it back, and I'm not going to put it back myself.

We need a line of toys that doesn't underestimate the capacity of imagination that exists in children. Something like this:

We could call them Box0rz. They'd be cleverly advertised as the ultimate transforming toy, a toy for every situation. They'd come in a variety of sizes and shapes.

The packaging would be simplistic: shrink-wrapped with plastic emblazoned with the Box0rz logo, so that when the plastic is removed, there would be nothing but unadulterated cardboard box for kids to draw on, duck in, hide under, or whatever their imagination leads to.

I'd buy it.

Posted by Tyler at 10:49 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)

Never will the days of war and bloodshed disappear, that which makes humanity shudder at its own monstronsity. We are all beasts; ravenous, clawing. We maul what we don't recognize, like wild panthers in the night.

The era of man is over. No longer does being human mean pride and honor. Humanity is now diminished to a starving bear caught in the teeth of a trap, growling and frothing and snapping at imaginary prey.

Emaciated, dying, rotting is our path.

And we will not go so gracefully.

When we fall, the world falls with us. The backs of the mountains will snap and collapse on themselves. The skies will loosen their embrace and gasp one last breath. The oceans will turn sour and in its black murkiness, will reflect us. The sprawling Metropolis will dry and tower from the ground like so many skeletons.

Humanity is the only creature to evolve from single-celled organisms, to the highest form of life Earth has known, and then down to the simplicity of a virus.

One person can change. But can one person change everything?

Posted by Tyler at 16:32 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

I am marked with art. Behold this half-done creation:



May I remind you, this is only half-done and that there is still shading left to do on the interior parts of the tattoo.

Many thanks to Sean Peters of Splash of Color, thirteen years inking and it shows.

Posted by Tyler at 23:13 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)

Hardc0re BMX: You are a machine.
Hardc0re BMX: I should consider writing the publishers of Webster's and adding your name to the definition of machine.
Fierce137: Hah, nice.
Fierce137: "See also: (n) workaholic."
Hardc0re BMX: "See, supplementary slang dictionary: (n) rage-a-holic."

So I was walking to class, and outside the Aud, I noticed an old MSU groundskeeper with a trash pail and one of those plastic trigger-gripper things. You know, those cheap spring-mechanized devices you'd stick up your sleeve and pretend you had a robot arm.

He's walking around, picking up crap on the grass and by the curb.

Cigarette butt, cigarette butt, cigarette butt, cigarette butt, dead squirrel in rigor, cigarette butt....wait...what?

He literally lifted a dead squirrel off the ground by the curb (frozen in its dying, shrieking pose), and unceremoniously dumped it in his pail. Its tail stuck out like a morbid dust mop.

These guys, I am sure, do not get paid enough for this shit.

Posted by Tyler at 11:40 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

Tomorrow's my birthday--20--and I'll be in class all day, so I'm doing the celebrations today. Thing is, I don't really feel like it. Birthdays don't have the same appeal anymore as when you were five. It might have something to do with the fact that you can't think of anything you want for birthday presents anymore.

My birthday list this year was a stretch to come up with:

• "Mercenaries: Playground of Destruction" or "Prince of Persia: Sands of Time"


• Cash


• Socks


• A gun

I am so pathetic.

The first one makes sense. The last three sound like something a runaway convict would buy from Meijer.

In any event, the cake looks delicious, I wound up getting Mercenaries, along with several books.

I have survived for twenty years, two decades, and am still in one piece. Something to be said about living: it takes practice.

Posted by Tyler at 16:37 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

poptart faerie: man
poptart faerie: i wonder what the chances of me getting out of taking 260 are
Fierce137: About the same chance that you'll see, "suck my cock" on a Necco Sweetheart candy.
Fierce137: Okay, yeah, so I don't like Valentine's Day.

Posted by Tyler at 19:09 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)

Since I am now phasing out of my Blogger service and into this blog which I have designed from scratch and is now attached to my domain, I thought I'd bring back a few of my favorite posts from the old days and preserve them. I give you "Be a Hero! Be Stupid!", originally published April, 9th, 2005.

Stupidity drives our nation to new heights of progress. In fact, we owe a lot to stupidity. We probably wouldn't have some of our most majestic and awe-inspiring forests if it weren't for some moronic squirrels who forgot where they buried their food. Next time you see a squirrel on campus, give thanks. It was their ancestors who planted us some of our largest trees. Those squirrels have affected my life. If it were not for them, the gigantic tree in my front yard may never have been there. And my cat Sally would never have had a tree to run up to escape the neighborhood dog. Consequently, she would've been torn to shreds before my eyes, irreparably scarring me for life those 16 years ago. If it were not for a squirrel who, a century ago, forgot where he placed that acorn, I would have...well, actually...I still would've wound up as eccentric as I am now. Appreciate those squirrels. Except for that one squirrel that hangs out by the Mason entrance that's the size of Marlon Brando, always engorging on cigarette butts and discarded takeout food. That's just bloody disgusting.

We, as Champions of the food chain and Masters of all we can eat, have placed ourselves in an unique position. Humans can destroy or save whatever on Earth we want. And somehow, some members of our elite race...are dumber than rocks. We call them politicians. If there was a rock that went to elementary school, kept getting suspended for bad behavior, but passed only by the virtue that no teacher wanted him for a second year, then made it to middle school where he found that glue isn't just for eating and pot isn't just what he shits in, then dropped out freshman year because he couldn't stay awake...that rock would still be smarter than our President Bush. There. 'Nuff said.

Stupid people are easily manipulated. Try it. Find a moron, and confuse them. Either they'll have an outburst where their brain struggles to comprehend what you're saying, or they'll just agree to whatever you ask to save face. This is what Cheney has been doing for the last several years.

Just as the Pyramids stood as a testament to the power, ingenuity, and strength of the Egyptions, so does the Stupid Person for us smart people. Except instead of representing power, ingenuity, and strength, they simply show us why we don't try to jump over moving cars and yell, "Fire!" in crowded buildings. We owe morons and cretins the advancement of the human race. What man or woman has not avoided certain imbicility through second-hand experience of the brave ignoramus next to them?

Have you ever not done any of the following solely because you witnessed it be done by an idiot (and the following, often painful, consequences)?

• Thrown gasoline on an open flame?
• Jumped from the highest part of a playset, using a blanket as a parachute? (I admit; I was the courageous martyr for this life lesson. I was the only one hurt. But only because my friend jumped out of the way, dammit.)
• Barked back at an angry dog off its leash?
• Snapped a CD in half, sending tiny shards of plastic everywhere? (I thank Alex Lindsey. He had more plastic stuck in his arms than a patient in the ICU did. I've known Al since kindergarten. If Al is a moron, Stephen Hawking can walk.)
• Rioted? (Props to the 43 people arrested on April 2nd in the "civil disturbance" after the MSU loss to UNC.)
• Launched fireworks from a moving car while being its driver?
• Chugging a whole gallon of milk in under 5 minutes?
• Left the safety off while shouldering a shotgun?
• Watched 'Robocop 3', 'Gigli', or 'Mac and Me'.
• Handed in a book report on the novelization of 'Shazam'? (The guy's name was Richard Blasey, and he was totally serious.)

I raise my can of Faygo Rockin' Rye to you morons everywhere. Without your gallant example, the human race would be lying next to an electric socket, whimpering while gripping a fork melted to our hand. Thank you.

Posted by Tyler at 11:06 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

Two days ago, I was waiting at a bus stop near the Union to get back home. I could've walked, but I wasn't inclined to at the moment.

Standing there alone and in the cold, I stared blankly across the street at nothing in particular. Suddenly, I noticed a figure next to me; no idea how long he'd been there.

"Which bus are yer waitin' for?" he asked.
"The 1 bus," I mumbled, which was followed by both of us fidgeting and looking in various directions except at each other. After a few moments:
"It's cold out."
I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I liked our warm January. Wish it could've kept like that. Snow's great for looking at, but no good for walking in."

"I know."

It was then that I looked at him, instead of just noticing him. He had a UAW jacket on--how long had it been since he was laid off, I wondered. He didn't look real bad; must've frequented a shelter around here.

"Where you headed?" I asked. He shrugged. "And you?"

"I'm headed back home. I just got off work, and now I'm going back to do homework. So, work."

He gave a half-chuckle, and through a grin, "Don't get too caught up in that! Work's fine and good, but don't let it make you miss out."

"Life is a lot of work right now, man. I can't help it."

He laughed louder, and said something I'm not likely to forget for a while.
"All I got to say about life is this: laugh until you choke and die."

I smirked, and stared at the dirt on my shoes, and his. His bus rolled up, and we nodded to each other--thanks for the conversation.

Only as his bus breezed through the first green light did I realize that I forgot to ask him his name. He didn't ask for mine, though. Probably thought I was just another overworked college student. But his words...

Laugh until you choke and die. I still don't know how to approach that. It's positive, and pessimistic at the same time. It fits me like a glove. I like it.

Posted by Tyler at 14:34 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)

I love those utterly visual moments, like when pale yellow splashes into the creases of your jacket and onto nearby shiny car doors like quick-drying paint, and you look and wonder, and see that the sun has pierced through for a brief, stunning moment, and you think to yourself a thought not quite unlike this one.

These are the moments that make me glad I can't hear.

Posted by Tyler at 15:09 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

Fierce137: Beef fish.
anaza615: whaaa?
Fierce137: America needs to fund research into the genetic splicing of cows and fish, to create a fish that tastes like beef.
anaza615: you need help.
Fierce137: No, you need tastier fish.

Posted by Tyler at 17:17 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)