M.A. Drake's Blog, page 2

James Bonds' Secret

James Bond is in a printing factory, surrounded by bad guys, all shooting at him. He works his way through their gunfire, taking them out one by one. There's one last guy, and he's a toughy-- he's been giving James problems for a little while now. Bond pops him, and the guy falls into a running printing press, and a moment later, blood is smeared on freshly printed paper. James cocks and eyebrow and says "They'll print anything these days."

Who the hell is he talking to? Nobody's around to hear him. You just know he goes to work the next day, talking about how witty he was...



...So then I said, "They'll print anything these days..."


Shut the fuck up, James, you didn't say that. You're already so damned good-looking you've seduced and banged my wife twice, but you're not also funny on top of that. You can't have everything at once. Asshole.

Interesting discovery

I did a Google image search on Kelly Ripa about a year ago for an entry that got aborted. Whenever you do a search the engine gives you the top searches for what it thinks are relevant to you, especially if you're looking at something popular. Well, after "Kelly Ripa", the number one suggestion-- and this isn't true anymore if you check, but is still on the list-- was "Kelly Ripa feet"

Now, if I had exceptionally nice feet, I'd be proud of them. But I'm not sure how I'd feel if I did an idle, narcissistic search one night for myself and I found out the number one thing people searched for after my name was my feet. I honestly think I would rather have embarrassing naked photos of myself be the number one search-- hey, at least people are interested-- than my frigging feet.

Violence in Videogames (not what you think)

I was re-playing Resident Evil 4 the other day. The premise of the game is that the President's daughter has been kidnapped and is being held in Spain somewhere. So you, special agent Leon Kennedy, are sent out to save her. Well, it's not terribly long into your adventure you find the President's daughter, and your objective changes to keeping her safe and certainly to get her out of there, but of course, progress is impeded when she gets taken away from you several hours later.

Well, when you eventually find her again, she's bolted to a wall, screaming for help, and you're upstairs with no discernible way to get downstairs and help her. Now, if this were real life, a true super agent would then proceed to stop at nothing to find a way downstairs and free her from her trap. Instead, I take the time to walk around smashing vases to see if perhaps there's any gold in them, or better yet, a medicinal herb that would heal the wound I got from that guy that threw a sling blade in my face.

Conservatives worry about videogames desensitizing youth to violence. What they should be worried about is an entire generation of people who, if inside a building that has suddenly been sieged by terrorists, will sneak around, knocking over trash cans, looking for a rocket launcher. Or worse, building managers who, fearing an eventual terrorist besieging, hide shotguns in the trash cans for would-be commandos to use to save everybody in the future.

My text log with Jesus

MD: sup?
JC: chillin. u?
MD: sad :(
JC: oh.
JC: why?
MD: everything sux :( :(
JC: yeh
JC: u r doomed
MD: me?
JC: the world
MD: :(
JC: it sux i know
JC: not my fault
MD: i know.
JC: yeh
MD: how doomed is the world?
JC: like very
MD: :(
JC: sorry
MD: when are you going to come down and make everything better?
JC: i unno
JC: prlly like a million years
MD: serious?
JC: yeh why?
MD: didnt the bible say 1000 years?
JC: i unno
JC: havent read it in a while
JC: prlly
MD: why so long?
JC: other stuff to do
MD: like?
JC: i unno
JC: i tivo'd the oj trial but still need to watch it
MD: you had tivo in 1994?
JC: umm, im jesus
JC: gtg sopranos is on l8z

Nothing offends you?

I never understand why people brag about nothing offending them. I've never seen how this is supposed to, apparently, be a good quality. Being able to say that you're difficult to offend, that's fine, but to say nothing offends you? For one thing, I'll bet you're exaggerating. I'll bet something offends you. But my point is, I don't know how someone could be proud of being incapable of being offended. If nothing offends you, then that means you don't care about anything. And if you have no care for anything, then you're a sociopath. Now, I'm not saying that every person who claims nothing offends them is a sociopath, I'm saying every person who claims nothing offends them and is not a sociopath is lying, and they're lying to, I don't know, make themselves look more hard-ass.

I admit that I'm difficult to offend, especially through the traditional means. A depiction of the Virgin Mary made entirely out of human excrement doesn't bother me. The usage of the term "nigger" in Huckleberry Finn doesn't offend me, nor does the same word in Tarantino films. The naked body never offends me, and sex doesn't offend me aside from very specific, generally illegal circumstances. Explicit lyrics don't offend me. Penis jokes don't offend me.

But just because I would say it's difficult to offend me doesn't mean I'm not offendable. Lots of things offend me. Bigots, racists, sexists, and homophobes offend me. Pedophiles offend me. College guys who cruise high schools looking for tail offend me. Guys who hit their girlfriends offend me. Religious nutcases who allow their "values" to give themselves an inflated sense of self-worth or to champion unjust causes offends me. Censorship of any kind offends me. Anybody who supported the Bush administration offends me. The neo-conservative movement offends me, along with the pro-life and intelligent design movements. Anyone who spreads or otherwise supports ignorance in any way offends me, even if they don't know that's what they're doing. Then again, there are so many of the above mentioned people, and their work so prevalent in today's society, maybe I am easily offended. Just not by the desecration of sacred cows or by naughty words and images.

Power of Frampton

When I was a kid, I didn't get Peter Frampton at all. Frampton's guitar goes do-doo-wah-waaaaah... waah wah doooo... And the audience goes fucking nuts. Then Frampton's guitar goes doo-doo-doo-wah-waah... waah-wah-wah-wah-doo-dooo... And the audience freaks out. Now that I'm older and more mature to this sort of thing, I get it: that audience was really fucking high on drugs.

I am pretty sure your God can tell the difference.

I knew this girl a few years ago who was Mormon, but for most of the time I knew her she wasn't a hardcore Mormon. She didn't understand my intense hatred of religion, that was for sure, but to say that she'd lost her faith would be a fair assessment. Then one day, entirely out of the blue, she came to me and told me that she'd decided to change her life. She'd been morbidly depressed for a few years and decided there was something missing her her life, so she decided to rekindle her relationship with God. Moreover, she was giving herself to God and had already applied for a job in Salt Lake City. She was going on a mission, eventually, so she needed to abstain from sex for x amount of time. And also, now she was virgin.

I thought this was silly. Being a virgin in the eyes of God is nonsensical because, I mean, doesn't God know everything you've done? Wouldn't being a virgin in his eyes be, well, pointless? A bit like claiming to be a vegetable in the eyes of the Lord? But hey, Christianity is essentially based on the idea of a slate being wiped clean, so hey, whatever. I can't find fault in someone accepting the symbolism of being a virgin again and certainly, I could never criticize someone for attempting to better themselves, even if they're doing it in a profoundly silly way.

The problem is, it didn't just end with symbolism. As the days went past this declaration, she started to take it, well, a little seriously. I'd point at something phallic and say, "Hey, check it out. This looks like wee-wee." And she'd look at me and say "Matthew, I'm a virgin. I don't think impure thoughts. Impure thoughts lead to premarital sex, and since I'm a virgin, I haven't had impure thoughts, so no, I don't really see how that looks like a penis."

And I would think, what are you, fucking psychotic? Purifying your soul is one thing, but we actually already have a word for denying something you've done in the past: lying. And if lying will get you into whatever heaven you think you're going, sweetheart, then can you at least pretend I don't have to go along with your little self-imposed insanity? Ignoring your past seems self-destructive. You can better yourself and still be ashamed of what you've done. A little shame never hurt anybody.

Conversation with a Canadian friend about healthcare

Me: Sarah! You're Canadian!


Sarah: Last time I checked....


Me: Do you want to know what I just found out? You guys get twelve free body massages a year! Twelve! Free! This is singularly the coolest thing I've heard about any country, ever! This beats even when you find out Australians have kangaroos that go through their garbage like they were raccoons or something, or learning that Icelandic chicks are incredibly hot.


Sarah: Well, it's not quite like that, see, you have to pay into a fund--


Me: --No no no no. Just tell me right now. Do you get 12 free body massages?


Sarah: Yes. I was planning on using one next week.


Me: Do you have any brothers?


Sarah: Two of them.


Me: Mmhmm. And how upset would you be if one, say, disappeared for a couple weeks, and then mysteriously reappeared looking and acting exactly like me? And even his old ID suddenly looked just like me too?

My opinion on shaved heads

I was standing in line behind this guy with a shaved head, and I thought, I could just lean over and bite his head open. Like an apple. It would be easy. And I thought, this is why humans are supposed to have hair. If a zombie comes along, someone with a head full of hair would be too much trouble and would only get eaten as a last resort. But a shiny, smooth, bald head is like a great big neon sign that flashes "Fresh Brains, No Questions, No Hassle!"

Conversation with my daughter

Daddy, when I grow up, can I be President of the United States?


Seffie, I knew this day would come. I'd always planned for when you were going to ask this, and I was going to sit you down, and I was going to be completely honest. You weren't born into wealth, neither of your parents are ivy league educated and, well-- and I don't mean anything bad by this, you know daddy loves you because you're his little girl-- but you are a girl, and America has an terrible stereotype about women in power. But somehow, a drug-addicted, borderline retarded, idiot manchild that ran a baseball team into the ground managed to be elected twice, so by the time you're 40 and old enough to run, all bets will likely be off. So there's actually a pretty good chance you can become President! Don't even bother getting good grades. Just make sure you somehow end up with excessive amount of money you didn't earn, and you ought to be fine.


*note, this conversation has not happened... yet.