JarJarBlogs

Year of rat.

2008-01-29T11:59:00.000-08:00

The year of the rat. It's coming. Very profound. If you are rat you are compatible with Sheep, Rhinoceros and disease-vectoring Flea. You enemies are Wombat.

HNY four reels.

Cinematic Sadism

2007-04-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

Let us go then, you and I, to sit in the Alamo Drafthouse for 12 hours straight. Let us bathe ourselves in the pungent aroma of bodies too long pent up in parents' basements and then pent up too long in a movie theatre where dining is sanctioned. Let us not feel the urge to poop.

Pray you don't neglect the bed sores on my ass, pray you recognize me when it is through. Pray they don't discover the fifth of Dickel stowed snug next to my dickel. Pray my dickel behaves when Kurt Russell is on the screen. He was amazing in Overboard...and Captain Ron.

Thirteen A Couple of Ways of Advertising a Candy Bar

2007-02-07T11:57:00.000-08:00

V.
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of peanuts
Or the beauty of nougat,
Two men kissing
Or just after.

XI.
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The kissing of men's lips
For candy bars.

Thanks to Wallace Stevens for allowing me to appropriate pieces of this poem. Insurance rules. Get ye to Hartford weary souls and worry not of homosexual candy bar experiences.

Taint the taste of it...

2006-12-13T14:13:00.000-08:00

It certainly has been a while since some quality nonsense has graced this virtual space... and it will probably still remain that way for even longer. It's not that I don't appreciate the three to four people who enjoy what spews forth from my brain. I've been busy, you know what kind of biz I am capable of getting up to, so please don't hate. Bloggings will happen for us again one day... I know they will.

I'll be on TV tonight announcing the biggest loser and be sure to catch me in theaters this spring rubbing my crotch by your date's head. I will also be going back in time to 1992 Baltimore and appearing on the Greggo and Moe show on 98 Rock, mornings. Pre-pre-Kirk, Mark, and Lopez, bitches!

One love. One crazy eyeball. Joseph Hill, 1949-2006, please rest in peace and give Jah-Jah a kiss for I.

I stole this picture because it is amazing.

Swam into ken...

2006-09-15T14:17:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention, thanks only to rigorous research conducted on my own, I mean, somebody could've told me you know I love shit like this!, that there is, in fact, a new Police Academy movie in the works. This could come to theatre-based fruition by 2007. Were I woman and in panties they would be moister than a freshly sealed envelope. Since I am a man I have a big boner, throbbing with the knowledge that this full-length feature will not be released straight to VHS cassette or DVD, that Matt McCoy will yield the leading man reigns to Steve Guttenberg, and that the memory of David "Eugene Tackleberry" Graf will not go unserved. Throbbing. It is my goal to attend the formal opening of this magnificent film regardless of where it takes place, NYC, LA, Miami Beach, Moscow, wherever.

Have a great weekend.

A September to Remember, or See With Your Eyes AND Your Hands

2006-09-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

Autumn will be here shortly. Can't wait? Well here are some things to do while you wait for the season that is best known as the season that killed aspiring poet John Keats. First up, watch that movie where the girl says to Keanu Reeves: "I will teach you within a month to love... please fuck my dog and let me die in peace."

Are you ready for some Football???!!!???
I sure hope so cuz. The season's been going on for three months now. The BC Lions are really zipping ahead, but don't count out the Winnipeg Bluebombers. One thing's for sure: Hamilton Tiger-Cats suck dick! September football is going to blow your mind.

Get your drink on!
Do you like drinks? Let's just go ahead and do it... I hearby proclaim The Chocotini the drink of this September. And why the fuck not? It's like a chocolate martini. You can put as much malt as you want in your liquor, I'll be getting sweet-wasted in style, bitch. I don't know why you refuse to enjoy your September.

Oh, what? You hungry? I've got even better news. You get your ass all chocotini wasted and now you all hungry? No problem, just head your ass down to the McDonald's. They've got what you need and it's the official restaurant of September.

Double cheeseburger? Check! Fish sandwich? Check! French fries? Check! Hot apple pie? Check! A hunger for affordable food and world domination? Maybe, just throw in some MackNuggetz and I'll do whatever you say!

Accept no imitations...

An Open Letter to Gregory "Eye-Sacks" Isaacs

2006-09-01T14:35:00.000-07:00

How are you doing today? Good? Your eyes look irritated. You must be allergic to dust. I don't know what it is about your voice, but it reminds me of sex. I'm sure people tell you that all the time.

What is your favorite comfort food? I'm guessing it's something sweet or maybe fish head soup. I wish I knew more about you, but I'm guessing the sex voice thing covers most of the bases. I really like reggae, not just Bob Marley. Will you be coming to Texas anytime soon? I hope so.

Any big plans this weekend? It should be a nice long one. I bet you've got bitches pouring out of the faucet and shit. That's pretty tight, maybe a little tropical hootchie party complete with mangotinis and sand... nice.

What do you think of Shabba Ranks? What's he even up to these days? He's such a reggae poseur. Oops! You guys are probably friends. I mean, Jamaica isn't that big. He's got a funny face though and his voice doesn't remind me of sex. One thing's for sure: I bet you both hate Dave Matthews Band and that's cool.

We've got this thing in the States called R. Kelly. Basically it's this dude who pees on girls, sings urban operas in very literal terms, and so on. You and Shabba might get on real well with him, but I'm not so sure. If Shabba's not too busy maybe he could go over some tracks with R. Kelly all dancehall stylee. That would be cool. Did I mention I like reggae? For serious, I do, not just Dennis Brown and, well, you. Hey, it's been great writing this to you Mr. "Cool Ruler."

Hope we get up real soon, in the mean time just keep doing your thing...
All the best,
Adam.

I posted this shit ages ago...

2006-08-29T10:43:00.000-07:00

I thought the internet killed this article, but it's still available online. Here's what I was like before God died and goth was only something I was mildly intrigued by... I added random pictures today. Please do not enjoy.

The Humans of Tomorrow Today
Homo Sapiens Fuelled by Splenda, Radiation - taken from rechargemag.com btw -
posted 3.3.04
By Adam Rice

It was when she said, “I’m such a moose” that I decided to pay serious attention. Being subjected to one-sided cell phone talk is nothing new for anyone with decent hearing living today. I was just starting my shift at the local book retailer when this lady’s conversation bade me listen. She listlessly shuffled through the diet section and plopped herself on the floor and continued to speak.

Cellular technology has been with us for about 20 plus years now. It’s hard to gauge its impact on civilization as of yet just as it was impossible for the Victorians to comprehend the impact of the telegraph on their culture. By being embedded in the digital age we are experiencing a sub-conscious revolution in our perception of time and space. Loved ones and strangers alike are just a pocket ring or mouse click away.

She confessed: “I mean I used to just drink and smoke constantly and not eat at all, sometimes I couldn't even engage, at least I was thin.” In the wake of abject depravity she developed an obsession with her diet. I was impressed by her psychotic discipline and depressed by the fact that she was actually a person speaking truthfully before my eyes and ears.

Mixing our current technological capabilities with the traditional human values of greed, pride, and vanity produces an avalanche of discourse, texts, and images. Humanity now has the quickest medium it has ever known to dispense products regarding its most mundane aspects.

“I had a couscous stuffed baked potato with juju tea for lunch today” she continued. At this point she unleashed the litany of diets she has subjected herself to in the past, I’m guessing, few years. There was the cabbage soup diet (which made her gassy), the grapefruit diet, the macrobiotic diet, the cranberry diet, the blood type diet (the O+ one), the south beach diet, and, of course, the Atkins diet.

While it is nice being connected to the minutia of others world wide, it is difficult for the individual to find solace. Humanity is relying less on face-to-face communication and more upon electronic interaction. Is that really fulfilling? It’s like having a cup of rice instead of an entire Indian lunch buffet.

“My boobs are out of control. I mean I wouldn’t have gotten the boob job if I knew that all my new fat would settle in my boobs” was the last thing she said that I could fit on my prized post-it note covered in quotes. We are absurd creatures.

We want to know that what we are doing in this life is not in vain, that our actions won't go unnoticed. It's this “want” that provokes the soccer mom to loudly proclaim, over the cell phone, what time Jimmy has practice, it’s what encourages the existence of Alf fan fiction on the internet, and it's what serves as the “inspiration” for the article your reading right now.

The world is opening up in new and unimaginable ways, but people are unlearning the skills of communicating in the wild daily. The high-tech options available to us can be more alienating that satisfying. Screaming babies lose to the humpty dance ring-tone on your phone, you might be dumped via text message, and face it: this computer cannot hug you at the end of the day.

We are not inexorably attached to our robotic appendages, although it is odd that I can’t turn off my cell phone for fear of missing something. Escape can be just as rewarding as being in the know. Loneliness will never exit anyone’s life completely. The only sure treatment is mindless or thoughtful preoccupation (e.g. blathering on the celly, typing bizarro articles, writing awful love jams for your sweetie, or developing a web-site devoted to malt liquor).

The human condition has remained the same for ages, but now we have a better medium to display and treat our neuroses simultaneously. Reality exists in our perception. If we can perceive the possibilities and limitations of our technological “progress” we’ll be better off, at least until hug-bot 86000g drops in 2006, yeah-yo!

There is a saying that can appropriately be considered a maxim and it states that you don't have to be alone to be lonely. I think I really like it because it’s brooding and goth, like me, and because it doesn’t imply that you have to be lonely at all. I’m not sure where I heard it first. It may be Buddhist, it may be from a Romantic writer/poet, or perhaps it is a poignant line in a brutal made for TV movie from the '90's. Regardless of where it came from it succinctly sums the individual human experience in society, modern or ancient.

Truth or Non-Fiction?

2006-08-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

I knew it.

Here is how it went down...

2006-08-16T08:46:00.000-07:00

I just had a birthday. Yes, that's great, but what is even better is that I received a very special phone call on my very special day.

So I'm just relaxing in the splendor of my birthing's celebration and contemplating what to do next. The work day was completed, I had opened my gifts and, out of nowhere, my cellular telephone starts vibrating with urgency.

I picked it up, the phone, to hear my name shouted at me... it was Snakes on a Plane. It was calling me to tell me to go see it. The call, the most exhilarating call of my life, lasted one minute and 12 seconds. Maybe I'll see the movie, maybe not, although Snakes on a Plane did threaten me repeatedly in an attempt to coerce me into seeing it. What I'd really wanted to do was maybe meet up for drinks with Snakes on a Plane or just hang out, maybe play some laser tag, something.

Wouldn't it be nice to just once have a meaningful relationship with a summer blockbuster? Unfortunately it doesn't seem that Snakes on a Plane wants a relationship of any sort, not even a simple friendship. I tried calling back to no avail. My encounter with Snakes on a Plane was ephemeral, but the impression it made will last a week or so.

Despite the raised expectation, or razed I should say, it was one of the best birthdays ever. And there it is, as a member of the intertron blooger guild 354 (you think I come up with this shit for free?), my obligatory Snakes on a Plane post. The call actually happened and you're probably jealous. I would be had Snakes on a Plane not called me but called you.

Passion of the Booty Short...

2006-08-08T11:08:00.000-07:00

Well, seeing as the scientists won and we now officially have the global warming, it's time to discuss something serious: how we can better adapt our bottom half to the rising temperatures. There is a discussion on the DCSportsChick's blizzog that ponders the very important question: "where did the booty shorts go?" Indeed, where are they now in our time of crisis? You conscious shoppers out there know that American Apparel, in all their expensiveness, offer you a boy booty short and a much more stylish girl booty short. Very attractive options for your lower portions, but a bit pricey. What of the Everyman?

Hello, New York and L.A. I'm talking to you primarily, there are many of us in this fine nation that cannot afford, nor maybe even fit into, your fancy booty short. What are we to do? While the affluent and the hip are enjoying the pleasure of ventilated privates, the vast majority of this great nation endures sweltering crotches and swampy taints. Enough! What will it take to get this decadent administration to make leisure wear affordable for all so that we may never bear witness to an "ass sweat stain" again?

I'm just looking for a little relief before the scientists start the cloning.

Well, I've been a little busy...

2006-08-07T12:11:00.000-07:00

*
It has been three days since I delivered any high quality mental diarrhea. But who are you to criticize? There are excuses as I have been a little busy. For starters dinosaur and shark relations have been suffering. In fact they are at an all time low and I could remain idle no longer, I had to step in. It took all my communicative faculties to reach an agreement suitable for both parties. Sharks can no longer eat dinosaurs, whales are okay though becuase they have tons of nutrients and hair for teeth (ew), and dinosaurs can no longer use their time machine to transport themselves into the future to fuck with sharks. Dinosaurs can comeback to the present only if it's to eat Osama "Been Hidin'" Bin Ladin. Win-Win-WIN.

Considering I speak neither shark nor dinosaur it was a pretty amazing feat and you're safer for it. I really could've used some help with this thing though. Considering they're both groups of big, ferocious animals and all. Oh well, whatev... it's cool in a "it's kind of fucked up, but it's cool" kind of way.

So after resolving that major crisis I took some time to practice my mind control and tried to compel Patrick Swayze not to speak in defense of Mel Gibson. Hollywood has no choice but to listen to such a commanding ethos, the same ethos that conveyed a world of pain to Jerry Oarback when he said to him: "No one lets babies sit there." So my efforts were for naught, but at least I tried. What did you do over the past three days to keep Patrick Swayze from speaking? Probably nothing. I just heard, according to The Hindustan Times, Jodie Foster just spoke up too, it's over. How am I ever supposed to take my place in the Lethal Weapon franchise now? That sucks. If you haven't seen Passion of Christ... don't! Treat that shit like The Titanic, which should be another movie you've never seen and never will.

So that's what I've been up to of late. Not too much, but at least it yielded all of three paragraphs for you to read. Awesome.

*this beautifully awesome portrait was appropriated from here, if you are cool you will buy as much of this guy's art as you can in your lifetime.

Oh, and this post is dedicated to Alison "Look at me, I'm 25 and full of Jive" Kothe to whom's party I was not able to make it this past weekend because of extenuating Shark/Dinosaur tensions, my bad girl.

The World Is a Better Place Now

2006-08-03T09:55:00.000-07:00

MackDonell's jus got that new snack wrap joint. The shit looks tight. Maybe it's an effort tap the overexploited, underappreciated Latino community with tortilla inclusion or maybe it's an answer to "Consumer Commuting and Multitasking Increas[ing the] Propensity to Eat On The Go," but who gives a shit. I bet it tastes bangin' and I also bet it's cheap too. You better believe I'm mutherfuckin' lovin it!

When Greatness Hath Been Obtained...

2006-08-03T06:50:00.000-07:00

When I have obtained greatness, the greatness to which I am inevitably entitled, I will set about to do certain things. Of course a man of greatness must have his castle. I will move to the finest home on the finest golf course, preferably in the state of Delaware, so leisure and life can again be at one. There will no doubt be a billiards table, a home theatre with the latest stereophonics, a kitchen with every amenity, and relaxing, comfortable furniture.

Once the settlement is complete on my house, and it will be a speedy settlement as I can not be kept long from what I want when I am great, I will adorn my halls with only the finest cock pieces from the Ross and T.J. Max home furnishing sections. Their resplendent plumage will serve as a symbol of my virility and down home preference for farm animals. I am, after all, a humble, crafty man.

It can be inferred that my greatness will lead to overindulgence and, perhaps, spoil me, but is not one of the trappings of greatness being immune to pettiness? If there ever comes a time that I overstep my bounds or act not in accordance to greatness, I will sit and ruminate upon the fine cock pieces adorning my house and realize that I must know my place in the barnyard of life.

What of diversion or the arts? I will not just spend my days in my luxurious home and contemplate my beautiful cock pieces. Surely I will be as wealthy in culture as I am in greatness. For diversion I will purchase the Best of the Counting Crows compact disc and listen to their greatest hits with the utmost pleasure, aching pleasure. Indeed, "Mr. Jones and me" will have a wonderful time sipping on the finest aged wine, oh did I mention the wine? because it will be there and it will be the greatest wine available, and we will groove until the night gives way to the morning.

Greatness shall spill forth over unto the weekend. It is at this time that I will hire the Spin Doctors to play for me Counting Crows covers, just to compromise their impeccable artistic integrity as a testament to my greatness. For a band so great to forsake their generous catalogue of hits and adopt the works of a group only slightly greater may gall them, but it is for my diversion and love of Jonathan Spindoctor's rugged voice. Appropriating the lilting, graceful lyrics of Adam Dirshowitz will break Joe Spindoctor's heart and mine at once. No moment of the weekend shall be without greatness.

My physique will also metamorphose to reflect my greatness, but not without a little work. That is why I will be personally trained by the greatest bad boy action star of this, or any time: Jon-Clod-Vann-Dam. We will take it to the streets, jogging untold, long distances. My basement gym will be furnished with golden weights for maximum heaviness to promote ultimate muscle growth. We, Jon-Clod and I, will jump rope with heavy golden chains, again for maximum heaviness to ensure peak cardiovascular health. When we are finished with our workouts he will provide live commentary to VHS cassette versions of Bloodsport, Lionheart, and Kickboxer II, despite the fact that he did not appear in the latter.

I will travel, not only to share my greatness, but to learn more as all the greats of the world have always been cultured and well-traveled. My travels will take me to the most exotic locales of California. I will get to know intimately the west coast and its renowned laid back attitude, but I will refuse to let it take me over. I will travel to Mexico, Canada, and the U.S. Virgin Islands. I will visit Africa and trek the rugged lands to reach its capital and then I will sojourn to the foothills of Himalayas and pray with the Scandinavian monks. Then I will return to my abode to discover that greatness will be wherever I am to find it and it will be the most profound moment in my life of greatness.

And the rest...

2006-08-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

Jesus H. Christ, Quarterback
The son of God can run and gun better than any living man and he'll score a touchdown for your sins. Bag of Skittles's playbook should jibe well with Christ seeing as he's the Alpha and the Omega. He'll read your coverage a week in advance and take a sack every once and awhile just for humility's sake.

Oh, I'm so tired. You know what? Yeah, this is lame, I'm going to stop now, or at least until football season starts. Talk about an abomination and an abortion. Sorry if you ever read this or the previous posts relating to my heterosexual fantasy dream team.

Hustlaz Name Head Coach, Coaching Staff

2006-07-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

Josip Broz Tito, Head Coach
Think of Coach Tito and you should automatically think "balance." No other figure was capable of striking a successful medium between dialectically opposed factions: Communists and Capitalists; Serbs and non-Serbs. It is the hope of the Hustlaz front office and GM Wellington that Tito can apply the same principles of balance to the team: offense and defense; pass and run; blitz and cover; hookers and coke.
This morning's press conference featured a characteristically charismatic Tito. Resplendent in his military attire he assured the press that he will not "tolerate any nationalist insurrection in the locker room" and that his players would be able to freely travel throughout the west. Never seeking to disappoint Tito also stressed that fans can expect some "razzle dazzle" in the form of gimmick plays and a strong, supportive communist bloc-ing scheme.

Haile Selassie I, Assistant Coach, Defense
His Imperial Majesty, Haile Selassie I, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah, the Most High will be set to run a defense that will tap his courage and harken back to the defense of Ethiopia from the threat of fascist Italy during the '30s and '40s. Direct Descendent of King Solomon, Selassie I enjoys a laid back approach to coaching. Never will he, Ras Tafari, seek to overdiscipline his team, but more nurture them to become spiritual warriors. Quarterbacks beware!

Bag of Skittles, Assistant Coach Offense
An unorthodox choice at offensive coach, Bag of Skittles is usually known for residing in convenience stores and waiting for you to buy it and eat its contents. Expect an explosion of flavor when Bag of Skittles starts calling plays, will it be "grape" on first down or will it be "lemon?" Who knows with this tricky son of a bitch?

Dream Team Assemble!

2006-07-27T13:54:00.000-07:00

Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington (GM)
Who better to head a team of dreams than Field Marshal Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington? After successfully dispatching Napoleon from the continent, twice!, and ministering Great Britain in a primely fashion, "The Duke" just inked a deal to be the General Manager of the PGC Hustlaz. After several years of retirement and being dead, His Lordship felt like taking the reigns of a football organization that owes its existence to the fancy of a mentally challenged blogger.

At his press conference The Most Exalted Commander of the 19th Century was quoted as saying "As long as the team is one third Irish, no more no less, we cannot lose! It may be difficult, but I assure you it will not be as difficult as pushing those filthy Frenchman through Iberia and over the Pyrenees! We will ally ourselves with the Prussians and rely upon our oldest ally, Portugal, to furnish a foothold for victory."

We are assembling a fighting force of extraordinary magnitude

2006-07-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

In the coming week or so, or whenever I get around to it, I wish to assemble MY dream team football squadron. This won't be your run of the mill team of contemporary superstars or all-time greats. It is my wish to staff a roster using the unbound logic and free form association of actual dreams. Please keep posted and, as always, you have my gratitude.

For the Love of Comedic Devices, or What I Like

2006-07-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

Some ONE is reading this, and that's great. Considering that the ONE is a writer for the choicest sports periodical of our time is pretty impressive, eat that real Jar Jar blog, so color me grateful. In light of the last post of yesterday about the Steely Dan, who should stop it in the studio and find a mic in front of a brick wall somewhere, I figured "Hey, I'm getting older, maybe it's time to take it easy."

And since irony is dead and jokes are not to be "gotten," I issue forth the essence of man, well this man at least, just to give you an idea of where I'm coming from.

This is some stuff that I like, or that pleases me:

Ham,

Cinderella, the band,

sports, I do like sports,

UTZ Potato Chips, mmm, I really do enjoy a chip,

and wiener dogs.

That's what I've got. I do like other stuff, but I just can't think of it now. I'll let you know when I do. The real humor of this world is to be found with the crippled and the homeless.

The Dildo from that Movie

2006-07-26T08:55:00.000-07:00

So the guys at the Steely Dan are dissatisfied with the Wilson brothers. They've expressed this in a letter. I posted this open letter from Generations X, Y, and Zero in the comments section at Austinist... please enjoy, but read their letter first:

Dear, like, Don and, you know, Walt, man:

This is generation x, or, like, y, or, you know, zero, hu-hu,

-hey, pass the bong dude.
-shhhh, I'm writing a comment.

Anyways, um, what? Oh yeah, thanks for patronizing two actors in the most, like, hilarious way. You know what though, you should like totally give back your band name then you hippy-crites...

-Ewww, burn. You carried those dirty old bitches to the curb.
-I know right, but shut up I'm totally not done.

Um, right, so yeah. You need to fess up for taking the name of your band from the dildo in Breakfast at Tiffany's, Harry Truman is rolling in his grave ever since you picked up a guitar, before you can trash the hero of Shanghai Nights and his brother, the dude who dates the superchick in that movie.

-Jackie Chan is an alien man.
-You're an alien man, now shut up.

So why don't you old dudes bring your stationary and pens and, you know, like come down to the Supertramp concert, whenever that is, and we can hold hands and stick Dupree swag in your butts, you know, nothing you wouldn't want to do anyway. Then we'll take you to, like, a bar and make veiled threats referencing large eastern European antagonists. Then you can apologize on, um, News Channel 8 in the morning for being washed up, like, douchebags, man.

All the best,
generation not yours.

Jar Jar Keeps it Real

2006-07-14T06:36:00.000-07:00

Great news! There is actually a real Jar Jar Blog. That can tell you what JJB is up to as of January 12, 2006. It's terrib... ly ENTERTAINING!

Intro to Shameless Self Promotion

2006-07-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

I love the blogging and I could love you... if you treat me right. My office job is dry and boring so I write for Austinist.com. Here are some instances of me telling you what you should and should not like:

Tapes n' Tapes

Londonstani is a good book.
So too are Man of My Dreams and Absurdistan.

Uber-nuovo intellecticon Ben Kunkel doesn't mind when trifflin' pubes interview him, nor does Gary Shteyngart.

This band didn't mind this review, the fans though... they mind. Weenies.

There you have it , there's more surprisingly... I'm very lazy... but it sucks worse than this crap. FEB stands for Flesh Eating Bacteria.