Here's a dumb conversation I had on AIM.

CleoDestroy: dont dis 80's metal
Slayngren: i dis freely
CleoDestroy: pfft..lame i say
Slayngren: well soooooooorrrrryyyy
CleoDestroy: wait.. who is that metal band that sings 'fuck like a beast'
CleoDestroy: gah
Slayngren: oh dear god who cares
CleoDestroy:  I DO
Slayngren: that sounds like a TERRIBLE SONG
CleoDestroy: its hilarious
Slayngren: you're hilarious
CleoDestroy: pfft
CleoDestroy: god.. they played in italy while i was there
CleoDestroy: WASP
CleoDestroy: thats it
Slayngren: UGH
CleoDestroy: damn
CleoDestroy: cant believe i forgot that
CleoDestroy: its on my list of songs to fuck to...
CleoDestroy: lol
Slayngren:  that offends me deeply
CleoDestroy: um.. you're being sarcastic right?
CleoDestroy: you cant possibly think im serious
Slayngren: clearly i do
Slayngren: you were serious about WASP
Slayngren: which i find to be equally odious
CleoDestroy: you're ridiculous
CleoDestroy: HAHAHAHAHA
Slayngren: eighties metal is another one of those things you dont' talk about when around me
Slayngren: it offends my delicate sensibilities
CleoDestroy: hahaha
CleoDestroy: oh  but c'mon... iron maiden has a song about Alexander the great
Slayngren: just cuz it's alexander the great does not make it awesome
Slayngren: eighties metal is bad
CleoDestroy: im.. its 80's metal about alexander the great
CleoDestroy: its fuckin rad
CleoDestroy: so shut up
Slayngren: in fact, i'd go as far to say that metal
Slayngren: as a whole
Slayngren: 99% of it
Slayngren: is fuckin terrible
CleoDestroy: oh god
CleoDestroy: lol
CleoDestroy: thats wrong
CleoDestroy: you listen to fuckin scream shit
Slayngren: ....and?
CleoDestroy: and... its no better
CleoDestroy: so there
Slayngren: it clearly is
CleoDestroy: um... no
Slayngren: metal is a the musical equivalent of shouting 'look how big my penis is' from a convertible
CleoDestroy: no it isnt
CleoDestroy: ....
CleoDestroy: okay so maybe some of it
Slayngren: or a combination of that and 'vampires'
CleoDestroy: yeah...
CleoDestroy: thats true
Slayngren: i would say that covers 85% of metal
CleoDestroy: but... i like vampires
CleoDestroy: some of it is good
CleoDestroy: lol
Slayngren: no
Slayngren: a blast beat for six minutes
CleoDestroy: im actually a bigger fan of industrial
Slayngren: with some jerk yelling about blood
Slayngren: with a 4 minute guitar solo
Slayngren: is not music
Slayngren: industrial is metal for lazy people!
Slayngren: lauren i hate your music
Slayngren: you have driven a rift between us
CleoDestroy: yeah well i hate you
CleoDestroy: lol
CleoDestroy: i like 80's pop too
CleoDestroy: wanna say something bad about that?
CleoDestroy: how about early 90's rap
CleoDestroy: i like that too
Slayngren: early nineties rap isa wesome
Slayngren: and eighties pop, while it sounds terrible
Slayngren: was innovative
Slayngren: i respect both those genres
Slayngren: i do not respect metal
CleoDestroy: i like some metal.. and i like alot of industrial
CleoDestroy: i like KMFDM
CleoDestroy: i like VNV nation
CleoDestroy: and i like NIN
CleoDestroy: alot
CleoDestroy: so bite me
CleoDestroy: i also like ABBA
Slayngren: i heard the new NIN single
CleoDestroy: yeah
Slayngren: it is terrible
CleoDestroy: i havent yet
CleoDestroy: lol
Slayngren: it is fuckin outright terrible
Slayngren: no seriously
CleoDestroy: wow
Slayngren: i think you'll agree even liking them
CleoDestroy: trent was soo pissy about it too
Slayngren: seriously i was appalled
CleoDestroy: trent is soo talented though
Slayngren: i was like 'this made it on the radio what is this
CleoDestroy: hahaha
Slayngren: then the guys aid 'that's NIN new song'
Slayngren: and i was like oh dear lord
Slayngren: i mean i don't want to color your opinion, i don't hate NIN
Slayngren: but that song....ugh, the vocals are terrible
Slayngren: he sounds like an angsty twelve year old
CleoDestroy: heh
Slayngren: no real emotion, just like fake emotion
Slayngren: it sounds like he's trying soooooo hard
Slayngren: yet it sounds so lackluster
Slayngren: ugh it makes me mad just thinking about it
Slayngren: biiite the haaanndd that feeeeddsss yoouuu
Slayngren: wiill yyyoouuu biiittee thhhee haaannddd that feeeeddss you
Slayngren: UGH
Slayngren: FUCKIN TERRIBLE
CleoDestroy: hahahaha
CleoDestroy: well he did make a shit load of good music
CleoDestroy: eventually you burn out
Slayngren: you mean six songs
Slayngren: which he remixed eighty times
Slayngren: to make them slightly different
CleoDestroy: no.. he has alot of good shit
CleoDestroy: i like alot of his stuff
Slayngren: alright i'll stop the outright hate then
Slayngren: but you've been thoroughly judged
CleoDestroy: you cant judge me because of that
CleoDestroy: thats fuckin lame keith
Slayngren: it's not an important judgement but a judgement nonetheless
CleoDestroy: oh whatever
Slayngren: the judgement suffices with 'lauren has questionable taste in music'
Slayngren: (from my perspective of course)
Slayngren: and if you like it more power to ya
Slayngren: i like people screaming over the sound of power tools being broken
Slayngren: to everyone their own deal

Earlier this evening, I decided to visit my pal nate with my friend lauren.  It's a short drive to nate's house, one might even say a pleasant jaunt through pleasure town; then again one doesn't usually know what one's talking about.  The important thing is, is that my car was making a slightly odd noise.  A rapping noise...not unlike the mad riznhymes of icecube.  The noise was faint, kind of like the pitter patter of little feet from those children you put in the basement after your illicit love affair with the spanish cleaning guy that went horribly awry (though it showed you more than one use for a spray-bottle).  So this sound seems to me like something to check out, but probably not something that was going to break my car in the next five minutes.  So I get to nate's eat some food, and we rent species III from the blockbuster.  On a side note, that movie should be re-named 'superfluous boobies III' for a more accurate description of the content of the movie.  Granted, when one sees a species film, one is not exactly looking for depth of character development, nor anything really...except breasts.  But can you have too much breastification?  I do certainly believe that you can.  You see, in SBIII as we will now call it, breasts were shown even when there was no cause, not even PROBABLE CAUSE for such buxome display.  In fact, it seemed as though, literally, there were more scenes with the female lead while she was topless, then those while she donned clothing.  This being said, the toplessness (which we usually attribute to eroticism) was made into the simple backdrop of the movie.  This in itself is kind of an interesting artistic expansion on how we understand the 'honkers,' but did it have a proper place in a movie with GAMC?  (For those of you just tuning in, GAMC stands for Giant Alien Man Cock, and is a staple of pretty much every sci-fi movie ever made)  The movie closes with a whimper, and I decide to return home.  Little did I know, that gentle rapping noise was now the sound of a roaring machine gun.  Completely unphased by this cacaphony, I trudged everforward, hoping that my superior verbal skills would be able to put this great machine in its place.  Then...my car bent me over and put a filing cabinet in my lower intestine.  The machine gun fire became a giant explosion and flames shot out from under my hood.  (no, I'm not talking about my recent battle with the clap)  Then, as always naturally follows, an enormous cloud of yellow smoke came billowing out from my car.  I took refuge behind a nearby overweight woman.  Needless to say, my car is now totally busted, and once again, I'm eating shards of glass I find in the public toilet at the bus-station.  Hoo-ray.

Well, it has been well established that I love everything even remotely nerdy.  Admittedly, I even enjoy the new ninja turtles despite that fact that it's not violent or funny...simply because it perpetuates our love for radioactive reptile martial artists.  But there is a phenomenon that continues to bother me in the nerd world.  I'm going to call it nerdly ubiquity.  The phrase nerdly ubiquity applies to such books/games/television shows/and movies where everything is taken at a matter-of-fact down to earth level.  You know the type.  I'll offer my most hated as an example.  BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER IS A TERRIBLE SHOW.  THE PREMISE MAKES ME WANT TO SHOOT MYSELF IN THE RECTUM WITH AN ELEPHANT GUN FULL OF GLASS SHARDS.  In theory, this show could have been flat out awesome.  It could chronicle the horrific and mind-altering insanity that would result in a life inundated with the supernatural.  Instead, thanks to nerdly ubiquity, it is all done in a tongue in cheek kitschy sort of way.  Every day the heroine fights and kills vampires, demons and the like.  NOT ONCE does this show ever address the fact that KILLING SOMETHING changes something within you as a human being, making you at the very least, a slightly different person.  NOT TO MENTION SEEING, EXPERIENCING OR INTERACTING WITH DEMONS.  Nerdly ubiquity is the reason that nerdliness has passed to the general public.  BEING A NERD IS BY ITS VERY NATURE ELITIST.  I DON"T WANT PEOPLE CONSUMING MY LIFESTYLE.  When a kobold ceases to have a society, a civilization, it's own life philosophy, then we as a nerd people will lose all focus.  We cannot simply denigrate the supernatural to a mere extension of our existence.  A vampire is not a person.  Therefor, we should not approach the depiction of one, whether in literature or on a screen as merely a human that drinks blood.  The vampire's personality is fundamentally different; they should in theory, be pushed by different wants and needs, by different loves and hates.  Yet somehow, thanks to ubiquity, they are everywhere and act exactly like us.  Doesn't this seem awfully egotistical?  Isn't this destroying the very foundations which provided us with this means of escape?  If we too closely merge our nerd world with the real world, how long will it be before we're all wearing fishnets and carrying broadswords looking for dragons to slay?

I am not chaotic evil.  I take direct offense to this.  Being anarchist does not mean you are a bad person, and it seems as though those questions are the basis of this young man's idiot test.

I SAY A POX UPON HIM

val i Mornia 6: I feel you, dude.
Slayngren: we all fear the herp
Slayngren: and the clap
Slayngren: and the gon
Slayngren: and the syph
val i Mornia 6: Myd?
Slayngren: and the aids
Slayngren: not the crabs though
Slayngren: they can be controlled with careful grooming
val i Mornia 6: UGH.
val i Mornia 6: I"m scaredest oft hem.
Slayngren: they are creepy
Slayngren: i imagine them with little straw hats
Slayngren: and rakes
val i Mornia 6: HAHAH
Slayngren: forced to eke out a living on your groin
val i Mornia 6: I DO TOO
val i Mornia 6: RAKES.
Slayngren: the women have head coverings
val i Mornia 6: HAHHA
val i Mornia 6: They're African-Groinian-American, no?
Slayngren: like slovaks
Slayngren: no no no
val i Mornia 6: lol
Slayngren: they're like serbian
Slayngren: but they have straw hats
Slayngren: cuz it's hot down there on your groin
Slayngren: more like the carribean in climate
Slayngren: i mean they have to come from somewhere, they didn't just spontaneously appear one day on someone's groin
Slayngren: so they're a cold weather folk
Slayngren: but easily acclimate to heat and humidity
val i Mornia 6: Do they burn easy?
Slayngren: i've heard that they fear fire
Slayngren: as all god-loving creatures do
Slayngren: but they build their huts partially underground
val i Mornia 6: I'm putting this on my livejournal. 
val i Mornia 6: Okay?
Slayngren: that's fine
Slayngren: but seriously, because they fear 'he or she who takes away the forest'
Slayngren: the shaver cannot dissuade them
Slayngren: merely forces them to their homes, they will rebuild as they always do
val i Mornia 6: What do they do for fun?
Slayngren: they are a hardy people
Slayngren: THEY DANCE
Slayngren: clearly
Slayngren: they have miniature fiddles
val i Mornia 6: Do they do the.... BOX step?!
Slayngren: they love the fiddler on the roof musical
val i Mornia 6: ahem ahem...
val i Mornia 6: Love my bad puns.
Slayngren: 'i wish i was a snatch man, ba ba dee ba ba ba dee ba dee ba dum'
val i Mornia 6: lol
Slayngren: they have festivals
Slayngren: that prepare for the great darkening
val i Mornia 6: To celebrate what?
val i Mornia 6: Oh.
Slayngren: COITUS
Slayngren: so that they can send their little ones on a vision quest, a journey to unexplored wildernesses
Slayngren: so that they to, can form a community
val i Mornia 6: LOL
Slayngren: there are several families
Slayngren: the bastanini's, the verchoysk, and the verumkumpf being the most prevalent
val i Mornia 6: Is there any form of government?
Slayngren: it is a loose oligarchy
Slayngren: based around the eldest members of the families providing someone to sit on the council
val i Mornia 6: Patriarchal society?
Slayngren: unlike our culture, the old are venerated for their wisdom, and tenacity
Slayngren: it's fairly egalitarian
Slayngren: everyone has a niche however, and are nurtured to fit whatever it is that they do best
val i Mornia 6: What is their god?
Slayngren: so that they can excel
Slayngren: their god?
Slayngren: barry white
val i Mornia 6: Yes.
val i Mornia 6: HA
Slayngren: there are several minor gods as well
val i Mornia 6: The god KY?
Slayngren: and a growing cult of usher
Slayngren: ky is a mixed blessing
val i Mornia 6: How so?
Slayngren: it often helps with the movement process, but many a young crab is taken away in the deluge
val i Mornia 6: hahahahaha
val i Mornia 6: oh god
Slayngren: it's a dangerous life
Slayngren: but they are a faithful folk
Slayngren: and stick by the old ways
val i Mornia 6: How about their cousins, Bodilice, who've migrated?
Slayngren: it's a friendly rivalry
Slayngren: either side sometimes hosts games
Slayngren: and there is ritual combat on occasion
val i Mornia 6: Games?
Slayngren: yes competitive sports
val i Mornia 6: "Grab the Pube"?
Slayngren: they grease them up
Slayngren: and try to see who can shimmy up the fastest
Slayngren: sometimes there is intermarriage but it ends in disaster
Slayngren: the crabs are too proud a people and will execute eloping couples
Slayngren: for weakening the bloodlines
val i Mornia 6: hah
Slayngren: on the other hand, sexual interaction between the two groups does not break any taboos, so at the rare occasion when the two groups meet, there is raucous partying, much in the way we conceive carnivale or mardi gras, though with considerably less toplessness (much to the chagrin of the lice)
val i Mornia 6: Nowhere good to honeymoon, anyway:  maybe the Anus Islands.
Slayngren: too many eruptions
val i Mornia 6: HAHAH
Slayngren: the crab people long since moved away from such dangerous seismic activity
val i Mornia 6: I <3 you.
Slayngren: i <3 you too
val i Mornia 6: You've transported me to another world this noon.
Slayngren: a fanciful magical place
val i Mornia 6: Totally.
Slayngren: full of hardworking crabs and their blissfully simple lives
Slayngren: if you'd like to learn more, i'd be happy to give you an on-site tour
Slayngren: OOOOOHHHH SNAP

So today my mom was going through the basement trying to get rid of old stuff, and she found a  bunch of my artwork and stories from like kindergarten and the other 'formative years.'  And get this...total proof of my nerddom.

AGE FIVE--I drew a picture of a mind flayer.  A MIND FLAYER, AN ITHILLID!  ONE OF THE MANY DENIZENS OF THE UNDERDARK.  I WAS FIVE.  I DIDN"T EVEN PLAY D&D YET.  HOW DID I KNOW WHAT A MIND FLAYER WAS.

AGE SIX--I wrote a story called 'Keith's Gory Story.'  It consisted of a man being tortured in a fried chicken joint.  His arms were pulled off by some kind of robotic monstrosity.  This proves to me that perhaps my inclination towards violence and being a giant nerd was not in fact learned, but some kind of inner proclivity.  Apparently I was already imagining squid men devouring people's brains by the time I was learning to fingerpaint.....WITH ENTRAILS.

that is all

Social awkwardness is probably my favorite thing on the planet.  It makes me so ridiculously uncomfortable I can barely handle looking at things or breathing when it happens.  I've realized, that because of extreme paranoia and other such hilarious serious emotional disorders, that I make people EXTREMELY uncomfortable.  This is usually a physical reaction, people will actually pull themselves away from me in order to remove themselves from the offensive presence that is my pock-marked face, covered in the lesions and sores of walrus herpes, an extreme form of herpes found only in magpies and myself.  The chancres are approximately two and a half feet in length and are commonly referred to as arms.  Don't let this fool you, you cannot hug your children with them.  Speaking of children, I kind of want them.  You know, I don't want to be the kind of dad that looks at them, or does stuff for them, I just want them.  It's like a status symbol, only it has the opposite effect on people my age.  If I say I have five children, no one will think I'm hip and no one will try to talk to me.  This would in fact be ideal.  I seem to attract people that like to talk.  Specifically to me.  I'm not sure why.  I'm not very interesting, I'm not particularly insightful or erudite.  I am, for all intents and purposes, some asshole.  So why was I chosen to bear the brunt of social interaction?  Because I'm the token smelly guy.  Now, the token smelly guy doesn't need to 'smell' per se, he simply needs to occupy the social space of someone who is known for their personality, simply because there is no way they can be known for their looks.  The smely guy does what you don't want to do, he broaches topics that make people initially uncomfortable, but in the long run provide for good conversation.  He takes a hit for the team, much in the way a man will take a severe iron pole beating so that his friends can run across the border with sixteen pounds of columbian bacon (that's cocaine for those of you not hip to the lingo) in their butts.  I'm tired this is stupid.

A man screaming 'don't eat the pancakes, don't eat the pancakes' is bludgeoning his son to death with a table leg.  I am pleased.

I just had the awesomest dream of my life last night.  No it didn't involve porno.  No, it didn't involve dinosaurs.  Maybe it involved both.  NO!  I'll just give everyone the general gist...

I found myself in a house, like this big ridiculous house, mostly marble, with alabaster and all manner of other intensely richified materials.  Anyway, it was of georgian architecture, and from what I could see out the windows, we were in some kind of bayou.  Thus I conclude the dream occurred in louisiana, that part of the country we associate with toplessness and extremely combustible cooking.  This reminds me of german shit porno, which as always, has been a highly heated topic of discussion.  It has been surmised that above and beyond bestiality, having someone spray runny diarrhea on someone else's face and or torso has got to be the most hilarious thing on the planet.  BUT THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.  The important thing is, I was wandering through this obscenely ornate house, filled with all manner of lovely statues, friezes, and the odd servant whom would disappear the moment I noticed them.  Here's where the dream gets awesome.  It turns into a shootout.  Spontaneously.  Like seriously KABAM!  So there's all these gents and ladies getting their lungs pierced and their pharynxs blown out and all manner of greatness, when, and I kid you not.  THE DREAM GETS EVEN COOLER--AS IF BY SOME SORT OF DIVINE BOOMBOX, ALL AROUND ME ERUPTS WITH MUSIC, SPECIFICALLY MARTHA FUCKING WASHINGTON.

IT"S RAININ MEN, HALLEJULIA ITS RAININ MEN.....AMEN

So to martha washington, I procede to murder dozens of people execution style with a pistol.  It was to date, the best dream I've had in months.

And it got me thinking.  Why's martha washington gotta be so huge?  If she wasn't huge I'd be all up in that, she's got the best voice ever, and 'it's raining men,' pure lyrical genius.  She reminds me of a young me, so full of pep and vinegar,wanting to see men just fall to the sky into her waiting eyes and arms.  The only difference is, when they fall from the sky in my song, they come crashing down at terminal velocity, splatting on the pavement in hideous plops, breaking limbs on telephone wire and begging to be killed as they slowly bleed to death.  Ahhhhhh youth.