have you ever thought of Santa beating all the people on the Naughty List with a huge tree limb? i didn't think so. I have recently been acquainted with teh Belsickle , the old German version of Santa Clause, who doles out both treats and severe punnishments. appearently in German traditions, Belsnickle comes on Christmas Eve and scatters treats on the floor. then he invites the good children, one at a time, to come take them. but the bad children he beats with a stick.
Bob just thought that this was an interesting Christmas fact to share with you people, so he did.
also, anyone ever heard of Nightwish? another one of those odd bands Bob finds, but they're realy good. they're kind of like hard metal/opera. i urge all you short people to check them out.
a link for one of their best songs: http://gaudfather.imeem.com/music/Am3OShU-/over_the_hills_and_far_away/
the official website: http://www.nightwish.com/
Friday, December 29, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Evangelical Rant #583: To The Movies!
As you, my three-four person audience knows, Bob keeps many Evangelical freinds from his Calvery Chapel years, (ugh) and when the opertunity came along to see them and get a free movie i bit. One of Bob's friends called and invited himself and his brother to a movie called "facing the giants" or something close to that. appearently it was not produced by any good companies because it was "too christian" but more likely because of the bad acting. well, that's not completely true, it probably did have something to do with the fact that there was constant praying and preaching. it actualy was a fairly good one for those stupid happy clap trap bs evangelical films. there was a lot of focus on praying, which was good because its something that is fairly neutral for denomonartions.
my favorite thing though was all the mentions of justification in it. meaning the one sentence: "god sent his son to die for you so you could live for him." which is way underplaying it and actualy makes no sense at all. stinking fundies. and why do they ALL look like they just came from the trans-syberian orchestra band practice? I don't think there is one head there (at least one that wasn't going bald) that was not covered with about ten inches of hair! it's like having sixty or so Cousin Its in one place. After the movie we all wandered out ot the lobby and had drank enough caffine to keep us going for a few hours. while there i was amazed at how many "bless you brother"s went on there. it was kind of like watching a whole bunch of monks get high and then greet each other. bloody fundies.
so that's it for my exposure to other humans for the month, back to that horrible denish tomblike cave i call my room until...i die.
my favorite thing though was all the mentions of justification in it. meaning the one sentence: "god sent his son to die for you so you could live for him." which is way underplaying it and actualy makes no sense at all. stinking fundies. and why do they ALL look like they just came from the trans-syberian orchestra band practice? I don't think there is one head there (at least one that wasn't going bald) that was not covered with about ten inches of hair! it's like having sixty or so Cousin Its in one place. After the movie we all wandered out ot the lobby and had drank enough caffine to keep us going for a few hours. while there i was amazed at how many "bless you brother"s went on there. it was kind of like watching a whole bunch of monks get high and then greet each other. bloody fundies.
so that's it for my exposure to other humans for the month, back to that horrible denish tomblike cave i call my room until...i die.
Monday, December 18, 2006
teehee
paolini stinks, here's proof!:
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/eragon/
and to you few people who actulaly read this blog, please post anything you know about, and especialy angry criticisms of the band "mcfly" because they are evil incarnate.
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/eragon/
and to you few people who actulaly read this blog, please post anything you know about, and especialy angry criticisms of the band "mcfly" because they are evil incarnate.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
drool and graham crackers
for those of you who don't know Bob is in a babysitting (yes, we sit on babies) thingy on every other thursday. there's some church here that has a sort of 'relief for a few hours' thing for moms. so anyway, they go party and we get stuck with the kiddies for a while for a few bucks an hour. this all takes place at 8am, so there are precious few kids available, and even fewer adults. but because bob is a homeschooler he can go and not miss class. I'm basicly the only male there, which realy sucks. actualy there are a few men in with some of the older kids, but bob never sees them anyway. the kids i work with are about a year, maybe a year and a half. just little enough to be cute but not enough to puke on you. most of the time. I've developed two shadows and an extra limb while working there, a little italian boy and a little pink girl who constantly follow me around and one boy who is absolutely glued to my shoulder the whole time.
but the pay is good and it's an excuse to get out of the house.
I'm not sure exactly what the point of this post is, but for some reason I thought I should post about my oddjob. so I will leave you with not one, but two interesting quotes.
as the suave, wordmincing hemmingway once said: "the first draft (of anything) is sh*t."
and another from my brother, upon being insulted by Bob: "You know Bob, if you were a nice pixy more people would frollick with you."
teehee.
but the pay is good and it's an excuse to get out of the house.
I'm not sure exactly what the point of this post is, but for some reason I thought I should post about my oddjob. so I will leave you with not one, but two interesting quotes.
as the suave, wordmincing hemmingway once said: "the first draft (of anything) is sh*t."
and another from my brother, upon being insulted by Bob: "You know Bob, if you were a nice pixy more people would frollick with you."
teehee.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
bob hocks lugie, ends marathon
yay! bob has done it! at very last over a month of hard work he has submitted his hard bought novel to NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) and won!
*Bob pauses in speach for applause, glares at audience for not applauding*
basicly what I did was write a novel in 30 days, although it was more the 3 galons and 110 oz of caffine i consumed writing than me myslef. Smelly did the same, winning for the second year. it's not realy a competition, but anyone who submits 50,000 words "wins." it was quite fun, and suger/caffine filled. if you want more than my ramblings on it check out Stormy or the official web page.
So anyway, what is this novel about, you might ask? well, I'll blurt out my shame, it's a zombie novel. Bob knows, it's sad, like a B-movie of fiction, but at least I didn't use bikers. there are two plotlines that are the same and one that is a little different. one is zombie hunters (freemasons) in 1745 Scotland, one is zombie hunters in fudel Japan. the other, the main one, goes as follows.
the zombies have taken over, and now there are only little pockets of humanity left. one little pocket decides that they've become sick of sitting around and doing nothing and decide to look for other humans. most of these people are based very loosely around one or some of my friends, and prety much everyone I know makes a cameo appearence as a zombie or a victim. so anyway they go around, find some post-apoctoliptic drug addicts (now they can grow weed without fear of government) and find a place where people are pitting gladiators against zombies. they wander about creating plot and words until i see fit to have them retake the local city and begin a sort of safe haven for people.
so, not that good, but fun none the less. My brother is in it as a constant character, (he is a zombie who is too stupid to find people to eat, and eventualy is dressed up as a clown and shot by an old frail man) and on a dare i added the words "fifteen chickens" to every chapter, and seven goats on an island.
also, if it were a blog somebody we all know would have it already, but it's a site that me and almost all of my friends should join, so i thought i'd show it to the rest of the mental wards:
http://nolife.flower-of-carnage.org/
and so before i tell you all to beware the ides of march again, i must share with you the final statistics of NaNo:
Day: -2
Word Count: 58,092
Caffine Intake: 3 galons, 110 oz
Sanity Level: hehehe! they've come to take me away!
*Bob pauses in speach for applause, glares at audience for not applauding*
basicly what I did was write a novel in 30 days, although it was more the 3 galons and 110 oz of caffine i consumed writing than me myslef. Smelly did the same, winning for the second year. it's not realy a competition, but anyone who submits 50,000 words "wins." it was quite fun, and suger/caffine filled. if you want more than my ramblings on it check out Stormy or the official web page.
So anyway, what is this novel about, you might ask? well, I'll blurt out my shame, it's a zombie novel. Bob knows, it's sad, like a B-movie of fiction, but at least I didn't use bikers. there are two plotlines that are the same and one that is a little different. one is zombie hunters (freemasons) in 1745 Scotland, one is zombie hunters in fudel Japan. the other, the main one, goes as follows.
the zombies have taken over, and now there are only little pockets of humanity left. one little pocket decides that they've become sick of sitting around and doing nothing and decide to look for other humans. most of these people are based very loosely around one or some of my friends, and prety much everyone I know makes a cameo appearence as a zombie or a victim. so anyway they go around, find some post-apoctoliptic drug addicts (now they can grow weed without fear of government) and find a place where people are pitting gladiators against zombies. they wander about creating plot and words until i see fit to have them retake the local city and begin a sort of safe haven for people.
so, not that good, but fun none the less. My brother is in it as a constant character, (he is a zombie who is too stupid to find people to eat, and eventualy is dressed up as a clown and shot by an old frail man) and on a dare i added the words "fifteen chickens" to every chapter, and seven goats on an island.
also, if it were a blog somebody we all know would have it already, but it's a site that me and almost all of my friends should join, so i thought i'd show it to the rest of the mental wards:
http://nolife.flower-of-carnage.org/
and so before i tell you all to beware the ides of march again, i must share with you the final statistics of NaNo:
Day: -2
Word Count: 58,092
Caffine Intake: 3 galons, 110 oz
Sanity Level: hehehe! they've come to take me away!
Sunday, November 26, 2006
brother Ethan
a recent quote from my brother Ethan that Bob just had to share with you:
Ethan, to Bob: "Be a good scrunchey or I'll have to light you on fire."
Stupid Ethan.
Ethan, to Bob: "Be a good scrunchey or I'll have to light you on fire."
Stupid Ethan.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Drunken Lullabies
I suppose i should say something about the recent conference I went to friday-sunday for Higher Things (www.higherthings.org) as all the other weirdos are. brother Stupid has a good one of quotes, although he insists upon referring to Bob by that infernal nickname that I can't seem to get rid of, Zeke. it was a lot of fun, lots of strange people talking, listening to realy good lectures, lightsaber fighting, hymn singing, Mouthhouse (a mailing list for Higher Things) Clue, etc. bob met nice people for the first time and was reacquainted with some who have infested Bob's dreams already. go to Stormfield, he has a pretty good despiction of the whole thing through quotes. he's so artistic. through the lectures Bob, Seth G, Garrot, Bob's brother and occasionaly other people passed stupid notes like little kids in the 4th grade, but it was fun. when not listening intently or reading/writing notes, Bob let his artistic side show and drew stick figure swat teams in firefights with stick figure militia. Even the simplest things entertain the mentaly retarted. bob met a lot of people who 75% of my audience (meaning three out of the four people who read) will not know. Rae: scary, life of the party, Seth: scary, death of the part, but fun for Gay Mario singing, Paul: has OCD which sets off Bob's OCD, Nat: eerily regular person with cheap katana, Maggie: nice, psycotic person with evil tests, Seth w/funky hair: maiwage, Harris: conservative, NRA lover loving person, Garret: "wasn't there some little thing between the Scots and English or something...". If I missed you and you were there and not insane yet, yell at me. Bob had a good time, got no sleep, developed a new OCD that other people cannot guess (other than guinea pig (cough), llama *Bob toutches nose* and cow, "moo". After the the conference we said goodbye to people, and then all decided to go to Rae's house which was on the way for most of us. There we played air guitar and fiddle (???) to Green Day songs, acted drunk because we're idiots, went to "scary" bridge which the other weenies would not cross because it was "(whine) uuunsafe (whine)". But all too soon we left and began back home with Nat and Maggie who we dropped off in Indiana. At last we went through The Evil Lands (Illinois) and back to Wisconsin.
For the first time in his life, Bob almost misses being around people, specific people, but people none the less. Oh well, he'll just cover it with massive, spasm inducing amounts of caffine. And are you all bewaring the ides of March? good! time for Bob to go back to his padded cell once again.
NaNoWriMo:
Day: 10
Word Count: exactly 21,000 words
Caffine Intake: almost exactly 1 gallon, 70 oz.
Sanity Level (1=thinking like freuid 10=raving lunatic): 6
Was she sent down to me from the heavens above?
her breath pure as whiskey by heart fell in love.
--May the Living be Dead in the Wake by Flogging Molly
(aren't the Irish such beautiful poets?)
Bob
For the first time in his life, Bob almost misses being around people, specific people, but people none the less. Oh well, he'll just cover it with massive, spasm inducing amounts of caffine. And are you all bewaring the ides of March? good! time for Bob to go back to his padded cell once again.
NaNoWriMo:
Day: 10
Word Count: exactly 21,000 words
Caffine Intake: almost exactly 1 gallon, 70 oz.
Sanity Level (1=thinking like freuid 10=raving lunatic): 6
Was she sent down to me from the heavens above?
her breath pure as whiskey by heart fell in love.
--May the Living be Dead in the Wake by Flogging Molly
(aren't the Irish such beautiful poets?)
Bob
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Bob Sails Off to the Grey Havens+Paolini Rant!
Yes poor misurable people! Bob's back! you thought you could keep him out but NOOOO! he busted out of his straight jacket, broke the one-way glass, pushed past the big nurses, stopped to jeer at a crazy person and ran over to his computer to ramble at you some more!
but anyway, bob wont be able to post much in this coming month so Colin, you suck and everything you say is complete bull. Brother, you smell. Aiden, your blog confuses me. sir darth etc., you need help. lightbulb...see previous statement.
"and self, go back to the psyce ward" (a message from my other personality). this is due to NaNo, which you may have already read about. Bob has little contact with the outside world at this time, but then again, what else is new...the life of a nerd is a never ending trial.
also, in the news department, bob will most likely soon be visiting an evangelical youth group (shudder) and will write about it, so my public will soon be happy again. this isn't certain, because as much as i love ranting, i hate evangelicals youth groups.
also: I hate paolini. appologies to you who for some reason find the eragon series entertaining.
i am thinking of writing 95 thesies against it. oh...i hate paolini. his first name doesn't even mear saying, but for you who dont know it's the same as the black commedian whos last name is Rock.
not only are his characters cut out from cardboard, ie the hero who "realy just wants to farm potatos," (cough) Tolkien, Jordan, George Lucas x2, Jaques, (cough). but all the other characters are terrible too. the metaphores are okay to some extent, but other than that it's generic fantasy. mercedes lacky class. but then again, lets not say things we cant take back. stupid paolini. and then he goes around comparing himself to tolkein! TOLKEIN! "oh i wrote some stupid stinkin' generic fantasy, I'm like the guy who wrote four books that have become the fathers of fantasty and amazing classics. that's like that stupid little punk from coldplay comparing himself to bono. stupid paolini. also, the names are rip offs. such as Merlock! that is one of the stupidest fantasy names I have ever heard, trumped only by Ithor.
also, as you may know Bob hunts. in the first chapter, Paolini's character Eragon (crappy name) is hunting deer. he's supposed to be the best hunter in the village, but he uses the stupidest tactics I have ever encountered! now, a deer can hear a human walking from hundreds of feet away, even sleeping, also, a hunter, for moral, good-of-the-hunt and common sense reasons NEVER shoots at a moving target, especialy with a bow. So Eragon is hunting with a bow and he comes across a pack of deer (deer dont run in packs of more than 3 or four, unless it's according to paolini.) that are sleeping and sneaks up on them. now one of them would almost definetly be awake to hear him, and even if there wasn't they would still have heard him, since he was crashing through the woods (to a deer's ears)until a few feet away. after that the dragon egg (described EXACTLY like a palantier from Lord Of the Rings) appears for no appearent reson with a poof which wakes and scatters the deer. now, lets take a moment to look at this. do dragon eggs normaly go poof in fantasy stories, even the most surreal? no! they are laid (stop giggleing middle schoolers) and do not simply appear with a little poof, like a poodle being hit by a car.
so the deer scatter andrun away and Eragon shoots at one! ask any hunter you want, you NEVER do that. if you do happen to his the thing (a 1 in ten chance) you'll almost definetly hit the rump, just causing it pain, not something any hunter wants to do, pluss it's a waist of arrows for a medeival peasant.
and the house! it's like a modern home, about a billion rooms and a nice barn! THIS IS NOT HOW MEDEIVAL PEASENTS LIVED, fantasy world or not. okay. bob is calm again now. stupid paolini. well, the men in the white coats found me again. I must leave you now. beware the ides of march!
stupid paolini
BOB
but anyway, bob wont be able to post much in this coming month so Colin, you suck and everything you say is complete bull. Brother, you smell. Aiden, your blog confuses me. sir darth etc., you need help. lightbulb...see previous statement.
"and self, go back to the psyce ward" (a message from my other personality). this is due to NaNo, which you may have already read about. Bob has little contact with the outside world at this time, but then again, what else is new...the life of a nerd is a never ending trial.
also, in the news department, bob will most likely soon be visiting an evangelical youth group (shudder) and will write about it, so my public will soon be happy again. this isn't certain, because as much as i love ranting, i hate evangelicals youth groups.
also: I hate paolini. appologies to you who for some reason find the eragon series entertaining.
i am thinking of writing 95 thesies against it. oh...i hate paolini. his first name doesn't even mear saying, but for you who dont know it's the same as the black commedian whos last name is Rock.
not only are his characters cut out from cardboard, ie the hero who "realy just wants to farm potatos," (cough) Tolkien, Jordan, George Lucas x2, Jaques, (cough). but all the other characters are terrible too. the metaphores are okay to some extent, but other than that it's generic fantasy. mercedes lacky class. but then again, lets not say things we cant take back. stupid paolini. and then he goes around comparing himself to tolkein! TOLKEIN! "oh i wrote some stupid stinkin' generic fantasy, I'm like the guy who wrote four books that have become the fathers of fantasty and amazing classics. that's like that stupid little punk from coldplay comparing himself to bono. stupid paolini. also, the names are rip offs. such as Merlock! that is one of the stupidest fantasy names I have ever heard, trumped only by Ithor.
also, as you may know Bob hunts. in the first chapter, Paolini's character Eragon (crappy name) is hunting deer. he's supposed to be the best hunter in the village, but he uses the stupidest tactics I have ever encountered! now, a deer can hear a human walking from hundreds of feet away, even sleeping, also, a hunter, for moral, good-of-the-hunt and common sense reasons NEVER shoots at a moving target, especialy with a bow. So Eragon is hunting with a bow and he comes across a pack of deer (deer dont run in packs of more than 3 or four, unless it's according to paolini.) that are sleeping and sneaks up on them. now one of them would almost definetly be awake to hear him, and even if there wasn't they would still have heard him, since he was crashing through the woods (to a deer's ears)until a few feet away. after that the dragon egg (described EXACTLY like a palantier from Lord Of the Rings) appears for no appearent reson with a poof which wakes and scatters the deer. now, lets take a moment to look at this. do dragon eggs normaly go poof in fantasy stories, even the most surreal? no! they are laid (stop giggleing middle schoolers) and do not simply appear with a little poof, like a poodle being hit by a car.
so the deer scatter andrun away and Eragon shoots at one! ask any hunter you want, you NEVER do that. if you do happen to his the thing (a 1 in ten chance) you'll almost definetly hit the rump, just causing it pain, not something any hunter wants to do, pluss it's a waist of arrows for a medeival peasant.
and the house! it's like a modern home, about a billion rooms and a nice barn! THIS IS NOT HOW MEDEIVAL PEASENTS LIVED, fantasy world or not. okay. bob is calm again now. stupid paolini. well, the men in the white coats found me again. I must leave you now. beware the ides of march!
stupid paolini
BOB
Sunday, October 15, 2006
dog crap...
one day, while twirling his mustache, laughing evilly and collecting the mortgage from the old woman, bob realised he has not yet told the rest of the nutt house about the Dog Crap Guy, or the Cryptic Sign Guy.Bob and family were on vacation one year and were coming back from the beach. as we went up the hill to where our car was parked we came upon a man who was coming out of the bathroom. he said hello and soon he and my parents were chattering away. he lived generaly near us so that got them talking even more. suddenly, and for no appearent reason this guy just starts going "y' know, I have a nice lawn. but my stupid neighbors let their dogs crap all over it..." (here he decended into a long string of angry words that were more mumbles than words. Bob will relate what he could make out:) "(mumble, mutter) dogs crap on my lawn...(mutter) dont let my dogs CRAP on their lawn... (mumble) (mumble) dog crap... (mutter)...gets stuck in the mower...(mutter mumble), dog crap!" as all of us stood confused and at a loss for words, another man came up, from the dog crap guy's back. Bob should probably mention that this was a state park with a kind of gate. this other guy walked up, looked around, smiled and in a voice amasingly like Comic Book Guy from Simpsons said
"whould some whone please explain the rhather cryptic sign up ahead that says 'gates close at 8'. does that mean gates litteraly 'close at 8', or there shall be no admittance hafter the eighth hour?" as we all stood shocked and confused by the simply surreal events unfolding, a young boy of maybe five came running up and lovingly jumped on his dad (Cryptic Sign Guy) to give him a hug. Cryptic Sign Guy flinched slightly from the impact and then turn ed slowly around. In a firm but quiet voice he said to the child "Do not do that Richard." those five words have become a normal saying around Bob's friends and family now (because I've told this story too many times). soon after we staggered, bewildered to our car and as soon as the last door shut burst out laughing. it was one of the most bizzare and funniest things Bob has ever experienced. other than the Old Man.
poor richard! his father must show him no affection at all. poor kid.
and in other news (well, that wasn't realy news, it happened a while ago) Bob prepares for NaNoWriMo!* wee! for those of thee that dont know, NaNo is National Novel Witing Month (that month being November), inwhich crazy people, like Bob and Bob's brother, write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. this involves a lot of computer time, a lot of coffe, a lot of sugar and a lot of monster, red bull, no fear, rockstar (ick), adrenoline rush, JOLT, chaser, vault, MDX, amp, full throttle, thousands of other energy drinks and over all a lot of writing. Bob is making the first true zombie novel (other than World War Z) and will soon not be rich and famous. basic plot, for those of you who wish it: zombies take over, only little pockets of humanity, one group decides to rescue art (so it's not all lost) and then---bob will tell you when he finds an ending.
oh and one more thing, if you haven't seen it, SEE IT NOW!!!!!: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/demented.php
the demented cartoon movie. even better than Lord of the Peeps.
Gleeg Snag Zip!
--bob++
www.nanowrimo.org
"whould some whone please explain the rhather cryptic sign up ahead that says 'gates close at 8'. does that mean gates litteraly 'close at 8', or there shall be no admittance hafter the eighth hour?" as we all stood shocked and confused by the simply surreal events unfolding, a young boy of maybe five came running up and lovingly jumped on his dad (Cryptic Sign Guy) to give him a hug. Cryptic Sign Guy flinched slightly from the impact and then turn ed slowly around. In a firm but quiet voice he said to the child "Do not do that Richard." those five words have become a normal saying around Bob's friends and family now (because I've told this story too many times). soon after we staggered, bewildered to our car and as soon as the last door shut burst out laughing. it was one of the most bizzare and funniest things Bob has ever experienced. other than the Old Man.
poor richard! his father must show him no affection at all. poor kid.
and in other news (well, that wasn't realy news, it happened a while ago) Bob prepares for NaNoWriMo!* wee! for those of thee that dont know, NaNo is National Novel Witing Month (that month being November), inwhich crazy people, like Bob and Bob's brother, write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. this involves a lot of computer time, a lot of coffe, a lot of sugar and a lot of monster, red bull, no fear, rockstar (ick), adrenoline rush, JOLT, chaser, vault, MDX, amp, full throttle, thousands of other energy drinks and over all a lot of writing. Bob is making the first true zombie novel (other than World War Z) and will soon not be rich and famous. basic plot, for those of you who wish it: zombies take over, only little pockets of humanity, one group decides to rescue art (so it's not all lost) and then---bob will tell you when he finds an ending.
oh and one more thing, if you haven't seen it, SEE IT NOW!!!!!: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/demented.php
the demented cartoon movie. even better than Lord of the Peeps.
Gleeg Snag Zip!
--bob++
www.nanowrimo.org
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
the SS is out to get me.
Bob has posted a short non-logical drool on his Conspiracy site. it has to do with evangelicals, so some of you may actualy read it. if you do read it and want to comment, do it as if you believed it or post it here. heh. i have problems.
www.contheo.blogspot.com
www.contheo.blogspot.com
Saturday, September 23, 2006
defiling classic poetry, act I
upon request of my annoyance, er, brother, I have composed an alternate verion of shakespeare's sonnet #XVIII, shall I comapre thee to a summer's day. here is the sonnet in full:
shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou art more lovely and more temperate:
rough winds do shake the darling buds of may,
and summer's lease hath all too short a date:
sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
and often is his gold complexion dimmed;
and every fair from fair sometimes declines,
by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
but thy eternal summer shall not fade,
nor loose posession of that fair thou owest;
nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
when in eternal lines in time thou growest;
so long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
so long lives this and this gives life to thee.
wasn't that BEAUTIFUL? Now how it is read in Bobland (keep in mind that it is not intended to make ANY sense what so ever) :
why must I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou more ugly with a temper
not even a breeze could blow through thy desert soul
every moment with you is like a thousand days
thy nose, like a pest's protrudes too much
and you have very, very ugly tan lines
if fair be foul than you be fairest fair
Oh pants! you are like a horse, untrimm'd
but thine infernal mother will not die!
and yet I may not loose poison in her bowels.
and still you brag that you wear Death© brand shades
when through the coffin to the ground thou growest
only then will I fin'ly breathe and fin'ly pee.
only when you die will I at last be free!
notes: Bob is a shakespeare geek, and so enjoyed throwing mud in the bard's face through mockery, for he would was like a toad, ugly and venamous! and if mine eyes may wound now let them kill him! he wouldst be rotten 'ere he be half ripe, for by mine oath I would look for a fool to find him, I do desire that we should be better strangers and he shouldst sell when he can for his is not for all markets!
bob is okay now.
anyway, I started to make another version (defiling classic poetry act II) in which I kept to the Iambic Pantamiter, but it was just stupid so I burned it, like I do most things. but if you havn't read any of the Bard (you know who you are) don't let Bob turn you off to him, read Titus Andronicus (I hope I spelled that right), it's like Shakespeare meats Quentin Terrentineo ( I know I didn't spell that right) so anyway, goodbye and beware the ides of march!
shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou art more lovely and more temperate:
rough winds do shake the darling buds of may,
and summer's lease hath all too short a date:
sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
and often is his gold complexion dimmed;
and every fair from fair sometimes declines,
by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
but thy eternal summer shall not fade,
nor loose posession of that fair thou owest;
nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
when in eternal lines in time thou growest;
so long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
so long lives this and this gives life to thee.
wasn't that BEAUTIFUL? Now how it is read in Bobland (keep in mind that it is not intended to make ANY sense what so ever) :
why must I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou more ugly with a temper
not even a breeze could blow through thy desert soul
every moment with you is like a thousand days
thy nose, like a pest's protrudes too much
and you have very, very ugly tan lines
if fair be foul than you be fairest fair
Oh pants! you are like a horse, untrimm'd
but thine infernal mother will not die!
and yet I may not loose poison in her bowels.
and still you brag that you wear Death© brand shades
when through the coffin to the ground thou growest
only then will I fin'ly breathe and fin'ly pee.
only when you die will I at last be free!
notes: Bob is a shakespeare geek, and so enjoyed throwing mud in the bard's face through mockery, for he would was like a toad, ugly and venamous! and if mine eyes may wound now let them kill him! he wouldst be rotten 'ere he be half ripe, for by mine oath I would look for a fool to find him, I do desire that we should be better strangers and he shouldst sell when he can for his is not for all markets!
bob is okay now.
anyway, I started to make another version (defiling classic poetry act II) in which I kept to the Iambic Pantamiter, but it was just stupid so I burned it, like I do most things. but if you havn't read any of the Bard (you know who you are) don't let Bob turn you off to him, read Titus Andronicus (I hope I spelled that right), it's like Shakespeare meats Quentin Terrentineo ( I know I didn't spell that right) so anyway, goodbye and beware the ides of march!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
'tis better to die 'neath an Irish sky...
Scots Wa Hae we wallace bled
scots wham bruce has aften led
welcome to your gory bed or tae victory.
Now's th' dae an' now's the hour
see the front o' battle 'ore
see approach proud as a foul
chains and slavery.
By opressor's woes an' pains
by ye sons in servile chains
we sha' drain our dearest vains
but we shall b' free!
wa fae Scotland's king and law
freedom's sword will strongly dra
freemen fight and freemen fa
foreward, on wi me!
Lay the proud userpers low
tyrants fa' in every foe
liberty's in every blow
let us do aer dee!
--Scots Wa Hae by Robert Burns
Bob has held back for as long as he could. for that I blame the English. (I should tell you now, when I say "English" I mainly refer to the English government.) anyway, Bob has probably spent days worth of time ranting about this to his friends, family, pets, old people, books, movies, random people and chairs, so now he will fill you in on it. It all starts in 1290-something when Scotland's last true king died, thrown from his horse. At that time the English (Edward I in particular) saw fit to take over Scotland and hold it ever since. William Wallace rose and fell, as did Robert the bruce and Bonnie Prince Charlie. Scotland is still held, although they call it a "mutual agreement" it was nothing of the sort. This angers klt-wearing Bob. Bob would like to drive a rusty old claymore into the chest of every person involved, because as if taking away Scottish independence wasn't bad enough, they now must also take the culture and language. Scots are no longer brought up to think they are Scots, but rather "brittish" which is much much more associated with England than Scotland or wales or any of the other countries England has taken over. They refuse to give back the land that rightfuly belongs to the people, like a small child taking a toy from another little bugger and not giving it back. this is utter origional sin, complete selfishness. Google "scottish independence" if you want to see more ppitiful dorks like me. so anyway, just thought you should know.
O flower of scotland
when will we see your light again
that fought and died for
your wee bit hill and glen
and stood against him
proud edward's army
and sent him homeward tae think again!
!!BOB!!
http://m2hb50calhmg.blogspot.com/2006/02/scots-wha-hae.html guns, pipes, what's not to like?
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=4269493043588502954&q=bagpipes I just dont know...
scots wham bruce has aften led
welcome to your gory bed or tae victory.
Now's th' dae an' now's the hour
see the front o' battle 'ore
see approach proud as a foul
chains and slavery.
By opressor's woes an' pains
by ye sons in servile chains
we sha' drain our dearest vains
but we shall b' free!
wa fae Scotland's king and law
freedom's sword will strongly dra
freemen fight and freemen fa
foreward, on wi me!
Lay the proud userpers low
tyrants fa' in every foe
liberty's in every blow
let us do aer dee!
--Scots Wa Hae by Robert Burns
Bob has held back for as long as he could. for that I blame the English. (I should tell you now, when I say "English" I mainly refer to the English government.) anyway, Bob has probably spent days worth of time ranting about this to his friends, family, pets, old people, books, movies, random people and chairs, so now he will fill you in on it. It all starts in 1290-something when Scotland's last true king died, thrown from his horse. At that time the English (Edward I in particular) saw fit to take over Scotland and hold it ever since. William Wallace rose and fell, as did Robert the bruce and Bonnie Prince Charlie. Scotland is still held, although they call it a "mutual agreement" it was nothing of the sort. This angers klt-wearing Bob. Bob would like to drive a rusty old claymore into the chest of every person involved, because as if taking away Scottish independence wasn't bad enough, they now must also take the culture and language. Scots are no longer brought up to think they are Scots, but rather "brittish" which is much much more associated with England than Scotland or wales or any of the other countries England has taken over. They refuse to give back the land that rightfuly belongs to the people, like a small child taking a toy from another little bugger and not giving it back. this is utter origional sin, complete selfishness. Google "scottish independence" if you want to see more ppitiful dorks like me. so anyway, just thought you should know.
O flower of scotland
when will we see your light again
that fought and died for
your wee bit hill and glen
and stood against him
proud edward's army
and sent him homeward tae think again!
!!BOB!!
http://m2hb50calhmg.blogspot.com/2006/02/scots-wha-hae.html guns, pipes, what's not to like?
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=4269493043588502954&q=bagpipes I just dont know...
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Now go my minions, feed! feed!
greetings short people, bob is back breifly! Bob has not been around as much as he would like. He appologises sincerely for this. school, (foreboding organ music) has begun and I have had little time to rant and rave at ye interested onlookers. also, in the coming time, Bob intends on doing more "themed" posts. Bob has talked too much about Bob, and not the french, the hippies, the poodles, and people in general. this shall change. Bob's family also installed a new computer so that the other one isn't always taken up with people, and Bob will have an oppertunity to scream at the monitor. so until then, I leave you with some interesting song lyrics from an interesting band with an interesting name.
Hanna's feeling less self destructive
feelin' less in general too
her kids 'ave been a lot more productive and Hanna's got a lot less to do.
from a song I forgot by Enter the Haggis.
Hanna's feeling less self destructive
feelin' less in general too
her kids 'ave been a lot more productive and Hanna's got a lot less to do.
from a song I forgot by Enter the Haggis.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Colin, llamas, drugs and this crap.
there is a strange part of my life (well, more my brother's life) that i must inform you about. it all started one fine day maybe a year ago. my smelly brother created a blog, (www.stormman.blogspot.com) and after a few months of posting he created a post which he wrote while very tired. some guy (known only as Colin) found his blog and began commenting that he was a drug addict. if there is one thing my brother is not, it is an addict. so every few weeks this guy comes back on and calls my brother a drug addict in a different way. so one day this guy decides to put together all the odd blogs he has found and make one big blog out of it. he succseeded and it is called What is this Crap? (www.discrap.blogspot.com) and every little while he posts again. then my brother's friends found it and began talking back. one, know as "Llama Crusade" (she's crusading to save the llamas, from what i don't know) keeps coming back on. and repeatedly saying that my brother is not an addict, and telling Colin to join the crusade. So they go back and forth, and it's quite strange. you should realy check it out, but make sure to look at the comments., oh you three people who actualy read this, (yes, my audience has increased!) and comment, or look, or whatever. I think I'm going to comment, just to see what he says to my even more drug addict sounding blog. so goodbye for naow and try not to eat the guinea pigs.
ps the spark is still here, just needs a little gasoline.
ps the spark is still here, just needs a little gasoline.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
raise my hands and sway
Ah it's been far too long since I ranted against the evangelicals. but over this last weekend I went to a "youth retreat" just to see some of my friends. I am currently in rehab. when I got there it seemed okay, people I knew walking around, talking, pelting each other with airsoft guns (a passtime into which i quickly dove) and all was right with the world. i rolled out my sleeping bag into my friend's six person tent and then went back to where I could be with my small group of fellow retards. the boys tents were on a huge hill, surrounded by tall grass. below the hill was the barn where the "teachings" and (shudder) "worship" happened. a few hundred feet away was the house and a little beyond that the girls tents. we didn't do anything especialy fun for a while, just sat and talked about our pitiful lives.
Then it hit like a tital wave. BOOM! explosions of repeated words set to "music" and rebelling-against-theology teaching! for four hours until well past dark! AAAHRG! they all said the prayr of the just, first thing, it went something like this: "Lord, i just wanna praise you, and just, feel your presence and just totaly thank you for that just, totaly awesome thing you did on the cross, and just..." you get the picture. there were so many stupid things they said that i don't have time to tell them all, so let it suffice to say that they didn't have brains.
But after that we were finaly released fronm the bonds of rapture crap to roam free and light fires with gasoline.
once while bored I and a few freinds screamed at the top of our lunges "Joe!" (an acquaintance of mine) "your mommy wants you to kiss her goodnight" and "Joe
! your mommy wants to know if you brought deoderant!" yes it was infintil;e, but fun. after lighting a bon fire and sitting around it for a while, we decided to go to the old lutheran cemetary a block or so down (this all takes place in an unincorperated town) and hang out there for a little while. but as we babbled innanely we heard the sound of people coming, so we hid behind gravestones (mine was someone named Bennet.) and as they got close we jumped out and "zombied" at them. we all stumbled foreward yelling "brains!" grabbed their heads, looked into their ears and pushed them away yelling indignantly "no! brains!" again, infintile but fun. later we were forced into our tents by the stupid goteed councilor dudes and so we sat and talked. all kinds of pointless subvjects came up, from siblings to girlfriends (none of us, even at our age had ever had any) and so the night wore on, with all of us talking and occasionaly slipping out of our tent and into the house for some caffine. and so we stayed up all night, just like I had the night before, which made an even 48 hours (the required number of hours awake for marines).
about six in the morning we met with a female friend of ours and were recruited to wake everyone up for breakfast. So we had fun yelling and shaking tents, especialy with the realy old people. And so in yet another fit of infintileness, while they were stuffing their faces we TP'd everyone on the hill's tent, and the clicky brat girls crapshack.immediately after that I got to go over to a local gun club and shoot my extraordinarily cool shotgun, but missed my chance to throw things at the nazi rally.
did you ever see a llama, kiss a llama on a llama llama's llama taste of llama llama llama duck. (I'm slipping)
-~-Bob
Then it hit like a tital wave. BOOM! explosions of repeated words set to "music" and rebelling-against-theology teaching! for four hours until well past dark! AAAHRG! they all said the prayr of the just, first thing, it went something like this: "Lord, i just wanna praise you, and just, feel your presence and just totaly thank you for that just, totaly awesome thing you did on the cross, and just..." you get the picture. there were so many stupid things they said that i don't have time to tell them all, so let it suffice to say that they didn't have brains.
But after that we were finaly released fronm the bonds of rapture crap to roam free and light fires with gasoline.
once while bored I and a few freinds screamed at the top of our lunges "Joe!" (an acquaintance of mine) "your mommy wants you to kiss her goodnight" and "Joe
! your mommy wants to know if you brought deoderant!" yes it was infintil;e, but fun. after lighting a bon fire and sitting around it for a while, we decided to go to the old lutheran cemetary a block or so down (this all takes place in an unincorperated town) and hang out there for a little while. but as we babbled innanely we heard the sound of people coming, so we hid behind gravestones (mine was someone named Bennet.) and as they got close we jumped out and "zombied" at them. we all stumbled foreward yelling "brains!" grabbed their heads, looked into their ears and pushed them away yelling indignantly "no! brains!" again, infintile but fun. later we were forced into our tents by the stupid goteed councilor dudes and so we sat and talked. all kinds of pointless subvjects came up, from siblings to girlfriends (none of us, even at our age had ever had any) and so the night wore on, with all of us talking and occasionaly slipping out of our tent and into the house for some caffine. and so we stayed up all night, just like I had the night before, which made an even 48 hours (the required number of hours awake for marines).
about six in the morning we met with a female friend of ours and were recruited to wake everyone up for breakfast. So we had fun yelling and shaking tents, especialy with the realy old people. And so in yet another fit of infintileness, while they were stuffing their faces we TP'd everyone on the hill's tent, and the clicky brat girls crapshack.immediately after that I got to go over to a local gun club and shoot my extraordinarily cool shotgun, but missed my chance to throw things at the nazi rally.
did you ever see a llama, kiss a llama on a llama llama's llama taste of llama llama llama duck. (I'm slipping)
-~-Bob
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
creepy porn thing on my blog! humbug!
to whom it may concern:
a little while ago while looking at my blog I noticed that somehow on my post under "comments" there was one. this was strange because I had posted it less than half an hour ago. When I checked it out it was some adertisment under "annonymous" for "full frontal nudes" so I deleeted it. I'm not sure what this was, how it got on to my blog or anything, so if it's a real person looking at my blog and posting I say to you "SCREW YOU YOU PERVERT BUGGER!" so please don't be offended if you see something like this on any part of my blog, and if you do please report it. thanks.
"romeo and juliet were thirteen years old, by modern standards this is shocking but according to the history books, thirteen was almost middle aged back in the middle ages. discounts for the elderly kicked in at twenty, women gave birth at nine, men went off to war at five, and the average eurpoean died before he was born."
--reduced shakespeare company
a little while ago while looking at my blog I noticed that somehow on my post under "comments" there was one. this was strange because I had posted it less than half an hour ago. When I checked it out it was some adertisment under "annonymous" for "full frontal nudes" so I deleeted it. I'm not sure what this was, how it got on to my blog or anything, so if it's a real person looking at my blog and posting I say to you "SCREW YOU YOU PERVERT BUGGER!" so please don't be offended if you see something like this on any part of my blog, and if you do please report it. thanks.
"romeo and juliet were thirteen years old, by modern standards this is shocking but according to the history books, thirteen was almost middle aged back in the middle ages. discounts for the elderly kicked in at twenty, women gave birth at nine, men went off to war at five, and the average eurpoean died before he was born."
--reduced shakespeare company
here's a llama there's a llama, fuzzy llama funny llama...
what has our world come to? Is this what people waste their time making?!?
(www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php)
(www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php)
Ya know the divine comedy? NOT FUNNY!!!
WARNING: if you like poodles or have known a poodle that came to a tragic end, skip the first paragraph.
Greetings Bob's public! Now that I'm back you can stop that whole "weeping and nashing of teeth" thing. first thing's first. poodles. I hate poodles. I am also not a big fan of french. so french poodles are the most vile of evil things, excluding Tom Cruise. Bob came up with a theory a while ago, concerning fluffy dogs and confette. one day while riding in a car, some bloody poodle came walking allong, half in la-la land across the street, forcing the driver to hit the breaks. stupid poodles. So after we had all mentaly cursed out the poodle, my smelly, er, brother and I came up with a theory. poodles, if hit by a car, do not go splat, they go puff. not crunch, not crack, not splat, but puff. you see as poodles are like the most extreme vally girls this world has ever known, they are filled not with blood, gutts, bones nad organs, but with a sparkley confette-like substance. My friend's parents recently got an annoying, dirty, needy little french poodle, and we have a routine. As soon as the poodle comes into the room one of us points and shouts, to quote Hamlet: "how now, a rat!" and when it runs away: "dead for a ducket, dead!" in conclusion; stupid poodles.
This next subject is a depressing one, so I'll try to make it quick. modern day Nazism. in my small part of the midwest, there is schedueled to be a "Nazi march" soon. I'd tell you exactly how I feel about this, but heaviest of heavy metal rockers would be offended. I don't know whether these people are ignorant or just cruel, but I bloody well want to do something. somebombs would be fun, swastica burning, make hundreds of photo comies of holocost victems and throw them at the buggers, simply up yours-ing them as they go by. (the first two I have no real intention of doing, the others however...) I know that angry, rage seething ramblings are no fun so I'll finninsh this up. to all you bloody Nazies out there, UP YOURS and enjoy your stay in hell.
Finaly we come ot the last of my insane ravings, "classic books." now some of these are great, like Beowolf, or Kidnapped (it's set in Scotland during the revolution, how can it be bad?) but some annoy me. Walden, Silence of the Lambs, and most of all Dante's Inferno. Walden, this I have not read, but I will have to read it and from what I hear, it's like an entire book written about sitting on a rocking chair on the porch. now had it been written by Hemmingway, the old fart sitting on the porch would be drunk and homocidal. that's much more fun. And then there's Inferno. Dante's theology is messed up, Martin Luther an every single great theologen all through time is rolling over in his/her grave. But there is also quite a bit to be said for Dante, the writing's cool and some of the things that happen are more origional than anything you would read today. and so in conclusion I reviewed four great books for your convenience.
Dante's Divine Comedy: not funny.
Walden: activity is overrated.
Harry Potter: overrated.
Silence of the Lambs: "shut up lambs!"
"people who don't go to bed don't get to eat their own cheese."
--my mother
Greetings Bob's public! Now that I'm back you can stop that whole "weeping and nashing of teeth" thing. first thing's first. poodles. I hate poodles. I am also not a big fan of french. so french poodles are the most vile of evil things, excluding Tom Cruise. Bob came up with a theory a while ago, concerning fluffy dogs and confette. one day while riding in a car, some bloody poodle came walking allong, half in la-la land across the street, forcing the driver to hit the breaks. stupid poodles. So after we had all mentaly cursed out the poodle, my smelly, er, brother and I came up with a theory. poodles, if hit by a car, do not go splat, they go puff. not crunch, not crack, not splat, but puff. you see as poodles are like the most extreme vally girls this world has ever known, they are filled not with blood, gutts, bones nad organs, but with a sparkley confette-like substance. My friend's parents recently got an annoying, dirty, needy little french poodle, and we have a routine. As soon as the poodle comes into the room one of us points and shouts, to quote Hamlet: "how now, a rat!" and when it runs away: "dead for a ducket, dead!" in conclusion; stupid poodles.
This next subject is a depressing one, so I'll try to make it quick. modern day Nazism. in my small part of the midwest, there is schedueled to be a "Nazi march" soon. I'd tell you exactly how I feel about this, but heaviest of heavy metal rockers would be offended. I don't know whether these people are ignorant or just cruel, but I bloody well want to do something. somebombs would be fun, swastica burning, make hundreds of photo comies of holocost victems and throw them at the buggers, simply up yours-ing them as they go by. (the first two I have no real intention of doing, the others however...) I know that angry, rage seething ramblings are no fun so I'll finninsh this up. to all you bloody Nazies out there, UP YOURS and enjoy your stay in hell.
Finaly we come ot the last of my insane ravings, "classic books." now some of these are great, like Beowolf, or Kidnapped (it's set in Scotland during the revolution, how can it be bad?) but some annoy me. Walden, Silence of the Lambs, and most of all Dante's Inferno. Walden, this I have not read, but I will have to read it and from what I hear, it's like an entire book written about sitting on a rocking chair on the porch. now had it been written by Hemmingway, the old fart sitting on the porch would be drunk and homocidal. that's much more fun. And then there's Inferno. Dante's theology is messed up, Martin Luther an every single great theologen all through time is rolling over in his/her grave. But there is also quite a bit to be said for Dante, the writing's cool and some of the things that happen are more origional than anything you would read today. and so in conclusion I reviewed four great books for your convenience.
Dante's Divine Comedy: not funny.
Walden: activity is overrated.
Harry Potter: overrated.
Silence of the Lambs: "shut up lambs!"
"people who don't go to bed don't get to eat their own cheese."
--my mother
Sunday, July 23, 2006
When did I get that wart?
Greetings thou jolt-head illiterate horse and white livered wretched bloody userping molignant kancards! Bob enjoys quoting shakespeare. But my greeting has nothing to do with my short message for today. I have been slacking lately, and plan on doing so for a little while. I have been on a short vacation and am soon going on a longer one. 'yay.' *bob is forced to eat Robin's minstrals* 'yay.' we are going camping, or weenie camping, because we stay in an "A" frame cottage without running water, fridge, stove etc. but don't smile yet, Bob will be back once the police find me and drag me back to my strait jacket.
at this point i've been sitting at the computer trying to figure out what to say in general about my life. bugger, my life's boring.
so goodbye 'til my next drooling session.
wha I have three brothers an' thar a' rest for their arms are croost apon their breasts.
wa de poor young sailors just like me must be tossed an' driven in tha cold black sea!
--Farewell to Nova Scotia, tradidional Scottish/Canadian song (excuse the bad spelling, it's how "auld" poems are written)
at this point i've been sitting at the computer trying to figure out what to say in general about my life. bugger, my life's boring.
so goodbye 'til my next drooling session.
wha I have three brothers an' thar a' rest for their arms are croost apon their breasts.
wa de poor young sailors just like me must be tossed an' driven in tha cold black sea!
--Farewell to Nova Scotia, tradidional Scottish/Canadian song (excuse the bad spelling, it's how "auld" poems are written)
Monday, July 10, 2006
Tea 'n crumpits Gov'na'?
Any of you hobos ever been to the Renaissance Faire? If you have never gone, go now.
back so soon?
Anyway, bob went again on Sunday. This is only the third time I've gone and already my year revolves around it. I went first in 2004, and being totaly obsessed with fantasy and medeival history, I was enthralled. men in puffy pants and women in puffy dresses went around everywhere and called everyone their cousin ("good day good cousin!" etc.). so soon after that i had some extra money and a ren fair catologue so i got a kilt and shirt. If I just went like that I would be like one of those baffoons who were told that people dressed up, so they put on a bathrobe cape and sneakers and called themsleves "down right Elizabethen." So I got a nice belt and expensive renaissance shoes. this looked okay, not, "oh what a lovely costume if only I could afford one" okay, but passable. so this year i went all out and got knee socks, stockingflags, a sporran and claymore (enormous Scottish sword, perfect for whacking off English heads). all together my costume cost about $250 and I look pretty good.
but enough tartan babblings, on to the faire! I got up bright nad early (9:00) and my brother and I went to pick up my brother's friend. she is evil personified. her favorite hobby is hugging me because she knows I despise human contact. she fears stakes, crucifixes, silver bullets and all other forms of monster slaying. We got to the faire and after buggering around for a while we four (my brother, the Undead thing, a friend of mine and I) found the ye olde demonic armore shoppe. this, i believe was the beginning. The "it" took a picture with the salesman who was wearing black leather studded with red spikes. it was to be the first of overall 52 pictures taken that day. for some reason I was dared into going on the bungey jumps there, which was fun if slightly childish. it was especialy fun in a kilt. then we came upon the pixies. women in skin tight suits, spraypainted the color of their "element" (blue:water, green:forrest, etc). They did a kind of modern dance with people, acting kind of like people realy high on something, so every time we went by one, someone would whisper loudly "My psyciatrist said this was bad, but I'm seeing the pixies again." this gained the occasional laugh, but a lot of nasty looks. there is far too say to decribe the faire, so I'll start to put the slobber back in my mouth and fetch my dribble rag for the end. The next morning I slept until 1:00, four hours more than usual. and I delt with my faire hangover well*. So goodbye and beware the ides of march.
*Faire Hangover: a state of mind following a trip to the ren faire in which everything in your life seems so boring in comparison to all the fun you had yesterday that you want ot do one of two things; either sleep all day, or go back to the faire. the faire's far away so I always go with my second instinct.
The bravest fell and the requium bell tolled mournfully and clear for those who died that Easter tide in the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze at those fearless men but few, who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew.
~~The Foggy Dew - old Irish battle song
Bob
back so soon?
Anyway, bob went again on Sunday. This is only the third time I've gone and already my year revolves around it. I went first in 2004, and being totaly obsessed with fantasy and medeival history, I was enthralled. men in puffy pants and women in puffy dresses went around everywhere and called everyone their cousin ("good day good cousin!" etc.). so soon after that i had some extra money and a ren fair catologue so i got a kilt and shirt. If I just went like that I would be like one of those baffoons who were told that people dressed up, so they put on a bathrobe cape and sneakers and called themsleves "down right Elizabethen." So I got a nice belt and expensive renaissance shoes. this looked okay, not, "oh what a lovely costume if only I could afford one" okay, but passable. so this year i went all out and got knee socks, stockingflags, a sporran and claymore (enormous Scottish sword, perfect for whacking off English heads). all together my costume cost about $250 and I look pretty good.
but enough tartan babblings, on to the faire! I got up bright nad early (9:00) and my brother and I went to pick up my brother's friend. she is evil personified. her favorite hobby is hugging me because she knows I despise human contact. she fears stakes, crucifixes, silver bullets and all other forms of monster slaying. We got to the faire and after buggering around for a while we four (my brother, the Undead thing, a friend of mine and I) found the ye olde demonic armore shoppe. this, i believe was the beginning. The "it" took a picture with the salesman who was wearing black leather studded with red spikes. it was to be the first of overall 52 pictures taken that day. for some reason I was dared into going on the bungey jumps there, which was fun if slightly childish. it was especialy fun in a kilt. then we came upon the pixies. women in skin tight suits, spraypainted the color of their "element" (blue:water, green:forrest, etc). They did a kind of modern dance with people, acting kind of like people realy high on something, so every time we went by one, someone would whisper loudly "My psyciatrist said this was bad, but I'm seeing the pixies again." this gained the occasional laugh, but a lot of nasty looks. there is far too say to decribe the faire, so I'll start to put the slobber back in my mouth and fetch my dribble rag for the end. The next morning I slept until 1:00, four hours more than usual. and I delt with my faire hangover well*. So goodbye and beware the ides of march.
*Faire Hangover: a state of mind following a trip to the ren faire in which everything in your life seems so boring in comparison to all the fun you had yesterday that you want ot do one of two things; either sleep all day, or go back to the faire. the faire's far away so I always go with my second instinct.
The bravest fell and the requium bell tolled mournfully and clear for those who died that Easter tide in the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze at those fearless men but few, who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew.
~~The Foggy Dew - old Irish battle song
Bob
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Yes I am odd! what of it!?!
just a couple links to show ye people today.
interesting study:
(www.livescience.com/animalworld/ 050128_monkey_business.html - 66k -) or type "new study" on google and it's the first after the three newspaper things.
Bob's new blog! if you go on, leave a message like you believe the BS I drool out onto the screen. (it's a long story why, but perhaps when I have even less to do than I do now I will share it).
(www.contheo.blogspot.com)
interesting study:
(www.livescience.com/animalworld/ 050128_monkey_business.html - 66k -) or type "new study" on google and it's the first after the three newspaper things.
Bob's new blog! if you go on, leave a message like you believe the BS I drool out onto the screen. (it's a long story why, but perhaps when I have even less to do than I do now I will share it).
(www.contheo.blogspot.com)
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Give 'im the ole' man!
Greetings losers! Bob is disturbed. The incident occured yesterday on the way to a fireworks show. I, and a few of my friends, (ranging from about 14-18 years old) were driving along a street, on both sides were appartment buildings.
As we poked along in our van, an old man of maybe 80 or so, dressed in a blue shirt and golf cap looked at us, and in slow motion his face twisted into an angry grimace and a lone finger went up. yes! that's right! the ole' man gave us the finger! flipped us the bird! showed us the cecular version of the "one way" sign! this elderly man looked at us and for no appearent reson gave us the ifle tower! there was a moment of shocked silence nad then a huge chorus of laughter.
LOL
ROFL
HAHAHAHAHA!
Then it was over. he turned and continued flipping us off until we were out of sight, but still laughing. wouldn't you hate to be his grand-kid? I've had the occasional finger thrown my way but this tops them all. We also have no idea what caused him to do such a thing. we were doing nothing but sitting there and talking. so we have three theories:
1. the ole fart had mental problem
2. the old man was anti-american and hated
the 4th.
3. the ole dinker just hated youth of all ages.
if you, my two person audiance have any theories please post 'em. if not just try to invision your grandpa giving you half the peace sign. It's kinda fun.
I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day.
~Bob~
As we poked along in our van, an old man of maybe 80 or so, dressed in a blue shirt and golf cap looked at us, and in slow motion his face twisted into an angry grimace and a lone finger went up. yes! that's right! the ole' man gave us the finger! flipped us the bird! showed us the cecular version of the "one way" sign! this elderly man looked at us and for no appearent reson gave us the ifle tower! there was a moment of shocked silence nad then a huge chorus of laughter.
LOL
ROFL
HAHAHAHAHA!
Then it was over. he turned and continued flipping us off until we were out of sight, but still laughing. wouldn't you hate to be his grand-kid? I've had the occasional finger thrown my way but this tops them all. We also have no idea what caused him to do such a thing. we were doing nothing but sitting there and talking. so we have three theories:
1. the ole fart had mental problem
2. the old man was anti-american and hated
the 4th.
3. the ole dinker just hated youth of all ages.
if you, my two person audiance have any theories please post 'em. if not just try to invision your grandpa giving you half the peace sign. It's kinda fun.
I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day.
~Bob~
Saturday, July 01, 2006
The curse of the great wizard G'naftr'knak!
Greetings my pitiful losers! Bob is back for anothyer round. A short one this time. The subject you ask? Nerds! Being one myself I know all about them. Have you ever had a freind who is completely obsessed with D&D or Runescape to such an extent that it envelops their whole lives? Welcome to my house party! You see, Bob's friends (not the ones who take his money at gunpoint, the other ones) are strange people for the most part. Aside from the muggers and the other quarter of semi-normal ones, most of Bob's friends are complete and utter Nerds, or Geeks. I do not use this term in a derogitory way, rather in an open, "haha non-losers, that word has no effect on us now (gniggle)" way. I firmly believe that a nerd should be open about the fact that he is one, and the first step toward the psyc house is admitting your problem. there are some forms of nerds that Bob cannot stand. these are the Enveloped Nerds. the ones who are so completely obsessed with their game, be it Warhammer, D&D or Runescape that if you speak a word of the ouside world to them they will look at you as if you had lost your pocket protector. I happen to know that these exist, I have talked to them on various occasions. teh conversation goes something like what follows:
Me: "Hey."
Nerd: "Hey. What level are you?"
Me: "32. You?"
Nerd: "Seventy five."*
Me: "Cool."
Nerd: "What's your attack XP?"
Me: "30."
A few more minutes of this and we've become basic aquaintances.
Me: "What kind of music you like?"
Nerd: *blank stare*
Me: "Like, rap? rock?Disco? Polka?"
Nerd: "Um, ya."
Me: "Any other sites you like? Game sites or anything?"
Nerd: *blank stare*
Me: "So you like, write or draw or anything?"
Nerd: I can drawr the great Wizard Za'Vatar, and sometimes the mighty warrior Ithor."
I try again several times to talk about normal things, but yet again fail.
Me: "(sigh) what's your Fishing XP?"
And I believe he is still chattering about that to this very day, and he will explain how many shrimp he can catch in one day to whoever will listen until he is old and has even thicker glasses.
this is a semi-sad day in Bobland. but look at the bright side, now, if I keep listening to their ramblings I will get a good raise soon. beause whatever happens, Nerds, since the beginning of time, will grow up to be you bosses. That's one very positive thing about Nerds, is they are exceedingly smart. I've played Wargames (something like Risk) with them before and they can beat you in five turns flat. before you know it they've blown your artillary to shreds, outflanked your prime muskets and manuvered your horses into a corner in front of some spearmen!
translation: "Geek! geek geek geeking! geek geek geek geek geekums! Geekity geekity geekums! Geek!"
But anyway, I would rather be a nerd than one of those stupid conforming "Normal" or "Cool" people. Nerds have alot to be said for them, so suck up to them now kiddies, 'cause they could put you in a monsion or the poolhouse when you're old.
*it has taken me five years of playing the game in question a few hours a week to reach where I am, and the Nerd is usualy younger than me so from that deduct how much he must play a week, or even a day. I would do it for you but I'm far too lazy. HA!
Me: "Hey."
Nerd: "Hey. What level are you?"
Me: "32. You?"
Nerd: "Seventy five."*
Me: "Cool."
Nerd: "What's your attack XP?"
Me: "30."
A few more minutes of this and we've become basic aquaintances.
Me: "What kind of music you like?"
Nerd: *blank stare*
Me: "Like, rap? rock?Disco? Polka?"
Nerd: "Um, ya."
Me: "Any other sites you like? Game sites or anything?"
Nerd: *blank stare*
Me: "So you like, write or draw or anything?"
Nerd: I can drawr the great Wizard Za'Vatar, and sometimes the mighty warrior Ithor."
I try again several times to talk about normal things, but yet again fail.
Me: "(sigh) what's your Fishing XP?"
And I believe he is still chattering about that to this very day, and he will explain how many shrimp he can catch in one day to whoever will listen until he is old and has even thicker glasses.
this is a semi-sad day in Bobland. but look at the bright side, now, if I keep listening to their ramblings I will get a good raise soon. beause whatever happens, Nerds, since the beginning of time, will grow up to be you bosses. That's one very positive thing about Nerds, is they are exceedingly smart. I've played Wargames (something like Risk) with them before and they can beat you in five turns flat. before you know it they've blown your artillary to shreds, outflanked your prime muskets and manuvered your horses into a corner in front of some spearmen!
translation: "Geek! geek geek geeking! geek geek geek geek geekums! Geekity geekity geekums! Geek!"
But anyway, I would rather be a nerd than one of those stupid conforming "Normal" or "Cool" people. Nerds have alot to be said for them, so suck up to them now kiddies, 'cause they could put you in a monsion or the poolhouse when you're old.
*it has taken me five years of playing the game in question a few hours a week to reach where I am, and the Nerd is usualy younger than me so from that deduct how much he must play a week, or even a day. I would do it for you but I'm far too lazy. HA!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
If I only had a brain...
Bob is back. Hello All! but anyway, Bob will get right down to buisness. a little while ago Bob went klayaking with his friend Bobwise (www.ithinkthereforeithink.blogspot.com) a little while ago, and as he says, you may think that keeping your legs or knees under the kayak my protect you from sunburn, but you are VERY wrong. Bob poured half the bottle onto his legs and arms and neck but did that keep him from extreme pain made even worse by his evil older sibling? OH NO! and you would think that by keeping your knees covered by long shorts and a kayak you would prevent sunburn, but is that true? OH NO! So after fifteen or twenty miles of kayaking we went home and I went directly to fencing class. Our slightly scary, slightly sweet Cracovian teacher was in a good mood and didn't deal out too many push ups, so I got lucky. after that my retarted brother dorve vus home and I went to my room. there I turned on the TV and sat on my bed to watch. about fifteen minutes into 24 I fell dead asleep and didn't wake up until 11:00 the next morning with the TV still on and my brother poking my sunburned knees. I haven't been able to think clearly today at all, so I'll never Purple monkey the dishwasher anymore without sun lotion on my mailbox. I'm quite tired as you can see nad my mind has been kind of drifting off topic over and over. people keep saying I have ADD but they just don't understand. hey look a chicken! That dog had a puffy tail! ghasp! I forgot to fluiff my pillow dtoday! so to make up for it I'll just have to...oh look, a chicken!
"Knowlege is power, power corrupts, study hard, become evil.
"Knowlege is power, power corrupts, study hard, become evil.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Oh how long must we sing this song?
Greetings people!, please excuse me while I puke into this bucket.
**
Ah thank you. Bob is disgusted. What is contemporary Christian music, and how did such a good thing as Christianity create such a monster? All that and more, coming up next; but first a word from our sponsors. Go turn on your radio to the nearest Christian station. Done? Good! Now listen to the lyrics of maybe two or three songs, and mentally record how many times you her the words "I," or "me," surprising how many times those words pop up in "music" that's supposed to be about God. Now if you couldn't tell weather or not you hit the CCM station or not, that's another thing. With many CCM songs you could tell someone that it was soft rock and they would believe it. Oh the buggers. Many of my friends like that kind of stuff, so I try my utmost to smile politely when asked about the music. They can't see what I find so interesting about bagpipes and claymores (a fun punk version of this can be found at www.paddyrock.com) but they smile and nod politely, like I do and we have a mutual respect in most cases. I can kind of see the appeal of CCM, in fact that was all I could listen too not all that long ago. You feel like you're having a "spiritual experience," but it's just the mood of the people, the sound of the music and the idea of it all being about God.
Wow, it seems I'm just about finished, that must have been the shortest CCM rant I've been on in my life. So anyway, the point is, beware of handraising!!!
**
Ah thank you. Bob is disgusted. What is contemporary Christian music, and how did such a good thing as Christianity create such a monster? All that and more, coming up next; but first a word from our sponsors. Go turn on your radio to the nearest Christian station. Done? Good! Now listen to the lyrics of maybe two or three songs, and mentally record how many times you her the words "I," or "me," surprising how many times those words pop up in "music" that's supposed to be about God. Now if you couldn't tell weather or not you hit the CCM station or not, that's another thing. With many CCM songs you could tell someone that it was soft rock and they would believe it. Oh the buggers. Many of my friends like that kind of stuff, so I try my utmost to smile politely when asked about the music. They can't see what I find so interesting about bagpipes and claymores (a fun punk version of this can be found at www.paddyrock.com) but they smile and nod politely, like I do and we have a mutual respect in most cases. I can kind of see the appeal of CCM, in fact that was all I could listen too not all that long ago. You feel like you're having a "spiritual experience," but it's just the mood of the people, the sound of the music and the idea of it all being about God.
Wow, it seems I'm just about finished, that must have been the shortest CCM rant I've been on in my life. So anyway, the point is, beware of handraising!!!
Saturday, June 10, 2006
The Zombie Mice are coming!
Hello all!
*Crickets*
Bob has realized something. He has not told y'all* about his theories! How stupid of him. Over the years Bob's brain has developed a tendency to take any simple little thing and form strange conspiracy theories around it. Two examples I have already quoted from myself in previous posts, these are my two favorites.
Theory 1:
Micky Mouse, the beloved children's character created by The Father Of All Evil Walt Disney will, in the near future, draft children and adults alike into the army. It will come quickly, everyone in the government, having been kidnaped and brainwashed by the Disney Empire, will all agree to a new law that will allow children to be drafted into the army. And so without warning or reason children and adults alike will fall victem to It. And so the harvest begins. Adults under forty will be drafted by the army's newest recruiter Mickey Mouse. I say people under thirty because, in a few years, all of those will have grown up in Mousedom, or the world of children today (I mean look at little kids, if you ask them to go shopping with you and you tell them Micky will be there they agree!). But anyway, Micky will suddenly appear on TV, the papers, everywhere and begin saying "Hey kids! Join the Army!" Then he will do a sickeningly cute song/dance and all who see it will run to the nearest recruiting station and sign up like mindless drooling zombies. Which brings us to my next theory.
Theory 2:
You are alone on a misty hillside, all around you the moans of the undead echo about your ears. You raise the sawed off shotgun and fire blindly into the figure ahead of you. It takes the impact in the chest and flies down the rocky hill, but at the bottom it rises again and begins shuffling toward you. You fire again, striking it in the head. This time the grey corpse falls like a rag doll to the earth. Relieved you turn, and are immediately enveloped in the groping hands of several ghouls in front of you! You scream but no one hears and as they pull you in you can feel their broken teeth sinking into your flesh.
This is the world of the future.
Some day soon zombies will rule the earth! It will begin with a small outbreak in Nevada, then will spread throuout america and soon the entire world will be of the living dead! So I say fight back! begin collecting weapons and water now and barricade yourself in your house like I have. The Mouseful Army will not stop the undead! There are refrences to it in the book of Psalms, (chapter 27) and in an ancient Egyptian ledgend (though oddly enough it says nothing at all about mummies, only zombies). So prepare now! Mwahahahahaha!!!!
I must leave now, the men in the white coats are outside. So work hard! Strive to be masculine!Beware the ides of March!
P.S. when barricadeing yourself, try to bring along a few games, you can't clean your guns all day.
Alba Saor!
bOb
*Bob never says "y'all" he simply feels like it, so shut up about it.
*Crickets*
Bob has realized something. He has not told y'all* about his theories! How stupid of him. Over the years Bob's brain has developed a tendency to take any simple little thing and form strange conspiracy theories around it. Two examples I have already quoted from myself in previous posts, these are my two favorites.
Theory 1:
Micky Mouse, the beloved children's character created by The Father Of All Evil Walt Disney will, in the near future, draft children and adults alike into the army. It will come quickly, everyone in the government, having been kidnaped and brainwashed by the Disney Empire, will all agree to a new law that will allow children to be drafted into the army. And so without warning or reason children and adults alike will fall victem to It. And so the harvest begins. Adults under forty will be drafted by the army's newest recruiter Mickey Mouse. I say people under thirty because, in a few years, all of those will have grown up in Mousedom, or the world of children today (I mean look at little kids, if you ask them to go shopping with you and you tell them Micky will be there they agree!). But anyway, Micky will suddenly appear on TV, the papers, everywhere and begin saying "Hey kids! Join the Army!" Then he will do a sickeningly cute song/dance and all who see it will run to the nearest recruiting station and sign up like mindless drooling zombies. Which brings us to my next theory.
Theory 2:
You are alone on a misty hillside, all around you the moans of the undead echo about your ears. You raise the sawed off shotgun and fire blindly into the figure ahead of you. It takes the impact in the chest and flies down the rocky hill, but at the bottom it rises again and begins shuffling toward you. You fire again, striking it in the head. This time the grey corpse falls like a rag doll to the earth. Relieved you turn, and are immediately enveloped in the groping hands of several ghouls in front of you! You scream but no one hears and as they pull you in you can feel their broken teeth sinking into your flesh.
This is the world of the future.
Some day soon zombies will rule the earth! It will begin with a small outbreak in Nevada, then will spread throuout america and soon the entire world will be of the living dead! So I say fight back! begin collecting weapons and water now and barricade yourself in your house like I have. The Mouseful Army will not stop the undead! There are refrences to it in the book of Psalms, (chapter 27) and in an ancient Egyptian ledgend (though oddly enough it says nothing at all about mummies, only zombies). So prepare now! Mwahahahahaha!!!!
I must leave now, the men in the white coats are outside. So work hard! Strive to be masculine!Beware the ides of March!
P.S. when barricadeing yourself, try to bring along a few games, you can't clean your guns all day.
Alba Saor!
bOb
*Bob never says "y'all" he simply feels like it, so shut up about it.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Treeehuggers, kiddy edition
Treehuggers. Ohhh the treehuggers. BAH! Bob was out the other day In the park when some poor person's little kid comes running up to a tree and leaps upon the defenseless thing, squeezing it and squealing "tree!" while his helpless parent stood there and looked embarrassed. Bob feels for that poor man. Also, a couple months ago Bob was innocently minding his own business when he witnessed a tragedy. Two small children, running along the street hugging the show trees along the sidewalk. Bob cries daily for their parents. Both of these crimes against nature were committed by children probably under the age of 10. Bob bawls openly.
Bob knows some people who I'm sure have embraced a few giant sticks in their time and they are nice people for the most part. But Bob will rant against them another time. Perhaps these mini terrors were raised this way, the way of love for the brainless. To you all I say, please bugger off. To those who do this because of some other sick reason I say bugger off. but then again I think pretty much the whole world should bugger off, so who am I to talk. In general people annoy me, ask anyone who has spent a few house with me and you'll know this. But now it's time for ADD boy to get back the subject at hand. The frickin' treehuggers. I can see their point about saving trees, kind of. But have they ever thought of what the trees might feel like? Just to piss me off my brother's female friends hug me and I can't stand it, so how do you think those twigs feel? Did they ask to be touched? NO! They could sue for sexual harassment like I'm planning on doing to my brother's friends. I propose a new law commanding hippies not to touched a tree but rather throw themselves at the bulldozers to prevent logging. Who's behind me!!!
*crickets chirping*
bugger. So that law didn't go over so great and now I've been committed back into the mental hospital by congress after I broke into their homes to propose my law, but things worked out well.
People Annoy Me.
Bob of Bobland
Bob knows some people who I'm sure have embraced a few giant sticks in their time and they are nice people for the most part. But Bob will rant against them another time. Perhaps these mini terrors were raised this way, the way of love for the brainless. To you all I say, please bugger off. To those who do this because of some other sick reason I say bugger off. but then again I think pretty much the whole world should bugger off, so who am I to talk. In general people annoy me, ask anyone who has spent a few house with me and you'll know this. But now it's time for ADD boy to get back the subject at hand. The frickin' treehuggers. I can see their point about saving trees, kind of. But have they ever thought of what the trees might feel like? Just to piss me off my brother's female friends hug me and I can't stand it, so how do you think those twigs feel? Did they ask to be touched? NO! They could sue for sexual harassment like I'm planning on doing to my brother's friends. I propose a new law commanding hippies not to touched a tree but rather throw themselves at the bulldozers to prevent logging. Who's behind me!!!
*crickets chirping*
bugger. So that law didn't go over so great and now I've been committed back into the mental hospital by congress after I broke into their homes to propose my law, but things worked out well.
People Annoy Me.
Bob of Bobland
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
My name is Bob.
Huh, so this is a blog. Interesting. This would be the time all of you CCM loving, gun controling, BoBo french-hippie gecko-haters to run away from your screen screaming. All of you buggered off? Good! I am Bob. Bob will be posting things on here when the nice people let bob out of his padded cell and onto the computer. Bob will sometimes rant about the things at the beginning of this post, and sometimes will babble about his life in general. He may also very well rant against society. Do not let the slightly distrbing glint in my eye fool you, I'm a nice guy, unless you insult my kilt or my gecko. Or if you hug me, that's when limbs fly. But Bob digresses. I am a nice person for the most part. In case you were wondering, the title for this blog has nothing to do with anything, it was simply the first thing that popped into my head. I may stop referring to Bob's self in the third person sometimes, simply because I feel like it. Also one more thing, the theories. I may publish my conspiracy theories on here. these are simply thing that my overactive imagionation has come up with (such as Micky Mouse drafting children into the army) or things that I found interesting and were shaped into elaborite theories (such as Psalm 27 referring to zombies). So anyway if you visit, leave a note on what you thought of my blog and the level of disturbing-ness (1-10). So anyway Bob must leave you for the white shores of Bobland and the happy purple glow of insanity! HEHEHE!
Alba Saor!
Bob
Alba Saor!
Bob
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