Transcript from the O R

A: It looks like that's one accident this guy's not walking away from.
B: It's a shame. How old do you think he was, 16? 17?
A: Let's not think about that now. Let's get down to removing that chunk of windshield from his sternum.
B: Sure, let me just wash up.
A: These leigions look pretty old, when did you say the time of death was?
B: Probably at the exact same moment that he died.
A: Ha.
B: Yeah, that's an oldie but a goodie.
A: Seriously though, what was his time of death?
B: What was your time of death.
A: What?
B: What.
A: Stop that.
B: Stop that.
A: That's really childish, ___.
B: That's really childish, ___.
A: Hey! Stop splashing me!
B: Hey. Stop splashing me.
A: You little rascal, I'm gonna give you a spanking.
B: Bring it on, doctor.
A: You've been a bad, bad forensic pathologist.
B: Oh yes I have.
A: You know what we do to naughty forensic pathologists...
C: What's going on in here?
A & B: Doctor ___!
C: I told you two: no spanking goes on in this hospital unless I gets first dibs. Now bend over doctors, I'm going to administer 50 ccs of sweet sweet punishment.
PUNISHER: Did somebody say 'punishment'?
A,B,&C: The Punisher!
PUNISHER: That's my name. Don't disregard it.
A: I won't.
PUNISHER: Time to fill you scrubs with lead.
B: But why?
PUNISHER: A doctor killed my family.
C: But we didn't.
PUNISHER: I have a problem with discrimination of information.
C: But we didn't do it.
PUNISHER: Yes. That's most likely true.
*gunfire*

Heaven, thy name is THE SILKY

Okay.

This sounds weird, but I've invented a new boozedrink. THE SILKY. Yes. It is a simple appertif concocted from 1 shot scotch and 3/4 of a glass of Silk brand Vanilla soymilk. I think I might just be on to something here... To the patent office!!

My little cousin likes to tell rascist jokes in public on Easter morning.

MARKRE!

Fireside Night on the Hill

Greetings from Pittsburgh, PA.

I write to you this night from the cosy basement bedroom of my mother's farm-type property in western PA. True, not as many pot-holes or dangerous-looking teenagers as my home turf in Columbus, but comforting all the same.

What've been up't Markre?

Good question Mystery-Voice.

I've spent the last week in Granville, Ohio. Home of my alma mater Denison University and my dear dear girlfriend DESTRUCTICON. Indeed a relaxing tyme was had as my body grew pale and flabby from hospitible treatment and excessive sleep. Not that I was tan and firm to begin with... Hmm. To the eliptical trainer!!

I saw two ducks fighting over a girl but I broke it up.

So my g/f is moving to the South soon for her debut as a professional actorbe. I am proud of her, but it makes me sadly reflect upon the encroaching adult world. Plans must be made and leases must be signed. It can be scary to grow up and become responsible for one's own future. Idle speculation can lead to spinning of the wheels and inertial build up. Personal mission statments must be written and implimented ASAP. As Sex in the City woman said on her inferior computer : When did the future stop being fun and start being scary?

I don't watch that show.

You do.

I am am man. I change tires and check oil.


Poetry makes me gnash my teeth until they break. That's how much man I am.

So, I started writing this tasteless comedy sketch about Roman Polanski coming home to find his murdered wife, Sharon Tate. It is far to dark and blasphemous to ever reveal to anyone or anything. It is strange that I felt inspired to write it. I guess that the muse knows no censorship. Still though, lines must be drawn and ethics must be adhered to. Behave yourself, you!

Monkey poured coffee in mein (m)boots!

Markre

Twenty fat geese wouldn't renew my lease.

My landlord can suck on my exhaust pipe.

She has the unmitigated audacity to up my rent if I decide to renew my lease. Extortion in the most capital sense. Wrenching control from the powerless civilians. Fuck em. Fuck her in the malfunctioning circle-car at the Bumper car track. Makes me feel rough inside my heart.

So, I think I'll move from this room and find another. I might just take up residence in the haunted duplex of my future-self, Dr. Caleodis. The old comedians' home.

Ronk.

Erkram

Being a Tough Guy

So's I've been reading this called "The Goon." It's a tonge-in-cheek 1930's era comic book about a stereotypical gangster-era thug. Aside from the delightful atmosphere and the regualr appearance of zombies, I respect this series for its depiction of The Will. This is a subject that I've been interested in lately. Theoretically, one can do whatever one wants to if one has enough will power. Will power is the gasoline that fuels the pinto of our lives (our ambition handles the wheel).

Will. There is a certain prerequisite persistence and dedication that is necessary to the accomplishment of our goals. Keepin' it up. Sexually.

wait.

A professor (who's birthday it is today, incidentalistically) told me that I should write a mission statement for my life with individual goals listed. I both like and fear this suggestion. I don't like to commit to stating my dreams. I suppose that this is because it thrusts a responsibility upon me to achieve them. Damn and hellination. - in the Greek sense. Fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fan? No, fun.

Has anyone seen the animated film "Spirited Away"? I think that a new fear of mine is that I'll become the "No Face." He consumes everything around him without really gaining anything new or contributing to his environment. Although he can give people what they want, so that's good. Ah, this bold Americanism has crudely ensnared my everyday behaviors. I should have been captured by Jinju masters as a babe and forced into mandatory training 18 hours a day. A life of Will, young Miss Wangel, Will.

bonk bonk bonk dressing for festivals.

I get pissed off at sexually free characters on stage. Maybe it's my romantically frustrated junior-high psyche coming out (nota bene: see post about www.christinacinderich.com for further reading). But stuff like Sally Bowles and Velma Kelly doing sultry numbers doesn't excite me, it makes me mad. I think there's a healthy dose of egotism in those kind of lounge/cabaret songs. Paradoxically, I feel that I constantly battle with egotism. Maybe what I dislike about these characters is just a reflection of that element in myself. They say that the stuff that we hate in others is just a projection of what we hate in ourselves. Bah bah bah. Essen mein burger buddies.

Gummi Baeren.

Gene Wilder corn-holed by childhood roomate. Willy Wonka, where art thou?

All the solutions to your equations,

Markre

Mysterious holes have appeared in my socks

This is how we avoid the pestilence of our finals. We nearly finish them and then proceed to indulge in savory beverages and talk online into the wee hours of the marnin'.

The tires are the things on your car that make contact with the road.

rooad.

So's ok.

Gumption man. I need to find some gumption. Damn this Western lack of discipline that I possess in spades. See, in the exotic East people possess a razor-keen discipline that can mold them into anything. ANYTHING! The Chinese space program was lauched by two guys and a rooster. Through sheer Will they forged the first inter-lunar spacedisco.

I need to find some mirrored wall paper so's I can study my habits.

"A bannana in the tail pipe" says Axel. First off, never trust a man named Axel. Secondly, never let him approach anybody with an oblong piece of eatery.


FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
Nyew.

MS

Murg! Murg! Murg!

There:

You scored as Atheism. You are... an atheist, though you probably already knew this. Also, you probably have several people praying daily for your soul. [See updated quiz called "Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)."] Atheism 75% Satanism 70% Paganism 45% Islam 40% Judaism 35% Hinduism 20% Christianity 20% Which is the right religion for you? (old version) created with QuizFarm.com

So yeah, no real surprises there.

I had my meeting with THE CURATOR today. It went... feh. I'm fucking bad at adulty-meeting type scenarios. I mean, I didn't accidentally flush my tie down the toilet and choke myself in the urinal or anything, but I just feel uncomfortable approaching people I've never met before with business-type propositions. I guess that it's just a matter of experience in these matters that makes one comfortable with the format. The slow but steady steps into manhood. ooh! ooh! ah! ah! ah! *whaps on chest*

Terribly horrible things ruining my mind of late:
1. An actor's voice class final performance in which he ate lots of cole slaw while speaking. First of all, I hate cole slaw. Secondly, the stuff was dribbling off of this actor's mouth and chin. It struck some unknown deep-seated chord in my soul and sparked a disgust hitherto unfelt in my adult life. I mean, the performance was good, but the fucking slaw. THE SLAW! It ruined me and made my genitals fold themselves into oragami labyrinths.

2. The secretary of Hopkins hall told me about her hockey-playing son who had his kneecap ripped off of its position in front of his knee. It apparently slid around to the side of his leg. ah! I don't even like typing it. Murder most foul and unnatural! Swoons! I bleed sir! AAAAH! The carnage never ends. Peace, I prithee! Bring me light! aaaaah! Dead for a ducket! Fuckwurst! Nuh! Nuh! Nuh. Nuh.... nuh. mmm.

mmph. This sandwich is pretty good.

FINALS time. Finally. Now and forever. The great isocylpse. Come boise and accept this flannel endorsement.

Porple.

Eggs McMelton

Gasp! 

Drop the Iron Curtain! Ow!

Heyyyyy mans,

So okay. Last night I sure did drink some beer. I found that it did not aid my research one bit. Who'd have thunk it? The strange and garbled poesy that you see in my previous message was simply a fickle moment of inebriated self-indulgence. Dunno. It is important to remember that loneliness is no excuse to numb the mind. Lemme write that down in my PDA here... Ok, good.

I can be a stupid joik when deeply sauced and I fear that I harrassed ancient alumns too mightily via the Instant Messenger. Oh well. Here's something that I learned in England - if you make problems when you're drunk, it's best to solve those problems immediately while you're still drunk. It works wonders to dispell the awkwardness of admitting that you were wrong or that you said something mean. Instant reconcilliation! If only global politics operated along the same lines.

Soooo, I woke up this morning at 7am and the sky was dark and cloudy. I had a sudden panic attack as I thought that I had slept through the entire day. I was so relieved when I notice the little "am" on my clock that I immediately treated myelf to an all-day nap. No. j/k. 5 hours, tops.

Jurassic Park is frightening in the dark. All the dinosaurs are running Wilde.

Markre

7 cups deep there lies some sort of monstrous occurence

Here's to obscuring. Here's to muddying the waters. Here's to the drink that will sink all thoughts from here down down to the depths of forgotten memories. What's better, here's to confronting old memories in the present. Demanding appologies for wrongs long forgotten gets no one nowhere. Does that mean that it gets someone somewhere? Seek shelter. Seek warmth. Seek food in your belly. But do not seek ancient answers. Let bygones be. Let all things fall into place and, above all, do not make waves. Werewolves.

This bout of weirdeness is brought to you by Budweiser and the precedent of our dear friend and author the King, pioneer of honesty and mysterious messagery.

Please disregard this self-indulgent rant.

M.

Dr. Badmittens and the swelling glove

So last night I'm sitting in a family-style restaurant, eating my medium-rare beef sandwich and lobbing dreams and ambitions through the air with some old improv comedy chums of mine. As is usually the case when several comedians converse, the discussion eventually degenerated into a "riffing" session - one in which the only intent behind speaking is to say something really funny. It was through this conversation that I realized that my graduate education (coupled with my delicate liberal arts undergrad schooling) has rendered me easily shocked and embarrassed by politically-incorrect humor.

Can I take this moment to point out the troubling nature of the term "politically correct"? Correct? As opposed to incorrect? I can understand grammer as being a case of correct vs. incorrect, but as for opinions or hurtful words how can one's point of view be either correct or incorrect? Shouldn't we call biggoted language "politically undesirable"? Of course, that would be un-PC because it would be discrimination against the discriminators. But that's what political correctness is trying to do anyway. Although in my opinion, using "benign" terms to label a group of people is still labelling them and forcing them to be considered as separate from the whole of society. Politically correct language, therefore, aids in the segregation of our nation. Boo to that.

But I digress!

My point is that a lot of comedy nowadays is based on the delicate exploitation of sensitive subjects. I argue that those outside of academia are less likely to feel shocked and astounded by the racey things that comedians say. Maybe I've just been walled-up in my ivory tower too long to know what those outside of it think. Ba ba ba, who cares anyway?

Sometimes I want to be Peer Gynt.

Markre

The Irish say I'm "quare in the head." 

What is the deal with paper plates?

Just about any activity can be made funnier if accompanied by Enigma's "Principle's of Lust".

It is better to give than to recieve.

It is better to end well than to begin well.

It is important to know whether to use then or than, effect or affect, to or too, butt or butterson.

Jalepeno paupers

Bike rack = Buy crack

Prospero - Rospero - Ross Perot

Time marches on and we swing from its pendulous off-hangings like so many tertiary frogs in a Jim Henson production. We are Carribean amphibians. We like to hop in the tropical sun.

Truth time: I have trouble trusting others. But who doesn't? A dog maybe. Dogs are soft to the touch. Gob less em.

"Take-a the sword or take-a me" - that's what Richard III would say if he couldn't pronounce the letter "p". (evidence that he cannot pronounce the letter "p" does exist in the fact that he refers to corpses as "corse[s]". Booooooooooargh!!

Naughty fire ants, they desire dance.
Makes you want to thwart em.
My Grandsire's lance
Beats the fire ants
He know how outsmart em.

Ronk

Markre

Disconnect me from this machine

Rocket salt.

I need to be immersed in social interaction at all times. I am becoming a pack animal. The burthen of solitary life is distorting my world. I want to live in a giant party ball with edible decorations. Tiny angel-snails singing and screaming sweet songs through the wind like a mucusy potpourri. I want to consume everything that toddles through my gaze. Like that destroyer of worlds from Silver Surfer. What was his name?

Marquita?

Maroota?

Built like a Ship Brickhouse,

Markre

The dancing dentist in the hooooooouse!

I should be writing my research paper. I ain't. Fuck that shits, dog. I come from a wild hood, so's I gots ta keep my works cited inadequate. I saw my Denison alumna Lindsay unexpectedly today in Styles class. She designed the costumes for the production of Burn This that I was in/destroyed. So she might be coming to OSU like me. Yippee for alumns.

So stressed right now. Want to be Alfred Jarry and ruin life with ink and booze. Don't they know out there in the real world that I'm from the Aristocracy and am therefore incapable of doing the minimum amount of work?? I need special pre-cut jello. I need a chauffer. I need a polymorphously preverse spider to shoot webs all over the coffee table. Just kidding. I don't have a coffee table.

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Damn this paper. Damn this paper! Damn myself for failing to prepare in the past. When I get a hold of past Mark, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he'll wake up in the future. Wait. Munchy munch munch.

BOOOOARGH!!

M: AAAAAAAAAAAAAH I hates it!

Puppy love