Song of the Day: We Gonna Rock It (S.U.N.) feat. Zeebra and NOB - DJ Benkei
So again, a picture-less blog post, facilitated by my lazy nature, and a lack of desire to hunt things down.
Anyway, been a while folks. I went on an update-less streak there for a while, and now I'm back. Make of that what you will.
Today is list time. I'm just going to make a list of things that irritate me strongly ranked in terms of how pissed off they make me (top to bottom), make of them what you will.
Behold, my irrational rage:
1. People that smack their lips while they chew.
2. Arrogance, ESPECIALLY liberal arrogance.
3. Hipsters.
4. Cars parked over the damn parking lines (I take special pains to swing my driver's side door ESPECIALLY hard into these assholes).
5. Twilight.
6. Jerking.
7. Bandwagoners.
8. Honda Civics. The bad FAR outnumber the good.
9. Souljah Boy. Yes, he gets a special, SPECIFIC mention.
10. Overly skinny jeans (does this tie in to number 6?).
11. The iPhone.
12. Anyone that wears a beret in America, unless they're military.
13. Sagging jeans.
14. Ripped jeans.
15. Overpriced jeans.
16. People that aren't in the military wearing dogtags.
17. Natty Ice.
18. Guidos.
19. Religious nutjobs.
20. Extreme immaturity (a little bit is encouraged; an excess is stupid).
21. Parents that overly spoil their children.
22. Skunks.
23. Hardboiled eggs.
24. Mercedes Benz build quality.
25. MSNBC.
That's it for today all; I promise I'll try to update more often!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Car Talk: 2009 Nissan GT-R
Today dear readers, I'd like to take a quick break from my usual shenanigans and describe to you my car experience last night. There will be no pictures, because no amount of silly pictures can convey the moment to you properly. Well, here goes the earthshaking moment:
I had a ride-along in the Nissan GT-R.
No, I didn't get any time behind the wheel at all. No, it didn't go all out for top speed. Yes, it was weighed down by three passengers in addition to the driver. By God though, it was fast.
I'm not talking car-fast. I'm not even talking bullet-train fast. This was holy-shitballs-no-words-can-describe-this fast. 0-60, so far as I can figure it with four people in the car, was gone in four seconds or less. The brakes went from 60-0 in an equally amazing time; forgive me for not timing it, my head was busy trying to figure out how NOT to go through the front window. It was pulling 0.5 g's (according to the handy g-meter in the dash display) through a few twisties, and I didn't feel a thing. Pull 0.5 in my S14, and you're kicking the tail out already; the GT-R felt 100% planted and secure.
Upon leaving the car, myself and my fellow passengers had quite literally run out of words. We only agreed upon stepping out that our own personal cars would never be quite as satisfying again. There aren't words to describe the speed, the finesse, the engineering put into this car. It's simply one of those things you must experience yourself to understand; I can't describe it to you properly.
After all this praise then, you'd figure I'd go out and give it ten stars out of five, right? Wrong.
On one hand, yes, it's staggeringly fast. On the other though, I have to be honest, it's tied for the most sheer balls-to-the-wall entertainment I've had in a car with...
... a MR2 Spyder.
Oh, you laugh now. A few hundred horsepower gap, nearly $80,000 worth of price difference, these two cars aren't even in the same LEAGUE. Hell, the GT-R's even more practical (if you can call a supercar practical) in many ways; the owner informed me he'd carried a small Christmas tree about in the trunk a few days prior, and I'll be damned if there's any way to squeeze such a thing into an MR-S. Nevertheless though, for driving pleasure, I'd have to say I'd take the Mister Two. Why?
Simple. I'd be too terrified to drive the GT-R daily. Yes, 0-60 in Negative 3 milliseconds is all well and good, but despite the 26 mpg, I can't possibly believe that sort of power earns good mileage. In today's economy then, that's a bit impractical. The cash flowing out of my pocket would be rather terrifying into and unto itself. Then, there's the sheer terror of that much power. Despite the ten thousand electronic systems designed to make sure you don't die in a spinning Koenigsegg-inspired ball of fire and expensive sheet metal, I have every confidence that somehow I'd find a way to do so in a car of that magnitude. You can put every safety system you want on an ICBM, and it's still a nuclear bomb at the end of the day; push the wrong button, and Hiroshima's toast.
Then again, the same can be said about Godzilla, and who wouldn't sell their left nut to ride Godzilla?
However, drive Mister Two (or a Miata, for that matter), and you won't have that scary power. You won't figure you're about to head off the road backwards at 180 mph, because the car simply can't do that. Neither will you win stoplight battles with the good old GT-R, but that's okay; when it's just you and road, you won't care. The GT-R is perfection in automotive form, yes, but for someone as simple and under-skilled as myself, it's merely a ticket to a fiery pinwheeling ball of death with a Nissan badge. The Spyder, on the other hand, is a simple, joyful expression of the old school sports-car mentality of simple is better. Just you, a mid-engined RWD convertible, a single clutch transmission, and the road. For someone as dull as me then, that's all I need.
It is then, with a bit of sadness, I can "only" award the GT-R six out of five 92507 Car-Stars, because sometimes perfection just isn't enough.
92507 Car Rating: 6 out of 5
Because it simply couldn't earn that 10 out of 5.
I had a ride-along in the Nissan GT-R.
No, I didn't get any time behind the wheel at all. No, it didn't go all out for top speed. Yes, it was weighed down by three passengers in addition to the driver. By God though, it was fast.
I'm not talking car-fast. I'm not even talking bullet-train fast. This was holy-shitballs-no-words-can-describe-this fast. 0-60, so far as I can figure it with four people in the car, was gone in four seconds or less. The brakes went from 60-0 in an equally amazing time; forgive me for not timing it, my head was busy trying to figure out how NOT to go through the front window. It was pulling 0.5 g's (according to the handy g-meter in the dash display) through a few twisties, and I didn't feel a thing. Pull 0.5 in my S14, and you're kicking the tail out already; the GT-R felt 100% planted and secure.
Upon leaving the car, myself and my fellow passengers had quite literally run out of words. We only agreed upon stepping out that our own personal cars would never be quite as satisfying again. There aren't words to describe the speed, the finesse, the engineering put into this car. It's simply one of those things you must experience yourself to understand; I can't describe it to you properly.
After all this praise then, you'd figure I'd go out and give it ten stars out of five, right? Wrong.
On one hand, yes, it's staggeringly fast. On the other though, I have to be honest, it's tied for the most sheer balls-to-the-wall entertainment I've had in a car with...
... a MR2 Spyder.
Oh, you laugh now. A few hundred horsepower gap, nearly $80,000 worth of price difference, these two cars aren't even in the same LEAGUE. Hell, the GT-R's even more practical (if you can call a supercar practical) in many ways; the owner informed me he'd carried a small Christmas tree about in the trunk a few days prior, and I'll be damned if there's any way to squeeze such a thing into an MR-S. Nevertheless though, for driving pleasure, I'd have to say I'd take the Mister Two. Why?
Simple. I'd be too terrified to drive the GT-R daily. Yes, 0-60 in Negative 3 milliseconds is all well and good, but despite the 26 mpg, I can't possibly believe that sort of power earns good mileage. In today's economy then, that's a bit impractical. The cash flowing out of my pocket would be rather terrifying into and unto itself. Then, there's the sheer terror of that much power. Despite the ten thousand electronic systems designed to make sure you don't die in a spinning Koenigsegg-inspired ball of fire and expensive sheet metal, I have every confidence that somehow I'd find a way to do so in a car of that magnitude. You can put every safety system you want on an ICBM, and it's still a nuclear bomb at the end of the day; push the wrong button, and Hiroshima's toast.
Then again, the same can be said about Godzilla, and who wouldn't sell their left nut to ride Godzilla?
However, drive Mister Two (or a Miata, for that matter), and you won't have that scary power. You won't figure you're about to head off the road backwards at 180 mph, because the car simply can't do that. Neither will you win stoplight battles with the good old GT-R, but that's okay; when it's just you and road, you won't care. The GT-R is perfection in automotive form, yes, but for someone as simple and under-skilled as myself, it's merely a ticket to a fiery pinwheeling ball of death with a Nissan badge. The Spyder, on the other hand, is a simple, joyful expression of the old school sports-car mentality of simple is better. Just you, a mid-engined RWD convertible, a single clutch transmission, and the road. For someone as dull as me then, that's all I need.
It is then, with a bit of sadness, I can "only" award the GT-R six out of five 92507 Car-Stars, because sometimes perfection just isn't enough.
92507 Car Rating: 6 out of 5
Because it simply couldn't earn that 10 out of 5.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Things I Hate: Followers
Song of the Day: Mac Mac - The Bloody Beetroots
Welcome to the first of a number of hate-filled, grumpy, grouchy, angry, and generally unpleasant rants I have titled "Things I Hate." Today's topic: followers.
Now, to some degree, everyone's a follower. That's cool. Hell, I'm a follower in many aspects. The problem is though, when you start following for the sake of your outward appearances to others, as opposed to for your own personal grins and giggles.
AH HA, YOU THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE AN IMAGE HERE DEPICTING GRINS AND GIGGLES, BUT THERE WASN'T. SO MUCH FOR PREDICTABILITY SUCKERS~
Moving on...
There's a lot of examples of this in college; hell, I think some of them are pretty cool myself. Thing is though, cool as I might think they are, they're NOT FOR ME. That concept of something not being "for you," so to speak, is pretty foreign to a lot of college kids these days. Because I'm a bit lazy tonight, have finals to study for, and have to get back to the 92507 from home ASAP, here's a short list of things that run-of-the-mill followers embrace that may not necessarily be "for them," and why they MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU:
-Fixed Gear Bikes: Are you a bike messenger? No? Does your institution of learning have lots and lots of hills? Yes? Do you really need to drop over $500 on your goddamn bicycle? No? Fixed gear bikes MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Nut Hugging Jeans: Do you have a penis? Yes? Nut huggers MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Unnecessarily Long Hair: Are you a man? Yes? Do you want to get a job that pays above the poverty line? Yes? Is this the 1960's/70's? No? Disgusting hippie hair/scenester hair MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Graffiti/Tagging in General: Did you grow up in an inner city neighborhood? No? Are you a member of a legitimate street gang from such a neighborhood? No? Are you an art major? No? Were you raised in suburbia? Yes? Tagging MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Acoustic Guitars: Are you a musician by trade? No? Did you do this just to get girls? Yes? Did you do this to fit in with your ugly hipster friends? Yes? Were you inspired by any of the thousands of half-assed acts on YouTube? Yes? Acoustic guitars MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Ugly Neon Sunglasses/Shutter Shades: Do you have self respect? Yes? Do you value people taking you seriously? Yes? Stupid sunglasses MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Mirror pics: Are you an obnoxious self-absorbed immature puerile douchebag? Yes? Congrats, mirror pics ARE FOR YOU!
-Being European: Are you European? No? Being European SURE AS HELL ISN'T FOR YOU, YOU PRICK. GET OVER YOURSELF.
-Smoking (cigs, weed, hookah, whatever): Do you value your lungs? Yes? Smoking MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Dressing like a member of NWA: Are you from a gang-ridden neighborhood? No? Dressing like a thug MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
Whew, okay that's about it, sorry about the short post length/lack of pics everyone. I'll try to put up pics later (no promises), so enjoy my miserly ranting folks, and have a happy holiday season!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Welcome to the first of a number of hate-filled, grumpy, grouchy, angry, and generally unpleasant rants I have titled "Things I Hate." Today's topic: followers.
Now, to some degree, everyone's a follower. That's cool. Hell, I'm a follower in many aspects. The problem is though, when you start following for the sake of your outward appearances to others, as opposed to for your own personal grins and giggles.
AH HA, YOU THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE AN IMAGE HERE DEPICTING GRINS AND GIGGLES, BUT THERE WASN'T. SO MUCH FOR PREDICTABILITY SUCKERS~
Moving on...
There's a lot of examples of this in college; hell, I think some of them are pretty cool myself. Thing is though, cool as I might think they are, they're NOT FOR ME. That concept of something not being "for you," so to speak, is pretty foreign to a lot of college kids these days. Because I'm a bit lazy tonight, have finals to study for, and have to get back to the 92507 from home ASAP, here's a short list of things that run-of-the-mill followers embrace that may not necessarily be "for them," and why they MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU:
-Fixed Gear Bikes: Are you a bike messenger? No? Does your institution of learning have lots and lots of hills? Yes? Do you really need to drop over $500 on your goddamn bicycle? No? Fixed gear bikes MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Nut Hugging Jeans: Do you have a penis? Yes? Nut huggers MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Unnecessarily Long Hair: Are you a man? Yes? Do you want to get a job that pays above the poverty line? Yes? Is this the 1960's/70's? No? Disgusting hippie hair/scenester hair MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Graffiti/Tagging in General: Did you grow up in an inner city neighborhood? No? Are you a member of a legitimate street gang from such a neighborhood? No? Are you an art major? No? Were you raised in suburbia? Yes? Tagging MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Acoustic Guitars: Are you a musician by trade? No? Did you do this just to get girls? Yes? Did you do this to fit in with your ugly hipster friends? Yes? Were you inspired by any of the thousands of half-assed acts on YouTube? Yes? Acoustic guitars MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Ugly Neon Sunglasses/Shutter Shades: Do you have self respect? Yes? Do you value people taking you seriously? Yes? Stupid sunglasses MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Mirror pics: Are you an obnoxious self-absorbed immature puerile douchebag? Yes? Congrats, mirror pics ARE FOR YOU!
-Being European: Are you European? No? Being European SURE AS HELL ISN'T FOR YOU, YOU PRICK. GET OVER YOURSELF.
-Smoking (cigs, weed, hookah, whatever): Do you value your lungs? Yes? Smoking MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
-Dressing like a member of NWA: Are you from a gang-ridden neighborhood? No? Dressing like a thug MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU.
Whew, okay that's about it, sorry about the short post length/lack of pics everyone. I'll try to put up pics later (no promises), so enjoy my miserly ranting folks, and have a happy holiday season!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Omegle Trolling
In lieu of a real post filled with thought provoking banter, I'll take this break from midterms to show you some of my recent Omegle trolling. In case you didn't know, Omegle is an anonymous chat service with strangers, which allows for quite a lot of anonymous trolling in the interests of grins and giggles.
Grins and giggles.
Without further ado, I present to you my latest Omegle trolls (warning: not even slightly politically correct):
TROLL ATTEMPT #1:
Grins and giggles.Without further ado, I present to you my latest Omegle trolls (warning: not even slightly politically correct):
TROLL ATTEMPT #1:
Connecting to server...
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hello there!
Stranger: Hello.
You: hows life?
Stranger: Grand. And yours?
You: awesome
You: probably grander than yours.
You: but i'm not entirely sure.
Stranger: I wouldn't bet on it.
You: why's that?
You: i put a kitten in a box today, and threw it in a river.
You: the box was plastic
You: and had no air holes.
You: that's pretty grand, i think.
Stranger: More nifty than grand.
You: so what qualifies as grand?
You: would it need to be a full-grown cat next time?
Stranger: I'm not entirely sure. I make it up as I go. No, that's in the 'splendid' area.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Commentary: I really don't know what to make of this dude's last response. At least he knows that cat murder is indeed splendid.
Troll Attempt #2:
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Commentary: Didn't go as I planned, but that's ok.
Troll Attempt #3:
Commentary: Somewhere, someone believes he has just heard the last words of a political dissident in China.
Troll Attempt #4:
You have disconnected.
Commentary: He probably didn't see that shift in linguistic ability coming, nor did he see the shift in ideological perspective. Entertaining, that.
Okay with that, I really should get back to studying. Go do some trolling of your own, folks; I bid you all good night!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Commentary: I really don't know what to make of this dude's last response. At least he knows that cat murder is indeed splendid.
Troll Attempt #2:
Stranger: 15 female aus
You: You must help me.
You: Good.
Stranger: why whats wrong
You: You are from Australia.
You: I am from New Caledonia.
You: Have you a plane?
You: The soldiers are coming.
Stranger: Yes i have my own jet plane, im famous in australia, why?
You: And we must flee.
You: We must flee now.
You: There is no time.
You: You must call my number immediately.
You: 09-8209-0342
You: It will connect you to the village phone.
You: Let it ring twice, then please call it again.
You: On the second try a man will pick up.
Stranger: it wont connect
You: His name is Jacques.
You: You must try harder.
Stranger: i dont know the numbers for americas code
You: If you do not my village will perish.
You: I am not from America.
You: I am from New Caledonia.
Stranger: well wherever you live
You: We are an island.
You: I do not know so much English.
You: Only what the priest has taught me.
You: You must hurry.
Commentary: Didn't go as I planned, but that's ok.
Troll Attempt #3:
You: Hello I am Zhong He.
You: Are you man or woman?
Stranger: hi
Stranger: man
You: I am man as well.
You: It is good.
Stranger: cool
You: There are many woman on this site.
You: They all do not talk to Zhong He.
Stranger: im not sure
You: I am from China.
You: Where are you from.
Stranger: thats cool
Stranger: the usa
You: Do the women talk to you.
Stranger: no not really
You: I do not think they like China people.
You: It is a problem.
You: I share your pain.
Stranger: yea well thanks
You: I wish you well friend.
You: This is last talk for me.
Stranger: you too
You: Before police come.
Stranger: alright
Stranger: oh boy well
Stranger: have fun in prison
You: For accessing internet site that government does not allow
You: I have been told I will go to jail.
You: But I have locked my door.
Stranger: well good
You: They are hitting it right now.
You: Do you think I will live.
Stranger: ill talk you throught this
Stranger: yes
Stranger: you will live
You: In China sometimes you do not live when the goverment hits you door.
You: Sometimes you will never see family again.
Stranger: wow im sorry man
You: They have entered.
Stranger: say goodbye quick
You have disconnected.
Commentary: Somewhere, someone believes he has just heard the last words of a political dissident in China.
Troll Attempt #4:
You: 21/m/alabama
Stranger: i cannot believe my eyes, how worlds filled with filth and lies, and its plain to see, evil inside of me, is on the riseeeee
You: how bout yall.
You: ah.
You: yall one of them deviant faggots aint you.
Stranger: a deviant
Stranger: big word from a hick from the south
You: yall think we marry our cousins or something?
Stranger: got the grammar just right too
Stranger: u definitely talk like a dumbass
Stranger: impressive
Stranger: ur meeting every strereotype so far
You: I would appreciate it, sir, if you did not look down upon the stereotypes attributed to the common working classes.
You: The work of the proletariat holds that which you hold dear
You: upright.
Stranger: common working classes eh?
You: We, the working man, maintain the standards of life that your bourgeoise selves hold to be a God-given right.
Stranger: dem sounds like commie words to me
Stranger: u aint a red is ya?
You: Sir, I would appreciate it if you did not confuse the words of a socialist with those of a communist.
Stranger: haha hot damn, a socialist in the south, now ive heard everything
You: We hold short shrift with the cruel and inhumane tactics that the Communists find acceptable.
You: Perhaps you do not travel enough sir.
You: One's geographical location need not determine his ideals.
You: Have you considered, kind sir, that it is perhaps YOU that are the bigot?
Stranger: quite happily
You: Looking down upon those from disadvantaged areas from your ivory throne?
Stranger: more or less
Stranger: view gets kinda bad from the top
You: Sir I bid you adieu, your very presence upon the network of information that is the internet offends me to no end.
Commentary: He probably didn't see that shift in linguistic ability coming, nor did he see the shift in ideological perspective. Entertaining, that.
Okay with that, I really should get back to studying. Go do some trolling of your own, folks; I bid you all good night!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Stream of Consciousness
SONG OF THE DAY: Say Woah- A-Trak
Good evening folks,
Due to the fact that I have nothing to rant on- besides hipsters, but that rant is for another day- I'm going to experiment with the formatting today, and try a stream of consciousness blog. Everything I think about for the next few minutes while procrastinating on my sociology (still a bunk class) paper will be recorded. Naturally, images will be added after the process has completed, so as to give you grins and giggles.
Grins and giggles.
Ready...
GO.
This Starbucks Doubleshot isn't really a very powerful energy drink. I mean, sure, I can feel the caffeine hitting me a bit, because everything's in that weird super-contrasted level of existence that only happens when you have a proper amount of stimulants in your blood stream. Sadly though, it's fading; time for another swig of this lovely legal drug. It's like meth, except legal, and not deadly.
I Googled "meth addict," and this was the least offensive image I got. Enjoy!
Ugh that sounded gross; when I took a sip it made this weird FRRRRRT sound. I hope no one thinks I farted, the basement at Rivera Library is damn quiet. Looking around, looking around, nope, no one's looking.
There's an awful weird old dude kinda floating around wearing a baseball hat though, he's creeping me out a bit. I vaguely suspect he's library staff because he's looking at everyone, but... maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I may never know. Speaking of things I might never know about, I kept thinking someone was taking pictures in here, but it's really a lightbulb that's out near the Microform section. That lightbulb should NOT be flickery man, not when we pay tens of thousands of dollars in tuition so Mark Yudof can bathe in our money!
Shut the fuck up, Yudof.
Ahhhhh, Doubleshot really IS the panacea of the gods. It isn't helping my neckache though... I just cracked it like mad. Speaking of which, the eternally stiff neck I've had since my one year of drumline makes it impossible for the health clinic to tell whether or not I may have had/meningitis while I had swine flu; my neck's ALWAYS stiff, so there's no way to tell. Yes, I had swine flu. No, it wasn't as bad as everyone said it was. Anyone that complains about it, says that shit is any more dangerous than regular flu, or otherwise blows it out of proportion can kiss my ass, to be frank. It wasn't that bad.
Pic very much related.
Shoot it's almost 6 PM, and that's when I told myself I was going to start writing for SURE. I've been sitting here for close on 40 minutes now, doing absolutely nothing but checking Facebook, drinking Doubleshot, eating Gobstoppers (which are the best candy ever, just F.Y.I.), and in general being totally unproductive. Shame I can't get JSTOR in my apartment... that's the peril of living off-campus, I suppose.
He didn't use JSTOR. Then again, he's also a fictional character.
Anyway, tonight's shaping up to be a boring Thursday; no partying, no drinking, just a club meeting, then some studying at Starbucks, then perhaps some MW2 at someone else's house, and then perhaps some HON. My life is boring... but hey, work tomorrow ought to cheer things up, right? With that, the belltower has just started chiming six, so the post is now over. Be easy, world.
The UCR Belltower: if only it looked this good in real life.
Best,
Elliott
Good evening folks,
Due to the fact that I have nothing to rant on- besides hipsters, but that rant is for another day- I'm going to experiment with the formatting today, and try a stream of consciousness blog. Everything I think about for the next few minutes while procrastinating on my sociology (still a bunk class) paper will be recorded. Naturally, images will be added after the process has completed, so as to give you grins and giggles.
Grins and giggles.Ready...
GO.
This Starbucks Doubleshot isn't really a very powerful energy drink. I mean, sure, I can feel the caffeine hitting me a bit, because everything's in that weird super-contrasted level of existence that only happens when you have a proper amount of stimulants in your blood stream. Sadly though, it's fading; time for another swig of this lovely legal drug. It's like meth, except legal, and not deadly.
I Googled "meth addict," and this was the least offensive image I got. Enjoy! Ugh that sounded gross; when I took a sip it made this weird FRRRRRT sound. I hope no one thinks I farted, the basement at Rivera Library is damn quiet. Looking around, looking around, nope, no one's looking.
It didn't sound like that.
There's an awful weird old dude kinda floating around wearing a baseball hat though, he's creeping me out a bit. I vaguely suspect he's library staff because he's looking at everyone, but... maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I may never know. Speaking of things I might never know about, I kept thinking someone was taking pictures in here, but it's really a lightbulb that's out near the Microform section. That lightbulb should NOT be flickery man, not when we pay tens of thousands of dollars in tuition so Mark Yudof can bathe in our money!
Shut the fuck up, Yudof.
Ahhhhh, Doubleshot really IS the panacea of the gods. It isn't helping my neckache though... I just cracked it like mad. Speaking of which, the eternally stiff neck I've had since my one year of drumline makes it impossible for the health clinic to tell whether or not I may have had/meningitis while I had swine flu; my neck's ALWAYS stiff, so there's no way to tell. Yes, I had swine flu. No, it wasn't as bad as everyone said it was. Anyone that complains about it, says that shit is any more dangerous than regular flu, or otherwise blows it out of proportion can kiss my ass, to be frank. It wasn't that bad.
Pic very much related.Shoot it's almost 6 PM, and that's when I told myself I was going to start writing for SURE. I've been sitting here for close on 40 minutes now, doing absolutely nothing but checking Facebook, drinking Doubleshot, eating Gobstoppers (which are the best candy ever, just F.Y.I.), and in general being totally unproductive. Shame I can't get JSTOR in my apartment... that's the peril of living off-campus, I suppose.
He didn't use JSTOR. Then again, he's also a fictional character. Anyway, tonight's shaping up to be a boring Thursday; no partying, no drinking, just a club meeting, then some studying at Starbucks, then perhaps some MW2 at someone else's house, and then perhaps some HON. My life is boring... but hey, work tomorrow ought to cheer things up, right? With that, the belltower has just started chiming six, so the post is now over. Be easy, world.
The UCR Belltower: if only it looked this good in real life.Best,
Elliott
Monday, November 9, 2009
UCR Sociology is Bunk
Good early morning to you, everyone!
I've decided to stop numbering my posts. Just because. Live with it.
Moving on, more and more people are telling me they read this. With that said, you'd expect me to update regularly, and on a fixed schedule, right?
WRONG. HA HA HA, EAT IT LOSERS.
HA HA HA- shit, I can't eat anything with only three teeth...
Anyway, fixed updating schedules are for tools with nothing better to do with their lives. I may have nothing better to do with my life than entertain you with my blog, but I'm no damn tool! And so, today's post....
....is about my late night life. Yes, the very first me-centric post of my blogging career. Get over it. Moving on, my late night life tonight consists of a sociology paper...
...which is now the topic of the post. Sociology. Yes. I have decided this, and you have NO RIGHT TO ARGUE. While I prep my post, enjoy this pleasing image of my opinion of your disapproval:
'nuff said.
Moving on... sociology is bunk. It is a discipline created by the have not's, in order to guilt the have's into feeling bad about their lives, and thus turn the have not's through the power of pity into haves. Granted, as a discipline, sociology is valid; perhaps I should've been more clear, UC RIVERSIDE SOCIOLOGY IS BUNK.
According to my TA, "over 90% of the department" consists of "avowed Marxists."
This clown.
Now, I'm all for political differences in America. Problem is, Marxism undermines the very foundations of American thought. These people, who support an ideology that undermines American thought, are teaching your children about social classes. Marxism promotes social class upheaval, in a distinctly un-American fashion; the rise of the proletariat, and "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need."
That's Communism, by the way.
The Obama Administration. HA HA HA I MADE A POLITICAL JOKE!
The entire mentality espoused by these people is ridiculous, and my paper equally so. As a taste of what we UC students suffer through, here's part of my prompt:
"...find a scholarly article on your own dealing with stratification in the criminal justice system and write a brief report on this article relating it to issues discussed in your Henslin text. You are required to find something that has to do with the Prison Industrial Complex (PIC), but are not limited to just this topic."
As defined by Wikipedia (that goddess of e-knowledge) in a sociological context, stratification is " the dividing of a society into levels based on power or socioeconomic status." It defines the PIC as a "term [which] often [implies] a network of actors who are motivated by making profit rather than solely by punishing or rehabilitating criminals or reducing crime rates."
So essentially, it has been said to us in so many words in a simple essay topic that prison is a creation of capitalist greed and the stratification of the lower classes to criminal status by the evil big business elite.
What UCR Sociology visualizes as the big business elite; a concept completely based in reality, and not on a movie's depiction of businessmen. Right?
Here then, is where UCR Sociology needs to get off it's damn pedestal. Yeah, private industry is in it to make money. Thing is, where else would you rather put these cuddly inmates- yknow, rapists, murderers, bank robbers, that lot- into "rehabilitation homes," where Grandma Ethel will teach them how to knit their way back into society?
That'll teach YOU not to rape, murder, and steal!
Seriously folks, come the hell on. Do we honestly need to let gang bangers, murderers, and rapists have a nice cuddly helping hand? Or, do they need to suffer for their crimes? I tend to side more with "suffer" and less with "cuddly;" these people are the scum of the Earth, and deserve to be treated as such. I don't care if Mr. X grew up in a shack by the river wearing a terry cloth for his only clothing, if he raped and then murdered ten people with an axe, he doesn't deserve rehabilitation: he deserves incarceration. His sociological perspective did NOT land him in that situation; his disgusting lack of a conscience did. Even if it by some chance DID, in the funny little world UC intellectuals live in, it wouldn't matter either way; society cannot and should not let this sort of crime go unpunished. Warm feel-good policies have nothing to do with this; prison is about punishment, and that's that.
Whew, time to get back to writing this disgustingly leftist paper. Stay frosty, kids... I'm going to go have one more coffee before I dive back in. Wish me luck!
Best,
E.Y.H.
I've decided to stop numbering my posts. Just because. Live with it.
Moving on, more and more people are telling me they read this. With that said, you'd expect me to update regularly, and on a fixed schedule, right?
WRONG. HA HA HA, EAT IT LOSERS.
HA HA HA- shit, I can't eat anything with only three teeth...Anyway, fixed updating schedules are for tools with nothing better to do with their lives. I may have nothing better to do with my life than entertain you with my blog, but I'm no damn tool! And so, today's post....
....is about my late night life. Yes, the very first me-centric post of my blogging career. Get over it. Moving on, my late night life tonight consists of a sociology paper...
...which is now the topic of the post. Sociology. Yes. I have decided this, and you have NO RIGHT TO ARGUE. While I prep my post, enjoy this pleasing image of my opinion of your disapproval:
'nuff said.Moving on... sociology is bunk. It is a discipline created by the have not's, in order to guilt the have's into feeling bad about their lives, and thus turn the have not's through the power of pity into haves. Granted, as a discipline, sociology is valid; perhaps I should've been more clear, UC RIVERSIDE SOCIOLOGY IS BUNK.
According to my TA, "over 90% of the department" consists of "avowed Marxists."
This clown.Now, I'm all for political differences in America. Problem is, Marxism undermines the very foundations of American thought. These people, who support an ideology that undermines American thought, are teaching your children about social classes. Marxism promotes social class upheaval, in a distinctly un-American fashion; the rise of the proletariat, and "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need."
That's Communism, by the way.
The Obama Administration. HA HA HA I MADE A POLITICAL JOKE! The entire mentality espoused by these people is ridiculous, and my paper equally so. As a taste of what we UC students suffer through, here's part of my prompt:
"...find a scholarly article on your own dealing with stratification in the criminal justice system and write a brief report on this article relating it to issues discussed in your Henslin text. You are required to find something that has to do with the Prison Industrial Complex (PIC), but are not limited to just this topic."
As defined by Wikipedia (that goddess of e-knowledge) in a sociological context, stratification is " the dividing of a society into levels based on power or socioeconomic status." It defines the PIC as a "term [which] often [implies] a network of actors who are motivated by making profit rather than solely by punishing or rehabilitating criminals or reducing crime rates."
So essentially, it has been said to us in so many words in a simple essay topic that prison is a creation of capitalist greed and the stratification of the lower classes to criminal status by the evil big business elite.
What UCR Sociology visualizes as the big business elite; a concept completely based in reality, and not on a movie's depiction of businessmen. Right? Here then, is where UCR Sociology needs to get off it's damn pedestal. Yeah, private industry is in it to make money. Thing is, where else would you rather put these cuddly inmates- yknow, rapists, murderers, bank robbers, that lot- into "rehabilitation homes," where Grandma Ethel will teach them how to knit their way back into society?
That'll teach YOU not to rape, murder, and steal!Seriously folks, come the hell on. Do we honestly need to let gang bangers, murderers, and rapists have a nice cuddly helping hand? Or, do they need to suffer for their crimes? I tend to side more with "suffer" and less with "cuddly;" these people are the scum of the Earth, and deserve to be treated as such. I don't care if Mr. X grew up in a shack by the river wearing a terry cloth for his only clothing, if he raped and then murdered ten people with an axe, he doesn't deserve rehabilitation: he deserves incarceration. His sociological perspective did NOT land him in that situation; his disgusting lack of a conscience did. Even if it by some chance DID, in the funny little world UC intellectuals live in, it wouldn't matter either way; society cannot and should not let this sort of crime go unpunished. Warm feel-good policies have nothing to do with this; prison is about punishment, and that's that.
Whew, time to get back to writing this disgustingly leftist paper. Stay frosty, kids... I'm going to go have one more coffee before I dive back in. Wish me luck!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Monday, November 2, 2009
College Majors: Theater
You know, tonight I think I'll talk about college majors.
So, you're in college. You're excited to be here, but somehow, you're a third year and are still undeclared! What to do? Well, here's the first in a hopefully long series of posts on college majors.
Theater: What the f*ck are you going to do with this? Even ART MAJORS can get jobs, unlike you guys. Unless you go to a dedicated theater school or a school with mad connections in entertainment (cough USC. cough NYU. cough.) or have a very well connected set of parents, you'd best have a second major, or several minors. In 99% of cases, theater majors don't even have the talent of a Disney Channel background extra, despite their belief that they outshine DiCaprio at acting, and Shakespeare at writing. Interestingly enough, these are the kids who believe they write "deep" poetry, have ten-mile-long "quotes" sections on any given social network, are very "artsy," constantly update Facebook with self-centered overly-emotional statuses, and in general are strongly disliked by majors that will have careers after graduation.
He's crying not because of teenage angst, but because he's been out of college three years with his Theater degree, and still works at Dave's Tattoo Emporium... as the janitor.
Seriously, and this bashing is coming from a f*cking Political Science major over here. Get your heads out of your idealistic asses, you wimps; you don't have Leo's talent or the Bard's brains. You are NOT deep, you are not NEARLY as unique as you think you are, and the world does NOT care about how much you "love your craft." When it comes time for getting a job, the man across the desk from you will not care that you were in the Wyoming State production of Hamlet as the third hag, he will care that you acquired useful skills in college, and that you can function in the modern workplace. Unfortunately, because you spent your college years pretending to be "deep," dressing different because you're "unique," and trying to be socially aloof because somehow you believe you're European at heart, you won't be able to function at all. You will not be familiar with suits (other than in that one production you did of Driving Miss Daisy), because you wore nothing but torn-up nuthugger jeans and too much black, because suits were "conformist." You will have holes from various piercings you did to "stand out" and be "unique." You will have tattoos you designed yourself to be "artsy" and "different."
Very unique, artsy, and non-conformist! Also, very unemployed.
Seriously, no one cares about your "self image." We live in a capitalist society, and if you want to succeed, you have to fit the mold. Bitch and whine if you want, but that's how it works. Suck it up, douchebags; after college, you'll be in the real world, and no one will care about your poetry or how different you are.
Well, no one that's going to offer you a job with a decent salary at least. Have fun serving fat people bad food at McD's.
On that wonderfully positive note, I'm going to end this post, and go back to studying linguistics, in order to satisfy my GE's, for a major I can use. Sleep easy, folks.
Best,
E.Y.H.
So, you're in college. You're excited to be here, but somehow, you're a third year and are still undeclared! What to do? Well, here's the first in a hopefully long series of posts on college majors.
Theater: What the f*ck are you going to do with this? Even ART MAJORS can get jobs, unlike you guys. Unless you go to a dedicated theater school or a school with mad connections in entertainment (cough USC. cough NYU. cough.) or have a very well connected set of parents, you'd best have a second major, or several minors. In 99% of cases, theater majors don't even have the talent of a Disney Channel background extra, despite their belief that they outshine DiCaprio at acting, and Shakespeare at writing. Interestingly enough, these are the kids who believe they write "deep" poetry, have ten-mile-long "quotes" sections on any given social network, are very "artsy," constantly update Facebook with self-centered overly-emotional statuses, and in general are strongly disliked by majors that will have careers after graduation.
He's crying not because of teenage angst, but because he's been out of college three years with his Theater degree, and still works at Dave's Tattoo Emporium... as the janitor.Seriously, and this bashing is coming from a f*cking Political Science major over here. Get your heads out of your idealistic asses, you wimps; you don't have Leo's talent or the Bard's brains. You are NOT deep, you are not NEARLY as unique as you think you are, and the world does NOT care about how much you "love your craft." When it comes time for getting a job, the man across the desk from you will not care that you were in the Wyoming State production of Hamlet as the third hag, he will care that you acquired useful skills in college, and that you can function in the modern workplace. Unfortunately, because you spent your college years pretending to be "deep," dressing different because you're "unique," and trying to be socially aloof because somehow you believe you're European at heart, you won't be able to function at all. You will not be familiar with suits (other than in that one production you did of Driving Miss Daisy), because you wore nothing but torn-up nuthugger jeans and too much black, because suits were "conformist." You will have holes from various piercings you did to "stand out" and be "unique." You will have tattoos you designed yourself to be "artsy" and "different."
Very unique, artsy, and non-conformist! Also, very unemployed.Seriously, no one cares about your "self image." We live in a capitalist society, and if you want to succeed, you have to fit the mold. Bitch and whine if you want, but that's how it works. Suck it up, douchebags; after college, you'll be in the real world, and no one will care about your poetry or how different you are.
Well, no one that's going to offer you a job with a decent salary at least. Have fun serving fat people bad food at McD's.
On that wonderfully positive note, I'm going to end this post, and go back to studying linguistics, in order to satisfy my GE's, for a major I can use. Sleep easy, folks.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Post #7: Party Fouls 2
Whew, okay, I'm back. Rough couple of nights there, and now a rough day to match. Economics homework can suck it.
Meanwhile though, you were waiting for me to continue on party fouls, yes? No? Whatever, here goes. The following list is gospel, and is written by CollegeHumor.Com:
Party Foul #1: Screaming "Party Foul" when someone drops a drink.
Party Foul #2: Not being able to reach a bathroom before you puke.
Party Foul #3: Trying to start a fight.
Party Foul #4: Someone takes "It" out.
Party Foul #5: Screwing Around with the Music
Party Foul #6: Having Sex in a Roommate's Bed
Party Foul #7: Breaking Stuff
Party Foul #8: Not Chipping In
Party Foul #9: Urinating Indoors
Party Foul #10: The Cockblock
This list is indisputably good, and true, and 100% accurate. However, I'd like to add a few extras, if I may.
Party Foul #11: The Buzzkill
This is the one dude that has to ruin every buzz. You just sunk 9 out of 10 cups in BP and have one shot left, and everyone's cheering you on? He'll just talk about how he did 10 out of 10 with 10 shots. You've taken 7 shots in a row? He's done 20, in TJ, in a brothel, with Harrison Ford.
Mr. Ford proclaims his innocence. Would that face lie?
Alternatively, if everyone's having a great night, this is the guy who tells everyone in earshot "Yeah, this party's great, but what if the cops come?" Truly, an epic party foul right here.
Party Foul #12: The Inconsiderate Ex
Yes, we understand the relationship's over. Yes, we understand that you can't always avoid ending up at the same party. But c'mon folks, getting super touchy-feely with a new guy or girl in front of your ex isn't helping anything; you're making sentiments worse, and you're buzzkilling someone else.
No pics can possibly relate to this Party Foul, so here's one of a sad bunny.
On that note then, this is a technical double party foul, but due to the possibility of it being a subdivision of buzzkill, it only counts as one. Nevertheless, still a very un-chill act.
Party Foul #13: Ruining Someone's Car
I don't care if it's puke, piss, or other bodily fluids. You put it on someone else's car, you're going to ruin it for everyone around, especially if you're caught in the act. Just don't touch cars.
"You would piss on US?"
Don't touch cars man, that's a major, major foul!
At that though, I really do have to finish this econ work, so I'll complete this list some other day. Stay frosty people, and I hope you all had great Halloweens!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Meanwhile though, you were waiting for me to continue on party fouls, yes? No? Whatever, here goes. The following list is gospel, and is written by CollegeHumor.Com:
Party Foul #1: Screaming "Party Foul" when someone drops a drink.
Party Foul #2: Not being able to reach a bathroom before you puke.
Party Foul #3: Trying to start a fight.
Party Foul #4: Someone takes "It" out.
Party Foul #5: Screwing Around with the Music
Party Foul #6: Having Sex in a Roommate's Bed
Party Foul #7: Breaking Stuff
Party Foul #8: Not Chipping In
Party Foul #9: Urinating Indoors
Party Foul #10: The Cockblock
This list is indisputably good, and true, and 100% accurate. However, I'd like to add a few extras, if I may.
Party Foul #11: The Buzzkill
This is the one dude that has to ruin every buzz. You just sunk 9 out of 10 cups in BP and have one shot left, and everyone's cheering you on? He'll just talk about how he did 10 out of 10 with 10 shots. You've taken 7 shots in a row? He's done 20, in TJ, in a brothel, with Harrison Ford.
Mr. Ford proclaims his innocence. Would that face lie?Alternatively, if everyone's having a great night, this is the guy who tells everyone in earshot "Yeah, this party's great, but what if the cops come?" Truly, an epic party foul right here.
Party Foul #12: The Inconsiderate Ex
Yes, we understand the relationship's over. Yes, we understand that you can't always avoid ending up at the same party. But c'mon folks, getting super touchy-feely with a new guy or girl in front of your ex isn't helping anything; you're making sentiments worse, and you're buzzkilling someone else.
No pics can possibly relate to this Party Foul, so here's one of a sad bunny.On that note then, this is a technical double party foul, but due to the possibility of it being a subdivision of buzzkill, it only counts as one. Nevertheless, still a very un-chill act.
Party Foul #13: Ruining Someone's Car
I don't care if it's puke, piss, or other bodily fluids. You put it on someone else's car, you're going to ruin it for everyone around, especially if you're caught in the act. Just don't touch cars.
"You would piss on US?"Don't touch cars man, that's a major, major foul!
At that though, I really do have to finish this econ work, so I'll complete this list some other day. Stay frosty people, and I hope you all had great Halloweens!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Post #6.5: Addendum
To all the teetotalers, shut-ins, and stuck up pricks that don't party, don't imbibe in certain fluids, and in general bash on those who do so with all the self-righteous fury of a M.A.D.D. member scorned:
Shut. Up.
How on EARTH do you figure you'll get a job working in ANY successful industry if you a) can't drink, b) can't network at parties and get-togethers, or c) have your head too far up your ass to notice that a) and b) are equally important in getting your networking skills up?
They say it's all about who you know. This is pure FACT.
To the teetotalers, then, I have but this to say.
Live your life, and we'll live ours. Just don't hate on us for what we do, or judge us for not living by your playbook.
On that slightly somber note, I'm off to ignore the self-righteous asshats, and enjoy Halloween night. Stay safe out there tonight, kids, and have FUN!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Shut. Up.
How on EARTH do you figure you'll get a job working in ANY successful industry if you a) can't drink, b) can't network at parties and get-togethers, or c) have your head too far up your ass to notice that a) and b) are equally important in getting your networking skills up?
They say it's all about who you know. This is pure FACT.
To the teetotalers, then, I have but this to say.
Live your life, and we'll live ours. Just don't hate on us for what we do, or judge us for not living by your playbook.
On that slightly somber note, I'm off to ignore the self-righteous asshats, and enjoy Halloween night. Stay safe out there tonight, kids, and have FUN!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Post #6: Party Fouls 1
Hi folks!
After a rough night of Halloween-ing, all I have to say is this.
Party fouls are the ultimate anti-chill activity. I'll make a list of them later; this post is essentially to remind me that I was indeed party fouled, and must later rant and rave about the un-chillness of such an activity. Awesome. Or, not awesome. I'm miserable, but it's okay; I only exist as a non-corporeal entity for your grins and giggles, so I promise I'll be back in laugh-mode A.S.A.P. I promise. Until then, just chill out. I'll be back soon. I think. Or not. Who knows? Not the purple caterpillar, that's who DOESN'T KNOW.
I Googled "Purple Caterpillar," and I got this. It makes sense right now, I swear.
After a rough night of Halloween-ing, all I have to say is this.
Party fouls are the ultimate anti-chill activity. I'll make a list of them later; this post is essentially to remind me that I was indeed party fouled, and must later rant and rave about the un-chillness of such an activity. Awesome. Or, not awesome. I'm miserable, but it's okay; I only exist as a non-corporeal entity for your grins and giggles, so I promise I'll be back in laugh-mode A.S.A.P. I promise. Until then, just chill out. I'll be back soon. I think. Or not. Who knows? Not the purple caterpillar, that's who DOESN'T KNOW.
I Googled "Purple Caterpillar," and I got this. It makes sense right now, I swear.Anyway, lavender insect or not, that's it for me today world. Rest easy all, and have a good Halloween; hope yours goes better than mine!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Edit: It has been pointed out to me that I titled this Post #5, instead of Post #6. I blame Joose. That stuff is deadly.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Post #5: Cars
Good afternoon dear readers. Just kidding, you're not that dear to me. Just kidding again, you are; your pageviews keep my disgusting electronic ego alive, if only just. If you keep coming back, it's only to read my silly rants and raves.
Not that type of rave.
On that note though, here's today's rant/rave: cars.
"BUT WAIT E.Y.H.," you cry, "YOU'VE ALREADY DONE ONE ON CARS!!! WHAT WOULD CAUSE YOU TO BE REPETITIVE? HOW TRITE! HOW DULL! I'M GOING TO STOP READING YOUR BLOG RIGHT THE F*CK NOW, AND GO PICK MY NOSE WITH A PHILIPS HEAD SCREWDRIVER."
Except if it was a Philips head screwdriver, he would most likely not be laughing.
Well, you do that then. Meanwhile, as you gouge your gray matter out with a cold metal spike, I'm going to rant and rave more about cars.
After a rather nice car meet last night- during which my S14 was made to feel incredibly, incredibly pathetic- I decided to write on cars that I like. No, this won't be another post on the silliness of rich children in Riverside (like the bastard that drives a Nissan GT-R AND a Mercedes SL500 at my apartment complex, who I completely DO NOT ENVY. AT ALL. NOPE.), instead it will be a post on cars that I wish to own at some point in my life before the age of 30.
So, on to the list. Requirements for the list are a MSRP of under $25,000 (as of Oct. 29, 2009), decently fast, and no older than 1999. That said, let's name the first three... there may be more to come in the future, but for now, this is all you get:
1) Porsche 911 (996) Carrera 2/2S/4/4S
If the Porsche-howl at 5600 RPM fails to stir your soul and you call yourself a car guy, stop reading my blog. Right now. Leave. I reccomend another site. Like FatChicksInPartyHats, which I will refuse to link to in the interests of saving my soul; Google it if you will. That's probably the sort of thing you'd enjoy... you sick bastard.
No image of fat chicks in party hats provided. Instead, a cute bunny!
Moving on though, it's extremely reliable, mind bogglingly fast even in its lowest trim, has the aforementioned spine-shivering howl, and is perhaps the most enduring car design of all time. On the flip side, repairs will cost an arm an a leg should anything go even vaguely wrong, which it won't: it's a modern day water-cooled 911, and is thus bulletproof.
2) Pontiac GTO
A little boring on the outside? Unquestionably. It screams "fat Cavalier," which is never a good thing. But on the inside, the seemingly dull GTO rocks a 400 HP Chevrolet LS2 engine, lifted straight out of the C6 Corvette. Remember the howl that the Porsche makes? The Pontiac rumbles, grumbles, and THEN unleashes the V8 symphony. Top speed, as near as can be reckoned by Top Gear, 175 MPH, with a 0-60 of 4.6 seconds. That's frighteningly fast. Of course, the downside to this mind blowing power is that it turns like an elephant on roller skates, which is to say it slides with the quickness and grace of a three ton pachyderm. Then again, turning isn't the point of American muscle cars; it's about the straight line, standing quarter mile time. And that is clearly awesome.
3) Nissan 350Z
Now, ostensibly, the Z should be at the top. It has the best balance (though isn't the fastest) of any of the three cars, it's the most reliable, and the VQ35DE is one gorgeous engine. So then, why on earth isn't it at the top? Simple. Tuning.
I don't WANT to tune my car to make it top class. I admit, for a S14 driver, I'm lazy. If I can slap a CAI/Exhaust/Chip on a car and be done with it, that's just fine with me. A Z33 though, is, well, if I may be honest, an extremely bland and/or ugly car unless body modifications are done. In stock form, the front bumper ends too soon, the wheels are a bit dull, and unless it is lowered, it has the appearance of Cledus J. Smith's 4x4, in which he goes and has steamy inbred redneck-cousin loving and then tops it off by spraying Cheez Whiz all over his trailer park while running about in his boxers.
Cledus, for your Holiday Needs. Minus his 4x4 and the Cheez Whiz.
Moving back to the subject though, Z's are simply put, too much work, and I'm far too lazy to make a Z "truly" good. As much as I appreciate a nicely modded/tuned car, I don't have the time nor patience to do it myself. Therefore, I'd rather have the most capable car out of the factory possible... and that's not exactly what a Z delivers. Nevertheless though, it IS a very nice car, and based on its own virtues, it shores this list up at #3.
Anyway, that's it for me today. Maybe I'll continue this list someday, or maybe not; we shall see. For now, I'm off to the paradise that is my linguistics class.
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrivederchi!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Not that type of rave.On that note though, here's today's rant/rave: cars.
"BUT WAIT E.Y.H.," you cry, "YOU'VE ALREADY DONE ONE ON CARS!!! WHAT WOULD CAUSE YOU TO BE REPETITIVE? HOW TRITE! HOW DULL! I'M GOING TO STOP READING YOUR BLOG RIGHT THE F*CK NOW, AND GO PICK MY NOSE WITH A PHILIPS HEAD SCREWDRIVER."
Except if it was a Philips head screwdriver, he would most likely not be laughing.Well, you do that then. Meanwhile, as you gouge your gray matter out with a cold metal spike, I'm going to rant and rave more about cars.
After a rather nice car meet last night- during which my S14 was made to feel incredibly, incredibly pathetic- I decided to write on cars that I like. No, this won't be another post on the silliness of rich children in Riverside (like the bastard that drives a Nissan GT-R AND a Mercedes SL500 at my apartment complex, who I completely DO NOT ENVY. AT ALL. NOPE.), instead it will be a post on cars that I wish to own at some point in my life before the age of 30.
So, on to the list. Requirements for the list are a MSRP of under $25,000 (as of Oct. 29, 2009), decently fast, and no older than 1999. That said, let's name the first three... there may be more to come in the future, but for now, this is all you get:
1) Porsche 911 (996) Carrera 2/2S/4/4S
If the Porsche-howl at 5600 RPM fails to stir your soul and you call yourself a car guy, stop reading my blog. Right now. Leave. I reccomend another site. Like FatChicksInPartyHats, which I will refuse to link to in the interests of saving my soul; Google it if you will. That's probably the sort of thing you'd enjoy... you sick bastard.
No image of fat chicks in party hats provided. Instead, a cute bunny! Moving on though, it's extremely reliable, mind bogglingly fast even in its lowest trim, has the aforementioned spine-shivering howl, and is perhaps the most enduring car design of all time. On the flip side, repairs will cost an arm an a leg should anything go even vaguely wrong, which it won't: it's a modern day water-cooled 911, and is thus bulletproof.
2) Pontiac GTO
A little boring on the outside? Unquestionably. It screams "fat Cavalier," which is never a good thing. But on the inside, the seemingly dull GTO rocks a 400 HP Chevrolet LS2 engine, lifted straight out of the C6 Corvette. Remember the howl that the Porsche makes? The Pontiac rumbles, grumbles, and THEN unleashes the V8 symphony. Top speed, as near as can be reckoned by Top Gear, 175 MPH, with a 0-60 of 4.6 seconds. That's frighteningly fast. Of course, the downside to this mind blowing power is that it turns like an elephant on roller skates, which is to say it slides with the quickness and grace of a three ton pachyderm. Then again, turning isn't the point of American muscle cars; it's about the straight line, standing quarter mile time. And that is clearly awesome.
3) Nissan 350Z
Now, ostensibly, the Z should be at the top. It has the best balance (though isn't the fastest) of any of the three cars, it's the most reliable, and the VQ35DE is one gorgeous engine. So then, why on earth isn't it at the top? Simple. Tuning.I don't WANT to tune my car to make it top class. I admit, for a S14 driver, I'm lazy. If I can slap a CAI/Exhaust/Chip on a car and be done with it, that's just fine with me. A Z33 though, is, well, if I may be honest, an extremely bland and/or ugly car unless body modifications are done. In stock form, the front bumper ends too soon, the wheels are a bit dull, and unless it is lowered, it has the appearance of Cledus J. Smith's 4x4, in which he goes and has steamy inbred redneck-cousin loving
Cledus, for your Holiday Needs. Minus his 4x4 and the Cheez Whiz.Moving back to the subject though, Z's are simply put, too much work, and I'm far too lazy to make a Z "truly" good. As much as I appreciate a nicely modded/tuned car, I don't have the time nor patience to do it myself. Therefore, I'd rather have the most capable car out of the factory possible... and that's not exactly what a Z delivers. Nevertheless though, it IS a very nice car, and based on its own virtues, it shores this list up at #3.
Anyway, that's it for me today. Maybe I'll continue this list someday, or maybe not; we shall see. For now, I'm off to the paradise that is my linguistics class.
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrivederchi!
Best,
E.Y.H.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Post# 4- Watches
So, as I sit in Sociology discussion- where my TA has admitted that "over 90% of the department are avowed Marxists-" I find that blogging is a more worthy way to waste my time than listen to socialist, anti-American propaganda. What better way to fight the scourge of silly socialism than to begin my series on silly expensive things that I like? Nothing like good ol' conspicuous consumption to show those pinkos... I'm only being half facetious here, to be honest.
Regardless of the Red sentiments I might draw the ire of for this post, I'm here in the middle of a terrible recession to celebrate watches. I don't mean Timexes. I mean the best of the best; the most attractive, handcrafted, Swiss-made, precision engineered monstrosities in existence. Audemars Piquet, Patek Phillipe, Vacheron Constantin...One of these could feed a family of four for a month.
We starve for the sake of your horological fetishes!
Yes, perhaps it's a bit silly in a recession of epic proportions to aspire to own what are perhaps the most ludicrous symbols of excess short of a Ferrari; after all, traditional logic dictates that a watch is merely an accessory to tell time, and if I may be brutally honest, has been rendered functionally obsolete by the cell phone.
So then, why are watches still so dang cool? Elvis Mitchell from Esquire said it best: "If you consider yourself stylish, as opposed to fashionable, your wardrobe does require a dress watch." The watch is an anachronism, a relic of a forgotten era. Then again, so is chivalry, and that's still very much in style, to some degree.
Chivalry: still in style 1500 years later! Minus the swords and incest and such.
However, if you are a man that does not wear jeans that resemble tights, have three inch long earrings, or dress like a complete clown/hipster/trend follower, a decent watch should be an inherent part of your wardrobe. This isn't a suggestion, it's a statement. Obsolete though it may be, a proper mechanical (none of this quartz silliness) should be a well maintained, well cared for part of every self-respecting man's wardrobe. Yes they're pricey, yes they're silly, and yes you can most likely buy a cheap car for the cost of one of the better mechanical watches out there. However, be it a product of commercialized culture or not, a watch is a sign of a well heeled man.
Not a well-heeled man, by any stretch of the word.
On that note, my current fascination is the Audemars Piquet Royal Oak, which my friends inform me is a silly watch at a silly price. I don't care. It is handmade by Swiss elves, is more complex than differential calculus, and looks more beautiful than Beyoncé. Here's to conspicuous consumption, friends.
Fascinating.
Let's have three cheers for capitalism.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Regardless of the Red sentiments I might draw the ire of for this post, I'm here in the middle of a terrible recession to celebrate watches. I don't mean Timexes. I mean the best of the best; the most attractive, handcrafted, Swiss-made, precision engineered monstrosities in existence. Audemars Piquet, Patek Phillipe, Vacheron Constantin...One of these could feed a family of four for a month.
We starve for the sake of your horological fetishes!So then, why are watches still so dang cool? Elvis Mitchell from Esquire said it best: "If you consider yourself stylish, as opposed to fashionable, your wardrobe does require a dress watch." The watch is an anachronism, a relic of a forgotten era. Then again, so is chivalry, and that's still very much in style, to some degree.
Chivalry: still in style 1500 years later! Minus the swords and incest and such.However, if you are a man that does not wear jeans that resemble tights, have three inch long earrings, or dress like a complete clown/hipster/trend follower, a decent watch should be an inherent part of your wardrobe. This isn't a suggestion, it's a statement. Obsolete though it may be, a proper mechanical (none of this quartz silliness) should be a well maintained, well cared for part of every self-respecting man's wardrobe. Yes they're pricey, yes they're silly, and yes you can most likely buy a cheap car for the cost of one of the better mechanical watches out there. However, be it a product of commercialized culture or not, a watch is a sign of a well heeled man.
Not a well-heeled man, by any stretch of the word.On that note, my current fascination is the Audemars Piquet Royal Oak, which my friends inform me is a silly watch at a silly price. I don't care. It is handmade by Swiss elves, is more complex than differential calculus, and looks more beautiful than Beyoncé. Here's to conspicuous consumption, friends.
Fascinating.Let's have three cheers for capitalism.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Post #3: Facebook Part 1 - Tagged Pictures
Due to massive amounts of studying for my Econ midterm, I don't have much time to write a quality post or add pictures. So, in this short amount of time, I'll begin the short first post on a series of (planned) posts about Facebook.
Facebook Part 1:
-Facebook is the ultimate social encyclopedia in college. It just is. You can find out everything about people; examples can and will include how drunk your friend was last night (very), if the cute girl you just met is taken (usually), how hard various midterms and quizzes are (extremely), and whether or not your friend cares about what employers/potential employers/family thinks of them. That last one may not seem obvious, but it sure is. As they say, the devil lurks in the details, and the detail here is TAGGED PHOTOS. If you allow people to "view photos of" yourself, you're telling the world that either a) you're invisible and do not appear in pictures, b) have no friends that own cameras, c) have no friends, d) never drink or otherwise misbehave, or e) don't give a shit about getting a good job after graduation.
"But wait," you cry, "of COURSE I care about getting a good job!"
Apparently not. Employers can and will search you on Facebook, and they WILL find the tagged pictures of you doing the keg stand at "that totally awesome party that you can't remember," as well as the ones of you throwing up afterwards. They may also find the ones of you with penises drawn on your forehead in the aftermath of said throwing up; you may never know.
Well, no, you will know. When you're announcing the Blue Light Specials at K-Mart at age 40, because no one hired you. That's when you'll know.
Until next time, world.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Facebook Part 1:
-Facebook is the ultimate social encyclopedia in college. It just is. You can find out everything about people; examples can and will include how drunk your friend was last night (very), if the cute girl you just met is taken (usually), how hard various midterms and quizzes are (extremely), and whether or not your friend cares about what employers/potential employers/family thinks of them. That last one may not seem obvious, but it sure is. As they say, the devil lurks in the details, and the detail here is TAGGED PHOTOS. If you allow people to "view photos of" yourself, you're telling the world that either a) you're invisible and do not appear in pictures, b) have no friends that own cameras, c) have no friends, d) never drink or otherwise misbehave, or e) don't give a shit about getting a good job after graduation.
"But wait," you cry, "of COURSE I care about getting a good job!"
Apparently not. Employers can and will search you on Facebook, and they WILL find the tagged pictures of you doing the keg stand at "that totally awesome party that you can't remember," as well as the ones of you throwing up afterwards. They may also find the ones of you with penises drawn on your forehead in the aftermath of said throwing up; you may never know.
Well, no, you will know. When you're announcing the Blue Light Specials at K-Mart at age 40, because no one hired you. That's when you'll know.
Oh shit, no pictures in this post... so why is there a subtitle here?
Until next time, world.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Post #2: Up
Hi all!
So, in a short morning rant, I'd like to direct your attention to this link.
Despite the fact that I think that this is one of the silliest stories to make the national press in a while, especially when stories like this contain much, MUCH more tragic examples of childhood neglect and danger, it is what it is, and what it is is front page news.
Therefore, I'm not sure what brought it to that status, or what's keeping it there, especially with 10,204,741 more important stories in the news today, but in the interests of "too soon," I present you with this image:
Pic unrelated?
I think the facts speak for themselves. For not waiting five or six weeks to post this and by posting it on the day of the event, thereby breaking the unspoken "too soon" rule, I am clearly a despicable person incapable of human emotion or compassion.
Depressing, that.
Best,
E.Y.H.
So, in a short morning rant, I'd like to direct your attention to this link.
Despite the fact that I think that this is one of the silliest stories to make the national press in a while, especially when stories like this contain much, MUCH more tragic examples of childhood neglect and danger, it is what it is, and what it is is front page news.
Therefore, I'm not sure what brought it to that status, or what's keeping it there, especially with 10,204,741 more important stories in the news today, but in the interests of "too soon," I present you with this image:
Pic unrelated?Depressing, that.
Best,
E.Y.H.
Post #1: Introduction
Hi all!
After three false starts (perhaps more, but who's counting?), and the urging of a close friend of mine, I've finally started to compile my thoughts, rants, and observations onto a blog; clearly, it's what you're reading now.
On that note, it's time for a blog post, so let the blogging begin!
Riverside isn't the nicest of neighborhoods to reside in. Just the other day, someone was apparently mugged in front of my apartment complex. Lovely. That said, it's really not so bad as us students at the UC make it out to be, especially in terms of the automotive culture of the area. While it, yes, may not be the best neighborhood out there, automotive similarities can be a fairly good indicator of relative wealth. Case in point: one glance through my parking structure reveals no fewer than four late model BMW 335i coupés, which aren't exactly the cheapest car in the world.
Not cheap, this.
Pathetically typical? Or typically pathetic?
Wrong. Sure, in between the 10 and 91 Freeways there is a lovely den of such... vehicles (and their owners!), if one can even call such automotive atrocities vehicles. Big coffee can mufflers, ugly spoilers, it's all there. However, the closer you get to campus, the better the cars get, in an exponential fashion. This isn't a slow increase, it's a lightspeed jump; this isn't a slow increase, it's the difference between a 7.0 and a 7.1 on the Richter Scale. It's huge.
The easiest way perhaps to chalk up this dramatic shift could perhaps be laid on the large Asian-American population at UC Riverside. Speaking as a member of this population- and one who holds cars very, very dear to his heart- a common stereotype some people might harbor attributes Asians with wealth, success, and power.
Wealth, success, and power.
Naturally, as is the case with all stereotypes, there are exceptions to the rule, thus proving it invalid. Myself, I drive a 1995 Nissan with significant front bumper damage, sagging coilovers, and a rattling interior. Oh, and the CD player doesn't work. Here's to Asian wealth, success, and power, all embodied through a car; it seems I've been a bit shortchanged in that department. Not to mention that the XF and a few of the 335's are owned by decidedly non-Asian kids. Now, with that stereotype quashed, and that explanation for the quality of cars near campus eliminated, what can explain this interesting vehicular dynamic shift?
The answer is simple: the further you get from campus towards downtown, the concentration of the wealthy- and the folks who just drive wealthy-style cars- diminishes exponentially. As a primarily working-class town, Riverside's style doesn't trend towards BMW's and the like; expect to see more Ford F150's instead of Mercedes SLK 350's, and so on and so forth. Befitting a practical, largely blue-collar community, Riverside's automotive landscape embodies this practicality, whereas its resident UC Campus embodies... well, typical University of California, academic ivory tower arrogance. Sure, for every one Lexus there are three Corollas, but the fact remains that in many cases, Mommy and Daddy have bought little Jimmy a car he can't handle, hasn't earned, and doesn't deserve.
Look at Jimmy. He doesn't deserve that.
Now, as a staunch believer in capitalism, I love when people spend money they've earned on frivolous things. But, giving your kid a brand new European luxury car in crime-infested Riverside- ranked as the 24th LEAST safe college in a recent poll, whose URL I cannot find for the life of me, and shall thus omit, setting me up for a massive flaming from the two people (perhaps three?) that actually love our school- is just a bad idea. You're setting them up to be an automotive crime target.
Like real life, except with cheat codes.
After three false starts (perhaps more, but who's counting?), and the urging of a close friend of mine, I've finally started to compile my thoughts, rants, and observations onto a blog; clearly, it's what you're reading now.
On that note, it's time for a blog post, so let the blogging begin!
Riverside isn't the nicest of neighborhoods to reside in. Just the other day, someone was apparently mugged in front of my apartment complex. Lovely. That said, it's really not so bad as us students at the UC make it out to be, especially in terms of the automotive culture of the area. While it, yes, may not be the best neighborhood out there, automotive similarities can be a fairly good indicator of relative wealth. Case in point: one glance through my parking structure reveals no fewer than four late model BMW 335i coupés, which aren't exactly the cheapest car in the world.
Not cheap, this.Granted, you may figure this to be a fluke. However, walking across the street to a different apartment complex, I find myself confronted upon entry by a white Jaguar XF.
Equally not cheap.
Equally not cheap.On a completely ludicrous note, between the two complexes, there are at least 12 late model Lexus IS-series sedans.
Twelve of these. Twelve.
Now, you're probably thinking, "Shucks man, those are just outliers! What's a few Lexus-es, BMW's and Jags, they hardly paint a picture of the campus environment, right? Riverside is known for sketchy locals rolling in riced out Civics and the like, right?"
Twelve of these. Twelve.Now, you're probably thinking, "Shucks man, those are just outliers! What's a few Lexus-es, BMW's and Jags, they hardly paint a picture of the campus environment, right? Riverside is known for sketchy locals rolling in riced out Civics and the like, right?"
Pathetically typical? Or typically pathetic?Wrong. Sure, in between the 10 and 91 Freeways there is a lovely den of such... vehicles (and their owners!), if one can even call such automotive atrocities vehicles. Big coffee can mufflers, ugly spoilers, it's all there. However, the closer you get to campus, the better the cars get, in an exponential fashion. This isn't a slow increase, it's a lightspeed jump; this isn't a slow increase, it's the difference between a 7.0 and a 7.1 on the Richter Scale. It's huge.
The easiest way perhaps to chalk up this dramatic shift could perhaps be laid on the large Asian-American population at UC Riverside. Speaking as a member of this population- and one who holds cars very, very dear to his heart- a common stereotype some people might harbor attributes Asians with wealth, success, and power.
Wealth, success, and power.Naturally, as is the case with all stereotypes, there are exceptions to the rule, thus proving it invalid. Myself, I drive a 1995 Nissan with significant front bumper damage, sagging coilovers, and a rattling interior. Oh, and the CD player doesn't work. Here's to Asian wealth, success, and power, all embodied through a car; it seems I've been a bit shortchanged in that department. Not to mention that the XF and a few of the 335's are owned by decidedly non-Asian kids. Now, with that stereotype quashed, and that explanation for the quality of cars near campus eliminated, what can explain this interesting vehicular dynamic shift?
The answer is simple: the further you get from campus towards downtown, the concentration of the wealthy- and the folks who just drive wealthy-style cars- diminishes exponentially. As a primarily working-class town, Riverside's style doesn't trend towards BMW's and the like; expect to see more Ford F150's instead of Mercedes SLK 350's, and so on and so forth. Befitting a practical, largely blue-collar community, Riverside's automotive landscape embodies this practicality, whereas its resident UC Campus embodies... well, typical University of California, academic ivory tower arrogance. Sure, for every one Lexus there are three Corollas, but the fact remains that in many cases, Mommy and Daddy have bought little Jimmy a car he can't handle, hasn't earned, and doesn't deserve.
Look at Jimmy. He doesn't deserve that.Now, as a staunch believer in capitalism, I love when people spend money they've earned on frivolous things. But, giving your kid a brand new European luxury car in crime-infested Riverside- ranked as the 24th LEAST safe college in a recent poll, whose URL I cannot find for the life of me, and shall thus omit, setting me up for a massive flaming from the two people (perhaps three?) that actually love our school- is just a bad idea. You're setting them up to be an automotive crime target.
Like real life, except with cheat codes.Ignoring that you've just made your kid twice as likely to be robbed (Who needs statistics and citations anyway? I'm from the internet!), you're also instilling in them a terrible lack of appreciation for money. Then again, it's just the nature of our society- and that of parents in general- to spoil ones' offspring. We're a free market economy, so if you want to buy your kids a silly expensive car, no one's stopping you. Keep in mind, it's only your fault though if they end up acting like, dressing, or otherwise emulating Spencer Pratt. Consider yourselves warned.
Your child at age 20-something. Minus the reality TV show and marketable looks.
Your child at age 20-something. Minus the reality TV show and marketable looks.With that bit of advice and ranting done for the day, that's all for me. Enjoy your lives everyone, and I'll keep living mine right here in the ever-cozy, ever polluted 92507.
Best,
E.Y.H.
P.S. Yes, I've changed topics, subjects, and focuses of my ire/fascination/hatred about two or three times. You don't like that? Stop reading my blog.
Best,
E.Y.H.
P.S. Yes, I've changed topics, subjects, and focuses of my ire/fascination/hatred about two or three times. You don't like that? Stop reading my blog.
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