Kim Jong Il sucks at poker.

Regarding the whole North Korea thing, I think Kim Jong Il could have something going for him, but he really needs to work on this a little bit more. When you’re playing with the pros, you’d better know what you’re doing. Otherwise, you’ll get wasted. Literally. And lets face it, Kim Jong Il obviously sucks at this.

When you’re at the table, image is everything. As such, the guy’s going to need a name change. I mean c’mon… Kim? Isn’t that a girl’s name?

If you want to be a pro, you gotta look like one. This means that you can’t have a poker face like Kermit the Frog with a name already taken by a piece-of-crap Disney show. I hear name changes aren’t too expensive here in the US, so I’m sure that when you’re god of North Korea you can get them for practically nothing.

That is, of course, unless he (or is it a “she”?) is going for the Miss Piggy look, which I can definitely see on him…But lets face it, if you’re going to do the look, you need to do the moves. Nukes just won’t cut it.

Now second of all, what are you going to do when even China hates you? Kim seems to think that bluffing is a good tactic here. In order to prove he’s no sissy, he launches 7 nukes against stern warnings from the US and Japan. Now, this would’ve been a spectacular bluff, except for one little problem: The freakin’ thing broke 45 seconds into flight.

Talk about embarrassing.

A Note on Sequels

A lot of people seem to assign the word “sequel” with the definition of, “A continuation of the first story.” But recently I’ve come across substantial evidence to indicate otherwise. While this new definition desperately tries to hold onto the connotation that the previous definition carries, the literal definition is quite different.

It now goes something like this:

A second, completely separate and much lamer movie that intends to juice all possible revenue out of a previous movie’s name and/or stars. It may or may not have any relation to the previous film, and oftentimes within the last 10 minutes a movie will introduce a completely new issue that will take another 3 hours to explain so that they may produce a sequel. Several sequels may be made, turning a specific group of films into a “series.” This series will normally go on until it becomes clear that nobody cares anymore.

I’d like to thank Hollywood for making this post possible.

Happy 11th of October!

Everybody’s talking about Independence Day (no, not that Independence Day). It is, after all, the Fourth of July. Today is the day that Americans everywhere are eating charcoal hamburgers, blowing up Chinese bombs, and making worthless political statements.

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Those guys sure knew what they were doing when they picked the 4th of July to sign that thing. Can you imagine what it would be like if they had picked, say, the 11th of October?

“Happy 11th of October, everybody!”

It just doesn’t flow. Not to mention, who has barbeques in October? Or shoots fireworks? Nobody, and that’s why the 11th of October would suck as a national independence day.

July’s the perfect month. Right in the middle of the summer, clear skies for fireworks, perfect temperature for barbeques. I’m sure the signers thought through all of this before sending that letter off to England, because I mean, that’s pretty important. Creating a national holiday is a big deal.

My grass is greener than yours.

I think mowing one’s lawn is actually counter-productive. I mean, from what I can gather, point of mowing your lawn is to make it seem like you actually take care of your yard. Now, the problem with this is, once you mow it, it’s going to grow back. Fast.

Then you have to continually keep mowing it and mowing it and mowing it because it keeps catching up on you. This whole ordeal could easily be solved by simply letting it grow and sticking a sign in your front yard:

I like it this way.

Or, if you’re one of those people who have to have everything neat-and-tidy (I’ll bet you even have a special spot reserved just for your remote controls, don’t you?), why not just rip out all of your grass and install that green, grass-like carpet stuff? Seems to work good on TV.

Note to self: Apparently emangelists (email + evangelists = a term I just made up) are just as crappy as televangelists.

Everybody hates chain mail. You know, “Forward this to at least 10 people in the next 48 hours or you’ll get hit by a flying piano and die.” But that’s not all that bad (though still annoying). I mean they’re easy to spot–if I see five “Fwd:” things in the subject line then I know that it’s probably safe to delete.

But that’s old-school. There’s a new type of chain mail on the block, and this elite string of forwards does not try to manipulate the general public through cute fake images or promises of grandeur superstition, rather, the fashionable religious guilt trip. Here is an excerpt from an actual email I once received:

This is an easy test, you score 100 or zero. It’s your choice If you aren’t ashamed to do this, please follow the directions. Jesus said, “If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.”

Not ashamed pass this on . . . only if you mean it. Yes, I do Love God. He is my source of existence and Savior. He keeps me functioning each and every day. Without Him, I am nothing, but with Him I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Phil 4:13

This is the simplest test. If you Love God, and are not ashamed of all the marvelous things he has done for you. Send this to ten people you love and the person who sent it to you!

Damn, I’d better hurry up and forward this thing before God takes out the lightning…

American Patriotism

American patriotism is a funny thing… I mean, when British people have celebrations, they burn effigies of people with names like… “Guy.” But America easily tops that.

See, we choose to celebrate our independence by blowing up miniature bombs that we bought from China. Yeah, we like to call this, “Independence Day.”

And don’t forget the little plastic flags–that’s a definite must. By the way, have you ever looked at the bottom of one of those? Made in Tokyo.

Boy Scouts != (do not equal) People with a Sense of Direction

Yesterday morning I loaded up my airsoft gun, slammed some CO2 in that thing, and took off for some little island in the middle of the Willamette River. All together there were eight people, 10 guns, 4 bags of Cheetos, a cooler with approximately 63.2 cans of soda, a radio, and two canoes. Oh yeah, and 7 oar/paddle things. The weather? About 100 degrees.

Now, many of you are probably thinking that to carry all of this upriver using only two canoes, multiple trips would be a must. You’re probably right, but that would take longer. And besides, once the first load gets there, who’s going back? Not me.

The canoe I was in had no major problems. We hit a few low spots at first, but after that it was smooth sailing. It looked like we might have a little problem with some small rapids, but we were able to steer clear of the rocks.

The other four in the other canoe had a completely different story, however. As we landed at this mile-long, 50 to 100 yards wide lump of sand, I turned to watch their progress. They were on the complete other side of the river, knee-deep in this polluted water, pushing and pulling the canoe, trying to get past the rapids. When they thought they were safe, they pushed off and started paddling. They got to the middle of the river when they realized that they’re paddling forward with everything they’ve got, and they’re not moving forward. So they turned the canoe towards the island, trying to go straight for it.

The problem? They were now going backwards. By the way, did I mention that most of the people in that little plastic boat were Boy Scouts?

So after we were all safely on this miniature oasis, we made our way to the “campsite,” being a little clearing with a picnic table in the middle of it. Apparently, these people had been here before with their Boy Scout troupe and built some paths and made a “campsite.” I figured these guys must know the island pretty well by now.

We’re playing our first game, and my team comes into contact with a few of the enemy. I pull out my glorified, 350fps piece of plastic and pick off one of them. Unfortunately, I get hit in the hand soon after (lucky shot, I’m telling you–so what if I was just sitting on the beach).

As such, me and my victim make our way back to the distinguished “campsite” and all of that Mountain Dew. We start off on the path, when somewhere along the line we sort of loose it. We’re in the middle of this grass stuff in between 5 and 6 feet tall, and my victim is ahead of me, leading the way. He decides that the best course of action would be to blaze his own trail. This doesn’t sound like the most brilliant plan to me, but I figure that since he was one of the people who built this campsite he must know what he’s doing…He is a Boy Scout after all.

And besides, if you think that I’m going to go back by all by myself and to try to find the real path, you gotta be nuts. At least he’s in front so that I don’t have to break down all of that grass. I follow him around for a little while, when it becomes clear that he doesn’t exactly know where he’s going. We head for the river on the east side of the island (OK, I admit it–I actually have no clue what direction it was, but we’ll just call it east for now) so that we can see how far up the island we are. Suddenly, the ground drops, and we find ourselves much deeper in this grass. That doesn’t seem to bother my brilliant guide too much, and he keeps on blazing. That is, until the ground dropped again.

This time, it dropped, and it kept on dropping. I was able to stop, but my victim/guide fell and was quickly sliding in the direction of the river. When he was able to grab onto something and stop, we realized that he had stopped about 3.4 feet away from a cliff dropping right into the great, polluted Willamette River. Wonderful.

Did we turn around and head back, hoping to perhaps find the real path again? Of course not. He still wanted to keep on blazing. Thankfully while blazing through we eventually came in contact with the real path. Upon this finding my not-so-helpful guide turns back towards me with, “See? The path. I told you I knew where I was going.”

It wasn’t until we were back at the campsite that I was informed by somebody else that my “guide” recently got lost at the last Boy Scout camping trip. I was also informed by another that if you go too far east, there’s a cliff that will drop right into the river.

Gosh, thanks.