By the Power of Santa Claus

Exams is on. I'm entering two intense weeks of all-out studying. No depression this time around, though, I'm expecting things to go quite smoothly. The only problem is being constantly tired in my eyes and my brain, but hey: Been there before, yeah? And in two short weeks it'll be over.

But enough of that. Soon, the dreaded Season of Psycho Shoppers is upon us, and my guess is you're already trying to find that perfect gift.. well, either that, or you're trying to do a Neo and realize the truth: There is no christmas. Which, as we all know, is wrong. But no matter, because your god and idol (that would be me) is here to save the day (and your soul; but I don't have time for that right now). This year, you will buy Carnivale, the best television series ever, for all your friends and family. It's scientifically proven to be the perfect gift, and the ones you get it for will worship the ground you've trod on forever (and maybe yourself as well, but no promises). Not bad, eh? And if that fact doesn't convince you, allow me to make a few more arguments:
1. It is the best television series ever made.
2. Buying the first two seasons on DVD is the best way to convince HBO to order more seasons, since it was cruelly cancelled last summer. Make no mistake, more seasons of Carnivale would be the best thing since Jesus. Probably even better.
3. You can wear it to parties and it will make you look suave (lie).
4. It's an infinitely better gift than that lame one you were thinking of.
5. You'll go to Heaven when you die (probably true).

In summation, your mantra this christmas will be this: Buy Carnivale. Oh, and did I mention it's the best television series ever made, objectively speaking? Some of you may be thinking, how can it objectively be the best anything? But those who've been paying attention already know the answer. Normal rules apply; if you don't like Carnivale, then what does that make you? A moron. And you don't want to be a moron, now, do you?

I choo-choo-choose you

Um. I thought that the Democrat victory in the US deserved somewhat of a mention. But, now that I've done that, I'm not sure there's much more to say. I mean, yay, I guess.. but what is up with those Americans anyway? Will they make up their fucking mind and make some coherent choices, for once? After all, they did re-elect Dubya. After four fucking years with the bastard, they still didn't throw him down a well, like they should have. But now they want a change? Maybe they're just slow. Maybe they should listen to the rest of the world before making decisions next time. Because they do realize that their choices affect the rest of us as well, right?

Maybe things will change for the slightly better now, and maybe not. But I'm left wondering whether this is a babystep in the right direction, or just another random election. I'm thinking the latter. It might be that I'm just pessimistic, but then again, I'm not paid to be an optimist. Actually, I'm not paid at all, but that's another subject entirely.

Welcome to the rest home

Here I am, one year older and just as useless. Just thought I should drop by, since trying to actually follow up on my promise (y'know, the Norwegian film thing) ended up keeping me from even touching this blog for, let's see, nearly three weeks now. So, not only am I going back on my promise, but I'm also promising not to promise anything here ever again. If you have a complaint to make about this, please wrap it around your penis and stuff it up some dogs bottom.
Anyway, following my Birthday of Ultimate Darkness I've started feeling old again, as I usually do around this time of year. But this time, I want to help others avoid becoming as miserable and cynical as me, so that's why I'm going to dispense some sage advice. Kids, this is from the guy that's old enough to have a beard but still, mysteriously, is unable to grow one:

A silly man once said; "Time is short and flies fast". Well, the man may be silly, but in this he was right (duh). Therefore, it is important to make the most out of the short time we are given. To put it another way, if there's a drug you still haven't done, try it. If you've never killed, raped, or pillaged, do that also. Build bombs and blow stuff up. Laugh at the physically and mentally impaired. Masturbate in public. You know, live a little. And then, when you're done living it up, kill yourself while there's still time. If suicide was good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for you.

Before I go, I also have something for the people who are older than me: Face it, you're old. I mean, you're older than me, and I'm old. Old old old.

Cue evil laugh and rubbing of hands.

Film Industry of Ultimate Darkness

Let us talk about the state of Norwegian cinema. Keep in mind, I have yet to see some of the most critically acclaimed films of the last few years, sure. But I have seen the other most critically acclaimed films, because strangely, they're all most critically acclaimed. Oh my, all you foreigners may be thinking, does that mean that Norway is on a cinematic roll? If you listen to the critics, our film industry just can't go wrong. All our writers and directors are geniouses, they're shitting out gold. Could this really be the case?

Short answer: No. Long answer: Fuck no! Given the amount of pure crap that's getting good reviews, I'm thinking there's two possibilities: Either the critics are actually throwing dice or they're just plain retarded. Which brings me to my next point: Norwegian film critics are retarded. I've seen critically acclaimed Norwegian films which looks like something Uwe Boll pieced together in college. Even our good films aren't very good. But why? What makes Norwegian film so second-rate? What the hell is wrong with these people?

I will try to shed some light on this, but not right now. In my next post (yeah, I know, you've all heard that before. But this time I mean it! Really!) I will try to examine a few Norwegian films that got it wrong, and at least one that got it right. Wait, is that the smell of a bold, new move by me'n'my blog, the sweet smell of ambition?

No it is not. It's just me, fed up and bitching as usual. The thing is, we did get it right a few times. The Excellent Norwegian Film Thing is not just a myth. However, the Norwegian Film Critic With a Shred of Anything Even Remotely Resembling Intelligence, is. And how, then, are we, the audience, supposed to know what films we should see? But anyway, I know this was a shoddy update. I promise to do better next time. See ya later, niblets.

EDIT: Jesus Christ (and my other readers, as well), have a look at this. The Spanish King of Ultimate Darkness (non-official title) shoots drunk bear. Is this a common pasttime in Spain? Getting animals drunk and shooting them? On a completely different note, what colour is the Colgate Total Whitening toothpaste?

You guessed it, it's blue. What a strange world.

Bitches..? Party people? Anyone there?

Saturday was the big day. After one week of heavy planning, everything was ready for our (second) house-warming party (our first one was very fun but included only 2 out of 3 residents, so we promptly gave it another shot). The ox was slaughtered in the traditional halal way, and prepared with the finest spices from Oslo East (noted for both its quality, but mostly its quantity, of exotic tastes) and the freshest herbs of autumnal Norway. We had performed the sacred Wine-Blessing-Dance, and sacrificed a portion of our mead to Santa Claus. We even performed the secret and powerful Masturbation of Christ, just to be sure we had all our divine bases covered.

Well, it would seem that any more than one house-warming party is considered hubris, a deadly insult to the Gods. Because as we sat there, in our holy robes (open in the back), with Ravi Shankar blasting from our speakers, waiting for the guests, guess what happened? Nothing. Noone showed up.

Noone.

Actually, we were down one as well, as the third person living here (the one who missed the first party also) left to watch a movie with a friend. Expect pictures from our party, featuring Mr. Merde (the Incredible Balloon-Bouncing Man) and a pirate balloon, soon.

Something completely different: Apparently, Oslo has gotten some new subway carriages. As I stepped into one of them last night, it felt decidedly like the future. The cold and hostile future, that is (I was also reminded of the time, when waiting for tram no. 17, I suddenly found myself boarding tram X.. very Twilight Zoney). I'll probably get used to it with time, but I'm really not very fond of this sterile, hospital-like trend that seems to be spreading. Everything's supposed to be white, clean and futuristic these days. Call me old-fashioned, but I'll take the post-apocalyptic style any day, even if we have to fuck up the earth to get it.

True Stories from the Apartment of Somewhat Unpleasant Horrors

Strange happenings in the apartment lately. My roommate (who, at least for the moment and for no apparent reason, shall be known as Mr. Kurva), after a miraculous recovery from death (and because of this shall now be known as Mr. Kurva the Magical Death-Defying Miracle Man), brought home a deer some days ago. The deer, named Rudolphe (also called, sometimes, the Magical Mystery Deer of Power) was discovered wandering the streets of Oslo, perhaps prostituting itself, and seemed to enjoy life on the 8th floor. This, of course, is interesting, as scientists normally consider deer quite afraid of heights. He wandered around the apartment, cutely nibbling our socks (which are now full of holes), and generally being very charming. Anyway, since we both are animal lovers, and since Rudolphe was, at times, very annoying (and despite it not being christmas yet), we killed, cooked and ate him (with cabbage and black peppers, obviously). It was delicious.

Murder is quickly becoming the staple of this collective. Luckily, we have the big cellar, so it shouldn't be a problem. Actually, Mr. Kurva mumbled something about "army of zombies", but that might just have been posttraumatic resurrectionconfusion-syndrome, very common in people coming back from the dead. You know, if anything interesting happens, you'll be the first to know about it. Lucky bastards, you. One for the road, word combo of the day:
Candy-coloured cock.

Broken cups and strange dreams

Right, so I had this weird dream last night. There was this group of people, and they were going to beat me up for three days, and then kill me. They were quite open about it, there was no reason for it, and they were not happy about it. The disturbing part: Some of these people were my friends (in case anyone just got worried; not my real-life friends. In fact, they weren't based on real people at all). So I pleaded with them to stop, mostly because I didn't want to be killed (I would guess this is pretty normal), but also because I didn't want to kill them. You see, the only way to get out of this pickle would be to murder them, one by one, over this three-day period. So while they were simply toying with me, beating me around like a crash test dummy, I was constantly trying to
trick them in ways that would end in their deaths. But of course I didn't succeed, because I couldn't kill my friends, and the others were to plain strong for me. The dream cut off after the second day, when I was planning some serious mass murder. It was a cliffhanger ending that I hope will continue tonight; because I really liked this dream. It was like an exciting movie, it had all the important elements: Unmotivated violence, intrigue, emotional dilemmas, and a very real sense of danger and loss.

Does thinking like this make me disturbed and dangerous? Or was this dream simply a parable of the way I think of my life? Of course, there were some additional details.. but I'm keeping those for myself.

Anyway, storytime: My very first taste of coffee came from a small, blue cup, handmade and hand-painted. I later bought this cup, the very same one, and I've had it with me ever since. I've used it for coffee, as a urinal when no other option was available, for sperm when I've been jerking off, and for money during my many begging rounds through Oslo. So you see, I've made memories with this cup, it's comforted me when I've felt lonely, and it's been my only ray of light when I've felt suicidal. And yesterday, it got broken into approxomately 37 pieces. It was broken by my (late) friend, who I lived with until I killed him and stashed his corpse in our surprisingly roomy cellar. And now I have to pay double rent. Oh well. A small price to pay for justice.
The moral of this story, of course, is this: Don't kill anyone unless you're rich.

Sofa King

I woke up this morning (take note, this is not something I do every day) to this news story. For all you people to lazy to click on links, it's about the benefits of tea. Long story short; tea is good for you and you should drink three to four cups a day. The most interesting part, however, is that apparently neither tea nor coffee is dehydrating. You'll still feel like shit if you drink only coffee and no water, but you'll have a "net gain of fluid", the doctor says (except for the shit part, that was my personal opinion). Lastly, it's worth mentioning that the studies were paid for by the UK Tea Council. Make of this what you will. I want to believe.

In other news, I now have a sofa. It is quite big and very very comfy, in fact, it's once been used as a torture device by the Spanish Inquisition. I am hoping it will give me a new roll, since my last roll (which lasted for at least two weeks) ended approximately four days ago. I have been on several rolls this summer, but I've had this dreadful feeling lately that things are returning to normal. Which means no rolls for a long time. But we'll see. The saying goes "live and learn", but my own interpretation goes more like "live, learn, forget, get bored. Have a cup of coffee".

Oh well. Now I'm off to double, maybe triple, my daily intake of caffeine.

Wikiweirdia

Wikipedia is weird.

While having my last cigarette before going to bed, I was kinda bored. I'd been reading about wasps (don't ask) on wikipedia, so I decided to hit the "random article" button.

I was sent here.

As I sat there staring, with a very confused WTF? bouncing around in my head, I got the crazy notion of hitting the button again.

This time I was sent here.

How did I even manage to get by in the years before wikipedia? My mind boggles at the thought.

Edit: I decided to try it one more time. After all, wikipedia can't be made up of nothing but useless information, right? There are, surely, a lot of well-written, informative and interesting articles in their database? Well.. take a look at this. I should think the evidence speaks for itself.

I feel like I could do this all night.

News, fresh like a virgins nipple

This blog is probably not most famous for being a up-to-date comment on the very latest world events. In case you just became worried, rest assured that this will not happen. However, today I bring you all a few fresh news stories that I found oddly fascinating. Firstly, have a look at this report about the Ama, female Japanese pearl divers (average age: 72). I found it interesting how a profession thought better suited to women than men could be close to extinction while a Korean cosmetics company provides free makup for the poor. Daily necessities, indeed. But hey, that's how the world is, now, like before: The most important use of the woman is as pretty collectibles for men. And, of course, a starving woman equals a pretty woman (remember, kids: It's not called "skinny" but "slender").
Lastly, a completely random report: If you go to India, remember to bring Coca-Cola, because you might not get a hold of it there. You see, since soft drinks are bad for you, they've been banned. Beautiful simplicity. Meanwhile, we're upset because of stricter laws against smoking.. Oh, and while the world is rapidly descending into a whirlpool of shit, the most intelligent people on the planet (yes, even smarter than me, although it hurts to admit it) hide in their attics solving math problems.

This concludes our annual news bulletin.

Mama Mia, Let My People Go

The last few weeks there's been a debate in Norwgian media. The debate has been concerning whether author Jostein Gaarder is a anti-semite or not. You see, Gaarder wrote an essay in which he says that Israel shouldn't be killing children, because he thinks it's naughty. Jews all over the world got enraged by this, saying it's ok to kill children as long as they're muslims, and accused the author of anti-semitism and devil worshipping. Gaarder was surprised by this, because he didn't know how much jews love to kill children. Of course, he should've done his homework, like me. So, in the spirit of anti-semitism, here's a quick Angry-La special: Evil Jew Timetable.

-A long time ago: First Jew born. Immediately chokes his mother to death using the umbilical cord.
-Shortly after: Jews exterminate dinosaurs. While laughing.
-2000 B.C: First Jew in space. Does not return, possibly made pact with aliens.
-36 A.D: Jews torture and kill Jesus. They also poked him with a stick.
-1913 A.D: Jews create Richard Nixon in a lab.
-1939 A.D: Jews provoke Adolf Hitler into starting the Second World War. When this proves counter-productive, they invent the atomic bomb.
-1948 A.D: Israel is created, providing a place for all Jews to rub their hands together and laugh maniacally. Here they discover the joys of killing Arab children.
-1967 A.D: Jews occupies Palestine, starts randomly invading neighbouring countries for laughs.
-1975 A.D: Jews create Microsoft, their most evil project yet.
-2006 A.D: Norwegian author Jostein Gaarder writes an essay in which he says he no longer acknowledges the state of Israel. Well, at least the one created in 1967.

Of course, this list is far from complete. Jews have also made the movie Pearl Harbor, created TV Shop, and killed your dog. If you feel I have forgotten something important, feel free to add to the timetable. Just make sure you've got your facts straight. And remember, kids: Anti-semitism is not discrimination, it's common sense.

The Dark Age

A wise and horny man once said; 'tis better to have loved and lost, and so on. Well, he was obviously not talking about the internet. Because I'm here to tell you, munchkins, for a man who've gotten used to the easy world access of the web it's a truly painful experience to have it snatched away. Which, you guessed it, is excactly what happened to me well over a month ago. I did in no way stop living, but my existence was forcefully changed in a way I've yet to fathom completely.

Before you make lots of strange noises with your nose and start sending me hatemail telling me how pathetic I am, consider this: The 'net is full of news. It lets us pay our bills and change our adresses in an instant. It has a far more up-to-date list of jobs and apartments for hire than all the handheld newspapers combined. It makes communication with friends, enemies and fictional cartoon characters far too easy. Besides, it's filled with delighfully random weirdness. Wondering where you've seen that actor before? IMDB. Stuck in a videogame? Gamefaqs. Hungry? Milk and cookies. Feel like reading something with real meaning, something to stimulate several brain functions at once whil keeping you entertained? Angry-La.. well, maybe that last one was a bad example. But my point still stands: Once you've learned the ways of the 'net, it becomes an external limb of sorts. If it's removed, your brain starts to limp. Allow me to provide a short, but embarassing example.
The other day, someone was saying something naughty about a certain country, let us call it Nicerael. The reason, as you all know, was that this country (consisting mostly of fluffy bunnies and evil arabs) had invaded another. Upon hearing this, I was all "what? They've invaded Iran?".

...

And there you have it. To sum up: Internet good, Israel bad. And me lazy (I always wondered what all those newspapers were for). Until next time, kids: Play nice, or else you're likely to be eaten by a Jew.

Buh-bye for now

Did I say juicy update? Funny, I don't remember that.

Anyway, here's the dealio, kids: Uncle Grovdal will be abandoned by the internet. That means random updates, at best, for the unforeseeable future (most likely the next month or so). Let's hope Cogitatum picks up the slack, since he's finally made an update after centuries of silence. Go over there and bother him, children. He deserves it, the bastard, for still having teh internet and everything.

I'm going to miss the 'net. Buh-bye for now, then.

Attention, music lover!

Alright now, this is just peachy: A radio station that plays music you may like, depending on your very own input. Pandora is just a click away, friends.

I'll be back with a more juicy update soon. In the meantime, Sleeper Says: Enjoy.

Who put the 'ew' in 'news'?

Just a quick update with some news stories that bodes well for the world:
- A nice inspiration for science fiction fans can be found in this lovable cult's love shack. What's up with jolly old Britain, anyway?
- Despite a few noisy nights, I can't say I've ever had a neighbour as crazy as this. I mean, booby-trapping plant pots? Come on. Points for creativity and perserverance, though.
- And lastly: Old women killing homeless people for fun and profit. Only in America. Hopefully.

Fuck-a-doodle-do

Alright, here it is: Exams depressions. Most of you probably know what it's like; it's not just doing everything except what you're supposed to be doing and consequently feeling guilty about it, it's also every other paranoia resurfacing when you need it the least. Everyone is your enemy, they all hate you and want you to fail miserably, not just at these exams, oh no, I'm talking life here. Even the sun only has one simple goal: To see you, face-down, crying and yelling in the middle of a motorway, waiting for it all to end. You won't be hit by any cars today, however, because all the fucking drivers are in on it.
Anyway, it's not just other people, is it? Oh no, mostly it's just yourself. You're a born fucking loser, and you know it. No wonder there's noone there to comfort you, you simply don't deserve it. You can't even manage to pass some unimportant exams, how the hell are you going to suceed at anything else? You'll end up on the dole, on the street, in some fucking alley getting assraped by the leaders of your country as they laugh maniacally and wave their money in front of you.

It's all your own fault, after all, for not doing shit about it until now. You thought you were clever enough, but now you know you're not. As you sit in front of the massive pile of books (just when did those books get so fucking big, anyway?), you try to make out the words on the page but it's all a blur. And then you know, instinctively, that it's not going to be okay. It's not going to work out in the end. You, my friend, are totally and utterly fucked.

Good luck on the spring exams, everyone!

Make it reggae!

I have discovered something. It would seem that, each year, some parts of the ground (you know, the one outside) goes green. At these green spots, people have appeared, and lots of them. Many of these people are women with little or no clothes on them. My brain is still trying to process it all, but as far as I can tell these women are either grown directly on the spot or extremely attracted to green. I have made a mental note on buying lots of green clothes, as a direct result of this.

Also, I have disturbing news for readers of this blog. It seems that exposion to the sun, half-naked women, and reggea has had an unfortunate effect on my mood. I am actually experiencing short, painful moments of contentedness. This may appear as a good thing. However, it leaves me in short supply of stuff to whine about here, such as the lack of said elements. Luckily, the answers may be right ahead: The dreaded Spring Exams are on their way. My cashflow is not so much flowy as it is jerky. I do not have a job for the summer, nor a place to live. In short: Things will soon be back to normal. Don't despair, let me do that for you.

In other news: Recent studies (made by me) suggests that reggae is good for you. A lack of music has actually caused the extinction of several species of animals, mostly mammals. As we know, people are mammals (and rude ones, at that). So, in order to avoid extinction; make it reggae!

(Oh, and in case you're wondering where to start, try the Dynamite! series from Soul Jazz Records. I have recently been exposed to #3 in the series, it will r0xx0r your s0xx0rz)

Time to get ill

Righ, just to let you know: In case you've been wondering where my promised weekly updates have gone, I've taken sick leave from this blog (and almost everything else) for a spell. I am, however, going to get better soon, because my plan for world domination depends on it.

I have said too much.

Anyway, since this writing is nothing more than pure, digitalized thoughts, does this post even exist? Now that's something for you dogs to chew on until next time.

Get the shotgun, Edie.

There was a POST here..

..it's gone now.

Tigers and Monsters

Right. I'm trying to update this thing at least once a week these days, so excuse me if some of the posts (like this one) might seem a bit unnecessary. I'm quite drained of everything resembling energy, creativity and will to move. This is because of a small city called Oslo, which I've now returned to. Once called the tiger-town by some depressed writer, it's a city that makes one want to run through the streets with a lawnmower, Braindead-style. It's tiny, but thinks it's huge, it's rabidly obsessed with money and appearances, it's got some of the most americanized people in Norway who somehow manages to proclaim their disgust for the same country-god they worship. In other words, it's probably like every damn city in the world: Depressing as hell, but one cannot help but love it. The point: I'm back, baby, and I'm having a bad day. Let's just chalk it up to urban lag, not because I've crossed a time zone, but because I've been thrust straight into another fucking dimension..

..which ties into my next item nicely. Oh, and if you're of a nervous disposition, or rather, if you don't enjoy having your nerves torn out of your skin, tossed around, chewed, spit out and pissed upon, you might wanna ignore this next part. But if you, on the other side, love having nightmares (hey, it's better than being bored all the time, right?) you really should consider a vacation. Clicky this linky to see an.. advert.. for a nice, foggy tourist town. They are expecting you.

The Angry-La Fortune Cookie

When in doubt, kill yourself.

Weekend of w00tness

For those who are wondering, I'm currently at home in my parents house in the beautiful, but boring, Norwegian countryside. Visiting former hunting grounds invariably means meeting old friends, which in turn often leads to parties. So, as to not upset the natural order of the universe, last saturday me and some friends came together for a shindig.
It started quite innocently, with drinking, music, and fun for the whole family. Then we shipped ourself off to the local beer den, which resulted in heartbroken wallets, but still, nothing mayor. Due to the excessive amount of people out last weekend, however, getting a taxi proved rather difficult, but we finally found one after spending half an hour walking in minus 25 degrees celsius. And that's when the w00t kicked in.

There was song (depending on your definition. There was, at least, loud noises coming out of our mouths). There was wine (quite literally. Wine was found in strange places the day after). And there was dancing; of the homoerotic kind, none the less, complete with a strange fascination with spanking. There was women, as well, but as far as I can remember they neither gave nor received the spanking. Finally, there was some serious headbanging performed by yours truly, and I have to say I still haven't fully recovered. My neck has been aching like hell the last few days, but that's what you get when you don't stop rocking when it hurts. And we didn't stop rocking for quite some time (and it did, indeed, hurt). I'm excpecting a love letter from the neighbours any day now, let's hope they enjoyed the music.

Divine Intervention

Let us assume, for a moment, that God exists. No, let's go further than that: Let's pretend that I am God (really not much of a stretch). I have just created Man. I feel quite content with myself. Maybe I'm patting myself on the back, saying, "Wow, Me, that was a clever one!". This does not last long, of course. Because Man starts bickering, and bullying each other, and I'm all, "wait a second, this wasn't the plan!" and I start trying to fix it. Floods, plagues, earthquakes, disco, I'm pulling all the stops in order to get rid of the bastards, but somehow, that's always the ones coming out on top. So, naturally, I'm now thinking: "Well, I tried. Now fuck this, I'm outta here!" After that I'd probably just retire, or maybe start over on some other planet far far away.

This is presuming I'm a nice God. Because, if even someone who's omnipotent (me) couldn't manage to weed out the bastards, they're here to stay. While not the main point of this post, my example also serves as a giant "fuck you" to all the "final solution"-believers out there. You cannot fight evil with evil. But I digress.

What then, if I'm a more human-like God? What if Man really were made in My image? Think about it: We humans sure like our soaps. The stories we tell and enjoy the most are the ones with lots of conflict and misery, and we often like the bad guys best, as well. In this case God would be no exception. So it would be natural for Me (still God, in case you'd forgotten) to build the world as a giant soap opera stage. I start it simple, with cavemen bashing each other in the head. But my need for intrigue grows, so I begin complicating things. Soon the stories grow, the conflict intensifies and the stage becomes truly epic, with empires falling, religious wars, weapons of mass destruction and economic collapse.
In one episode, some amazing discoveries are made, where the past truly comes out to haunt the religious leaders (the dinosaurs). In another, a tiny angry man kickstarts a dormant war machine which in turn leads to the attempted genocide of the Jews. And quite recently (and quite brilliantly, if I may say so myself) a dane with good intentions starts riots across most of the muslim world when he prints some cartoons of one of my most prominent protagonists. My continuity is flawless, even though I sometimes have trouble with character development. But: I watch it, and I see that it is good. I am God, and I demand to be entertained!

Then again, it's obvious that I'm not especially fond of happy endings.

The Holy Drugs

Edit: I seem to have fucked up the font, so get your glasses out. I'm sure there's some cosmic irony in it, but I flatly refuse to learn from it.

Right, so if you are a member of the religious group O Centro Espirita Beneficente Uniao do Vegetal you are now allowed to do drugs, according to the US Supreme Court. Or, specifically, you're allowed to drink hoasca tea, containing the hallicugenic substance DMT, which is (usually) illegal, during ceremonies. Of course, these guys need some synthetic help in doing what religious people have been doing for thousand of years by sheer delusion, namely connecting with God. I suspect that this group will soon be getting quite the increase in it's congregation, although one may start to wonder why they didn't add in some more gods, connected to separate types of drugs, while they were at it. That way they could all worship their drug-Lord of choice, and the hardcore religious types could worship all at once, thereby earning enormous respect and maybe be given a place as a holy man. Anyway, this uplifting story has given me inspiration: I'm currently planning a religion in which we worship the holy Mary Jane. The only way to understand this holiest of holies is, of course, by smoking vast amounts of.. well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest. So, who's with me?

The Angry-La newsreel:
- Norwegians perform crappily in the Olympics, while the Swedes run off with one gold after another. Norway is currently moping about this and blaming it on our neighbours (and, probably, especially the muslim community there).
- The police have started arresting buyers of weed from the local drugstore. While the area in question has turned into a really unpleasant place to pass (unless you consider being surrounded by foreigners whose sole Norwegian vocabulary consists of the words "buy" and "drugs" a fun time), and the method probably will turn out to be most effective (since most of the buyers are hip people and students, not what you would call hardened criminals), it still is worrying. First off, we're talking about a crime that would be victimless had it not been a crime. Second, if the repercussions for the arrested go beyond a good scare, students will have to work more and study less to pay off the fines. And if they're going to jail, who will bring the fat fucks at the police station their pizza? But I won't cry out "police state" just yet. The morale, of course, is this: Help your fellow students get by; buy your weed from them instead of the shifty guy at the corner.
- A Norwegian soap called "Hotel Caesar" is being accused of destroying the minds of young children because it had a shotgun it one episode. If you ask me, violence is not what's going to make their brains rot, the crapness of the series will take care of that.

Cartoons of Mass Destruction

I finally googled the Mohammad cartoons and my computer didn't explode, which was a relief. I like my computer, you see. It also made me realize that the embassy raiders didn't just overreact, they dug their own moral graves. Before the extremely violent reactions of last week, I was willingly dismissing the printing of said cartoons as stupid, at best. But now, well.. let's just go over some ground rules, shall we?
First of all, violence, or the threat of violence, is an unacceptable reaction to any situation except, sometimes, if you're acting in self-defense. Or if you're a ninja.
Second, if you subscribe to a religion then, by all means, follow it's rules. But never, ever, try and force others to respect it. If you wish to worship the Holy Cocoa Bean then go right ahead, but that doesn't mean I'll quit eating chocolate in public.
Third, freedom of speech is necessary for freedom of religion. Easy as that. Fight the one and you automatically fight the other.

However, the question remains: Was the cartoons offensive? As has repeatedly been pointed out by most intelligent beings: While Jyllands-Posten and all others who chose to print the drawings had an unquestionable right to do so, that doesn't make it smart (or tactful). After all, unless you're a ninja, you really shouldn't go around offending people for no good reason. So we return to the question: Offensive or no? Decide for yourself, if you haven't seen them; feel free to use the link provided at the start of this post. That page also includes the three fake drawings (the ones brought to the Middle East by a Danish imam without any trace of common sense), something you might find helps shed some light on the whole burning and pillaging thing.
If you want more, The Mohammed Image Archive is a collection of different depictions of the prophet throughout history, including Persian art and, of course, Danish cartoons. And these political cartoons discuss the controversy in far greater depth than any blog, even one as brilliant as my own, ever could. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand embassies.

Latest news: US vice-president Dick Cheney shoots a guy while hunting. Unofficial sources say Dick claimed the man "had some weapons of mass destruction under his coat".

Murderer sighted!

The Killer, wearing the victims head as a mask. A truly gruesome vision.

I wasn't too bothered by the sight, though. As previously indicated, I was quite drunk.

Murder!

The victim of a senseless slaughter. Blame it on the tequila. Also notice the dishwashing utensil to the left, I have no idea what it is doing there.

Swing it

Saw Swingers last night. Last time I did was about 10 years ago, at which time I enjoyed it. Luckily I didn't remember much except that it was funny and charming, which made last night's viewing all the more sweet. Now, however, the movie resonated in a way denied me the last time, 'cause hey, let's face it: I was no playa at the age of 14.
That's not saying I am one now, but at least I know the score. I've seen the cruel, eat-or-be-eaten world of the nubs and the nightclubs. And that's why the main characters continued rejections and mishaps gets me straight in the self-esteem, while knocking my chair back laughing. I feel with the guy, I laugh knowingly with him at his embarrasing fuck-ups and, in the end, I taste the victory, I feel the bunny between my teeth (as they say..) when he finally strikes paydirt. So, with no further ado: As always, I command you to take a jog down to the video store, rent Swingers, and enjoy. Afterwards you may masturbate if you want. Just watch it through to the end first (you can hold it that long, can't you?). Because: It's money, baby.

And this place is dead, anyway.

Random update

Ha ha! Now noone can tell me I never update this thing.
Oh, you want content, do you? You are bored, and want me to provide your rotting brain with fresh waste? Okay, here's what you do: Go watch this big ad (it's really big). Then go masturbate.

When you're done (unless you wanna do it again, which is allowed, as long as you don't let your girlfriend/boyfriend see you, unless he/she likes to watch you do your thing, which may or may not be normal but shan't be discussed in depth at this time) go download the original Elder Scrolls: Arena, since it's been released as freeware and all, and play it. By the time you're done with it I'll probably have plenty more posts for you.

But wait, there's more: Me and a buddy wasted a whole afternoon playing this little gem, which is (like all good time-wasters) deceptively simple, but highly addictive. Oh, and it's a demo, so if you feel the price for an upgrade is too steep, you could always buy yourself a brand new Mac, 'cause they come equipped with the full version. If you ask me, that's the best reason for buying one, anyway.

One more game for the road: If you've never played Samorost, go do so now. It's free, short, and brilliant, and way too cute for me to provide a link. If you've never googled before in your life, now's as good a time as any to start.

Annual bullshit report

Sometimes, I understand. When I do, I stop making any sense whatsoever. This is because understanding cannot be explained. At least that is what I tell myself.

And so that was christmas, and what have I done? Well, for starters, I've been relishing in the relative comfort of home (the real home, as it were, a very different place from my regular home), relaxing and conversing with friends and family. I also got drunk, which is to be expected, since it's a Norwegian tradition that must not be broken. However, I never really got wasted, which was strange. Also, this christmas I seemed to constantly end up at nachspiels featuring the smaller sisters of old friends, which was kind of bizarre.
Our tree this year (or rather, last year) was as crooked as the president of the U.S., it flatly refused to stand straight in any way, and it also fell dramatically towards me on one occasion. If it wasn't for a luckily placed piece of string, I wouldn't be here today. Or at least I would have been hurting somewhat more.
That horrible curse of holidays, family gatherings, were present this time as well, only in very small doses, thankfully. To everyone's surprise I not only survived, but also found a small speck of enjoyment in it. I guess that's the magic of Coca-Cola or something.

Other stuff:
New Year's Eve has come and gone, and it is something I probably shouldn't speak of. Not that there's much to say, anyway. Suffice to say there were a lot of fireworks and some booze involved, and much talk of women's private parts.
Finally saw Stalker. Loved it.
On the music side of things, I'm currently looking into Devendra Banhart (got his new cd for chrismas). Right now, however, I'm listening to Norwegian gypsy-punk band Kaizers Orchestra, who are very noisy but still quite good.

Edit: Oh yeah, Happy New Year, bastards.