my trip abroad!

Hi everyone in America!
Look at me! I am abroad! See my new cultured persona! Hear my use of new and interesting words! Taste my delicious new foods! Smell my exotic spices! I am abroad! I am interesting! I have a new perspective! I know things! I have expanded! I am growing too big! GAAAh! My pants have burst! Blood is gushing from my ears! I am too far abroad! I expand too much! NOOOO!

My angry captain

Many of you, the people, know that I study the philosophy. But did you know I am the loose canon of the philosophy department? Why just last week my captain called me in to his office. "Schneider!! Get your ass in here" he screamed while chewing on a unlit cigar. I cooly walked in and said "Whats up chief. This isn't about last night's trouble in the bars is it? I told you I was just following leads." This really pissed off the captiain. He started foaming at the mouth, "Following leads? God damn it Schneider, you and your rough house antics are a disgrace to the department. I'm up to my ass in paper work and law suits on account of your so called "leads". Hand in your gun and badge". I slammed my badge on his desk, "Theres a god damn killer on the loose and all you care about are your fucking rules. You can have this piece of shit badge, but case or no case I'm bringing that sick bastard in". I was walking out of his office when the captain said calmly "Look Schneider, we all want this killer behind bars, but rules are rules... I cant let you leave here with your gun" I slowly turned, "If you or anyone else on the force thinks he has the balls to take my gun, he is welcome to try. If not, just stay the fuck out of my way". I left my captain shaking his head muttering, "Thats gotta be the toughest son of a bitch I've ever met".

Tomorrows blog: Professor Brower sticks me with a rookie undergrad and tells me to get the dirt on that rat bastard quasi-realist Blackburn.

Duty now! For the the Future

Last night I invited a few friends over to watch some sitcom on some dvds. It was great. We were drinking some beer, maxin, relaxin, and having a decent time. When the eve is over everyone is sent packing. I politely say goodbye to everyone and everything is great. Then a girl extends her arm laterally from her body while saying goodbye to me. I am confused. Why is her arm out like that? Why is she standing across from me? The door is already open. What does she want? Is her arm broken?
A light bulb flashes, and I realize she is trying to give a parting hug. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I have already stood there awkwardly for way too long. Now don't get the wrong idea everyone. This was a just a sweet girl simply being nice. There was nothing questionable at all about her motives. She knows nothing of my passion, nor does she want to. She was just trying to say goodbye with a hug. I respond to her kind gesture with the statement "I get it, you want a hug" and follow with a really confused attempt at a hug (I still wasn't certain that my original guess about a broken arm was wrong). So I manage to make her feel stupid while looking none too cool either. What is the lesson in all of this? The lesson is simple: If you try to hug Professor Sympathy you will feel dumb.

Expect poison from standing water

Many of my countless fans (0/3) have complained about the lack of passion in the past few postings. They have wailed unto my person, challenging my sincerity and doubting my street cred. They have cried, and I have heard. No longer will I hide behind snide witticisms, and mock subjects. From now on, this blog will engage life from the backside, hitting it with all sorts of thrusting power. Professor Sympathy is back, my dear friend, just in time to reveal the true status of his heart:

Blood pressure: 110/160, pulse 61/min. Core temperature: a balmy 98.6
Emotional status: Randy, with a bit of angst

There you have it. Having expressed my emotions I now feel free to deal with them. I must go then and search for Goth chick porn.

Toodles!

Dogs Dogs Dogs dog dog dog dogs dogs dog.

The title of this post is actually a grammatically correct and meaningful sentence, with the necessary commas and "that"s suppressed. Word on the street is that this form of suppression is not only moral, but allowed according to the rules of English. What the street (aka my Scottish Logic professor) doesn't know is that a far more important sentence can be generated:
Apes apes apes ape ape ape apes apes ape.
try making your own meaningful message using homonyms of verbs and mammal names
(Ducks ducks ducks..., and Bugs bugs bugs are uninteresting bullshit and wont score any points with my passion, while Bats bats bats...makes me smile :) the key to my heart is small mammals. Do Cows cow?
Do you?

Howdy Fans

I'd like to wish all my brothers out there a good fucking Pesach, give a shout out to my boys at the seder table, and tells all of ya'ws on da information super highway to pass on by. THis MUTHAH FUCKAH is out til Sunday.
PEACE

Silly antics

Last night I was studying. It was around 2:00 am and I was outside a popular late night dining establishment on my campus. It is a great place for drunk students to feed after a night of hard partying. Anyway some youthful drunk was shouting. He was out there letting loose screams that described exactly what he was experiencing. He would shout "I am Skipping", "Man is watching me skip", "This door is open" "I am looking in the door" "A Girl frightened" and so on. Such a rowdy display of observational prowess is by no means an aggressive threat to my welfare, but I couldn't help feeling as though beneath his emphatic outbursts of empirical recognition lay a challenge. Yes, I am in fact certain, that he felt we (the sober) were somewhat absurd in our sobriety, and thought to shake us from our slumber of quiet acquiescence to the norms of social interaction. He, the drunken fratboy, took it upon himself to become a Zarathrustra and free the quiet nobodies from their bonds! I wanted to break the bond that lead me to politely ignore the asshole instead of ramming his head through a window before pissing on his torn and bloody face.

The Categorical Imperative

Nut up! Fly right! Grab the goat by the neck and squeze. Lets do this thing. Lock and Load. Lift and Cut. Grit those teeth. Kick that ass. WOO!
Gird your loins! Bring the Ruckus. Cry Havock, Milk Those Titties, Stop, Drop, and Roll.
Attack From the Back! Appear in the Rear! BUST THAT BEEF!
The Shit is flying! The Doo Doo is mysterious! Engine four is on Fire!
Charge!

About Rock n Roll

The band "the clash" is not Better than Ezra. "Johnny Rocket Science" is not Better than Ezra. Of The Who, The Beatles, and Boyz to Men, not one is Better than Ezra.
Only Better than Ezra is Better than Ezra
Q.E.D

Kill Everyone Twice

It seems like its only been a couple of days from when I first began this blog...but the world's response has been amazing. I have been shocked by the groundswell of support. The letters sent from all reaches of the global community have touched my heart. Letters like the one from a young Jacob Hamm of New Zealand who wrote to me "Dear Prince of Passion, You are the best". And who can forget the sassy note dropped off by Besty Zuckerman of Idaho, proclaiming her wish "to jump my bones". Oh my adoring fans, your warmth and encouragement will not be forgotten. YOU SHALL BE AVENGED!!!

Crawfish

I live in New Orleans and right now it is Craw Fish season. You can find buckets of these boiled mini lobsters at bars and food retailers everywhere. They're pretty neat. They have these big clamps and you tear off their heads and eat out their ass. Really! I would say 4/5ths of the creature is thrown away. Not the ass though. Everyone likes to tear the ass apart and pull out its meaty ass beef. Its tasty. Some people stick their fingers in the head cavity and suck the crap sticking to their fingers right off. The sticky yellow crap that they smoosh out of its head isn't brains though. Crawfish don't have big enough brains. Smart ones only have 57-59 neurons. The great cosmic crawfish (which is the giant emergent consciousness resulting from the total network between all crawfish neurons) is barely smarter than a cat. I'm not even sure if this "cosmic crawfish" even exists. If it did I would boil it and eat its ass out.

Knowledge is true

Howdy friends!
I awoke this morning to the sound of wee birds chirping their songs of love. I thought to myself, "Hey, birds are chirping!" and I was right. Nothing is sweeter than recognizing the truth. Nothing? Even Sweet N Low? Sweet N Low by definition is sweet. But is Sweet N Low sweeter than truth? Only science can tell!
Science:
1) First I correctly identify chirp noises coming from birds. (am I really right?...panic sweeps over me...panic is sweet... as sweet as truth!)

2) I eat a packet of Sweet n Low. It is disgustingly sweet. Gaah! It makes my tongue dry. I hate Sweet n Low...but it sure is sweet

3) I compare data: Truth is more delightful than sweet. In fact, I tasted nothing but morning mouth while identifying noises as bird based. Sweet n Low was gross! It made my mouth pucker and may have given me cancer. BUT DAMN ITS SWEET! and only a fraction of a calorie! HURRAY!

4) Conclusion: Sweet n Low is sweeter than truth.

This is great

Howdy World!
Welcome to tales of passion. This blog is about my passion. My passion for what you ask? My passion for passion! I love passion. I am passionate. Look at my eyes. Look at my nuts. Passion everywhere. I decorate my room with passion. I type passionately. I care so much that my ass reeks of passion.
Last week some dude said "who the fuck cares about... (blank)"
I said, "I care. Passionately." Shit, I care about everything and everyone. I am passionate about rock bands. That band sucks. That band is great. YES!! I am passionate about my tastes! I care about television! Pop culture is bad! I love the Daily show! I am passionate about t.v. Do you watch movies? I have passionate opinions about movies! How about the world and how fucked up it is? I care about that too. Did you know that republicans are jerks? I do! And I care about them passionately! Hey. You know what bothers me? Some sort of observation about the world not corresponding exactly to my taste. I care about that passionately.