Words Of Wisdom From The Master

A Chance Encounter Ofttimes Pays Large Dividends

c/s

"Cougar"-The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

"So do you wanna get some coffee or something sometime?", said the Cougar to the cougar."Nahhhhh, I'd rather just hump", said the cougar to the Cougar

Time To Lay The Giant To Rest

Senator Kerry's Future "C"eemed Bright

"Don't worry son, you can always fall back on your looks" said his dad

Already editorialized on TSC website, and reported by the fourth estate in general-Sen. John Kerry's grades have been obtained by the Boston Globe.Sen. Kerry apparently had to play this tactic to hide his grades in order for a Pyrric Victory, but was hesistant to release his military record, as the two were cojoined. This, of course, backfired, as the swift boat veterans were free to question his combat experiences, leaving the Junior Senator unable to defend himself without a leg to stand on, as he wrongly thought military service would outweigh a mediocre GPA. Surprisingly, his total GPA is lower than that of The Leader of The Free world, replete with four D's freshman year. Kerry's excuse is that he was too busy pursuing extra-cirricular activities such as, Politics, SCUBA diving, rifle, and ummm, flying. Yet the man somehow was able to qualify for Naval OCS out of school and earn a commission and gain entry to Boston College Law School. Two outstanding programs that nowadays would require a GPA much, much higher than the esteemed Sentor has demonstrated in his time at Yale. Yale in their weakest of defenses, claims this should be adjusted to a +10 rating in today acadmic enviroment due to grade inflation. Nice job of the Elis falling on the sword for their boy. If this doesn't smack of privilege, then I don't know what that word means. Before a reader opines about my hating on John Kerry (perhaps becuase of my own denial on entry to Naval Officer Candidate School?), it should be noted that my roomate and good friend was the Senator's personal assistant for four years until his bid for election fell short. Would that have meant a Naval Commission at last, for myself, or a cushy job at the NIH merely through associated nepotism should have his candidate won? We will never know the answer to a question never asked. The information presented here is strictly for edutainment value at this point in time.

Minority Retort

later today

Club Meds

Oh dude, these hydroxyzine are kicking in.


Happened on a great idea this past weekend while under the influence. Imagine if you will, a club-much like a coffee shop in Amsterdam-where one can walk up and just order his or her painkiller(s) of choice from a large and diverse menu. The establishment would be equipped with couches, and serve only Red Bull, oxygen and water aside from the opiates. Harder derivatives would be served only to VIP members in a designated area. I think this is a winner. Of course, this idea is only feasable outside the boundries of the United States, and within a stable political enviroment.There's also the problem of aquiring insurance. Meh, details. Montreal sounds like a good venue, but then, doesn't it always? Opium parlor for a new millennium. Bank on it.

To The Victors, Go The Spoiled

Quick congrats to my brother's school for it's eighth NCAA D-1A lacrosse championship on Memorial Day. I had the privilege to attend to game and witness the victory. All in all, a very mild game, outside of the outcome. Low penalties, a few fast breaks, and a low goal total. JHU is now tied with Syracuse for most championships (SU was stripped of a 9th championship for violations and is no longer recognized), though their first since 1987. For me, this is the fruit the bulk of ten years of off-and-on attendance of the Lacrosse NCAA final four splitting time between Baltimore, UMd, Rutgers, and Philadelphia on Memorial Day weekend. And as a former four-year letterman (that's right, you heard me), a beautiful victory on a beautiful day.

Stupidhead of the year

whoops.


...goes to the webmaster of forsakethetroops.info. Now I consider myself no rube, and realize that it's most likely a front to rile up the military and supporters of their efforts, but this is shameful. I've accomplished some really bad events to catch the attention (and ire) of others, but this fool takes the cake. The website has since been taken down, clearly under pressure. Only June and we have a winner. The author then tries to fake his own death by irrate servicemen, since disproven. Not the kind of attention (albeit legal) one desires. Congratulations, dolt.

Am I evil?

For those that don't know, I share a parking lot with the house adjacent to me. Installed in this house are several bad examples of the human species, carrying a basic IQ to purchase cigarettes and change themselves and with room left for little else except occasionally to heckle bystanders. There is one, in particular, that is quite aggressive, whom I'm positive egged my car last year, though without proof, is merely educated conjecture. Pulling into my driveway, the fool is sitting on his porch, and theatricalizes sudden and painful blindness when I shine my lights in his eyes for less than a second. He has the gall to threaten me: to do me bodily harm the next attempt. I shoot back with "If you touch my car, I'll kill you". This sets him off in a fury, causing him to spout profanities related to my male organs and unfounded spectulations on my sexual orientation. I am wondering if they should reinstate the clinical use of the word "moron". I give myself exactly a half-second to philosophize on the episode, wrestling with the renaissance definitions of good and evil before I head upstairs, the soon-to-be festering roasted chicken in my hand then taking precedence.

A sense of an impending Tomb

5:00 AM Sunday morning in Chinatown. Oiled up with top-shelf vodka and bottom-shelf gin. My innards dispute the contrivance. Before I black out looking for a massage, I have two painkillers in my pocket, a dead cellphone, 100 singles and a credit card rapidly appraoching its limit. I wake up in the back seat of my car a few hours later, money gone with a prominent bruise on my hand. I'm going to die one day-maybe soon, maybe later, and not remember anything.