The Real "Harry" Blockbuster Of the Summer

Harry Turtledove - Settling Accounts (Book 4): In At The Death

I just got home with this. It wasn't supposed to come out until tomorrow but I guess the people at Barnes & Noble don't give a flying fucktasticle flip about that. That's fine with me.

As soon as I'm finished posting this, it's off to my bed where I will read and read and read and read until I fall asleep.

For those of you not in the know:

This is the 11th and final book in the Timeline - 191 series in which Turtledove ponders what might have happened had the C.S.A. won the Civil War.

Here is what the publisher has to say:

Franklin Roosevelt is the assistant secretary of defense. Thomas Dewey is running for president with a blunt-speaking Missourian named Harry Truman at his side. Britain holds onto its desperate alliance with the USA’s worst enemy, while a holocaust unfolds in Texas. In Harry Turtledove’s compelling, disturbing, and extraordinarily vivid reshaping of American history, a war of secession has triggered a generation of madness. The tipping point has come at last.

The third war in sixty years, this one yet unnamed: a grinding, horrifying series of hostilities and atrocities between two nations sharing the same continent and both calling themselves Americans. At the dawn of 1944, the United States has beaten back a daredevil blitzkrieg from the Confederate States–and a terrible new genie is out of history’s bottle: a bomb that may destroy on a scale never imagined before. In Europe, the new weapon has shattered a stalemate between Germany, England, and Russia. When the trigger is pulled in America, nothing will be the same again.

With visionary brilliance, Harry Turtledove brings to a climactic conclusion his monumental, acclaimed drama of a nation’s tragedy and the men and women who play their roles–with valor, fear, and folly–on history’s greatest stage.

Basically, if you are not a big time history nerd then you would probably not find this any better than eating a table spoon full of butter.

However, I care. A great deal. And now I must go crap my pants.

The Anger Ball Speaks or How To Avoid Sexually Transmitted Diseases

It has recently been brought to my attention that I may resemble a fiery ball of hate and resentment and bitterness. I promise, that is not who I am.

I'm just really crestfallen when it come to the world and the humans who seem to be in control of it. The only way I can keep from stepping in front of the frowny train and its load of sadness, worry and self-doubt is to turn my own spiral of unhappiness into salty tears of wretched morbidity for others.

Sorry.

Remember:

Happiness is not a fish that you can catch but herpes is. And you can catch it from a transient named Herbert when he asks you if you can spare some change and instead of doing like you normally do and kicking him until he passes out, you blow him behind the Piggly Wiggly just for shits and giggles.

Watch out for hobos. They will give you herpes.

The End.

REMINDER: Things Not To Do!

#1 No matter what the masticating masses say, don't let this baby raping demon from the depths of hell, posing as a human, spew his crazy-making-Satan-summoning gibberish within my "listening area".

Sure, I've never actually heard this album.

However, I don't need to shove my cranium up a cows vagina to know it's dark.

Seriously. Big Dog Daddy. Why don't you just cut off my fucking head or poison a plate of tacos, bring them to my home, leave them on my doorstep, then dock and run? Why do you have to keep doing this to us Mr. Keith?

Why I Cry

The folks who know me know there are few things in this world that bring me pleasure. They know one of those things is This American Life.

Those who know me also know there are only a handful of things which make me retreat to a darkened corner and weep like a choir boy who has just spent the evening helping Father Murphy look for his "watch". (This was an anal rape joke. It was also a sharp criticism projected towards the Catholic church, which apparently has no real problem with homosexual males so long as they are ordained ministers and only play hide the penis with the various holes of underage boys) The "hip" people in my life know one of these horrible things is retards.

The reason they scare me so much is because of their well documented abilities.

1. The ability to lift a Volkswagen over their head.
2. The ability to read minds.
3. The ability to instantly turn your blood into silver.
4. And of course, they can fly.

This last Saturday.

This American Life was about retards!

Needless to say, I spent the whole weekend knocking old people out of their wheelchairs.

Heir To Madness Presale or How My Friend Got A Shameless Plug For Just A Bit Of Hand Action In The Back Of The Dairy Queen

So. My friend Jay has caught the musical bug. Actually he's had it for quite some time. I'm just a bit slow and only recently noticed that he can "play" various musical instruments.

His current project is called Heir to Madness. It's this kinda soft, kinda hard, kinda musical thing. It's quite impressive.

I'm writing a blog about it because I care. I tell you it has nothing to do with the fact that he is paying me $0.13 for every kind word that I type. Nothing.

Basically, I want everyone who reads this to go and pre-order his album "The Citadel".

I know that's only 3 people (including Jay).

If you like his music please tell your mother. If she is dead (like mine) then I don't advise telling her. She wont be interested. Dead people only listen to top 40 radio. It's science.

Honestly, he's kind of a prick. So if you don't want to buy it that's fine as well. I hope this whole "musician" phase passes soon and he gets a real job. He has to learn sooner or later, people don't get to live out their dreams. We only get to look back at them when we are 50 and realize how pathetic we have become. Then we reach for the gun with reckless abandon and end our fucking useless, miserable, wasted lives.

I hate him. He rapes babies. I don't know if I ever told y'all that. True story. Don't worry, they are already dead. They don't feel anything.

Oh muffins! I think I may have gotten off subject there for a sec. Back to the pre-order thingy.

Here is a banner. If you think it is pretty please copy and paste it into any website you may have access to. I love you. Jay loves you. Jesus doesn't.

<a href="http://www.myspace.com/heirtomadness"><img src="http://www.undertheradarmedia.com/images/htm_banner2.bmp" border="0" /></a>

<a href="http://www.myspace.com/heirtomadness"><img src="http://www.undertheradarmedia.com/images/htm_banner3.bmp" border="0" /></a>

What We've Lost In The Melee of The Harry Potter Hype

While all those 12 year olds are out there at midnight tonight clamouring for the latest edition of this romp through young adulthood, let's try and remember the most important thing.

J.K. Rowling has boobs!


Yes this is a crappy picture. But man, look at those things. All out there for us to
(G)oogle.

Aces.

I'm Trapped Inside A Glass Pickle Of Emotions

I want to make fun of my friends. Not in that cute, playful way that we do when we are around each other. No. I want to talk about them like I do about mentally challenged baggage clerks (which Kroger seems to have some sort of guilt about, which is the only reason I can think of for them letting those drooling, shouting, crippled monkeys touch my food).

As much as I want this for myself, I can't. They all* read my blog. Even if I didn't give away their names they would all know who I was talking about. Then I would get some angry phone call: "Fuck you Tim. I hope you get locked in a room with 50 mongoloids. Then I hope they beat you. Using their Herculean like retard strength to rip your flabby limbs from your torso. Then they will probably start gnawing on them. I mean shit, they are retarded. What do you expect?"

*Yeah that's right. All three of them.

My friends would make good fodder for this lame ass, unfunny blog of mine. I mean they are super freaking dumb. Like a fucking bag of dumb hammers (Don't worry, I'm not talking about you).

Oh how I hate them for their crimes against lucid thought. Stupid crackers.

Retards!

This post reminds me of christians. What with all the talk of "slow" individuals who should be put down (killed) at birth.

It has been brought to my attention recently that I may have a problem with Jesus people. True story. I do. They do not make this world a better place. They are a blight on the universe. I'm not saying any other religion is better. I'm just commenting on the goons I'm surrounded by.

What Does The World Look Like From Inside A Uterus?

This site is pretty interesting. Is it funny? Is it profound? Is it real?

Maybe.

The Unborn Blogger

When I Get Home I'm Going To Use The Internet (because I can)

My Internet was fixed last night. I can't wait to get home to play with it.

Does it really matter what I'm going to do? No.

I may just look up Bible quotations all night. Or perhaps I'll go to Amazon and listen to 30 second clips of song I already own. Maybe I'll use GoogleEarth to finally find out where this so called "Iraq" is. Maybe I'll use Wikipedia to read all about the rich cultural history of Minnesota (Does it really have 10,000 lakes? Ask me tomorrow.)

Maybe I'll sign on and then off again of Yahoo messenger just so I can see that, yes, my Internet truly does still work.

Any of these things would be a complete waste of my valuable, precious, gorgeous time. This doesn't matter. I'm gonna do them.

Because I can.

So eff off.

July 18th.....1863!

In all seriousness. Today is the 144th anniversary of the 54th Massachusetts' spearhead assault on Fort Wagner, Charleston, South Carolina.

For those of you who have never seen Glory, the 54th was the first formal African American military unit.

Led by Robert Gould Shaw, they led the assault to take Fort Wagner (which the Union never did). Out of 600 men, 172 were either killed, wounded or captured.

Sergeant William Harvey Carney was awarded the Medal of Honor, for grabbing the US flag as the flag bearer fell, carrying the flag to the enemy ramparts and back, and saying "Boys, the old flag never touched the ground!" While other African-Americans had since been granted the award, Carney's is the earliest action for which the Medal of Honor was awarded to an African-American.

Since the first time I saw Glory it has been one of my favorite movies. Their story is an incredibly important one to tell. If you haven't seen it I hope you will take the time to do it soon.


Note:
***I ganked my info and even whole sentences from Wikipedia***

House (Apartment) Party 2: The Pajama Jam!

There was a party in honor of me slipping out of my mother's womb. I'm not going to bore you with the minor details here. Let's just skip to the juicy parts.

1. There was a party.


2. My closest companions where there.


3. Alcohol may or may not have been imbibed.


4. There were a few people I didn't expect to see which made me giddy.


5. Cake was served.


6. Cake was eaten.


7. Cake was smeared on most items in my apartment.


8. The laundry room door was shattered into several pieces by a marauding band of gypsies. (Yes, that happened)


9. Hot chicks got (almost) naked in my room. Then they got wet.

As you can see, my 27th wasn't so bad. I didn't even vomit. I didn't get a birthday blow job, but I did get a birthday kiss. Then of course I completed the transaction in my trousers.

In closing, it was the best (and hottest) night of my life.

I don't get out much.

Keith Olbermann Lays Down Some Smack On Dubya

If you have about 10 minutes, watch this! If you would freely vote for Bush knowing what we know now, don't.

A New Look! & How I Was Molested By An African With His Meat Stick!

I'm feeling frisky today.

NPR is blaring in my ears. My back is pain free (almost) and I was molested by this African guy at my work. Let me explain.

I was in the break room innocently washing my apple when some anonymous lady yells out at the top of her lungs, in a wholly dejected tone, "HOLY SHIT NUGGETS I JUST BOUGHT SOME MEAT STICK!!!" African dude was there warming his coffee in the microwave (Apparently his coffee is not ready unless the molecules have been rearranged a bit). He quickly exclaims how he will take this unwanted meat stick off her hands as he knows of a certain fellow who would not mind some free processed dead animal. He then proceeds to try and put the meat stick into my pocket.

Holy Jesus I was petrified. I mean yeah, I wanted the meat stick. Anyone who knows me knows I love all products that you can purchase at a middle of nowhere gas station. Anyone who knows me also knows that I certainly don't mind the soft touches of a balding, thick bespectacled African man.

The problem that I truly had was this bastard didn't even have the common courtesy to ask me if I wanted his giant, manly, black hands near my crotchel region.

What is this world coming to when one person can't muster the courage to say the following words: "Hey man, I'm gonna put this meat into your pocket. I understand how pants work. I know by putting my hand into your pocket this meat and I will be closer to your junkeg than anyone has been for a bit. Do you mind?"

In closing, I didn't take the meat. Dammit. Why didn't I take the meat.

Also, I hope you like the new, brighter look of my blog.

Also, as soon as I can figure out how, I will be posting a poll on my blog. Weeee!

YOWZA!!!

I can't believe I have gone almost a month without having some sort of nonsensical rant about some sort of nonsensical thing.

The last time I blogged it was exactly one month till I turned 27. Now it's 9 days. Also, other than whining about how old the earth spinning around the sun has made me, you didn't learn one damn thing. I promise, this time you will.

1. Transformers is one of the greatest movies ever made. Sure it was a bit cheesy. Sure it had some gay ass love story. I'm glad there were some faults with it. If it didn't have any I'm pretty sure my head would have exploded into a shitstorm of flesh and hair and bone. And confetti. (I think we all know confetti comes out when your head explodes don't we)
2. Today there are a couple of celebrity birthdays. One is our fearless leader in Washington, George Walker Bush. The other, the Dali Lama. I'm not sure of the spelling on that and frankly I don't give a shit. Get over it.
3. Time Warner Cable are a bunch of dickheads. I hope they get mugged. Then raped. Then shat on.

I guess that's all for now. I'm not feeling particularly funny right now. In fact, I think I may go kick over a hobo's shopping cart. Fucking hobos.