Sure, Why Not?

I’m very happy to have learned of the death of Patricia Ramsey, mother of JonBenet Ramsey, the poor little girl murdered in her house almost ten years ago. Murdered by, of course, her parents. I’m not one to usually be happy about anyone’s death, even the most vile people, but I’ll make an exception here without regret. Fuck Patricia. I’m glad she’s dead. She and her husband sexually abused their daughter right up until they killed her. Now Patricia is burning in hell where she belongs. Her husband will be along eventually.

If you don’t believe me, then go talk to Lord Galen. He covered this topic way better than I could.

This has been Day 33 of the 100 Days of Summer, Round 6.

Okay, this site has been up for four days shy of six months, and I only just bothered to see how it looks in Firefox. Normally the sort of thing I would check right away, but, I don’t know, hadn’t gotten to it. But after a few remarks from people, I realized I should probably check to see what they’re bitching about.
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And now, a depressed, psychologically malfunctioning, self-destructive session of…

YOU SUCK!!!!

That’s right. People who commit suicide. Seriously, what the fuck is up with these people? I mean, I can sort of understand if they had just done something horrible like murdered their own children or something. And perhaps if they’re totally crippled and in physical pain all the time. Maybe. But other than that, there is just no fucking reason for it.
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We are now one quarter of the way through the sixth round of the 100 Days of Summer. Today is Day 25.

What in the heck is the 100 Days of Summer?!

Hehe. I suppose some of you may have been wondering about the new category as well as the little notice adorning the bottoms of the past several entries. You see, the 100 Days of Summer is a tradition of mine, since the original back in 2001. It begins May 24 and ends August 31.
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So I was at Safeway early this morning right before going into work, and I walk by this big promotional display they had just erected (huh huh huh, erected, huh huh huh). Beside it stood about half a dozen important-looking men in suits. Walking by, I saw they wore name badges indicating they were from Frito-Lay, and that this big promotional, uh, whatever the hell it was carried a bunch of cardboard cutouts of that Chester the cheetah and other mascots of theirs. Cute.

And then a realization hit me.
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I hereby decree…

Soccer is not a sport!

How about that! Two consecutive days of decrees. Hehehe.

Baseball? Sport. American pasttime. Always a treat to go to the old ballpark. Game play requires lots of running and arm strength. (American) Football? Sport. Rough. Exhausting. I mean, shit, you need a fucking helmet! Always exciting. Tackling gets a thumbs up. Basketball? Sport. Hockey? Sport. Golf? Eh, it’s a grey area, seeing as there’s no running. Tennis? Also grey area, but leans more towards sport.
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I hereby decree…

Get a space!

Hehehe. That’s right, folks. There’s a fundraising project going. It’s called Spell NYRA. Go to it. NOW!

It’s really simple. You donate $25 to NYRA, and you get a 50 x 10 space to link to your site and mention how wonderful you are. Seeing as only one space is taken so far, and it’s mine, it’s safe to assume that I am by far the most awesome person in the universe, and that you should bow before the mighty Eight Mine Fortress and thank all that is holy that you have the divine privilege to be viewing this page.

So you think you’re awesome, too? Prove it! Get a space!

This has been Day 19 of the 100 Days of Summer, Round 6.

And now, another genetically different, lucky edition of…

Here’s to You!

So I lift my glass and say, “Here’s to you, four leaf clovers!”

Always a pleasure to find. Five years ago, back at college, I was wandering around campus just sort of looking at some grass and clover patches. Four leaf clovers crossed my mind. Lucky items apparently. I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen one, though. I wondered if they even existed. I was muttering to myself while gazing into one clover patch. “Do four leaf clovers even exist?- Oh, wait, there’s one!”
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But it’s your own damn fault for being a dumbass.

Yes, you are a dumbass for a vast, vast, vast number of reasons I don’t have the life expectancy to get into, so let’s just delve into the one I’m thinking of.

How often have you complained or heard someone complain about the weather forecast? Every once in a while, some cretin will come along and for some unknown God forsaken reason will think it is at all original or humorous to bitch that the meteorologists were wrong.

“Why do they get paid for being wrong? Why are they such liars? I’d get fired if I were so inaccurate at my job! I hate weather forecasters! Can’t rely on them! I wish they wouldn’t bother reporting!”
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