Don't get on "The Bus"!
"The Bus" is one of those things that has faded into obscurity due to my lack of using it. The Bus originated way back as my response to certain annoying people. You know the ones that really add no value to your life and actually hinder it. I'm sure you can name some, maybe a few, maybe like ten, or maybe even...a bus load? That's right the Bus was a bus filled of all those people who really made life worse because of their presence. So when certain people angered me, they would have an immediate seat on "The Bus." It's almost like a shit list of sorts but more real. The punch line is that once everyone is in the bus, you drive it off a cliff; forever damning those people to a steel coffin. The ironic thing is that the Simpson’s did a similar thing after I came up with this. They had a Rocket Ship full of earth's outcasts (Pauly Shore, Tom Arnold) and sent it straight into the sun. So see it's not that cruel. Obviously there are plenty of people who have given something like the Bus thought. I think the Bus is going to become an important facet of my vocabulary again. Try not to get on it...rumors are that I've already chartered a second one.

How do you solve a problem like spelunking?
I will be perfectly honest with you: I like Internet Spelunking. I almost get a sense of accomplishment knowing I found something that would normally be hard to seek out. But with great power comes great responsibility...or in normal terms, I am a big geek. You see the problem that lies with Internet Spelunking is in the addiction. Once you start finding these gems on the limitless internet, you want to seek more difficult things. As referred to yesterday, you look for answers or caveats that just may not exist. It becomes almost an obsession. You look and look and look, searching for something you are not even know is there. You take rash moves to seek out the truth and in the end you are left unsatisfied. This is the inherent problem with Internet Spelunking.

To this day one thing still alludes me. In Batman: The Movie , the Adam West one from 1966 there is a scene where Batman must get rid of a bomb. It's funny because he tries to get rid of it everywhere, but there are always innocent people, or ducks, or other wholesome things wherever he goes. The punch line is "Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb." This is not the point. He runs into a marching band, and the marching band is playing a song. What the fuck is the song? Yes, you heard me, something as insignificant as that drives me crazy. I want to know so I can download it. I told you I rely on my randomness as an important facet of me. What can be more random than this? The trouble is I cannot find it. The name eludes me on every website I dare go to. I vowed I will find it by the time I leave school in May.. but I wonder if it's possible.

By now you have discovered I am a big geek. Well whatever, you're still reading for some reason so hopefully I've captured your attention. What do you do on the internet? Porn? Chat? Porno Chat? Least I'm finding information that can be uselessly useful one day. I swear to God, my mind is one great big mass of useless trivia. But then again, it's going to use somehow. So inquiring minds like you can find out how a lava lamp is made.

Things you think of talking to Pat II
Pat thinks class on Monday will sneak up on us like a Blitzkrieg. We realized we'd actually prefer the Nazis (NaziCount = 3) rather than class. Pat would seek out the nearest SS recruitment center.

Internet Spelunking
I value my randomness, my penchant for the weird, and just the ability to make people scratch their heads asking, "Does he really think that's funny"? The Internet then is a haven for me. As I always say "The Internet is the cause of and solution to all our problems" (Copyright Me). You see there are certain things that are always thought about, that have been looked for, and the Internet presents itself as an oracle of sorts. But if the damn thing didn't exist, one wouldn't crave these answers because they would be almost impossible to find. This is the nature of the beast. The convenience of the Internet teases you into asking questions that should not be asked, ones that are impossible to answer. This is how Internet Spelunking has developed.

I've become the go-to guy for the darker areas of the Internet; those places you know exist but aren't sure how to get to? When a question does exist, people come to me for the answers. Internet Spelunking, as Sean so aptly put it, is the process of finding those long sought answers. Through various links and searches and even accidents the eventual result is the answer or just some information to satisfy my client. Let's trace the evolution of this gift.

1. My foray began with a certain song from a scene in Silence of the Lambs. What interested me was that this song, for perhaps the most messed up seen ever filmed in motion picture history, was actually good. Yeah you know what I'm talking about: the scene where Buffalo Bill is putting on make up, dancing, and tucking his you know what between his legs. You know the scene, but you probably know the song too. Its one of those "Why do I know that song"? I figured not many people must have it, and if they do they are beyond messed up, so I had to be one of the few. TO THE INTERNET! Not only did I find out the name, I also found out the meaning behind the song and the band. Finally, thanks to the Internet once again, I was able to download it off of Audiogalaxy (RIP). Not a day goes by when I don't play that song at least once.

2. Now, armed with the knowledge that the Internet is a masterpiece of useless but useful information I began tackling other dilemmas. Of course Pat comes to me with a Nazi (NaziCount = 2) problem. He wanted to know what the song was from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when Hitler signs the Grail diary. Of course I found it, and also was able to download it. It's been one of Pat's entrance themes since.

3. It doesn't only have to be movies either. I'm sure you all had a NES as a kid. Why did breathing on it make it work when you put it in and got the blank one colored screen? I knew someone must have the answer. And an answer I found. Breathing on the connections condensed your hot breath, creating condensation on them. The condensation would act as a better conductor, making the game work.

Listen this obviously could go on forever. I've found such things as the Rad Racer theme from NES, the fact that Ecto-Cooler still exists, a comic book rendition of a fight between Hitler and Stalin, and even an LSD tripping children’s TV show. Some of these were by choice, some were just great discoveries. In the end the possibilities are endless. There is so much out there, and so much waiting to be discovered. But there is a darker side to this. Something I will explain tomorrow. To be continued....

Pizzi-whatsa-whosits-ola?!
I'm not a big Subway fan. I was never drawn in by the tastey sandwiches they promise because I can just go to one of the 800 delis in NY and get some fresh bread and cold-cuts and make my own damn Sub (No it's not a Hoagie). Also, I think Jared is an asshole. But I was in the King of Prussia mall the other day and Junior and myself decided to grab a bite to eat. We first went to the rich people's food court, or should I say "gold plated diamond studded eatery." Prices are high, things have fancy names, and you can get fake authentic gelato from a Mexican. After we stopped kidding ourselves in trying to believe we'd get an economical meal there we agreed upon the normal food court: where the elite meet to drink. There is always an eccentric selection there, from Taco Bell, to the Greek Gyro place, to the Chinese lady who always makes you try a sample of bourbon chicken. There was also a Subway. As I looked up at the menu Jr. pointed out the "Chicken Pizziola." It looked interesting so I gave it a try. It wasn't anything special but that's not my point here. My beef comes with the basic issue of what the fuck is it to begin with anyway. The Pizziola was a mystery wrapped in a zip lock bag.

I don't have a problem with what's in the Pizziola. It seems to be generic marinara sauce, pepperoni, cheese of your choice and chicken. Pop it in the microwave for a minute and a half and you have the glorious "Chicken Pizziola." Now that's all fine and dandy; I wasn't expecting much in the way of Subway getting something Italian right so its Americanized taste didn't bother me. It's the goddamned name! First the pronunciation: is it "Pizzy-ola" or "Pizz-ola" or whatever. These marketing techniques are always stupid. The Pizziola is not the first in a great history of dumb names that try to be witty and memorable all at the same time. Let us not forget the Big New Yorker from Pizza Hut, the McFlurry from McDonalds, and anything that comes out of Taco Bell. This search for the reasoning behind the name, triggered something though. My first response was that it was pizzaesque, so they named it "Pizz-something made up to get the point across." But I reconsidered. I do recall that my mom used to cook something that sounded similar to the "Pizz" sound, called Pizzaiola (Peets-i-ool for the British). If memory serves me correctly it had tomato sauce as the main ingredient, as well as some kind of meat minus the bread. I hurried to the internet to find my answers.

Pizzaiola is a real Italian term, this I'm sure of. It is tomato sauce, generally seasoned with garlic and oregano and then put on meat. Fine. But so is the Pizziola. There seemed to be multiple sights with recipes for some kind of Pizziola but I could not find a definition for the term. So was this all a gross butchering of the Italian language for the sake of the public? I think so. The likenesses between the two words and the two actual meals are uncanny. But why the hell didn't they just leave it the way it was supposed to be? Maybe the "a" in the real word would scare away Joe or Jane Customer. God forbid they should have to endure the sheer shock of witnessing three vowels in rapid succession? It would stupefy the patron causing him/her to leave quickly, confused about what aliens Subway is marketing to these days. But I said it before, "I wasn't expecting much in the way of Subway getting something Italian right."

Should you go try one? You could just throw some pepperoni, sauce, cheese, and chicken in some bread and do it yourself. It will save you money and time. Today's special at Subway: Anti-cultural CRAP.

They should call it Shitamp 3...
So last year around Christmas I decided to upgrade to Winamp 3. I figured I'd be up to date with things that would make my Mp3 experience a whole lot brighter. Now I'll have you know, and some of you might, Mp3s and Winamp have been a staple of my computer life here at Nova. The music is always on through winamp (it doesn't deserve the capital w). You see, my playlist, which I've had since September of '01 has gone through college with me. It had survived unscathed since the great crash of August '01 and I like it that way. It is in no order, except in the order in which I downloaded it. It kind of maps out my growth and learning through the years. Also important was winamp's shuffle feature because it would surprise me with songs that I wouldn't even remember I had. If my playlist was going to grow winamp would have to as well. So I went and I took the leap into 3. Dumb!

Little did I know that the software would suck...and suck hard. Not only did the bastard eat up 3 times the memory as it's predecessor (like you care) but it changed the shuffle feature, making it not random (surprised you're still reasing). It started repeating songs and some songs ceased to exist in my world because I refused to search 2000 songs for something I don't even remember having. It did have a fine little search feature, and a queue that I could control, but then I knew what was coming. Where's all the crazy fun in that? But I kept it. I convinced myself that its flashy new looks and higher version number meant it had to be better, despite all the flaws I saw; says alot about me doesn't it? Never again would I acheive the high of hearing a grand ol song out of the blue. But all wounds heal.

Then today, months later, somewhere between watching the television and yelling at the television for being to glarey in the daytime for "Enter the Matrix" on the XBOX I decided to cruise around Winamp.com. I found that not only have theY not released any updates to winamp 3 to fix all my problems, but that they have released improvements on Winamp 2 (it gets the capital because it rocks). So Winamp 2.91 is newer than winamp 3. OK whatever, I decided that I would make the upgrade..or downgrade...or sidestep? Assholes.

PAIN IN THE ASS! No words can describe how hard it would be to make sure my playlist would remain true to its orginal form in the new old Winamp. I bet you're saying, "Hey Tom, they are the same program, wouldn't the playlists be copmpatible"? No of course not! The fuckin ballfucks decided to intorduce a new format. So after a long process of saving in the old format, deleting faulty files and installing both versions at the same time, I finally got my list. But try clicking on a file and some of them turn into a dash. Just a dash. FUCK! So then I had to sit and type in all the titles and artists for half of the list.

Fuck you Nullsoft (Winamp 3 era)! Your product is like building a wheel and then making it square cause you think it looks better. The fuckin wheel ain't gonna work if it doesn't roll! You're officially put on "The Bus."

Huzzah Nullsoft (Winamp 2.91 era)! You make me nostalgic for late nights writing papers with a buffalo chicken sandwich from Wingers, a tub of Wawa Lemonade, and Winamp pounding away at those songs that I've heard, but kind of sort of don't remember.

Things you think of talking to Pat
Late night conversations with Pat have always resulted in good things. Tonight's no different.

It would be fun to have a drinking game to Gettysburg the movie. Every time they said "sir" you would take a shot. We would be smashed in 20 minutes and would need as Pat says, "like 12 bottles of liquor."

Pat was a southener and a Nazi (NaziCount = 1) in his past life or lives. I was killed by a rival mafia family in the 20's.

Oh I bet you can't wait...
If you are reading this then you are ready to hear the truth...you suck. No, not really, but I enjoy telling you that. I'm not going to go into all that gibberish on how this is my first journal, blah blah blah...just shut up. I want to use this to make uncessary comments on everything around. From this screen you are looking at, to the air you are breathing. Someone has to say something, I mean that oxygen thinks it's hot shit. Ok expect the worst, stay for the best.