Apparently, Hong Kong
laughs in the face of danger.Apparently, Hong Kong
laughs in the face of danger.So you say you want a revolution? Well, suck it up, because
this is just a page devoted to me saying things bout my life,
as well as an area to dump in random stuff that will scare me
and annoy you. Basically, I had been in on the e-mail list update
train for a while, but it wasn't me. Too blasé, if you
will, and it actually smacked of human contact. This is more preferable--instead
of the virtual equivalent of mail, this is the virtual equivalent
of me leaving a ransom note one day and you picking it up whenever
you want. More importantly, it can't flood your mailboxes! If
you don't want to know, don't come, but be wary...I'll be talking
about you.
Note: if you have the latest version of Internet Explorer, bookmark this site and it will tell you when I update it. Or, if you decide to come every week, I'll have added something weird.
This Week's Index-Latest Update!
"Can you picture her riding a horse?"
"I can picture her doing a lot of things."
--Mike Forde on a former Ram editor
"I'm gonna get some hamburgers."
--Ben Appler (repeated 47 times at 7:00 in the morning while Jay Weingartner's 80's party is still going on
HEIL HAIDER!!!
The European Union warned that its 14 other members would
diplomatically isolate Austria if its anti-immigrant Freedom Party
led by Jorg Haider enters a coalition government.
The statement said the Union "will not promote or accept
any bilateral official contacts at a political level" with
any government that includes Haider. (Lesson one in what not to
do to a racist demagogue: Make his country feel isolated and resentful.)
Haider's reaction was that if Austria's president bowed to foreign
pressure, "Then we might as well abolish democracy in this
country straight away." (Lesson two in what not to do to
a racist demagogue: Put him in a position where he can plausibly
play the part of democrat.)
A French official explained that Haider has made "a number
of anti-Semitic statements," but when pressed, he admitted
that he could think of none off-hand. (Lesson three in what not
to do to a racist demagogue: Give him plausible deniability.)
Among Haider's many controversial remarks are a 1995 speech in
which he referred to concentration camps as "punishment camps."
He later apologized, claiming he was having negative flashbacks
to his own wedgies-and-short-sheeted-beds experience at his childhood
summer stop, Camp No-Jew-Wah.
Austria reacted negatively in the early 1980s to international
criticism over its selection of Kurt Waldheim, a former SS officer,
as Prime Minister. Particularly that bit where Fred Norris had
him hosting "Guess Who's the Jew" on Howard Stern. That
really hurt.
PILLSBURY HOMEBOY
The Pillsbury Doughboy isn't as white as he used to be, and
it's not because he's gotten rid of his sweater-vests and Dockers
slacks.
Pillsbury officials say the Doughboy's new darker hue is not an
attempt to make him seem more ethnic. Now, his new gold tooth
-- that's supposed to make him seem more ethnic.
And while he does appear darker, they will try to whiten him by
losing the apostrophe and re-adding the lost "g" in
his nickname "Poppin' Fresh."
They wanted him to look more realistic, more like real dough.
So now everyone will discreetly run to the sink or grab a napkin
after poking him in the belly. Or promptly cleave him through
with a cookie cutter and toss him in an oven.
A spokesperson said, "Our intent is to have the Doughboy
reflect the color of fresh dough, but also to look realistic in
the settings in which he's portrayed." In a further attempt
at gritty realism, several commercials will have the Doughboy
stuck in a dead end job in a Northern English industrial city.
In commercials taking place in Philadelphia, he will be mangled
into a pretzel, and in Israel, he will be rendered flat and fairly
tasteless.
Poppin' Fresh is a computer generated animated figure, yet even
his high-pitched girlish squeal doesn't make commercial-viewers
as uncomfortable as recent computer generated animated figure
Christopher Reeve.
Mr. Brenizer Goes to Washington
Ah,
such a sweet, sad tale the world has never known! At least, those
that don't get out or read very much (Right, Bo?) Liberated from
the dungeon of The Ram, office, stumbling around in what you diurnal
beings call "Sun-Light," I decide to try one of these
real-life experiences that I keep hearing about.
Thus, I decide (at the last minute, of course) to spend the weekend in Washington, D.C. There is a debate tournament, and I decide, Hey, since I am the Vice President of the debate team, I'd better go see what this tournament thing is all about. However, I, and the other staunchly anti-debate debate senior, Maj. Captain Ben Appler, do not want to debate. I pull the short straw, however, and have to. (Ben spends the entirety of this weekend making love to a bottle of Wild Turkey until an event which I have yet to discuss)
INTERJECTION: Here, for all the world to see, is the truth about college debate team. Particularly APDA debate teams. Particularly the Fordham Debate Society (Motto: We fight our friends and win: Debate is a scam. It is a way for a small group of Fordhamites to break every rule that Fordham has ever set down for us, and to get Fordham to pay for us to do it. Here's a brief breakdown--we go on a debate, and Fordham pays all expenses except for food and (they think) alcohol. One of these expenses is the tournament fee, which is usually around $100 per team. Now APDA is entirely student-run. No one is paid to judge or be there. Trophies at most of these tournaments (not ours) are very cheap. So what is this money spent on? The party. When rightly pulled off, the debate party is home to limitless debauchery, licentiousness, and free alcohol. Free for us, that is. You suckers that go to Fordham but are not on the team are paying for us to break the rules with your activity fee. And deep down, Fordham doesn't care, because we do well, and are forwarding the cause of knowledge as we get smashed, just like the Jesuits.
So I have no desire to debate. I am coming down for two reasons. To party, and to see my friend Juliana Duffy, who left for Australia on Sunday. This is why it doesn't bother me that the tournament starts at 4:00 in Georgetown, and at 2:00 we are still in the New York area. Not that it was entirely my fault, though I did tell Maura that the trip took "about three hours." Basically, we had to deal with an incompetent bureaucracy (for all those libertarians out there that see government as a faceless, ineffective bureaucracy, try dealing with the business world a little more.)
As a matter of fact, I am so unconcerned that we stop for an hour to partake of a fine lunch at the Clara Barton rest stop in sunny New Jersey. (We wanted to stop at the famous Vince Lombardi rest stop, but we weren't hungry yet.) And so we keep driving, and as anyone with a car who goes within 50 miles of D.C. does, we got hopelessly lost. Washington organizes its roads by Numbers, Letters, States, Cities, Counties, Provinces, Swiss Cantons, factors of pi, and whatever else they can think of, and they do it all in different quadrants. Thus, when we found exactly where we wanted to be in street numbers, we were in the North East quadrant right off MLK boulevard, instead of anywhere safe, sound, or, indeed, paved. After only getting accosted three times (all of those by Bo Missonis, who came with me even though he graduated two years ago).
So we get there at 9:30, setting a new record--we are the first team to be that late and not care. we've missed the first two rounds, so Bo and Ben decide to head off to the bar whilst I am left to do a little swing round ass-kicking. After the round is over, I, given Bo's paltry directions to the corner of Wisconsin and M, and nothing else, set out. Well, there are 33 bars which could conceivably be called at the corner of Wisconsin and M, and I went to them all, because my fellows had left already (they left a note for the bouncer about where they went with a description of em and my name, as well as $20, but he pocketed it and never told me) So here I am, walking from trendy Georgetown bar to trendy Georgetown bar, which would be better if I were not carrying my luggage (I am supposed to stay with them tonight--I have no idea where, of course) Several of the bars have covers, which obliges me to stay a while. By about 1:00, i figure I've lost them. I have nowhere to sleep, nothing to do, and it's cold, so I do the obvious choice--I get the car. Yes, I had been lost for hours before, but Goddammit, I will master Washington's crazy streets and traffic circles! I drive up and down Pennsylvania ave, K street, hitting Maryland, Virginia, and I think Oregon several times, but I master that traffic circle and, in no small sense, teach myself how to drive (which those who have ridden with me will tell you is an important lesson.) On the way, I stop by a 7-11 to pick up some alcohol for Ben, but there is none, so I load up on ice cream and chow down. Finally, i have to sleep somewhere, so i go back to the debate building, break in, break into a classroom, and read jazz history for most of the night before sleeping under a crucifix (This is Georgetown.)
Amazingly, even though I am in the debate building and wake up quite early (they're hosting the MCAT that day) I don't arrive at the tournament until late (the jazz book was good) But I go down and debate two more rounds, which is not important. What is important is that there is a small chance that I got some kind of trophy, which normally obligates you to stay to the end, (you're technically obligated anyway) and might have broken, meaning you have to show up or you're missing quarter-finals. Instead, we leave immediately after fifth round, stealing large quantities of food and drink from the banquet on our way out. We got there at 9:30, and we're leaving at 12:30. This is a new record for shortest amount of time spent at a tournament. Ben, who is sorrowful over having dropped the bottle of Wild Turkey the night before, turns around and yells, "So long, suckers!" C'est la vie.
After spending time with Jules, finally, we head back. it is here I realize that the interstate is really just one big game of passing and cutting people off so that they cannot pass you. I play this game all the way back, and we get back very quickly, as I have inexplicably turned into a virtuoso driver. Keep in mind, I play a finesse game, not a speed game. I never break 75, but I beat people hose average speed is 90 with such moves as the box in, the straight line, the duck and weave, the magical narrow bridge lane change, and so forth. The Cross-Bronx Expressway game is highly recommended. Some of you, namely Adriatik, are better than I shall ever be at this one, I fear.
I forgot about what was perhaps the best part of the trip. Whilst we were heding back to Fordham at Mach speed, we stopped, as we always do, and you should if you ever make the New York-D.C. trip, at the Country Time Diner in the TA truck stop. Everyone in this place looks like a member of ZZ Top, and you can get massive amounts of food for infinitesimal amounts of money. Bo got "All You Can Eat Fish" and I got a 3/4 pound "Big Rig" cheeseburger--although you could barely see the cheese underneath the massive slab of meat. God bless this country. Ben got something called the Chicken-Fried Steak, but he was in no shape to eat it after his torrid affair with the Wild Turkey (which led to him drunkenly defending the merits of "The Karate Kid" in my absence)Well, the waitress was real motherly, and asked him what the problem was. She told him how to get over a hangover, and said (I swear, "I learned how to get over a hangover when I was pregnant." Later this waitress cut Ben's food for him, and then sang to him to get him to eat. Needless to say, I gave her a 40% tip ($4). Afterwards, we went back and picked up some Confederate Flag decals.
Mr. Brenizer Goes to Washington, part II
Well, next weekend, Missy Frederick and I are off to some type of journalism conference about something journalism-related or something. I have no idea. All I know is that it's ALL EXPENSES PAID!!! Woo-hoo! expensive food and travel. And this group gets government money, so the big message here is SCREW YOU TAXPAYERS!!!
By not realizing that Christine Patino is a Navy Seal and Special Ops, rolled into one. She practically killed me when I handed my column in late, and I'm me! That's like Dennis Hasert berating Bob Dole for not supporting the cause of tobacco and evil enough! This serves as a warning--don't mess with Christine Patino. She will end you. She will end me when she finds out that I don't know what I'm doing my column for this week, due on Sunday, on yet.
A RANDOM, PREVIOUS UPDATE
Disclaimer: Mike Forde is a good person
Now, some of you may be wondering why this update is two months
late. First:
1) I really wanted to get the update tardiness record that Brendan,
Mike, and Nick shamelessly thought they could wrest from the master
of tardiness.
2) i was so put off by the onslaught of replies to Mike Forde's
updates (although Mike Forde, as a human, is impeccable, except
for most if his actions, characteristics, and desires, flooding
mailboxes is a grievous fault, and I don't want to see any of
you hitting reply all. That means you, Adriatik) that I began
to doubt the value of updates as a medium, and could not even
read another update, much less write one, until twenty minutes
ago. I only recently remembered that it was glaringly obvious
that they had no value in the first place, and that it was just
something to do while time inexorably moves along its entropic
path.
3) In recent weeks I have been lazier than you could possibly
imagine, which is a reason why this update will be very short.
Because of my laziness and my lingering distaste for updates (though I must say I enjoyed Mike Forde's doppleganger--we must do lunch) there will be no information about my recent events in this update other than this snippet from Mike Forde's update:
"Without school, I am unbelievably bored! This is
my life!:
1) Playing PlayStation!"
Maybe I'm happy, maybe I'm sad. Maybe I'm having an incredibly tough time getting over Mononucleosis, maybe I'm dancing in flower fields. Maybe I am heading to New Orleans in two days while most of you suckers will be in Ram meetings, maybe I have no such plans, and will show up at the meetings disguised as Ryan Dennehy. Maybe I got a CD burner and scanner for Christmas to go along with my brand new computer, maybe I just got coal again (which is a much underrated present, in my mind). Maybe I spent New Years' with my parents, all other plans falling through, maybe I got blasted on coke with my good pal G.W. Bush in a bunker a half mile beneath his ranch where he developed his patented money-drawing mind control serum. I'm not telling.
The more swift of you will then realize, of course, that this is not an update at all, but the mere expulsion of attention-getting, ego-primping, effluent that is what is left when you take the update out of the update. In fact, the substantive part of this Update will encompass events that happened five years ago. Perpend:
WHY THE FBI HAS A FILE ON ME:
I recently found some files which I had backed up on my parents
computer and thought was lost in their unintelligible electronic
filing system. It includes all of the stuff I wrote in high school-primarily
creative stuff before journalism caught my eye and dragged it
several feet, as well as the only surviving documentation of that
long-lost era when I had, ahem... crushes. As such, they are glimpses
of the way I operated in high school, which was significantly
different than the way Fordham members of my audience know
me. But never mind that. What is important is that it also has
several files I sent to the President of the United States. I
never received a reply, which in many ways was more disappointing
to me than an arrest and incarceration would have been. I also
sent diagrams, trading information, a Declaration of Independence,
and whatnot, but here is the basic cover letter of the time that
I decided to secede my room from the Union:
President Clinton:
I have utmost respect for the country of the United States and the direction in which you are taking it. In fact, I had planned on voting for you in November, rather than against the other guy as many do these days. However it has come to my attention that my life is not nearly as independent as I would like it to be, and I am therefore making my first notice of secession of my room from the Union.
Now, don't be upset. I know that the precedent for this kind of thing is to declare war, but neither of us really want to see this happen. All I want to know is if there is a form I must fill out, and whether or not it must be notarized. If not, then this is my formal declaration of secession. If you choose instead not to accept this treaty and refuse to sponsor the country of Rume as a sovereign nation to the UN, then I suppose this means war. We are a large and powerful organization that is fully capable of fighting back with an arsenal of largely underestimated weapons such as pillows, water balloons and vicious insults. Our numbers at the moment include, well, me, but I am a large and formidable person. (Ed. note: At the time, this was much truer than it is now)
If I am content with the workings of the U.S. government, why am I seceding? It has always been a dream of mine to rule a country, even if there are no people in it. The nation of Rume will also pave new ground and be a world leader in many ways. For instance, we will be the first nation to be fully carpeted and climate controlled, as well as the first fully enclosed nation. In the face of these grand ideals, I know that you will not be so petty as to not allow me to take even less than .0000000002% of U.S. territory (I have a regretfully small room.)
After the deal is made final, we will of course have to work out trade agreements. I plan on creating primarily a tourist nation, and we might as well be socialists; with one person it really doesn't matter. We have many valuable exports and will of course funnel practically 100% of our income into the U.S. economy, even with the outrage it will cause in other nations, and we are ready to keep many of the U.S. sanctions to keep good will (I don't like Cuban cigars anyway). I would also like to claim my bathroom as an adjacent shared territory, since without this the property value of Rume would drop sharply as I am sure you can understand. I am also willing to set myself up as a diplomat to Rume, as I will soon be moving to New York anyway. Of course, this means installing diplomatic immunity (I promise I'll be good.) In closing, I hope you can see things my way, and this process will flow smoothly (a draft of our constitution is in the works, and will be put into public domain after the civil process or the Revolution, whichever comes first.) Also, if you are planning to go to war with me, could you wait until my dislocated knee heals? I'd really like a fighting chance.
Love Always,
Ryan Brenizer
Ah yes. Completely without value, to be sure, but I still wait for the day that the Federal Marshals knock upon my door. Well, I have one more announcement to make:
Calling all CD owners:
I have a proposition to make for you. I did indeed get myself
an MP3 maker and a CD Burner. I now have 600+ MP3's but would
like many more, and I don't trust the Internet so much for many
reasons which we shall not discuss here. If any of you would be
willing to lend me your CDs for one night, I will burn you either
an audio CD with about 18-19 songs of your choice on it or a CD
field with close to 200 MP3s of your choice. This even applies
to people who have a CD collection of the nature that all I would
want to copy are several songs off the South Park CD, but Mike
Forde's been mentioned too much already. The sogns I have right
now are only the songs which I would conceivably listen to, plus
"Ice Ice Baby," so most of them are stuff which you
would have to search the dark, nasty places of the Internet to
find. Also, if you are willing to wait until the whole thing is
over, I will of course be able to burn any of the other songs
that I get. I'll be good, won't put anything out of pace, and
promise 12-hour return. Ponder.
And now the show must end with:
NEWS OF THE WEEK:
HANDS ON PARENTING
An elderly couple who want to use their dead son's frozen sperm
to have a grandchild must prove in court that he would have consented.
The couple says that shouldn't be a problem as he was a total
horn dog.
The Human Fertilization and Embryology Authority said Barry and
Natasha Smith -- both in their 60s -- would also have to justify
the child's birth given their age, the fact it would have no parents,
and their history of culling sperm from offspring to make "good
eatin' babies".
Many different groups are up in arms over the dilemma, mainly
a group of Italian porno directors who want to film the procedure.
"It is perfectly possible to have a child posthumously-but
consent must have been given and it must be determined whether
it is in the interests of the child to be born," said Suzanne
McCarthy of the HFEA government fertility watchdog, "for
one thing, you just know the grandparents will impose an unnecessarily
cruel curfew."
The Smiths have said they are preparing to take the clinic holding
their son Lance's frozen sperm to court so they can go ahead and
pay for a surrogate egg and have a grandchild. If that doesn't
work, they'll hold a "sperm sit-in," a tactic originated
by actresses in the San Fernando Valley area.
They say that allowing the sperm-extracted 24 hours after Lance's
death last year in a road collision-to die would be like losing
their son all over again, minus the memories and any sort of bonding.
Before his death, Lance Smith, 36 and his fiance agreed his semen
should be extracted and stored in the event of his death so that
they could still have a child-but she no longer wants to have
a baby, and therefore no longer has a taste for the sperm.
THE WITCH IS BACK
Accompanied by the sounds of producers salivating and hooting
like enraged gibbons, plans were announced for second and third
installments of this summer's runaway hit "The Blair Witch
Project" to be called "Every Blair Witch Way But Loose"
and "Any Blair Witch Way You Can."
"Blair Witch 2" will take the shape of a sequel while
the third installment, "Blair Witch 3," will take the
form of a cynical attempt to squeeze every possible dime out of
half an idea.
It was also announced today that the director of "Blair Witch
2" will be award-winning documentary filmmaker Joe Berlinger
who has vowed never to work with real people again.
Brilliantly, the three actors who starred in the original "Blair
Witch Project" were killed off so in the sequels producers
can cast three more unknowns willing to work for a trip to the
craft services table.
Currently, Artisan Films plans to release "Blair Witch 2"
in the fall of 2000 and "Blair Witch 3" in the summer
of 2001, well past the suggested expiration date for freshness.
In an attempt to capitalize on the first film's wide appeal among
teenagers "Blair Witch 2" tells the story of three young
filmmakers lost inside Abercrombie & Fitch on the trail of
the mythical Red Tag Sale.
In addition to the sequels, Artisan will also distribute the next
feature film from Blair Witch creators Daniel Myrick and Eduardo
Sanchez, entitled "Heart of Love," which has been described
as a madcap comedy that will be shot in a variety of motion picture
formats and styles and whose success will be the inspiration for
them to make "The Blair Witch Project 4."
-Ryan
