Stupid Quizzes I Stole From Another Guy

Okay, here's my results from these quizzes I took, and you'll take if you're bored:

Action Hero Quiz - I most resemble Maximus from Gladiator or Indiana Jones. Both 58%, one tie-breaker question pushed me over to Maximus. But I like Indy better, so I'm saying Indy.

Classic Movie Personality Quiz - The Apocalypse Now guy. The skinny one, not the fat guy. Although it would be awesome if I were the fat guy.

South Park Character Quiz - Butters. What can I say, I'm a manly man.

MST3K Goofball Personality Quiz - Torgo from Manos, The Hand of Fate. A loyal servant to the dark bad guy who's name I can't remember. Only good if you've seen MST3K, though.

Hanna-Barbera Cartoon Personality Quiz - Secret Squirrel. I wouldn't like to be thought of as a flasher, but it's better than some of the other results I've gotten from personality result.

Offside Sucks

I had a lover once, and her name was hockey.

I loved skating, shooting pointlessly, passing. The art of it was Canada's national past-time, and I was Canada's national boy while playing it. It's a wonderful game, one of those things that is truly Canadian, even if it's not our national sport. Fuck Lacrosse. If Lacrosse were a man, I'd shove that netted stick up it's ass.

But hockey fell out of favour with me. Mostly because I couldn't score a goal on an open net from twenty feet away, but there were two other reasons.

Offside and icing.

What is the fucking deal with it? Seriously.

I could never understand offside and icing. When I play a game, I'm a mad Viking warrior - I get the shots into the net. Bodycheck the other guy. Get into fights. Don't slash the guy. Skate faster, get to where the puck's going to be.

But these rules totally screwed up my game. I never knew what the deal was, why my skating would somehow force the game to go back to the neutral. It deterred from the purity of skate-shoot-skate-shoot. It wasn't what it was meant to be.

By the way, just so you know, offside is when somebody going for a goal (like me) enters the goal area before the puck does. But I never knew that. All I knew was why everybody didn't like me and why they didn't keep a man behind in the shooting part. But oh, that's offside. Stupid offside.

Icing is when you pass the puck from the middle to past the net. But I didn't know that, all I knew was that I tried to shoot the puck, to pass the puck, and get it into the other guy's net.

I knew none of these complexities, but I did know the troubles and tribulations that these complexities wrought. And because I didn't know it, everything became offside - I had to analyze every move in order to figure out what the offside was. Even if someone explained it to me, I still couldn't get. I desired victory, but the war was in a place that the soldier that I was couldn't understand. And that's why I lost the war, and why the war lost me.

Maybe I should've gone with football.

Left and Right On A Circle

So apparently Hugo Chavez can now rule by decree.

It's funny, because it really proves you go far enough left, you'll get a dictatorship just like the right.

Ronald Reagan's probably rolling around in his grave.

Nationalisation, which Chavez loves like it was his baby's mama, is a lot like Robin Hood. It steals from the rich to give to the poor. But it's still stealing.

See, Chavez thinks that we care about him. But he's still under the Cold War mentality, where we feared another Cuba, like we feared another Cuban Crisis, etc. But really, now that the Cold War's over, America wouldn't like him, but they wouldn't give a shit about his country. Certainly not enough to invade. The Mideast's where America's at now. We couldn't care about his Contras. Chavez, seriously, America doesn't care. America's pissed off, but it's not going to invade.

If you look at all the dictatorships of the world, most of them point their fuckin' fingers and say, "That's the bad guy." So... what that make them? Good? They're not good. They just know how to hide, how to lie. America don't have that problem. America always tell the truth. Even when America lies. So say good night to the bad guy! Come on. The last time you gonna see a bad guy like this again, let me tell you. Come on. Make way for the bad guy. There's a bad guy comin' through! Better get outta his way!"

So yeah, there's your post. Go out and sin no more.

On Shaving

I'm greasy. There, I'll admit it. I'm not a fan of shaving.

My shaving schedule, if such a thing exists, is set by a schedule that some primal society followed. When the human sacrifices came a long, long time ago, this is when I shaved. Which makes you think about how awkward it must have been for those guys who helped in the human sacrifice, when they met their husbands down the road. "Oh, hey, I remember you from somewhere...oh yeah! You ripped my husband's entrails out." At least it would have livened up mass.

I remember, back in the day, when I went to catholic mass at my old church, sometimes they livened it up with a polka band. Sure, it was lame, but they had a beat, and it was a nice break. You'd look forward to the polka mass, something that happened magically, seeing those old guys playing their little instruments.

I'd imagine that human sacrifices were something like that. You'd hear about Quetzacoatl and his myth, and then bam! Human sacrifice mass, just to spice it up.

So after that tangent, I like the scroungy look. I can't grow a beard - my face grows like a very poor bearded lady. I'm sort of looking to being on a deserted island so that I can finally have the chance to grow that sucker out. Because I want my face to be rougher. Right now, it's too baby-ish.

Plus, I want it because I can't have it.

Plus, I like the safety/warmness of the mini-stubble. It feels more natural than not shaving.

It's one of those things limited to men. You can pee standing up and grow stubble.

It's part of my character to want to be different than what I was born with. I'm not from a family of beard growers. I don't have the face for it.

Because really, human sacrifice and polka mass, there was nothing the watchers could control about it. It happened to me. But you keep going, hoping that this mass will be the one that has the polka, that this time your stubble will have grown a bit more, that you'll finally be able to have what you can't control. And that's where hope comes in. Stubble is hope for a greater beard. And by shaving regularly, I wouldn't have that hope.

Am I bullshitting? You'll never know.

Another Test

This one is a personality test. You've probably received a chain e-mail with someone very similar to this, but bear with me. It's late, and I'm out of ideas.

Okay, shut your eyes, relax, take ten deep breaths, pretend you're on a pillow, all that hypnosis/yoga relaxation bullshit.

Now, first question.

Name any colour.

Then, say three words to describe that colour.

Name any animal.

Again, three words to describe that animal.

Name a body of water.

Again, three words to describe that body of water.

Then, imagine yourself in an all-white room with no doors.

Again, three words to describe that room.


...

Okay?

You all done?

Have I filled up the screen so that you don't see it and spoil it for yourself?

Okay, the first thing you described - the colour - is three words to describe yourself.

The second thing you described - the animal - is other people.

The third thing you described - the body of water - is your sex life.

The fourth thing you described - the all-white room - is the afterlife.

Hopefully, this killed a couple of minutes that could've been used to do something productive.

A Political Test I Stole

Hey.

Here's a test to figure out your political leanings. I scored as a populist moderate. Which basically means I'll do what everybody else is doing moderately. I have good politics that way.

You know, everybody talks about what they'd do if they were president, but really, we couldn't do anything. You know that if you had nukes, world power, and everything else at your whim and disposal, and the eyes of the world were upon you, you'd freeze. You'd just sign whatever came your way, and try not to lose your cool and say something stupid.

Or you'd be a dictator in about a month's time. Emergency acts up the whazzoo, tanks in the streets when nobody did what you wanted them to do.

That would be an awesome reality television show. Pick a random person, just anybody, and give them the powers of the President for one day. See how long before we'd all get nuked.

But hey, I'm a populist moderate. I'll say whatever people tell me to say. That's how I roll. I shut the fuck up.

For When You Are Bored

I just discovered this, and since you are all just figments of a greater illusionary construct, I know you don't know about this, but I've been reading this viceland do's and don'ts section. It is so simplistic, and it's right there, I read it when I want to zone out.

Because really, everybody should be judged.

Here is an example of someone being judged. For wearing something stupid.

So yeah, see me in there, under Don't.

Headlines

Beware of tigers.

Saddam Hussein's Execution And Privacy

Sorry for not posting so long, but it was the holidays. I hope you spent it around a warm hearth with your friends and loved ones, drinking egg nog and generally being filled with Christmas cheer.

Not on the computer for a guy's infrequent blog postings, growing angrier and angrier.

Anyway, Saddam Hussein's execution was not just the execution of a tyrant. It will be one of those moments where cell phones really changed society and history.
It was supposed to be a secret, with no official cameras, no public demonstrations. It was done in a small cellar, not unlike the ones he sent his victims to.

However, there were no official cameras there, just a guy with a cell phone with a movie recording. Now, we get to see that.

People got to see that bit of eye-for-an-eye justice because of a cell phone video recording. These images can change history - the Vietnamese officer shooting the prisoner, raising the flag, etc. These images happen after the technology has been around for a while. History takes a while to catch up with technology. With this execution, history finally did that. Cameras for everyone, which people can carry around anywhere and everywhere, even to an execution.

Would a person be able to bring along a movie camera, even 10 years ago? Probably not. (On a side note that's sure to pay off later, I don't know anything about the execution details, because I do zero research for this website. I'm writing this for fun. I mention this because some guy ragged on me for not properly writing about Johnny and the Hurricanes. You're right, guy.)

Anyway, if everyone gets cell phone, and every cell phone has a video recording feature, then everybody'll have a camera. We used to have nightmares about being constantly surveyed. Now, everyone will eventually be able to record anything anyone does.

If everyone had a camera phone, it would be much more acceptable. With the Internet, if you slip on a banana peel, you could be laughed at by people you've never known in places you'll never be. Millions of people happened.

Regular people should have a right to do stupid things and not have it be seen by millions.

This blog has put an interesting spin on this for me. I've told maybe three people about this blog, but people I wouldn't dare tell about it have read it. Maybe they've googled something, and I've come up. Maybe word of mouth, I don't know.

I had this idea that the Internet was so big that this blog was private. That helped me start it, but that idea's gone now. Because the one other fan of Johnny and the Hurricanes found me.

There's a dignity to things not being seen. Did Saddam deserve that dignity? No, because he was a public tyrant, who brutalized millions. He gave up his right to privacy. We aren't all public figures. We aren't all celebrities. We aren't all special, and we all should not have blogs. (I should, because I'm brilliant.) We should not give up our rights to privacy. And it's getting harder not to be private when everyone has a camera phone.

But hey, we bought them. We just have to live with ourselves when we become a hit Youtube phenomenon, with a million views.