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Adolphus Clydebank

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Medical Observations [05 May 2008|01:41am]
I think we're all relatively familiar with the onset of blind rage that comes with online or network gaming, most apparent in the FPS genre with titles like Halo, Rainbow Six, Counterstrike, etc. For those unfamiliar, a simple search for "Croyt" on youtube comes up with a large number of case studies.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG42S_PmRs4

Though now, I've started to observe the same occurance in the most user/family friendly of games. It's only a matter of time before Mario Kart Wii related homicide stories appear. If you thought guys getting stabbed and maced in Gamestops/Gamestations over the much lauded but seriously overrated GTA IV was bad, let me break down an exchange I had with Ross today.

"I think my favourite part was all the fan service they did, like the Mario Galaxy themed Rainbow Road being a prime example"

"I think my favourite part was when you got hit with the blue shell before you crossed the finish line, you threw the controller to the ground yelling "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT" and the clerk wanted to kick your ass."

"That doesn't count."


Though I see his point. Contrary to what Nintendo USA CEO Reggie Fils-Aimé says, "More players" doesn't necessarily equate "more fun". In fact, it comes off as a huge clusterfuck of Koopa shells, lightning bolts, more shells, banana peels, more shells, and the usual "the rules don't apply to the CPU characters" mantra where instead of feeling challenged by being in first place, it just comes off as a punishment. An unrelenting and infuriating bum slamming without the minor psychological panacea that eventually it'll be your turn to be the pitcher.

Still, I'm sold... with friends it's a lot of fun and about 100% times less deviant. I recommend giving it a go. Now all I have to do is wait for the launch of Wiiware so I can play the new Strong Bad games.
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compelled to write something [29 Apr 2008|12:25am]
Quite a while ago, just before my birthday, I had a conversation with Andrew about the direction I was taking my life. He asked me why, despite seven years prior when we'd been so adamant that we'd both be writers before we were Thirty, I hadn't written anything of a fictional capacity since the advanced course we'd taken when we were 18. After a while, I opted against it, since I thought it would create bad blood between two friends who had been so close since we were just able to communicate verbally, if one succeeded how would the other react, etc. Instead, I decided to go down the route of a Phd, leaving any writing I would do to be of a purely academic fashion (recently I've been thinking about a guide on early political caricatures).

He's getting published in Autumn and practically begged me to take up the cause once again and badgered me continually up to now.

While I have no plans of abandoning my earlier ambitions, I realise now that his success would have no impact on me other than the joy I'd feel that he achieved what he wanted after seven years of trying. The summer months are approaching and as I find myself once again stateside, where every other time I've crossed over I returned with enough material to keep me in anecdotes until my next trip, I can't help but feel that this time the transfer of information will be into something a little more traditional than the blogosphere.



If that doesn't work, I could always go work for Wired.
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An update? It must be your birthday. [23 Jan 2007|01:05am]
[ music | "Puppy dog mail fast": Luminous Orange ]

I've returned from a period of self-imposed restraint into the blogging sphere. Was it perhaps because I felt overcome with feelings of inadequacy due to mightier champions of diatribe than myself releasing, en-masse, wave after wave of malice towards the right in a period of American-based political upheaval and the taking of a congress? Or possibly via the downfall of our own political leaders through seriously, and I quote, "naughty shit" they seem content to commit? Have I nothing to say? Quite the opposite. Am I too busy? I still seem able to metaphorically wank over any produce directed at me by Shigeru Miyamoto, so it can't be that either. So what?


In fact, I just got bored. I had no patience to sit and put genuine thought into anything I wrote that had no genuine academic basis or result which would benefit me in the long run. I might have garnered a few laughs, but I could have done the same by saying "cockosphere" to anyone I know and not spend an hour formulating and committing it to html. This takes time and I get bored. But I'm not so bored now, so you'll see some more updates, given you want to read them.


So just what HAVE I been doing? I could focus on university, but given I have no friends I've known for more than six months who take a postgraduate course, it would mean very little to them to hear me gripe about the expectations coupled with the complete oxymoron of lapse discipline that come with being a postgrad student. Lecturers/teachers clearly do not give a shit anymore. Deadlines cease to exist, yet tensions mount. Fees skyrocket, yet nobody mentions their woes of having three and a half grand disappear overnight. Have I merely stepped into an alternative reality of perpetually stoned students?


Wait, wouldn't that be regular reality? I can't explain it. It's almost like we're adults now, where paying bills are simply second nature. I worry for the possibility of an future expanding waistline and what ungodly havoc may be unleashed if I eat after 9pm, like my internal mogwai* is just waiting for a chance to turn to the dark side... don't get me wet, that's all I'll say.


I did start two new jobs. The first being at everyone's favourite eclectic nighttime leisure music cafe, the Beanscene on Ashton Lane. Although the facade has now been broken for me and I realise that the rustic charm, the vaguely reminiscent smells and free expression are just dirt, piss and moody gays. No seriously... I'm not being prejudiced. REALLY moody gays, who hate me and blame me for anything that might hint at one in particular's laziness (in spades I might add. He is a champion for wanton arse-scratching. Time actually slows on his approach from which not even light excapes. His moody cock is the event horizon and I am a hypothetical particle, superceding light's escape velocity.)


Plus I'm pretty sure everyone has fucked everyone else in there. It's like they employed me to maintain some uber-PC quota for straight employees.


My second job lands me in two high schools on a weekly basis, where I am paid over £14.00 an hour to scare children. Truth. I am making them shite themselves about uni and relishing the chance to ruin the life of the perpetual texters during lessons, the genetic "wide-os" and otherwise annoying ilk. What amazes me most about this experience is actually illustrating the minor percentile of students who pay attention. I am charged with 15 of them at the moment in one school, of which I believe strongly only four will receive a passing grade from me. Not because the others are thick (well...) but because I genuinely believe they don't respect me because I'm not a real teacher. This has not stopped me from having my fun with them, even if I can't openly chew them out for their actions. The full gravity that their chance of going to university may very well rest with ME has not quite sunk in yet. I look forward to reminding them of this when the final assessment is due.


On a less sober note, I have to say that the Wii is an excellent piece of kit, which I should have a very happy relationship with in the coming years. If only they had actually thought about releasing some GAMES for January and February, that would have been awesome...


I'm also going to see Jarvis Cocker at the ABC on the 20th of February. An early birthday present, given that my aging to a mature 24 this year will require an albeit brief night of fun before my early twenties cockiness surely snuffs the lid.




I'm going to bed now.






*Not the band, moron. I can't believe you actually asked that.

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Crazy Fucker Dies the Way He Lives [04 Sep 2006|02:28pm]
I can already see the Onion headlines.


Steve Irwin : 1962-2006
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A Brief Account of the Summer... [16 Aug 2006|12:32am]
In summary:




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I assumed an aquatic form and became pure liquid for a brief venture.



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A mysterious ancient tablet granted me the power of flight and robbed me of my primitive notions of modesty. Underwear away!



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I learned to groove mexico-style, invoking Ikthor in the process (picture not included).



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My Bullshit radar sounded off multiple times. I'm sorry, "scientist"?



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I entered into a new universe, devoid of logic and reason and no free refills.




Specifics from the horse's mouth, children. I have such stories to tell...
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An actual update. [31 Jul 2006|02:04pm]
Guten abend.


While I'm quite certain on some piece of documentation it stated that I had to spend the time I had in the United States actually IN the United States, we all opted to take an expediated (all expense paid trip I might add) to Cancun, a beach city on the coast of Mexico. I generally shy away from the idea of a beach or even the ocean, but I had to say that the prospect of actually seeing a pristine, virgin, beach that is not hindered by the British standards of beach life (Donkeys, donkey poop, radioactive isotopes) was tempting enough to actually get on the plane.


I've never had a machine gun pointed at me before now, my shorts remained relatively unscathed, but I found that this is merely common practice when you go south of the border, since the military occupy the airports in this area. It's perfectly safe, but a fully fatigue-clad soldier definitely gets one's attention. And I have to say that it's a far greater terrorist deterrant than the OTHER security measure they have in the airports: a button you push that either says "GO" or "NO GO". I find it hard to know how you can fail this.


I swear, I have never been so lazy as I have been on this beach. I find the entire area a delight and my only regret is urking up in front of 25 other people when I swallowed a pint or two of sea water which may have had a crab in it also. Although apparently, the fish eat this sort of thing... and we eat the fish... so I'm pretty much a terrible human being for adding my own special sauce to somebody's dinner now.


Anyway, I'll have more to report once I've actually been in the US for more than a day. I fly back tomorrow and have a feeling I'll be stopping by one of the big national parks next week. I'm going off to dig a very big hole in the sand now.
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Displace International [29 Jul 2006|11:04pm]
Presently posting from Cancun in Mexico.


Don't ask why I'm here just yet. But it's fan friggin' tastic.
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THE GREATEST NEWS I'VE HAD THIS YEAR* [22 Jul 2006|01:30pm]
PETER CULLEN CONFIRMED AS THE VOICE OF OPTIMUS PRIME IN TRANSFORMERS.

http://www.d13satellite.com/donmurphy/showthread.php?s=&postid=636010#post636010









*not a guarantee
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Heated Bodies Hidden by Period Attire [18 Jul 2006|06:19pm]
I am required now to fully show off everything I was wearing that heated Summer day, last Saturday when Paul and Julia tied the knot, topped the lid, made biscuits in the oven of unification and so on. The only snaffu, at least to my knowledge, was by sod's law from my own hand when I pre-empted the music to be played upon Julia's walk down the aisle even though I had been given the go-ahead. I could see her out the window and she wasn't walking. Possibly a part of me thought that a little rhythm might expediate her motions. Alas, she was intercepted by a giant lensed film jockey and I felt like a lemon.

There is something vaguely satisfying about sitting by a pond in my finery when regular people walk past you. It had nothing to do with the shade available there, it was solely to garner many raised eyebrows.



Photos?


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Terry tells me that a man apparently died doing what I'm doing right at that moment. He stuck a shite covered cane right through his foot and it went sceptic. But if you ask me, if you;re thick enough to cover your cane in poop and stick it in your body, you deserve what's coming to you.

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Ben and Rich doing their best Ent impression.

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Staying out of the light. It burns something fierce.

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Now converting into sepia for added posh-arsehole mystique.

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The water located behind us is almost entirely comprised of Lysteria and mud. Preserved for accuracy's sake from when Osterly park was London's most happening Victorian bestiality club.

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A very happy couple indeed.


I also have to bitch that the very expensive shoes I had my eye on are completely unavailable, so it looks like I have a grandiose purchase in footwear to make across the pond.


And that's for you!
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A decleration [10 Jul 2006|10:03am]
I think it's safe to assume I no longer require any female contact.


You cannot begin to understand the comfort, petty chair-sitters!



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In addition: shouldn't logic dictate that NEW Super Mario Bros. for the DS Lite should be harder than Super Mario Bros. for the NES? Why can't I beat the damn NES version?

Yes, and because I'm talking to Laura right now:


1) The Magnetic Fields: Strange Powers
2) Polysics: New Wave Jacket (Japan at it's best)
3) Luminous Orange: Starred Leaf
4) Kinski: Daydream Intonation
5) Mogwai: Superheroes of BMX
6) Kinski: Waves of Second Guessing
7) GYBE!: East Hastings


I have less people who read this than you.
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I've come to help you with your problems [08 Jul 2006|01:01am]
Summer's here, hence no updates. Computer activity is nil as possible.


Goin' to America in three weeks, so I'm taking orders now for DVDs and shit to bring back.

Paul and Julia getting married next week though, that's somewhat overshadowing my own good news (Thanks, you douche... way to find love and all, jerk!) that my postgrad is most assuredly going ahead and I can walk around campus being incrdedibly superior this winter and enter the postgrad club to drink fine liquors and waffle on about various gentlemanly subjects. I did finally get around to ordering their wedding present though, which is a great deal more functional and necessary than X-Box 360 controllers, although that would have been a necessary on my list.

Care for photos? I have apparently graduated now with honours and am the proud owner of an MA in Historical Studies. My transcript has funny words on it too.


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That guy on my right totally looooooooves the sausage. Although why did I have to be seated with nobody I knew? You can quite blatantly see Ruori and Bill not two seats away from me and I would have had much better things to talk to them about than with that jackass Giles Barker. This commentary greatly depends on you knowing full well of the cad and bounder status of Giles Barker, who from my understanding kisses like your gran.


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The hall of ages. Not featured is the throne of lies or the parapet of infamy. I tried to think of something Star Wars related during the preceedings, but couldn't top Adam and Joe's Star Wars dialogue over Pope John Paul II's funeral, which if you can get a hold of is bloody fantastic.


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I HAVE THE POWER!!!!!!! (Shot in magical Jiggle-o-vision)


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I think I was the only person who actually kept their robe for photo opportunities later on. Gary seems unamused by my tallness. My haircut is also pretty shit I've noticed.


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Until next term, adieu! (Dad wasn't amused by my salute to academia. Seriously, they teach you that gesture upon graduation. It's one of the trade secrets of the post-grad. Like self fellation in the boy scouts of America)



We also had a pre-grad party. Some fuckers showed up.


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As I understand it, myself and Louise were doing our best impressions of the Hulk and in my case, Spider-Man. No contest.


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Lizanne buries herself out of shot as is her wanton fashion of doing things. So to annoy her, I took the next one.


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This has cost me the £12 she owes me...


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Lisa gives a "thumbs up!" to alcohol! Gerald gives his best drunken "where am I?" smile. I do not photograph well...


Now if you'll pardon me, I have a DS lite to caress like some cubic lover.
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This time next year... [10 Jun 2006|06:11pm]
Expect me to be paying for all of you to see this.



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Some of the most insidious lines of my time which have "PWNED" [10 Jun 2006|05:56pm]
"No, I am your father."

"Come son of Jor-El, kneel before Zod."

"Once again Dr Jones we see there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away."

"This IS Seti-Alpha 5!"

"Which of these guys would you choose?"



DIABOLICAL!
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FUCK. YES. [07 Jun 2006|03:32pm]
http://movies.crooksandliars.com/TDS-Bennett-gay-.mov


Bennett: Look, it's a debate about whether you think marriage is between a man and a women.

Stewart: I disagree, I think it's a debate about whether you think gay people are part of the human condition or just a random fetish.



AND



Stewart (Rebutting Bennet's assumption that gay marriage is taken less seriously than straight marriage): Divorce is not caused because 50% of marriages end in gayness.


It comes down to this. There is no guaranteed successful formula for marriage, you cannot claim that outlawing same sex marriage will somehow solidify the heterosexual unions of the world. Gay marriages have already been annulled in America and to my knowledge this has not lowered the levels of couples filing for divorce. If you ascertain that all humans are entitled to the same levels of dignity and the same rights as each other, but say that the right of marriage cannot be given to a specific social group, then you are claiming that they are less than human.

We now live in a world were only one group of people are predominantly desperate to get married and you claim that they're the reason nobody wants to get married? Fuck you and your politics.
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Things I have said to literal Bible interpretists that have not been met with an answer. [27 May 2006|02:06pm]
"...presumably then you don't believe in the concept of evolution or biological change of any sort? So God made ourselves and animals in a specific way, with no deviation from that consensus. But let me ask you this, if you believe word for word what the bible states, then why would God create Adam with a fully working organ for sexual reproduction if woman only came later by Adam's request? I've read the Bible, he didn't ask for a lady and winkle."

"...the Noah story is frankly the least believable aspect of this argument. In some respect, the start of Genesis follows what scientists now believe is the logical progression of life on Earth. Earth, sea animals, land animals, humans, etc... but the idea that a man went across the planet collecting two of each animals and returning to a climate inhospitable for most of them is ludicrous. In the time it would have taken for him to get them, the original pairs he would have collected would be dead for starters. He'd literally need a team of millions walking across the planet catching everything and your trying to tell me for their trouble only Noah, his family and a few of their pals get saved on the Ark? And nevermind that... if all these guys are of an Arab persuasion and evolution is a falacy, then why do we have Blacks, Chinese, Inuit, Caucasian, etc people after the flood?"

"...so what's the going rate for daughter slavery these days?"
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It might have a bogus name [12 May 2006|10:49am]
E3's booth for the Nintendo Wii this year?


GEEK SENSES... OVERLOADING... MUST OWN METROID PRIME 3 AND MARIO GALAXY AND LEGEND OF ZELDA AND, AND THE ALMOST UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS SONIC: WILDFIRE.


If you thought they couldn't cram more pixels into an engine, you're just retarded.


But you're telling me the only LucasArts game on show for ANY system was Star Wars Lego, again. Where are "Galaxies" and "Rogue Squadron" and such and such?


And Infinium Labs STILL got a booth?





(The prize for this year's most bizarre Nintendo game goes to: http://trailers.gametrailers.com/gt_vault/t_supersmashbros_brawl_e36.mov)
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On another topic... [22 Apr 2006|06:59pm]
No, not that one...


For further clarity on what myself and Andy mutually agreed were "Fud dressers" I present a short passage on the subject, as they are not contained to one specific social order. For example, there are gothic fud dressers, but not all fud dressers are gothic.

No youth-based culture has ever existed which hasn't been image conscious, The very nature of fashion relies on human's desire to outshine one's peers and this continual oneupmanship reaches various apexes before reclusing into a hibernation stage. I will prove this scientifically and historically given this is my field of expertise. The French revolution and to a certain degree the initial abandonment of Francophobia in the late 18th century was based, in part (albeit a small one) on the overt opulance and decedance of the ruling elite. Satire of the time focussed on the outrageous hairstyles and types of dress worn by London and Paris' landed class and lampooned them to the extent that their outward appearances in effect took on a living form. The humour lay with the idea that fashion-savvy types took such an interest and length of time in creating their appearance that it became their only defining characteristic. For evidence, try looking up "Marie Antoinette cartoon" in google image search. My favourite is the galley incorporated into her head.

As we progressed to the end of the 19th century, there was a categorical switch in terms of outward appearance. Modesty and conservatism, even to the point of outrageous sexual retardation was prevelant. And quite expectedly, we have now returned to another apex. One quick google search for "Jeffree Star" should illustrate the extent of this century's theatre of the absurd in terms of style. Make no mistake, I wouldn't mind people who spent two hours spiking their hair, a further two of makeup application and picking out the exact ensemble to create the illusion that they didn't care about their image if it were an act for some performance. Catwalks, in many cases, do not present the viewer with remotely wearable fashion; they exist as a showcase for stiched fabric scultpure, despite most people completely refusing to acknowledge this.

My diatribe is presented because myself and others around me are finding it hard to find anyone who looks attractive. Five hair colours, twelve directions, a furious clashing of colour schemes and the prostitute's eye for skin presentation tells me that you are not normal. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I don't "get you" or understand your music. You're not normal because you've spent more time preping yourself to look like every other fucker in the room that it has actually taken more time than how long you'll spend with your friends. You care more for your steadily worsening complection than real people. I can't remember the last time I went somewhere and could remember seeing the majority of people's faces, I mean the actual SKIN on them. Is it still even there, behind your fucking clown mask?



fucking clown shoes, man...



I mean, here's a simple equation:


Image hosting by Photobucket


+


Image hosting by Photobucket


=


Image hosting by Photobucket


Ask yourself, "Does that person look like some kind of southern equator mammal?" then they're probably a Fud Dresser.
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The Case of the Missing Devil-Fish [13 Apr 2006|11:29pm]
First off, while generally loathed to give money to toy companies in the vein of Macfarlane toys (who boast "28 points of articulation!" yet neglect to inform you it's all in areas where there are no natural bodily joints or alternatively, it's all in the fingers), NECA is no better. But I feel compelled to buy this when it comes out and just treat it like it is. A tiny plastic statue. Applying the term "action figure" to this item which from the looks of it can rotate its arm but cannot move its legs, waist or knees is innexcusable. One might as well apply the term "Planned Iraq Nation Building Strategum" to the army's "don't get shot" policy. Plus, that cricket bat handle is too long and he also appears to have no red on him. Fuck.


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I must also congratulate the SCAS for the superb launch to the Fizzers exhibit. It's my intent to go back at the less VIP orientated interval as well as to check out the history of caricature and political cartoons exhibit from the likes of Dr Grove. New vigour courses through my body when he gets excited over the ideas presented in my dissertation. Take THAT penmanship and plagiarism! Also, I am likely to kill my father due to (for reasons known to only himself) he opted not to use the flash option for any photographs he took that evening. The results are almost uniformly dark and blurry, take for example this photograph of myself with Brian Cox.


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The keen minds among you will observe that along with pointing out the impotence of the photographic recording of that evening, it was also a thinly veiled excuse to show myself with Brian Cox. Fortunately, photographs cannot detail the dialogue shared between us, which could have devolved into "I thought you were great in X2, but Manhunter was total wank. Now say Quim!" I mean, jesus, it ALMOST looks like we have the same freshly blasted coal mine facial structure.

In the realm of academia, my finals have begun. Black Death is officially over with next to no interaction with Prof Cohn. There's only so long a man can milk his father's death until ignoring us just becomes rude. It would have been very nice if he'd actually explained what the terms of the new exam which NOBODY HAS EVER SAT BEFORE were, but that would actually require a devotion to the duties outside of just reading about dead Florentines and having fist fights with Mendicants. We are talking about a man Dr Munck called a simpleton. For context, one must understand that Dr Munck is batshit fucking loco, but pulls it off since the man does spend all day looking at pictures of giant nosed Dutch illustrations.
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It should be a mandate [20 Mar 2006|11:19pm]
To go see V for Vendetta, despite how you might be put off by David Lloyd's sometimes questionable artwork.


Best. Montage. Ever.
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Give me a fucking decongestant [14 Mar 2006|10:20pm]
I notice that all the pictures I had on here are now gone. This is because my image hosting service shut down in February without any indication, so I guess that means I'll need to find a new place to host my stolen copywritten material. Jack Chick works in mysterious ways.


And now some snippets relating to Friday-Tuesday:



Now that I have no more classes, I feel a pressing urge to play many hours of Nintendo DS and panic about my final degree results.

Best thing that happened last week? Dr Munck calling Prof Cohn a simpleton.

Worst thing that happened last week? Being called a pissant by a taxi controller. (There's a lot of this going around I notice)

Some guy committed suicide on the rail lines between Paisley and Glasgow on the evening I chose to organise birthday plans. The conversation immediately turned to Chris McGlaughlin.

"Sarcophagous" means meat eater. It is not to be confused with "Sarcophagus".

Nobody I know appreciates the Magnetic Fields. I'm sorry to jump into music diatribe here, but seriously, is it because sometimes they use a uklele and a moog? Fuck you, and fuck your three guitar, one percussion mantra.

I got three IOUs for my birthday. It's so awkward when you get the same thing more than once.

It is my fervent belief that regarding one female friend I have, that she will turn into some kind of Sylvia Plath lookalike man hater at her typewriter, who throws coffee in their faces and wears turtlenecks while trying to empower her vagina. Possibly to make lasers shoot from it, which I believe she could do if she really work on kegal exercises.
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