This video makes me uncomfortable on so many different levels. From Rod Stewart’s white leather outfits, to Sting’s XXXL t-shirt, to the palpable sexual tension. As well, I continue to doubt that Sting is the same guy that was in the Police, in fact I flat out refuse to believe it.
“Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling has strongly hinted for the first time that she could write an eighth book in the series.
Rowling, 42, admits she has ‘weak moments’ when she feels she will pen another novel about the boy wizard.
One of her biggest fans – her 14-year-old daughter Jessica – has already put pressure on her to revisit the character.
…
However, if an eighth novel were to be written, Rowling concedes it is unlikely that Harry would be the central character.
…
An interview with Time magazine, which put Rowling at No 3 in its Person Of The Year list, she said: “There have been times since finishing, weak moments, when I’ve said ‘Yeah, all right’ to the eighth novel.
“If - and it’s a big if - I ever write an eighth book, I doubt that Harry would be the central character. I feel I’ve already told his story.
“But these are big ifs. Let’s give it ten years.”
In the meantime, Rowling is working on two writing projects – an adult novel and a “political fairy tale” – and is involved in charity work”
Christmas is over, and that always makes me feel kind of like the genie when Aladdin tells him he can’t set him free, so I figured I would stay in the Christmas spirit and review another ornament.
There are lots of strange and frightening ornaments on our tree, most of the especially outlandish ones were designed by me or my brother or sister in pre-school. As well, there are usually triplicates (with slight differences, personal touches by each of us) of each one, as we all had the same pre-school teacher. This particular ornament, I call “the Walnut Bear”, for obvious reasons. It is a piece of brown paper loosely cut into the shape of a bear. The bear has a walnut for it’s stomach and those crazy eyes that point anywhere and everywhere for eyes. As well, the Walnut Bear has a pipe cleaner sticking out of the top of it’s head, used for hanging on branch of choice.
(Excuse the ugly man, the mirror effect, and the poor iSight picture quality, my camera currently has a different lens on it and I couldn’t find it in myself to change it.)
I made the Walnut Bear in 1989, I know this because written down the left leg of Walnut Bear is “1989”, and written down the right leg of Walnut Bear is “Johno”. (Johno, for those of you who don’t know, is a term of endearment, started by my mother, that most people who know me well call me.) I like to think the Walnut Bear got my name tattooed on his leg because I’m such a role model to him. Considering that Walnut Bear is 18 years old, I have to give him points for durability. I would imagine the construction paper and glue to be pretty much disintegrated at this point. At the very least I would expect the paper to be ripped. Yet, it’s as flawless as the Patriot’s record.
I can’t be too hard on myself for this ornament because A. I was 4 when I made it, and B. I just was doing what my teacher told me to. That said, the Walnut Bear is kind of sad. The walnut stomach is completely inexplicable, bears don’t have walnut shells for stomachs or anything that remotely resembles walnut shells on their stomachs. Also, I seem to have glued one of the eyes on Walnut Bear’s ear. I do give myself points for matching the brown pipe cleaner with the brown of the bear. My brother’s and sister’s Walnut Bear’s have completely mismatching colors for their pipe cleaners. It was clear even at age 4 that I was a style czar in the making.
I’m watching the Blazer pre-game show and commentator Mike Rice just enthusiastically said that Al Jefferson was “going to try and bang the Blazers tonight”. Call me immature, but I laughed. It doesn’t get much more Superbad than that.
As you embark on your journey through life, there are some things you’ll always remember, somethings you will never remember, and somethings you mustn’t ever forget. Now, I am probably the most useless person of all time when it comes to useful things to remember. In reality, I probably don’t have a single one. As far as useless information goes however, my brain is full of it. My brain capacity is literally 100% used up by useless information. I fear that that does not bode well for my future, as I have no further room for anything that may or may not occur in the years to come. (There’s something to be said about living in the present right?) Which all just goes to show you that in life, you must always play the hand you are dealt. You cannot fold, even if you just have a pair of twos. You ride that pair of twos and bluff the shit out of it, until everybody is convinced you have a straight flush. Then you win the pot and never have to reveal you were just packing a pair of twos. The moral of that story seems to be that lying is good, which it is in some cases, but I fear it may not be a good lesson to be preaching to the youth of our nation, that being you.
Another thing to keep in mind as you embark on your journey of living and learning and taking in life is irony. Now, I’m not talking about real irony, like if a human sized banana with legs and arms was walking down the street and it slipped on an actual banana peel. Brought down by his own kind. That would certainly be comical, no? And certainly it would be ironic. In the traditional definition of irony that is. I however never use that definition, I use Alanis Morisette’s definition of irony, which is “if it rains on your wedding day that is ironic.” We’ll ignore the fact that in no way is that ironic, it is just shit luck (probably combined with poor planning). The fact of the matter is that rain falls at an average of 7 miles per hour. Yes, you read that correctly, you would be able to outrun the average rain drop as it fell on your wedding day. By most estimations I would imagine everybody at your wedding could outrun that rain. Even if you had a really decrepit old great grandma there, she could probably outrun the rain. And even if she couldn’t, you know what they say, a little moisture never hurt a senior citizen. (And even if she is the rare kind of senior citizen that is allergic to moisture, she’s old, she’s had a good life. Let her go.) This may not make sense now, but some day in the future you will look deep into your heart and it will come clear that Alanis Morissette is slowly redefining the tool we use to define our most basic communication: the dictionary. For that, she is purely demonic and simultaneously purely genius.
The last piece of golden advice I will let flow from the eternal fountain that is my mind is one of the utmost importance. Every year in New York there is a 1 in 4 chance that there will be a white Christmas. When a white Christmas does indeed happen, it is a joyous occasion. Small children play in the snow. Creepy adults kidnap small children playing in the snow. Chestnuts are roasted on an open fire. Stockings are hung by the chimney with care. People with red noses are celebrated, not rounded up and forced into internment camps. Bing Crosby is sung with gusto and glee. Now all that sounds well and good, but not so much when you consider that for every 1 white Christmas, there are 3 black Christmases. For all you racists out there who may be reading this, don’t jump to conclusions, a black christmas has nothing to do with black people. A black Christmas, as you may not know since I’m the one doling out advice here, is when the Dark Lord Sauron is particularly unhappy with Middle Earth and uses the power of Mount Doom to cover the land with ash and soot. In the chaos of this “black rain”, as it has come to be known in certain circles, the Dark armies are sent out. Orcs and Urukai terrorize the land, led by mighty Ringwraiths on their Nazgul steeds. As you may guess, that really leads to a less than perfect Christmas, plus lots of casualties.
Now before you dismiss these nuggets of advice as the nonsensical ramblings of a half drunk, fully unemployed college student, let them marinate for awhile. I predict that one day in the near future, you’ll be minding your own business, perhaps paying for a nice pastry at your local bistro when suddenly the logic of my advice will hit you. If I may, I will warn you in advance that it will hit you hard, and it may possibly be painful and may possibly knock you off your feet. This is why I don’t recommend buying coffee or any other hot drinks while at said bistro. You could burn yourself during that shining moment when everything comes clear. And burns last for life. You can take that to the bank.
We’ve got some breaking news here. Addicted to Words has learned about an absolutely shocking story. I’m pretty positive I am the first to break this story to the world. Really, really harrowing stuff.
Osama Bin Laden Loses Belief in Santa Claus
By John Vieira
Doha, Qatar - Al Qaeda leader, and the man behind the 9/11 attacks, Osama Bin Laden released his longest and most angry tape yet via the Al Jazeera network earlier today. An obviously intoxicated Bin Laden went on a 20 minute tirade about how, after not receiving the yellow cake uranium he asked for this year, he has lost all belief in Santa Claus. Bin Laden went on to say that after this new discovery, he feels like he has lost his child-like innocence.
Claus did not return any phone calls to the Addicted to Words Anti-Terrorism News Team: Holiday Mascot Dispute Division, but experts say that this new Bin Laden tape absolutely does not prove that Claus is a fictional character. “Osama did not take into account that maybe Santa felt he had been naughty this year. Nor did he consider that remote caves in the outskirts of Afghanistan do not have chimneys and are difficult to access when guarded so heavily,” said Henry Case, who has a doctorate in both Santa Claus and terrorism.
My brain seems to have shut down as of late, and no brilliant essay ideas have come to mind. (Note: My brain will have to be rudely awakened soon when I start chopping wood on this statistics correspondence course I’m taking.) Thus, here is another YouTube goody. It snowed here yesterday and is supposed to snow a ton tomorrow. This is from last year, here is how we Portlandites drive in the snow. Everyone crashes, sort of like when it rains in California.
I especially liked the first guy who looked like he was getting all Twisted Metal on us and actually trying to hit every car that he could.-John
This is an Australian Beatles cover band, the Beatnix, putting their own unique spin on Stairway to Heaven. It might be the most excellent thing I have ever seen. So excellent in fact, that I broke my own leg. (Effectively ruining any hopes I had of becoming an NFL punter.)
I finally stopped being a selfish asshole, fired up Dreamweaver, and added links to my sidebar over there on the right. As per the title, it is all required reading. Take a moment and peruse. You will be quizzed at a later date.