OPBlogsenal III

20070101.jpg


First panel FTW.
 
Larry David blogging in the middle of the night:

I wonder how long I've been up. It feels like at least forty minutes. Maybe I should look at the time. No, don't look at the time. How's that gonna help? I'm just curious. Don't look. DO NOT LOOK…three- thirty. Are you happy? Idiot. I told you not to look but you know everything…I can't stand this quilt. The comforter inside always slips down. I’m grabbing at nothing here! I haven't had a good quilt in a long time. Where'd this quilt come from anyway? Tomorrow I'll mention the quilt. She's not gonna like that. She'll say there's nothing wrong with the quilt and that'll be that. It's sad I can't have a quilt I rove…Rove, damn it, that’s the second time today I’ve done that. God, I hate that man. See, this is what he wants. He wants to get in your head. He wants to keep you up. You’re giving him what he wants! If he keeps us all up, we’ll be too tired to fight them. That’s their strategy, and you’re playing right into their hands. We have to start keeping them up. But how? The only things that bothers them enough to keep them up are fetuses. They love that fetus. The fetus and Jesus. Sounds like a comedy team. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to Fetus and Jesus…” Stop thinking about them. I can’t. Try! …Okay, I’m going to think of something else. How about that juicy nectarine I had today. Yum-my. That was dee-licious. The problem is fruit is so inconsistent. When you get a good one, it’s all luck. Fruit is like blackjack. The casino wins most of the time. But at least the casino’s not fixed. I trust the slot machines in Vegas more than the voting machines in Ohio. Even sleazy casino owners in Vegas have more credibility than this bunch…I have to stop killing insects in front of the kids. Am I setting a bad example? What’s my option? Am I supposed to start ignoring flies and ants and let them wander around like they own the place? I guess liberals aren’t supposed to kill insects. See, Rove? I kill them and I rather enjoy it. Maybe you want to sign me up. I like how if you criticize the war you don’t support the troops. You’re the ones sending them over to die, so how is it I don’t support them? If the army was made up of child molesters, then I’d support them. If we went to an all child molester army, I would be their biggest supporter. “Please don’t bring the troops home. Stay the course. Keep them there a long time.” But they’re not child molesters. And they’re not the Twins, that’s for sure. Where are the Twins? Send in the Twins. I’d like to hear that scene. “Jenna, Barbara…Daddy and I have talked it over and we want you to go fight in Iraq.” …Ah, what’s the use? Now I’m all revved up. This is what Rove wants. You’re playing right into his hands. Should I take a sleeping pill? Is that a slippery slope? It seems there are a lot more slippery slopes now than there used to be. Now everything’s a slippery slope…It’s so hot in here. I have to turn the pillow over. Why’s it so much cooler on this side? I don’t get that. I would think it would be a little cooler, but not this much cooler. No matter how hot it is, the bottom of the pillow still stays cool. One day I’d like to ask a scientist about that. Of course, I never really get to meet any scientists. You’d think I’d run into a scientist at some point. I like how they keep saying the science isn’t in on global warming. They just don’t know. No proof. But, of course, it’s in on God. Lots of proof on that. Tons of empirical evidence. They got God’s DNA. And Moses parted the Red Sea. He said, “Open sea,” and it opened. And Jesus walked on water. Those are some tricks. People must have been after Moses to do it again until he finally got sick of them and lost his temper. "No, I'm not parting it again, now leave me alone." "C'mon Moses, please?" "I said no, now get the hell outta here!" You'd think anyone who believes this stuff would be so embarassed they'd keep it to themselves. But those maniacs shout it from the rooftops and they're running our country. God talks to Bush all the time. I don’t care if you’re President, if you say God talks to you, you’re a schizophrenic and a menace to society. You should be on drugs in a mental institution, like the Son of Sam. What’s the difference between God or a dog talking to you? It’s still a voice in your head. That means you’re certifiably fucking crazy! …Look what they’re doing to me. Take a deep breath. That’s good. Listen to your breathing. That’s a meditation technique. Clears your mind. There’s a breath, that’s good. There’s another breath. I guess the science isn’t in on evolution either…No, come on, breathe. There’s a breath. Of course the planet’s only 5000 years old. Breathe, prick, breathe. What about the fucking dinosaurs?! We have the bones. They know how old the bones are! The sad thing is these nuts who founded this country fled Europe because of religious persecution. Good trade for Europe. Breathe. You have to breathe. This is what they want. I’m so thirsty. I've got to start drinking more water. It's so hard to drink, though, if you're not thirsty. You don't eat when you're not hungry. Hey, that's a good point. You actually made a good point. See, you're not stupid. "You don't eat when you're not hungry." I like that. I've gotta try to work that into a conversation. That'll raise a few eyebrows… I'm so cramped here. Look how far over she is. She's on my side. She's way past the middle. Hey, move! MOVE! I need my space, man…If they hate Hollywood so much, maybe they should just start making their own movies and TV shows. In fact, we should just split into two different countries. Then, after our stem cell research gives us the cure for all these diseases, they’ll all be trying to get across the border for our medicine, but our minutemen won’t let them. And we’ll have a lot of minutemen. I think I’ll be a minuteman. “Sorry, but our scientists worked very hard to come up with a cure for Parkinson’s and there’s only enough medicine for our people. So beat it.” …Time to turn the pillow again. No, it’s too soon. It’s not cold enough. Let’s just see. No. Turn it. No. I’m turning it. Okay, go ahead...There. It’s not cold enough. Are you happy? ...Well there’s only one way I can get to sleep now. It always works. Sure, wake her up. That’s just what every Jewish woman wants. Sex in the middle of the night. Go ahead. This I want to see.

“Honey.”
“What. What do you want?”
“I can’t fall back asleep.”
“So why are you waking me up?”
“There’s only one thing that’ll do it.”
“Are you crazy? Why can’t you sleep?”
“You know…”
“Because of them?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here, honey.”
Thanks again, Karl. Keep up the good work.
 
So the night before last, right... I'm in bed and I figure "what the hey, I'll play some Top Spin 2." My created player (#6 ranked Deuce Dubwise, of Brazil) had a tournament to play, and why not, the Australian Open would make as good a nightcap as any, right?

Oh. My. Good. Lord.

About halfway through the tournament, in a quarterfinal vs. Andy Roddick, I became one with the development team's philosophy. It was then that I realized that this tournament was not life or death. It was much more serious than either of those things. This, Dear Reader, was goddamn tennis. After I rallied myself from being down 2 sets in said quarterfinal to win the match and advance to the semi (against Carlos Moya) it became less about winning the remaining two matches and more about triumphing over the disc itself, as if it had taken on some sort of ephemeral soul. the semi and the final (vs. Roger Federer) were not tennis matches. They were old-fashioned, knock-down, Roman-esque wars of absolute attrition of the most brutal sort. TS2 cut off my food and water, I captured it's women and children. My circular, flat antagonist denied me access to my most sacred holy lands and I salted it's fields. The Grand Slam Down Under took me (in real time, mind you) from 1:30am until 4:36am. Three fucking hours of video game tennis. And I won. All matches ended in terse tie-breaks and I think I lost 6 years of my life. But I fucking win.

Today after class... It's time. Man the battlements, gentlemen. Officers, steel your men for the most fierce of engagements. We need all men for our next conflict, but do not be mistaken: we need good men, men that are accustomed to blood, blades, chaos but above all else, victory. Armor is needed and you are well equipped, Dubwise. Don your white Adidas shirt,your spotless K-Swiss shoes, your purest pale track pants. Pull your white sweatband down onto your forehead. Arm yourself with your Wilson racquet (white frame) and be prepared for the seige that lies ahead. Have faith in the gods and may fortune smile upon you. The time has come, the prize is imminent. Onward, General Dubwise. Onward to conquest. Onward to spoils. Onward, men, to Wimbledon.

(CW)OP out.

[size=-1]i have missed you, dearest[/size]
 
3barheadband.jpg


So I guess it's more of a headband.

I wish I could post a pic of my player... He's a black fella with blonde dreads and a blonde tiger-stipe beard.
 
Today, Dear Reader, I take you on a trip. On a journey, if you are inclined to such things. Yes, I know that was a fucking sentence fragment, and so what? So motherfucking what? Please excuse my harsh language, it's just that... Well, I've been attacked with a nuclear weapon. Not me personally, Jesus, that would be awful. My CyberNation was attacked with a goddamn nuclear bomb.

This story makes me happy.

My girlfriend just showed up. I'm gonna rue this day.

(CW)OP out.

[size=-1]rue, rue, rue your day...[/size]
 
Now Now Now kiddies. there is only one whore mouth and it is not OPA's lady.

Now maybe it could be OPA but I doubt it.

Now I guess that leaves only one person to be the Whore mouth.

Nice try MP.

Any guesses?

Hint.

OPA figured for the hit?

still confused? look no further.

I resemble that role. You all have been on the kind side of my dicking around.

Bitch boy out.
 
Back
Top