The O’Connor Chronicles Episode Three: Basic Maneuvers

10 Things I Fucking HATE

This is a personal list of things I loathe. Not dislike. Not despise. HATE.

10. The Suburbs

Hell

There’s just something wrong with settling for that stereotypical middle class American life. It just seems like a big huge facade. I think half this country’s problems could be solved if we just did away with the mind-numbing monstrosity made up of tract homes and cul de sacs. It’s like these people have just given up and are waiting patiently to die.

 

9. American Idol

Why?

What a grating piece of shit “show”. No-talents karaoke their way through songs I fucking hated the first time around while fellow no-talents “judge” them, spitting out forced half-wit quips that only the truly entertainment starved would find mildly amusing. Paula Abdul?  Judging a singing competition? That’s like Karen Carpenter judging a hot dog eating contest. Fuck you, Karaoke Idol. Fuck you.

8. George Bush

"I'm sorry."

This is obvious, but I can’t leave our beloved “leader” off this list. He slithered his way into office (twice), completely blew the chance at any sort of sane response to 9/11, is responsible for countless deaths and suffering, and makes being an American in a foreign country like being a fat, hairy turd on a freshly laundered white sheet (ie. not welcomed). He robbed us of our civil liberties. Bush, Cheney, fuck – the whole lot of ‘em should be charged with treason. If they’re patriots, I’ll eat a shit sandwich. I can’t wait to get rid of these clowns and see America leading the way to whatever once again. Thanks for nothing, Bush.

7.  ”Green”

I have no problem with doing what I can to help lessen my impact on the environment. Recycle? Sure. Big unquenchable tire fire? Nope. But I really hate these know-nothing-know-it-alls who try to push their social engineering on me. How’s this, I’ll use half as many resources as Al Gore.  Is that cool?  I have no idea how many resources Al Gore uses, or if “how many resources” is even proper English, but I’m pretty sure I use less than half of what he does. But more than anything, I hate that smugness that people have when they say they’re “Going Green”. Just “Go to hell”. Some days it seems like the planet would be better off if humans just went away and took their bullshit self-satisfaction with them. And by “some days” I mean “every day”.                             

6.  Pretentious Assholes 

 

"I'm a free spirit!"

I wish these could all be #1. Because when you get to this level of hatred, it’s all pretty much equal. We’ve all been around that group of people that like to “discuss” crap like “art”, “film”, “literature”, or “the plight of the (insert victim group here)”. Boo hoo hoo. These are the kinds of people you just want to immediately punch in the face as hard as you can. They embrace their “individuality” by dressing exactly like every other pretentious loser (stupidly).

 

 

 

5. Militant Bicyclists

Bicyclists kick a car's ass.

I can’t get over what an oxymoron those two words make. You know the type, though. Sure, there are the majority of bicyclists who we barely even notice. Then there are the assholes who blatantly disregard any and all laws and everybody’s safety to get their grotesquely spandexed asses from one place to another while patting themselves on the back for being “green”. Hey, idiot. Stay off the sidewalk. And while you’re at it, stay off the roads. Go play with your toy in your driveway.

                            

4. The Sound of Silverware Scraping a Plate

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech

 

I really, really, really hate this. And I hate anybody who does this with any regularity at a restaurant. Hey, restaurant, get some better plates and silverware. That shit wouldn’t happen if you weren’t so fucking cheap. If you hear this sound, rest assured that it’s a cockroach mating call. Enjoy your cockroach-shit seasoned potatoes.

 

 

3. Fe-men

Disgraces.

I don’t know where to start with this pathetic group of bottom feeders. These crybabies are easy to spot. You going to go see the latest Van Damme instant classic? Look over. You see that drippy douchebag in line to see the new Hugh Grant movie, carrying his wife or girlfriend’s purse? That’s a Fe-man. They’re “sensitive” and against anything remotely masculine. They’re featured on every tv show and commercial in the last 20 years.  “Hey, Chad. You want your steak rare or rarer?” “Gee, Mug McFuckmahwife, I don’t eat red meat. I brought over some chicken.” “You know what chicken tastes like, don’t you?  Dick. It tastes like a man’s penis.  Enjoy your dickburger, Chad. Would you like a Shirley Temple with that?”

 

2. Organized Religion

Who doesn't think this is a great idea?

I don’t want to offend anybody (except the previous 8 groups), but unless you’re a die-hard, Bush lovin’ Jesus freak, you’ve got to ask yourself, “Just what the hell good does organized religion do?” I respect other people’s beliefs, but I demand they respect mine too. You don’t see me going door-to-door talking about The Force. The Mormons should follow that same policy. Believe whatever you want to believe, but keep your mouth shut about it.  If somebody doesn’t believe what you believe, tough shit.  The rest of us have to put up with Jesus being shoved down our throats.  You can put up with not spouting off when nobody cares about your opinion anyway. But, seriously, believe whatever you want to believe. Just don’t let a bunch of perverts and suicide bombers tell you what and how to believe.

 

1. That Goddamn KFC Commercial

This commercial combines everything on this list pretty much.  You have your typical American Idol-loving, George Bush-voting, Suburbans.  First off, the dad is clearly a fe-man.  This douche was in a band?  What band?  New Kids On The Block?  That’s not a band, dad.   But you know dad was in a grunge band because he’s still wearing the flannel shirt that he jacked off into the night Andrew Wood o.d.’d.  Mom’s sucking her fingers because dad hasn’t been able to get it up since his threadbare identity was sent into freefall when Kurt Cobain killed himself.  Mom’s a pretentious loser who thought dad might amount to something, but had to settle for a life sentence in the suburbs taking care of two ugly brats while dad went off to get boned in the shower at Gold’s Gym.

I guess this ad is supposed to appeal to people in my general demographic.  ”haha.  That’s totally how it is in my shitty house in the suburbs.  Those kids.  Man.  I’ve got it made.  Who cares if I used to have dreams, aspirations, and a will to live?  I’ve got my bucket of mutant chicken, goshdarnit.  Mmm.  Chicken.  It kinda tastes like my boss’s dick.”

 

 

 

 

ColuMn is not responsible for the views expressed in this post.  We here at ColuMn love everybody and everything from the beginning of time through the end of time, in all realities, unrealities, universes, multiverses, dimensions, planes of existence, pre-conception, after life, all states of consciousness, dream life, and waking life, real and imagined throughout eternity.  

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Sparks’ Sandbox #4

The road.  The place where adventures begin.  Sometimes those adventures end well and sometimes they end brutally.  But the road doesn’t care.  The road is just there.

This fall and winter I’ll be reporting stories FROM the road ABOUT the road.  It’s a high concept that I know fans of ColuMn will embrace (hi, BlackJack’s mom!)  

The road is a cold, lonely place, but I’m a robot dog.  If I can’t dig deep into the stories America cares about, who can?  Well, for the sake of this post, nobody.

Perhaps I’ll meet you on my journeys.  Perhaps we’ll journey together.  Or, more likely, I’ll sniff your ass and piss on your leg.

 

 

The adventure begins . . .

Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Crackers

These came out a little while back, and ever since they did I’ve been debated whether or not to give them a try.  I’m not huge into cheese-flavored crackers, so I might not be the target consumer for this product.  But September has been a pretty sparse month for posts, so what the hell?

While I do enjoy the occasional plate of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I’m not obsessive about it.  There are better mac and cheeses out there, though for my money, Kraft is the only mac & cheese that I’ll buy in a box.  I don’t follow their directions, though.  I prefer a little less butter and a lot less milk.

So how do the crackers compare to the genuine article?  Let’s see.

 

Toxic. Just like the real thing!

Upon opening the box, I give it the sniff test.  Hmmm.  Smells like crackers.  No real hint of cheese.  Then the bite.  They’re lighter than I thought.  They do taste a little bit like Kraft Mac & Cheese.  A little saltier.  I will definitely be eating some of these, though I probably won’t be buying another box.

It’s a noble effort from our friends at Kraft.  I imagine if you’re a big fan of cheese crackers, you won’t be disappointed.  Me?  I think I’d prefer a nice big plate of Kraft Mac & Cheese.

 

ColuMn FACTS:

Calories          150 (for an 8 cracker serving)
Total Fat          7 g
Sodium           310 mg
Protein             3 g
Fun fact          Comes in Mild Cheddar, Cheddar, and White Cheddar!

ColuMn Rating:  ★★

Magic 8 Ball Horoscopes

 

Gaze into its inky abyss at your own risk.

 

 

BlackJack is old.

In honor of that, I’m delving deep into the black magicks to consult the plastic oracle known as the Magic 8 Ball.  What answers will appear out of the radioactive, mutant blue ooze?  We shall see, my friends.  We shall see.

Virgo (Aug 23 – Sep 23):  Absolutely!

Libra (Sep 23 – Oct 23): Yes.

Scorpio (Oct 23 – Nov 22): Maybe.

Sagittarius (Nov 22 – Dec 22): Ask again later.

Capricorn (Dec 22 – Jan 20): Definitely.

Aquarius (Jan 20 – Feb 19): My sources say no.

Pisces (Feb 19 – Mar 21): Definitely.

Aries (Mar 21 – Apr 20): Maybe.

Taurus (Apr 20 – May 21): Outlook not so good.

Gemini (May 21 – Jun 21): No way!

Cancer (Jun 21 – Jul 23): Absolutely!

Leo (Jul 23 – Aug 23): My sources say no.

 

There you have it.  The secrets of the future finally revealed.  Use this power wisely, my liege.  Wisely indeed.

 

 

 

Sparks here!  
Don’t worry, reader.  
ColuMn will be back with a vengeance in a few days!  

I’m old

It’s my birthday.  One of the zeros.  Bah!

On the bright side, due to my midlife crisis, I went out and bought some awesome new wheels.

 

Sparks’ Sandbox #3

Dudes. Oh, dudes. I didn’t mean to do it, you know? I was just out there in the neighbor’s lawn, looking for something to eat, when I spotted it. A nice big pile of snow white shit. As you know, the white stuff is the best. It’s got that crunchy taco-shell coating and inside is the creamiest, smoothest turd pie you’ve ever had. Mmmm.

Anyway, I sniffed my way over to it and began chowing down. Even better than I’d imagined. Was it my imagination, or was the buttery inside still warm? Before I knew it, I’d gulped it all down. I almost immediately started to feel funny. I nosed around as my last fleeting glimpses at sanity flew by. I’d had no idea that other dog had shat on a pile of shrooms, man. The colors.

12-year-old Billy Barns writes:

“Dog,
Should I get high? All my friends are doing it. I don’t really want to do it, but I’m afraid I look uncool.”

Oh, Billy. If you have to ask, it’s too late. Maybe you can still salvage something of a reputation. Reach for that silver spoon, Billy. Reach for that silver spoon. The colors. Oh, the colors.

I gotta go lay down. And get something to eat. And I could really use a mint.

See you next time!

Sparks

Got a question for everybody’s favorite robot dog? Dyno-Mutt not available? Why not send one in for Sparks?

Ink

Ink
Wet
Then dry
Words crammed together
So tight
SOLID BLACK

Songs Of Innocence by Richard Aleas

Richard Aleas’ Songs Of Innocence is the follow-up to his 2003 Hard Case Crime novel, Little Girl Lost. The book is subtitled, “A John Blake Mystery” and features the return of the former P.I. with a penchant for trouble. The story picks up a year or so after the events of Little Girl Lost, with Blake’s troubled girlfriend found dead in her apartment, the victim of an apparent suicide attempt. But Blake doesn’t buy the official verdict on her death and launches his own investigation. Blake delves into the underbelly of the sex industry, where the girl, Dorrie Burke, worked as an exotic masseuse.

It isn’t long before Blake is in over his head, facing off against the evil and dangerous Hungarian crime lord, Ardo. Blake escapes the encounter with his life, but finds himself set up for murder as a consequence of crossing Ardo. Blake goes on the lam, still trying to solve Dorrie’s murder. But as the police close in and more bodies get attributed to him, he running out of time and not getting any closer to solving the puzzle.

Finally, all the pieces pop into place in what is seriously one of the sickest twist endings I’ve ever read. Sick, heartbreaking, and frustrating. You read along for 200 pages wondering just how the hell Blake is ever going to untangle himself from the web he traps himself in and then I sort of felt that Aleas copped out. Not in too terrible of a way. The ending is perfectly acceptable. But after the first major revelation at the end, I expected a lot more.

Still, well worth a read. This is a strong, disturbing crime novel that should not be missed by lovers of the genre.

ColuMn Rating:  ★★★½