Here it is, complete with subtitles, and magic. God bless chinese 201

Words that are Metal:
Metal
Iron
Steel
Rock
Hard
Core
Hardcore
Grip
Hook
Rip
Torn
Sheared
slashed
goughed
Charred
Flames
Fire
Burn
ash
coal
Melt
inferno
Hell
Hellfire
Devil
Demon
Daemon et al
spear
axe
shield
Mail
Armor
Sword
chain
Spike
Dead
Murder
Kill
Death
Summon
Banish
Resurrect
Awaken
Slumber
Flee
Run
Charge
fly
Fight
Battle
Combat
Victory
Warrior
War
Fallen
Horn
Tusk
Boar
Stag
Dragon
phoenix-the bird burns itself to death, fucking metal
Horse
Steed
Knight
Samurai
Ninja
Viking-Regular pirates are not metal
cyborg
Vampire-sometimes metal, sometimes emo. For this list, the metal kind


To be continued

hello.
Ok, word soup time. I'm long overdue for one of these long cathartic rants. I've been putting it off, checking everyone else's posts and I think its time to throw my paint on the canvas.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm just wingin' it. Life, right now, I'm flyin' by the seat of my pants. I've jumped on the wheelchair and now we're flying down the stairs shooting my uzis at all the Nazis I can see, but I'm just barely hangin' on. Oh and the wheelchair has a busted wheel and is only held together because in between spraying bullets, I'm screwing the damn thing together.

Eugene Oregon is ridiculous. If we streamlined the process of opening a business, got everything you needed under one roof, or at least a route, like "Oh you're opening a restaurant? ok here's what we're gonna hassle you with, but no. I'm scared to death that a health inspector is gonna roll up and shut us down, that the bastard carter talked to is gonna complain about my illegal sign, that the cart is gonna give someone fucking lockjaw or herpes because its a fucking piece of shit. I sterilize it the best i can, and the only thing the dogs, condiments, and buns touch are plastic tupperware, tongs, a clean steam tray, and boiling water, that shouldn't be too big of a problem, but the thing is we're not making enough money to get a new one, and fucking pay pall is gonna take three years to tell us to spend 400 more bucks to ship the damn cart back, and my dad keeps asking for 600, when we should tell him we want 800 dollars and to keep the cart. the shit isn't worth the 400 it would take to ship it back. Nobody has any kind of fucking replacement burners, I'm going to fire for life tomorrow to see if there's anything else that bastard can do.

Today I was trying to back the cart up and this fucker pulls in 3 inches away from my ruck and then tries to direct my backing up. The fucking hult center lady was very nice, and she'll probably be very nice when I call her tomorrow and am told not to go anywhere near their fucking outdoor performances. OR, i could become the official hot dog of the hult center. BUT were I to even get any kind of big business, I'm scared that the fucking poopcart won't be able to hold up and provide. as long as I'm small time the fucking cart can function but as soon as we go big, we're gonna get sued, i'm fucking sure of it. For everyone who wants a dog, don't worry, its clean, its safe, I wouldn't make the dogs if they weren't something I'd eat myself. Its all legit, but it barely works. I had to rig up a way to make the fucking steamer work, and its better than the fucking microwave. But GODDAMN this fucking cart is a huge thorn in my side. The fucking cooler doesn't drain, the fucking wheel doesn't stay on FUCK FUCK FUCK. But again, I'm wingin' it. Servin' hot dogs with a smile. I need a haircut, and I got the card of a hairdresser who bought a dog.

tangent time
I've been going to tran at che li over by churchill for a couple years now, even though she gives me a shitty haircut and overcharges me. I think its time for a change. Goddamn, this year old prescription for fucking physical therapy has reminded me that I need to call the dr back about my back. ok i'm doing that tomorrow too. because once i'm healed, I can exercise, and once i can exercise i can be happy. because right now, when I'm not exercising i'm angry and irritable and frustrated all the time. I remind myself of my mother which scares me. I hate that woman. If I've inherited her bipolar disorder I'm getting help. I think i might need to go in and get psychologically evaluated because right now, things are just crazy.

My mom plays this game called "pretend to be reasonable" and she's really good at it, see, you win if you can trick your son into thinking he wants to be around you more. I started beating her at it a while back, and I'm planning on a big win pretty soon. I joke with nick about getting her absolutely to trust me and then betraying her when it will hurt her the most, you know, give her a taste of her own medicine, But then I think, thats stupid. I'm just going to feel bad inside for hurting my mother. So I'm stuck, chained by my own moral imperative to allow myself to sleep at night.

passive aggression can't put you in jail.

the best thing would be for me to move on, unfortunately she's living in my house, with my stuff...actually she's not right now, strangers are living in my house with my stuff, while she's taking my siblings to Hawaii.

Nick laughs at all my jokes, I'm beginning to think that I'm not really as funny as I thought I was. Then again, I could do stand up. get this

fuck you i'm not telling my good jokes in text, they're awful that way, though I consider myself and apprentice jokesmith...I just need to find a master.

back to that old at hand topic, Life right now is flying forward out of control.

I own a fucking Hot dog cart! The house that my father and I live in is sinking into the mud!
I have a broken back! I'm in a Jewish Fraternity. My Parents are Divorcing!

What the fuck happened!!??

Not what I expected, thats what.

So I'm all alone, Zombies everywhere, the sky is a dark grey blue with the rest of the world in dark greens, greys, grey blues, blacks and the occaisional red for lights like brakelights and firetrucks. I'm wandering alone for about half a second before i'm surrounded, I'm going to die but before I'm even bit they are all halved and decapitated by this guy in black. He takes me to a converted building, very defensible, where he's been holing up and training. Now that I think about it, there were probably more people like him there and he might have been the last because the compound was huge, had all kinds of alarms, traps, weapons, vehicles, and stuff for training. He started training me to fight the zombies, beginning with removing my fear of them. He had one chained up and he put chained up just out of its reach. If I moved I'd be bitten so I had to stay there, look the zombie in the eye until I didn't freak out anymore. There was a lot more training but it sort-of montaged in my memory, but I distinctly remember a bunch of zombies, somehow incapacitated to be unable to stand, lying on the floor biting at my feet as I had to run across. At first I was freaked out, but eventually I could do it no problem. i became a zombie fighting machine, fearless and effective. by this point special attention was given to the vehicles and weaponry in the compound, really cool truck type things, lots of weapons, but we went out with katanas and pistols. We would go out of the compound for whatever reason, food, supplies, whatever. we go out for supplies or somethin', a couple times and at one point, he gets bitten, helps me finish off the surrounding zombies and kills himself.

to be continued

I dunno, I've kinda gotten into a zombie phase lately. Readin the zombie survival guide, watchin' all kinds of movies with zombies in em. It's weird, because I've never been much of a zombie fan, much less a horror fan. Something about it though, its so enjoyable. anyone who wants to watch zombie movies give me a GHRNAAARR

Jewfrat For The Win

Looks like I've got approximately 32.33, repeating of course percentage of survival

I will use intimidating shout...

How's shit for all y'all's, doin well?

About time for another rant? yeah, could be.

We're stuck right? If the U.S. Government decreed that everyone had to chop of their dicks, to fight terrorism, we'd do it. And the rest of the world would probably have to chop their dicks off too, and then they'd hate americans for making them chop their dicks off, even though we're standing there, dickless, right next to them. Only difference is we'd probably be so fucked up in the head that we're trying to convice them that they are better off without their dicks.

Anyways, the point is, how long before enough people stand up for their dicks? And even when that happens, when it really comes down to it, could we fight the government to keep our dicks? Could anyone in the world organize a military that can defend the dicks?

The ultimate problem is that there is too much power in the world. Every country has to have this big fucking army, so that some other big fucking army doesn't come over and chop off their dicks. When enough entities get the big fuckin army, (by the way manpower isn't really the issue, its really just the omnipotent idea of "this fucking army could fuck you up and make it so you never existed" that is necessary), they all just keep getting bigger fucking armies, to keep up. Eventually the only way to defend yourself from these big fucking armies is to have your own. Nobody has a big enough army to stop the U.S. dick chopping machine.

The revolutionary war was fought because of "taxation without representation" Brits were chopping American dicks and the Americans had no say in the matter.
Well when there's no discourse in congress, the president can do whateverthefuck, and shit like the PATRIOT act slips by without so much as a "hold on you guys"
Theres a tsunami on the way, 1984 was about 24-25 years early,

The mayans were right, you don't need a calendar that goes past 2012.

Stay classy Sand Iago.

Why are our soldiers in Iraq driving down streets in a line waiting to be blown away by IEDs? We have the greatest military in the world run by the greatest military minds in human history, yet our strategy is to roll slowly down open roads in a line waiting to be shot at and blown away. I'm not sun tsu, but honestly, is this the best we can do?

Purpose. Is it possible to waste one's life? The answer is simple from an outsider's perspective. The outsider's perspective in an inherrently self-oriented one. Perhaps the outsider fears the waste of his/her own life and so wishes to vicariously extend/enhance the life of the other(cynical side note: guilt is the best motivation, causing one to fear that they themself are wasting their life and so continuing this cycle of distress.)

One does what one does.

The insecurites of others are to illicit pity. Allowing the insecurites of others to affect oneself negatively is a detriment to self actualization (Cynical side note: which is what those telling you you are wasting your life are trying to help you avoid, go figure)

One's potential can be decided only by that individual. Anyone who says otherwise is running from something or selling something, in my case, both.

Be healthy.
-The One

My ps2 is fucked
I was cleaning the lense last night and the ribbon cable connecting the on off swtich to the system came unplugged, while my dad was helping me plug it back in the connector snapped off, so now its really done. I'm gonna have to head over to cdgameexchange so i can get a new-ish one. fuck.