A running commentary on things that I don't like.

Also, you know, about why I'm a lot cooler than you.

Seriously. Much cooler. And smarter.

Which is why you should read my site.

That way when I tell you that Napoleon Dynamite was stupid crap, you won't make a fool of yourself by continuing to tell people to watch it.

God, it Sucks
the place to go for all things that suck


.:[Wednesday, December 24, 2003]:.


I'm in Fort Worth for the holidays. People that are full of the Christmas spirit and wear holiday sweaters and sing carols and call you "Scrooge" if you spit at them for telling you "Merry Christmas" don't have to spend the holidays in Fort Worth. If they did, they'd be more understanding and would treat the Christmas season as a period of mourning, which is more appropriate.

Ever seen an episode of "Cops" filmed in Fort Worth? That's far more descriptive of the "Fort Worth Experience" than anything else I can think of. People who aren't from Texas sometimes ask, "Is Fort Worth a suburb of Dallas?" Not exactly. Fort Worth and Dallas are like Minneapolis and St. Paul, the Twin Cities. Only, Fort Worth and Dallas aren't twin cities. Dallas is the bigger and successful older brother; Fort Worth is the drug-addicted little brother that stole Mom's car and rolled it over in the ditch.

To be honest, I'm fond of Fort Worth. I grew up here. But, hey, it's still Fort Worth. To explain: you may be fond of the girl to whom you lost your virginity, but that doesn't change the fact that she had one leg and a harelip, you still had to get her liquored up first, and then you had to pay her afterwards.

| a BEN production by me at 11:24 PM

.:[Monday, December 22, 2003]:.


| a BEN production by me at 1:55 PM


Thank God for the Department of Homeland Security. Christmas time, and the threat level is "orange." I'm not sure what that means, exactly. But, reading a little further into the story, it appears that that means that our darling government considers the most recent terrorist threats to be "the most significant since September 11, 2001." The department further suggests that we all "go about our business." Thanks, guys! Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too! Now that I think of it, though, an airliner crashing into my family Christmas probably wouldn't be such a bad thing. At least it would put an end to the awkward silences and accusations of substance abuse.

MEMO TO DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY: How about combining the FCC's list of dirty words with the threat level indicator? Because, after all, unless you're one of the "fab 5" from "Queer Eye," most people don't feel any sort of visceral connection to colors.

"Hey, Lance, the threat level is taupe!"

"Oh, my God, I'm getting my vintage snakeskin print jacket and heading for the tastefully decorated bomb-shelter!"

Here's the plan: the new threat levels will be, in order from least to most frightening -- piss, shit, asshole, cunt, fuck, cocksucker, and motherfucker. If the threat level is "piss," Osama bin Laden is plotting to give you a papercut. If the threat level is "motherfucker," he's recruited a porn star made of bees that is going to systematically ass rape every American citizen.

| a BEN production by me at 12:57 PM

.:[Wednesday, December 17, 2003]:.


Anyone who knows me knew that eventually I would make an "Ender's Game" post. "Ender's Game" is one of the worst novels ever written in the English langauge. I won't go into plot points, because they probably wouldn't make any sense to anyone (unless my brother forwards this to Jenny), so let me summarize: Orson Scott Card, who recently had an editorial in the Wall Street Journal, has written a number of science fiction novels. (and by the way, Jenny, I checked Internet Movie Database, and there doesn't appear to be an "Ender's Game" movie in the works, so I assume you were just lying to upset me)

I actually quite enjoy sci-fi. The problem is that science fiction authors tend to reveal their obsessions much more patently than authors in other genres (and, yes, I've read the masturbation treatise by Phillip Roth which is sold under the title "Portnoy's Complaint" and the hump-anything-that-moves-and-some-things-that-don't series known as the Rabbit novels by John Updike). To wit, I can tell you all about the particular obsessions of sci-fi novelists in much greater detail than other novelists: Robert Heinlein's fervent promotion of plural marriages and (perhaps not incongruously) libertarianism (not to mention his particular fascination towards describing erect nipples and the "smell" of aroused women), Phillip Dick's crank addiction, Isaac Asimov's (judging from my experiences with women, maybe entirely justified) fixation with romantic involvment with machines, and, to bring myself back to my original point, Orson Scott Card's inability to write anything that doesn't deal obsessively with messianic themes. And don't get me started on the fact that the alien species which is trying to destroy earth in the book is called the "buggers" (homophobia, anyone?).

To me, there is nothing more tragic than the squandering of an idea. My brother, Adam, and I talked at length about ripping off "A Scanner Darkly" in a screenplay, but, alas, now we would be accused of plagiarizing "Fight Club" instead of an obscure Phillip Dick novel. The idea is the fugitive fragment of fiction writing. A beautiful and original idea is a rare and precious thing; unfortunately, much more rare than good execution. To take a unique idea like "Ender's Game" (warning: link goes to fan site) and turn it into a messianic morality tale is to retell the oldest story ever told with spacesuits and aliens, and that's just sad.

So much that I can't communicate it in words. I first read this book when I was in 6th grade (at least 12-13 years ago) and I've read it at least 60 times since. The combination of intriguing idea plus poor execution plus tired and cliched themes equals wretched vomitus splattered upon the fiction world.

| a BEN production by me at 11:19 PM


Oh, Bethany, how you've hurt me. Of course I change clothes and shave, but only when I have a job.

Actually, Bethany, I know that you are well aware of the "Kaczinski" look I've been working on. You know that my ambition has always been to be a crazy hermit, and yet you have to be negative. Listen, can I have your sister's number? I've got the nicest shack picked out for the two of us!

| a BEN production by me at 8:09 PM


No, it's these bastards! I knew it! George Bush is obviously not a tool of the Jewish conspiracy, but a devil worshiping cultist! Or, possibly, the Mr. "cultbuster" behind this auction is wearing a tin-foil helmet right now and was able to obtain access to the hospital computer when he was supposed to be in group.

Oh, and by the way, anyone who can't afford the underground missle silo I mentioned below for my Christmas present can get me this so I can communicate with my Zionist overlords in private.

| a BEN production by me at 5:55 PM

.:[Tuesday, December 16, 2003]:.


I'm watching "Daylight" right now. Why? Because I'm uncontrollably drawn to things I hate. I actually quite enjoyed this movie the first time I saw it, when it starred Gene Hackman and was called "The Poseidon Adventure." It's a proven medical fact that Sylvester Stallone movies actually make you dumber for having watched them.

People always tell me that Sylvester Stallone is great and he actually wrote the "Rocky" movies and you got to give him props for that, yada yada yada. Well, no I don't have to give him props for that. I didn't like the "Rocky," I thought it was a bunch of cliched triumphalist crap. But, hey, I have an open mind, let's just assume that the "Rocky" movies were great. There's still a special spot reserved in hell for Stallone for the crimes against humanity which are "Over the Top" (oh goodie, a movie about arm wrestling! Hey, movie execs, I just wrote a movie about playing freeze tag, where's my 3 movie deal?), "Stop, or My Mom Will Shoot" (okay, y'all knew that was coming, but is anything more painful than watching this guy try to do comedy? Case in point, did you see his execrable performance on Saturday Night Live?), "The Specialist" (bad acting and a painfully unsexy shower scene with Sharon Stone, who could ask for more?), "Demolition Man" (Oh, boy, Sandra Bullock and crappy plots, it's like peanut butter and jelly!), "Judge Dredd", and, my favorite, "Assassins."

A quick note about "Assasins." Everybody associated with this film should be ashamed of themselves, but especially Julianne Moore and Antonio Banderas. They've actually been in good movies. Who could forget Banderas' emotionally uplifting role as the creepy stalker who kidnaps the stalkee and wins her love in "Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down?" Whenever the girl I'm in love with bumps the restraining order back up to 200 yards, I always watch that movie to cheer myself up. Also, the Wachowski brothers wrote "Assasins," which goes a long why to explaining the unlubricated forced sodomy that is the second two "Matrix" movies.

I wish he had to spend two hours a day getting a prostate exam from Edward Scissorhands, M.D.

| a BEN production by me at 4:56 PM


I think it's because I have mixed feelings about Steve Soderbergh. You have to like a movie like "Sex, Lies, and Videotape," where we all fell in love with an impotent pervert. But "Traffic" seemed to me like a 2 1/2 hour editorial for "Reason" magazine with pictures and Michael Douglas (who, by the way, should be married to someone his own age, like her or her or her for instance, instead of my future wife Catherine Zeta Jones).

My question about "Ocean's Eleven:" what's the deal with Bernie Mac holding that car salesman's hand and asking about hand lotions and moisturizers? Can someone explain this to me? Is there supposed to be some kind of homosexual subtext? I would try that the next time I buy a car, but here in Texas it would probably get me shot.

| a BEN production by me at 4:00 PM

.:[Monday, December 15, 2003]:.


What in the hell?! Another Sandra Bullock movie?! Is Time Warner trying to kill me? Tonight we have "The Net," "Catch Me If You Can," and "Star Wars: Attack of the Clones," among other various and sundry diseased pieces of crap presented for my viewing pleasure.

"The Net" was one of those movies that I hold a place of fondness for in my heart. Not because it was any good. God, no, in terms of entertainment in ranked right up there with being sodomized while someone poured sugar in my gas tank. But "The Net" came out while I worked at the movie theater in high school, so I can think back nostalgically on the times when I could screen bad movies in the middle of the night, throw buffalo wings at the screen and scream obscenities without being arrested. Not only does this miscarriage of film feature the wonderful Sandra Bullock, it also has unrealistic portrayals of computer technology, which is something I love in a movie. Take, for example, "Disclosure." Instead of using sophisticated computer technology to find porn, like any normal, red-blooded American, they decide to make a virtual reality database. That's like making a virtual reality lawn-mowing game. "Hey, look out, Michael Douglas! They're going to steal your virtual reality spreadsheet program." Fuckwads.

I haven't seen "Catch Me If You Can," and I never will. I hate Tom Hanks. Look, you just can't give multiple Oscars to the star of "Bosom Buddies," "Joe vs. the Volcano" and "The Money Pit." This whole Tom-Hanks-is-a-Serious-Actor craze had better blow over or I'm going to have an aneurysm. And DiCaprio needs to go back to network sitcom hell where he belongs.

I hate you, George Lucas. My advice to you: hire a screenwriter next time. I could write better dialogue drunk on an Etch-a-Sketch. And, hey, by the way, I've seen corpses deliver better on screen performances than Hayden Christensen.

How much do I hate cable television?
The experience of looking for something worthwhile to watch on cable is akin to letting a drunken bum live in your house. You go to get dressed in the morning, and discover he's crapped in your favorite pair of pants. You go to the closet, and he's crapped in there, too. Then you look in the dryer and find a dead hooker. Thank you cable TV!

| a BEN production by me at 5:48 PM


1. "I know Kung Fu."
2. Point Break
3. Dude, look, you can't continue to play Ted "Theodore" Logan in every role. Branch out.
4. He reminds me of a dumb Johnny Depp, and I hate Johnny Depp.
5. Speed

| a BEN production by me at 3:07 PM

.:[Sunday, December 14, 2003]:.


Anybody who's looking for a gift for me this Christmas, I would like to suggest this. An evil genius like myself needs an underground fortress. Come on, this is the giving season!

| a BEN production by me at 11:03 PM


Why do I have cable? I'll tell you why. It's because I love romantic comedies. Romantic comedies are great because they reinforce all of my distrust in human motivations. In the specific instance of "Two Weeks Notice," (now showing on Cinemax, yay!) it's okay to fuck your boss if it's for love but not for a paycheck or for a couple of extra sick days a year.

I must confess that I saw this movie in the theater (it wasn't my idea). I smuggled in a 12 pack, and I still ended up hoping I would be struck by lightning to distract myself from the pain of realizing I had actually spent money on this steaming heap of crap. I went to confession to see if there was any way that God, in his infinite compassion, could forgive me for watching this film, but it turns out watching "Two Weeks Notice" is a mortal sin. As bad as eternity in hell must be, though, it can't be any worse than "Two Weeks Notice."

Has Sandra Bullock ever been in a good movie? No, but if there's any better reason to become an alcoholic than actually realizing you just wasted 2 hours of your life on "28 Days," I can't think of it.

And Hugh Grant? Okay, if I want to watch a British guy with floppy hair stutter and act all self-effacing, I'll... well, I won't do anything, because there's no fucking way I would ever want to see any such thing. Oh, and by the way, ladies, Hugh Grant is not a sex symbol. There's never been a British sex symbol, ever. And don't try to bring up Russell Crowe or Hayden fucking Christensen. Russell Crowe is from New Zealand and Hayden Christensen is Canadian. I rest my case.

How much do I hate "Two Weeks Notice?"
I would rather have a hooker with dysentary crap on me while an eagle pecks my liver out than watch this movie again. I hope the entire cast and crew have their hands amputated and replaced by hooks, and then get a bad case of crabs. No, wait. Not those crabs. These.

| a BEN production by me at 6:53 PM


... Al-Sahhaf sez... "I think Ryan and Trista will have a wonderful and beautiful future together. Also, do you think I can be the Minister of Rubble and Craters?"

| a BEN production by me at 4:53 PM


But you've gotta love that beard.

Hey, I can relate, my beard's started looking the same way.

| a BEN production by me at 4:40 PM

.:[Saturday, December 13, 2003]:.


Okay, okay... I implied in the post below that anger management courses 10 years ago resulted in my becoming the calm, cool, and collected person that I am today. That's not entirely accurate. As a matter of fact, I just threw the anger management courses in to give myself "street-cred" as someone who manages their anger. That's probably not a real precise representation of the "anger management course" experience.

To be more precise: I only attended two of the classes. To be even more precise: I stopped attending the anger management classes because the therapist who conducted the classes made me extremely angry. I don't mean to imply that she made me homocidally angry, but apparently she did make me smash-things-in-and-then-get-permanently-kicked-out-of-my-mother's-house angry.

Anger Management is an exceedingly stupid idea. For those unfamiliar with the concept, people who are convicted of domestic violence are required to attend these classes in the hopes that they will not whoop the crap out of their spouse again. Anyone who thinks this sounds like a good idea has never seen an episode of "Cops" in Fort Worth or attended an Anger Management class or tried to get their AA sponsor to buy them a round.

How much do I hate Anger Management Classes?
With all of my hatred. I hope that Artie, the therapist who conducted them, gets devoured by ants.

| a BEN production by me at 5:16 PM


And not just because they won't let me attend school there. Sure, that's a big part of it. But I'm not the sort of chap who would bear a grudge. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that ever since my anger management classes 10 years ago I've been a very understanding and even-tempered guy. So, when I tell you that I want for a meteor to strike the UT campus and for all of the faculty to spend eternity in hell being ass-raped by demons made of fire, you can rest assured that I am motivated by only healthy and righteous sorts of rage and not petty feelings of rejection.

No, the petty feelings of rejection make me wish that having a degree from the University of Texas were found to be the leading cause of irritable bowel syndrome.

I have long since come to grips with the fact that the University of Texas has "standards," and can't accept as students persons such as myself who are "dirty and vaguely frightening" and "completely unmotivated" and "only attending classes to keep themselves from masturbating 23 hours a day." But I'm not bitter.

The UT "Distance Education Center" has made the completion of my Sociology course for transfer purposes a delightfully smooth experience, and whenever I have had any problems with the procedures for completing the course, they have been extremely helpful. Whoops... that was a typo. What I meant to say was that the UT Distance Ed folks have made the completion of my Sociology course for transfer purposes as pleasant as being flogged by a naked Rosie O'Donnell and they have been roughly as helpful as a pile of stinky corpses. That's what I meant.

Oh, did I mention that the course I am taking, while helpfully desribed in the catalog as being "an introduction to Sociology," is actually a class extolling the virtues of collectivism and socialism? Yes, the final chapter of the text (Social Problems, A Critical Power-Conflict Perspective, now that sounds promising, doesn't it?), which is entitled "Solving Societies Problems," includes flat declarations of "fact" that would make Karl Marx blush and proposals that make Dennis Kucinich seem reasonable and lucid.

How Much Do I Hate UT?
More than 20 Pauly Shores and 15 Carrot Tops combined. There is a fish in the Amazon river called a "candiru" which will swim up a person's urethra and permanently lodge itself there. I think that would be preferable to taking another class at UT.

| a BEN production by me at 3:23 PM

.:[Monday, December 01, 2003]:.

I'm 26. I live in Austin, Texas. I worked in family law for about 6 years, but now I go to school at Texas State University (formerly Southwest Texas State) in San Marcos, Texas, and don't have a job (but I'm willing. Anybody need me to kneecap somebody for them? I have no dignity! I'll do anything!).

I will probably go to law school and practice family law, because I'm a big believer in following the path of least resistance, I have a family law background and, besides, people are always getting divorced so there's always work.

I like movies and books and women, but most movies and books suck, and women usually mace me within 5 minutes of meeting me, so I'm often pretty frustrated.

Adam is my eldest brother. He's like "Rainman," only instead of "5 minutes to Wapner, definitely 5 minutes to Wapner," he says "Uh-oh, Ranger game definitely starts in 5 minutes. I'm a very good driver. 5 minutes to Rangers. Yeah."

Bethany is Adam's wife. She's mean to me without reason.

Colin is a friend I met in middle school when, as he says, I was misguided. He is sinister in a sort of vague but threatening way, but his mom could always be counted on to do something wacky to make our afternoons interesting. He also hates Japan, though he lives there. His best anti-Japan line isn't on his site: "Japan is faker than Disney, but less fake than Vegas. The problem is that Disney and Vegas know they're fake."

| a BEN production by me at 5:29 AM