Remember His Cameo in South Park?

I never thought I'd agree with someone from T-Shirt Hell. Although it's a sad thing that poor ol' Supe died, take a look at this:

I can't get over the fuss they're making over the death of Christopher Reeve. It's like he was some kind of Saint. They talk about how tirelessly he worked to get funding for research to cure paralysis. I'm sorry, but am I the only one who notices that he might have had a little something to gain if all of this hard work paid off? The man was a human doorstop. If Christopher Reeve had fallen off his horse and bounced back up unharmed, and then decided to devote his life to curing paralysis- then I would be impressed. If Christopher Reeve became paralyzed, and then devoted his life to finding a cure for world hunger, cancer, or blindness- then I would think that this guy was pretty heroic.

Believe me, if I had an accident and my penis was turned inside out so that every time I took a piss it came out my nose, you'd better believe I'd spend some time looking for the cure for inside out penisitis. I think I would discover I had a real passion for it that I was previously unaware of.

In other news, my throat is still sore and my head is full of snot. While I'm suffering, I think I'll devote my life to finding a cure for the common cold. My search begins in my medicine cabinet.

Taking Another Dump

I made double chocolate chip cookies last night, with raspberry chocolate chips. They're awfully yummy. ( So are these links. )

Meme Parody: The Sequel

Everyone should tell me how gosh-darned cool I am.

Then, once you've told me how much I rock, copy this and put it in your own LJ so your friends can also give you lots of affirmation.

(Please don't really do this. If you do, I'll be forced to hunt you down and slap you with a pair of dirty socks. I already know I rock the casbah.)

This message has been brought to you by the tongue in my cheek.

Calamari in my Brain

I'm just getting sicker and sicker by the moment. I'm dizzy, my throat feels like it's stuffed with a hot, prickly sausage, my lungs are working labouriously, and my sinuses are lubricating the whole kit and caboodle. So far, my brain seems to be functioning more or less properly, though. Tonight I'm doing something unusual. I'm being social. I'm going to go hang out with a few old friends, including one I haven't really seen much in about a decade. I hope the walk up the hill doesn't kill me.

Even if it does, it will spare me the death I would otherwise surely experience tomorrow morning at my Ashtanga yoga class. I'm afraid....

I managed to make it through last night's kung fu class due to odd numbers and relatively-easy work. All of us senior students were to pair up with a newbie. Since there was one less newbie than there were "masters" (heh), I chose to be the odd one out. We were working on the applications of fook fu. I wasn't entirely left on my own, though. Sifu Danny worked with me on the occasions when he wasn't checking everyone else out. I knew I was doing everything right when my take-down planted him flat on his chest with his arm high in the air (hoorah for butterfly hands!), and when I caught a thrust kick and sent him flying across the room. I also utilized the block against eye gouges. If you've watched the Three Stooges, you've already seen it. It's the exact same principle. Who'd have thunk the Three Stooges were martial artists?

And on a completely unrelated note, can someone explain to me what on earth happened here? There's more information on the phenomenom at Jumbo squid invade California beaches.

Dreams of Politics and Pussies

I fear I'm losing my opportunity to retain dreams. Not so very long ago, I had complex dreams and strong recollection of them. Now, it seems like almost all of my dreams escape me, and what I do recall is ephemeral. I miss my hyperviolent military dreams. They were like my own private war movies. I also miss my dreams with strong religious/sexual imagery. They're my favourite ones, and they took off on me.

Throughout my life, I've been a strong lucid dreamer. I can manipulate my dreams from within, and can often plan what I dream about. The best example of the latter was when I was taking military history in university, and had myself dream about the battle on the Plains of Abraham. I had a complete aerial view, and panned in on the various soldiers/officers. You see, I had an exam on this the next day, and I aced it because I lived through it in my sleep.

Right now, I'd be happy just to have the pedestrian dream of realizing I'm naked in school (even if I live that dream as a figure model for art school).

In other news, ( it's interesting how old Soviet jokes have been appropriated to suit American politics )