This Isn't How It Looks

How terrifying is this picture? Not only am I about to eat a delicious puppy (Hercules, or Herakles to those who keeps it real), I have a nasty little stubble and a weird red bump on my forehead from hitting a ropes course guy-wire while playing gatorball on Friday. Plus, that dog would totally fit into my mouth if I tried.

I think I've finally found my new facebook picture.

The Very Old Man With Enormous Wings

So art history has just recently started into modern art, which is of course everyone's cue to either extol it as the greatest thing ever to happen to mankind (Ariel Schnur), or to complain about how it's stupid, and it's dumb, and it's not even art, and it's dumb (Johnny V).

Particularly constroversial is that non-existent non-movement, Dada. Crazy non-art from crazy anti-artists determined to show, through art, how pointless art is. I personally don't like it as art, but one piece led to a marvelous string of puns. It was Man Ray's (yes, that's his name) Cadeau (gift in french, typical dada jerk-off title), an old-fashioned iron with a HILARIOUS line of nails glued to the bottom:
John Valesano: I don't know, it seems kind of pointless...
Max: Pointless? Hardly!
JV: Oh, well, I see your point.
Max: I'LL say!

Just taste of the wonders offered by modern art discussion.

(I saw Jesus Christ Superstar today. It was good, except for is wasn't as completely awesome as the professional rock-opera we all know and love. Wait, so we all know and love it or is that just me?)

A Post By Me

I'm at Tay's house right now, helping him delete porn he totally did not mean to download.

i'm too lazy

people going to the italy party: click here. i think it's the first post.

Can I Get A Witness?

Sam visits this site about once a life-age, but he apparently managed to drop by and leave a childish, 8 word post exhalting his team's 3 placement edge on mine at the stae KB tournament. I hate to bore everyone with nerd-fest stats, but here goes--

Sam, look at the raw figures:
The Death Eaters: set a section record for points in a season with 406 (Sudoku wasn't even top three and and to go to subsections [snicker]), took home two silvers and a bronze from invites against top teams (Sudoku didn't win jack), beat every top ten state finisher we faced in at least one oral round, never lost one head-to-head oral round to sudoku, womped you guys on every written round, and succesfully pushed our misogynistic agenda. Also, our team contained neither Tay, NOR Logan, NOR James. Can't deny us that one.

So you guys snapped up points against easy competition and snuck into 9th. Big deal. The Death Eaters had one bad meet, but we blew you away with our overall excellent season.


Don't you all just love the Brainerd Warrior unity we're exhibiting here?

Hey Suckas

In spite of everyohne else's apparent temporary lapse of memory, I am also in Knowledge Bowl, and my team also went to state. In fact, we beat Max's team - 9th Place.

Eat it.

Borne Back Ceaselessly Into The Past

State Knowledge Bowl was okay competition-wise (12th place out of 24-25), but great in terms of total fun experienced.

I usually time it perfectly so I'm completely sick of KB just when I should be excited about it, and this year was no different. Half-way through the state meet I had to contend with a rush of both KB-burnout and KB-nostalgia. As much as I just wanted to go home, memories kept me going.

Highlights of my 3 KB seasons thus far, in terms of favorite answers:
Freshmen, Sans Coulotte--fugalites (the tubular glass structures that form when lightning strikes silicate sand)

Sophmore, Stuck On Burma--The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty (a short story about a timid man with extravagent daydreams)

Junior, Death Eaters--LGMs (Little Green Men) (an early term for pulsars (spinning neutron stars), so named because they give off regular bursts of radio waves which were mistaken for intelligent signals by astronomers)

the secret lives THEY live...

Well, I've had a post similar to this before...where I go to google images...and reveal the first picture to come up. this one is for Italy!

Fayna:



















Sir Alex:



















Robbinho:























Bonnie:

right now i'm smoking a coccinelle

First off, congratulations to the Mustaches who participated in state KB. (constant_k) I suppose congratulations is due for all the others in the blogosphere...well done. On behalf of the entire Mustache Nation, we are proud.

Today during tennis, I realized...Mr. Whalen is the manliest mustache at school!

Just look at that thing!

This is mainly a post for anyone participating in the Italian Party Video...if Bundy and myself are called up to play in Moorhead on Saturday...we might have to postpone the filming. Would Sunday work for any of you?

If we don't have to go to tennis...Saturday will mark the greatest video the Mustaches have ever produced! Until then I'd like to wish everyone an emphatic "Ciao!"

(The title of the post is a lovely message fayna sent my way. coccinelle=ladybug)

Festa della Liberazione

Well, April 25th is a holiday/day of festival for Italy!

Here's a history lesson: April 25, 1945 marked the date when Nazis finally left Italy. So, since then, April 25th has been heralded as the "day of liberation" for many Italians. It's a national holiday...and time for celebration!

While I have been educated by our dear fayna, (as he put it: nazism ended) I think we all should take time to kick back, relax, enjoy some quality Italian cuisine, look to the east (or west), point to Italy, and wish them the best on this day!

HE WILL RETURN TONIGHT

Final scores for today's Knowledge Bowl practice:
Sam and Kara--12
Tay and Logan--15
Max--18
The rest of the Death Eaters--0 (Due to misplaced priorities. Tennis practice for captains? Pfft. C'mon. Which activity are you going to State in? That's right.)

I really could have used the rest of you guys. By myself, I only beat the other teams by 6 and 3, respectively. It was kind of an effort, I almost worked up a sweat there...

I guess I'll bring along the cane to state, if only because it does kind of help in keeping weight off the old ankle. I have to be careful, though. I feel like an ape carrying a mammoth bone when I'm lugging this thing around. Let's just make sure Tay doesn't get a hold of it, eh?

Possible names for the cane: John McCane, Mr. McCaney (longtime Lowell principal), Caney McCane-Cane. Hey, I could shoot pool with this thing...

Oh, and everybody say you want to go to Applebee's, because Culver's sucks donkey.

If this works, it will be amazing. Make your mark in the comments...Death Eaters, Go!

D!

thank you, fayna!

this evening fayna and i had a lovely conversation on MSN. (it was 2:00 AM in italy, what a great man! staying up so late for the mustaches!)

in a conversation consisiting of broken english, random italian, and spanish for the parts that we didn't understand/couldn't translate, i learned my first italian words. so, the following is a lesson for all our loyal readers.

baffi=mustache
baffone=man who owns mustache
i baffoni=(more or less) manly mustaches. and "i baffoni" is the cool way of saying it.

thank you, fayna! you have changed my life...and the lives of countless others...FOREVER!

one step closer

Perhaps you've heard the news. It's spreading like wildfire. The Mustaches have embarked on a journey crossing a metaphorical bridge...to Italy. Sure, this may be the Golden Gate Bridge, but for all we know, it connects Baxter straight to Milan. (Milano!)

If you aren't familiar, pizzaemandolino was the genius child-blog birthed by our Italian friends. If you haven't visited yet, you simply must! While things have been running rather slow as of late, it's the hottest-place-in-town to keep up-to-date on Italian-American relations. I'm sure Ronald P. Spogli would be proud.

No, I'm Mocking The Disabled

The title is my snappy answer for anyone who asks "Did you hurt your ankle?" I used it on Leann Northway to great effect.

I've progressed from comical hopping to pathetic hobbling. My foot is still swollen up like a basketball, but this sprained ankle thing is really starting to pay off: my momma got me a cane. Look at this thing.



I could brain somebody with this beast. It looks like it was carved from a goddamn mammoth tusk; it's all one piece with weird little angles and knots, and the tip is just rough, pointy wood. I plan to "leave my mark" on some school floors, if you catch my drift. And no, I'm NOT going to pee on anything.

I just hope Alan Hewitt doesn't see it; he'll take it away to use as a toothpick.

I hope somone challenges me to a fight in the next couple of days. I can hook ankles, twirl it around to fight off the closing ring of diamond smugglers, or use it to pull Chris Derby off the stage (this is the chris derby burn blog now, remember.)

In conclusion: Chaska Purple, watch your backs!

birdland

well i just got back from watching the spring play. simply fantastic! padre! estoy muy orgulloso de tu!

the highlights of the night: cameron's first appearance. rising from amidst a pile of sheets/blankets/cloud to partake in the dance of the century. quite amazing!

highlight number 2: adam pelkey. all 100% of him. sure, i didn't go up to the stage and give him my rose, he was so amazing i didn't have to. did you see his ripped arms? i wanted to give him the "debate love embrace" but i figured it would be too awkward. i can imagine it would have looked something like this:

my lowlight of the night: (no offense) mr. derby, you need to learn how to properly enunciate "dirka dirka." i will gladly give you lessons if you're planning to travel to the middle east in the near future.

excellent performance all around. congratulations to all!

Goodbye, Blue Monday

For all current A.P. Art History students:
We need to figure out what our class art project is going to be. We don't want to lame it up like last year. We need something powerful and amazing, or at least something; it's Lade's last year, for Christ's sake!

I have a modest proposal, influenced by both my commie-pinko-beatnik-hipster sympathies and my general laziness. It's based off of (gulp) my favorite Kurt Vennegut, Jr. novel: Breakfast of Champions.

Besides being weird and terrific, this book has a very nice little commentary on modern art. The piece in question is entitled The Temptation of Saint Anthony and consists of a rectangle with a 5:4 side ratio. It has a large, solid field of color (Hawaiian Avacado) and a single vertical stripe of day-glo orange reflecting tape along one edge.

There is a quote that could accompany it, if necessary: "I thought the artist with his meaningless pictures had entered into a conspiracy with millionaires to make poor people feel stupid."--Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. Although that is a little critical of modern art...but we'd be very tongue in cheek about it. We could all sign it around the edge, or just leave it clean. Maybe we could get it a big, gaudy frame...

This is just one suggestion; if anyone else is planning something that's actually beautiful and/or creative, we don't really need this plan. But this one would be easy and clever enough, and Lade's always liked Rothko-style stuff.

Oooh, here's maybe a better quote: "If artists would explain more, people would like art more. You realize that?"--Abe Cohen

Also, t-shirts?

A Brooding Pharaoh

I rolled my anlke like a mo-fo yesterday. Stanek made it all better, but it's still sprained, swollen, and tender to the touch. My lack of crutches, a wheelchair, or even a simple diamond-headed cane has made moving around a real bitch, to say the least. I've already had to cancel two social activities this evening. Damn my easily separable ligaments! Or whatever a sprain is...

Struck down in my prime, all thanks to my unwavering devotion to Warrior Tennis. No, Flying B! Go on without me!

But the Flying B would never desert an athlete in need. It's not the Warrior Way.

I missed the Lit study session, but I have the excellent double excuse that I have a sprained ankle AND the fact that my dog was giving birth at the time. Two girls, two boys. Janet, Dan, Eddie, and Flo. At least that's what the rents want to call them. Don't worry, I'll get some pics up soon.

Also, everybody visit Pizza and Mandolins, the bridge between Mustaches and Italians! I'll link it directly.

An Addendum

1. I got a parking ticket a few days ago. Does anyone know if one is not allowed to contest a parking ticket? There was no mention of the opportunity to challenge it, like there was on all the speeding tickets I have gotten.

2. Despite claims by Kurt to the contrary, I still do not have my admin privileges back. Is someone going to rectify this?

Mystery Vacation

I've been back from my Mystery Vacation for a while now, and can reveal the destination to anyone who happens not to know: Maui. That's in Hawaii, as some people are not aware.

Basically, my trip was great, but I won't bore you with those details. Instead, I'll tell you about the bad part: you see, while it was a great vacation, it also involved the worst experience of my life.

We flew out of Minneapolis on Saturday at noon, on US Airways/America West (they recently merged). The first flight was uneventful, but we had to transfer in Las Vegas. Immediately upon arriving in Las Vegas, everything confirmed my presumptions that Las Vegas is the Most Depressing Place on Earth. Not only the city (which I only saw from the sky, and later, out the Airport Parking Lot - basically, it's housing developments as far as the eye can see) but the Airport itself. It was dirty and trashy in general, and the terminals had slot machines everywhere. Loud slot machines. And the whole thing smelled of smoke.

Well, I wouldn't let a two-hour layover in this hellhole ruin my vacation, of course. That is, if it was only two hours. We were told twenty minutes before boarding that, apparently, they didn't actually have a plane for us after all (they could have told us this 90 minutes previously, as they have to do a pre-flight checkup for that long). Long story short, we were repeatedly lied to my US Air, along with at least two other flights-worth of people to Maui and at least three other flights. Based on the evidence we had, onnly one plane had flown out on Us Air in the time we were there. And how long was that?

THIRTEEN HOURS.

In the most depressing place on earth.

Did I mention that an incredibly grimy Taco Bell (which, disconcertingly, had only one working refrigerator, so all drinks were in the kitchen fridge in the back) was the only available restaurant? And most of the airport was plastered with ceiling-mounted televisions playing a constant loop of comedic airport security guideline skits, starring local washed-up celebrities, washed-up country crooners, and Carrot Top (who, through his sheer terribleness, somehow falls in both categories)? They were hilarious.

Well, anyways. From talkiong to other passengers, we discovered that apparently they were offering to fly people out on Tuesday. Remember that this was currently Saturday night. Luckily my Dad overheard a guy who said that he was a United Preffered Flier, and he had called United as soon as the flight was cancelled and they had put him on on of their flights. So through a fateful combination of:

My step-brother's girlfriend reaching the front of the hundreds-of-people long line at the counters through a mix of pretending to be with a man who was at the counter already and some general nimja-sneakyness, and;

My Dad finally convincing United over the pay phone to accept our tickets on trade-in (as US Air was refusing to transfer anyone to any other airlines) at the exact moment she reached the counter;

We ended up securing a place on a flight leaving at 6 A.M. the following morning. Which, by the time we finally got all the details confirmed, was in two hours. Only someone then realized that Daylight Savings Time went out of effect about four hours previously. So we ended up getting on a plane with the superior-in-every-way United Airlines, and getting to Hawaii. Eventually.


And now, a brief summary of notable events on my trip:

I sat down on a bench in the Las Vegas Airport, only to discover several minutes later that small man who looked remarkably like Gandhi was sleeping underneath me. While well dressed, he was apparently one of the homeless poeple who come in off the streets to sleep in the Airport at night, and my sister and dad witnessed him vomit on the floor several minnutes later. Ironically, there was another man sleeping nearby who actually was supposed to be on our flight, and realy was homeless (and looked it).

My dad was accused by Us Air employees of trying to start a riot.

I witnissed a massive wind turbine under construction on Maui.

I ate delicious Sushi.

I fell in a waterfall (note that this is different than falling down a waterfall).

I bought and read V for Vendetta.

I got snuck up on by a sea turtle which probably weighed about ten times as much as I do.

I attempted, unsuccesfully, to infiltrate the bowels of our hotel.

I saw a sweet watch shop at the San Fransisco airport on the way back, but couldn't stop because we ahd to run to catch our next flight. Woe is me.

uh-oh

'Nuff said.

Joy Inside My Tears

To our Italian friends:
You may send the precious American Party DVDs to the following address:

Maxwell Kuehn
Brainerd Senior High School
702 S. 5th Street, Brainerd MN 56401

Ideally, they will come to our school and all can rejoice in their reception. I hope the shipping is not too expensive! Italy is on the Euro, no?

Has anybody else noticed that when we write for the Italians, we tend to adopt their manner of English? I enjoy this phenomenon immensely. I plan to use the word "mythic" much more frequently now.

Can you imagine if instead of Sir Alex, some random German or, God forbid, Dutchman had discovered our site? I wonder if the same flowering international brotherhood would have formed...


P.S.: To all death eaters/tennis players--how about showing max a little love in the tennis bus seating arrangment tommorow?

P.P.S.: I could copy this post into Word to spell check it, but I'm not going to and you'll just have to deal with that.

I See a Mustache in My Future

I recently discovered the sight http://www.myheritage.com/ and decided to give the face recognition feature a try, to see which celebrities my face matched up with. The results were astounding. My number one and number two matches each had mustaches in their featured photos.


#1 Christopher Lee #2 Enrico Caruso

Now, granted, I really have no idea who Enrico Caruso is, but the mustache on that man is amazing. My other matches weren't quite as good (Lindsay Lohan???), but did feature American hero Jimmy Carter and Frenchman Antonin Artaud. I would strongly suggest others to check out the site and post your results.

you sly fox!

Many of you may have witnessed my impressive driving techniques. For those who aren't familiar, let's just say the term "inexperienced teenage driver" suits me well.

So, with this sentiment in mind, you're probably not surprised to learn that today (apparently) I was the sole cause of a 3 car pile up. And by "pile up" I mean 3 cars behind me all rear-ended each other in little-to-no damage accidents.

The light on Co. Rd. 48 was red with about 12 cars all waiting for it to turn green. After many hours of waiting, the light switched and us good ol' drivers began transitioning forward at a slow pace. Of course, being born with a lead foot can cause one to push on the gas rather quickly. Why go 5 M.P.H. when you can go 20? While I was rapidly approaching the car ahead of me, I realized, "hey. this is bad." So, I began to brake. Because I am a "skilled" teenage driver, I didn't hit the car in front of me. However, the lovely young lady behind me (who happens to be a friend of my sister) had to brake a bit more quickly. Immediately I heard this disgusting thump sound. The girl was rear-ended. And shortly after that, a disticnt crunch sound. The person behind her was rear-ended. All thanks to me!

Technically, nothing was my fault. So I high-tailed it out of there in no time at all.

Believe it or not, this is not the worst accident I have caused in my life. Once known only to Carmen Cummings herself, I am now going public with my Salt Lake City incident. 2 years back, I was in the great Mormon City for speech. Our hotel was right next to a big, bustling road. It was a 6-laner: 3 one direction and 3 lanes the other. Mrs. Cummings (my coach) dropped me off at the side of a slower road...it was easier for her to enjoy some shopping action. I had to cross the 6-laner in order to get to my hotel. Sure, there was a crosswalk, but I'm Andrew Kubas--I live on my OWN terms.

-----In the midst of the 6-laner was a median rougly 8 inches off the ground and barely a foot wide. -----

As soon as I exited the car, there was no traffic! I thought I could make a run to the hotel completely avoiding the crosswalk. I scattered past the first 3 lanes with ease, but much to my dismay, traffic from the other 3 lanes intensified! I was stuck on the median. Shortly afterwards cars began passing me on both sides, at quick speeds, and my life standing on the median was flashing before my eyes.

I tried to make a get-away and accidentally cut off 2 cars. The first man slammed on his brakes and was appropriately rear-ended. The third car in line swerved to the right to avoid a 3rd rear-end-collision, but swerved into the side of a parked car. 4 cars with extensive damage. And what did I do?

I ran like the wind. Now that I have admitted to my fugitive status, I am open to any punishment by the Mormonville Police. Take me away...

V for Validation

I can finally die happy:

At 4:42 AM, robbinho said...
Dear constant_k, I have to be sincere. You are my preferred mustache. When I see your face I laugh as a hog. You make me laugh, above all when in the "bread party" you eat the slices of bread. You are a myth. You and the others mustaches, obvious.Unfortunately "The American Party" we cannot put it anymore in internet. If you want we can send you the dvd through mail (not e-mail). Perhaps in one month it arrives.

These Italians deserve some sort of reward for thier mastery of the English language. I would give anything to write a message as awesome as this one in Italian. "I laugh as a hog"--unreal.

Robbinho, we would like nothing more than to recieve such a dvd through the mail. But would it function on an American DVD player? Any nerds are welcome to offer advice on this point.

(Capstar Cadets: I must confess my ignorance and put myself at your mercy for my shameful outsider status. But I must know: What exactly does W.T.I.T.Y.B. stand for?)

for our italian brothers

I am keuber, Muslim Magic, and Andrew Kubas. I don't actually inject steroids. I used to have a fro, but it has disappeared, and now I have a thicker head of hair than this picture portrays.

geography story

so we've been working on eastern europe lately. one of the terms we had to learn was "soviet satellite." we literally spent an entire day learning the term.

satellite: "A nation dominated politically and economically by another nation"

as part of the chapter, we had to learn and list the 5 (former) soviet satellites of eastern europe. (poland, albania, romania, bulgaria, yugoslavia) again, we spent more than one day reviewing the 5 satellites.

so, on the remedial geography test, we had a simple task: "List the 5 former soviet satellites."

one kid in mr. borash's class wrote one word for all 5:

SPUTNIK.

Oh man, these stories are never going to end.

Potable Potentates

One of our Italian friends requested that we post pictures with our names so they can tell which blogger is which bread party participant. I'm lacking a current photo of my own bad self, but I'll work on that. One photo I do have: Robbino, this is Sam Walker. He was not present for the bread party (he still has not forgiven us), but he is a contributor for this blog. Do not be fooled by his soft, doughy exterior. Beneath it, he has a steel-trap mind and a heart as black as coal. He also likes fancy watches which only he can tell the time on. It makes him feel special.

My dog is due to have puppies this friday. Name suggestions?

Possible class songs for class of 2007 (assuming that we'll never agree on a song we actually like, so we'll go for ironic value):
-Hooked On A Feeling (performed by yours truly, with A Capella Choir on the "Ooga-Chaka"s)
-Teenage Wasteland (Listen to it sometime. Reeeaaly listen to it.)
-Land of Make-Believe (The Chuck Mangione essential, with Muslim Magic on solo trumpet)
-The Winner (Coolio's G-rated contribution to the Space Jam soundtrack, either the Janitor or Alex Contenza spitting the hot fire)
-Really anything off the Space Jam soundtrack

The Lyrid meteor shower peaks this weekend. Anybody want to go watch?

Okay, so that's four completely seperate subjects in a single post. That ought to keep you on your toes. Oh, and if Chris Derby reads this blog he should leave a comment on this post. (Robbino, perhaps this link will function. If so, that's me, constant k.)http://staches.blogspot.com/2006/03/classy-eh-i-love-dorm-room-atmosphere.html

The North Pole (pun intended)

Josh Johnson is at it again, but this time it is someone different. Someone recognized by sex offenders/young teens/Jake Beckerleg, someone who takes protein supplements to satisfy his customers, someone who makes a living off of his famous tiro de dinero. Josh Johnson's obsessions of Chet, Mark the Janitor, and Mr. H have all come to a sudden pause to make way for his newest love...

Peter North.

You can find Josh Johnson adding all of North's films into a sentence at some of the most inappropriate times. He has even gone as far as creating a Peter North film festival called, "A Trip to the North Country," showcasing what Josh has deemed "his 5 greatest films."

So I send warnings. If Johnson ever asks you. have you ever been to the North Pole? please do not answer. This may encourage him to talk to you, if this happens say "look over there, it's Chet," kick him in the balls/punch him in the face and run as far away as you can, because if you don't, he will for sure give you the pervertible "North Pole."

A Fable

Once upon a time there was a happy grasshopper named Maxwell. One day he was hopping happily along his favorite path along the railroad tracks by the sea when he stopped on the tracks to enjoy the bright sunny day.

It was while sitting upon the tracks that he noticed a slight vibration in his feet.

This vibration was caused by the world’s first napalm-powered bullet-train, the Tennis, rocketing towards destruction on its maiden voyage. The crew had been overcome by carbon monoxide and the captain, in a tragic twist of fate, happened to slump over onto the accelerator as he collapsed. The train was at maximum velocity, barely staying on the tracks. Just then, the captain awoke in a state of panicked, half-aware delirium. He reached for the brake, but his quaking hand instead found the TURBO button. The train lifted up off its glistening tracks and arced through the air towards the unsuspecting Maxwell.

Moments earlier, Maxwell had noticed an odd, gray shape on the horizon, small but growing larger.

This shape was the good ship Knowledge Bowl, an aircraft carrier named after Chester A. Arthur’s Secretary of Health and Human Services, Kenneth “Knowledge” Bowler III. Its crew, unfortunately, had been laid low and then brought back by a zombie virus from the Caribbean, hidden inside the thousands of tons of hot-pants secretly concealed below the deck. The zombies soon ran out of victims when confined to the ship, so the zombie crew made a course for the nearest land and gave the order for full steam ahead. The great knife-like prow struck the beach with tremendous force and the ship reared up for a split second, seeming to hang in the air above Maxwell’s head.

A few seconds before this, Maxwell had been distracted away from the gray shape by an odd whistling above his head. He craned his little grasshopper neck up see what was making the racket.

It was a hydrogen bomb, hurtling through the atmosphere at breakneck speed towards the very spot where Maxwell stood. Astride it was the reanimated skeleton of Slim Pickens, in costume and character as Major T. J. “King” Kong. An extraterrestrial gas had awakened the long-deceased actor and mysteriously put him into character in his most famous role. He had stowed away on a top secret military plane, the A.P. (Advanced Prototype) Class Bomber. He found the largest bomb, sat astride it, and used skeleton magic to open the bomb-bay doors and arm and release the bomb. He waved his tattered, worm-eaten cowboy hat in the air as he screamed down towards the train, ship, and grasshopper.

Maxwell blinked.

Moral: Maxwell is screwed.

P.S.: For the symbolically disinclined, the train was tennis, the ship was KB, and the H-bomb was AP classes.
P.P.S.: I realize it really isn’t this bad for me and will be worse for others, but it was fun to write.
P.P.P.S.: It really is this bad for Sam Walker. Just rename the train “Mystery Vacation.”

Attention (former) Team GPA Members

We need the tape from the Mustache-GPA Game.

Answer Key For Alan Hewitt's 1984 Test

I wonder if Hewitt will find this in his no doubt hourly scannings of the Internet for pirated A.P. Literature information. His retribution will be as swift as it will be terrible. I hope he does find this, just so I can gain the teacher approval I so desperately seek. Speaking of Hewitt, here's the dialouge Josh Mattson and I had whilst searching for Hewitt on prom night:

MK: Where would he go?
JM: Just think--What's the manliest place in this gym?
MK: Wait....isn't wherever Alan Hewitt is AUTOMATICALLY the manliest place?
JM: Damn, it's a paradox!

I could have spent this weekend with a bunch of dismissive, self-centered high schoolers, pantsing Sam Walker and/or eating bread in the vibrant, diverse (compared to Cameron Park, at least) Brainerd Lakes Area.

Instead, I spent it with a bunch of dismissive, self-centered COLLEGE KIDS, camping (for some reason) in the Indiana Dunes State Park and getting sand up to my earholes and a tragicomically sunburned face.

Check and mate, gentlemen, check and mate.

Feels So Good

Well, I just bought the 20th Century Masters CD of Chuck Mangione. You may be wondering, "Why?" I'll be honest: I don't know. (Just look at that mustache!)

Easter Break has been eventful. I learned a.) I suck at golf. b.) I suck at bowling. c.) 3:1 odds I'll become a telemarketer in the next few weeks. d.) Lutherans are friendly. e.) I have 2 phone interviews and 1 newspaper meeting on Monday. f.) I won't be able to sleep in ONCE this entire break. g.) I need another break.

Tonight as I was driving home, I passed a yard which had a pile of crap just sitting around for anyone to take. One of the items: a toilet. Who just gives away a toilet? Hopefully I can get a quality picture to post tomorrow.

Final food for thought: To refresh your memory, I'm currently taking remedial geography. One website that helps out with US facts/info is city-data.com Anyway, on this website they have various "Top 100" Lists. This is the Top 100 Least Diverse Cities in America. Take a look at #57.

Happy Easter to all.

Freaky Friday

This Jesus character continues to blog at a healthy pace. For someone so busy with humanity's salvation and such, he finds time to update fairly regularly. He seems to have a good thing going; he has a light touch on tough subjects, a sense of humor, and a talent for deflecting difficult questions. As long as people are aware enough to pick up on the joke, things should be fine. He also picked a great theme for a blog, because, in all honesty, the Jesus Christ of our pop culture is ripe for parody.
He is widely loved, even if some of his followers aren't, and instanstly recognizable. Jesus is a revered enough character that poking fun is still edgy, but he's also accesible enough (name another deity that regularly appears in coloring books) that it's okay to make fun of him. Others just don't work as well. Superman is accesible, but not edgy enough. With Muhammed it's the other way around. Jesus just fits perfectly in the middle, at least among this particular circle. An otherwise unremarkable comment can become screamingly funny if the author is "Jesus Christ," because it both puts Jesus into a contemporary setting with excellent fish-out-of-water potential and allows the author to play off of our expectations of what he would say or do as the ultimate "nice guy."

Despite this potential, so far only the Mustaches, jesusisthenewblack.blogspot, and South Park have done much at all with this idea. Maybe it's just too soon. Or maybe nobody should do it at all. Any thoughts?

Dance With My Father

Dudes, this is what my house is about to be all about. 3-5 little baby pugs scampering all over the place, barkin' and scrappin' and carryin' on. Can't you just picture it? This is not actually one of our puppies from last time, but it's awful close.

Some people find pugs ugly. These people are idiots. It's just that simple.

In other news, Max is totally in Chicago. Well, Evanston, technically, but if anything, that makes this slightly more ghetto. I'm basically having a shoot-out with the cops right now. Why do I have time to post on a blog when I should be rocking out hardcore 24-7 with college children? Three little monosyllabic words: The, O, and C. They just can't get enough...

I told my sister I read something unforgivably nerdy on the train ride, and she immediately guessed it: V for Vendetta. She also got Sam Walker as the source. It was my first "graphic novel" experience, and it was quite enjoyable. I was surprised by how different the story was compared to the film. Not better or worse, just...different. I'm even more impressed by the movie knowing how much of it was original.

The Manly Mustache Contest of the Year

Over spring break my sister traveled to Texas/Mexico/Texico. Upon arriving, she immediately thought not of herself, but of others, and purchased this hula girl as a gift for me.

The problem: I can't think of a good name for her. So, for our contest, if you can come up with a quality name for this hula girl (it has to be appropriate...and I have to find it intriguing) you'll win $1. Heck, let's make this interesting. You'll win $5! I don't know how I'll find you/pay you...especially for those living in foreign countries, but you'll get your money.

Let the games begin!

oh man

check out Sir Alex's blog

RIGHT NOW.

Tom Ronning, I Will Fight You

About 18 years ago on the border between France and Switzerland, a renegade group of scientists gathered together to create the ultimate tennis player. They loaded up Chuck Norris and a full-grown bull elephant on opposite sides of a super-conducting supercollider, accelerated them to sub-light speed, and rammed them into one another. After the smoke had cleared, a man arose from the rubble and moved to Alexandria. That man was Tom Ronning.

Tom Ronning has never been photographed and few who encounter him live to tell the tale, but the testimony of the handful of survivors has led to the creation of this composite sketch:

Some fun facts about Tom Ronning:

• He once challenged a man to a tennis match in Reno, just to watch him die.
• He only appears once a month when Chuck Norris sees the full moon and transforms.
• The medical term for having all your teeth knocked out by a tennis ball is "Tom Ronning Syndrome."
• He only uses rackets made from the bones and sinews of vanquished opponents.
• Chuck Norris was once black and Mr T. was white, but they played a 2-on-1 tennis match against Tom Ronning and got beat so bad they switched colors.
  

Baby You're Much Too Fast

Down the road from my house there is a small used-car lot that seems to be going out of business. Each week they have fewer and fewer cars. There is one car, however, that, against all odds, never seems to sell. I am speaking, of course, about the silver Dodge Grand Caravan with terrifying bat demon graphics on the hood. (see below)

This may seem silly to you at first. Why in the world would someone not want this car? Lots of people want safe, reliable minivans, and just as many want a car with bitchin’ bat demon graphics. But as large as these two interest groups are, there is very little overlap between them (see diagram below).

Why has this car not yet sold? Because I have yet to make an offer. Clearly, this van was predestined to come to me and only to me. Who else besides God would know to put that particular van, with those singularly effervescent images, in the one car lot where the one interested person, me, would be certain to see it? Nobody, that’s who. It is…my destiny.

 

"In My Last Years With You...There Were Bruises on My Face..."

Many moons ago (As Razzle-Dazzle would say) The Mustache Franchise was birthed into the minds of two distinct geniuses. With intense preparation, planning, and anticipation, the intramural season was upon us in no time at all! As the hours, days, and weeks have progressed, our lives as Mustaches have come to a dramatic end. The following is a picture montage/reflection of the Mustaches final...and finest hours.

As with any Manly Mustache adventure, we began by loading up our ride...this time, however, we drove the famously dubbed "Scratched Up Lenny," or as I like to call it, the pink Neon.

With years of intense training and conditioning, the entire Mustache 3-on-3 team was finally mentally prepared.

After our quick warm-up session, the preliminary rounds were upon us. Imagine, three pressure-filled games. Lose, and you're going home. Remain undefeated...you make it to the playoffs...for aCHANCE at glory. The stakes: Impossible to comprehend. The prize: Legendary status among the 3-on-3 gods.

Game one: The toughest team in our bracket, the CHETS. After being down big time early, the Mustaches opened the 2nd half with an intense 8-0 run. From there, we pulled within six for the remaining 3 minutes...at which time we exploded. The Janitor knocked down threes all the way from Barrows. The Chef cooked up a storm of rebounds. And constant k? He kept tally of the point totals similar to Jesus himself growing a mustache--it came naturally. Final score: 28-27, Mustaches...comeback of the century.

(Bundy and Kurt play so hard it makes Bussman's defense look lazy.)

Game Two: A team comprised of hockey players. If Verne Lundquist had announced our game, he would have used his famous phrase "OH...MY...GOODNESS!" far too much. Complete domination...and annihilation of anyone who enjoys ice. After we jumped out to a 20-6 lead within the first four minutes, the hockey players, after accusing us of being "too good" decided to forfeit. The Muslim Magic was witnessed for miles as Midas touched Kubas' right hand and turned it into gold. MM had 16 of the 20 points, and the entire Mustache team shot roughly 88% from the floor. The game was so short, we didn't even have pictures. But we did get a post-game forfeit interview--be sure to check that out in the future!

Game Three: Sophomore Hockey Players. Need I say more? Kurt nailed nearly each 3-Pointer he took. The Chef served up numerous gourmet-style alley-oops and tasty layups. And Max? He reached double digits in perhaps the game of the century. The blowout stopped keeping score after the first 10 minutes...but rumor has it: Mustaches: 61 Sophomores: 17

After 2 1/2 hours of intense action, it was time for a much needed (and deserved) break. Luckily, we found the local mustache-friendly store, "The Mustache Deli." (Although for some reason the sign read 'Mickey's') After eating quality restaurant-style food for a fraction of the cost, we met a new friend. He offered to pay us $5 if we drove him to Wal-Mart and filled his car with gas. What a fine young fellow and quite the offer indeed! Luckily, the "Scratched Up Lenny" only seats 2 people comfortably, and the 5th seat was occupied with our mustaches. So we turned him down. We did manage to get some top-secret game plans in at Gregory Park. After overshooting the basketball court by roughly 200 feet, I put it in reverse (in the middle of the road) for a "quality" parking job. Bundy was quickly intrigued by youthful memories...and we couldn't resist reliving another salute to our Italian friends.

After our break, it was time for the playoffs. Both The Chef and The Janitor were "in the zone" thanks in part to our extreme mental conditioning.

The Playoffs were startling. The first round we lost a nailbiter by (in my estimate) 6 points. Fortunately, they were the "nasty hyeinas," and with a name like that, what was expected? They were eventual champions, and The Mustaches provided some quality entertainment. The third place game? The Mustaches take down the crown! That's right folks! Third Place! Not too bad for a couple of young men...who started out with a vision...nay a dream! And turned it into our own reality. The Prizes: a FREE 12 pack of pop, a FREE small Frosty from Wendy's, and one FREE ride down the new water park. Lo! Winnings that are fit for a king! ...but inheirited by mustaches!

The day concluded with Kurt and myself "cleverly" sneaking up to the balcony. There, two Mustache jerseys were hung from the rafters for all of eternity. (And by rafters, I mean the railing. And by hung, I mean loosely placed until they would stay still. And by for all of eternity, I mean a span of one picture.)

With that, our season ends. But worry not, with a little help from Prozac and future posts, more Mustache material/propoganda will arise!

(Written and edited by MM. Special thanks to Amy for the use of her camera. A big round of applause to all the fans and supporters of the Mustaches throughout the entire season...thanks in large part to all of you, we had such great success! Future thanks to The Janitor for [hopefully] adding some visual highlights/plays of the year, and perhaps post-game interviews.)

What A Hell Of A Way To Goddamn Wake Up

My proposal for BHS prom in future years:
We will have two separate proms. One will take place in the gym and feature danceable music with a reasonable number of slow dances. The other prom will be attended by all of the hayseeds, yokels, and jack-pine savages (as determined by an impartial judge--yes, me). It will take place in the parking lot. Every year the theme will be the same: barn-dance hoe-down. There will be a live fiddle n' washboard band and ample haybales on which to sit while drinking a wide variety of ciders, both spiced and regular. Lighting will be provided by dozens of pick-up trucks with their brights on. The whole set-up will be financed by the proceeds from an elaborate acorn-whiskey moonshine operation.

Next year's theme: Bread Party. The tunnel will be a series of bagels sticking out of the floor. Slices of bread will adorn the walls. The grand march backdrop will be a great, steaming loaf of genuine, good old-fashioned bread.

If I ever see Tyrone Blue (The DJ) again, his new name will be Tyrone Black&Blue. He looked like a cross between Lucius Malfoy and the villain in Ghostbusters II, and I didn't care for his choice in music, either.

The First Annual Manly Mustache Awards (MMA's)

As of 4:26 PM on this Sunday, April 9, 2006, the Manly Mustache Franchise officially ended. But fear not! This is only the beginning of a celebration of the end. We must initially start with the MMA's, an award that looks something like this:

On behalf of the entire Manly Mustache Team, I am proud to announce we will be giving out 11 MMA's to individuals/organizations in a grand total of 9 different categories.

Drumroll Please!

The first MMA category: Dirtiest Mustache of the Year.

Potential Candidates: Josh Johnson's ugly face, Ron Jeremy, and Adam Morrison.

...and the winner is: After much deliberation, the selection committee determined Adam Morrison as the dirtiest. Johnson was a close 2nd, but his recent shaving prevented him from earning the MMA. Just look at Adam!

The next MMA category: Manliest Book of the year.

Potential Candidates: Big Bushy Mustache by Gary Soto and The Milk Mustache Book by Jay Schulberg

...and the winner is: Although a tough call, Big Bushy Mustache prepares children to become the future mustaches of America.

Category Number Three: Manliest City in the World.

Potential Candidates: Manly, Iowa and Barrows, Minnesota.

...and the winner is: Until we actually experience Manly, all the city has going for it: the name. The entire Mustache Franchise has so many fond and keen memories of Barrows. Barrows, this one's for you!

Next up: The Manliest Video of the Year

Potential Candidates: None (Determined by unanimous decision)

...and the winner is: The Manly Mustaches Bread Party!

Category 5: Manliest Foreigners of the Year

Potential Candidates: Sir Alex, Fayna, and Robbinho

...and the winner is: This was easily the most heated category. Such fine gentleman to choose from! Should the MMA go to the man who discovered the Mustaches? The one who posts the most? Why choose just one...when you can have ALL THREE! Congratulations our Italian friends, these MMA's are yours to keep forever!

The sixth category (hey! we're 2/3 done): Manliest Employee

Potential Candidates: Cameron-Ace Hardware, Mr. Fox-Blong's Teacher Aid, and Kurt-Steve and Barry's

...and the winner is: Due to Mr. Fox never coming to our class any more, his name was easily crossed off the list. Although Kurt brings the "Mustache Way" of working into his job, the MMA just had to go to someone who works long hours promoting the benefits of mustaches, bread, and The Bread Party. Mi padre, felicitaciones!

Category 7: Mustache Humanitarian of the Year

(This award is given out to an individual who not only has expressed extensive support for our organization, but is proud of their affiliation with the team. There is no pool of candidates, but rather the committee selects a most oustanding and deserving person.)

...and the winner is: royalewithcheese_. Not only did he attend the most games of anyone throughout the duration of the season, he also vocally expressed support amidst pressure not to during 5th hour each day. Jordan has worked numerous hours assisting the "Mustaches for Tots" campaign and in his spare time enjoys grooming facial hair. Congratulations!

The second-to-last category: Manliest Razor of the Year

Potential Candidates: Schick Quattro, Gillette Fusion, and Bic Plastics.

...and the winner is: We have 3 quality razors to choose from. Minus the Bic. Although the Schick Quattro features Colby from Survivor, the Gillette Fusion wins in a landslide. What's not to love? It first debuted during the middle of the Super Bowl. 5 blades. 2 comfort strips. 1 precision blade. Pivoting head. Manly.

And the final MMA: The Lifetime Acheivement Award

(The Liftetime Acheivement Award is chosen for any person who has dedicated their entire life towards bettering the Mustache Community. The requirements are quite simple: You have to be able to prove that you have dedicated the last few years of your life to any mustache cause. This is easily the most prestigious award given out.)

...and the winner is: The Beard Team USA. For all of their members, including Mr. Olsen himself, we are truly honored to present this award. Without the Beard Team USA, I would have no reason for living, much less any intrigue in beard growing. These men have been working hard their entire lives...and for that, we salute you!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This may mark the end of the official MMA awards/prizes, however, as will be a tradition for the future, we now must take time to honor, remember, reminisce, and exalt those mustaches who have passed before us. (In 2006)

Richard Bright: Actor...Godfather/Sopranos

Gordon Parks: Photographer/Civil Rights Enthusiast

Willie Kent: Blues Guitarist

Kirby Puckett: The face...and heart of Minnesota

...this concludes the First Annual MMA's.