Friday, December 08, 2006


Wednesday, December 06, 2006


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Tuesday, April 11, 2006


This thing is pretty much dead. It was fun at the time, but other things in my life have taken over. But don't worry, I still have plenty of other websites that you can visit:

Team Submarine - My sketch comedy troupe.

The Delicate Press - A "humour e-zine" that I write for.

Nate Fernald Destroys The Internet - Music and me.

And may you have a good harvest!

Thursday, September 22, 2005

The Fountain of Youth

Imagine how an Ornithologist would feel were they to discover a dodo bird. Or even a Paleantologist discovering a dinosaur. The sheer delight of finding something you once thought extinct. Something you were passionate about regardless, but then actually discovering one? Place yourself in such a scenario and only then can you understand how I, a pizza enthusiast, felt upon finding this:

Yes, a Little Ceasar's Pizza. Standing on it's own, without the aid of a K-Mart Superstore. A safari proven more than successful. And more than delicious.

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Friday, August 26, 2005


So I've been kind of down these past days. But sometimes all it takes to get one's spirits back up is a song. And that's all it took for me. With the help of bands like Queen and Journey, I was back up on my feet in a matter of moments. So I got to thinking: I wish I could could be that inspiring for people and do what said bands did for me.

I then went ahead and recorded my own inspirational song, highly inspired by said bands AND the ending theme from Transformers: The Movie. Basically, I ripped off Stan Bush's "The Touch" and based a whole song off of one line from it. It is entitled "Wingspan" and it all about power and eagles. I hope you enjoy it:


And in case you want to sing along, here are the lyrics:

You've got the touch, you've got the power.
If you can dream it, you can achieve it.
If you can feel it, you can make it real.
Because you got it in you, and you've got it on you.
You've got what it takes to become the eagle.

You've got the touch, you've got the power.

I can feel something inside me,
And if feels like an eagle, or maybe a wolf
Or maybe just the good old American flag.
But all I know is that if I put my mind to it,
I have the ability to do, achieve, and conquer anything.

Do you feel the solo inside of you?
Let it free!

There's a lot of things in this world to remember.
Like directions, math equations, people's names.
But if you only remember one thing, remember this:

You've got the touch, you've got the power.
Become the eagle, spread your wings.


Please let me know your thoughts on it! Thanks!

Sunday, August 21, 2005

You Don't Have To Take My Word For It

My days have been very busy recently. Filled with lots of summer reading! I read some interesting books. One about World War II, one about a lake, and one about fish. But none of them caught my interest as much as the one that you see to your right.Yes, Space Lawyer is the book by acclaimed author Nat Schachner. Or as I like to call him, Natty Schach. Talk about a page turner! I got it free from a used book sale because, get this, NOBODY WANTED TO BUY IT! Can you believe that? If the space part didn't sell them, you'd at least think the lawyer part would. But I was lucky enough to get my hands on it. It reads a lot like a John Grisham novel except that any important nouns are preceded by the words "space" or "cosmic." (i.e. space boots, cosmic office, Space Laywer [d'uh!]). I encourage you all to read it and take this literary romp through space with a lawyer. I won't give away the ending to it, but I will tell you this much: It happens in space! If my descriptions doesn't tingle your interest, then perhaps this exerpt from the novel will:

"Simeon Kenton was an irascible man. He knew it; the far-flung thousands emplyed by the Kenton Space Enterprises, Unlimited, knew it. But only his daughter, Sally, knew he worked hard at being an irascible man. And that increased his irascibility to such a pitch that he could only glare and sputter unintelligible words.
Old Fireball was his nickname because of his habit of staging explosions on the slightest provocation. He exploded now."

Want to know what else happens? Then you'll just have to read it! And please, don't ask me what irascible means. I think it's a space word.

But aside from books I have been reading many other great things like signs, newspapers, and most importantly cereal boxes! I took the liberty of adding a photo of my favourite one. It's from Frosted Flakes (not Frosted Flakes Frosted Flakes, but the generic brand Frosted Flakes. Read: no tiger). I know that there isn't necessarily much to read on the back of this box, but everytime I look at those kids covered in all of those sporting goods I say to myself "Uh-oh! It looks like the retarded kids got into the equipment locker again!" And is there a better way to start your day than disparaging retarded kids (and cereal boxes)? If there is, I don't even wana know about. Hopefully this picture can bring you the same joy that it does me. Enjoy, and good morning!

Thursday, August 11, 2005


On Tuesday I took a brief road trip to Niagra Falls. Myself and a couple of exceptional friends drove to New York and then walked into Canada. It was pretty easy to get into Canda - I just showed them my license, they asked if I was born in the United States, then they let me right on through. It was the same thing on the way back except the border guards were older and far more stern and had a computer that they typed things into.

The Canadian customs people had no computer, thus could not verify anything and were forced to believe that I was born in the United States based strictly on my word and my word only. I could have easily lied and said "no" and they'd have been none-the-wiser. I could have told them I was born in Spain -- hell! I coulda told them I was born in Atlantis and they'd have to believe me! I mean, all they saw was my license. The only information they could gather from it is that I wear corrective lenses, am an organ doner, and an Aquarius (as if they couldn't already get that from my quirky personality!) But really, what else do you need to know when letting one into your country?

So I told them that I was born in Russia, but birthed on a map of the United States because my mother worked in a map factory/hospital. And they were totally cool with it. Thus I concluded that Canada is a lot more fun than the United States, as can clearly be seen in this graph to the right. They are just so much more laid back and easy-going. The United States customs agents though? Not a fan of my map factory joke. Well, I suppose that's why they're working in customs and not a laugh factory that specializes in jokes about map factories.

Eventually I got back into the United States and went to a classy one-star Motel 6 where I slept and dined like a hooker.