You are on what is probably a first official date, perhaps a second, depending on your need to label things neatly in boxes.
You are in Chicago’s Chinatown district, making your way to a restaurant that is inevitably named “Three Happiness,” even though it is not affiliated with the identically-named restaurants across the street, down the way, next door, and directly above the establishment you eventually settle upon.
You find yourself following the young lady in question into a Chinese novelty shop, which is full of the implements of casual flirting: sticks with which to poke, masks with which to make silly voices, a set of bongo drums on which to beat out a tribal rhythm that will convince your date to remove her top. You have seen such moments on a National Geographic television special. You pound the drum. Nothing happens.

But then. Oh, then.
Then you see the wall of swords.
Without hesitation, you confidently approach the sword-woman. She looks at you. You look at her. Somehow in this look a message is conveyed. The message is “I do not speak English. Also, I am terrified that you are about to ask me a question.” You choose to ignore this message.
Instead, instinctively, you open your mouth and say what you now believe to be the most alarming thing ever asked a young Chinese woman by a man who is on a first (possibly second) date. You say:
“Excuse me. Do you have any swords that can cut a full-grown man into up to seven slices?”

At moments like these, you feel almost like taking a bow.

The date, interestingly enough, ends very, very late at night, in a honky-tonk bar.

i am graduating from law school in 11 hours. i am terrified of what happens now.

look. i understand you somehow felt the need to “re-envision” a period piece in which everyone spoke with twangy american accents and listened to new wave. i understand that you felt you needed to cast jason schwartzman as louis xiv and kirsten “we’ll fix her teeth in post” dunst as marie antoinette. i need to do some stuff to with kirsten dunst too, and, let’s be honest, i wouldn’t mind her wearing a corset and having some beats on the stereo while it happens. perfectly understandable.

what i don’t understand is why you hate america.

american trailer
french trailer

i mean, what the fuck? “ceremony” is so obviously the better new order song.

in which i continue to use this space to share random videos.

ps. i do own at least three different movie-capable cameras. perhaps the content viewer shall become the content provider. i’ll think about it.

Q: why did you fail out of law school and utterly disappoint your parents and make a giant trainwreck of your life?
A: because instead of studying for my last two finals ever, i spent all my time making erotic origami.
Q: oh, that’s completely understandable. here, i’ll buy you a magnum of mad dog 20/20 if you fold this bit of paper into a seal with an enormous erection.
A: i hope your favorite erotic origami animals are the kinds that have tears of shame all over them.
Q: christ, even your tears smell like booze.

KIDS STAY IN SCHOOL THANKS

i realize i never did a post recapping my spring break. i didn’t want to leave anyone hanging, so i cut together this brief video. i feel it captures most of the high points. the sea god, by the way? just this old dude who was pissed that the native girls never wanted to talk about football. we got a little twisty on some dark rum and i bet him a hundred bones that favre would end up coming back. literally, bones. that’s what they use as currency on…pagan island!

i’ve just installed a fairly strict spam filter, so for the three of you that actually read this noise, um, i would advise against ever using the words “poker,” “viagra,” or “BEST WET MILF HUNTER SITE” in your comments.

besides, you all have my number. call me with that kind of information.

people made this

so i’ve been kinda here and there lately. like one does. especially when one is actively attempting to cure boredom via the direct application of alcohol.

anyway, in one of my finer moments, i sent out this email to the entire asian listserve at the law school. it said, you know. things. i won’t re-hash it here.

instead, i will point out that several days later i found myself at a party with a great many women who are on this particular listserve. i was meeting most of them for the first time. this was an amazing opportunity, i felt. a large group of tipsy asian women who already knew me as something of a self-righteous asshole. there is basically no way to fuck that sort of situation up.

unless, of course, you actually listen to what drunk women in large groups have to say, in which case you get supremely irritated and start playing a drinking game with yourself in an effort to pass out where you’re standing so that no one can bother you ever again.

here are the rules for those of you who wish to play in your respective parts of the country:

- take one drink everytime an asian girl tells you that she’s “friends with everyone.”

- take another if she goes out of her way to specifically mention white people (especially if you have recently sent an email in which you stated that you were only interested in white chicks to over 100 law students).

- take two drinks everytime an indian girl informs you that she is not like other indian girls.

- take one drink everytime a drunk-ass girl says something along the lines of “i don’t have drama with anyone, people just have drama with me.”

- take another if she specifically mentions another girl who is at the party.

- finish your drink if moments later the other girl also claims to not have drama with anyone.

- seriously consider drinking the rest of your bottle of fine mexican tequila if you hear someone tell you this at 6AM while she is sitting on your couch, after everyone else at your afterbar has gone home.

just three main rules, but they’ll get you fucked up. anyway, the point of my little backstory has nothing to do with that. basically, i spent a weekend night with a bunch of minority women in slinky evening wear. i’m not complaining. too much.

the real story is this:

i saw that and suddenly everything made sense to me. the bitterness, the barely-repressed sarcasm, all of it. my entire life is summed up by this commercial. where’s my fucking choco party, is really what i’m asking here. and i think that if any of you take a good long look at your lives, you’ll find that you’ve been asking that same question for a lot longer than you think.

it is time, my friends. it is time for us to have our choco party.

many things have happened. i have many stories to tell you.

listen KITT, just try to think about the smiles on those kid’s faces when they wake up to their presents

instead i offer you two small distractions from your body’s inexorable progress towards failure.

this was the night KITT saved Christmas

first, as referenced, is a rap song. a rap song about michael knight and KITT saving Christmas. a rap song about such an event written and performed by david hasselhoff. a rap song that many notable rap experts consider to be one of the finest rap songs ever produced in the history of rap songs.

don’t you worry about devon. after all, this is christmas!

as a small chaser i have decided to offer you a link to the Arbuckle project, in which the ferocious banality of Garfield is mutated in an absurdist farce about a lonely, delusional pet owner named Jon. it could change your entire outlook on life. i’m optimistic for you.

i’m sorry i am gone so often and for so long, but rest assured that i still love you. unless you share my name. then, fuck you. i will destroy you soon. please wait patiently, as i am graduating from law school in like 32 days and am very busy.

pedal to the floor, KITT’s engine roared, turbo boost into the AIRRRRRR!