I'm looking for a renegade Notary Public.

I'm talking about somebody who is down to notarize anything, at any time, wherever I want to meet them. There have to be some N.P.'s that turned to the black-market at some point, fed up with the rules and regulations of a notarizing system that gets in the way of real, creative notarizing. I'm not talking about living wills or estate deeds. Been there, done that.

I'm looking for a man or woman hard-core enough to meet me under a bridge, in the rain, ready to get down to business and notarize some crazy shit, no questions asked.

"So man, whaddaaahhhhh, what can I do for you this evening?"
"I brought my cat."
"I will notarize the hell out of that fucking cat."

That's what I'm talking about. Gung-ho, stone cold. 'Bout it. A person who remembers why the got into the notary business to begin with: because they loved to notarize.

Tangently, "Notary Republic" sounds strikingly similar to "The Notar Republic," a loose alliance of planets that took a stand against Star Fleet in the first few seasons of Star Trek.

It's not a real movie trailer without that one Peter Gabriel song.

"....It's the story of a man and a woman, torn apart by a storm, brought together by one very special horse....."
(music rises)....
'GRAB YOUR THINGS, I'VE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME!!!!'

"...When you have nobody else to turn to..
'MY HEART WAS GOING BOOM, BOOM, BOOM'
...sometimes the only place to turn to is the place you've never turned to before...
(music rises)...
...turn...to...Yourself"
'GRAB YOUR THINGS, I'VE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME!!!!'

"This summer, get ready to meet the firs...
'MY HEART WAS GOING BOOM, BOOM, BOOM'
...uhhh, get ready to meet the first woman to ev...
'GRAB YOUR THINGS, I'VE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME!!!'
...okayyyyy. To meet the first woman to ever love a retar..
'GRAB YOUR THINGS, I'VE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME!!!'
...That's it, I'm done."
'BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.'

Have there been any other uplifting songs with a climactic build that have been released in the last 15 years? And if so, are any of these tracks allowed to be licensed for cinematic marketing? And if yes, then what did Peter Gabriel do to put such a stranglehold on the world of trailer music?

This song has become the musical equivalent of the "In a World" voiceover.

Why are modern-day lion tamers still using chairs?

With the vast amount of high-tech, state-of-the-art gear tailored specifically towards subduing lions readily available in today's market, it's humerously quaint how professional lion tamers, or "Dashing Wranglers" as they prefer to be called, continue to employ a simple wooden chair or stool in their repetoire. I know that "the biz" is all about tradition and paying homage to the greats that came before; Lucious J. McGillicuddy and Barkley J. Liontame are obviously the first two that come to mind.

But come on, we are living in the age of Wi-Fi and Bluetooth enabled lion-zappers, not to mention the new Mane Incapacitators which double as x-raid, intranet servers and mp3/wma players. College-age lion-tamers are using these and other tools on a daily basis, and yet the establishment refuses to make to the leap to the modern world of sophisticated giant feline containment tools.

Tradition is one thing, but holding back the natural flow of progress is just unnacceptable.

Wilford Brimley probably has the most foul gas in the world.

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

We're talking about paint peeling, wet-dog plus burning hair and papermill, hazardous to your health level of farts here. Something on a whole new scope of smell, something that normal people would have no frame of reference for how to react to. Fetal postion, in the corner, cold sweat, night terrors during the day. Bad news.

Let's break this down. W-Brim is an overweight, elderly, heavily medicated man who has an enormous mustache and eats lots and lots of Quaker Oatmeal. Then he rides horses all day. I can smell those last two sentences.

Imagine being in a steam room with the man when he lifts a pink flank and lets one go, the fart ripping through the air with a noise that is oddly akin to his name...."BBBBRRRIMMMMMMLEYYYYY!!" He'd chuckle.

A combination of oatmeal, medicine and horses. Of oatmeal and medicine and horses.

I'm pretty sure all the menthol in the world wouldn't be able to cover up one of Wilford's.

How much faster and more furious could the sequel to 2Fast 2Furious possibly be?

Who knows, man? If and when the powers that be decide to "drop" the latest Fast and Furious installment on us, it remains to be seen which scale of fast and/or furious progression will be seen. Will the next chapter continue it's fast and furious growth in the same manner that the public saw between The Fast and the Furious and 2Fast 2Furious? Only time will tell.

Continuing at its present rate of Fast and Furious growth, one can expect a film which is at least 3 times as fast and furious as the original; 50% more furious than the previous movie as well as 50% faster. Something along the lines of Tre Fast, Tre Furious, a title that not only alludes to the faster and more furious nature of the film, but also plays into the fact that it is indeed the third movie fast and furious enough to warrant the title of Fast and Furious.

If however, the studio executives decide on a more irregular numerical progression for just how fast and how furious the movies will be, different titles and different degrees of exactly how fast and how furious would come into play. So far, the progression from Fast to 2Fast could have just as easily come from an exponential, self-additive number pattern, quite a fast and furious numerical pattern in its own right.

For example:
1+1=2
2+2=4
4+4=8.....and so on.

Taking this possibility into account, a decidedly different picture with varying degrees of fastness and furiousity emerges.

The Fast and the Furious+The Fast and the Furious=2Fast 2Furious
2Fast 2Furious+2Fast 2Furious=A movie already 4 times faster and more furious than the original.

While this scenario is indeed feasible, it would quickly begin to pose practical problems. Were the series to continue to be a success, and the public continued to demand more movies that were exponentially faster and more furious, the filmmakers would eventually hit a point where the expected degree of just how fast and furious the movie should be would come into direct conflict with just how fast and how furious they were physically able to actually make the film.

If the series were to progress to a fourth installment, something not out of the realm of fast and furious possibility, the filmmakers would be faced with the task of crafting a movie that was SIXTEEN times faster and more furious than The Fast and the Furious. Would that even be possible? Can anything be that fast or that furious? We're talking about something along the lines of a 5 hour car chase involving 300 cars where each car would be driving at 8000mph. Four naked chicks would be wrestling on top of each car during the chase, and 2 nuclear warheads would be strapped to each chick's boobs. The chase would plow through both the Boston and New York City Marathons, killing every single person who was running, and the people who normally pass out little cups of water on the side of the race would instead each be equipped with one of those spinning howitzer guns from Terminator 2.

And Paul Walker would look fiiiiiine.

Andre is the beer of champagnes.

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

Made from the finest grape-like berries and sugar byproducts. Choose between the distinguished twist cap or the elegant plastic "cork." Served luke-cold in either a Big Red Cup (tm) or drunk straight from the bottle, Andre consistently delivers the warm, diabetes-inducing experience long treasured by homeless people and refined fraternity members.

Goes great with an olive tampenade and Vicodin.

Latino males have limited first-name options.

If you're Latino and you're a male, there are somewhere between 12-15 names that could be your first name. It's a fact. If you're the parent of a Latino boy, I assume that this makes things easier when considering names for your child.

When was the last time you met a Latino dude, and he told you his name, and you thought to yourself, "Wow, I've never heard that one before." I'll tell you when the last time was. It was never.

When you and that dude met, and he told you his name, what you thought was, "I totally could have guessed that. I knew his name was Jorge. I knew it the second I saw him. Jorge...or Jose. Or Juan. Or Ricardo. Or Pedro. Or Jaime. Or Jesus. Or Enrique. But that's it. And that's all it could've been. I had that dude pegged." And indeed you did.

Get 15 Latino dudes in a room. Give each man one of those blue stickers that says, "Hello. My Name Is________." Explain to each of them what that means, and have them write down their names. If each sticker has a different name written on it, run for cover.

The Rapture has begun.

Bob Balaban must have got a ton of shit after 9/11.

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

Poor bastard. The man spends years establishing himself as a solid character actor. Little Man Tate, City Slickers 2 (The Legend of Curly's Gold). He perfects his craft, becomes a go-to guy, the type of actor a director can go to in a pinch, the type of actor an audience can take into its collective heart. It's "all good," as the kids say.

And then 9/11 happens. And it all goes to hell.

"Bob Balaban? You mean 'Balaban,' like rhymes with 'Taliban'? You son of a bitch."

"Hey Bob!" Yeah you, towel head! How's the splinter cell going, Bob? You make me sick."

"Hey you! Mr. 'Taliban!' I thought you were sub-par in 'Jakob the Liar.' Burn in hell."

While other, weaker men such as Carl Krommunist, John Flatzi, and Theodore Shmal-Aqsa Shmartyr's Brigade, all immediately ran to the local courthouse and had their names legally changed, Mr. Balaban has shown an uncommon level of bravery and poise in the face of such unfortunate hostility.

He truly is an American hero.

Goth kids are screwed if they sleep in.

Once you make the decision to go Goth, there's no going back. You can't just show up to class one day with a ponytail and sweatshirt after you've made your name as the kid with the fishnet arm wraps and dripping mascara. Getting prepped for the day has to take a good 20-30 minutes. And if your Robert Smith alarm doesn't go off? Forget it Johnny Despair, the 12 minutes it takes to lace up those 14in Dr. Martens are gonna make homeroom mighty tough to attend. Feel the gloom.

There's no way Helen Keller could become president in today's image-driven political scene.

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

It's really a pity the way the political machine runs these days. Gone are the days when platform and ideology were viewed as the most important aspects of a candidate. Without good looks and a smooth on-camera persona, a candidate today lies dead in the water.

Obviously, Ms. Keller and her less than photogenic nature would find obstacles in any bid she would make for a public office with wide exposure. I would imagine an image consultant or stylist would help her cause, but let's be honest, looks are not something you can just teach.

Sometimes you either got it or you don't.

Such a shame that the system has regressed to such a shallow and petty level.

Breadbox manufacturers owe a lot to 20 Questions.

Talk about a long run of free publicity and no-strings-attached product placement.

"I'm thinking of something."
"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"
"Yes."
"Is it an entertainment center?"
"No."
"And you're sure it's bigger than a breadbox?"
"Yes."
"Ok...hey, do you wanna go buy a new breadbox?"
"Sure, I was just about to ask you."

How did the breadbox become the de facto unit of size quantification? I can only assume it stemmed from some sort of early payola between the BB manufacturing concern and the Framers of 20 Questions. Subconscious advertising at its finest. I can't even begin to imagine the amount of impulse-bought breadboxes that have come out of all-night sessions of 20 Q's.

In hell, all I'll do is put fitted bed-sheets on mattresses.

Mattresses resting flush in the corner of a room. All day, every day. I can't think of anything more maddening. I hate fitted bed-sheets.

I'll have three corners locked down, but when I get to the fourth and final corner, the whole thing will snap back into the middle. For eternity.

Sisyphus will be laughing his ass off at me.

Bad Slam Poetry is hilarious.

"Woman..baby...dynamic potential. Womb torn, womb from Mother Earth, Earth mother brother, and I...and I....aye aye, eye to eye, the barometric pressshhhhaaahh, forever from the cosmos to the street, to the rhythm of the beat of my heart, Hart to Hart, all things must...start????" (brush my dreads to the side, blow out a red candle, drop the mike to the floor..the lights go down.)

I just wrote that in 40 seconds. Now I'm a Slam Poet. I hope to be on some sort of Jam or other def event in the near future.

Tab is my favorite keyboard-inspired drink.

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

No other soda, i.e "soft-drink," gets me more indented.

Hansen's (c) Num Lock is pretty good, but it has that strange aftertaste that is normally associated with Diet/Lite drinks. Mountain Dew's new Xtreme Pg Up Rush isn't half bad, but their commercials just don't dew it for me. I mean come on, I'm looking for a delicious keyboard-inspired drink, not to go rollerblading on a helicopter.

I also like Fresca.

"But seriously folks" is an excellent segue.

I ask you, is there any better way to change from a lighthearted, comical tone, to a serious, "let's get down to business" one? The answer to this last question is, no, there is not. "B.S.F" can be used in almost any situation where such a tonal switch is required. Have a peak behind the curtain...

Medical Conference: "Tongue depressor? I hardly knew her!...but seriously folks, malpractice suits are going to put all of us out of a job in the next 2 years."

Funeral Eulogy: "Sorry it took me so long to get the podium, but my wife was whining about how I never buy her anything nice!...but seriously folks, whenever teenage twins drown, there are no words to describe that much loss."

Evening News Broadcast: "Tongue depressor? I hardly knew her!...but seriously folks, the tragic drowning deaths of the Anderson twins has devastated this small, Minnesota suburb. We now go there live for a report and the eulogy."

See what I'm saying? Feel that sudden silence? Of course you do!...but seriously folks...

It's impossible to talk about baby corn without someone mentioning that scene in "Big."

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

Try it. I dare you. I'm standing in line at Soup Plantation, I put some on my salad, my friend says, "Hey remember that scene in 'Big'?" I'm at a Thai restaurant, the pad se eu comes with baby corns, my roommate says, "Remember when Tom Hanks ate those like it was a full corn on the cob?"

Yes, I do remember. Man, was it funny.

Did the original Soup Plantation have slaves?

Originally uploaded by eppyad.

I would wager yes, almost definitely. Up until Reconstruction, the majority of buffet-style, family restaurants were still running on traditional slave labor. Even after the Union Army's victory and the eventual dissipation of a strictly agararian economy, the Plantation's "serve-yourself, all-you-care-to-eat dining experience featuring the freshest vegetables, salads, made-from-scratch soups and muffins, hot pastas and more" carried on with an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" indentured servitude.

Needless to say, service was excellent.

The Fortune Cookie industry needs a major overhaul.

I haven't got an actual fortune from one of these things in many a moon. They have become Statement Cookies. Pathetic. It's obvious that the guys who write for the cookie companies threw in the towel a long time ago, just phoned it in, basically saying, "You know, we don't have any idea about what is going to happen to you. And ya know what else, we're not gonna even try to guess. But here's a random statement for you that predicts nothing." Thanks for the effort team.

Someone has to come up with a set of Ultra-Specific Fortune Cookies, something to the tune of, "Next Thursday at 3 PM, you will see a man in a hat. Avoid this man at all costs." Think you'd give that dude on the corner in a fedora a second look?
Yeah, thought so.

This is a test of the Emergency "Blog"-Cast System.

Get it?!? Get it?!? See, what I did there for my first ever post, was to make a reference to The Emergency "Broadcast" System, but this being a blog, I replaced "broad" with the similar sounding but more pertinent "blog." Talk about a play on words! If I knew how, I might have added a sound effect similar to the "this is only a test" buzzing drone signal. That would have been audibly wacky!

As far as my reasons for setting up this blog, a friend had told me that the bandwagon had another space open for me to jump on, and so here I am. Does anyone care? No. Will anyone read this? Who knows. Like to see back to back rhetorical questions? You're welcome.