Post By Mike the Canadian Doctor

Hey, everybody! I’m sure you remember me, eh? Yeppers, it’s been a good few months. Let me tell you about what’s been going on at my doctor’s office! Eh!

So, anyway, I just got my Canadian Hockey Stick from the Prime Minister, y’know, and I hung it on my wall just to show every hoser here how Canadian I am. Eh. A lot of people don’t realize I’m Canadian. They think that Canadians are people who wear plaid and have weird heads that flap around like on your South Park here in the States. I’m just here to remind everyone that Canadian stereotypes are just wrong, eh? Know what I mean, hoser?

So anyway, business has been good. I’m gettin’ some perscription drugs from Canada, and people are beating down my door. They want that good ol’ Canadian drug! Plus, since farming marijuana is illegal here in the Luigiian Republic, but selling it isn’t, I’ve been getting all sorts of orders from all over the city! Red and Green’s General Store seems ‘specially happy–they haven’t sold this much whipped cream since the Porno Convention came to town, you know how they put that there cream on their privates, eh, hosers?

So everything seems happy. I even got a hit to one of my posts–somebody was searching for “canadian doctor” and found me here. I’ll bet he got one heckuva happy surprise, eh?

‘Course, not ever’thing’s good. Whoever stole my doctor’s coats needs ta give ’em back. Y’see, guys, I used the coats while administering chemo to one of my patients, and some of it spilled all over the coats, meaning that now they’re radioactive. It don’t mean yer in any danger, but I’ve heard that such a thing can make ya glow! Eh! So please give ’em back!

Anyway, ‘at’s about it. Keep yer sticks on the ice, hosers.

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The Importance of Shame, Exhibit One: “Otaku Fangirl”

Japanese cartoons are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, you have these fun little shows that are interesting to watch and give you a completely different perspective, one from across the world, where the people apparently have much larger, more rounded eyes than our own and frequently dress up their schoolgirls in outfits that make them the target of every ogler between here and Mary Kay Letourneau. On the other hand, these same wonderful shows give rise to another, much-different feeling, namely: The Shame Reflex.

I come in contact with this strange reflex every time I watch a Japanese cartoon show, no matter how “artsy” or “intelligent” it is. I could be watching one based on Franz Kafka’s “Metamorphosis”, and I would still feel that I was watching a movie intellectually comparable to the Teletubbies. And, yet, after awhile, it would begin to feel good, as if I were a heroin addict getting a shot of the drug. And then my mom would get on the phone for an hour, and we’d all have to stop the movie for her, and I’d get onto stickdeath.com and forget all about it. When we would finally get back to the damned movie, I would have successfully forgotten about the whole experience, and the Shame Reflex would kick in again, and ensure that I never watch one, ever, until my cousin comes back to our house and wants to play video games again. Also, I’d have a need to kill stick figures, for some odd reason.

But the Shame Reflex, as much as I wish I could kick it in its testicles, is important, I do realize, since there are many occasions I wish it would kick in, and it won’t, especially when it comes to women. I know this because of a situation I wound up in just three short years ago, in simpler times, whenever I hated the Internet, and just mainly hated everything about modern culture, especially President Bush. (For those of you offended conservatives, I apologize; the last comment was just the Mandatory Hatred Of Bush Comment Every Blogger Must Put in Every Post.) Until I met Alexandra.

Ah, what a beautiful name, and what a bodily smell, she had. I was a volunteer at the library, she was also a volunteer at the library. Except, she was an obsessive-compulsive “otaku fangirl”, whereas I was just a garden-variety type nerd. You know what I mean. And since she was female, I had to have her, in the nerd-sense of the word, meaning that she tells you that she will go out with her without either of you ever going on even one date. This is the absolute pinnacle of geek relationships.

When I first saw her, she was hiding behind one of the bookshelves, eyeing me curiously. Now, any normal person would have ran the hell out of the library at this very moment, but I, being a mature weirdo, realized immediately that this was a fellow weirdo attempting to go through Courtship Rituals. So I, of course, reciprocated. We talked for two weeks without actually doing anything, at least partly because my summer-school P.E. class had given me a Mortal Ankle Sprain, and that was not fun, in the painful sense of the word. Finally, she decided to go out with me, and our Courtship Rituals ended.

Which means that now I have to try to have the same interests as her, another aspect of dating, as viewed by a nerd. As you can imagine, I could not escape the Cultural Vortex entirely in the span of time before I first met Alexandra, and as such I had seen two anime movies, as well as having seen numerous examples of anime on HBO, which were disgusting. One of them (the movies), Spirited Away, was an Oscar-winning cartoon by Hayao Miyasaki, and as such was something an average American would watch, instead of something only a strange American would watch. The other, Tokyo Godfathers, was bizarre, and thus a better choice for Sharing Interests with her.

Unfortunately, over time I realized that this was not enough, that I was actually going to have to watch more of this stuff, especially after her friend began coming into the library and she stopped talking to me. Also, after she began chatting with me via Instant Message, wherein she talked of strange Japanese interpretations of fairies and demons using Japanese words (interspersed with badly-spelled English), none of which I understood.

So one night, instead of watching disgusting HBO “documentaries”, I decided to try one anime, just one. This particular one, Inuyasha, was a very well-known one, as could be measured by the number of people at my school wearing its T-shirts. It was boring throughout its first half, leaving me thinking, “this…?” But then of course a battle went on, taking what was left of my brain after Alexandra had stolen the rest. I went to sleep that night shaking. I thought that this was very rebellious sort of television, because the “battle” was between Japanese-style demons, in which there was all sorts of blood and violence. A couple weeks later, another episode featured some nudity. By the end, I was sold.

But a bit sad. Alexandra, during a vacation to Arizona, had decided to leave me, and showed me how much she cared by doing so via e-mail. She essentially said,

“Sorry, Justin, I have too much to do. I also have to start going to psychiatric therapy. So I can’t go out with you anymore.”

I swear, that was almost exactly what she wrote, just a little bit longer.

So now, I have this bizarre habit that I’m just now beginning to get rid of. Not entirely, of course. I now am the proud owner of maybe nine anime DVD’s (which cost about forty dollars apiece, thank you very much), one doll, and my Lego city is divided into five sections, each named after a specific anime character. Thanks a lot, Alex.

But my point is, I had no shame whatsoever in going after a girl who smelled like a locker room, watching all sorts of disgusting pornography, getting in trouble at the library for going out with a girl two years younger than me, owning a Lego city, watching stick figures kill each other on the Internet, and writing this embarrassing post. Where my shame reflex did kick in, on the other hand, was in watching anime cartoons. “Fuck no,” it said, “I draw the line at watching anime cartoons. Unless they involve pornography.”

I frankly, know only one person to blame all of this on.

Alexandra.

Review: Lego Digital Designer 2.0

I’ve been working with Lego’s Digital Designer 1.6 for some time now, and all I can say is, good riddance. 1.6 was one of the most difficult-to-use, poorly designed, and buggy programs I’ve ever faced. Though Windows (of course) always has annoyed me with glitches and user interface, I don’t think it even compares with the awfulness of LDD 1.6, since the program is at least somewhat designed to be used by children.

But, now that I’ve upgraded to 1.6, I almost wish that Lego hadn’t even changed the program, considering that the new program is actually buggier, slower, and more difficult to use than its predecessor. When you realize that some parts in 1.6 wouldn’t even fit with each other like they would in real life, that’s saying something.

First, the good news: It’s easier to get bricks to go where they’re supposed to. I have one particular model, called “House”, which had a pair of sloping roof pieces on it, and they would never latch with the rest of the roof, leaving them hovering just one iota over the rest. I was immediately able to fix the problem on the new model, no problems, and no questions asked. Only a few pieces were removed from 1.6, and those were all (to my knowledge) special effects pieces you couldn’t get in real life anyway. Others are still there, but you have to put new ones in their place because the program believes they don’t exist (even though, just like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, they really do, but they’re just a little different from what we tell the children, i.e. aliens).

But then, you have the really bad news, and that’s that it runs slower as you put more parts on to your creation. As usual, if there’s something really big you want to build, forget it: this program is useless after about two stories. The camera, at those levels, seems to take away several positions from your ability to adjust the camera in order to conserve computer power (but you can, in fact, use the camera to look inside your house, a nice touch missing from 1.6). At that point, the controls become so slow to react that you can literally click on the model, explore a website with your browser, and then (maybe) come back to the command having been performed. That’s why I don’t believe it’s conserving computer power (even if the program hasn’t crashed on me yet the way 1.6 would with larger models, I say it’s just a matter of time). More likely is that the system’s just bogging down. Maybe Microsoft installed Vista’s Big Brother/”Digital Rights Management” system on my XP computer without bothering to tell me.

I hope Lego releases a new LDD soon, because 2.o, like 1.6, is still too buggy to be used like CAD for Legos. If you’re not going to be buying the structure you’re designing, LeoCAD, LDraw, MLCAD, and others are far better choices, allow for far larger structures, have many more features, and give the user more control over the program. As it is, consider this program as an emergency program to design buildings in a pinch. It really isn’t much use any other way.

Luigiian News Number Something: Some Real Humor

I’m exhausted, and my latest posts, I’ve decided, aren’t up to snuff with some of the best humorists on the Internet. So I’ve decided to give those funny guys a little bit of my bandwidth for making me laugh.

Enjoy!

(Thanks to this site)

American Idolatry

Man, do I like American Idol. Oh yeahhhhh. You know what I mean? I know many of you, after seeing some of the contestants, feel like saying “Wow, what a bunch of retards, I could have told these people that they suck.” Here’s a show in which you can find the following, all in one season:

  1. Retarded person who looks like a ferret and makes you want to spontaneously laugh and cry at the same time.
  2. Another retarded person who’s friends with Person 1 and makes you want to do the same, as well as send those who would be mean enough to tell a retarded person they had a shot at a competitive talent show which would be seen by millions of people to a mental institution or prison for the criminally insane.
  3. Woman with key private parts hanging down to her ankles, and (as I’ve checked about with both my mother and my English teacher) just when you think, “her mother should teach her better”, her mother comes into the shot, sporting the same exact look, except fatter and older.
  4. An incredibly uptight business major. I know, we’ve seen plenty of these. But, not usually belting out a song to a nationwide audience, and certainly not one he chose because it was a judge’s favorite disregarding whether he could sing it or not (he couldn’t).
  5. One contestant who lets it all hang out (if you know what I mean) in a video “for her boyfriend” which the paparazzi puts on the Internet, which sparks a protest from several people, including a) a former black contestant who got kicked off for agreeing to pose for a porno magazine, b) Rosie O’bese Donnellesbian (arguably the truest three words ever written on the internet) who says the show’s producers are racist for not kicking off the white chick, and c) Idol’s announcer, who says it’s just horrible that people would take advantage of somebody stupid enough to 1) go on a nationwide talent show and 2) beforehand have pictures taken of themselves naked, armed only with the knowledge that they could be intercepted by the same people that took pictures of both Princess Diana and John Lennon as they died rather than call a hospital.

Aside from all that, though, I think we can all agree that there’s one thing about this show that cannot be understated: This is ultimate Americana. It’s like a bizarre freak show invented by Ronald Reagan and staffed by Monica Lewinsky, Bill Clinton, and Michael Jackson: a “wholesome” talent contest with contestants that constantly get in trouble for things like getting naked in public or pornography, and judges that are booed so often by the audience that it seems as if the audience has Tourette’s Syndrome. I’m serious about that last remark, by the way: The only other possibility is that the audience is composed of the same people who seriously tell the worst contestants to go on. I don’t think “tone deaf” is adequate to describe them, considering the fact that most of the contestants can barely sing their pop music, let alone anything more difficult.

Even the best contestants are obnoxious. I think the best word to describe them is “pretentious.” I remember one guy who sung an old jazz song and dedicated it to his grandfather, as if the song described the man because it’s old. I don’t remember anybody saying that the guy actually liked jazz music, or even that he’d even heard the song being dedicated to him.

As for the actual songs, I can think of places where I’ve seen more creativity, many of which involve manufacturing plants. To me, every song sung on American Idol sounds the same, in essence. What I mean is, they all sound bad. Generic. Latest Top 50 Hit stuff. And why not? All the songs are from the past ten to twenty years. Even the best songs, like those from Seal, are from only five to ten years old. But I don’t like Top 50 Hits. A lot of people don’t. You won’t hear songs by Guns N’ Roses, or even Journey. This is balladry of the fluffiest, close to what could be called “anti-rock”.

Aside from criticism, though, American Idol is a wonderful show, characterized by funny opening acts and a boring close. “Family atmosphere” between contestants vying for fame and fortune. Tons of scandal. Irritating, fluffy tributes that are to music what Dr. Phil is to humans. And at least two critics who are afraid to call bad singing when they see it, which is truly sad. Some of these people need to be told that they just can’t sing.

Oh, well, at least House comes on right after.

Scholarships For the “Rest of Us”.

Today, as usual, I opened my little mail bird, Thunderbird, because apparently I don’t check my email nearly enough. Currently, my folders are full of hundreds of pieces of mail, some of which I’ve never opened, because they had addresses like loboinfo@unm.edu, which is of course college information. That’s right: I have full access to a scholarship service, I’m a year from college, and I don’t even read any of the mail I get from colleges, scholarship services, wackos, etc.

That last part, you know, about “wackos”, concerns the weird scholarships: the ones that promise $500 towards one’s college education if they agree to work in a sewage treatment plant after they’re finished with college, or ones that have you write about your real Christmas tree. (Hell, I even wrote an essay and sent it in for the last one.) But, if you’ve ever seen such a thing, you’ve got to be asking yourself, “who in the hell would agree to work at a sewage plant for a lousy $500?!” I ask the same thing. We need scholarships that reward everyday acts of courage. You know, physical tests we can all understand.

Without further ado, here are those Scholarships for the rest of us:

“We Pay as You Play” scholarship.

Pay: $50 per hour

Requirements: Must weigh at least 700 pounds to qualify.

Here, we pay $50 for each consecutive hour you play some shitty video game on the Internet. As the hours of your time go by and your ass gets exponentially larger, your scholarship fund grows! This one is great for the obsessive Internet gamer with absolutely no life whatsoever. Assuming that you’re able to squeeze through the front gates, they’ll give you the cash to the institution of your choice, no questions asked.

Status: Does not yet exist.

“Gang Bang Enlistment Scholarship”

Do you enjoy shooting up poor ghetto neighborhoods for sport? How about saving your “talent” for something more useful? We’ll pay your way through college assuming that you agree to fight for your country in Afghanistan. And, by the way, you won’t be attacking civilians, but rather, actual, honest-to-God terrorists. An extra $5000 for any recruit that brings back Osama Bin Laden, dead or alive.

Status: Does not exist, although if you stop your gang-bang lifestyle, you’ll live longer, might actually get a job and contribute to society instead of being a bloodsucking parasite, and not embarrass your family and socioeconomic class. Just sayin’.

“Honorable Bravery Scholarship”

Pay: $5000.

In this scholarship, you agree to cut back on greenhouse gas and fuel consumption by driving one of those butt-ugly little Third-World Country cars while sharing the road with massive Suburbans, Explorers, Hummers, and, of course, pickup trucks with at least twenty-five wheels on each side. Extra money goes if you use a bike instead (you fool!) and reduce emissions further by riding right in the middle of the road, blocking all traffic and forcing passing motorists to use their middle finger in a highly rude fashion.

Status: Would exist, if somebody were stupid enough to either ride a bike or use a little Third-World Country car. (Yes, some ride bikes, but they are not considered human, and therefore would not be eligible for college anyway. Even if they were, most will have already become victims of road rage by next week.)

“Robert Foley Intern Scholarship”

Don’t ask.

“Guess Who’s The Father of Anna Nicole’s Baby Grant”

Pay: Full tuition.

If you can figure out who the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby is, we’ll pay the way. Find him, and bring him in. Dead or alive. Please clean with at least 25 gallons of Lysol before turning in.

“Actually Do Something Useful Like Help The Victims of Hurricane Katrina Instead of Letting their City Die While Focusing Your Attention On Figuring Out Who’s The Father of Anna Nicole’s Baby Grant”

Pay: God alone knows; maybe nothing.

Instead of focusing on trivial issues like pornography, nipples during Superbowl halftime shows, and war threats, you help the people ravaged by Hurricane Katrina rebuild their tattered lives and towns. Of course, that’s “volunteer work”, so they’ll pay you if they feel like it.

I know I may have went off on the “deep end” on that last one.

So that’s it. I hope that these scholarship ideas help out some of you. Maybe next year, you’ll have enough to graduate. Hey, you never know…