Steal This Title For Your War!

Obama Stole My Title!!!

Hunter Red is sitting in his office furiously typing away and muttering as he does so.

Hunter Red- Witty adjective, strategically placed swear word, phrase that is blatantly racist, noun, verb involved in sexual intercourse, and... done. Finished!

Hunter Red stands up and raises his hands in the air.

Hunter Red- VICTORY!!! I have finally finished my fourth book. VICTORY!!!

Hunter Red sits back down.

Hunter Red- Okay, now to name it.

Hunter Red thinks for a moment. He thinks, thinks, and does additional thinking.

Hunter Red- I know, Odyssey Dawn. It's grand and expansive without giving any of the plot away. Odyssey Dawn, perfect.

Hunter Red is visibly pleased with himself.

Hunter Red- Okay, now to catch up on the news.

Hunter Red reads some news stories, including one about the US led operation in Libya. Hunter Red is furious when he reads the name of this operation.

Hunter Red- Damn it! Goddamn it! I have the perfect title for my exploitative teen sex drama, and the goddamn Pentagon has to use it for an operation where they blow stuff up. Damn it! What am I supposed to name my book now.

Hunter Red thinks for a moment.

Hunter Red- How about Punitive Expedition. Surely no one's thought to use that name for war.



I'm floating. I'm floating effortlessly is a sea of pure nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I move forward into nothing. I move backward into nothing. I move sideways into nothing. I move slantways into nothing.

This nothing feels free. Everything I do, everything I say, everything I think, everything is free. Free feels good. Very good. The kind of goodness I haven't experienced in a long time. The kind of goodness that can only come in this sea of infinite nothing.

This feels good but it doesn't feel right. Something is amiss. Something, in this place of good feelings, feels wrong. I can't quite place it, but I feel this sudden onset of malaise.

I look around and see nothing. Nothing. Completely nothing. No objects, no matter, nothing, but most especially no people. There's no people around. That is what is wrong. Humans are supposed to be social creatures, it's what we are taught to be, to like, to crave from the time we are born, and yet the only way I can feel good is when there is no one around.

Why? Why am I like this? Why is my brain wired like this? Why? Why?


You know, after hearing this song, I no longer think Bon Jovi totally fucking sucks.

Visit for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Jeff Hardy < Airlines < Nothing

This is an insult to the fans of TNA. I dare say that if most of the fans of this company, including myself, showed up to work in a state where we couldn't perform our work, we'd be fired.
If I showed up to work drunk, I'd be fired.

Video Games > Airlines

Temporary Suspension of the Services Due to an Earthquake

Due to the continuous earthquakes occurring in the eastern regions of Japan since Mar. 11, 2011, the power companies in Japan have encouraged everyone to cooperate by conserving as much energy as possible as it is feared there will not be enough power supply. Based on the current situation, we have decided to shut down the game servers temporarily, and therefore to suspend services of FINAL FANTASY XIV, FINAL FANTASY XI, and PlayOnline temporarily.

The services will be temporarily suspended for at least a week starting on Mar. 13, 2011 3:00 (PDT). We will provide an update regarding the reinstatement of the service as additional information becomes available. In connection with the temporary suspension of services, players will not be billed for any PlayOnline service throughout the April billing cycle. Additional information regarding this matter will also be posted as it becomes available.

When Disaster Strikes, Airlines Scramble

In the event of a natural disaster, travel experts say, there are few rules or regulations about what airlines must do. This time, most carriers are waiving ticket change fees and offering the chance to rebook, but for now only for those who delay their trips by a week or two. For their part, the airlines say they're going above and beyond what federal regulations require them to do. "While the policies tend to be fairly standardized, how and when and how long you apply them should be variable," says Ed Martelle, a spokesman for American Airlines ( AMR: 6.56, -0.05, -0.75% ) . "No two crises are alike."

When natural disasters prevent people from utilizing it's services, Square Enix offers refunds, no questions asked. When natural disasters prevent people from utilizing it's services, the airline industry makes you jump through hoops to get a rebooking. It's good to know that Square Enix treats it's customers better than the airline industry.


See how pleasant that is?
How calm, how free, how cleansing nothing can be.
Now do you see why I avoid people?
Why I do everything in my power to avoid people?
Because if you had it your way I would have filled that space up with clutter and complications and bullshit, not my bullshit, YOUR bullshit.
You would have turned nothing into something.
Ah, pleasant calming nothing.

Capital Bush 3: The Earl Grey Group

A weird things happens when you succumb to your baser instincts. Your baser drives. Your need to be pleasured by the touch of another person's flesh. A person much more attractive than you can ever hope to be. If you do it once, and then once again, the urge to succumb to your baser instincts comes more often and your submission to these baser drives is much easier. Such is the case with me. I've been to the strip club known as Capital Bush. The first time was good, the second time was better, now I wanted a third.

For the uninitiated, Capital Bush is a strip club, but nit the normal kind of strip club you see around here. This strip club offers services that you can't get in any other strip club, specifically things that are expressly forbidden in other establishments. The employees who offer these services to their clientele are among the most influential movers and shakers in the area. These people make sure that they get things done.

This time the urge to succumb to my baser instincts hit me at a different time in the day that it had before. As I made my way out to Capital Bush, gone were the dark streets and rain soaked vagrants. Now Capital Bush was bathed in daylight. This had the effect of making the usually hidden Capital Bush much more easier to see. It could be said that if you were around Capital Bush and did not know what was going on in there, you would be either blind or incredibly unobservant.

When I pulled into the parking lot of Capital Bush I noticed a difference in the kinds of cars that I saw. Gone were the Chevy Impalas and Oldsmobile Cutlass Supremes, replaced with BMWs, GMC Tahoes, and Chevy Suburbans. Not the kind of Suburbans you see drug dealers drive, but the kind you see in high class neighborhoods and parked out in front of exclusive country clubs. The sight of these cars stuck me oddly, but didn't think much of it as I approached the entrance of Capital Bush.

Once I got in I noticed that the usual golden beaming receptionist was not present, but present was a considerable security presence in the entrance of the club. This security presence consisted of several large men with large guns on their sides, all taking orders from a squirrelly looking white guy who looked like he would stand no match against anyone in a fight, much less the armed gentlemen. The security guards saw me and stopped me before I could venture any further into the club beyond just inside the door. One of the guards asked me, "Who are you?"

I responded, "Why do you ask."

Then the squirrelly looking white guy took over. "Gentlemen, let me handle this. Hello sir, my name is John Dougall. I am the new manager here at Capital Bush. Have you been to this establishment before?

I replied, "Yes, I have. Is there some sort of a problem."

"Have you been to our establishment since new ownership took over."

"I don't think so. The last time I was here was in January."

"Ah, that explains it. You see the new ownership took over in late January."

"Who is the new management?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but the new management goes under the name of the Earl Grey Group." That response struck me more oddly than the sight of the expensive new cars. The next question introduced me to the changes brought by new management. "Are you a member of this establishment?"

"No, I was unaware I needed one."

"Well, we can take care of that right now. First we'll need a photocopy of your driver's license, and your membership fee. We do take check, but we also take-"

"Wait, membership fee?"

Dougall smiled broadly at me and said, "Yes, we will require a membership fee in order to process your membership."

"How much is it?"

"The membership fee?"


"Fifty thousand dollars."

I was shocked by this. If I was drinking something I would have performed a spit take. "Fifty thousand dollars?"

"Yes, that is the membership fee."

"That's more than I make in a year. Hell, that's more than most people make in a year."

The expression of Dougall's face changed when I said this. "First of all, do not swear in our establishment. Second of all, most of the members of this establishment see our membership fee as a small price to pay for the services we render here."

"A small price to pay? Your membership must be loaded."

"Yes, they are. The basic philosophy of the Earl Grey Group, although we would never state so publicly, is that those who are blessed enough to be wealthy are the only ones who matter in our society. As such, we want to tailor our services to their needs. As far as those who are not blessed enough to be able to obtain membership to our club, we do not feel the need to care for those people."

I got visibly upset at this point. "What about the loyal customers this club has untill this point? What about the needs of the good, hard working everyman who just wants to have some absurdly attractive woman fulfill his needs and possible his desires?"

"Sir, I have made myself abundantly clear. If you are unable to understand the desires of the Earl Grey Group on their terms, I will just have to have you removed." Dougall then motioned for the security guards to remove me from the premises of Capital Bush, which they did in a way that was rough, but not rough in a way that would fulfill that particular fetish I have.

While I was picking myself up, I saw another guy sitting by the door of Capital Bush. I had never seen this man before, but seeing as I didn't look around at the other patrons while I was in Capital Bush, it's entirely possible that I've been in the same room as him. This guy was sitting against the wall of the strip club, reading one of the free newspapers that are available along side the taco venders and vagrant hookers downtown. I walked up to this guy and said, "Hey."

The guy looked at me and said, "Hello."

"Did they kick you the fuck out of CB too?"

"Yes, I guess I'm unworthy of their membership. Perhaps I will be one day, but untill then, I can only hope."

I sat down next to the guy and said, "What's your name?"

"Ian, but most people call me Lemming."

"Lemming, what are you reading there?"

"Oh, this is the Salt Lake City Weekly. I'm going to vote for their annual Best Of Utah awards."

I was interested in this. "Interesting. Who are you going to vote for?"

Lemming was a little offended by this. "Buddy, that is an intensely personal question."


"But, if you must know, I was thinking of voting for Capital Bush for best strip club."

I was offended buy this. "Why? They just threw you the fuck out of the club. Their stance is that anyone who isn't as rich as they are isn't worthy of even entering their establishment. Why would you vote for them?"

"I voted for them last year."

"Why would you vote for them again?"

"What alternative is there? I mean, if you are sexually motivated person, and you can't get satisfaction on your own, the only place to go is Capital Bush."

"But they won't let you in."

"I know. I know they won't let me in, but what alternative do I have?"

Lemming's words offended me, but somehow rant true. Sure Capital Bush has become an exclusive club for the rich and "worthy", but what other alternative did we have. There was none, if only because Capital Bush had made sure that they were the only option.

I got up and started making my way back over to my car. Before starting my car, I took out my GPS and started searching around. It had been a while since I had searched for alternatives to Capital Bush and I wanted to see if some other places to satisfy my baser urges had popped up. Some had, but not any that were anywhere close to me. The alternatives to Capital Bush that most appealed to me were The Hollywood Undressed, Liberal Storm, and Apple Bottoms. I don't want to have to travel the great distance it takes to partake of the pleasures of these establishments, but I may not have a choice if I want to ever achieve a level of satisfaction that I can derive happiness from.

Correspondence With A Backwards Trainwreck


The following is a series of messages between Hunter Red and Jonathan Raft occurring on Tuesday, March 1st.

Jonathan Raft- Dear Hunter,
I've been a fan of yours for a while now. I really like how you can write something romantic despite being a complete loser. In fact, that is why I'm writing you today. There's a girl who I'm really interested in dating, but I don't know how to approach her. I want her to think I'm a cool, suave person without looking like an asshole. Can you help me out here? Can you give me something to say to this girl so that she'll want to go out with me?
Thank You For Your Time

Hunter Red- Dear Jonathan,
First of all, it's great to hear from a fan of mine, but not good to hear you think I'm a loser. If I'm such a loser, why are you asking me for advice?
Second, here is a letter that you can give to this girl in order to convey your feeling about her. Feel free to change things in order to fit your situation.
Stay Care

Dear Lady —

There is something not quite definable in your face — something lovely, not pretty in a conventionally thought of way. You have something graceful and tender and feminine. You seem to be a woman who has been loved in her childhood, or else, somehow by the mystery of genetic phenomena you have been visited by the gifts of refinement, dignity and poise. Perhaps you cannot be accredited with all that.

Irrespective of your gothic aspects, you have passed something on in terms of your expression, mien and general comportment that is unusual and rewarding.

It's been a pleasant if brief encounter and I wish you well and I hope we shall have occasion to cross eyes again sometime.

Best wishes



Jonathan Raft- Hunter,
I just took a look at your letter. Wow. You are one creepy motherfucker.

Hunter Red- That letter was written by Marlon Brando.
Jonathan Raft- You mean that fat fuck from Apocalypse Now?
Hunter Red- He wrote that letter before he got ginormous, back when he was considered a sex symbol.
Jonathan Raft- How can he be considered a sex symbol when one of his most famous lines is "Bring me the butter"?
Hunter Red- If only you knew what he was talking about when he said that.



Coke Fueled Trainwreck may or may not be "winning," in life, but he has won a rare honor: the "Fastest Time to Reach 1 Million Followers" Guinness World Record.

Guinness community manager Dan Barrett says the agency "just researched and approved" the record this morning. According to Barrett, Trainwreck reached that milestone in 25 hours and 17 minutes.

As of this writing, Trainwreck's Twitter account, @CokeFueledTrainwreck, has more than 1.3 million followers.

Guinness did not have a previous record for that category, Barrett says. Trainwreck also set a Guinness record for "Highest Paid TV Actor Per Episode -- Current" at $1.25 million.

Trainwreck joined Twitter March 1. In a matter of minutes, Trainwreck acquired more than 60,000 followers and a Klout score of 57 -- without even tweeting. According to a report in Advertising Age, Trainwreck was able to get his account verified so quickly because Internet startup brokered his account with Twitter.

Trainwreck, of course, has been all over the news since he publicly disparaged Chuck Lorre, producer of Trainwreck's successful sitcom "Two and a Half Men and a Trainwreck" in a bizarre interview with Alex Jones of InfoWars last month.

Since then, Trainwreck has been interviewed by various other high-profile outlets making equally odd statements. The public meltdown has made Trainwreck a continual trending topic on Twitter and the subject of several YouTube parodies.

For Guinness, this is the second high-profile application of the brand's records system to social media. Last month, the Nabisco cookie brand Oreo and rapper Lil Wayne squared off for the record for the most Facebook likes. Lil Wayne won that contest handily.

Red Review: Dead Space 2: Severed

Dude, have you ever thought about playing a game backward? I mean, like, like, playing a game from the last level first and working your way, like, backward. Dude, that would be so totally cool! I mean, if you've played that game before, you would, like, know the layout of the levels better because, like, you've like totally been there before. Also, you'd, like, know where to get powerups and ammo, dude. Dude, playing a game backwards would be, like, so totally bitchin'!

Oh, my head. Ow. Damn. What did I do last night. God, I hope I didn't drink. That would totally kill my recovery. Shit. (Picks up an empty plastic bag.) Wasn't this full last night? Yeah, I remember going over to David's and getting, like, a hundred bucks of weed. I didn't smoke the entire bag last night, did I? Fuck, I did.

Hey, it looks like I wrote something last night. (Looks at the first paragraph of this review.) Man, I say like a lot when I'm high. People say that you can have some pretty good ideas when you're high. I guess my good ideas involve saying dude and like a lot. Although, what I wrote does pretty accurately describe Dead Space 2: Severed. Let's see if I can salvage this mess into a coherent review.

Dead Space 2: Severed: B+