[transmission from: tyler richardson]

"Don't take any risks today -- the outcome will not be in your favor. Play it safe."

This was the horoscope for Taurus today. What is weird is that this morning I found at least three situations to which such a general forecast could be relevant.

1. I woke up and needed to use the bathroom. When I sit down I discovered that the toilet paper was all gone. I had two choices. Use my hand to get it all out( fist-full-o'-jerky) or I could use printer paper. All I'll say is that I've almost successfully managed to clean out my fingernails.
   Risk Factor: Paper cuts on the taint.
2. Driving to work I came to a stop light. A man in front of me was pushing his car while his wife steered. I could tell that he needed help but I'm not the type of person to just go helping strangers...for free. So, I sat there and waited for him to Hulk up and get his car out of my way. I saw three people come running from behind me and help him out. They all made it a point to give me the evil eye while I drove past them and hit the pipe one more time. Cause that's how I roll.
   Risk Factor: Dropping perfectly good Weed on the ground to help a stranger that doesn't have a vagina. That's fuckin crazy. He should understand, GUY CODE!
3. I was using the urinal at work and someone's kid was outside the door. I could tell that he was on a short schedule and the way he danced show urgency and fear. So, I did what I always do. I took my time. It only took him a couple of minutes before he started to speak and his begging only tickled me more. After 20 minutes of what I can only describe as the finest showtune collection that I could muster, I let him in. He looked like shit. Literally, he had to shake the crap out of his pants like a P.O.W.
   Risk Factor: There isn't really one here, but whenever a child cries, the Wolfen God I pray to smiles. And that smile provides the world with rhythm.
   
   P.S.- For more info on the Wolfen Cult simply ask yourself "Where would a cult meet at?" The answer should always be "Jo- Ann's Crafts & Fabrics".

[transmission from: tyler sonnichsen]

Hello again. I accumulated plenty of thoughts over Thanksgiving weekend, but for now, I figured I'd follow through with the next part of my "Reissues" series, because I think this installment touches upon a vitally important issue affecting the world of both sports, and that of movie truck stops.

Cam Neely
To those of us hockey fans, especially those of us Bruins fans, Cam Neely represented everything that was ever great about the NHL in the early 1990s. Sure, we had God aka Ray Bourque to make Boston more awesome by simply being there for twenty-two years, but who but Cam Neely reflected the hopes, power, dreams, and eventual crushing defeat of the whole organization? No athlete, ever, in the eternity of the world's empire of the universe. I know I just answered my own question, but I needed to to prove my point. We need this guy back; for not just the Bruins, but for hockey in general. Sure, it’s making a rebound after the lockout season, but without a reissued Cam Neely, who do we have that can score 50 goals in 48 games to start a season? Dany Heatley? Bah! Heatley's got curly hair and looks like fuckin' Flea! And how can we trust a guy who forgets to include that vital second N in his own name to become the mayor of hockey town? He can't hold a candle to Neely's hall of fame pedigree. And… AND who could forget Cam Neely's onward trek to immortalize himself as the single most legendary truck stop rough in the history of modern cinema? Case in point. We truly need to figure out how to reissue humans. Until then, I’ll have to settle for Joe Thornton, Jeff Halpern, and a bunch of other guys on my select few preferred teams whose chops just can’t measure up to the great #8. Come to think of it, while we’re at it, why not reissue…

The 1990 Boston Bruins

This team was amazing. Cam Neely, Ray Bourque, Andy “Not the Synthesizer” Moog between the pipes, Glen Wesley, and – are you ready for this? – BOTH Sweeney brothers. Sure, I can barely remember the actual season, but that’s just as good since the Oilers embarrassed them in the Stanley Cup Finals. But when you had this kind of mutual love and respect between a city and its hockey team, did you really even need a silly piece of hardware? You had the Garden, crustaches, and the game before it became the last major pro sport to lose its credibility to pure greed and other such bullshit. Classic.