Thursday, October 31st, 2002
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Well, unless you're some kind of filthy al Qaeda Communist greaseball who's been hiding deep beneath the earth, then you're probably aware of the fact that today is Halloween. That's right. The holiday that ranks up near the top of the list of "Things Catholics Hate The Most", right below Mormons, and sensible use of contraceptives. The one night of the year where goths are excused for looking the way they do. Actually, I take that back. They're not. Stupid goth bastards.

Halloween has changed a lot since I was a kid though. Namely, it's been totally pansied up, thanks to you god damn sissy PTA soccer moms and that whole "looking out for your child's best interests" kick that you're all on. In my town, for example, kids today are forced to not only go out candy grubbing during the Sunday before Halloween, but they also have to do it in the afternoon. The fucking afternoon. There's nothing cool about egging some prick's house at 2:35 on a Sunday afternoon. Seriously, whoever it was that came up with the concept of forcing kids to go trick-or-treating during the day, please email me, explain why you thought this was a good idea, and then tell me where you live, so I can come to your house and, in the timeless words of R. Lee Ermey, "Fuck you up".

Some of my fondest memories (that don't have anything to do with sex or marijuana) involve me as a young child, scared out of my mind and running through the dark on Halloween night, trying to get back home before whoever it was that was chasing me had a chance to molest/verbally berate/kill me. And now kids today are totally missing out on that aspect of Halloween. What the hell happened? Is this whole generation of new parents a bunch of pansy bitches? Being chased through the dark by crazy people will help your kids build character. If you're lucky, they'll grow up like me! Wouldn't that be a treat? You could have your own little Jasie running around the house, making a mockery of everything you hold sacred. Wee!

Enough of that though. For those of you who stopped by to read my previously mentioned "special edition Halloween article", guess what? You just did. Last night, I had this whole write up about Count Chocula planned out, but then I realized I'm not getting paid to write it, so there's no sense in struggling to cram all my assorted thoughts into a neat and tidy article. That, and I'm drunk right now. Happy Halloween, you geeky heathens.

Wednesday, October 30th, 2002
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I would apologize for the lack of updates earlier this week, but I'm not really all that sorry. Between extended play sessions of the new PS2 game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, and drawing the attention of skeezeriffic high school girls with the now infamous Sunfire, I haven't had time for anything else. Anyway, stop by tomorrow, when I'll debut my shockingly hilarious (or incredibly horrible, I'm not sure which) special edition Halloween article.

By the way, Kurt Kobain is dead. Stop releasing his music, private journals and so on. Nobody cares about what a dead guy has to say. Tupac is also dead. Stop releasing his stuff too. Thanks.

Sunday, October 27th, 2002
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(Cue opening theme from "The Jeffersons")

As of Friday afternoon, the infamous Sundance has been replaced by a '99 Sunfire. Needless to say, I've been spending a bit more time than usual on empty stretches of road, testing out my new method of transportation. That's pretty much my excuse for not updating. Take it or leave it.

I also finally, finally, got around to watching the movie "Full Metal Jacket" from start to finish. It's still my opinion that R. Lee Ermey's character should have been resurrected, or at least temporarily reanimated like the way those Jamaican guys from "Weekend At Bernie's 2" did with the title character. Alas, such is not the case, and Jasie remains pissed. Now go away.

Thursday, October 24th, 2002
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I've never said this before, but I feel the need to now: I fucking hate dentists. Granted, nobody actually enjoys visiting the dentist, except for masochistic dipshits, but today, while having my teeth mercilessly clawed at by a crazy bitch wielding what felt like an electrified ice pick, that revelation dawned on me. I fucking hate dentists. Especially when they try to make small talk. But especially when they're tearing at my gums with their instruments of pain. Angry grunt.

On a lighter note, my brief correspondence with Dave Zdyrko turned up awesome results. In fact, a lot of you people reading this right now are most likely coming from Dave's site. I'd like to give a big welcome to you all! ...And I regret to inform you that there's no pictures of naked women here. All you'll find here is a collection of all the stupid stuff that floats through my brain. Anyway, thanks Dave! Your prostitute is on the way!

For all five of you who were here before my unholy partnership with Dave, I demand you go visit his site now.

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2002
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As you can clearly see, unless you're blind (in which case: Ha ha! I can see and you can't!), I've made the site a little bit less of an eyesore. I'm also hard at work on a review for the PS2 game "Metal Gear Solid 2", so check back in the next day or two. That is an order.

In other news, I recently whipped up a banner for one of the funniest guys on the internet (besides myself), one Mr. Dave Zdyrko. I'm now currently in the process of seeking his approval for the aforementioned banner, and shamelessly begging him to link to my site, so that I may siphon off some of his fanbase.

Tuesday, October 22nd, 2002
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Thanks to my best friends "sleep" and "alcohol", I'm feeling pretty damn good today. Good enough to fire out another A+ quality, satire-soaked composition of awesome hilarity. So go ahead and read it. Or don't. It's not like I actually care what you do.

Sunday, October 20th, 2002
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After a brief sabbatical, I've decided to resume updating the site. Put simply, the last few days have sucked for me, and on top of that I managed to get a grand total of about 3 hours of sleep last night. What does this mean to you, the idiotic fucktard who accidentally stumbled across this site while in search of naked pictures of Katie Holmes? Probably nothing. Anyway, I'm too tired/lazy/dumb to write anything witty today, so instead I leave you with my newest Photoshop banner, inspired by those wily North Koreans and their tendency to lie about secretly developing a nuclear arsenal. Enjoy.

Wednesday, October 16th, 2002
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Christ on a fucking bike! Today marks the third time this year that my car, the infamous Sundance, decided to fail emissions testing. To make matters worse, it's only failing each time by just a tiny bit. Also contributing to that whole "making matters worse" thing is the fact that I'm sinking money into repairs for a car that I won't even be driving anymore after November. As far as I'm concerned, if the exhaust puffing out of the back end isn't jet black, then it's clean enough for my atmosphere. But no, that's not good enough for you "Save the Seals", "Protect the Rainforests", and "Don't Eat Cats" slogan crying, PETA shirt wearing, environmentally retarded jackasses who picket to hell and back, until restrictions like this are set up. Don't worry though. I plan on roasting some kind of endangered Owl over a massive tire fire in your honor, you pricks.

Tuesday, October 15th, 2002
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Today I got around to a few minor cosmetic upgrades for my older PC reviews in the Games section, and slightly updated my woefully lacking section about the most important person on Earth since Abe Lincoln got his skull ventilated while attending a showing of "Cats" at his local theater. Of course, I'm referring to none other than the charmingly irreverant me.

(Editor's Note: Special thanks to John Wilkes Booth for taking out the competition, and helping me get named the MVP of the Universe. You're peachy keen, dude!)

Monday, October 14th, 2002
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Out of the necessity that is mind-numbing boredom, more than anything else, I recently fired up my computer and installed The Sims. It took all of fifteen excruciatingly tedious minutes of play time, before I realized why I hated this game so much. Because it's stupid. A game about my life would be more entertaining, and all I do is offer heaping spoonfuls of cynicism to anyone ignorant enough to engage me in conversation. Booya. To find out my honest, unabridged opinion on what could quite possibly be the world's most original idea, done so horribly wrong, click the link below.

And if that's not enough goodness for your greedy ass, then pay heed to my newest Photoshop fuck up.

Sunday, October 13th, 2002
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Further discussion with Jennifer about the previously mentioned R. Lee Ermey motivational figure has lead me to believe that we will in fact not be getting one. Ever. If you want all kinds of Ermey fueled hilariousness, you'll have to get your fix elsewhere. Heavy sigh.

In other, non-Ermey related news, I just completed Onimusha: Warlords for the PS2 this morning. Anyway, with nothing else left to fill up my spare time, I decided to finish my extremely late Devil May Cry review. Have at it, you little bastards.

Thursday, October 10th, 2002
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I recently saw an advertisement for 12 inch tall models of R. Lee Ermey (Full Metal Jacket, Se7en). Bearing the name "motivational figures", they not only act as shrines to Mr. Ermey, but they also spout off about 40 different phrases. I got to thinking about this, and I considered the possibility of life with one such figurine. What follows is an excerpt from this bizarre flirtation with the unknown:

5:30 a.m. on a Monday morning.
The R. Lee Ermey motivational figure awakens both myself and Jennifer with it's built in "alarm clock feature". I reach over and press the snooze button, because I am a lazy prick who embodies the essence of sloth.

Ermey Figure: "Did you just press my snooze button, asshole? Drop and give me twenty-five!"

Me: "Go to hell, R. Lee Ermey motivational figure. You're not the real R. Lee Ermey in person, here in my bedroom. You are merely a miniature representational model. I could wave my genitals in front of you in a comical manner, and you could do nothing about it. Now please shut the fuck up and let me sleep. Thank you."

Ermey Figure: "Just seeing your tiny genitals is comical enough for me, you sissy son of a bitch!"

Me: "Ouch. You're a fucking cool guy, R. Lee Ermey motivational figure. But don't make me feed your plastic ass to the garbage disposal."

Jennifer: "Shut that thing up, and DON'T TURN ON THE LIGHTS!"

Me: (whispering) "See, R. Lee Ermey motivational figure? You're always getting me in trouble."

I'm thinking that there's potential here for many similar hilarious exchanges of dialogue between myself, Jennifer, and the R. Lee Ermey motivational figure. Only time will tell. Or one of those ladies that can predict the future when you call them on the phone. I bet they could tell, too.

Tuesday, October 1st, 2002
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Well, it looks like I'm a god damn filthy liar. You see, not only did I not update for the last two days, but I also didn't finish Devil May Cry, either. Don't worry though, it'll happen eventually. Meanwhile, in order to smooth things over with you, my frighteningly loyal fanbase, I've seen fit to scrape together an extended length article. Now with twice the pointless rambling!