Dear Computer

Dear PC:

You vexing, little beast.

Where to begin, where to begin....

I cannot adequately verbalize the level of abomination I feel for your present existence, but I will try to convey my sentiments.

To begin with, the speed at which you perform simple functions I find absurd and disagreeable. Sometimes, you induce me to yelp, "Holy crap! This might be the slowest execution of a basic operation in the history of civilization as we know it."

You are putrid from your outer, unremarkable shell through to your run-of-the-mill, feeble motherboard. I know of Casio watches and TI-82 graphing calculators that I would rather boot up every morning.

You already have 512 MB of RAM, you pig. Utilize it. I am not attempting to solve complex weather patterns here or track multiple incoming ICBMs sent from Kim Jong-il.

Not only do I find your refusal to obey Control+Alt+Delete utterly defying of comment, I find it in contempt of the laws of nature.

In conclusion, your unwavering ineptitude is breathtaking. Breathtaking as in I am no longer breathing. Incidentally, this occurred while I was sitting here staring at another unresponsive computer screen in abject disbelief. The length of my telomeres was inconducive to the span of time you were asking me to wait, which was tantamount to forever.

Your erstwhile user.

Hey, you guy ...

Hey, you guy. Yeah, you, the one with the goofy grin wearing Zubaz pants tucked into your 1991 black Reebok high-tops who was under the assumption he was directing traffic at Irving Park and Southport during the Cubs game last night. Never again will your time or uselessness be required. Normally, traffic officials are beneficial when the lights are out, but you felt it necessary to reinforce the perfectly capable and working traffic lights with random, spasmodic hand movements and indiscernible face gestures. I know how to make a left turn on a green, thanks. I move up slightly into the intersection, then I make sure there aren't any vehicles coming the other way, and finally I make sure there aren't any pedestrians waddling across the walkway. Then I go. Now take your dog and pony show and hike over to Miska's Bar on Belmont and Leavitt. That is your home. You'll find plenty of your kind around there who are also seemingly stuck in the same late 20th century time warp.

Jupiter ... what up?

While many of us sentient earthlings believe Jupiter is a neighborly cosmic behemoth that helps to protect us carbon-based life forms from mass extinction–due to the conception that its massive size should be great enough to deflect any comets or asteroids with Earth's name on them–recent research indicates otherwise, and that in fact, it causes and will continue to cause just as much space detritus to come toward us, as it does away from us. Thanks Jupiter. Sure, the linguistically adept get to utter to your sweet adjectival form, Jovian, when conversing occasionally, but apart from that, you are pretty much a good-for-nothing super gas Gigant. Go find another solar system to "protect."

In a related story, the rings around Uranus are now positioned "edge-on" to Earth. It's relatively rare. Relatively rare ring setup we have around Uranus folks. Unless you have Hubble Space Telescope's mirror setup for eyeballs, you won't be able to see this. Seriously. Everyone loses here: you and Uranus.

Leave poor Rex Grossman alone

To everyone who doesn't think Rex Grossman will win the Super Bowl for the Chicago Bears this year:

You're dumb.

It's not only your low intelligence quotient I abhor, it's also your inability to distinguish yourself among the crowd of dimwitted idiotas who think that merely echoing the deafening calls for Grossman's benching is expressing evidence of critical thinking skills.

It doesn't.

Maybe these hate-mongers think it's cool to utter inane drivel like, "Grossman sucks. He's terrible. He's garbage." Repeating various offshoots of these 3 simply inaccurate statements is apparently in vogue right now in the Land of Lincoln, not to mention across the entire country. I, for one, am pretty goddamned sick of it, if for no other reason than it will be these same banal bastards who will claim they "knew all along" that Rex could do it when he slips on his Super Bowl champion's ring next year.

So the next time one of you Rex-rippers tries to display some modicum of football knowledge by commenting on any of the myriad of mistakes Rex either has made or will make in the future...don't. I don't want to hear you remarking that he can't telegraph passes like the interception he threw in Saturday night's preseason game that got run back for a touchdown. You know why? EVERY QUARTERBACK DOES THAT AT SOME POINT. Just ask Peyton Manning: I'm sure everyone's forgotten this, but the Super Bowl XLI MVP telegraphed a pass in the AFC Championship Game that was intercepted and run back for a touchdown, giving the Patriots a sizable lead at that point in the game. And he did that in the game that determines who goes to the SUPER BOWL; Rex committed this "grievous" mistake in a meaningless preseason game that the Bears were already winning 24-7. My point is that it happens to everyone, and when it happens to Rex Grossman, don't blow it out of proportion simply because you heard some meatheads crying over it on some crowded downtown bus that morning.

At least he hasn't participated in dogfights or anything like that.

Apache Apache Boy

We sent this to our friends a while ago, but it would be a disservice to the universe not to post it here. Several things to keep an eye out for in this video: 1) At 1:27, the band leader refuses to play the keyboard and proceeds to rest his arms on his hips and play a little game of hip-swivel, and who can blame the guy, with hips like those, it would be a sin not to; 2) The guitarist's commanding solo at 2:41 is a nice touch, it appears he might be straddling the cameraman, but that's what they did back then; and 3) Immediately following the straddling incident, the band leader decides to take his show on the road and have an old-fashioned dance off with his harem (it's 1 vs. 3, but we think he holds his own here) as evidenced by the warm welcome/hair-rub he receives afterward. All in all just a glorious piece of history.

Pamela Bell goes off....

This is too funny. Pamela Bell (Maya Rudolph) works over the "Star-Spangled Banner." Her stirring rendition brings us all together. And by us, we mean the 3 people who will ever see this display of unbridled enthusiasm and hot-blooded, unflinching cry of emotion. Thank you Francis Scott Key for making this happen. Thank you. In case you were wondering, Maya Rudolph is a W to the O to the M to the A to the N.

Welcome to EBW

Welcome to Electronic Blog Weapon! We cannot thank you enough for reading our first post about nothing other than welcoming you. The pleasure is all ours.