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Logline of the Day:

A prophet adopts the daughter of a droid in future Albuquerque.
Logline of the Day:

A prophet adopts the daughter of a droid in future Albuquerque.

Literary Device #104: Flashback
Literary Device #104: Flashback
Rant #25 - July 27, 2014
So my parents have their 50th wedding anniversary coming up. That’s 50. With a zero and a five in front of it. Holy shit. Just think about that for a minute. They met back in 1959, when Dwight D was in office and Paul Anka ruled the charts.
They’ve been through a ton together. Raised 4 kids and have since retired to “the life” that all Americans wanna reach someday. Golfing, arts and crafts, eating good, taking care of their kid (a 3 year old Cavalier King Charles), and hosting parties. That’s the way it should be for the amount of shit they’ve put in to this life. They’ve had curve balls thrown at them and always showed dignity and honesty when facing life’s closing pitchers.
I commend them. I try to call them once a week just to say Hi. They deserve it. Sure, some of my family members are the spoiled fruit types. They go through their “phases” of not contacting my parents for whatever reason they have now. Probably because it’s a Sunday and a Mob marathon wasn’t on as they originally thought. Or maybe because they didn’t get to McDonalds in time for a 50 cent ice cream cone that was advertised in the local gazette. But for whatever sourpuss reason, sometimes family members can be the biggest pains in the rear.
Since moving to Wilmington, I’ve learned to let go of my crinkled forehead. You know, that constant wondering and worrying that northerners tend to show all year round, rain in the summer or snow in the winter. I believe in the mantra of Chill the Fuck Out, Relax, Shit’ll Be Fine. This the life I’ve learned to live since moving to a city that sits up against the Atlantic. And man am I glad to have done that.
It’s just a shame my parents can’t have the perfect retirement. There’s some family members that causes them concern. Wondering what the hell happened. Why they won’t call. Why they won’t show up to their FIFTIETH FUCKING WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. Oh you know, the damn GOLD anniversary. The one where only a select few in this world will ever achieve. They should be given a god damn medal that says “We owned it better than almost all of you, so F off” and just wear it around all weekend during the party.
That’s the mentality I think I’ll have if (and hopefully when) I make it to 76 with my bee.
But then again there’s those family members who don’t give a damn. Who are selfish beyond reasoning. Who cannot logically comprehend that one day, parents won’t be there and they will regret not spending more time with them, or at least calling them. That will regret not partaking in the celebratory 50th anniversary. I dunno what the hell they’re waiting on? The god damn diamond 60th anniversary?! Who knows, maybe gold isn’t worth as much anymore in their selective lives. In their perfect little worlds. In their illogical mess that they call life. It’s your fucking family members, act right. Don’t get pissy and moan and whine at insignificant shit. Squash it. Grow up. Call them. Wish them well on this milestone of an event.
They busted their ass taking care of your shitting in church when you were 1, your vomit on the next kid in kindergarten at 5, your busted knees from little league at 10, your first heart break at 15, and your stupid co-signing of your stupid car at 20. Show them some damn respect. These people made you. Literally. They made sacrifices so you could have stupid toys and baseball gloves. What, you think that shit’s free? You think 3 squares a day doesn’t cost something?! God damn.
Anyway, before I start crackin’ laptop screens, I just wanna leave y’all with this (I love saying that southern slang): go out and make amends with your family. Life’s too short to harbor hate. Don’t waste time with people who don’t like you, who you don’t like or who you don’t get along with. We don’t have much time on this earth, so make the most of it with those you love and appreciate. And be honest with them. Show them compassion. Show them respect.
And mostly, tell your parents you love them as much as you can. They’ve earned it.
Happy 50th ma and pops! Let’s crack the bottle and crank up some Bobby Darin this weekend!

Rant #25 - July 27, 2014

So my parents have their 50th wedding anniversary coming up. That’s 50. With a zero and a five in front of it. Holy shit. Just think about that for a minute. They met back in 1959, when Dwight D was in office and Paul Anka ruled the charts.

They’ve been through a ton together. Raised 4 kids and have since retired to “the life” that all Americans wanna reach someday. Golfing, arts and crafts, eating good, taking care of their kid (a 3 year old Cavalier King Charles), and hosting parties. That’s the way it should be for the amount of shit they’ve put in to this life. They’ve had curve balls thrown at them and always showed dignity and honesty when facing life’s closing pitchers.

I commend them. I try to call them once a week just to say Hi. They deserve it. Sure, some of my family members are the spoiled fruit types. They go through their “phases” of not contacting my parents for whatever reason they have now. Probably because it’s a Sunday and a Mob marathon wasn’t on as they originally thought. Or maybe because they didn’t get to McDonalds in time for a 50 cent ice cream cone that was advertised in the local gazette. But for whatever sourpuss reason, sometimes family members can be the biggest pains in the rear.

Since moving to Wilmington, I’ve learned to let go of my crinkled forehead. You know, that constant wondering and worrying that northerners tend to show all year round, rain in the summer or snow in the winter. I believe in the mantra of Chill the Fuck Out, Relax, Shit’ll Be Fine. This the life I’ve learned to live since moving to a city that sits up against the Atlantic. And man am I glad to have done that.

It’s just a shame my parents can’t have the perfect retirement. There’s some family members that causes them concern. Wondering what the hell happened. Why they won’t call. Why they won’t show up to their FIFTIETH FUCKING WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. Oh you know, the damn GOLD anniversary. The one where only a select few in this world will ever achieve. They should be given a god damn medal that says “We owned it better than almost all of you, so F off” and just wear it around all weekend during the party.

That’s the mentality I think I’ll have if (and hopefully when) I make it to 76 with my bee.

But then again there’s those family members who don’t give a damn. Who are selfish beyond reasoning. Who cannot logically comprehend that one day, parents won’t be there and they will regret not spending more time with them, or at least calling them. That will regret not partaking in the celebratory 50th anniversary. I dunno what the hell they’re waiting on? The god damn diamond 60th anniversary?! Who knows, maybe gold isn’t worth as much anymore in their selective lives. In their perfect little worlds. In their illogical mess that they call life. It’s your fucking family members, act right. Don’t get pissy and moan and whine at insignificant shit. Squash it. Grow up. Call them. Wish them well on this milestone of an event.

They busted their ass taking care of your shitting in church when you were 1, your vomit on the next kid in kindergarten at 5, your busted knees from little league at 10, your first heart break at 15, and your stupid co-signing of your stupid car at 20. Show them some damn respect. These people made you. Literally. They made sacrifices so you could have stupid toys and baseball gloves. What, you think that shit’s free? You think 3 squares a day doesn’t cost something?! God damn.

Anyway, before I start crackin’ laptop screens, I just wanna leave y’all with this (I love saying that southern slang): go out and make amends with your family. Life’s too short to harbor hate. Don’t waste time with people who don’t like you, who you don’t like or who you don’t get along with. We don’t have much time on this earth, so make the most of it with those you love and appreciate. And be honest with them. Show them compassion. Show them respect.

And mostly, tell your parents you love them as much as you can. They’ve earned it.

Happy 50th ma and pops! Let’s crack the bottle and crank up some Bobby Darin this weekend!

Logline of the Day:

A group of concert violinists try to one up each other to get into the Guinness Book of World Records.
Logline of the Day:

A group of concert violinists try to one up each other to get into the Guinness Book of World Records.

This week’s featured actors are friends Brandon Luck and Matt McHugh. They play the super intelligent brother duo Buddy and Bubba. When they’re not infiltrating block Halloween parties, they’re infiltrating tuna. Always a good time when you’re muddin’ with these guys, wheelin’ on mescaline.

This week’s featured actors are friends Brandon Luck and Matt McHugh. They play the super intelligent brother duo Buddy and Bubba. When they’re not infiltrating block Halloween parties, they’re infiltrating tuna. Always a good time when you’re muddin’ with these guys, wheelin’ on mescaline.


Logline of the Day:
A musician and a sleep-walking museum curator kidnap a famous radio parrot DJ.

Logline of the Day:

A musician and a sleep-walking museum curator kidnap a famous radio parrot DJ.



Literary Device #103: Flash-Forward
Literary Device #103: Flash-Forward
Rant #24 - July 20, 2014
I miss the douchebags (DBs) I grew up with. I want the ole douchebags back. The guys that wear the Miami Vice looking shit…the guys that wear white sports jackets over neon pink t-shirts with a pair of shiny aviator sunglasses. Now DBs are disguised in beards and flannels and handlebar mustaches. Don’t be a poser. Don’t be fake. Don’t act cool because you’re a nerd. You’ll always be a dork. Don’t get a sweet tattoo sleeve and think now your shit don’t stink. Don’t out-intellectualize people about shit that doesn’t matter and think you’re going home with the hot chick in the corner. You’re a fucking dork, you’ll always be a dork. Fukin’ hipsters man. You gotta earn a right to have a handle bar mustache.Today’s DBs are not as original as the DBs we grew up with. These ahole hipster nerds aren’t cool with their long beards…you’re not the guy from Anthrax.The DBs from my brother’s generation acted the part and did it well. Bradley Cooper in Wedding Crashers, Biff Tanner, Billy Zane in Titanic, that Roy guy in Better Off Dead, Stan Gable in Nerds, anything with William Zabka. These men were titans amongst boys when it came to douchebagery. They weren’t disguising it by wearing tight jeans fit for a girl while walking their terrier to the farmer’s market where they only go to get seen walking their terrier.I knew a guy who had a handlebar mustache and he wore it classy. You think he said the word classy like these ahole hipster DBs do? Hell no! He said words like “neat” and “pretty cool,” NOT amazeballs. Ugh, spare me.I remember going to a thrift store to find old high school homecoming shirts and marathons around Lake Erie printed on em. And we did it to save money while having a nice conversation piece. Nowadays these punks think buying ironic shirts and vintage plaid is a way to be cool when they’re going to their Lumineers concert. “Hey, ho, hum, hey, hey, ho, hum. Belong to you sweetheart.”That shit ain’t music, music sounds like this: “Ah, ah, We come from the land of the ice and snow, From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow.” My kids will know the Pink Floyd and Aerosmith music before they ever hear a Decemberists note.And plaid is the cloth of a lumberjack. Something we like to wear in the winter instead of a hoodie depending on the event. The way you can tell though is how tight the plaid is. If it looks like they’re trying to match their jeans elasticity, than they’re probably a hipster.The hipsters and their namedropping. Oh I know that burrito buggy guy, oh I know a guy who runs that coffee shop. Fuck off with your namedropping. No one cares. Just be original, be yourself. Then you might not be associated with Johnny from Karate Kid. Except nowadays, Johnny from the Karate Kid has a lot more swagger and authenticity than you, ya dink. And congrats for rising to the top of the DB list. You’ve officially passed Troy from the Goonies, and he’s pretty DB-ey.

Rant #24 - July 20, 2014

I miss the douchebags (DBs) I grew up with. I want the ole douchebags back. The guys that wear the Miami Vice looking shit…the guys that wear white sports jackets over neon pink t-shirts with a pair of shiny aviator sunglasses.

Now DBs are disguised in beards and flannels and handlebar mustaches. Don’t be a poser. Don’t be fake. Don’t act cool because you’re a nerd. You’ll always be a dork. Don’t get a sweet tattoo sleeve and think now your shit don’t stink. Don’t out-intellectualize people about shit that doesn’t matter and think you’re going home with the hot chick in the corner. You’re a fucking dork, you’ll always be a dork. Fukin’ hipsters man. You gotta earn a right to have a handle bar mustache.

Today’s DBs are not as original as the DBs we grew up with. These ahole hipster nerds aren’t cool with their long beards…you’re not the guy from Anthrax.

The DBs from my brother’s generation acted the part and did it well. Bradley Cooper in Wedding Crashers, Biff Tanner, Billy Zane in Titanic, that Roy guy in Better Off Dead, Stan Gable in Nerds, anything with William Zabka. These men were titans amongst boys when it came to douchebagery. They weren’t disguising it by wearing tight jeans fit for a girl while walking their terrier to the farmer’s market where they only go to get seen walking their terrier.

I knew a guy who had a handlebar mustache and he wore it classy. You think he said the word classy like these ahole hipster DBs do? Hell no! He said words like “neat” and “pretty cool,” NOT amazeballs. Ugh, spare me.

I remember going to a thrift store to find old high school homecoming shirts and marathons around Lake Erie printed on em. And we did it to save money while having a nice conversation piece. Nowadays these punks think buying ironic shirts and vintage plaid is a way to be cool when they’re going to their Lumineers concert. “Hey, ho, hum, hey, hey, ho, hum. Belong to you sweetheart.”

That shit ain’t music, music sounds like this: “Ah, ah, We come from the land of the ice and snow, From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow.” My kids will know the Pink Floyd and Aerosmith music before they ever hear a Decemberists note.

And plaid is the cloth of a lumberjack. Something we like to wear in the winter instead of a hoodie depending on the event. The way you can tell though is how tight the plaid is. If it looks like they’re trying to match their jeans elasticity, than they’re probably a hipster.

The hipsters and their namedropping. Oh I know that burrito buggy guy, oh I know a guy who runs that coffee shop. Fuck off with your namedropping. No one cares. Just be original, be yourself. Then you might not be associated with Johnny from Karate Kid. Except nowadays, Johnny from the Karate Kid has a lot more swagger and authenticity than you, ya dink. And congrats for rising to the top of the DB list. You’ve officially passed Troy from the Goonies, and he’s pretty DB-ey.

Today’s featured actor is Zach Hanner who plays the News Guy. He’s an investigative journalist who will stop at nothing until he delivers the scoop, unless of course it’s his own scandal…then he’ll work tirelessly, forgoing any relevant news to cover that shit up.

Today’s featured actor is Zach Hanner who plays the News Guy. He’s an investigative journalist who will stop at nothing until he delivers the scoop, unless of course it’s his own scandal…then he’ll work tirelessly, forgoing any relevant news to cover that shit up.

Logline of the Day:

A scientist with a time portal and a blue collar mechanic are being held hostage in the time of the Dinosaurs by a caveman.
Logline of the Day:

A scientist with a time portal and a blue collar mechanic are being held hostage in the time of the Dinosaurs by a caveman.



Philosophy Research for Writing #9 - Democritus


Democritus thought that all of reality is actually composed of tiny, indivisible and indestructible building blocks known as atoms, which form different combinations and shapes within the surrounding void.
Philosophy Research for Writing #9 - Democritus

Democritus thought that all of reality is actually composed of tiny, indivisible and indestructible building blocks known as atoms, which form different combinations and shapes within the surrounding void.



Logline of the Day:

A hallucinating beach restaurant owner throws a party for all the town beach bum locals.
Logline of the Day:

A hallucinating beach restaurant owner throws a party for all the town beach bum locals.

List 5 ways you knew, without being told directly, what the person was really feeling. Affectionate Wife:

1. Rubs your back.
2. Delivers a butterfly kiss.
3. Puts her feet onto your feet and wrestles around with them.
4. Puts on your favorite channel and brings over a beer/chicken wings.
5. Throws her head into your neck for comfort.

List 5 ways you knew, without being told directly, what the person was really feeling. Affectionate Wife:

1. Rubs your back.

2. Delivers a butterfly kiss.

3. Puts her feet onto your feet and wrestles around with them.

4. Puts on your favorite channel and brings over a beer/chicken wings.

5. Throws her head into your neck for comfort.

Logline of the Day:

Fanatical cheerleading instructors kidnap a dancing pig to be their secret weapon mascot at the national cheerleading championship.

Logline of the Day:

Fanatical cheerleading instructors kidnap a dancing pig to be their secret weapon mascot at the national cheerleading championship.

Literary Device #102: Faulty-Parallelism

Literary Device #102: Faulty-Parallelism