It's National _____ Day! Yay! These days, there's a National Day for most things, but surely there are a few, lonely spots on the calendar that need filling. Create your own National Day (make sure it doesn't already exist, first). Be sure to pick a date for it, and give it a happy name. Let the world know about your day by writing a short press release with all of the vital information.
American Society for the Supreme Appreciation of Ralph Macchio
Contact: Mel Melman
Tel: 555/432-1111
Cell: 555/678-9999
Email: melman@assarm.com
A.S.S.A.R.M. Announces the official adoption of Macchio Day
Tomorrow, the favorite son of Huntington, Long Island finally gets his due when President George W. Bush formally signs a bill declaring the first Monday in November a national holiday honoring the work of American icon, Ralph Macchio.
Born November 4, 1961, Macchio first came to prominence in the early 1980’s as a feature player on the television series Eight Is Enough. His breakthrough role came as the troubled youth Johnny Cade in the film adaptation of S.E. Hinton’s classic novel, The Outsiders in 1983.
The following year, Macchio appeared in the title role of a little movie called the Karate Fucking Kid. He was off the hook. He was so off the hook that he made the movie again two more times. Proof of his talent came when they tried to make the movie a fourth time, only this time with some horse-faced girl. They did not think anyone would notice, but the movie tanked. Seriously.
In signing the bill, President Bush praised Macchio’s performance as a model of perseverance. He said, "Daniel San is an inspiration to all Americans. When Johnny swept his leg on the orders of evil Chuck Norris, Daniel San could have stayed down. He could have listened to the crowd and obeyed the timetables and left the field. But that would have meant leaving as a loser. Just showing up and making it through the first fight should have made him the winner. His mission was accomplished. But instead, he had to stay and fight for longer than he expected. That’s cool. He stayed and fought as long as he had to and he beat the terrorists…9/11!"
Observation will begin in 2009.
Helen Love - Beat Him Up
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
You're the best! Nothing's ever gonna keep you down!
Take that, Hummel!
I am selling 2 brand new Nightshade brand collectible figurines, "MUFFET" and "BUTTERCUP". They are brand new and still in the box. Nightshade brand hand-carved sculptures by Hervil LeBarron whisper to the soul in unsettling ways, disturbing, discomforting, and inspiring dread. They identify emotions and fears so private that we only speak of them in the daylight and then render them in simple gestures of pure evil. They are 9" tall. Priced at $15.....call 555/432-1111
(Actual sculptures by http://www.sharyboyle.com/)
Spoon - Figures Of Art
(ps: to download songs, highlight and click divshare logo on the player bar, then follow the links)
Accidents Happen
My day is boring. Even my work day goes something like
2:30 Run Paperbacks
4:00 Work on Sports section
5:00 Lunch
6:00 Buy counter
8:00 Register
etc.
not glamorous. So instead, I'll give you a taste of the level of ridiculousness involved in the damned video game I'm currently involved in.
Day in the life of Bubs the Assassin. (For some reason, anytime I have the option to name a character, he's always named Bubs.)
8:00 Awake from deep slumber and uneasy dreams with a fierce hunger and a throbbing headache.
8:05 Step outside of my cabin and immediately take damage from the sunlight outside. (This is the part where I explain that my character has been turned into a Vampire and until he finds a cure, he's moderately vulnerable to sunlight. Feeding off another character temporarily alleviates this problem, allowing him to walk in the daylight, but sleeping starts the cycle over again. It's a pain in the ass.)
8:06 Haul ass across town to the alley where Fralav the Faker sleeps. If I move fast enough, I can catch this homeless beggar still sleeping on his bedroll. As I run, I start to smoke and lose life points because of the sun damage.
8:10 Arrive in the alley and feed off a still sleeping Fralav. The smoking stops and I cast a healing spell to repair the damage I've taken. I'm spotted by a city guard who thinks I'm trying to rob the sleeping beggar. I haul ass again.
8:15 Exit the Imperial City gates and travel by horse to the nearby city of Cheydinhal to meet with my superior at the Assassins guild.
10:15 Receive assignment to kill a man named Baenlin from the nearby town of Bruma in a very specific manner. Since it has to look like an accident, I'm given a detailed set of instructions to follow.
10:20 Leave for Bruma
12:30 Arrive at the Bruma city gates and proceed to Baenlin's house.
12:35 Pick the lock on the basement entrance and enter the house. Once inside, sneak through the basement and up to the main house. Carefully avoiding detection by Baenlin's manservant Gromm, make my way to the second floor. This is especially important since killing anyone aside from the intended victim will void the bonus that I earn for a clean kill.
12:38 Once on the second floor, move to the master bedroom and find the hidden passage behind the bed. Once inside, move to far end of the wall and find the bolts on the wall. The bolts hold up a stuffed Minotaur head that's mounted on the wall above Baenlin's chair in the living room. The idea is to wait for Baenlin to sit down for his evening reading session and then loosen the bolt, bringing the Minotaur head crashing down on him. He sits down to read every evening between 8 and 11.
1:00 Wait
2:00 Wait
3:00 Wait
4:00 Wait
5:00 Wait
(it should be noted that though the game clock does move at an accelerated pace, this mission still required some realtime waiting until the dude got home. I left the game running with my character crouching in a dark closet, while I walked away and did dishes and made a burger.)
6:00 Wait
7:00 Wait
8:03 Hearing voices on the other side of the wall, I listen until I'm sure Baenlin is sitting down where he should be. I loosen the bolt and the stuffed head falls off the wall, instantly killing the mark. In the ensuing chaos, I easily sneak through the house, back through the basement and out into the night.
10:20 Arrive back in Cheydinhal and report to my guild superior.
10:25 Receive payment for the kill and a bonus for following the assignment to the letter.
10:30 Find random sleeping beggar named Luckless Lucina in an alley and feed just for shits and giggles. This isn't necessary, but hey I'm a Vampire.
10:35 Being away from home, I find a bed at the Newlands Lodge.
10:36 Sleep and start this dirty business all over again tomorrow.
This is my life...
Gnarls Barkley - Would Be Killer
Sunday, November 16, 2008
This Boy's Life
This one provides a bit of a conundrum. It comes down to the interpretation of recycle. Do again, or do over. Not sure. Definitely not a do-over, I don't think. Do-overs are for the regretful and there's no regrets for those who are happy with who they are. This has nothing to do with being happy where you are. For that, you need lots and lots of money...
But, a do-again...That, I can get behind.
But what day? I could get maudlin and say I want to relive something standard like the day I got married or the day my child was born, but since I'm neither married, nor a parent, that would just be silly. I could relive the day I was born, but that would just be creepy. But, somewhere in between those two days, there is one in particular that I seem to remember being the finest, purest most enjoyable I've ever had, and oddly enough, it just occurred to me as I say here bullshitting about what to write.
June 12, 1982:
If this were a movie, "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners would be playing over the credit sequence. (BTW, am I the only one who watches movies set in the 80's and thinks shit like, "no way that song would be playing. it wasn't released until the Christmas of that year and that scene is so obviously taking place in June!" Am I the only one?)
This was the point in my life when I had around two friends and didn't really do anything with them outside of school, so I spent a lot of quality me time. This would become something that I came to find desirous in my adult life, but it was also something that puzzled the shit out of my parents. Typical of the parents of bookish nerds, they really wanted a more outgoing, socially acclimated child, but that one really wasn't going to work out for them. I remember one birthday in particular (and it might very well and most likely could have been the one that followed this particular day) when, in lieu of presents,I was given by various relatives and family friends a princely sum of money to spend as I saw fit. It was about $120, which in the halcyon dawn of the Reagan administration was equal to about $300 in today's economy. My mom had only one directive as I took off the mall to spend my ill gotten booty. "Don't spend it on books!" Seriously? They had no clue how easy they had it. Less fortunate mothers would have directed their child to avoid spending money on Meth or hookers. I spent it on books anyway, and it was well spent, as I still own a few of the books I bought that day. Books about Ninjas! It was a good time to be a boy in 1982.
It it was a good day to be alive on June 12. Having few (no) friends and needing, apparently, to spend time outside of the house, I would often convince my mom to let me spend a Saturday at the mall. Sure, lots of kids did this, but not many actually had to tell their parents that they were actually meeting other people there, so they wouldn't be alone all day. Spending the day alone was as bad as spending the day in my room as far as my parents were concerned. So, I would tell them that I was meeting Mark or Bobby at the mall later, so they just had to drop me off out front and wait for my call five or six hours later, letting them know that I was ready to be picked up. They usually gave me about ten bucks to spend, and I was off.
Sitting here recalling the details of that time, I'm at an utter loss at trying to figure out just what the hell I managed to do for more than three hours let alone five or six. I was still at that age where a trip to the toy store wasn't totally out of the question, but I was venturing towards other new areas of the store and starting to avoid the more traditional aisles I used to haunt. Star Wars action figures no longer held sway with me and the following year, when Return of The Jedi was released, would mark the first time I made no effort to acquire the new Star Wars merchandise. I was starting to spend more time spying at the mysterious books and boxes of D&D related materials that they kept behind the glass case, but I think the side of the game recommended it for ages 12 and up, and guidelines like that held a powerful grip on my mother. It would be another year before that particular obsession was unloosed up the world.
There was also the bookstore of course. I could burn more than an hour in there. Again, it was a very transitional time in my life and my tastes were slowly taking shape. I had fairly typical interests for a kid my age and my purchases had reflected that. I was really into books about monster movies for a time. Anything that had any information about monster movies, especially Universal Studios classic line up (Dracula/Frankenstein/Wolfman) was right up my alley. It was also the tail end of the Silver Age for "Famous Monsters of Filmland" magazine and I snatched those up at the bookstore whenever I could. There were also a few video game guides that I had picked up along the way to help me beat Pacman, but those were mostly wasted, since I got really tired of that game long before it reached pop culture overload. By the time Buckner and Garcia released the song "Pacman Fever", I had moved on to "Frogger". I had yet to get into Fantasy fiction, but I did still have Ninjas going for me, so that was cool.
With the toy store done, and the bookstore browsed, that left the movie theater. That's why I wonder what the hell I did with myself for all that time. Circus World, B. Dalton's and The Cinema 3. That was it. That's like three hours max. Maybe, if I was hungry, I could kill another half hour at Giovanni's Pizza where you could get a slice and a Coke for $1.50. I had not yet become the stylish fashion plate that I would be, so Chess King was not on my agenda. Thriller was still five months away so pop music was not on my radar at all. There was no reason to go to Music Express. That left the pet store and K-Mart. Who knows what I did with myself.
But I have digressed. Cue Music.
June 12 1982:
Standard weekend operating procedure. My mom dropped me off at the back entrance of Plaza Del Sol Mall with ten bucks in my hand and an entire afternoon to blow. It was just past noon and I had one thing in mind. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan had opened last week and this was my first chance to see it. In the decades that followed, anthropologists would come to refer to 1982 as the greatest year ever for Sci-Fi cinema. (A few even say that it was the greatest year ever for cinema in general) Tron, The Thing, The Dark Crystal, Conan The Barbarian, Blade Runner and Poltergeist were only six of the all time classics that would open that year. Wrath of Khan was another. I'd never been a fan of the original show (still not) and I only had a vague recollection of the first film, but for some reason, I was super stoked to see the sequel. Maybe it was the presence of sex god Ricardo Montalban. He was Mr. Roark after all. Or maybe the power of the Shatner really does conquer all. That white hot quasar of manliness can quite convincing, or at least he used to be until he got all homophobic AND bitchy (figure that one out).
It was sublime. Any Trekker in the know will tell you that Wrath Of Khan is without qualification, the greatest movie in the series, by leaps and bounds. This was as good as it was gonna get. Earwigs, Evil Chekhov, hot Kirstie Alley (?!?!?), dead Spock. And the greatest dying villain soliloquy since Richard III.
(at about the 5:00 mark)
"For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee!"
-Khan Noonien Singh
Before I knew anything could be the shit, THIS WAS THE SHIT! I remember watching the closing credits all the way through, just trying to soak in as much of the movie that I could. I was the last one left in the theatre when the lights came up and the kid with the broom came in. I was a little wobble legged and night blind (not much has changed) and I started to stagger out of the room.
The Cinema3 in the mall had three screens. (I know this sounds paltry, but until it opened Del Rio had an old style movie palace, a discount run theatre and a drive in. The Cinema3 doubled the number of movies that could play in town, at least for a few years. Eventually, lack of business killed the other three, and Del Rio was back to square one. ) Wrath of Khan wasn't the most recent movie, but it was the more profitable so it was playing on the biggest screen at the furthest end of the place. When I walked out, I was dazzled by the light and noise and was not in my right mind. I was sure I wasn't ready to go home, but I didn't know what to do next. I passed the middle screen door and was more than halfway to the exit when I suddenly decided that I wasn't done yet. Sensing a rare moment of unobserved privacy, I hung a quick right and walked into the smallest screen, which ironically was screening the most recent release:
GREASE 2!
Yeah, I know. But buzz off! I was 11. And Michelle Pfeiffer was hot. Because of the end time of the last movie, I came in about 20 minutes late. Having missed some very important expository information, I was so confused that it took me almost 2 minutes to figure out what the hell was going on. Who's the new kid? What's with Zmed's hair? Isn't that the same villain from the first movie? What the fuck is Frenchy doing here? Is this for real? I'm so confused!!!
I was spent. And hungry. When Grease 2 was over, I went to the pizza joint and got a slice and a Coke and I was pondering my options. I could probably go home now and consider this a day well spent, but that would run counter to the instincts of any adolescent boy. Why be happy when you can be overloaded. Is there time for more, then have too much. I checked my watch and walked back toward the theatre. I checked the marquee and confirmed that I still had time to get into the next showing of the only movie I hadn't seen yet. I had to walk all the way back to the center of the mall to use the payphone. There was one in the cinema, but I couldn't get in without buying a ticket and I wanted to be sure that my parents were cool with what I wanted to do. If they said no, I'd have had to leave and would have wasted the ticket. Back then, the $2.50 matinee admission was a lot of money to me. The parents were cool with it and I raced back to the movies to get there on time. I gave the girl my money for the second time that day and ran through the doors for screen 2 just as the lights were going down. I found a free seat during the previews and waited for the movie to start.
Cue music again:
Risin' up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
Arguably the second best film in the Rocky franchise (this is an accurate statement since most people tend to forget that not only did the first film win an Oscar for best picture, it really was a fantastic film), Rocky III took what brains I had left that weren't scrambled from Star Trek, and put them in the blender, pureed them and served them back to my in a tall iced glass with a pineapple umbrella garnish. Stallone was in genuine (non-grotesque) fighting shape and Mr.T was batshit scary. It may seem ridiculous today, but contrary to his post A Team media friendly persona, Mr T was once a bad mother fucker. I actually remember seeing him win the title of "World's Toughest Bouncer" in 1980 during a televised competition, and as Eddie Murphy so eloquently put it, "he don't look like he can't fight." Between fighting Mr T, and Hulk Hogan playing an over the top wrestler named "Thunder Lips", Stallone took a hell of an ass whuppin in the movie. And I was in heaven. Another unexpected death during the movie brought the day full circle back to the surprise death in Star Trek. The day was complete.
Now, I want to go on record and say that by this point in the day, I was not thinking too clearly and can't be held responsible for my actions. In the cold harsh light of today, I realize that mistakes were made, but there can be no going back. But I did what I did and I can't change that. Furthermore, I'm not sorry.
Remember when I said that for an adolescent boy enough isn't enough if too much is an option? Here's too much.
Walking out of the theatre, I glanced back at the marquee, checked my watch and then checked my pocket. I had five minutes and $2.50 to spare. Just enough time and money to catch one more. And which one did I choose? The one whose opening I'd missed. Yes my friends, i turned around, got back in line and payed my cash money to watch Grease f'ing 2 one more time, all because didn't see the beginning the first time. LOSER!
By the time I got out, it was dark and I was hungry again. I finally called home and asked them to pick me up. As I sat outside on the benches, I was tingling with the kind of giddy nervous energy that comes from lack of sleep. That third wind that hits you at about 8 the following morning when you're trying to decide whether it's worth trying to catch some sleep or whether you should say "fuck it" and stay up through work later that afternoon since any sleep you do get will only make you feel worse. It may seem totally "Stand By Me" to say it, but I think that even then I was aware that I would never have a day quite like that again. First there was the logistical matter of bringing three movie of such magnificent quality together again. It was the Great Conjunction, a once in a century occurrence that you never recognize until you see it in the rear view mirror of your past. Secondly, I knew that in spite of my too much is never enough attitude, I knew that if I did this all the time, it would cease to become that cool thing I did and become that thing I do all the time. You know, like masturbation.
My mom pulled up and I got in the car. She asked me if I had fun with my friends. I said yes. As we drove home, I still couldn't stop thinking about Wrath Of Khan. It was one of the best movies I'd ever seen, and I didn't think that I would see another movie that good all year. A week later, E.T. would open its local run. I had the whole world ahead of me and it was a good time to be a dork.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
write!
"Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s."
-Stephen King "On Writing"
Reading and writing come down to the same thing, imagination. Without that, you can go no further. Or rather, you could, but what would be the point. From a reading perspective, imagination is the key to the door. From a writing perspective, imagination is the door.
Who hasn't, as a child, sat with eyes closed trying to "see" action as it is described in a story. From the earliest age, its imagination that makes the journey worth taking. Retention, vocabulary and aesthetic, those things come later. They serve to decorate they scene and enhance the experience, but without the primary component of imagination, there seems to be little point.
That the same goes for writing would seem to be self evident, but it bear noting that it is possible to be a writer, and a successful one at that, with a very limited imagination. A good writer diversifies. A great writer utilizes an additional, or even all four of Nabokov's tools and does so in a skillful manner. Whether it's Neil Gaiman's aesthetic, Stephen King's epic recollection of his own work and or Cormac McCarthy's shame inducing vocabulary, these qualities are used in conjunction with boundless imagination. And it's usually these qualities that the readers of these particular authors share with them. Though not necessary, enjoyment of Stephen King's Dark Tower series is enhanced if you've read and recall details from the almost 40 years his fiction that get referenced throughout. And try reading ANY Cormac McCarthy novel without a vocabulary, or at the very least a comprehensive dictionary.
Does being a good reader translate to being a good writer? No more than being a baseball fan makes you a good player. But above all, being a good writer means being a good reader. Without a love and appreciation of the medium, well, what's the point? Again, King provides the definitive opinion on the subject.
"If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that."
-Stephen King
Morrissey - Reader Meet Author
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Old Kid On The Block
Good Process Analysis:
• Either helps readers perform the steps themselves or helps them understand how something works
• Presents the essential steps in a process
• Explains steps in detail
• Presents steps in logical order (usually time order - chronological)
Life, like anything else, is a process. All things can be reduced to a series of actions that lead to equal and complimentary opposing reactions. Like The Fixx sang, "One thing leads to another". This is especially true in the matter of love and most true in matters of seduction. Dale Carnegie, author of the best selling advice tome "How To Win Friends and Influence People" has much to say relating to matters of the life. Many are equally applicable to matters of the bedroom. They say that fortune favors the bold and chance favors the prepared. But Love, or at the very least Lust...Lust requires a list. A list that lays out your every move, step by step.
Step 1:
Have lots of fun.
Enjoy yourself. Never forget that you and your partner are there for the primary purpose of pleasure. Mutual and personal. Otherwise there is no point whatsoever. This is the key to success in everything. Remember the words of Dale Carnegie who said "People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they're doing".
Step 2:
There's so much we can do.
Part of having fun is actually doing something stimulating. Fun rarely happens when you're home doing nothing. Be active. This doesn't necessarily mean that you must leave the house, but those activities are addressed in a later step. For now, concentrate on spending time in active pursuit with the partner of your choice in a public forum. Dinner, movies and dancing are all valid options, but more opened minded people may consider art openings and poetry readings. Just do something. Again, Carnegie delivers the authoritative opinion on the matter. He says, "Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy."
Step 3:
It's just you and me.
Now comes the time for privacy as a couple. Though either of the above steps can and initially should be performed in a social environment, the time will inevitably come when separation must occur. This may be the most important step of all. Without privacy, there is little chance of things progressing any further. Remember, public displays of affection are for perverts and deviants. God fearing people keep their business to themselves. And if you partner isn't willing? Carnegie reminds us that "there is only one way...to get anybody to do anything. And that is by making the other person want to do it." Be firm, but not forceful. Insist.
Step 4:
I can give you more.
This is the time for true seduction. Once you and your partner are alone together, the sales pitch begins. Emphasize you strong points. Hide your weaknesses. Pretend to be something you are not, if only for one night. Carnegie says "there are four ways, and only four ways, in which we have contact with the world. We are evaluated and classified by these four contacts: what we do, how we look, what we say, ans how we say it" Consider these points at shape yourself appropriately for the matter at hand. Be bright. Be funny. Be Smart. Be caring. Be attentive. Even if you're not.
Step 5:
Don't you know that the time has arrived.
Time for doing it. If you've followed steps 1 through 4, this last step should take care of itself. Even then, there are several Carnegie aphorisms that are quite applicable to the situation. This process as a whole can be accurately summed up when Carnegie says "Don't be afraid to give your best to what seemingly are small jobs. every time you conquer one, it makes you that much stronger. You do the little jobs well, the big ones will tend to take care of themselves." Though most people would interpret that statement as a reference to foreplay, it can be applied to the to the list of seduction in general. Performance anxiety is assuaged with Carnegie's reminder that "fear doesn't exist anywhere except the mind," and that "most of us have more courage than we ever dreamed possible." If in the midst of the action, you feel your faculties begin to fail, he admonishes that "our fatigue is often caused not by work, but by worry, frustration and resentment." Relax. You'll do just fine.
All quotes from Dale Carnegie.
All steps by Maurice Starr.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Do what, now?
Out in the streets
The dogs are on the run
The cats are all in heat
Out in the streets
Snakes are all around you
Dirty rats are on their way
They control you and they'll make you pay
(written by Rudolf Schenker, Klaus Meine & Herman Rarebell AKA The SCORPIONS)
Anyone familiar with 80's power metal, knows the Scorpions, or The Mother F'ing Scorps in metal talk. Along with AC/DC, these guys are one of the most stereotypically metal bands in all of creation. They are the bands that Spinal Tap aspires to be. Just look at the lyrics. You get dogs. You get cats. No surprises there. They kinda go hand in hand in the animal world. Then come the snakes. Snakes are pretty metal, what with Satan disguising himself as one in the Garden. And Rats. Well, there was a HairMetal (a completely different sub section of the tree) band called Ratt that would one day tour with the Scorpions, or at least they should have if they didn't actually. All in all, this opening line from the song "Bad Boys Running Wild" (as bad boys are wont to do) is pretty balls heavy. It's no "knocking you out with those American thighs", but it'll do in a pinch.
And then we get to the last line. The last word really. And it all comes down, as it usually does, to pronunciation. You see lead singer Klaus Meine, German Gelfling Metal God that he is, cannot for the life of him manage to lose his German accent when he sings. It's one of the reasons he's so Metal. A song like "Still Loving You" comes out as "Steel Lahffing Yuuuu" with Umlauts over the u's. Hot, right? Anyway.
So back to those Bad Boys with their dogs and cats and snakes and rats. There they are, on the run, in heat, on the street, all around you, on their way, controlling you. And then they make you...
PEE!
That's what I heard and that's what I thought. Those Goddam Bad Boys with their wild running were planning on making me urinate in my pants. I'm mean, I suppose that's possible. What would YOU do if you were walking down the street and saw a crazed vicious menagerie storming toward you. Oh, maybe the dogs and cats are okay, but any gang that accepts both snakes and rats is a gang you don't want to fuck with. You might do your best to just avoid them altogether. In fact, the Scorpions themselves suggest as much later on in the song.
Bad boys running wild
If you don't play along with their games
Bad boys running wild
And you better get out of their way
Fucking Bad Boys. They would be a continued bane to my existence, what with staying out of their way, and then being asked a few years later what I was gonna do when they came for me (this, being the result of another misunderstanding. I didn't realize that the latter song in question was addressed to the Bad Boys themselves, rather than being a warning to ME). Incidentally, the true iconic representation of Bad Boys, has nothing to do with Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. Everyone knows that the real Bad Boys in question, and that's who the Scorpions sing about, are Sean Penn and Esai Morales.
Now I gotta go urinate in my pants.
Later
The Scorpions - Bad Boys Running Wild