10 PRINT "Violence "
20 PRINT "breeds more violence, which "
30 GOTO 20
40 END?

Camping is way teh suxxors. Ami and I drove down to Lime Kiln at Big Sur, planning on spending the weekend there, not realizing that fate had other plans for us.

The first day was nice. "Ranger Dick", as Ami dubbed him, because he was a dick, was our campground host and said that we could only set up on the beach. So we picked out a spot as far away from other campers as possible, since the sites were all adjacent to one another. It did have a great view of the beach and was just below an historic Highway 1 overpass, so it was like being homeless and living under a bridge.

We hiked up into the hills and saw a gorgeous waterfall, which was being examined by this photographer, so we had to scrap our plans of putting on leopard-print loincloths, draipsing boa contstrictors around our necks and rocking out in a waterfall. We also saw the lime klins for which the park is named. They were totally wrecked and awesome. They were these great big cylinders of rusted iron sheets, with a big grid of rivets running over them. Trees were grogin out of the tops of them and everything. So that was rad. Then we had a Corona moment on the beach with lawn chairs watching the sun go down.

Rachel and Mike showed up later that night. I created fire, used it to create chili in a bread bowl and felt very proud of myself. Maybe I can survive after the apocalypse after all. After chillin' by the fireside. We went off to bed.

Then the wind started. Fortunately, we were using the Sir Edmund Hilary tent, which was apparently designed by the famous Everest summiter, so it only sounded like our tent was getting gang-banged by a roving gang of grizzly bears. instead of us getting blown down the canyon. Then, when I left the tent in the morning after a sleepless night, it finally collapsed just after I walked out the flap, so I guess Everest ain't got nothin' on Lime Kiln. Needless to say, it was time cut off the camping trip early.

After some very aciton-packed packing in wind and rain, we took off for Santa Cruz and enjoyed the great indoors. Ami shared the marvel of cinema that is Bloodsport with me. After seeing that, I have to admit that Jean Claude Van Damme, without a doubt, can do the splits.

Went up to Berkeley and tried my best to fight my frugal instincts and go music shopping. I was trying to find the new Mint Royale, the new Talvin Singh or any of the 2manyDJS compilation CDs or Bombshelter DJs CDs. Amoeba did not have a single one of the CDs that I was looking for or even have anything by the bands I was looking for, and I can't justify spending $18 on a CD of music I'm not absolutely positive I will enjoy. Rasputin's didn't have what I wanted either, so I just took a chance on Mr. Scruff's "Trouser Jazz" and the Ninjatune Xen Cuts compilation discs. I figure 4 CDs for 30 dollars is a pretty good deal.

The Super Mario Sunshine I bought in Irvine gives a disc read error at the same damn cutscene near the beginning of the game every time! And of course, I can't skip it, because Nintendo has to leave one huge design flaw in each of their products. The Gameboy Advance SP has no headphone jack, the WaveBird has no auto-power-off feature, and Super Mario Sunshine doesn't let you skip cutscenes. Rrrr. I also found two typographical errors in Zelda so far. Nintendo better not kick back our game for any subtitle stuff or else I'm goign to send tham a kickback list for their own freaking game.

Ugh, I'm used to disc read errors at work being something easily solved by pressing the Disc Read Error button on a debug kit, but this time, it's because it seriously can't read the disc for reals! I went over to GameStop to try and exchange it, but they were like all, "No receipt no echange.", and I was all, "But..." and they were all "No.", and I was all like "Dammit!" and they went "Sorry", but I was like, "Whatever."

Well, I'm on my last day of vacation. I've got some chili and a Smirnoff ice. I'm so glad that hard liquor companies have decided to create malt liquor drinks that are actually good. Sometimes you want to drink alcohol and eat at the same time, but wine and beer are gross, and I can't very well keep making mixed drinks, so these thigns are the happy medium: Actually yummy, and in a bottle.

Maybe if I work hard and stick to it, I can finish Zelda: The Wind Waker before I have to return to work. Man, but that game has a lot of sailing. Jeez.

Even the most gung-ho hawk would have to admit that the war could be going a lot better than it is currently. I know the whole invasion has been planned and orchestrated for years, so I'd like to submit this proposed scripted war ending which would really give us the best possible finale to this whole deal and would probably look pretty good in theaters, too.

I think it would go a little something like this (for simplicity's sake, the part of America will be played by G.I. Joe):

***

Deep underneath the Iraqi Information Ministry, at Saddam Hussein's secret underground missile silo, Duke and the Joes burst into the room only to find Saddam himself at the control panel. They are shocked to see him in person, but quickly shoulder their rifles and take aim at the villianous dictator.

"You're still alive?! Impossible! How many Iraqi civilians will you make us kill before we get you?", yells Duke.

Saddam tears off his cape and tosses it aside as he says, "Indeed I am alive, cola-swilling followers of a baboon-faced fool! And I quite intend to stay that way! If you wish your fellow Americans to also stay that way as opposed to blown up by missiles, you will surrender to me!"

"Give up, Hussein! You've got nowhere to run and we know your missiles only travel 300 miles! You have no chance of harming the one hair on the head of even a single itsy bitsy weensy American fly!"

"True, one can only fly 300 miles, but 40 of them can fly STRAIGHT INTO YOUR MOTHER'S APPLE PIE!", shouts Saddam as the rocket bay doors open and reveal a bizzare construction, " Behold the Super-SCUD! I have attached these 40 SCUD missiles together end-to-end, like so many Mr. Sketch markers! Only these don't smell like grape, G.I. Jerkwads, this 40-stage rocket will fill America with the aroma of terror! Bwah hah hah hah haaaa!"

The Joes are momentarily stunned at the massive length and girth of Saddam's tool of death. "Bitchin'...", mutters RoadBlock, earning him a reprimanding glare from Duke.

Taking advantage of their moment of distraction, Saddam jumps onto the rocket, activating his magna-boots, which latch onto its metal hull. The rocket's engines start up, and it slowly begins to move skywards. Shouts Saddam over the roar of the engines, "You are too late, freedom-loving scum! I'll see you in the history books!"

"It's not over yet, madman!", yells Duke as he drops his rifle, grabs a pair of magna-boots from a nearby rack (of course there's a rack nearby, where would you keep your magna-boots?), fires up his jetpack and shoots up after Saddam. He struggles to catch up as the speed of the rocket increases. Slowly, he pulls up to Saddam, activates his own magna-boots and faces his enemy. Realizing that he is unarmed, Duke remembers his collapsible American flag from the mountaineering exercise. Quickly, Duke retrieves it from his pants and whips it out to its full length. As he twirls it menacingly before him, his color guard training comes back in a rush. Duke spins the flag around his waist and neck before catching it underneath his arm, palm outstretched towards the evil tyrant. "Bring it on, chunky boy. I'm gonna claim your ass for the U S of A."

Outraged, Saddam draws his scimitar, howls a wild battle cry and charges Duke while whirling the cruel blade over his head. They clash furiously, Saddam's berserk sword strikes easily parried by Duke's masterful wielding of his telescoping flagpole.

The rockets in the rear of the construct begin to burn out and drop off into the ocean, as the battle between Hussein and Duke travels up along the construct's length, occasionally pausing as they run ahead when yet another rocket disengages from the construct and falls seaward.

Soon, only two rockets remain. Saddam lifts one of his boots up in the air, deactivating its magnet and thrusting it at Duke's head. Duke easily dodges this maneuver, but Saddam's reactivates the boot as it catches on the metal of Duke's jetpack, spinning Duke around.

"Ha haa! Foolish cur! Prepare for BURNINATION!", chortles Hussein as he flips over backwards, striking Duke with his other boot and knocking him backward towards the tail of the rearmost rocket. Duke hits the tailfin before catching himself with the magna-boots. Stunned, he looks backward and realizes that his flag has fallen backwards into the rocket's flame and yanks it out, but not before the edge of it catches afire. Duke hurriedly pulls it back towards him and beats out the flame, but the damage is done, the edges are blackened and charred. Duke snarls and looks up to see that the rocket that he is on has disengaged form the construct and is slowly falling behind. As he runs up the length of the rocket, his passage up to the next rocket is blocked as a flame erupts from its engine.

"Ha ha! Foolish American dog cow! Your sentimentality over a useless rag has cost you the battle! Soon your country shall burn as your flag does!", chortles Saddam, rasing his scimitar high in victory.

Duke thinks fast and quickly removes his magna-boots. "I'm sorry to do this to you, old glory, but I can imagine you want this turkey cooked as much as I do.", he says as he hurriedly ties them together with the remnants of the flag into a makeshift bolo. Duke whirls the bolo over his head, takes aim and hurls it at Saddam's neck.

Success! The two boots spin around his throat, wrapping the flag tightly and attaching to the rocket's metal hull, pinning Saddam to it and sending the rocket wildly out of control. It shoots straight up into the stratosphere. "YO JOE!!", yells Duke victoriously, pumping his fist in the air.

Meanwhile, aboard Osama Bin Laden's orbital laser platform. Osama makes the final preparations to transmit his Fear Ray across the United States. When suddenly, something appears in his crosshairs, getting rapidly closer. It's Saddam's rocket!

Osama winces, preparing for his inevitable doom, "I sure hope I was right about those 72 virgins!"

KA-BLOOEY!!!!!!!

The debris from the explosion burns up in the atmosphere like a meteor shower, setting off spontaneous celebrations all across the globe, as the world simultaneously embraces democracy and capitalism. Seeing that their days are through, dictators and unscrupulous leaders everywhere turn themselves in to authorities, rather than face the might of G.I. Joe.

At a UN conference the following week, the members of the Joe team responsible for Saddam's fall are being lauded by the assembly.

Jacques Chirac stands and addresses the heroes, "How can you ever forgive us for not joining you in this fight against evil, G.I. Joe? We were wrong to doubt you, and nearly paid the price with our freedom. You have our eternal thanks."

Duke chuckles and says, "Well, that's okay. We can't expect that much from you. After all, you're French!"

Chirac shrugs his arms in an apologetic manner and smiles. Everyone enjoys a good laugh.

The End.

On a tree-lined street in suburbia, little Billy is being harrased by the school bully, Tommy. Suddenly Duke flies into view on his jetpack, scaring Tommy away.
"Thanks, Duke", says Billy, "I wish you could be around all the time."
"Well hey there Billy, why don't you just beat him up?"
"All my teachers say I should try and talk things out instead of fight, besides, he's so much bigger than I am."
"Now Tommy, you know nothing comes from talking but sound. If you really want him to quit bothering you, get yourself a baseball bat."
"But won't I get in trouble with the teachers if I hit him with a bat?"
"Billy, I can understand your wanting to cater to authority, but when you have a baseball bat, you make your own authority. Here, I'll sell you this baseball bat for just 10 bucks!"
"Sweet! Here's ten bucks! No one will fuck with me ever again! Thanks, Duke! Now I know!"
"And knowing is half the battle. Yo Joe!"