The Many M. Night Shyamalans


M. Night Sha-na-na
M. Night ChakaKhan
M. Night Shawhozit
M. Night ShittyShittyBangBang
M. Night Shhhhhhhhhhh
M. Night SucksaBigOne
M. Night Stickybun
M. Night SirMixALot
M. Night Shyamastrantonio
M. Night Dodecahedron
M. NIght OptimusPrimealan
M. Night ObiWan
M. Night Shyamasan
M. Night Shyamalamadingdong
M. Night Statoozilan
M. Night Mazatlan
M. Night Shyamalanianderson
M. Night Alanon
M. Night Nor'easter


and my personal favorite...

M. Night ShyamalamaRamadan

DJ = Ditzy Jackhole?

Okay. The other morning I was on my way to work - a 45 minute commute - and my Ipod was low on batteries. So I opted to listen to morning radio. I am utterly intolerant of most morning radio shows because the DJs do nothing but tell stupid jokes and laugh at themselves. And why do they all have that same cigarette induced high pitched whiney wheeze when they laugh? Anyway, I was switching stations to avoid the wheeze laughers and car commercials with that guy who spits out a 250 word disclaimer in all of 8 seconds, and I came across a discussion about nuclear bombs. No, it wasn't NPR... it was two morning DJ's for some easy listening station who had a cumulative IQ of 14. I missed how they got on this topic, but the talk was about the absurdity of getting under schooldesks for protection from the A-bomb. You've all seen the cartoon - what was his name, Tippy the Turtle? The song is "Duck! And Cover, just Duck! And Cover!" and then we see footage of kids climbing under desks or curling up into a ball against a brick wall. So the male DJ is making fun of the idea, because the schooldesk isn't going to do a bit of good...

"Oh, but it does! No, really, it makes a big difference," says the female DJ, who claims she used to teach a Megacatastrophe Survival Course. (What the fuck is THAT, anyway?) Her reasoning was that there was a Japanese boy from the infamous WWII bombings who was carrying a cotton duck canvas bookbag across his shoulder when the bomb struck. She proceeded to talk about how the skin under the cotton duck canvas was in much better shape than the skin that wasn't covered. And therefore she deduced that any layer of any material between a person and the bomb site will provide enough protection that it's worth seeking that cover.

Maybe she's right. I'm not a scientist, and I may be the fool here. Please, tell me if I am.

But the Japanese boy was still killed instantly, right? Like, vaporized on the spot. You've seen the shadow imprints of people whose bodies completely disappeared. Awful stuff. So if you're close enough for the heat from the bomb to alter your skin you're gonna die, whether you have cotton duck canvas over your entire body or not. And if you're far enough away that the initial shock wave of heat doesn't get you but close enough to need to crawl under a desk, you're gonna get radiation poisoning and you're still gonna die, right?

Whose the Ditzy Jackhole here? Me or the morning radio talkshow host?

I'll leave you with some pertinent lyrics by Sun Ra, as made re-famous by Yo La Tengo:

Nuclear war.
Nuclear war.
They're talkin' about
Nuclear war.
It's a motherfucker,
don't you know?
If they push that button
your ass got to go.
Gonna blast you
So high in the sky.
You can kiss your ass
Goodbye, goodbye.
Radiation,
Mutation.
Fire.
Hydrogen bombs,
Atomic bombs.
What you gonna do,
Without your ass?
Melting...
People...
Buildings...
Burnt grass...
Farewell.
Goodbye, ass.

My Thoughts on Lindsey Lohan

OR

If I Were to Drink Myself Into a Coma and Wake Up in a Rehab Hospital I Would Do It The Same Way She Did

I refuse to make moral judgements on Lindsey Lohan's recent actions. It doesn't affect my life and I don't really care. Besides, young rich celebrities have been doing this same thing for years and years. Hell, look at Robert Downey, Jr. He's still not over his days-o-recklessness. So I don't know why this is major headline news. Here's my take on the recent Golden Globe afterparty evening of debauchery...

She went out on a good note.

See, anyone who knows anything about me knows that I am a HUGE Prince fan. His concert was the best I've ever seen. Anytime I'm in Vegas I try to see Purple Reign, THE Prince Tribute Band. My Ipod has spun more Prince hits than all the other artists combined. I can listen to his music regardless of my mood, time of day, or season. Prince's music is pure goodness. However, I'm a little distraught by the whole religious conversion no more cussing spread the gospel lyrics. Let's face it - his best years involved songs with raunchy lyrics and explicit images of fucking, and the newer music just doesn't quite cut it like the older tunes. But he's still damned amazing.

Which brings me to Lindsey Lohan.

The girl is in a rehab facility for who knows how long. She will have no contact with the outside world, no late night parties and binge drinking, no shopping at Prada and Gucci, and no more cat fights with her young-rich-famous competition. But ya know what she DOES have? Prince. In her head. All the time. Cause he's the last thing she saw before she took a ride on the fast train to drunken oblivion. And if you're gonna choose to go that route, that's the very best way to do it.

Here's What I Think

I think they should put DickBro's* face on those wooden ski-ball balls.

Speaking of dicks...

I missed the SNL with Justin Timberlake, though after hearing how great this one skit was we downloaded "Dick in a Box." Damn, that's some funny funny shit.

How about DickBro in a box?

Naaah. No one would want to open it.

*If you don't know who DickBro is, count yourself lucky. Especially if you have a vagina.

I Am Guitar Hero

So I've spent some time visiting family during the holidays, and my 16 year old cousin introduced me to something more addictive than crack. It's a video game called Guitar Hero.

When I first heard the title of the game I thought the same thing as you... "What a friggin' gay name for a video game! My cousin is a dweeb." And those thoughts were confirmed when I walked into the pungent pizzabox-dirtyundies-axebodyspray aroma of a teenage boy's bedroom and saw him "playing" this tiny red toy Les Paul guitar.

And, since dweebness runs in the family, I was immediately intrigued and convinced the cousin to let me have a chance to show my shredding skills.

Turned out, it's a really friggin' awesome game, and it's pretty challenging. It looks like it's for 5 year olds, but the whole family was taking turns at it and everyone was having great fun. It's geared toward people of all ages, which is apparent by the song list. See, you've got this toy guitar with five colored buttons, and you get to choose one of many songs on one of several challenge levels - and then the "notes" scroll on the screen as you hit the appropriate button while strumming at just the right rhythm. It's like a light version of playing tablature. Back to the song list... you can choose from songs by such artists as KISS, Sting, Boston, Stray Cats, Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Pretenders, Franz Ferdinand, Rage Against the Machine, and of course Skynyrd... So you see? There's music to appeal to anyone from 5 years old to 50 years old.

I don't have a playstation. What I do have is an Xbox 360. And I happen to be privy to the information that an Xbox version is coming out in February! WOOO!!!

I can't be modest here. The family took turns playing the game, and I ROCKED. Consistently. I rocked so hard that the 16 year old cousin asked me to keep playing. And we all know how hard it is to pry a controller away from the hands of a gaming teenager. I got the big head and started playing everything on the medium setting instead of easy.

Jason wouldn't try it, because he knew I'd show him up.

He seemed pretty shocked that I was decent at it. Because Jason didn't know me back when I was a bass player. Yeah, I was in some rock bands in high school. Pretty shitty ones, true. But I was the token female bass player in a band of boys - twice. Played talent shows and Battle of the Bands. I retired my bass playing crown when I let someone borrow my bass and amp and she moved away. I could get it back if I want but I lost interest. I don't want to be in a band and it's boring sitting around playing bass licks by yourself. But this new Guitar Hero thing, see, it's a challenge and it's fun and you can do it without a band. Cool.

Apparently there's a troop of teenage boys who hang out in the electronics section of Wal-Mart and play the display Guitar Hero. And apparently there's like this hierarchy of the little punks, like a gang. When JimmyBob shows up and cracks his knuckles, you better step the fuck off and let him shred. Otherwise you'll get whooped up on.

My aunt said I need to go on the Wal-Mart tour, showing up these little punk bastards. Because they all need to know...

I AM GUITAR HERO.

Ah'ight, Bitches... Radiant Rachel is BACK, ya'll.

After a prolonged hiatus, it is time for me to return to blogland. I figure it's a new year, time to turn over a new leaf. Now is not the time for me to be all sentimental and reflective on the good and bad times of the past year - though there were plenty of both. No, this post is simply to give a shout out that yes, I'm still here, and yes, I am still a blogger. I should point out that I'm rushing to get this post in before midnight on January 1, 2007. Which means I'll still be a procrastinator cause it's in my bones, and no I won't blog every day. But I'll sure as hell try to do it on a somewhat semi-regular basis. The past several months have been really busy for me, starting with the planning of my ten year high school reunion (which culminated in a horrid affair with snotty, fat, balding 28 year olds on September 29) and it got busier from there. I promise to try to attempt to keep blogland aware of my goings on in the future, no matter how hectic my life gets. And I might even finish the to-be-continued story of my WSOP experience that's left you hanging for many months. Aren't you just dying to hear how Mimi Rogers sent me atiltin'?

Okay. Over and out, for now. And may 2007 start off great and get even better for us all.