Dr. Seuss Was An A-Hole

Now that I'm evil, thanks to my new glasses, my first project as a supervillain while hyperlairianism is under construction is to invent a resurrection machine.  The first person I resurrect will be Dr. Seuss.  "How sweet!" you're all thinking.  "He wants to resurrect a beloved author of classic children books!"  Let me explain phase two of Operation Seuss Puncher: after I resurrect Dr. Seuss, I'm going to punch him repeatedly in the nuts.

Why would I want to hurt one of the most beloved authors of the last century in the testicles?  He made fun of me, that's why.  I was reading One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish to my heir last night and came across a startling and insulting passage.

Look at that insulting caricature of me!  Yes, I know, I'm hairy, but to depict me as nothing more than an animal is crossing the line.  Especially a butt-lipped slave of an animal!  Look at how I'm forced to sit at the back of the bike while the white-as-ghosts children get to sit up front and control where the bike goes.  And what happens when the going gets too tough for the Aryan brats?

Mike does all the work when the hills get high!  Eff this shiz!  I have bad knees!  Also, I'm fat, and I get winded by hills while I'm carrying nothing but the hair on my back.

You know, if this were the '70s, my body hair would be appreciated.

New Glasses; New Personality?

I have new glasses.  They're my first pair of new glasses in ten years.  My wife had never known me in a different pair of glasses until yesterday.  Now she's worried about the new personality that is sure to come with this change.

I'm already noticing the early signs.  For instance, I'm growing a goatee, which, as we all know, is the most evil of all facial hair.  (At least I'm not growing a chin-strap, which is the most douchie of all facial hair.  I'd rather be evil than a douchebag.)  I've also caught myself drawing elaborate blueprints for a secret underground lair.  No one will breach its defenses.  I'll be INDESTRUCTIBLE!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

*ahem*

Excuse me.  I had another maniacal outburst.  They're becoming more and more frequent.

I'm thinking of changing my name from Mike MacKenzie to Dr. Might MacKillzie.  And I'll change my screen name from hyperferrianism to hyperfellonyism.  Thoughts?

I took my worries to Sir Headolence and asked for his advice.  He advised me to double the number of laser turrets around the perimeter of my underground lair and suggested that I call it "hyperlairianism."

My nemesis will be Cracked.com's Ian Fortey for what he said about my People.  (People with underbites; not hobos.)

An Evening With Sir Headolence

The coach arrived in front of my house at promptly 6:45 pm, exactly 15 minutes after Sir Headolence said it would arrive.  Like clock work.  I bid my wife adieu with a double pat on the butt and kissed my children once each on the forehead.

The lavish coach, constructed of ebony and bronze with gold trim, was drawn by six red-eyed horses black as Sir Head's soul and rippling with steroid-enhanced muscles.  The driver, a mass of unnatural muscle, barely restrained the horses when they spotted me.  Every time they spotted me, they yearned to dismember and devour me.

"Oh, you guys!" I laughed and waved a dismissive hand at them.  I climbed into the coach.  The door closed itself behind me.

The Impostor sat across from me, his emaciated frame bowed beneath the weight of his age.  I had long since given up asking the ancient man his name, and Sir Head only ever referred to him as "The Impostor."

"Hey, Imp, what's shakin'?" I asked.

The Impostor turned his blind eyes to mine and peered into the depths of my soul.  "You," he wheezed, "hyperferrianism, man of no origin, must drink of this--" he held up a chalice filled with a black, steaming liquid "--if you are to enter the presence of the one called Sir Headolence the Dubious."

I was pretty sure the dented steel chalice was filled with hot tar, possibly mixed with LSD.  "Sure, no problemo," I said, taking the filthy goblet and emptying it down my eager throat.

"Good," The Impostor hissed.  "Goooooooood."

The last thing I remember was saying, "GRRRAAAAAAAAARGLE!" before passing out.

When I awoke, I was no longer in the coach.  I was naked and dancing on the roof of a moving car.  I had no way of knowing how long this had been going on.  I waved as the car passed some gawking Jehovah's Witnesses.  "Nice night," I said.  In one, fluid motion I swung down from the roof and through the open window.

"Evening, Noah," I said to Sir Head.  He answered with a solid punch to my left eye.

"Hey, Mike," he said.  "I thought I told you never to call me by my peasant name again."

"You did," I replied.  "I just like to keep things interesting.  So, what do we have planned for tonight?"

Sir Head slammed on the brakes and leaped from the car as it screeched to a stop.  I had long ago learned to react swiftly to this sort of thing and followed his lead by evacuating the car.  After running several steps, the car exploded in a giant fireball.  The shock wave propelled me forward.  I landed and rolled, coming up on my feet.  Somehow, Sir Head was standing next to me as I came to my feet.

"Here," Sir Head said as he removed his pants, revealing a second nearly identical pair of pants beneath them.  "Wear these."

"Thanks," I said as I covered my shame.

"So I was thinking we just go watch a movie or something," Sir Headolence said.  "Then maybe grab a burger later."

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

We ended up watching Kick-Ass.  A couple of hours later, as we sat in Burger King, Sir Headolence approved audience for a supplicant.

"Please, Sir Headolence," the elderly woman pleaded.  "Please, bless my grandson that he may vanquish his enemies."

"And who, dear woman, are his enemies?" Sir Headolence asked.

"The cast of the hit TV show M*A*S*H."

"Of course, of course."  Sir Headolence placed his right hand over the woman's face.  "Go," he said.  "Go with my blessing."

The woman left with tears of joy in her eyes.

"Let's go mini-golfing next week," I said.

"No."

Mental Diarrhea

As I sit down to write this entry, I have no topic in mind.  I have no idea what I'm going to write.  So why am I writing anything?  I just felt the need to update my blog before too much time passes.  I don't want to lose the groove that I'm building up.  This is the most exciting creative project I've had in a while.  It's slightly more exciting than the short story I'm writing about telepathic time travel.

I wrote an entry earlier today using pen and paper (or dead tree skin, as I like to call it in an attempt to feel bad-ass).  However, I can't post it until Lenscrafters gets their freaking act together and gives me my new glasses.  I should totally make them pay me an advertising fee for that link there.  It's the least I deserve for waiting a week for my ready-in-1-hour glasses.

I just asked my wife what she was working on, and then totally ignored her answer.  That's just how I roll, baby.

Remember when I said I Photoshopped a picture of my wife taking a knife to my severed head?  Of course you do; that was just a few days ago.  Well, the above picture is what I used.  I just replaced the cake with my head and added some blood.

I Need Photoshop

Photoshop is the greatest thing to happen to civilization since the invention of dinosaurs (The invention of dinosaurs, of course, happening in 1945, effectively ending World War II).  Several years ago, before I met my wife, I was given a laptop computer from my parents.  This computer came equipped with Adobe Photoshop Version something-or-other.  Out of sheer boredom at my uneventful job, I taught myself how to slightly-better-than-poorly manipulate photos.

The above isn't one of my photos, but is about on par with my skill level.

My crowning Photoshop achievement would have to be the photo of my wife taking a knife to my severed head.  I put it on a mug.  I wish I still had the original file so that I could share it with you.  Drop in for a visit, and I'll show you the mug.

My point is this: I don't have Photoshop anymore, and I want it.  There are two problems, though.  Firstly, Photoshop is expensive.  Steal it, you say?  An intriguing proposition, but it brings me to the second problem.  Through a series of events that I'm not too sure how came to pass, I am no longer an administrator on my own computer, and the only other administrator is a former co-worker from several jobs ago.  Even if I did steal it (or buy it, for that matter) I wouldn't be able to load it onto my computer because I don't have sufficient administrative privileges.  Also, my desktop computer doesn't have a monitor, so what's the point?

Again, not one of my photos.  I'm stealing these from cracked.com's Photoshop contests.

I move that Photoshop should come standard on all computers.  For free.  Photoshop is a basic human right.  Why shouldn't I be able to stick the head of Justin Bieber on the body of Ron Jeremy?  It's a travesty of justice.

New Direction

I have been inspired.  hyperblogianism, one of three blogs that I maintain, has always been lost, aimless, and without cohesion.  I had abandoned it; my last post dating back to September of last year, and it was just a copy-and-paste collection of banality.  But now, I have found inspiration from the most unlikely of sources: a LOLcats blog.  By the way, that's the same link as my first hypertext at the beginning of this post.  Go ahead and visit it again; you'll be a better human being having done so.

My mentor for the last 45 years or so has been a man who is now known as Sir Headolence the Dubious.  His birth name has long since been lost to time, fallen between the cracks of history.  Also, it's Noah.  When I visited his blog at http://arkwelder.blogspot.com/ (third time's a charm), I found his collaboration with Dr. Jennifer Rockwood (she needs no introduction or links; we all know where to find Dr. Rockwood) nothing short of miraculous.  Literally miraculous.  But, as I said, Sir Headolence is my inspiration, so I will never again mention Dr. Rockwood on this blog under penalty of death.  (Your death, not mine.)

On this blog, I will strive to live up to Sir Head's strict philosophical path, his ever-growing wisdom, his love for semi-literate kittens, his bearded glory.  I will fail in doing so.  One can only hope to achieve a fraction of his greatness.

Look at his stately beard on the right there.  It makes me look like a woman.

Internet Survey Memes

If someone were to accuse me of being a smart-ass, I wouldn't deny it. One thing which I find absolutely annoying, yet participate in anyway, is the online survey. Most of them seem to be written by 14-year-old girls, and I hate them. Below are some of the answers to the questions that I feel proud of:


21. Do you like the oceαn?
Yes, very much, even though it tried to kill me that one time.

1. what are you doing right now?
Filling out a stupid meme

3. is it a complicated or simple situation?
Is what a complicated or simple situation?

1. Have you loved someone so much thαt you cried while trying to sleep?
Why would I do that?

3. text msg or msn?
Shoot me in the face


28.What is your favorite flower?
The rare North American bacon cheeseburger flower

41.Summer or winter?
I hate this question. AUTUMN!!! AUTUMN, damn it!!!!!

43.Chocolate or Vanilla?
Chocolate or vanilla what?

73. Romantic or spontaneous?
I wasn't aware that those were mutually exclusive. In fact, I thought spontaneous was romantic.

75. Sensitive or loud?
Whoever wrote this survey needs to watch more Sesame Street to figure out what opposites are.

77. Trouble maker or hesitant?
Seriously, anonymous survey writer, buy yourself some Sesame Street DVDs.

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY: I thought that was the point of the entire survey.

100. Posting this as 100 Truths?
Way to finish off with a bang, anonymous survey writer.

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
First prom date? Do people get more than one prom? My prom date was Alison Quist.

28. Would you be a pirate?
I don't like to murder, I don't like to rape, I don't like to steal, and I don't like scurvy. So, no, I wouldn't be a pirate.

30. Favorite Girl's Name/s:
Lady Deathsinger

31. Favorite boy's name/s:
Baron Von Logitech

34. What vehicle do you drive?
The worst one.

Describe what you practically do in a day: What an awkward sentence. Does it mean what I do in a day that is practical? The placement of the adverb suggest what do I practically do, implying that I don't actually do these things, but that I'm close enough to practically be doing something. Or does the question mean, "What do I do practically everyday?" meaning what do I do almost everyday. In any case, I'm refusing to actually answer this question on the grounds of ambiguity.

Brittany Spears or Christina Agulara [sic]:
F*** you for even asking this.

In the past month have you eaten an entire box of oreos?
No. Also, I'd just like to point out that eating one box of Oreos in a month isn't that odd. It works out to maybe one cookie per day.

Sarcastic:
Are you asking when the last time I was sarcastic was, or am I sarcastic?

Are your fingers tired?
Are you implying that my fingers should be tired after typing roughly 100 words?

37. Ever have cream puffs?
Yes. I'd wager that most people have had cream puffs, so that makes this a stupid question to ask.

39. What was the last question you asked?
Do we have a plastic shopping bag that I can put this dead bird in? (I swear, that is honestly the last question I asked.)

60. What is your favorite animal?
Roast beef with mashed potatoes, yorkshire pudding, broccoli, corn, and gravy over everything. (This was an honest mistake. I wasn't reading very closely.)

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
No thanks.

25. WHO IS THE HOTTEST FEMALE/MALE CELEBRITY
I am not aware of any hermaphrodite celebrities.

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
No.

27. WHAT KIND IS IT?
I said I don't have one! F***!

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
How is this a "truth"? (The title of the meme was "100 Truths")

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Mashed potatoes. (Really? Do they even compare? Macaroni and cheese is the epitome of poor people food. Mashed potatoes are the sidedish of nice meals.)

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
I own a house. It has several rooms. One of them has a computer in it. I call that room the office.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
No.

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
I'm Canadian.

The following 17 questions in bold are a meme that I wrote myself:
Hyperferrianism's Things
(Inspired by all of that stupid crap floating around the Internet and e-mail forwards.)

1. Are you right-handed or wrong-handed?
Right-handed.

2. If you were stranded on an island with only one book, one movie, and one person, how long would you last before killing and eating the other person? Also, good luck watching a movie with no TV, no DVD player, and no electicity.
About a month, assuming there are other things such as fruit and fish to keep me from starving in the interim.

3. Which, if any, foreign countries have you set foot in?
USA, Taiwan, Philippines, China.

4. Did you kill anyone while in any of those countries?
No.

5. Give me one good reason, with SPECIFIC and CURRENT examples, why France sucks. ("They speak French" is not a good reason.)
I can't do it.

6. If you worked in government administration, would you prefer federal, provincial/state, or municipal? Why?
Municipal, because you're right there in the thick of things.

7. Do you have a Crush? If so, which flavour? Orange, cream soda, grape, or lime?
I don't currently have one, but the last one I had was cream soda. Lime is my favourite.

8. Have you ever shaved anything other than your face, armpits, legs, or head?
No.

9. Are you annoyed that the word "random" seems to be replacing the word "miscellaneous" in our culture?
Yes. Yes, I am.

10. Do you spell it "etc." or "ect."?
etc.

11. It's "etc." Kenny G it! It's short for "et cetera"! "Ecsetera" isn't a word, no matter how many times you say it!
Totally.

12. Do you have a birthday?
Yes.

13. What's your religion? (Out of all of the stupid Internet memes I've read, with their insipid, repetitive questions, I don't think I've ever actually seen this one asked.)
Mormon.

14. Are you spontaneous or bilingual? (NO OTHER OPTIONS! THIS MULTIPLE CHOICE QUESTION IS EXHAUSTIVE! DON'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE IN YOUR ANSWER OTHER THAN THE OPTIONS I HAVE PROVIDED! THOSE TWO THINGS ARE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE! NO FURTHER EXPLANATION WILL BE PROVIDED!)
Bilingual.

15. What was the first thing your father said to you EVER?
I don't know. Probably "Hi" or something along those lines.

16. Have you ever peed on a dead monkey?
I sure have.

17. What's your favourite Weezer album?
The Blue Album.

Life is full of...fluid

I am totally terrified of...your face!

21. What side do you dress to?
I don't understand this question.

26. Whose answers do you want to read the most?
Mine.

33. Favorite girls name?
Countess Von Murderington

34. Favorite boy’s name?
Baron Von Fartsalot

48. What songs do you want played at your funeral?
Highway to Hell by AC/DC

28) If you married the last person you texted, what would your last name be?
The last person I texted was my wife.

37) Would you ride a cow if you had the chance?
Hells yes.

51) Ever kissed in [the rain]?
You already asked this question.


56) Tell me something no one really knows.
I gentleman never tells.

1. This survey gets a little personal; can you handle it?
Gosh, no, I don't think I can. (I left the rest of the survey unanswered.)