Wednesday, July 27, 2005

"If I were on a desert island, what three DVDs would you take with you and why?"

That was the title of my first english assingment, back when I was still at school. Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Is challenged the class to give an answer to the question that embodies the worst fears of our generation: being stranded on a desert island with no good movies to watch while you try to kill yourself with a sharp rock.

And since I've been suffering from a horrible case of writers block (either that or that burrito I had last night, I still can't decide), I'll just write my answer here.


The Matrix - Directed by the Wachowski Brothers, 1999

My first choice would be The Matrix. I can't deny it, I'm a fan boy. Saying that I kinda like The Matrix is like saying Hitler kinda didn't like jewish people. Although I must say, the reason why I love this movie goes beyond the wireframe kung fu fighting (that probably required more illegal chinese imigrants than all grocery stores in Ontario combined) and groundbreaking special effects made by people our parents called "nerdy losers" twenty years ago. Ever since I was a kid, I was drawn by the concept of alternative realities. The Wachowskiweiodasawhats-your-name-again brothers combined the metaphysical approach of philosophycal classics such as Plato's Cave, with flying kicks to the face and cartwheel shooting - which is not an easy task by any means. If I ever get bored of eating coconuts and trying to catch fish with my bare hands, I bet Keanu's bad acting and all the slow-motion fighting sequences would boost me up to the next monkey hunting.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - Directed by Kenneth Branagh, 1994

That movie shocked me when I was a kid, not only because they managed to screw up Deniro's face beyond recognition, but because the story is that classic "man versus God", "creature versus creator" dilemma - a theme I personally enjoy. The monster (which by the way, was not called Frankenstein) is a sentient being brought to life but forsaken by its own creator. Instead of doing what every rejected kid does and starting an emo band, the beast decides "fuck that". One can expect nothing short of gruesome killings and bloody disembowelment as revenge from the hands of the monster that surely holds a grudge.

Ong Bak (a.k.a. Some Oriental Dude Kicking Random Asses) - Directed by Some Oriental Dude Whose Name Has More Consonants Than Should Be Legally Permited, 2003

Last but not least, Ong Bak, the tale of the kung fu master with a heart of gold in a spiritual quest of punching bad guys in the face and/or finding some sacred stolen stuff. This perfected the "pointless ass kickery stitched together by pointless dialogues" technique. This cinematic approach is not an easy task to pull off, but the makers of this gem made sure they'd hit a home run but cramming over 80 minutes worth of footage of raw face bashing. Truly a must-have for any classic movie fan that happens to be on an uninhabited island (but doesnt mind the English voice over being roughly two minutes off, that is.)

Of course I'd turn all those fine movies down if I could only get my hand on one of those "How to Make a Raft Special Edition DVD".

Monday, July 18, 2005

C'mon, tell me the truth

You missed me, I know you did.

Sorry I didn't update on the weekend, guys.

Friday, July 15, 2005

God dammit

About eight or nine months ago, my bastard of a dad promised me a Epiphone Les Paul...

Like these

...with a matching Marshall amp and maybe a bitching camouflage strap. You know, to defy gravity and keep my guitar on my hands. Since I'm at this moment writing on this blog instead of rocking out hardcore, I don't have to say he's yet to fulfill his promise (but I said it anyway).

Whenever the promised date draws nigh, some money-requiring complication comes along and steals my destined guitar. Now, I'm no physicist, but I'm sure the universe wouldn't come to an end if he just tore a couple bills and gave me the goddamned money. Who needs all this hot water anyways?!

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Holy Shit

Ok, I'm officially scared now.

My stepmother is emiting the most gruesome sounds I never thought I'd get to hear from a human being. Her bedrom door is closed but it seems like wood is no match against these cries from the deepest realms of hell.

It sounds as though every soul from every jewish person killed in the Holocaust is yelling in unison, but a little bit louder.

Please, send help. My eardrums won't last for long, and I need them for when I'm going to the Warped Tour.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

I can't think of a topic

Hello, masturbating losers that are the Internet users! And yes, I can rhyme! How was your day?

Whatever, I don't really care that much. I will assume you wanna hear about my day, then. You do? Ok.

My day was pretty shitty. I went to some ice cream joint and ask for whatever piece of shit they had on their manu that didn't exceeded my tight budget of $1.76. The employee/bitch responded by laughing at me, and I almost prayed to God that he'll just stop being a jerk and use his awesome x-men powers to fast-forward time so it's already THE FUTURE and we can all have body implants that shoot lasers directly into the eyes of people who diss my ice cream budget.


That wasn't all, though! Today I got to witness cops chasing some dude who beat up some other dude over the matter of stuff AND an almost-collision. Apparently some chick hasn't yet cracked the complicated color code of the average traffic lights and went straight through a red one on a busy intersection. Cars halted, horns blared, people screamed and I let out a fart that went totally unnoticed, until I decided to write about it and tell the whole world. After being accused by every person within a 5 mile radius of being a woman of the streets and performing sex acts for money (actually they weren't that kind and used alternative wording), the dumb broad put the pedal to the metal and got the hell out of the scene faster than you can say ":)".


Speaking of cars, remember my rant about socially-challenged pussies that participate in those dreadful drive-by yellings? Well, someone decided to step up to the plate and take the blame!

Well actually the guy didn't step up to any plate, not even those small ones mommy used to tell me not to throw at the dog but I threw them anyways and then blame my smaller brother. The person posted an anonymous comment on a website, which is about as brave as crying in terror upon the sight of butterflies.

I guess it demanded an answer nonetheless.

And that's all for today, folks. Join in tomorrow when I'll explain the greatest mysteries that concern our minds when we're not busy playing solitaire - the origin of the Universe, the meaning of Life and just how the fuck people can think replacing "?" on MSN with a animated GIF is fashionable.

Try not to die till then. Izzy, over and out.

Monday, July 11, 2005


If an eccentric millionaire who collects PEZ dispensers and Vietnamese whores were to pay me the sum of two million dollars to summarize Metallica's 20+ year career in one sentence, after a two and a half seconds deliberation I'd say "How to take a shit on your fan base and get away with it". And get the two million dollars.

And that's not just because I have the maturity of a new-born baby and like to include the word "shit" in every sentence that comes out of my mouth on the grounds that "it is funny". The reason of my opinion is the lack of respect the band has been showing.

Let's go back in time to the year of our Lord 1998. Lots of shit was happening back then, none of which will be discussed in this article. What I'm talking about was the polemic Metallica vs Napster lawsuit. Or, if you want to be smart and read between the lines so you can brag to your friends, Lars Ulrich vs Metallica fans.

Lars sued Napster for allowing their fans to download their songs for free. If you stop and consider what that actually means, it'll be easy to picture James Hetfield looking between the couch cushions for pennies as he's probably doing as we speak. Or read. Or write, in my case. Ah, screw it.


My beef with Metallica is because anyone who knows how the music industry works understand that album sales is NOT the major source of revenue for the artists. Concerts, tours, contracts and merch is. Album sales correspond to only 3% of their income.

And who's really losing money with free mp3s?

You got that right. Labels. Hetfield won't have to sell his mansion because kids are downloading their songs for free.

But HEY, maybe they really need that 3%. I hear Ulrich only have eight Ferraris, all of which over six months old! Nobody needs money like he does. How can we rob him of that 3% he makes off us?!

And yet, they wanna make us believe we're he greedy ones, simply for trying to save 25 bucks on a CD that we don't even know if it's any good. The funny thing is, oh, right, these guys have money coming out of their asses. You and I and everyone we know combined wouldn't be able to spend that money in our lifetimes.

If that's not enough to make you want to burn Metallica CDs and maybe Lars Ulrich, hold on to your torches and pitchforks, that's not all.

We all listened to, hated and bashed on Metallica's latest train-wreck of an album, St. Anger. While many absolutely despised the new sound the band introduced and believe it to be the combined efforts of Satan and all forces of Hell, I for one didn't think their new songs were that bad. Honestly, I just preferred when System of a Down played them.

As I said, the shittyness of the album isn't what's being discussed, but whether, why the hell did the band simply abandoned the style that made them loved world wide? Why take on new metal, a saturated and unoriginal market?

Because it makes MONEY, fellows. With St. Anger, Metallica took a proverbial shit on their fan base (once again!), shattering their expectations of the new album, kicking their dogs and sleeping with their girlfriends. It's as if the band had said "Huh, I don't care if this is neither our sound nor what you the fans expected from us, but you know, this makes money so..."

Yeah. Meanwhile they want us to believe that trying to save 25 bucks is being greedy and destroying the music.

Changing your style to make money apparently isn't.

James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich and anyone associated with both the demise of the once music-loving band and the infamous Napster lawsuit should converge to the nearest intersection and wait to be hit by a garbage truck.

That is, when they're done hunting for pennies between the pillows of their couches.

Sunday, July 10, 2005


An useful way of transportation or AN INSTRUMENT FROM HELL?

I shall explain.

Being a nerd, I don't get to see the light of day very often. But it's the summer, and since Canada is cursed from the gods to spend 1/4 of the year covered in snow, I feel obligated to bask in the sunlight for a few moments before crawling back to my room/tech dungeon.

And that's when it happens. These expositions to the outside world led me to believe cars were concocted by Lucifer himself to turn normal human beings into sad disgusting wastes of cells that sometimes listen to rap.

So, imagine this. I'm striding across the sidewalk, enjoying the blissfull unawareness of the outside sounds my mp3player provides me. Then it happens.

Someone passes by inside of one of these "cars" contraptions. Upon seeing me, this person projects 70% his body out the driver side window and, while trying his hardest to hang from the window AND not drive into a car-stopping device such as little schoolgirls or light posts, the person feels the urge to yell random insults at pedestrians (me). These insults range from "hey loser!", "your mother wear army boots!" and "low mortgage quotes, ask me how!" This last one is particularly popular near banks.

And I have to wonder how much time this sad person spent away from contact of another human beings.

On saturday, Becca, Ashlynn and I were at the bus stop, when this phenomenon once again took place. They were a group of 5 guys inside some car (I don't memorize car names), and as soon as they saw me, they bellowed something along the line "hey you loser!". Had this happened on the internet, an inevitable "LOL!!!111" - in capital letters and with extra 111's - would've followed.

Sure, Captain Sausage Fest! I'm with two bissexual girls by my side, whereas you're in a car full of stinky sweaty unnatractive men. Clearly I'm the one "losing"!

The reason why I compared this event with the internet is because the reasons why people act like morons on both are quite similar: they can't be punished for being pathetic excuses for human beings.

On the internet, they're yet to invent a device that allows us to stab people in the eyeball with a pitchfork when they act like morons. Likewise, the government for some reason won't allow us to have heat-seaking ground-to-ground missile launchers with which to blow up certain automobiles. Just as on the internet, car-priviledged dumbasses go unpunished.

The ironic thing is that you will never see a car-priviledged dumbass act according to his character when his mommy doesn't lend him the car keys (with the condition of being home by bed time, of course). Without a car, they will shrivel back into the frustrated tools they really are. Nobody would never approach you on the street and say "HEY YOU LOSER! WOOHOOOOOO!" and then turn around and calmly walk away.

That's probably due to the fact that they keep their balls in the glove compartment.

Maybe next week, if Johnny does the dishes and clean his bedroom, mommy will be nice and you'll get to see him unleashing his frustration onto the unsuspecting world.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Izzy, the Jew

Apparently the Dungeon has a message board, so apparently I clicked on what appeared to be the join button and started adding my non-important opinions to the everlasting torrent of non-important opinions that is a message board.

But something different would happen today.

On a particular topic about piracy, I said:

I thought that it was a fair assumption because, after all, pirates ruled the oceans and would still if people hadn't gone out of their way inventing seadoos.

But that's not the point. It seems that someone mildly disagrees with my conceptions.

Woah, hold it right there Timmy! I think someone just burst a major vein.

His post scared me deeply, though: it appears that nowadays, thinking something is expensive will put you in a different ethnic group! And what is it with this "passive" category of entertainment? Is that when you're just kinda having fun? His message confused my feeble mind, so I had to reply (click on the thumbnail to open it):

Free Image Hosting at

Ahhh, that's better - although I'm still wondering where he got his PhD on Bullshit.

Rap Crap, part II

As I said in the last article, I came across a interesting website that explains to us - or poorly tries too - why Tupac is not rotting under the ground.

This website has got to be the funniest things I've seen since my dad tried to sing Chop Suey by System of a Down. Some of the allegations are incorrect, some of them are uneducated, and the rest is just downright stupid, which makes me wonder how many times the author of such conspiracy theory flunked 4th grade. Without further adue or attempts to make funny remarks based on the lack of intelligence of rap enthusiasts, let's analyze what these guys say.

"Most fans (over 83% in a recent survey) still hold on to the belief that Tupac Shakur may still be alive."

I'm pretty sure 98.5% of all children between 5 and 10 years old hold on to the belief that Santa Claus exists, and although that proves Santa is quite popular, it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't exist. Then again, everyone knows 26.9% of all statistics are wrong, and that 56.8% of them are usually made up.

"There are many suspicious details about his departure that contribute to this."

Many suspicious details indeed. Suspiciously brace yourselves for the sheer amount of suspiciousness we'll examine:


"The uncontested facts:

After leaving the Tyson fight on Saturday September 7, 1996, Tupac was allegedly shot 5 times. He lived through the shooting and was taken to a nearby hospital. He was pronounced dead on Friday September 13, 1996.

Ok. Now...

"The suspicious facts:

Friday the 13th is a very suspicious day.

Wow! They got that right. Friday 13 is suspiciously similar to a series of crappy scary and unintentionally funny movies with the same suspicious name. Therefore, Tupac must be alive!

Rappers 1, Logic 0.

"There were never any pictures released of Tupac in the hospital."

I never saw pictures of Elvis in a hospital either. I'll assume that means he never went to a hospital? Hell, I've been in hospitals several times myself. I guess since I didn't take any pictures, that must've only happened in my own twisted mind.

Rapper line of thinking: Since every moment of every person's life is always thoroughly registered in film, the lack of evidence proving someone was in a hospital in some point in time is EVIDENTLY a proof that they never were in a hospital!

Please forgive the doctors and nurses for their preoccupation with useless things such as scalps and needles while the real imporant thing - taking a picture of Tupac agonizing - goes unnoticed.

Oh, it gets better, fellows.

"In the song "Life Goes On", Tupac raps about his own funeral. "

Tupac must've had some sort of clairvoyant skill or perhaps x-men mutant powers, being that no human being suspects that they will one day die and therefore would never consider their own funeral.

Tupac, you must be alive indeed.

"The driver of the car in which Tupac was riding, Suge Knight (the executive producer of Death Row Records), didn't show up for questioning about the shooting. "


"The video "I ain't Mad at Cha" was released only a few days after his death."

The production and release of an album is not directly involved with the artist. If anything, this statement only proves rap fans do not understand how the music industry works (but then again, assuming rap fans understand anything about music would be a major misconception).

"I ain't Mad at Cha" is track 13 on the album All Eyes On Me. The video shows Tupac as an angel in heaven. In the video, Tupac was shot after leaving a theater with a friend, which is very similar to how he was shot in real life.

You know, it's because of situations like this they invented the word "coincidence". So people didn't waste their lives with stuff like "signs from destiny" or "Tupac recording videos to tell the fans he's alive!".

"Interestingly, Tupac dies in his last video released under the name "2Pac". His new video "Toss It Up" from the new album was released under the name "Makaveli". The second video to be released by the name Makaveli is "To Live and Die in L.A." But how could they shoot the second video when he is "dead". Was the video really shot 4 months before his death, back in August of '96? "

Yes, it was.

You know what's the difference between shooting videos is editing already existing footage?

There is none. All it takes to make a video of a dead "artist" (and I'm using the term loosely here) is get some footage of the "artist" in question and superimpose the "music" (again, since I'm referring to rap, the term "music" is used irresponsibly).

In the video "Hail Mary" released under the name Makaveli, there is a gravestone that says Makaveli. But the gravestone is cracked and there is a hole right in front of it, inferring that Makaveli rose from the dead.

I've seen a movie where a guy goes back in time, does that mean people can actually go back in time? What about that dream where everything was virtual reality and people bent spoons and dodged bullets and said "woah"? Something I saw on TV could never be unreal or fictional, right?

Please, Tupac fans, help me figure this out.

"A shooting involving Snoop Doggy Dogg occurred close to the release of his album Doggystyle. The shooting made Snoop appear more "real" and showed his fans that he really was a gangsta."

I'm still trying to figure out what the hell that has to do with anything.

"In December '96, Tupac's new album went platinum. In interviews prior to the shooting, Tupac talked about how he wanted to stop rapping and being a gangsta and get out of the limelight. What is the only way Tupac could completly escape the media spotlight ??? (Answer: if the public thought he was dead.) "

EXACTLY, he could never quit, or go in a hiatus, or take a break, or vacations, or whatever. The only way the poor guy could have some rest is by faking his own death!

"Tupac always wore a bulletproof vest, no matter where he went. Why did he remove it at a very public event like a Tyson fight? "

Uh... because it was, hmm, I don't know, A PUBLIC EVENT, which therefore decreases the chance of being assaulted?

People avoid dark deserted alleys for a reason other than the smell of hobo urine, you know.

"In most of his songs he talks about being buried, so why was he allegedly cremated the day after he "died"? And since when do they cremate someone the day after death in a murder case? "

You know, after you're dead, it's impressive the lack of input you get in the decision of what do to with your corpse.

"Tupac studied Machiavelli in depth while in prison was a fan and had read his books several times. Perhaps Tupac is taking his advice."

Or perhaps he just got shot and bit the dust. Like, you know, anyone who had feuds with dangerous people and cought bullets with the chest in front of a large crowd of eye-witnesses.

"Machiaveli wrote two books before his death. Look at what the All Eyez on Me disks are called.. Machiavelli's books were called, "Book 1," and, "Book 2." The CD's of, "All Eyez On Me," are entitled the same"

Your point being...?

"One of Machiavelli's books is, "Discourses Upon The First Ten Books Of Titus Livy," which it's claimed Tupac read in jail."

Your point being...???

"Some say that Tupac modified the Machiavelli name because if you rearrange the letters, they spell, "Am Alive," or, "I Am Alive." "

Now that makes perfect sense. The guy stages his own death in front of dozens of people to avoid the hassle of being in the media spotlight, and then goes out of his supposedly dead way to give out clues that he is in fact alive.

Step aside, Einstein. Tupac is the real genious of this century.

"Tupac's album All Eyes on Me was released on Feb.13, 1996. Tupac "died" on Sept.13, 1996. It is quite a coincidence that the two dates are exactly 7 months apart. "

No, it's no coincidence. A coincidence is when two events that are not under human control happen in a way in which one can assert similarities between them. A album release is a human decision; someone can merely choose to release it in that day, therefore, rap fans are stupid and will be the first agaisnt the wall when the revolution comes.

"Tupac officially died at 4:03 PM. 4+3 = 7 Also he "died" at an age of 25 years. 2+5 = 7. It seems as if seven is Tupac's number."

In this point the conspiracy theorists do simple math questions in order to hide the fact that they are half-witted losers - watch them fail miserably.

"There is nothing in the new album that says TUPAC RIP 1971-1996. Wouldn't it make sense to include something like that in the first album after his "death"?"

Yes, maybe. But then again, that doesn't prove anything, does it?

And there you have it.

Now if you'll excuse me, 50 Cent is on TV showing his new bullet hole.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Time to expand business, bitches

Dear diary,

Seventeen minutes ago, I bought a .com domain for this thing. From now on, you must type order to gain access to this marvelous piece of internet work.

And that's not all, no!

I'm also gonna be making t-shirts with the website's name, slogan and URL. The first - and probably only - design can been seen by placing your mouse over the following picture and then flexing your index finger's muscles over the left mouse button:

Isn't it just beautiful? If you do not like the model I spent almost 4 minutes creating with a pirated copy of Photoshop, post your suggestions on the comment box where they will be dully ignored, because there's no way I'm loading up PS again.

By the way, since we all know that Mankind is yet to genetically engineer trees that spawn t-shirts, this fabulous work of art will be sold by the ridiculous amount of FIVE DOLLARS, that is correct, FIVE DOLLARS.

I don't intend to make a profit out of this; the symbolic amount is merely to reduce the production costs of this magnific fashion masterpiece.

Drop me a line if you want one, so I know how many t-shirts I must order from the local illegal immigrant sweatshop.

Buy a t-shirt or your family will die in an airplane accident. This is not a joke. Jonathan Jellybeans the Third ignored this warning and a 747 fell on his trailler while he watched The Jerry Springer Show, killing his sister and wife (they were the same person by the way).

You don't want your trailler destroyed, now, do you? Of course not.

And this is all for now. Post a comment if you want a t-shirt.

PS.: Tune in tomorrow for the long anticipated sequel to "Rap Crap".

Rap Crap


According to some stupid show I saw on TV last night but was too lazy to get up and actually change the channel, Tupac Shakur's new CD just hit the shelves to be bought by the avid rap consumers that just can't get enough of that "thang".

Let's now take a moment to understand the implications of that sentence. I'm sure you're as baffled as I am.

Tupac Shakur, shot dead in 1998, just released a new album. Not only that, but this is his SEVENTH, and I'll repeat that, SEVENTH venture in the phonographic business after his own death!

Now, I may be impartial to write something about rap, being that I lack the level of brain damage required to at least not hate it so much. Rap, hip hop and their by-products can be hardly even considered coherent productions that one would atribute to beings gifted with intelect, let alone be considered music.

Given the fact that I attended to DASS, the blackest school outside Nigeria, it's safe to say I've heard my share of hip hop music (and I use the term "music" loosely here) for this lifetime and a couple next, when I will undoubtly pay for all my present sins by the means of reincarnating as toilet seat in a retirement home.

And my feelings about the "style" are quite straightfoward. Imagine a dead hobo being ground into a fine powder and that powder being added to some week-old feces and the feces being ground into a powder and added to the remnants of the Pope's (the dead one) bathwater. After sitting in the sun for approximately three weeks, stewing in its own juices, the sensation experienced when eating this ball of disease would come somewhere close to approximating the pain caused by the rappers kids that used to bring CD's from their personal collection to play throughout the classes.

Tupac, the most talented dead man in History

Many of them, if inquired about rap music, would allegate that it envolves a fair amount of talent. I can easily debunk this arguement by reminding them that if a dead man can record and launch SEVEN CDs from the grave, each of which winning category awards, one should question the amount of "talent" envolved. There's no more talent envolved in making rap music than there is in shooting the walls with an air gun loaded with fresh monkey shit.

So, although rap is a sack of rotting cat vomit and wouldn't touch it with my dead grandmother's rotting arm, I still feel entitled to an opinion about Mr. Shakur's lastest album. So I ran an extensive research, and by "ran an extensive research" I really mean "replaced 'lesbian hardcore sex action with midgets' on the query bar on Google with 'shakur crappy new cd'".

What I found out was somewhat entertaining. Some rap fans dwell on the illusion their lord and master, Tupac, is somehow magically impervious to 9mm bullets and didn't die that night in Vegas. These smart fellows firmly and trully believe that Tupac is alive and well somewhere, being all gangsta and doing things un-dead gangstas do such as record super smashing CDs.

The fact that these people believe their idol is still alive escapes my logic, possibly due to the fact it makes no sense, or that I really don't care. Nonetheless, I have a lotta free time in my hands and decided to conduct a study on this creed.

I copied excerpts of a certain "Tupac Fans #1 Resource for all things Tupac and Mortgage Quotes" website. My next article will explain the reasons why some people think this guy is still alive. Rest assured they are all about as reasonable as making a space shuttle out of napkins, cuetips and used razor blades.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Now just who the fuck are who?

That's who the fuck I am. I mean, behind all the greasy hair and the cookie crumbs that can't seem to get the fuck off my face, no matter how hard I scrub. And I scrub hard, you know.


Anyway. Hm, so here I am. Considering that my vast audience doesn't really know me, I shall introduce myself to the two of you who are reading this page.

I'm someone you don't know, and probably wouldn't want to know. But then again, you're on the internet, and if you're on the internet chances are you've seen a lot of stuff you didn't want to. I myself once saw a video of a guy getting stabbed in the throat, a japonese girl cramming live worms inside her vagina, and some guy hitting random strange people in their random strange crotches. No, it wasn't all in the same video, otherwise I would've lost all hope in mankind.

I will use this space to write stuff which I presume will be interesting enough to capture your attention, at least while you're trying to avoid cleaning your room or doing something just as exciting, like waiting for a porn movie to download or counting the coffee stains on your carpet. Maybe juice stains. Fuck, I don't know what you people drink.

I'll try my best to write half-assed articles about who I am and what I (don't) do. In other words, I will post articles on this page and most of which will be made up and/or make no sense whatsoever and probably illegal in some European countries.


Oh, I almost forgot: although I live in Canada, I'm not Canadian. I am (DRUMROLL BITCHES) Brazilian. I came from Brazil (and this is my submission to the Understatement of the Year Award). You know, that country that won five World Cups and... and... Hm, I guess there's not much left to say. Brazil is that big country in South America, next to that one you never heard of, right beside the one the US plans to invade one day. That's after they take over Brazil, in a satanic plot to control the world supply of Brazilian nuts and jeans.

The country of soccer, samba and carnaval - everything I hate most in the face of this god-forsaken planet, besides tomatoes. Did I mention how much I hate tomatoes? No? Forget it then.

I've been living in this frozen country for almot two years now. So it's safe to say my english skills are those of your average brain dead pacients that can only communicate by blinking. You will eventually find several spelling errors. Actually, saying that my english skills are poor and that you'll find several errors is like saying Africa is "poor" and that the combined death toll of both World Wars combined is "several" people. I'm gonna be honest here:

My english SUCKS BALLS and there's going to be one error per sentence, if not more, otherwise you can have your money back. So, don't post comments saying "Hey stupid, you spelled that wrong LOL!!11". I know I suck. It's good to know we suck, because we don't feel like throwing ourselves off a balcony everytime someone tells us that.

You know, it's easier to write when you know the language better. That's why i have ANOTHER website. Today is a Nice Day is the international version of Hoje é um Bom Dia, my well-known Brazilian website which follows the same premise of this one: making shit up and trying to make people laugh about the stuff I made up, while keeping them from realizing it's all made up and the Matrix is everywhere, just like in that crazy movie where people go around dressing black, bending spoons and dodging bullets in slow motion.

Rest assured you will laugh about something in this webpage, even if it's laughing at my attempt to make you laugh. Haha, that's what I call self-confidence. I know I will make you laugh, even if it's of my failure :D

And if you turn on your Sherlock Holmes Mode, you will notice that my layout is shitty. I plan on changing it one day, maybe before the mutant zombies of the Apocalypse come. That's because it's really hard to code HTML when Satan is running the planet and sending horsemen to kill us all.

Hm. Too long for an introduction. Let's start again.

Hi, I'm Izzy and this is my website.

Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 4

I saw THPS4 in the "Old Games That No One Would Buy And Therefore Are Cheaper Than A Thai Whore" bin at Rogers about two days ago. The game was pretty old indeed - there are already two "Underground" additions to the neverending skateboard game series - but you just cannot argue with a $9 price tag. I ended up getting the game.

Honestly, what's difference, really? Tony Hawk 1, 2, 3, 4, Underground 1, Underground 2, Tony Hawk Goes to West... how much different can they all be? It's a fucking skateboard game. In all games, skateboards have four wheels. In all games, Tony Hawk is the best character because, evidently, it's his game and he'd cry to the programming department guys if they made his virtual self less skilled than God. All the games sport an average of 6748292 moves that I wouldn't be able to memorize if my life depended on it, and personally they look all the same to me. I'm starting to think the game's AI is randomly connecting words together everytime you jump in the air and do a spin.

And in all games, you get the satisfaction of seeing a skater getting a face full of sidewalk and painting it bright red after a failed attempt to pull off a 360-grinder-ollie-fakie-cannon-ball-slam-wallride.

That's gotta be worth 9 dollars.

Look at me, I'm wearing a tie

You weren't there? That's no excuse in this day of age! This thing they call "the Internet" makes possible for people to see events they would otherwise never get to experience, like lesbian sex.

Anywho. That's me gettin a diploma of a high school degree, or something. I wasn't paying attention. Click on the link to see the awesome footage.

And no, you don't have to download it. Since it plays on your browser, you'll be able to experience the thrill of seeing me awkwardly smiling without having to cram useless megabytes into your spyware infested shithole of a computer.