Warheads

Many of you are constant visitors to this site, while others are new to my ritual defecation on your internet culture and the time you spend on it. Now heres how things work. I spend a few pages of text, typed within the spanse of a half an hour or less, every couple of weeks or so, to mock much of what you put on the net, and I do so with words and language that indicates the larger aura of arrogance and know-it-all-ness that makes you want to come after me. I vow to spend as little of my time making fun of the overly large amount of time you spend on the internet as possible. I will be bold, I will solve your problems with a fraction of effort, and I will be all knowing, right or not. I cant be inconsistent, do you understand? (* not mine)

So instead I attempt to aid you in remedial reading. I'll space things out as widely possible, I'll add colors, I've recently added pictures that may or may not fit the spirit of what is going on. I might test you from time to time, throw in words like "coalition" or "peroxide," or make my points so obscure that you search for the unfindable, like we're supposed to do all the time with your unholy internet output. I also use tangential thinking, observing from your behavior your tendancy to pick the farthest thought from the point you are trying to make, and attempting to connect the dots through spread out and tarded thinking. (*)
http://bulkybob.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_bulkybob_archive.html
I therefore insist on weirding you out of this habit. I demand that you be confident, know what you are doing, (enter really strong verb) to be your own Warhead towards the weaker minded in society.


(*)
You've been known to dress up for each other... sadly..... and laugh at each other in weird ways, stare each other intently in your totally "heterosexual" eyes, yeah right...... so pretend that each of these is some grandiose lecture, with my hands flailing about, my head bursting, my voice squeeking, and my sexyness reaching the darkest corners of every individual silicon-induced world. Pretend that the Jets are a good team and that Chad Pennington didnt make the right choice.

Some of you cackle, others squirm, some prank phone call, badly. But many think, "wow! What a dork, loser, nerd, little man, swear word," or whatever unimaginative insult you can hurl at me ...... as I remain popular among drinking and non-drinking folk alike and you spend an hour changing the colors of your profile, or rabidly sit home and boringly tracking to see if any "friends" have left you comments on your my space. Shucks, you're going somewhere in life, you-bodacious-checker-of-fantasy-football-induced-boredom that makes even the slyest finicky internet compulsive warry of your ever noticing and annoyingly detailed eye.

(yes I am refering to you, so dont ignore this section, let this bother you for long time, for every word is intentional and has a target)

I assure you, none of the time spent on this blog interferes with my rapant popularity, pure intellectual and musical genius, rapacious desires and calling cards from 60+ year old women, the suckyness of the Red Sox, theirs or your lacking career opportunities, or my overblown ego.

(Ballad of Bilbo Baggins) Warheads know exactly what they want, they are explosive or sour, hitting the tongue, like I often do, with zest and assertiveness. We are difficult, we are know it alls, but gosh darn it people still like us. Trained in social interaction among the toughest and hardest drinking on college campuses, we did not need this told to us, we were named after a game about blowing planets up with missiles. We are assured protection, even in the most weakened physical states, by bigger (rugby team) players......
(*)

WHAT I WANT:
Appealing to your senses, warheads know and state exactly what they want and intend to do. I want to remove your quizzes, profiles, so that I have no job in cyberspace and nothing to mock. With more time, I want to study about wars and conflicts involving possibly the right people killing each other at the right times. I want to listen to the music of dead men with big hair and Rod Stewart's too. I want to enjoy a sweet mixture of anything but guitars and a free flowing verse, with words and analogies to "booty," to pick up the pace and lower the musical skills in the hands of any race. I want to battle rap. I want to enjoy my native Italian food; fortune cookies, and pizza, and maybe break a little mandolin somewhere, maybe "cry" at a violin in a totally guy, yet weirdway, or whistle an obscure bird call to a frightened underageling.(*)

I want to highlight random words and make people think they are important. I want that to be a whole philosophical system for sad, depressed, and totally worthless goth indidivuals. I want those goth individuals to smite Kanye West and other metrosexuals and impose a thousand Kenny G and Billy Ocean songs, for the eternal damnation of Kayne West and all his rotten scourge. Damn them to the Light 98.7 Level of Hell! They must be combined together, West and Ocean, Kayne and G., to suffer and feel the dark pain of their sinister evil master. I too want to have more than one talent.(*)



I want to ignore dumb people who talk about politics, who do more drugs than work, complain about rationality and yet see a demon in the dominant political figures, and dont know the "location of the rebel base" in America, in Star Wars Empire Strikes Back, or an Afghanny. I want voter turnout to be proportional to intelligence, and your inability to comprehend what I've said so far.(*)

(me and my gang) I want to wear a total combination of five preppy striped shirts during the summer, with two colors of pants, and let that stand as my sole contribution to not only global fashion trends, but as the apex of my mastery of probability and the regents question asking you to pear off Johnny's probably metrosexual wordrobe into as many as 1000 different combinations. I want Johnny made fun of for that. I want math to have practical applications in areas other than fashion and for other people to worry about that application.
I want to ignore the existence of Axe body spray, and yet reaffirm society's commitment to reasonable hygiene and once a day, less than 10 minute showers. I want "getting ready" time to not exceed the time for the actual event, especially for guys, and conversely, I want the attention span of the average human being to exceed 1 minute in all regards. That starts with my desire to ban jewels on cell phones........
(picture- My Relief- what is Choonz?)(*)


(SOME of the Icons of the metro,Light 98.7 world: The Backstreet Boys, Axe Body Spray, Evernevernescence, Kanye West, and their predecessors from the light music of the 80's, Kenny G and Billy Ocean. The whole panaroma of mental weakness. Flame on!)

I want everyone to know how my life got flipped upside down. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared and said "you're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air." I want people to not know about my parents or their sad little dress-me-up sessions as a child.

I want false information to stop spreading and for those that spread that information to know that said information about your said "experimentation" will stay silent as long as said dress up information remains said silent.











What formats do you use?

First: I use the "rant." This is a large paragraph/single sentence meant to simulate from your ims, posts, the long and unceasing rants, crying, whining, lyrical "coolness." I want something really freaky to happen to the world today, like low down and dirty, and Trick nasty if ya know what I mean, which is basically that I want David the Gnome, you all remember him, to be declared the President of the Republic of Sweden, because lets face it, the Swedes need to be reminded of just how insignificant they really are and since we cannot directly involve ourselves nor campaign for power, we must approach things from as far away from power as possible, and thus think to yourself: David is so insignificant that we could declare a little gnome with a sunny disposition, raging hormones (look at his cheeks), and a propensity for violence against his multiple sexual sado-masichistic partners; robustly fat women and giant purple rabbits alike.(*)

To continue on that thought:

Just think about what he could do for the country: tame giant wild foxes who might attack little English drummer boys, provide a startling example of promiscuity and innappropriate sexual relations, show the multiple negative effects of sexual harassment on man, beast, and troll alike, all the while riding around on that same fox FOR FREE! What better way to reintroduce forced animal slavery and systematic animal abuse and experimentation than with David the Gnomanizer. (*)

He'd force everyone to adopt the nose kiss, boosting the ego of 90% of the Swedish population, which are ugly and in need of some physical contact, although its pretty cold in Sweden so they'd probably rub their snotty noses together, which in the end would only increase the spread of dangerous pathogens, like Herpes, and as a result severly diminish the population of the Swedes, especially the ugly ones because they'd be nose kissing more than the rest to make up for their sad life of less-physical contact, and that would achieve the warheadian goal of eliminating the population to move in the trolls, who'd make more money and be a bit dumber when things were asked of them. Lets not get any further into the French. I want the Swedes to start nosekissing.

I want to hear about nice guys not finishing last, but dying. Because if you're that serious about losing because you are SO nice, well first I dont want you as a friend, you are already defeated by the Tori Spellings, Rosie O'Donnells, and the Boston Red Sox (the real women) of the world, and they are sad and disgusting with no careers and little contributions left to anyone, because if you are wimpy, and girl-scared, well you should just probably crawl up, tune into Dawson's Creek for some flatulent or overly wordy memorial for your tombstone and then die somewhere away from humanity, where no one will notice, which is probably in France where all dead, thoughtless, and "nice" people go. Let me, a reputed "cripple" and brainiack, join with the strongmen of society- the other winners- and together we'll prosper if you are gonna wimp out. More for us. So nice guys finish dead, choose your poison now.

But most of all: I want to increase the wattage to my house to power the growing existence of neon and flourescent lighting. Thanks stoner buddies!

Be a Warhead, stand up for yourself, educate yourself, silence your stupidities, become what Saved By the Bell was to millions of American youths.

Now many of you may be wondering, how much time do you really have, because you could swear that the title of Warhead is merely a reflective, self assuring title, forged from years of social neglect and pent up sexual angst. But I assure you, fellow sexual partners, that the title is earned, a potentially delectable oversight from an age where Gods roamed the earth, Zack Morris and Kelly got married every day of our dreams and fed each other cheese doddles, but didnt take the time to wipe off the orange refuse, because of their hot sweet lovemaking.....ahh.....

Warhead was a name bestowed upon me in a moment of sheer awe at the massiveness of my capabilities, and the overriding acidity of my overly aggressive social nature. As a pet of the Rugby gods, I was enshrined in the cultures of popularity, tasting and enjoying the fruits of social connection and Dutch prostitutes.

Now you say, "mr. you are full of skepticism. we youthful internet users arent all for vice!" I would retort that the greatest blight to humanity on the internet is the hellspawn of My Space.com, the Soddom and Gomora of the internet world, with 65,000 new users each day, the growing leviathan of mankind wastes away its time trying to guess the favorite sports of the same generic guy that tries to befriend everyone, and that everyone accepts.

What ever happened to cliques? Maybe for that one guy, the virtual woman-of-the-night of myspace, we should bring back meaness, bully him, and tell him that he is not only too average looking, but that by appealing to so many people to be his friend, he is but the whore of the internet. Heck i'd be willing to see that guy get a bucket of blood dropped on his head at his crowning ceremony at his senior ball, though with his friendige I'd be scared of the supernatural consequences. Nobody really wants or likes him, and his mother has a weird shrine to Jesus. In fact, people just accept him out of pity, kind of like my attempts with a couple of people in the "entertainment industry." So many quizzes, so many bad pictures, so much useless information, so little real communication. "Ugh just give up bulky" I tell myself.(*)

Be a Warhead, ignore the easy temptation for power, for brute force, for coercive behavior. Reject that loser guy that wants to be everyone's friend on myspace. Be strong, be yourself, be a warhead.

MY SPACE

BulkyBob

My sappy introductory quote: "Live today like there is no tommorrow, but not tommorrow as in the morrow, but never tuesday with her sorrow, and always wednesday with a swallow."

Age: 32 and 3 quarters

Blood type: D positive

Gender: MAN

Description: Fun at a party, rave, or battle rap, 6'2", Brown hair, Beard, mustache

Notable Titles or achievements: Savior of the Internet

Religion: ALL

Piercings: on the palms and in the feet

Orientation: slightly against people from there

Children: Well at the rate I'm going, I'd say at least two dozen by 2010

Direction in life: straight for your mother, through mysterious consumation of course

Smoke and Drink: Blood into Wine, Body into Bread, Nose into straw laden coke

Employment Status: Carpentry/Movie Theater-whats the difference?, founder of the God-like Complex instituteSwear: God, yeah

Do you believe in yourself: Do you believe in God?

Do you have any plants? Yes, palms

Hobbies: He-man, Star Wars, Beverage Tasting, Internet Consumption, Communication,

QUOTES OF THE ALL POWERFUL INTERNET SPACE:

WORDS ARE LIFE, PLEASE REDIRECT YOUR LIFE TO THE PROPER URL, MY SPACE"

1. " He asked us for help and we lit him on fire" CF
   
2. "Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!" -on the subject of He-man vs. Sheera
   
3. "For twenty-three years I've been dying to tell you what I thought of you! And now... well, being a Christian woman, I can't say it!"- In memory of Dear Aunty Em
4. There is no escaping the threat of bad saftey and Godzilla if you are a Japanese person in the world today.
5. On the death of our Box Office, immigrant steel sculpture-making captive, Ellian Godzilles, "Each of us were clearly moved. We gave him a Viking Burial, in his home country's custom, covered in ritual coconut oils, with the finest cardboard and popcorn bag hats and gloves we could make. He was "popped" on a coardboard raft that we set afire in the parking lot. Maybe he made it home, to Dutchland, just maybe"
6. "Why is LARP so harmful to society? Level Three fireballs. Good luck against that and the Matrix, when they control your future financial investments"

QUIZ: Grades are on a pass/fail, life/death judgement-day basis

http://bulkybob.blogspot.com/2005/02/15-things-i-hate-about-you.html

Music

http://www.bellz.net/TonightICelebrateMyLoveForYou.html

Movies:

PASSION OF THE CHRIST, Mean Girls, Spirit! Stallion of the Cimmaron, Brave Little Toaster, House of a 1000 Corpses, Showgirls.

TV Shows:

Daily prayers from EWTN, The Sapranos, ER, SAVED BY THE BELL


MY PHOTOS TO CREATE AWE TOWARDS ME AND MY WORLD EXPERIENCE:

Photo: Me (far right) and some of my apostles, going on a conversion mission in South America. We brought with us forty bibles, our hearts, souls, and came back stoned with forty pounds of hard narcotics. Our mission was to do it for the nooky. Another succesful voyage!

I have travelled to many foriegn lands, times, planets, states of intoxication, all in search of friends, but no place tops the benefits of my space in terms of friend making abilities. That is why I share my glorious pictures and life with you. Many people travel to different times, but who else can claim a picture of a Tyrano-Don and a powerful volcanoe on their space!

All of life's dramas played out here on my space. Justin Timberlake, from "No Strings Attached" fame, is held hostage and nearly killed.
Smokey and Erin: A few bikers who I used to work with. They park their rockets wherever they want. Never quite got into the black leather phase of things, but they've gotten out of it themselves quite a few times



My home is an enchanted clearing in the woods, where each day I awake to pick a single flower petal and place it on the grave of person to person contact, verified thinking, proper communication, and morality.

MY FRIENDS- ADD YOUR COMMENTS, PLEASE CONSIDER IT


"I've been sensitive about alot of things, I may be the harasser, Askow, but I deserve friends too. I'm not ugly, I'm special inside and also really annoying and inquisitive. So I've told your bosses to let me on this sight, or else! !!!"


"Beunos Nachos Bulky Bob, Its me Gabrier, I've skipped the border and the oceans to find this space on your internet, might I add without a green card. In MY- I mean- our country, unlike the Latin Republic of Indo-Arabia, we now accept everyone. The INS will never take our lives, our country, or freedom, especially if I touch Americano land!!!!"
"Time Travel! Time Travel! Time Travel! holla back at ya, bulky. Piece from me- Dj Remix- hey shout out to Donatello, Shredder, Vampires, and cults. Bulkybob is in da building!!!"
"Hey guys, Its me Delia and Bryler- Your a great friend, Bulky you've been there for me, Bryler, at every polo match,thanks so golly much for inviting us and the rest of the Drinking Gang on your space....... Remember "Freedom isnt free, and we're spending a little more on "it" each day at marquee"




"Hey its me Jimmy Kamikaze, fresh from my drinking party in Denver, just wanna say I'm shipping out tommorrow, helmet and all, and I hoped we could do something special before the crash, you know."




"Yo word up. Hey Bulky, its us Aferny and Allicia"



"Ribbit, Falvonator,
Ribbit"


"I've been stalked by vampires for two years now. I've had to give up everythin I love: Ozzie, the color black...... I'm now in incognito to escape their dark clutches. This website will help me bring back the Tayla I know and love. Help me bulkybob, your my only hope"



"It is I, Coldar Pixangela, Queen of the Fairies.....Fear my wrath and dust. I am currently the she queen of website design and smiting traveller of marquee-dom.





"Its me Taffy, Former Showgirl and Bartender. Ever since we met you've inspired me to be a liscensed performer of marriages, commitment ceremonies, and fortunetelling. Thank so much bulky"







"HA HA! It is ME! The Mystical Don the Gnome of MC. I ride down from the mystical pink fog laden hills of Hart on my magical steed, the Prince of Ponies, to make the real movie magic occur day to day. My home is a giant red and blue mushroom that opens like an automatic garage door opener, and I emerge each morning at 10:17 AM, with a lateness filled with the utmost fashion and glitter, to eighties light pop music and a lazer light show.

Popcorn are my happy tear drops and soda is but spit that I care my beard with! Dippin dots are the crud in my sleepy eyes, Icee is but my blood, cold or hot depending on the nature of your personal request, shaded for my mood of the day, and nachos are my babies from a previous marriage to a young blacktina, named Shabouti......anyways......
Sing birds of marquee, do your dark dance bats, and pay with exact change, accurate billing, stock with correct expiration dates, little or no unclear radio traffic when possible, employees, oh and I love your website Bulky Bob....Away steed, onward Blitzen, fight me dasher, prance with me Prancer.....Ahoy!"

"Toodlely Dee Toodlely Do! Aloha matey! We are Mrs. and Mrs. Nutty Bavarian, invited to the MC by Don the Gnome and the Chelsifier. Have you not ever wondered what in God's name it must be like to be a bavarian and nutty? Well, I Papa Nutty Bavarian, sit around all day and fiddle around, as a nut, often does with oneself. Mama Nutty Bavian glazes my nuts with sugar and molasses, while I play my fiddle and pop a string here and there. Boy are we nutty, and Bavarian too"

"Tweet Tweet, its me, Johnathan Livingston Cazzball"






"Hey its me donny, you havent heard from me in a while,
I've been all wrapped up,
what better way to launch back my sagging career and already faded popularity with the 1-90 year old demographic, male or female, than through this blog. Getting my picture out there will bring much needed publicity for me most recent projects, you may remember me from.....................um..................um....................."

Friend of the Day, In need:


Karl B.

"Fresh out of the slammer, this is the first place I came for some comfort. The ghetto aint all it turned out to be, ya'll mean, man, ssssseriously........I once admired Buckwheat and a young Fiddy, but now.......what remains of me?......Shineup stout fellow! ........What is life? What is pain----- Let me sing you something....

MY Send away for a priceless gift
One not subtle, one not on the list
Send away for a perfect world
One not simply, so absurd
In these times of doing what you're told
You keep these feelings, no one knows
What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart

And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

PLEASE add me to your friends list.. If I get my picture out there, you just might realize what I was, and could be, to all the little children in the world. Make me happy once again!"

"This space is now under attack by the Pacifier Resistence. Consider yourself written up, for it is I, the Puritan. I am coming for you, so metrosexuals run and hide behind your bad lyrics, whiny and work crippling misunderstandings of yourself, and beware, because your gnome leader will not save you nor will your cheap and campy space on the internet. This is inefficient website use, and too popular. No amount of words can save you from the Puritan, the true puppetmaster!"


"Hey there.....It's me Mr. Satan. Even I dont like him, and I've done as much as I can to make things difficult. Believe me, I dont want the Pacifier Resistence either. Thanks so much for having me here, although I've noticed you mumble and ramble a bit when you write on this, you should fix that. Hell hath no worry like an extreme internet users scornful eye.




The Future of the internet, you'll notice the cable connecting their mouths. We are unable to ascertain whether the cable is roadrunner or the slower connection of dialup. But we can understand that inside their tiny brains are being imprinted visions of internet profiles, blogs, metrosexuality, and sadly the future of bad culture and vice. Are we creating the future of negative internet consumption through our spaces


THE FUTURE?

Enter the Kamikaze

****NOT MINE

WARNING: QUASI ADULT CONTENT, MILD AND NEUTERED LANGUAGE AND POTENTIALLY OFFENSIVE, BUT TOTALLY UNPREJUDICED PICTURES TOWARDS YOUR ELDEST FAMILY MEMBERS

At this blog we have attempted to answer some fundamental philosophical questions. Now that I can place the pictures I've always wanted to show you, I present this ongoing cause with the same features you know and love. I'll do it in a few (thousand) suppositions and few pictures, which youll have to read to understand their lack of context.

Why (do) Kamikazes wear helmets! (?)

For those that have heard this literally beaten into the floor, which is more your fault for not paying attention, the floor's fault for not having dinner ready on time, not providing adequate spousal intercourse, resisting me at the rare time when I force my way, physically, because I am big, manly, and don't have glasses, grrrrr, and not folding my laundry up to spec, because chances are that the time I told you, yeah, it was golden and magical, and you faked it. Yeah, thats right, Mrs. Floor.

You might learn a few things about the complex interaction of Japanese and American culture, help to explain to your drooling self the differences in American and Japanese culture, basic arguement, and the difference between good and bad jokes. It organismic!

You say, Mr. Bob, why must you be so insistent on answering rhetorical questions. Because I Understand Japanese Culture: Here's why

A few ways to solve rhetorical questions:

Supposition 1: "Repetition creates stress"

With Kamikazees, You laugh at the larger question, as the simple side of you says, kamikaze fighter pilots crash and die into aircraft carriers and dont need helmets...ha ha. The question asks not why kamikazes crash, what kamikazes were professionally before or after (fighter pilots, duh), but relegates the poor kamikaze guys to those kamikazes that crash and die, at any time, place, or when kamikazes feel like it.

With Kamikazeees, Lo and behold a pilot, yes even the Japanese, had something on their head. But why? I agree, pilots in general are crazy, but it's my firm belief that even crazy people (kamikazees dont forget) deserve to wear helmets and then crash and die as they should.

With Kamikazees, Your sense of arguement over the kamikazee question is how loudly and how many times you can repeat and recreate the same exact concepts relating to kamikazes.

With Kamikazees, You say "well mr. bulky you have been found guilty of some of the most relentless arguement in history, joke defying, strange beyond reckoning, jumbled and hard to understand, and thats in spite of your discussion of kamikazes"

With Kamikazeeeees, Now I have lectured for over six hours on this subject of kamikazes wearing helmets, and the lack of humor behind it, a total combined speaking time of two average human lifetimes, mostly obsessively to a few Marquee kamikaze fans, who typical of the amount of free time they enjoy, stand lazily eager and ready to devour my enlightened information on this subject of kamikazes.

Yet there remains the precipitators of vile historical untruths about the kamikaze reality. The Japanese have suffered the tortures of Godzilla and Rodan! Let us not ruin the memories of their kamikaze fighter pilots, by making bad jokes, and denegrating the service of their loyal helmets in service of kamikazes.

With Kamikazeeeeees, Now, I'm sure that many of you ragamuffin jokesters thought that your stylized, stereotyped Japanese airplane kamikaze pilots wore something like that when they crashed into aircraft carriers, perhaps with a Jets sports logo on the side to indicate a choking final game performance.

With Kamikazees, while most indications on the performance of the Jets appears to be truth, the actual Japanese kamikaze reality is that they had leather caps and goggles, that based on the historical power of our current 21st century youth, has been researched and linked to combat against Godzilla and other mispercieved Japanese kamikaze cultural artifacts. These caps, a standard feature on all pilots, even kamikazes, of the time- though not your traditional football helmet of a failing team- provided protection against the harsh weather of piloting, Godzilla, weird trading card Anime programs, and the rapid expansion of Walmart.

They were pilots before they died. Pilots wear and wore headgear. Therefore even pilots that die, on purpose, wear saftey gear, because that is what a pilot does. Repeating logic only stands to destroy the most vile of rhetorical questions. Thats it, thats the arguement......

Supposition 2: Stupid Questions precipitate stupid responses

Why do kamikazes wear helmets? Better stated.....

Does your family have something to do with your prejudice?

If you cant get your facts right, then you should shut up and stop sleeping with your own family, because incest is the origin of all prejudice, fear, cultural malice, and bad jokes. 9 out of 10 jokes are racist or prejudice and that indicates some sort of belief in you that your own family is a better option for breeding like little rabbits, an option better than any other truly normal, maybe-not-you, person in the world today.

To the skeptical user of rhetorically bad jokes:

If you can actually read and still made the joke or argued in favor of the joke, only poorly, which chances are your joke victim is more educated and stronger (genetically) than you, that means that you'd probably prefer your own family to another normal, not you human being, and that is why we are laughing at you, you kamikaze of family members. You want the jokes to stop about your indescretions, then first you better actually stop, start wearing protective gear somewhere, be a little more sensitive to helmet saftey and Japanese culture, and then stop telling things that are simply unfunny and a waste of time.

Supposition 3: Ugly or simply bad jokes or argument should always be destroyed by lengthy and tediously unfunny, but truthful, analysis and pictures.

I know the Japanese, they have those helmets for a reason. I dont understand what you are doing with your personal life, but I bet its unsafe!? But Kamizkazes have helmets, well, for protection, I think, or at least some historians believe that helmets are a natural, human, bodily outgrowth from the Japanese genome. (I saw this sad spectacle with my own eyes when I visited a Japanese village in South Central NY. To protect their honor, little kids as early as two years old, with full genetic safety potential, rammed each other head to head with their helmets at full speed. My guess is that they've been trained since birth for crashing and dying.)

This is the sad, but true, result of little children eating only fish, dressing completely in black, and fighting with swords and shooting stars instead of devouring red meat, turtle neck sweaters for men and wife beaters for the women, semi automatic guns, remote detonated bombs (instead of the individual touch of suicide), massive corporate monsters out to get us, and stinger missile launchers. If you live your entire life fearing the return of Godzilla and the nasty effects of Pikachu heroics, I think you'd make sure your child and future Kamikaze has the best diet, close range weapons, and the safest helmet available.

The boy that became Godzilla. Thats my dog there, poor thang...Wait till you see who became Rodan.......

So safe....and in the future he will crash and die knowing that his helmet had gotten him there.

These three Japanese boys were not wearing helmets. As a result, in a scene you didnt see in their movie, they were attacked and killed while trying to go for the eyes on Godzilla himself.

Maybe if their grandpa had been just a little safer with them, kept them away from dangerous drug dealers who knew karate and modern gun technology, kept some of the most dangerous short range weapons in the entire world away from their experimental use---- which would've gone a LONG way towards preventing the smallest and chunkiest, aged 8, named Tum Tum, from hitting himself on the head with a swinging mace in his first deadly weapons accident. Tum Tum is Dum Dum and dead now, because his grandfather wasnt thinking enough to provide him with a Jets helmet before sending him to die in what must've been a suicidal charge against fully skilled ninjas four times his size (many football teams are better performers than the sad story of the Jets), intelligence (lets face it, he wasnt the brightest of the 3 Ninjas) age, and a giant fire breathing monster

********There is no escaping the threat of bad saftey and Godzilla if you are a Japanese person in the world today.

I think, fellow Americans, that if you look at young kamikazees, you'll find a deep respect for their own lives, forty years before their ritualistic suicide for tactical purposes. The Three Ninjas had no such respect for their lives. Their grandad, who I am proud to report is now in prison for child abuse, also had no respect for his grandkids or the need to fight Godzilla with supposedly senseless suicide attacks, by airplane or by short range sword fighting techniques.

Supposition 4: Argue too loud and forceful, ignore the truth, and you become what you fear the most....the bully

A montage of a few cultural bullies, because of whom we dress our kids up in saftey gear just so they can survive another day.

Both princesses, they are serious trouble for all burdgeoning kamikazes. They require strong protection if you plan to die at their hands.......

Both have helmets.....No further explanation needed.......
This boy may be frightened, but hes still standing in the way of Godzilla's flames. Somebody has to protect the boat!!!

Supposition 5: If there is an answer to any rhetorical question, that answer may be found in the acting performance of Tom Cruise. Cruise IS cultural respect and equality. Cruise is HONOR

Tomo Kyoko Cruise provided the Japanese with a greater sense of their own ancient culture, so that they could modernize anyways and have giant reptile monsters attack modern and Western concieved cities like Tokyo. The Americans and the superior American economy is not really like Godzilla, nor do I mean to exactly portray Godzilla as the Walmart and the Japanese cities as poor little Japanese villages dependent solely on fish in polluted waters and high-cost computer chip and automobile technology, and I certianly mean, dont mean, do mean, to compare the results of kamikaze attacks to attacks on Godzilla, with helmets, but if there is one person who represents the perfect help to the Japanese, it is Tomo Kyoko.

And look at the final charge of Tomo Kyoko Cruise at the end of his historical biography: The Last Samuari, where his band attacked guns! If he had a Jets helmet, I think a few more of the blokes would have made it. Whats more intimidating than a hundred or more angry swordsmen with Jets helmets on?

Ok, so even in the 1400s, when Tomo Kyoko emerged from his butterfly chrysallis to bring to the world the beauty of the wacky religion of Science and take Katie Holmes finally away from the senselessly pointless and unfairly PG rated sitcom of Dawson's creek, because that show had the saftey mechanism of a rating so that we couldnt see what we really wanted to see, but you see saftey itself is restrictive but for the better public good, besides there is no greater terror to the world than the vileness of that show and the kind of lessons that Pacey and Sugar, or whatever her name was on the show, gave to many available people that I'm courting right now, and whom I'm hoping to not wait until the consumation is properly televised (like said Pacey and Sugar) and advertised, nor splendored within bad and overly analytical dialogue .......

"Run Katie run, but dont trust anyone, you hear me!!"

Supposition Six: If there is an American alcoholic beverage named after a subject in your joke, your humourous intentions are doubly likely to meet an embarassing defeat in both humor and in rhetorical defense

Its just plain history to know the recipe for this drink. Anything otherwise would be historically inaccurate.

Now you may be in disbelief that fierce fighters, willing to sacrifice their lives for country, would sip on such a dainty beverage before their death, further raising all sorts of implicaitons about the safety of flying into aircraft carriers and the whole intoxication-during-the-use-of-motorized-sub-space-vehicles.

In fact, since my last DWI, I've found it incredibly unfair that the Japanese are given such treatment. 2000 feet adds a little more danger to the whole kamikazee, intoxicated suicide attack into aircraft carrier, and protective headgear thing....

Ask yourself rhetorically: Why not feel good before the crash? Try a cocktail.

Supposition Lucky Seven: Stereotypes never say die

A rant toward the inpenetrable stereotype: You Say: you replace one stereotype- the crazy Japanese pilots (on the left) with Jets helmets crashing into enemy aircraft carriers for no reason, with the notion that the Japanese, with their proud protective safety headgear, and fierce tradition of cheap and yet quality electronic production in the face of rapid industrialization and traditionalist violence and repression comparable to the repression of the Gun Gun people in the Star Wars movies, because I bet if you checked the labels on the robot droids in Star Wars, history and fact will show that the Japanese are responsible for the kind of mass production and concern for saftey that only the most careful Trade Federation manufactures could undertake, check the labels on the Battle Droids and you'll find the Japanese trademarks Kia and Honda, but then again who is to say that George Lucas wasnt adding a backhanded racist slap at the poor commemorators of the proud Japanese namebrand.....couldnt we argue that the Gun Guns are the traditional Japanese and the Federation, like Walmart, are the foundation and basis for all American fighter pilots, a place that would not only offer its fighter pilots protective headgear against the kamikaze offensive, but also attack, like Godzilla, all traditional Japanese kamikaze businesses, like video games companies, and instead of kamikaze honor in a firey plane crash, leave Godzilla to die and be subject to a sad and yet sadistic burial, that if Walmart had its way, would be in a coffin drapped in a meanspirited yellow smiley face.

No Helmets, No Safety

So Safe and in a few moments he will crash on the moon and die knowing that he has the safest equipment available!!!

So I leave our much pounded out rhetoric of inevitable death, hopelessness, honor, culture, stereotypes, Tomo Kyoko Cruise, etc. etc. and:

Remember that wherever stereotypes take you, whatever poor arguement you make, whatever bad joke fails at your footstep, one lesson remains for all of history:

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