I think I have figured out why I hate old people so much. I have already accepted the fact that I will never be old. I will not ever BE one of those people who annoys others with their bad driving and irritating mannerisms and stupefying technical obsoletion. So that makes me hate them all the more.

Tomorrow is Fail To Suck day. How do you plan to fail to suck?

5:17 PM

I've been thinking more and more about the Evil Overlord TV show idea.
I think it would work well as an animated series. Perhaps CG. It would fit right in with Cartoon Network's "Adult Swim."

Here's how seriously I've been thinking about it:
I've created a name and backstory for the main character. (His name is Robert Phillips, he holds several advanced degrees in diverse fields [think of an Evil Buckaroo Banzai], and one day he just woke up and decided to be an Evil Overlord.)

I've created rough outlines for several of the supporting characters. (There's Bob's Parents [who live in a secluded corner of the Fortress of Bob], Bob's loser brother [who will die about 5 episodes in], the Trusted Lieutenant [who is the 5th in the 3 years of Evil Empire operations], the Panel of Evil Advisers [who all wear nametags saying "Hi! My name is (NAME), and I'm an Evil (Economist|Scientist|PR Consultant|Computer Programmer|etc.)"], and an endless parade of doomed heroes.)

I've come up with several logistical details about the world of Bob. (Bobland, formerly New Zealand, is a happy land with perks that the Canadians would envy. The Legions of Terror maintain a network of bunkers underground, which are all accessed by an underground maglev tubeway. Bob the Merciless has enemies, like the late General Nogood, whose diamond mines are now funding the wardrobe for the Legions of Terror. Bob has replaced half of the famous women in the English-speaking world with perfect replica FemBots, and the real women are cryogenically frozen in the Fortress of Bob's "Department of Conjugal Logistics," to be thawed out for no more than 24 hours at a time whenever Bob's feeling frisky.

I've written a rough draft of a script for one of the episodes (but not the pilot. I wasn't in an expositionary mood last night).


Overlord Bob (to Advisers): Do you think I name too many things after myself? [Pan to stunned looks on advisers' faces, then back to Overlord Bob] I mean, here we are in the Fortress of Bob, in Bobton, Bobland, at the end of Bob Boulevard. Wherein is housed the National Bobcasting System, and the servers for the Bobnet internet service and the Bobtel telephone company. And I'm about to use NanoBobs to assassinate King Albert and the government of Belgium, which I plan to rename to Euro Bobland. Is it all too much?
Advisers (jumbled): No sir! Absolutely not! Etc.
Harry, #2 Nondescript Adviser: Hell, I know I'd do it if I were you. But my name is two syllables, so it wouldn't work as well. Not that I'd ever presume to picture myself in your place, your Evilness.
Overlord Bob: That went on about two and a half sentences too long, but thank you.


Overlord Bob: "Oh yes, Dirk Rightway. The one I could never find a non-obvious insulting nickname for."
Trusted Lieutenant: "Indeed. You were a big enough man not to call him something simplistic like Dirk Wrongway. General Nogood called him that, you know."
Overlord Bob: "And now General Nogood is dead. He was an idiot."


Overlord Bob [Live Via TV/hologram]: "I try to be a relatively good ruler. I give you free healthcare, free internet access, legalized prostitution, gambling, and pot, free beer on alternate Fridays at every BobMart store... The only thing you can't have is democracy."


Dash Freeman: "You'll pay for this! One day, you'll pay! Justice will be served!"
Overlord Bob (voice-over): "Ah, yes, the mewlings of the doomed hero. Next you'll say 'your subjects will rise against your oppression' or 'another hero will follow me' or 'even if nobody stops you here, you'll get yours in the next life'. Well, in order, one: my subjects are mostly complacent but I'm always working to keep them happy. Two: you're the seventy-second hero I've thwarted so far. I have little hope for a real challenge but I keep on my toes nonetheless. And three: I'm immortal. But I don't let it go to my head. Did I miss anything?"
Dash Freeman (resigned): "Bastard."
Overlord Bob (voice-over): "Actually, my parents are quite happily married. They'll be at your post-execution banquet. They love my banquets. You won't be there to see them, of course. You're going to die right now right there in that little white room in that nice, safe offsite bunker."
[Dash starts crying.]


See? It would FAIL TO SUCK!

6:26 PM

I think I need to write a movie. I need to take the directories full of random scribblings and the classic Evil Overlord list, and put them into a sort of mental blender, and extract a movie script.

No, even better. A TV show.

Here's the plot. I play an evil, megalomaniacal, self-centered, arrogant, but totally 100% logical supervillian.
Every week a new hero tries to destroy me and fails. I've already written some of the plot threads.

Hero tries to smuggle a tool of some type into the Lair as he's captured. He's foiled by a full strip-search and body cavity search.
"Nice try, Dirk, but I have better security than an Israeli airport."

Hero tries to swim across the moat and blend in with the Lair's employees. He's foiled by the ultraviolet dye in the moat water and the UV contact lenses worn by the Legions of Terror.
"I knew you were thick-headed, Luke, but damn. Why do you think the moat isn't full of vicious pirhanas or something?"

Hero and sidekick are imprisoned together instead of separate cells because (it appears) I'm having a temporary attack of mercy. Then when they try the old "fake sick" routine, I order the guards to shoot the one pretending to be sick.
"Sorry, Mr. Gallant, but I can't afford to bring some unknown pathogen into the Lair. Besides, sidekicks are twelve for ten cents these days."

Hero sees a key hanging outside his cell, just within reach. He grabs it, and gets a mild electric shock. He keeps grasping at it until he gets it, and then it turns out to be the wrong key.
"Actually, Captain Heroic, that's a copy of the key to my beachhouse. It might do you some good if you were a buddy of mine, I let people stay there all the time."

Hero allows himself to be captured by my Legions of Terror. He never makes it into the Lair.
"This is TK-421. We have Major Chivalry in custody. Please advise."
"TK-421, shoot the prisoner, bring the body to Offsite Inspection 4 for hazmat/weapons inspection."



I think it would Fail to Suck!

5:13 PM

In 40 minutes it will be exactly one week until Fail to Suck Day.

Fail to Suck!


Owny woo!

11:24 PM

I wish I was crazier. I'm a little bit sociopathic, a little bit schizophrenic, a little bit bipolar, a little bit demented. But not any of those things in sufficient intensity as to be a threat to the world at large. So I don't get to live a government-subsidized life. And I don't have the sense of purpose that the true madmen sometimes get.

And sometimes I wish I was retarded. Have you noticed that those people are always happy?

I still hate foreigners.

11:15 PM

You know that feeling you get when you just get out of a pool, and you're all waterlogged and slow?

I've had that feeling all day.

I don't know why, but it's bothering the crap out of me.

Maybe I have some horrible disease. Or my body has become disjointed from the usual laws of physics. Or I'm going an entirely new kind of crazy.

6:22 PM

How much must one eat at a buffet in order to be an unprofitable customer?

8:41 PM

Just a reminder: I still hate old people and foreigners.

I want to go home. Holiday hours suck. On a normal Sunday, I would be just barely awake right now.

I need some pizza. Or Chinese food. Or Chinese Pizza. Damn, I should invent that. I mean, PepsiCo invented the Mexican pizza.


I AM THE SUM OF ALL THE EVIL IN THE UNIVERSE.
Fortunately, I am also the sum of all the laziness and apathy in the universe.
They mostly cancel each other out.

3:30 PM

I have this thing on the side of my tongue that is annoying the crap out of me. I don't get it. I brush regularly, I use sugar-free cough drops, I take a zinc supplement, so why in the flaming fuck do I have this thing on my tongue?

8:43 PM

"Around the survivors, a perimeter create!"

I think that for some time talk like Yoda I will.
Forget not that soon approaching is Fail to Suck day. Stickers for the event I plan to acquire, hmm. Upon everything will I place them.

Annoying this is. Kicked, should my ass be.

6:40 PM

THE KINGDOM IS NOW MINE!

A washer/dryer. That's the fourth thing I need. A cable modem, a kitchen, a cat, and a washer/dryer.

I want to take a soldering iron and shove it all the way up my nose. My sinuses are killing me, my mucous membranes are hyperactive, my soft palate is inflamed, my ears keep popping. It is only that little nagging part of my brain that calls itself "sanity" that keeps me from doing something drastic like inhaling Lysol or performing self-cauterization. But that little nagging voice grows quieter every day.


The AOTC DVD is quite nice, especially considering how fast it came out.

3:39 PM

Dr. Scholl was not some benevolent podiatrist who created a foot care empire with good products and good intentions. Dr. Scholl was actually once called Herr Doktor, because he was a member of the S.S. who fled to America and began an insidious plot to destroy us from the feet up. He's working with the Illuminati, the Atlanteans, and Disney. They in turn are working unknowingly toward the aims of the I Corporation.

I'd tell you all about the I Corporation, but they'd kill me. They're behind the iMac, Nextel's iDEN network, the iRock series of MP3 products, and they own every country on the Iberian peninsula.



We need to form a coalition with the S.A.T. people, Johns Hopkins, the Iowans, the Montessori group, a large number of random speech therapists, and my 10th grade Literature teacher.

Together, they need to assemble a test of reading, speech, conversational English, spelling, and listening skills.

This test then needs to be applied to anyone who wants to take a job where they interact with the public. If you're a U.S. native, you have to pass with a 75% score. If you're an immigrant, it's 95% or you get deported.

6:42 PM

Well, one night in the Interim Lair and I already feel the need to accelerate the search for a permanent base of operations. The room is clean and comfortable, and the staff is terribly nice. But I need three things: a cable modem, a kitchen, and a cat.

Why aren't more billionaires flamboyant and extravagant. If I were Bill Gates, I'd liquidate much of my assets and then do silly stuff. Like independently financing a movie. Or buying a TV network. Or building an amphibious flying luxury car.

3:50 PM

I just had a customer get irate because I didn't know how to hook a microphone to an oscilloscope. Not only that, we don't sell oscilloscope leads! We're just such total bastards.

I've been working here for 789 days, and he was the first person, customer or employee, to even say the word "oscilloscope" in my presence.

10:38 AM

Also: Lair Search Update.
I have found a short-term base of operations. If I get myself a Sprint PCS Vision phone and one of the new unlimited data rate plans, I can stay there indefinitely. As it is, I am motivated to continue the search for an apartment due to the lack of broadband.

5:42 PM

On Saturday night, I got drunker than I've ever been in my entire life.

I was trying to gauge how drunk I was by doing things like counting in Latin, Spanish, French, and German. Then I tried reciting times tables and powers of two. Then I tried spelling things. All these things came slowly, or not at all. It was pretty funny. I don't care who you are or where you're from, you will laugh if you ever see a couple of relatively smart drunk people up in each others' faces trying to remember the word floccinaucinihilipilification.
(I just discovered that word a few days ago. I'm still utterly fascinated by it.)

It had advantages though. I've never played a better game of pool or sung so well.

5:39 PM

The most contrived sentence ever:
I feel supercalifragilisticexpialidocious because I won my discrimination suit against the company for floccinaucinihilipilificating my pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis and denying my sick leave, just because I'm an antidisestablishmentarian.

6:40 PM

The Search for a New Lair continues.

And yet, cosmic forces continue to conspire against The Kip.

Damn those Veterans, and damn their Day.

6:26 PM

What in the world is The Kip going to do?
Strike that.
What in the FUCK is The Kip going to do?

On this wonderful page of rants and vents and ramblings, I tend to use fucking profanity pretty goddamned gratuitously. In real life, I do not. Until recently.

For you see, The Kip has been moving further and further from the clear and level path of so-called "sanity' to the murky forest of what can only be labeled "utter mental fuckedness."
That should be a technical term.
(This rant is taking entirely too long to complete. But at least I'm not far enough gone to ignore my atrocious typing)
I don't want to share the details here, because I will try to organize and clarify them too much, and it will end up sounding fictional. Suffice to say, The Kip is not well.



I used to live with my grandfather. Then he decided it was too much effort to maintain himself (and I say "maintain" in the same way one maintains a car. Regular service and general cleanliness). He went into a home. He decided he liked it there. And The Kip was left alone to live in the mess he (not The Kip) was primarily responsible for creating.

The Kip has never been so totally alone before. This does not assist The Kip in regaining stability.

The Mom orders The Kip to find somewhere else to live. The Kip has no idea how to do this. "Aren't parents supposed to help their kids go off into the big scary world?" The Kip asks, in various ways, over the progressing weeks. "Whatever." responds The Mom.

Then The Mom says "if you want to keep living in that house, at least change the electricity into your name."
The Kip tries to comply. But he is thwarted by the Electric Company. I do not blame them, however. They are merely doing their jobs. The way in which The Kip was thwarted from taking responsibility for the electric bill is the fault of The Mom, and perhaps The Dad. One or the other of them set up an account with the electric company using The Kip's Social Security Number in 1995. I explain to the electric company that this is not The Kip's responsibility, as The Kip was 14 fucking years old. Sadly, they have no provisions for handling this kind of fraud in a manner that would let me off the hook. Rest assured, there will be hell to pay when this settles down.

par·ri·cide: n. The murdering of one's father, mother, or other near relative.

8:09 PM

Sadly, Randy Forbes used the so-called "law" to hold on to power. I will simply have to serve as a deposed congressman-in-absentia, like the Iranian royal family or the Dalai Lama.

I'm pretty effectively screwed right now on the whole residence situation. Details later, when I have the energy.

10:57 AM

Welp, I voted for myself for congress. Now it's just a matter of waiting for Randy Forbes to concede.

I just got a fortune cookie that said "The best times of your life are yet to come."
What if a person who was very old with some painful disease got that one? Or a condemned prisoner who had Chinese for his last meal? That'd just be cruel.

8:59 PM

Retarded, purple, polka-dotted afro-wearing midgets. With the ability to roll up into a tight ball so you can bowl with them.

It's election day again, and time once more for a multitude of write-in votes for "Reverend Christopher Delmar Paul 'The Kip' Keim the First"

11:23 AM

There need to be purple people. I do not think this is beyond humanity's ability to genetically engineer. We should create an entire race of purple people, and then make them the object of ridicule and oppression. All the normal humans, black, white, red, yellow, and albino will then unite in their hatred for the purple people.


You see, I'm not completely devoid of humanitarian ideas.

12:22 AM

The following things need to happen soon:

9:48 PM

Dr. Phil must die.
I think we need to strip the flesh from his bones. Then use his bones to beat Dr. Laura to death.

12:55 AM

I had a bizarre dream last night. I was sitting at a table with some women. They were all naked. Including, for no reason I can discern, Jennifer Aniston. I know it was her, I'm pretty good at recalling what I SEE in my dreams, though the actual dialogue and plot is often fuzzy.

The weird thing is, we were all talking. Just talking. And I can't remember what it was about, or why we were doing it, or why there was no sex occurring.

11:27 AM

Is anybody really fooled by the paper they wrap drinking straws in? In which they wrap them, I mean.

1:18 AM

Artist: Warren Zevon
Album: Excitable Boy
Year: 1978
Track: "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner"

Roland was a warrior, from the Land of the Midnight Sun
With a Thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So he set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray

Through sixty-six and seven they fought the Congo war
With their fingers on their triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights they battled the Bantu to their knees
They killed to earn their living, and to help out the Congolese

Roland the Thompson gunner
Roland the Thompson gunner

His comrades fought beside him - Van Owen and the rest
But of all the Thompson gunners Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son-of-a-bitch Van Owen blew off Roland's head

Roland the headless Thompson gunner

11:26 PM

If Abraham Lincoln was reincarnated as a ninja, I think he could make the world a better place.

8:43 PM

I know a blog that'll get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves. I know a blog that'll get on your nerves and it goes like this... I know a blog that'll get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves. I know a blog that'll get on your nerves and it goes like this...
(Edited, 10:36 PM. Truncated)

I honestly don't know why I posted this. In fact, I barely remember posting this. Something is afoot. I just caught myself dancing. And there's no music.

8:25 PM

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY DIFFERENT CHEESES?

7:56 PM

"Uh hello, this is a Clyde. I'm in a kleine sad uh (mm) centimeter uh software op. But I'd a body would have um owny woo? Workstation had a match is a uh eyeball to connect date sauce. That doesn't mean a where we can a make a change."

12:17 AM