I have received quite a few confirmations that those "Speed Patrolled By Aircraft" signs are far from idle threats (quite a few). Everyone has uniformly said that the aircraft simply call down to police cars that are waiting off the side of the road and these police cars then pull the airplane-implicated driver over. Now all I can think about is how big of bitches these airplane pilots must be. Flight school dropouts and failed airline pilots; now the narcs of the sky. Wait, fuck that. The fucking meter maids of the sky. Chumps.

What the fuck do cops need airplanes to patrol for speed for? Seems like a waste of money. Don’t the cops already have radar guns and shit? If they have to pull you over to ticket you anyways, and they probably have a radar gun in their patrol car, then the airplane seems rather superfluous anyway.

On the news the other night (it came on before I could turn off the TV after One Tree Hill), one of the stories I heard was that in West Virginia there is a bill going before the state senate that would create a law that allowed the police to fine people 50 bucks for sagging. The bill's nickname is the "Silly Pants Law."

Here is something else I never understand. Some people play the lotto regularly. But when the jackpot goes from the usual 10-20 million all-the-way up to like 70+million, then every jackass and their mom feels compelled to buy a ticket, "just in case." What I don’t get is, what is the fucking difference? Discounting the astronomically-stacked-against-the-player odds, what would the difference really be between 15 million and 80 million? How do people decide they won't play because it is "only worth 15 million" but when it reaches 80 then they figure it is worth it? That doesn’t make any sense at all. AT ALL. Guess what, bucko. If you are used to making 40 thousand a year, I think even the mere pittance of hitting a 5 million dollar jackpot would have you pretty hooked up. And I certainly can't speak for most dumbass Americans, but I would feel more inclined to play if they had 80 1 million dollar winners instead of 1 80 million dollar winner (thereby increasing my odds of winning by 80 fucking times—I'm a mathematical wizard, I know). Sometimes I don’t get the American dream at all--or is the American "way"? But go America.

And do you think that the Lotto "regulars" have animosity toward the casual Lotto player who only plays when the big jackpot becomes available? Novice jackasses.

On my last night before taking a trip to LA last week, walking home drunk from 16th Street, Valencia was all blocked off between 19th and 20th by police cars. I was told the next morning that, whilst in said area, as we walked past some tool wearing a white blazer, I said, "I can't believe that they had to close the street down with all these cops just cuz a guy wore a white blazer." good times.

Did you know that Daniel Day Lewis is now a semi-retired cobbler in Venice?

Yeah, 3 hours of The Gangs of New York wasn’t quite enough, so I checked out the special features too.

*dips head in shame*

echolalia:
A. The immediate and involuntary repetition of words or phrases just spoken by others, often a symptom of autism or some types of schizophrenia. B. An infant's repetition of the sounds made by others, a normal occurrence in childhood development.

I was playing the Speed Marbles game (linked last week) with Allison, and noting her style of play, I said, "You don’t seem to have any strategy. You're just clicking." She retorted, "I'm not about strategy." It was rather evident in her score too.

Nothing beats the classic "O O O O O O O O..." orgasm. That dude from Office Space was speaking the straight truth.

Did you know that the term copper (i.e. cop, policeman) comes from the early 19th century when the police wore copper badges to designate that they were the police.

Going out to lunch with Ken (what kind of buffet?) the other day, and I noticed that when Ken eats naan (Indian buffet), he has the most peculiar style. He takes a piece of butter, puts it in the middle of the naan, then rolls up the naan like a joint and eats it straight--with no curry or any other assorted foodstuff. That is pretty unconventional, to say the least.

Speaking of Ken (again), you know how some people just have so much crap in their wallet? Well that's Ken. He even has a Middle School-style plastic insert photo book thing in it. He went to his doctor complaining of some back pain of some kind, and after taking one look at his wallet, the doctor told Ken he is no longer allowed to keep that encyclopedia of a wallet in his back pocket. So now he keeps it in the front. Still beats the hell out of a manpurse.

MANPURSE, MANPURSE, MANPURSE...

Anytime I can weasel manpurse into a sentence or discussion, it was a good day for Mr. Justin.

2 matters of convenience I just have to throw out there: the resealable bag and sliced cheese. A resealable bag from the grocery store is so much sweeter than a not resealable bag. Whether it is cheese, meat, veggies, or whatever, it is so much nicer to be able to just zip loc that shit back up instead of having to hunt for a proper-fitting baggie and do the transfer. There is no excuse for why you should ever, EVER have to buy grated cheese that comes in a NOT zip loced bag. This transitions nicely into my second matter for discussion, sliced cheese (oi, cheese transitions). I think that when I was a young, foolhardy Mr. Justin I used to be not all that down with buying sliced cheese. In the last 5 years or so I have done a 180. Here are the 2 big reasons to buy sliced cheese: if the cheese is so mushy that you could never slice it yourself (Havarti House Party, Muenster) or if you KNOW that the cheese is destined to be part of a sandwich.

I've been doing a fair bit of yelling in this column.

I was thinking about it and you know how some people only poo every 2 or 3 days (mostly girls)? Well if I haven’t mentioned it, I'm one of the most regular guys you will ever meet. Every morning after a cup and a half (give or take a half cup), I go. I was thinking about how I poo twice as much as someone who even just poos every other day. Over even just a 60-year lifetime that equates to me pooing roughly 10,800 more times than the every-other-day pooer.

Heh. I just wrote "pooing roughly." That is not good times.

I was just discussing Tommy's chiliburgers and said that their no-beans-chili=good, but that chili will still get you in the end. Oi...

I'm not getting a tattoo, ever. It just ain't gonna happen. If I were to get one, however, I gotta say, it would probably have to be on the neck. That shit is tough. And then I could just wear collared shirts when I wanted to look "clean."

Instead of a tattoo that said "mom," how about a tattoo that said "your mom."

Obligatory "your mom" reference, check.

Have you ever noticed how those ugly ass Scions (boxy little RAV4-sized cars with Ford Festiva wheels) have 3 grills on them? That is some crazy shit. So are those Scions. I even saw one with spinners a couple of weeks ago.

I guess it's like cool that everybody has spinners now (or something), but I feel like it was way cooler when they were a rare sighting instead of on like every 10th car.

Would you rather have her cry less and have it be more your fault or have her cry more and have it be less your fault?

That chick from Mallrats is hot (Not the blond one).

So how the fuck do dudes shave their balls? I have always sort of just tried not to think about it, even when faced with a barrage of them in porn. Today, however, I was just looking at my balls and stuff, thinking about them. I started thinking about how impossible it would seem to be able to successfully navigate ball-shaving. I mean, when the balls are at ease, there wouldn’t be a chance. So here is what I am thinking: porno dudes (and any other dudes that shave their balls) must have to dip their balls into a bowl of freezing water, until the balls are shrunk up like raisins, before they can go on to actually shave their balls. And do they use shaving cream? I was thinking I wouldn’t want anything to obscure my view of such a delicate area as I attempted to shave it. But I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to dry shave down there either, so there is that (a whole other conundrum). Not to mention the fact that you know how you see old men with super wrinkly faces sometimes and you imagine that it must be pretty hard for them to shave (just nod and play along)? Well dude, when your balls finally get cold enough, they won't just be shrunk up like raisins; they will also be wrinkly as raisins. Do girls even know this? (my wager: some do. Sluts.) Well, that is the way it is in Testeville.

Oi, Testeville, population: 2.

By: Justin