manufacture dissent. produce propaganda. be a mobert guest blogger.


express interest in the comments. see how far your word can go.

1. time warner fucking cable guys have been to my house three times, and i still do not have a functioning modem.

2. respond to above statement with multiple wtf's and object throwing.

3. having no internet gives me plenty of time to clean up the bachelor pad.

4. plot and scheme big party.

5. hopefully old and retired neighbors wont mind.

6. for the next few weeks, i get paid to sit in a room and read a book for eight hours a day.

7. i think that if college went something like that, i woulda done better.

8. big belated bday props to the one and only g dot nice aka gregorypaige.

9. girls, if you think trying to fit into that hot new pair of jeans is hard work, try keepin yo ass skinny enough to put on a tailored suit. that shit is snug.

10. no, the pictures of women do not have anything to do with the posts. no, i will not stop posting them. tipper gore, please stop emailing me.

11. that is all.

mobert and friends volume two. read on.

this is jane. jane used to work and an upscale clothiere at the mall called baby gap or something like that. she bought all her clothes there and thought she was real hot shit when she wore them. one day, we were both wearing jeans from her store and she noticed.

hey! i like your jeans! are they baby gap?

sure are, better than yours though.

what?! mine are baby gap too.

paid too much for them though.

umm, hello. employee discount.

umm hello. swap meet.

damn, good point.

the first time we hung out (not wearing baby gap jeans), we watched the sixth sense starring bruce willis and haley joel osment (remember him?) i proclaimed i had never seen it and she punched me in the face. she was surprised and in total disbelief that anyone on the planet earth would have never seen such a fine movie. even if mister em night is a formulaic racist suburban hack. it was pretty much the only choice though, cuz the only fine films she had were dont be a menace and beverly hills cop three.

jane told me to leave out the part about that night where she told me to come over to her place at 11 pm and she had already put away a bottle of five dollar wine. i told her yeah sure thing, itll be our little secret, no one will ever know.

har har, fat chance.

when i got home i was tired, but i wrote this in my other, secret blog:

she told me about how when she met me at that party over the summer and asked me for a cigarette that she was really drunk and doesnt usually smoke.

i said thats surprising, because youre body usually does.

she smiled. you know i really have class in a few hours.

and for a moment, the next day, walking through the new season on that crisp first day of spring, cool and dry with a sprinkle of march breeze, for the first time in a long time, it wasnt so bad.

one year ago, i was living by myself:

when a person spends a good deal of time by themselves, they start out thinking that things are honky dory and that having some alone time is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

this person will do alot of things that they never had the chance to do when there were other people around like roommates and friends and the kind of drop dead gorgeous but desparately horny women that tend to spend the night every once in a while.

stay up till 4am.

sleep till 2pm.

drink beer at 2:10pm

drop a deuce with the door open.

watch porn with the sound turned all the way up.

but then, after doing all the fun stuff by yourself, as with all things, the novelty of the whole situation wears off. acutally, wears off is probably the wrong phrases for such a phenomenon. its more like a disappearing act in a poof of smoke than a slow erosion. one second, youre free from the prying eyes and the ignorant words of others, and the next second, youre alone.

but of course its really easy to see. after the first and second seasons of entourage! on dvd are over and youve put away a six pack by dinner time, all of a sudden you realize that, if you stand still and be vewy vewy quiet, you can hear the crickets really loudly.

its just like a scene from a movie. you know the one im talking about? the one where a person is talking and then boom! crickets and it emphasizes the fact that the actors are alone or its quiet or theres not shit going on around them.

my old roommate came into town on friday for the weekend. he makes his home in raleigh, but is working at a beach resort in the outer banks over the summer. he stayed at my place and we had a grand ol time. last night, a bunch of mutual friends came over to my humble abode and we drank lots of beer and played funny games with red plastic cups all night. its was fun to be around large numbers of people in my home, which hadnt happened in a while.

some how we made it up the big ass hill to franklin street, where all the bars and clubs are located in chapel hill. and even though there werent that many people out last night, it was a good time had by all. so good, in fact, that a total of four people crashed at my crib after all the fun was done. there was the old roommate, tomkat, his gf, poomba, the guy from virginia tech, elvis, and his curiously bubbly friend from durham, chewie. two on the couch, one on the futon, and one in a sleeping bag on the floor.

when they woke up in the morning, my house was a disaster area. cups everywhere, broken bottles, darts, ping pong balls. it was a mess, but my impromptu houseguests were the coolest people in the world and cleaned everything thing up.

when i got up and came downstairs a few hours later, i thought i was in someone elses house.

and then i realized i wasnt because, well

i was alone.

ok, so yesterday i watched le copa mundial finale and it sucked. i saw the first two goals, fell asleep, woke up at the end of regulation, fell asleep, woke for penalty kicks.

oh, and there was a headbutt in there somewhere too.

as an american who doesnt watch much football, zizou's forehead beatdown of six foot four marco materazzi is kind of a curious end to what appeared to be a glorious career. while we dumb yankees may not understand the global significance of the world cup, i dont think that zidane's headbutt will define his career.

i mean, babe ruth hit a whole lotta home runs and had a 2.28 career era, but nobody remembers him as a fat drunken racist slob do they?

i was cheering for the english side the whole way, just cuz englands matches were the only ones with decent crowd shots. all the other games just featured a lot of face paint and flags and chickens and fat diego maradonas. i dont know about you, but any red blooded football fan would much rather see mrs posh spice beckham in fuck me silly boots. and since her friend in the hat looks a bit tight-lipped in the twat department, making fun of her would be a highlight to say the least. i think it would go a lil sumthin like this:

ha, youre boyfriend's name is ashley!

and hes gay!

youre a carpet munching golddigger bitch!

see? more fun than a world cup penalty kick shootout. holla back.

mobert is postponed until Queen City

til then, read funny shit here and here.
start from the beginning, there will be a quiz.

happy fourth of july everyone.

hooray america!

warning: this post is about hockey. the boring, no fun, offseason business side of hockey. the part of hockey where champions are dismantled and dynasties are bought and sold. if you dont like hockey, then you should stop reading now.

with that out of the way, onward.

i have a love hate relationship with jim rutherford, the general manager of the carolina hurricanes. now, general managers in the nhl are different than in most sports. they dont sit on their asses and do nothing, like in baseball, nor are they glorified coaches, like in football. general manangers in the nhl just deal with personnel issues, contracts and trades and such.

ive mostly hated jr for the past few years because of his super penny pincher attitude when it came to his moves. even before there was a salary cap, jr had a tendency to completely ignore a players accomplishments when considering resigning intergral pieces of the team. its rumored that his favorite line around the office is "we can get it cheaper elsewhere."

now cheaper is all well and good when it comes to chinese hookers and cocaine, but when it comes to team building, it doesnt work. canes fans subsequently suffered through years of spare parts teams bought up from garage sales. no fun to watch, and certainly not winners.

this year didnt start out any differently. the canes had major holes to fill. two top defensemen. scoring winger. scoring center. goaltender. powerplay pointman. and for coach laviolette's system to work, they all have to be super fast. jr's results were at the time disappointing. commodore and kaberle? neither were top dmen on their old clubs, and neither of their old clubs were particularly good defensive teams. matt cullen and cory stillman? ones an underachieving journeyman and the other a slow aging career third stringer. awesome jr, just awesome.

and then we won the stanley cup.

in the nhl, there is a phenomenon called the stanley cup hangover. teams that win the cup tend to struggle the following year. the way you avoid this is be smart during the offseason and make sure your team needs are filled twice over, just for depth.

jr was able to resign the biggest absolute must sign players in eric staal, rod brindamour, and justin williams, along with kaberle and commodore. however, none of these players were unrestricted free agents, and were never in danger of going anywhere. the unrestricted free agents that were absolutely necessary to focus on were matt cullen and doug weight, who shared time centering the third scoring line and on the power play. with how crucial that third line depth was for the canes success last season, keeping one of these players was key to maintaining scoring depth and powerplay success. with cullen being able to play center and wing, along with a point on the power play, he was the obvious choice to keep. doug weight, as good as he is, didnt fit the canes system quite as well as cullen, and at his age, was too expensive to keep. so what does jr do?

he blows the whole thing and lets both of them go. cullen to the rangers, weight back to st louis.

now, who did jr get to fill this hole? nobody. the free agent list is shortening daily. a speedy center and pointman? hard to find, harder to sign.

dammit jr, you better not fuck this up. i want another cup.