The snow is gone. It's almost warm out. I worked on my car today in a t-shirt without encountering any thermal difficulties. At first I was dissapointed, but now I realize this just gives me another chance to see the 'first snow' again.

I don't know how people in Florida can stand it.

Having an overabundance of cold pizza stashed in the fridge has led to many meals of re-heated pizza over the last couple days. Because of this, I now consider myself an expert on pizza reheating. Don't mess with me, I'm SOOOOOO good. I want to pass this knowledge onto you. Let's cover the three basic pizza re-heating techniques.

Well that pretty much coveres the sacred art of pizza warming. I want to also add that pizza topings come out suprisingly delicious when re-cooked in the oven. I dare say they are even better the second time around. I DARE.

It's snowing! Oh boy!

As of yesterday at 6pm, my quarter has ended. No more IF amplifiers or tank circuits. No more T1 muxing or 5ESS switches. No more linear regressions. No more CGI or javascript. Ahhhhmen, brotha. The last web project I had to do was a little page about the course from a professors point of view. If you want to check it out, you can find it here. The login is 'cheese' and the password is 'monster'. I got pretty lazy on that page, since it was the last thing I had to do in the class.

Now I have some time off. They call it Thanksgiving break, but that is only because it was the closest holiday available to when they wanted to stick in some days off. Lets face it, nobody needs a week off for a glorified (and historically inaccurate) dinner. But hey, you won't find me complaining.

This year I am not going home for Thanksgiving with the family. Last year I didn't either, and had my holiday meal at Denny's, given that they were the only place open. I was excited this year when my last paycheck contained a 'Two-For-One' coupon for Denny's (why.. I couldn't tell you) but my dreams were soon shattered when I saw the fine type at the bottom defining the one day I couldn't make use of said coupon...Thanksgiving. So this year i've got a box of sliced processed turkey in a sea of gravy sitting in my freezer, along with some powdered potatos and other fixin's. Mmmmmmm, jealous yet?

I will go home at some point for break though, during the next week after the holiday. My parents are good people, and they have done a lot for me over the years. I think it is important to them that they get to see their son after a three-month haitus. I'm not a big fan of climbing into my car and making that long drive home, but when seeing people you havn't in awhile sometimes you to play the part of the local, and sometimes you have to be the tourist. Personally, I prefer people coming to see me instead. Unless of course they live in Amsterdam, which in that case I'm buying plane tickets right now.

Are you a hairy bastard? Do you want to be a sexy, smooth bastard? If so, then pubic shave is for you. Also, be sure to check out a funny version of pong.

So as of now we have gotten written complaints from all connecting neighbors to my apartment. Noise complaints, that is. It's not that I'm noisy, its just that I live in a goddamn retirement home and all the old ladies go to sleep by 8pm. I thought old age was supposed to bring hearing loss, but not with these wrinkled hags. They have perfectly honed hearing, I think a good fart would wake them up. They bang on the floor and rattle our ceiling in an attempt to get us to flush our toilet more quietly. I have no problems being respectful good neighbors, but to stay perfectly quiet after 6pm....piss on that. I think I'm going to write them a complaint about the sound their saggy tits make as they drag across the floor.

I get a lot of spam. Thats the nature of the beast when I run a website and toss my email address out like gang signs in the projects.

There are few effective ways of dealing with spammers. Thats the problem with them. Their method works, even if it doesn't work on you. There are enough idiots out there just waiting to buy anti-snoring nostril plugs, breast-enhancing suppositories, and other RonCo products. Let's do math.

A spammer purchases a list of 50,000 viable email addresses for $500. He then mails out an ad for his new porn site "Fisting Grandmas". Now, 99.5% of everybody calls the email spam and erases it. However, half of one per-cent of the community just loves shoulder deep grandmas, so they pay the $12.95 entrance to the site.

This small percentage of success accounts for more than $3,200 worth of profit, $2,700 if you count the initial $500 list fee. And that is only one mailing. Are you starting to get the picture now?

Dealing with this is different. You can try sites like spamcop, but they are only marginally effective. I usually just send all the spam spider-bots to this page, full of thousands of bogus email addresses. If you can't get rid of their lists of emails, you can at least flood them with useless email addresses.

Generally I don't open spam, because usually it is quite obvious I don't want what it contains. However ther other day I got an email from Cigar Stash with the topic of "THIS ONE WILL SHOCK YOU...HONEST". Well, I like to be shocked, and I couldn't really figure out what exactly a second-rate online cigar dealer would have to tell me that is shocking, so I couldn't help myself but open up the mail.

What it contained was absolute hilarity.

Are you reading this? Their SHOCKING NEWS is that they are running the EXACT SAME FUCKING offer they were last time! They are READY....READY I say to do this again. Holy wow Batman, we have to tell the President!

This is where the internet is going, folks. Leave now, while the memory of it is still cool. Soon the internet will go the way of MTV and be nothing but lame advertising, carbon-copy rap videos, and Carson Daly weekend-a-thons.

I was playing around on the golf simulator yesterday. This thing is amazingly accurate. It knows every little detail of your swing and can map out the exact ball path. Everyone that uses it says that the program picks up everything and replicates exactly how they play on the course. Anyhow, I took ten or so swings. The first goal was to get a nice accurate 200 yard drive to the pin with this beautiful Mizuno driver I was using. In the end, I just wanted to nail the thing as hard as I could. Best drive for the evening was 328 yards in the air, quite impressive for me. Thats a result of hitting the ball with a clubhead speed of 141mph at a launch angle of 8.6 degrees. After spending 9.6 seconds in the air and gaining a max speed of 180mph, the ball landed 560 feet from the pin.

Hey, I never said I was shooting for the green.

What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Turkey? Tofurkey? Personally, I think the holiday warrants killing something and eating it. It cant be purely coincidental that hunting season starts the same week. Infact, I'd love to go hunting this year, I really feel like it. I want to put on my Real Trees and my orange hat and stalk something that realistically has no chance against me. I want to feel like a man, even though the hunt is about as fair as chasing a baby with a pitchfork. Deep down I suppose I'd like to go wrestle down a twelve-point buck with just my pocketknife and a few cc's of adrenaline, but I'm not sure how that would effect the tenderness of the meat.

I used to be around guns a lot. I even worked at a skeet field for a number of years. The old men would drive in, flop down their tailgates, and assemble their shotguns worth more than I made in a year. After shooting through four boxes of ammunition they would retire to a hamburger and a six pack. Looking back, I think I was witnessing the high point of their week. It was an alright job until the launching arm of one of these machines lacerated the flesh on my hand open so that I could see bone. After I made them pay for the stitches, they never called me back. Hrmm.

And now, for something completely different.

Theres some pretty crazy things you can do with webpages. People ask me why my page is so simple if it would be cooler to have things more complicated. Here is why I don't do a lot of things.

In theory, people visit Chef Josh for content alone. As long as the graphics arn't horrible and I don't use the <blink> tag, I think things will be okay. I'd rather spend time learning how to write stuff that doesn't suck.

As I wait for the friendly girl at Delta Sonic to change the oil in my car (no thank you, semi-synthetic will be fine today) I had the opportunity to sit down in their world class oil-change lounge and catch up on a three-day-old newspaper. Their selection of coffee sweetners is the only reason I go to Delta Sonic, as I havn't found another oil-change lounge which offers such fine complimentary coffee service. Is $17.98 a deal? Perhaps not, but their selection of flavored coffee shots make it worth the trip.

Mmmm...french vanilla and amaretto dancing in my mouth, fighting over which taste buds each gets to please.

But I digress, I wanted to talk about the newspaper.

The top story in the paper was about the recent plane that fell apart mid-air, spewing plane guts into various locals of Queens. The story did a good job of hiding what I was looking for, but in the end they admitted that there was no surviors.

When was the last time anyone did survive such a plane crash? And when someone does, arn't they just one or two survivors out of hundreds killed? Even in water landings people don't seem to make it. People don't survice plane crashes, thats the trend I'm noticing.

So if nobody survives these crashes, why do we spend 10 minutes before each takeoff to learn the emergency procedures? It seems like a real exercise in futility to me. Looking at the general makeup of crash survivors, it sure seems like their walking away from the impact is more of a function of luck than their ability to cram their brains between their legs. Is this pre-flight ritual supposed to make me feel better? My seat cushion doubles as a flotation device, but what am I supposed to use to defend myself against hungry sharks? They say people who jump from the top of the Empire State Building can bounce several feet in the air upon impact, but nobody talks about the contest-winning splash generated by a burning human hitting the North Atlantic at 9.8 meters a second.

I understand that most people fear reality. But i'm not so sure that this visual tranquilizer is going to be the best thing for the 10's of 1,000's of people in the air at any given moment. I think the time spent teaching us how to use our life vests would be better spent showing us how to program our loved ones numbers into the phone mounted on the seatback in front of us.

"Hello...Mom? I'm about to do a face plant into the Adirondacks. But I gotta go now, these phones are fucking expensive".

All in all flying is safe. It's safer than driving, and a hell of a lot quicker than walking. I don't care how many commercial airplanes turn into scrap metal, as long as more than half of the planes that take off end up landing safely at their destination I'm going to keep flying. Infact, I think a few crashes is a good thing. It keeps the pansies off the airplanes, and that means a shorter line at Space Mountain for me.

I'll be honest with you, I've spent a good portion of my "free" time today doing dynamic html and extended SSI garbage, and I don't really feel like doing any more website work. So, in the meantime, i'll just post some links for you to visit and enjoy.

I hate fake breasts. Well no, I don't hate the breasts, I just hate women who think that they are sexier because they have them. To me, $3,000 worth of surgical work doesn't make a woman sexy, it just makes her look painfully fake. I'm impressed by a woman who has natural beauty, not someone with some cash to spare. I'd rather have a girl with bug bites than a girl injected with silicon. Because of this, I pride myself on being able to tell whats fake and what isn't. Check your ability at Playboys ultimate breast test.

If you're like me, and you probably arn't, you're willing to pay anything to see a couple of trained monkeys fight to the death. Oh boy, monkey blood! You can check out monkey battles for all the latest.

Is it rice? Is it performance? You decide after you look at this picture.

Governer Angus King of Maine recently announced his plan to give every seventh grader in the state a personal laptop computer. As pre-labotomy patient knows, this is a bad idea. I don't need to explain to you why this is the case, but you can check out sunspot for a good example.

You've seen supergreg.com and you've been wooed by his manly music and generally sexy disposition. His red jump suit alone makes women scream for more. But who is he REALLY? Maybe eboogyman can cast some light on this.

Okay, thats it. I know being a link whore is pretty lame, but we all have to do it sometime, right? If you don't like this kind of content go screw yourself, because it's not like you're paying me anything.

All things equal, people are content. Problem is, things aren't equal, and people are pretty pissed off about that. Capitolism creates bias, and that in turn creates the classes which are so essential to our need to hate the people above and below us.

Hence we have this social spectrum. It's a vicious cycle of pissing on the people less-fortunate than you, and getting shit on by the people who outrank you. Towards the bottom we have the homeless, towards the top we have the exorbitantly wealthy trash. In the middle lives you and me.

The thing is, bizarre things happen on either ends of this spectrum. They tend to converge back on each other, and give the spectrum a bit of a cyclical nature. See, the people on either ends are looking for the same thing. This is why there exists a pure leisure class on either end of the social spectrum. On one end you have the hippies with no money living out of their VW Minibuses, playing their guitars to gather enough coins to pay for gas and a cheap lunch. Their destination is non-existant, their purpose too esoteric for most of us to comprehend. Is it a lack of ambition to suceed financially? No, I doubt that, I think it's something else.

On the other end we have the wealthy corporate demigods who spent their early days climbing the ladder and purchasing presidential influence. Once they have secured their position, they spend their days sailing, skiing, and buying the best hookers Wall Street has to offer. Their purpose is no more grand than those of the hippies, they just go about it a different way. In the end, both groups are looking for the same thing.

So when you think about it, without capitolism there is a lot less seperation between people. Now i'm not saying capitolism is bad, i'm just saying it does have a few negative effects on the people it governs. I don't want to take the focus off of the fact that everything that is wrong with the world is because of You.

This week the USPS postal hub down the street from me is being subject to a "random" anthrax inspection. Exactly how they do such a thing is unknown to me, however. Anthrax is very difficult to identify when not visually exposed. It doesn't exactly give off some rancid stench or have the ability to be moved by a magnetic field. They probably just have really good guessers doing the work. People who are inherently lucky like lottery winners and computer geeks with hot girlfriends.

Some tanker truck also dumped a bunch of hydrochloric acid on the road yesterday. Personally, I think that's pretty cool. Although not nearly as nifty as the giant bath tub formerly known as Lake Peigneur.

I also want to talk about something that is not cool. And this time, it's not going to be about you. I want to talk about how pathetically fake Hollywood is. I will use award shows as my only point.

See, lots of stars show up at these award shows. Consequently, this is a really easy target for terrorism. Now you and me don't give a shit about movie stars, but unfortunately their producers and advertisers do. So in the wake of the recent terrorist activity (perhaps you heard about it) many stars decided not to show up to the Emmys. Because of this many actors were not there to fill the seats reserved for them, or even to receive their awards. However, when the camera pans across the audience, do you see any empty seats?

The answer is no. But you knew this, I hope. The reason for this is that they have people on reserve to fill these holes. While this is not suprising in itself, it is a bit suprising to find that these reserves are used even if the actor has to get up and go take a piss. Yes, thats right, if Bruce Willis wants to launch a couple of movie star nukes, his place will be filled from the time he enters the stall to the last wipe. These runners arn't allowed to talk to the people they sit next to either, they're just allowed to look forward at the stage.

Imagine the pain of having the opportunity to sit right next to Britney Spears, and not have the ability to talk shit to that mentally-challenged plastic half-wit.

Yesterday, in a monument to spending money inefficiently, I saw K-PAX. For those who havn't heard of it, its a movie starring Kevin Spacey. He plays the role of an alien from space that can talk to dogs. Thats about it, I think.

Anyhow, it was really good.

So the tachometer of my life is starting to red line these days. Work hours are piling up, finals are a little more than a week away, and my days aren't getting any longer.

Let off gas.

Depress clutch.

Shift.

I suppose eventually i'll run out of gears, but i'm still a happy camper for now.

I saw Henry Rollins do spoken word last night. If you don't know who he is me mentioning that he was the foudation for the Rollins Band many moons ago won't help you much. The show was good. My dishwasher was able to get me on the guest list because he is from Jersey and has mob connections. Being on a guest list makes me feel elite. It also saves me ten bucks.

For the 4.2 billion people who missed the show last night, I will summarize it for you using a format we can all understand, AIM chat.

Audience89:

I don't share my dreams often. Mostly because they're about exotic islands and naked supermodels. Their skin warmed from the tropical sun, small beads of water dripping down their brea....

Well, you get the idea.

Last night was different, however. It all started in this regular downtown city setting. Cobblestone streets lined with old brick buildings. The street level filled with different types of shops and restaurants. You get the idea.

Then night came, and the fun began.

Everything in the place turned into a club. Everything. I remember standing in line to get into an ice cream parlor, only to be asked for a $5 cover charge when I made it to the door. Inside people were dancing to music and ordering alcoholic drinks with their ice cream. There was a sign by the cash register that said "Party ends at 400", but I didn't know what it was for.

Later me and whoever I was with when to a place that had a few big pools outside. This place was hopping with people dancing in the water and drinking. Even the lifeguards were getting into it, dancing about on their high stands. On the stands were signs that said "Party ends at 1600".

Then one of the lifeguards yelled out "Alright everybody! We got 300 people here! This party is going to keep going until we reach 1600!".

And thats how it went in this place. People partied every night, at every commercial location. The parties went until enough people showed up at once, and then they prompy ended.

Today I came to my computer and found a rather odd request from a normally predictable person. However, i'm not racist against weird people, so lets go with it.

I guess this is how the greatest things start. Although, I guess this is also how a lot of the worst things start as well. I'm not a poet. Me and poetry go together like test-tube babies and soda straws. But being bad at something doesn't stop anyone from doing anything. I mean, look at N'Sync.

Today is the first day of November. The date looks like binary code, which I am sure is quite amusing for the lame geeks around the world. Although I am indeed a geek, I am not a lame geek, because I chase women.

November is cool. Not in the sense that it wears a leather jacket and Ray Bans, but in the sense that I won't be wearing a miniskirt to my next drag queen competition. This is the time of year that people go shopping for winter coats, wool socks, and gas-powered fireplaces. The parks empty out, concerts move inside, and the frogs start to die.

I think brains work like computer processors. The cooler they are, the faster they can go. In the summer people are dumb. Mindless tourists spending endless amounts of cash on disgusting food and unsafe rides at the park. People drive like morons, they talk like morons, and they spend beautiful days inside watching TV like morons. But as it gets colder, people start to smarten up a bit. I think this is an inherent trait we have going back to the caveman days, back when I wouldn't get into so much trouble for dragging my girlfriend around by her hair. See in the summer, you only have to do two things to survive. The first is to avoid things big enough to eat you or deadly enough to kill you. The second is to find food and water to keep you going.

In winter, however, you have the added challenge of maintaining your body temperature. You have to find shelter and a source of warmth. This is combined with the fact that food is much more difficult to find when plants are buried under snow and yummy animals are hibernating. Clearly, you have to sharpen your mind a bit more to survive in the winter.

And so it goes, we get smarter when it gets cold.

Anyhow, I had a point. All this time my brain was getting smarter as the temperature got colder, and it made me start thinking about the cyclical nature of time and how history tends to repeat itself. In summary, I hope that if time really is cyclical and history does really repeat itself, next time we go around I hope we can skip the 80's.

In other important news, Ecstacy manufacturers...err..."scientists" gave a bunch of kiddie candy-raver mice some MDMA and played some muic. The first group listened to Bach, and four out of fourty of the mice died. The second group, however, listened to The Prodigy. After obtaining glow sticks and pacifiers, the mice broke into a trance-like dance followed by lots of premiscious unprotected sex. As an end result, seven of the fourty died. The remaining 33 contracted STD's.

What is the meaning of this? I think that the "scientists" were trying to prove how dangerous Bach really is. You can read the real article here.

Halloween is finally here, and we're all too old to trick or treat. I realize that this is a turning point in my life. Where before I was the one getting the candy, now i'm the the one on the other side of the door giving the candy out. I'm supposed to stop at CVS and buy candy, just so some kid I don't know can take it from me? The fact that the little brats are hidden behind their plastic Transformer and Brittney Spears costumes doesn't help either, since now I have no way of identifying these kids and hunting them down. I feel cheated and jealous. Now I know how the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow feels. He's got this big pot o' gold all year long until a rainbow appears. Then someone tracks him down, and he has to give it all up.

I suppose now I understand why the leprechaun in the movies was so evil. Wow, it suddenly all makes so much sense. Poor little ugly guy.

There is another lesson to be learned by this transformation too. You know those "fun sized" candy bars you used to get? The 1/5th scale models of the real thing, the snickers you could finish with one bite, and the bag of M&Ms whose entire contents you could fit in your nostrils? Well, when I was a trick or treater, I didn't understand what was so fun about them, apart from the fact that they were free. They were much smaller than their original counterparts, and offered much less sugar per treat. Now that I am the one who has to buy candy, however, I realize how fun these things really are. They're cheap, you can buy them in bags of 10, 20, 50, and 1,000,000, and they shut kids up just as quickly as their more expensive counterparts. Horray for fun sized!

Although we college types won't be harassing old ladies for candy bars, crappy home made treats, and razor-blade treated apples, Halloween still plays a part for us. You see, it adds a crazy/wild/insane/super twist to parties. Also, parties seem to be more abundant. Where at once you would hover around the keg and drink till it was empty, now you can hover around the keg AND wear a crazy outfit! Wow! I just can't wait to show up to a party this weekend dressed as the fecal mascot for Boong Ga Boong Ga or Speculum Man.

Well I decided that not all the mindless junk I write needs a spot for users to comment on. Instead, I will move the comments thingie to the 'Asinine' menu. I'll refresh it every week or so. This is for three reasons:

1 - People who read webpages like this are inherently not prone to leave comments. They come to see into someone elses mind, not to let others see into their own. Out of a thousand visitors, probably only one would actually want to leave a comment, and thats only if the topic is really interesting.

2 - Most things arn't worth commenting on anyways. I don't write anything that is highly controversial or ground-breaking. Who wants to leave a comment about something I did over the weekend or how much my left nut hurts.

3 - The server doesn't need to process three dozen CGI scripts for every page load. It has a hard enough job as it is.

So, in conclusion, I'm not really sure the ability to leave user comments is a great idea. If I get a few comments from a couple outgoing readers, I'll be more than happy. I just can't bring myself to destroy perfectly functional, already implemented CGI scripts. If you don't know what a CGI script is, it's basically an acronym that makes me look more intelligent. Kind of like D.A.R.E., or A.I.D.S.

Anyhow, that was a lot about nothing. Smile and nod, smile and nod. Lets read a poem. I can't say who wrote it but it'll make you smile.

Not that you give a damn, but I updated the layout for the site a little bit. I also added nifty little 'Reader Comments' tags at the bottom of each entry and random other places in the site. It's a fairly unintelligent system as it doesn't provide any IP tracking or logging or anything, so feel free to be devious. Now you can talk, too.

I have a question for all you boys out there. For all you girls reading, i'm sure you can figure out some way of altering the syntax of this to reflect a question appropriate for you.

Would you still hang out with her if she was a guy?

As innocent as this question seems, step back and take another glance at it. I'm not talking about the girl you date, or the girl you boink on a regular basis, i'm talking about the girls you call "friends". How much of your interest in said girl is based on the fact that she has an extra X chromosome? Maybe you don't conciously think about it, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. If your best beer-drinking buddy said the same joke she did, would you have laughed as hard? Did you invite her to that party just because she was the only one who rivals your ability to shotgun a Honey Brown in eight seconds? If your best guy friend, instead of her, had asked you to the movie you saw last week, would you have gone?

Certainly some are thinking "Well DUH! Of course I hang out with her because shes a girl, I'm trying to get a little stinky pinky!" but there has to be a couple of you thinking "No way man, I hang out with her just because shes cool, regardless of her gender". Theres also probably a couple weirdos who still don't get the fish joke from yesterday.

Okay, all this has been pretty straight-forward so far. Now I have a question for the women. How does this make you feel? Do you ever think a guy is hanging out with you for more than you social disposition? Clearly there are obvious cases where a guy asks you out on a date or tries to slip some roofies in your pop, but i'm talking about those guy friends you've had for years and wouldn't ever consider dating because of that. If you were a guy, would they still be yours to entertain?

Gender differences exist. Its unavoidable human nature, nobody denies this. As much as the unhinged femi-nazi's try to deny our inherited gender barriers, they exist as much as ever. I am just trying to get a handle on the scope of this whole thing, to determine where the true seperations between women and men are. Not so much to document them, but to figure out how much they really MATTER. I don't think i'll ever get very far, since people have devoted their lives to such studies and found only enough to write an easily-digestable book. I don't specialize in human relations or sociology, so I won't waste yours or my time.

Does anyone agree? I half-expect to be totally wrong, but that doesn't take the fun out of it.

It is my duty to entertain you during your visit to Chef Josh. Well actually it isn't really, since I don't have any sponsors to keep happy. In keeping with this, let's start off with a joke.

Q: What did the fish say when he hit the concrete wall?

A: Dam!

Get it? I bet you did, you rocket scientist. I can't slip one past you, can I?

Some things don't require understanding them to be funny (ie, above). Take the phrase "cabbage gas" for instance, it's just funny. You don't know if its a pseudo-sexual, rediculous, or medical term. Fact is, it's amusing.

However, you're not going to bust any guts just spewing off random words with minimal humor value. Sure, it's funny, but it's not going to make the Pope wet his pants. Turning words into something funny requires something more. You're not masturbating, you're keeping the census down. It's not a poop mustache, it's a Dirty Sanchez. You get the idea. If this doesn't work, you can always fart and start laughing.

You see few things are funnier than flatulance. Nothing makes better jokes than our ol' friend the chocolate starfish. Once I was sitting on a bench not far from an old man, and he just let one rip. I laughed, and he laughed, and I was happy because I knew I'd never grow out of finding gas funny.

Click here for free sex.

Today is Sunday, October 28th.

More than likely, you wasted this day. Congratulations, you're the idol of every seven year old Mexican child working twenty-three hours a day making clothes for GAP. I hope you can also find comfort in knowing that you vacuum up more money off the floor than these souls make in a week.

You have time on your hands, and invariably you don't use this time to be productive. How do I know this? Well, you're here arn't you. I can also tell something about your taste for literature, and it sucks. Of course this says a lot about my writing abilities too, but I make no effort to hide the fact that they suck. But who's the webmaster here, tough guy?

Jeepers Creepers is a pretty bad movie. Expensive laboratory testing proves that exposure to this movie brings your SAT scores down eleven points. It also causes testicle-shrinkage and excessive toe-jam in men. Women only have to suffer permanently erect nipples and an enhanced attraction to me. Are you starting to get my point? Suprisingly, the budget for Jeepers Creepers was only $1,977. This was just enough to cover the bad actors and cocaine to drug the critics. Significant funds were saved by not actually filming an ending.

On the up side, no animals were hurt in the filming of this movie. Well, except for a bunch of newborn hampsters and eight rabbits that got caught in the fax machine. The giraffe has also regained conciousness.

This one's for all those hot Chef Josh lovin' vixens out there, commonly known as "girls". Ladies, you can rely on me to keep you warm during the upcoming chilly winter nights. Chef Josh has his own special ways of keeping you toasty and comfortable.

Layers. It's all about layers. By dressing in layers, you can provide maximum insulation against the cold weather, while still retaining the ability to take some layers off if you get too warm. Keep this in mind when the snow starts to hit the ground.

On a more masculine note, my new viking name is Jósurr Boneflattener. Clearly this name just screams "I drink lots of mead and get first dibs on the tavern ho's". I'll let my mad flambeau skills attest to that.

Halloween is so romantic.

It seems like everyone out there with a cool website has a wishlist online so people can send them stuff. Well, my website isn't as cool as theirs, and i'm not that popular, but you should buy me stuff anyways. The government says the best thing you can do to help the war efforts is to spend money, and if you're going to have to spend money why not buy me spy goggles? Click here for my list. If you buy me stuff you will get your choice of one of 54 nude vegas show girl playing cards, or a pair of socks autographed by me.

Okay Kids, today we're going to talk about school. For those of you who live in America, you are already familiar with school and you will understand this easily. For those of you who live in Canada, the three years you attended school should be enough to understand this as well. For those of you who live in Afghanistan, and arn't familiar with school, i'll just say that school is where you go to learn it's not a good idea to fuck with someone THREE HUNDRED TIMES LARGER AND MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU.

Now that we are all the same metaphorical page, lets continue.

The government invented school when they realized a lot of kids were too old for daycare, but not old enough to move out yet. This angered many fathers who wanted to get the kids out of the house every day so they could bang mom. Thus, public education became a solution. Later on private schools were invented when it was realized that some kids had a lot of money and needed a safe place to do drugs. However, thats another story altogether. For now I'm going to assume you made it all the way through the public school system, or are planning to. For those of you who dropped out of high school, pat yourself on the back, you were years ahead of your time.

I remember in primary school our class was called over to a desk in a corner, one at a time, to take some sort of intelligence test. I was asked to do some basic math, and then to recite the alphabet backwards. You see as a kid you don't question things like the order in which you should know the alphabet, you're too consumed with songs about runaway shoes and some kids preference for mud. However later in life, being tested on such a thing seems asinine. But is it really?

When was the last time you used your extensive knowledge of the first fifteen presidents in your daily routine? Determined the coefficient of friction between two things? Took an integral? It's probably been awhile. But how long has it been since you had to know the order of the alphabet, both forwards AND backwards? When you open the yellow pages to find "Wally's Dophin Meat" do you start at letter 'A' and work your way up? No, you start in the 'Z's and work your way back. Do you understand where we are going here?

Sources say you havn't been dealing with many imaginary numbers or talking about the resident government in Chad lately. How about using glue to secure two things? I bet you've done that lately. Do you remember where you learned that? Think about the picture you gave to your mom years and years ago. The one with the photograph of you taped to a piece of red construction paper, surrounded by stale elbow macaroni.

This is the part where I usually have a point, but today I failed to generate one and didn't want to throw this whole thing away. I guess you should just take what we've discussed today and use it to make yourself a better person. Remember, it doesn't take a genius to make good magnetic poetry on the fridge.

People seem to bark at me for having a 'holier than thou' approach to others. You see, i'm not better than everyone, it's just that most people are idiots. If they arn't idiots, they're usually annoying as hell. Perhaps you arn't, but that doesn't mean a whole lot. I'm average. Infact, I consider myself quite the icon for average guys. Skiing, parachuting, basket weaving, rock climbing, and bathing. I can do 3/5ths of these things. I like cars. Things that go fast amuse me, especially when i'm attached to them. I respect anything that can cover a quarter-mile from a dead stop in under twelve seconds. My taste for this is enhanced when power is generated from solid propellants or hampsters on wheels. When I am naked, I am happy. I dream of suddenly finding myself treading water. This is not a nightmare.

I feel that anything that fits under my bumper isn't worth avoiding. This includes chipmunks, bunnies, and people lying down. Puzzles upset me, the end doesn't justify the means. I trust people with famalies because if they ever turn on me, I have someone to hunt down. I've learned you can't trust anyone who subscribes to 'Buttmasters' magazine, or individuals who own cats. If you can lift your own body weight you are strong. If you can lift twice your own body weight you can kick my ass. Thus, you should be avoided at all costs. I've never met anyone who didn't want a Ferrari, but have only met a handfull of people who can name even one model number.

The human mind can remember seven digits at once without repetition. My mind can hold eight. This means I am 14% smarter than you, but 17% less-intelligent than Doug who can eat thirteen soft tacos in one sitting. Intelligence doesn't matter though, because morons rule the world. Being smart can only take you from your bedroom to the end of your driveway, after that you can only rely on your senses. I've found the quiet people often have the most to say, but sometimes I thank my lucky stars that some people remain quiet.

I hope this clears things up.

I will now present to you what is, quite possibly, the most humorous and entertaining website on the entire internet. Once again I would like to thank Al Gore for inventing the internet, for without him we would not have this super-duper site. Please, for your own good, visit www.engrish.com.

Here is my favorite one:

We all know that is why everyone loves fruit, DUH!

If you havn't noticed, and you probably didn't, I put a thing that generates dumbness at the top of the page. Every time you reload Chef Josh, you get a new one. Or if you want to waste time, you can just click here and hit reload as many times as you want. The database of words is small now, but with your help I can make it bigger and possibly even less-intelligent. E-Mail me your action words, nouns, and whatever that middle part is called.

Also, for all you geeky math buffs with a sick sense of humor, check out Alkulukuja Paskova Karhu, the bear that shits prime numbers!