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Do me a favor and watch the Hostel movies. Hostel 1 preferably. I don't find horror movies worth my time generally, but the first one is great. It's basically about a bunch of asshole guys backpacking through Europe who get tipped off to this Slovakian Hostel where the women will throw themselves at them. The Hostel and women are real, but the main characters start disappearing one-by-one, until the last one remaining eventually finds out that the hostel is just a conduit to send backpackers to a torture factory at the outskirts of town. This factory serves the rich elite, who bid exorbitant sums of money for an individual to torture.

The last remaining character gets captured, but escapes, and eventually dodges the corrupt authorities searching for him throughout the town and gets on a train. He then kills one the torturers, who was leaving the facility on the same train, in the Berlin station bathroom.

SPOILERS

This movie is good because I could imagine this scenario happening to me.

Marijuana Bust: Ways of Combating the Anxiety High

Yesterday, the Philadelphia Inquirer posted a front page article trumpeting a large-scale suburban Marijuana bust. They confiscated 812,000 dollars worth of weed, along with 12 pounds of mushrooms, in a successful raid that will surely impress the two people left in the United States who still think that marijuana should be taken seriously as a drug.

Link

Now, phawker and philebrity have already slammed the Inquirer for treating this bust like a big deal. I would like to quickly bring attention, however, to the overdose angle of this article, starting with the opening line:

"A potent type of marijuana known as AK47 - so strong that some users are treated in emergency rooms for overdoses - has hit the Philadelphia area."

As Phawker points out, this article doesn't touch upon the drug overdose aspect again until nine paragraphs later, when a cop, not a medical official, is quoted:

"Hospitals are seeing more teens in emergency rooms because of the "overdose, effects and powerfulness of this drug," (narcotics Chief Inspector) Blackburn said, adding that overdoses are not "typical of marijuana, but it's typical of this type of marijuana.""

First off, let's get the obvious out of the way: Nobody fucking overdosed on AK47. Secondly, sweet job Inquirer on writing a 750 word article that only quotes one source. I mean, I know journalists only quote officials like cops, politicians, and aristocrats, but just one?

Could've used more voices other than Blackburn: B-.

Nonetheless, I'd like to use the overdose angle as a jump-off to discuss methods of dealing with the anxiety-high. Now, we know that nobody overdoses on weed, and the "overdoses" that the article references are no doubt the product of some inexperienced teenage girl freaking out, thinking the weed is "laced".

Sorry, but you'd have to be an idiot to waste time and money lacing weed. What people simply experience is an anxiety-high. It's the kind of high that is completely nonthreatening to your health, but freaks you out mentally. It's the type of high can cause a panic attack at the simple thought of, "you fucking idiot; why did you forget the zap-motion count the moment you finally got your chance at wing-back during Fresh/Soph football?". Of course, these 'panic' attacks are nothing, really, but they can make a high more uncomfortable than need be.

Here are the activities that can help ride the anxiety-high out of your system:

1. Driving

Nothing will eviscerate that distracting anxiety than engaging in an activity that will cause certain death if you screw up. Everyone is a little afraid to drive when too high, but after twenty minutes on the road, you've forgotten that you even smoked. There's a reason burn rides never have a designated driver.

2. Video Games

Sorry female readers, as well as male readers who still think they are cool, but I've tried all the methods, and video games are one of the best. Games provide the best outlet to cleanse your paranoia, because they require your active attention while not being intellectually strenuous. Plus, if you are playing a two-player game, it gets two stoners talking smack to each other while avoiding the worst pratfall of an anxiety-high: Conversation.

3. Music/Painting

Another active task that requires little intellectual strain. This one goes below video games, however, because you need to have actual skill to do these things.

4. Drinking shots/beer bongs/chugging/keg stands

Are you at a party where none of cures 1-3 are available? Then commence with getting drunk as fast as possible. It's the quickest way to destroy your weed-induced fear of everyone and get you socializing again.

Here are the activities you don't want to do during an anxiety-high:

1. Conversation

Disgusting. You have to think on your feet and keep the flow going, the worst activity when your mind is off the wall.

2. Movies

A passive activity that requires your full attention. If you are suffering an anxiety-high, you will constantly get distracted by whatever paranoid thoughts a scene or piece of dialogue triggers in your head. In addition to exacerbating your condition, you will also forget the whole movie. Note: Does not apply when watching a movie in a theatre, where you are stuck in one spot and have to pay attention.

3. Writing

Writing when high causes gimmicks like this.

Mailbag!

Q: Dear Tweener, is there a way to turn crack back into cocaine?

A: Sadly, no. Poor people are to cocaine what Scientology was to Tom Cruise. They take the young vibrant energy of a Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, the unbridled panache of Cole Trickle, the devil-may care sunglasses of Joel Goodsen, and turn it into the better-than-nothing time-killer of white Samurais and special agents with an extra tooth in the middle. No, you'll never get that coke back. Just smoke the crack and next time get your drugs before you go out instead of from the first guy who approaches you as you stumble home.

Q: Tweener, can you handle the truth?

A: This is an interesting question, and one close to our hearts, because The Tweener lives on Jessup street, named after Colonel Jessup, Jack Nicholson's character in A Few Good Men fame. I can handle the truth ten months out of the year and even smoke it during that timeframe; the other two are tricky.


Q: What do I want for Christmas this year?

A: Well, you'll want some new tubes and chambers, as the old ones are getting pretty dingy. You'll want some t-shirts, like maybe some Washington Bullets or Mathletes BS, or maybe just go for the brass ring and get one that says "Tennyson? I was Golfin'!" You'll want a gift certificate to Standard Tap so you can get the steak and eggs this New Years instead of the peach and horseradish breakfast burrito. You'll also want the Legend DVD, which you can leave randomly about as an icebreaker, and an Andrew McCarthy poster (if you can locate this item, please alert the Tweener, as we can't find one anywhere). Finally, toiletries, you've been looking a bit ragged lately.

Ignorant Comments Day

Dear regular readers,

What I love about life, and when I say 'life', I mean 'internet comment pages', is the stuff that people post that they couldn't get away with in the real world: Casual racism, misogyny, persecution of spam-bots etc. In my mind, there's nothing better than reading a news article about a murder by the El-Salvadorean MS-13 gang, and then seeing in the comments page:

"That's what happens when you live near black people".

Ignorant comments happen everywhere. Whether it be the most generic anti-Bush/Cheney blog, to the most obscure Sebadoh message board on the interwebs, people's dumbass voices will be heard.

Except on this blog.

Seriously, I'm very disappointed about the low-level of ignorance displayed in the comments here. I mean, you all don't leave any comments in the first place, but I thought that at least I would've caught a break so far. Why hasn't some idiot googled "Mumia", caught my post and started calling me a 'libtard" before actually reading it. It just isn't fair.

So, today is a celebration of ignorant comments. I encourage all my readers to say something ignorant about me, society, Lacrosse, the price of raw oysters, or anything in between. Everyone will given one day of amnesty to post as they please.

And btw, this post was financed by the Zionists who want to impose an Israeli dictatorship across America they control all the media along with the illuminati BUSHCO is just a puppet if you elect a DEMON-crat things will still be the same it's time to take arms in revolution remember 1967 Pinochet coup Blovia forever!

The Game

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my old friends and I couldn't stop talking about it. It was a topic of conversation everywhere, from the bars, to the afterparties, to the drunk-driving on the way the way home. We argued about its merits, its flaws, and the ultimate effectiveness towards improving your life. Yes; We were talking about The Game.

I know what you're thinking: The Game is an underrated Michael Douglas film in which a clever concept eventually comes undone through a series of increasingly unbelievable plot developments. Nevertheless, the movie is buoyed by the strong supporting roles of Sean Penn and James Rebhorn.

I'd certainly say that's a fair assessment.

What we were actually talking about, however, was The Game, or the art of picking up women. You see, The Game seems to occupy the mind of every guy these days, what with the "Pick-up Artist" on VH1, the tons of books available on the subject, and the general feeling of terror amongst guys at the thought of trying to pick up a girl ANYWHERE but a place where alchohol is involved. And in some ways, I don't blame guys for feeling this way. Do you girls see the way you carry yourself in public these days? It seems like one is more likely to get tasered talking to a girl in line at a grocery store than a phone number.

Yes, I know I should sign-up for a Yoga class.

Forgetting that, however, let's analyze the rules of The Game: They are depressing. There is more fucking red-tape to practicing Game than the worst Soviet Bureaucracy.

Let's see: "Approach your target at a 45 degree angle within first three seconds of entering the bar. No slouching, no hands in your pockets, hold your drink at the waist, open your about eyes 2/3rds of the way while giving a half-smile. Swagger up to her like John Wayne in True Grit, NOT John Wayne in the Searchers. Deliver a line which slightly insults her while demonstrating your superior social value and act like you only have minute to talk even though you plan to stick around."

Loosely translated, This basically means "act like you're in a good mood". If you are consciously thinking about these rules while you are trying to execute them, you have probably already failed.

According to the practitioners of The Game, these methods are all meant to set-off a woman's 'attractiveness recepticons' or some bullshit like that. Here is the basic set-up of how the attractiveness recepticons operate in the female brain who lives in Philadelphia:


Attractiveness recepticons, accompanied by complex about not living in New York, as demonstrated in the female brain:



















So, good "game" simply means pushing through to these attractiveness recepticons. I don't really practice Game that much, but I will give you some pointers that guarantee absolutely no success, but are fun.

Constant stream of 'negging': By now, you have all probably heard of the 'neg' concept, where in the flow of conversation with a girl, you make some comment that slightly lowers her value without insulting her too much. Examples include "those pants look like they are perfect for a flood" or "I hear McClellan is your favorite Union Civil War General. Personally, I think he can eat a dick". I, however, advocate a constant stream of negging that never ends:

Me: "You've got something stuck in your eye"
Her: "Oh really?"
Me: "You just spit on me when you said that"
Her: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to"
Me: "What kind of broken dialect are you speaking in anyway?"
Her: "I'm from Cincinnati"
Me: "I've always wanted to nuke Ohio"
Her: "Who in the hell are you anyway?"
Me: "What an abrasive question to ask someone"

Being Unemployed: Let's just skip The Game here and go straight to a female's Florence Nightingale Complex. Girls always talk about wanting to 'save' a guy from something, whether it be assholish behavior, heroin abuse, or both. According to most girls, being unemployed is extremely unattractive. I've found just the opposite, however. Indeed, there is nothing more appealing to a girl than hearing the sweet phrases "I just got fired" or "I'm not really looking that hard" from a guy. Many an eyebrow has been perked at these comments. There's just something about failure that gets a girl ready to tear your clothes off. So, to all my guys out there: Stop dividing your internet/work time from a 60/40 ratio, and move straight to 100/0. After you get canned, you'll won't be able to fend the hot ass off.

That's all I got because I'm probably about to get fired.

Europe pt. 3: Russia

Thank god this infernal series is almost over. The good news, however, is that we are covering the granddady of them all today: Russia.

I've spent a total of about a month and a half in Russia, starting in the Spring of 1999 on exchange, and going back twice, with the final trip in January of 2001. What I've leaned is that Russia is a glorious contradiction. In some ways, post-communist Russia resembles the absolute worst elements of capitalism (rampant materialism and oligarchiasm), yet the average person is grounded with a sense of morality and humility that is unmatched in most western societies, particularly the USA. Case in point: If you walk on the street in Russia acting all loud and arrogant, taking up all of the sidewalk, you will be regarded as an irredeemable piece of shit by everyone. The rule is keep your mouth shut, your expression straight, and keep moving.

Behind closed doors, however, Russians like to play hard. Hard drinking (of course), hard fucking, and hard violence is the norm. Your average Russian does not go to the 'pub' or 'bar-hop', and the clubs are usually nothing more than ridiculously overpriced havens for mafia and indifferent fashionistas. Most of the hanging out, then, is done at someone's tiny flat in some neighborhood outside the center of Moscow. Behind closed doors, people are warm, intellectual, creative, and if they are women, hot as hell (until the age of 35). There is the specter of violence hanging over everything, however, as you never know when an armed heroin addict might sneak into your apartment building behind you, or if a gang of Chechnyians might kidnap you off the street, or if the police might try to extract a bribe from you. Trouble with the police usually only occurs if you look Chechnyan, so you are all in the clear.

Did I mention the warm personalities? Well, you have to be careful of that too. Russians are a manipulative bunch of fuckers, and although they are quicker to welcome you than the average American, they are also cash-trapped people who will try to take advantage of you if you portray weakness. I believe it was De La Soul who once said, "it's a dog eat dog competition".

If you are a decent looking American guy who is not a total fool, Russian girls will love the shit out of you. Of course, finding the right context for meeting a Russian girl is very difficult, because you if go 'out' in a Russian city, it'll be filled with mafia-connected girls whose status is so high, they could give two shits about you. Your best bet would be to go on exchange in High School, like myself, and meet some nice middle class girl. This is not going to happen to you. I'd recommend learning some Russian and going to Brighten Beach, Brooklyn, Northeast Philly, or somewhere in the Washington DC area where there are Russians (sorry DC readers, but I don't know where your Russians are at.)

A sidenote: What is it with girls that have Eastern European blood in any context? They are either the coolest girls you meet, who are talented, smart and beautiful, or they are completely vapid and materialistic...Contradictions again.

Now; to the two Russian cities that I've been to:















St. Petersburg - Washington, D.C. for the freezing set


St. Petersburg is a close kin of D.C., due to both the fake Parisian 'charm' in their respective architectural lay-outs and the sheer amount of hatred and satire these cities have inspired from those who have lived there. There's a reason Dostoevsky, Gogol, and Pushkin set most of their famous stories in St. Petersburg, and not Moscow: To them, St. Petersburg represented every vile element in Western society that Russia falsely aspired to, from the forced European appearance, to the vast, status-obsessed government bureaucracy...Sound familiar? Most Americans look at DC the same way, except substitute "American" for "Western" in the previous sentence. Well, I guess there's a whole mess of substitutions to make in that previous sentence to complete the DC analogy, but who the fuck do you think I am? Don Nelson?!

Nonetheless, like DC, People outside of St. Petersburg are quick to bash it. And like DC, People who live in St. Petersburg are eager to move out. But in the end, no one can stop talking about either city, and beneath the bullshit, there are plenty of redeemable elements about both places. The only problem I have is this: Why did St. Petersburg get all of the good writers out his deal? Who the fuck does DC have for great art, Fugazi?!!

Quick sidenote: St. Petersburg was the absolute coldest place I've ever been.















Moscow - No Red Square for you


Quick facts about Moscow:

-Contraband street vendors: I once got Ok Computer here for 20 cents. Cigarettes on the street go for about 30 cents a pack.

-Ridiculously overpiced Department Stores: I once got the Verve's Urban Hymes for fifty dollars. Yeah; that's stupid, but I had just gotten laid and absolutely needed to hear "Lucky Man".

-The food is indeed terrible. God, Russians can't cook. Their American-style supermarkets just don't feel right, either. Also understand that whenever you read some article on Russia gastronomical revolution, those cushy food critics are talking about meals that are upwards of 150 dollars.

-the subways are nicer and cleaner than the actual city:

http://www.cla.purdue.edu/fll/Russian/RussianMaymester2005/Moscow/Moscow-Metro_station.jpg

I've go to get back to work. Happy Russian Day.

Tweener Guide to Europe Pt. 2: The UK

Now, to the places where I've spent the most time: Starting with the United Kingdom

The 2002-03 school was spent in London and Norwich. It was a damn good time. With that said, I'm not writing a single thing about England. The reason being that although English are great, I hate their guts and everything about their culture. Oh; I can hear you now: "What about The Kinks?!" You fool. Go to any Englishman's place, and you won't find a copy of Village Green Preservation Society. Instead, it is only you: an arrogant, irrelevant, and poor 20-something American white guy, who cares about that album.

A couple of things about England:

1.) Everything is open from only 11 am to 2 pm everyday. As a consequence, you really have to plan things ahead, from drinking to shopping to museum-ing. It is said that places in England only stay open this long because it synchs up perfectly with soccer: An hour to drink beforehand, an hour and 50 minute total match time, and ten minutes to stuff down and after-match beef pie before stomping that Blackburn fan's face in.

2.) English cuisine is actually underrated. Let's defer to George Orwell on this one:

We have heard a good deal of talk in recent years about the desirability of attracting foreign tourists to this country. It is well known that England’s two worst faults, from a foreign visitor’s point of view, are the gloom of our Sundays and the difficulty of buying a drink.
Both of these are due of fanatical minorities who will need a lot of quelling, including extensive legislation. But there is one point on which public opinion could bring about a rapid change for the better: I mean cooking.
It is commonly said, even by the English themselves, that English cooking is the worst in the world. It is supposed to be not merely incompetent, but also imitative, and I even read quite recently, in a book by a French writer, the remark: ‘The best English cooking is, of course, simply French cooking.’
Now that is simply not true, as anyone who has lived long abroad will know, there is a whole host of delicacies which it is quite impossible to obtain outside the English-speaking countries. No doubt the list could be added to, but here are some of the things that I myself have sought for in foreign countries and failed to find.
First of all, kippers, Yorkshire pudding, Devonshire cream, muffins and crumpets. Then a list of puddings that would be interminable if I gave it in full: I will pick out for special mention Christmas pudding, treacle tart and apple dumplings. Then an almost equally long list of cakes: for instance, dark plum cake (such as you used to get at Buzzard’s before the war), short-bread and saffron buns. Also innumerable kinds of biscuit, which exist, of course, elsewhere, but are generally admitted to be better and crisper in England.
Then there are the various ways of cooking potatoes that are peculiar to our own country. Where else do you see potatoes roasted under the joint, which is far and away the best way of cooking them? Or the delicious potato cakes that you get in the north of England? And it is far better to cook new potatoes in the English way — that is, boiled with mint and then served with a little melted butter or margarine — than to fry them as is done in most countries.
Then there are the various sauces peculiar to England. For instance, bread sauce, horse-radish sauce, mint sauce and apple sauce; not to mention redcurrant jelly, which is excellent with mutton as well as with hare, and various kinds of sweet pickle, which we seem to have in greater profusion than most countries.
What else? Outside these islands I have never seen a haggis, except one that came out of a tin, nor Dublin prawns, nor Oxford marmalade, nor several other kinds of jam (marrow jam and bramble jelly, for instance), nor sausages of quite the same kind as ours.
Then there are the English cheeses. There are not many of them but I fancy Stilton is the best cheese of its type in the world, with Wensleydale not far behind. English apples are also outstandingly good, particularly the Cox’s Orange Pippin.
And finally, I would like to put in a word for English bread. All the bread is good, from the enormous Jewish loaves flavoured with caraway seeds to the Russian rye bread which is the colour of black treacle. Still, if there is anything quite as good as the soft part of the crust from an English cottage loaf (how soon shall we be seeing cottage loaves again?) I do not know of it.

Pretty hungry, aren't you? Or did you just close my browser because that was too long?

3.) To the North of England is Scotland, which contains a city called Edinburgh. It is a stunningly amazing place that looks incredible from wherever you are standing at any moment...Whatever. Edinburgh also had a record store called Fopps, which was the best record store that I've ever been to.

Edinburgh - Wake me up when I'm supposed to care about this spellbinding city

4.) Students in England are dirt poor. I mean, really. If you want to out to the pubs with your English friends, you have to get out a calender and pick a date two months ahead so they can start saving their money.

5.) JUST BECAUSE AN ENGLISH GIRL CALLS YOU 'DARLING' OR 'LOVE', DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN FUCK HER RIGHT THEN AND THERE. IT'S JUST A CUSTOM.

6.) When the english ask you, "you alright?", it generally means "how are you?", not "are you ok?". If you don't like this particular phrasing, simply respond the way I do: "Yeah, I'm alright...YOU ALRIGHT?"

So, that's the UK and England. I can honestly say that other than the countless great times having intelligent, reasoned conversations with my friends about a variety of topics, England was a total nightmare.