Frozen Karl Rove Statue

A Diet that Really Works!


So, I was thinking: what if you were really uncreative at assisting suicides? I mean, like you used a gun, or even worse, a heavy object. Man, that would be nuts.



In other news, "The Line Begins to Blur" and "The Hand that Feeds" have been leaked on the internet and I was able to score the former. The song is fucking awesome and Dave Grohl's drums certainly don't make it less awesome. The thing about nails is this: the lyrics are somewhat lame, but the music makes up for it. You have to take it with a grain of salt. It's like putting on headphones and pretending you're an angry teenager. I think I wrote something about the new Nirvana box set making me want to commit suicide like when I was in high school – same type of thing. It's like watching Scott McKellen, you kinda just have to let go of reality and pretend you're somewhere else.



The boss is still behind me and is probably going to ask me at some point in time just what the hell I'm writing about in 8 point. I can't really tell her it's a technical document because they usually have pictures of computer screens, and I can't say it's a newsletter article, because I wasn't assigned one, so I'm going to have to call it lunch.



I'm nearing the fattest I've ever been: 205 lbs. It's wicked awesome; at this rate I might be able to pull a Homer and stay home on disability for my fatitude. No, it's time I go back on my no food diet and get back down to the 160 I was four years ago. This means massive amounts of cocaine and Benzedrine. This is going to be a short and freaky road – but, hey, we all need to stay healthy. Tonight I'm going to load up on some crystal meth and do laps from Safeco stadium to the Space Needle until the next morning. I figure I'll keep my metabolism alive by popping an Altoid every so often. I mean, my gums will probably start bleeding and my liver will begin to chap and scale somewhere on the 20 lb lost, but it's important to look good in this super model society.



So, I've got this joint Outlook mailbox with the Purchasing group that I've been popping all my junk email into. I just popped a Christian Dating Service email in there and I'm hoping this is funny, but as I write about it, it really isn't that funny.



I just ran into this woman who went on this big tirade about how shitty our company is. I agree with her, but coming from her I started to think maybe this company is great. This is the woman who is super "I'm the boss, do things my way," made one of my buddies so stressed he left for New York, beat her boyfriend, has a boyfriend who does crack (ironic), and went batshit on me in a martini bar for not agreeing with the Bush administration. This last was nuts, because as much as I bitch here, I do respect people's opinions (to their face) and I was genuinely cool. I even just nodded my head when she pretty much told me that manifest destiny should be a policy of the United States. But, one head shake that wasn't vigorous enough for her and she went into a drunken tantrum about how great Reagan was and how I owe my freedom to the Trinity that is Cheney, Rove, and Rice. It was one of those times I should have pulled a Sean Connery and slapped her in the yipper. But, oh well. She apparently hates the company now. Also, this one dude who always looks pissed off left. He just left work one day with an email explaining that he quit. I thought this was awesome, as I have thought about doing it many times. It makes sense, cuz I didn't know the guy that well and this one time I gave him a courtesy "How ya doing?" and he replied "Like shit." Now, this isn't typical acquaintance banter. It was odd.



So, I'm thinking I'm diseased now. Look, I brush regularly, the whole bit – but, I'm waking up with either some film on my lower lip or skin coming off – on the inside. It's making me think I've got lip cancer. You remember lip cancer, don't you? That one anti-tobacco presentation from elementary school, with the dude who chewed and had to have his whole lower jaw removed and eventually died all the same? Yeah, that may be me. Good lord, I will shoot myself if I have to have my jaw removed. I promise you right now – if my jaw has to be removed I will blow my fucking head off. I won't even think twice. I'm sorry if you're living with a removed jaw (well, without it) and I wish you the best. But I have problems enough functioning in society, I'm not going to go about it with a metal clog attached to my face. No, fuck that. In fact, please email me at matteckert@lycos.com if you would like to assist me in the suicide, but please see the first paragraph as the gunshot to the head will be fine, but I don't want to be crushed by a heavy object.



No, seriously, what the fuck makes the skin on the inner lip peel or give a film in the morning? It's after I brush, too. Could it be lip cancer from smoking? Or, could it be too much vitamin C? I've been taking a lot for no good reason at all. Please email me if you know what this vicious illness is.



Oh, I just remembered something that may be useful: the best way to get out of a really uncomfortable situation is "I'm not having this conversation." It works on so many levels.



Dude, I've been playing that new nails nonstop all day and it's only one song. This album is going to be dope. I'll be happy to send anyone a copy, because I think music piracy is awesome. Seriously, anyone who tries to tell you different is a greed hound. And that fucking douche from that flaming Zeppelin bag of shit called Metallica should be beaten with a hose. Lars Ulrich, get bent. You are a tool of such magnitude that I'm not gonna have this conversation.



Well, that's all. Some woman from Trinidad left me comments a bit ago. Isn't that amazing? I mean really, think about how awesome this Internet thing is. One day we'll all just be able to live in the confines of a closet and see the universe. I can't wait. I'm already storing all the food I won't eat from my crash cocaine diet.



Pleace,

Matt