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THE RUNNING JOKE: January - March, 2002
03.31.02
03.30.02
Cocksocketonian comrades, cocksocketonian audience, cocksocketonian participants: lend me your ears.
I am malfunctioning today, and will be otherwise occupied (differently disposed) for the next week or so. I will be away from the office, but certainly collecting my voice mail and checking emails. I am most likely to be unresponsive before 6 (pm). I have given the entire staff the week off.
State your business above, in the fixed, perl-ized j-tag thing (thanks Matt). Or send classified comments here: captain@cocksocket.org.
Finally, the game should not be nearly as lopsided as everyone seems to think (with or without Coverdale)
03.25.02
I continue to bewilder myself. Several months ago, my monitor expired, and I replaced it with a 15" badboy. Today I finally put in the replacement and, DAMN! Everything is big and crisp. I enlarged the resolution, and now cocksocket.org looks quite a bit crappier. I can't put my finger on it, exactly, but there are a few things amiss. It's too big a problem to begin addressing now, but I welcome your feedback in advance of the next page redesign.
Some Days You Are The Horse is finally, legitimately up, so listen to it now (if necessary, whet your appetite with the tiny version). Here's a Cocksocketonian Expcerptification from almost exactly one year ago:
All this and more! In a particularly scrappy, finely-honed-shooting fashion the Hoosiers have landed themselves smack dab in the middle of the final four. It's a different type thing, not exactly like a 92-93 team that featured the likes of Mr. Cheaney and Mr. Henderson. It may be more exotic now than ever before, and I am therefore bewildered.
There have been reports filtering in concerning Dr. R, site updates by the eternally sexy Matt, and even a missive from the far reaches of Greece--from the fingers of koustakis. But I am too bewildered to inform now.
03.21.02
03.15.02
I am blushing crimson. A Hurryin' Hoosier squad which
should have run off with the conference championship
and the tournament once again finds itself in the Big
Dance, limping across the finish line. Hope springs
eternal in the heart of this loyal fan, but it has
been a long long long long time since the Cream and
Crimson has given us any March pleasure here in
Mudville. Injuries have been plentiful this season
along with tough breaks, bad calls and being on the
losing end of many close contests.
I want to join in on the chorus booing the selection
committee for having the gall to leave mighty Butler
out of the tournament this year. Boo to you on behalf
of Ball U. as well. And while I am coming to the
defense of these small Indiana schools I must also
disclose that this is why I can never make good picks
in the NCAA tournament. My picks always show my
freakin' bleedin' heart fandom out there on my lapel
glowing like Dick Vitales nose. I want the final four
to be Valpo, Butler, Ball State, and Indiana… EVERY
YEAR. And I want Indiana to win… EVERY YEAR.
I'm sick of Duke, Kansas, North Carolina… (ANY team
from North Carolina.) Kentucky, Stanford… I'm sick of
them all. From now on I only want teams from Indiana
to win. Except Purdue. Not Purdue. They should (as
always) remain losers.
гаражные ворота Воронеж
DR. R
03.12.02
Yes! Cocksocket is mossy and moldy once again. Again. But this time it is a different type of moss; a different style of mold! For there is, yet again, a new song. The song, which is called (This Is) Absolute Fucking Bullshit, has been almost a year in the making, and it is just now getting the finishing touches.
It started last April with some beer, samples (via Napster, god rest her soul), and some good ol' fashion pirated software. Of course, whether the software was actually pirated, I cannot say, and, even if it were, I would decline to admit to being the pirate. Or would I? At any rate, month by month, attention was paid, arrangements were maid, tradeoffs were weighed. Voila! (This Is) Absolute Fucking Bullshit was completed and released at an opportune moment, considering the ESPN movie, and the March Madness / March Mayhem / March Murder.
Speaking of that, it is time again for our unpretentious version of tournament festivities. Here is what will happen: I, Captain Formaldehyde, will prepare and publish a completed tournament bracket--straight-up filled-in with all the thoughtfully called and insightfully analyzed games that you would certainly expect from Cocksocket. In addition, Matt and Dr. R (and King Tufu for that matter, and any of you French readers, and anybody else from anywhere else) are invited to submit tournament brackets for the unyielding eyes of you, the elaborate Cocksocket readership.
Results will be meticulously tracked and measured against the final AP, RPI, and Coaches Poll rankings--as well as against the tournament committee seedings (with honest, obvious assumptions where necessary).
Participants, get your brackets here. Most everything will be done by early, pre-game Thursday morning. And, if you are interested, the crusty old result from last year is here or, if you are not in the mood for an Excel file, a jpeg can be found here (but be warned, the resolution is huge -- 1886 x 1309, and the file is big -- 270 KB).
Now, if you are thinking that all of this NCAA basketball tournament hoopla ought to be the property of Matt's Sports Beat, then I cannot disagree. As a matter of fact, I can do nothing but agree vigorously. Matt, however, both here and elsewhere, has clearly stated his views on basketball, summed up gloriously in this epigram: "basketball sucks".
Anyway, I am off now to accomplish much in a short time
Oh yeah! Check this out. WooHoo! Thanks Matt!
03.04.02
There has been an outpouring of gravy, a veritable horn-o'-plenty, streaming from Camp Tufu--in particular from Dr. R. It all started with an article, and developed (in the inimitable fashion of
organica) into a bifurcated recommendation fork, part 2 of which then developed itself into a new tune; day one of the onslaught finished with a barrage of fresh and tasty links. The following days brought an infusion of content vast enough to keep me occupied up to the present moment.
I would wait to present all these chocolatey morsels, but for the a warning from the messageboard:
The biscuits are hot, indeed.
The song that resulted is now available for download. The words, the cover, etc. are temporarily described down over there, underneath the "features" section. I have even include a "tiny" version for the unfortunate, narrowbanded Cocksocket consumers among you.
That's really all-and isn't it enough? I have been scratching my head, looking at porn, and searching for relevant Cocksocket links in an effort to provide something of further interest for you, my insatiable audience. But really, there is quite a lot here already.
For what it is worth, however, One Year Ago, Loretta was commentating and providing web site updates. That was when I was painting the old house, packing up all my shit into little boxes, consolidating my credit, and house hunting (oh what a difference a year makes!) Loretta picked up the slack, though, and on a typical March Saturday morning, around 5:00 A.M., s/he offered the following compelling column:
Everybody knew it was coming and now it is here. This is the next installment of Cocksocket update according to Loretta.
It's 5:00 am and I have found a new Internet toy to replace that which does not exist in my dull life, searching Ebay for "available" domain names.
Here is a list of names that are available at the time of this writing:
www.hotstudsxxx.com
www.daleearhardt.com
www.38-24-36.com
www.vjesuschrist.com
www.timeismoney.com
www.myvending.net
www.californiasfruit.com
www.iowashogs.com
www.webfuk.com
And then there are various "Rare 3 letter domains!" or "Rare 4 letter domains". The problem with these is that no human, outside of a coma, would imagine these 3 or 4 letters and numbers in succession. They may be rare but they are not coherent.
Ebay is a fine tool; unfortunately it also allows the mentally challenged douche bags that try to sell shit like this onto the site to stifle the useful auction items.
That is all for now. I will return next week (if needed) if the Captain is still on maximus vacationus.
Love It In The Love Tunnel,
02.27.02
Well, February is drawing it's dainty charriot across the bridge, all prepared to hand over the reins to March. Your captain has been ill and ill-directed, taking much more than he has been giving--including abrasive and hostile communications from Matt (no word from Tufu or from the resistance cohort).
As I have been spending more and more time absorbing entertaining content, I set out last week to keep a database of consumption, rigorously tracking reading, listening, viewing, and playing habits so that you, the Underserved Cocksocket Contingent, may share in the very experiences that are currently closing our channels of broadcast, and (the somewhat underused) channels of communication.
So I built it. A tidy little Excel Workbook tracking times, qualified descriptions, and summaries of the experiences. And then it occurred to me: it will take a lot of time to maintain this database--time that may be better used drinking and watching more TV, or something at least remotely along those lines. Maybe, instead of tracking my reading habits, I could even be doing something creative or productive--and updating my faithful audience all the while.
But I am not exactly in the mood for that either.
And so the seemingly endless conundrum of Captain Formaldehyde pokes its hairy fist through the panty hose: to do, or not to do, or to do, but only do it in a half-assed manner?
If anything comes of it, you may be among the first to know. In the meantime, there is some basic maintenance to be done here. Spring cleaning vis-a-vis Matt's Sports Beat, which looks to be finished until the football happens again. Speaking of Matt, he's been kind of a dick on the messageboard lately, and frankly it makes me feel like a sad little girl. Send him a message, and don't forget to work the phrase "assface ballsucker" into the subject line.
February site traffic has been a Barbequed Enigma wrapped in a Mexican Mystery, stuffed and deep fried in a Spanish Eggroll. February's visits were down 33% (although this is somewhat overstated as February contains 10% fewer days). Downloaded content, however, was up a whopping 21% in February over January; this marks the first month during which an equivalent of the entire site was downloaded. The French, god bless, still visited in droves--but the interest seems to be softening like swiss cheese on the counter.
Here are some of the most popular search terms from February:
Oh yeah! Check this out. WooHoo! Thanks Matt!
02.11.02
The two bodies were personal experiments of mine, as well.
So, okay then, everything around here is beginning to smell familiar, soft, and musty. Typically, in times of relative Cocksocketonian inactivity, there is something finer than coffee or beer brewing. But nothing is brewing now. Your Captain is, well, distracted, and hasn't the time for all the finer, more important things in life. Not that distraction is all bad, and, come on, it is quite necessary.
While the sports world may be more animated than Saturday Morning cereal boxes, the Football season is deader than a hang-nail. And while the studio is undergoing a type of growth spurt, activities taking place on and around the equipment are in hibernation.
Whatever, though. Trust in your Captain. Come like little monkeys into the branches of delight. Slide like green and purple fishes throughout the gutters of the house that Milt built. That is all.
02.02.02
Still Maintaining a Carrier Signal
The two bodies were personal experiments of mine
that just didn't quite work out. Bodies are difficult
to manifest and they require an incredibly
unreasonable commitment of other vital resources. My
research shows they are also somewhat difficult to
dispose of. I figured I'd have a couple of friends
from the Bgnamouey 23rd Solar Fleet fly over and torch
that old dump, thus freeing myself up for
interdimensional exchange as well as putting Dr R on
the spot. I figure he is far from Gnawbone by now. The
cats unfortunately did not possess multidimensional
characteristics. Alas the myth of cats having nine
lives has also been disproved.
I have not seen nor heard from the vermin who
previously occupied positions on my staff and frankly
the whole Futunian scene has turned ugly. The links
have been torched along with everything else and it
looks like my lawyer has skipped the country with one
of his other clients, a leggy brunette formerly in the
accounting division at Enron. On top of all that my
Bgnamoueian friends are catching flak from their
Supreme Ghakkiblat who got a call from Dick Cheney
complaining about the high profile nature of his
pilots targets in Gnawbone.
Keep this in mind, at this moment my spellchecker has
highlighted Futunian, Bgnamoueian, Ghakkiblat and
Cheney. This will be important later.
I must agree that the Hoosiers are looking better
than they have in years. They are really playing
defense now and showing a hell of a lot of versatility
on the offensive side. After blasting Illinois with a
Big 10 record 17 three-point shots, they beat Purdue
by dominating in the paint, and once again playing
stifling defense. As I write this the outcome of the
contest at Williams Arena is still unknown to this
space-time paradigm. All I can really say is this is a
pivotal match and the Gophers are the toughest road
game in the conference this year for everybody.
So to sum up… bodies are difficult to manifest and
dispose of, cats don't live forever, Dick Cheney is an
alien and the Hoosiers are doing pretty good so far.
Many more links have been sent and many more are on
the way as I desperately scramble to re-establish the
connection to my subjects is needed to maintain a
sense of identity, which is the only way I can
manifest myself on this plane. It ain't easy being
Tufu.
Sincerely Real,
01.31.02
I am stoked, for the Hoosiers have demolished Purdue, and co-own a lead of the Big Ten. These last two games, against Illinois and Purdue, have been sensationally lopsided. I do not recall an Indiana basketball team playing with so much natural juice since 1993. Whoopity Doo! But I digress, as sports tends to be an area best left to Matt.
NEW MATT'S SPORTS BEAT HERE! Everybody involved picked St. Louis to win the big game. I thought for sure that The Idiot was going New England's way.
And another thing about IU Basketball. If Matt's Sports Beat is planning to fold after the big game Sunday--if the superbowl marks the end of this year's Sports beat--I think we need to recruit Tufu to comment on the remainder of the Big Ten season, the tournament, etc. I will be happy to provide color to Mr. King Tufu's Play-By-Play! Something like last year's fiasco, you dig?
Let me direct your attention now to Cocksocket's message board, tirelessly maintained by Loretta. If you visit the board, you will find a rich, 3-dimensional conversation between the quasi-illuminati:
 01.22.02
Holy crap! We are at the end of January, and I can almost feel the slippery, watery, effects of the XBOX as more and more of my time is sucked up and funneled away like the heat that spills out of the tray when I eject a game. Dave Mirra in the morning, a quick round of Amped at Lunch; evenings filled with Max Payne. And it's Halo, Halo, Halo on the weekend. Throw in some new DVDs and the NFL playoffs, and, well, it's damn near impossible for a righteous feller like m'self to get anything done.
No need to shower me with pity just yet, as I have am getting my fill of sympathy from Matt already:
There are starving people in this here world. Some of those starving
bastards have money on the NFL playoffs and wish to gain some insight as to
how it be shakin' down.
Get off the pipe and on the ball, fag.
Matt
I saw A Beautiful Mind, Castaway, and Unbreakable very recently. Very good, so-so, and crappy. Also, I bought CDs by Busta Rhymes, Aphex Twin, Unwound, Mystikal, and The Crystal Method--all good. Finally, I spent a lot of time on this website. And let's not forget this one.
01.12.02
Tufu Strikes Back! Back from the pits of wherever he has been vacationing, down from the heights of whatever high place he has been overlooking stuff from on top of, King Tufu has returned to settle the issues, and rekindle its delightful relationship with its dedicated readership:
Matt's Sports Beat action continues into the Playoffs today. Everyone of any importance has weighed in and awaits (with bated breath) 4:30's kickoff. Know what I mean?
That is all for today, the remainder of which I plan to spend on Halo, Potato Crisps, Hair Cutting, what have you. Sniffit
01.06.02
Matt's Sports Beat is back on track! With a week of respite under their belts, Matt, Dave, and the idiot have returned with some bold and saucy picks for the remainder of the regular season. Matt sits a mere 11.2 games behind the Davester, and (judging from the preponderance of foul language in his latest commentary) he is poised to wreak disaster.
I have been playing the XBOX for nearly a month, and I am quite surprised by how pleasant an instrument it is. For the most part, I have been playing Halo--the greatest video game ever created. Don't get me wrong! Mirra 2, DOA3, and NFL Fever are all outstanding; but this game Halo has some extra added ooomph!
Anyway, I got to a point where the Hunter Covenants came along and started kicking my ass. I mean they were kicking my ass in a BIG way. And so, I explored various sources for hints and tips. What I found at gamefaqs.com was fortuitous, extraordinarily helpful, and very thorough. Even if you haven't played the game; even if you don't have an XBOX, you should still take a look at halo.txt. This thing was prepared by NeoGamer, who has clearly put in some effort and is willing to share his goods. Speaking of "putting in some effort and willing to share", you should definitely see this. 01.03.02 This morning was a good morning. I awoke promptly at 6:30 to the sounds of my automatic-ass coffee-bean-grinding coffee pot grinding up some fine Columbian roast. "Mmmmm!", I thought. Then I went to the window and gazed out upon a 4-inch layer of white, which was being fed by another 4-inches worth of steadily falling snow. The coffee, as it turns out, is fan-fucking-tastic. And the machine that automatically grinds and brews the coffee is sen-fucking-sational. To wit:
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