Somewhere along the way, when a child actor was being homeschooled on the set of “Growing Pains,” something went horribly wrong for Kirk Cameron. He started dressing like a douche and saying really wacky things. I hope his parents spent a lot of his money before he turned eighteen.

Now he has this show that usually airs post-bar-time where he walks around asking people innocuous questions like, “Do you like to party? Do you like to go to bed with people? If there was a bottle of booze on the street, would you take it?”

The show is called “Way of the Master”. It is run by a guy who plays Geppetto to Cameron’s Pinocchio. The show sends Kirk out into the mean streets with a video crew to interview drunken revelers. When the fun set admits to their hedonism, he retorts victoriously, “so you admit you’re a stealer? an adulterer? a liar?” The purpose of the show is to teach you the same tools so you can insure your soul floats up to heaven along with K Cam’s where we can all definitely, definitely NOT be gay in heaven together. With him. Amazingly, he has mastered the same rhetorical tactic that worked so well on elementary school playgrounds, proving so many kids to be poopy pants.

But I recommend that you don’t try this at home if you don’t want to get punched in the face.

Around here I like to end things on a lighter note, so here’s a scheme worthy of Potsy and the Baio: guy “A” runs into a convenience store naked save for a ski mask, does a hula dance, guy “B” steals a case of beer, then they both get into the running car of guy “C”.

Filed under: slowblogger

I need to switch gears and climb the hill of a disco reality, but I’ve been slaloming down Salome’s seven scarves and here’s the evidence:

and a Floydian afterthought:

Filed under: slowblogger

Sup popples,

so, there is this new fangled thing that came out about 3 years ago called “Web 2.0″ its a mysterious phenomenon. Its basically all these sites that connect to each other and are supposed to make your life easier. I don’t get it, but anyway, follow me on THE JOURNEY THROUGH WEB 2.0!!!!!! let’s begin.

Filed under: slowblogger

“Five delinquent Girl Scouts, a million hungry rats, one secret city beneath Manhattan, and a butt-kicking girl superspy. Welcome to the world of Kiki Strike.”

This description appears on the back of Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City, a book I stumbled upon. I recently spent a relaxing Friday afternoon by the pool with Kiki and Quen-tone. Although the novel is recommended for 9-12 year olds, I was entertained for hours (and I have the sunburn to prove it).

First, consider the lovely book jacket:

Second, consider that each chapter ends with a helpful topic such as “How To Follow Someone Without Getting Caught”, “How To Catch a Lie” and “How To Be a Master of Disguise”. Third, consider that a sequel is on the horizon. Fourth, consider that Kiki is more enigmatic (and likeable) than John Galt.

Who is John Galt? Only the most underrated Objectivist in modern literature! Yep. If you thought ol’ John was safely secluded in Galt’s Gulch these many years, you would be wrong, my friend. It appears that he moved to the Bronx and started an inept demolition company. A full report appeared on the front page of the New York Times last week. Weird.

By the way, Slowtimer’s myspace page is shiny and new, so make sure you are on the list of friends.

Filed under: slowblogger

“Why do people still get married” is a good question despite what people tell me. “Why do people choose to go camping” is another. This weekend these two question met and formed a day to remember. I am going to remember it as The Great Bachelor Party Camp Out of 2007. Here is a recap. All the names have been changed or forgotten except for the first one mentioned. All times are approximate.

12:30 (0 drinks) Picked up by a half-Native American named Chief. Drive to pick up another party-goer named ?. Meeting new people is always rough for me. I get that Terminator vision where I see nothing but red and scan them. Things that came up on the sides of my view screen: Law Students, Balding, Large backpacks, Shorter than me, Easy to make laugh, Likes Pavement, Greatful Dead t-shirt, Sorority t-shirt, Not gay, Quotes Roadhouse. Things were looking ok.

1:20 (0 drinks) Go to supermarket to pick up booze and ice. 12 pack of Coors and a 30 of Miller Lite. Things are looking better.

1:45 (0 drinks) Leave Albuquerque, New Mexico. Destination Santa Fe. After that is a mystery. I am stuck in the back cab of a Toyota Tundra. No music. Luckily these guys end up being sports fans. You have no idea how many times a good sports knowledge has saved me from being labeled socially awkward. They end up being really nice guys, especially Chief. Things still looking better.

3:00 (0 drinks) Enter Santa Fe. Supposed to all meet up at our friend Simon’s girlfriend’s house. We knock on the wrong door as we lounge out on some poor old lady’s porch. Luckily this part of Santa Fe is so full of money they think it is funny instead of coming out like Michael Gross and Reba in Tremors. Make it to the right house and open a Coors. I really like shitty beer better then most micro brews; this has to be a sign of age akin to back pain. We are met by Simon and Otto. Two poker buddies and fellow European soccer fans. Both have a dozen legendary stories about them that always include either drinking, soccer, hot tubs or airports. Waiting for others to arrive. They do and with a half ton of fire wood and over 75 Guinness sized beers that weren’t Guinness. They includes the groom to be, Bill, and four others. That makes ten total. None of us are personally close to more than two people each. We are about to go camping.

5:15 (1 beer) The trip to the camp grounds is uneventful. I ride with Simon to ensure a front seat. We land at a place called The Ghost Ranch, which a beautiful spot. I open another Coors, pick out a spot, and decide to put up my tent.

6:00 (2 beers) I rejoin the others and open another beer. From now on until sunrise picture me with a drink in my hand. It is 95 degrees. Simon and Issac decide to build a fire. In about ten minutes it is so high and hot that no one can get within 10 feet of it without losing leg hair. After building the fire Simon decides to hike up a ridge. This is a good time to mention that Simon has one arm. Here is a picture of what he was up against.

6:45 (3 beer) A portion of the campers decide to take a tuck tour of the scenery. I stay behind with a couple others to watch the fire and form a possible rescue party. We keep the binoculars on Simon and we see him almost heave. He nearly makes it to the top but that would have required pitons. A soccer ball is brought out. The place is full of cacti. I sit and watch the sun fall. It is actually nice.

7:30 (4 beers) Simon comes down from the giant rock and the tourists return. We decide to start the grill. All there is to eat are sausages, buns, and a dozen bags of chips. I begin to regret not bringing my own food. In another hour I would have no regrets. Best sausage I have ever had that wasn’t made by actual Polish people. Marijuana is an option for some. People start to talk louder.

8:30 (5 beers) It is now completely dark but the moon is nearly full and the fire is Zozobra-esque. A full two hours of eating, drinking, and laughing goes by without incident. Is this the reality of a bachelor party? Can things be this pleasant?

10:30 (7 beers) People start getting bored of beer and bring out two competing alcohols. A bootle of Geroge Dickle whiskey and a Dasani bottle filled with peach vodka distilled in Transylvania by the Serbian grandmother of a girlfriend of a party-goer named Derrick. I take a shot of each, both are delicious. Some start to jump over the fire. Other ideas start being thrown around.

11:00 (9 beers, 2 shots) I am riding in the back of truck with five others while Simon, (one arm, drunk) drives us to a swimming pool down near the entrance of the camp site. We sneak over a fence and strip. I am not a strong swimmer so I just stand in the four foot section and watch the others belly flop off the lifeguard tower. Someone yells, “cramp” and we all laugh.

11:45 (9 beers, 2 shots) Back in the truck. We are speeding down the dirt roads that are in less than perfect condition. Our hearts are pumping alcohol faster than before. We can see the fire from about a half a mile out and we notice that we have taken a wrong turn and yell instructions to Simon in the front. He guns the truck in reverse and we speed towards a ledge. Everyone in the back is shouting either “stop”, “go forward” or “wo-wo-wo” at their highest volume. Cheif, who is by the tailgate, clings to my arm with the same look off horror as Dr. Elsa Schneider in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade as she realizes that not only is she not going to grab the holy grail but she is slipping out of her glove held by Harrison Ford and headed for the bottom of a chasm. The truck avoids disaster and we return home.

12:30 (9 beers, 2 shots) Simon decides he needs to go for another ride. Someone takes the key away from him but he pulls out another. He gets into the truck and is about to start it up when he is coaxed out, at that time Chief and I sneak up and take the key out of the ignition. Simon brandishes a whole new key out thin air, but this time Derrick separates the battery cables. It is about this time that while I am watching this go on from the fire I hear Simon yell ?What did he just say? as he lunges for the bachelor Bill. Otto, (6?4/280 lbs) slowly gets up from his seat next to me and saunters over to break up the fight as if he has done this plenty of times before. Bill yells ?I love you man? over and over and he and Simon hug it out. Time from lunge to hug was two minutes.

1:00 (11 beers, 4 shots) Everyone is laughing again; loudly. I decide to get up and go to my tent. It is a dark 100 yard walk through cacti and snake holes. I arrive unharmed and set up for sleep. I try to swallow a Stresstab and it goes down, but five seconds later I throw it up into my hand along with enough vomit to fill a hacky sack . I clean myself and try to untangle my iPod ear-buds which are in a combination of bowline, granny, and stevedore knots. I give up and the next thing I know the sun is up.

In the morning everyone is sizing up their hangovers and comparing notes on the night. We all have breakfast and laugh off or idiocies. We all agree that The Great Bachelor Party Camp Out of 2007 was a success.

ps. Just a note to the soon to be Mrs. Bill -good luck but good choice.

Filed under: slowblogger