Bob Krause's scab

Bob Krause is 100% Pennsylvania Dutch, and that means several things:
1.  He loves faschnacts.
2.  His beard growth is erratic.
3.  He can and does drink a lot.
4.  His penis comes in one of two sizes – field mouse or supersized.
For more amazing PA Dutch facts, consult with Dr. Snail or your local library.

Now, I know a lot about Bob and his personal life.  Jared, Shannon, and I lived with him for a combined 5+ years, but we don’t know how big his johnson is because he claimed not to have one.  Rather, he said he just had a scab.  It’s not because he was born without genitals.  He just liked to catch a beat so frequently that he rubbed himself raw and it eventually scabbed over.

This didn’t stop Bobby from leading a satisfied, if not normal, life though.  He could still urinate, but instead of letting a hardy stream fly, he basically just placed the scab into a urinal and wrung it out.  For a long time, I wondered if he could still ejaculate, because I didn’t know if his enormous batwinged sperm could escape the scab.  This controversy was laid to rest when he threw a softball-sized clot of petrified beat-rags at Shannon one spring.  Yep, the Krauser was fully functional in the crotch department.

Good times, good times…

Krause update - 2006

It rained for Pig Roast this year.  It rained a lot.  The heavens spewed forth a chilly downpour all night and well into the next day, only stopping Saturday at 2:00 PM.  You can imagine that going to a party in a field with no shelter wouldn’t be too fun in that kind of weather.  Well, sure it’s better when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping, but this is Pig Roast dammit!  

I look forward to Pig Roast every year, but I’m pretty reasonable.  If the day had been too horrendous, I would’ve skipped it and gotten blind drunk at Boxer’s.  In fact, I considered doing that for a long time, but I’m glad I didn’t - Bob Krause was at Pig Roast.

Friday night at Mimi’s, Maddy told me that the Krauser was going to make an appearance.  I’m sure it put a sheepish grin on my face; I miss the guy.  Bob Krause is to the world what Apple is to Kathy, he brings joy to people’s lives.  I tried not to get too worked up though.  We’ve all heard rumors about Bob showing up to things only to be heartbroken hours later when no PA Dutchman pops in.

When I got to the field on Saturday, I didn’t really expect Bob to be there.  The first thing I saw was a large pantless man roller-skating in the parking lot; usually when you see something like that, the amazingness is done for the day.  But Pig Roast is special.  Mark Lawrey confirmed that Krause was around and pointed me in his general direction.  I wandered around for a while and before I spotted him, Bobby spotted me.

“Holy dogshit!  It’s Matt fucking Bochman!” and I got a hardy handshake and man-sized hug.  It turns out that Bob had been awake since 6 AM Friday running on a combination of alderol (apparently something like Ritalin that “if over abused…will produce side effects such as a racing heart, confusion, disorientation and even psychotic behavior”) and alcohol.  This was noon Saturday; he’d been drinking for 36 hours and showed no signs of stopping.

Good, good for him!

For those that care, Bob’s doing really well and he knows it.  “I’m fucking making something of myself,” as he puts it.  He had a good job at a soil science place (or something to that effect, something where he was actually using his major) and a house in the Poconos.  Things got squirrely at work recently though, and the big bosses shut down the office and fired everyone…except the Krauser.  They kept him on because he’s a badass and a genius underneath the gruff exterior and binge drinking, and they transferred him to another office near Philly.  By now, he should be all set up in his new place in Phoenixville, home of Becky.

It turns out that Bob and his dad were in the local news not too long ago too.  They were trout fishing when two old men flipped their boat.  The father and son Krause Rescue Team sprang into action and rowed over to the guys clinging to their upside down dingy with lifejackets at the ready.  Apparently, one of the old guys didn’t want a life vest and just wanted to hold onto the boat.  This enraged Krause the elder and ended with him beating the old guy with the life preserver until he agreed to put it on.  Alcohol may or may not have been involved in the actions of both boating parties…

Since the last time I’ve talked to Bob, Uncle Kenny Krause has gone crazy.  Or I guess crazier is more accurate.  Kenny lives in Alaska, likes to hit caribou and other wildlife with his vehicle, and has a tendency to blame everything on Eskimos.  I claim he’s gone “crazier” now because he called up Bob’s dad and insisted that they start growing wild turnips.  

Yeah, I don’t even know what to do with information like that.

Little Lisa Krause isn’t so little anymore.  She’s going to college in Philly, and she’s on the crew team.  Bob says he’s never been more proud of anyone in his life (mainly because she doesn’t take shit from anyone, has a bad temper, and drinks nothing but Busch Light).  If Jared doesn’t marry Lini, I can only hope that he marries Lisa Krause.

So, as my time to write is running short, I’ll leave you with just a few more tidbits and observations:
1.  Most people work a 40 hour week; Bob Krause drank for at least that long in a 2 day time span.  
2.  He and Becky have plans to go fishing.  Hilarity will ensue.
3.  He called Jared’s parents and left a message on their answering machine that included some creative language.  Marty loved it.
4.  He told me he didn’t eat pork anymore.  In fact, he told me he refused to eat anything that he didn’t kill.  He’s trying to become self-sufficient.

Bob Krause was at Pig Roast.

Stay tuned for updates.

Shame

I’m disappointed.  I waited around all day for either the Yeti or Dr. Snail to come up with a great 4-20 post.  Chances are, they’re either enjoying the holiday too much, apathetic, or they hate you.  Oh well…

Tomorrow, I’m heading for the scenic Juniata Valley to eat, drink, and be merry at Pig Roast.  Fear not though, I’ll take copious notes on all things amazing and share the love when I return.  Don’t miss me too much.

If shitting your pants is cool...

I was sciencing all up in your grill this morning when I noticed with some urgency that I had to pee. I sauntered down to the men’s room and welcomed the Wednesday urinal in the only way I know while someone grunted away in the non-pornstar stall. As I was washing my hands, I happened to glance over at the garbage can and saw a curious thing protruding from the top.

There was a pair of brown corduroy pants in the garbage. Now, I don’t know what pops into a normal person’s head when they see something like that. You would probably wonder where this pantsless kid is and whether he had something to change into. Me, the thing that I immediately thought of was, “Oh my god, he shit his pants.” And no Jared, I didn’t check to see if the pants were soiled, but seriously, who throws away their pants in the science building unless said pants have been shat in?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to condemn this guy. We’re all going to shit our pants (again) some day. Hell, for people like Darren Moser, it’s not a good week unless they shit their pants.

Anyway, this whole thing reminds me of a Dave the Jew story. Dave applied for a job at Goodwill, but he needed to pass a drug test to get hired. Well, since he didn’t have time to naturally clean out his system, he drank a big bottle of detox stuff to flush out the poisons. And flush out his system it did! The stuff worked so well that when he was driving to his interview, he uncontrollably shit his pants. Undaunted, he pulls his car over, throws the pants away on the side of the road, and pulls a clean pair on that were in the back of his car.

Moral of the story: always have clean pants readily available.

Ohhhhhh Maeby

Today is a very special day, although not as special as it will be next year. Regardless, today is Alia Shawkat's 17th birthday. For those of you out there scratching your head, Alia is best known for her role as Maeby Funke on the now defunct "Arrested Development", one of the funniest shows to be on TV in the past decade. Well, that's just my opinion, but then again, I've never been wrong. So here's to you, Alia Skawkat, may you be just as beautiful next year when you turn 18.

Also, I just found out that today is also my friend Amy's 29th birthday. Amy's down 'er in Georgin n'at enjoying her spring break. I am informed by her boyfriend, Ashley, that although Amy is only 29, her twin brother is 3 years older. We've determined that he waited in the womb until he had someone to leave with. One of those "don't go into the light" things. I wish I had a picture of Amy to post on here, but her picture would probably kick Alia Skawkat's pictures ass.

Matt Bochman doesn't know anything about music.

I don’t listen to music.  It’s not that I don’t like music; I just have no urge to actively seek it’s presence in my life.  If I’m around and you throw some songs on, it doesn’t drive me into a rage or anything.  Mostly, I just tune it out.

Lots of people find this odd.  Obviously, big music fans like the Yeti, the Becky, and Dr. Snail can’t understand my apathy towards something they find necessary for a happy life.  The thing is, people that generally really like music hate a lot of stuff too, i.e. they only like certain genres, artists, songs, etc.  Again, this isn’t a hard and fast rule, but I’ve run into a lot of these people, and to me, that’s odd.  I’ve also noticed that a lot of big music fans tend to skip around on their CDs.  It’s like my dad with the remote control.  Stick with one thing for Christ’s sake!  If you like the CD so much, finish the damn song; don’t skip to something else after you’ve listened to the first half of it.

There’s another contingent of music fans that also find me weird – the casual fans.  These are people that don’t necessarily have a favorite band or have to go to a bunch of concerts and stuff.  They put music on as background noise while they do other things.  Why don’t I do that?  Any time I’ve ever needed background noise, I’ve had the TV on.  Maybe that’s where I was lead astray.  TV took the place of music in my upbringing…?

In any event, I’m white, I have no rhythm, I can’t dance, I can’t sing, and I live a contented non-musical life.  When I bought my car, I asked if they had any without stereos.  They looked at me like I was retarded, but hey, why pay extra for something I’d never use?  And that’s the truth.  Julia likes to tell the story about the first time she was in my car.  She turned on the radio, and it was on the lowest number of the AM band (because it was the first time the radio had ever been turned on).  Jared’s driven with me a time or two, and he’s seen me fumble around trying to help him get the CD player to cooperate.  I don’t know how to use the thing because I never have.  I tried to listen to an audio book on it once, but the damn thing doesn’t read MP3s…useless.

Well, before this turns into some kind of rant, I’ll leave you be.  I was just trying to kill some time before I have to stop my helicase reactions, and I wanted to post something because Jared didn’t last night (KILL).

It's the little things.

Nancy Siegel always told us during class that if she were to get a tattoo, it would say “Examine the minutiae.”  I think she said that’s how she wanted us to examine art, but the only time I did that everyone in the class looked at me funny (and she made an example of me being a scientist).  Hey, it’s not my fault the shadows were going in the wrong direction…

I mentioned the minutiae in the comments of my last post, and it’s actually got me examining the details now.  For instance, I’m watching The Replacements on TNT, and I just noticed that one of the male cheerleaders is not only fat but also completely cross-eyed.  That’s some crazy minutiae, huh?

I also realized yesterday that the words “vote” and “veto” are made of the same letters.  That stuck me as quite the omen for some reason, you know, like the day I realized that “this” and “shit” are the same way.  Do they have a term for words like that?  Something like homonym but sillier?  If not, we should have a small contest to come up with one.

Sometimes the minutiae escapes me though.  On Friday, I was setting up an experiment that had two main ingredients: protein and radio-labeled DNA.  I forgot to add the DNA.  My experiment failed, and I didn’t realize it until Saturday.  Oh well, I miss lots of stuff; I’m just a stupid guy after all.

Graffito

Most people probably don’t know that Stephen King likes graffiti…or at least he’s intrigued by it.  When driving cross country, he’d use the bathrooms at rest stops and write down interesting things he saw written on the stalls.  You know, stuff like,

Here I sit
On the pooper
Giving birth
To a Maine state trooper.
Think about it, no other state would work in there; you’ve gotta go with the single syllable.  Words are crazy.

He even wrote a short story loosely based on this stuff.  I can’t remember the name of it offhand, but if anyone smells what I’m cooking, let me know what it is.

I’ve seen a few interesting things written on bathroom walls in my day too.  A lot of the normal stuff (for a good time call; meet me here at; Zeb 1998; etc) is quickly forgotten.  But even before I read King’s short story, I kept a small mental catalog of my favorites (Anyone can piss on the floor, be a hero and shit on the ceiling).  

In this day and age, a lot of it is politically charged, “Save a building, shoot a towel.”

During my college days, the best was the on-going “conversation” between one or more rugby players and some football players on the men’s room wall in the library bathroom.  I can’t remember any details, but it was silly to watch the thing evolve over time.  As far as I could tell, the ruggers were getting the better of the meatheads too.  I guess the Juniata football team sucked ass at football and literary insults.

I wonder who historically has a worse record, JC Football or the Pittsburgh Pirates…

Anyway, you’re bored, so I’ll get to the point.  You know you’re a scientist when the graffiti on the wall says “protein kinase.”  It’s rough being a nerd.  This is seriously the stuff I have to look at in Crawford Hall.  There are a few other winners too:

Frodo lives, he’s hiding in the Cathedral
Instant karma’s gonna get you
Language is a virus from outer space
Tamakiya has tight pussy, good asshole

And my personal favorite, written small down in one corner:

If you’re reading this, you’re sitting at a 45 degree angle.

Reverse E.D.

I get a lot of erections.

Save Our Yuengling!

My sources within the brewing industry have revealed that an outfit from Texas called Shiner Beers is poised to introduce Shiner Bock in the Pittsburgh market as direct competition against Yuengling Lager.  Those cock stains…

Yuengling makes good beer.  The lager, porter, black & tan: all delicious.  People talk shit on Yuengling Premium, but even that’s pretty good.  Personally, I like the lager best in glass bottles and the dark stuff on tap.  But don’t get me wrong, I’ll drink it anyway I can get it…and usually to excess.

I’ve never had a beer from Shiner, and I’ve never been to Texas.  I do know that the Yeti hates Texas, and I know that many online reviews of Shiner Bock say it sucks ass.  Or rather, it’s more like a macrobrew - middle of the road, mellow, inoffensive to anyone.  That’s what makes me afraid.

Yuengling lager has actual flavor.  It’s not overpowering, but it sure as hell ain’t no watered down swill like Coors Light.  The reason that Coors sells millions of barrels worth of beer every year though is that most people are assholes and just want to drink something fizzy and thirst-quenching.  If you’re one of these said assholes, at least stick to Coors; don’t drink Shiner Bock.

If Shiner catches on in Pittsburgh, then it’ll spread all across PA.  I don’t want that to happen.  If I ever see Shiner Bock at a place selling beer, I’m going to buy eight times the amount of Yuengling that I originally wanted.  You should do the same.  Show these mofos that Pittsburghers don’t take kindly to illegal beer immigrants.

Pig analysis

My friend Kate sent me this link today. When you go there, you get to draw a pig, answer 6 questions, and then it tells you about your personality. Since Pig Roast is fast approaching, I figured this was appropriate and necessary to share. Oh yeah, check out my sweet pig picture too:
Once, Slave brought a live pig to Pig Roast. It had enormous testicles. The next year, we ate that pig.

John Rakar would love John Constantine.

“Constantine” is now officially the greatest movie ever made.  It’s based on a comic book, stars Keanu Reeves, and within the first five minutes, we witness him punching a young Korean girl in the neck.

Done a done, go!

Damn dirty apes!

Three days ago, Dr. Snail brought this news story to my attention.  Briefly, it’s about a group of scientists criticizing governments, health agencies, etc. for not monitoring animals other than birds for the spread of bird flu.  Unbeknownst to me, and I bet the public at large, bird flu can actually be spread among cats, dogs, and other carnivores.  We’re not just talking pets here, but wild cats, the big cats, tigers and shit.  For those not in the know, humans can catch bird flu from prolonged exposure to infected birds, but they can’t pass it on to other humans (yet).  That’s a good thing.  Cats and dogs however can become infected via contact with birds and then pass it on to other healthy cats and dogs.  That’s a bad thing.

Now, Dr. Snail is also a movie buff.  He’s got a DVD collection that could fill Scrooge McDuck’s money bin.  Consequently, the nooks and crannies of his brain not encrusted with the molecular biology of gastropod systemics are chock full of movie memories and trivia.  After sending me the link to the bird flu story, he asked me if it reminded me at all of Planet of the Apes.

You know what?  He was right.  In the backstory of the original 1968 Charlton Heston Planet of the Apes (kill the remake “Marky Mark and the Funky Apes” nonsense), a virus wiped out all of the cats and dogs on Earth, so humans took in other animals as pets.  Primates were found to be the most useful, so eventually almost everyone had a chimp or whatever in the house as a pet/helper monkey/slave.  What they didn’t realize is that the virus had infected all the lower primates too.  In their case, it didn’t kill them, but presumably integrated into their genomes and started increasing their stature and intelligence.  That in turn increased their value around the house as a slave caste.  Eventually, the mental evolution got to a point that allowed the apes to organize, rebel, and overthrow humanity.

Now, all of that’s not entirely accurate.  The Planet of the Apes storyline is a little crazy because time travel happens, and you’ve got to wrap your brain around two different timelines, but it’s close enough for government work.  So my little cherubs, don’t worry about the bird flu turning into a human pandemic, worry about a monkey kicking your ass.

Matt Bochman doesn't know best.

In Greek mythology, Cassandra was given the gift of prophecy by Apollo because he loved her.  When she didn’t return his affection, Apollo got his revenge in an interesting way.  Instead of rescinding Cassandra’s foreknowledge, he cursed her so that no one would ever believe what she said.  If you’re familiar with the Trojan War, then you know that Cassie foresaw the ruse that was the Trojan Horse and the death of Agamemnon.  If anyone had listened to what she said, the Trojans wouldn’t have been slaughtered.

I’m no prophet.  I don’t claim to know everything (usually).  To be honest, I don’t even know one thing really well, but I do know a little bit about a lot of things.  That’s what being a scientist is all about.  I’m a modern day Cassandra though; no one listens to me.
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About two years ago, that company that my dad works for was on hard times.  He’s one of the last Pittsburgh steelworkers, a dying breed.  
Beginning in the 1980s, the US steel industry has been in a rapid decline.  Pittsburgh’s not really Steel City, USA anymore because most of the mills went out of business and were shut down.  The same thing happened across the country, but one or two steel mills here and there did manage to survive.  My dad got a job at one of these, and has sort of been looking over his shoulder ever since.  
The mill he was working in was downsizing again.  Older guys were being forced into early retirement, and younger guys were being laid off.  The company stock was down to 50 cents/share.  One day while he and I were eating hamburgers outside on the porch, I told him that he should invest now while the stock was cheap.

Imagine, for $500 you could get 1000 shares.  If the company folded, he’d be out $500 which really isn’t that much in the grand scheme of things (at least for a person in his position).  If the company rebounded, even a little, he’d make some money.  Well, my dad just sort of laughed it off and forgot about it.  Today, the stock is trading at roughly $66/share.  No one listens to me, and now my dad is out tens of thousands of dollars.
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A year or so ago, I asked my boss if he wanted to start doing some work (read: me doing work) on a protein complex that the Japanese had dubbed GINS.  The project would have been fairly easy to get going and potentially pretty insightful.  Well, my boss just sort of laughed it off and forgot about it.  Two days ago, he brings me a Nature paper about how the GINS complex is damn important for the stuff we work on.  I’d seen the paper three weeks prior and was pissed off both times.  No one listens to me.
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I could give you more examples, but what’s the use?  I blame Jared.

Random Tantrum

today is a milestone of sorts, for me and for others. as of today, the yeti has gone exactly one week without any products loaded with glorious nicotine. hooray for me!!! booooooooooo for being on edge.

also, today is the 69th birthday for two legends of stage and screen, of sight and sound. These men are Merle Haggard and Billy Dee Williams. Thanks go to Merle Haggard for songs such as "Mama Tried" and "Okie from Muskogee". I guess we can thank William Dee Williams for his role is Star Wars. In honor of Billy Dee Williams' birthday, I have been told by a credible source that Colt is coming out with special brew, Colt 69. Hurry folks, get to your local suds distributor and pick up your own tall boy or fo'ty (brown paper bag optional).

Today is also Zach Braff's 31st birthday. Yes, I know. We all have a crush on him. I'd have to say that I'm jealous of him because he got to make out with Natalie Portman. Yeah, she's hot and definitely on my list, much like Sara Watkins.

I learned the other day another usefulness for being a male. Being a male you can grow a beard, well in most cases (Sorry Bochman and Dave.......although matt did have a healthy crop of chin pubes when i saw him last week). I was outside and had my taboggan on (a knit cap for those of you not from around Champion, PA...knit cap? you southerners ask) for it was cold and breezy. I found that going a day without shaving i was able to pull the cap down over my cheeks and the hat was held in place by my stubble. i was thus able to keep my cheeks warm. damn it feels good to be a man!

I know it has been several days, but i would like to weigh in on the Red Foreman/Chuck Norris debate. The whole argument is bunk because before a clear winner could be determined, The Ultimate Warrior would come in and clean house, making him the biggest badass on Earth.

Fatman and Little Boy

My boss is leaving to go to Michigan on Sunday, so I’ve got to get a lot of stuff done tonight, tomorrow, and probably Friday for him to take along and ponder.  More specifically, he wants me to make him a cloning roadmap for two plasmids that I’ve named pFATMAN and pLittleBoy.  As such, the blog will suffer…unless Jared picks up the slack.  I’ll make you this promise though, when I get back on the blog-train, I’ll try to make the posts not suck so much.

Oh yeah, I’m going to leave you with a teaser too.  As you should all know by now, my little sister Goiter recently met and acted as security for A.C. Slater.  In a few weeks, her next security assignment is…wait for it…wait for it…

Ludacris.

She has this to say about it:
“AirBRIT03: yea, i'll be holding back those big black dudes and the bitchy black girls trying to get on stage

AirBRIT03: all those girls with their big booties and fake nails will probably tear each others weaves out”

As you can see, use of stereotypes in electronic communications runs in the family.  Jack Troy says it makes me an artist though.

Ben Franklin is a douche.

I’m tired. I haven’t slept for two days, which isn’t that odd for me (so I shouldn’t feel this beat), but I’m dragging through life right now. As always, I’m going to blame Daylight Savings Time. Twice a year when we change the clocks, it screws up my biorhythms or something.

I blame Ben Franklin. He invented DST to help the French conserve candles or some shit like that. Kill you France! I mean really, who thought it would be a good idea to adopt a system that was invented by a fat bald guy that played with kites during electrical storms? If you said Presidents Wilson, Roosevelt, and/or Nixon then you’re right and shut the hell up Mr. Smarty Pants.

In researching this chronological demon, I learned a few interesting facts:
- It’s actually Daylight Saving Time, not Savings. Here, Saving is used as a verb.
- Germany was the first country to adopt and widely use DST. This was prior to Nazism when the rest of Europe wanted to be like Germany, so most of the other countries quickly followed suit.
- After WWI, the US voted DST out of existence because it sucked, take that Woodrow!
Go here to read more about DST anecdotes. Knowledge is power.

I don’t understand why, with all of the computer power possible today, that clocks can’t be made to automatically adjust to the sunrise. Because that’s really what we’re talking about here. Let’s say that the sunrise is 5:30 AM every day or something like that. I’m sure someone could write a simple program that would speed up or slow down a clock by a minute or two every day to keep up with the changing daylight length we experience during the seasons. I could deal with a minute or two every day; I’d never notice. This hour at a time nonsense is killing me though.

I’m hungry too.

An Omen?

I woke this morning from one of the strangest dreams I've ever had. I don't remember all of the dream, hell maybe what I remember is all there was. Anywho, it was a strange dream. Basically, I dreamed that I was shitting myself royally. Not literally. But it was the runniest shit in the world. I was on the toilet for a long time in the dream. It was so real though. I spent part of the morning trying to figure out whether it had really happened or not. I've come to the conclusion that it was only a dream and I hope that it stays that way. As friends of Dr. Yeti know, we do enjoy a good shit. This was anything but.

In other news, Uncle Peebag says that my aunt is going through "the change in life". I'm amused that he calls it this if for no other reason than that it reminds me of the episode of "That 70s Show" where Kitty was going through the same thing and Red and Eric had to look it up. Red eventually commented, "I could have gone my whole life not knowing what that meant." I'm sure Red would also be kicking everyone's ass if he knew how men had to put up with all those fucking feminine hygiene product commercials these days. It's re-goddamn-diculous. What do I care if you're ragging or if you have a yeast infection or dare I say UTI. Slap some yogurt on that shit and shut up. I'm done.

A.C. Slater

My little sister is a senior at, and soon-to-be graduate of, Clarion University. She's an elementary education major, so basically she make bulletin boards and (I'm assuming) lesson plans about the Mayflower and Pilgrims and whatnot. At Juniata College, Ed. majors didn't have any finals; that's bullshit. I'm not sure if they have finals at Clarion, but how hard can it be to ace a class whose sole purpose is to teach you how to teach second graders? I mean, come on; as long as the kids don't all shit their pants, you're set.

Despite her gruelling academic schedule (can you smell the sarcasm yet?), my sister Goiter has enough free time to be on the University Activities Committee or some similarly named bureaucracy. They invite comedians, bands, etc. to come and keep the student population happy and sedated. From what I've heard, they get some bottom of the barrel acts, but not this past weekend. This time, they scored Mario Lopez, better known to everyone who's not retarded as A.C. Slater. On the left is some girl, on the right is Goiter, and squaw in the middle is Albert Clifford Slater who's rocking out his free Clarion t-shirt. Too bad they didn't give him some new jeans too. I guess times are tough post-Saved By the Bell, but I'm sure he could parlay his past successes into a current lucrative position at Taco Bell. Imagine the possibilities!

Anyway, for some reason, when I was in my Saved By the Bell watching years (i.e. 9-present), I thought Slater was like half Samoan or something instead of Latino. I'm still not entirely sure he's not at least part island boy, but appearing in the "Wetback Mountain" (click the link to watch the video) sketch on "Mind of Mencia" solidified the fact, in my mind, that he's gotta be both at least a little Mexican and desperate for work.

Dr. Snail hates fat Hawaiians that use too many paper towels.

Oh man, remember when Slater played Greg Louganis in the first AIDS-themed swimming movie ever? And then he went on to wear bicycle shorts for several seasons in Pacific Blue, the first TV series about bike cops. The man's an innovator...and he tamed feminist Jessie Spano. Didn't he have a hot sister or cousin on Saved by the Bell too? Either way, I'm sure Zack Morris hooked up with her.

Zack Attack, bitches!

Dr. Yeti loves "Snakes on a Plane."

Matt Bochman: "What do you think I can make with grain alcohol, champagne, and vanilla vodka?"

Darren Moser: "Either a hell of a marinade or a mess of yourself."




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