The NARC Test: Keeping You Safe From Squeelers, Sneaks & Red-Heads Since 2003

Random conversation oftentimes leads to even less-than-normal thinking in this lovely head of mine-- part German, Irish and Native American (says Grandma Pat?), I look like a young Vin Diesel but with more hair (for now), less bulk (ie. I'm faster... probably) and have been in way fewer shitty movies (100% true, even when "The Banana Bread Caper" is factored in).

If you're confused by my intro, don't worry. It makes very little sense. The following, however, may just change (and save!) your life. Without (much) further ado, I present... the NARC Scale. At it's gritty, truth-laden core, the NARC Scale (developed by a doctor of chiropractic, no less-- and no, I'm not referring to myself as I'm simply an F.D.C. for now) is all about promoting debauchery whilst working to eliminate the possibility of a narc ruining everything. Narcs savor the feeling of tattling on the "cool kids," being jerks and walking with limps. They have their own language which only can be understood by persons who wield small amounts of power but that use it as much as possible out of deep seeded insecurity. But I digress.

The NARC Scale will give it's user a simple, cell-phone handy way to analyze newcomers to his or her group of miscreants and hooligans, naysayers and evildoers (just light evil, nothing like a hate crime or kidnapping).

Each letter of NARC stands for a warming sign. If the person in question is positive for 3/4 signs, it's generally understood to be pathognomonic of the said person being a full-on narc. If only 2/4 signs are present, keep them at a safe distance and re-assess at a later date (preferably longer than 2 weeks).

The NARC Scale
N- Nerdish in appearance and mannerisms (Note: Not to be confused with dorkiness, which is cool in the New America)
A- Always goes to church
R- Red hair (Note: More is less, meaning the more red hair the less one can trust him or her)
C- Cry when punched

It would behoove you to save this scale someplace safe and secure. Together, we can work to eliminate the incidence of narcism by a full 55% when the ball drops on 2011. Thanks, inhale deeply and don't bother to write.

Cheers.

~M@

GNV FLA

"Maybe I'm jaded bored, always looking for more
Waiting around for the next big thing, I know
I'm a wreck, I'm a mess but I couldn't care less
Don't know what it would take to change me
Everybody's so afraid to be different
Please excuse me, but I don't get it...

I think sex is overrated and so is always getting wasted
Designer drugs and dead-end jobs, classic rock is so out-dated
I'm so sick of therapy and all the thing's it's done to me
How can I be satisfied when everything is overrated?"

I saw LTJ for the 20th time or so last Tuesday night at Station 4 in St. Paul. It was a fun concert, I really enjoyed the set the Expendables played, but all in all it was a little bittersweet. I must've asked 10 people if they had ever heard of the album "Pezcore," aka LTJ's 1st full-length release and a huge influence on my life since 7th grade. One kid knew what it was, no one else had a freakin' clue. Perhaps the last true LTJ fans are spending more time bellied up at the bar and less time skankin' around in the pseudo-pits these days, but something tells me that we're not in Gainesville anymore-- meaning that the last true fans are hanging out their club clothes and sitting out on the sidelines or not even going to shows at all.

I have more or less always listened to LTJ. I began my foray into the musical unknown with the Rolling Stones and the Beatles (I prefer the latter when all is said and done). South Junior High showed me just how poorly a soccer program could be run as well as how to cheat through math class. The best thing junior high gave me was the bands LTJ, RBF, Buck-O-Nine and the Suicide Machines. Pezcore mattered to me-- hell, it still does. I listen to it regularly, always scream for the band to play "Boomtown" (track 17, it crushes) and bought the 10th anniversary remix of the album. It has such raw, powerful energy (it was recorded on off days during a long weekend of touring in Florida).

I miss driving the 80ish miles from St. Cloud to the Quest Club in Minneapolis with a bunch of friends to watch Less Than Jake take the stage. Pre-game shots in the parking garage, shoving random d-bags wearing polos and Air Force 1's, mustering up enough nerve to hit on unknown and thus ever-tempting semi-punk young women-- I'll never get it back.

With that said, I least I had it.

"God created the Heavens
God created the Skies
God created Heavy Metal
And it's never gonna die!"

AFK Superstar's Comments on Legends Lost

I have been doing some post-midterm thinking (yes, even I'm surprised by this as 10 midterms is enough thinking for the week) and I came to a conclusion. Sad, yet poignant, and definitely interesting to ponder.

Here it is...

Brace yourself for the mental ride to halfway between here and there...

The saddest thing that surrounds all of us is the fact that so many great stories have been lost to the sands of time. So many awesome pranks, funny car rides, burns and Jake McNair type moves have simply been forgotten.

To think that all of the inside jokes, crazy college videos, weird nicknames and the like that have permeated the life of me and my friends to the very core might someday be lost and long forgotten is depressing. However, it is also strangely intriguing. We all grow old and so do our stories. Sometimes they last, but inevitably they go the way of the pre-1950's buffalo (before they were protected).

Lesson learned? Not really, but live it up, order another round and reminisce like it is going out of style.

Holler.