ZCCNL

You ask me to show you something funny, I'll show you a little kid who fell down.

2006-11-12T14:07:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you'll all have a mild (but debilitating) stroke when you see I'm actually back on schedule for my monthly rants, but you'll get over it. Remember people in wheelchairs lead rich fulfilling lives and there are olympics to boot.

Speaking of rants, this month we're going to completely skip over the 'How has Zach been for the past 15-30 days?' section and jump right in to main attraction. Every once in awhile something jumps out and tickles my rant reflex (I think it's just to the lower left of my gag reflex...if you reach my lungs you've gone too far). This is one of those things...it makes writing the ZCCNL SO easy:

First and foremost, I recently had the opportunity to sit down and read the Sunday "Funnies". I say "Funnies" with quotation marks because obviously that title is now used as the loosest meaning of the word. Last I checked the word 'Funny' had something to do with HUMOR. Out of the 17 comic strips, THREE I found humorous, and one was entertaining, but not what I'd call 'funny'. Here's some suggestions I have:

1. Put Garfield to sleep. Seriously. I'm not a Garfield hater, in fact I still have all the treasuries and collections from my childhood and used to find his antics highly amusing...but there are only so many times you can have the vocally-impaired feline steal Jon's dinner, kick Odie off the table or say "I hate Mondays" and have it be a freaking punchline. I haven't seen Nermal in years, at least that would be SOMEWHAT refreshing.

2. Stop the &*%#^@! Political comentary. Ok, scratch that. The BLATANT political comentary. I don't mind in the least when a cartoonist puts a little message in their strips, but when it's spelled out and slaps you in the face like a Pimp asking for his money....BAD!!i!!i!!111!i! If you're anti war, fine. But if you're a cartoonist your job is to entertain me and take me AWAY from the woes of the 'real' world for the fifteen minutes I'm reading the comic section of the paper.

3. All the strips that have two panels and have a lame joke like (Panel 1): "Oop, I left the stove on!" (Panel 2): "Derp!" need to be removed savagely and without remorse. These same strips usually look like Corkey and helen keller's love child doodled it with their deformed dorsal fin-like appendage, so their not only offending my intelligence, they're offending my eyesight too.

4. Can ANYONE tell me what Doonesbury is supposed to be about? I've been reading it for years and I still don't get it. Is it one big ongoing story, so if I missed the very first strip I won't get the rest? Gary Trudeau, give it a point or give it the axe.

5. 'Blondie' without the 'Blondie' character is like T without A. We all connect with Dagwood and his pathetic foibles, but if he's the primary character, why not name the strip 'Dagwood?'

6. Yeah Family Circus is "cute" and family friendly, but it took me five minutes to understand what was going on in the strip I have in front of me right now. I can't even describe it. I'd rather read a page of Cosmopolitan than another Family Circus strip.

I could go on, but I feel I've said enough for now. I severely miss Calvin and Hobbes. Yes, the stories were similar, but there was just enough of a twist on them they SEEMED new and exciting. I know even that strip isn't perfect...Bill Watterson himself even admits the messages about environmentalism is pretty heavy-handed at times, but that strip was as close to perfection as you can possibly get. In an era where all the faimlies in the comics were cookie cutter "Hi honey I'm Home!" types, you had this snotty like S.O.B. with parents who even joked about wishing they'd bought a dog rather than had their kid. Genius.

A plea to Bill Watterson: BRING CALVIN AND HOBBES BACK AND SAVE US FROM THE EXREMENT THAT HAS INFILTRATED OUR NEWSPAPER COMICS SECTION. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, MAKE EVERYTHING RIGHT AGAIN.

Thats it, my rant bag has been filled again. I'll see you next month... and I know you're all on the edge of your seats wondering if I'll do a Christmas rant? Perhaps a New Years rant? Well stay tuned...you're liable to be diappointed no matter what, so keep those hopes high. Your anguish sustains me.

This is Zach as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

I've been Smashing Pumpkins before the Smashing Pumpkins were Smashing Pumpkins.

2006-10-30T14:50:00.000-08:00

Finally, the ZCCNL has caught up thanks in no small part to this month-ending October Halloween Special! I'm sure your thoughts after reading that sentence range from 'mildly amused' to 'where's that delete button'....but nevertheless I shall press onward, delivering a substandard newletter that will reach sub-humor and sub-sandwiches in no time. As a side note, I prefer both my newsletters and sub sandwiches loaded with cheese...

And for once, I can enter into the brief 'Zach's monthly update' section with some fairly exciting news...since most of you know I got them already, I'll just say Butters and Lexus are doing great...thankfully they already use the litterbox and don't (as of yet) tear up everything they encounter to shreds. The one thing they need to work on is their urge to chew on my nose and what counts as facial hair while I sleep...

I have to say Halloween is one of my favorite holidays...I mean what other holiday's purpose is to hide your appearence and gorge upon piles of grossly unhealthy mass-produced candy items? Awesome. I went sans-costume this year, but I can assure you tomorrow night I will break my diet and eat junkfood all night...yessss everything is falling into place...

Honestly, I think I have as many fond memories of childhood Halloweens as Christmases (Christmi? whatever). Especially the days in grade school when Halloween was a day to do nothing after lunch but file around the school in your costumes. Yes, I vividly remember visiting many a classroom to be paraded around like livestock, allowing our teacher to intoduce us to the other students while no doubt having an underhanded bet founded in the teacher's lounge riding on which small child would soil theirself and burst into tears when seeing the sixth graders' gruesome costumes. The parade I remember the most was Kindergarten...I was a ghost, accesserizing with a massive multi-colored bow tie to boot. I was parading in a first grade classroom (in fact, the first grade classroom and teacher I'd enter into the next schoolyear...I still can't believe I remember crap like that) and as my teacher introduced me as "a ghost ready for a night on the town" I looked out over the students, lifting my arms to sure inspire terror in their hearts...the next thing I knew I was on the ground, having tripped over the leg of a free-standing corkboard. My sheet tangled my legs and I lay paralyzed in a white billowy prison that smelled like Downy laundry detergent. I was quicky helped up by a fellow student, though my spirits (no pun intented) were crushed, also no doubt casuing one of the teachers to loose $80 on the side bet they made on which kid would fall down and hurt themself first, I walked out of the classroom with my head held high. A word of advice to future parents of children wanting to be ghosts for halloween: Though it may look silly and they may protest with fits of rage and defecating...cut eye holes big enough to see out of!!!!! I also remember two Halloweens where I was sick: 1987 I had a bad case of the flu ( though that didn't stop me from going out to get candy in my crayon costume) and 1992 when I had bronchitis for two weeks (poorly choosing a costume covered in fake animal hair), but mostly the memories are fond ones...though why on earth did I demand to be a Ninja Turtle three consecutive years in a row?! Gah.

How can I write about Halloween and not talk about candy? The other 363 days of the year (I'll include Easter but Halloween is the true suger fest) we are told candy rots our teeth and makes us impotent, but Halloween was the day that although we were told we could only have two pieces of candy upon returning home from Trick-Or-Treating, we'd only empty out half of our loot, leaving plenty of our spoils left in our pumpkin pails and pillow cases to sneak back into our room and fall asleep with melted chocolate covering our hands, faces and bedding. It's cliche to mention, but honestly, who DIDN'T have the cool neighbors who gave out full size Butterfingers to children they knew? God bless them eternally, for their place shall surely be assured in heaven.

As we get older Halloween changes from being excited to go Trick-Or-Treating as children, to wanting to go vandalize property as pre-teenagers, to salivating over the party possibilities as high school and college students. Costumes of course drastically change, particularly that of females females..."I'm going as a nun...but it'll be a SLUTTY nun." I had a couple sweet costumes planned out for this year but ran out of time for one, and had no money for the other...but overall I prefer the 'last minute' approach.

Overall Halloween is something for me to look forward to every year, especially now that I have little cousins to watch have fun trick-or-treating, and I'll always have fond memories, ranging from the football halftime in 1997 that fell on Halloween in which the drumline got in massive amount of trouble for disobeying orders, bass drummers in energin bunny costumes, others wearing wigs and whatnot (single handedly exasperating the band director's prostate cancer so I hear), to watching my friend get the tar beat out of him by a neighborhood bully back in '89 (one of the ninja turtle years), and I hope reading this might have jogged some memories in all of you about your childhood. If not, I assume no responsibility for your letdown, and all complaints can be addressed to your mother. If nothing else, I will offer you this advice: All the leftover Halloween candy goes out on heavy clearence November first...

This is Zach as always saying "Please don't add me to your Block List"

P.S. Never trust any children who willingly dress up as anyone from 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' for Halloween. That is all.

It's Illegal for a School Bus to Drive in Reverse

2006-10-30T14:46:00.000-08:00

I can't beleive it's October. No friends, this statement is not a cheap substitute for butter, I simply can't get my head around the fact there's less then three months left in the year. Not that I'm not happy to finally part ways with 2006, however it seems to me time keeps going by faster and faster. Maybe this is yet another thing that happens as we get older...though my money is on some sort of time-altering device created by an insane genius with the lofty goals of universal domination. As a side note that has nothing to do with anything, since we really don't know much about the whole universe, why would anyone really want to be overlord of it? What if some villain finally does succeed only to find out the rest of the universe smells like a porta-potty at a chilli festival in the middle of July?

At any rate, I'm glad I can finally sit down and catch up on the ZCCNL (this is the September edition remember) so I can still maintain the fact I've been writing these annoying things for almost four years straight. Hooray, I'm mediocre!

As most of you already know, I was able to move into an apartment in mid-September...I'm living by myself again and I was able to find a good deal on a two bedroom in a really quiet fourplex...so it's pretty cool. I will miss the Garner-Boegh homestead...even the dilapidated deck and the STD-ridden carpet...but there's a spot in the carpet of my small bedroom that looks like it has herpes, so I do already feel somewheat at home. Other than that it's the same old same old...working, teaching and scaring small children.

I came across a picture the other day and it inspired me to do a segment on the not-so-rare cxreature called Doubus Maximus

Doubus Maximus typically flock in groups of at least six and tend to gravitate towards dance clubs, street corners, and shopping malls if they are not of legal age. They usually are ethnicity-confused and speak a strange amalgamated language that is only barely understandable to bystanders. This dialect differs from group to group, thus making a scientific analysis of the roots of this language nearly impossible...though it is universally accepted that all words that start with "th" is replaced with a simple "d" (ex. "Dis" "Dat" and "Deologian"). This also crosses over into their writing any typing practices.

The physical attributes of Doubus Maximus are highlighted with the accompanying photo. I hope you will find this helpful in finding and identifying Doubes in your local areas.

A: Note the hat barely hanging on the subject's head, tilted in a willy-nilly fashion. The reason for this has no conclusive evidence, however rumor has it that it has something to do with compensating for a sloping brow and other odd cranial distinctions.

B: The standard Doubus Maximus has jewlery refered to as 'bling'. To his credit, this subject has apallingly minimal 'bling' for a Doube. Gigantic sparkling necklaces and rings usually accompany ear and facial jewlery as well.

C: We see the thin child molester mustache and goofy "I'm better than you" smirk usually plastered across the average Doubus Maximus' face.

Overall a Doubus Maximus is generally harmless unless provoked. In this instance, the Doube will generally initiate the confrontation by a verbal onslaught called 'talking trash', and will usually be backed up by at least two of the remeining five members of his group. If you find yourself in this situation, don't worry. Due to the language barrier you probably won't even understand his taunts and jeers. Your best bet is to stare back with a glazed over look, cocking your head to one side like a confused dog.

So remember kids, do your research. One day your great grandchildren might ask questions about the long-extinct subspecies called The Doubes.

I'll be back at the end of the month with the actual October edition of the ZCCNL. Have a good month, and for the love of all that is holy, don't start putting Christmas decorations up yet. PLEASE think of the children.

This is Zach as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

You tell on us, we tell on you...thats Ninja code!

2006-09-22T09:02:00.000-07:00

And here you all thought you were free and clear of my poorly planned rants for good, didn't you. Well guess what, here I am ready to annoy, offend and possibly entertain. I'm still a month behind on the ZCCNL and eventually hope to catch up with two in one month at some point, but for all accounts and purposes, this is Augusts' edition.

First off the monthly (and quite boring) Zach update:

I remember when I was younger I went with my dad on a job he took, to a 'pond' that required some filtration. This 'pond' was actually made up of cow excrement and my dad had to actually row out to the middle of it in a rowboat to check to make sure the equipment was working properly. I only went a couple times, but I was on edge, nervous to the point of extreme sweating during the entire time, praying the boat would not overturn sending him into the depths of digested grass, the odd frog and old cud skin...thankfully this never happened. Why am I bringing this up? Well it's just an analogy I'm using to paint a picture: At this point in my life, the boat tipped, I waded through some cow poo for awhile, but at least I'm starting to wash it off. After a really stressful late August/ early September I at least have a new place to stay. As we speak I'm moving into my new apartment, a place with tons of room I don't even know what to do with, in an out-of-the-way secluded area I'm sure burglars and hippies avoid. Other than this I'm working and....*sigh*...teaching and writing for BSU's drumline AGAIN.

Now that that little bit of drudgery is done and over with, let's move on to the main event:

I'll pause for you to take a little time to read THIS

.........

I'll assume you actually read it, because anything beyond this point will make no sense unless you have.

So read it.

Do it now.

I'll wait, Eet Eez Faiine.

Now that you REALLY read it this time, I can begin my rant.

Ok, so I'm not against furthing knowledge or experiments of grand designs...but creating mini black holes?!?!?! They openly admit they're tinkering with something THEY DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND. They even admit there's a SLIGHT possibility in planetary destruction...they say it's an infinitely small chance, but even a 1% chance is higher than none! Egad, I hope they don't destroy the world, thats where I keep all my stuff! (old cartoon quote there...a cookie to whoever knows what it's from)

Here's some of my favorite quotes from the article:

"There is dark matter. It is all over the place but we have no idea what it is."
It's matter that is dark, duh. It's also the stuff Nibblonians poop that fuel starships in the year 3000.

"That would be a real paradigm shift - our relegation to a little sheet in a multi-dimensional universe."
There have been movies and TV shows about this. So do these scientists want to travel to these parallel universes just to see what cowboy hat you decided to buy in universe X-9, or do you want to go to all the parallel universes, killing the versions of you in each one making yourself stronger, faster and smarter? The outcome of all these entertaining scenarios each had something to do with destroying the universe somehow...See!? even the hack writers for sitcoms and movies know when something is a bad idea! By the way does anyone else think that device looks like the Starga...I mean FARgate? (don't wanna get sued)

"The fundamental goal of the massive machine is to answer the basic but crucial question of how matter was created at the birth of the universe."
Honestly, do we REALLY need to know?

What it all boils down to is Scientists who are a little TOO smart+too much time on their hands+too large a budget=end of the Earth. I probably forgot to carry the two and get rid of the remainders in that equation, but the end result is retarded no matter how you look at it. This whole device just sounds like something you'd see a villain try to steal on an old 80's cartoon show. Phrases like "We don't really understand", "We don't know", "if the machine behaves itself " and "We are truly journeying into unknown territory" really shouldn't be used in regards to something of this magnitude. Let's assume they're successful and create a little black hole. We have no idea what it would take to destroy one! By definition, a black hole is a region of space that has so much mass concentrated in it that there is no way for a nearby object to escape its gravitational pull! How could anyone POSSIBLY think you can contain something like that?! And why would you WANT to TRY to create something as powerful as that ON a freaking planet?! To just leave things well enough alone is far too logical I guess. Stephen Hawking probably proposed this to prove his theories right, anf they felt sorry for him because he was in a wheelchair. And talked like the Robears ffrom the Thundercats cartoons.

Conclusion: The smartest people in the world are also the dumbest.

This is Zach saying, "Please don't add me to your block list"

There's nothing quite like an Enema to wake you up in the morning

2006-08-16T15:30:00.000-07:00

"July has come and gone without a trace of a ZCCNL"

Yes, yes I know all of you have expected to see this sentence running accross the bottom of your screen while watching CNN, but I suppose things like wars, city-sweeping power outages and who won the all you can eat hot dog contest in Wangsville Texas takes precidence.

I apologize for my tardiness, however my July was wrought with epic struggles of teaching camps, illness, ankle injuries, more illness and saving the world from the dark wizard X'thxilngd as he attempted to use the +2 runestone of ammonia to make all of mankind kneel to him. On top of that exhausting debacle I've been searching for a new place to live when our lease expires on September 1st.

This time of year my mind is always on other things and it's hard for me to find something sufficient to waste my time ranting about, so I guess I'll talk about the emergency room.

When I injured my ankle three weeks ago I attempted to walk it off in a macho fashion, hobbling up and down stairs to attain frozen meats in leiu of an ice pack hiding the fact my foot was three times its normal size. I even went to sleep (hey, don't give me that dirty look, I elevated the injury and put frozen meat on it, what else do you want?!). Then I woke up around 2:30 to severe foot cramps and insane swelling. I tried to get up to go into the bathroom but I couldn't even stand on it. I was sure it was broken. After uttering something anti-semitic under my breath, I debated whether or not to call an ambulence. Rather than risk waking my roommates and my great unkle next door who keeps a loaded shotgun under the couch he sleeps on, I decided to bite the bullet, admit I was hurt and called my dad who took me to the hospital.Now, I figgured going to the hospital at 3am would be a cakewalk. In, x-ray, out bada boom bada bing as the hitmen say. but of course I was mistaken. I was wheeled in (yes I know the irony of me being in a wheelchair, laugh about it while you can) and had to fill out paperwork and answer a myriad of questions before even seeing a doctor. I thought the examination was the doctor's job, not the person at the desk! Luckily I've been blessed with a fairly high tolerance for pain so I was able to ignore the throbbing, swollen mass that had been my left ankle mere four hours prior while I scrawled down my address, social security number and whether or not I prefered blondes to brunettes, and Coke or Pepsi. But I can only imagine what kind of hoops people with worse injuries had to go through! Taped to the desk was a chart. On the left side was a smiley face with a huge grin smeared across it's white, pasty face like it had just wone a game of hide the sausage. On the far right was another "smiley" face, this one looking like it had just zipped himself up in his pants...in he middle was every emotion in between the two. So my question is....if a person is in enough pain that they can't talk, do they really need to waste time pointing to a chart of smiley faces how they feel? "Hmmmm I'm not sure if I'm the smiley that looks like a nervous Rchard Nixon....or is it the one two to the right of that one that appears as though it messed it's pants after eating at Cafe Ole'"? It boggles the mind. Unless said chart is for mute or deaf people, then I think we'd have a great reality TV show on our hands. "View the epic struggle of the orally impaired as they visit the emergeny room!" I'm sure Fox would pick it up. Oh and another thing is that I didn't see any braile smileys anywhere, so apparently the emergency room hates Hellen Keller. "One 'waters' for no pain, two for badly hurt!" If there's a bad Hellen keller Joke I've never heard it...The rest of the Emergency room visit was fairly routine...you know, doctors prodding you at various places:

"Does this hurt?"
"No."
"Does this hurt?"
"No."
"How about....THIS!?"
"***Much swearing and cursing of doctors' deceased family members deleted***"

Turns out the foot was really badly sprained, not broken...though that didn't change the fact I felt like Oprah had just stepped on my foot. At least I got Vicodin out of it. However, I only took it for a couple days and didn't like the way it made me fall asleep while playing Solitaire at work, passing out in mid-sentence...and thinking I was Condoleeza Rice for six hours was just a little bothersome. So count this as the newsletter for July. I'll be back at the end of the month, probably to complain about the fact there was no way I was going to instruct BSU's drums again this fall, yet somehow I let me wallet talk me into it.

This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

Sure, mock my beans!

2006-06-14T15:10:00.000-07:00

So I've been sick the last three days and as I came to from one of my delerium-induced comas, waking with the strange scent of Jack Daniels, Cat pee and Orville Reddenbacher's popcorn burned into my nostrils (you know, like Jackie Gleason's shower) with visions of Bender from Futurama in the midst of fisticuffs with Al Pacino, I realized I really wish I had a pet Dinosaur. Then my fever broke, I lay in a puddle of sweat, returned to my proper age and rued the day Christopher Columbus brought disease to this continent. I dunno why people need to reply on acid trips, all they need to do is get sick...

So, surprisingly enough I've received some "letters" from some of my "favorite" "people" from downtown, asking for advice via the ZCCNL (just play along ok?). In an attempt to help these poor souls better themselves, I thought I'd reply...with a little bit of Zach flavor thrown into the mixx. Here we go:

"ZCCNL,

Yo, my biznatch won' give me teh proper rezpekt I dezerve, holmes! I swear at her non stop, tri to make her happee by forcing her to do everyt'ing I want to do and she just won' git the fact that SHE'S lucky I spend time with HER! Any sujestuns on how to train her better, dawg?

-DJ Happy MaCalliSTARR"

DJ,

First off my friend you need to stop talking like you're retarded, wear your hat the way it was meant to be worn, and get a belt for your pants. Your female friend also may not be impressed with your soiled wifebeater, "rugged" fu-manchu and your general Kevin Federline-like outlook on life. No offense but maybe you need to stop hanging out at the Main Street Bistro and spend more time at the library learning to read and write? Just throwing it out there buddy. Best of luck giving yourself a complete overhaul in order to be a worthwhile human being.

"ZCCNL,

Hey man, just dropping out of the clouds long enough to ask why no one will accept my peace n' love lifestyle! War is wrong, man...government's wrong man. How can you sit there when the Man is killing baby seals and corrupting us with their never-ending conspiracies and lies?! Everyone needs to like, totally hold hands and dance around flower beds, drive electric cars and abandon their lifestyle of shoes and the world will be a happier place, man.

Thanks man.

-Moonbeam Potsoil"

Moonbeam:

I think the main thing you need is to wake up from your drug trip, take a shower, get a job so maybe you can buy some deoderant and clothes that arent's made entirely of hemp, feed your dog something that isn't made of gutter rat and contribute a little to the world you love so much. Maybe that will calm you down enough to realize that while you may mean well spreading conspiracy theories and being politically involved preaching....errrrrrr ....educating' (no wait, it is preaching. Disregard previous word exchange) to all us lamans about how the government is evil and taking away our civil rights, you're just annoying those of us who have the right NOT to care. Personally I have more important things to stay up late at night worrying about...you know, like why Joanie REALLY loved Chachie. I've said it before, but If you really want peace let's start a nuclear war, bomb the crap out of everyone and then when no one's left there will be peace! Hooray!

"ZCCNL,

Hey there, like, my boyfriend like totally doesn't appreciate me! He, like, can't see the fact I, like, totally see past his faults, past his, like, history of cheating on me and past his tattoo-ed, leather jacket wearing exterior and into what I can, like, totally change him into so we can, like, totally live happily ever after! What can you, like, totally do to help?"

Bar B."

Bar B.:

Well dear, it seems to me like this is a classic case of the stoopids. Girls like you complain but don't understand you can't change someone, so you gotsta ditch 'em! Try looking past the exterior for once and look at the interior you DON'T have to change. If you need someone to slap you back into reality, please let me know. My slapping knucles haven't been brought into use since '88.

Alright thats really all I have time and/or patience for right now, besides I feel another fever-induced coma coming on.

This is Zach, reminding you all to feel sorry for hm and don't add him to your block list since he's pathetically sick.

Squirrels have a high Mortailty Rate in Boise

2006-05-26T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'm back to annoy you all with a renewed vigor for ranting, raving and giving backrubs! No need for the obligatory 'what Zach has been up to for the last thirty days', as it's pretty much been the same-old same-old, just working, teaching and throwing rocks at toddlers from the cover of darkness as usual. What? I've never been to Maine!

Ok, so I know you all are expecting me to write some long winded article about how the Special Olympics are going to be held in Idaho in 2009...but I'm bored with being amused by handicapped people. Honestly it was more amusing to me to see you all get excited about that stuff around me than the actual people themselves. I'm not saying I won't end up with a handi-capable child or that I'm not going to hell because karma certainly works...but do not worry eet eez faiene.

As I sat pondering what I should write about for the month, I originally decided to park myself on a bench downtown and do a bit of people watching and write about the zany adventures of the mentally challenged guy on the corner that asks for donations and slaps the people in the face who actually gives him money...but it rained for like a friggin' week and I was sick for two days and it didn't happen. Maybe next month. Yeah right...I've also been saying I'm going to do another batch of observations and bring back the 'You're Nothing but a Failed Abortion' awards but those ideas have nary found purchase. No friends, I pondered then pondered a little longer and realized I've never written about America's "Delightfully Tacky Yet Unrefinded" chain of reastauraunts...

Hooters.

Boise finally jumped on the Hooters train a year ago and I have eaten there many a time. The wings are awesome and the company is great, but the real reason to go? Watch the retards who think the waitresses are "totally into them".

Yes, not unlike europe's red light district and seedy strip clubs, the waitresses use their assets and charm to get guys to give them tips. Thankfully I'm wise to their li'l scheme and am immune to their wiles. In fact, I guage their tips according to how much they try to pimp my cash from me. The best tip I ever gave was to a waitress who refilled my water once and never came back. However, the waitress who attempted to make small talk with Matt and I and touched my shoulder got a dirty look and a half peso. I've evaluated this whole situation as well...the times I've gone with just male friends the waitresses turn their prostitution levels on high, but when I go with female friends (which is most of the time...thanks Liz! Wyngz n Bubz! Wiiine!) they typically leave me alone.

If you've never been to Hooters, let me paint a scenario for you: You walk in the front door and are seated by a server similar to any other eatery, but the similarities stop there. After you wait fifteen minutes for your waitress, finally order (slowly and using small words so she can understand you), and wait fourty five minutes for your food to arrive, you attempt to enjoy your meal when a waitress asks for everyone's attention because it's someone's birthday...who of course has been forced to stand on a chair and dance while a song is played...and if he stops dancing he has to buy everyone a drink! Derp!!!! As you try to ignore this and eat your $20 plate of wings it becomes painfully clear you have been seated under one of many speakers positioned around the restauraunt when YMCA is blared at 8,000,000,000 decibels while the waitresses dance and sing, play with hoola hoops and throw beach balls around with little girls who were taken there by their abusive drug dealer parents. The waitresses are actually forced to dance and heaven help them if they don't. Liz and I watched as a waitress was attempting to serve a paying customer during the YMCA 'happy fun hour', only to have the manager stick his head out from the kitchen and yell "Bambi! Get your @$$ out here and dance!". 'Bambi' then hung her head in shame as she plodded out to join her co-workers in cheesecake entertainment like the indentured servants they really are.

Overall, I reccommend going to Hooters at least once just for the experience. Personally I love the wings and I have a picture of me from last fall, mouth full of meat with grease and bleu cheese dressing covering my hands and face as proof. There is an episode of South Park called 'Raisins' that parodies Hooters and is spot on to the dining experience...phrases such as "I'm glad you guys came in, everyone else here is such a loser...but you guys seem really cool!" and "Hey sweetie, come back and visit me again real soon ok?" is commonplace, as is physical contact and general whoring. So go out, take a group of friends and see for yourself. It definitely beats shoving broken glass up your butt and getting into a bathub full of lemon juice.

This is Zach, happy to be back saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

P.S. Thanks to Sarah who said the great quote I stole and used as the subject for this month's ZCCNL!

Bush Taps Dirk

2006-04-26T14:28:00.000-07:00

Since I've been getting emails about the lack of a newsletter for a week and a half now, I figgured I should at least send out something.

So, I hope and pray everyone else had a good month, because I had some of the worst four consecutive weeks of my life...no I'm not going to talk about it because 1) It will just make me madder and 2) It will make me say a wide variety of words that shouldn't be said in front of members of my family...so let's leave it at that.

I really don't have much to rant lightheartedly about, in fact if I even tried I'd just end up getting extremely pissy and say things that would offend literally everyone on my list...so I think it's a good idea to let the ZCCNL take a breather for April...perhaps I'll be back in May to talk about retarded people, midgets and all the other things that just add more fuel to my already staggering amount of hell points.

Good day sirs and madams.

Add me to your block list if you want.

Chuck Norris to God: "I can hurt you."

2006-03-15T18:31:00.000-08:00

Has everyone else been laughing about all those Chuck Norris 'facts' floating around? I know I had a great time with the drum group last weekend as they passed around a fact or twenty. I also saw a clip on the internet of Chuck Norris reading these Chuck Norris 'facts'...he seemed to like all of them except for the one that said "Chuck Norris wasn't 'born', he merely punched himself free of the womb."

You want to know how my February was? Neither do I. No that doesn't make sense, and yes I did know something...but it wasn't that.

If your brain didn't explode from trying to comprehend that sentence, read on.

*Warning: Pessimism and Night-incalculable Negativity lies ahead:*

I saw a toddler with a Skullet.

Yes friends, I had to do a double take to make sure my eyes did not deceive me, but I can assure you 'tis no fiction. And where, praytell did I see this white trash youngster? Where else but Walmart!?

It's been quite awhile since I had a good old fashioned rant about Walmart, and after witnessing that little freak of nature I had no choice but to express my feelings internet-ically.

I'm at Wally World quite a bit, and every time I'm there I'm still somehow surprised at the people arround me. Seriously, Walmart makes Ripley's Believe it or Not seem like Petticoat Junction. Maybe it's just my completely undying hatred for human beings in general, but the people who brush up against me there make me want to crap in rage. Not only do they still feel it neccesary to grope the fresh fruit like an underage prostitute with their mucous-covered tentacles, they let their dirty kids run wild in the lingerie section, having bra fights while calling each other names that would make George Carlin blush. Clad in mullets and soiled sweatpants, these patrons decide it's their sole purpose in life to cut me off while I'm trying to shop and walk at a pace that, if measured in IQ points, would make Corkey from Life Goes On look like Albert freaking Einstein, all the while gabbing away about subjects like 'Pricilla's latest baby conceived out of wedlock' or 'That squirrel I cooked last night sure does give me gas'...and why is it ALWAYS my luck to get into the express lane behind someone who wants to pay for $150 of groceries in individual food stamps, old people writing checks, or of course checkers who are as incompitent as the guy who botched the Gorbachev assassination?

I tend to avoid this one particular checker like the plague (which I'm sure he carries): First off, he's a smelly hippie which as you all know is major points off. He really is a hippie too, he always wears a tie-died shirt thats four sizes too large underneath his pastel blue Walmart smock, he always smells like Dom DeLouise's bathroom after 'all you can eat burrito night' at the local eatery, and he has a pony tail that hasn't been washed since Franklin D Roosevelt had the use of his legs. I consciously TRY to avoid him when I go but somehow through the infinite mysteries of the cosmos (or karma), he unfailingly hails me over to his checkstand, or takes over for the checker who's line I had been standing in, so they could go on break. I bought a couple bags of M&M's for my birthday party last month and he felt the need to tell me about the Reeses Pieces that just came out that had peanuts instead of peanut butter inside the shell...apparently he can't eat chocolate (probably because his mother drank bong water while he was in the womb) so it was a good alternative to peanut M&Ms for him. I stared at him blankly while a twenty-foot line of people formed behind me, of course blaming ME for having to wait and to heft their industrial-sized cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon and three ounces of baby formula, all while attempting to keep their soiled sweatpants up around their waists. I go to Walmart to save money, not to check out the local freakshow or to engage in philosophical conversations with freaking hippies about why chocolate gives him wandering spleen syndrome.

Call me a bigot, call me soulless I really don't care...I'm not putting myself on this pedistal, thinking I'm better then any of those people shopping at Walmart...all I'm saying is that the next time the guy who looks like Louie Anderson wearing a huge diaper cuts in line (leading to the freaking hippie I always seem to be destined to associate with), I'm going to freak out and genetically cleanse the store. Actually what will REALLY happen is that I'll take it with silent good humor, since my bad mood will wear off as soon as I go to sleep tonight.

Ahhhh the good old-fashioned pointless, poorly thought out rant...the ZCCNL back at it's roots.

This is Zach, indifferently mentioning "Don't add me to your block list".

Your Mom

2006-02-13T20:31:00.000-08:00

Hello friends and enemies, welcome to a special Valentine's Day 2006 ZCCNL. You won't find much in the vein of love here folks, but you'll find plenty of unadulterated sarcasm, animosity and the occasional jab at your mom (the best insult comeback in the history if anything). But first off, the customary (and quite boring) monthly Zach update:

The past month has been pretty good for me, I'm sure most of you already know but on the 19th of January I was able to get myself into a friggin' sweet 2006 Dodge Charger I malevolently surnamed Chadford Warwick...Chadford in a ridiculous attempt to elongate my middle name, and Warwick in homage to the inimitable Warwick Davis, best known for his work as the lead character in Willow, the antagonitst in the Leprechaun horror movies, and Wickett the Ewok in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.

Chadford Warwick has served me well thus far...and had better serve me well for many years to come for how much I'm paying for his sorry beautiful blue hide.

Now, on to the main event. I've decided to compile for you all a few rules of the Garner Boegh household. In no particular order, you are expected to abide by them or become subject to a torrent of jeers and questioning of your sexuality.

'Spotless' is not something this house has been known to be since it was built in the 1970's. If you want clean, go to church.

If there is a get-together going on here, there will more than likely be a music jam session going on, mainly involving us on our instruments. If we are feeling nice, we might let you play them. If you don't like it and throw a fit about the volume, we will question your 'persuasion.'

Video games reached perfection from 1987-1995. If you mention 'Playstation', ' 'Game Cube', or 'XBox' you will receive a quick backhand to the jowels. Talk about Street Fighter 2, Megaman or The Legend of Zelda and you will be greeted with open arms.

If you bring cheese into our house, you will not leave with any of it.

Come to think of it, if you bring food of any nature into our home you will not have the pleasure of eating, or leaving with any of it.

Don't go shoeless. We shudder to think about what STDs are embedded in the carpet here from the pornography boom of '94.

Yes we have a big garage. No we don't park our cars in it.

Nice things like cable TV, a working telephone land line and public decency are for wusses.

When you arrive, Lee will be only wearing shorts confusedly looking through the refrigerator.

Zach's Coke Zero is Zach's Coke Zero. If you trifle with his will, you will be dealt with accordingly.

Matt will steal your catch phrases and use them mercilessly without your permission. But he does it lovingly.

We talk to our cat like he's a retarded two year old. That does not demasculinize us in any way.

We know said cat still has claws...do not inform us this as if we didn't know. We have the scars on our arms, hands, back and faces to prove to you we know what he can acomplish with said claws.

"Your Mom."

The house is purple and we have old lady lawn decorations. This also does not demasculinize us in any way.

If some thing smells a little "off", it's probably just the snake that may or may not be decomposing on our walls.

And above all else, not matter what happens...."Do not worry...eet ees fine."

This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

There's 20 minutes until the New Year, and my sleeve smells like booze.

2006-01-14T00:02:00.000-08:00

So...it's 2006. What I want to know is where are all the friggin' flying cars we were promised when I was younger? Why aren't we colonizing the moon like we were all assured?! WHAT WITH THE NO TIME TRAVELLING?!!??!

Meh, we're probably better off not unravelling the fabric of space and time, risk a moon-dome-rupture and crashing into each other in midair.

Speaking of crashing, I think most of you know via personal contact or MySpace that on January 2nd, my Blazer made its final voyage...yes, it joined my first black Blazer in the big used car lot in the sky after a guy in a Yukon pulled out in front of me as I was in a turn lane. Enough said on the matter, and say all you want about my luck with Blazers but at least this accident wasn't my fault.

I've noticed a trend: Kids with speech impediments in advertisements. Why do people think I'm going to buy a certain brand of toilet paper just because a small child says its "Tewiffic"? Some people might find that adorable, but me?...I just want to give the kid a slap to the back of the head for trying to beguile me in the fashion Satan beguiled Eve. Yeah, the kid might be cute and their lisps, lack of front teeth and scars resulting after daddy had some of his "big boy soda" only add to that sickening facade, but adding it all together crosses the line between precious and annoying. Actually, the people I should REALLY slap is the ad agencies. I mean we're talking a real pride obliterating old-fashioned cupped palm to the ear with a middle knuckle reverse follow up to the temple of the eye. They're the ones who think that hip hop music, fake food, gigantic boobs and using these little kids as shields make me want to buy crap I don't need. Ever notice how the products they have those little kids shillng cost double what other brands do? I'd love to say that the excess funds go to the kids' parents for future counselling but it goes right back to the ad agencies so they can determine more ways to make me not want to buy things just because their magazine spreads, billboads and commercials suck.

Another rant:

Last month Lee, Matt and I threw our friend Roger a 'bachelor party' which consisted of pizza and dvds of the Dave Chapelle show. It was the best bachelor party in the history of bachelor parties. Matt, Roger and I went to the grocery store to buy soda and the whatnot for the shindig, and while we were in the checkout line I noticed a mother pushing a full cart. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the contents of that cart included a five year old (or close) little girl holding an infant surrounded by lunch meat, frozen dinners and bargain cereal. If it weren't enough to be forced to hold a baby surrounded by foodstuffs, this little girl's head was also violently cocked to one side because she was sitting underneath the seat designed for a baby to sit in on the cart. And why wasn't the baby in this seat? Well this lady needed to put her purse in the seat! Her logic is flawless! There was also another young boy running around the cart whom this woman was yelling at to "Settle his @$$ down"...I guess she had to take him out of the cart in order to make room for the half a dozen packages of cookie dough batter wedged in between her cramped daughter holding a three month old and the half pound of pre-cooked german bratwurst.

The story does not end there, no no no.

As we exited the establishment, laughing merrily about the run-in with the offender of exsessive child-cart-cramming, we passed a tiny car with not one but TWO Saint Bernards in the back seat, and another dog in the passenger seat. I mean come on, two of the biggest dogs imaginable in a transport no bigger then a freaking Geo.

I WONDER WHO THAT CAR BELONGED TO?!?!???1!1?!/?

The evidence just cannot be argued... I'd attempt to track down this purpetrayor of space abuse, but the many hours spent that night of laughing a racial comedy and cramming myself full of pizza erased any memory I had of her description. So, if you happen to be at the grocery store and see children buried under a pile of baked goods and imitation crab flakes, please be sure to call 9-1-1 and report her...please won't someone think of the children? I'm sure they're all adorable with speech impediments to boot, willing to try to sell you a specific brand of laundry detergent Becuase the "Cuhwuhs won't bweed" !

End excessive complaining.

This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your Block List"

Mistletoe is now Illegal in the South due to Excessive Mutant Births

2005-12-13T18:25:00.000-08:00

Ah, tis the season for brain hemorages, excessive debt and drinking binges that last an entire month! Nothing warms my heart more then seeing the bright eyes and never-ending lolipop dreams and gumdrop smiles in a child that has asked for a pony or world peace in an attempt to scam Santa into giving them more loot for Christmas. Well, eating popcorn late at night gives me heartburn so I guess that warms my heart more then the kids who won't get the insane amount of perephernalia they asked for while at the same time wasting mom and dad's stamps when they mail their 50-pound list to the 'north pole' to get it to 'Santa', making sure to grease the wheels asking how 'Rudolf' is and if the 'elves' have a good 'union' or where he and 'Mrs. Claus' met, in poor penmanship utilizing crayon and sweet backwards letters, on paper that has spaghetti sauce stains endorning it's pathetic dog-eared "hugged with love" appearence.

Ok, sorry for that...I wanted to break the record for the longest sentence written in the ZCCNL for 2005. I promise I took breaths and used the bathroom twice during it's inception. Oh and by the way, thanks go out to my Mom and to Leslie who pointed out to me last month that if midgets were being born multi-colored, we could surely have Ooma Loompas if they popped out orange. Thanks for correcting my gross oversight!

Has anyone else been casually keeping tabs on Saddam Hussein's trial? Here I figgured it would be the next OJ case, not being able to go anywhere without hearing commentary or media bytes about it, but surprisingly the only remnants I've seen of reports have been on Yahoo and AOL news sites. Anyone else things he looks like an old grizzled Justin Timberlake? No? alright then...

Ah Mr. Hussein...I remember the 4th grade...Mrs Prebble's class...1990-1991...The Gulf War was in full swing and none of us kids knew anything about it since we were too busy trying to get excessive government grants in an attempt to cure cooties, asking why the lunch lady's armpits were that color, all while failing math. I recall once when we had a substitute (one of my classmate's moms to be exact) who, instead of sticking to the lesson plan and continuing our previous study on why long division is essential for our future jobs as gas station attendants and ditch diggers, decided she should fill us in on current events. I don't remember much of her rant since at those days I always had out a piece of paper drawing Ninja Turtles in a willy-nilly fashion, but I do remember the scarring sentence of "If Saddam Hussein were to invade the United States he'd line you all up by the ditch in back of the school and shoot you execusion style." While the rest of my classmates sat wide-eyed, jaws agape, I pondered that tidbit (that would give a lesser child nightmares for the rest of their lives) for approxiamtely five second before returning to my doodle of Leonardo goreing The Shredder with his sweet kitana blades.

Huh...well that memory wasn't very Christmas-y was it? Oh well, now picture the same situation except Saddam Hussein is wearing a Santa outfit, and rather then the image of him slaughtering a bunch of 9 and 10 year olds, his bullets are candy canes and presents and the ditch the bodies fall in is a big tub of ice cream. "Now thats what I call a sticky situation!"

Wow....dark.

To change gears and end with a little holiday spirit, here's my rendition of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"

Disclaimer: NO it's not supped to rhyme or stay in the correct syllable format, it is for entertainment use only and should not be taken internally. Also, it may seem like I'm ruthlessly ripping on my Great Uncle that lives next door to us however he really is seriously awesome...but he does like the 'sauce!

Happy Holidays everyone! Have a safe New Year and I promise I'll be back to annoy you all in 2006!

'Twas the night before christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the snake Lee says lives in our walls.

No stockings were hung by the chimney with care since we don't have a chimney and we know if Santa were real he'd have had massive heart failure by the 1930's.

Matt is all nestled snug in his bed (because he has a career and has to get up early), While visions of Jenna and Kobi poledanced in his head

And Lee in his skivvies and I headlocking the cat, had just settled down to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force, South Park or Family Guy.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Lee and I sprang up at once to catch that cursed egg vandal in the act.

Away to the front door we flew like The Flash(TM) with cans of Red Bull in hand to throw with no intentions other then to severly injure the tresspassor with hemhorrages and cerebral buising.

The moon on the breast of the 2 centimeters of snow made the neighborhood look like it might have been lit up like the freakin' sun.

But to what should our bloodlust-filled eyes should appear, a thin sillouette and eight empty cans of beer.

With a little wheezing laugh we figgured out quick this was no cursed egg-er, it was Butch from next door!

More rapid then eagles his gas came and went, and he catcalled and shouted at invisible friends.

"Hey Basher, Hey Rancher! Hey Supermax and Nixon! Yo Groucho, Yo Brutus, Yo Axer and Blitzer! To the end of the street, then back to the house! Now flash away, flash away, flash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, off went Butch's pants (heaped in a pile), And off to the stopsign and back Butch sprinted, giggling insessently like a young schoolgirl.

And then in a twinkling we heard Butch say something about 'It's a Wonderful life' and Pabst Blue Ribbon.

As we shrugged our shoulders and were turning around accross our lawn Butch came quite swiftly abounding up to our door.

He had nothing on save for one white T-Shirt, laughing about some random joke he saw on 'Scrubs' the night before.

A bundle of booze he pulled from under our porch, making us question exactly what else he had under there.

His eyes how they sparkled, his skin red from cold! His cheeks hot and bothered, his nose red like Boris Yeltson.

His droll little mouth smirked wide with evil glee, leading us to believe there was no possible way he was up to any good.

The tail end of a ciggarette he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke cirled upward, migling with the freaking inversion we always get this time of year.

He had a sweet face and a nude little belly, that shook when he chortled right round like a recond (You spin me right round baby right round? get it? Ah to heck with you guys...)

He seemed happy and drunk, a right harmless old coot. And I laughed when I saw him, mainly out of sheer awkwardness at seeing my great uncle nude.

A wink of his eye and a flip-off-ing finger made Lee and I chuckle, but not want to linger (there's your rhyme, Liz!)

He spoke no more words and began to shimmy, like the picture of him on his mantle at a party, shimmying naked from the waist down, beer still in hand (I'm totally serious about this)

And giving us a finger we knew all too well, he snickered and chuckled "I'll see both of you in hell[ena Montana of course]!"

He sprang off the porch back to his home, leaving his pants in our front yard where we'll ignore them 'till June.

Lee and I looked at each other, then shook our heads, and returned inside to play Street Fighter on Sega Saturn

Ok, so it's not the best ripoff ever, but I wouldn't trash on one of yours, even if it did suck as bad as this. So take off, by krikey!

This is Zach, signing off for 2005 as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

Find Out Why Breathing Oxygen Could be Fatal...Right After this Commercial Break

2005-11-15T18:36:00.000-08:00

As I sit here with a mild migrane and slight nausea due to a vile sickness I can't help but curse Satan and his grasp of the weather and elderly drivers. Enough said, since I have better things to rant about.

Over the past month, I've had the pleasure of living in a house with a broken furnace, partied with a toilet and a wookie, and fallen down a flight of stairs. Let me tell you things are going great.

So, I was watching the Regis and Kelly show (don't ask) yesterday morning, and a topic that was brought up randomly was that a puppy recently born had been stained green from it's mother's placenta. How gross is that? And more importantly, how often does that happen and does it happen to humans? I think perhaps we're having a breakthrough in Leprechaun research! I mean, if it can happen to dogs, why couldn't it happen to midgets? Talk about two strikes and you're out! ('Talk about two strikes and you're out!' Copyright (C) Travis Byram, 2001). If all the scientists in Ireland weren't drunk 24/7/365, you'd think this would be a priority in their field! If these green-skinned-dwarfs actually exist, I wonder at what age do they glean their pot of gold and hide it like covetous Jews...(no offence intended to actual covetous Jews).

Personally, I think green-skinned midgets would be pretty fun to have running around. Even if they aren't REALLY 'Leprechauns', they could still get jobs at golf courses as caddies, Lord of the Rings Hobbit reenactors, Chimney sweepers and of course Wal-Mart greeters.

Speaking of which, why don't they have short people dress up as the seven dwarves at the Disney theme parks? I'm sure having a six foot guy with a friggin' huge Grumpy or Dopey mask stare you down has to be pretty traumatic for a five year old...

Actually now that I think about it, is this color staining exclusive to green? Would they perhaps be able to be stained blue as well? Then we'd have Smurfs!!!! How sweet would that be? How much better would the world be with little people all the colors of the rainbow!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

.......

Alright, that rant went WAY farther then I expected when I first sat down. Wow.

"The preceeding message was not meant to offend anyone who is vertically challenged. My mind is a tool that cannot be controlled, and that is simply where it went this month. Twahhhh.....('Twahhhh' is Copyright (c) David Blaine)"

Alright, I should finish up on that note. Have a happy Thanksgiving, and remember, please, Please, PLEASE don't put up Christmas decorations until the 1st of December. The longears already took easter away from Jesus, don't make Thanksgiving the redheaded stepchild holiday everyone forgets!!!!

See you all next month for the year-ending ZCCNL extravaganza (with an advertisement like that, you can't help but be let down!)

This is Zach, as always, saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

You Kids Wanna See A Dead Body?

2005-10-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

BOO! Thats as close to a Halloween-themed greeting you people get this month.

I'm tired, bored and annoyed I'm listening to a section of tubas outside the band office here in the stadium as they attempt (and fail) to keep a steady rhythm during a rousing rendition of 'Wooley Bully'.

Nothing much is new with me, the new house is still sweet, I've successfully avoided Taco Bell for over a year, and the Vanders and I got a cat. Alert the presses! Sarcastic or not, thats pretty much been the highlight of the past thirty days. If thats any indication of how the next two months are going to be, fetch me some vicodin henceforth so I can finish out the year in peace!!!!

Onward Christian Soldiers, to the main rant of October:

"People are going to get fatter."

I saw this headline on the Yahoo front page about a week back. Grim news, eh? Who really cares, the biggest reaction however will of course be the fact that when people ARE fatter, all the people who had been morbidly obese since day one will take to the streets, 'raising the roof' as it were, catcalling and taunting the newcomers to their fraternity saying "Yo, I wuz fat before it was cool to be fat! You guyz are sellouts!". To which the people who recently retained their Jolly-esque phisique will retaliate with a bearhug of nuclear arms...Iraq isn't the problem people, the future fat people are! The only solution is to kill all the children of the world now, before it's too late! Ok so that might be a little extensive...but it's something Nostradamus has warned us about : "Bewhere the festively plump, for they shall demolish the earth." I forget exactly where I read that but I'm pretty sure it's true docerine since you have to believe anything written on a book of old scrolls.

Just thought that headline was mildly humerous.

Something else thats mildly humerous: the harder the girls at Hooters try to pimp me for tips, the less they get...Mwhahahahahahahahah!!1!1!!1!

Before I end I gotsta say, I finally did sing karaoke. I won't tell you which category I fit into from my newsletter on the subject though...you might just have to hang out with us sometime to find out firsthand...

This is Zach, as always saying "Don't add me to your block list."

(Oh and don't trust any six foot tall "kid's" wearing nothing but their underwear on their head on Halloween. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me...but fool me a third time, you get an aluminum baseball bat to add to your attire, freak!)

*****Congratulations to Glen and Christi on the birth of their baby!*****

My Apartment No Longer Smells Like Applesauce...

2005-09-13T16:33:00.000-07:00

Because, thankfully I no longer live there. For the last three weeks the Vanders and I have been settling in at our new house which is apple-free. The going goes well, and we've only had one negative situation on out third night there, a ballsy unseen punk who brought it upon himself to decorate our living room wall with a egg. Easily cleanable, but the little pimp-lover interrupted a good episode of the Simpsons we were in the middle of. Fortunately it was a DVD but I am not the person you want to deal with when torn away from his Simpsons.

I hope everyone's summer bode well for them, mine ended with the obligatory "everything I have to do is crammed into the last two weeks of August" but as usual I survive, albeit with the mental capacity of a cognitivtely impaired four year old with a vendetta against the human race, but hey we all have our personality kinks right?

Here's an interesting anecdote you all might find entertaining (or stupid, it's up to you since if I actually cared I couldn't go home and watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVDs until I fall asleep in a lake of drool on my shoulder):

I was in Toys R Us a few weeks back (yeah I still go there, you wanna fight about it?) when on my way out of the store I noticed that, in a row of those little egg machines that dispense stickers, candy and easily swallowable toys, one had a display of little figurines. Upon closer inspection I realized these were no mere toys, they were...Homies!!!!

The Homies plastic figurine line consists of a group of hot headed gang-bangers who thrive upon their individual 'skillz' and blatant racial stereotypes. I didn't have a chance to look at all the different characters they had available, however one of course struck my fancy: Whielz.

They didn't have names listed, but this guy just screams, 'Whielz'. Of course by now all of you know the reason why Whielz caught my eye...he's handi-capable! Now what better message to give kids then "Being crippled doesn't matter, you can still wear your hat on the side, sport a fu-manchu mustache, hide a glock in your wheelchair pouch and flash westside on the eastside and all the other sides with indeifferent glory and a gold-tooth-encrusted smirk!" God bless the company who thought of a toyline for Six Year olds (and up) to emulate a parapolegic sexually ambiguous P-Diddy wannabe! Hooray! My only question is this: If Whielz commits murder, is it classified as a drive-by?

I'll leave you to ponder that.

This is Zach as always sayng "Please don't add me to your Block List."

Skizanqz 4 the Memoreez

2005-08-12T14:22:00.000-07:00

As I sit here in front of the computer screen, trying my best to have a completely lazy experience (slouching back in the seat, head cocked to one side with my mouth half agape, slight drool escaping out of the right corner, eyes only half-focused), I realize we are now in August. Summer is nearly gone. I remember the days of yore when I was a child, summer meant being able to sleep in until noon every day, eating McDonald's while watching classic episodes of 'Flipper' on Nickelodeon, swimming most days and coming home to get out of the sticky ice-cream soaked clothes only to get the fresh pants I put on completely muddy not having a care in the world. Now, Summer is no different then any other time of the year, except for the fact my power bill is twice the normal amount due to the fact I have to keep my air conditioner running 12 hours a day to prevent my apartment turning into Hell's condo. I suppose it's just another item to add to the list of 'Things that are Depressing as I get Older".

In the past year I haven't had much news to announce, I am still at the same job, I still teach my drum lessons and Drum camps, but at the end of this month I am pleased to announce a good change. I will be moving out of my one bedroom apartment into a house with the Vander Boeghs. I turned in our holding deposit for a sweet two level house this very afternoon, and we'll be able to move in September 1st. Prepare for BBQs and movie nights, because this place is pretty cool! This is quite exciting since I won't have to deal with drug philandering neighbors, and the insane Crack Whore who left two infant puppies in the courtyard on leashes two Saturdays ago in an attempt to give them away. Hooray!

This August also marks yet another milestone for the ZCCNL! While we celebrated the second anniversary of the newsletter's Monthly publication back in March, I am pleased (and sort of ashamed) that August 2005 marks the Third Anniverary of the very first ZCCNL! I hope I've provided you with a few laughs or at least the odd chuckle or chortle over the past three years and I just want to add that I thank each and every one of you for "Not adding me to your block list" as I so explicitly plead at the end of every month's edition. I've received a lot of praise for many of my editions (Mr. Ramirez, Sasquatch, my undying hatred of everything Hippie-related, observations pertaining to cheese, and a huge responce to the Karakoe factions from last month) and I've got all of you to thank for being my fuel and giving me inspiration to kick my butt into gear, even if I didn't produce a good or funny edition.

So, enough of the mushy crap, in celebration of the 3 Year ZCCNL anniverary I was going to hold the semi annual "You're Nothing But a Failed Abortion" Awards ceremony, but to be honest I'm in a good mood and not many people have pissed me off lately. In order to have somewhat of a celebration, I'm going to let you all into my life, and show you exactly what has made me into the 'six year old in a 24 year old's body' you all know today.

I was born Tuesday February 24th, 1981 in St. Luke's Hospital at 7pm Mountain Time. I grew up close to where I live now, off of Latah and Lemhi. While growing up I did have many friends however I was the only kid my age for many blocks, therefore not only was I raised by my wonderful parents and family, I also had the great opportunity of being reared by a handful of the era's pop culture icons...I wanted to list all of them and share what each of these colorfully animated surrogate parents taught me:

Transformers: First and foremost, Optimus Prime and Megatron taught me that not only was there good in this world but also evil that I had to stand up to. Optimus Prime taught me courage, loyalty, leadership, how to die multiple times and come back alive...and how to turn into a sweet friggin' Semi Truck.

Smurfs: How cool was Papa Smurf? All the other Smurfs had to wear white clothes and have moronic personalities but Papa Smurf put the smackdown and said "I'll be an individual!" He wore red and had a beard. He didn't care what the other Smurfs thought. He was obviously older then the others, but you never heard the others call him 'Gramps' or 'Cantankerous old Geezer', Papa demanded respect. I mean imagine what they Smurfs would have been like if they had Vanity or Brainy as a leader? Gargamelle and Azreal woild have eaten them up like Oprah Winfrey at an all you can eat buffet (Yes, I know I always rip on Oprah but I hate her and all her brainwashed ilk). The only thing I never understood was why Surfette wasn't called Mama Smurf since she was the only female Smurf in a veritable Smurf Utopia, but that question has already been asked by many and will continue to be asked throughout the ages.

He-Man: Girls complain about how models and ad campaigns create an unattainable image of women? Look at He-Man! As a child, He-Man taught me to look like I had the upper body of Arnold Swartenegger and the lower torso of a ten year old. There's no possible way he could have an adequate bowel movement with an abdomen like that. She-Ra was hot, but at least as Princess Aurora she had down to earth attainable good looks...though at that age of course there's the notion that boys hate girls...which is preposterous, I've always had a weakness for females the proof being my first steps were chasing a girl down the hallway at church when I was one year old...but I've said too much and shall digress.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Awww my first unhealthy obsession. I was into Transformers and He-Man but I'll tell you what, those Ninja Turtles came out and all their murchandise was like crack...I had to have it all! The Ninja Turtles taught me that if I put a baby animal in glowing green ooze, in a manner of days they would grow into wise-cracking street-talking crimefighters. They also taught me that eating things like ice cream and cereal on a pizza was healthy and cool. I would be lying if I said I didn't wear a ninja turtle bandanna and eat cafeteria pizza with applesauce on it...for three months straight.

Those were the main four. They were like four more Uncles that would visit me every Saturday morning...the token ones that taught me swear words and gave me illegal murchandise I'd sneak into school. Here's a quick run-down of what some other show characters I watched taught me through the years:

Animaniacs: Yakko, Wakko and Dot taught me that farts and burps were hilarious, sexual inudenos were ok and that being just plain crazy was perfectly acceptable and healthy. Can anyone argue with that? They wouldn't have fallen for any of that "It's rabbit season!" "It's duck season!" crap Bugs Bunny used to pull. Plus, they helped me learn all the State Capitols and Worlds Countries in a Melodic fashion, unlike the completely worthless history teachers I had in school. Seruiously If I ever meet up with Mr. Norman, Mr. Dalgliesh and Mr. Fout again, I don't care if they are on life support, I'm punching them in the face with a follow up knee to the groin.

Captain Planet and the Planeteers: This show taught me that being a tree-hugging environmentalist would bring me together with a group of other kids and we would call upon a blatant metrosexual in skin tight spandex to fight people who polluted the earth. Actually, that sounds like a far fetched story used by the Michael Jackson defence. There was even a pet monkey involved! That cartoon showed me that having 'Heart' makes me useless and is so much inferior then being able to control Wind, Fire, or Water.

GI Joes: Call me gay (if you do I'll destroy you), but I never really got into GI Joes. It was apparent Duke could hurt me, even in cartoon form so I had no choice but to listen to his messages about not crossing the street without an adult, calling in false fire alarms, and dunking kitty in the aquarium.

Eek the Cat: Eek taught me that it was ok to be a snivelling coward and get the crap beat out of me weekly by a rabid shark/dog abomination.

Lassie: There was one thing for certain: if I fell into a well in an out of the way obscure part of the wilderness, I could count on a dog to communicate with the local police to find me, no questions asked. Also, if the dog died it could be easily replaced by another one.

Super Sunday: Ah, Robotics, Paw Paw Bears, Jem and the Holograms, and Bigfoot & the Muscle Machines. They really didn't teach me too much...The Paw Paw Bears really never fought their own battles, when things got tough they just used Totem Bear [father/ big brother] to pummel your problems into submission, therefore becoming dependant on their help and turning into sniveling crybaby NARCS. Jem and the Holograms taught me that it was cool to be part of a chick band and not to let any man stand in the way of my feminine wiles. Robotics and Bigfoot and the Muscle Machines just had lots of sweet action and explosions.

The Jetsons and The Flintstones: I really didn't learn anything except how to verbally abuse my spouse, but where were the black people in the future and the past?

My Little Ponies: Yeah, thats right: I had My Little Ponies. Horses were sweet. Now leave me alone.

Thundercats: I learned that anything that looks like a Mummy is not dead and can kill you until you die. Panthro could have owned them all.

Tiny Toons: Cartoon Characters can procreate?

X-Men: I liked X-Men before it was cool to like X-Men. I wasted my money on the comics at least two years before I could watch a cartoon for free. But I learned to never persecuate anyone for being different because they could secretly have claws or eye lasers that could kill me if I did.

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: I learned many things from the fruitloop colored teenagers on the Power Rangers show: Getting hit by a laser blast or by a sword does not kill you, only sparks fly off you and you fall down. Villains always have the mentality of a retarded infant. If you are a super hero, your colors must match your ethnicity (Seriously, when the show first aired, the guy who looked like a native american was the red Ranger, the black ranger was a black guy, the Yellow ranger was an asian chick, the blue ranger was a smart average american, and the pink ranger was a stupid ditzy american girl).

So now you see that all the knowledge I have I gleaned from my childhood mentors, things I'll actually carry with me until I die, unlike all that boring 16th century english crap I had shoved down my throat in high school I discarded the day I graduated. Cowabunga-Sword of Omens-I have the Power-Transform and Roll Out-And knowing is Half the Battle!

Thanks again to all of you who've stuck with me for three years, and welcome to new readers I get each month. See you all next time and as always, "Please don't add me to your block List"

-Zach

Do you think I don't know what this is?

2005-07-10T15:56:00.000-07:00

Alright, this anecdote sums up how my June was:

I was getting ready for work one morning, and went to put on my socks. One of the socks I grabbed had a few small holes in it, but nothing I was too concerned about. As I started to slip it on my foot I thought "I must have had this sock for quite awhile! From this point henceforth, it shall be my lucky sock!" The instant I finished that thought, the holes ripped out and half the sock was up to my shin whilst the rest was still covering most of my foot.

The moral of the story is that while my month had its potential, the things that appeared to be 'ups' were actually frustrating 'downs' in disguise...but like a sock, the longevity and purpose of these prattfalls is of little consequence. Don't ask me what the frustrations were, I've already forgotten what most of them were. Afterall, [explitive deleted] happens and when it does you gotta make cow pies...or something like that.

Anyway, once again I'm beating the mid-month deadline by a few days, however this entire week I'll be teaching a bunch of High School kids how to play drums at Boise State, braving triple digit weather, sunburns and brain anyeurisms to pass on the knowledge. I think it's funny I always feel the need to explain my motives when I send out a ZCCNL early or late...just enjoy it and smile and nod. That's it. Do it now...it is fine....

For some reason I felt like writing about something that can be very fun yet at the same time a pox on mankind all rolled up into one noun/ verb combination: Karakoe.

I have never sung Karaoke (or as the Japaense pronounce it, Car-ow-kay), nor do I have any undying desire to ever do so. I'm not saying it will never happen, in fact It's probably I will at some point, all I'm saying is there's not much motivation to get up on the mic' and make an arse out of myself after what I've been a witness of. In my expereince there are seven types of Karaoke participants:

'Drunken Rockstars': These Karaoke patrons stumble up to the stage, take hold of and nearly drop the mic' (twice), do an unnessesary quick microphone check consisting of belching or a deep exhale, reveal their song of choice is one belonging to an incredibly talented popular artist who has a very distinctive voice, and finally within the first few seconds of their voice entrance they immediately butcher the song. 'Drunken Rockstars' hardly sing on pitch except for what they hear. They thrive on the attention they get, and do not realize all the eyes looking in their direction and all the shouts are negative attention, glares and curse words. Once finished with their offkey caterwauling, 'Drunken Rockstars' generally give a warwhoop of joy and strike a pose indicating they are pleased with their efforts and merrily return to their beers, unknowing they have alienated other bar patrons and waitresses for the rest of the evening.

'Shell Escapee'. 'Shell Escapees' are very introverted until they get the microphone in their hands and get on the stage and shed their outer 'shell'. Usually coercsed into Karaoke-ing in the first place they generally need the support of their friends to cheer or dance for them until the last note has been sung. If the friends to not lend their support, 'Shell Escapees' have been known to also be 'Sleeper Hold Escapees', breaking the death grips of their friends and loved ones, galloping into the nearest restroom like a Wildebeat escaping a stalking Cheetah in a tear-blinded fury rather then take the stage. I have only seen this latter example once at an all-nighter after graduating High School. I must say 'Shell Escapees' of the 'Sleeper Hold Escapee' variety can be quite entertaining in their own right, even surpassing that of the 'Screeching Showmen' covered shortly.

'Tag Teams': An offshoot of 'Shell Escapee', 'Tag Teamers' require their friends to get up on stage and share the mic with them or there will be no Karaoke sung. A trainwreck in making, 'Tag Teams' can however be planned out in advance with two voices that will mesh in a duet to be enjoyable for all to hear...though the usual case is that the friend brought up for moral support is a 'Drunken Rockstar', 'Screeching Showmen', or 'KaraokElite', none of which match well with a 'Shell Escapee'. The odd well balanced 'Tag Team' should be smiled upon by all who are fortunate enough to hear. Please do NOT take this miracle from God himself for granted like you can with an everyday 'miracle' like a sunrise.

'Lone Woodsmen': These hardcore participants don't care if there are One or One Thousand people in the room, their calling in life is to sing along to poorly dubbed MIDI tracked loosely based on their favorite songs, and come hell or high water they will make it so. This is the shallow end of the Karaoke pool, Lone Woodsmen can easily wade into deeper waters to become any of the other specimens in this list, especially 'KarokElite' if they enjoy even the smallest amount of patron success after many a night of singing for only the bar staff.

'Shreeching Showmen': 'Screeching Showmen' just don't care. A rare breed of Karaoke singers, they pick the songs they want to sing no matter the consequence. Some sound good, some sound bad...the important thing is that they know how to put on a show. Bar patrons are either annoyed or delighted by 'Screeching Showmen'. Sometimes mistaken for a 'Drunken Rockstar', however alcohol is not needed to induce their Karaoke lust. The beautiful thing about 'Screeching Showmen' is there is no neccessary need to humor them onstage because of their lack of caring...however if a 'Screeching Showman' is good enough, their show humors itself.

'KaraokElite': Divas in the Karaoke world, 'KaraokElite' have talent and they know it and are not afraid to rub it in other participants' noses. 'KaraokEilte' strut to the stage in a slow fashion in order for the entire room to share the light emanating from their glorious visages and smirk at the commoners as they take the mic' and listen for the opening cues. 'KaraokElite' are generally good at what they do and visit every Karaoke establishment in their city, and sometimes surrpunding areas to spread their God-given talents to all the fortunate listeners. 'KaraokElite are blind to the fact their boorish and conceited mannerisms are an automatic putoff by bar patrons, and generally their place in the Karaoke foodchain is only one notch above the 'Drunken Rockstar', despite their superior talents. One easy way to spot a 'KaraokElite' is if their song of choice was done by Frank Sinatra or Celine Dion.

'Rare Talent': If you come across a 'Rare Talent' be fortunate indeed. 'Rare Talents' are as good and often better then 'KaraokElite' and will show it even better after their display of power by their and humble mannerisms. Usually smiling slightly when they return to their group of friends, and sometimes even embarassed, thinking they have make fools of themseleves, 'Rare Talents' have no need to worry. 'Rare Talents' are also known to make the rounds to all the Karaoke bars in their areas, but are well-received and loved by all because of their good natured charms. Another aspect of 'rare talents' is having the rare talent (no pun intended) to choose a song that suits their voice range, though this is usually not a problem, these select gods and goddesses can usually make any song sound good. 'Rare Talents' should be lauded and showered with praise as they exit the stage. Example: Jen Potcher.

Perhaps one day I will finally be dragged onto stage to sing Karoke, but after one hears Clayton Freeman's rousing redition of 'Baby Got Back', one has to simply ask...."Why try to compete with that?"

This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

America (....Yeah!) Apple Pie (....Yeah!) Baseball (....Yeah!) The Internet (....Yeah!) Slavery (....Yeah!)

2005-06-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

June is here, hooray for summer! Although the constant rainclouds and cool weather causes me to question the validity of the season normaly reserved for the beginning of scorching hot days, miserable nights, and romantic dusks ruined by the buzzing of mosquitos. I'm not going to complain since it's cooler at night and makes it easier to sleep, but either way this is some sort of joke or a sign Jesus is about to wreak his mighty havok on the sinners....repent! REPENT!

Ok I'm fine now, seriously. I hope your Month of May was better then mine...I'd go into it but Ricky stole my Licsence for Cynicism while we were wating Star Wars Episode III, so until I get it reissued (it's in the mail!) I have no right to complain. "So why on earth are you sending out a newsletter since complaining is the cornerstone upon with the ZCCNL was constructed?" you might be asking yourselves. Well, in lieu of the customary rants, I'll instead grace you with (in no particular order):

Things You Might Not Realize That I Like!!!!

1. Kittens
2. Puppies
3. Baby Ducks (they are like if kittens and puppies could have babies!)
4. That entertaining massively obese kid down the street that sits on a lawn chair with a sprinkler going off underneath him
5. The color Fuschia
6. Raspberry Jam
7. Females (I assure you this is true despite the underlying homosexual theme of this months ZCCNL)
8. Jet Planes (VROOOOM!)
9. The laughter of children playing with lolipop dreams and gumdrop smiles
10. Puppets
11. Lists of things that I like
12. Boxes
13. The Number 13
14. Black things
15. Floppy Disks
16. Dolphins (EMTs of the depths!)
17. The stout Iron Russian
18. Finding my cheese has not been pillaged (sadly this has yet to happen but I assume it would be nice)
19. Platypi (If the turtle is nature's 'D' student, the platypus most definitely has to ride the alternative bus to school)
20. Your Mom
21. Long walks on the beach, followed by hours of talking and nagging
22. The feeling you get after you open a can and ditch someone who's posed as a 'friend' for awhile....man that's some pure sweet lovin'!
23. Shiny objects
24. Beating...'things'...with an alumium baseball batt.
25. Robots in Disguise, baby! More the meets the eye!
26. That guy Sam Watterston who plays the main Lawyer on Law & Order. He's just too freakin' cool.
27. Cantakerous old geezers.
28. The 80's....the era Cartoons reached perfection and didn't suck.
29. Palindromes like racecar
30. The name Rutager (my kids are going to have serious mental issues)
31. Listening while an inebriated friend asks the guy next to him if he "Likes dudes".

Ok, this killed a little bit of time. I'm bored, cranky, and in need of a nap.

This is Zach saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

Thousands Dead (None Injured)

2005-05-09T15:42:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's May! It's the beginning of summer vacation for those in school, and the extention of permanent break for those who aren't. (what?)

First off, thank you to all of those who came out and supported Matt and The Erinys last month...there will not be many people destroyed by my hand for not seeing it, so congratulations! For those of you who did not come out however, you have a final chance to save yourself from a good destroying: buy the CD. It becomes available for purchase at Hastings and the Record Exchange this month. Contact me if you have any questions...though I will most likely not have the answers. If you want solid answers contact Matt. Or contact me if you're too scared to ask him yourself. He is quite imposing, so I wouldn't blame you.

There have been a few new readers added to the roster of the ZCCNL this month, so if you're just coming aboard, welcome to my world of complaints and poor humor! Don't take many things I say literally, unless I specifically direct you to.

Now, take this quite seriously:

In the world of Zach there are few rules. One big one however (right after 99% of human beings piss me off) is that if I have done something to make you mad at me, there is a simple thing to do: Tell me. It's not hard at all. I'll feel bad about it, but I'd like the chance to set things straight. If for any reason you feel compelled to terminate a friendship, a simple call will do it for you, no problems! I've got enough on my plate that it really won't make a difference to me...granted, losing a friend isn't high on my priority list but sitting around wondering what's going on isn't too fun or productive. If I wanted any type of professional or personal relationship with a Middle School level mentality I would have tried harder to stay with McLane. So here's your chance: If this little scenario I have painted sounds like you...talk about it. End of rant.

Now for some comedy relief!!!! (Cue circus/ midget in a bikini music)

As I was taking my daily walk down Overland last week I passed by an oriental-type pawnshope/ grocery/ thing. I heard the joyous sound of children's laugheter ring into my ears and saw two children of asian descent (I'd roughly guage their ages 6 and 8, so of course their intellect is already higher then my own). The older one had a football in his hands. I expected to see him toss the pigskin to his younger sibling (actually I can't say for sure they were related...they looked alike anyways...bass drum, bass drum, crash cymbal) however I saw him take off running and attempt to dribble it like it was a basketball. When that failed, the two resorted to picking up a large stick and beating it. The two lads were jabbering away in their native tounge, so I understand their ignorance in using the ball the way it was intended... but dangit, if they're going to be here, learn our ways! We'd be forced into sitting on the floor for dinner and have 'honor' crammed down our throats if we went over there, the least they could do is learn how to throw a football, even badly. I breifly considered entering the establishment to present this argument to their parents, but I didn't want a Bo Staff conecting with my larynx or even worse be told that I make inferior cars and electronics.

Don't worry, my complaint ends there, I won't say foreigners are taking our jobs or anything. Even though they are...

Alright I'm done. Hope everyone enjoys their finals!!! BWAH HAHAHA! Did I mention I don't have any? Oh I didn't? Well....I don't have any finals!!!! BWAH HAHAHA!

I'm out in the hood...

This is Zach saying "Please don't add me to your Block List."

Besides, you Ain't got nothin' better to do...and I'm bored.

2005-04-12T15:53:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah I know it's a little early but I won't be anywhere near a computer Friday to send April's ZCCNL to you all. March and April have been very busy months for me since I have been juggling work, teaching and music rehearsals. It gets tiring but it makes the time fly right on by.

Because of this I haven't had much time to put any effort into writing anything clever for the month (not that I ever described the ZCCNL as 'clever'), I decided to jot down observations I've made over the past month. Some are good, some contain my typical eye-roll inducing humor, others might make you want to chase me with a baseball bat...but since that is the mission statement set forth by the Zach's Crappy Crappy Newsletter, I will have hopefully achieved my goal for the month. And, of course there has to be a token crack about midgets in there somewhere.

So here's the observations:

Irish Spring soap smells like neither Guiness or athlete's foot.

It is a really bad thing to say "Wow, you just left me in the dust" after eating pizza with a girl and noticing she ate more then I did.

When you burn your finger, the sensation goes from "That's mildly uncomfortable" to "My finGeR iz dYinG!" faster then Oprah on an Easter Ham.

I will stop laughing at retarded people when they stop being so darn funny.

You can always come up with a comeback to an insult after you've resorted to violence.

People who work at gas stations are either annoyingly friendly of have 0% Personality. There is no in between.

I think Wendy's fired that handicapped guy with no bandaid I talked about last month. Good.

Satan is an afficiando of fried cheese. And who can blame him.

I should change the spelling of my name to Xak

Midgets do not like being associated as 'free range'

Few things are funnier than seeing someone spit a lit cigar at someone, burn them, and catch it back in their mouth without moving a muscle even if it it performed by an animated robot from the future.

I like cheese, but not as much as Lee Vander Boegh. Since I have easten all my cheese by way of sandwiches he is now welcome back into my apartment.

When participating in an internet chat board, unless you write "in my opinion" before your opinion, everyone on the internet will assume you're delivering an edict and post to tell you why you're wrong. Remember.

I want an "I can beat the crap out of your kid who beat up an honor student" bumper sticker

Ben Davidson, I saw you took a bite out of a slice of my cheese. I ate the piece anyway.

I observe that my observations have a lot to do with cheese.

I have officially changed my opinion of my gross crack whore neighbor. It takes a lot of guts to leave the house looking like the Crypt Keeper's great grandmother.

For all you old school receivers of the ZCCNL, Mr. Ramirez STILL tries to beat me at every merging stoplight.

I'm tired of hear how kids screw up ther lives. Let's give a little more credit to parents and public schools

Cartoons reached perfection in the 80's. Have any of you attempted to watch any of the modern cartoons!? The only ones that are almost palatable are those that are resurrections of the ones that were out when I was a kid.

When teaching someone, only after there is a sure sign they are improving do they start to suck.

I had a dream the undead Pope tried to kill me. Not intended to offend anyone, but man it was a cool dream.

The following letters are uslesess and should be exterminated from the alphabet: K, Q, S, and X.

I was told today by an anal retentive businessman that I should not do what he did. He informed me that I should becaome a pediatrist or chiroprachter like he should have

I saw this on a Blog: "When there's nothing left to burn, you can always set yourself on fire..." Creepy.

If I don't see you at the Erinys preformance Friday or Saturday and you are local, I will destroy you. That is all.

I wanted to have more, but that's all the time I have today. Maybe once a year I'll dedicate the ZCCNL to some observations...let me know what you guys think.

This is Zach as always saying "Please don't add me to your Block List."

They'll regret Un-Dooming themselves!

2005-03-14T14:33:00.000-08:00

Hellos to all of you! This is a special month since it has been two years since the ZCCNL went monthly. Thanks to all of you for sticking around through the good issues and the horrible editions (traffic? gah!). Also, for those of you who have been around long enough to remember it, yes I do still have the Sharis' Menu in my wallet:D

This isn't the main focus of the ZCCNL for this month, however it is quite noteworthy:

I stopped by to pick up lunch while I was out and about one afternoon a couple weeks back, and to my surprise not only was I served at the window by someone who was apparently mentally handicapped, but had a huge oozing gash running along his thumb with no bandaid! As he handed me my change, I resited the urge to ask him for a plastic bag in which he could hand it to me, so that I could sterilize it before handling it...and if I hadn't have handed him a twenty I would have told him to keep the change. Thank God he wasn't actually making my food....but if HE can waltz around with an open wound how many other employees are doing the same?! Are they nice about it because he's retarded? Truly one of the great mysteries of our time....

I have decided I'm going to bank in on the success of reality TV shows of recent years. Mine will conquer them all for I have a foolproof plan: Use elements from each to make a SUPER Reality TV Show! The pot is of course the obligatory One Million Dollars........

First off, you are captured at gunpoint by hired goons and bound, gagged, and thrown into the trunk of a 1970's-era sedan. What you don't realize is that this is all a ruse created by your family and friends...you aren't "really" being kidnapped, but the guns are loaded, and you will be executed should you resist or fight back.

After you reach your destination (of which the city is chosen based upon the birth of Dave, the singer from the band Disturbed, divided by your age plus sixteen), you are prodded into a room naked, to be scrutinized by three judges...an african-american male who's opinion could change at the drop of a hat, a female who gives you the benefit of the doubt and favors the underdog, and a complete @$$ who will demean you without provocation.

If you meet their standards you are forced into a vat of manitee feces, where you will swim around until you find the five gallon jar of aborted sloth feti, which you have five minutes to eat in its entirety...but should you fail (which, of course you assuredly will) you are dropped off in the Nevada desert with nary but your wits to make it to civilization amidst the heat, hazards and whores.

When you reach the nearest city, you must choose from three contestants who will be your new father. If you choose the wrong one (there is no right one by the way), you will undertake rigorous plastic surgery to give you the appearence of Walter Cronkite if you are Male, Estelle Getty if you are female, and are forced to model swimsuit wear to a large group of love starved thirty-something Star Trek nerds who live in their parents' basement.

Should you meet their approval, and survive their group reaction ("KAAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNN!!!!!!") when you reject their romantic advances, you will be led out of the basement and into a cushy limosine. This is, to your dismay, your last comfort since you are on your way to the airport to board a plane. Your destination: That nigh-unliveable climate known as Ney Jersey where you are forced to survive off your own wits and instincts. The very water and air is tainted with decades of pollution and visits from Barbara Strisand. Even if you do reach the end and win, your relief is short lived since the producers shrug and admit the $1,000,000 prize was just a joke....you emerge with a coupon for a $3.20 Beef N' Cheddar sandwich meal at Arby's as the spoils. Congratulations.

I can't wait to plug it to the stations. I'm sure at the very least FOX will pick it up and renew it for three years to come....

Ok, so it fizzled out there at the end....I got tired and I was eating a brownie so my mind wasn't entirely on my wirting.

Have a safe early Easter (Easter's in March this year?!) and stay tuned for info on the live production of Matt Vander Boegh's rock opera, 'The Erinys', in the next couple weeks. You all local people had better support it, or you will find a musty smell in your corn flakes...

This is Zach as always saying "Please don't add me to your Block List"

Enid Quakerize. Chipmink Equilateral.

2005-02-14T13:50:00.000-08:00

Happy crap holiday created by greeting card companies to scalp money from whipped guys who buy their girlfriends a myrid af things in order to a) Earn Points b) Show sincere love [stifled guffaw] or c) make up for the previous year of forgotten birthdays and anniversaries! I never quite understood the purpose of Valentine's Day. Women demand flowers that die and chocolate that clog arteries faster then Hermes, messenger boy to the Gods. If you don't follow through with the goods, you're either sleeping on the couch or stuck with something she can hold over your head for years to come. Men, why put yourself through future torment? When they ask if they look fat and you have to fudge around a bit could be a direct result of the box of cherries jubilee you gave her for Valentine's Day three years before. Think ahead! Give her presents that can be used in the future, like a pie tin or crochet hook....think of the pies and sweaters you could get in return! If you think I'm being completely serious, you might need to remove something loged somewhere on your personage.....

At any rate, I'd much rather celebrate National Spay and Neuter you Pets Day on February 22nd....or if I REALLY get desperate, my Birthday on the 24th...

By the way, is anybody else out there as tired as I am? Seriously, I've even been sleeping fairly well for the past few days and I'm even more tired then ever before. Besides my lethargicness things have been fairly well to decent these days (middle of the road if you will). Excitably, there hasn't been too much to complain about! Ah, but you must realize there will ALWAYS be something to complain about.....and please join me and hold hands in agreeance of my hatred for spam email! Everytime I check my email , I pray I can get answers to questions I have sent someone or that I get a friendly hello from a friend who lives in Louisiana (that is a direct and not too subtle hint Tiffany!) But no, I always get 200+ messages in my bulk mail folder, as well as some that filter through into my main message box. You know imediately it's spam too....message subjects like the one I included as the subject for the ZCCNL this month are rather witty and almost informative, yet others are a plague of "Increase your bust size" (why would I want to do that?), "Make even the gods be envious of you in Bed!" (huh?) and "Find your true love in 7 Days!" (my true love is the sport of Curling, if you can't live with that, go to hades). In my formative years in the internet I used to reply to them asking nicely to remove me from their list, only to wake up the next morn to find my 'Instant Winner' messages had decatupled! I wish there was one solid email homebase these annoyances used, because I would certainly send them my own plague of the new millenium, the ZCCNL in exchange for endless hours of frustration and email torment! Perhaps if I can just relax and remember God will smite the spammers with his almighty hand I will be able to sleep tonight.

This is Zach as always saying 'Please don't add me to your block list'

*Zach also says he thinks the whole Bead exchange associated with Mardi Gras should be done on the 4th of July to honor how we came to acquire our country in the first place.*

The First Letdown of the New Year:

2005-01-11T15:18:00.000-08:00

Yesiree folks, Zach's Crappy Crappy Newsletter manages to survive yet another year and emerges from the ruins of it's past ilk with vim and vigor in a new mid-monthly print date. (On a side note...just what is 'vim'? Is it some sort of pete moss? that's for you, Nick)

I hope everyone's holidays were fairly safe and no one has succumbed to the pains of alcohol poisening. Just to put forth some assurances, although we lost the big Bowl Game in Memphis, Boise was able to strike back at the south through Mr. Matt Vander Boegh, whom, on his way to the buses after the game was approached by a man with one leg who gloated over the fact that his team beat ours by a meager four points (also sucker-punching the 30 point spread I might add). I am paraphrasing his reply but it was something to the effect of "Yes we might have lost the game, but at least we have two legs." Bravo, Matt. I fully support his stooping to the lowest common denimonator after seeing what poor winners those people were. I still think they were just jealous of our full set of teeth and non-impotence.

Lately I cannot bring myself to listen to radio because all current music sounds alike. We all know how I feel about the term selling out so I will not make these claims. They are making a living by writing music, I won't fault them for that...but can't they be even a little creative? I mean even a burger flipper could make a smily face out of the ketchup if they chose to! I have compiled a short list of things I am tired of hearing about:

Anti War Songs:

Yeah, there's a war going on. Yeah, you have an opinion about it. Do I want to hear about it? No. What I really think is missing from the airwaves are songs about why we SHOULD nuke the crap out of another country. Besides, every band that writes yet another war protest song is just conforming to what Creedence Clearwater did with Fortunate Son. Tug on my heartstrings some more why don't you, the gag reflex is just a hair to the right....

The "I'm so depressed I want to Die" Songs:

Once again to quote the great Matt Vander Boegh: "Just kill yourself already." Every song Staind writes either has to do with "I hate myself", "I hate you", "I hate the government", "I hate Unicorns" and so on and so forth. "I'm going to kill myself" was old the first time, retards. Either step up the plate and practice what you preach, or write about something new. You have a multi-million dollar music contract, your life can't suck that bad.

Love Songs:

There are so many figgin' love songs on the radio right now, whether it's theme is "I love you and you won't love me back" or "The love of my life left me" or "I can't love you because of what you did with my sister"...it could all choke a donkey. That's nice you can feel that way about someone, now think about it once....then lock it up in a nice secure box in your head! Everyone can have those feelings! You are not special, and I don't want to hear about your love life. Unless it has to do with Jennifer Ansiton and me;)

Seriously, why can't people just write a song that isn't 'culturally profound' or political or some other type of the swill thats on the radio? Yeah, I know Danger Baby's old song about a Haunted House was lame, but so was Tiny Tim and everyone seems to love him! Or how about maybe singing about the erradic-ness of the stock market? It's borderline political, but as long as it's not wanting to kill yourself after losing your money or the joys of buying your loving sweetie a diamond ring after winning at least it's different! Write about a stalker! Not everyone has one of those! (yes that was yet another shameless plug).

Yes, this months ZCCNL was nothing more then an irate tirade about something I can do nothing to change, but at least I started 2005 out on a high note of pure bitterness, contempt and objectivity, something the ZCCNL has somewhat lost over the years.

This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

If anyone wants to contribute to the ZCCNL in the comming months, please email me any ideas you might have and I'll put together some sort of editorial. Please keep your ideas Y-TV friendly, or at the very least PG-13.

I Think I Soiled My Stocking

2004-12-23T20:50:00.000-08:00

As you read this, December has neared joining its other eleven siblings in death as 2004 comes to an end. Looking back on the year I have to say it wasn't too shabby...much better then 2003 and 2002 for sure. 2001 might be slightly better by the fact I saw a dead body on the streets of Ouahu, but then again 2004 gave me opportunities such as telling hippies to get jobs and reconciling my differences with the Yak Woman that works at Wal-Mart....

The ZCCNL comes to you minty fresh and early this month, because at the normal print time of the 31st I will be on a plane returning from the Liberty Bowl in Memphis Tennesee. I know I won't have time to look for him, but my fingers are crossed that the undead corpse of Elvis will be in the press box of the stadium, rooting for the team that has the most groove (which could be ours afterall). Also this is sent just before Christmas because it is my gift to all of you, albeit an incredibly cheap and incompetent one....but at least you can just throw it away without bothering to stand in the long lines to exchange it.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who enjoys the holiday season. And by enjoy I most definitely mean slightly tolerate it. No, nothing means 'Christmas' quite like the stress levels of driving anywhere near a Mall, Department Store, Toy Store, or Adult Shop without having a brain aneurism from the traffic, or the joys of recovering from a seizure after witnessing the results of a Christmas Light feud between neighbors. My favorite part is getting someone a gift you know they'll love, only to find out on Christmas you either gave it to them the year before or a family member they like better gave them the same thing....when that happens, you KNOW they're going to return your gift and keep the other one.

Christmas [probably] means different things to different people. There's the Greed Mongers, the Jesus Heads, the aforementioned Decoration Competitors, the Family Freaks, the Holiday Depressants, the Dinner Devotees and of course members of the 'World Sucks Because I am Pitiful, Lonely and Want to Send A Nuclear Missile to [x insert ex relationer's name here x]'s House' cult. I think to get the most out of Christmas you have to have a happy medium (an espresso blend if you will) of the seven...otherwise others will think you're self-righteous, unreligeous, have no Christmas Spirit, antisocial, too happy, have an eating disorder, or have put up a wall around your emotions. I have learned just to take things in stride, and just as the old adage "Reality TV WILL DIE" translates...."This too shall pass."

This is Zach wishing each and every one of you a sincere Merry (and alcohol-binge free) Christmas and a Happy (and a small alcohol-binge) New Year.

Oh, and please don't add me to your block list.

--Zach, signing off for the year twenty-aught-four.

By the way, if the 24th is Christmas Eve does that make the 23rd Christmas Adam? (ba dum ching)

The Bright Side: Artest now has time to further his Rap career...

2004-11-30T15:18:00.000-08:00

...Which of course I mean in the most INsincere way possible. Along with young people, rap is responsible for all the hate, crime and curse words in our society. This is, once again the opinion of the author of this newsletter (but should be the opinion of everyone else. Especially the Space Pope).

Hola, bonjour, and of course hello (the REAL greeting) to all of you at the end of November: A month dedicated to realizing what we don't have by focusing on what we DO have....as well as remembering the feast shared by the pioneers and indians...right before we traded the country for beads. I hope they were pretty beads at least. And, now that the election is done and over with I think we can all at least agree on one thing: Anna Nicole Smith is definitely trailer trash.

As usual, nothing is new with me, save for the fact I now go to bed before midnight on weekdays. Yes, yes...this is another sign of the apocalypse. I'll see you on the other side...and remember, since I'm most likely going to hell because of my afinity for the mentally handicapped, Matt Bakke and I are already neighbors. The apartment on the other side of me is free though, so if you have a soul as a deposit, feel free to join us.

Now, onto the complaint section...I don't mind the holiday season. I really don't. I have to say though, the people who put up their Christmas decorations and proudly display their lights in September seriously get on my nerves. Starting in January, I think I'm going to light off fireworks in the people down the street's driveway every night until the 4th of July. That's great you get excited for Christmas...just bottle up that excitement until December 1st...then think of how great it will be...just like an explosive, violent temper! The kids will love it and hopefully the hippies will hate it! Ah, the anticipation....

I'm actually running quite short on time, so I'm sure you're all excited to hear that's it for the ZCCNL for November. Hope your holiday didn't raise your blood pressure and cholesterol as much as I'm sure it did mine.

This is Zach once again saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

Coversation of the month:

Dumpy Frumps: "You're not helping my argument...."
Lee VB: "Thats because it's poor."

More then Meets the Eye

2004-10-31T13:00:00.000-08:00

I bid each one of you a eerily heartfelt hello this All Hallow's Eve with the exception of Sasser, who has gone on the record and eloquently stated his displeasure for Halloween. I will instead wish him a happy early Election Day.

I hope the month of October treated (no pun intended) you all lovingly with few tricks (pun intended). I am now free of my bi-weekly treks to Fruitland and Nampa now, although I have to say I will miss the playful little scamps I taught for the last couple months. But I will move on, and look forward to the days when I finally get paid for my job at Boise State. Sadly, nothing else is new save for the fact I do have more then one hundred dollars in my checking account.

I'm sure we all have fond memories of Trick-or-Treating, family get togethers, or waking up November 1st in a pool of chocolate-and-nougat-laden vomit (November first is definitely the equivolent to a hang over for a six year old)...and since none of you want to hear a few of mine, here they are anyway:

In my twenty three Halloweens I must say most of my memories have to do with being a spoiled greedy snot, only out to glean as much candy from strangers as I possibly could, no matter the harm to assuredly come to my friends or parents. Sure, there was the year I had bronchitis and poorly chose a costume wrought with animal hair, and the year I had the flu and could not stop projectile vomiting on my neon color crayon outft, but those instances are quite overshadowed by the year I threw a fit when I wanted to be a robot and Garfield the cat, and my parents had no choice but to let me out of the house dressed as a robotic cartoon cat, which is of course an abomination in the face of the lord. Out of the Seven Deadly Sins, I'm sure I have unwittingly (or purposefully!) broken 6.5 of them, even as a child. Then of course, how could I forget the year my friend and I both went as ninja turtles...I watched as he was promptly confronted by a bully, got the crap beat out of him, knocked backwards onto the mixing bowl on his back he utilized as a shell and had his candy stolen. He deserved it though. I can't think of the reason right now, but I'm sure I can rationalize it with something at a later time. I must say though, that Halloween just doesn't have the charm and excitment it used to, and I don't know why. I still find a poor excuse for a cotume to wear and I still find my mom's stash of candy to raid and stuff myself sick with as I watch Halloween specials until midnight. The only thing that has changed is the fact the only thing I want to do on Halloween night is sit on my parents' roof with a garden hose, soaking the unwitting youngsters who walk up the path to their oblivion.

Enough of my memories, we all know that I only wrote about Halloween because I can't think of anything funny to rant about. Until now (Maybe...I can guarantee nothing):

Yesterday afternoon I came across this, which caught my eye and gave me a great deal of interest for obvious reasons. I was quite surprised the word 'Hobbit' is now a noun in the english language to describe a short person. I'm sure all the Migets and dwarfs of the world are now either up in arms over being called a Hobbit, or now rejoice in the fact they can now find their niche by naming their kid 'Frodo'. Either way I recognize this as yet another sign God is displeased with us and is sending his son to wipe the world clean. I wonder if he ever had the notion the entire planet would turn into "Soddom and Gomorah: The Theme Park". You know, come to think of it the only thing that will most likely come from the Hobbits' discovery is the fact all the LoTR dorks will start claiming the events in the books really happened and Hobbits are real. Actually, I'd probably be more frightened of a dude in a Gandalf suit telling me to join his religion then Satan. Unless Satan was naked of course.

I now shake my head in shame as I re-read yet another poor excuse for a newsletter. I assure you, as soon as something actually funny happens to me, you will all hear of it.

This is Zach, this time PLEADING with you all saying "Please don't add me to your block list"

I bent my Wookie

2004-10-12T17:59:00.000-07:00

Once again the customary hello to all of you, and I give you the news that I am still alive and have not returned to the Boise State Parking Office to say 'Good Day' to the useless skaggs that work there utilizing the rear bumper of my Blazer to ask them just how I get the unwashable muscelage off my window they used to make my impound notice stick. (That has to be one of the longest senteces I've ever written. Re-read it now to make sure you didn't forget the beginning.)

Because my busy schedule prevents me from keeping a keen eye out for things that piss me off, 1) My blood pressure has probably gone down a bit, 2) I am not going to apologize for the tardiness of this newsletter, and 3) I am forced to present to you a written piece done for my English 102 class. I think it is quite entertaining and it summarizes just how the portrait of 'Lauren' got on my wall. My English Professor said it was "Awesome. Fun." Despite the lack of excitement conveyed by her message written on a violet stcky pad, I tell myself she meant what she wrote.

So now, with out further stalling....use the restroom, grab a snack, and prepare to read my uninspiring writings!

I remember it like it was yesterday...It was five in the morning, Saturday the 6th of December 2003. My band had just played what was to be our final show, and a late/early celebratory/mourning meal had ended at a local 24-hour restauraunt. I had seen the sign at McDonald's for at least a month, and I had vowed it would be mine. I turned down the adjacent street, turning off my headlights (or 'stealth mode' as some say) but left the car running in anticipation of a speedy getaway. I knew it was all in my head, but images of James Bond lurking in a Russian stronghold after just squeezing out of an easily escapably overly-elaborate death scheme kept running through my mind. I had to get that sign. I had to see is hangning on my wall. I had a spot picked out and everything... for that reason alone there was to be no turning back. I peered out around the corner of the wall separating the establishment from the residential area where my car was parked a short distance away.

The morning crew was arriving, loading and unloading trucks no doubt filled with greasy pre-cooked Big Macs and Quarter Pounders (and succulent McChicken Sandwich patties!), the stench of bacon and sausage filling the air as the McDonald's first shift employees began to prepare for the oncoming breakfast rush. I pressed myself against the wall and shimmied through the untrimmed foliage of weeds and underbrush surrounding 'It'. It was mine. I reached down and plucked it from it's wire frame, turning around in a hurry to avoid detection by the truck crew. I tripped over a sprikler head but regained my balance as I sped towards my still running vehicle. I laughed with malicious glee as I made the short trek back to my apartment. I sprinted up the steps and slammed the door, not caring in the least if I awoke the seldom seen broom-weilder below me. Still giggling, I hung the poster upon my wall...it was much bigger then I originally thought, but the place I had chosen was perfect. I stepped back a bit, taking in the glorious, heartwarming visage of the cippled child preparing to take a swing at a ball on a tee with the inscription "I'm a Home Run Hitter." I smiled, then noticed for the first time the text written on the mottom of the sign, covered up by the weeds this priceless artifact had called home until ten short minutes ago.

"I beleive in Miracles." I paused shortly, then read on. "A disease left me blind and in a wheelchair, but McMiraclefield gave me a chance to play the game I love--Baseball." "Love Lauren." it was signed. I stared at the quote and felt instant pity seep into my soul. All the heroics I just underwent to obtain this Holy Grail, not unlike Indiana Jones or Lara Croft (sans the feminine parts) flew out the window like so many proverbial freed parakeets. I stewed for a moment before grabbing the nearest pair of scissors. I snipped away at the thick material, freeing the top half from the conscience-offending quote at the bottom and immediately felt much better. It remained there for many months until I decided to rejoin the picture as a whole in order to be inspired, as well as to realize "Well, it could be worse." Long Live Lauren and his/her love of Baseball and the McMiraclefield!

There, it's over....You should have gotten a snack.

This is Zach saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

My Apartment smells like Applesauce...

2004-09-13T16:44:00.000-07:00

...Because yet another worthless, thoughtless waste of skin, bones and internal organs decided they didn't have to do their job and clean up the courtyard at my friggin' apartment. The apple tree has been dropping it's fruit since well before June...and the lawn care people haven't mowed since. Rotting apples adorn the lawn next to squirrel and dog feces, and I'm sick of looking at it. *sigh*

That intro should be a forewarning to all of you that this special edition mid-month ZCCNL is nothing more then an outlet for me to vent my frustrations out from the happenings of the past few weeks. Sit back, grab a snack and prepare to read some of the most sarcastic, meaningless drivel ever written by yours truly.

Most of you know that my Blazer was booted while parked at the BSU Stadium (where I was told I COULD park mind you)two weeks ago. I was given two tickets, one for a $50 Impound Fee, another parking violation for $25. My boss at the stadium gave me $80 to go square away the tickets and get the boot off my car. Inside the parking office, I handed the employee my tickets and money. She replied "Actually in order to get the boot removed, you must pay off all your past parking tickets totalling...$240." I snapped, throwing the $80 at her yelling that I didn't have that money, and if I didn't get to work soon they wouldn't be getting any money whatsoever." She refused to look at me for the rest of the time, as she typed up a payment agreement for me to sign...although I had to cough up another $40 to make the deal work. As I was cooling down, I complained that I didn't even deserve the tickets in the first place since I was told I could park there. Another worker poked her head from around the corner and in a snide tone asked me just WHO told me I could park there. I told her I was an employee of the Marching Band and the director gave me permission to park there for the two hours a day that I was required to attend. She told me that "I needed to tell Dave Wells that he can't be telling people where and where not to park", when my anger once again exploded forth like so many a half-digested chalupa meal. "Do I work here?" I bellowed, blind to the anti-hostility sign by the entrance, "You get on the phone and call him yourself!" She retreated into her cubicle, adorned with the pictures of her children that looked like they were at ground Zero at the Hiroshima Bombing (Ugly as sin if you understand the vernacular). The first employee finished my payment agreement, I paid the money and left. At lunch, while eating my Chaulpa Meal (hey, I just mentioned a Chalupa meal...and yes the analogy I included above is very true), I finally decided to resurrect my old Blue Blazer...enblazon it with a Captain America sigil (stealing Greg Sasser's original idea of course) and enact some old fashioned vigilante justice upon the streets of downtown Boise. No longer will I be plagued by jaywalkers, idiot drivers who cut me off and Boise State Parking Nazis and their asinine tickets. 'Lady Liberty' (I didn't want to steal your idea 100% Greg...Old Justice is safe from my plagerism) would stand up to whatever they could throw at me....and then some. If this plan does not come to fruition, I shall have to resort to the old 'dog poo in a flaming bag' trick and watch the hags in the parking office put it out in their Birkenstocks...and from the looks of things, they could use a freaking walk outside the comforting walls of their worthless jobs anyways.

Alright, I feel slightly better about this now that I've vented. Also, thanks to Mary who gave me transportation during this mess and was nice enough to buy me lunch.

My faith in human beings has slipped below the 'semi-tolerable' mark, and therefore don't be surprised of you see a masked vigilante weilding a baseball bat, getting out of a blue and white Blazer bearing the stars and stripes, bashing in the front windshield of the car in front of me going 25 in a 40 mph zone.

This ends the broadcast of the mid-month special edition of ZCCNL. I'll see you in roughly 15 days now. You have been warned*.

This is Zach saying "Don't add my to your block list."

*The above warning stems from the next addition of the ZCCNL, as well as if you happen to be going 25 in a 40mph zone and see Lady Liberty in your rear view mirror. Let slip the dogs of War!!!!! BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH!!!!!!! (Although I don't wanna sound like a queer or nothin'....but I think 'Vehicle' is a sweet song....some of you will hopefully get those two jokes rolled up into one poorly executed one.)

Lee found his butter! This is cause for celebration, people!

2004-08-29T13:53:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh......I breathe a sigh of relief as the summer comes to an end...and my perpetual servitude as a teacher dies a harsh, unnatural death. There is most definitely a God.

Absolutely nothing extraordinary has come to pass this past month, so I have no need for the customary answer to "How have things been Zach?" My reply is "Move along, nothing to see here....."

For the main body of the ZCCNL, I thought it might be fairly humerous to jot down some of my observations on the happenings around me during my tenure around high school students....For those of you who do not like observational humor....I'll be sure to....well......You'll find the back of my hand rather displeasing! Alright, you and I both know I can't do anything if you don't appreciate my waste of time...besides half of you probably have me included in your ignore list or delete any emails from me that might be the ever-eyeroll-inducing ZCCNL. Another thing we both know is that my humor usualy passes through others' eyes as 'immature', 'childish', and other such things I have been called by past relationers. (Is 'Relationer' a word? If not, I shall have to add it to my list along with 'Exotican', 'Faggotry', and Vocalistic Bombastitude') Enough rambling.

"Genltemen, Behold....Zach's Observations of High School Music Students!!!!!!"

First and foremost, I have noticed a definite change in the female appearence for high school students since I was that age a mere seven years ago. For some reason, a large chunk of girls at the camps I have taught look like they should be at very least 20 years of age, modeling some clothing line for a billboard in New York. I don't know what it is, but High School Girls seem to be getting hotter and hotter. before any of you jump to conclusions, I must put my foot down and assure you I have no temptations to pursue these voluptuous 15 year olds *shudder*.....but I must say girls being that good looking that young is like braile pornography for a person with no hands. Enough said.

While High School Girls are getting hotter, I must say High School boys are most definitely getting more and more stupid. While listening to some of their conversations, I shake my head in astonishment at the utter dumb @$$ity of their thought patterns. I know I was their age once, but I never once thought about killing squirrels, selling their pelts and making "Mad Skrilla", let alone allpwing that thought to pass through my vocal chords. Bodily functions are the makings of genious moments. Food is most definitely not for eating....it's for adorning their ill-fitting garments in a poupourri of ponderous elegance. Perhaps I'm finally reaching the age break where farting is not means for a celebratory formal dinner...or perhaps parents these days are not passing the sufficient amount of chromosomes to their children to annoint them with proper thought patterns and the skills required to live their day-to-day lives.

I feel sorry for the kids who feel that they have to put up some sort of front that they are 'cooler' then they really are...but it goes with the age. I did it when I was in high school, and I'm sure you all have as well. Maybe. Once again a bold claim made by me which is sure to prevent the ZCCNL from becoming a Pulitzer Prize winner. Back on the subtopic: I really wished I could take some of these kids aside, sit down next to them and bludgeon them with the leg of a grand piano (lovingly of course) and tell them to stop thinking you're a gangster just because you wear your hat sideways and your size 80 jeans are revealing your vertical grin to the world. You can put on a fake moustache, comb all your hair to one side and call yourself Hitler, but that definitely doesn't mean you can move to northern Idaho and boss around the skinheads there! Take a bath, wear some pants that fit you and stop trying so hard to be an idiot. Or I guess you could move to LA and see how much the leader of the Crypts (hahahaha...'Crypt'[as in 'cripple?'...ahhh nevermind]) is impressed by your FUBU shirt and baggy wranglers.

And now for some rapid-fire quickie observations:

High schoolers should most definitely get acquainted with the little thing called 'deoderant'. Nothing more needs to be said about this topic.

It doesn't matter if you've had twice the years experience in what you're teaching these kids, they still think they know more then you do. Until you are forced to demean them and prove they know next to nothing when compared to the Jeebus....

The interior of Burley High School looks and feels like a prison camp. I guess the reasoning behind this is to prepare the kids for their future.

99% of the Fruitland High School students seem to have been taken directly from an episode of 'Hee-Haw'

Josie Knapp is the hottest band director. Ever. In the history of anything. You all were thinking it, so don't say it isn't true.

Alright, I've said enough. Congratulations to all of you that lived through another summer, and I'll bore/ annoy/ piss all of you off in another 30-or-so days. This is Zach saying once again...."Please don't add me to your block list."

It's a simple life....

2004-07-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

....So why do I insist on making it harder on all of you with my poor sense of humor and inane banter?

Ahoys and salutations to all of you once again, from me through the email newsletter that people, not unlike yourselves have deemed "Pointless", and "Utter Dumbs**ttery".

I come to you a few days early this month since at the usual time of my publication dates, I will be up to my scapula in teaching jobs. Thankfully I enjoy teaching and writing, otherwise this would be a hell far beyond anything most of us could comprehend and imagine. I imagine it would be somewhat like living in Hong Kong.

My life has maintained a steady dosage of busyness coupled with a Healthy Point Load [(c) 2004 Matt Vander Boegh] of servitude. Nothing has changed since June, so there fore I won't bore you by saying "I'm still working for my dad, teaching drum lessons, and pondering why my crack-whore neighbor continues to venture outside the comforting and opaque walls of her home when she looks as though Gollum has a female rival."

My commentary section of this month's ZCCNL deals largely with the holiest (in the loosest sence of the word) department store in the world.....Wal-Mart. Long have I been tempted to write an editorial on the patrons of Wal-Mart, yet my concience prevented me from doing so. Since I am devoid of most emotions these days, I feel no compunctions about ranting and raving about the oddity of my local Wal-Mart Super Store.

God created us in his own image. For some reason I find myself questioning that statement each and every time I walk into a Wal Mart. Either by some strange twist of fate, or perhaps God is just a jokester, some human beings look as though they survived the Crusades (it's too soon to say they survived the Oklahoma City Bombing) with nary but some physical disfigurement as a reward. I'm not any sort of racist (you can't be when you have a vivid hatred for every race equally, including your own), however I pose the following question: Why is it these poor souls always congregate at Wal-Mart? They both shop AND work there. I have the utmost respect for the 'normies' who work at Wal-Mart (Ricky: Thou art a King among Men). Please, I plead with you: Why must you have to be 80 years old and have facial hair no matter your gender to be a door greeter? (Resued joke ratio over the past two months: 2:2) I have seen a myrid of weirdos, ranging from Captain Fatback who worked in the photo processing department, to Necro Santa and Mastodon Woman, all the way to an 80 year old woman wearing a Playboy tanktop in January. I'm definitely NOT saying I am a GQ model and comparing myself with these people, I'm merely pondering the strange coincidence all these people feel they have to shop at Wal-Mart? I have concocted a list of possibilities:

1: Is it the family-friendly atmoshpere? I should think a hearty NO. I can just imagine a small child following around a person whose pants look similar to one of their parents...they tug upon this person's leg, asking for the nearest candy at hand....and when the person looks down upon the frightened youth with their third eye, hairline lip and sweat soaked wife beater the youngster exclaims "I wanted my mommy, not a monster!"

2: Integrity? Wal Mart did, afterall, remove all magazines with lewd and suggestive covers, as well as 'inappropriate' CDs. I must say no again. I doubt a huge corporation that puts three super stores in a tiny town would care much about integrity. Even the slightly more upscale patrons of Fred Meyer has Wal Mart them beat in honesty and integrity. I overheard a mother and small child discussing whether or not the purchase of a toy was to be made. The little girl of a mere four years of age tugged on her mother's heartstrings by saying "I love you." The mother responded with "Do you only love me because you want the toy?". The girl smiled and nodded. The mother shook her head and said "Well, at least you're honest. Put it in the cart." Is this something Wal-Mart would posess? There's a great chance of it, but I'm going to stick to my guns and say NO!

3: Cheapness? I would say yes to this. Although Wal-Mart could quite possibly be included in the next reprint of the Bible as the 8th deadly Sin, it is nigh impossible to beat Wal-Mart's low low prices. And Roll Back sales.

There. I suppose I answered my own question by writing my twisting, nonsensical newsletter. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to join my mutant brethren at Wally World, so long as they remember to wipe the mucous ozzing from their three fingered hands off the fresh fruit they just decided to grope like an underage prostitute. This is Zach, as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

Good News...It's a Supository!

2004-07-10T17:44:00.000-07:00

I must apologize for my tardiness in sending out the June edition of the ZCCNL, however my schedule has been quite hectic and bothersome. I am juggling about three different jobs now, I'm still working for my dad part time, teaching my drum lessons in the evening, and now that summer is here, my instructing jobs are in full swing. Thankfully I will be sitting pretty in the money department after all this is said and done, but at the moment I find myself praying that I can die....even for just an hour or two. Hell, Nikki Sixx and Dave Mustaine did it, why can't I? All dying does is make you more popular and famous. Then I wake up from my unrealistic daydream with a start and realize I could have gotten more music written instead of rationalizing the unrational. The only solace from my toils have been the late night practices with my band and my three boxed DVD sets of Futurama. I have that theme song so embedded in my head now, I hear it when I sleep and have wonderful dreams of 'killing all humans'.

Speaking of killing all humans, my 'gripe' section of this months ZCCNL is derived from the construction jobs located in Boise ID. For those of you not from this turd magnet dubbed the 'City of Trees', you simply cannot drive ANYWHERE in the city without having multiple stops due to a mongloidian construction worker, or at least have traffic slowed to 15 mph, not to mention down to one lane of traffic of course. Each time I get in my car, I am constantly confused about the traffic situation, and in between my bouts with road rage I find myself pondering just why Idaho seems to have a construction fetish. I am quite bewildered why the city doesn't focus on one project at a time...wouldn't that speed things up a bit? Perhaps I use too much logic, or perhaps my loss of hope in the human race due to getting scammed on ebay twice, and the fact crapTV(c) reality shows continue to flourish makes me bitter against anything people do. I choose the latter. But seriously, why cant they at least hire competent people to direct traffic? Seriously, those people wouldn't know their heads from the patch of melanoma on thier cankles. I apologize to anyone who works construction or knows anyone who does, but I think at least getting through the 3rd grade should be a requirement for this job. If they have gotten more schooling then that, they certainly could have fooled me. I was driving through some construction (I forget where exactly I was since every $^@%#$*! road has construction being done on it) and the traffic director ran in front of me, waving and pointing at his sign. I slammed on my brakes to avoid a head on collosion with the worker. He gave me a dirty look and pointed at his sign. I nodded and pointed at his sign as well, since it read 'Slow'. He got the point and turned it around to the side that read 'Stop'. I realize that everyone makes mistakes...but since he pissed me off, I wanted to throw my Super Sized Dr. Pepper at him as I drove past (He also started waving frantically at me when I wasn't moving despite the fact he had neglected to turn the sign once again, thus reading 'Stop'). If I didn't have easily remebered liscense plates I most certainly would have.

I am going to end this poor excuse for a newsletter now, I realize I have hit rock bottom since I been reduced to complaining about traffic. Perhaps I can once again return to complaining about something good in the future. This is Zach, as always, saying "Please don't add me to your block list".

"Gentlemen.....Behold!!!!!!"

2004-05-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

I realize it is a few days before the months end, but the month of May basically ends with a long weekend so I figgure I'd send out the ZCCNL early. Congratulations, it's a boy.

Disclaimer: Since the preepmtion of the ZCCNL in April due to my 'well of creativity running bone dry', I return to May with the well overflowing once again. This makes for an extemely long ZCCNL....and I suggest taking restroom and meal breaks at least every 20 minutes....

I will forgo the typical hellos and salutations this month and dive headfirst into my immature writings....keeping my fingers busy on the keyboard, since idle hands spend time on the genitals and we all know how much God hates that...

The past month has been ripe with do-nothingness and following the same old routine of 'wake up, go to work, alcohol binge, sleep' and get up to do it all again the next day. There has been nothing new happening recently, save for the night I spent with Sevendust, and the fact that I am now the sole resident of the middle section of my apartment! A party must be in order! No longer shall I be plagued by being woken up early (read: early is by my definition; anything before 12:03pm) by the damnable yapper dog downstairs, and neither shall I be upset by the taper-oo-ing by the blunt end of a broom as I indulge in Disturbed and the aforementioned Sevendust at 800 decibels. Jesus himself prophisied that a party must come to pass (It's somewhere in the back of 'Proverbs') and I really don't want to piss off the king of kings and lord of lords. So keep checking your email and messaging systems, because I need to throw a shindig soon, before an elderly couple moves into one of the three vacancies surrounding my abode.

For those of you who have been fortunate enough to receive the ZCCNL since the end of last year, you all know of my undying hatred for hippies. I finally struck back at them on behalf of all of us upstanding citizens last week when I was asked for some spare change by a group of them and their malnourished dog (whom I felt more pity for then it's human abusers). I was well on my way down inebriated highway, so I told them very loudly and slurredly to get a job.I wish I had've had the foresight to stop and explain mu openended order in depth...Why should I contribute to their laziness when all they contribute to my society is crowding the already bottlenecked sidewalks, putting forth a stench so bad it makes Sloth from the Goonies smell like rosebuds and grandma's homemade dumpling dinner in comparison, and of course the insessent drum circles in the park (Clayton and Travis: we need to grab some marching drums and 'join in the circle'...bwah hahahahahahaha!). I don't ask for the hemp lovers to compromise their beliefs, however is it too much to ask for them to wash their feet every once in awhile? I mean for God's sake, Jesus washed his disciples' feet, do the hippies think they are too good for Jesus? I will end this rant by starting a new one:

"Selling Out"

Oh God how I hate this phrase. I don't believe in it. Selling out is merely a term used by those people who are unsatisfied with their favorite sports/ music/ etc. all star's ventures. It is a copout, pure and simple. Don't agree? I really don't care.

Consider this:

Do you have a job? Do you get paid for your job? Do you ever get tired of your current job and wish for a better one to make some more money? Well my friend, YOU ARE SELLING OUT!!!! That's right, if you want to make more money at what you're doing you are a sellout by definition.

Hypothertical situation:

You work as a burger flipper. You hate being a burger flipper, and vie for a managerial position making more money. YOU ARE SELLING OUT!!!!!

I am mainly a music guy so I'll use that for my examples. If you are in a successful band you are damned if you do and damned if you don't. It's a no win situation. You can continue down your musical path and be pigeonholed and be swept into a genre that cannot be new and exciting, or you can change things up a bit, MAKE things fresh and exciting and be labeled a sellout. The love of making music or playing sports is really only partially what makes an althlete or musician do what they do. The other half is THEIR NEED TO MAKE MONEY IN ORDER TO SURVIVE LIKE YOU OR I DO. Face facts here, you damn well know if you were offered $100 to shill tasteless happy tarts or snackey smores you'd jump at the chance. Using the term 'selling out' is about as asinine as saying a bass guitar player sucks because he uses a pick.

I apologize for being preachy (wait...not I don't, screw you all....ha ha just kidding....sort of). If you disagree with my arguments, feel free to respond and perhaps I'll include an editorial in next month's ZCCNL. But I'll probably just end up wiriting about midgets and public sexual acts I see in bars.

This is Zach once again saying "Please don't add me to your block list."

Remeber, go to http://downiesroolyou.blogspot.com/ to read the ZCCNL anytime, anyplace!

May cometh the change....

2004-05-12T12:42:00.000-07:00

Starting at the end of May, I will be posting the ZCCNL (Zach's Crappy Crappy Newsletter) online here so all of you can enjoy it after the fact without having to save it and clog your email account (in my perfect little world, you all keep it and the laughs rolling rather then deleting it while rolling your eyes after seeing an email from me). I will still send the ZZCNL out via email, make no mistake of that. Until that day when all are one....

Z-Funk in the hizzay.