Rocky
by Scott Hardie on July 18, 2008
Let's take a moment to mourn Rocky Aoki, who lived one hell of an interesting life. And that article barely even mentions his kids (in the sidebar), who have their own interesting lives.
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Thank You Netflix
I'm in the mood for some Law, followed immediately by some Order. Go »Kids Again
Kelly is a big Kids in the Hall fan, so I bought her tickets to see them for our first anniversary. And since they were playing at Universal Studios in Orlando, we decided to make a day of it at the theme park, which became a whole weekend getaway. And since I like sharing my opinions at length on the Internet, here's what I thought of each part. Go »Throw Out Your Caller ID
I'm all for scientific research into the paranormal, since it will benefit humankind whether the results are affirmative or negative – but apparently it's awfully hard to keep such research scientific. For instance, I never fail to be amused by ghost hunters who claim to have proven a haunting because electromagnetic readings are higher in the area, a phenomenon that has no demonstrated correlation with hauntings. And let's not even get into the ones who claim to have proven a haunting because a "psychic" said they sensed ghosts nearby. Go »Bubba Franks! Bubba Franks, Y'all
There has to be a corny sexual position that nobody actually does (like Dirty Sanchez) named after that man. The rest of my trip is over and was richly enjoyed. We skipped Fearless in favor of playing Playstation games and scarfing down Chinese food while talking at length about the goo game and how it could be better. Go »Blood Lines
A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »
