Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Thursday, May 31, 2007

You Know What?

This isn't working either. I'm still doing the same boring-ass "daily recap" style, only I'm just making stuff up instead of telling it like it is.

I'm going to have step back. Take stock, go through a period of personal retrenchment. I need to come back, regroup, get a grip, come equipped, strap the proton packs to my back and then

Wait. Stop! I'm not in control.

Ok.

Deep breath.

I'm going to go do a little self-reflection, and come back with a bit more perspective. Then we'll see.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

A Return to the Old Ways, No. 2

Got up. Took a shower. Not because I needed to. Because I considered it refreshing to do so.

Went to work. It was kind of a peaceful drive, insofar as my car radio's busted.

For lunch I had a whole goat, ceviche-style. It was nice, all that lime-cured goat meat in amongst the onions and cilantro and the celery and chunky cucumber and crabolux. Oh, and you'll never guess! A little melon in there! Very refreshing.

Next I had sex with everybody in the whole company. It was great for them, but...I'll level with you, I started getting a little bored there towards the end. Especially with the guys, because - no offense, guys - that's not my real forte so to speak. That's not where I'm at my best. Anyway, it's all part of the sacrifices that one makes for the good of the team. It was my turn. I get no complaints.

After that, the big conference call with the #1 supplier. I told them "what for!" Yeah, they know who boss is. When push comes to shove, they know which side of the bed their bread is buttered on, and yes, I do believe I mean mine.

All of that sort of goes without saying, I guess. Typical gay day at work.

Ho to the hum!

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

The Wizards of Escharoth, Part None: Trial of the Forbidden Wand

Got up, went to work. There were an unusual number of contracts to get through, today. I don't sweat that. If there's one thing I don't sweat, it's the English language. The trick with contracts is - they're written in English. A lot of people want to act like or pretend that they're written in some kind of super-English, but really - no, they're not. It's just English. English doesn't befront me.

For lunch, it was one of those deals where I missed the lunch lady and had to settle for a hot cup o' Nissin "Cup Noodles" out of the vending machine. These are not to be confused with Cup O' Noodles. Those are noodles that are in a cup simply because that's where they happen to be: a cup o' noodles. Nissin "Cup Noodles" on the other hand, are noodles specifically engineered for the cup. Hence, "Cup Noodles."

If you make it according to directions the broth is too salty! Here's my method: after pouring in the hot water and letting it steep ("cook") for the prescribed 5 minutes, I go to the toilet and pour out about half that salty broth. Well, maybe closer to only one third. Right in the toilet! I usually leave the door open while I'm doing it. Why not? I've got my pants on! If there's something supposedly gross about that, I think that upon a rigorous course of self-examination you'll find that it's your own expectations of conformity to societal norms. Then you go back and re-fill up to the line with more hot water. Much better!

(I hasten to point out that I do flush. That wouldn't be a fair puzzle to leave to the next person. "Wha-h? peas?")

(I hasten to double-point-out that when pouring, I do my level best to conserve all the little bits and vegetables, and needless to say, noodles, in the cup).

(also, gross to point this out, but I read once that flushing with the lid up basically ejects a great deal of aerosolized particles which proceeds to coat every surface in the room, so the instant I hit the flusher and before it even starts spinning really, I am already rushing out the door with my Cup Noodles cupped protectively to my chest - the true reason I leave the door open! - got to get the heck out of there. More than once this has created the impression that 1) I eat Cup Noodles on the pot, 2) I am in the habit of fleeing from the bathroom as from a crime scene, and 3) I don't wash my hands after.

But as you can see, having had it explained to you, none of those apparent gaffes really fits the facts of the case. I have the highest concern for hygiene. I'm only protecting my Cup Noodles, here.)

So...after lunch, more contracts.

They don't befront me.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Well, I screwed up.

On Friday's post, I said "Starting Monday I'm going back to the old way." Well, today's Memorial Day. So make that Tuesday instead.

I just noticed that my post Archives to the right have the month names in Spanish now. Now, that does seem like the sort of thing I'd do, just for a nice educational touch...but it hardly seems like the sort of thing I'd do accidentally and unawares!

A bit suspicious if you ask me.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Casablanca

I'm sorry, but for a so-called great movie - and it's inarguably got a lot of great aspects to it - but it's high time to consign Casablanca to the ash-heap of political correctness and move on. It's just time. It's high time. The time has come! We have to put this one behind us. Why? Because it's racist!

All throughout the movie, the black guy keeps calling that other guy "boss." He shouldn't be calling that guy "boss!" It's racist!

That black guy's a real racist. It ruins the whole movie. Who can even watch it at this point, given our now-elevated perspectives and sensibilities?

It's a shame, really. Because parts of the movie really stand out. Why'd they have to mar it with that sordid racist bit of business, I'd like to know.

True Happiness This Way Lies

well I've been crushing the symptoms
but I can't locate the cause
could God
...really be so cruel?
to give us feelings
that could never be fulfilled.

Well, baby!
I've got my sights set on you,
I've got my
sights
set on you.
And someday
someday
someday

you'll come my way

but when you put your arms around me

I'll be looking over your shoulder,
for something new

'cause I ain't never found peace upon the breast of a girl
I ain't never found peace with the religion of the world
I ain't never found peace at the bottom of a glass.

Sometimes it seems, the more I ask for - the less I receive
sometimes it seems - the more I ask for
the less I receive.

The only true freedom
is freedom from the heart's desires

and the only true happiness...
this way

lies.

Friday, May 25, 2007

New Direction, No.5

Woke up: Yup.
Bath: none of your damn business.
Lunch: I forget.
Work: HARD.

You know how it goes by now.

Geez. How do people even blog like this? The whole "events of daily life" part.

Maybe they don't have jobs or something! Or lead interesting lives.

I swear.

Starting Monday I'm going back to the old way.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

New Direction No. 4

Blah blah blah BLAH! BLAH! What more can I SAY about this stuff!!?

I had a FISTFIGHT with the CEO! People were betting on both sides, and most of them were betting on me because of my kickass demeanor and reputation! But little did they know, and this is unfortunate - I threw the fight, per prior arrangement beforehand.

These are the sorts of compromises and accommodations that you have to make to get ahead in the business world. It's only corrupt up to a certain point.

I'm sorry. I'll return to the straight and narrow tomorrow. That whole fight business - the thing is, it never happened, and Lord knows - you'll all be gratified to know - I would never lose on purpose. That's not how I see myself.

That's not even how I see myself in 10 years.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

New Direction No. 3

First off, why is or why did "Number" used to be abbreviated as "No."? There isn't even an "o" in the word!

That's asinine. Okay, I'm not going to go into the bit about whether I did or didn't take a shower any more. That's an irrelevant issue that just ends up giving people who would be inclined to establish patterns or draw inferences, to try to put me in some kind of a box based on that...it just gives morons like that more ammunition for the grist mill. I can't stand these fatuous bases for putting people in various boxes even though they smell great and their hair already looks fantastic.

So let's just gloss over that part, what else. I had a turkey sandwich, on wheat I think. It was okay. Gulden's mustard this time. Oh yeah! Yesterday I didn't put it: salami with cheddar (isn't that kind of a weird combination?).

I'm not a real big salami fan. That was the only sandwich she had left. A lot of salads, but not enough sammies. I'm talking about the "Lunch Lady" as we call her (in fact, as she announces herself) - part of a roving cadre of catering servicers who rove through the local business community dispensing their own brand of lunchy justice. For a fee, of course...always for a fee.

Apart from that, same ol' same applies:

* Too many meetings in the mornings
* Kicking ass all afternoons
* Several various amusing incidents sprinkled incidentally throughout (you kind of had to be there)

You know, just a general day-style day. As I like to say, "that's just how I do it!"

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

New Direction, Day 2

Well, same as yesterday basically. So far.

Except, I showered. Irish Spring, Head & Shoulders.

You know what, I've been using Head & Shoulders since I was like 10 years old and I don't even think I have dandruff! It's just that when I was a kid, there were three shampoos in there: Dad's Head & Shoulders, Mom's Prell, and Johnson & Johnson's No More Tears. Which, by the time you're almost 11, you're saying to yourself: time to step up. Double-digits here, you're an adult, time to act like it. So it was basically a choice between Head & Shoulders and Prell.

Prell...I don't know. At ten years of age, I just felt like I didn't want to go down that road.

Monday, May 21, 2007

A Sudden Shift In Direction

Hi dudes. Guess what? I was reading around on other people's blogs, and I think I might not be doing this right. I think I need to do the whole "describe my day" thing, a bit more. So here goes:

I got up today and didn't shower because, you know, I smell great anyhow? I always pretty much shower just to accord with society's whims (I place a premium on that) but I'm not a slave to it as long as my hair looks great.

So next I drove to work - there was a funny bumper sticker on the way! People are funny, with their bumper stickers. Sometimes I want to come up with sayings and print my own.

At work people gave me the respect I was due. Next, there was lunch to deal with. I had tuna on whole wheat, which was hearty.

After that, boy - it was like the day commenced in earnest! I got a whole metric shitload of work done in the afternoon. As I usually do, afternoons. Some people are morning persons, I may as well be an afternoon person. In fact, if it could be conveniently arranged I would have sex in the afternoon far more often. That's when I feel I'm at my peak!

Mind you, my valley is no slouch either. Just so you know.

Next, I'm going to leave, go home for the day. But what happens then? Ah, that's where I have to leave you wanting more...

EXAGGERATED WINK!!

Imitators Welcome! But No Duplicators.

Lately it seems as though my inimitable style is being ripped off left and right. For instance. I was the first person to refer to Feng Shui as "Voodoo Ergonomics." I was doing that back when they first came out with Feng Shui back in the early 90s. Since then, it's like everybody else has tried to horn in on that. But I'm the originator.

That's just so you know. And now they have people out there, saying that same saying that I said - saying it all witty as if they coined that shit themselves. But I know better! 'Cause that was me. And that same situation plays itself out in many different ways, with other sayings of mine like "he hemmed when he should've hawed," or "le shit" (as in the phrase, "she thinks she's le shit!").

I know I should take it as a compliment. And maybe I do, in a sense. But I take it as a very insulting compliment, personally! Because if people wanted to give credit, or to ask for permission, at least I would have the opportunity to tell them where to stick it. When they just pretend that it was them who said it, it leaves me standing there holding the proverbial bag - and it's empty. Call that a compliment?

'Cause I don't!

I HATE MY LIFE

and I want a new one. I want your life. Look at you. With your comfortable luxuries and assumptions. Sitting there, reading blogs. Are you amusing yourself? Is this recreational for you? This is my heart and soul, here! Poured out onto the screen! To you it's just some kind of sick diversion! Well, I've got news for you.

I know who you are. I know where you live. And I'm coming for you.

NOTE: if this is anyone other than Damien Von Schwantz of Missouri City, Nebraska reading this - please disregard. This wasn't meant for you.

A Brief Consideration of Philosophy

A dog loves to take a shit. He's happy. He's psyched about it! He thinks he's giving you a present, when he does that. Especially when you go to pick it up afterwards. He's like, "Quality product, huh boss? Just keep feeding me the good stuff, and I'll keep churning it out! To that same high standard."

A cat doesn't share this enthusiasm. A cat finishes up, looks at it and says, "hm. I better bury that thing."

The ancient Greek philosopher Diogenes seems to have taken the dog as his emblem almost purely on this basis.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Sunday

Sunday is a day for reverent contemplation.

Try that on for size.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

I Changed Up My Template

Apparently, the old one wasn't hard enough on the eyes.

Now, all I need is to find that blocky computer-lookin' font that was used on the old Apple IIe back in the day, plug that into the ol' font socket, and presto. Retro-style b&w by way of green monochrome.

Uh oh, I think I hurt my thumb

I don't know what that was. It certainly didn't sound good. Halfway between click and crack. And now it stings!

I bet it's some sort of ligament damage. That sounded ligamental to me. Ligamentary.

Ow, dammit!

Ow.

I Am No Sham Patriot

When my eyes catch sight of that same flag our forebears made mighty by wrapping it up in rhetoric and symbolism, until people would look up at it with lumps in throats, saying, "God! This flag's for you," and dabbing dew with handkerchiefs from corners of misting eyes, my whole entire emotion rises up as one and salutes.

I find my thoughts flung back down across the long descending staircase of centuries, to the very beginnings of the foundings of this our nation, to that gleaming time when ruddy patriots roused rabble lustily up amongst each other and flung back tyrants by dint of arms and main strength. Who now dares to shirk that awesome burden of heritage?

Not me.

And if anybody thinks I'm kidding about that, how 'bout you come over my house and start a war? We'll see whose flag you end up getting sent home wrapped up in!

YOURS.

(Please bring one with you, if you're coming over.)

Friday, May 18, 2007

-Ectomy Vs. -Otomy

See here: I'm sick of this ambiguity. Which of these is which?

Certain medical procedures where they cut you are called "-ectomies." Others are called "-otomies." Years ago somebody must have told me that one of them is for when you simply snip something, and the other is for when you actually cut something out - remove it. Somebody must have told me that at some point, because that's the idea that I have. It's possible that I figured it out for myself, but in any case, I was misinformed. I think I was misinformed. Because the distinction doesn't hold up under scrutiny!

Take your major "-otomies" for instance. You've got a tracheotomy. That's just a simple poke in the throat! Then you have your lobotomy. I'm pretty sure that's a poke in the skull and then a clip job. They have to snip the webbing or connectitures between the two lobes. They sever those, so the two sides of the mind can't talk to each other anymore - which apparently is one of the chief causes of anger and dangerousness.

Thank God they figured that out! I have no idea how they did that. I think it was from fossils.

So anyway. As you can see, already we have a strong case for "-otomy" as being a simple poke and snip deal. Yet suddenly the muddiness of the picture intensifies: vasectomy! Simple snip, right? But then: appendectomy. That's definitely not just a snip! They cut the whole thing out, they remove it. You can't tell me that is not an inconsistency. Doesn't that create an inconsistency? And what about some of the others? You see, it gets more and more convoluted the more I think about it.

Those of you who already know the "real reason" - please, spare me. I'm sure I could look that up on Googlepedia. I'm not interested in the tiny little distinctions that they trump up to justify why this one gets this and that one that. Like the difference between Astrology and Astronomy - these snicky little distinctions may make technical sense, but really they're just shallow justifications for bandying about essentially identical terms indiscriminately while claiming a "technical" difference. It's semantics.

I've been thinking about making this blog into more of a focus on medical issues in the future. Tighten the spotlight a little. Because I think that's going to be a bigger and bigger deal as time goes on - what do you think?

Thursday, May 17, 2007

I Love Beating People At My Own Damn Game!

I have all sorts of slick strategies for outmaneuvering people when they least expect it. And then when I do, they don't even know what I did! They don't grasp the significance of what just happened. They're like - what was that, what did you just do? Is something wrong with you?

Hell no. Nothing wrong with me. I just juked you out of position and ran roughshod on you, is all! And you almost didn't notice. Went right over your head! VWOOSH!

These people don't even know the score. Not only do they not know the score, they have no idea what the rules are. This, despite the fact that they just LOST. I walk around with a secret smirk - these fools and losers have no idea how poorly they come off! Down 57 to nothing in the final seconds, as the scoreboard ticks down in My Own Damn Game.

Do I have some kind of a problem, you ask? Nope. No problem. I just won the game, is all. In your proverbial face.

My game. My rules.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

The GMO Controversy

I was at the gas station, and I went into the little store to get my change, and there sitting next to the register was a large, attractive wicker basket filled with fake straw. It definitely wasn't real straw. It was the color of straw, but it was more like a cross between straw and paper shreddings.

Anyway, sitting in the fake straw were four or five shiny apples. Shiny, red, with yellow flecks. There was a sign on the basket handle that said Chiquita.

Weird stuff going on in this world, gentlemen and ladies. I am not one of those people who is afraid of change for its own sake, but somewhere there's a line, and we better find it so we can go draw it in a little darker. I mean, I've heard a lot about this whole supposed "GMO" controversy, but how in the world can it even be possible to grow apples from banana trees?

It may be time to get a coalition going again. Things need looking into.

Science Explained

I was looking up Ayurveda, and was surprised to read that veda means "science!" Not a science that changes its theories and its findings every few years based on theory, experiment, and outcome - no. Not that sort of science. The science of Veda is an ageless, eternal knowledge built on siddhantas - fundamental unchanging principles.

In other words - not "science" so much as "dogmatic superstition."

In the old days I always heard veda meant "way," not "science." But there you go. These days they say it means "science." People think science is a more impressive word to use, I guess. You know what, though? Just because you think a word sounds better, doesn't mean you should use it. You can't use a word just because you like the impressive connotations - you can't pick the wrong word at whim, and then throw the real definition out the window! Substituting your own whimsical definition: "Oh 'science' doesn't mean that anymore, it means this because I'm using it like this." That doesn't fly!

I have a little theory that veda does not mean "science." It means "way."

Oh, and another thing: Jesus Christ is not a scientist. Assuming you're a Christian Scientist, and assuming Jesus Christ is what you say he is - then the one thing he categorically is not, is a scientist! A scientist is not someone who automagically knows the fundamental truth of all things. A scientist is someone who is forced to grope for the fundamental truths about things, his way illuminated only by past theories, past experiments, past outcomes.

Oh, and yet another thing: in that last sentence, when I say the word "his" - that is gender neutral. I don't care whether you think so or not. The intent of the speaker is what governs meaning in language, not the hysterically-biased overreactions of the listener.

Which is still not to say that you can just pick the wrong word and use it at will, to mean something else. As we've already established...that doesn't fly.

I forget what "Ayur" means, but it's not really important at this point.

An Incoherent Howl of Rage

Yep. That's today's post: an incoherent howl of rage.

The blog, as a whole, has been more of an outlet for my general rages and frustrations lately. I hope no one has been too overly put off. I'm really quite a nice guy in real life, and not at all prone to smashing people through drywall.

You see, I subscribe to the notion that rather than bottling up all the frustration and anger and only letting it out when the inevitable explosion is triggered, it's better by far to give free vent to it the second you feel any at all. So if you see any vitriol, any spleen, any fury on display in a blog post here, and if it's not obviously just me pulling one of my usual japes, "sending up the furious" as I so often do, well...if it isn't that, then you'll know what it is.

It works pretty well, it works for me. The venting of the first steamy wisps of anger, rather than waiting for the eventual red-hot whistling pressurized jets. I've been using my blog for that, because my memos were getting weird there for a couple days.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Why Bad Things Happen To Good People Pt. 1: The No God Version

Don't be an idiot. This doesn't even need to be explained in the No God version! Basic facts of Darwinism; evil is stronger and more enthusiastic about breeding.

Why Bad Things Happen To Good People Pt. 2: The God Version

Okay, calm down. Just because God exists, doesn't mean you need to be an idiot about basic issues of reality. What's God, right? PERMANENT would be one thing that comes to mind. Is life permanent? No. What do you get afterwards? Theoretically, you get to hang out with God! On a permanent basis.

From the standpoint of infinity, whatever brutal and agonizing crap you may have to go through in this life is pretty much over in an instant anyway, so what's the big damn deal huh?

Don't be such a myopic crybaby. Try looking at it from God's perspective.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Poor Bee

I just saw this beautiful bee outside, racing across the asphalt on all fours! All sixes, whatever. He was scuttling at speed. He must have got hit on his bee head or something, and woke up thinking he was a beetle.

I've never seen a bee trucking along like that on foot. I bent down to get a better look at him, and then I said what I always do:

"Poor bee."

He was so cute. Big black glossy in the middle, and then just this pale, lustrous fuzzy yellow band at each end, back and front. He was almost round! Big fat bee.

"Poor bee. What's wrong with you, bee?"

There didn't look like anything wrong with him. All his legs were working away. His wings looked fine - no sign of being bent or injured. The leaf-like branching veins, iridescent and symmetrical.

"You ok, bee? Why you walking when you can fly?"

Then suddenly I realized that I was standing on the asphalt outside my place of employment, hunched over with hands on knees talking to a bee.

But he was a cool bee though!

I always say "Poor bee." My girlfriend and I hike a lot, and we run into bees quite often: "poor bee." Whichever of us sees the bee first says it softly, a benediction: "poor bee!" We do not wave at the bee, or try to shoo it away. We are simply still; we continue walking, still. The bee buzzes on, having been sympathized with.

Bees like us, I think, since we have adopted this method.

I've only ever been stung once!

Poor bee.

Let's Get Some Clarity On Our Basic Definitions, Here

I say: as long as your trailing foot is still in contact with the ground at the moment your lead foot hits, then you're NOT RUNNING. In order to be running, you'd need to have both feet off the ground at the height of your stride.

So I was not running in the fucking office! Morons. As if I would do that! Safety-minded as I am. What is this, KINDERGARTEN?!

So sometimes I walk fast. I've got a lot of ground to cover! Maybe next time I'm barreling down the aisle-way and I see you there all smart-mouth scoldy scoldy regulations, about to give me some of that lip of yours...maybe I just lower my shoulder and plant you right in the drywall! Then you'll have something smarter to think about besides telling me about office safety!

Don't tell me about office safety. I wrote the damn memo on office safety. Why don't I send you a copy.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

There's Something Special About McDonald's Breakfast

There really is something special about McDonald's breakfast. But you have to make sure you get there early enough! If you show up too late, you'll be stuck having lunch. Not that there's anything wrong with lunch at El McD! Or as the French prefer, "McDo" (adorably pronounced "mik-doe" as seen in the NYC person-on-the-street interview segment of the engrossingly McDonald's-themed documentary Super Size Me). No sir - nothing wrong with lunch. Who among us didn't grow up on those little candyburgers? Those things were like candy, seriously! You'd undo that crinkly white wrapper ("100% USDA Grade A Beef" "Please Put Litter In Its Place") and one-hand that floppy little flap of a burger in two bites tops! I can still eat like six of those.

I don't, but I can.

Yeah, some people say White Castle, but to me, McD's white-wrapper candyburgers are the primo di tutti ootie of tiny burger satisfaction. I like the little diced-to-bits onions! Everything tiny.

The fries - there was a dodgy period there for awhile while they were tweaking the grease mix, but now the fries are pretty close to what they used to be (which was damn heavenly, man). Love those shoelaces. The shakes are still pretty good too! Don't they use yogurt now? I thought I heard they changed it to yogurt. It doesn't taste like yogurt. Maybe it was the sundaes that switched to yogurt and the milkshakes just switched to lowfat or two-percent or something. Maybe even nonfat. "100% Nonfat Powdered Dairy Analogue." That's about right, taste-wise. Only surprisingly good!

Except for that damn Toothpaste Shake. Who decided there should be a shake that tastes like toothpaste for St. Patrick's Day? What's toothpaste got to do with St. Patrick's Day? Did I miss something in the hagiography of this guy, did he - in between his whole snake-chasing schtick - pioneer oral hygiene techniques on the ol' Emerald Isle?

Discuss.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Schizophrenic

Okay, so I'm reading a movie review, and I happen to comment out loud, "that was the most schizophrenic movie review I've ever read!" And this moron person takes me to task! She took me to task for that! "Oh, that's not what the word means, that's completely inappropriate, disassociative* personality this, improper use that, stereotype the other thing." Blah, blah, bleh.

BOY did I lay into her.

I'll spare you the evisceration. But let me say just this: people need to realize that the protean nomenclatural faddishness of the medical establishment does not trump the stately procession of the English language. Every reputable American dictionary has a sense #2 for the word "schizophrenic," and they all pretty much agree on what it means.

In fact, there are two separate ways to go with this post from here, and I can't decide between them. I'm not sure whether that should be considered ironic.

The first path would be to expound upon what ought to be a very obvious fact: specialized technical or scientific jargon does not somehow "outrank" the common English definitions of words! The definitions in the dictionary are in there for a reason. They represent accepted and acceptable usage for every English-speaking red-blooded American. No matter whether experts in any field adopt ever-more-specialized definitions for ever-more-specialized uses - the TRUE meaning of the word is not rendered obsolete, just because the medicos have moved on to a newer and buzzier catchword!

The second possible route for this post would be to rail against the medical establishment's perverse urge to keep changing up the name of a disease as soon as the existing term has become widely-enough known to have acquired a pejorative sense in the language at large.

But why bother going into it! The whole thing is almost entirely self-obvious. It's tedious. It's depressing.

Okay, maybe I'll make it a 3-parter, and explore both possibilities at a later date. Or at two separate later dates. Or at no separate later dates.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Horror Movie Idea

So what if there's this really scary restroom stall poem, and when you read it, you have to go carve it into another restroom stall or else you die in like, 8 days or something.

Oh yeah, once you've finished reading it, the toilet flushes. All by itself.

Someone knows you've read it.

Friday, May 04, 2007

This Whole John Edwards Thing

It's a tempest in a teacup, but they want to make a mountain out of a molehill over it! Here's my understanding of the whole "big deal": the guy got caught getting his haircut for $800 or something. Or to be more precise, he got caught trying to pay that amount back into the fund, or whatever. Maybe he got caught first, and then tried to pay it back. But whatever the actual case, - meanwhile! - he's sitting there in an uncomfortable chair on a soundstage, waiting for some televised interview or something, when unbeknownst to him - they're rolling camera on him while he waits! So they end up with something like 8 straight minutes of him fussing with his hair, futzing with his tie, shooting winking grins at his reflection in available shiny surfaces - that sort of stuff.

Then some wag took the footage, set it to a jaunty tune, and put it out on U-Tube. Big joke. Big mockery of one of our prominent and serious politicians, make him look like some kind of pretty-boy just because he's trying to look good for a very important TV appearance!

WOULDN'T YOU DO THE SAME? If you were sitting waiting to put your image out over live television to the whole nation, wouldn't you be fussy and self-conscious about your appearance? Wouldn't you maybe be a little nervous, maybe some of that nervousness might play itself out as preening and fidgetousness? Wouldn't you do exactly the same thing IF YOU WERE GORGEOUS?

The man is gorgeous. People are jealous, and that's the whole story here. That, they call news. Well I say, "a cheap, tawdry news story it is - a news story as old as the hills themselves!" We don't need a story like that around here, trying to pass itself off as somebody did something questionable.

I think I'm petering out on this. I'll let it go at that.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Why Buy The Cow?

We've all heard the saying, "Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free?" Well, I think that saying is a disgusting saying. First off, you're comparing a woman to a livestock animal. What kind of misogynistic, cruel comparison is that?

Secondly, the large majority of guys are far more interested in steaks and leather than in milk. Who drinks milk? Given that fact, the clear implication of the saying is that my true goal would be to kill, eat, and ultimately wear my girlfriend. That's utterly disgusting.

It's a disgusting saying!