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, April 30, 2009

Last Post For April: PAWL THAWN!!!!

Like I Was Born On Saturday...

"A Not-Particularly-Good Poem": Submission Guidelines

New Feature!

Ever want to have YOUR not-particularly-good poem posted on MY blog? With a full attribution? Well NOW YOU CAN! Here's how it works:

1. Submit only your own work.
1a. Submit using the Comment function to comment on this post. Submissions by other means will not be considered.
2. I will google-check it, if it's published elsewhere than I am afraid you are disqualified.
3. Include your name, handle, whatever however you want the poem to be attributed.
4. Particularly good poems will not be accepted for publication. Submit only poems which you feel are not-particularly-good. This is a binding requirement. Don't submit your poem that you think is boss-dog awesome and then get offended that I accept it!

Assuming all of the above works out, I will publish YOUR not-particularly-good poem, with full attribution to you, as its OWN POST on MY BLOG!

Limited time only. We'll see how it peters/pans out. There might be a contest involved. I'm not sure. If there ends up being a contest, the prizes would not be non-digital in nature, so don't get all excited or anything.

Hey, I just realized it's still April! It's A LAST-DAY OF POETRY MONTH POEMS-AWAY BONANZA!

None More Random Pt.3

Well that was fast! I didn't really care for the last batch. They were OK, just not very exciting. These I think are a bit more interesting, if yet still entirely picked at random! Using the "Feeling Lucky" button.


Wassails And Yuletidings, Ye All
I Am No Sham Patriot
Things I Always Wondered: Necrophilia
The Baby Boomer Legacy
Toilet Tips
Are You A Man? Then Be A Feminist.
God's Feelings Toward Satan
Sitcom Pitch: Jihad Dad
Bitter Recriminations Against the Blameless #1
I Like =
Do People Say Janked?

Same order they came out. The only influence I exerted was summarily bumping a very recent (and uninspired) Thought of the Day, which, for full disclosure's sake I include here:

Tolerance, and a Thought of the Day Upon It

Tolerance is the new acceptance. Deal with it.

Feminist Deconstruction of E-Mail FWD Jokes #1: Older Women Are So Reasonable






A joke like this functions on several levels, which interact with each other in possibly surprising ways. The clearest message is the reinforcement of the man, as entirely responsible for the increase and accumulation of material wealth and the lifestyle of the couple. By comparison, the woman's contribution (her "side of things") has been to age, to deteriorate into a comparatively undesirable crone.

The sexual value of a hot 25-year-old girl is extolled. It is placed at first above material concerns, but after all is said and done the implication is that if the man's comfortable lifestyle had to be sacrificed in order to gain a fresh new hot 25-year-old girl, the trade-off would not be worth it after all.

We are meant to chuckle at the wife's response, as if it provides a reversal or corrective. A reassurance that there is in fact some semblance of balance to the power dynamic of this relationship. A closer look reveals that balance is a sham. The man's place as the sole source of real value in the relationship is never in doubt. What does the woman have to offer? Nothing but the threat of retaliation. If the man dares to forsake her used-up appeal for sex with a new hot youth, she will take him to the cleaners. That is the only power she possesses. Her not acting on that threat is the only value she holds.

Her threat aside, the man's main argument is left entirely unchallenged. It is presented to us as an entirely reasonable assessment of the situation, but one that can't be acted on, for fear of reprisal. All of the increased value in the relationship is due to him; the wife's "side of things" is reduced to a looming threat of consequence: you had better stay, or I will make you pay.

Ultimately, the wife is not to be valued but to be placated, so that the threat she represents is not realized - to the detriment of the man's material circumstances.

Not so funny is it?

The Heart: A Leader! In Love.

In a time when modern advances have rendered even the most stubborn loves nimble and fancy-free, those who cherish love's steadfastness above all have one place they know they can look to find it: the heart. Yes, the age passes us by with its dizzinesses and frenetic pace of change, but on this one thing can all the world depend: the heart. The heart! Solid! Pert! Firm of fiber and steady of beat! Set to a clock that times my blood, synchronized to one watch only: your eyes.

The heart leads by standing firm, as life and love rush past suspended in luminous fluid. But it is no mere bystander to passer-by, no! The heart is the motive force that impels its world's very orbit! Clutching the blood to its bosom, then expanding in a mighty sigh, then again the tight clutch - it's rapid contractions are the slapping hand that spins its red pulsing world on its axis! Oxygen! Chemicals! Nutrients! Hormones! The very broth and froth of love itself! Waste products!

The heart. Remember that. Every organ has its place, its role to fill. None more so than the heart! A leader, in love.

Thought of the Day: Respect

Respect isn't something you are given, and it isn't something you earned. It's something you own.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

None More Random Pt.2

Results considerably more mixed this time than last time. I think I'm going to start keeping track of these. Chosen totally at random, for the second time ever:

Non-Specific Rant
The Standing Relay Race
Apology to a Cricket
Here I Am, Lord
What I Mean By Art Is Mostly Dead Pt.2
Recipe for Revenge
Too Late for a Great Idea?
Sh! Miscellaneous Confessions
Angus! (clap, clap) Angus!!
XLI part II
Star Trek B

(as always, there are eleven)

Unique Is Not Normal

Listen, I'm not a FOOL, okay? I've read the party line. I know how many people are unique: it's ALL OF THEM. And I'm on board with that charming little paradox.

But I'm not blind, either. And it seems pretty plain to see to me that people all pretty much fall into two categories: those who cherish and burnish their uniqueness yet do everything they can to fit in, those who consider themselves normal and raise hackles at any suggestion to the contrary, those who truly don't give a shit and basically do what they please, and those who count how many categories instead of just saying "fuck it" and keep reading.

And me, you ask? Well, I'm kind of a special case. I'm the best combination of all those worlds. 

Except for the unique part. I don't really consider myself unique. Unique isn't normal.

Is Mud-Wrestling For Real?

I know they say it is, and all. And the fans will bite your head off if you so much as question it! But I don't know, it just seems a little staged sometimes. Rather than an earnest bout, may-the-best-wrestler-win, a contest of technique and athleticism, sometimes it seems as though both combatants are just sort of...cooperating out there. Collaborating, with the goal not to win the match, so much as to put on the best possible show for the audience. As if the focus were entertainment, not competition.

I'm sorry, but that's how it comes off! It comes off less as sport and more as theater, frankly, and I apologize if it offends some people to hear it but for me, this impression - right or wrong - can't help but taint my experience as a spectator. If I'm going to go see a sporting event, I want to see a real contest, a serious struggle with both participants pressing every advantage they can and trying hard to win! Less show-biz, more skirmish! Less drama, more duel.

Now don't misrepresent what I'm saying, here. I'm not charging anyone with fraud. I'm not saying the outcome is necessarily pre-determined, either by the athletes or their handlers, and I'm not saying that one or the other competitor is going in there to "throw the fight." But it doesn't help to see some of the showboating and gratuitous display going on there, in the ring. There are moments when it just seems clear to everybody that winning is not foremost on either of these contenders' minds. They're just trying to put on an exhibition, please the crowd, everybody goes home happy.

Well I hate to be a spoil-sport, but that's not what wrestling is about. It's supposed to be epic clash, not flash and dazzle. Let's get it back to basics, people. Flaunt your will to win to the limit. 

That's what the audience came to see!

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

More Sayings No One Says

"Art is the most important difference between us and an inanimate object."

"Measured against the flying sparks, surely we are gods. Measured against the stars, we are flying sparks."

"To get the best of everyone, make the most of everything."

"Those who fly highest cast the smallest shadow"

"The purest gold makes the heaviest load."

THAT Was A Burger!

Man. I should have took a picture of that for you guys, before I ate it! There wasn't time.

Say, any vegetarians might want to skip the rest of this post. Picture or no picture.

It was huge. This burger weighed a pound. Dropped it raw onto a hot, salted skillet, let it sit and spit and sizzle 4.5 minutes, scoot the spatula under, one flip, drop the fat disc of raw onion on halfway through side B's 4 minutes, remove onion, place onion on (well-ketchuped) bottom bun, deftly lift and convey BIG HONKIN' burger, placing burger on top of ketchuped-and-onioned bun (done-side onion in towards the burger, to merger creamily into the par-charred patty; raw-side onion out towards the well-ketchuped bun, therein to well-mingle its onionness with onion's own natural saucemate: ketchup!). 

Bun's a misnomer. I found myself bunless. No bun for the burg. What did I do? I made a bold choice, that's what I did. You guessed it: I reached into the freezer, pulled out two (2) FROZEN BELGIAN WAFFLES, toasted 'em up. That became the bread for the burger! 

And what a happy solution to hit on. Let me tell you - these belgian waffles can stand up to the dense meatiness and the juice of a perfect, big juicy burger. Not only that, when you look at one of these things, they seem almost custom-engineered for the purpose! They have the most high-capacity built-in ketchup reservoirs you could ask for. NEVER have I successfully cajoled that much ketchup onto a burger! And rightfully so. That burger weighed a pound. An extra metric kilodollop's worth of Delicious Sauce Substance Code-Name K did not go amiss.  

It was a beauty to behold, bold and blatant in its crisped-exterior, blushing and deeply-thoughtful in its interior juicy-thickness. No lettuce, no mustard, no mayo, no cheese. Just the heft and simplicity of meat, ketchup, half-raw disc of onion, and two belgian waffles. I downed it. It was SO GOOD. Perfect big burger experience. I wish I could have stopped to take a picture.

"Glutton!" spat my inner ascetic. 

"Murderer!" lowed my inner Morrissey. 

"Heretic!" spat my inner burger-bun purist.

"Monster!" kvetched my inner Belgian. 

Shut up you guys. That burger was double-extra damn and you KNOW it.

Swine Flu, Swine Flu - Whatcha Gonna Do?

In times of stress I think it's important to respond seriously to the threat of crisis while maintaining a sense of humor and keeping morale up. With that in mind, I propose the distribution of and/or the making available for purchase of the following:

  • pink face mask/respirators with a little PIGGIE NOSE!!

That would be functional and adorable. A way to say: "I'm doing my part to protect my health and prevent the spread of pandemic!" while at the same time saying "Oink!"

Needless to say, the piggie nose would be engineered in such a way that it would in no way compromise the efficacy of the device. Or maybe it could even improve it. It could be packed with extra filtration, which perhaps could make a-gruntin' and a-oinkin' noises if you breathe extra forcefully.

Cheerfulness in the face of annihilation! The Brits have had a lock on that trait for years. Let's get on top of the problem and at the same time, one-up those stiff-upper-lippers!

Carbon-Biased Life

I am definitely and defiantly a carbon-biased life form.

In all the wide universe, none of your silicon-based life forms can measure up in any of the important areas. I guarantee you they can't beat us in any of our sports - not at the professional level, and not at the amateur level without using banned substances. They certainly can't pitch poetry like we do - no way. What are their poems going to be called? Something unpronounceable probably! That totally defeats the purpose! And their rock and roll just sucks. Don't tell me it doesn't. Those silicon chumps can't rock n' roll. The arrangements possible in configurations of silicon atoms just don't stack up to the requirements of the form.

Maybe they can take us at dance music. Like I said: none of the important areas.

Yes, I admit, they might have some very large, shapely breasts, but okay - some people can agree to disagree with me on this, but they just don't look right. Not like the ones I like to see. Come on my red-blooded carbon-based breast lovers out there, men and women - back me up on this one!

Carbon-based life forms rule.

We just do!

Monday, April 27, 2009

This Kids Has Stole All My Best Move

So Somebody Once Told Me, and A Belated Comeback

So somebody once told me, eyes weren't designed to read off a light source.

And then I said, well, eyes weren't designed to read!

I mean, duh. That came way later.

Systematic Decay

No seriously
an accident, you think?
or malevolent design
it's how we were meant to fall apart
and how we were meant to be perfect
but only in the past, when
we couldn't quite see it

This is to get us ready for heaven.
this loose skin, mottled and blotched
the long-wisped fuzz of what hair we have left
the gauzed-over glaze of memory, milky
and milkier, like albumen being
slowly soft-boiled by years on years
- it is all to get us ready for heaven,
so that when we die, we cry out in
relief - so clearly now I see! So
firm and taut is my newborn soul!
my mind is mine again, and I
am home. Finally

Thank God

Those who die young, don't get it
quite the same way.
Those who die young,

become buddhists.

I Was Aware Of My Sexual Orientation From A Very Early Age

I knew. I can remember knowing from an early age, I can probably figure out my age from the math of the grade I was in.

Let's see, I would have been 5 years old. I was a goner the second I saw, the second I clapped eyes on this little comet, blonde locks flying in her pink white-trimmed santa-esque coat as she ping-ponged about the grammar school recess asphalt patch like a pink rubber superball. Obviously I had no inkling as to the physical aspect! In those days, at that age, we didn't know much. But BOY did I know, though! Nobody had to tell me how it was going to work. How it was going to work was irrelevant. She and I were clearly a made-to-be match hewn straight from storybooks. I was quite decided on the fact.

What an insufferably presumptuous creep I would have seemed! Imagine if I had just walked up and introduced myself - all sanguine, sangfroid, nonchalant, as fait accompli as a boy can be, so sure and cocky the cocksure surety of my case! Luckily, I was intimidated a bit by the age difference. She'd turned 6 already, which when you have so few years under your belt seems a big deal. It was a number of years before I worked up the guts to make any sort of play (which was of course gently rebuffed - we were already sort of friends by then).

I still seem to go more for older women, though it's not an absolute thing.

Why You Definitely Don't Want to Get Cancer

This is another (the first, in fact) in a series of educational posts on health issues of high-to-moderate concern. We are going to start it on 'high.' Today we examine Why You Definitely Don't Want to Get Cancer.

DISCLAIMER: Note, I am not a docter, but this shit's for real already, right? Got that straight.

First, some of the basics on cancer. What happens is, something - nuclear explosion, cosmic rays, toxic pollutant, food additive, strontium-90 sneakily masquerading as calcium, fried potato residue, SOMETHING - damages the genetic material in the nucleus of one of your cells, causing it to go all ass-wild. Reproducing itself unrestrictedly - not as it should, all orderly and functional as part of the tissues of the organ it was supposed to be a part of, but just unrestrained growth, a useless mass growing unchecked. Now, this happens on a fairly regular basis, and your T-cells knock the crap out of it. But sometimes one slips through and it's able to grow all out of control. Establish itself. This we call a tumor.

The political-minded among you will already be jumping way ahead of me with your conclusions, saying "If we apply this scenario on a macro scale to human society as a metaphor, we can see why anarchy would be such a bad way to structure a government." This is true, but we're not getting into that here. Let's keep it medical okay?

So the tumor, that's bad enough. It grows into the surrounding areas and starts messing up their ability to function, whether just by crowdling them or by actively invading their space with insidious tumorous tendrils. This is bad news for whatever system lives next door to the tumor.

But here's the worse part! At some point a mature tumor starts popping off colonizer cells - like a dandelion gone to seed, spreading its weed throughout the whole lawn! And if it gets to this stage, which some call "stage 1-2-3", and some call "metastasize," these colonizer cells are being spread right into the bloodstream. Result? The whole tumor process begins anew, wherever they are able to take root! And the more of those that do take root, you are just about guaranteed to run the risk of Stage 4.

The upshot of it all is pretty much death, unless you get really lucky or a miracle - or, of course, if you can catch it in its tracks before all of that happens.

So as you can see, that's Why You Definitely Don't Want to Get Cancer. Take time to read up on how to protect yourself, safeguard against it, detect the early onset in cases where that's even possible, and-or get checked by a qualified surgeon. Because cancer is nothing you even want to mess with, believe me.

Don't believe me? Ask your local medical establishment! They'll tell you the same thing.

Lordy, How He Do ROCK!!!

Shake your money maker, sir.

To be very clear: this song is the only song where he'll do that dance. Rightfully so, says I.

General Outline of the Business Plan Proposal (Example Only):

1. PURPOSE: By maximizing support revenues through the mutual exploitation of an efficient business initiative, the company (hereinafter referred to as 'Company') will be able to liase with our customers and our service partners on a facilitated basis within a next-generation commerce paradigm, merging synergistically with each other in an orgy of hot, wet business practices.

2. Etc etc

3. CLAUSE THREE: REMUNERATION. Very important. Underline twice.

4. CLAUSE FOUR: MISSION AND VISION. With an eye toward the forehead, nose, lips, teeth and chin of the industry, we will face the challenge head-on and shoulder whatever responsibilities embody what our core task requires.

5. CLAUSE FOUR: MOTTO. "Our Reach Shall Not Exceed Our Grasp." Find some classy way to say it in Latin. The overall effect should be something like, Omnius Latvus Callus Callay Parsay Ootvay Detritus. If the sound isn't good, use other words to say the same thing.

6. CLAUSE SIX: LOGO. Bold. Stylish. Simple. Graphic. Shocking.

7. CLAUSE SEVEN: STANDARD LEGAL GIBBERISH. Go easy on this part - only what's absolutely necessary.

8. CLAUSE EIGHT: SUMMARY. Keep it simple. Simply repeat everything that came before, verbatim.

Judicious use this of business plan proposal general outline example can help make your business plan proposal a winner! Don't sell yourself short by settling for less than the grandiose plan you know you deserve. You don't have to start small in order to plan big! Remember what we here at Business Opportunities Ltd say in our motto:

"If you're aiming for the stars, don't shoot for the moon."

Doodeloo #17: A Bold New Direction In Self-Portraiture

Previous self-portraits have been in black or white (or both). In this latest work, I have experimented with a rude, rudimentary use of color, with boldly disastrous results:
Rude. Primitivistic. Shocking. Disturbing.

Gettin' Healthy, Lookin' Good!

I'm turning over a new leaf, so to speak, in my efforts to exhibit the same healthy lifestyle I've always seen myself as personifying, despite how I often fall short of the mark. Those of us who know the score on nutrition and health, it's not enough to know it and it's not enough to tell it. You need to set the example as well! So I've decided to step it up. Today and from now on, every day I am bringing in two pieces of fruit with me to work!

It's a cheap and easy way to put forward a healthier face and "walk the talk" as it were. And as long as the fruit is purchased at its peak of fresh-pickedness, those same two pieces of fruit should last me a good couple of weeks.

After that, you have to change 'em out. Freshness is important. Coming in each day with a black banana and a moldy-ass orange - how the heck does that help anybody look healthy?

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Hidebound Thought of the Day

Let's all agree that it's a semantic argument, and that the dictionary wins.

So Much For The Light Show

Sorority Waterboarding: The New Craze In Hazing Rituals! But Is It Safe?

Man, I had this whole spoof article all rigged up to go with that headline, a la The Onion, but in the end it all seemed so borderline tasteless. Once you've got the flavor of those, you can write 'em by rote. What's the point?

Plus, I lost the whole thing when the frassen-fricken auto-save kicked in just as I tried to hit 'Publish.' Again.

Sean Hannity Agrees to Be Waterboarded for Charity, or to Prove Some Point, Perhaps?

I don't know how this whole thing developed, but they should have Colmes do the honors.

Didn't some other journo already do this, already? The whole "investigative waterboarding" shtick? I haven't been following the whole thing, but I swear this has been done, already.

I will say this, though: we better watch out how commonplace we make this practice. We don't want to open our e-newspages in 6 months and find that sorority waterboarding is the new craze in hazing rituals.

Hi! My Name Is!

I think it's high time Eminem came up with a new persona, to counterbalance all this satire masquerading as borderline misogyny (or possibly, misogyny masquerading as borderline satire) that good ol' Slim Shady's been foisting on us. A new persona! No less strident and hardcore, but strident and hardcore in the cause of equality and enlightened solidarity between brotherhood and sisterhood - whether in the 'hood, on the street, or in the crib.

Call him: Feminem.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

In Defense of Tribal Thinking

It is natural to love ones most like us. To trust ones most like us. It is natural to put blood first. To put tribe first. An outsider may not share our ways, anyway, we don't know his people or who he is. How do we know he is not outcast? A pariah, accursed and exiled - or even, fled from his tribe, because of his evil deeds or bad beliefs? It is natural not to trust such a one.

Of course, one can seek initiation, and be adopted, and eventually earn trust, and become one of us. But trust is withheld until those tokens of trustworthiness - whatever they may be - are tendered and accepted.

The history of civilization has been the history of the ever-widening tribe. The expansion of the group, that sacred "us" for whom one is expected to feel tribal affiliation. From nomad clan to village. Village to feudal unit. Feudal unit to autonomous state, or to empire - with many intermediate stages in-between, shading into each other. But with the rise of polyglot nations, and of intellectual trends that cut across lines of nationality, the old bonds of nationalist or regionalist patriotism have largely given way. We find ourselves living estranged from our neighbors, many of whom are Not Like Us, and we realize that the attempt to take the old, blood-deep natural ties of tribe and stretch them to the lengths and breadths of nations was distorted and artificial anyway. Besides, haven't we grown beyond all that?

We'd like to think we have.

Our new tribes are ideological. We define who we are by where we stand. We know we are right. Therefore we know the other is wrong - has not even the possibility of being right; their basis is invalid. The other is not a person; the other is the problem.

In fact, nothing can be more hateful to us than to actually meet an other! Most of the demonization of the other takes place at a faceless distance. To meet a person who seems human, and intelligent, and caring - and then suddenly, they say the wrong thing! Catastrophe! We realize what they ARE. They aren't human, intelligent or caring - they are THE PROBLEM. Certainly, we know people like them exist. We know that all of them are either stupid or evil, and we hate being confronted with one of them who seems intelligent or decent. It flies in the face of our conviction. We need to believe the enemy is evil (or stupid). The enemy must be evil (or stupid) - just look at what they believe! They don't believe as we do! And what we believe IS IMPORTANT! There may be no more important issue than this!

And there they stand: they are opposed. Opposed to everything we know is right, and true, and self-evident. And they persist in their wicked belief, their wicked opposition, and we want nothing to do with them! Not to talk with them, not to hear them spout their wrong views so plainly and innocently, as if that will convince us! - we don't even want to see their stupid faces. We wish someone would come along in a very big truck, and take them away, and leave us a better world.

All of this is very natural. It is natural to want to bond with ones like us. To love first ones most like us. To trust first ones most like us. It is natural to put blood first. To put tribe first.

Nothing can be wrong with any of that.

ICE WATER! A Luxury Scarcely To Be Enjoyed By The Ancients!

ICE WATER! It belongs to our age of modern conveniences, of cleverly contrived appliances - a time and place where all but the most humble of us have easy access to the frozenness and drink-chilling properties of ice! WATER! coaxed down below that magical point of temperature beneath which its molecules slow their restless agitated vibrations and solidity sets in. ICE! Form of - an ICE CUBE! Perfect delivery system for conveying the FREEZING POWER of the icebox, gently, into one's beverage. Wide surface areas, to conduct the delicious chill into the surrounding liquid, but with a large interior volume in which to store coldness that lasts. A veritable reservoir of REFRESHING COLD - floating in your drink, gradually releasing its heat-fighting coldness as it melts! Ahh.

I think some of us out there may be guilty of taking this frigid and pristine marvel of modernity for granted! Why, thousands of years ago, at the height of the so-called cradle of civilization, if a King wanted ice he had to dispatch a runner to hie himself off to the nearest mountaintop! And then, back twice as fast bearing that heavy, precious, rapidly-diminishing burden - a block of melting ICE - on his back! The poor runner had to haul ass all the way back to the city, running hard and hot through the dusty heat of the road, bent with his frozen burden - not refreshing at all to him, but a numbing weight and pain pressing through! - with every moment's delay making his effort count for less. Less of this precious cargo, meant for the delectation and refreshment of his cruel and regal oppressor. And when he returned with the prize, would he share in the refreshment? Would a cool drink be his reward? After his sore exertions? HAH! Fat chance!

Of course, the way back was presumably more downhill than otherwise, at least. So that's something.

THINK! Next time you enjoy a cold drink cooled with copious cubes and crushed shards of ICE! Think! Next time you take your glass of room-temperature soon-to-be-beverage, and drop cube after cube of ICE into it, thrilling to the stiff brittle SNAP and CRACK as the cold cube reacts to the shock of warmness, tasted now for the first time since its liquid infancy! Before the tray. Before the freezing dark.

Think about how, holding this simple glass, this miracle of ICE WATER, you could have walked among the rude tribes of our ancestors scrabbling amidst the hot dust and clay that would eventually come to underlie the vast columns of civilization itself, and be revered as a god.

At least until the ice melted. Then you'd be pretty much fucked. They'd kill you and worship your glass.

That's why I say: screw your fancy time machines. Just give me a tall glass of ICE WATER. Ahhhhh.


Thought of the Day

I say it's not where others put your name in death, it's where you put yourself in life that counts.

Friday, April 24, 2009

I'd Like To Try My Hand At Erotic Fiction!


She said.

"ooo, that's erotic. I love what your doing, it is erotic."


I said.

"do you like that? Is that erotic for you?"


She said.

"that is erotic for me. What about you, is it erotic for you as well?"

"oh, yes it is indeed. This is one of the more erotic things I've done lately."

"well, be a dear and keep it up please, will you?"

"certainly. I love to take the erotic way, whenever possible."

"oh yes! the erotic way is the best way."

"I quite agree. Funny sort of word, erotic, though."

"Yes, it is funny. It's not a particularly erotic word, is it?"

"No! kind of funny in that way. ironic."

"Kind of. Remember that song by Madonna, with the refrain, 'erotic!' 'erotic!' 'put your hands all over my body!'?"

"That was not her best effort."

"No indeed it was not. Nor even her most erotic effort."

"Yes! you are right it was not."


"Kind of. And that might have made a better song: 'ironic!' 'ironic!' 'this song is not so erotic!'"

"Well yeah. I can see that, kind of! In fact, it's a lot closer to being a rhyme."

"Indeed it is. Say, which of us is talking right now?"

"I was going to ask you. I've completely lost track."

"Which is kind of erotic, when you think of it. 'the two become one'?"

"Kind of. Yes, I suppose that's erotic."

"Indeed it is."

"don't stop what you're doing."

"yes, I won't."

Overheard at a Cocktail Party

"It's precisely this gossamer quality of breezy inconsequentiality that makes small-talk pleasurable."


You Know What Sounds Really Good Right Now?

You know what sounds really good right now?

A food sandwich.

You know? Doesn't that sound kinda GOOD?

A "food sandwich." Mmm! Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?

The problem is, I really don't have the slightest idea how to go about making one of those.

Huh. Weird, because you'd think, "what could be simpler!"

I really can't think of a thing simpler.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Cooking Cookies is EASY!

It's so easy! I don't even believe how I thought it was hard. I guess I was like, "hey, why don't I build it up into something really mysterious and difficult even though it isn't even?" And I did! I totally did. But it's not - it's easy!

Cooking cookies, all you do is, you get the wet parts such as liquid or egg, and the dry parts including maybe your sugars and spices such as flour, or baking soda, and such as, and you mix them in a way that they combine. Batter up! Then you cook it in the shape of cookies! It's very easy - so easy! The batter hardens into cookies, just from the heat of it!

You don't even - they say you need a sheet or a, what do they call it, a baking tin - but you don't. You can just improvise, use whatever comes to hand that suits the purpose! As long as it's reasonably flat, and can take the heat in the oven while you are cooking those cookies, so what about technical refinements? So what. What works, works.

Why do they fetishize this into some whole big mystery of kitchen skills? Man, it's SO easy. Easy! Cooking cookies, it's a snap and it could be a habit. And you have a whole bunch of them to show for it, as long as you mix enough of that sweet, sticky batter!

The cookies tasted awful, though. Real bad.

Infinite Thought of the Day Pt.2: Infinity Simplified

The universe is infinite, therefore any proposition with a probability at all greater than zero occurs infinitely.

Infinite Thought of the Day

At the infinite scale, probability does not limit existence - it only limits concentration. Space encompasses an infinity of distance and contains an infinity of things, therefore any proposition with a probability at all greater than zero occurs infinitely.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Type-A Spirituality

Yup! That about sums me up. You know. Like a "Type-A Personality," only...more to the spiritual side of things. You know. Putting it in perspective, with a view to the invisible. But very emphatic about it. Type-A Spirituality!

Hey, you gotta believe in something, right? I mean, everybody believes in something. What about aliens? Even aliens believe in something! Some people think aliens used to be angels, they just got clothed into a new evolution of the mythological paradigm as society mutated down through the ages, and the fashions of the intellect got skewed to the science side. So instead of coming out of heaven, these otherworldy beings are now coming out of the universe. Everything's got to come out of the universe, now! It's hip to be from the universe. Whereas angels, where are they from? Some kind of dimension - we call it "heaven" but who's seen it, where is it? The modern-day "Skeptic Thomas" has his fingers outstretched to probe those mysteries! We prefer the stars, which at least we can touch with our instruments. So personally yeah, I think that's a big sticky batch of bull, but I can see how people of differing priorities fall for it.

See, to me, this whole "everything has to come from the universe" kick is really just another name for good old fashion materialism. Albeit, on a heavier scale. And me? I go in for the spiritual side. As I've said. So we can disagree there. But my point is: even the aliens believe in something. Maybe they believe they're angels!

But that's a little delusional on their part. Hey, imagine having to deal with aliens who were also religious nuts! What a nightmare. Aren't earthlings bad enough as it is?

Another reason I lean hard to the spiritual side. God. I mean yes, I have a material side too. I'm from the universe! That's not where I'm from, though.

It's all kind of simple and mysterious.

I Love Beets!

I LOVE BEETS. I love 'em to the point where I'm exploring new ways I can work them into my diet.

Pasta sauce, why not? Tomatoes have a sweetness, so do beets. I can't envision a flavor impasse, here. Long as it's all in balance, choose the right herbs and spices, some onion, some salt, pick the right variety of fresh tomatoes and the right variety of beets, sure - put some beets in that sauce too! Why can't you? Some people add carrots to their bolognese, don't tell me no roots allowed! And just imagine the vivid RED color. On some blanche-white angel hair? Ooo lah lah-dee-dah.

Other things too. I could learn to make a borscht.

Hey, if you don't love beets, if you can't stand beets, well all I can say is don't blame me if you end up in hell, and I end up in heaven, and we both find ourselves sitting at the same table because, I can tell you what they're about to be serving us up in that situation:


Work Okay Day :-|

I was okay, and then everybody looked at me, and then I did my work adequately. And people were scratching their heads, and looked at me from right about at my peripheral vision range. One of them closed her eyes. Then somebody's teeth clicked.

At some point I quadruple-checked my work, and saw it was fine but I don't care.

It was fine in my favor.

Work Happy Day! :-D

I was happy, and then everybody smiled at me, and then I did my work right. And people were nodding their heads, and looked at me in front of my face. One of them winked her eyes. Then somebody's teeth sparkled.

At some point I triple-checked my work, and saw it was right but I don't care.

It's right in my favor!

Work Sad Day :-(

I was sad, and then everybody yelled at me, and then I did my work wrong. And people were shaking their heads, and looked at me behind my back. One of them rolled her eyes. Then somebody's teeth clenched.

At some point I double-checked my work, and saw it was wrong but I don't care.

It's wrong in my favor.

A Consideration on Themes of the Dynamics of Power and Ownership of Power Implicit in the Film Iron Man

Did you see that movie, Iron Man? How powerful was that guy? Pretty powerful! Except, none of it was him, right? It was all in that suit. So really: how powerful was he?

Pretty powerful.

There's a lesson in that, and it's this: when you've got a suit like that, or really, any other piece of high-power ordnance, it isn't the other guy who calls the shots. It's you who.

("calls the shots" is understood)

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

"I'm Not Bitter" (from memory)

someone tells me "listen"
I can't
I'm supposed to do something
I won't
it's hard to tell
if I can get along
but I'm not bitter
I'm not bitter
not at all
just a lot

I walk around the block
to avoid you
and that's when I am in
a social mood
It's just my head
that hurts me like hell
but I'm not bitter
I'm not bitter
not at all
just a lot

bitterness is reserved
for stupid people
not for someone
talented like me
I don't have time
to feel that way
I do things backwards when I say
I'm not bitter
I'm not bitter
not at all
just a lot

I'm not bitter
I'm not bitter
not at all
just a lot

not at all
just a lot

not at all

Thought of April 21st, 2009

I don't believe in sacrilege.

Overheard in a Restaurant

“What’s in the chocolate suicide cake?” “Strychnine.”

Get Ready for US to Be the Aliens!!

COOL! In the wake of science's recent discovery of the remarkably Earth-like planet Gliese 581e, it seems only a matter of time before a planet more-or-less exactly like ours is discovered.

And you know what that means: get ready for US to be the aliens!

We need to cover our bases, here. We need to immediately begin the military buildup in case A) the planet should prove to be inhabited, or B) we should have no other choice but to invade.

Alternately, if we can swing it so that we can just sort of glide in past their radar and harass and probe their hapless civilians without being overly detected, then we should go that route.

After all, that's what all the really higher, advanced forms of life are supposed to do.

Doodeloo #17: HOT


Dokto Scienz: IN COLOR (doodeloo #16)

Dokto Scienz IN COLOR
"Please breathe normally."

Monday, April 20, 2009

Sylvia Plath: On "Headline Poetry"

The issues of our time which preoccupy me at the moment are the incalculable genetic effects of fallout and a documentary article on the terrifying, mad, omnipotent marriage of big business and the military in America ... Does this influence the kind of poetry I write? Yes, but in a sidelong fashion. I am not gifted with the tongue of Jeremiah, though I may be sleepless enough before my vision of the apocalypse. My poems do not turn out to be about Hiroshima, but about a child forming itself finger by finger in the dark. They are not about the terrors of mass extinction, but about the bleakness of the moon over a yew tree in a neighboring graveyard. Not about the testaments of tortured Algerians, but about the night thoughts of a tired surgeon.

In a sense, these poems are deflections. I do not think they are an escape. For me, the real issues of our time are the issues of every time-the hurt and wonder of loving; making in all its forms-children, loaves of bread, paintings, buildings; and the conservation of life of all people in all places, the jeopardizing of which no abstract doubletalk of "peace" or "implacable foes" can excuse.

I do not think a "headline poetry" would interest more people any more profoundly than the headlines. And unless the up-to-the-minute poem grows out of something closer to the bone than a general, shifting philanthropy and is, indeed, that unicorn-thing - a real poem - it is in danger of being screwed up as rapidly as the news sheet itself.

- Sylvia Plath

From "Context," London Magazine, February 1962

I Love Atheists!

I truly do. I love atheists! And I know a few. I should say, "I know a few that I know of." Sometimes they're hard to spot, a lot of them are not the stereotypical evangelical atheists. But of the ones I know, I swear, some of them are the bestest people! I love them, love hanging with them. Friendship. Discussage.

I'm not trying to convert them, or anything! Naw. Nor they me, most of the time. They know where I stand, I know where they stand. But sometimes, - and I stress, some of these atheists are real good people! They just have not seen any convincing reason to believe in God. And considering God did such a swell job on the world to where the whole thing runs SWEET! - sweet and serene on its own physics, with no obvious daily divine corrections or interventions necessary, well, I can't hold that against them! How could I? I haven't seen any evidence either! Evidence is kind of beside the point.

But anyway, God exists, so, sometimes I may be talking to one of these atheists - beautiful, sweet people you know (by and large, certainly the ones I know are) - and I'll just start grinning. Because, I mean okay, I'm not God. And I don't decide these things. But I think I know God a bit better than the sectarian damnation specialists do, you know? To me, I'd expect God to sit there with a pretty high regard for those who come to a sense of justice and compassion and love of right and virtue, all without any use or brandishing of the hell-stick. I mean, sure, God loves and has mercy for those who are sweet and obedient lovers of God from cradle born to deathbed. Sure! God loves the docile little lambs (like me!). But we all know God's got a thing for them black sheep, too. Always has.

I think everybody gets a chance. I don't think everybody is forced to go to heaven. I think God will not save a person against their will. And I believe there are those who truly do hate God, who would right to the very end and beyond make a radical choice against God. Sure there are. You're kidding yourself if you think otherwise.

But most of your atheists are not that kind. If they really hated God, they would not be very rational atheists, would they? No, most atheists have got nothing against God. They don't even think there is such a thing! They take it as an article of faith that there is no God, and so their beef is with the concept of God, a concept that to them is unfounded, a concept that makes people throw their lives away for (as far as the atheist is concerned) no reason. A concept that some people use as justification to throw the lives of others away.

I can't blame the atheist for that stance. I agree with their conclusions, considered in terms of their premises. And most of these folks - at least, the ones I know - are real sharp, real sweet, real good people.

So I stress that I don't judge. For good or for bad! I don't say "these people to heaven, these people to hell." Not my call - explicitly so! And equally explicitly, for everyone else on earth: not your call. For we are not the judge of souls - whether for good or evil, it is not ours to point out and choose who God can and cannot save. We don't know God's mind at that detailed level.

But like any devout person, sometimes I can't help but have a hunch! A little hunch on the inside, to be happy about and grin over. So sometimes with the faith I have in the perfect justice and mercy of God, I'll just be talking to one of these godless atheists while he or she (oh, okay) is deeply embroiled in making her passionate point about human justice, and I'll just break out in a wide grin. And she'll be like, "what?"

And I'll say, "no, I'm sorry! Continue. It's nothing."

But really I'm thinking: you're in for a surpriiiiiiiise!

I swear, I'm going to give some of my atheist friends so much shit in the afterlife. Wherever we end up together.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Tips on Eating Butter

One thing I always do is get the unsalted butter. Because then you can unwrap a stick, put in in the butter dish (always use the butter dish, it's traditional), salt it, and then by virtue of that, it's just like any other food you've salted. Dig in!

Whereas, if you buy the salted butter, it seems like a step-saver but really it just creates an off-putting situation. The idea of just unwrapping a stick of it and taking a big bite, kind of unseemly in some way. It's like squeezing the mustard right straight into your mouth!

Ever try that? It's unseemly. It's unseemily delicious!

But the point is, you can't just treat a condiment like it's a food, not on its own. But butter, once you salt it, you can look at it more as a food. Nobody salts condiments! But once you've salted it, that butter might just as well be a soft, mild sort of cheese at that point.

I salt cheese. It's good!

Yes it's true, one could buy the salted butter and salt it anyway. But that's a little much for today's healthy-conscious lifestyle, at least it is for mine. I love salt, but everybody says: cut down. So I do my part.

Ever salt mustard? Some commercial mustards, they want salt. Just a pinch.

One thing I didn't foresee when I started this little "blog" deal was how many tips I'd be putting out there, for the people. For those in need of tips, for the ill-advised, the unadvised or the unwary. I don't know how it's been working out for others, but for me the whole "tips" bit has been a real nice, unexpected bonus. Click on the "tips" link in the labels footer, to see more tips.

(that's a tip!)

Only one of the services we provide.

Washing Dishes: A Reevaluation

You know what? I kind of like washing the dishes.

It's kind of zenny!

Saturday, April 18, 2009

The Modernist Recipe: A New Approach to a Neglected Literary Form

A lot has been done with the recipe over the years, but I think more can be done. Its potential as a literary form has barely been explored. I aim to explore it. I believe the recipe is ready to transcend its humble roots, to throw off the bonds of mere utilitarianism, and to come into its own as a full-fledged means of self-expression in its own right. To have its meaning consist in itself, in what it says and in how it says it - and not merely in what might be done with what it says.

To this end, I have planned a series of recipes that will push the boundaries of the form beyond what is expected - that will challenge not only what we assume but what we know - in an attempt to reach deeper into meaning, a meaning that is not content within the bounds of the kitchen. A meaning that dares to approach near to touching the universal. I will not turn a deaf ear to the uses of symbolism and allusion. I will choose my ingredients and approaches with an eye toward sound and rhythm, not ignoring the subtle connotative values the names of the foods, tools, and cooking techniques may possess.

A warning must be issued at this point: I will not be attempting to test or apply any of these recipes myself! That defeats my artistic goal. The point is that a recipe has its own worth, its own value quite apart from some petty empirical validation. Its value is direct: like all art, it can speak to the mind and heart, on its own terms. The meaning and vivid sensory picture created in the mind when one reads a recipe has a validity of its own (especially if the recipe is read aloud - I expect the recipes I create to foster a subculture of public recipe readings to appreciative audiences). I believe the recipe can have value as literature, beyond whatever separate value it may have as instruction. Those who approach a recipe with a wish for a more pedantic "how-to" approach must look elsewhere to meet those needs.

The time of recipe as slave to saucepan and chopping board is over. We usher in the age of Recipe as Art.

Kalamata Olives Can Be Added to Almost Anything!

A tuna or a chicken salad.

A tuscan fish fry.

A beef stir-fry.

A soup of lentils and leeks.

The dough you are mixing to make savory scones.

A quiche with ham and artichoke hearts.

A peanut butter sandwich.

A cracker topped with soft cheese.

A simple dish of cooked, diced marinated meats and onions, to be served hot or cold as a picnic item with other dainties.

A deviled egg (just one! Popped on top!)

A salad of endives, heart of palm, and one of the soft, gently pungent and crumbly cheeses.

A meat sauce for pasta.

Kalamata olives can be added to almost anything!

But I don't necessarily advise it.

Boont! There It Is, Pt.2

I was just on and I was pleased to see a banner under Hot News! proclaiming Anderson Valley Brewing Company named #6 Best Brewery in America!

A tip of the hat to them for that. CERTAINLY well-earned.

But speaking of hats, check out #7 on theTop Ten Fastest Growing Breweries list a little below.

Oh yeah.

April Is Poetry Month 2009

I don't know. I guess I jumped the gun. I probably should have held off on the public release of my poetry blog A Pocketful Of Poesy (see beautiful link at the very bottom of this page) until April, to take advantage of all the poetry-month related hoopla and publicity. But to tell you the truth, I kind of forgot that April was poetry month!

I mean, of course I know April is poetry month. Don't be ridiculous. Everyone knows that. And of course I realized it was April, that the current month was April, had become April. I just didn't consciously realize it was that April.

I'm also having regrets as to the name of my poetry blog. I like A Pocketful Of Poesy a lot, and I'm not going to change it because I don't believe in changing it. But if I had it all to do over again from the beginning, I'd have called it Shit For Roses.

Anyway. April. Poems away, peoples!

Friday, April 17, 2009

The Ice Cream Truck! RUN!!

Sometimes you stub your toe on the way to getting an ice cream cone.

Other times, you sit down on the sidewalk to bawl about it for a minute and - hey!

You just missed the truck!

The most miserable sound in the world. That happy jingling tune. Tone-shifting down and away into the distance.

And you can't run after it. You stubbed your toe.

Approved Uses of Humor

Let's say for example one wants to write a song satirizing the ineffectualness of the efforts of "the West" to stem the global tide of murder, genocide, ethnic and religious tribalism and other such ills that result in mass graves being dug, furious denials being issued, interventions and investigations being conducted, and belated crimes-against-humanities trials for whatever leaders or figureheads best put themselves forth as candidates for sacrificial goat duty.

Suppose one decides to take the approach of castigating the efforts of virtuous interventionist Westerners by depicting a couple of moral adventurers in love with their own idealism, and desirous of taking risks for the sake of justice in all sorts of exciting locales. Like tourists with a conscience, sort of.

Suppose that one decides a good way to do it would be to take the breezy Beach Boys anthem "Kokomo" and recast it as "Kosovo" - taking advantage of the frisson created by the juxtaposition of activism and hedonism, replacing the long lists of languid beach resorts and tourist destinations with a death roll of global atrocity sites.

The result could look like this: this

Now, even as a joke, one can call this example HIGHLY OFFENSIVE in any number of ways!

It denigrates the efforts and motives of the truly sincere and virtuous humanitarians who put themselves in harm's way, all in the name of a good cause. Unfair!

It uses the sites of atrocities and the slaughter of countless as a springboard for "humor". Appalling!

But the perpetrator of such a sick joke may say that such criticisms miss the point: that the peacekeeping efforts of "the West" are misguided, ineffectual, take far too long to start, don't solve the problem once they get there, and in the final analysis, do less to help a troubled region than a vigorous influx of tourist dollars would have done (if it had come and flushed the local economy's coffers prior to the outbreak of violence, that is).

Of course, there are plenty of good objections to the above as well, such as the ever-popular "Well what's YOUR solution then?"

But the point is, some of the most appalling things that exist in the world and in the human soul are also the most urgently in need of being spotlighted, of having their wrongness addressed. And sick jokes and satire - as unpleasant as they are - can sometimes cut to the core on a wicked sharp line, exposing some well-chosen aspect of a problem in a more visceral way than the most sober and thoughtful dissertation can.

And this is why no wrong, no hurt or wound or crime, no propensity or actuality of murder, rape, or atrocity no matter the scope or scale, can ever be ruled beyond the pale. Because the holocaust didn't actually end. It metastasized. And the worst of human nature has found, finds and will always find expression, in every place and times. The holocaust has in a very real way always been with us. The sickest sickness a human being can be capable of is sitting deep, so deep in each and all of us as to need always and urgently exposure. To be caught, brought up to light and reviled, using all tools available to us.

Humor is a powerful tool against complacency and injustice. Some have claimed: the most powerful tool. There can be no target called exempt. There can be no evil given a free pass, spared from ridicule, without harming whatever chance we might have against it. Well okay: a lot of people don't want to deal with the unpleasant. Don't want to face it.

Goodie for them. Who does?

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Second Thought of the Day: Awesome Pt.2

It's true I'm kind of awesome. But you know what? My life is not as awesome as I'd like.

I'd like more awesome.

Something to shoot for. Or perhaps, at.

Thought of the Day: Awesome

I'm kind of awesome.

To Twit or Not to Twit?

Me, I'm working on programming a Twitter "bot" that can keep my twittees continuously updated with the sorts of things I'd be liable to say if I had the time to update it.

Things I Never Do That I Just Did #1

It's pool night. After pool night, it's kind of too late to be having some big dinner, so. I made myself a lunchmeat sandwich. But never, to the best of my knowledge, have I made myself a lunchmeat sandwich like this...!

I never make myself a lunchmeat sandwich where I put on more than one to two slices of meat (in this case, honey-brown-sugar ham). To me, more than that is like, overkill. I never pile it high when I make my own - sure, if I'm in New York at a Jewish delicatessen and they're makin' that bad boy for me (pastrami probably - I'm such a cliche when I visit New York), well hell yes then they pile it high for me. That's different, it's a delicacy. But when I make it for myself, I feel like...too much! Just a couple slices.

Ditto the cheese, I mean - normally one slice does it. I admit it, I'm a dainty sandwich maker when I'm making it for myself. But this time, I put a triple-hit of havarti on there.

This time, I piled it high.

And then: mayo. I deliberately chose and put mayo on there. Just a quarter of a knife-full dollop, just a good knife's-tip full, really. Smeared gauze-thin over only one side of one of the bread slices. BUT STILL! MAYO!

I never! Not on a sandwich. Not that I make for myself. I only keep that tiny jar of mayonnaise in the fridge for deviled-egg purposes. Pretty much. And I don't even use much then!

And I put a nice, mm thin slice of onion cross-section on there. But that's nothing unusual. Not for me, I like a nice thin fresh onion layer on there. Plus the mustard, plus the pickle, all pretty standard.

But so I'm looking at this thing. This sandwich.

Man. What's this going to even be like?

Life's an adventure, people.

Militant Feminist? You Bet!

I'm a militant feminist, you bet I am!

It does conflict a bit with my overall pacifist streak, but some things are worth fighting for.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Thought of the Day: Humanisms

If an organism is a collection of organs working together, is a humanism a collection of humans working together?

Hey. I'd like to think so.

Pluto Pt.2: There's Something We Can Do, Though

It's true I've been wangling to get the planet Mercury destroyed for a long time now, and I was perhaps wrong to drag that well-flogged cause into the already clouded orbit of this particular issue. See previous post for details.

However. Let's move on. I believe I've hit on a solution that will kill the best of both birds with one stone, so to speak. Let me recap the controversy for you.

We have this minority of scientists (the Dynamicists, they call themselves, as if they were a synchronized-disco troupe) who snuck a sneak vote in on the last day of some official conference in Prague a few years back, after most of the reputable astronomers had already gone home. The results of this vote - a vote, mind you, at which less than 4% of the members of the International Astronomical Union, planet Earth's official governing body and definers of the universe at large, were present! And what was decided at this farce against consensus? As soon as these smirking egopaths rang up their rigged-up tally and slunk from their locked room with the ballots tagged, bagged and bundled to make the whole thing official, the whole world found out what mischief had been wrought. With great pomp and condescension, the press releases began rolling forth from on high, declaring the results of this sham vote supposedly yanking Pluto's credentials, and sending our poor dog packing to the hinterlands of non-planethood.

One might rightly ask: does this perversion of both science and democracy mark the time for a general bloody uprising and revolution against this cabal-within-a-cabal of tyrants and usurpers?

But cool your heels. As I earlier alluded, I have a solution that may feed both dogs - from the same big, delicious bowl. The definition that this coterie of vote-fixing axe-grinders invoked to disqualify Pluto from planethood involved a new and shoddily-defined criterion. In addition to being in orbit around the sun (check!), in addition to having sufficient gravity to round its mass into a sphere (check!), a planet must now "clear the neighbourhood around its orbit."

Responsible astronomers have since pointed out (quite rightly) that none of the other planets - not Mercury, not Venus, not Earth, not Mars, not Jupiter, not Saturn, not Uranus, and certainly not Neptune - meets this rather nebulous "orbital clearing" requirement.

Quite a kerffufle, science fans! But what's my big idea? What's my win-win? Don't keep us in suspense, man, how do we fix the situation??


We fix it easy.

There are two problems here, right? #1! People know Pluto is a planet, and you're not going to convince them otherwise. They know this "orbital clearance" is a no-sale, and they're dead right on that anyhow besides!

Whereas, the Dynamicists (problem #2) are so enamored of this "orbital clearing" stipulation, they've staked out a stance so hysterical that it would, if uniformly applied, threaten the planetdom of every planet in the solar system - and possibly, even beyond.

What possible philosophical compromise or bold plan of action could ever seduce these two antagonistic stances into bed together?

Hey. Calm down, would you? I told you I've got it covered!

Phase 1: collect the all various objects that cloud the orbits of Mercury through Neptune, potentially threatening their planetary statii.

Phase 2: deposit all that extra collected mass onto Pluto.

What did I tell you? EASY! Pluto would be enormous at that point! And we all know the real beef these Dynamicists had with it in the first place was that, hey, we can all admit it, Pluto was pretty shrimpy. Meanwhile, all the other planets with their brand-newly spiffed-up spic-and-span orbits would easily meet the Dynamicists trumped-up arbitrary definition.

Any other wrinkles left after that whole success story has been written can easily be ironed out by means of compromise, in the triumphant feel-good afterglow period. And everybody ends up happy.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: any fake uber-technical-looking spellings in this post were deliberately inserted so as to pad its perceived heft. I recognize this represents something of an intellectual compromise. But it is an intellectual compromise with honor.

Pluto - STILL not a planet!!!

After all this time, this still ticks me off. A bunch of eggheads huddling in a closed room in Austria think they can reach out and legislate the contours of the universe for the rest of us! And people SWALLOW it! And poor Pluto paid the price. And it's years now, and no one's doing anything about it.

Well now it's payback time. I think that in retaliation, NASA should mount a mission to destroy the planet Mercury. Just utterly reduce it to a streak of dust smeared across its own orbit.

"You knock out one of OUR planets, we'll obliterate one of yours!"

Plus, that'd be just so much more awesome a use of space resources than some ho-hum Mars trip.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I'm Going To Ask Everyone To Lighten Up A Little.

I know that might be a bit hard for some people to take. I know it might cause a bit of a flap, or a minor controversy. One of those teacup deals you're always hearing about, tempest-wise. I know that some people don't appreciate being told to lighten up: they'll say -


- or some other similar expression of objection, and then they follow up their interjection, with various remarks.

But you know what? They should lighten up a little.

Ain't nothing wrong with lightening up a little! Don't matter how lightened you're already up - feels good to lighten up a little more.

Ahhhhhh. Nice. I'm glad I got that off my chest.

Communism: Why Red? Why Not Some Other Color?

Communism is a funny sort of setup.

"The people in charge suck. We need an entirely new, revolutionary system of government!"

"How about rule by the people who are not in charge?"

"PERFECT! But since it may take some time to figure out how that will work, in the interim we'll institute a totalitarian dictatorship in the name of the people who are not in charge."

"Solidarity! Brilliant!"

And the rest was the ash-heap of history.

Big Wave Rider's In Town!

HOLY F! Tim Finn means business!

Enigmatic Responses #3: The Social Norms

"I'm not a big fan of the social norms, but they did have a couple good albums."

Monday, April 13, 2009

Jarvis: Don't Let Him Waste Your Time

I always thought this was a great video!

Look! Up In The Sky...!

There should be a superhero who swings from a kite. Like Spiderman, only...from a kite.

His chest would have a cool logo. It would be a kite.

He could also perhaps have various kite-themed gadgets. Kite-arangs. Throw 'em and the string tangles people up.

EDIT: OK, wait, scratch that last idea. Apparently the 1960's Batman had an enemy named Kite-Man who did exactly that. Used kite-themed weapons and gadgets - only for evil purposes instead of for good! But that hardly pre-empts my idea! Because Kite-Man didn't swing from a kite at all, he basically had a big kite-like hang-glider strapped to his back. He flew around with it, gliding and swooping. Radically different M.O.

My guy swings.

Call him - the Justice-Kite!

Or something.

EDIT2: Oh my GOSH, the alter-ego of the villainous Kite-Man from the Batman books is named Charles "Chuck" Brown.

Who says comics writers don't have any sense of humor!?

Doodeloo #15: GO GO ROCKIN' HIPPO

This is in honor of Classic Rock 104.3 "The Hippo" and their AC/DC concert tix giveaway!!
doodeloo15 rock hippo

So what 3 AC/DC songs did I pick? I went with:

"Gone Shootin'" - classic, throwing the bone to the Bon fan in all of us,

"Meltdown" - an awesome overlooked gem from 2001's Stiff Upper Lip album, shows I'm not one of those come-lately fans who have disregarded the band's fine recent work only to glom onto the Black Ice bandwagon, and

"Money Made" - glommin' onto the Black Ice bandwagon...

Insurance Ad Campaigns #2: That Progressive Direct Commercial Sales Girl

There's something about her.

She's like, that actress friend we all have with the self-consciously big "I'M SO ME!" personality who all her friends know is probably never going to make it, but who you could always kind of picture maybe catching a big break if she lucked out. Albeit if she did luck out, you could picture her being miscast in a lot of the roles she talks about being so perfect for her.

Well, if that's the vibe they were shooting for, then she is perfectly cast for this campaign:

And a national ad campaign, that's a definite big break! That's a big deal for an actor or an actress, trying to make that big dream come true. Albeit, that's not exactly the dream either.

But anyway, I'm glad for her!

But at the same time, I just know that it's going to make her insufferable to be around.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Has Anyone Got a Grand-Uncle?

I'm just wondering, how does the dynamic of that relationship work? Is it working out for you? Are there any difficulties peculiar to the grand-uncle, grand-niece/grand-nephew situation that people should watch out for? I'd be interested to hear from somebody who's been there.

Just a question. No real reason.

Thought of the Day: a Banal One, and Not Particularly Well-Stated

It is not our actions alone to which our world responds, but our attitudes.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

A Place to Comment on Pocketful of Poesy

I never enabled the comments on my poetry blog, because damn it, my poems are just too sensitive to have the comment sitting right there, sitting right there at the feet of the poems. Looking at them.

But by all means leave your comments here! Comment on any specific poem, or on a specific group of them, or just on the whole swathe at once. Because owing to that slight interpolation of distance I've set up, you can feel free to be as UNSPARINGLY CRITICAL as you please, in all your comments here, and my poems won't be the slightest bit put out! They never read my regular blog.

Poems can be kind of snooty.

My Formerly Hidden Secret Poetry Blog Revealed!

It has been pointed out to me that while I clicked my formerly hidden secret poetry blog over to public a while back in response to a 2-1 vote on the topic informally conducted in a comments queue, I never really emphasized what the blog was called, where it was located, or how to get there. And sure to my credit, it's right there in my profile! Visible, now that I clicked it off secret mode. But still, where's my customer service? If the people want poetry, MAKE IT EASY on them, right? Right!

So for the record, it's called A Pocketful Of Poesy, it lives at, or viola ! A link.

It's basically a repository for my poetic output. I've done my best to collect every poem that I have convenient to hand in a click-copy-able format (I'm not digging through my ancient manuscripts, thanks!) and put it in one place. Some poems were originally posted here on this blog, others are from various other venues such as the infamous Valentine's Day Poetry Contest of the prize of which I was basically robbed.

In fact, there's one of those "adult content" warning things you have to click through, to get in, which I put on there because a few of the poems that avalanched and onslaughted from my voracious, insatiable muse during my drive to win that Valentine's contest, well. Let's just say a couple of the poems ended up a little racy.

But that's poetry for you. It's not all wildflowers and claret. Any y'all weedy types in your faded suspenders and bookish tweed who prefer to think otherwise, best skip to the lou my darling when my poems come swinging through, or you'll be square dancing out of the other side of your...I don't know...barn, I guess. Except tweedy weedy literati don't generally hang out in barns.

Well if they don't, they should! Do 'em some good. So anyway. Whatever I was trying to say there, the main thing is, A Pocketful Of Poesy is open for business. And on behalf of that, a poem-in-one-go:
So any time your prim and rosy glasses lost their tint
and all your pockets - empty as can be,
except the lint
just grab yourself a pocketful,
there's poesy all around
the sun and sky dictate the lines,
your eyes can write it down

A Point of Clarification, Please: On Memes

I get that we're calling fads memes, now, but is it just a fad that we're calling them that?

I Just Spent an HOUR Doing the DISHES!

Well not an hour, but a solid 15 mins at least! What the heck? In this modern age and day in which we live, hasn't technology progressed to the point where we could hire someone else to do this?

And why do we have to, anyway? What enslaves us to these cups and bowls? Again: can there be no better way, in this day and age? Are plates, glasses and dishes the be-all and end-all of eating off of and drinking out of? Can't we just use our ingenuity?

It may be the detergent itself that's the issue - the limiting factor that keeps us from doing that. My guess is, there isn't a dish soap invented that could clean my ingenuity!

Who Needs Tim McGraw?

Actually, Tim did damn good work on this song. Love to see proof that great music crosses all boundaries of genre - real music lovers and musicians reach out to appreciate each others' work, and every now and then you get these unexpected collaborations!

And for unspecified reasons, allow me to append to that sentiment: FUCK YOU, Michael Stipe.

Great song from the Lep - feat. seemingly inexplicably, Tim McGraw. Not just standing there by a spare mic-stand, either - he helped write the dang thing!

Hey. Maybe I need to check that McGraw cat out. I heard he's a little bit COUNTRY.

I Found Pornography! On the Internet!

It was right there! I just typed in "pornography" into a search engine and it just popped right up! Scads of it! Pornography!

Metric scads.

What the hell, who is on top of this issue, I thought things like this were taken care of already? What happened to Janet Jackson's nipples - did we learn nothing as a society? I thought this was addressed already.

What if our kids see this stuff? What if our kids are in this stuff? I mean, not my kids certainly. I don't have any, and they would never participate in any such lewd acts as documenting their own lewd acts. But heck, even though I myself don't have any kids, I am a sensitive and upright member of society who can well sympathize with those parents who do in fact have kids and who say that, for the sake of the kids, come on. Somebody do something.

I'm not saying the government! I know it's a sensitive issue, we don't want to advocate censorship of the legitimate rights that perverts, after all, are still supposed to possess, despite who and what we know they are looking at. And true to the proven methodology of the War on Drugs, the end user isn't the problem. The end user, the consumer, the one creating the demand, isn't the problem. The people who spring up to meet the demand - they are the problem. Cut them out!

So yeah, I'm not suggesting governmental intervention which could be viewed perhaps as some rightsless abrogation of the liberties and happinesses, persuance and perusals thereof, but maybe something more informal like a lynch mob.

Somebody do something!

And whatever you do, film it. I want to see these sick bastards of purveyors of panderance to the prurient interest get theirs. Maybe we should display their nakedness before the whole world, see how they like that! That would be one fittingly rich and ironic punishment for what it is that they've been doing. Make the punishment suggestive of the crime! It's disgusting what they've been doing, and the standard of quality is abysmal!

At some point, somebody has to stand up and say: somebody do something.

My Weekend, And Welcome To It

GLORIOUS morning! My weekend is like, positively bursting with shit to's bursting, like, a ripe...colostomy bag.

Okay, the problem with using the word "shit" as a pure and meaningless expletive is that, occasionally, it does still splatter.

Jarvis Cocker's Running The World

And I saw a bumper sticker
that said "MEAN PEOPLE SUCK"
but as a matter of fact,
they rule

Friday, April 10, 2009

The Descendants of Cain

Cain should have died,
but God said: "No.
I put a mark on that guy.
And anyone who kills him
gets the business."
And Cain, driven out
from the land, was fruitful
and multiplied. And his seed
bore fruit, and branch, and
set down root - which grows
among us still. God put a mark
on man, when he let Cain go.
And one day we shall be avenged

But not sevenfold, no
We've devised worse maths
than that, for this. And we speak
all one language, we have brick
and bitumen - our tower stretched
its top to heaven, and found it!
Empty. No one home. And nothing we
propose to do will now be impossible,
and this is only the beginning
of it all.

God should have killed Cain outright.
Or at least, left off the mark - that
protection! God spared him, to mark us!
God inflicted that mark on us all. If
even God let Cain live, but with no
mark - spared him, but spared him to
a life of no distinction, marked out
for nothing - maybe Cain would have
just fled to the wilderness then,
ashamed, and died out. And
maybe we could somehow
now be free.

But no. We must walk the earth proud
and win our wives as killers,
with heads held high: see
my mark! The mark of Cain,

Put there by God.

Pretty cool, huh?

Godzilla Mania!

I really do like Godzilla. I mean - I love Godzilla! Sometimes I do kid around, but Godzilla is da bomb.

Literally metaphorically.

Do We Need A God-Specific Pronoun? Pt.2

The way I look at it, "he", "she" "God" - one syllable all around. No time savings on the substitution. What's the point?

Okay, I do use He (usually with capital H) if I'm articulating a particular perspective on God from the standpoint of a group or belief system that would use the He. I always thought the ye olde capitalized pronoun shtick was kind of funny and pompous - I mean, come on: "We reverence the Lord by making his 'he' a He!" He he indeed, pretty silly. But when you're depicting that attitude, perfect! I've also used She when articulating that particular perspective. Which can be pretty funny itself. Reference to God as He or She is equally as funny and pompous, albeit for not quite similar reasons.

But to me, whenever I'm articulating my own perspective (like that ever happens) I find it's not really ever necessary to Pronoun the ever-beloved deity. To me, if I'm really going to make extra steps or take extra measures to show respect to God, when I'm talking about God, then I'm going to call God God. Certainly God is a more impressive designation than some big-letter pronoun! I call a spade a spade, not an "it." I call God God.

No sense pussyfooting around with abbreviations of equal length. It's like, what's Jack short for? Oh, John. Well heck. There's a real time-saver.

There's Never Been Another Now

And now, there never will be.

Cape May, New Jersey: Pins and Needles and Matches and Hay

Ah, Cape May. Memories of Cape May. Shucking corn. Baling hay. Well not baling hay per se actually - they do have machines - but at any rate, one big booted foot on the platform and the other on the back of the truck, part of a 2-man hay relay, hoisting and throwing the baled bales, up and through that big square space in the barn wall that you threw them through, big and heavy as they are, your arms lashed with tiny red welts from the sharp, fresh-cut stalks, other Cape May days bouncing on trampolines taking photos of each other, or walking up the two flights of exterior stairs to where the woman you thought you'd love for the rest of your life lived, with her fucking husband, or that time you all went for crab and you just sat there, looking at that fucking guy through your teeth. Damn that was some good crab.

Memories of Cape May. It was a real nice place. Wholesome rolling farmland, and infinite beaches or so it seemed, by the infinite reaches of the sea, stretching into the infinite depths of the future.

But eventually, it all unraveled. Something had to.

By God. Cape May is still where it was. But where has my life gone?

Thought of the Day: on Education

You can't teach a person to think and tell them what to think at the same time.


The Yellow Pages came!

I guess I do live here, after all.

"Why Is This Funny?"

New Feature!

We here at Consider Our Ass Kissed! don't hold with the age-old truism, "If it ain't funny, don't explain it." No, we recognize that sometimes, nothing can be funnier than some dude going on at length as to why he thought something was going to be funny!

And so we inaugurate a New Feature! "Why Is This Funny?" Here's how it works:

Those of you who have been clicking asterisks all along know of our underutilized sister blog (URL LOCATION: :END URL LOCATION), which has been used to house the footnotes that go with said asterisks, and pertain to the posts so-annotated. Well now, you are not obliged to wait upon my whim for a footnote! No longer will you be forced to peruse additional that-specific-post-related content only where I deem an asterisk necessary. No! By making use of this New "Why Is This Funny?" Feature, you may submit a request for a footnote that explains why a particular post is funny!

Here's how it works:

1. Submit a comment post containing ONLY THE TEXT: "Why Is This Funny?"*

2. Wait.

3. It will be a good idea for you to have clicked the check-box thingy that makes it so you are alerted to followup comments, that way you will know when 4 happens.

4. I review the comments and for any that contain ONLY the text, "Why Is This Funny?", I will slate that post for a footnote explaining why!

5. Finished explanatory footnotes will be placed in the ol' heretofore underutilized sister blog for that purpose.

6. I will post a comment linking to the footnote, to let you know "Why Is This Funny?"

7. Hm. I guess I should probably find some hidden signal to embed right there in the post to tip those-in-the-know off that there is indeed an explanation, as to why that post is so funny.

I admit, it's going to be hard to explain exactly how and why some of these posts are so damn funny, but I will do my level best to articulate it into words, for the ones requested. I can't promise an immediate response, but it'll be slated into the schedule!

Even for the ones that aren't funny, and aren't supposed to be funny, at least I can probably trump something up.

So anyway - New Feature! "Why Is This So Funny?"

Here's how it works!

Star Trek: The Side We Haven't Seen

A post about Star Trek!

Star Trek is a phenomenon a lot of people got used to, or kind of take for granted. I think it's cool how it basically got canceled as a tv show, and all of a sudden years later it's coming out as movies! Somebody rolled the dice, there, big-time. And scored like, a triple! Or however dice are scored. They scored extra!

Vulcan society's cool. I mean, from what I gather about it. Spock, gotta love him. He's got that ear thing going on.

A lot of people give Kirk some ribbing over his whole machismo, but you know what? He's all man. That's how those guys are. Freakin' starship captain, what do you want.

See, when it comes to Sulu and Chekov, I'm just not really feeling it. Chekov, I get the idea he kind of stopped trying after the 3rd movie. Descended into self-parody. Sulu was of course parodying Chekov the whole time, but at least he kept it subtle and stayed consistent with it.

The sheer dignity embodied by Lt. Uhura as the ship's communications officer was always pretty inspirational, especially despite that getup.

I could keep going, on and on, mentioning such beloved characters as "Bones" and McCoy, but ultimately what interests me more is this: what with all these folks we know and love, this crack squad manning their stations and hitting their marks every single time we pop in on the bridge for a visit...what I'm getting at here is, what about the second shift?

I mean, the first-teamers can't be on duty 24-7 can they? They're human, most of them. They do have quarters they retire to! Who's at the helm then? Somebody must be! They're traveling through space, on the way to someplace, probably at at least Warp 3, they can't just pull over for the night and drop anchor. So who's babysitting the works when the starters need to knock off for the evening, get a little shut-eye, maybe blow off some steam, maybe play a couple games of that crappy 3-d chess/tic-tac-toe hybrid? Whatever the main crew do when they punch out for the night, somebody's got to punch in and take over. There must be a whole secondary set of characters we're not seeing! Bring on Enterprise: After Dark! The B-Team.

I mean heck, if they're not all pulling 12-hour shifts (and come on, what kind of enlightened future utopian starfleet would foist such drudge on its loyal yeomanry?), then there's probably a C-Team too!

I kinda don't really want to see those guys, though. That's a bit too scrape, scrape against the ol' barrel-bottom.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Thought of the Day: Hope

Hope is not all we have. But without it, we have nothing.

Bad, Bad, Bad...

Poll Update: Uh-Oh, Only 30 More Voting Days Left!

And then what will we do???

A Better Place

feelings are inadequate
let alone words
I try so hard not to think about it
I try so hard that it hurts
- there is a better place
than this

there has to be
but I wish I could pull you back
from where you are,
to me
there is a moment between waking up from a dream
and remembering what you know
there's nothing to do about it
there's nothing to do about it
just don't let go

I close my eyes
but I still can't stop seeing you
you don't look sad
or in pain
and I have to believe that it's true
- that there is a better place
than this

there has to be
and if you can hear me now
please just stay close to me
there is an ocean of grief between faith and belief
I can't even begin to know
there's nothing to do about it
but if you are near to me now
please don't let go

"Bad with Birthdays"

And today, you would be
with me here - take my hand
in your hand, with a squeeze
and a heartbeat, a sigh

we would take it for granted:
"another year gone"
I would light one more candle
and sing you the song

I am bad
with birthdays,
and christmas,
and new years
I'm good
with someday,
and sunday
and easter
I'm fine
with next week
I'll get through
is harder
I miss you!
I miss you

in a darkened room lit
by the light in your eyes
from the candles and cake
you would lift your head high

as you drew in your breath, and
with never any doubt
all the light in the world
just a puff
blows it out

I'm bad
with birthdays,
and christmas
and new years
I'm good
with someday
and sunday
and easter
I'm fine
with next week
I'll get through
is harder
I miss you,
I miss you

as I sit here alone,
see your smile everywhere
from the frames on the walls
through the flash and the glare

and I took such bad pictures
but you'd always shine through
darling, if you're really nowhere
I'm right there with you

I'm bad
with birthdays,
and christmas
and new years
I'm good
with someday
and sunday
and easter
I'm fine
with next week
I'll get through
is harder

I miss you

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Iron Man! Iron Man, Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

Iron Man, coming soon to a theater, near you! Or is it? Or will he? That was the plan at least, or part of it. To be more specific, they were thinking about Iron Man as part of a bigger Advengers...Adventures...Adventurers project. But is Iron Man going to go in for that now, after his solo joint hit so hard and so big? Can a hero once acclaimed as the summer time jam blockbuster man step one step back and take one for the team? And Tony Stark may be too big a star now, to want to be involved. His career is resurgent, he's a big-time celebrity industrialist with a lot of irons in the fire plus a burgeoning flirtation/romance with Blossum, the Wonder-Assistant. He's also likely to demand more screen time for his whole drinking-problem subplot, and that's going to sit at odds with the more straightforward boffo action fun needs of a hero team group movie such as this.

To fill in all of you less "filled-in" on all the ins and outs of superherodome, here's the scoop: The Adventurers was a classic team book back in the 2nd Glory Age of Comics (which was preceded by the 1st Glory Age, but there was a gap between). It was a pretty light-hearted, world-in-the-balance, one-for-all-style team showcase, only with a lot of grandstanding, infighting and soap-opera dramatics to go with your more de rigueur derring-do-ery. And what did you expect with a line-up like this? There was Thor! "Goldilocks" some call him, the mythic Norse god of thunder, son of Odin, wielder of mighty Mjolnir (that's a BIG hammer he'd hit people with, or throw at them, or twirl fast to show off). Thor was a big student of Shakespeare and was always trying to talk that way - I guess as an immortal, he'd had plenty of time to bone up on all the passing fads of the stage, and who can blame him for picking Shakespeare to settle on?

There were also other people in there besides Thor, so you can imagine the kind of conflict you'd get with those kind of highly-charged personalities all on one team, fighting it out amongst the bad guys to save mankind, by and by.

But it bodes doubly awesome if somebody can convince Iron Man to take part! He's a smart guy, he can see the potential with him on board. Maybe if he agreed to work for scale, in exchange for 2 extra points of the back-end gross nets - it's still worth it! This team thing could be proverbially the rising tide that floats all boats.

"Adventurers Assemble!"

But I'm No Misanthrope!

I hate life. You know? I hate it, and I, I want to eradicate it to the greatest extent that I can without, you know, killing myself. What would be the point of letting that happen? But I hate life. I hate love, and I hate life, and I hate all good things, and...all good, really. I hate all good.

I also hate when people say, "hey, it's all good." Fuck you, pal. It's not all good.

I hate life.

I hate all good things. You know? Good things, like flying kites, or a really good book, or amazing oil paintings or, you know when you're at a cookout and you're there, you've got your plate ready with that nice, fresh, toasted bun - still warm from the grill! - and you're sort of waiting for your chance at a burger, you know, sometimes there's a bit of a backup at the grilling station and you wanted one without cheese, you know, and practically everyone else wants one with cheese so, there's a lot of those going on and getting nice and grilled and ready, but not too many plain ones. And you have to wait a bit. But you've got that nice, toasty bun, all nice and - God, by the way, I hate nice, I really hate nice and I hate all nice things - and anyway, you're waiting for your burger without the cheese, you ordered it without the cheese because you hate cheese, you hate cheese like you hate all good things. And you're not really looking forward to this burger, you only ordered it for nutritional purposes, not enjoyment, but still it's kind of galling to have to wait for it. And this cookout, you don't care for any of these people, standing around in their upscale beige patterned shorts with the multi-toned cross-angled pinstripes, and their tasteful monochrome tank tops with some animal emblem on. You couldn't care whether they live or die, really, but given your druthers you'd probably rather they just hurry it up and get the inevitable over with already. Leave you to your thoughts. Premium-beer drinking mother fuckers. And then finally, you've jockeyed into position for that burger just as it's coming at you, and it's SERVED! All smokin' hot and griddle-crisp exterior, but you can just tell from the pink trickle it's got a juicy little rare action going on in there, too, like anyone would like it!

Anyone but you, I mean.

And then you amble over to the condiment table, slap a fat beefy slice of tomato on there and some ketchup and mustard, a few ring-sections of raw onion, a butterleaf of lettuce, crunchy, put the bun lid on, grab it in both hands and you BITE INTO IT! MAN!!! THAT'S GOOD!

And you HATE it. You can't stand it, because you hate good, and you hate all good things! You hate life and love and everything nice, good, or just right.

And honestly, you know what?

I feel sorry for you.

I really do. Because somewhere, somehow along the way, you didn't learn how to appreciate things properly, did you.

Go ahead. Take another bite.'s not too late.