Do You Feel Lucky?

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

Monday, February 29, 2016

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Once You Start Making Up Your Own Chuck Norris Jokes, It's Hard to Stop Pt.23

Chuck Norris is immune to identity theft.

Chuck Norris doesn't look things up on the internet. He takes his best guess and representatives of Google, Wikipedia, and other internet fact repositories scramble to make it happen.

Chuck Norris can make ATM withdrawals from a pay phone.

Chuck Norris has been cast as the male lead in every major motion picture made since 1980. He just doesn't care to show up for most of them.

Homeland Security has a special watchlist just for Chuck Norris. He's the only one on it. Basically it's just to make sure nobody tries to frisk him at airports. There was an unfortunate incident.

If Chuck Norris ever decided to run for President, the other two parties would automatically rank 2nd and 3rd in the resulting 3 party system.

Chuck Norris isn't worried about any quantum physical phenomena above Planck length.

Everyone on the internet is currently being stalked by Chuck Norris.

If they had named the Titanic the Chuck Norris, the iceberg would have sunk instead. Thousands of lives would have been saved. Maybe hundreds.

Chuck Norris can beat Deep Blue at Tic-Tac-Toe.

Chuck Norris only worked up a sweat one time. He wiped his face on a towel, and when they found it later - that's the true secret origin of the so-called "Shroud of Turin."

Chuck Norris is considered to have invented sincerity.

Chuck Norris can eat a foot-long sub with a one-inch bite.

When it comes to snappy comebacks, Chuck Norris is the master of the none-liner.

Chuck Norris's name is right there on the VIP list for every exclusive event or establishment.

Before Chuck Norris decided to be a dramatic actor, he tried his hand on the stand up comedy club circuit. Whole roomsfuls of people died.

Physicists have been puzzled for years about the vast amount of invisible "dark matter" that their equations predict must exist someplace in the universe for there to be sufficient mass to account for observed gravitational effects. The key to this mystery couldn't be simpler. They're just looking in the wrong place: Chuck Norris is made entirely out of dark matter. Okay that one's just dumb.

Chuck Norris is automatically on everyone's "celebrity freebie list" if he wants to be.

When Chuck Norris cracks his knuckles, it gives other people arthritis.

The global population explosion is due in large part to Chuck Norris. Don't worry. He can also solve it.

Each U.S. citizen's share of the national debt comes to about $56,525.85 except Chuck Norris, whose share holds steady at $0.00.

Chuck Norris can take a lump of coal and squeeze it into kryptonite.

Chuck Norris doesn't have to brush or floss. His teeth just keep growing in like a shark's.

It's an old science myth that "according to the laws of aerodynamics," a bee can't fly. They actually can fly.

Chuck Norris volunteered himself as a substitute for animal testing in clinical safety trials, but it was a bust. Nobody was reassured that any given treatment had been "Proven safe for Chuck Norris"

Book Reviews #5: Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray

Big disappointment. I went to read this after seeing the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - saw it in passing at a bookstore, grabbed it! Snatched it up. I was stoked to have in my hands the real-deal original story of Dorian Gray, the ageless, bulletproof, indestructible amoral scourge of Victorian London! I wanted to see a whole story dedicated to this one character, who in the film kind of has to settle for fourth or fifth billing or so.

Anyway. Needless to say, some liberties had been taken. Although the book is pretty coy over precisely which liberties.

Thought of the day: Trump

I'm not worried. If he wins, we just put a wall up around the White House until we can figure out what's going on.

Going forward over the years I'm sure a wall around the White House will pay for itself.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Additional Considerations In One's Continuing Band-Naming Saga

I should name my band "TBA". My fans would be so pissed off all the time. "Hey asshole, the paper says you're playing in six different places tomorrow night, which is it!?"

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

If There Wasn't a Law Against It #1: Gravity

If there wasn't a law against it, I'd look up in the sky until my body would rise, and my feet lose traction and gently slip free from the earth, and faster and faster through a rushing wind I would go up with widening eyes on one fixed star, heart beating faster, breathing ever deeper until the air thinned out into nothing - my streaming tears, drying into frost forming across my face and on my skin, as my gaze finally falls free from that one fixed star and my body begins to spin.

That law? GRAVITY.

Considering we'd all pretty much be doing that, I think a little gratitude for law is in order.

Except the people indoors of course! Those dudes could hold out for a while longer. Shut the windows tight, though - that atmosphere's going to be bleeding out the back like a motherfucker!

But the point is - GROW UP. Not every law is some big imposition on you. I bet we can all think of a law or two without which - life could get pret-ty inconvenient.

While I'm at it, it's important to note: nobody has any call to be offended by somebody telling them "GROW UP." That's just good general advice!

Tuesday, February 09, 2016

Here's The Perfect Understated Valentine's Pizza Trick

1. Get a take and bake pepperoni pizza and a paid of scissors
2. Snip every damn pepperoni into a love heart
3. BAKE AND SERVE

Easy.

Note: be sure to find out first if one or the other of you is vegetarian. If so, give it up. Artichoke hearts won't make nearly the same impact.

Friday, February 05, 2016

How to make the Deviled Eggs

Boil 'em, crack 'em, peel 'em, cut 'em in half pop the hemispherical yolk-halves out into a bowl smush mayo, salt, mustard and a bit of cumin (and pepper, if to taste) into it then scoop the yolk-fluff right back into the boiled egg bowls and BAM! Deviled eggs! And I was only kiddin' with the cumin.

Garnish with a dash of paprika of course but you fools know that.

I'm OUT LIKE TROUT, too!

I prefer to say I AM OUT LIKE RAINBOW TROUT

This at first appearance seems to work on several levels. Is he trying to say he's rainbow symbol invested? "Out" could convey the same thing, via an portal-based small-room architecture metaphor. Yet the clearest impact of the phrase is in the HUGE FRISSON it immediately creates between this sudden, shimmery, huge flopping SLEEK SEABEAST he's just landed in the boat - and his own seeming sly, winking, potential half-denial of what at first overpowering glance, would seem to be far less flamboyant-arc-in-the-sky fishy, and very much more LAND or GROUND-based massive shambling BEAR-WOLFBEAST of a MAN-style and most particularly in the famous, "straight-acting" manner of his, which is always very much in demand under certain headings in the Seekers Seeking Sought sections of your neighborhood free weekly, or its online version, and which is only reinforced by his shocking, unsettling EASE of rippling, hair-tigger predatorial MUSK-BASED buried, burly heterosexual muscles that sport and cavort under the rough covering of his TANNED, HAIRY HIDE as if to say: hey, how about it? A friendly sort of eager slob-tongued brute! So who'd have thunk he'd sling such a gay fish at us on his way out the conversation, so blithe? It don't scan. What's he really mean this time?

It's because basically, let's be honest. I'm a cocktease. That's why I like to throw the rainbow in there. And gay, too, as a dictional fundamental literalist like me must always concede, in his the Ye Olde Schoole Waye, turn brisk on his heel like a face-heel turn to skip, traipse, frolic and gambol away whatever credibility remains after a stunt like that, and then people are like SHUT UP! STOP! Are you OUT LIKE TROUT or NOT? THEN GO!!!

Because you know. Technically. You're supposed to leave when you proclaim that. That's not your queue to start pulling out the diaphanous scarves and fan dance routine, no matter how much whistling, pounding on the floors and standing on the seats screaming and cheering you're used to, or feel somewhat entitled to at least.

But I digress, point is, I'm OUT LIKE TAH-RRRR-R-R-R-ROUT!!!

Rainbow style.

Thursday, February 04, 2016

Internet Poetry Clinic #1: WELCOME to the Introduction!, AKA I Just Couldn't Fit This Anywhere In The Previous Post.

~ Welcome, to another edition of Poetry Clinic, which I am putting on for the benefit of internet poets everywhere. Speaking as the greatest Living Internet poet, I - well wait, of course I wouldn't say a damn thing. It would speak for itself, if in fact I "were" such. Mis-step averted. But also, for all I know there might be some way better ones out there - I haven't really met a ton of internet poets, and maybe I should get out more before thrashing my laurels around. Take it for what its worth, salt to taste, and use your judgment with a bit more ease of grace if you will - and then you, too, may say to yourself: hey, if he's not, maybe I am! Go for it. Come at me in fellowship, my brethrenly RIVAL!!! Because from MY experience, I've never met even ONE inter...net, aw FUCK.

Her.

Yeah, okay, she's - wait! NOPE WAIT!

Saved by the technicality. She doesn't count.

She's not an "internet" poet. At least, not to me! And while I'm at hit, how the hell are people supposed to take a poet and interpret and know and judge just from online, anyway?

Speaking as the
"soi disant" greatest living internet poet, I can afford to be open minded on this and ask: explain to me how. Maybe that's what can turn the key to tumble the lock and open the door for me to say oh, hey, those criteria make sense, and now I can get a better handle on where I stand in the rankings. ~

Roses Are.

See, perfect example. The above has all the earmarks (or hallmarks?) of a "modern poem."

* mostly prose
* novelty line breaks
* subtle if any rhyme

This gives your verse an incredible amount of loose, groovy freedom - but WARNING! It does NOT make poetry writing EASIER! If anything, the lack of a safety net, the lack of even a force of gravity to pull you down, keep you grounded, be able to tell up versus down even - the lack of all that restraint and equipment basically frees you to FAIL, if you're not careful. Most modern poetry is a perfect example. Mine, just right up above us there - well, admittedly, less so. Far short of a perfect example of that sort of thing.

That's the risk you take. Free verse is for REALS, yo.

I just wanted to point that out, because sometimes people are like "This museum piece looks like my special needs kindergartener's imaginary BLIND FRIND took a SHIT on a NAPKIN and slapped it up on the refridgerator like the proverbial asshole sittin' in Pie Corner with plumbs on his thumbs." That's pretty much a cliché, in the red-blooded just-us-folks world of art critique, in these days, ever since they finally gave up on the sort of progress that had been captivating snoots for a while by then. You look at some free-form MASTERPIECE and go "SHIT! I could do that without even WANTING to." But it's just as important to note - the same thing applies in poetry! It's just poetry never had a chance to get bastardized by the Modernist Hijack so bad, because poetry wasn't in competition with photography the same way painting was. Fine arts painting basically felt itself threatened, grew desperate, freaked out like a SPAZZ into a corner and DIED there, trying to find even one decent plump remnant wedged into a beveled aluminum crease of a by-then-long-since way-too-picked-over PIE PLATE.

And let me tell you. There is nothing inspirational about the wafting aroma of the curdles and scrapes and streaks of remains of purple-pulped pie juice that looks and smells like it has been sitting out in a room-temperature room since the beginnings of the ends of days. Bacteria, mold - you name it. And yeast trying trying to eat what's left of the sugar, but there's not even enough moisture left in it for poor little mister yeast to shit out a proper alcohol molecule as a by-product! Art, basically, became spoiled and so I just wanted to make sure you're aware of the pitfalls - the same thing hasn't QUITE happened to poetry yet, so be careful, but have fun. Just make sure you're not the one to fuck up poetry for EVERYONE TO COME GENERATIONS AFTER.

There's no Nobel Prize for that.