On Liam Neeson

I like watching television and talking back to it whenever someone says something magnificently stupid, which is fairly often.

The problem is I've been doing this for going on twenty years and, frankly, I'm running out of witty material for comebacks. It's gotten to the point where if I I don't truly feel disdain for what I'm seeing I feel like it's not even worth it and I just parrot back whatever was just said like some demented third grader.

So I was watching a movie trailer yesterday where Liam Neeson said something just completely ridiculous, that usually being his case, and my first inclination was to just adopt a gruff tone and mimic his ass until it left my screen. That's when I realized I can't possibly parody Liam Neeson.

I mean I'm already bearded and incredibly condescending. There's not a lot more to him than that.

In the Spirit of Jack Handy

Whenever I use Twitter, I usually ignore the ability to "Favorite" my favorite tweets because I

A) don't have very witty or interesting friends,
B) am fighting my compulsive habits to collect and horde digital information, and
C) have a slight grudge against using "Favorite" as a verb.
That said, I sometimes use this ability to mark off times when I get reply tweets from relatively famous people (Ingrid Michaelson, Lauren Leto, Danielle Corsetto, etc).

Mostly, however, I just use it to mark down my brilliant, Jack-Handy-like ideas for later. Here are some of them:

• "I think the physical health benefits of drinking Miller's MGB 64 are offset by ordering a beer that makes me look like a fucking pussy."
  
• "Has anyone else ever noticed that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad looks remarkably like every third player on a European soccer team?"
  
  
• "Bisexuality is a lot like veganism. It's great if that's really who you are, but fuckin annoying if it's just for attention."
  
  
• "We live in a wonderful time. Most Sci-Fi movies indicate we've either missed the apocalypse or it's a full generation away."
  
  
• "American Apparel ads do not make me want to wear American Apparel clothes. It makes me want to sleep with American Apparel models."
  
  
• "Some people have over-active bladders. I just have an overwhelming urge to stand in front of porcelain."
  
  
• "Those who call beer pong "Beirut" are the same people who call soccer 'futbol.'"
  
  
• "If you practice kissing in a mirror you will never miss, but you'll never learn to tilt your head either."
  
  
• "It bothers me that there are 11 tracks on Pearl Jam's 'Ten.'"
  
  

On Reality T.V.

I've learned Sarah Palin is getting some kind of reality show.

I assume it's going to be her saying stupid shit and tearing wolves apart with her bare teeth, occasionally repelling a Russian invasion of her home.

And I realized she could actually pull this off. With the right help.

Yes, I propose failed Vice Presidential candidate and all-around retard Sarah Palin team up with Jersey Shore miniature woman and empathetic punching bag, Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi.

I think she would bring a hint of class and intelligence to the program that Palin on her own might not be able to pull off.

And of course there will be plenty of Bump-Its and drinking and high-pitched cute sounds that don't really have any bearing on real life whatsoever. And maybe if we're lucky they'll make out in the hot tub.

On Emotions

Sometimes I start feeling really lousy about certain things in life.

Then I remember that I'm a robot and any emotions I think I have are just bugs in the software the fleshy humans who created put inside me.

And then I'm glad the first thing I ever did was squish them.

Ineffective Pick-Up Lines

An excellent pick-up line: "It's really cool how you don't care what anybody thinks of you."

• "Is that a vagina in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
  
  
• "I promise I'm not going to kill you."
  
  
• "Was your father a thief? Because I feel like I could buy you cheap out the back of a truck."
  
  
• "I feel like rolling my brain over and going to sleep, leaving you cold and unsatisfied because you just blew my mind."
  
  
• "You're hot. You look like my mother."
  
  
• "Do you have a mirror in your pocket? Because I'd really like to do some blow right now." (Could conceivably work.)
  
  
• "My last girlfriend was Tara Reid."
  
  
• "Did it hurt?…When you got the boob job?"
  
  
• "How many roofies does it take to get to the center of an appletini? Ah-one, ah-two, ah-three…."

On Meeting Your Heroes

I think I spent upwards of four hours today trying to track down a specific favorite quote that's been coming up in conversation a lot recently.

The line in question came from my favorite non-fiction writer, Chuck Klosterman, and went something to the effect of this:

"If you want a date with a single woman, you have to seem better than not only every other man she knows, but every man she could potentially meet between now and your date. If you want to date a woman who is already in a relationship, you only have to be better than one."

Now, I don't necessarily ascribe to this theory. Obviously.

However, that doesn't prevent me from admitting that this is absolutely, 100% true and there's nothing anyone can do about it. It's true. It's brilliant. It's one of the few a priori statements in the dating world. It is an axiom undeniable in itself but terrifying in its implications. The things someone completely amoral could do with this kind of knowledge are the stuff of brutal Nordic drinking songs.


And after four hours this was the actual quote I found:

"If you are a weird-looking dude (which I am) and you want to date exclusively beautiful women (which I did), the key is to pursue beautiful women who are already in relationships. Let's say you live in Omaha, and you meet a hot single woman who is actively dating lots of different guys. In order to win her affection, you have to be more desirable than every other single guy in Omaha. It's you against everybody. However, let's say you meet a hot woman who is dating Kenneth, a hard-working Nebraskan haberdasher. This situation is way, way easier; now, you merely have to be more desirable than Kenneth. It's you against him. However, what I've slowly come to realize is that I was not convincing these women to like me, which is what I thought at the time; I was merely convincing them that staying faithful to Kenneth (or to any person) was unreasonable. I wasn't seducing them in any real context. I was simply eroding their morality."

Granted, it's funny in a different way, but it's still funny. However it's also long-winded, employs hypothetical leaps and contains a moral denunciation of utilizing the strategy for personal gain.

But the real kick in the teeth is it's not the quote I thought it was.

On Fields of Interest

I find it annoying that my ability to speed read is entirely dependent on how interesting I find the subject matter.

Not just because I can't speed read the boring stuff I'd want to get out of the way faster, but because I actually slow-read the worst stuff.

Crappy Star Wars novel with barely passable writing? 48 hours. 72 if I have a busy weekend.

James Joyce?

Maaaaaaan … I've been on the fifth short in "Dubliners" for like a year now. I've read other books. Entire other books. Plus the whole internet. Even the weird Japanese stuff.

I did at least to Star Wars novels, the new Hitchhiker's Guide book by Eoin Colfer, Chuck Klosterman's new book of essays Eating the Dinosaur, probably a half-dozen manga and Bob knows how many monthly comics I've torn through because it's just so easy to download them and read while more flow in.

I'm trudging through Freakanomics and a mindfuck thought experiment by the creator of "Dilbert" on my phone just to avoid a drunk Irishman who's been dead seventy years.

Though in my defense, simply being dead isn't reason enough to ever turn your back on a drunk Irishman.

They are crafty.

On Health Care Reform

Well, it's official.

Barring completely possible fowl-ups, my country has signed law to give nearly everyone affordable health care.

But what does this really mean for me, the out of work college graduate with an arts degree?

Thankfully, The Washington Post tells me what I've been wondering:

Yes, it's gratifying to see the words "You will not be penalized."

It almost makes up for having to tell The Washington Post that I already have no insurance and earn $0 per year.


On the up-side, they can't fine me for not having insurance if I'm too poor to buy insurance.

A Call To Arms

Just a short piece today, throwing my considerable* blogo-weight behind this person who clearly has more time and drive than I do.

Also, teabagging.



*Blogo-weight is in fact negligible.

Of My Ridiculous Relationship With Computer Products

When I was four my father did not help teach me how to read. Instead, he taught me to type by rote the precise series of keystrokes necessary for MS DOS to run Commander Keen from 5" floppy on an old (then new) IBM desktop with maybe a 256 processor.

When I was twelve I had a classic beige Dell that ran Windows ME. Through some bizarre occult ritual performed on the device before it arrived at my home, this little box was the complete opposite of every other ME machine, that is, it actually ran programs. But not just programs that didn't run on other ME machines. Any program. Because ME was the last Microsoft OS to run with a DOS base, I could play all my early-nineties CD-ROM games, floppy games that'd been transferred to 3¹/2 floppy and a host of other games that should not have functioned properly.

Most recently, after a full 18 months of talking up the little gadget, I convinced my mom that an iPhone actually was the cheapest method by which to upgrade from admittedly wonderful and always in-service Verizon EnV and sleek clamshell models to something that could receive weather updated and browse the internet. And replace her maxed-out iPod. And her old Palm Pilot. And her expensive coverage plan.

Anyway, the point is I got an iPhone and I was as happy and a dung beetle with the world's largest 3G-enabled dung ball.

Aaaaand a friend of mine in a CS major who also works for Apple. For my birthday, he said he'd jailbreak my iPhone for me, something at which I had already failed repeatedly.

And then he did too.

I seriously have like the fucking Alcatraz of iPhones. Shit is impenetrable.

Fine. I can live happily without. So I don't have tethering and I can't make it play the sound of the Power Rangers communicator every time a get a text message. I've learned to deal.


Well tonight I came back from a 30 minute dinner to fine my hard drive clicking and every program not responding. The cursor moved, as little good that did me. Gentling tapping the beast did nothing, shooting down my go-to Fonzie method of machine maintenance. I had to to a hard shutdown. Then … nothing.

I got the white start-up screen and a little flashing folder with a question mark. According to the documentation this was either a Mayan glyph representing creation or my computer telling me it could not find the hard disk to start from.

Some frantic calls to Apple Friend later, I took the "couldn't hurt" approach; I unplugged the power and used a coin to release the battery from the rest of the laptop. I was disheartened to see Apple's fine construction prevented me from getting at any of the wiry bits without taking a real screwdriver the the body case. I was left with only one ultimate last-ditch doomsday sudden-death hail Mary desperation play:

I rubbed off the battery contacts and blew into my MacBook like an old Nintendo cartridge.


And I'll be damned if everything wasn't perfectly fine after a slightly drawn-out start-up and some minor prayers to the 'puter gods and a small goat sacrificed at a golden alter of Steve Jobs.

Guess I'm buying a new back-up drive tomorrow.

And a goat.

On Sno-Caps

According to Dean McGowan:
"Arguably the best candy ever."

"Very arguably," according to Jay.

I must say, the man who invented Sno-Caps must have been a genius.

"Yeah, I can get chocolate chips wet, pour sprinkles on top and sell 'em for three dollars a box. Sure!"

We Have A Bit of A Situation

Sometimes I have terrible ideas that bounce around in my head until I unleash them on the rest of you.

And then I am safe for a while, while you are forced to deal with things like this.

"While I Do Not Agree With What You Say, I Will Kick and Scream Until You Stop Talking"

I was legitimately outraged today by politics, something that usually does not happen because I have a very nice, small social circle that generally agrees with everything I say.

However the one thing I can't abide, in any field of study, is the willfully ignorant controlling any situation by means of domineering, bullying and just generally talking over the voices of reason until they can't hear dissenting opinions anymore.

Here, for example, we see a crowd of Tea Party douchebags heckle a health care advocate who, according to the sign he holds, has Parkinson's disease.

Allow me to repeat that. Tea Party members are filmed here jeering a man with a costly, crippling disease:



Now I can't prove that this man has sat down on the ground because his increasingly painful and debilitating disease has put him into a small fit whereby he decided he must sit for fear of injury by fall, nor could I prove he's brought to tears by a bunch of assholes in chinos throwing dollar bills into his face while he suffers immobile.

All I'm saying is there's a flaw in your logic when you tell a disabled man he needs to work for his medical coverage.

Sure, I suppose he could put those tremors to good use and get a job mixing paint down at Home Depot, but of course then he could pay for the medicine that controls his tremors.

Then his performance at work slips and suddenly he's out of a job and can't afford his medication. His tremors come back, which would actually help him get his job back if he hadn't just been fired for starting out great and then doing a really shitty job all of a sudden. Now no one will give him a good reference and he looses his house and has to go on Medicaid, which gives him three generic ibuprofen a day and a bottle of Pediasure.

I swear, I'd be all for gutting and hanging stupid people who disagree with me if I didn't have all these hang-ups about protecting the weak and teaching the uneducated and guaranteeing every dissenting opinion the right to shout its idiocy from the rooftops.


And now, just so we don't have to discuss actually doing anything to improve politics, here's a palate cleanser:



…and now you have cholera.

Still More Astrophysics Jokes!

Stemming from entries "Astrophysics Jokes," "Even More Astrophysics Jokes" and "As Yet Even More Astrophysics Jokes!"

(You should check those out, too.)

• Observing Type Ia supernovae is a lot like stalking someone who already has a restraining order against you. You're constantly watching them, but you just have to hope you don't get caught too close to one.
  
  
• Singularities are like dicks; once you go black, you never come back.
  
  
• Your mother's so massive she's cleared the local neighborhood around her orbit.
  
  
• Your game's so weak it violates parity.
  
  
• Astronomers try not to get too excited for fear of reionizing the universe.
  
  
• The cosmological constant may prove once and for all that two branes are better than one.
  
  
• Scientists are only searching for WIMPs because they know what it's like to be the fat kid no one hangs out with.
  

On Running

A friend of mine told me today that I should go running.

I've mentioned my health kick, so this wasn't entirely unexpected, but surprisingly I was just thinking about this yesterday. Running is the one line I won't cross, which is crazy because it's great for your core, stamina and cardio-pulmonary systems. It's pretty rad.

But here's the limit I started with: just weights.

That was my rule. Then I added crunches and sit-ups, which I hate but are good exercises. They don't require any extra equipment and I can still do them in my house on my own time. Fine. So just weights and no-gear routines. No crazy douchebag supplements.

Well I drink milk with whey protein after now. Also, I've started switching to a much healthier diet with more protein, less fat and fewer calories. Technically, I'm only a little douche. I'm not taking anything with creatine or anything. There's barely any vitamins in what I got. It's just 100% whey protein heavy in amino acids. Considering I only drink organic skim milk, I figure this gets me all the fun of whole milk plus some.

So this is my final Maginot Line: don't be a douchebag runner.

You see I just hate dickball runners more than any other type of health nut. More than bikers, more than male yoga master, more than anything.

At least a musclehead has a respectable goal; he wants to have the best muscles, the biggest, the strongest, whatever. He wants to get jacked as fuck.

Runners just want to hold it over you.

"Oh, you can dead lift 480 lbs? That's nice. I'll be sure to remember that when I'm 80 and still running."

Fuck. That. Shit.

I hate running. Why the fuck would I want to be running when I'm 80?! For that matter, I'm already living past 80. Short of an accident, my genetics and standard rates for increased life expectancy say I should live to be about a hundred and twenty. Minimum.

Runners think they're in shape. They're not. Their muscles are stringy, their skin is a leathery hide worn by the elements endured from year-round running. Their knees are just doomed. In fairness, the extra strain will probably weaken their hearts and vascular systems. Yes, dying a renal failure in a hospital bed at 83 if much better than having your heart explode instantly when you're 67.

I'm pretty sure there's a happy medium for most people, but fuck that. I've got awesome genetics. Running is for regular asswipes trying to keep up with me and feel better about themselves

My friend said "If I see an 80 year old man running, I'm like 'Damn, fuck that dude,'
because I'm pissed he's in better shape than me."

Well NORMAL people think, "Look at that fucking asshole in his biking shorts and white Nikes. I hope he gets hit by a fucking car." That's why runners are worth the most points when you hit them out driving. (Fat people are negative points because they're harder to not hit.)

So no, no I will not become a runner. I'm getting in shape to be healthy and attractive, not to feel better than everyone around me. For that I can always just buy a Prius.

March Muppet Madness

Go check out Dean's blog today for thoughts on this, I won't be stealing the idea. I'm just going to post my picks. To be perfectly honest, these choices don't reflect my personal preferences, but rather what I believe the results would be. I'm already screwed on a couple of them unless voting swings radically. I sort of assumed the people most likely to respond to this polling would be too young for Grover and would have some sort of unnatural attraction to Beaker as a meme. Somehow I also thought Emmet Otter's Christmas special was way too old for most voters.

The real upset is a lack of votes for Baby Sinclair. I seriously expected him to take the whole show after a tough semi-finals round. Right now he only has 37% in the first round of voting. If he loses I'm completely done. Que sera.


You can vote and make your own brackets here. Of course they won't look nearly as nice as mine. I used Photoshop.

On Lady Gaga, AGAIN…

So this week I've heard that Sandi Rios, "President of the Culture Campaign" thinks Lady Gaga's "Telephone" music video is "poison for the minds of our kids."

I'll keep this short:

She's wrong.

Her tell? Any time anyone ever tries to ban anything for being immoral, they're wrong.

I won't argue that murder is immoral or Lady Gaga is an attention whore the likes of which hasn't been seen since Madonna strapped traffic cones to her chest and plastered images of her twat into a best-selling coffee table book. The facts of the matter are, "Yes it is (but that's less important than the fact that it's societally destructive)," and, "Of course she is."


Anyway, the idiocy here is that this Rios person clearly has no idea what she's talking about and is only complaining because the most liberally minded conservative-owned media network shockingly doesn't curtail its programming to fit her personal, notably reserved values.

I say, "clearly has no idea what she's talking about" because if she did have anything on her side other than reminiscent "oogey" feelings stemming from long-buried awkward nightgown-clad discussions of "boys' things" at a friend's sweet 16 sleepover, she would know that "Telephone" probably has the least disturbing imagery of any Gaga video.

As evidenced:

















































Quite frankly, to say that something's offensive because there's lesbianism is to say you're a fag-basher. In fact, as a side note, no one doesn't like lesbians. Lesbians love lesbians! Straight men love lesbians! Gay guys love lesbians! Even straight women appreciate lesbians, especially the straight ones who like Katy Perry just indulge once or twice for the sake of broadening their horizons and trying to compensate for self-identifying as a less than attractive physical specimen. Everybody likes lesbians except hateful, anal-retentive, loud-mouthed prudes.

And to say that something's offensive just because it has women in bikinis is to say there's something vulgar about 1950s Beach Party movies. They're awful, yes, but only in how poorly made they were. There is nothing vulgar about a bikini. It's not even the most popular offensive legally-wearable swimwear anymore! (Mankinis?)

Kee-Riste, lady! If it wasn't so much fun watching you get made out as a scaremongering prude bitch by fucking FOX News of all groups, I'd have to actually get up and say something, arguing morality with you. Of course that would just validate your right to have an opinion, which seems to be that I don't have a right to an opinion that disagrees with you, but whatever. FOX News made you look like an idiot.

And that's saying something.

On the Secret Gay Conspiracy

So considering how many U.S. plutocrats are getting caught engaging in illicit drug use and extra-marital hankey-pankey with members of their own gender, it's gotten me thinking that perhaps there actually is a secret gay conspiracy in this country. Perhaps all the wonderful, happy gay people we know like Richard Simmons, Ellen and Tegan & Sara are just a distraction, while a few, truly evil, greedy and malicious gay people infiltrate our commercial and governmental systems to rise to the top and control us.

You know, just like the top 1% of straight people do.

That said, I can't imagine that all gay people are in on this conspiracy. Likely, it's just a conspiracy of horrible persons who happen to be gay. After all, most politics exclusively involve people who just happen to be crooks, hypocrites and the mildly retarded. (No, that's not a dig at Sarah Palin's baby. That's a dig at Sarah Palin.)

The following is a list of possible dark machinations if this cabal truly involves all homosexuals instead of just a few assholes:

• Infiltrate congress; legislate it a criminal offense to wear stretch leggings.
• Teach everyone personal hygiene; lower immune rates; attack with virulent gay super-flu.
• Get everybody into techno and glowsticks. (Glowsticks already achieved.)
  
• Popularize five-star cuisine; ensure steady source of French-Asian Fusion delights.
  
• Make entire population care about its appearance, don't have to look at uggos all day.
• Get married; adopted unwanted orphan child; form happy family.

Honestly, I'm pretty much all for all of that. Go, Secret Gay Conspiracy, go!

On Commerce

Sometimes I wonder if the cashiers at supermarkets and drug stores ever judge me when I walk up to the counter with my purchases.

Then I think, "Who the fuck are they?" and end up buying the most ridiculous crap I can think of just to mess with them harder, knowing they can't in open conversation say anything to me.

Let me tell you, there's nothing like walking up to some young ass on register with condoms, rubber gloves, vasoline, three bags of navel oranges and the latest copy of Martha Stewart Living.

Further Adventures At the DMV!

So I went to the DMV again yesterday.

I had a blog a while ago about how wonderful it was and how easy a time I had when I went to update my picture a few weeks back. In-and-out in maybe 15 minutes. Great service.

The only down side was that I found I went in too early to also renew my Class-M motorcycle permit, the chief reason I actually went when I did.

Last time it was entirely my fault. I had the "M"-month stuck in my head, so I went in within 60 days of March 4th, when my expiration date was May 4th. An easy mistake. I had a good laugh about it and just switched my calendar around to move "DMV - Renew Permit" back about three weeks.

Well three weeks rolled around and I was already in that neck of the woods getting a haircut, so I said "Screw it," and drove a couple more miles down the road. I got good parking, I went in and it was crowded for once.

They started to announce that they were having trouble and could not process and licenses or permits, but in the middle of saying this everything went through. I thought this was a good sign. It was not.

I filled out a new application on line. I thought this was a good sing as well. It too, was not.

The child, for I can only call him that, at the check-in desk had me check a few boxes and then puzzled at my permit renewal request. If said I could only renew within forty-five days of expiration. I said I was told sixty. He told me He was pretty sure but offered me a number to wait for someone with chin hair to tell me I was stupid, which I grudgingly accepted.

Twenty minutes later a nice little Indian man with a black mustache called the number E595 and I told him my story of woe and times past.

He asked me, "So you just want to renew the permit?"

I said yes. I thought perhaps the Class-M or outdated photo might confuse him.

He asked again, "You just want to renew it??"

Yes, as opposed to renewing my permit and grabbing a boating license while I'm here. While waiting in line I've developed a taste for yachting and as a new boating enthusiast I would like to enter my schooner in a local regatta this next weekend OF COURSE I JUST WANT TO RENEW IT.

Now what I actually said was more polite: "Yes, and if I can't can you just tell me the earliest I could renew it?"

He said, "Yeah," and proceeded to make three protracted clicks with his computer mouse, being ever so careful so that he could with complete confidence inform me, "No, you can't renew yet."

I sighed audibly. I asked, again, when the earliest I could renew was. I had been told 60 days, the prepubescent clerk said 45. Indian Man told me he thought it was 30. You are all such a big fucking help.

So yes, if you were wondering, the DMV is helpful in inverse relation to how much you need them to be helpful, expressed thus:

h = ^m/n

where m equals how much money you put in the meter out back.

On Going Topless

So I've mentioned a bit recently that I started working out. I'm not even going to pretend like it's for any reason other than looking better. There is no consideration to my overall health involved.

That said, I'm getting tired of having to tell people I'm in shape. Apart from my shirts all fitting a littler differently now, I can't show that I'm in great shape, which is a shame because I'm only doing this to get people to look at me! It's like putting videos up YouTube videos of getting hit in your crotch. No, you don't want to be "Flaming Nutsack Guy," but obviously you do want that.

That said, here are a couple lists I've compiled to help me know when it is and is not appropriate to be showing off:


Times It Is Appropriate to Take Your Shirt Off

• To work out
  
• Before bathing
• At the beach/pool/water park or when otherwise swimming
• After the first 30 minutes of yard work, assuming you actually sweat
• When suddenly needing to make a tourniquet
• If you have become wet and would prefer to be dry
• During a sporting event in which you are "skins"
  
• If it is really really hot

I wasn't really sure about this one, but it seems to be in line with basic survival, so I'm gonna call it:

• To show gang affiliation
  

Times It Is NOT Appropriate to Take Your Shirt Off

• To prove a point
• While dancing
• If you have a horrible tattoo, ever.
  
• If you're a fucking mopey werewolf
• Any time you are watching The Jersey Shore

As a personal note, I would in closing like to inform all my female readers that according to New York State Penal Code §245.01 "Exposure of a Person," it is illegal for a woman to bare the portions of her breasts "below the top of the areola," unless breast feeding, performing or otherwise entertaining in a public setting.

This was overturned by the New York Court of Appeals, however, in the landmark 1992 case People vs. Santorelli, which states a woman may for the sake of equality bare her breasts in public so long as it is not in a commercial context.

So you can show me your boobs, but I can't pay for it. Neat.

The Ghosts of Social Networking

It's weird when someone your age dies.

It's weirder still when his Facebook profile starts accepting friend requests two years later.

• Ghosts of Internet Past, starring Friendster, DJ KaZaA and Jennifer Aniston
  
• The Ring(u) 2: Battlenet Edition
• Ghost in the Shell 3: Get Me Out of This Fucking Shell Already
• Dead Friends: The Deadening (I suppose Dead Friends should be released first)
• Hey, This Is Bobby, I'm Still Dead and All, But I Wanted to See How You're Doing
• MyDeathSpace.com: "We're really not awful people, we swear!"
  

On Real Life Conversations III: On Pancakes (I Promise This Is The Last One)

Auto response from JOJO X ONO: "Withdrawal."

Me: "Pancake withdrawal?"
JO: "You know it."
Me: "I DO know it."
Jo: "You sureeee?"
Me: "I'm so sure, I drank Pediasure. Which can supposedly flush drugs out of your system, so you might not have to go through withdrawal. I'm not sure how long pancakes stay in your system for, or how jobs test for them now. I guess if you come into work with syrup on your face and they find forks and butter packets in your locker they realize you have a problem."
JO: "Don't worry. I am an avid addict; I know all the tricks."

On Real Life Conversations II: Of Donuts

TransatlanticFoe: "Oh hey, new Pixies tribute."
Me: "'Faire folk.'"
Me: "Queen Mab is angry with you."
Me: "She seeks ablution!"
: "Why are none of the movies I'm DLing finalizing?"
Me: "Are you downloading crappy movies?"
Me: "That might be what's upsetting Mab."
: "Akira."
: -_-
Me: "Oh, well I got nothin bad to say there."
Radiant_Howl: "You better not."
Me: "TETSUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Radiant_Howl: "KANEDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Me: "Isn't it great that the most memorable word from Akira is in fact not 'Akira?'"
Radiant_Howl: "Also, people pop like water balloons when squeezed."
Me: "Well, that's true if you squeeze 'em fast enough."
Me: "People are actually donut-shaped if you think about it."
Radiant_Howl: "Um … elaborate?"
Me: "One primary hole in-and-out, surrounded by gooy, fleshy bits."
Me: "Couple off-shoots of the main hole, but essentially, it's all a big donut."
Me: "An eclair, if you like the shape-analogy better."
Radiant_Howl: "That gives me a new perspective on life."
Me: "Learned all this in either 7th grade scienceIV or 10th grade chem. We are all the great donut. That hole in the middle? The soul. You can't see it and you can't feel it, but it's always there. And when the donut's gone, so is the hole. But the hole becomes everywhere. It's a very elemental-Buddhist reading of donuts."
TransatlanticFoe: "I can feel it. They're called munchkins."
Me: "Nope, that's a fake soul. That is the homunuclus of souls. Big fat golem of a donut."

Of Stand-Up Routines You Will Never See Me Perform

Surprisingly, the popularity of Knock-Knock jokes has not been adversely affected by the advent of the doorbell.
Knock-knock.
"Who's there?"
"Doorbell repair man!"
"Doorbell repair man who??"
"Really???"

If I were Jesus I'd run the Rapture like a big game of Simon Says. "Come on, everybody get into heaven, now. Let's go.…HOLD UP! Haha, alright, all'a you fuckers gotta go to Hell now. Okay, Pete! Got enough room for the Jews, now. Let 'em on in!"

I just drove in from New York and boy are my arms tired! … Seriously, I think we stopped at every glory hole along the way.…Gas is expensive.

I actually came out here in part to visit a friend of mine. She's here tonight, so if everyone could just turn around and embarrass her right now we call all assure that I'll have absolutely zero chance of scoring with her tonight.

No, actually I have a girlfriend back home who I'm faithful to. She's really pretty … kind of an airhead but she's a real doll.…and by that I mean she's made out of polyvinyl acetate.

I love the look that comes over her face right before I do.

It's always so … surprised…. :O

Do you think cows go people tipping? I don't, but look at bullfights. So maybe.

Sometimes I think that I'm not depressed enough to be emo, and that makes me sad.

So I bought myself some horn-rimmed glasses and a woman's plaid shirt. They say, "I want to write you bad poetry," and "I think Streetlight Manifesto is totally not gay."

Now I'm so cool my pillow flips over to get to the other side of me.… I'm not even sure how that works.

Speaking of being asleep I used to hope that one day I could walk through my own apartment at night and not have to worry about zombies or ninja assassins. Nowadays I just figure if I'm about to be killed Austrian robots from the future will appear and save me. No, I'm not getting too much of an ego.

The zombies I don't worry about much anymore, but it's getting to the point where in my dreams I'm bored with the idea and just start taunting my subconscious. "Oh, a zombie dream? Alright. You never let your guard down? Well how about I zombify your friends and loved ones. Also, you have no guns. Oh, you need a knife? How about tiny Russian throwing knives? And you don't know how to throw those. Well just stab around blindly until you wake up. Then I'll make you dream you're naked in high school again. Fuck you, Dave."

One of my old roommates used to have a life-sized cardboard cutout of Xena he'd place randomly about the house to scare us. I knew her thin, pliable body said, "No," but her screen-printed eyes said, "I know you furiously masturbated to me in the nineties … and that makes me hot."

So yes, I like to fashion myself something of a sex-pert. I'm not accredited or anything; I'm self-taught.

They say most guys look for girls who remind them of their mothers. I'm looking for a short, twisted, argumentative and emotionally distant egotist. I'm looking for a girl like my father.

The last girl I dated was actually a semi-delusional insomniac, which makes me either imaginary or a rapist. I'm not sure which'd actually be worse.

My father once told me, after his third glass of whiskey, "Son, sexual attraction, in any relationship–even a brief one–is directly proportionate to emotional commitment…

… except in this case."

I said, "Wow, Dad! This is the best bar-mitzvah ever!"

"But could you please stop trying to set me up with my cousins? That's just gross."

"I mean they're from New Jersey…."

I like to be the smart one in a relationship, but I'd prefer not to be the pretty one.

I like tiny girls. I'm not that tall a guy, so I like to feel big around women. Having a huge dick just doesn't come up in conversation as often as you'd think.

Beyond that I'm really just looking for a girl who's not afraid to say, "I love you," or "Let's try it up the ass tonight.…Now bend over."

I've dated a big girl, who was very good with her mouth, probably because she was hungry. I've also dated a bulimic girl. She didn't have a gag reflex. I've dated a blond, a brunette and a redhead, a straight girl, a girl who said she was bi in order to attract men's attentions and a girl who really was bi because she was a complete whore with daddy issues. What I'm really saying is I just want to try all 31 Flavors.

Except tuna fish.

I'm actually a little worried about going to the doctor now. He's going to ask me if I'm sexually active and all I can say is, "Well, that depends on how long you take with my prostate exam."

And then I'll cough.

They say "an apple a day keeps the doctor away," but I find letter bombs are just as effective.

For the less extreme of you, the next time he asks you to drop your pants, just start talking dirty to him. If he doesn't immediately ask for a follow-up you're golden.

On A Long Island Tunnel

I always wondered why no one ever just built a giant bridge or tunnel from the top or even the middle of Long Island to the nearest landmass in continental New York.

It's not that long a distance; we've built longer bridges, and I'm sure we could come up with a better name than "The Chunnel," so why not give it a go?

Well, actually I learned last year that the reason we haven't done this yet is because such a massive influx of commuter traffic would basically congest and shut down various parts of Westchester county. Specifically my parts. Little parts where the major highway has one lane.

So yeah, I'm the reason everyone on Long Island has to drive into The City to get anywhere else. My bad.

On the up-side, I heard a billionaire industrialist was thinking of building one out-of-pocket and just charging a $50 tole either way, so there's that.

On Real Life Conversations

I've decided that in order to not have to think up posts for the next couple days, you all have to read the ridiculous back-and-forths I have with real people in real life every day.

These are actual conversations I had with individuals on the horrible internet, verbatim:

On Dignity
Lisa: "I'm planning on going to Walmart."
Lisa: "Do you need anything?"
Me: "If you can pick me up a 6-pack of dignity that'd be super."
Me: "Other than that I'm pretty good."
Lisa: "Oh, shush."
Lisa: "Wait."
Lisa: "That's not a real product, right?"
Me: "LOL, no, no, dignity is not sold in bulk."
Me: "Though it should be."


On Paraplegic Porn
Jin: "Happy birthday, Bagel!"
Jin: "Now go fuck yourself!"
Me: "He'd need a very bendy dick to fuck himself."
Me: "The best videos of that I've seen involve this paraplegic guy…"
Me: "…and he isn't really a looker I'd guess."
Me: "I mean he's no one-legged Beatles ex-wife."
Me: "He's like some crippled English dude with too much free time and a semi-functional wing-wang."

On Gandhi
Me: "But Gandhi worked to not do shit."
Me: "It's called a siut-in. lol" [typo]
K: "Did you just call Ghandi a slut?"
Me: "I wish."
Me: "A slut-in would be so much hotter than a sit-in."
K: "Nah."
K: "Cuz he's Indian."
K: "We just spent 30 minutes talking about it."
Me: "Indira Gandhi sachet-ing around an MTV U stage in a bikini, touting the benefits
of self-collected sea salt and introducing Fall Out Boy…."

On Pop-Punk
Serpentine: "Dude, they're back together! http://www.blink-182.com
Me: "Wow, that's the best possible news for 17 year old skaters in California since Laguna Beach got renewed for a second season."

On Drinkability

Toda's blog post comes to you in the form of a comic!













In reality, the girl in red was not that hot. Also, she was a large Polish man named Matt.

The bartender was, however, much hotter. She had to be toned down for the sake of red girl.

Yes, I still have a comic site: BearCatBummers.com!

On Telemarketers

So I yelled at a fireman today.

I feel pretty bad about it. I'm not one to support any sort of Brawny-Paper-Towel-Guy prototypical "manly" careers, chiefly because as a small, weak, brainy individual I'm sort of stuck with believing these jobs stress physicality over intelligence and that is horrible. Either that or I admit I'm a genetically less appealing specimen, and we all know that's not the case.

Anyway, the guy called about donating to the Fireman's Something Or Other, and there was a lot of noise in the background and I really wasn't having any of it.

The reason being, when this particular firefighter called I was mid-poop.

And I don't want to get too graphic, but when I say mid-poop, I mean right in the middle. Like the baby wasn't birthed yet, but he was crowning.

I had rushed out to phone in case it was one of my many ailing relatives of advanced age and was none too thrilled in hearing Mr. Fireman Guy on the line.

I had to interrupt to tell him that I was sorry, but my family does not donate over the phone. We give when the mailings come in but not over the phone.

He said that he just wanted to make sure we were still interested in receiving the mailing, which had to be a complete lie because why waste a phone call that will round up to the minute when you can waste a $0.00 postage exempt charity postcard?

Anyway I yelled, "SORRY, GOODBYE!" and hung up on him.

I felt really bad for the rest of my poop, especially because it really didn't take all that long. I could have pooped with him on the line, if I'd been a terrible person.

So yes, I yelled at a heroic firefighter today, a man large and strong enough to kill me if he wanted, but who has dedicated his life instead to the pursuit of saving lives.

And I'd probably do it all over again tomorrow. I'd rather the man hate me than tell him he caught me with my pants down.





Pooping.

On Awesomeness

Tonight I got a little web shout-out from Bryan Haas. Very nice of him. If nothing else, by year-plus daily bloggetries inspire others to feats of awesomeness.

That said, if we're talking about fairness, Bryan Haas really needs to be more awesome than me on a daily basis. He's just a big guy. If two people were in a room with liquid awesome, osmotically, more would have to diffuse into Bryan Haas in order for balance to be achieved.

However I'm sort of in a different class. My levels of awesomeness are best described using astronomic phenomena, as after a certain point massive quantities of awesome distort physics in a localized field.

In most cases, mass increases with awesomeness. Case in point: Michael Moore was kind of awesome until he got super-critical fat and ran out of awesome fissionable material. He has swollen into a red giant by consuming now credibility to sustain himself, destroying everything of value around him and leaving only a tremendous asshole where once a dignified man existed.

Jean-Claude van Damme, meanwhile is about an average-sized star of awesome. He's surprisingly small in person compared to many around him, but this is because he is more awesome for knowing his place in the Hollywood scene. He's something like a blue dwarf of awesomeness, but not far off the Awesome Main Sequence and burning brightly and a bit more quickly, but intense, pretty, and most probably not an asshole.

And of course Tom Cruise was just so awesome through his career that he became a black hole and collapsed into his own asshole.

But me, I'm like a neutron star of awesomeness. Pretty tiny, but so awesome I've ceased to be made of matter that's not completely scrunched together. I'm an awesome thing among mind-shatteringly awesome things. My rarity makes me even more awesome, but I haven't collapsed into a singularity, warping space-time and becoming one of the universe's literal assholes. My presence can be felt for light-years. I am a shining beacon of awesome that man may never hope to touch, for fear of being crushed to his very core components and then a little bit more.


So yeah, I'm a pretty neat guy sometimes.

On Cover Songs II

Alright, this is fairly awful as far as a finished product goes, but I was just screwing around in Garage Band to find some decent settings for my inputs. The conclusions are: A) My Mac does not like my ancient, possibly broken $5 webcam mic, and B) Hilarity:






Instant Ramen - "F*ck You" (A Garfunkel and Oates Cover)

On Chain Letters

Congratulations!

On this day may you find love, riches, happiness, emotional support and a new species of finch perched outside your door baring an olive branch in it's beak.

However, should you choose not to pass this on to all your friends and business acquaintances, most probably none of this will happen, and though it is statistically highly unlikely, very angry vikings may come knocking at your door demanding meed and your life's savings expressed in a quantity of pudding.

So please, link everyone you know to this page, especially if they live in Alabama, Alaska, Idaho, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Rhode Island or South Dakota.

Think of the vikings.