Christian Singles

"We have so much in common! We both love Jesus, coffee, sitting oddly on furniture,
apparently physical fitness from our clothes, and neither one of us waxes our eyebrows!"

I'm Jewish.

Not so much in a religious sense, or even so much a cultural sense, but in the "Hitler would demand my death" sense. In any event, it's enough for paperwork.

So why, then, does Christian Singles persist in sending me emails?

Is it some kind of elaborate plot at conversion? The Spanish Inquisition didn't go over that well in the Jewish community–and now everyone expects it–so maybe they church is trying a more-flies-with-honey approach. 'Look! She's pretty! She wants to love you forever! In a subservient but ultimately equal in your close, personal three-way with the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!'

Somehow, that doesn't seem very marketable fr the world wide train wreck. More likely, it's sent as an attempt to fetishize The Other in my eyes.

"Oh yeah! These Gentle Gentiles will do ANYTHING you want, ALL NIGHT, EVEN ON A FRIDAY! Come on in and praise their lord, and get ready to proclaim 'Jesus is just alright with ME!"

Or it's automated. Whichever.

Pickle Juice

"Pickling juice sounds like my ideal gorilla steroid."

I was staring at a dwindling jar of pickles and thought to myself, "Couldn't I just throw some cucumbers in this empty jar and reuse the pickling juice?"

Well, no, because several years ago they removed the dregs of pickling spice from the liquid, leaving only a neon green, Ninja Turtles-esque vinegar broth.

I'm guessing they realized people had been getting more pickle for their buck and decided to skim off the spice for future barrels of pickled peppers at the Peter Piper Pickling Plant of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Or B&G. One of those.

Things the Pope Could Criticize OTHER Than the U.S.'s Cuba Embargo

• Sexual abuse of children

  

  "My hand isn't touching Jesus' junk, right?
  I hate it when my hand touches His junk."

• Repression of women

• Hoarding of vast wealth, art and scholarly works deemed unsupportive of an organization's specific agenda.

• Revisionist histories painting oneself in a positive light, despite the exact opposite having been the case.

• … I don't know, the Hitler Youth?

• The international haberdasher monopoly

BREAKING: Chocolate Will Still Make You Fat, Fatty

I usually try to get my news from the BBC, or at least "The Daily Show." I figure that way everything's in perspective, admittedly left-leaning, but admittedly left-leaning. For the most, this is noted and an honest effort is made to report facts without opinion, until such time as opinion is obviously the topic at hand.

However, I am a bit saddened to see even the BBC report, as happens every few months, that chocolate is actually good for you. Moreover, that it "may" help "you" lose weight.

Thankfully, they do point out that correlation proves nothing of causation, simply that people who ate chocolate more frequently were typically slimmer than people who ate chocolate only occasionally, even while compensating for BMI and caloric intake.

1. Of course, this is kind of burying the lead when you substitute a new lead implying directly that the correlation may yield a direct linear causation, i.e. "Chocolate 'may help keep people slim.'" Great job.

And secondly,

2. Of course people who eat chocolate more often are on average slimmer than people who eat chocolate less often. We're skinny assholes.

BMI and caloric intake have nothing at all to do with how quickly your body can process those calories, other than to give you an estimation as a result, not an impetus. I can eat gobs of cocoa because I have a fast metabolism, thus I stay slimmer and determine that I can safely enjoy chocolate more frequently without running the risk of putting on weight.

Someone with a slower metabolism, but with an equal BMI and caloric intake to mine¹ will have to monitor what they eat rigidly to achieve the same results, and therefor not be able to enjoy such a delicious treat as often, lest they go completely elephant seal and loathe themselves into a tear-soaked pillow slumber.

Chocolate doesn't make you thinner. Being thinner lets you eat more chocolate. Now feel free to hate me while I finish off the last 4 servings of that Slice'n'Share one-pound Snickers bar I didn't share with anybody. (Amazing review here.)



¹Alright, impossible, since having a faster metabolism requires me to consume more calories to match your BMI, or conversely you to consume fewer to match mine.

Thomas and Friends: Non-Stop Ass-to-Mouth All Day

Does it bother no one that anyone not an A-Lister in Thomas the Tank Engine, anyone whose toy has a magnet on both ends, is effectively going ass-to-mouth all day long?

You think they get hazard pay for that?

Or do they just do it because they like it?





At least I didn't make a "Human Centipede" joke. I just ripped off Kevin Smith. That's way more tasteful.

I Have A 401(k). Now What?

When I was young, I thought the point of a 401(k) plan was that, if injured or retired or some such thing, a worker was entitled to $401,000. Which seemed like a lot for an average dude.

Then I grew older and realized this was silly. Clearly, the worker was entitled to his company matching his contributions into a medical/emergency/retirement account, up to $401,000. Which totally makes sense. $401k is more than enough for a dude to live on. They shouldn't have to pay out over that unless there's some serious AD & D situation.

Well, now I'm 25 and I hve my own 401(k) and I know that it's just procedural code for an invested savings account my employers pays into, matching up to 4% of my own contributions. And since I'm poor, that's how much I put in, about $12.50 a week. Huzzah.

That is incredibly disappointing. I'd like my childhood notion back, please. I liked it much better.

Fun with Jesus Fish

I'm always shocked when people unironically have the Jesus fish decal on their automobiles. They have to be aware of the pop-cultural identity of the fish, so long as the car looks like it belongs to someone under the age of 50. And that implies a knowledge of the Darwin fish and all the other permutations, possibly including the Dead Darwin fish, the Darwin-Eating FAITH Fish, and maybe even the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Still, it seems I live by someone who either enjoyed a wave of '90s nostalgia or completely missed the boat the first time around. Or, they're just really, really Christian.

Although, something's not quite right with this.

Muuuuch better.

The Hunger Games: Should I See It?

1. Did you love the book?

a) No - Go for it.
b) Yes - Watch it once, but try to pretend the book was like normal teen fiction, devoid of symbolic objects, backstory, or psychological mind games.


*Light SPOILERS follow*

I'll try to be as non-specific as possible, but you've been warned.

Plus:

It was going to be incredibly difficult to adapt a movie from source material written in the first person present tense, with an unreliable narrator. In asking for movies with decent first-person narration, I was pointed to Fight Club and Good Fellas, both past-tense. Present tense narration is just inner monologue and it doesn't really work, like characters in children's programming stating their thoughts out loud because there isn't another character present. In fact, that's exactly what it is.

Hunger Games pulled it off, though. Just a few glances here and there, and a lot of the "we're thinking things we're not saying" moments worked out. As Gizmodo already reported, most of the movie flows from Katnis' perspective, even when she's unconscious or hallucinating. However a few key shots, Haymitch wooing sponsors, Caesar Flickerman and a co-announcer supplying in-universe commentary on the Games, and clips of spectators or Game Makers reacting to events manage to make up for a sizable fraction of the information which Katnis, in the book, expressed as common knowledge.

Minus:

Still, a lot of important details got left by the wayside. Many of the psychological elements of the Capitol's traps are lost. The significance of the mockingjay, both as a pin and as the animal symbol of district resistance, also gone. Katnis' unspoken communication with Haymitch is entirely missing.

Final Verdict:

Go see it, go enjoy it as a cool, teenage, post-apocalyptic Battle Royale, just with mostly white kids. Don't go expecting a perfectly faithful adaptation of the book. That might have worked if this had been a miniseries or a three-season show on Sci-Fi or another C-list cable channel.

Unoriginality In Hollywood | The same story you've read 8 times before

Saw the midnight premier of The Hunger Games last night. Full review will go up tomorrow. As much as I'd like to be on top of all the juicy, gory details, go see it for yourselves first. I consider this the 24 hour Spoiler Grace Period. I'll put up a warning for a week, but after that it's you're own damned fault.

In the mean time, here's a complete list of the movies currently showing in my local theater:

 Based on a famous, out-of-copyright novel series, with several previous movie incarnations.

 Based on a best-selling novel by an author who has had multiple previous works filmed.

 Completely unoriginal concept, a tired trope in vaguely new packaging. Quality of said packaging remains to be seen, though reviews seem to be fairly disappointing  overall.

 Again, a popular book series turned into a movie. The book itself being a–granted, very well executed and richly backstoried–rehashing of the Battle Royale "kids forced to fight to the death" trope, itself a variation on the Thunderdome scenario, or generic gladiatorial combat.

 "Eddie Murphy has a physical quirk which sets him apart from other people, but being forced to deal with this makes him learn about himself and grow as a person." That's a trope in and of itself.

 Actually an original concept. Sad that it's effectively "reality" T.V., meaning mostly staged to resemble true events, but it's still an original idea that was intended start-to-finish as such.

 Remake of a T.V. drama. Now a craptacular twenty-something stoner comedy.

 Sequel to a remake of a movie of a myth.

Bastardization of a beloved children's book.

To twist the knife a bit, previews of upcoming movies shown prior to Hunger Games included:

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo DVD - Remake of a Swedish movie of a book.

G.I. Joe 2 - Sequel to a remake of a cartoon/toy commercial with multiple spin-off franchises

Prometheus - Amazing looking new sci-fi film by Ridley Scott, unfortunately still a loose prequel to Alien.

Snow White and the Huntsman - Retelling of a classic fable concurrent with another that looks infinitely worse.

Teaser for Twilight: Breaking Dawn, Pt. 2 - End of an adapted novel series.

Hollywood doesn't have writers so much anymore, as they have editors.

Half-Jewish: It's like being bisexual, but with cultures. But still no one likes you.

This is typically the time of year where I point out that every single Jewish holiday is a celebration of our often miraculous survival against overwhelmingly poor odds.

Screw that, find the link if you can. I can't.

This year I'm fascinated by the ability of certain religious groups to become so insular that they effectively do become an ethnic or national group. Case in point: I am half Jewish.

This icon actually describes most Judeo-Christian relations over time.

You heard me. I was born to two parents–as most people are–only one of whom was Jewish. When I refer to being Jewish, I'm referring to having been sent to Hebrew School and bar-mitzvahed, mostly as part of said parents' divorce stipulations. When I refer to being half-Jewish, I refer to the cultural appropriations of being generally frugal, respectful of authority to the point of developing stress disorders, and having no dance ability besides an aptitude for kicking, lifting chairs, or linking arms and running in concentric circles.

It's sort of like being bisexual. Full Jews look down on me for being lazy and sinful, while non-Jews basically do the same from the opposite direction. Really, only other Half-Jews can understand what you feel like on the inside.

Craigslist | Wanted: One Full Time Job, Non-Sexual, No Inuendos

Looking for full-time positions on Craigslist is almost a wasted effort, really. Mostly, it's scams, prostitutes, and just generally uncommunicative people seeking someone to help their unnamed companies become more communicative, which makes it rather difficult to tell them apart from the scams and sometimes even the more poorly-written hooker ads.

Plus, after combing through all the lousy jobs, and cycling through the relevant posts to weed out the one's you''re not qualified for, you're left with a list of "good enough" leads you really don't want to be looking at anymore, and an entire website where you could be finding great deals on moped parts or lightly-used kitchen appliances. And what of all the animals free to good homes? Surely I'm a good home. I could better use my time helping starving kitties find love and support, why should I start applying to entry level positions at companies that can't even use the internet reliably?

Because cats don't pay me $32,000 a year to love them. Sadly.

"FUCK YOU, I'M A SPAAAAACE CAT!"
*Flies*

'Limbo' as Divorce for Antebellum American Slaves | at Little Known History!

Directly resulting from this song, I have decided to popularize an utter falsehood.


Limbo was originally a means for Southern American slaves to 'divorce' other slaves, in anticipation of families being split by sale to whites.

Marriage between slaves being illegal, black couples would "jump the broom," to cement their tie within the slave community, though white slave owners held no regard for this. Discovery of couples having performed the ceremony resulted in public discipline of the couple, sometimes including forcing the

bride and groom to pass repeatedly beneath a raised broomstick, in a contrary manner as to make no question of the dissolution of their union. Often this cane would be lowered, and the [slaves] forced to bend painfully backward to accommodate the broom handle.… Should either bride or groom for to the ground, the entire process was repeated, most commonly followed with a beating commiserate with the number of times each negro was felled.

Though gradually the violence of this display was dissipated by cultural osmosis and abolitionist movements, the essence of the practice of limbo survived through dances of slave descendents of the island of Trinidad, and was mainstreamed into white culture.

Happy Days Is "Eyes Wide Shut" Without the Masks

"Guys, I think Kate Chopin had a point about
women being raised to expect an external
locus of identity. I'm going to need to reread
my Showalter."
"AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!"

I ran across an episode of Happy Days with the premise that Richie needs to find a better place to take his girl, because it's too cramped having three couples "necking" in the same car.

Now, I'm all for being a sexual libertine, but six teenagers groping in a single roadster at make-out point doesn't sound so much like a date as a borderline orgy. Once Ralphie's leg crossed that center console and he asked Richie to rub it, that clinched it.

Too many questions, though. Why were all these girls comfortable making out with dudes in such close proximity. I mean, I know why Richie and Potsy were down, and I got a little sideways feeling about Ralphie, but I thought ladies were supposed to have taste in the fifties. Is Mad Men not a horrific representation of rampant sexism? Were people really okay with this type of behavior? Surely Mr. and Mrs. C. had a problem with this, or did The Fonz just hit them until they did what he wanted?

Look, I'm not suggesting the fifties weren't really some dark, outwardly repressive but hypocritically fetishized. I'm just surprised anyone was willing to admit it on television prior to 1998.

I need a bourbon. And a lap dance. Call my secretary.

On Alcoholism

Is he an alcoholic for drinking good bourbon alone at home? Or just a connoisseur? Is he also addicted to taking baths? Pooping? Opening his mail?

He opens his mail every day, even if there's no one around! That's fucked up, bro. It's like he's dependent on it. I think- I think he might have mailaholism. I don't think he can even get out of bed in the morning without the smell of a clean envelope. Boy does it EVERY DAY.

- Me                                                    

And a quiet, dietarily bland diet Day-After-St.-Pat's to you all.

Happy St. Patrick's Day from SaDM!

Officially, I'm 1/4 Irish. Except the Irish has a little Welsh
and French thrown in. And married Italians.
Who married Jews. Look, I celebrate all the holidays, alright?

There were no snakes, no leprechauns, no lucky charms or green beer. There was one pissed off Catholic and an island of badasses.

But screw that, my favorite part of Christmas is Santa Claus, so I'm not letting a little thing like "Historical Precedent" get in the way of having a good time.

Honestly, with my friends, it's not even so much about being Irish or doing Irish things. It's having one blessed day where everyone else behaves like drunken Boston scene punkers. So, like, us on a normal Tuesday.

Dropkick t-shirt? Check. Guinnes/Killian's/other delicious stout? Check. Up-tempo music featuring bagpipes, accordion, and lots and lots of yelling? So check I can't even hear you.

Frankly, I have to work all day, so my plan involves getting up at seven a.m. and drinking over breakfast of kegs & eggs, then coming home to change after dropping my friends off at the train station so they can join the parade. By the time they get back, I'll have gotten off work either to sleep deprived to function and pass out–typical of a St. Pat's celebration anyway, though not for the ideal reason–or so sleep deprived that I'll be insane and go out on the town with whichever friends are still capable of forward momentum and raising a pint glass without taking out their own eyes. Either way, Sunday is going to be pretty miserable. Perfect.

Yes, truly it is going to be a good day. The Yankees/Red socks blood feud will be ignored for a spell, everyone will pretend like Ben Affleck wasn't in Good Will Hunting, and dogs and cats will live together. Mass hysteria.

If I may mix my movie references, "My god, it'll be beautiful."

80s Cartoons Were Wonderfully Awful

"I FECKIN LOVE RUNNING THROUGH SPACE!
AND KILLING THINGS! AND SMOKING!"

I recently went channel surfing and found something called "The Hub," which at midnight at least showcases Generation 1 Transformers episodes backed up by original G.I. Joe. Basically, it's my childhood mornings and I couldn't be happier.

These characters talk about murdering the hell out of each other, though. Every six seconds, Galvatron is demanding they kill a Prime, or Dr. Mindbender is working with deadly neurotoxins.

And copyrights? Well, they were at least kind of alluded to. Mostly they were just thinly veiled. Example to both of the last points: A James Bong knock-off who looks exactly like Burt Reynolds of 1984 just entered a mobbed-up ritzy club called "Ritzy Club." Then he made references to smoking and hit on a woman by pandering and treating her like a child.

Oh, and no one writing these shows has ever heard of the concept "Show, don't tell." In their defense, animation was really really hard. I mean, you had to pay a Korean studio to draw all those little pictures. Better to just reuse footage of a head nod an have a bunch of words spoken off-camera, then show someone diving from an explosion. So, really no change. Except now it's a Korean computer studio.

Of course I also watched Mighty Max last week and it was exactly the same, so maybe I just love really lame TV regardless of age, so long as they straight-up try to murder characters left and right. That's sure improve the Disney Channel.

Things It's Okay to Murder

1. A group of crows

2. Hookers

2. Competitors

2. Codefendants

2. People who say "defend-ant."

3. People who disagree with you

3. Inanimate objects, metaphorically. (Metaphorically murder, not metaphorically inanimate, like coma patients.)

4. People who would make that distinction.

Happy Pi Day from SaDM!

Today is March 14^th, or "Pi Day" as noted in Western calendar notation (3/14). In Europe, this holiday is impossible, at least for a few quintillion years until the slowing of Earth's yearly orbit requires the use of two leap months to be added to our arrangements, and then it would be held on 3 Dodecember.

But anyway, happy Pi Day!

Celebrate by eating some pizza and a dessert model with your fruit-filling of choice. I am partial to blueberry, but I also get into chicken pot, shepherd, and cream from time to time. So have at it.

And I guess celebrate some math, too? Point of circles and, like, circumference equations, I guess. Tell what time it is in radians instead of degrees or something, I don't know. Whatever it is we're supposed to celebrate other than an annotative coincidence.

Oh, but if I'm still blogging in four years, it's going to be epic. 3/14/15 9:26:53.89 a.m. Save the date.

Ryan North is a god among men. Not like a God with a Big G God,
but he's a pretty great guy is I guess what I'm saying.
(Give him your web traffic.)

The Walking Dead: Less Zombie Killing, More Talking, Already!

I find it hilarious and earnestly disappointing that the only criticisms I hear from anyone online or on the couch concerning AMC's The Walking Dead comes back to the idea that all that ever happens is a lot of talking and then yelling, and then not killing zombies. It's a zombie show without very many zombies.

Except it's not supposed to be.

The point of every good zombie movie since "Night of the Living Dead" has always been that zombies are nothing but a force of nature. They're empty, useless nihilists. The living are always more dangerous than the sea of corpses at the door.

They never would break in if some idiot didn't shoot out that one glass pane. They'd never notice you had that asshole not started shouting about wasting food on the weak. They'd never have gotten that one guy had it not been for the dumb bitch too scared to raise her gun and squeeze the trigger, and now her throat is missing.

It's always the ineptitude, the infighting, that splintering of groups and the conflicting ideologies and power struggles of survivors that limits the lifespan of a group. Zombies are slow, simple, predictable. Zombies never lie. They don't entrap you. They reach and grasp and gnaw.

People will smile at your face and shoot you in the back. People will look for the easiest way out, survive until the next day with no pause for long-term strategy beyond that. Survival, yes. Rebuilding, never. Because people are afraid. There's no social contract with a zombie, or a wolf, or any man with sufficient cause to believe he is unbound by laws. And people fear this most of all, even now.

So don't complain that there aren't enough beheadings in The Walking Dead.

Every time a zombie dies on-screen, it's a mop-up operation. Every time a man dies it is a coup d'état.

The Itis

Today I was afflicted by the dreaded itis. I had high hopes and plans for the afternoon, all squandered in one brief 85th birthday party for my grandma. A bacon cheeseburger was my undoing. The last half of it, really.

I planned on heading off to Good Will, of doing good in the world and maybe stopping to buy a shirt on the way back.

Instead I had a two-hour nap. And then another two hour nap.

And now I have lazed about, done a modicum of work still, but feel my day wasted. At 3 a.m., I have no hope but to consume an entire box of Buncha Crunch and hope desperately that the impending sugar high will bring on such a violent glucose crash that I collapse before day break and my circadian rhythms can realign.

Oh wait, it was Daylight Savings tonight. Balls.

Sabina Kelly: Attack of the Hairbow

I caught a glimpse of this month's Tattoo Magazine, and I have to say this hair style is kind of badass.

Very Minnie Mouse, but in a weird way you wouldn't expect. It's hair, and it's a bow. Hairbow.

Sounds like a new Billy Banks workout, or an off-brand gummy bear where you never get enough of the red ones.

On Apathy

Maybe a year ago I created two groups on facebook, invited all my friends, then promptly left the groups myself. The two groups were one of those contests between two states, New York and California in this case. The idea: pit the two against each other in a competition to see which state was the most apathetic.

The idea was simple: whichever state got the most members, obviously, lost.

No one really got it. There was a flood of new users. Last time I checked, I think New York was more apathetic, something like 12-16?

Ah, but seeing today, facebook "migrated" all the old groups, meaning I'm the only member in anything now, and I'd have to reinvite anyone else. Rather, I think I will kill both groups and let all the states be equally apathetic.

Except Kansas. Everyone's been pretty nice there.

Blue Ivy Carter | Yes, I Know I'm Behind On This

Looks like when famous people give
birth, they "look awful," meaning their
hair is feathered. '80s were rough, man.

I just found out, tonight, that Beyonce' and Jay-Z's daughter, Blue Ivy, is supposedly named after Jay-Z's album, "The Blueprint," and Beyonce's fourth and most recent album, "4" ("Ivy" being homophonous to pronounced a roman numeral IV).

What the shit, famous people. It was one thing to name your kid "Destiny Hope Cyrus," or even "Blanket." At least they have the good taste to call the kids something completely different to their faces. But naming your kid after your own albums? That's not just narcissistic, that's dumb.

What if Jay-Z had gay-married Danger Mouse? Would they have adopted a little Asian baby and named it "The Gray Album?"

How about just cutting out the middle man and naming your kid, "My Parents Are Fucking Famous?"

"My Parents Are Fucking Famous, did you turn in your homework today??"
"My Parents Are Fucking Famous, stop jumping on the bed!"
"My Parents Are Fucking Famous, you eat all of your caviar this instant, or you can't go fishing with Jaden and Willow Smith!"

Selena Gomez: Some Kind of Mexican?

Anyone else noticing Selena Gomez is looking
more and more like Jenni "J-Woww" Farley?
Who's looking forward to the fake boobs?

Apparently local primary schools are requiring students to report on biographies, men for the boys and women for the girls. I was informed today that this particular school district also comprises a significant Mexican/Latino population.

It seems this cultural leaning has resulted in Selena Gomez being a popular choice among the girls, "because Selena's half Mexican or something."

"No she's not," I responded.

"Well, her dad was. Is? She's Mexican."

"No. She's rich."

"Ha. No, but really–"

"Nope. Rich. Whatever she was, she's white now."

And I felt I was pushing my luck with that comment, despite the chuckle it elicited, but unless she and Justin Bieber are part of the Jonas Brothers' abstinence cadre, she's also technically a statutory rapist in the state of California.

Then again, if I was 18, dating a 17 year old, and we collectively had about a billion dollars, I'd just fly us to a state more amiable to teen-on-teen dry humping.

Thoughts for the Day

"Hasn't anyone ever bothered to offer Macy Gray a throat lozenge of like some chamomile tea?"


"I saw two stars when I left work. Only two. Based on brightness and position in the West, I'm guessing 'Venus' and 'International Space Station.' Depressing."


"It's always nice to see young, white, upper-middle class babies adopting poor Asian grandparents.

How I Know I'm A Failure | Taxes

Here's how I know I'm a failure:

I was working out my taxes, thinking if I didn't get much back I might take a second pass at them. Last year, I got a $14 refund. It was pretty sweet.

This year? Let's just say when I saw that little ticker calculate my TurboTax refund, I did a quadruple-check on their guarantee and it "submit" before my laptop and the laws of mathematics decided to glance back my way.

So to reiterate, here's how I know I'm a failure:

1. I'm not rich enough to only complain about how much I pay in taxes

2. I'm actually excited about getting anything back, because…

3. …I make so little any return is actually going to affect my life.

And while we're at it, let's include 4. I feel the need to complain about getting a tax refund and I think it's worthy of blogging about when I could feed a small tribal community for a year were I to convert my refund into the local currency and surreptitiously mail it to their community.

Then again, if I'm passive-aggressively flaunting my new found wealth and prosperity, I certainly must be a success after all. I patiently await my Illuminati induction invitation.

Homeless People and Tourists Both Do A Lot of Sitting

Saw one of these in New York City last weekend. Thought it was a little unnecessary, but in a "simple, cold-hearted solution to a human problem" sort of way.

"How can we keep homeless people from sitting on the very convenient seat that is our fire hydrants?"

"Well, how about we slap the bottom half of a bear trap on top?"

"Brilliant. Let's call lunch."

Seemed kind of weird at the time. I mean, one thick coat or a backback solves the problem entirely, but I guess that's what all the door men in orange vests were for. Still, what was so special about this building? Why protect these sprinklers and not, say, the ones across the street or even one building down.

It was the Empire State Building, that was probably it. Had to break my "No Looking Up in New York" rule, but with all the tourists around a native can usually get away with glancing skyward for a second or two.

And yes, I'm aware that not knowing I was wandering past the State Building makes me seem like less of a native. Shut up.

A Little Nerd Association

As I left the house today, I crossed in my path a complete, fresh goose turd. Our geese have barely left, stupid climate shift. So I cursed the geese.

"THE GEESE!!!" I said.

Then I thought "THUGGEES" What was a thuggee?

It was the cult from Temple of Doom.

Thulsa Doom. Conan. James Earl Jones. Also Darth Vader's voice. Back to Star Wars, via George Lucas.

Conan also had Arnold Schwarzenegger. Who was the father in Jingle All the Way, with Jake Lloyd, also the younger Anakin Skywalker. Star Wars again. Everything always comes back to Star Wars.

Freakin' geese, man.

Ruseel Brand's Mistress

I read today that Katy Perry has been devastated and declared her entire marriage (which as far as I knew ended amiably and without incident) a sham, after discovering soon-to-be ex-husband Russel Brand had had an affair. Of course the photo was blurry and quite possibly of a completely unrelated woman walking several paces behind him.

Still, how come famous married men always seem to cheat on their smoking hot, famous wives with women who aren't famous but look exactly the same? Barring Ashton Kutcher abandoning his teenage masturbatory phantasy for a scrawny blonde, it's a pretty universal phenomenon. Hell, even Jesse James ended up with a woman vaguely reminiscent of Sandra Bullock, just, you know, badass and kind of a Nazi.

I mean unless that was a photo of Zooey Deschanel. Then Russ just made an honest mistake.

Half A Banana

"Hey, let me get half a banana?"

"Sure, no problem." *Proceeds to rip banana in half bare-handed*

Who does that? I mean, first, part of my banana is all squished in the center now. Accounting for any brown spots, I'm probably not eating more than 35% of the original banana. Wasteful. Secondly, who just rips a banana in half like it's nothing. It's not a phone book, but I'd expect the skin to stay intact and just maybe sort of ooze the pulpy meat out the cracks in the seems. How do you just pull a banana in half without damaging the entire fruit? Did you pre-slice relief cuts like a craftsman? Did you use your invisible eye lasers like a Kryptonian?

Either way, bro's got some serious passive aggressive fruit issues. What happened? Did mommy remarry a boysenberry? It's cool, dude. You don't have to call that berry your "father." Or "dad." "Greg" is just fine. But, damn it, you still have to respect him.