Chistmas Present is Present

First am I the only one who gets a disturbing image in my head when I hear, "Jack Frost nipping at your nose"? Maybe if they didn't go through all the trouble of personifying Jack Frost I wouldn't picture a frigid little man chomping on someone's schnoz.

The Carpenters teach us that "Christmas past is past." So insightful! Tell us something we don't know. Let me guess, Christmas present is present and Christmas future is, I don't know, future maybe.

The radio station keeps advertising that it plays continuous Christmas music. Liars! Any editor who is worth their weight in salt knows that radio people really meant continually. Continuous means uninterrupted. Unless yakking about playing continuous music and commercials about whatever it is they're selling count as Christmas music, I think we have a class action law suit on our hands.

Speaking of commercials, the Honda commercial sings "Holiday, oh holiday, and the best one of the year." Ugh. If I had any gears you could consider them totally grinded (or grounded?). I know they are a foreign car manufacturer, but they can afford to pay a native speaker to show them how to use English conjunctions correctly.

I wish you a merry Christmas. So bring me some frigg'n pudding.

The Inverse of the Antonym of Anticlimactic

So this is the way college ends, not with a bang but a whimper. Well that's cool.

So this is graduation, and what I have I done?

Basically I am trained in mixing poetic allusion with personal essays like yesterday's blog.

I learned how to do research for the sake of arguing with people on Facebook.

I learned how to participate in discussions on literature; in other words, a degree in English = degree in book clubbing (more PC than seal clubbing).

I learned to bull chicken* anything about anything.

In other words I have obtained a degree useful for blogging. Yep, that is what I can do with my official credentials.

Also I learned how to write stuffily by inserting metadiscourse. Hence, therefore here will inserted the conclusive portion of my blog post as I have done so in like manner with my degree of English from Brigham Young University, the climax of which will be written in the voice of the passive variety, and thus ended is my blog such as the final semester at my chosen institutionalization of higher learning facility, being of the manner of non-hyper-climatic, being rather the inverse, or to say simply that it was of a length that was longer than necessary and somewhat of the characterization of anticlimactic.

 

*Psst, read yesterdays blog for explanation of bull chicken

A Blog Composed a Few Miles above the Provo Tabernacle

Two days have past; no summer days with the length
Of two long winter days! and again I hear
The music, alpine horns from their mountain-tabernacle

OK the reference to the romantic poetry from William Wordsworth is over. If you're not an English major, you're probably like what the chicken* is he talking about? Except you wouldn't be using cockney rhyming slang to ask it. The Provo Tabernacle was my second favorite building in Provo after the building that reminds me of the castle from Super Mario (and that is saying a lot, well it's saying something anyway). So the Provo Tabernacle burned "down" as you might have heard. It has had structural issues from the very get go. How many times is this place going to be condemned before someone actually dies from roof collapse?

But we can't just tear down the remains. That would be righteously lame. So very lame. As Senator Hatch said, "The Provo Tabernacle was about more than mere bricks and mortar; it was an enduring symbol of the city and of the faith and fortitude of those early Utah pioneers. Fire may have destroyed the building, but it will never tarnish their proud legacy." True but the way he talks, you would think he was delivering its eulogy.

So our option is to rebuild the structurally-unsound building that has been renovated multiple times due to condemnation, or remember it fondly in our hearts like a distant great aunt twice removed on our mother's side, who died of either consumption or some kind of chicken disease but you're too embarrassed to ask anyone at wake to make sure it's not a genetic epidemic. Still that won't stop you from diving head first into those funeral potatoes. Does somebody really need to die for potatoes to taste this good (silver lining)?

My point, believe it or not, is that we have a third option not involving either dangerous building code violations or delicious funeral potatoes. The city should just leave up what's left. Just leave it there. But there's no roof, you say. Yes thank goodness. A roof can't fall down if you ain't got one to drop. There is a really famous "abbey" in ye Olde England called Tintern Abbey that is basically just ruins (click on this link and look at every image). And it is so awesome. I look forward to the day I get to visit it. It has a few walls and that is basically it. And it is totally awesome. And people come from all over the world to see it. We should let nature take its course. The Provo Tabernacle will still have its brick and mortar (not the stuff that burns though: that's all gone) and nobody has to say goodbye to an old friend because it will still be there (sorta).

I really think it's about time Utah got into the habit of making some beautiful ruins of its own.

*chicken: coop: poop

Christmas Shakes and Flakes

More Chirstmas song observations. First Coke's Christmas commercial urges us to "shake, shake, shake up the happiness." I have tried that (usually not on purpose) and let me tell you, not a good idea. It ruins the happiness (AKA Coke) and you end up making a mess. Happiness goes in my mouth not all over my shirt and carpet. Happiness = Coke bee tee dubs; it's not meant to sound suggestive (if it sounds weird, talk to the good people at the Coca Cola Company).

On a different note (haha note get it), why can't anyone commit to being somewhere for Christmas?

"Please come home for Christmas. If not for Christmas by New Year's night." If not New Year's night, how about President's Day? MLK Day? Summer solstice? Please?

"Through the years, we'll all be together" . . ."If the fates allow. [emphasis added]" You're leaving this one up to the fates huh? Really going with the Greek mythology copout? I will make it home for Easter, unless I get held up by the Cyclops. I will be there for Thanksgiving, unless that darn Minotaur lobs my head off. More like Dionysus won't allow ya, you lush. I hope Zeus zaps your butt with a lithenining bolt on Valentine's Day.

"I'll be home for Christmas" [dot do dot] "if only in my heart." Is it that hard to secure your travel arrangements early? You just said "You can count on me"! So you demand mistletoe and snow and presents but you aren't even confident that you'll make it there at all in reality? Tell you what Bing, you put the mistletoe up your own (dot dot dot) heart. You can count on that (homeboy).

Stupid Younglings

[Note: this blog was written on October 17th but never published for some reason]

So Rachel asked me to write a blog today. Most of my blogs are embarrassing stories or complaints about this or that. Nothing embarrassing has happened yet today. I did beat Rachel at croquet three times in a row (she smells at croquet!). But I was just thinking about what a terribly negative person I am. Mostly I am aware of this fact from my wonderful family who rather ironically is always sure to remind me of this severe character fault.

I can blame my English professors, who taught me to think critically. I can also blame my editing professors for teaching me to find mistakes. I can blame my philosophy teachers for teaching me to be skeptical. Or my political science teachers for showing me the merits of anti-authoritarian attitudes.

But I came to college pre-negativitized.

I could have just been born this way.

Actually it probably stems from chemical reactions that make me think negatively (chemicals don't know nothing from nohow). My chemicals are all half empty!

Speaking of half emptiness—no discussion of negativity would be complete without the ol' cliché—some people look at a glass and say, "it's half full." Others say, "it's half empty." I look at a glass and say, "stupid glass, I hate you."

Maybe I am negative. But so what? Negativity has its positives. It can save lives.

Remember the first Death Star. That dude that Vader strangled had a very positive attitude about the ultimate power of the Death Star. He refused to see any flaw in it. Then look at what happened. Someone who was probably labeled a Negative Nancy by the Empire (someone who failed to see the bright side of absolute tyranny) found a weakness and exploited the begebus out of it. So take a lesson from Darth Vader (AKA Mr. Negative himself) and don't be too proud of your own technological marvel (this is a metaphor).

But don't be too negative either, like teenager Anakin because that's how younglings die. Stupid younglings.

Parking Lot Troll

I've had my share of terrible parking jobs but would you park here? (Looks occupodo).

Well this moron thought it was a great spot.

Did I mention the person was a moron? Looks like it is sticking out just a smidge. Luckily these parking lot lanes are wide enough for this sort of uncouth behavior.

And some 80-year-old cop on a bike road right by and didn't write out a ticket. What the fuzz? The worst part? There was open parking literally 40 feet further. What a lazy piece o' crap. So on my way back from class I wrote something like "Nice parking, moron!" Signed by the parking Nazi. That was mean, so I threw it away. But then I wrote this one instead:

Who know you could troll people outside of the Internet? What fun!

X-Mas 2: Holidays United

Still listening to and overanalyzing Christmas songs on my way to work. Here is part 2: the sequel to this other thing. Time to face unafraid the blog that I've made.

Happy Christmas (War is Over) (but not really): "So this is Christmas and what have you done? Another year over and a new one just begun." I realize it rhymes better than "So this is Christmas and what have you done? A new year is almost over and a new one will start in a week" but it would at least be true. And "War is over." No not really but it would be cool though if it weren't another Yoko lie.

The Twelve Days of Christmas: this song goes on for twelve days. I'm confused. Does this true love give the same stuff every day plus a bunch of new junk? So on the twelfth day does the singer receive their twelfth partridge in a pear tree? I don't even want to count up that stuff. That's a lot of redundant presents. And what is this poop about Lords a Leaping and Maids a Milking? How do you get somebody that as a gift? Sounds illegal. And whoever this true love is, they have some serious obsession issues with birds. I guess I could see one partridge in a pear tree, if you have room for a single bird and if you liked fresh pears (yuck). But three hens and seven swans and six geese and doves. Who wants an aviary for Christmas? And five golden rings? What is this true love the Lord of the Rings? That's too many gold rings for one Christmas. How about a few original gifts? Oh more birds and an exorbitant amount of identical jewelry. Gee thanks for the high jumping aristocracy; they will go so well with my bouncing barons from last year.

Alice in Winter Wonderland: "We'll face unafraid the plans that we've made, walking in a winter wonderland." Why would you be afraid of frolicking in the snow, sitting by the fire, making snowmen and the like? What conspiring deeds are they up to? Is there a dark side to this Winter Wonderland that we don't know about? They act like this is the Winter Wonderland directed by Tim Burton. Johnny Depp must play the whacky snowman impersonating a priest clown.

Please Come Home for Christmas a gain: Why, why, why, do people try and rhyme the word again like it sound like gain. So dumb! "There be no more sorrow/No grief and pain/And I'll be happy, happy, once again." Otherwise great song ruined. Bleckght humbug!

To Mr. T with Love

You might want to skip this one. It could be long and boring. Basically it is about a guy who hates BYU for no good reason and my response to that unwarranted hatering.

Original Facebook post by innocent J-Bones:

So
I spoke with an old lady today who was commenting on what I nice young man I
was. Then she said, "You are a young man, aren't you?" I replied, "Yes, I am
pretty young. I'm actually a student at the University of Utah." "Ohh... Well,
you don't lose your testimony, y'hear?" 100% sincere.

Comment by T: And because of comments like that, no one likes BYU!

Giggly Puff: T it's sad how your hatred for the entire university is based on a few comments that don't represent the school or the majority of its students. Max Hall did that once, and he made a fool of himself.

T: Giggly Puff, The only thing is, this is by FAR not the only time I have heard comments like this....

Besides: Independent means nobody likes you! Haha

Giggly Puff: That's why I said a few comments, not one. I've been at BYU for three years and have never met someone here who really feels that way. It's kinda like when you meet a bunch of Mormons who won't let their kids play with yours, so you think all Mormons are the same way.

Me: T, I didn't know the word "everyone" meant only U students. Better let Webster's know. Don't be so independent.

T: I can count at least 5 other schools that dislike BYU and would prefer to see them to lose in any situation to any opponent

Me: They teach you to count that high at the U huh? You must be in their Masters of Mathematics program.

T: I don't go to the U, buddy.......

That's the amount of research skills they teach you at BYU, huh? [Ouch. That's a good one. T straight up foolerized me. No sarcmark.]

Me: So you just hate BYU and wanted to share your prejudice with the world? I think you deserve an honorary D-gree for that.

Guess what the D stands for.

T: haha! I hate BYU!

Sorry, I think that was an understatement on my part.

My final response is too long for Facebook but here it is anyway for all to enjoy.

To T (the troll who out-trolled me),

You are right about two things. 1 I should do my research, which I have now done 2 I did assume you were a University of Utah student. But why did I make that assumption? Here is the result of the research you requested.

First J-Bones posted a status about a quaint old lady (maybe from Provo for all we know). Secondly she advises him not to lose his testimony at the U. Now, where does BYU come in? It doesn't at all. You brought it up by yelling (yes yelling) that everyone hates BYU because of what this old lady said (or what she represents).

Not losing your testimony is good advice for any Latter-day saint going to college, especially one known for having a "party" side. Any school, yes even BYU as unlikely as it is to face peer pressure of this sort, could be a challenge to a strong testimony.

But I can see why that advice can presume that the U is a bunch of smashed-up sexifying soothsayers. So I agree it was probably not cool to say what she said (but funny). Still, what does that have to do with BYU? Does said old lady represent BYU? Is she BYU? No but you treat her words as if they come from BYU. What a splendid opportunity to spread your hatred against what you have previously derogatorily called "The Lord's University." I wonder do you have such disdain for "The Lord's Magazine" or "the Lord's Shopping Mall and Radio Station"? I would be careful about mocking the Lord's anything. Don't lose your testimony by hating the Lord's tithing-funded institutions.

Now by attributing the old gal's advice to BYU through your implication, you are inserting yourself in the middle of a made-up (by you) BYU/Utah rivalry thing. Now why would you do that if you don't go to the U? Well you obviously have a chip on your shoulder about something. Let's examine that closer.

Are we to believe that you just happen to hate BYU on behalf of the University of Utah? I'm not buying that. There must be a logical reason why you would have such strong feelings in something that shouldn't involve you at all.

My theory is that you have some sort of envy. Maybe you have Cougar Envy because you didn't have the grades to get into the Y. That would explain the uncharacteristic Utah State contempt toward Cougar Town (I have never experienced any anti-BYU scorn from Utah State before) though you have found a way to project your feelings onto your entire school.

Maybe you have Utah envy. Utah is a great school on par with BYU and if you couldn't make it in there, maybe you thought you would still participate in the BYU/Utah rivalry as if you did get in.

So you go to Utah State. It's not a bad school and I don't see anything wrong with going there. Still it's an easy target and you asked for it so I am going to smash your glass house. BYU and Utah are better schools than Utah State. Period. But cheer up buckaroo, you're still getting a solid education from a good school.

You might just have rivalry envy. BYU and Utah have each other. I think you really want to have a rivalry with someone too. Rivalries are fun and give you someone to razz. You NEED a rivalry. So you interject yourself into one with BYU. You won the Old Wagon Wheel for the first time in like what, 10 years. Doesn't that make you happy? Probably not because no one at BYU cares about any rivalry with Utah State, even if they know one is supposed to exist. From your Facebook note where you urge all of Utah State to chant "cowards!" at the BYU basketball team because the coach didn't take Utah State seriously enough for you, it sounds like you're just butt hurt and bitter. I guess this blog won't help and nothing is going cure that sore bottom of yours. But prayer. Prayer could help you learn to love.

Incidentally if you hate any school, as an Aggie I would expect it to be the University of Utah since they had previously purposefully stifled USU's expansion beyond agricultural study.

Also I know what your response will be. You'll call me condescending for pointing out that Utah State is not on the same level with Brigham Young and the U (not that it really matters since it will be soon at the rate it is improving), but you are still required to love everyone to get into heaven. We can wait as long as it takes.

-Me

P.S.

Dear Utah State,

I still love you and sorry for calling you inferior. Hugs.

Recipe for the Antonym of Disaster

So for my team potluck this week that I was inspecting, I signed up to bring diced onions. I was assured by the logistical communications person (let's call her Margarita to protect her identity) that three onions not one nor two was enough. Three was enough. Enough times 10. So yeah the top on one of the onion containers wasn't on straight and everything had onion juices on it all day including my desk, the car, and our oniony smelling home.

Oh and I had a bijillion left over onion dices. They were onion stanking up our fridge and something had to be done. We couldn't give them away (I tried that). I couldn't sell them (not allowed on eBay). I couldn't throw them away (not with all those starving Chinese). I had to cook them.

So I invented a new recipe that called for lots 'o onions. I call it Jonathan J's Surprisingly Delicious Twice-Cooked-Onion Chicken, or Onion Chicken for short. Anyway I couldn't believe how amazing it tasted. It was so freaking good!

Here is the recipe as I recall (some of these things might not be necessary).

2-4 boneless skinless chicken breasts

1 cup diced onion

Itty bitty amount of:

Lemon juice

Salt and pepper

Distilled white vinegar

Italian seasoning

 

Preheat oven 375 degrees. Dice up onions. Cook them in a frying pan while adding salt and pepper, vinegar, lemon juice, and Italian seasoning. Once the onion stink is gone, smear most of the onion cookings in the bottom of a glass pan. Place the chicken pieces on top. Drop the rest of the onion mix on top with juice over the chicken for moistness sake. Place in the over for 1 hour. Then eat. Yum.

Eats, Poops, and Leaves

One of my most favorite books is Eats, Shoots, and Leaves by the honourably British Lynn Truss. It's all about poor punctuation. I am all about that too. So then the other day when I saw this adorable Poo Poo Panda pictured below, I had to get in on that:

Awesome yeah? Yeah. It ate, it shot, it left.

But did you notice the panda in the background pic? He looks really surprised for some reason. Yeah his face is right in the heart of it all. Weird!

Bowser Family Tree

In response to my friend's blog about the mysterious Bowser family, I will now provide the answers he seeks.

Where did King Koopa get these seven spawn plus an eighth? Who is their mama? Is Bower's name really Morton?

First of all, those 7 Koopa Kids are all from Bowser's harem or from women (koopas) on the side, obviously all born to different mothers, as the hair color and height and width of each child shows us. This explains Morton Jr.'s name, and why he can't be called Bowser Jr. Meanwhile Bowser actually had a legitimate child named Bowser Jr. with the unseen Queen Koopa. Then Bowser devoured her once he had his heir. Now he is free to marry Princess Peach and legally claim the Mushroom Kingdom by doing so. He may be lots of things, but Bowser is no polygamist. This is why Bowser Jr. is the favored koopaling over those other seven.

And those "kids" are accomplices in kidnapping. They should be tried as adults.

Oh and about that Mega Man question. His guns run on acid alien blood, so he must dispose of them properly after every adventure, you know like batteries, motor oil, or baby vomit.

The Christmas Song Blog

Once they started with the X-Mas music I decided it was time to say goodbye to NPR until the New Year. Maybe it was a mistake to start listening to Christmas music on November 1st. Because it's been two weeks and I already want to rip my teeth out and cram them in my ears. Still I made a commitment and I am in this 'til the big day.

As you can imagine, after hearing some of these songs over and over, I started thinking about the lyrics, and it got me really thinking about those lyrics.

They literally play the same songs every hour. So that gets old pretty fast. I have yet to hear "I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" (the best song ever) and only heard "Happy Christmas" once but they play the most performed Christmas song ever (literally) at least once an hour. You would think they play it so often, that it was in fact the only Christmas song. It is a pretty decent song but how about this line: "I'm offering this simple phrase to kids from 1 to 92. . .Merry Christmas to you." So this song totally flips the bird (in a pear tree no doubt) to infants and centenarians.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The song begins by saying you know Dasher and Donna and Bliztkrieg and Nixon, "but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?" If he were actually the most famous and we knew those other flying venison, wouldn't we know Rudolpho? Yeah thought so. And what is the deal with this guy's nose? Is it glowing or shiny? It's "red-nosed" and "shiny," so shiny in fact "that you would even say it glows." Would I be right to say that? I still don't know. So what is so great about a shiny/glowing nose? You could probably just get any old lamp that would work just as well (AKA poorly). If Santa did that then all the other lamps would shout out with glee.

I know I will be thought dumb for this last one. When I was a kid I remember hearing "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and thinking that kid's mom was some sort of major slutty butt. "What a laugh it would have been if daddy had only seen [it]?" Adultery is always good for a guffaw. No wonder Michael Jackson is so messed up after this traumatic ordeal. It wasn't until just last week upon hearing it, that I realized the dad was Santa. Of course as a dumb kid, I thought the mom was a tickle-cheater, but this is only because every other Christmas song makes the assumption that Santa is real. Stupid media and its mixed messages.

I will end by offering a simple phrase to kids age 2 to 54 1/2, merry X-Mas to you and yours. And for no reason here is Alvin and Wham! (so very 80s).

Zombies Helping Zombies

So every night my wifey turns into a Zombie Nightmare. Not the zombies from Romero films but more like those voodoo zombies. She doesn't say much but follows my commands without thought. I have to command her to put her contacts away and go to bed. She roams around the apartment like the walking dead. Go to bed! Her only response is a series of grunts.

Every morning my wife is up super early but I can't manage to get moving. I am like a roaming undead zombie searching for either my brains or car keys. I feel like this fellow below:

I don't know how Rachel ever got to bed before she married me. I assume she just slept wherever she happened to be at 10:30pm. And I have no idea how I ever got dressed for work without her (I hope I wore clothes to work). We are like two oppositely oriented zombies helping each other a la Ladyhawke (minus the Mouse and also we're zombies).

My Halloween “Costume”

So as mentioned, I had the "idea" of being scare quotes for my Shalloween "costume" this year. So here it is for your viewing "pleasure."

If you don't know what scare quotes are, then here is a definition from the free online "encyclopedia" Wikipedia ("perfect" examples are used throughout this "blog" post):

Scare quotes are quotation marks placed around a single word or phrase to indicate that the word or phrase does not signify its literal or conventional meaning. In contrast to the nominal typographic purpose of quotation marks, the enclosed word(s) are not necessarily quoted from another source.

Also the quotes on the back are "scary" quotes not actual scare quotes but I was making a pun so don't get confused by thinking too hard about this.

A Very Bad Troll

So I am a bad troll, but not a very bad troll.

Examples of being a bad troll:

 

Example 1. This is an update of my previous replies to a comment made to this article. My replies are attached directly to the original comment.

iowan4u1234 Tue Oct 26, 2010 [original post]

Send the muslim slim back to their sand dunes.
If they do not like western values why do they come here, They want to force their cult on the rest of us.
They offer the rest of the world nothing but to go back to the middle ages.

j Ridge [this one's me]Tue Oct 26, 2010

Ironically if it wasn't for the Middle East, the west would still be in the Middle Ages. Thank them for the very least for preserving Greek literature that was used as the source for modern democracy. Also I assume you don't drive an automobile or eat food that was delivered by trucks? But I am sure you don't use slimy oil.

Ayden Tue Oct 26, 2010

J Ridge, What does this have anything to do with modern day Muslims? They are different and less open now then they were during that period.

j Ridge Tue Oct 26, 2010

Maybe you can focus on the part where they have all our oil. If the roots of intertwined cultures isn't relevant enough for you.

Ayden Tue Oct 26, 2010

You either need to back to school, are about 19 years old, slightly retarded, or just crazy. Maybe all the above. What does anything you have to say pertain to Muslims wanting Religion in French Public schools??

 

Here is the response that I wrote but didn't post:

Hey you is write, Ayden. I am a 19 year young colwidge drop out with 43 chromosomes. Or 45. I am too estupid to know the difference. Here I am responding to Iowans intelligent anti Muslim remarks directly when I should be focusing on "modern" day Muslims. Apparently they do give us nothing (because oil is nothing) and we supposedly have nothing to gain from them (nothing modern anyway). History is as retarded as me, because I am retarded, I bow to your superior age, college intellect, sanity, and correct number of chromosomes. Oh and I am Looney Tunes!

BTW, in the end I couldn't resist posting something mocking him so I posted this: All of the above. I am a 19-year-old college dropout, who hears voices and has the incorrect number of chromosomes. Good call. I yield to your superior intellect.

 

Example 2. On Facebook a friend posted something about the fall weather in England.

So in my normal dumb way, I made the following reply: I thought it was spring in England. You know because you are on a different hemisphere.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am estupid but not that stupid. But someone still chose to correct me on my apparently unapparent joke as follows: That's only north/south.

My options are 1) Not do anything (boring) 2) Troll the heck out of her by calling her wrong (not nice: see examples below) 3) explain I was kidding and not really dumb (in this one case) or 4) make a joke that everyone will appreciate (e.g., what do you get when you cross a vampire and a snowman? . . .frostbite.)

Here is a list of troll responses I could have used:

Um. . .No, you're thinking of global warming, which is just a myth cooked up by Obama and his henchmen.

No, that is the civil war. Learn your history, dum dum.

Yikes. I don't even know what to say to that. You must be either 19, go back school, retarded, or crazy or all of the above.

What are you a witch? You can't just change the season with your voodoo magic, Christina O'Douls.

 

Anyway, in the end I went with the following: Yeah but isn't England closer to the sun?

So I am a troll after all. But not a very bad one; maybe just a bad one. One day I can shoot for being just a decent troll. Or a good troll even.

Troll Fest 2010!

Reply to This

So I was reading an article about what little jerks Muslim children supposedly are. It's nice to know Europe is as (actually way more) xenophobic than the U.S. It actually fills me with a little American pride for once.

Anyway so I actually made some replies to some of the dumb comments crazy raging idiots were making on the story. I went with the new user name J Ridge (the J stands for injustice). I gave the "people" I replied to new nicknames below except for the first guy, because it was funny as is. Just so you know, everything I say is always sarcastic (except for this sentence I am typing now).

 

JUSUS THE CHRISTIANS (real screen name): moslems have the right to practice their religion, the same as christians have the right to practise christianity in moslems countries..........So why worry..................I think christians worrying about the rise of islam everywhere, thousands and thousands converted to islam everyday and nobody going to the church anymore

J Ridge: It is one thing to practice your religion; it is another to demand that others practice it for you. [I can't believe I didn't comment on his awesome screen name].

 

Seven of three: When I started kindergarten 50 years ago I didn't speak a word of English and neither did my mother. We knew what we had to do: learn, and ASSIMILATE. And we did. We appreciated the opportunities and freedom from oppression that certain cultures would rather throw away in ignorance.

J Ridge: Thank you! Finally someone has taken the sound advice from the Borg. Good work 9 of 15.

 

Farmer Ted: France: DO NOT CATER TO THESE ANIMALS!!!

The moment you let the barbarian invaders start dictating your own internal policy, YOU ARE LOST!!!

J Ridge: The moment you begin calling fellow human beings animals, is the moment you begin acting as a farmer. Maybe they should be rounded up and concentrated in camps?

 

Ugly and intolerant: This is the ugly side of tolerance. Despite the rumors tolerance will not lead to a utopian world society.

J Ridge: That is so true. I say murder them all in their sleep. That will make the utopia you want. . . .Tolerance is so stupid. I say let's be hateful. That is the answer. Right on man!

 

Bloody Hands: Typical of those people....biting the hand that signs their welfare checks. If they refuse to assimilate to French society they should be deported to whatever third world rat-hole they oozed out of. The West does not need them or want them polluting our culture.

J Ridge: Yes but how can we cleanse them from the earth entirely? Nukes might work.

 

Signs of “Great”ness

So we all know I am a fig fatso. But now I know. And here are the five signs of my great-and-spaciousness. Hint: the theme is mostly that I eat while doing everything. (All this typing is making me hungry).

1) I can't take a shower without at least one popsicle sticking to my hair. How do you expect me to shower without one?! Ten minutes is a long time to go without a snack.

2) I can't use the bathroom scale because the little screen is covered in melted chocolate. Mmm chocolate. Time to lick it clean. Just kidding. No really I promise. I have a giant bag of M&Ms to stay the tide of hunger. Mmm chocolate.

3) I don't have to decide between Burger King and McDonald's for lunch. I get both! McWhopper anyone?

4) The stains on my shirt could feed a Cambodian family for days. But they really don't eat much so it is not as impressive as it sounds.

5) Chuckles laughs at me when I undress to shower. And he taunts me, "you want some of this puppy, fat boy? Hahahaha!" Chuckles can be so cruel. And I am a man. Fat man, Chuckles! I know he plans on eating that poor puppy. And no I don't want any (Chinese food only makes you hungry again half an hour later anyway).

That Thing I Wanted to Volunteer for

So when I was a Teaching English major, for like a whole day and half (actually more like two semesters) I thought it would be "awesome" to do Teach for America. If you don't know, that's the organization where they take volunteers and stick them in the worst schools with the worst kids. Ever. Then I thought I might do the Peace Corps (more like corpse). I took one look at the hippie recruiter and was like no thanks; I thought hippies hated "the man"? When did they start working for him for nearly free? I even thought about giving myself that foreign mission I always wanted and teach communists English but I don't love Chinese food that much (they don't even have orange chicken there!). Anyway after I got sense knocked into me and got a real job, I still wish I could sorta make a difference kinda.

It is somewhat fitting that I work in assessment development for a university that serves an underserved demographic. Still I feel like I am letting those delightful downtown delinquents down somehow.

But then some geek on the radio was talking today about how he was a quote-unquote accidental prison librarian. I am not quite sure what the accident was. I see an accident as more of slip and fall down the stairs situation, not so much I chose of my own free will to work as a librarian in a prison, but whatever; I digest. Who am I to criticize his book title (I am Jonathan BTW)?

So then I think that sounds fun. And people call in and share their experiences in the prison system and whatnot. Now I begin to recall the scripture that always bothered me (mostly because I was too busy slash scared to do so), the one about visiting people in prison and how that makes me a goat for not doing.

So I looked it up and I totally want to help reformed rapists read (can't rape if you're too addicted to Harry Potter to put it down). If I can't reach them before turning to crime, I figure the next best thing is to reach them while incarcerated.

I can totally do that. But not right now, because I am busy. These blogs aren't gonna write themselves.

Or can they? As my next project I will work on creating a self-writing blog. Once that is up and running, volunteering to feed the homeless or whatever it was I wanted to do will be a snap!

Troll Fest 2010

OK so I learned what the word troll means today.

Not this troll. Or this one. Or even this one.

Now, apparently it is someone who says stuff on the Internet of computers to purposefully get an emotional response out of another cyber individual. That is a terrible thing to do. I guess. Actually it sounds kind of fun (and as you will see below, was kind of fun). But then again, I am a huge jerk so, well, there ya go.

Here is the Facebook interaction I had earlier today with someone. As you will see, as soon as I learned what trolling was, I really took hold of the idea.

(Let's change the name of the other guy for safety sake.)

First a tad more background. Someone had posted a link explaining that terrorism exists only because Muslims hate our foreign policy. Well sure they do. And the terrorists are also kind of a little crazy too. Maybe that's a controversial way of thinking (apparently?) but it seems fairly reasonable that someone willing to commit mass murder is a one scoop of paprika shy of a Tzatziki, am I right! I looked up the recipe (paprika is important).

Anyway so here is what happened when I made one comment about the possibility of a slight schism in the perception of reality by a small group of individuals who spent a little too much time in the sun getting yelled at (or too much time in a cave yelling at).

I had to look up the term. Then I couldn't resist the urge to actually troll him with my last comment about the apology. Now that's some good trolling right? Right? You're dumb! Ha, react to that negatively! Sorry, getting carried away with the trolling a bit.

But did Poop Noggin mean we were trolling, or just me? I pretended it was just him (that's the trolling part). Because I was just trying to make a simple point that the actual terrorists who represent a small portion of the Islamic world are a little crazy then we had to go and start a whole festival in celebration of trolls (just like a Scandinavian we is). Anyway I like the idea that he meant just me. That would mean I was an entire troll fest all by myself.

Troll Fest 2010!

Near the Ball

So Rachel blogged about procrastination. [Insert joke here about writing blog later or in some way procrastinating. I'll do it later. Hahaha]. Anyway, yeah procrastination is indeed the best way to go.

So here am I. I have been going to college for over a decade now. That's a long time. And when you've been going this long, it's easy to say, "hey, what's thirteen more semesters?"

Why the frig did it take so long? And why the frig aren't I done yet? What's a frig? [Answer: a cross between a fig and a frog].

Well there are a lot of reasons. I mostly paid my own way through school with cash. I worked full time, schooled part time. So there's that. Also I technically started college before high school (I have a bunch of swimming and weightlifting and swimnastics [don't ask, don't tell] classes that used to count for PE credits until they dropped that requirement).

Also I didn't know what I wanted to do when I started so I made a goal to take every intro level course available. I took intro to sociology, into to psychology, intro to philosophy, intro to government, intro to anthropology, etc. I stopped short of intro to cattle prodding theatrics and intro to underwater plant microeconomics.

Anyway, so now I got my last two classes to finish up. I got my German 202 class: the trick is ignoring the fact that I can't speak a lick o' Deutsch long enough to sneak in a C. Also I received an incomplete on my English major senior course capstone last fall. That gives me a year to complete it, thought my professor urged me not to put it off. I just have to turn in my research paper on Otello.

Ten months later and I got 12 pages of gibberish. At this rate I should graduate in a mere 23 months. No, seriously though, I need to get on or at least very near the ball.

The only way I can finish this assignment is if I feel a dramatic sense of urgency. I felt that before when I wrote the first 10 pages but then realized I had more time. I need to trick my brain into thinking I am in the 11th hour with 30 seconds on the clock in sudden death overtime, blitztkrieg and rain falling on the arc. Or I can just wait until the literal last minute.

I hope those mixed metaphors sum it up. Anyway, I have some other things that need to get done right now! No I guess I can do them later.

To the Moon, Baby!

So Rachel bought me cute baby "Rocket Rattle."

Um not to sound too much like a baby, but this so called rattle, is not a rattle at all! It doesn't rattle. It squeaks, like a doggie chew toy.

I am no doggie.

One of these days, Rachel. Bang, zip, right to the moon! Just kidding I would never domestically abuse my wife allll the way to the moon. To Chicago maybe, but not past the stratosphere. Call me a softy, but that is taking wifely discipline just simply too far.

Seriously though, she got those bruises from giving blood, I promise. (Oh she gave blood all right and she is gonna give more).

I am not mad. I like the toy. Which is why I originally sent the following "joke" to Rachel via email conversation after I was looking for cute baby gift ideas:

Me: Can we buy this?

http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/3129819?origin=category&resultback=5534

Rachel: Sure! For our future babies or for Nitsy's?

Me: Babies? I meant for me.

Ha! I am just so darn funny.

Now I am sure she got my kiddery, but lo and behold, I got the little thing in the mail yesterday (because I hadn't ordered anything, I was worried it was a very light bomb or perhaps some white toxin [no really I was worried]). Thanks Rachel! (for the happy surprise not the unwelcome anxiety).

And since we don't have two for the Nitsy spawn (twiners), it would be unfair to give them only one rocket. They'd fight (baby fights are the worst). So I'll have to hold onto the rocket until our own children begin existing (one at a time).

The Proof is Near the Pudding

Let me begin by saying that this blog post is part farcical, part observation, part objection to ridiculous conclusions, and part my own ridiculous conclusion posted straw maniacally. I say that tongue near cheek. Please don't get puffy and huffy over it. On a side note, puffins are cute.

So to begin, a BYU professor (of all people) has determined that being gay is caused by genetics and not a choice. This is kinda old news in the fact that mostly rednecks hold fast completely to the "ye chose to be a homoerotisizer. I only sleep with my daughters not sons" theory. Aside from these fanatical hillbillies in their prefabricated (read: mobile home) laboratories (read: lavatories) there is actual research which may actually come up with something better than what has been proven so far. Also don't refer to hillbillies' mobile homes as "prefab" because only the gays use the word "fab."

Anyway the proof is an interesting correlation between gays and "non-righthandedness" (the word from the scientist). Basically gays are more likely to be left handed. Also lesbians are more like to have man hands (wow what a surprise there). OK, I guess. So the gay gene is in the fingernails. Where's my holy nail trimmers! That is interesting but I wouldn't call that proof so much as either a possible (probable) connection or a very surprising coincidence.

His proof of non-choice: Gays are 38% more likely to use their left hands than straights. Leftist handism is not a choice: therefore being gay is not a choice.

Here is my proof of choice: 75% of gays join the fashion industry. They chose the fashion industry, so being gay is a choice.

Here is a fact: correlation does not equal cause and effect. Still I think he is probably right, and only because I already knew that it wasn't like gay people said to themselves, "I am gonna start talking in a high voice [or low voices for lesbian] and become attracted to my same gender." But then again, what aspect of our lives did we choose that way? I didn't decide to be "funny." I didn't decide to be fat. I didn't decide to be brown. I didn't decide to be a jerk. I never decided to do a lot of things that I am. At least not consciously. But here I am a result of a combination of my genetic makeup, my environment, and my choices (consciously or subconsciously made). I don't think we want to relegate ourselves to biomechanical robots running synchronized preset programs do we?

And it sounds like BYU professor really wants to prove it's not the gays faults so we will be nice to them. That's irrelevant for two reasons. 1) We shouldn't treat them any differently if it is caused by genes or environment or abuse or whatever (we should love them anyway) and 2) the hillbillies ain't gonna listen to your science when the good book tells them otherwise anyway.

So as we all know science has long been the Achilles hill of unorganized religion. But it shouldn't be just because science changes its precepts literally every day (minute?).

Now the libs (including our beloved fringe Mormons) desperately want gayness to be a genetic thing. And many conservatives want it to be a choice so they can call it a sin. Like the theory of evolution, there is only a perceived conflict. Multiple LDS general authorities have already stated that it might be related to genetics. Yeah and? So what if it caused by a "birth defect" as it must be the case. They have already shown that a myriad of other things are genetic (e.g., alcoholism). Doesn't make it a good thing.

I used the word birth defect because that is how the gay rights supporters are treating it. If they felt strongly that there was nothing wrong with their unchosen lifestyle, they wouldn't have to justify it all, let alone with the "it's not my fault; I was born that way" mentality. Why is it so important that everything about you is the result of a mere genetic roll of the die? It makes everyone's life sound trivial. Now I feel helpless. I have no control over who I am! Sorry, but I was born to shout that. Not my fault.

And natural evolution (ironically because libs love evolution) would show that the animals (humans are animals) that fail to mate and propagate with the opposite gender are the failures of the species (not my ideas here) but by that logic I guess bisexuals would still spread their genes. So by following that train of thought, the justification "I was born that way," it sounds like being gay is an evolutionary defect at best. Maybe that is how the dinosaurs died out; too many gays triceratops.

Not that we should hate evolutionary defects. If Nietzsche were alive he would say we are coddling all defectives. But we don't do that with our accidental eugenics program (AKA not letting people die AKA health care). Which is good because Jesus wouldn't want us to let the infirm or invalid die regardless of whether they were born that way or lost an arm in the war. Don't blame Nietzsche; he was born with no heart and an addiction to crack.

Besides people are born with all sorts of defects (I think mine are mostly self inflicted) which because of modern technology and the event of civilized economics, is largely a moot point.

So I am not sure if I understand why it is so important to prove that being gay is not a choice. The gays and supporters are basically treating their own lifestyle as a disease! That actually makes me sad. Especially the Mormon gays. They desperately want us to think, oh it's not their fault, they were born that way. Well they already have my deepest sympathy anyway. Their lives kinda suck. I wish their lives weren't so awful. I wish they didn't have to suffer so much. But when they know for sure they didn't choose to have this attraction, what will it change?

One day the proof might be in the pudding, but I guess the proof is just near the pudding for now. Mmmm pudding.

Hipster to be Square

So I really hate it when people blast their music while walking around in public places. Today this hipster, with a messenger bag with a car safety belt for the strap, was playing his hipster music on his hipster iPod. If you are not familiar with the term hipster iPod that's because I just made it up. It is just an iPod held by dirty hipster hands.

So he ended up walking behind me for like ten minutes while I held back the deluge of annoyance while I tried to think of ways to inform hipster dude of his suckiness.

I looked back in anger like three times but to no avail. He thoroughly ignored my casual glance in his direction. Hipster was relentless in his hipstery.

Here are the things I thought of saying/doing, including rationale for not doing so:

1) Couldn't afford the headphones? Obviously iPods come with headphones so this would only open up an opportunity for him to enlighten me on something. Pass.

2) Thanks for sharing your music with the world. I would have to lay the sarcasm on real thick or I might have to hear "you're welcome." I am so unwelcome.

3) Thanks for forcing your [s-wordy] music into my head. Jesus wouldn't like that one.

4) I could have blasted my own music AKA Death Cab for Cutie. But he would have liked that.

5) I almost pretended to call Rachel and allow hipster to drop some eaves on this: "sorry can you speak up, some hipster is listening to his crappy music loudly without headphones. I think he didn't get enough attention as a child. And he is wearing a seat belt around his shoulder, trying to be alternative." This goes back to Jesus not being happy with me (see option 3).

6) I could have said nothing, while I took his iPhone and tossed it into the duck pond. Then pushed skinny jeans over for good measure. We went down separate paths. Dang.

So I am a bad person who gets annoyed easily. The end.

Wiinners and Loosers

Dearest Rachel,

I am not gonna say told ya so but you might recall that I did so tell you so.

Remember that dumb research study you made us sign up for? Easy money you thought? Well it turns out the study wasn't on the effects of marriage counseling at all but on the effects of torture under false pretenses. Our threshold for pain is actually what is being measured. Why else would they stab me six times (literally) and make us come in at 6 am-ish three times?

Remember when you agreed to buy a Wii with the money we got for doing practically nothing? Yeah, we'll see if you still think "$250 is a lot of money [italics added for emphasis]" after hearing this.

So the research guy called (the guy we weren't planning on hearing from for 12 more weeks when we are scheduled to redrain our veins of life giving liquids). I thought for sure he was gonna need me to come back for some repoking. But when he began trying and failing not to laugh as he said, "I know your wife is going to love this but. . . " I knew my pincushioned arm was safe from further puncture.

I am sorry I was instantly happy when it wasn't me who needed to be re-stabbed. Forgiveth me? Then as soon as I stopped laughing with the guy on the phone I felt really bad, I promise.

The good news: you weren't accidentally infected with the AIDS virus (that we know). Seriously you don't have that.

The bad news: your blood sample sucks. In fact even Edward would be like thanks but no thanks. So you have to get retested at the BYU Health Center A-sap. And you won't be comforted by my comforting comforts because if I remember correctly there isn't room for handholding at the place where they draw blood (like water from a well).

Remember how you almost died yesterday morning? Remember how you have the worst bruises ever, from just two itsy bitsy tiny pokes? Be of good courage, it'll be OK.

So it looks like I am the wiiner today (because I get a Wii and don't have to give any more precious crimson life juice for a while) and you are the well. . .I loove you.

Man, I can't wait to play our new Wii. It's gonna be sweet!

-Your supportive husband

Hyper-Hyphenation

So I drive past the Harley-Davidson dealership every day. And every day I see that big sign with their logo.



So Harley riders have a rep for being bad to the bone marrow. That's cool, especially considering who Harley and the Davidsons are. See pic below that I nabbed from Wikipedia. They look pretty hardcore.

So anyway, this isn't about the nerds that look like they would be eaten by the Hell's Angels. It's about H-D's choice in hyphenation (as if there is even such a thing as choice in hyphenation). Hyphenations should be a strictly enforced law; (I think my next blog will be about why fatalism is dumb). Though Harley's bad-bottom rep, they look like they could know their way around a well-punctuated sentence, right?

Anyway so they hyphenate Harley-Davidison (the names of the founders) but not the split word motorcycles. It's one word (or as we in the biz call it, a closed compound). Actually it might not be considered a closed compound. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Point is that that sucker should either read straight across as motorcycles or be hyphenated if it is broken, implementing correct hyphen usage.

What is their reasoning? They can't hate hyphens, because they chose to hyphenate Harley and Davidson as if Harley married Davidson (which wasn't entirely legal in their day BTW).

So I took the liberty of correcting their logo. Now If only they could edit their giant one off the freeway. How much does a cherry picker cost to rent? And BTW I was kidding about the choice in hyphenation; there actually is a lot of –ugh- choice in somethings (but there shoudn't be a question about whether or not to hyphenate when a word is broken and finished on the next line).

Junkie Flunky

OK so I am a failure at life, life giving that is. I have tried and failed in times past to donate blood to those in need. Unfortunately my blood was too slow. So they threw it away. Apparently if it is not a full bag, then it can't save nobody. And that sucked because it was really hard for them to get any outta me.

Not only is my red sauce super slow, it is impossible to find, like the Holy Grail of hemoglobin (or the hobgoblin of hemoglobin). It always takes the arm stabbers several tries to get that precious human juice. And once they're inside, they just keep poking away in there till something spews out (my veins should be called Old Unfaithful). This morning I was supposed to get tested for this "awesome" study Rachie and I are participating in. Anyway, three stabs and three droplets later, and no crimson gush.

So I am gonna drink a lake full of water and try again Monday morning. Now I look like a freaking junky with these needle wounds. I am a blood flunky who looks like a junkie.

I need another hit man! One last dance with the dragon to kill the pain.

I look crunk and this blog is a flunk.

Cooly Cool, Boy

So I have never actually seen West Side Story before except for a couple scenes and some songs from my humanities class a long, long time ago (I can still remember). So I was watching some scenes on YouTube, and wow. Like for real. Wow. Is this shiz for real? Like for really real reals? Not for fakes? Yeah they aren't kidding with this. The film is actually about two gangs (I assume who are gay?) literally prancing and dancing and singing.

I knew it was a musical. I knew it was based on Romeo y Juliet. I knew it was about "gangs." I've seen the Gap commercial (while you're checking that out, check out this and this and of course this one with dancing robots in denim). Those take me back. Still that and this Scrubs episode didn't quite prepare me.

I am more than willing to suspend my disbelief a great deal. I can accept talking cars. I am cool with singing vultures. I will even believe an elephant can fly. But I 'ave seen just about everything when I see a bunch of gangbangers sing and dance in harmony.

There is something extra unbelievable about this whole escapade. The Jets? The Sharks? Keep it cooly cool, boy? Something ain't right here. I don't buy it. Heck I don't even borrow it. I might barrow it though (as in wheel barrow it away not like the castrated hog).Yet I did pick up some good advice from this documentary-esque crime drama:

"Every Puerto Rican is a lousy chicken." Those are the worst kind!

"Our mothers all are junkies. Our fathers all are drunks. Golly Moses, naturally we're punks." So it is nurture after all. Nature loses again.

"Life is all right in America; if you're all white in America." So true. G bless it.

"I feel pretty and witty and gay." Surprisingly not sung by the Jets.

Anyway so if I want to live through this lousy life, I better start playing it cooly cool, boy (or girl). So I'll get right on that. Crazy! Cool. . .

Feeling a ‘Lil Bloggy: The Blog

When I was a wee lad in the merry old 80s, whenever a movie was made that was part of a larger franchise, they always added the obligatory "the movie" at the end. The Transformers: The Movie. Jetsons: The Movie. This was not just cartoons. E.g., Twilight Zone: The Movie. Santa Clause: The Movie (not to be confused with Santa Clause: the Guy). There might be more but these were the films I remember.

Along similar lines but more how you say (prestigious? No pretentious) Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I bet it was Shatner's idea to go with "the motion picture." Other variations include the something-something movie, which we still see a little bit of. E.g., the Growing Pains Movie (TV movie), the Tigger Movie, A Very Brady Movie.

So anyway, I am not sure where this blog is headed. I guess I was just thinking about how dumb it is to call out the fact that a movie is a movie. Maybe that's why they don't do it anymore. People are really starting to get the hang of this movie thing.

But I suppose books have been doing this for thousands of years. The Book of the Dead. The Bible (books). The Book of Mormon. The Blue Book. Book 'em Danno. OK fine. Call your movie a movie in its title. See if I care.

I guess it just sounds funny to call it something: the movie all dramatic like. Other forms of media like songs or whatnot don't take that form. Time: the Magazine. Vietnam: the War. Rhode Island: the State. Jonathan: the Idiot.

Agreed to Pronoun Disagree

Fun grammar lesson begins now.

'K so everyone knows what a pronoun is yeah? Der, it's a noun that holds a professional degree.

No actually it's a word that takes the place of a lazy noun who doesn't want to be involved anymore. Anyway so when you use a noun then use a pronoun, that pronoun is supposed to act in proxy for the noun, known as an antecedent. Just remember nouns are ants that protest farming; they're anti-seed-ants (I wish I could draw a little Flik with a sign reading "No more harvesting!").

Anyway when a pronoun is used after a noun that it shouldn't represent, this means the pronoun does not agree with the noun. The technical jargon for this is inner sentence infighting. Not really, but as if you know the diff.

So why does this matter? It causes the death of untold millions (untold because it would be a lie).

Still look at this seemingly innocuous sign.

Pretty dumb huh? You might be wondering dumb, why dumb?

Well you see in the second part, the pronoun "it" can only be referring to the noun phrase "txtng & drivng." So instead of saying "the convo can wait," it is actually saying that texting and driving can wait. So the message is text and drive but not right now. Later. Procrastinate the day of your text driving.

Anyway he is it and I am he and she are all together.

The Case of the Missing Headset

This is a true story. Real names have been changed to protect the innocent. Just kidding, we're all guilty here (except Don Cheadle).

OK so at work I sometimes attend review sessions via telephony (as opposed to telereally). In times past I would occasionally borrow Don Cheadle's headset (not the real Don Cheadle of course because as you recall, names have been changed to protect the innocent). Anyway a certain somebody (let's call her Margarine) was under the impression that the department had a couple headsets under its dominion for community use.

So Don Cheadle left us for pastures of relatively similar hue. Anyway Donny took the headset. No big deal. But now we have none or they are just unaccounted for. They're AWOL! So then even though I don't need one in the immediate future, I felt for some reason still unbeknownst to even me, that I should have access to one, you know in case of dire imminent need (the same reasoning used by crazy Steward Denethol in Lord of the Rings to bring the One Ring to Gondor).

So I encouraged the Steward of Headsets (Margarine) to inquire deeply into the matter. She emailed Don about it asking ever so politely and coyly if Mr. Cheadle knew what had happened to the One Headset of Power. The idea was for him to realize he had accidently taken it and bring it home.

The idea was to be super sneaky about demanding its return. The Don [sic] said that he actually still had it and IT had signed it out to him and he wondered why Mr. Smith didn't do the same (was IT out of headsets?). I am Mr. Smith btw (my name was dropped so hard in that email convo that I think it has internal hemorrhaging).

Basically we got schooled.

And I can't ask IT for one because my need isn't dire enough and also I was just there an hour ago to get a new number 1 for my laptop. I have to wait six more months before I can return for further IT support (my own rule that everyone should conform to).

The Woogies

I had a work retreat last week. At the end they gave out funny awards a la the Dundies. Anyway below is a copy of mine. It's nice to finally be recognized for my achievements. I already framed it and plan on displaying this puppy in my cubicle.

Enjoy!

New College Try

So Rachel has been walking to campus most days (except for the days I drop her off) even though we bought her a shiny new bike before school started. You may remember there was some discussion before on this subject. Anyway so Rachel assured me that she wanted a new bike to ride to school. So today was her first day riding it to class even though we bought it a week before school started. She has to ease into it, like a cesstub.

I shoulda known from her wobbly turn around the Target aisles when we bought it that she was unbikeable: she quite nearly crashed headlong into the swimming floaties.

What made her desperate enough to ride her bike today amidst the terror of possibly wobbling to death? She was late. It takes me 10 minutes on my bike from front door to classroom. Anyway so normally it takes her 25 minutes to huff it on foot. Today it took her 30 minutes to bike there. Yes those numbers are accurate.

And she is exhausted. Well, can't say she didn't give it the new college try.

Feeling a Lil' Unpatriotic

OK so if this 9/11 has taught me anything, it is that people are basically the same everywhere. Before you begin assuming that this is a message about how awesome the world is, hold off on your group hug. It is a criticism of humanity.

So it turns out that ignorant intolerance is universal on all fronts. So nine years ago a handful of crazy jihadists, who had their heads filled with idiotic nonsense by a deranged madman, finally accomplished a large-scale attack on the U.S. They got us good. It was pretty awful. Everyone (except the foreign crazies) thinks they suck pretty hard. They do suck pretty hard. We all hope the virgins they receive in the afterlife turn out to be pretty ugly.

Now even though their previous attempts were bungled by incompetence, this was finally the time we decided these cave dwelling Neanderthals posed a real threat. So we invaded a few sorta-indirectly related countries (something about nukes or they had the same skin color as terrorists?). I am not sure why but well, we did and that’s done. OK so blood for oil? Maybe. I don’t know but it was real expensive. Bombs are bad investment: they have a very low return on investment.

So then a tiny minority of Muslims who have only said good things about how great and tolerant America is (jokes on them) want to serve Muslims (and I guess everyone) in the rather large area of lower Manhattan with a place to swim, exercise, learn to cook, and a place to pray together.

The community center AKA mosque was patterned after a local popular YMCA (the C stands for Christian). Apparently the YMCA must also resemble some sort of terrorist training camp. They learn to swim across borders and cook bombs at the Y?

Anyway, so some people think this is an insult to those who died in 9/11. Which is the most ironic thing I have ever heard. If they died for anything, let’s call it freedom. Actually they didn’t die for anything because I assume they wanted to live. But they died because of a very small minority of crazy a-word-holes

I can give you a bunch of metaphors of why this is completely stupid, but chances are you have made up your mind either way. Anyway so to continue, now some complete jack-a-word with the world’s ugliest mustache, wants to burn Korans because—well he is just a complete dumb-a-word. That’s all there is to it. Seriously he should burn that mustache off.

Afghans and Iraqis experience terrorism from groups like the Taliban every day. Maybe they should ban Mosques in their country. Anyway so before I get too excited about that, now we have Afghani people making the same f-word-ing mistake as mustachio man. They (some of them) are shouting “Death to America” now and burning stuff. All because one idiot with a mustache wanted to burn some Korans? WTF? That’s freaking stupid.

Anyway Rachel probably doesn’t want to take credit for this because she doesn’t like people to hate her but she put it really well the other day. She said that if someone is afraid of women, then it is not her fault nor her responsibility to stay more than two blocks away from them

The Islamic center shouldn’t be held accountable for people’s personal problems (AKA lack of understanding of who they think they should hate). Sounds to me like the 70% of the New Yorkers against the Muslim community center have some irrational fears that they need to work out. Obamacare should cover their obvious need for a massive amount of shrinkage (psychotherapy).

And if it is a sensitivity issue, I just have to say that is surprising coming the city with a reputation for being the rudest city in the country. I bet they said the same thing to Rosa Parks. I know some racists honkies were really insulted by that sitting too close the front of the bus thing too.

But since dumb people don't know they are dumb I could be dumb and not know it. JK. I know I am dumb. If I were smart, I would not criticize Americans on Patriot Day (but on the bright side I also criticized some foreigners too).

I guess I am just feeling a lil' unpatriotic today. I promise to hate Islams tomorrow for the good of the nation.

Kids Say the -!2&*$-est Things

So I was blog hopping as I sometimes like to do. Instead of crazy Asian-style funny by accident blogs, today I found myself akin to elementary school teacher blogs. Poopy on a sticky! I am not one o' them gon sarn it.

So these blogs are mostly about all the cute things little kids say and do. One little kid thought a pumpkin "growed a baby" in the night when an apple was sitting next to it. That little idiot is pure adorable. OK calm down; he isn't an idiot. He's just a kid. I know. Blah blah, keep it to yourself. I take it back OK!

Still these teachers live for these precious moments so they can run home and blog about it. I guess I am just a cynical jerk but I wonder if I will be the same way when I have kiddlets of me own. Although I kind of more see myself as the Poopdeck Pappy type. Sure he was bad father to Popeye but Popeye turned out OK. And where is Mrs. Poopdeck Mammy? She isn't so great a mother.

Anyway, I forgot where I was headed with thing here. Hmmm let me think a sec. All well. Kids, they're cute as buttons. Dumb as buttons too.

Mirage Counseling

So Rachel found an ad for some study trying to determine the effects of marriage counseling on physical health. She nagged me for weeks dressed in a bathrobe, slippers, and hair curlers while shouting "when are you gonna call 'em" while waving a rolling pin in the air. The answer of course being when I was good and ready. As you can tell from that interaction we clearly don't need marriage counseling but Rachel wanted the money from participating.

I clandestinely was putting it off because I didn't want marriage counseling, and for good reason. You see, I am a terrible husband. It's a secret so don't tell anyone, especially Rachel. You see some sort of chemical reaction in her brain area has caused her to ignore this otherwise obvious factoid. Marriage counseling would ruin all that. The jig, as they say, would be up.

Anyway so I finally tricked myself into the deal and called. They asked us a few questions then randomly assigned us to the control group, meaning they will pay us mucho monero (Spanish for mucho dinero) just to wear some medical junk two days and have some blood taken and blood pressure measured. No counseling for us.

So this whole time I was worried about a mirage. Now I am sad. After I talked myself into liking the idea. No counseling! What a rip! Gimmie free counseling!

Shalloween

Thinking early about Halloween. So in recent years I have become shallow about my costumes. I believe in being inventive: none of this store bought crap costume requiring little to no real thought for me, no sir (accessories are fine store bought though). I also think costumes should try to be scary. Butterflies are not scary. Unless it's Mothra. I guess that's more of a moth. Whatever!

Anyway so I started a theme of scary versions of dead authors. I did Zombie Shakespeare two years ago and last year I was Vampiric Edgar Allan Poe. I could be a something-scary Mark Twain this year. I was thinking if doing in the future a Mummified Pres. Lincoln, Ax Wielding George Washington (presidents wrote stuff), and a wolfwoman Jane Austen. Maybe a super evolved Charles Darwin with bear claws and a tiger tail?

But then I had a new thought just moments ago. What about going as something else kinda funny that people won't really get, a scare quote!

If you are wondering what a scare quote is, it is the quotes people use to make something sound suspicious. For example the Board of "Education" says we should teach "mathematics" to our children. You can pick up what is being lain (laid, lay, layla?) down by me. I have no idea how to visually represent it. It'll come.

I still got mucho dinero and timo to decido (don't try getting this random Mexicano reference: it's idiotic gibberish).

Anyway, I am sure we will all have a "happy" Halloween.

Puck This

I am always a little baffled at the apparent randomness of Wikipedia's cross-reference web links. I know some articles are simply more thorough like the one on Chicago (good job Chicagoianians). Others very sparse, must be works in progress. I was reading the article on the NeverEnding Story film and its crumby sequels, and the links are to super random crap. Did you know there was a NeverEnding Story cartoon (well you wouldn't from reading the Wikipedia articles on the movie or the book and the song and the Dutch band)? In the book's article the entire six paragraph plot only links to Will'o'the Wisp. There is no link to the Nothing, but there are links to a couple characters, Ivory Tower (not the same thing at all from the book/film), and Library Journal. In the article on the book it says ". . .a reader of the novel with the same title." When you follow the link, you may wonder what the dumb does self-reliance have to do with a novel with the same title? Nothing! Who did this!?

It is all so, well arbitrary. I can deal with the fact that Wikipedia is written by just anyone with free time and the nerve to act as an expert on something, but half of these links are super MRF. A lot of the time they make no sense at all.

Before you start criticizing my criticism, I am just pointing out there is a desperate need for some consistency on Wikipedia. They do good work, but they need a system that explains what should be linked when and where. So "writers" can keep a certain level of standard. As is, there is neither rhyme and/nor reason for the words chosen to add web links to. It's crazy I tell you.

Sometimes you get redirected or the article doesn't exist yet but offers an invite to write one. One time on Wikipedia I followed a link to an article on horse pucky that didn't exist. I wrote the article as simply "Puck this." I was banned the next day. The system works, let's just add some more guidelines, yeah? Maybe I'll just go in and write in new guidelines myself: 1) Don't puck this up by adding links to things that everyone knows like family. 2) Don't puck this article up by writing simply puck this. What else is there to know?

Karate Kick of Love

Actual conversation with my wife

Rachel: What are you doing?

Me: What?

Rachel: You look like you're doing the Karate Kid crane kick. [I so wasn't]

Me: Karate crane kick you.

[Rachel giggles with great glee]

Me: Are you having a seizure?

Rachel: I'm happy.

Me: Why? What's wrong with you?

Getting kicking threats shouldn't make anyone that happy. She must have a thing for Ralph Macchio.

Feeling a ‘Lil Creepy

I have had some stuff to blog about but didn't get around to it 'til right now. So dig in!

1) School started. I have two German classes. I like one a lot. The other one is so-so. Probably only so-so because there is only 12 people in the class and half of them are a group of six loud hens who take up the middle section of the room. They apparently shared the last two German classes together: oh how neat! They are super annoying. As much as I would love to strangle the leader, mother hen, I can't not help spending the whole of 50 minutes imagining a gently tossed grenade in the center of the pack of them. Yeah I could just see the shrapnel tearing open their red dangly things. Yeah that is a creepy thing to say.

2) But creepiness segues into my next thingy. Creepiest way to begin a song: Children play in the park; they don't know I'm alone in the dark. Creepy Chicago, real creepy.

3) So Rachel and I are sick. I have had a terrible cough and she has been failing at her life goal of never throwing up (so failed). If this were Fail Blog we would call this puke fail. We are pretty sure it is from the toxic black mold that grew rapidly across our ceiling and down our wall. Yes toxic black mold is what it's called. I am not just being descriptive. We now have a new wall and ceiling, hopefully to be finished today.

4) Along the lines of creepy and wall-less, while our wall was nonexistent, I could literally reach through the living room to the bathroom. One day while Rachel was "visiting Chuckles" she was visited herself by the creepy hand of death (reenacted below). I have never heard her shriek with so much terror. Especially since I previously promised not to scare her in the dark (it wasn't dark so promise kept).