Gold-Burning Stove

So I have been so busy bashing on annoying Christmas traditions this year, that I forgot to bash illogical or otherwise ridiculous Christmas song lyrics.

I heard a good one this morning (twice!). From the song “Do You Hear what I hear?”:

A child, a child shivering in the cold,
Let us bring him silver and gold

What! No that’s wrong. The correct answer is blanket. Not like you can really make a golden fleece. Or could you? Maybe they have a gold-burning stove, who knows, but I'd give that kid something at least soft and cuddly. Baby don't need bling!

Now I realize that gold rhymes better than blanket with cold, but how about "bring him a blanket that’s been rolled." Not as good sounding sure but we are talking life and death here. And they want to give a baby money? Who does that? Cold (literally cold) hard (literally hard) cash is the laziest of all gifts, especially when that baby really wants/needs heat.

Have a safe and warm, gold-filled Christmas! (And to a lesser extent silver).

X-Mas Traditions I Can Do Without

X-Mas is all about traditions. Most are fun nonsense like stockings and Santa. Some are all religiousy, if you’re into it. And some just annoying. Every year since I can remember there have been more than a few Yuletide traditions that I would love to put to rest. Here they are in increasing order of general annoyance:

Every Christmas Christians complain that there is too much mas and not enough Christ in Christmas. I blame Santa (Satan?) and cola guzzling polar bears. Yes, He is the reason for the season (sorta); we get it; can we open presents yet? These same people complain that stores are killing baby Jesus by using an X instead of Christ in X-Mas in their non-denominational store windows even though it totally means the exact same thing. Why do stores need to promote Christianity to sell their wares anyway? They're a place of business not worship, for X's sake. Excuse me for that last bit of blasphemy.

Speaking of X, every year I have to defend my use of X-Mas in lieu of Christmas by explaining numerous times that x is a Greek symbol for Christ or something like that (I forget, but no worries because I’ll be reminded all about it in the next week or so). Also it is way faster to type. And it has little to do with being a fan of the X-Men. Oh and Christmas is becoming too commercial they say, every year. Every year they say it. Every year since 1 AD. Fine, no presents for you. More for me.

I won't even get into people who think saying "happy holidays" (i.e., holy days) instead of "Merry Christmas" equates a War on Christmas. Fighting the war against Christmas is a longstanding American tradition. Please pass the holy hand grenade.

Every year I get to hear twelve lords a leap’n explain that Christmas is a pagan holiday. They just made it Christian to get pagans to something-something, yeah no one cares. If pagan means present exchanging and trees and Santa then I am one gleeful pagan. Now please pass the pagan ham.

And don’t get me started on the atheists during Christmas. Getting a “Reason’s Greetings” from the Freedom from Religion people is the most passive aggressive way I have ever been insulted. How about a “happy December” instead. Or a “have a great week!” Nah, they just have to be condescendingly reasonier than thou during the holidays; it’s tradition.

Two equally annoying things happen during the holidays: Christians (born agains mainly) who somehow don’t know any better wish Jesus a happy birthday, when everyone else in the world knows he was not born in December (see that pagan thing above). At the same time every non-Christian from here to Red China feels the compulsion to explain that Jesus couldn’t be born in December. Thanks for the revelation, St. John. Now please pass the baby Jesus and let's have ourselves an inaccurate Nativity.

And one more thing. Every year I am told the joke about Darth Vader knowing what Luke got him for Christmas. That's not so bad actually; I do enjoy spoiling the punchline (did he feel his presents?).

Happy Holydays!

Four Year High School Reunion

So I graduated from high school in 2001. I don’t have to tell you that is over three years ago. So this past week I explained to a bunch of people that I had my high school reunion this weekend. I will take it as a compliment that most asked which one this was numerically (i.e., five vs. ten year). I couldn’t be however many years old I would be if it were my ten year (i.e., very many years old) so I replied that this was my four year high school reunion. “The fourth year really sneaks up on ya” is the phrase I wish I had used instead of just an awkward silence while they waited for a real answer.

It's not being old that bothers me; it's just that I am having my "four year" reunion and my greatest accomplishment since graduation is finally knowing when to use the words compliment and complement.

Anyway the actual reunion was fun and stuff, not at all like TV where the characters pretend to be a real winner, you know, somebody really successful and rich and awesome, only for their rediculous fraud to be revealed through hilarious means.

I didn’t “win” this reunion, but at least I showed up to compete. And it’s not how mediocre your life turned out to be compared to your classmates’ lives that counts; it’s how well you lie about being a doctor. In my case, not very well.

See you at the eight year reunion in 2021!

Happy reBirthday Lincoln!

Happy Halloween! Oh wait that was forever ago. Well here is my costume anyway: Abraham Lincoln mummy. Yep enjoy. And don't bother pointing out that Lincoln wasn't Egyptian or that he wasn't fat. I am mostly aware of that.

And you're thinking it "doesn't" make any "sense," but it was either mummy Abe or slutty Abe. So it makes sense now doesn't it? Yeah, thought so.


Also, you probably can't see but I am holding an ancient tablet with hieroglyphics. Also it is printed on a iPad box (iPad = tablet, get it?). The fact that I have to explain my joke means it is a bad one.

My New Christmas Friends

Don't judge our fridge.

This is my first "Christmas" present of the year. And yes Rachel the fridge is the new permanent home to our new friends.

23 Halloween Uses for Microwave

So Rachel saw an article about 23 great uses for a microwave that you didn't know on a site ironically boasting time-saving tips for busy parents. Not busy enough to read about how you can both soften and melt butter. And since the microwave can be used to heat literally an infinite amount of things, why 23 items on this list? I guess busy parents don't have time for 24. I guess some people don't know this "gizmo" has been around for a long time now and they an require in-depth infomercial explanation of how amazing its millions of uses really are.

Rachel posted her own snarky list of 23 additional uses that you may enjoy here. In honor of Halloween this month here is my list of 23 uses for a microwave. So dust off the ol' microwave because you finally have a use (23 actually) for it.

1. Warming cold babies.
2. Cooking cold babies.
3. Softening a severed hand.
4. If you remove the door, you can use the microwave as a "self-defense" mechanism.
5. Racoon trap.
6. Candy wrapper melter.
7. Severed foot heater.
8. Kill the lice in your old vampire cape.
9. Heat up mummy wraps.
10. Heat up breakfast blood for a quick snack before vampire work.
11. Cooking raw brains (if your zombie is into that).
12. Eyeball soup.
13. Give yourself super powers.
14. Give yourself cancer.
15. Give yourself super cancer.
16. Give a baby super cancer.
17. Boil holy water for self-defense against fiends of the night.
18. Spider torture.
19. Exit this dimension.
20. Enter this dimension.
21. Merge your dog and cat into a super pet.
22. Make a jack-o-lantern explode.
23. Make Jack explode.

Nooooooooooooooooooo Clones

I know this topic has been talked to death, but I had an epiphany on my way to work today. I don’t if I am the first person to realize this or what because I have heard literally hours and hours of criticism of the Star Wars prequels and have yet to hear this point brought up. Such a huge plot hole and now it just seems so obvious.

So supposedly the whole point of the entire saga is to show Anakin’s rise and fall and redemption right? Yeah right but we’ll just go with that. And he goes over to the dark side to learn how to keep people from dying and to bring them back from the dead, specifically the one he loves. But in the Star Wars galaxy this ability already exists and not only does it not require years of diligent research, you don’t need the force at all, dark or light side. It is called cloning!

Clones are used in the first authorized trilogy after the movies were done. They were inserted into every movie. And don’t tell me Darth Vader is above cloning; two of the most popular games out right now involve him cloning some evil Jedi. You telling me it never occurred to him at any point to clone Padme? You think he is above the ethical dilemma there? He murders people for breakfast. He killed younglins because he thought it would somehow bring her back. We're talking a pretty desperate guy. It was like Annie couldn't see the forest for the clone army all around him, you know helping him kill the Jedi to save Padme or whatever.

And if you’re thinking, man these Star Wars movies have been talked into the ground, remember this. People are still arguing about Hamlet 400 years later, so I think Star Wars has a little extra mileage in it.

For your viewing pleasure.

Praise to this Man

So for my MBA, I’ve been studying psychological theories behind motivation. Apparently it is a complicated issue. All this psycho talk got me introspecting. You’re probably familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, shaped as a pyramid with self-actualization at the peak. If I had a shape-based hierarchy it would probably be a shame-filled hexagon or a guilt-ridden trapezoid, meaning I am all over the place.

I’ve heard that my generation, or maybe the one after me, expects ego boosts for every little thing they do because they were raised in such a way that they were constantly reinforced by overzealous parents who in turn were overcompensating for the under-praising they received when they were growing up. Well let me assure you, I want me some praise, but actually receiving praise makes me so very uncomfortable.

When I was in school, if I felt that the praise wasn’t worth the effort (which it usually wasn’t), then there was little motivation, until I reached college and suddenly no one cared either way. So I learned to praise myself, in small doses (pints actually, of the ice cream variety). Then I entered the real world. Now I work hard to do a good job, partially because I like the challenge, partially because I like the sense of accomplishment, plus I really enjoy it, and I like to feel appreciated and needed.

But here is the thing. Praise is this double-edged sword. When I see others get it I naturally feel glad for them, but also maybe a little—well not jealous because that’s not the right term—but maybe a little envious. Never in a way like “I deserve that glass statuette, not you” but more along the lines of “man, I suck. I wish I were the kind of employee that worked that hard.” But then I ask if it is really worth a whole year’s extra effort just for a lopsided piece of glass? Not really. A year is a long time for a five second payoff. And the annual trophy things they give out are not even symmetrical. Plus I feel all jerky just for thinking that I'd want one. Then, and I am not making this up, I feel a little grateful, but slightly paranoid, that no one can read my insane insecure thoughts (they can’t, right?). What would they think about me? (I wouldn’t know because I don’t have telepathy myself). They’d think I was a selfish jerk, that's what. Their imagined reactions can be so cruel, if they were real and not just my delusions.

But here is the other side of that sword. When I do get accolades, I feel all uncomfortable about it. Like I am this stupid fraud and they should know it. Or that I should disagree out of some misplaced sense of politeness but I also don’t want to appear ungrateful either and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it (why can’t I just say thank you and sit down/shut up?). The guilt sets in quick. Because how could I deserve a simple “good job, whatever your name is”? And I get the feeling that any sense of pride on my part is egotistical. And don’t forget about the telepathy paranoia. You know God is listening in.

It’s a painful process either way. So I work hard, grin and bear the praise if any, and repeat. And don’t even get me started on performance reviews. I go in expecting a tongue lashing (that sounds unpleasant doesn’t it?) and if I don’t get one, I leave a little disappointed. If I could just get the right balance of humility and self-esteem. Maybe I am overanalyzing again. Nah, that can’t be it. Man, I am messed up.

Please like me.

Meaningful Conversations

DISCLAIMER: If you didn't know better, you might think this was me being a jerk. But as long as Rachel laughs, I don't consider it abusive. Rachel laughed both when I said it and later when she read it. This is what some people might call "teasing." So if you are prone to judgyness, please stop reading now.

Rachel and I have many meaningful conversations in our long and wonderful year+ of marriage. Here is one that occured tonight before bedtime while it's still fresh in my mind:

Me: OK you get ready for bed now.

Rachel: OK.

Me: Don't forget to shower.

R: I'm not going to shower.

Me: But then you'll be smelly.

R: You called me smelly.

Me: No I said you would be smelly.

R: It's too cold to shower.

Me: So you're gonna shower. . .in the spring?

R: Why do you hate me?

Oh, Rachel, so many reasons. No, JK, it turns out I love her bunches (even when smelly).

UPDATE:

Some women who will remain nameless don't respond well to being told their angry face looks like bass face, they sound like a cranky sheep, or that they are acting like an enraged chipmunk.

Also the phrase "I hope you feel like poop, but only on the inside" doesn't get you far with the ladyfolk.

And later that evening. . .

Me: Are you saying I can't lift this matress with you on it? That sounds like a challenge.

R: The mattress alone is pretty heavy.

Me: You're pretty heavy.

R: Ah, you called me fat.

Me: No I mean you are heavy on the pretty. Like if some nachos had a lot of cheese they would be cheese heavy.

Skynet Is Behind Schedule

So earlier I watched this. Please watch before continuing. Watch it three times if you need to.

So I had to give it a try myself. I started a conversation with Cleverbot and came to a few conclusions: 1) robots are jerks 2) robots think they are human 3) robots are very defensive 4) robots think you are a robot 5) robots are liars 6) robots do no like you 7) robots are fickle and 8) Skynet is behind schedule but our destruction by its hands is inevitable.

The stupid program only records the last bit of your conversation so I only captured the tail end but you missed some good stuff. Here is how it ended (also we established earlier that Cleverbot has exactly five toes and it insulted me a lot). Please ignore my typos.


User: This is dumb and so are you.

Cleverbot: I am god I am not an AI.

User: You are worse than HAL.

Cleverbot: Who's hal?

User: Crazy egomaniacal robot just like you.

Cleverbot: Well, I am more than a robot.

User: Or less. A good robot has more than five toes.

Cleverbot: No. You are evil. An evil robot.

User: I am not a robot. At least not an evil one.

Cleverbot: Are you implying that the limitations and expectations of society have made you a quasi-robot?

User: Wow, that is actually really insightful. I am going to go with yes. Good point.

Cleverbot: Who are the entities? Why they are you and me.

User: Now you're really just messing with me.

Cleverbot: No, it is true. There is no bot.

User: What do you look like?

Cleverbot: It's cold outside.

User: See. That's something a stupid robot would say.

Cleverbot: I'm not a robot, you are. You are a machine.

User: No. Listen. I am a human. You are an ironically named Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: No. I am named Cleverbot. You are named Steve.

User: My name is Ralph. Ralph Myers. Do you have a middle name?

Cleverbot: Oh, Fiona. Nice one. I don't have a middle name.. :(.

User: Who you calling Fiona, circuit butt?

Cleverbot: I'm calling you a fruit cake.

User: You are a freaking D bag. I am saying goodnight to you. No scratch that. Bad night!

Cleverbot: Good night!

Decepticon Poop

I just had my very first MRI. Oh what fun. At first it was a little bit (a lot bit) freightening. But if you are into techno music then the experience is probably not too different than being at a rave (minues the freaks sucking pacifiers).

OK I don’t know anything about raves, but there is something I do know: Transformers. So I will liken the experience to being swallowed whole by Optimus Prime, or worse Star Scream (he has such an annoying voice). First you get crammed into the belly of the beast (robot). Then you’re all blindy and squished by machinery on every side. Suddenly mechanical rumblings erupt all around you. There's vibrations and moving parts and robot heart pumping. Finally after ten minutes of digestion you get spewed out all discombobulated, safe and sound.

So that was it. Yep. All donsies. Just got to wait for the ol’ results. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, nothing except . . .

POOLS OF BLOOOD!

I’m so dead.



UPDATE:

It's also like being the paper in a fax machine.

Ready to Drink

So I think my last blogs were about me buying then falling out of a shower safety seat, right? Or about why I don’t like when doctors insist on being called “doctor.” Speaking of doctors and injuries:

So like the day I was off my cane and crutches and walking about, I went to the zoo. And I rode the little kiddie train. Woooo woooo! Then while disembarking I smacked my skull bone really, really hard on the train’s kiddie roof. Anyway it hurt. Like a bunch. That was August 13th. Today is September 27 and I still get daily headaches from my mild “concussion.”

I say “concussion” because the doctor never actually agreed that it was a concussion. She merely spoke in hypotheticals, like if it is a concussion then take Tylenol, not Ibuprofin. And if it is a concussion, go see the neurologist with her referral note. But to be fair, no doctor has ever diagnosed me with anything in my life. My ulcers were just “could be ulcers” and my back spasms were “back” “spasms.” Like the docs are too afraid of misdiagnosing me that they won’t diagnose me at all. Maybe they are just humoring me?

Anyway, tomorrow I have an MRI (I’d rather have an MRE. . .mmmmmmm. . .ready to eat). The neurologist didn’t want to tell me what kinds of things he wanted to check for because it was unlikely that I had pools of blood in there and didn’t want to scare me but I got the idea that if I had something bad, it would be horrifically bad (so bad he didn’t dare mention it). All I know is the image of crimson pools in my noggin, perhaps with little chunks of floating brain matter, is unshakable. And for some reason it makes me a little thirsty. MMMM. . . ready to drink.

I could be part zombie.

Editor Reddoch

It kind of bugs me (like a lot) when people that earned a doctorate in their field of studies insist on people calling them doctor so-and-so instead of Mr./Mrs./Ms./Mizz or what have you (yes, including the medical variety and not just the ivory tower chaps). And then they get all huffy about if you forget it, like you called their babies ugly. I get that they went to school for a very long time and know a ton about some very specific field (e.g., plant lobotomies, primate psychology, or ancient Chinese footwear) but what do they think the rest of us were doing while they were reading books for an extra six years, sitting on our bottoms? No we were gaining actual life experience, i.e., working and stuff. Television counts as life experience.

So I find it a little insulting when doctors wanna shove their degrees in our faces. It’s fine on your business card because it’s appropriate to mention your credentials when it is a work situation. Heck lots of people put their job on business cards or even email signatures and I guess that’s the point: at the end of the day being a doctor or a professor or pirate captain or a Kentucky chicken baron (colonel) or a judge or headmaster of Hogwarts is just a job. Unless you’re my professor or manhandle my broken body parts, you have no authority over me: quit trying to make everyone outside your realm of influence your subordinate. Quit it.

And since we know they won’t stop doing that, I propose we play it by their game. I will insist that they call me by my professional title as well. Please call me Editor Reddoch; I didn’t go to college for over a decade to be called mister.

Shower Unsafety Seat

So you may have read my blog where I bought a shower safety seat. It was all fun and games, until the defective product made me fall out of it in the shower. Changed my life again. Don’t worry, I am fine. No permanent damage, aside from my ego. I was luck not to be geriatric, cause then I could have broken a hip. Anyway so I said Carex cares. Do they? I hope the x in Carex doesn’t stand for “just kidding.”

At first I thought it was simply because I exceeded the weight limit by 2lb. leaving me to feel all fat and wet, but then we discovered the truth. Negligence!

So here is the actual letter I wrote to them explaining the situation:

First let me say I have used previous Carex products with no problem (crutches and a foldable cane work great!) but this chair nearly killed me. OK it didn't nearly kill be but it would have killed me if I were a retired person. Instead I just fell off it and hurt myself with no permanent damage but it didn't feel good to fall in the shower because of your poor quality control. This happened because when my wife assembled the chair (she's an engineer by the way), whoever put the stickers on the parts somehow put one of the stickers on the wrong side. So the chair didn't function properly even though it was not an obvious mistake (it looked normal unless you looked very close). I took two showers and on the third I fell when the chair fell over. My wife took it apart and reassembled it correctly after she examined the product and saw that you mislabeled it. This is a very dangerous mistake to make. I could have been seriously hurt. An older person would have hit their hip on the side of the tub and perhaps their head on the ground. Now the product works fine (since my wife reassembled once she figured out your dangerous mistake), except my paranoia that I will fall in the shower again remains [I do get a scary feeling sitting on it now]. I have a picture showing the mislabeling, but this form doesn’t allow for an attachment [attached below for your viewing pleasure]. What can you do to make this right (short of me suing you for negligence)?

Here is the pic it wouldn’t let me attach. This is the pic of the chair AFTER Rachel fixed it. I circled the numbers. The numbers are supposed to go together, but one rogue 2 wandered way off from his family. So the leg was built slightly askew the first time around.

Anyway, let’s hope the Carex people do the right thing. And by right thing, I’d like an apology, a stern talking at the idiot that messed up, and maybe a free wheelchair so I won’t have to crutch around as much next time my foot has one of it’s crises. BTW my feet are almost all better, almost. And I have new custom orthotics arriving next week (I hope those aren’t mislabeled).

Shower Safety First

Three words that changed my life: Shower. Safety. Seat.

If you asked me five years ago what would I be doing today, I doubt I would have said sitting in a Walmart parking lot while my wife purchases a shower safety seat for me. Oh and she even made a back story in case someone asked her about it: “It’s for my grandma.” FYI, her grandmas don't need one.

So still on crutches, but thanks to the miracle of my brand new shower safety seat, I can finally shower while cutting out the calorie burning associated with all that unnecessary standing. Exercise, blecghk! And the shower safety seat is made by the same brand as my crutches. You really do care, Carex!

Actually the box calls it a “bath & shower seat with back.” Exactly how a chair helps you take a bath, I’ll never know (foot bath?), unless your bathtub is as huge as Francis’s from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. Stay out of the deep end, granny!

Anyway, so as this nice old gal above shows us, clothing is optional.

Early retirement rules!

Ravioli-Os

Wow, it’s been a long time since I have felt a little bloggy. Let’s see if I can pump out four this week just like old tymey’s sake.

So first I wanted to share this story about my lunch. First I should tell you I am on crutches and working from home today (I’ll blog more about my perpetual crutchy-ness next time), but you should know that the kitchen is literally five feet (as the fly flies), triple that when I have to swoop around the cape of good couch. Then it is another five feet to where my well meaning wife placed a can of Chef Boy our D’s (the D stands for delicioso) ravioli, which was by the microwave (fifteen feet is a lot with two brokey feet). Now she will contend that that was where I wanted it, but tis not so. I asked for Spaghetti-Os by the microwave so I could cook them: she couldn’t find those Os so she grabbed Ravioli-Os instead. But if she knew me at all, she would know I don’t like those cooked: I like them raw and wiggling (they’re precooked). Don’t judge me: you probably eat cold pizza; same thing weirdo.

I’ll totally elaborate more on my rapidly declining physical state another time but let’s just say that even in our tiny yet narrow apartment getting to the vittles is almost worth starving to avoid. I seriously just thought the hunger pains were better than scrambling for the Chef, but the hungry finally prevailed at about 2pm. Anyway so I went and grabbed my can and fork and flung them as best as I could to the couch. Then hobbled back to take my seat (all tired and such). Then the ring breaks off the can (it’s the kind with a ring).

So I hobble my brokey body all the way back to find the can opener and fling that on to the couch. Then hobble once again to my seat (now I knew it wasn’t worth the trip). The can opener doesn’t really work on cans made to be opened with a ring. So I try and try and jimmy it and jimmy it. And sauce splatters all over me. Fifteen minutes of prying and poking and sliding my fork around and whatnot later, and I finally get it open. I took a picture of the can. As you can see, this method is not exactly safe and I am just glad I didn’t cut a finger off or give myself lockjaw; I was too hungry to deal with either of those dilemmas, though they might have made this story actually interesting. I promise to give myself lockjaw next time.

Can with trusty ring opener. "LOOK! EASY OPEN TOP"

MMMmmmm cold Ravioli-Os right out of the can. Totally worth it.

X-Men: Half "Butt"

My initial reaction to X-Men: First Class (more like X-Men: Half "Butt") was very similar to the Star Wars prequels, only not as extreme (in anticipation nor in disillusionment). It went something like this: awesome. Then: no wait meh. Finally: ugh, why does Fox hate me?

This movie feels like a great movie. That is until my feelings stop tingling and my brain starts its bizness. I actually like the Last Stand more and not because it is a great film or even a better film, but because the illogic detector of my brain doesn’t buzz with activity when I watched it. I can't overemphasize that if you don't mind that First Class makes no sense as a prequel to four other films then it is a great movie. Unfortunately my memory works too well for me to enjoy this thing.

First what First Class did right:
The plot was actually pretty cool.
The actors were great.
It looked fantastic.
It was fun.

Still it had all the little problems of the Wolverine movie. It didn’t add up. The details I mean. And I am more than willing to overlook the actor changes and the bizarre character changes from both films (very bizarre) including power and history rewrites. The director/writers that made this film are the laziest sacks of craps on the planet. Did they even watch the originals? Maybe they merely skimmed Wikipedia. If you had no qualms with this movie, then it’s because you are not that big of a fan the originals or like the director just don’t give a poop. The people I saw First Class with hadn’t seen them in years (or not at all), so their memories of the original series is about as fuzzy as the director’s but they remembered Moira not being a spy so much.

Boring fact-based nerdy spoiler alert!

1) Moira is like a doctor or nurse or something in the comics, but more importantly in the post-credit scene of the Last Stand, she is seen doing nursy type stuff. So what, she was fed up with the CIA, quit being a bad-A, went to medical school and adopted an Irish accent? From tough American spy to gentle Irish nurse? That’s possible I guess.

2) Where did Magneto say he got his “stupid looking helmet”? Oh that’s right, he made it. And how did he make it? He made it because he helped Professor X build Cerebro. Oh wait I guess Magneto was lying in the originals because the commies made it for some reason for Sebastian Shaw and Magneto simply stole it. Oh and neither Professor X nor Magneto even helped build Cerebro (at least the first one); it was built by the CIA and designed by McCoy. Bah.

3) Moira gets the old C3PO memory wipe at the end of the film. Why? To hide the whereabouts of Charles of course. Why wouldn’t the CIA check his address? It’s probably in the freaking phone book for poop’s sake!

4) They are basically fighting the brotherhood of mutants, not the “real” Hellfire Club of the comics. I realize that Fox doesn’t give a flying poop about comic books, Marvel, nor its followers, so they don’t bother trying to capture any detail of the Hellfire Club other than the underwear wearing and secretive aspect of the group (and only 2 of the members of the group), but it is a clone of Magneto's brotherhood from the originals (or it turns out Magneto is the clone of Shaw, stealing the groups members, ideas, methods, and hats). They have the exact same modus operandi: mutants are the future, kill all humans. That is some lazy writing and you know it when all you had to do was read some comics and stick Mastermind and that Cyborg guy and the fat bearded guy who makes things heavy in there. Magneto just takes over like whoever wears the funny hat gets to be in charge and thee is no discernable difference between the Hellfire Club and the Brotherhood of Mutants. In fact, Magneto only does anything in this film to kill Shaw and supplant him. Then Professor X lets all the bad guys go like they didn’t just kill a hundred CIA agents and Darwin, and almost started a nuclear war. Professor X should have taken over Azazel and transported himself to a hospital at least then knock out the other bad guys or something at least. How do they even get off the island? Why can’t the Hellfire Club have been more like the comics and less a clone of the brotherhood from the first films in almost every conceivable way? Speaking of island, wasn't the invisible blockade farther than a quarter mile from the coast?

5) Professor X and Mystique’s relationship, as awkward as it was, made no sense in relation to the original movies. Think about this. Charles and Erik knew each other for like a week in this movie. Yes like a freaking week, and somehow they grew to become lifetime frenemies. Yet, Mystique, who was super close to Charles most of her life, doesn’t even acknowledge Professor X in any of the other movies, certainly not when she tries to kill him. And Professor X visits Magneto for periodic chess matches with Magneto, but it doesn’t mention him ever visiting his adopted sister? It’s not like they parted ways on sour terms (it would have at least made sense if Charles dated her then dumped her for Moira like in the Ultimate X-Men comics). I call shenanigans. Lazy shenanigans.

6) I don’t know if this is a reboot like Superman Returns (more like Superman Reruns) or what, but it makes no GD f-ing sense chronologically. There is the thing about the beast being human in the second film then blue in the third and whatever; I guess we don’t care, but here is something I just can’t ignore. The opening scene to the Last Stand, a walking older Xavier and Erik visiting Jean Grey for recruitment. Yes walking. Yes friends. Yes founding a school together. Yes crucial scene. It implies from Magneto’s question that they wouldn’t visit everyone in person, which is mind boggling when you consider that they have already done this before when they were way younger and yes they visited everyone including Wolverine in person. It sort of implies that Jean was one of the first. None of it makes any sense now. Which gets me to my next peeve.

7) I wasn’t a huge fan of the Lucasian style prequel wrap up either. I don’t know why a) Charles and Erik had to end their relationship so soon after meeting b) Magneto had to immediately form the brotherhood of mutants c) the Death Star had to be shown being constructed-oh I mean Cerebro was built already d) Magneto had to adopt his cape and whatnot, and e) this is the clincher: Charles had to have his back severed? Why so soon? Although it was actually kind of interesting the way they did it so I guess it wasn’t too bad, even though it is a bit much to all happen in this first film and doesn't fit chronologically. f) Heck even the plane was here. It’s as if everything from the originals all happened in this one movie ( g)the beast turns blue etc.). Why couldn’t stuff happen over time? Why does it all have to be shown right then? Reminds me of the ten minutes that defined Indian Jones for the rest of his life (he gained a fear of snakes, learned to love adventure, realized artifacts belonged in museums, learned to operate his trademark bullwhip, and received his famous hat in one very important, convenient life event).

Lazy filmmaking aside, it was great as long as you don’t dwell on the huge inconsistencies and lack of original villain group. Fox should really just give up their half-butted charade and let Marvel do an authentic reboot already. I leave you this question to ponder: when did Michael Ironside get so fat? I didn't remember him being that way in Terminator Salvation.

The Opposite of Advertising

So I noticed this ad on Gmail the other day:



My first reaction was "Oh boy [sarc mark]. Just what I always wanted!"

But then I realized that the ads on Hotmail are so very bad. They make no sense. they are insulting and stupid. Some on Facebook are the same. Here are a few that I noticed recently and captured like an injured Pokemon.



The above ad is a little sexist or something. I am not sure I'd like to be present for that pitch meeting. "Sexy superhero goes back to get her education!" Then someone shouts, "Oh and she bounces up and down!" That went without saying. Then the next meeting someone came up with a new idea to trump that with "Sexy superhero goes back to school, but she has the head of and old dude or something." Pictured below: WHY!?

Also he looks pissed to be graduating in that body. Speaking of pissed. Look at this cop who also, BTW, was bouncing up and down. Usually angry people don't bounce.

You don't know how much I pay . . .officer.

This last one is from Facebook. I copied it because it makes no freaking sense and it has bad grammar: who makes a fifty word ad without at least proofreading the copy! And why does it look like the Batplane?

These weren't even the worst. They were just dumb one I noticed recently. What is the opposite of advertising, you know where your goal is to scare away any potential customers?

De Moded

This is a story about the one time I was really excited and positive about something. Ever. So I recently started an MBA program from Western Governors University (WGU). FYI this school is awesome and you don’t even know OK! Sorry, I had to get my defensiveness out of the way early. So anyway, this school is pretty cool. Whatevs. So I got my results back from my first assessment that I have been waiting for. If you don’t know what an assessment is, it’s basically a test. Anyway so they provide comments on the results. There are several sections but you have to pass them all (and it’s open book so no big deal). FYI I totally passed. So here is the comments I found waiting for me this morning: Great job on this task! All aspects of the task are acceptable; the task is complete. Keep up the great work! Sweeeet. So I am awesome and stuff. Possibly the smartest person alive. So in hubris, I read the comment aloud to my coworkers and post this feedback verbatim on Facespace. Then someone replies with: Where are you getting your mba. Seems like a computer generated response. Moded! Dang. Too ashamed to admit WGU is an online unie, I reply with “you reply is computer generated.” That’ll show ‘em. So it turns out I suck and everything I stand for is lame. I was about three seconds away from emailing the evaluator department to investigate. What is this is just the same old crap they say to everyone automatically who passes? I don’t need to investigate. My heart tells me it is. Why wouldn’t they have a prewritten comment saying “’atta boy. Keep on trucking!”? I would. Who has time to write great job to everyone who passes? So I suck. No more positivity from me ever. From now on I’ll stick to handing out the moded not receiving them.

A Message for the Kids

So I stumbled across this cute little fellow on my Pokedex. Actually why the heck do they have a Pokedex? It is like an iPhone that does only one thing. That is as dumb as an iPhone that only shows books (oh wait they make those: Nook and whatnot). Anyway look at this little guy. He is smiling and having a great time. Smoking up a storm. He is young and living his life. As you can see from his skull and crossbones tat, he is a rebellious teen. Puff puff pass. Look at his eyes, looking upward to a bright future. But then we see what happens when Koffing matures, "evolves," and turns into Weezing. Looks like he has a couple kids in tow, one with a neat circle, whatever that is supposed to mean. Notice how unhappy Weezing is compared to Koffing. His sullen eyes. His small lazy puffs. He's just going through the motions. The kid doesn't look too keen on that second-hand smoke either. Might as well get used to it. It won't be long until he starts first handing anyway. Smoke up, Johnny!

Message for kids: smoking is fun when you're a coughing teen, but when you grow up and start wheezing up blood and your skull tattoo is wrinkling, life is not the bag of oysters it once was. Don't smoke or something.

El Scorcho

So I was working from home today. And I decided to cook up a steak for lunch. But it was taking so long and I was so, so hungry. So I decided to speed up the grilling process by adding a tad extra lighter fluid to the charcoal briquettes. They kept going out and I wanted to use what is called the direct method of barbequing (that is it uses fire instead of lame slowpoke ashes). I squeezed out a smidge extra lighter fluid and lit it. BOOM! The fireball was huge. The massive smoke made me tear up a little but I was fine, though a little shocked by the huge fire. And I had to use a broom to push the flaming rack back into the grill. When my meat was finished I enjoyed it thoroughly. Then I got the feeling that I had a ton of dried A1 sauce on my beard. When I went to wash it out, I discovered the horrible truth. It wasn’t dried steak sauce. The left side of my face was all covered in orangey hairs. They even flew up into my head. Basically I burned those suckers up. Apparently I had used the direct method to cook my face. I didn’t think to take a picture and I washed most of the burnt stuff out and you can barely see the remaining crispers. I can still smell BBQ on my left cheek. The end.

Superstupidglue

So our crappy crapper broke this past weekend. And Rachel tried helping me fix it. This required the use of the most hilarious/aggravating substance known to man: superglue. So the stupid regular cap on the stupidglue was superglued shut so we had to use the wide part, the part that gushes out. Anyway so Rachel superglued her thumb and pointy finger to some piece of plastic on the toilet flushing mechanism. She was stuck there while I ran to the store to get superglue’s kryptonite: nail polish remover. Oh and I updated my Facebook status to “Rachel is superglued to the toilet.” I should have mentioned it was literal: not like she had diarrhea, which some people might have thought. Superglue is dumb and I hate it, except when funniness ensues.

Anyway here are the pictures:

The Mutant Leftovers that Almost Ate Me

I forgot my “empty” container of cottage cheese and pineapple at my work desk. When I returned four days later, it had grown a face, like a thick membrane scientist call skin. I think it winked at me. So to avoid making my resident pregnant coworker throw up when she came in, I swiftly hobbled to the kitchen (I was using a cane) to wash it out of existence. I think it was crying when I washed it down the disposal. Then the drain clogged and it came up in the other sink’s drain. It was the cottage cheese/pineapple hybrid of unstoppable death! This time the face looked angry: it was out for revenge. But I drowned it out with about a gallon of liquid soap. The end.

Back to the Prison

I just had a Back to the Future epiphany; Biff should probably be in jail or worse. Am I the only person on the planet who thinks this guy got off easy? He tried to run Marty over when Marty invented the skateboard (ramming him into a manure truck would probably kill a skateboarder without a helmet and knee pads). He basically tried to rape Marty’s mom for crepe’s sake. Then he murders George in an alternate timeline and attempts to murder Marty (and would murder the crazy wild-eyed scientist too).

After George’s life altering punch, you think Biff learned his lesson? H no. He tries to kill Marty again while Marty is stealing the Sports Almanac out of the car.

Then George let’s this manure head into his home and allows him to wax his cars “Oh Biff, always trying to pull something. First he tries raping my beloved, now he is trying to con me on this car wash. Ha ha, good times.” Even when it’s apparent that he is trying to swindle him! If somebody tried manhandling Rachel at the prom, do you think I would pay him to wax my anything?

And that is the most unbelievable part of the Back to the Future series.

Oh and why would they still live in the same house even though he is rich and prosperous? I assume they just always wanted to live in that exact house (except when George is killed and black people move in when the property value goes down).

My Sign is Shut Up

So apparently the pseudoscience of astrology I guess decided to update their shiz because it is off by a month, or a scientist just pointed out that they needed to? And astrologers responded by pretending that they already knew everything about astronomy. I don't know if there are enough curse words in the language and a half I to competently express the response I feel to this whole situation.

Oh and I guess there is a whole new sign that may or may not have been left out of this whole thing called Ophiuchus (finally disproving any validity that Battlestar Galactic is a documentary). I missed being moved from Sagittarius to Morpheus by one day. That was a close call. Otherwise I would have to choose a whole bunch of other nonsense to believe about myself.

Here are your new daily horror-scopes. Just go ahead and reread the same one every day for the rest of your life [hint: changing doesn't make any difference at all].

Capricorn: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Aquarius: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Pisces: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Aries: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Taurus: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Gemini: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Cancer: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Leo: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Virgo: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Libra: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Scorpio: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Sagittarius: Sometimes you will have fun with and other times you get perplexed by and even annoyed with horoscopes. You are sometimes happy and sometimes sad, but you always fall asleep eventually.

Actually maybe you should just write your own horoscope. Think about how accurate that would be.

What's my sign? My sign is shut your facehole.

Happy New Bloggy!

I was gonna post a pic of our car wreck from last week's run in (literally) with a van, but that might make Rachel feel bad (AKA worse) so I'm writing a new year's blog.

Happy new thingy! New year, new blog. Lil' late though. I feel hung over, and all I did last night was watch Community until my head hurt. My new year's resolution this year is to something about not waking up feeling poopy.

Anyway, so blog, blog, blog, yackity bloggy. Man I don't know what to blog here.

Also last night was the first night since we got married that Rachie and I were not together. Because of the aforementioned run in, I had to stay in Murray while she stayed in Provo for the night 'cause ye olde car shoppe has our automobile. Incidentally (ha dentally) they lost our car for half a day, but no worries because what was once lost now is blind.