Why don't they make arm-rests for toilets? It seems like they should have that. Right now your only option is to lean forward and put your arms on your thighs or to let them hang at your side. Neither position is very comfortable if you're in it for the long haul. Although I think the leaning forward position is probably the most effective for a "clean release."
The arm rests could also have a cup holder or something.
toilet arm rests, patented 11-17-2006 by me.
See, I am an idea man.
11.17.2006
11.16.2006
10 YEAR REUNION.
Yes, this year is the ten year reunion of my high school graduation. That means I'm getting old. And since I'm planning to attend, that means I'm prepared to have the same conversation over and over again approximately 50 times. I'm attending more out of curiosity than to reconnect with friends from the past or to gloat about my achievements in life. I doubted we would even have a reunion, seeing as it's the class president's job to plan it; and I don't think ours had any interest in doing so.
But someone did plan it. Yes indeed. I tip my hat to the girl who took the initiative to do so. It's something she didn't have to do, and I appreciate it. She made a wise decision to plan it during Thanksgiving break, when many out-of-state alumni will be home. But taking the initiative and choosing a good date seem to be where her good decision-making ended.
Take a look at the following description of my impending reunion:
"Ticket can be purchased from celebrations to remember. The price is $59 before November 21st. Purchase by phone at 734.261.3264 Ticket Price Includes Hors D'Oeuvres, Alumni Directory For Each Paid Alumni Reservation, Photo Name Tags, DJ, Decor, Printing, Postage, Administration Expenses and Reunion Host. Cash Bar will be available. Reservations Made After November 21st will be $69.00 per person and $135.00 per couple. If you have a paid reservation with Reunion Makers please call CTR, Inc. at 734.261.3264. Lafayette Grand Banquets, 1 Lafayette, Pontiac, MI"
Waaaaiit a minute. Let's take a look at this.
Tickets $59. Alright. We're adults, we have jobs, we can afford to spring for our 10-year reunion. After all, it only comes once, right. Granted, I think I should be paid to sit around having the same shitty conversation with people I care so much about that I haven't seen them in ten years. And at least we'll have an open bar.
Nope. Look closer. Cash bar will be available. Available? If I'm not having my shitty conversations in an alcohol induced haze, it's likely my social anxiety and intolerance of idiots will kick in, making me one miserable sonovabitch. How on earth can you charge people $60 and not have an open bar? How is it even possible?
Here's how. Girls planned it. A recap of the 10 year reunion planning committee meeting:
GIRL 1: It's our ten year reunion, what should we do?
GIRL 2: I think we should rent a banquet hall. This has to be better than prom.
GIRL 3: Maybe we should just rent a bar. I think that would be a good atmosphere.
GIRL 1: A bar? Come on Susan, I bet people are going to want to dress up fancy.
GIRL 2: Yeah, we should probably get decorations, maybe have a theme of some sort.
GIRL 3: I don't think people will care about that.
GIRL 1: Won't care? Won't care? Listen, we're planning this. We're going to look dumb if we just have it at some bar with a bunch of beer and pizza. We need to go high class. People will judge us by how nice this is.
GIRL 2: It's our chance to show them we've made it. We seriously need to get some hors D'Oeuvres and stuff.
GIRL 1: And people are definitely going to want a DJ and a dance floor and centerpieces on the tables.
GIRL 2: And picture nametags and streamers and balloons.
GIRL 3: Can we at least have an open bar?
GIRL 1: We can't waste money on that.
GIRL 2: Seriously, how can we afford that and administration expenses and postage? No one cares about open bars.
GIRL 3: Fuck this. Fuck you. I'm not helping any more.
Aaarrrrrg. In my opinion, all you need for a good reunion is the following: a room, some beer, some pizza or chips, masking tape and a Sharpe (for nametags), and some chairs. That's it. I could organize a good reunion for $10 a head. And that would include pizza and all you can drink beer. But alas, I'm lazy and I don't live in Michigan, so I have to let it go.
I'm going to suck it up, pay for my ticket, wear normal clothes, bring a bottle of Makers and try not to complain about the reunion in front of the organizer.
But someone did plan it. Yes indeed. I tip my hat to the girl who took the initiative to do so. It's something she didn't have to do, and I appreciate it. She made a wise decision to plan it during Thanksgiving break, when many out-of-state alumni will be home. But taking the initiative and choosing a good date seem to be where her good decision-making ended.
Take a look at the following description of my impending reunion:
"Ticket can be purchased from celebrations to remember. The price is $59 before November 21st. Purchase by phone at 734.261.3264 Ticket Price Includes Hors D'Oeuvres, Alumni Directory For Each Paid Alumni Reservation, Photo Name Tags, DJ, Decor, Printing, Postage, Administration Expenses and Reunion Host. Cash Bar will be available. Reservations Made After November 21st will be $69.00 per person and $135.00 per couple. If you have a paid reservation with Reunion Makers please call CTR, Inc. at 734.261.3264. Lafayette Grand Banquets, 1 Lafayette, Pontiac, MI"
Waaaaiit a minute. Let's take a look at this.
Tickets $59. Alright. We're adults, we have jobs, we can afford to spring for our 10-year reunion. After all, it only comes once, right. Granted, I think I should be paid to sit around having the same shitty conversation with people I care so much about that I haven't seen them in ten years. And at least we'll have an open bar.
Nope. Look closer. Cash bar will be available. Available? If I'm not having my shitty conversations in an alcohol induced haze, it's likely my social anxiety and intolerance of idiots will kick in, making me one miserable sonovabitch. How on earth can you charge people $60 and not have an open bar? How is it even possible?
Here's how. Girls planned it. A recap of the 10 year reunion planning committee meeting:
GIRL 1: It's our ten year reunion, what should we do?
GIRL 2: I think we should rent a banquet hall. This has to be better than prom.
GIRL 3: Maybe we should just rent a bar. I think that would be a good atmosphere.
GIRL 1: A bar? Come on Susan, I bet people are going to want to dress up fancy.
GIRL 2: Yeah, we should probably get decorations, maybe have a theme of some sort.
GIRL 3: I don't think people will care about that.
GIRL 1: Won't care? Won't care? Listen, we're planning this. We're going to look dumb if we just have it at some bar with a bunch of beer and pizza. We need to go high class. People will judge us by how nice this is.
GIRL 2: It's our chance to show them we've made it. We seriously need to get some hors D'Oeuvres and stuff.
GIRL 1: And people are definitely going to want a DJ and a dance floor and centerpieces on the tables.
GIRL 2: And picture nametags and streamers and balloons.
GIRL 3: Can we at least have an open bar?
GIRL 1: We can't waste money on that.
GIRL 2: Seriously, how can we afford that and administration expenses and postage? No one cares about open bars.
GIRL 3: Fuck this. Fuck you. I'm not helping any more.
Aaarrrrrg. In my opinion, all you need for a good reunion is the following: a room, some beer, some pizza or chips, masking tape and a Sharpe (for nametags), and some chairs. That's it. I could organize a good reunion for $10 a head. And that would include pizza and all you can drink beer. But alas, I'm lazy and I don't live in Michigan, so I have to let it go.
I'm going to suck it up, pay for my ticket, wear normal clothes, bring a bottle of Makers and try not to complain about the reunion in front of the organizer.
11.15.2006
WINNING WITH NUMBER TWO.
One thing I'm not fond of is public bathrooms. Going number one in a public bathroom is no sweat; it's going number two that's very uncomfortable. Aside from the dirt-factor associated with a bathroom shared with strangers, the main problem for me is having to go while someone else is in the bathroom. In my current work situation, the building shares one male bathroom. This bathroom contains one stall for shitting. So every day when nature calls, I find myself with the opportunity to claim two victories.
The first challenge is timing your trip so that the toilet is unoccupied when you arrive. There's nothing worse than walking in and seeing someone's feet under the stall. You have to go back into the office without accomplishing your goal and you have to know that some other guy was just dumping where you dump. But after many hours of observing actions around the office, I've gotten pretty good at timing my runs. Win.
The second win is achieved by finishing your business before anyone comes in. I can't have a movement while someone else is in the bathroom, so any time there's another human in there I'm basically stalled. During the workday I'm an efficient crapper. No lounging around and reading the Wall Street Journal that's sometimes wedged in the stall crack. Just get in, unload, get out.
Today I won twice. It's a great feeling, getting in there and seeing an empty stall, doing your business, washing up and getting out without having to hear, see or talk to anyone.
That is how you win at number two.
The first challenge is timing your trip so that the toilet is unoccupied when you arrive. There's nothing worse than walking in and seeing someone's feet under the stall. You have to go back into the office without accomplishing your goal and you have to know that some other guy was just dumping where you dump. But after many hours of observing actions around the office, I've gotten pretty good at timing my runs. Win.
The second win is achieved by finishing your business before anyone comes in. I can't have a movement while someone else is in the bathroom, so any time there's another human in there I'm basically stalled. During the workday I'm an efficient crapper. No lounging around and reading the Wall Street Journal that's sometimes wedged in the stall crack. Just get in, unload, get out.
Today I won twice. It's a great feeling, getting in there and seeing an empty stall, doing your business, washing up and getting out without having to hear, see or talk to anyone.
That is how you win at number two.
11.10.2006
UNFORTUNATE FELLOWS.
Borat, the Khazakhstanian sensation, has run into some more trouble stemming from his new movie. Apparently the college kids who made absolute asses of themselves aren't pleased by their portrayal as huge asses in the movie. The three South Carolina frat guys acted in typical meathead fashion, making absurd statements about fucking bitches and having slaves. But now that they've realized they're not cool and that the whole nation is about to find out, they're pissed.
See the article here.
According to Yahoo, "The film 'made plaintiffs the object of ridicule, humiliation, mental anguish and emotional and physical distress, loss of reputation, goodwill and standing in the community,' the lawsuit said." The defendants, 20th Century Fox and a few other companies are claiming the lawsuit "has no merit." Which I normally would agree with. These guys are idiots, pure and simple.
However, on a legal basis I think these guys have a chance if they claim the following:
Because of the Borat movie, we will never get to have consentual sex with girls again in our lives.
As more and more people see the movie and discover what kind of jackasses these fellows are, the pool of women willing to have intercourse with them will dry up until they will actually have to travel to Khazakhstan to get sex. If I were a jury, I would award them the following damages:
We, the people of the jury, award each boy whatever costs are involved in a lifetime of using prostitutes.
Since that's what they'll have to do. Of course, there's always the chance that this 15 minutes of fame will propel them into a life formerly enjoyed only by ex-reality TV show stars; hosting events at bars, maintaining their ridiculous behavior and picking up drunk 18-year old girls who got in with fake id's and are about to pass out.
See the article here.
According to Yahoo, "The film 'made plaintiffs the object of ridicule, humiliation, mental anguish and emotional and physical distress, loss of reputation, goodwill and standing in the community,' the lawsuit said." The defendants, 20th Century Fox and a few other companies are claiming the lawsuit "has no merit." Which I normally would agree with. These guys are idiots, pure and simple.
However, on a legal basis I think these guys have a chance if they claim the following:
Because of the Borat movie, we will never get to have consentual sex with girls again in our lives.
As more and more people see the movie and discover what kind of jackasses these fellows are, the pool of women willing to have intercourse with them will dry up until they will actually have to travel to Khazakhstan to get sex. If I were a jury, I would award them the following damages:
We, the people of the jury, award each boy whatever costs are involved in a lifetime of using prostitutes.
Since that's what they'll have to do. Of course, there's always the chance that this 15 minutes of fame will propel them into a life formerly enjoyed only by ex-reality TV show stars; hosting events at bars, maintaining their ridiculous behavior and picking up drunk 18-year old girls who got in with fake id's and are about to pass out.
I AM POWERFUL.
One thing I love doing is rating songs on iTunes. All day long I sit at work with my iTunes on "party shuffle" and rate music. It's a great feeling to know you're in charge of letting a song know how good it is. I'm pretty generous with my three and four-star ratings, but when it comes to five stars you've got to be an outstanding song. Likewise, to get two stars you have to be a song I don't really want to listen to very often. And I don't even use one star. Instead, I change the name of the song to "delete" and then every so often I throw out all the songs with the title "delete". It's like trading in a life sentence for the death penalty. Why have a bunch of songs that have one star hanging around taking up memory? If you give a song one star, that pretty much means it sucks.
This process makes me feel powerful.
This process makes me feel powerful.
11.09.2006
MOM OR NANNY.
This afternoon while sitting on the balcony overlooking a parking lot in Westport, CT we developed a slight variation on the classic game of "Wife or Daughter." For those of you unfamiliar with Wife or Daughter, it's a game that involves trying to guess if the attractive young woman accompanying an older gentleman is his wife or his daughter. Of course you can never really know, but speculation is good, clean fun.
During the day in downtown Westport, however, the game is slightly altered. Because most of the dads are working and most of the daughters are in school, you can't really play Wife or Daughter. But luckily, the town provides an acceptable substitute. The cars parking in the lot behind our building are loaded with women, strollers and children. The new game: Mom or Nanny. This new game is valid and challenging for the following reasons:
1. Westport is a rich area, where Nannies are very common.
2. Many of the women unloading the children, from far away, look much too young and hot to be mothers of two.
3. Many of the moms do not work, which allows them to go to the gym every day and maintain a body that appears to be that of a young, 22-year old Nanny.
The male contestant considers numerous factors in order to reach his conclusion. Some of the following criteria are commonly used:
-How hot is she? If she's very hot and very young, Nanny is assumed until proven otherwise.
-What color is she? There's no black or Hispanic people in Westport; at least none that are shopping on a Thursday afternoon. So if you're looking at a hot woman of color, you're safe to assume Nanny.
-How old are the kids? The older the kids and the younger the woman, the more likely it is to be a Nanny. If there's two or three kids and she still has a tight body, you have to lean toward Nanny.
-Does her left hand glisten? If the sun causes her left hand to sparkle, it's likely she's wearing a wedding ring and is a Mom.
-Do the kids call her Mom? If you're close enough to hear, this is a dead giveaway and sort of ruins the game.
-If she actually makes purchases at the stores downtown, she's likely a Mom. If she window shops and takes the kids to the park, she could be a Nanny.
-What do you want her to be? If you think she's super hot, you want her to be a Nanny. This means you have a chance and will often cause you to overlook obvious Mom evidence.
-If her car is crappy, it's probably a Nanny and that's probably her car.
-How careful is she with the kids? The more careful she is, the more likely it is she's a Nanny. You don't want to be losing some rich folks' children. But if they're your own, hey, you can just make more.
There are no winners or losers in Mom or Nanny. Although I guess if somehow you approached the subject of debate and ended up having sex with her, you would be winning. No matter which one she was.
During the day in downtown Westport, however, the game is slightly altered. Because most of the dads are working and most of the daughters are in school, you can't really play Wife or Daughter. But luckily, the town provides an acceptable substitute. The cars parking in the lot behind our building are loaded with women, strollers and children. The new game: Mom or Nanny. This new game is valid and challenging for the following reasons:
1. Westport is a rich area, where Nannies are very common.
2. Many of the women unloading the children, from far away, look much too young and hot to be mothers of two.
3. Many of the moms do not work, which allows them to go to the gym every day and maintain a body that appears to be that of a young, 22-year old Nanny.
The male contestant considers numerous factors in order to reach his conclusion. Some of the following criteria are commonly used:
-How hot is she? If she's very hot and very young, Nanny is assumed until proven otherwise.
-What color is she? There's no black or Hispanic people in Westport; at least none that are shopping on a Thursday afternoon. So if you're looking at a hot woman of color, you're safe to assume Nanny.
-How old are the kids? The older the kids and the younger the woman, the more likely it is to be a Nanny. If there's two or three kids and she still has a tight body, you have to lean toward Nanny.
-Does her left hand glisten? If the sun causes her left hand to sparkle, it's likely she's wearing a wedding ring and is a Mom.
-Do the kids call her Mom? If you're close enough to hear, this is a dead giveaway and sort of ruins the game.
-If she actually makes purchases at the stores downtown, she's likely a Mom. If she window shops and takes the kids to the park, she could be a Nanny.
-What do you want her to be? If you think she's super hot, you want her to be a Nanny. This means you have a chance and will often cause you to overlook obvious Mom evidence.
-If her car is crappy, it's probably a Nanny and that's probably her car.
-How careful is she with the kids? The more careful she is, the more likely it is she's a Nanny. You don't want to be losing some rich folks' children. But if they're your own, hey, you can just make more.
There are no winners or losers in Mom or Nanny. Although I guess if somehow you approached the subject of debate and ended up having sex with her, you would be winning. No matter which one she was.
11.08.2006
skittles
Has anyone considered that since the rainbow has been claimed by gay people, maybe Skittles should change their tagline. Taste the rainbow. Sounds like blow a gay guy.
Also, how about a blue skittle? Or isn't blue part of the rainbow anymore?
Also, how about a blue skittle? Or isn't blue part of the rainbow anymore?
PHONAPHOBIA.
The more I pay attention to the way I live my life, the more I realize I have a few strange and irrational disorders. After doing some research (looking up the definition of a word)I think some of them can be classes as phobias. By definition, a phobia is "an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something." My crippling, tooth-rotting fear of the dentist? Definitely a fear phobia. My inability to eat during first dates? Probably an aversion phobia of some sort.
Last night I diagnosed myself with an aversion phobia to talking on the phone. I've known for a long time that I don't particularly enjoy talking on the phone. This played a large part in the deterioration of my six-year relationship with a girl I thought I would marry. I had no desire to speak to her on the phone and listen to her yammer on about a bunch of shit that happened to her that day. I tell people I'm not good at it and that it's just not me; that if I have something really important to say I'll just see them in person. But it doesn't really make sense. I like friends, I like talking, I like gossip. I have friends and family all over the country. When I see them in person, I can hang out and talk for hours about nothing at all.
Why can't I use the damned phone? Almost every night I hold my cell phone and think about calling my brother or sister or mom or friend or girl I'm trying to date…and I just can't do it. The less I do it--which at this point is very seldom--the harder it gets to press that "send" button.
When I do talk on the phone, I lose control of my body. While conversing, without consciously making an effort to do so, I pace around my apartment; I open cupboards and drawers and the refrigerator; I rearrange books and dvds; I play with a soccer ball or football or throw a baseball into a mitt. I can’t sit still. Perhaps my brain isn't satisfied using only one of my senses. Talking on the phone requires only that my ears are working. In normal conversation, my eyes are contributing to the conversation, as are my hands and face, etc. Non-verbal communication. I think if I had to talk on the phone while blindfolded and bound to a chair, I would lose my mind.
Another problem with my phone skills is that as soon as I start talking, I begin wondering what I’m going to talk about and looking for a convenient point to end the conversation. Which badly inhibits my ability to pay attention to the conversation and makes the whole thing awkward and somewhat forced.
This can't be normal, so I'm going to class it as an aversion phobia. I'm not afraid of using the phone, I just irrationally avoid using it. Maybe I should get some treatment; go to a phone-talk counseling center of some sort. Or hire a phone talking coach or perhaps just sit down every night and force myself to make one phone call with a list of things to talk about.
While I’m sure this problem, along with some others, can be classed as some sort of social anxiety disorder, I think that sounds a little too serious and bad. A phobia, on the other hand, is something you can laugh about, like Arachnophobia. Grown-ups who are terrified of spiders? That's pure comedy.
Along with publicly diagnosing myself with the problem, I would also like to issue an apology to those of you who wonder why I never call. It’s not that I don’t like you. I love you all. It’s just that I am mentally unable to take part in telephone conversations. If you’re a friend and you’re wondering if I think about you, I do. If you’re a family member and you’re wondering if I care about what’s going on in your life, I certainly do. If you’re a girl and you think I like you and you wonder why I don't call, the answer is that we should make out--even if I don’t call.
Feel free to leave me a message or send me a text.
In unrelated news, last night I had a very vivid dream invovling dinosaurs, Velocoraptors in particular, hunting me and a bunch of people around an office building and sometimes in a forest. I don't think anyone was hurt, but it was very exciting and I was very daring and heroic.
Last night I diagnosed myself with an aversion phobia to talking on the phone. I've known for a long time that I don't particularly enjoy talking on the phone. This played a large part in the deterioration of my six-year relationship with a girl I thought I would marry. I had no desire to speak to her on the phone and listen to her yammer on about a bunch of shit that happened to her that day. I tell people I'm not good at it and that it's just not me; that if I have something really important to say I'll just see them in person. But it doesn't really make sense. I like friends, I like talking, I like gossip. I have friends and family all over the country. When I see them in person, I can hang out and talk for hours about nothing at all.
Why can't I use the damned phone? Almost every night I hold my cell phone and think about calling my brother or sister or mom or friend or girl I'm trying to date…and I just can't do it. The less I do it--which at this point is very seldom--the harder it gets to press that "send" button.
When I do talk on the phone, I lose control of my body. While conversing, without consciously making an effort to do so, I pace around my apartment; I open cupboards and drawers and the refrigerator; I rearrange books and dvds; I play with a soccer ball or football or throw a baseball into a mitt. I can’t sit still. Perhaps my brain isn't satisfied using only one of my senses. Talking on the phone requires only that my ears are working. In normal conversation, my eyes are contributing to the conversation, as are my hands and face, etc. Non-verbal communication. I think if I had to talk on the phone while blindfolded and bound to a chair, I would lose my mind.
Another problem with my phone skills is that as soon as I start talking, I begin wondering what I’m going to talk about and looking for a convenient point to end the conversation. Which badly inhibits my ability to pay attention to the conversation and makes the whole thing awkward and somewhat forced.
This can't be normal, so I'm going to class it as an aversion phobia. I'm not afraid of using the phone, I just irrationally avoid using it. Maybe I should get some treatment; go to a phone-talk counseling center of some sort. Or hire a phone talking coach or perhaps just sit down every night and force myself to make one phone call with a list of things to talk about.
While I’m sure this problem, along with some others, can be classed as some sort of social anxiety disorder, I think that sounds a little too serious and bad. A phobia, on the other hand, is something you can laugh about, like Arachnophobia. Grown-ups who are terrified of spiders? That's pure comedy.
Along with publicly diagnosing myself with the problem, I would also like to issue an apology to those of you who wonder why I never call. It’s not that I don’t like you. I love you all. It’s just that I am mentally unable to take part in telephone conversations. If you’re a friend and you’re wondering if I think about you, I do. If you’re a family member and you’re wondering if I care about what’s going on in your life, I certainly do. If you’re a girl and you think I like you and you wonder why I don't call, the answer is that we should make out--even if I don’t call.
Feel free to leave me a message or send me a text.
In unrelated news, last night I had a very vivid dream invovling dinosaurs, Velocoraptors in particular, hunting me and a bunch of people around an office building and sometimes in a forest. I don't think anyone was hurt, but it was very exciting and I was very daring and heroic.
11.06.2006
POLITICS: BAD FOR AMERICA.
As elections draw near, the country has yet again been suffocating under a blanket of political advertising. From folks handing you pamphlets on the street to those awful television ads, which have become the staple of the politician's propaganda arsenal, you can't escape it. In addition to the fact that political ads all blend together, are typically horrible and seldom tell you anything that would actually help you vote, the sheer amount spent on political advertising is sickening.
"Political-advertising spending has zoomed past projections and is headed toward a stratospheric $2 billion-plus this year, some 17.6% more than 2004...(and) Those numbers don't include spot cable, which has attracted serious spending."
Over two-billion dollars? Do you know how many people you can feed for two BILLION dollars? Neither do I. But I bet it's a lot. I don't know that a political ad has ever helped one single citizen, except for the person in the ad. Instead of letting self-important, power-hungry puppets run this country, howsabout we outlaw political advertising and spend that money on some positive programs. Let’s spend $2 billion more on education. Or building affordable housing for those in poverty. Or sending aid to third world nations.
You can’t honestly expect me to believe that this is the best way to use money people are donating to political parties. Over $2,000,000,000? That’s a lot of zeros, my friends. More and more, you have to wonder where this money comes from. Though many politicians are of the bored rich variety, that’s still an awful lot for people to spend out of their own pockets.
So then what? Are politicians asking us to believe they raise the money for these campaigns themselves? Have you ever given money to a campaign? Or know anyone who has? No. And do you know why? Because you’re not rich enough to be in the top 5% of the people in this country. The 5% that controls 95% of the wealth. Which is why political spending is bad for America. The wealthy fund campaigns to get officials elected. And then guess whose interests those officials represent? That’s right. This is how the rich get richer. It’s how big business controls government.
It should be noted that I know nothing about politics and very little about the world in general. Mostly, I make shit up as I go along and read books that support my worldview. So generally anything I have to say about politics is based on wild speculation and limited knowledge. Also, I am not voting because I didn’t register because I am an idiot.
Thank you. Goodnight.
"Political-advertising spending has zoomed past projections and is headed toward a stratospheric $2 billion-plus this year, some 17.6% more than 2004...(and) Those numbers don't include spot cable, which has attracted serious spending."
Over two-billion dollars? Do you know how many people you can feed for two BILLION dollars? Neither do I. But I bet it's a lot. I don't know that a political ad has ever helped one single citizen, except for the person in the ad. Instead of letting self-important, power-hungry puppets run this country, howsabout we outlaw political advertising and spend that money on some positive programs. Let’s spend $2 billion more on education. Or building affordable housing for those in poverty. Or sending aid to third world nations.
You can’t honestly expect me to believe that this is the best way to use money people are donating to political parties. Over $2,000,000,000? That’s a lot of zeros, my friends. More and more, you have to wonder where this money comes from. Though many politicians are of the bored rich variety, that’s still an awful lot for people to spend out of their own pockets.
So then what? Are politicians asking us to believe they raise the money for these campaigns themselves? Have you ever given money to a campaign? Or know anyone who has? No. And do you know why? Because you’re not rich enough to be in the top 5% of the people in this country. The 5% that controls 95% of the wealth. Which is why political spending is bad for America. The wealthy fund campaigns to get officials elected. And then guess whose interests those officials represent? That’s right. This is how the rich get richer. It’s how big business controls government.
It should be noted that I know nothing about politics and very little about the world in general. Mostly, I make shit up as I go along and read books that support my worldview. So generally anything I have to say about politics is based on wild speculation and limited knowledge. Also, I am not voting because I didn’t register because I am an idiot.
Thank you. Goodnight.
11.05.2006
MY LAST WISHES.
Over several years I've decided on a very specific course of action to be taken with my body when I die.
First, I want to be cremated. I find the idea of rotting in a little box buried in the earth to be very creepy and disturbing. I want to be good and sure I'm dead. And I think being reduced to a pile of ash will pretty much wrap that up.
Second, I would like to have my ash mailed to my friends all over the world. As many places as possible.
Third, my ashes would be accompanied by instructions as to how said friends should dispose of my ashes.
INSTRUCTIONS:
Dear friend,
How's it going? Obviously better for you than me. Enclosed you will find a portion of my ashes. When you get a chance, please take them to a restaurant near you. Sit at a table and when no one is watching, open the pepper shaker and top off the pepper with my ashes. Please do this at as many restaurants as you can.
Thank you. Sorry I died.
Sincerely, Jim
After this is done, people all over the world will be eating bits of my charred body. Jim on eggs. Jim in soup. Perhaps some Jim on your mashed potatoes? I figure that since I don't know if there's an afterlife and whatnot, this will allow me the best possible chance of coming back to life. By having my ashes absorbed into the bodies of random diners, I can become part of them and perhaps take over their brains. Also, I like pepper. And it's a funny joke.
First, I want to be cremated. I find the idea of rotting in a little box buried in the earth to be very creepy and disturbing. I want to be good and sure I'm dead. And I think being reduced to a pile of ash will pretty much wrap that up.
Second, I would like to have my ash mailed to my friends all over the world. As many places as possible.
Third, my ashes would be accompanied by instructions as to how said friends should dispose of my ashes.
INSTRUCTIONS:
Dear friend,
How's it going? Obviously better for you than me. Enclosed you will find a portion of my ashes. When you get a chance, please take them to a restaurant near you. Sit at a table and when no one is watching, open the pepper shaker and top off the pepper with my ashes. Please do this at as many restaurants as you can.
Thank you. Sorry I died.
Sincerely, Jim
After this is done, people all over the world will be eating bits of my charred body. Jim on eggs. Jim in soup. Perhaps some Jim on your mashed potatoes? I figure that since I don't know if there's an afterlife and whatnot, this will allow me the best possible chance of coming back to life. By having my ashes absorbed into the bodies of random diners, I can become part of them and perhaps take over their brains. Also, I like pepper. And it's a funny joke.
11.03.2006
LEECHES ARE BACK.
Ask your friends. Ask your doctor. Once thought to be effective, then thought to be ridiculous, the use of leeches to treat medical patients is now seen as legitimate. To be honest, the article I'm referencing is over a year old. But I'm not a doctor and when someone said that leeches are being used as medicine again, I didn't believe it. But I'm here to tell you, leeches are back!
Not only are they back, but the FDA has declared them (along with maggots) as the first live medical devices. That is outstanding. To read the old-ass article I'm referencing, click here:
leeches are back
There is a picture at the bottom of the article of maggots "treating a wound" that very well could make you throw up. Good luck.
Not only are they back, but the FDA has declared them (along with maggots) as the first live medical devices. That is outstanding. To read the old-ass article I'm referencing, click here:
leeches are back
There is a picture at the bottom of the article of maggots "treating a wound" that very well could make you throw up. Good luck.
TRIALS OF LIFE.
I love nature. Animals, insects, fish, birds, plants. Everything is so strange and good. Which is why the other day, when I saw a real life struggle for survival taking place in my office, I ran though the hall to get my camera shouting, "Trials of life! Trials of life is happening!" Of course no one else came to watch the small clash taking place in the corner of our building. Which is why I took a video of it and put it online. I know someone else out there loves bugs as much as I do.
It takes a minute to load, so be patient. And enjoy.
It takes a minute to load, so be patient. And enjoy.
11.01.2006
WEIRD AND BAD.
Yesterday during lunch I got a bloody nose. That is weird and bad. It's weird, because there is no reason for me to have gotten said bloody nose. I was sitting there, eating some shrimp and chili fries and all of a sudden blood started coming out of my nose.
It is bad for several reasons. One, I was at lunch with my boss and two co-workers. Right away they think I'm a cokehead. That's what I would think if I saw some kid's nose just randomly begin dripping blood. Two, it is bad because it ruined my lunch and theirs. No one wants to eat shrimp with a napkin jammed up their nose. And no one wants to watch me bleed all over. Three, I think seagulls could smell the blood. They were all around us.
I actually think that shitting myself would have been better. Then I could have said, "I thought it was going to be a fart." But in this case, I couldn't even think of an excuse, because I don't know what causes bloody noses aside from cocaine and punching. As if I didn't have enough social anxiety about eating with people, now I have to worry about blood suddenly pouring out of my face? Come on. That's just not fair.
It is bad for several reasons. One, I was at lunch with my boss and two co-workers. Right away they think I'm a cokehead. That's what I would think if I saw some kid's nose just randomly begin dripping blood. Two, it is bad because it ruined my lunch and theirs. No one wants to eat shrimp with a napkin jammed up their nose. And no one wants to watch me bleed all over. Three, I think seagulls could smell the blood. They were all around us.
I actually think that shitting myself would have been better. Then I could have said, "I thought it was going to be a fart." But in this case, I couldn't even think of an excuse, because I don't know what causes bloody noses aside from cocaine and punching. As if I didn't have enough social anxiety about eating with people, now I have to worry about blood suddenly pouring out of my face? Come on. That's just not fair.
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