Friday, August 28, 2009

Commencement Address

I have been contacted by Harvard University to give the Commencement Address at their 2010 graduation ceremony. I naturally declined at first due to prior commitments (eating, sleeping, slapping old ladies for sassin’ me and fudge). After hours of agonizing thought (sleep) I finally relented and over the past few months I’ve been working on my first draft. Here is what I have so far:

Dear Graduates,

I stand before you today because sitting would make me invisible behind this podium. Then it would seem like you were being addressed by a talking piece of wood. But enough about the Italian puppet Pinocchio! *pause for raucous laughter and standing ovation* I am humbled by the level of intelligence contained in the crowd of people sitting in front of me. It makes me want to belittle you in any way I can think of. I will most likely pick on your clothing or your hair styles. This will make me feel like a smarter and better person than you. Do not worry; you will get the same treatment in the real world.

Now that I have brought it up, let us talk about this ‘real world’ that you have consistently been threatened with as you reach the end of your college careers. No, not the Real World on the MTV television channel! *pause for gales of laughter, joyful hoots and suggestive catcalls* I am talking about the real world that we all live in and that you will soon be joining. This is a real world where you can succeed if you set your mind to it. Take me for example: I started writing a humble blog a year ago, and now I have over six hundred million readers every second and a successful line of baby rainwear *pause for swelling applause and standing ovation* You may be asking yourself ‘Can I one day design tiny raincoats and floppy hats made out of waterproof material?’ No, you cannot, because that would be a patent violation punishable by law with mandatory prison time.

The real world is a scary place. There is no ‘beer pong’ in the real world. If you ask someone in the real world to play beer pong with you, you’ll get a black eye for your trouble and a night in jail. There is no ‘marijuana’ in the real world either (to my knowledge). Real world folk get high on love and understanding! There is no such thing as ‘sex with strangers’ in the real world. You most likely will not have sex at all, and if you are lucky enough to actually have sex with someone, it will be someone you know very well who will hate you. *pause for another standing ovation*

You think you know it all right now, and some of you actually might, right Harold? *shield your eyes like you are looking for ‘Harold’ in the crowd. Risky, but chances are that there will be a complete spaz named Harold who knows everything. Pause for knowing laughter from Harold’s friends* From the looks of some of you, you may know everything on Earth and some Saturn stuff too. Let me tell you, all of the knowledge in all of the books in every library on this planet will not help you in the real world. You must work on your fighting skills. Karate is a start, but you must be trained in weapons. Bow weapons, staff weapons, projectiles. Arm yourselves well, because the people you meet outside of the safety of Harvard will all be gunning for you. Even now, as you sit in those chairs, there are seventy five snipers surrounding you with their sights trained on your knowledge filled heads. Will Calculus save you now? Will 18th century American Literature shield you from the Grim Reaper? Will Short Story Analysis keep you alive when a bullet tears through your Harvard-y brains? Death is knocking. Will you deny him? Will you live to see the end of this speech? *pause for effect (10 minutes minimum)*

But hey, the real world can be fun too! They have amusement parks! *pause for delighted laughter* Ice cream socials! *pause for joyfulness* Work release programs! *standing ovation probable* I don’t want to get too ‘doom and gloom’ here, but there are some other things you have to look out for. I care about each and every one of you and I want to make sure you are prepared when you leave this campus. The single most dangerous thing you will have to face in the real world is bee stings. Those fuckers are fast and resilient and really really pissed off. Your best bet is to run everywhere you go and stay really low. Don’t drive with your windows open and keep some type of flame thrower with you. Contrary to popular belief, Doctor Schitzhammer *look over at Doctor Schitzhammer with a comical expression* bees are not flame-retardant! *pause for standing ovation while Doctor Schitzhammer feigns embarrassment (NOTE: Embarrassment may be real)*

There are at least twenty five to thirty other things you need to fear in the real world, but my time is short. I want to leave you on a positive note. *sing a high C note and hold it for 5 minutes* Good luck with your post-college lives. This is the time for you to join the rich tapestry of failure that eighty percent of you will experience when looking for a job. Now is the time to stand up and say ‘YES I MIGHT!’ Here is your chance to run headlong into the brick wall of ‘5 years experience minimum required’! The time is now to stride confidently into the job market and get your genitals whacked off by the long blade of the U.S. Economy!

Thank you and I leave you now with this time-honored quote from William Shakespeare: Yale sucks! *pause for thunderous ovation*

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Is there any other word in the English language that annoys me more than ‘Methinks’? Methinks not. ‘Anywhoo’, ‘Whatnot’, ‘Hinky’, ‘Oprah’ and ‘Theresnomorefudge’ all run a close second, but ‘Methinks’ takes the cake. What is with all of these people running around like Ye Olde English Barons using ‘Methinks’ like they are on their way to a medieval crowning ceremony?

“Methinks my DVR has not recorded Battlestar Galactica for the full amount of time.”
“I would like to go to White Castle and partake in a suitcase of cheeseburgers, methinks.”
“Methinks I have overstayed my welcome at this particular Red Lobster.”

Who are you kidding? You are 42, overweight, and play video games all day. ‘I thinks’ that you are trying to sound more educated than you really are. Knock off all the pseudo-intellectual philosophizing and join us all in the real world. Stop prancing around like you are about to burst into verses of Shakespeare; you are not the fifth duke of Wilkenshire.

Methinks I am getting cranky in my old overweight age.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

A Moment with my Children

It was a quiet Sunday morning. I was sitting at the breakfast table with my son and my daughter; all of us eating breakfast together. My children are two and a half years old and talking more and more every day. They were chit-chatting about what they were eating, the fact that it was sunny outside, they spotted a deer on the lawn and got excited and started yelling about animals. But then, things took a strange turn. My son turned to me and said

“The laughter of a child is life’s most precious gift.”

I paused with my spoonful of cheerios halfway to my mouth and looked over at him. Just then, my daughter looked at me and said:

“Would that I could catch a butterfly in my hand and learn its beauty. And thus be fulfilled for all eternity.”

I started looking for hidden cameras or cleverly concealed microphones but found none. I said to them both, “What did you just say?”

“I see a deer!” my son exclaimed followed by my daughter saying “I like cheerios!”

“No no no, before that. What did you say before?” I asked but was met with confused looks.

I finished my breakfast quickly and went to the sink to clean up while my kids finished their breakfast. Then, from behind me, I heard a note-perfect rendition of “America the Beautiful” in two part harmony. I ran over to the table just as it stopped. “What was that?”

“I pooped!”

“You were singing! Where did you learn that?”

“I going to school later!”

I frowned at them both and we ended up having a two minute stare down with my kids smiling and me frowning in confusion. Finally I cracked and started cleaning up the dishes. The kids jumped down from their chairs and ran into the other room to play. I finished cleaning and walked in to the other room. My son was sitting on the floor with various tools and a transistor radio opened with all of its parts scattered around the floor. He was in the process of re-wiring the main circuit board with a very precise set of pliers. My daughter was sitting in the recliner wearing a pair of reading glasses with an open copy of “Crime and Punishment” in her lap. She was on page 543. At this point, my mind broke.

“How old are you? How old are you really?!?”

“I two daddy!”

“How old are you?!?!?”

“I two daddy! I two daddy!” followed by laughter.

At this point I ran for the phone and called my wife at work. She was not at her desk, so I left a voicemail:

“Honey, the kids are older than 2. They have to be! They sang two part harmony and quoted stuff and now they are fixing the radio and reading Crime and Punishment with the tiniest set of reading glasses I’ve ever seen. I think they know I know! I need help! Where did the toolset come from? How did she hide the glasses?”

This voicemail was the final piece of evidence used against me when I was committed to a nuthouse. The kids visit me with their Mom and bring me elaborate hand-made Christmas ornaments and delicate wood carvings. My wife says they were bought at a store. I know better.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Language Oddities that should go away

“I could care less”

Could ya? This is actually a statement of how middle of the road you currently are. I could care more, I could care less, I’m basically right in the middle. In its essence, it is a ‘nothing’ statement. If you are trying to tell me how utterly indifferent you are, you are leaving the window open for actually caring less than you do, so it isn’t all that definitive now is it?

“Not for nothing”

“Not for nothing, I really enjoyed this Chicken Scapellini.” What are you talking about? So this statement isn’t for absolutely nothing? OK, thanks for letting me know. When would you use a statement that is actually for nothing? “For absolutely nothing, I have a cracked tooth.” How would you react to that statement?

“For what it’s worth…”

“For what it’s worth, I really enjoyed this Chicken Carbotellini” Why does that statement have to have a pre-set worth? Can’t the statement just stand on its own? I liked your chicken. Done. Don’t try to preface it with some kind of importance scale. Where does the scale start? The proceeding statement will not be worth much, or may be worth a lot, I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

“Any Italian-pronounced word with the ending vowel chopped off”

Most people know someone who is 100 percent, or at least mostly, Italian. If you do then you also know they have a curious habit of dropping the ending vowel off of words, mostly food for some reason. “Mozarell” (instead of Mozzarella) “Rigot” (instead of Ricotta) “Rigaton” (instead of Rigatoni) Why is this? I sure as hell don’t know. Anyway, just when you have them all figured out, they start including vowels for apparently no reason. Pepperoni (instead of “Peperon”) Spaghetti (instead of “Spaghet”) What the hell is going on here? And why is it only food? Are they trying to mess with me? Why isn’t it

“God Bless Americ.”
“I’ll see you next Frid.”?
“I bought a car this weekend. It’s a Hond Civic.”
“Welcome to New Jers, the Garden Stat.”
“I certainly am enjoying this Bologn sandwich.” (Another food one)

Give me an instruction manual or a map or something.


“For Your Information” Wow, thank you. For my own personal information. For me to keep in my own information warehouse. How kind. “FYI, you must wear pants in this library.” Because obviously, my information database was missing that entry before.

“Everything happens for a reason”

The king of all nothing statements. Everything happens for a reason? You’ll quickly notice that people only use this phrase when something good is about to happen (or just happened).

“I cut my toe off with my weed whacker, but when I went to the hospital, they replaced my toe with a solid steel Swiss army knife, and I got a date with the hot nurse who took care of me!”
“See, it’s like I always say, everything happens for a reason.”

Are you honestly, with a straight face, sitting there and telling me that the reason I cut my toe off was so that I could have it replaced with an all purpose tool used for a variety of everyday tasks, followed by a dinner date with Nurse Bimbo? I thought the reason I cut my toe off was because I was completely drunk and trying to use a weed whacker to remove the little hairs on the top of my foot. That is also a reason. “Everything happens for a variety of reasons” maybe? Some things happen for a reason, some things just happen and then other things happen after that, followed be even more things. Possibly related, possibly unrelated. I guess that’s too long of a phrase to say at a funeral.

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts”

Another thing you say to someone going through a hard time. I can think about my 3rd grade math teacher for 1.2 seconds, and technically I just kept her in my thoughts (for fewer than 2 seconds). Did that help her (or me) in any way or do anything discernible other than divert my attention away from my triple cheeseburger? No. This is a nicer way of saying “I won’t visit you, or make contact with you, other than to let your name pass through my brain once in a while. Won’t that be nice?”

Let’s make an effort to identify and eliminate all language oddities. Yes We Can!

Thursday, August 13, 2009

More Letters from Real Folks

Well, after I published some letters from real American folks a few weeks ago, the response was overwhelming. I got even more letters and emails than ever before! My mailman threw them at me and tried to choke me because his back hurt from carrying them all (I don’t even know how he carried the e-mails! OMG!). I pinched his fat little cheek and said “Chin up, mailworker! The sun will come out tomorrow!” With this, he side-kicked my knee and tore my ACL. Luckily for you, I don’t need working knee tendons to write a blog post! LOL! Without further ado, here is some correspondence from my dear readers:

Dear Douche,

What is your problem with Twitter? I use Twitter all the time to tell people my whereabouts and whatnot. Not for nothing, Twitter is a godsend. Everyone who knows me knows what I am doing and where I am at any minute of the day. If I don’t update at least every 5 minutes, I get 10 phone calls from my friends saying “Where are you? What are you doing? Update your Twitter!” and I say “OK.” Then I hang up and update Twitter again. Lay off Twitter. Sounds like someone is jealous?

Tweeting in Tahoma

Dear Tweeting,

If Twitter is a godsend, then God must have also sent a retarded stick down from heaven for you to bash yourself in the head with. Update your status with that.

Dear Atoms Man,

Can you help me with my math homework? You appear to be very bright and mathematically inclined, so I figured I would ask you. I have attached five pages of algebraic equations that I have to balance. Please help me.

Desperate in Delaware

Dear Desperate,

x+y = (1/3x * y). If x is 5, then y is ask your parents and stop bothering me with this useless crap. Write that answer down for every equation on all five pages. Thank me later.

Dear Willow,

My dog is staring at me. He won’t go away, but he also won’t tell me what is wrong. What do you think his problem is?

Dogged in Denver

Dear Dogged,

My sorority name was Willow. How did you know that? What else do you know about me? Did your dog tell you? Anyway, there may be nothing wrong with your dog. He may just be waiting for you to get up so he can sit in your seat. He also may be infested with rabies. Swine Flu is also possible here. Use caution.

Dear Sweetie Pie,

I read your blog the other day and immediately broke out in hives all over my body. I think I’m allergic to your brand of humor. Would you consider writing in a different style? Maybe like ‘early-90’s Friends’ or ‘Cheech and Chong’? Let me know, I am in considerable discomfort but can’t stand the thought of never reading you again.

Itchy in Iowa

Dear Itchy,

Sadly, I have tried to write in the styles you mentioned but then I broke out in hives. Must be a cross-generational hives thing. Here is a sample, hope it helps with the hives:

Ross: “Hey Joey, I want you to meet my new girlfriend Sophie.”
Joey: “How YOU doin’!”
Ross: “JOEY!”

Dammit, see, now I’m covered in hives. Please don’t write to me ever again.

Dear Mister Fun,

I would like to put on a play. OK?

Hopeful in Houston

Dear Hopeful,

This is a thoughtful letter, but I’m not sure what you are asking me. Do you want me to be the lead in the play? If so, then I accept, but only under the following conditions:

1. The play must be ‘West Side Story’.
2. I must be a ‘Jet’. Because when you are a Jet, you are a Jet all the way.
3. I must be allowed to use a real knife for all fight scenes.
4. My “singing double” must be Neil Diamond. The real Neil Diamond, not some Vegas lookalike.
5. Neil Diamond must be knifed and killed by the end of the play.

I have no ulterior motives here, so stop looking for them. My fee is 100,000 American dollars.

Dear Mr. Awesome,

I took a picture of you at your house while you were taking out the garbage. I was hiding behind your bushes, so the photo came out a little blurry. Plus, it is now covered with knife marks and dog excrement. Can you send me a clearer picture? Maybe autographed? Thanks.

Fingers-Crossed in Fairbanks

Dear Fingers,

Mom, you always know how to cheer me up. It’s nice to know I’ll always have a fan in you. Of course I’ll send you an autographed photo. Just send a check for 45 American dollars to my P.O. Box. You should receive your photo in 6-8 weeks. No refunds.

Dear Blogger,

Would that I might bend your ear for a moment’s breath. Ere the dawn fall and the night tower over the sky like a mighty hammer poised to strike, I am eager to communicate my ideas. ‘Twas early and the fog rolled over the meadow like creeping dread pausing only to allow the wind to interfere with its fiendish plans. I am a sun god ready to wield my flames like a torn lover wields their heart: with bitter words and furious bloodlust. Hear me and cower in your corner you worthless dog.

Mailman in Driveway

Dear Mailman,

Well well well, who knew Mr. Mailman was Shakespeare Junior? Keep those letters coming. In my mailbox, OK? Not on the street, or in my trees? Thanks.

Friday, August 7, 2009

The Twitter Blackout of '09


Twitter blackout left users feeling 'naked'

Apparently, was down for about two hours yesterday morning. I know, two hours. Not two minutes, that would have been manageable. Two. Hours. According to the article above, users felt "jittery" and "naked" and one "social communications" expert compared the outage to breaking your writing hand or having a stroke. Some users commented they felt like "their heart was gone" or "they felt empty inside".

I'm sure when Twitter came back up, everyone was relieved to be able to get back to telling every internet person what they ate for lunch or what color shoes they were wearing and their hearts grew three sizes and their souls came back.

Is it any wonder that I don't take anything on the internet seriously? I can't really add anything to the article above, I think it speaks for itself. But like they say in the article, I will say that you should put together a backup plan. For the sake of your children, have a backup plan. If Twitter hits the dirt again, and it might (Maybe even for three hours, or a half a day!) then for Christ's sake have a backup plan. Don't just run around with no heart and empty insides trying to talk to people or write letters or operate a telephone. I think we need a minimum of 15 backup twitter sites (Spitter, Shitter, Whipper, Whittler, Flipper, Whistler, etc.) just in case this ever happens again. Make it 30 backup sites, and maybe a state-issued megaphone for every man woman and child. This way, you can stand on your lawn and use the megaphone (if it has a siren button, use that first to alert everyone of the incoming message) to let everyone know what TV show you are about to watch.

"I am cooking white rice and beans! LOL! *feedback*"
"What is the deal with BRITNEY SPEARS! Give it up girl! LOL LOL! *feedback*"
"My kneecap itches! And I can't find my HARRY POTTER KEYCHAIN! *feedback*"
"I just pooped a little bit while I was on my treadmill! I can't wait to have waffles for dinner! ROAFMEALORMQWF!!"

Anyway, I will now return you to your regularly scheduled blog. Don't get caught with your twitter-pants down again, damn you. (Twitter-pants is a registered trademark of Millions of Atoms limited.)

Wheel of Nonsense

This is a theory I’ve had floating around in my head for far too long. Thanks to the good people who created ‘The Internet’ I finally have the forum to detail this for you good people. Just making this available in public subjects me to possible assassination, so I hope you appreciate what I’m about to tell you.

The American game show, Wheel of Fortune, is fixed. It is a sham; a total fabrication. Really, it is.

Watch the next episode of this show. Pay close attention to your screen at the end of the show, during the credits. Ready? The wheel, the basis for the entire monetary reward system of the show, is spinning BY ITSELF! I swear the thing is running on a motor. What is stopping the producers from hitting a switch to temporarily juice the wheel onto the bankrupt space? 5,000 dollars? I don’t think so. Turn on the motor…wait for it…and bankrupt. Who is monitoring Pat Sajak? Is Vanna White under surveillance?

Multiple telegrams to the Governor have been returned to me unopened. Numerous letters to the White House have gone unanswered. Countless emails to God have gone un-replied to. One impassioned speech to my son, my only son, was met with a knowing smile. He gets it. I digress. I am opening this story wide open now in the hopes that someone out there will pick up the torch and run with it. By doing this, I put me and my entire family at risk. The Wheel must be stopped. Please do not buy any more vowels.

Please do what you can to end this national travesty. Thank you.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Thats Amore?

When. The.

Moon hits-a your eye like-a big pizza pie

It fucking hurts.

Let's compare "Amore" to something a little more pleasant.

When. Your.

Fat little feet avoid stepping in sheet
That's Amore.

When you open your mouth and two dollars come out
That's Amore.

I know all 'bout Amore.

Book of Bluth: Verse 2, Chapter 3

And lo it was written that the heavens would open and bring down a golden egg unto the hands of the Chosen One. The Chosen One would be found to be hungry, so he would make a golden omelet thus severely devaluing the miracle egg from heaven. The heavens would close up again quickly and realize the folly of dropping a golden egg on any human as they often overlook the inherent value of heavenly objects and eat a lot of things they shouldn’t. The heavens would then be told that they should have listened to their wife, and will no doubt be reminded of this fact all throughout the holidays. Glory to the egg catchers and their wives.

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