Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Urgent Questions: Volume 8

Does this midget make my ass look big?

Did you ever pull into the fast lane on the highway and just hope to God that your car goes faster than the speed of light so you can time travel and go back to this morning when you ate a cold piece of pizza with Oreos and sardines on it (you may or may not have been high) and sit down and have a heart to heart with yourself about eating ridiculous crap, and what effect that has on the bowels of a human being?

Have you ever met Tom Foolery? Doesn’t he just annoy the crap out of you?

Have you ever gotten dressed up for Halloween like a scary ghost, moaning and howling while running around waving your white sheet at everyone only to find that it isn’t Halloween, it’s April 15th, and the accountant doing your taxes is about to leave due to “excessive silliness and general no-goodery”? My accountant uses that word, so I know it’s real, thank you.

If Count Chocula bit you and turned you into a chocolate vampire, would you have chocolate milk running through your veins? Of course you wouldn’t, everyone knows there is no such thing as chocolate milk, or veins.

When you wake up in the morning, do you climb out of bed and greet the new day with open arms, whistling a happy tune and skipping into the bathroom to brush your teeth, or do you roll over and try to get some extra sleep before the hooker wakes up asking for her “damn money, sucka”?

Which came first: the B-52’s or the gay?

When you grow up, do you want to be a fireman, or just taller than you are now?

If a cartoon bird lands on your shoulder in the morning singing a sweet morning song, do you sing back, or do you stop drop and roll, hoping to crush it before it pecks your eyes out after lulling you into a false sense of complacency?

If one third of my pancakes are missing in the morning, will the other two thirds get dumped on your head for calling me “Fatty Morningcakes”?

Friday, November 20, 2009

CNN Breaking Fat News

From CNN:

Arrests made in human fat ring in Peru

Not for nothing, but it must have been easy to find? Are ya with me? High five!

This is my favorite quote from the small article:

"The fat was sold in Peru and Europe and used for commercial purposes, Peruvian officials said."

Commercial purposes?

Peru and Europe have an overwhelming demand for human fat for commercial purposes? What is going on over there? On second thought, don't answer that.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Women are from Mars, Men are from Uranus

When I was in sixth grade, I had to write a report on one of the nine planets in our Solar System. There were more than nine of us in the class, so some planets would obviously have to be repeated.

Except one planet.

Yes, that one.

And guess where I was on “planet picking day”?

Home sick.

So, lucky me, I had the honor of writing a long report on … Uranus. Get it? Uranus? Like “Your” “Anus”? I’ll tell you one thing about sixth graders, their sense of humor is not quite refined or well developed yet at that age. Needless to say, the day that I read my report aloud to the class was a day where "Myanus" was clenched tightly with stress. Here are some choice quotes from an in depth expose on our most misunderstood planet; gems I had to say aloud to a class of 16 sixth graders (one of which was a girl who I was head over heels in love with).

“Uranus is named after a Greek God.”
“Uranus is composed differently than the gas giants Jupiter and Neptune.”
“Uranus has 27 smaller moons circling it in orbit.”
“Uranus has a ring system similar to Saturn’s.”
“Uranus has existed for millions of years.”
“Uranus is icy cold and dark most of the time.”
“Uranus has its own weather system.”
“Uranus was at one time thought to be composed of moss and algae, not rock and ice, but that has since been proven false by satellites with deep probes and high resolution imagery.”

I could go on, but you can already see that this report did not go well. I got a sympathy “B” from my teacher because he knew that I drew the worst planet for my report out of the planet hat. Woe was me. I got through it, though, and I felt a tremendous sense of relief. I figured I would never have to read another report about Uranus out loud to anyone again.

I was right, the planets were history. I guess the administrators at my school felt that we had enough planet knowledge to attack the world with. Then came “World Culture” in seventh grade. Our class was assigned “South Africa” for a series of “Day in the Life” reports about what life was like for a seventh grader in South Africa plus general facts about South African cities and towns. We drew South African cities from a hat. I was there that day to actually pick my own city but figured I couldn’t do any wrong here.

Then I looked at my slip of paper.


Monday, November 16, 2009

A Day in the Life: Ringo Starr

A rhythmic pounding is heard coming from the garage of an enormous mansion in the English countryside. It is the unmistakable sound of drums rolling along in a repetitive loop. With a loud crash from a cymbal, the drumming stops abruptly followed by low murmurs broken by occasional exclamations. Just then, the door to the garage bursts open and Ringo Starr explodes out of the enclosure.

“It’s all WRONG!” Ringo exclaims as two studio musicians follow him out into the driveway of his estate.

“I don’t get it, really. It sounded great to us!” one of the musicians says as Ringo pauses to light a cigarette.

“Hey! Beatles? Hello? Ever heard of them? I’ll take my own advice as to what sounds good, right?”

The studio musician shrugs and looks helplessly at his band mate as Ringo paces back and forth.

“Listen, it’s ‘I want to live all day, in the hay –badoom crash-- with a horsey and his mum in the barn, what do you say? Crash crash badoom crash!” The musicians look uncomfortable as Ringo works through his new song, waving his arms wildly as he simulates the drum parts. They have been working on Ringo’s comeback album for 3 years now and are hopelessly stuck.

“Ringo, I have to be honest, the lyrics sound a lot like Octopus’s Garden…”

“No, no, no! This is an entirely different song! ‘Horse’s Hay House’. We’ve been through this a hundred times!”

“I know, the title is different, and the lyrics are kind of different, but the melody and structure are basically the same. And isn’t a ‘Hay House’ really just a barn?”

“Hey! ‘Ticket to Ride’? ‘Yesterday’? ‘Let it Be’? Sound familiar?”

“Ringo, I know you were in the Beatles. You remind us every day.”

“Actually, John, Paul and George wrote most of the good songs,” the other studio musician mumbles under his breath.

“What was that?” Ringo turns on the studio musician who looks away.


“That’s what I thought! Hey, aren’t you the guy who played drums on ‘Helter Skelter’? Oh wait, no you aren’t. That was ME! SHUT IT!”

Ringo paces furiously and lights another cigarette while the two helpless studio musicians wait to see when rehearsal will begin again. He gestures wildly, appearing to play drum parts in mid-air. He pauses and glances at the two studio musicians who are milling around outside the garage studio and then pulls his cell phone out. He dials a number and briskly walks away from the studio out of earshot of the two musicians.

“Hey, it’s me. Me! Ringo! Yes, that Ringo. How many Ringos do you know?” he says to the person on the other end of the phone call. “Listen, I’m having a lot of trouble with ‘Horse’s Hay House’. I know I’m so close; I just need a little advice.”

“Ringo, I really am quite busy,” Paul McCartney says from his lounge chair as he sits poolside in Malibu. He is visibly annoyed as he holds a cell phone to his ear and tries to order a drink from the wandering waiters.

“Paul, please. It is an amazing song, it just needs a little of the McCartney touch, yeah?”

“Well, is this one anything like the other songs? What were they?”

“Well, there is ‘Monkey Garage’, ‘Sloth Tea Party’, ‘Dingo Daydream’, ‘Manatee Football Folly’, ‘Off-White Submarine’, you know, kind of a sequel really.”

McCartney shakes his head and finally gets a waiter’s attention. “Yeah, great man. Listen, I have to run. Catch up soon, right?” McCartney closes his cell phone and then turns it off after a second glance. “George used to take his calls, poor bastard. ‘Sloth Tea Party’? Good Lord in Heaven! God and Baby Jesus protect us!” McCartney says to no one in particular and then reaches over to jot down words and music to 175 new hit songs in his notepad.

Ringo closes his cell phone and wanders back over to the garage studio. “Well lads, I think I just got a wee bit of inspiration, so let’s give it another shot!” Ringo enters the studio as the two musicians he is currently working with half-heartedly enter behind him. Much crashing and discordant jangles come from every window of the studio as songs are tinkered with.

Across the street hidden in the shadows of the large weeping willow trees that line the street in front of the Starr Estate, an idling vehicle sits with cigarette smoke wafting out from behind a barely opened tinted window. The sounds of “rehearsal” coming from Ringo’s garage can be heard clearly from here. The burning butt of a finished cigarette is flicked out from the crack in the window, which quickly closes. The car slowly pulls away and drives through an intersection a mile away from the house. The car brakes quickly as an accident is nearly avoided. The passenger side window quickly rolls down, and the head of Max Weinberg pops out.

“Hey, we’re drivin’ here!” he yells at the bicyclist who swerved into the road.

Squinting at first, then gradually brightening as recognition paints his face, the cyclist says, “Hey, you’re Max Weinberg, Bruce Springsteen’s drummer!”

Weinberg tosses a hundred dollar bill at the man. “You didn’t see me here, got it? If I read this in the papers tomorrow, I’ll find you and gut you like a fish on a bike. Do we understand each other?”

Nodding quickly while scooping up the bill from the ground, the man quickly mounts his bike and pedals away. Weinberg smiles as his head disappears into his vehicle and the tinted window rises. The car pulls through the intersection on the way to a meeting with the E-Street band, while Paul McCartney gently weeps and Ringo Starr continues work on his new concept album: ‘Anteater! The Once and Future King’.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

The many Faces of Facebook

Facebook is a fickle mistress. She changes her looks every month or so and spawns countless groups with names like:

“If you hate the new FACEBOOK, sign THIS PETITION!”
“Why did Facebook change? If you can’t stand it and throw up at the sight of it, join now!”
“Does Facebook’s new layout give you explosive diarrhea? Join this group!”
“Me no like it! Facebook ugly site! Where am status! Join it!”

There is no promise or hint of gain by joining these groups. Just groups of like-minded people all gathering in virtual spaces with no other purpose than to voice their displeasure at the way a particular website has things arranged on a screen. What happens in these “groups”? Are there parties? Do people post messages like “Remember how our feeds used to be in one place and now you have to click a lot all over the place? Man, that sucks!”

I just created a new Facebook group: “If the way Facebook’s website is laid out causes you high levels of anger and frustration, then you spend too much time on Facebook.”

Please join.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Letters from Real Folks Part 3: The Search for Spock

The letters just keep coming, and I am grateful for every one of them. Not to mention the fact that most people use e-mail nowadays, but to take the time to write out a hand-written letter. That is Love. To be fair, I’m assuming you are all using your hands. Without further ado (because there has been far too much ado already) here are your letters!

Dear Sexpot,

I would love to star in one of your music videos. Do you have any plans to include more backup dancers? I can also sing a little, so if you need a singer I’m right there for you. I also LOL often which should keep everyone on set entertained.

Antsy in Annapolis

Dear Antsy,

My last music video was an unmitigated disaster. I threw up and strained my hamstrings. Both of them. At the same time. At this time, I am cancelling all future music videos. At least ones with me in them, with no music or clothing. I’ll keep you on the shortlist for any future musical endeavors. Thanks.

Dear Fatty,

I ran straight into a brick wall at a high rate of speed. My teeth are out. My nose seems to be in a different place than yesterday, and my elbows bend the wrong way. My feet are twisty and my buttocks are sore. My left ear got all scraped up and my shoes don’t fit. My back is dislodged and my hair is parted incorrectly. My kneecaps rolled under the car and my neck is all like ‘Whaaaat?’ Can you help me?

Concerned in Cleveland

Dear Concerned,

Step One: Get rid of that brick wall! LOL! Step Two: Everything happens for a reason; just know that God has a plan for you…as a circus freak! Oh SCHNAP! Step Three: In all seriousness, Just Dance; dance for your life you silly son of a bitch. Step Four: Changing the part of your hair is sometimes that last little tweak in your appearance that you need to make women stop spraying mace in your eyes, although the lack of teeth and displaced nose may be a few steps backward in that regard. I wish you good luck, my friend; kneecaps can go a long way once they get to rollin’.

To Whom It May Concern,

If I had to compare your blog to something, I would compare it to a swamp: A giant pool of stagnant water that smells excruciatingly horrible and is surrounded by stunted trees and exotic bugs. Good day to you, Sir.

Indifferent in Idaho

Dear Indifferent,

If I had to compare your letter to something, I would compare it to a warm Summer day: It makes me sweat uncontrollably and run around in circles swatting awkwardly at bees that probably flew away already.

Dear Jeffrey,

We cannot continue like this. The letters must stop. The phone calls, the unsolicited genital photographs, the half hour voice mails, the balloon sculptures, the murals made out of your fingernails, the increasing amounts of dog feces on my lawn and roof and porch, all of it. Please cease and desist or my lawyers will have to become involved.

Harassed in Harrisburg

Dear Harassed,

I find it odd that you insist on calling me Jeffrey, even though my name is not that. Definitely not. But just out of curiosity, did you see any artistic value in the fingernail murals? Not that I made them. I am not Jeffrey. But did you get the artistic meaning there? Paired with the dog feces and the balloons and the pictures? There is a thread running through all of that which would truly amaze you and I think even fill your heart with a lot of love, if you let it. Um, Jeffrey called and told me all of that. On his telephone.

Dear Writer,

I have a conundrum. What does conundrum mean? Is it a type of drum?

Curious in Caracas

Dear Curious,

You raise an excellent point here. The word ‘conundrum’ from the Latin ‘con-in-drum-us’ which means ‘with drums there is loud’ leads us to believe that the Spaniards had it right when they said “Conundrums, me no like it.” That being said, not for nothing and so forth, when all is said and done and we arrive at our conclusion, the best bet is to understand. I hope I cleared this up for you.

Dear Helpy Helperson,

I could use your help. I find myself engaged to be married to a hedgehog (long story, LOL). I wish to end this engagement immediately for a variety of reasons. The main reason being that he is a mean SOB. He drinks and calls me horrible names and tried to knife me once. How do I gracefully end this relationship?

Desperate in Dallas

Dear Desperate,

Of all the “I’m engaged to a hedgehog” letters I get, this one concerns me the most. Are you giving him a fair shot? Maybe the knife was supposed to be a bouquet of flowers? Maybe he drinks because he is embarrassed about being a hedgehog? What I’m saying is, give him a chance to redeem himself. Hedgehogs are notorious drinkers, but they make up for it in loyalty and love. Plus they look cute in Christmas cards. Don’t give up hope, my little dumpling. Love will find a way.

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