Lately I've been noticing these ads on Facebook that show some scantily clad young lady who appears to be half as young as her bra size. And the ads say, "Someone is looking for you."
Do they mean to imply that the scantily clad girl is looking for me? Because I don't know her. And if I did know her, I fully expect that she would ignore me, as scantily clad young ladies do and always have done. I mean, I may be middle-aged, overweight and unemployed but I refuse to succumb to stupidity.
Why do I know this? Because in all my life I've never seen a personals ad that said something like, "Sexy and free-spirited girl seeks overweight, middle-aged, unemployed male for wild, passionate interludes."
I think the root of gullibility must be wishful thinking. A guy like me sees an ad like that and thinks, "Ooohhh... that girl is looking for me!" It's not unlike people who read an ad that says, "I have millions of dollars that I'm just dying to give away. Send me $20 and I'll tell you how to get me to give you my millions." And these gullible people read that ad and they say, "Ooohhh... millions! Where's my check book?"
Wishful thinking makes people gullible in very much the same way that alcohol makes ugly girls look hot. It isn't real... it's an illusion. But you believe it because the "files" in your brain have been tampered with. They've been corrupted. You have a virus.
The gullibility virus can't be fixed with antivirus software, because it's a virus in your brain - not on your computer. You can eat more fruits and vegetables, and that can't hurt but it won't fix it. But I also don't promote the "reality check" method of cleaning the gullibility virus from the brain, because it's much too harsh.
And so you ask, "What is the reality check method?" It's where you look at yourself in the mirror and say, "Hot girls don't want me, and no one is going to give me millions of dollars." It's like using an abrasive cleanser on a delicate surface. It may clean it, but it will scratch it all up in the process. Your ego can be a sensitive thing - you can't just look at yourself and say, "Nobody likes me." On the other hand you can't very well look at yourself and say, "People like me" if nobody does.
So what's the solution? Well, I don't know about you but I'm waiting for a hot young scantily clad lady to come along with millions of dollars to give me tax free and to tell me the answer. She should be along any minute now - I just know it.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Billie Mays Is Not My Son and the Kid Is Not My Lover
Considering the latest resurgence of dead celebrities, I'm thinking that we need a National Dead Celebrity Day. First, former Tonight Show side-kick to Johnny Carson (also a dead celebrity) Ed McMahon died. Then, in a single day last week, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett joined the ranks of the dead celebrities. Then today, the man who shouted the praises of crappy products, Mr. Billie Mays himself, also became a dead celebrity. What's going on?
Death is the number one killer of celebrities. But I suppose that if celebrities didn't die, everyone would want to be one. Not that everyone doesn't anyway, but the competition to be a celebrity would be even greater if celebrities got to live forever.
I can't help but wonder, though... if celebrities didn't die, would they stay perpetually young or would they get really, really, really majorly gross and ugly? I guess either one has it's advantages and disadvantages. One advantage to celebrities getting ugly would be that no make-up would be required for the movies that have gross, hideous creatures in them. And the disadvantage would be... I mean, ew, yuck...
Of course a big advantage for celebrities staying eternally young would be that there would be no more need for plastic surgery, right? Although I'm sure many of them would do it anyway. But it would be a big disadvantage for the plastic surgeons who would lose an awful lot of business.
So I propose we put it to a vote, and then when America has decided, we petition for one of three things (depending on what America decides):
1. Institute a National Dead Celebrities Day, complete with the day off with pay.
2. Utilize futuristic Star Trek technology to cause celebrities to live forever, but don't keep them from getting all nasty and gross.
3. Utilize aforementioned technology to cause celbrities to live forever and to stay eternally young.
You decide, America. I welcome feedback.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Death is the number one killer of celebrities. But I suppose that if celebrities didn't die, everyone would want to be one. Not that everyone doesn't anyway, but the competition to be a celebrity would be even greater if celebrities got to live forever.
I can't help but wonder, though... if celebrities didn't die, would they stay perpetually young or would they get really, really, really majorly gross and ugly? I guess either one has it's advantages and disadvantages. One advantage to celebrities getting ugly would be that no make-up would be required for the movies that have gross, hideous creatures in them. And the disadvantage would be... I mean, ew, yuck...
Of course a big advantage for celebrities staying eternally young would be that there would be no more need for plastic surgery, right? Although I'm sure many of them would do it anyway. But it would be a big disadvantage for the plastic surgeons who would lose an awful lot of business.
So I propose we put it to a vote, and then when America has decided, we petition for one of three things (depending on what America decides):
1. Institute a National Dead Celebrities Day, complete with the day off with pay.
2. Utilize futuristic Star Trek technology to cause celebrities to live forever, but don't keep them from getting all nasty and gross.
3. Utilize aforementioned technology to cause celbrities to live forever and to stay eternally young.
You decide, America. I welcome feedback.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
America's Next Big Nobody
Once again I am going to wield the uncanny power of imagination to make a point, so sit back and relax and imagine that you're sitting back and relaxing. Got it? OK, now imagine that you're watching TV. You're watching America's Next Something-Or-Other... doesn't matter exactly what. Top Model, Food Network Star, Pig Farmer - whatever.
OK, so on this show you have a group of people who are jockeying to be the best of the best at whatever they do or whoever they are. And they are promised that if they win they will have fame and fortune and be a bright shining star in the midst of a vast sea of dimly lit candles.
The group of people dwindles down week after week until it finally comes down to two hopefuls. Naturally you have your favorite. And what happens if your favorite wins? Well then they take that person, pack them in a crate, ship them off to who-knows-where and stick them in a warehouse full of winners from previous seasons where they are never seen or heard from again.
OK, did you imagine all of that? Now here's the funny part: it's not imaginary. That's pretty much the way that it really works. In fact I think some of these shows actually make contestants sign a contract agreeing to spend the rest of their life hiding under a rock somewhere if they win.
How else do you explain all of the so-called "top" models who disappear into oblivion? And other shows like it where the winners apparently get carted off to another galaxy to live out the rest of their lives being the super-heroes on someone else's planet? At least it could explain what happens to all of those missing socks. People borrow the socks before going on to these shows, and then when they disappear, so do the socks.
Of course not every show of this nature operates in this fashion; there's always American Idol, the show where even the runner-ups go on to have a real career. But I don't think top models are allowed to audition for American Idol as it would violate the clause in their contract that says that they have to live out the rest of their lives in obscurity.
OK, I admit it. I'm lying about the obscurity clause. They might still be allowed to win local talent shows - providing no more than 30 people are present. Unless it's at a family reunion, in which case 34 people can be present. At least I think that's the way it works. But then I also think that the TV sends out waves that interact with the synapses in your brain in such a way that you forget all of these contestants once the season is over.
Yeah, you heard me right. That's why I'm auditioning for a new show: America's Next Top Conspiracy Theorist.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
OK, so on this show you have a group of people who are jockeying to be the best of the best at whatever they do or whoever they are. And they are promised that if they win they will have fame and fortune and be a bright shining star in the midst of a vast sea of dimly lit candles.
The group of people dwindles down week after week until it finally comes down to two hopefuls. Naturally you have your favorite. And what happens if your favorite wins? Well then they take that person, pack them in a crate, ship them off to who-knows-where and stick them in a warehouse full of winners from previous seasons where they are never seen or heard from again.
OK, did you imagine all of that? Now here's the funny part: it's not imaginary. That's pretty much the way that it really works. In fact I think some of these shows actually make contestants sign a contract agreeing to spend the rest of their life hiding under a rock somewhere if they win.
How else do you explain all of the so-called "top" models who disappear into oblivion? And other shows like it where the winners apparently get carted off to another galaxy to live out the rest of their lives being the super-heroes on someone else's planet? At least it could explain what happens to all of those missing socks. People borrow the socks before going on to these shows, and then when they disappear, so do the socks.
Of course not every show of this nature operates in this fashion; there's always American Idol, the show where even the runner-ups go on to have a real career. But I don't think top models are allowed to audition for American Idol as it would violate the clause in their contract that says that they have to live out the rest of their lives in obscurity.
OK, I admit it. I'm lying about the obscurity clause. They might still be allowed to win local talent shows - providing no more than 30 people are present. Unless it's at a family reunion, in which case 34 people can be present. At least I think that's the way it works. But then I also think that the TV sends out waves that interact with the synapses in your brain in such a way that you forget all of these contestants once the season is over.
Yeah, you heard me right. That's why I'm auditioning for a new show: America's Next Top Conspiracy Theorist.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Thursday, June 18, 2009
America's Got Talent Challenged Reality Show Stars
Do you know what Disney Channel shows have in common with reality shows? Answer: You have to be able to over-act to be in them.
My young daughter can spend all day watching the Disney Channel. Oh - I'm sorry - did I say she can spend all day watching the Disney Channel? I meant to say that she does spend all day watching it. And after I decide that I can't take any more of young singing stars experiencing a major life dilemma because the cute boy or girl that they like is in love with their teacher instead of them, I decide that it's time to change the channel to a "grown up" show.
So after dealing with the major life dilemma that my daughter goes through because I insist on changing the channel, I settle in to watch yet another heart-warming episode of my favorite reality show, "The Real Trailer Park Dwellers of Hicksville City". From the fire to the frying pan of over-acting.
I tune in just in time to catch cute little trashy outfit wearing Bobbie Sue sitting on her steps crying. Along comes Bobbie Sue's best friend Rita Robbins (who everyone on the show refers to as "Round Ass Rita").
Rita: "What's wrong, Bobbie Sue?"
Bobbie Sue: "Billy spent my entire welfare check on a can of chewing tobacco and now I don't have the money I need to buy the pretty broach that I wanted that goes so nice with my trashy outfit that I wear everyday that I was gonna wear to the shin-dig on Saturday down at the Dive Right Inn."
Those who have been following the show faithfully know that Billy is a despicable character. Not just because he spent Bobbie Sue's entire welfare check on a can of chaw and denied Bobbie Sue her broach; but because for the last eight weeks he has been having an affair with an entire hen house full of hens. And that's not a euphemism... we're talking about an actual hen house and actual hens.
Rita, who knows of Billy's fascination with poultry won't tell Bobbie Sue about it because the last time that a boyfriend of Bobbie Sue's cheated on her with a farm animal, Bobbie Sue sank into a deep depression and locked herself in her trailer for weeks where she did nothing but watch old re-runs of Giligan's Island. Rita couldn't bear the thought of more Giligan's Island.
Then there's Rita's ex-boyfriend, Gawf. His real name is Thaddeus. But they call him Gawf as an abbreviated form of "God-awful", referring to his breath. Rita broke up with him six months ago, but didn't have the heart to tell him and he still doesn't know. She has managed to avoid him for six months through a series of having to work late down at the cafe, having to wash her hair, having to take the dog to the vet to be put to sleep, etc. What Rita doesn't know is that Gawf spent half of his entire paycheck from his job as a bouncer down at the Dive Right Inn on a ring. He plans to ask Rita to marry him. He's just waiting for the season finale to do it.
There are a slew of other characters. There's Bobbie Sue's gargantuan mother Tanya who is in love with one of the roosters from the hen house that Billy frequents. There are Gawf's one dozen small children from his first marriage to a rodeo clown who was also named Rita (Gawf has a thing for girls named Rita). And there's Clinton, Rita's dim of wit cousin who walks through town pretending to be a fire truck.
It’s not really what takes place on this show that bothers me, though. What bothers me is the fairly alarming thought that my own life might actually be worthy of such a show. I have bad dreams about TV audiences out there critiquing and criticizing me the way we all do reality show characters:
“He thinks he’s funny with those blogs he writes,” people would say, “but then he gets all butt-hurt when his kids tease him about the way that he dresses.”
Well, they used to tease me about the way that I dressed... but now plaid shorts with tennis shoes and black socks are actually in style. Go figure. Maybe it wouldn't be such an exciting show after all.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
My young daughter can spend all day watching the Disney Channel. Oh - I'm sorry - did I say she can spend all day watching the Disney Channel? I meant to say that she does spend all day watching it. And after I decide that I can't take any more of young singing stars experiencing a major life dilemma because the cute boy or girl that they like is in love with their teacher instead of them, I decide that it's time to change the channel to a "grown up" show.
So after dealing with the major life dilemma that my daughter goes through because I insist on changing the channel, I settle in to watch yet another heart-warming episode of my favorite reality show, "The Real Trailer Park Dwellers of Hicksville City". From the fire to the frying pan of over-acting.
I tune in just in time to catch cute little trashy outfit wearing Bobbie Sue sitting on her steps crying. Along comes Bobbie Sue's best friend Rita Robbins (who everyone on the show refers to as "Round Ass Rita").
Rita: "What's wrong, Bobbie Sue?"
Bobbie Sue: "Billy spent my entire welfare check on a can of chewing tobacco and now I don't have the money I need to buy the pretty broach that I wanted that goes so nice with my trashy outfit that I wear everyday that I was gonna wear to the shin-dig on Saturday down at the Dive Right Inn."
Those who have been following the show faithfully know that Billy is a despicable character. Not just because he spent Bobbie Sue's entire welfare check on a can of chaw and denied Bobbie Sue her broach; but because for the last eight weeks he has been having an affair with an entire hen house full of hens. And that's not a euphemism... we're talking about an actual hen house and actual hens.
Rita, who knows of Billy's fascination with poultry won't tell Bobbie Sue about it because the last time that a boyfriend of Bobbie Sue's cheated on her with a farm animal, Bobbie Sue sank into a deep depression and locked herself in her trailer for weeks where she did nothing but watch old re-runs of Giligan's Island. Rita couldn't bear the thought of more Giligan's Island.
Then there's Rita's ex-boyfriend, Gawf. His real name is Thaddeus. But they call him Gawf as an abbreviated form of "God-awful", referring to his breath. Rita broke up with him six months ago, but didn't have the heart to tell him and he still doesn't know. She has managed to avoid him for six months through a series of having to work late down at the cafe, having to wash her hair, having to take the dog to the vet to be put to sleep, etc. What Rita doesn't know is that Gawf spent half of his entire paycheck from his job as a bouncer down at the Dive Right Inn on a ring. He plans to ask Rita to marry him. He's just waiting for the season finale to do it.
There are a slew of other characters. There's Bobbie Sue's gargantuan mother Tanya who is in love with one of the roosters from the hen house that Billy frequents. There are Gawf's one dozen small children from his first marriage to a rodeo clown who was also named Rita (Gawf has a thing for girls named Rita). And there's Clinton, Rita's dim of wit cousin who walks through town pretending to be a fire truck.
It’s not really what takes place on this show that bothers me, though. What bothers me is the fairly alarming thought that my own life might actually be worthy of such a show. I have bad dreams about TV audiences out there critiquing and criticizing me the way we all do reality show characters:
“He thinks he’s funny with those blogs he writes,” people would say, “but then he gets all butt-hurt when his kids tease him about the way that he dresses.”
Well, they used to tease me about the way that I dressed... but now plaid shorts with tennis shoes and black socks are actually in style. Go figure. Maybe it wouldn't be such an exciting show after all.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Of Aliens, Corn and the Yellow Liquid of Death
Have you ever been laying naked in a corn field right when the aliens show up to do their "burn the weird sign in the corn field" thingy? No, it's never happened to me either. But I think it would be a little awkward. And just thinking about it I think I understand now why some people get abducted by aliens and have sexual experiments done on them.
And speaking of awkward alien abduction scenarios, here's another one that I just thought of: Imagine that the aliens have abducted you and you're strapped to their experimentation table and then... Oh! Gotta go to the bathroom!
How do you ask the aliens if you can use their bathroom? Do they communicate through telepathy, or do you just hope that what with all of the humans they've observed they've picked up a little English? Since they still find it needful to do experiments on us I can only assume that they have not learned all there is to know about us, so I'm guessing they probably haven't bothered learning any of the languages of earth.
But even if you were able to communicate with them, are you sure that they even have a bathroom? After all, these are aliens... we don't know how their systems work. We haven't done any experiments on them (which is kind of unfair, if you think about it). And even if they do have a bathroom, would you know how to use it? Probably not. Going to the bathroom is dramatically different in some cultures right here on earth, what makes you think you would know how to use an alien bathroom? You'd probably be relieving yourself in what you thought was obviously a toilet when some alien runs in wildly waving his long, thin alien arms and emitting a high-pitched screech to get you to stop. No wonder they do weird experiments on us. They're trying to figure out how earth-people produce the yellow liquid of death.
Even if it isn't true, I think it would be a great basis for a science fiction story. Imagine the hero being brought before his nemesis, the alien king. The alien king looks him directly in the knee caps and says, "Tell us how you do it, earth creature!"
"How I do what?" the hero responds, boldly staring at the alien king's genitals.
"Don't be coy with me" says the alien king. "How do you produce the yellow liquid of death? Our top scientists have been unable to produce a synthetic duplicate of it that has its effects."
"And what are its effects?" queries the hero.
"We call it the yellow liquid of death," replies the alien king, "what do you think the effects are? It gives us softer, smoother skin."
Actually, I think it's a necessary ingredient in the stuff that they use to burn their weird alien signs into the corn fields. Which is another reason you don't want to be laying naked in a corn field when the aliens show up.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
And speaking of awkward alien abduction scenarios, here's another one that I just thought of: Imagine that the aliens have abducted you and you're strapped to their experimentation table and then... Oh! Gotta go to the bathroom!
How do you ask the aliens if you can use their bathroom? Do they communicate through telepathy, or do you just hope that what with all of the humans they've observed they've picked up a little English? Since they still find it needful to do experiments on us I can only assume that they have not learned all there is to know about us, so I'm guessing they probably haven't bothered learning any of the languages of earth.
But even if you were able to communicate with them, are you sure that they even have a bathroom? After all, these are aliens... we don't know how their systems work. We haven't done any experiments on them (which is kind of unfair, if you think about it). And even if they do have a bathroom, would you know how to use it? Probably not. Going to the bathroom is dramatically different in some cultures right here on earth, what makes you think you would know how to use an alien bathroom? You'd probably be relieving yourself in what you thought was obviously a toilet when some alien runs in wildly waving his long, thin alien arms and emitting a high-pitched screech to get you to stop. No wonder they do weird experiments on us. They're trying to figure out how earth-people produce the yellow liquid of death.
Even if it isn't true, I think it would be a great basis for a science fiction story. Imagine the hero being brought before his nemesis, the alien king. The alien king looks him directly in the knee caps and says, "Tell us how you do it, earth creature!"
"How I do what?" the hero responds, boldly staring at the alien king's genitals.
"Don't be coy with me" says the alien king. "How do you produce the yellow liquid of death? Our top scientists have been unable to produce a synthetic duplicate of it that has its effects."
"And what are its effects?" queries the hero.
"We call it the yellow liquid of death," replies the alien king, "what do you think the effects are? It gives us softer, smoother skin."
Actually, I think it's a necessary ingredient in the stuff that they use to burn their weird alien signs into the corn fields. Which is another reason you don't want to be laying naked in a corn field when the aliens show up.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Sunday, June 7, 2009
One Pill Fits All
Imagine you're on a fishing boat fishing with a friend, an enemy, your doctor or lawyer... doesn't matter. Anyone you know who fishes. Or doesn't fish - that doesn't matter either since it's an imaginary scenario. Yes, that's right; once again I am wielding the uncanny power of imagination to make a point. Now shut up and close your eyes and start imagining. On second thought, better keep your eyes open. You may need them to read the rest of this post. So you'll have to imagine with your eyes open, if you can handle that...
OK, so you're fishing with the Prime Minister of Balukabuhaha, and between the two of you, you are catching quite a few fish. Don't worry about gaming laws and limitations, this is the Prime Minister you're fishing with. Besides, it's only imaginary. Shut up.
So you finish your fishing and get back to the dock. Your fishing partner, who is now a centerfold model reaches into the tub 'o fish that you have caught, grabs the most puny and pathetic of them and declares: "Here is THE fish, right here!"
What makes this puny and pathetic fish THE fish? If you were going to select a fish from out of the tub 'o fish to be representative of all of the fish, shouldn't it be a bigger, fatter fish? I use that realistic illustration followed by that rhetorical question to make a point. And that point is yet another question. Why is what we commonly refer to as "the pill" the pill? What does "the pill" do? It keeps you from reproducing. But beyond that, what does it do?
There should be a pill that handles everything. Absolutely everything. And THAT pill is the pill that should be "THE pill".
Got a headache? There's a pill for that.
Got an ulcer? There's a pill for that.
Got milk? There's a pill for that.
Drug addict? There's a pill for that too.
The new pill that should rightfully be referred to as "the pill" should also be a pill that turns hardened criminals into happy, unselfish contributors to society. Or maybe there should be some kind of raygun that you could shoot people with that will turn them into nice people. Think of the results there could be. We could empty out the prisons and use them for Farmer's Markets and Home and Garden shows and such.
I remember watching Star Trek when I was a kid, and Captain Kirk would say, "Set your phasers to stun" and I used to think that with the kind of technology that they have off in the Star Trek future, you would think that they could set their phasers to "nice" and simply turn the bad guys into good guys.
Also, if they could set their phasers to stun, why did they ever kill anyone? They could just stun the bad guys, and then fit them with a stun collar... kind of like the shock collars that people put on their dogs. Every time a bad guy decides to be bad - STUN! He might still be a bad guy, but he would never get around to carrying out his evil plots because he would be stunned all of the time. If you remember, there was an episode where Kirk and members of his crew had to wear shock collars. How come Star Fleet never took advantage of this technology?
Also, how come Captain Kirk never tried to stink anyone out? It works for skunks... why not? "Set your phasers to fart" he would say, and then of course they would put on their little futuristic gas masks and RRRRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!! The bad guys come out gagging and coughing and falling on the floor. I think that some of those throw-away crew members that got killed off could have gone on to have long and happy careers with Star Fleet if Kirk had just used more of what was available in his arsenal.
So Kirk wasn't always the brightest star in the trek. That's OK... there's a pill for that.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
OK, so you're fishing with the Prime Minister of Balukabuhaha, and between the two of you, you are catching quite a few fish. Don't worry about gaming laws and limitations, this is the Prime Minister you're fishing with. Besides, it's only imaginary. Shut up.
So you finish your fishing and get back to the dock. Your fishing partner, who is now a centerfold model reaches into the tub 'o fish that you have caught, grabs the most puny and pathetic of them and declares: "Here is THE fish, right here!"
What makes this puny and pathetic fish THE fish? If you were going to select a fish from out of the tub 'o fish to be representative of all of the fish, shouldn't it be a bigger, fatter fish? I use that realistic illustration followed by that rhetorical question to make a point. And that point is yet another question. Why is what we commonly refer to as "the pill" the pill? What does "the pill" do? It keeps you from reproducing. But beyond that, what does it do?
There should be a pill that handles everything. Absolutely everything. And THAT pill is the pill that should be "THE pill".
Got a headache? There's a pill for that.
Got an ulcer? There's a pill for that.
Got milk? There's a pill for that.
Drug addict? There's a pill for that too.
The new pill that should rightfully be referred to as "the pill" should also be a pill that turns hardened criminals into happy, unselfish contributors to society. Or maybe there should be some kind of raygun that you could shoot people with that will turn them into nice people. Think of the results there could be. We could empty out the prisons and use them for Farmer's Markets and Home and Garden shows and such.
I remember watching Star Trek when I was a kid, and Captain Kirk would say, "Set your phasers to stun" and I used to think that with the kind of technology that they have off in the Star Trek future, you would think that they could set their phasers to "nice" and simply turn the bad guys into good guys.
Also, if they could set their phasers to stun, why did they ever kill anyone? They could just stun the bad guys, and then fit them with a stun collar... kind of like the shock collars that people put on their dogs. Every time a bad guy decides to be bad - STUN! He might still be a bad guy, but he would never get around to carrying out his evil plots because he would be stunned all of the time. If you remember, there was an episode where Kirk and members of his crew had to wear shock collars. How come Star Fleet never took advantage of this technology?
Also, how come Captain Kirk never tried to stink anyone out? It works for skunks... why not? "Set your phasers to fart" he would say, and then of course they would put on their little futuristic gas masks and RRRRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!! The bad guys come out gagging and coughing and falling on the floor. I think that some of those throw-away crew members that got killed off could have gone on to have long and happy careers with Star Fleet if Kirk had just used more of what was available in his arsenal.
So Kirk wasn't always the brightest star in the trek. That's OK... there's a pill for that.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The New Nice Person Supremacist Movement
I was sitting at the dinner table tonight listening to my "too cool for school" son condescending to my daughter, his little sister, to let her know that her life is meaningless and that she ranks just below phlegm on the food-chain.
Now, before I continue this story to tell you of the subsequent revelation that I had, let me forewarn you that I intend to incorporate a small bit of humor into this subject. I do this for a few reasons. One, because the subject itself is very sensitive and so I intend to be insensitive (too much sensitivity can kill a perfectly good mood). Secondly, by injecting humor I can freely make things up that aren't true at all, because if anyone calls me for lying I can simply point out that I was only kidding. And thirdly, one of my most recent FB friends, Sherri Bailey (http://ocd-chick.blogspot.com/) recently indicated that my humor pisses her off so I figured, I'm on a roll... why stop now?
OK, so back to my revelation. And please bear in mind, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph that the stories that I tell here may or may not be true. I will try to preface some of what I say with the phrase, "This part is actually true", but just be aware that this means nothing.
OK, so on with the story. As I was listening to the boy who has generally felt inconvenienced his entire life with having to dwell among us mere mortals, something occurred to me. Well, it didn't really occur to me all in that moment. I have actually felt for a long time (about a week) that it's fairly silly for a person or a group of people to claim that they/he/she are/is superior while backing up said claim of superiority by being, in point of fact, a-holes (and for our young readers, the "a" in a-holes stands for "asynchronous". Just so there's no confusion).
This aforementioned truth applies to everyone from school-yard bullies to neo-nazis, to angry knuckle-slapping nuns with hard rulers and bad breath. If a person or group of people is/are genuinely superior they will not have to go around saying, "I'm superior, damn it! And I'm going to kill everyone until everyone acknowledges my superiority and bows to my twisted will!" They wouldn't have to do that because their superiority would simply manifest itself naturally. They would just naturally be better at everything from water polo to break dancing. Well, at least that's what I thought before...
Now I'm starting to have a slightly different view of what superiority is. The people who have to put other people down, either by insulting them or by killing them, are in fact inferior - even if they are water polo champions. The people who are nice to other people are superior. That's what superiority is.
That's why I've decided to start a whole new movement. The Nice Person Supremacist Movement. And I intend (and this part is true) to compliment everyone I see until everyone acknowledges my superiority and bows to my twisted will.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
Now, before I continue this story to tell you of the subsequent revelation that I had, let me forewarn you that I intend to incorporate a small bit of humor into this subject. I do this for a few reasons. One, because the subject itself is very sensitive and so I intend to be insensitive (too much sensitivity can kill a perfectly good mood). Secondly, by injecting humor I can freely make things up that aren't true at all, because if anyone calls me for lying I can simply point out that I was only kidding. And thirdly, one of my most recent FB friends, Sherri Bailey (http://ocd-chick.blogspot.com/) recently indicated that my humor pisses her off so I figured, I'm on a roll... why stop now?
OK, so back to my revelation. And please bear in mind, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph that the stories that I tell here may or may not be true. I will try to preface some of what I say with the phrase, "This part is actually true", but just be aware that this means nothing.
OK, so on with the story. As I was listening to the boy who has generally felt inconvenienced his entire life with having to dwell among us mere mortals, something occurred to me. Well, it didn't really occur to me all in that moment. I have actually felt for a long time (about a week) that it's fairly silly for a person or a group of people to claim that they/he/she are/is superior while backing up said claim of superiority by being, in point of fact, a-holes (and for our young readers, the "a" in a-holes stands for "asynchronous". Just so there's no confusion).
This aforementioned truth applies to everyone from school-yard bullies to neo-nazis, to angry knuckle-slapping nuns with hard rulers and bad breath. If a person or group of people is/are genuinely superior they will not have to go around saying, "I'm superior, damn it! And I'm going to kill everyone until everyone acknowledges my superiority and bows to my twisted will!" They wouldn't have to do that because their superiority would simply manifest itself naturally. They would just naturally be better at everything from water polo to break dancing. Well, at least that's what I thought before...
Now I'm starting to have a slightly different view of what superiority is. The people who have to put other people down, either by insulting them or by killing them, are in fact inferior - even if they are water polo champions. The people who are nice to other people are superior. That's what superiority is.
That's why I've decided to start a whole new movement. The Nice Person Supremacist Movement. And I intend (and this part is true) to compliment everyone I see until everyone acknowledges my superiority and bows to my twisted will.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
Products You Can Make Yourself and Sell on eBay
In these troubling economic times, more and more people are turning to eBay to sell junk. Lately I've had some ideas for some ju... um, er... products that I could make myself and sell on eBay. But since I don't really feel like making any of these things, I'm just going to write an ebook about the things that you can make yourself and sell on eBay, and sell it on eBay.
Just to give you an idea of some of what I have in mind, I'll list just a few of my product ideas. I won't list them all because, as the old saying goes, why would someone buy the house when you're letting them use the bathroom for free? OK, I don't really remember the old saying but it's something like that.
Anyway, here are some of the products:
1. PVC Ghost Detector - people who shop on eBay are peculairly drawn to the paranormal. So I had an idea for a ghost detector made out of PVC pipe. The way that it works is that you speak into the open end of the pipe and say, "Are there any ghosts in this house?" If there are, something happens. I don't actually know what yet because I haven't had a chance to make one and test it in a house that I know to be haunted.
2. Breakaway noose - you know how some people want to say that they want to commit suicide only they don't really want to commit suicide, they just want to get attention? This would be a perfect gift for the psuedo-suicidal citizen. It's got a noose that goes around your neck like a regular noose - and it has a length of rope. The noose is actually only attached to the length of rope via velcro, only the nervous onlookers don't know this. The suicide threatener says, "OK, I'm really doing this..." and then actually jumps off the chair. Voila. The rope breaks away from the noose, the psuedo-suicidal psycho lands on the ground uninjured, and the crowd has a heart attack.
3. Coke can pot pipe - OK, so this isn't actually an original idea, and anyone who would be inclined to use this product already knows how to make it themselves. But I figured, people will buy anything on eBay, so... why not?
4. Clean pee - this is perfect for the user of the coke can pot pipe. I figure there could actually be a big market for clean pee nowadays, what with unemployment being up and all, everyone needs every advantage they can get to get a job. And since more and more companies require drug testing lately... selling clean pee on eBay could be the wave of the future. Of course, since the buyers of this product are going to be drug addicts, just make sure you get your money up front.
Well, like I said - it's not an exhaustive list, but you get the idea.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Just to give you an idea of some of what I have in mind, I'll list just a few of my product ideas. I won't list them all because, as the old saying goes, why would someone buy the house when you're letting them use the bathroom for free? OK, I don't really remember the old saying but it's something like that.
Anyway, here are some of the products:
1. PVC Ghost Detector - people who shop on eBay are peculairly drawn to the paranormal. So I had an idea for a ghost detector made out of PVC pipe. The way that it works is that you speak into the open end of the pipe and say, "Are there any ghosts in this house?" If there are, something happens. I don't actually know what yet because I haven't had a chance to make one and test it in a house that I know to be haunted.
2. Breakaway noose - you know how some people want to say that they want to commit suicide only they don't really want to commit suicide, they just want to get attention? This would be a perfect gift for the psuedo-suicidal citizen. It's got a noose that goes around your neck like a regular noose - and it has a length of rope. The noose is actually only attached to the length of rope via velcro, only the nervous onlookers don't know this. The suicide threatener says, "OK, I'm really doing this..." and then actually jumps off the chair. Voila. The rope breaks away from the noose, the psuedo-suicidal psycho lands on the ground uninjured, and the crowd has a heart attack.
3. Coke can pot pipe - OK, so this isn't actually an original idea, and anyone who would be inclined to use this product already knows how to make it themselves. But I figured, people will buy anything on eBay, so... why not?
4. Clean pee - this is perfect for the user of the coke can pot pipe. I figure there could actually be a big market for clean pee nowadays, what with unemployment being up and all, everyone needs every advantage they can get to get a job. And since more and more companies require drug testing lately... selling clean pee on eBay could be the wave of the future. Of course, since the buyers of this product are going to be drug addicts, just make sure you get your money up front.
Well, like I said - it's not an exhaustive list, but you get the idea.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://comixfarm.co.cc/
Do You Pay Attention to Crazy People?
Don't you hate it when you're writing an email and someone is looking over your shoulder reading it? And that person, of course, is not the person the email is being written to. Why would you send an email to someone who is standing right behind you?
The over-the-shoulder email snoop creates a particularly awkward situation when you are divulging plans to carry out a heinous plot such as taking over the world, or jogging in your underwear. Then, to add insult to injury, the over-the-shoulder-looker has the nerve to actually comment:
"You're going to do WHAT?"
I wonder if, when you talk to yourself, do people want to listen in on your conversation the way they read your email (which could be being written to yourself for all they know) or do they just ignore you since they think you're crazy? Which is hypocritical since most people talk to themselves, but everyone thinks everyone else is crazy when they hear everyone else do it.
Anyway, I had an idea for an experiment of talking to myself to see if anyone is listening. I'll do it in a crowded place within earshot of lots of people and I'll say something like this:
"No! NO! It's not UP to you to decide who doesn't deserve to live! NO! YOU don't get to decide that someone doesn't deserve to live..."
-Brief pause followed by a deep sigh-
"OK, OK. You're right, of course. No, you're right."
I'm remembering now an event that took place several years ago. I walked into a crowded restaurant in Seattle and an old man with a gray beard and a long coat was sitting at the counter carrying on what seemed like a fairly "deep" conversation with the empty chair next to him. What did I do? I ignored him, the same as everyone else. But now I wonder, should I have sat down in that empty chair and gleaned from whatever was in that old man's head? For all I know he may have unlocked the mysteries of the universe. Or at least told me where to find a better paying job. But no. Opportunity knocked, and I missed it.
I think it's time for us all to wake up, smell the coffee, and listen to the inane ramblings of crazy people. Such as ourselves.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
The over-the-shoulder email snoop creates a particularly awkward situation when you are divulging plans to carry out a heinous plot such as taking over the world, or jogging in your underwear. Then, to add insult to injury, the over-the-shoulder-looker has the nerve to actually comment:
"You're going to do WHAT?"
I wonder if, when you talk to yourself, do people want to listen in on your conversation the way they read your email (which could be being written to yourself for all they know) or do they just ignore you since they think you're crazy? Which is hypocritical since most people talk to themselves, but everyone thinks everyone else is crazy when they hear everyone else do it.
Anyway, I had an idea for an experiment of talking to myself to see if anyone is listening. I'll do it in a crowded place within earshot of lots of people and I'll say something like this:
"No! NO! It's not UP to you to decide who doesn't deserve to live! NO! YOU don't get to decide that someone doesn't deserve to live..."
-Brief pause followed by a deep sigh-
"OK, OK. You're right, of course. No, you're right."
I'm remembering now an event that took place several years ago. I walked into a crowded restaurant in Seattle and an old man with a gray beard and a long coat was sitting at the counter carrying on what seemed like a fairly "deep" conversation with the empty chair next to him. What did I do? I ignored him, the same as everyone else. But now I wonder, should I have sat down in that empty chair and gleaned from whatever was in that old man's head? For all I know he may have unlocked the mysteries of the universe. Or at least told me where to find a better paying job. But no. Opportunity knocked, and I missed it.
I think it's time for us all to wake up, smell the coffee, and listen to the inane ramblings of crazy people. Such as ourselves.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
12 Steps for Weirdos
In an attempt to overcome my compulsive weirdness, I recently joined a 12 step program. I managed to come out of denial and realize that I had a problem when it occurred to me that I am compulsive about telling jokes. If a joke comes to mind, I MUST tell it... even if it isn't funny.
It was difficult for me though to admit my problem to a crowd of drunken strangers. Nobody really understood.
"Hi, my name's David" I say, "and I'm a weirdo."
"Hi weirdo" says the crowd.
I don't understand the whole addiction thing. Sometimes people say that they have sexual addictions. I'm afraid to ask them, but I can't help but wonder; if you can have sexual addictions, can you die of a sexual overdose?
"Poor Joe," people would say, "he got his mind out of the gutter, but he couldn't get the gutter out of his mind."
I really am trying to change. In church I learned that I need to be more giving. Then, in another church service I learned that I need to stop pointing the finger. I really do try to apply these things to my life. I decided that from now on I'm going to stop pointing the finger, and start giving the finger.
*Sigh* Once a weirdo, always a weirdo.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
It was difficult for me though to admit my problem to a crowd of drunken strangers. Nobody really understood.
"Hi, my name's David" I say, "and I'm a weirdo."
"Hi weirdo" says the crowd.
I don't understand the whole addiction thing. Sometimes people say that they have sexual addictions. I'm afraid to ask them, but I can't help but wonder; if you can have sexual addictions, can you die of a sexual overdose?
"Poor Joe," people would say, "he got his mind out of the gutter, but he couldn't get the gutter out of his mind."
I really am trying to change. In church I learned that I need to be more giving. Then, in another church service I learned that I need to stop pointing the finger. I really do try to apply these things to my life. I decided that from now on I'm going to stop pointing the finger, and start giving the finger.
*Sigh* Once a weirdo, always a weirdo.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
Fun With Phrases
Have you ever had someone say to you, "Hello there. Your face is on fire and there are pumpkin farms in your armpits", when what they really meant was, "My boss is really getting on my nerves. I wish he would stop acting like a little girl"? Well welcome to my world. There are certain words and phrases that people use, and I know what they mean, but it really sounds like something else to me.
I'll give you an example of a phrase that movie critics use when they're talking about some heart-warming kind of movie that they liked. They'll call the movie a "triumph of the spirit". Now I understand that we all have a spirit, and that what the critics mean when they say "triumph of the spirit" has to do with a victory that is so deep that it goes all of the way to the most inner-core of one's being. But still, that's not what I hear. When I think of a spirit, I think of a disembodied entity. So when I hear "triumph of the spirit", I don't think of an unsung underdog who leads his underdog baseball team to victory while simultaneously bringing his cancer-ridden mother from death's door back to the land of the living in spite of the fact that everyone said that the guy would never amount to anything. No. Here's what I think of:
It's a dark and stormy night. Thunder striking, wolves howling... the whole nine yards. You had a fight with your spouse and in an enraged huff you got into your car and drove off into the ominous storm. Now you are lost. You are on some God-forsaken road in the middle of nowhere. Twisty, winding, goes to nowhere road. Plus you're almost out of gas. You see a light up ahead - it's an old creepy house. You decide to stop and ask if you can use their phone. You walk up to the door, across the creeking steps... you knock on the door and it creeks open. You walk gingerly into the house saying "Hello? Hello?" but nobody responds. Suddenly, the Ghost of Christmas Future jumps out of the closet and chops off your head with his grim-reaper axe. In your final seconds of life, lying on the floor - your head here and your torso over there, you look up at the Ghost of Christmas Future who is pointing his skeletal finger at you and laughing. He won, you lost. Game over.
Here's a phrase that my parents used to use, and it still doesn't make sense to me why they would say it. They would say, "Don't let me ever catch you doing that again." At least with the "triumph of the spirit" phrase it could be argued that the critics meant what they said and were saying what they meant, but I don't think that my parents meant "Don't let me ever catch you doing that again." I think what they meant was, "Don't do that again." But that's not what they said. What they actually said to me was in essence, "Be sneakier... be more deceitful... learn to lie better." My own parents. No wonder I'm so screwed up.
I often wonder if people even realize what they're saying half of the time. I sat in a Bible study once - the man leading it was my pastor. He was reading some stuff from the New Testament, and then all of the sudden he looks up from his Bible and says, "This is John the Baptist speaking." Now, I realize that I'm supposed to respect my pastor - but I couldn't help myself. I stood and shouted loudly, "You're not John the Baptist!" How could he be? John the Baptist is dead. He got his head chopped off. You would think that the pastor would know that.
I think people need to think about what they say.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
I'll give you an example of a phrase that movie critics use when they're talking about some heart-warming kind of movie that they liked. They'll call the movie a "triumph of the spirit". Now I understand that we all have a spirit, and that what the critics mean when they say "triumph of the spirit" has to do with a victory that is so deep that it goes all of the way to the most inner-core of one's being. But still, that's not what I hear. When I think of a spirit, I think of a disembodied entity. So when I hear "triumph of the spirit", I don't think of an unsung underdog who leads his underdog baseball team to victory while simultaneously bringing his cancer-ridden mother from death's door back to the land of the living in spite of the fact that everyone said that the guy would never amount to anything. No. Here's what I think of:
It's a dark and stormy night. Thunder striking, wolves howling... the whole nine yards. You had a fight with your spouse and in an enraged huff you got into your car and drove off into the ominous storm. Now you are lost. You are on some God-forsaken road in the middle of nowhere. Twisty, winding, goes to nowhere road. Plus you're almost out of gas. You see a light up ahead - it's an old creepy house. You decide to stop and ask if you can use their phone. You walk up to the door, across the creeking steps... you knock on the door and it creeks open. You walk gingerly into the house saying "Hello? Hello?" but nobody responds. Suddenly, the Ghost of Christmas Future jumps out of the closet and chops off your head with his grim-reaper axe. In your final seconds of life, lying on the floor - your head here and your torso over there, you look up at the Ghost of Christmas Future who is pointing his skeletal finger at you and laughing. He won, you lost. Game over.
Here's a phrase that my parents used to use, and it still doesn't make sense to me why they would say it. They would say, "Don't let me ever catch you doing that again." At least with the "triumph of the spirit" phrase it could be argued that the critics meant what they said and were saying what they meant, but I don't think that my parents meant "Don't let me ever catch you doing that again." I think what they meant was, "Don't do that again." But that's not what they said. What they actually said to me was in essence, "Be sneakier... be more deceitful... learn to lie better." My own parents. No wonder I'm so screwed up.
I often wonder if people even realize what they're saying half of the time. I sat in a Bible study once - the man leading it was my pastor. He was reading some stuff from the New Testament, and then all of the sudden he looks up from his Bible and says, "This is John the Baptist speaking." Now, I realize that I'm supposed to respect my pastor - but I couldn't help myself. I stood and shouted loudly, "You're not John the Baptist!" How could he be? John the Baptist is dead. He got his head chopped off. You would think that the pastor would know that.
I think people need to think about what they say.
*Read and submit comix and stories at http://ComixFarm.co.cc
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