The arrival of autumn brings both the mating season and hunting season of several animals. Its a Darwinian tug of war, as one species attempts to increase its population while another tries to lower it. During the rut, deer-the main attraction for most hunters- are much more active and less cautious since they are all hopped up on hormones, with a Propagate-Or-Bust attitude.
The Texas Parks and Wildlife Department did an extensive study on white-tailed deer. The study showed does go through estrous cycles 28 days apart. They may be attracted to bucks for a period of 5 days, but only willing to reproduce during one 2 hour period within those 5 days (teases). Bucks on the other hand, like males of most species, are always ready to go.
Mating season is a interesting biological phenomena. Surely at some point in time, humans had a mating season. Early man probably knew that having offspring during a certain season greatly improved its chances for survival. As man evolved, the mating season stretched longer and longer to the point where it was no longer a season at all. It could have been due to any number of reasons, such as climate change, advances in horticulture, or the advent of alcohol.
And with mating season amongst people being phased out, the world changed dramatically. But what if humans had a mating season this very day? What if every fall humans had an overwhelming instinctual urge to reproduce? Imagine how different the world would be...
In most animals, the number one priority during mating is procreation. I'll assume the human race can remain a bit more civilized. I'm not suggesting meaningful, loving relationships wouldn't exist, nor am I foretelling a story of a world where people are transformed into a zombie like population, walking around in a pheromone induced haze. But their sex drives would be heightened to "Drunk Frat Boy" level. And drunk frat boys' sex drive would be elevated to "Rabbits On Some Really Good Ecstasy" level.
First, there is the economic effect. Nine months of hormonally balanced people would lead to much more focus at work and greater productivity for 75% of the year. But there are quite a few businesses that would suffer if people only thought about sex for those three months. What are year round businesses in our current world would be sweating things out until their busy season begins in late September, like lingerie and cologne manufacturers, the people at Pfizer, and the entire porn industry.
Bucks are more active in times of low light, during their mating season. Low or no light has played a crucial part in many, many, many, many, many hookups. Many. Seriously, its like a huge number. Same goes for alcohol. So I would expect bars to stay open until sunrise during our mating season. The fast and shameless moments of debauchery that college students traditionally experience and regret if they are able to remember on Spring Break would take place on Fall Break. Las Vegas' drive-thru wedding chapels would notice a spike in business in the autumn months, for those whose pending physical relationship also has a strong, emotional relationship.
The NFL, which gets a significant amount of attention from the general male population, would most likely need to change its season start date to sometime in January, as opposed to September. As much as men love football, there's one thing we love more, and if there's only one time we can get it, football will lose out. In fact all sports seasons would need to be run sometime between January and August. Of course watching sports will be challenge even still, what with all the birthday parties to go to in the spring and summer.
The entertainment world would be effected too. Summer time, particularly Memorial Day and the 4th of July, are key dates for the releases of the biggest blockbusters - usually high budget action films. I suspect movie studios would similarly go all out with the production of romantic comedies during Labor Day and Columbus Day weekends. Its very easy to predict Rihanna's new sex driven anthem dominating the radio waves at some point in the fall. And in the winter, when the romance and the "romance" has died down, Taylor Swift's latest break up song will replace it at Number 1.
And then there's Valentine's Day.
There is great variance in the interpretation of the day. If you think otherwise, next Valentine's Day pop in at the nearest fine dining establishment and notice the mode of decorum of the patrons. Afterwards, head to a bar. Any bar. There is a significant difference in the behavior in the two places. If there was a mating season, Valentine's Day would generally be celebrated in the fashion stated in the former, not the latter. It truly would be a day about true love.
But those people in that bar will still get their day. There is a day similar to Valentine's Day in the fall that receives far less fanfare. Sweetest Day, which falls on the third Saturday of October, would be the make-it-or-break-it day of mating season. The cheesy pick up line spouting, tight shirt wearing, enough cologne to give an elephant a headache wearing, men who bought a stash of roses from a guy in the parking lot hoping he will find a woman either dumb, drunk, and/or desperate enough to succumb to his advances will not be present though. He will be replaced by cheesy pick up line spouting, tight shirt wearing, enough cologne to give an elephant a headache wearing, men who bought a stash of chrysanthemums from a guy in the parking lot hoping he will find a woman either dumb, drunk, and/or desperate enough to succumb to his advances, as that particular hardy flower is in season in the fall, and in much more supply. The rose, an icon for romance for romance for seemingly forever, would be kicked to the symbolism curb.
And the women in the bar will have a more accepting attitude of such immature, and obviously insincere wooing by these men. As awful, creepy, or just plain lame as some of these guys may seem, the attention must be nice. However, this time there would be a biological obligation to select one of these chest thumping alpha male wannabes. The ball will still be in the females' court, so they'd have the right to be choosy, at least for a while. Can you imagine what awkward offspring the last two misfits standing would yield?
Well, they say there's no timetable for love. Its probably a good thing there's no timetable for getting some lovin' either.
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PHOTO CONTEST: I am working diligently(-ish) on the production of a My-Randomalities calendar, highlighting many of the great days like the ones in the Save The Date blog that most calendars curiously choose to ignore.
Of course, I will need 12 photos. So I'm having a photo contest for the (almost) centerfold. Send me your pic of you "Randomality-ing" (reading my blog with a paper bag over your head in normal, strange, or random situations), and the person with the best photo will be dubbed Mr or Mrs Randomality, and get a spread during May, the month I began this silliness.
Perhaps this will become the next Internet fad, like planking or owling. Well, probably not.
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Upcoming Randomalities:
-The Character of LIncoln
- maybe a blog on windmills
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Delayed By Paranoia
Sunday morning has become my self imposed ( yet loosely followed) deadline to post my blogs. I had every intention of posting one this Sunday morning, and oh boy, it would have been a dandy.
In the days leading up to Sunday, I had a revelation, an epiphany. In my head popped - no, burst - no, exploded, the most amazing idea I've ever had. While I was short on time to actually write earlier this week, the seed had been planted, and I did have time to nurture this amazing idea, allowing it to sprout and grow in the warmth of my greenhouse of a mind. This blog would become my Magnum Opus, my grandest work, the blogging equivalent of Walden being written on top of the Mona Lisa.
With the groundwork laid in my brain, I spent Saturday fine tuning the most minute of details in my brain, carefully selecting the perfect word for the poetic diction, placed accordingly in a choreographed cadence.
I returned home after working a double shift, physically tired, but the idea of my greatest literary achievement was rather lively, still growing strong, like Jack's beanstalk climbing to the clouds. No worries, I thought. A sound night of well deserved rest and an early rise is all I would need. And then the words would dance from my fingertips to the screen, the sun would rise, the birds would sing a joyful chorus, and you, the reader, would notice the warmth spreading through your body is not from the 1st cup of coffee that is recommended with this blog, but is actually being induced from the words before you. A great feeling of comfort and joy would overcome you, as if your belly were being rubbed by the hand of God. I made my way to my bathroom for my bedtime routine, and that's when everything changed.
It would seem like such a minor incident, one that should not distract me, and especially not derail me. Yet it did, and with it, I lost nearly everything.
I looked in the mirror. I saw an exhausted man peering back at me. He winked at me, because he too was aware of my Sunday morning date with greatness. I reached for my toothbrush, the final task of the day. But it was not in its usual place. I scanned the bathroom, and quickly found it on the counter. That's not where it belongs. I ran it under the water, brushed my teeth, and made my way to bed.
But that amazing blog, The Blog, which I had rehearsed in my mind all day, which sounded like a symphony in my head, began to fade, as very different thoughts crept in. By the time my head hit my pillow, I felt a nervous anxiety coursing through my veins. Why was my toothbrush moved?
Sure, weaker men have been defeated by less compelling issues. But that was all I could think about. It had been 13 hours since I had last seen my toothbrush. I have four kids, one who is 1 and half years old. We close the door, but maybe just once, in those 13 hours, he found a way in. Probably not, but still, 13 hours is a long time. What would he do if he got to it? His motor skills are pretty advanced for his age, but then again, his age is under 2. Dropping it is a real possibility. So is putting it in his mouth. Or worse. His nose was pretty runny this morning. Oh God!
What if he took it out of the room, and did something with it to one of my dogs, then put it back? I don't buy in to the "their mouths are cleaner than ours" philosophy. I violently turned to my side and clenched my eyes shut as if the these images were being broadcast before them rather than in my mind. I was desperate to fall asleep, silently mouthing the words "Shut up, shut up, shut up" as if it was a 6th grade bully announcing my fears to the entire playground.
I felt a small bump on the inside of my cheek with my tongue. What is that? That wasn't there all day, was it? Its probably nothing, but WHAT IS THAT?!!
I tried to convince myself I probably left it on the counter as I rushed to leave, and rolled to my back. But it was close to the sink. And then I remembered two neighborhood kids were at my house today too. Six kids in and out of the bathroom with my vulnerable toothbrush. Sloppily washing their hands. Maybe little drops of dirty water and soap dripped on my toothbrush. Why did I always insist my kids wash their hands? What if one of them sneezed on it. Maybe it got knocked in to the sink while my kids were brushing their teeth that night, and unknowingly spit on mine. And Seriously, what the Hell is on my cheek?!! I think its getting bigger!!
I tossed my body back to my side. I'm sure they rinsed it off if anything happened. A deep breath. A brief moment of comfort. So something did in fact happen to the toothbrush, then? I rolled back on my back, kicking the covers off of my body, the anxiety causing my body temperature to rise. Maybe it wasn't even mine. My mother is visiting, and she had left her toothbrush safely placed on the counter the night before. Perhaps she left it somewhere else, and I mistakenly grabbed it? Could I really make that mistake? Both brushes in question are white and blue. The only thing I could tell you about my toothbrush is that its white and blue. Brushing my teeth is an exercise in muscle memory. I can do the entire process blindfolded, assuming all the necessary equipment is in its proper place. But I couldn't pick my toothbrush out in a lineup. I don't even know who made it; Oral-B, Colgate, Bic ( Does Bic even make toothbrushes?)... but still, how have I gone through life paying so little attention to something that I insert in to such an intimate place multiple times daily?
But it should be okay. My mother has never had any dental issues and rarely gets sick. But she had Chinese tonight. Shrimp in fact. With soy sauce. Yuck. We both would have used toothpaste, but now in a remarkable display of mind over matter, I felt like I could taste the shrimp and soy sauce just from the few minuscule particles that may have been transferred from her mouth to the toothbrush.
Wait, I'm pretty sure her brush was in the same place it had been the night before. I'm good. But that spot on my cheek is even bigger now. And I think there's another one on the inside of my lip. What happened to my toothbrush?!
I could envision microscopic cells of bacteria getting it on, using my tongue like a cheap hotel mattress for a late night tryst, as they reproduced at a hypersonic pace, covering my mouth with their gross little bacteria babies. I know cells reproduce through mitosis, but I was not in a rational state of mind. My head shook back and forth, me opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out like a cobra on the prowl, hoping the cold night air would slow the horny bacteria. My eyes sprung open, as the horror show I saw in my mind became unbearable. I stared at the ceiling, paralyzed and paranoid. Exactly eighty seven minutes had passed since I first laid down in my bed. In those 87 minutes, I realized 9 different people could have been in that bathroom during those 13 hours I was away, and I had imagined each and everyone of them having a portion of the blame. My breathing became heighten as the army of bacteria marched toward the back of my throat, intent on strangling me from within.
With what little energy I had left, I sprung up. I reached for my cup of water and gulped. Then I realized there was no way I could swallow what ever I was jarring loose as the water swished in my mouth. I headed back to the bathroom and spit it out. I gasped for air. My legs were weakened, yet I knew victory would soon be mine. I yanked open the medicine cabinet and saw the emerald green vile of my antidote. I ripped off the cap, and raised it to my lips. I saw that same man from earlier in the mirror, in much worse shape than before. Bags under his eyes, and sweat leaking from his brow. I felt his pain. We nodded at each other, flashed each other a quick smile, exposing the enemy in our mouths, whispered "I'll see you in Hell", and toasted each other before I dropped to the floor, chugging the bottle of Listerine. I violently gargled, the minty fresh liquid dribbling down my chin. I raised myself back to the sink and let loose a powerful spit, with the force and urgency of a sixteen year old whose stomach is rejecting her first bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, before doing it all over again. I rinsed with hot water, and then well aware of my how my tired mind worked, took a shot and half of NyQuil to prevent being kept awake by more revolting images of what may have happened to my toothbrush.
I awoke early Sunday morning, in a haze. Few remnants remain of that one glorious blog. Like Harrison Ford in Regarding Henry, I am slowly piecing things back together. I'm confident the pieces of the wreckage will wash ashore in my mind, and I can rebuild it. But Sunday morning was not the time. My first priority had become, understandably, getting a new toothbrush.
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Remember you can 'Like' My-Randomalities on Facebook. There will be information on a photo contest as well as details on a My-Randomalities calendar, and the most random Shark Week you will ever see.
In the days leading up to Sunday, I had a revelation, an epiphany. In my head popped - no, burst - no, exploded, the most amazing idea I've ever had. While I was short on time to actually write earlier this week, the seed had been planted, and I did have time to nurture this amazing idea, allowing it to sprout and grow in the warmth of my greenhouse of a mind. This blog would become my Magnum Opus, my grandest work, the blogging equivalent of Walden being written on top of the Mona Lisa.
With the groundwork laid in my brain, I spent Saturday fine tuning the most minute of details in my brain, carefully selecting the perfect word for the poetic diction, placed accordingly in a choreographed cadence.
I returned home after working a double shift, physically tired, but the idea of my greatest literary achievement was rather lively, still growing strong, like Jack's beanstalk climbing to the clouds. No worries, I thought. A sound night of well deserved rest and an early rise is all I would need. And then the words would dance from my fingertips to the screen, the sun would rise, the birds would sing a joyful chorus, and you, the reader, would notice the warmth spreading through your body is not from the 1st cup of coffee that is recommended with this blog, but is actually being induced from the words before you. A great feeling of comfort and joy would overcome you, as if your belly were being rubbed by the hand of God. I made my way to my bathroom for my bedtime routine, and that's when everything changed.
It would seem like such a minor incident, one that should not distract me, and especially not derail me. Yet it did, and with it, I lost nearly everything.
I looked in the mirror. I saw an exhausted man peering back at me. He winked at me, because he too was aware of my Sunday morning date with greatness. I reached for my toothbrush, the final task of the day. But it was not in its usual place. I scanned the bathroom, and quickly found it on the counter. That's not where it belongs. I ran it under the water, brushed my teeth, and made my way to bed.
But that amazing blog, The Blog, which I had rehearsed in my mind all day, which sounded like a symphony in my head, began to fade, as very different thoughts crept in. By the time my head hit my pillow, I felt a nervous anxiety coursing through my veins. Why was my toothbrush moved?
Sure, weaker men have been defeated by less compelling issues. But that was all I could think about. It had been 13 hours since I had last seen my toothbrush. I have four kids, one who is 1 and half years old. We close the door, but maybe just once, in those 13 hours, he found a way in. Probably not, but still, 13 hours is a long time. What would he do if he got to it? His motor skills are pretty advanced for his age, but then again, his age is under 2. Dropping it is a real possibility. So is putting it in his mouth. Or worse. His nose was pretty runny this morning. Oh God!
What if he took it out of the room, and did something with it to one of my dogs, then put it back? I don't buy in to the "their mouths are cleaner than ours" philosophy. I violently turned to my side and clenched my eyes shut as if the these images were being broadcast before them rather than in my mind. I was desperate to fall asleep, silently mouthing the words "Shut up, shut up, shut up" as if it was a 6th grade bully announcing my fears to the entire playground.
I felt a small bump on the inside of my cheek with my tongue. What is that? That wasn't there all day, was it? Its probably nothing, but WHAT IS THAT?!!
I tried to convince myself I probably left it on the counter as I rushed to leave, and rolled to my back. But it was close to the sink. And then I remembered two neighborhood kids were at my house today too. Six kids in and out of the bathroom with my vulnerable toothbrush. Sloppily washing their hands. Maybe little drops of dirty water and soap dripped on my toothbrush. Why did I always insist my kids wash their hands? What if one of them sneezed on it. Maybe it got knocked in to the sink while my kids were brushing their teeth that night, and unknowingly spit on mine. And Seriously, what the Hell is on my cheek?!! I think its getting bigger!!
I tossed my body back to my side. I'm sure they rinsed it off if anything happened. A deep breath. A brief moment of comfort. So something did in fact happen to the toothbrush, then? I rolled back on my back, kicking the covers off of my body, the anxiety causing my body temperature to rise. Maybe it wasn't even mine. My mother is visiting, and she had left her toothbrush safely placed on the counter the night before. Perhaps she left it somewhere else, and I mistakenly grabbed it? Could I really make that mistake? Both brushes in question are white and blue. The only thing I could tell you about my toothbrush is that its white and blue. Brushing my teeth is an exercise in muscle memory. I can do the entire process blindfolded, assuming all the necessary equipment is in its proper place. But I couldn't pick my toothbrush out in a lineup. I don't even know who made it; Oral-B, Colgate, Bic ( Does Bic even make toothbrushes?)... but still, how have I gone through life paying so little attention to something that I insert in to such an intimate place multiple times daily?
But it should be okay. My mother has never had any dental issues and rarely gets sick. But she had Chinese tonight. Shrimp in fact. With soy sauce. Yuck. We both would have used toothpaste, but now in a remarkable display of mind over matter, I felt like I could taste the shrimp and soy sauce just from the few minuscule particles that may have been transferred from her mouth to the toothbrush.
Wait, I'm pretty sure her brush was in the same place it had been the night before. I'm good. But that spot on my cheek is even bigger now. And I think there's another one on the inside of my lip. What happened to my toothbrush?!
I could envision microscopic cells of bacteria getting it on, using my tongue like a cheap hotel mattress for a late night tryst, as they reproduced at a hypersonic pace, covering my mouth with their gross little bacteria babies. I know cells reproduce through mitosis, but I was not in a rational state of mind. My head shook back and forth, me opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out like a cobra on the prowl, hoping the cold night air would slow the horny bacteria. My eyes sprung open, as the horror show I saw in my mind became unbearable. I stared at the ceiling, paralyzed and paranoid. Exactly eighty seven minutes had passed since I first laid down in my bed. In those 87 minutes, I realized 9 different people could have been in that bathroom during those 13 hours I was away, and I had imagined each and everyone of them having a portion of the blame. My breathing became heighten as the army of bacteria marched toward the back of my throat, intent on strangling me from within.
With what little energy I had left, I sprung up. I reached for my cup of water and gulped. Then I realized there was no way I could swallow what ever I was jarring loose as the water swished in my mouth. I headed back to the bathroom and spit it out. I gasped for air. My legs were weakened, yet I knew victory would soon be mine. I yanked open the medicine cabinet and saw the emerald green vile of my antidote. I ripped off the cap, and raised it to my lips. I saw that same man from earlier in the mirror, in much worse shape than before. Bags under his eyes, and sweat leaking from his brow. I felt his pain. We nodded at each other, flashed each other a quick smile, exposing the enemy in our mouths, whispered "I'll see you in Hell", and toasted each other before I dropped to the floor, chugging the bottle of Listerine. I violently gargled, the minty fresh liquid dribbling down my chin. I raised myself back to the sink and let loose a powerful spit, with the force and urgency of a sixteen year old whose stomach is rejecting her first bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, before doing it all over again. I rinsed with hot water, and then well aware of my how my tired mind worked, took a shot and half of NyQuil to prevent being kept awake by more revolting images of what may have happened to my toothbrush.
I awoke early Sunday morning, in a haze. Few remnants remain of that one glorious blog. Like Harrison Ford in Regarding Henry, I am slowly piecing things back together. I'm confident the pieces of the wreckage will wash ashore in my mind, and I can rebuild it. But Sunday morning was not the time. My first priority had become, understandably, getting a new toothbrush.
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Remember you can 'Like' My-Randomalities on Facebook. There will be information on a photo contest as well as details on a My-Randomalities calendar, and the most random Shark Week you will ever see.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
If It Looks Like A Duck and Kills Like A Duck....
October has come and gone, and with it a myriad of Halloween themed programming. Halloween falling on the last day of the month is an ideal situation for TV stations, as shows and movies progress in quality as the fateful day nears,
I will admit, I've never been interested in watching horror movies, but I do find it to be an interesting genre. You have the types where specific monsters terrorize a community, like Dracula, Frankenstein, The Werewolf, etc. You have the ones which have been greatly aided by the advances in special effects, allowing for graphic and gross mutations in the blink of an eye. Horror movies spark creativity in both the most genius and moronic film makers. Absolutely nothing is off limits as to what will be the source of terror.
Sure, Dracula, Jason, and Freddy Kruger are scary. But when it comes to horror movies, practically anything can be used as a medium of fright, like a videotape ("The Ring"), a low lying, thick mist ("The Fog"), zombie strippers ( "Zombie Strippers!"), a leprechaun, (Leprechaun), giant irradiated ants ("Them!"), clowns from another planet ("Killer Klowns from Outer Space"), tomatoes ("Attack of the Killer Tomatoes"), and even a cookie ("Gingerdead Man").
Again, I've never watched any of those movies, so I am in a sense judging a book by its cover. The premise of many of these just seem too silly to be taken seriously. I think I could defeat the antagonist in a lot of horror movies. Take "The Ring" for example. I simply wouldn't rewind the tape. In this instant gratification/ADD age, who is going to wait for that. While it rewinds, someone will text a friend, get invited to the mall, then maybe go out for some Thai food, followed by disco-glow bowling. Meanwhile the tape sits idly in the soon to be obsolete VCR which collects dust, until its finally tossed in the trash.
One successful horror franchise that I never quite understood is the "Child's Play" series. Its a freaking doll. All you should need is a Louisville slugger to beat Chucky in to smithereens. Even a swing from a mop or umbrella should be good enough to send him flying across the room. If you can't kill Chucky yourself, you should be able to trap him with a laundry basket with an encyclopedia on top until help arrives. And I guess the people being terrorized in these movies never had any dogs. Both of my dogs have destroyed bigger, badder toys..
I think if I ever were to get in to scary movies, I'd prefer the type where regular animals turn into blood thirsty, killing machines as opposed to one particular monster or evil spirit. A werewolf is pretty bad ass, but there's only one. You and your group can disperse, and hopefully someone will find a silver bullet before its too late. But a large group of animals, well that's much harder to escape from based on the sheer volume of the pack.
Sharks ("Jaws") and wolves ("The Grey") are obvious choices. But there is a breed of film makers that gets a little, well, for lack of a better word, crazy, when selecting a species to be the film's killers. There have been movies made where slugs and frogs actually went on killing sprees in villages full of village idiots.
So if I were to pick an unusual animal for my horror movie, my selection would fall some where in the middle between slugs and wolves. My beast of choice would be ducks. Yes, I said ducks.
I know, Alfred Hitchcock already did a bird movie. But he used gulls. According to my research, 84% of Americans feel compelled to thwack a gull with a tennis racket, regardless of the situation. Part of the reason I chose ducks is because they are feathered Prozac. Who can watch a duck waddle, swim, and hear its little quack, and not help but feel a little better? So a malicious, violent duck would have the element of surprise on its side.
Some imagery from my duck movie:
An old man sits on a park bench at sunrise. He tosses some stale bread towards the pond. A duck swims to the shore, waddles to the bread, and happily gobbles it up. The duck quacks with approval, and the man tosses another piece. Soon the duck is joined by 3 others, who quack for more. The man tosses more bread, as the ducks creep closer to him. The man continues to throw them bread, the ducks quacking becoming louder and more rapid. The man looks inside the sack, and sees all that's left is a few crumbs. When he returns his eyes back to the ducks, he sees not 4, but hundreds. Not pleased that he is out of food, they attack, ripping the poor old man to pieces, leaving behind only a few crumbs themselves.
The movie title, "DUCK & COVER", flashes on the screen, to a chorus of quacks with a cadence similar to a cliched evil laugh.
From there we follow a group of seven 20-something friends, on a camping trip in Oregon for one last hurrah before the reality of adult life pulls them apart (if the ducks don't do it first).
One young woman wakes early and decides to go on a hike. At the crest of the mountain, she notices what appears to be a hawk circling in front of the morning sun. She squints to follow its graceful flight. The sun is blinding, and she momentarily loses sight of the bird. She blinks, and when she opens her eyes she see the bird dive bombing above her. She freezes, shocked, and mutters one word as she realizes what is happening- "Duck?".
If only she would have. The impact of the blow of the falling water fowl knocks her to the ground, her head hitting a large rock. When she comes to, she hears the soft flap of webbed feet on the hard ground, as several ducks approach her. She's paralyzed, and lets out a blood curdling scream as bills pierce and rip her young, slutty flesh (oh, did I forget to mention this film will follow the standard formula of terror and sex romps, with the virgin being the lone survivor? How else do you expect people to watch this movie? Its freaking ducks killing people!). Her screams echo through the valley, but the joyous quacks of the feasting ducks, for a reason known only to God, do not. Her friends know it is her in danger, but have no clue as to the nature of the threat.
The remaining group of friends decide to split up to find their friend and get help.
One by one, the friends encounter a group of ducks, and unsuspectingly get devoured by the vicious birds. They walk. They run. One even climbs a tree but can still not escape.
The last two surviving friends get in a canoe to paddle across a lake, to the ranger's cabin. It has begun to rain (ideal weather for ducks). They notice a group of ducks in the not so far distance. They see the ducks plunge underwater in unison, and re-surfacing having caught something small to eat. The repeated, perfectly choreographed dives captures the two friends attention. The flock heads underwater again, but do not return as early as they had previously. The friends take notice. They are now invested in this beautiful show put on for them by nature. Seconds pass. They look at each and laugh, wondering where the ducks could be. They drop the paddles, and lean forward, peering down in to the dark, deep lake water.
Suddenly the canoe's floor is punctured by 10 duck bills. Water fills the boat. The ducks fly out the water and attack the confused friends. The canoe begins to sink, and the friends try to both swim away and defend themselves. They reach for the paddles, but the onslaught from the ducks is too much to allow them mount an effective counter attack. The male friend's foot gets caught, making escape very difficult. He himself has become a sitting duck, and becomes the focus of their attack. The sinking canoe fills with water and blood. He gasps for air as his head bobs, mouth being filled with water, and lets out one fateful last scream "UUCCKK" (first letter drowned out by the water, but you have 2 very appropriate ones to choose for this scenario).
The female friend has managed get free, and grab one of the oars. She looks over her shoulder and sees the ducks diving in to the water like they had a few minutes earlier, only this time surfacing with bits and pieces of her friends flesh in their bills. Shore is only a few hundred yards away, and she made All State on her high school swim team. Plus, as the only virgin in the group, she has a little more reserved strength due to the lack of fornication the night before. She grabs hold of the oar floating nearby, and swims to land.
The girl makes it to shore. Weakened from the swim and the many bites and abrasions, she struggles to rise to her feet. It isn't long before she hears the squishing of webbed feet on the mud. As the blood from her wounds is washed away from the downpour of rain and tears, she grips the canoe oar. The ducks advance, and with what little strength she has left, she swings the oar like a samurai with a sword. Feathers get tossed about in the air like a sorority house pillow fight. She suffers many more bites, but is able to stumble in to the cabin. She sees what scraps of a park ranger the ducks left behind lying on the floor. On a desk she sees a set of keys and lighter. She grabs both as the cabin is filling up with savage ducks. She turns the gas on the stove, advances towards the door, swinging the oar like a baseball star who promised to hit a home run for a sick child.
She gets knocked to her feet yet somehow makes it to the door. She gives one last swing with the oar, freeing herself enough to lunge out the door and pull it shut behind her. She notices all the broken windows and strikes the zippo and throws the lit lighter in the cabin just before the ducks crowd the windows to chase after her. She runs to the Jeep and pulls away, noticing the exploding duck filled cabin in the rear view window.
Or something to that effect. The bottom line is ducks walk. Ducks swim. Duck fly. If a duck wants to get you, its going to get you. You can't hide from a duck.
---- If you enjoy horribly bad and cheesy movies, ones even worse than the ones I just described, check out this website:
http://www.pastemagazine.com/blogs/lists/2009/10/the-xx-best-worst-horror-movies-of-all-time.html
Their is a brief description of each, along with a trailer. I highly recommend watching the trailer for "The Gingerdead Man". The scariest thing about these movies is that someone thought making these movies was a good idea. Especially the one is named "Monsturd". I didn't watch the trailer for that one, but my guess is scientists create a genetically superior dung beetle to defeat the Monsturd, or a priest exorcises a demon, leaving one big pile of holy crap.
---Remember you can 'Like' My-Randomalities on Facebook. There will be information on a photo contest as well as details on a My-Randomalities calendar, and the most random Shark Week you will ever see.
I will admit, I've never been interested in watching horror movies, but I do find it to be an interesting genre. You have the types where specific monsters terrorize a community, like Dracula, Frankenstein, The Werewolf, etc. You have the ones which have been greatly aided by the advances in special effects, allowing for graphic and gross mutations in the blink of an eye. Horror movies spark creativity in both the most genius and moronic film makers. Absolutely nothing is off limits as to what will be the source of terror.
Sure, Dracula, Jason, and Freddy Kruger are scary. But when it comes to horror movies, practically anything can be used as a medium of fright, like a videotape ("The Ring"), a low lying, thick mist ("The Fog"), zombie strippers ( "Zombie Strippers!"), a leprechaun, (Leprechaun), giant irradiated ants ("Them!"), clowns from another planet ("Killer Klowns from Outer Space"), tomatoes ("Attack of the Killer Tomatoes"), and even a cookie ("Gingerdead Man").
Again, I've never watched any of those movies, so I am in a sense judging a book by its cover. The premise of many of these just seem too silly to be taken seriously. I think I could defeat the antagonist in a lot of horror movies. Take "The Ring" for example. I simply wouldn't rewind the tape. In this instant gratification/ADD age, who is going to wait for that. While it rewinds, someone will text a friend, get invited to the mall, then maybe go out for some Thai food, followed by disco-glow bowling. Meanwhile the tape sits idly in the soon to be obsolete VCR which collects dust, until its finally tossed in the trash.
One successful horror franchise that I never quite understood is the "Child's Play" series. Its a freaking doll. All you should need is a Louisville slugger to beat Chucky in to smithereens. Even a swing from a mop or umbrella should be good enough to send him flying across the room. If you can't kill Chucky yourself, you should be able to trap him with a laundry basket with an encyclopedia on top until help arrives. And I guess the people being terrorized in these movies never had any dogs. Both of my dogs have destroyed bigger, badder toys..
I think if I ever were to get in to scary movies, I'd prefer the type where regular animals turn into blood thirsty, killing machines as opposed to one particular monster or evil spirit. A werewolf is pretty bad ass, but there's only one. You and your group can disperse, and hopefully someone will find a silver bullet before its too late. But a large group of animals, well that's much harder to escape from based on the sheer volume of the pack.
Sharks ("Jaws") and wolves ("The Grey") are obvious choices. But there is a breed of film makers that gets a little, well, for lack of a better word, crazy, when selecting a species to be the film's killers. There have been movies made where slugs and frogs actually went on killing sprees in villages full of village idiots.
So if I were to pick an unusual animal for my horror movie, my selection would fall some where in the middle between slugs and wolves. My beast of choice would be ducks. Yes, I said ducks.
I know, Alfred Hitchcock already did a bird movie. But he used gulls. According to my research, 84% of Americans feel compelled to thwack a gull with a tennis racket, regardless of the situation. Part of the reason I chose ducks is because they are feathered Prozac. Who can watch a duck waddle, swim, and hear its little quack, and not help but feel a little better? So a malicious, violent duck would have the element of surprise on its side.
Some imagery from my duck movie:
An old man sits on a park bench at sunrise. He tosses some stale bread towards the pond. A duck swims to the shore, waddles to the bread, and happily gobbles it up. The duck quacks with approval, and the man tosses another piece. Soon the duck is joined by 3 others, who quack for more. The man tosses more bread, as the ducks creep closer to him. The man continues to throw them bread, the ducks quacking becoming louder and more rapid. The man looks inside the sack, and sees all that's left is a few crumbs. When he returns his eyes back to the ducks, he sees not 4, but hundreds. Not pleased that he is out of food, they attack, ripping the poor old man to pieces, leaving behind only a few crumbs themselves.
The movie title, "DUCK & COVER", flashes on the screen, to a chorus of quacks with a cadence similar to a cliched evil laugh.
From there we follow a group of seven 20-something friends, on a camping trip in Oregon for one last hurrah before the reality of adult life pulls them apart (if the ducks don't do it first).
One young woman wakes early and decides to go on a hike. At the crest of the mountain, she notices what appears to be a hawk circling in front of the morning sun. She squints to follow its graceful flight. The sun is blinding, and she momentarily loses sight of the bird. She blinks, and when she opens her eyes she see the bird dive bombing above her. She freezes, shocked, and mutters one word as she realizes what is happening- "Duck?".
If only she would have. The impact of the blow of the falling water fowl knocks her to the ground, her head hitting a large rock. When she comes to, she hears the soft flap of webbed feet on the hard ground, as several ducks approach her. She's paralyzed, and lets out a blood curdling scream as bills pierce and rip her young, slutty flesh (oh, did I forget to mention this film will follow the standard formula of terror and sex romps, with the virgin being the lone survivor? How else do you expect people to watch this movie? Its freaking ducks killing people!). Her screams echo through the valley, but the joyous quacks of the feasting ducks, for a reason known only to God, do not. Her friends know it is her in danger, but have no clue as to the nature of the threat.
The remaining group of friends decide to split up to find their friend and get help.
One by one, the friends encounter a group of ducks, and unsuspectingly get devoured by the vicious birds. They walk. They run. One even climbs a tree but can still not escape.
The last two surviving friends get in a canoe to paddle across a lake, to the ranger's cabin. It has begun to rain (ideal weather for ducks). They notice a group of ducks in the not so far distance. They see the ducks plunge underwater in unison, and re-surfacing having caught something small to eat. The repeated, perfectly choreographed dives captures the two friends attention. The flock heads underwater again, but do not return as early as they had previously. The friends take notice. They are now invested in this beautiful show put on for them by nature. Seconds pass. They look at each and laugh, wondering where the ducks could be. They drop the paddles, and lean forward, peering down in to the dark, deep lake water.
Suddenly the canoe's floor is punctured by 10 duck bills. Water fills the boat. The ducks fly out the water and attack the confused friends. The canoe begins to sink, and the friends try to both swim away and defend themselves. They reach for the paddles, but the onslaught from the ducks is too much to allow them mount an effective counter attack. The male friend's foot gets caught, making escape very difficult. He himself has become a sitting duck, and becomes the focus of their attack. The sinking canoe fills with water and blood. He gasps for air as his head bobs, mouth being filled with water, and lets out one fateful last scream "UUCCKK" (first letter drowned out by the water, but you have 2 very appropriate ones to choose for this scenario).
The female friend has managed get free, and grab one of the oars. She looks over her shoulder and sees the ducks diving in to the water like they had a few minutes earlier, only this time surfacing with bits and pieces of her friends flesh in their bills. Shore is only a few hundred yards away, and she made All State on her high school swim team. Plus, as the only virgin in the group, she has a little more reserved strength due to the lack of fornication the night before. She grabs hold of the oar floating nearby, and swims to land.
The girl makes it to shore. Weakened from the swim and the many bites and abrasions, she struggles to rise to her feet. It isn't long before she hears the squishing of webbed feet on the mud. As the blood from her wounds is washed away from the downpour of rain and tears, she grips the canoe oar. The ducks advance, and with what little strength she has left, she swings the oar like a samurai with a sword. Feathers get tossed about in the air like a sorority house pillow fight. She suffers many more bites, but is able to stumble in to the cabin. She sees what scraps of a park ranger the ducks left behind lying on the floor. On a desk she sees a set of keys and lighter. She grabs both as the cabin is filling up with savage ducks. She turns the gas on the stove, advances towards the door, swinging the oar like a baseball star who promised to hit a home run for a sick child.
She gets knocked to her feet yet somehow makes it to the door. She gives one last swing with the oar, freeing herself enough to lunge out the door and pull it shut behind her. She notices all the broken windows and strikes the zippo and throws the lit lighter in the cabin just before the ducks crowd the windows to chase after her. She runs to the Jeep and pulls away, noticing the exploding duck filled cabin in the rear view window.
Or something to that effect. The bottom line is ducks walk. Ducks swim. Duck fly. If a duck wants to get you, its going to get you. You can't hide from a duck.
---- If you enjoy horribly bad and cheesy movies, ones even worse than the ones I just described, check out this website:
http://www.pastemagazine.com/blogs/lists/2009/10/the-xx-best-worst-horror-movies-of-all-time.html
Their is a brief description of each, along with a trailer. I highly recommend watching the trailer for "The Gingerdead Man". The scariest thing about these movies is that someone thought making these movies was a good idea. Especially the one is named "Monsturd". I didn't watch the trailer for that one, but my guess is scientists create a genetically superior dung beetle to defeat the Monsturd, or a priest exorcises a demon, leaving one big pile of holy crap.
---Remember you can 'Like' My-Randomalities on Facebook. There will be information on a photo contest as well as details on a My-Randomalities calendar, and the most random Shark Week you will ever see.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Planes, Trains, & Automobiles: The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly
No friends, this is not a movie critique blog. Although I will say Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is without a doubt the best Thanksgiving movie ever, and in my opinion, John Candy's opus. This week's random topic is on transportation, with the name sake of one movie being classified by the namesake of another.
The Good- Trains.
Since I've never really ridden on a train, with the exception of the trolley system in Pittsburgh, with rides lasting no longer than 20 minutes, I have a fairly positive opinion of traveling by locomotive. Of course, I had a similar perspective of traveling long distance by bus prior to experiencing the purgatory on wheels myself ( friendly tip- if you are headed on a 10 hour bus trip tomorrow, don't drink yourself stupid tonight, because you may not be as lucky as I was to get in to the restroom to empty your stomach. And that will be the only time you will ever hear getting in to a bus restroom as a "lucky" occasion).
Trains helped build this country, expand industry and trade, as well as provide Hollywood with a unique setting for films. The train station became an iconic setting rich with romance, drama, mystery, and bittersweet moments that just can not be captured in other modes of transportation.
Imagine the following- its a chilly evening, and the clouds have begun to move in, obscuring some of the half moon's already dim light. Two star crossed lovers walk hand in hand, but only one is carrying a boarding pass.The protagonist reluctantly escorts his heroine to her train car, offering encouraging words and a strong embrace when the conductor gives his final cry of "All aboard". She boards and quickly finds a seat by the window, and her eyes lock with his, peering into each others' souls. She places her hand on the window as if to wave goodbye, and like a magnet, his hand is drawn to hers. Hands pressed together, separated by a thin pane of glass, they can almost feel each other's pulse, their hearts beating as one. The whistle blows, and the train begins its departure. Slowly, she is pulled from him. With his hand in place, he steps forward with the car. Her lips quiver ever so slightly, as the words "I love you" escape from her mouth. His head offers the faintest of nods, echoing her sentiments. His breath pours out of his nose in the cold, biting, night air, as he tries desperately to keep up with her, refusing to let go of the one love he knows he can never have. Unable to hold pace, he stops, yet his eyes have never left hers. A tear drops on to her cheek, and then she vanishes in to the darkness.
Now lets try the same scenario with a 1993 Ford Escort. Its a chilly night. It is time for our heroine to bid farewell to our hero. She gets in the Escort. His eyes glare in to hers, and she gives a nod of approval. He places his hand on the window, and begins to push the little hatchback forward. The sound of the ignition turning is quickly drowned out by Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" crackling through the one functioning speaker. Their eyes remain locked, as he runs beside her, pushing her car in to the street. Finally, the engine pops, and the car starts. She slowly accelerates down the street. He whispers the word "Go" from his trembling lips while he trots a few steps further, if for nothing else but to keep warm, as she took his good flannel with her. Realizing she is gone, he takes a step back, pauses, and then begins to move towards his love again, afraid he'll have to pop start that piece of junk once more as she sits at the red light 50 yards ahead. I know there's no turn on red,but dammit just go! His walk to her escalates to a light jog, when at last she looks in all directions without seeing a cop, and drives right on red, and right out of his life.
Doesn't quite invoke the same type of emotion does it?
The Bad- Planes.
The actual physics of traveling by plane are not bad, as I can't be that crazy to say NY to LA in a few hours is worse than 3 days in a 1993 Ford Escort. But flying has its fair share of cons associated with it. Here are few areas I want to concentrate on.
In case you didn't know this, the moving walkway, or nerdier sounding horizontalator as it is also know as, is to assist people in a hurry to reach their destinations, not so lazy people can take a break of the strenuous activity of walking 30 feet. It kills me when I see a person in an obvious hurry trying to make up lost time hop on only to get caught in a standstill behind some people who view the moving walkway as a chance to become stationary and admire the small TGI Friday's, smoking lounges, and all the other sights you see scattered throughout the terminals. They are there for a reason, a good reason. There will be several hours to sit and relax on the plane. "But what about the elderly and disabled?" you ask. They should get their own travelator (another nerdy alias of the device). But any able bodied person caught slouching over the rail, impeding an other's progress should be struck with a cattle prod to keep the herd moving.
Maybe some people need to use the moving walkway because they are running late. Maybe they are using it so they can secure possession of the arm rest before anyone else. Its puzzling that its almost 2013 and armrests must still be an issue. Make them bigger already! Color the left side blue and the right side red, so each person has their territory marked, and get on with the handing out of the pretzels. Its really ridiculous when you consider all the advances in aviation in the last 100 years, and insufficient arm rest space still has not been properly address by any of the major airlines.
Also I really want to see a crash test dummy video of what exactly will happen to my body in the event of a crash if I don't return my seat to the full upright position. What type of additional damage can I expect if I am to be propelled forward an extra inch and half while already free falling from the sky at hundreds of miles per hour? Call me a pessimist, but I don't like my chances in either case.
The Ugly- Automobiles.
One man's junk is another man's treasure, which is why so many woody wagons were made in the 80's. But this is not a commentary on automobile design, Unless you are Amish, you probably can not imagine life without a car (and if you are Amish, I'm flattered you are reading this). The invention of the automobile led to the invention of automobile accessories. Beaded seat covers, trucker hats, and "Honk if You're Horny" bumper stickers would fade in to non-existence like Marty McFly if the automobile never were created. And I think if Henry Ford was alive today, he would be really impressed that we have developed the technology to replicate New Car smell and contain it on a small, pine tree shaped piece of cardboard.
But it hasn't been all good. Sometimes things get taken to far. I was dumbfounded the first time I saw a car driving through my neighborhood with the following:
That's right, CAR EYELASHES!! These things make the car bra's of the 90's seem as fashionable and sensible as denim jeans. And this particular photo is extra hilarious, since someone defiled a BMW with these things.
On the Randomalities scale of Bad Ideas, with a 5 being "Giving Monkeys Blowtorches Bad", this rates as a 2 ( "Taking a road trip with Kathy Griffin Bad"). They are annoying and unattractive, and show a desperate need for attention. A 2 is a low number on the scale, based on its harmlessness, but a low score on the Randomalities Scale of Bad Ideas is still never ever anything to be proud of.
They better never ever put eyelashes on a train.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Upcoming Randomalities:
- An Untapped Source of Horror
- The 2012 My-Randomalities-ies Awards
- maybe a blog on windmills.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember you can follow My-Randomalities on Facebook and receive up to the minute updates regarding the hottest new merchandise this holiday season, get mini & retro Randomalities, as well as experience the most random Shark Week of your life (the 1st full week of Dec).
The Good- Trains.
Since I've never really ridden on a train, with the exception of the trolley system in Pittsburgh, with rides lasting no longer than 20 minutes, I have a fairly positive opinion of traveling by locomotive. Of course, I had a similar perspective of traveling long distance by bus prior to experiencing the purgatory on wheels myself ( friendly tip- if you are headed on a 10 hour bus trip tomorrow, don't drink yourself stupid tonight, because you may not be as lucky as I was to get in to the restroom to empty your stomach. And that will be the only time you will ever hear getting in to a bus restroom as a "lucky" occasion).
Trains helped build this country, expand industry and trade, as well as provide Hollywood with a unique setting for films. The train station became an iconic setting rich with romance, drama, mystery, and bittersweet moments that just can not be captured in other modes of transportation.
Imagine the following- its a chilly evening, and the clouds have begun to move in, obscuring some of the half moon's already dim light. Two star crossed lovers walk hand in hand, but only one is carrying a boarding pass.The protagonist reluctantly escorts his heroine to her train car, offering encouraging words and a strong embrace when the conductor gives his final cry of "All aboard". She boards and quickly finds a seat by the window, and her eyes lock with his, peering into each others' souls. She places her hand on the window as if to wave goodbye, and like a magnet, his hand is drawn to hers. Hands pressed together, separated by a thin pane of glass, they can almost feel each other's pulse, their hearts beating as one. The whistle blows, and the train begins its departure. Slowly, she is pulled from him. With his hand in place, he steps forward with the car. Her lips quiver ever so slightly, as the words "I love you" escape from her mouth. His head offers the faintest of nods, echoing her sentiments. His breath pours out of his nose in the cold, biting, night air, as he tries desperately to keep up with her, refusing to let go of the one love he knows he can never have. Unable to hold pace, he stops, yet his eyes have never left hers. A tear drops on to her cheek, and then she vanishes in to the darkness.
Now lets try the same scenario with a 1993 Ford Escort. Its a chilly night. It is time for our heroine to bid farewell to our hero. She gets in the Escort. His eyes glare in to hers, and she gives a nod of approval. He places his hand on the window, and begins to push the little hatchback forward. The sound of the ignition turning is quickly drowned out by Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" crackling through the one functioning speaker. Their eyes remain locked, as he runs beside her, pushing her car in to the street. Finally, the engine pops, and the car starts. She slowly accelerates down the street. He whispers the word "Go" from his trembling lips while he trots a few steps further, if for nothing else but to keep warm, as she took his good flannel with her. Realizing she is gone, he takes a step back, pauses, and then begins to move towards his love again, afraid he'll have to pop start that piece of junk once more as she sits at the red light 50 yards ahead. I know there's no turn on red,but dammit just go! His walk to her escalates to a light jog, when at last she looks in all directions without seeing a cop, and drives right on red, and right out of his life.
Doesn't quite invoke the same type of emotion does it?
The Bad- Planes.
The actual physics of traveling by plane are not bad, as I can't be that crazy to say NY to LA in a few hours is worse than 3 days in a 1993 Ford Escort. But flying has its fair share of cons associated with it. Here are few areas I want to concentrate on.
In case you didn't know this, the moving walkway, or nerdier sounding horizontalator as it is also know as, is to assist people in a hurry to reach their destinations, not so lazy people can take a break of the strenuous activity of walking 30 feet. It kills me when I see a person in an obvious hurry trying to make up lost time hop on only to get caught in a standstill behind some people who view the moving walkway as a chance to become stationary and admire the small TGI Friday's, smoking lounges, and all the other sights you see scattered throughout the terminals. They are there for a reason, a good reason. There will be several hours to sit and relax on the plane. "But what about the elderly and disabled?" you ask. They should get their own travelator (another nerdy alias of the device). But any able bodied person caught slouching over the rail, impeding an other's progress should be struck with a cattle prod to keep the herd moving.
Maybe some people need to use the moving walkway because they are running late. Maybe they are using it so they can secure possession of the arm rest before anyone else. Its puzzling that its almost 2013 and armrests must still be an issue. Make them bigger already! Color the left side blue and the right side red, so each person has their territory marked, and get on with the handing out of the pretzels. Its really ridiculous when you consider all the advances in aviation in the last 100 years, and insufficient arm rest space still has not been properly address by any of the major airlines.
Also I really want to see a crash test dummy video of what exactly will happen to my body in the event of a crash if I don't return my seat to the full upright position. What type of additional damage can I expect if I am to be propelled forward an extra inch and half while already free falling from the sky at hundreds of miles per hour? Call me a pessimist, but I don't like my chances in either case.
The Ugly- Automobiles.
One man's junk is another man's treasure, which is why so many woody wagons were made in the 80's. But this is not a commentary on automobile design, Unless you are Amish, you probably can not imagine life without a car (and if you are Amish, I'm flattered you are reading this). The invention of the automobile led to the invention of automobile accessories. Beaded seat covers, trucker hats, and "Honk if You're Horny" bumper stickers would fade in to non-existence like Marty McFly if the automobile never were created. And I think if Henry Ford was alive today, he would be really impressed that we have developed the technology to replicate New Car smell and contain it on a small, pine tree shaped piece of cardboard.
But it hasn't been all good. Sometimes things get taken to far. I was dumbfounded the first time I saw a car driving through my neighborhood with the following:
On the Randomalities scale of Bad Ideas, with a 5 being "Giving Monkeys Blowtorches Bad", this rates as a 2 ( "Taking a road trip with Kathy Griffin Bad"). They are annoying and unattractive, and show a desperate need for attention. A 2 is a low number on the scale, based on its harmlessness, but a low score on the Randomalities Scale of Bad Ideas is still never ever anything to be proud of.
They better never ever put eyelashes on a train.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Upcoming Randomalities:
- An Untapped Source of Horror
- The 2012 My-Randomalities-ies Awards
- maybe a blog on windmills.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember you can follow My-Randomalities on Facebook and receive up to the minute updates regarding the hottest new merchandise this holiday season, get mini & retro Randomalities, as well as experience the most random Shark Week of your life (the 1st full week of Dec).
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
America's Funniest Injustice
Reality TV has had its fair share of scandals over the years. While misdeeds by the cast of characters on shows like American Idol and Jersey Shore tend to grab the headlines, the Investigative Journalism team at My-Randomalities has uncovered a particular injustice on America's Funniest Videos.
It was Sunday, October 14, 2012. The third place winner, and recipient of $2,000 was announced, right before the first place winner, who would take home a cool $10,000. First suspicion arose when the 2 videos in question were considered for the grand prizes, as they were hardly the funniest entries. What really struck a discord was when the two winners' home towns were announced. Both the third and first place winners on AMERICA'S Funniest Videos hailed from Canada. Canada!
A fire burned in my belly. My blood boiled. Anger seethed from my pores, rendering me nearly speechless. Its no wonder our economy is such a mess when we are simply handing over twelve thousand American dollars to the Canucks.
Here's what won the top prize- a Canadian man grabbed his video camera in his Canadian home as his Canadian toddler emptied his wallet (mostly business cards, not credit cards, Canadian money, or Canadian ID, which would be worse, and subsequently funnier) and placed the contents in the heating vent. The Canadian man opened the vent and found a bunch of more business cards. Is that really worth 10 G's? That video should not have been placed in the top 3 even if the show was called Earth's Funniest Videos.
This stinks of an inside job, and after a little poking around, my suspicions proved correct. AFV is co-produced by Todd Thicke, brother of Alan Thicke. I know two fun facts about Alan Thicke:
1-He wrote the theme song to "The Facts of Life".
2-He is Canadian.
You've got to be kidding me! So Canada has a mole in the hierarchy of our most prized and cherished amateur blooper program. How did this happen? How could this happen?!
Listen, I'm not opposed to all things Canadian, although I think we all hold a little bit of a grudge for them pawning off Celine Dion on us. And I guess I could let it slide that Canadians are permitted to submit videos for the show. But the show's title dictates that they should not be eligible for prize money..
For 22 years, Americans have been submitting videos of their buffoonery, of their mindless gaffes and folly, of their untimely clumsiness. That show was built on above ground pools bursting and sleeping cats falling off of high ledges. AFV became the only place where many wedding videos could be viewed without shame, with fainting brides, grooms reciting vows peppered with Freudian slips, wedding cakes be destroyed by dancing drunk uncles, and grandfathers' two left feet accidentally removing grandmothers' dresses, much to the horror of the guests, with the exception of the aforementioned drunk uncles .
And lest we forget all the poor American men who were unsuspectingly plunked in the junk. Hundreds of footballs, baseballs, volleyballs, bowling balls, etc propelled in to hundreds of groins. Horses, llamas, and German shepherds attempting to establish a new order of dominance in the animal kingdom with well timed, knee buckling kicks and lunges at the underpants. Tony Hawke proteges flipping off their skateboards and sticking their landing on a bike rack between their legs. Helpless fathers forced to sing Happy Birthday in soprano due to errant swings at the pinata.
What do you have to say to these poor men, Mr. Thicke? Have they not suffered? Why must their pain only be hilarious and not also profitable? I'm actually amazed the US population has not decreased significantly in the last 22 years given all the testicular trauma highlighted on that show. Yet you turn a blind eye to these comedic martyrs. The very least you could do is send them a protective cup with the AFV logo on it.
But the fact remains that this is OUR show. That is OUR prize money. We, the American people have paid our dues, and often paid dearly. George Washington must be rolling over in his grave. He fought so we wouldn't have to pay a tax on tea. If he let things like that slide back then, we'd still be speaking English today (you know what I mean!). You think he'd sit idly by if his video of Martha falling awkwardly off of a trampoline lost money to some lady in Saskatchewan whose dog's howl maybe, kind of sounds like its saying "I love you"? Hell no! What's been happening on AFV would never happen on his watch.
Well friends, its time for another revolution. If you have anything even remotely funny captured on video, I urge you to send it to America's Funniest Videos. Let's overwhelm them with good old fashion American moronity. Let's inundate them with the nonsensical idiocy that proudly runs rampant through this great nation. You have awakened a sleeping giant of an imbecile, Mr Thicke. If anyone is going to make a fool of us Americans, it will be ourselves. We'll see who's laughing now.
Its time to stand up and fight for whats right.
Unless you just took a tire iron to the family jewels. You're allowed to sit for a while.
It was Sunday, October 14, 2012. The third place winner, and recipient of $2,000 was announced, right before the first place winner, who would take home a cool $10,000. First suspicion arose when the 2 videos in question were considered for the grand prizes, as they were hardly the funniest entries. What really struck a discord was when the two winners' home towns were announced. Both the third and first place winners on AMERICA'S Funniest Videos hailed from Canada. Canada!
A fire burned in my belly. My blood boiled. Anger seethed from my pores, rendering me nearly speechless. Its no wonder our economy is such a mess when we are simply handing over twelve thousand American dollars to the Canucks.
Here's what won the top prize- a Canadian man grabbed his video camera in his Canadian home as his Canadian toddler emptied his wallet (mostly business cards, not credit cards, Canadian money, or Canadian ID, which would be worse, and subsequently funnier) and placed the contents in the heating vent. The Canadian man opened the vent and found a bunch of more business cards. Is that really worth 10 G's? That video should not have been placed in the top 3 even if the show was called Earth's Funniest Videos.
This stinks of an inside job, and after a little poking around, my suspicions proved correct. AFV is co-produced by Todd Thicke, brother of Alan Thicke. I know two fun facts about Alan Thicke:
1-He wrote the theme song to "The Facts of Life".
2-He is Canadian.
You've got to be kidding me! So Canada has a mole in the hierarchy of our most prized and cherished amateur blooper program. How did this happen? How could this happen?!
Listen, I'm not opposed to all things Canadian, although I think we all hold a little bit of a grudge for them pawning off Celine Dion on us. And I guess I could let it slide that Canadians are permitted to submit videos for the show. But the show's title dictates that they should not be eligible for prize money..
For 22 years, Americans have been submitting videos of their buffoonery, of their mindless gaffes and folly, of their untimely clumsiness. That show was built on above ground pools bursting and sleeping cats falling off of high ledges. AFV became the only place where many wedding videos could be viewed without shame, with fainting brides, grooms reciting vows peppered with Freudian slips, wedding cakes be destroyed by dancing drunk uncles, and grandfathers' two left feet accidentally removing grandmothers' dresses, much to the horror of the guests, with the exception of the aforementioned drunk uncles .
And lest we forget all the poor American men who were unsuspectingly plunked in the junk. Hundreds of footballs, baseballs, volleyballs, bowling balls, etc propelled in to hundreds of groins. Horses, llamas, and German shepherds attempting to establish a new order of dominance in the animal kingdom with well timed, knee buckling kicks and lunges at the underpants. Tony Hawke proteges flipping off their skateboards and sticking their landing on a bike rack between their legs. Helpless fathers forced to sing Happy Birthday in soprano due to errant swings at the pinata.
What do you have to say to these poor men, Mr. Thicke? Have they not suffered? Why must their pain only be hilarious and not also profitable? I'm actually amazed the US population has not decreased significantly in the last 22 years given all the testicular trauma highlighted on that show. Yet you turn a blind eye to these comedic martyrs. The very least you could do is send them a protective cup with the AFV logo on it.
But the fact remains that this is OUR show. That is OUR prize money. We, the American people have paid our dues, and often paid dearly. George Washington must be rolling over in his grave. He fought so we wouldn't have to pay a tax on tea. If he let things like that slide back then, we'd still be speaking English today (you know what I mean!). You think he'd sit idly by if his video of Martha falling awkwardly off of a trampoline lost money to some lady in Saskatchewan whose dog's howl maybe, kind of sounds like its saying "I love you"? Hell no! What's been happening on AFV would never happen on his watch.
Well friends, its time for another revolution. If you have anything even remotely funny captured on video, I urge you to send it to America's Funniest Videos. Let's overwhelm them with good old fashion American moronity. Let's inundate them with the nonsensical idiocy that proudly runs rampant through this great nation. You have awakened a sleeping giant of an imbecile, Mr Thicke. If anyone is going to make a fool of us Americans, it will be ourselves. We'll see who's laughing now.
Its time to stand up and fight for whats right.
Unless you just took a tire iron to the family jewels. You're allowed to sit for a while.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Happy Columbus Day....or Not.
Tomorrow, Monday October 8, 2012, is Columbus Day. Personally, I haven't cared about Columbus Day since 1994, the last time I had the day off from school. Now I only celebrate the holiday by walking out to the mailbox at least 5 times, cursing my lazy son of bitch mailman before I realize what day it is. But Columbus, and the significance of the holiday came up recently in a conversation with a friend* after my family and I took a tour of replicas of the Nina and Santa Maria.
A little history refresher: in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Of course you probably already knew at least that, unless you are 3, in which case these aren't the Sunday funnies you are probably looking for (sorry kid, not many pictures here to look at). You should know the rest of the story- man travels across the sea looking for an easy route to the Orient, seeking spices, finds the Americas, brings disease, enslaves the indigenous people, which leads to more European nations to sail west and colonize, spread even more diseases, steal land, bring over new people to enslave, battle over the right to own slaves, head further west to steal more land, add insult to the native people whose land was stolen by carving the faces of four white men into a mountain, etc etc etc until the landscape of this country was transformed from open fields of green, and thick forests to a land of pavement, speckled with Wal-Marts, Starbucks, and baseball stadiums sitting next to football stadiums.
Now my friend focused on all those things, which really are not things that should be celebrated. But what's done is done, and its not like we can change things. But the more I thought about it, a whole new set of questions were raised as to why we have a Columbus Day.
Whats funny about this (not wiffleball bat to the junk funny, but funny still) is how a man who was technically wrong, and so strongly refused to admit it, gets so much credit. I understand he was sailing uncharted waters, and didn't have a wife to nag him to stop and ask directions to China, not that there was a gas station somewhere in the Atlantic that he could have done so anyway, but you'd think after awhile he'd fess up to not exactly doing what he said he would. I mean, it worked out to be a pretty profitable mistake regardless. I also wonder how bad food was back in the 1400 and 1500's that men would risk so much just for some spices. I mean, I like flavor too, but it was also widely believed the world was flat at that time. I rather my turnips be a bit bland than sail off into oblivion.
Columbus Day was primarily celebrated on the centennial anniversaries until Colorado became the first state to make it an annual holiday in 1906,which makes perfect sense, given its proximity to the Bahamas (where Columbus actually landed), a mere 384 years prior to Colorado being granted statehood. In 1937, it became a federal holiday. However it is not recognized in all 50 states. Hawaii celebrates Discoveries Day (honoring its Polynesian discoverers), and South Dakota celebrates Native American's Day (surely that makes up for everything) on the same day as Columbus Day. And if you mention Columbus Day in Alaska they'll probably point to the land bridge in the Bering Sea and look at you like you're crazy. And this is from people who live in houses made out of blocks of ice!
Then there is Wisconsin. The good people of the cheese state marked October 9th as Leif Ericson Day in 1930, and 7 other states would follow suit. After all, Ericson arrived in North America about 500 years before Columbus. He never has received the recognition or fanfare Columbus has though, since his discovery did not lead to mass colonization. In 1925, President Calvin Coolidge declared Ericson as the discovered of the America's ( and now you know 1 thing about Calvin Coolidge). But still Ericson's feat has never been met with much fanfare, unless you consider the Minnesota Vikings as an homage to him. The trouble with Wisconsin however is, they celebrate both Columbus and Leif Ericson Day. And when it works out like it does this year, with Columbus Day coming first on the calendar, it sure does steal some of Ericson's thunder. They should just pick a side and observe only one. Its like rooting for both teams in the Super Bowl, you know. Let's work on that one, okay Wisconsin?
So how will you spend you Columbus Day? There are big celebrations in the Italian villages of cities like Cleveland, San Francisco, and Boston. I'm certainly all for a group of people honoring one of their own and their ethnic heritage. But otherwise Columbus Day is pretty lame. And I feel bad for people whose birthdays fall on Columbus Day, and have to wait another day for their $10 check from grandma to arrive. This really is just a way for the fat cats in Washington to get another day off.
If you truly want to capture the spirit of Columbus Day, this is what you should do - set out to go somewhere that you have never been before without a map or asking for directions, sneeze on a resident of wherever you actually end up, eat some Chinese food (as Columbus had hoped to do), then return home and tell everyone what a smashing success your day was. That's what Columbus Day is all about.
In all seriousness, having set foot on the 2 replicas of Columbus' ships, I can say what he did truly was an accomplishment. The boats were incredibly small. The Nina had 1 cabin below deck, for Columbus only. His crew of 20 men slept on the crowded hard wood deck, constantly getting wet as water splashed on them. The fact that this fleet made multiple voyages is quite amazing.
And you can take that to the bank! Just not tomorrow. Its Columbus Day. The bank will be closed.
Upcoming Randomalities:
-The Character of Lincoln
-The Grand and Awkward In Your Face Physiology of the Sneeze
-The 2012 My Randomalities-ies Awards
A little history refresher: in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Of course you probably already knew at least that, unless you are 3, in which case these aren't the Sunday funnies you are probably looking for (sorry kid, not many pictures here to look at). You should know the rest of the story- man travels across the sea looking for an easy route to the Orient, seeking spices, finds the Americas, brings disease, enslaves the indigenous people, which leads to more European nations to sail west and colonize, spread even more diseases, steal land, bring over new people to enslave, battle over the right to own slaves, head further west to steal more land, add insult to the native people whose land was stolen by carving the faces of four white men into a mountain, etc etc etc until the landscape of this country was transformed from open fields of green, and thick forests to a land of pavement, speckled with Wal-Marts, Starbucks, and baseball stadiums sitting next to football stadiums.
Now my friend focused on all those things, which really are not things that should be celebrated. But what's done is done, and its not like we can change things. But the more I thought about it, a whole new set of questions were raised as to why we have a Columbus Day.
Whats funny about this (not wiffleball bat to the junk funny, but funny still) is how a man who was technically wrong, and so strongly refused to admit it, gets so much credit. I understand he was sailing uncharted waters, and didn't have a wife to nag him to stop and ask directions to China, not that there was a gas station somewhere in the Atlantic that he could have done so anyway, but you'd think after awhile he'd fess up to not exactly doing what he said he would. I mean, it worked out to be a pretty profitable mistake regardless. I also wonder how bad food was back in the 1400 and 1500's that men would risk so much just for some spices. I mean, I like flavor too, but it was also widely believed the world was flat at that time. I rather my turnips be a bit bland than sail off into oblivion.
Columbus Day was primarily celebrated on the centennial anniversaries until Colorado became the first state to make it an annual holiday in 1906,which makes perfect sense, given its proximity to the Bahamas (where Columbus actually landed), a mere 384 years prior to Colorado being granted statehood. In 1937, it became a federal holiday. However it is not recognized in all 50 states. Hawaii celebrates Discoveries Day (honoring its Polynesian discoverers), and South Dakota celebrates Native American's Day (surely that makes up for everything) on the same day as Columbus Day. And if you mention Columbus Day in Alaska they'll probably point to the land bridge in the Bering Sea and look at you like you're crazy. And this is from people who live in houses made out of blocks of ice!
Then there is Wisconsin. The good people of the cheese state marked October 9th as Leif Ericson Day in 1930, and 7 other states would follow suit. After all, Ericson arrived in North America about 500 years before Columbus. He never has received the recognition or fanfare Columbus has though, since his discovery did not lead to mass colonization. In 1925, President Calvin Coolidge declared Ericson as the discovered of the America's ( and now you know 1 thing about Calvin Coolidge). But still Ericson's feat has never been met with much fanfare, unless you consider the Minnesota Vikings as an homage to him. The trouble with Wisconsin however is, they celebrate both Columbus and Leif Ericson Day. And when it works out like it does this year, with Columbus Day coming first on the calendar, it sure does steal some of Ericson's thunder. They should just pick a side and observe only one. Its like rooting for both teams in the Super Bowl, you know. Let's work on that one, okay Wisconsin?
So how will you spend you Columbus Day? There are big celebrations in the Italian villages of cities like Cleveland, San Francisco, and Boston. I'm certainly all for a group of people honoring one of their own and their ethnic heritage. But otherwise Columbus Day is pretty lame. And I feel bad for people whose birthdays fall on Columbus Day, and have to wait another day for their $10 check from grandma to arrive. This really is just a way for the fat cats in Washington to get another day off.
If you truly want to capture the spirit of Columbus Day, this is what you should do - set out to go somewhere that you have never been before without a map or asking for directions, sneeze on a resident of wherever you actually end up, eat some Chinese food (as Columbus had hoped to do), then return home and tell everyone what a smashing success your day was. That's what Columbus Day is all about.
In all seriousness, having set foot on the 2 replicas of Columbus' ships, I can say what he did truly was an accomplishment. The boats were incredibly small. The Nina had 1 cabin below deck, for Columbus only. His crew of 20 men slept on the crowded hard wood deck, constantly getting wet as water splashed on them. The fact that this fleet made multiple voyages is quite amazing.
And you can take that to the bank! Just not tomorrow. Its Columbus Day. The bank will be closed.
*(special thanks to my amazing, young friend Cheryl Kibe, who is quite adept at getting me fired up enough to take a small rant and turn in to a blog post, as she did with Columbus. I only hope that after such banter, this blog will give her a new perspective on Columbus Day. And if not, then hopefully she'll be inspired to fly her ass back over to which ever country in Europe Kibe's come from)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------Upcoming Randomalities:
-The Character of Lincoln
-The Grand and Awkward In Your Face Physiology of the Sneeze
-The 2012 My Randomalities-ies Awards
Sunday, September 30, 2012
CSI-Nursery Rhyme
To my beloved friends and family,
A year ago my life was at its best.
I married Lorraine and we settled in to our love nest.
We hatched a plan for me to work at Mother Goose Inc.
The hours were long and the pay did stink.
But I always dreamed of staring in my own nursery rhyme.
Whenever I asked Mother Goose acted as if she had no time.
“Ohmm let it be. Your time will come, wait and see”.
“Ohmm lets talk in a week. I have many more people with whom to speak”.
“Ohmm let this” and “Ohmm let that” is all she'd say.
Once she even had security whisk me away.
Lorraine said she had heard little Boy Blue was close to a deal.
She said his idea of playing a horn is something I should steal.
She said it was the only way it would seem.
But I would not poach another’s dream.
Such lack of faith left me bedeviled.
Eggs like me do things on the level.
She didn't understand. She blew a gasket.
She left with everything we had in a 1 basket.
Sadly for this egg, nog and anxiety have made me a shell of my former self
And now I sit atop this wall, like an unwanted toy on the top shelf
My thoughts are scrambled. My brain is fried.
I gave it my all. I really did try.
I really feel as like I'm cracking up.
Can't take it anymore. I've had enough.
-Humpty J Dumpty.
After reading this, my immediate thought was that this was a forgery, for a few reasons. A handwriting analyst associate of mine once told me that handwriting that slants upwards to the right, as it does in this note, indicates optimism- generally not a characteristic of someone with suicidal thoughts.
And Humpty hardly ever drank. If/and when he did it was a glass of white Zinfandel. Every one knew he couldn't handle the strong ale mentioned in the note. So did alcohol cause this incident?
Doubtful.
Furthermore, the note was found in Humpty Dumpty's home, not with him when he fell from the wall. That wouldn't be such a red flag if it were not for the spot of yolk on the bottom of the note. So he was already bleeding when he wrote the note, which was found in his home? I believe that egg was beaten before he ever made it to that wall.
I have a feeling Humpty Dumpty knew something. Something big. Something that someone didn't want anyone else to know. Something on someone who would do anything and everything to ensure this information didn't get out.
So I began to ask around. The Cow said she had seen Humpty wandering the streets late at night while she was jumping over the moon. Most notably, he was seen around the Mother Goose Inc building and the backside of the King's palace. Interesting considering all the King's horsemen arrived so soon after Humpty "fell", and tidied up that mess so quickly.
So perhaps there's a connection between Humpy, Mother Goose, and the King. Original testimony from Little Miss Muffet and Little Bo Peep stated that they heard Mother Goose screaming at Humpty Dumpty in her office a few days prior to the "fall". I attempted to interview Little Miss Muffet myself, but last anyone heard she sat down to eat her curds and way in the park, until along came a big, hairy, goon of a spider, and nobody has seen her since.
Convenient.
As far as Little Bo Peep goes, her sheep have suddenly disappeared. When I approached her she was visibly shaken and refused to speak on this matter.
Then there was Jack and Jill. Word around town is that Jack and Humpty had had several meetings in the weeks prior. In fact Humpty met with Jack just 3 hours before his demise! But before anyone could question Jack and Jill, they were sent out on a silly job to fetch some water. You know the rest- - Jack breaks his crown, and Jill comes tumbling after. So now Jack is also gone and Jill is in no condition to talk, even if she wanted to. I've said it before and I'll say it again-- I find it hard to believe that Jack was nimble enough and quick enough to jump over a candlestick, but gravely injures himself carrying a damn pail of water down a hill.
Again, very convenient.
There is no doubt Humpty Dumpty's life had become a mess. The Land of Nursery Rhymes has never been known to have a lot of work for eggs. Benedict, Humpty's neighbor, knew he was having trouble keeping up with his bills.. Friends, and even acquaintances said they could see signs his marriage was dissolving. Rumor has it the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker weren't the only ones in that tub.
Yet as bad as things were for Humpty Dumpty, I just can not believe his death was either an accident, as originally reported, or a suicide, as this note suggests. I'm telling you, there is something rotten about this egg's death.
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Upcoming Randomalities:
- A Tribute or Scathing Expose of Columbus Day ( my perspective is yet to be determined)
- The 1st ever My-Randomalities-ies Awards
- and maybe a blog about ducks
Sunday, September 23, 2012
BASF'ing Things Up
You ever see those commercials for the company BASF? They don't have a store and you can't buy anything from them. But they proudly declare, "At BASF, we don't make a lot of the products you buy. We make a lot of the products you buy better." The positive feedback on my ideas to fix yellow lights, and thus making driving everywhere safer, as well as my solution to increase revenue for the Post Office --shameful plug alert-- (in "Meet The Press This Ain't" & "Saving the Post Office One Tooth At a Time", respectively), has gone to my head. So why stop there? Why not make like BASF, and make some other things better?
New Jersey Driver Licenses- There is a battle brewing in the Garden State between the DMV and its happy drivers. Apparently the DMV is the New Jersey equivalent of Disney World, as people can't seem to wipe the smiles off of their faces. Smiling however, is frowned upon these days. Such an exaggerated facial expression confuses their facial recognition software, which is used to check their database of 19 million drivers and ensure each driver is who they say they are and that they have only 1 driving record. Yeah, sure the software is being used to stamp out fraud. Come on, New Jersey! We've all seen The Sopranos.
Anyway, some New Jersey drivers take umbrage with this. They prefer to save their mug shot pose for when they actually have their mug shot taken. Both sides are unyielding, as several drivers have walked out without having their photo taken. This whole song and dance can be easily avoided.
New Jersey, you need to create an uncomfortable atmosphere where even the happiest of smiles will surely die- like a real DMV. First off, turn up the heat. Regardless of the season, make sure it is always stuffy in there. Place a clock on each wall and make sure none of them are synchronized because that is both confusing and irritating. Have the same song playing on repeat, for example Alanis Morissette's "Ironic". And adorn your walls with creepy clown paintings. Not scary clown paintings, with fangs and knives, but just weird and not happy. And just artistically poor.
Train your employees that they must wait at least a full two minutes before seeing the next person. Two minutes in real time is equal to 19 minutes in DMV time, even in New Jersey. Make sure drivers are seated in front of a neutral backdrop. Remove any normal chairs and replace them with stools with bicycle seats. Instruct your employees to get up and leave for at least another 2 minutes once the driver sits down. When they return, the driver should have heard Alanis sing "Its like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife" for the third time by now, and may actually find the song to be ironic, as they also are wishing for a knife right now. Regardless, there will be many more looks of contempt than smiles.
And in reality, the facial recognition software will become even more efficient, since it will have a database full of murderous glares. So your welcome in advance, New Jersey.
**I don't want to come off as a killjoy or government stooge, but my kids who may one day want to visit New Jersey and I'd rest easier knowing this software was helping catch criminals.**
Local News- Okay, listen here news producers, I am well aware of how the tease works. And for the most part, I'm okay with you creating a little suspense in your broadcast. But a great number of your viewers are tuning in solely for the weather. Not everybody has time to wait until the 17 minute mark for the full report. It doesn't matter what time of day it is - morning, noon, or night. Just give us the damn weather report already.
Not the dew point. Not the time of the sunset. Don't show me a map with red and blue lines all over it. Show me a screen with the 5 day forecast - high & low temperatures and chance of precipitation and that's it- in the first 3 minutes of every broadcast! No exceptions.
Listen, people have to get the kids ready for school, make dinner, spend half their day in the DMV. We don't have time for this. Sure local weatherman Tad Whitley or whoever your local weatherman may be is as handsome as he is paid. Why wouldn't you put him on camera, especially with those cheekbones? But he'll have to wait until later to stand in front of a green screen and bore us with things like pollen counts and how many names of clouds he knows.
Your Vacation Photos- I'm afraid I do have to single out one group of people in this instance, and I'm not going to sugarcoat this at all. White women (although this does apply to some men as well), do not get vacation cornrows. Ever! Cornrows are not meant for you. What better time than to do something uncharacteristic of you than on vacation? But ladies, if you get vacation cornrows, they will always haunt you. Trust me. Lets flip through your photo album and see how this plays out.
Photo from Day 1- You and your significant other, arms around each other, are on a gorgeous beach, both smiling widely. Awww, you guys. Its so nice you two finally went away.
Photo from Day 2- There you are, with your vacation cornrows in place. Look at you. Same beautiful beach, the love of your life by your side. Now look a little closer. You have a tan face, braided hair, and streaks of blinding bright white scalp. Your head kind of looks like a backgammon board. Your significant other never wears sunglasses, ever, but bought a pair just before this photo was taken. And is that a moth flying around your head? In the daytime?!
Photo from Day 3- There the two of you are again on the beach. The sun has really taken to you. You have acquired quite a nice tan on your face and body. But there isn't an SPF high enough to protect that albino-like scalp, as your vacation corn rows alternate with strips of your beat red, sun scorched skin. Your significant other has his arm around you, but he isn't really touching you. He is smiling, but is also holding a very large alcoholic drink and looking down the beach at something...or someone. And look closer. The people in the background in the water are not actually engaged in a splash fight, but rather laughing at you so hard they can't help but flail about in the water.
On the Randomalities scale of Bad Ideas, with a 5 being "Giving Monkeys Blowtorches Bad", vacation corn rows rate a 3 ( "Green lighting the Movie 'Glitter" Bad). The regret may not be immediate, but you will never want to see them again.
And that friends, is what the BASF is up!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember you can "LIKE/FOLLOW" My-Randomalities on facebook. Please direct any and all stupid questions there for an "Ask a Stupid Question Day" (9/28) blog.
New Jersey Driver Licenses- There is a battle brewing in the Garden State between the DMV and its happy drivers. Apparently the DMV is the New Jersey equivalent of Disney World, as people can't seem to wipe the smiles off of their faces. Smiling however, is frowned upon these days. Such an exaggerated facial expression confuses their facial recognition software, which is used to check their database of 19 million drivers and ensure each driver is who they say they are and that they have only 1 driving record. Yeah, sure the software is being used to stamp out fraud. Come on, New Jersey! We've all seen The Sopranos.
Anyway, some New Jersey drivers take umbrage with this. They prefer to save their mug shot pose for when they actually have their mug shot taken. Both sides are unyielding, as several drivers have walked out without having their photo taken. This whole song and dance can be easily avoided.
New Jersey, you need to create an uncomfortable atmosphere where even the happiest of smiles will surely die- like a real DMV. First off, turn up the heat. Regardless of the season, make sure it is always stuffy in there. Place a clock on each wall and make sure none of them are synchronized because that is both confusing and irritating. Have the same song playing on repeat, for example Alanis Morissette's "Ironic". And adorn your walls with creepy clown paintings. Not scary clown paintings, with fangs and knives, but just weird and not happy. And just artistically poor.
Train your employees that they must wait at least a full two minutes before seeing the next person. Two minutes in real time is equal to 19 minutes in DMV time, even in New Jersey. Make sure drivers are seated in front of a neutral backdrop. Remove any normal chairs and replace them with stools with bicycle seats. Instruct your employees to get up and leave for at least another 2 minutes once the driver sits down. When they return, the driver should have heard Alanis sing "Its like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife" for the third time by now, and may actually find the song to be ironic, as they also are wishing for a knife right now. Regardless, there will be many more looks of contempt than smiles.
And in reality, the facial recognition software will become even more efficient, since it will have a database full of murderous glares. So your welcome in advance, New Jersey.
**I don't want to come off as a killjoy or government stooge, but my kids who may one day want to visit New Jersey and I'd rest easier knowing this software was helping catch criminals.**
Local News- Okay, listen here news producers, I am well aware of how the tease works. And for the most part, I'm okay with you creating a little suspense in your broadcast. But a great number of your viewers are tuning in solely for the weather. Not everybody has time to wait until the 17 minute mark for the full report. It doesn't matter what time of day it is - morning, noon, or night. Just give us the damn weather report already.
Not the dew point. Not the time of the sunset. Don't show me a map with red and blue lines all over it. Show me a screen with the 5 day forecast - high & low temperatures and chance of precipitation and that's it- in the first 3 minutes of every broadcast! No exceptions.
Listen, people have to get the kids ready for school, make dinner, spend half their day in the DMV. We don't have time for this. Sure local weatherman Tad Whitley or whoever your local weatherman may be is as handsome as he is paid. Why wouldn't you put him on camera, especially with those cheekbones? But he'll have to wait until later to stand in front of a green screen and bore us with things like pollen counts and how many names of clouds he knows.
Your Vacation Photos- I'm afraid I do have to single out one group of people in this instance, and I'm not going to sugarcoat this at all. White women (although this does apply to some men as well), do not get vacation cornrows. Ever! Cornrows are not meant for you. What better time than to do something uncharacteristic of you than on vacation? But ladies, if you get vacation cornrows, they will always haunt you. Trust me. Lets flip through your photo album and see how this plays out.
Photo from Day 1- You and your significant other, arms around each other, are on a gorgeous beach, both smiling widely. Awww, you guys. Its so nice you two finally went away.
Photo from Day 2- There you are, with your vacation cornrows in place. Look at you. Same beautiful beach, the love of your life by your side. Now look a little closer. You have a tan face, braided hair, and streaks of blinding bright white scalp. Your head kind of looks like a backgammon board. Your significant other never wears sunglasses, ever, but bought a pair just before this photo was taken. And is that a moth flying around your head? In the daytime?!
Photo from Day 3- There the two of you are again on the beach. The sun has really taken to you. You have acquired quite a nice tan on your face and body. But there isn't an SPF high enough to protect that albino-like scalp, as your vacation corn rows alternate with strips of your beat red, sun scorched skin. Your significant other has his arm around you, but he isn't really touching you. He is smiling, but is also holding a very large alcoholic drink and looking down the beach at something...or someone. And look closer. The people in the background in the water are not actually engaged in a splash fight, but rather laughing at you so hard they can't help but flail about in the water.
On the Randomalities scale of Bad Ideas, with a 5 being "Giving Monkeys Blowtorches Bad", vacation corn rows rate a 3 ( "Green lighting the Movie 'Glitter" Bad). The regret may not be immediate, but you will never want to see them again.
And that friends, is what the BASF is up!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember you can "LIKE/FOLLOW" My-Randomalities on facebook. Please direct any and all stupid questions there for an "Ask a Stupid Question Day" (9/28) blog.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Save The Date
HAPPY INTERNATIONAL DAY FOR THE PRESERVATION OF THE OZONE LAYER EVERYONE!! Boy, it really snuck up on us this year. Celebrate the day by minimizing rocket flights, cutting back on the use of Aqua net, and don't deforest anywhere. Keep in mind, that this is an international celebration, so if you planned on going to a Poison concert in Tijuana and wanted to get nostalgic by bringing back your 80's hairdo, it will be frowned upon. The same goes if you need a some extra firewood and want to jump across the border to Canada and chop down some of their trees. Tomorrow. you can chop down as many trees as you want, but not today friend.
Days like this are important. Of course we all know when the big holidays are, like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Presidents' Day ( you ever notice how every mattress dealer has big Presidents' Day sales? Why is that? What is the correlation between Washington, Lincoln, and mattresses? Topic for another time I suppose). But there are other noteworthy days that don't quite get the national recognition that they should. That is until now. Having nearly missed National Milkshake Day last week, I decided I'd bring to your attention some other big days (mostly American) from now until New Year's so that nobody looks foolish when the actual day comes, like today.
Sept 19- International Talk Like a Pirate Day. What a world we live in where we honor the people that raped, pillaged, stole, murdered, and did many more unethical and unsanitary things by simply adding an "aaarrgh" or "matey" to our sentences. The best part is that this is recognized world wide, so people in France, Germany, and Japan will also be talking this way.
Sept 22- OneWebDay. This is an annual day of Internet celebration and awareness. Somewhere there is a grown man in his mother's basement not feeling quite so guilty about looking at porn all day.
Sept 28- World Rabies Day. There is no joke here. I'm just curious why they named it World Rabies Day. Certainly sounds like the disease is being celebrated doesn't it? Shouldn't it be called World Rabies Awareness or Prevention Day? Who was in charge of naming that one?
Sept 28- Ask a Stupid Question Day. No, really. Its a real day. This may require a separate blog all to itself. Please send your stupid question to the My-Randomalities facebook page and lets see what fun we can have with this one.
Sept 29- International Coffee Day. Prepare for this day by staying up all night on Sept 28 annoying your friends with stupid questions. And its another international day, so you can sample some fine Colombian coffee, or even better, have an excuse to drink several cups of Irish coffee.
Oct 9- World Post Day. This day is in remembrance of the creation of the Universal Postal Union in 1874 in Switzerland. It began the communications revolution as people could begin to write to others all around the world. To celebrate this monumental occasion, write a letter to:
Jon Dicdican
Hammersminni 18
765 Djupavogi
Iceland
Yes its a real address and person, and hopefully one who will appreciate a little extra mail.
Oct 16- Boss's Day. I encourage you to celebrate Ask a Stupid Question Day at work, bombarding your boss with so many stupid questions he/she gets to the point of nearly hurling a stapler at your face. But today take it easy on them. Show up on time and don't say much. They'll probably appreciate that, and if all goes well, in turn, leave you alone. Oh and guys, take out the trash before the Mrs has to tell you.
Oct 21- International Day of the Nacho. Dios mio!! Spend your day eating heaps of nachos with some beef and ooey, gooey cheese on top. May as well call it Get Fat Day.
Nov 2- Statehood Day (North & South Dakota). On this day in 1889 both states were simultaneously admitted to the Union. For one day each year, the people of North Dakota & South Dakota (the real Dakota) can set aside their differences.
Nov 11- Singles Day (China). This day gets its name from the four 1's in the date. On this day many people choose to say good bye to the single life by attending blind date parties. If there is one thing My-Randomalities is all for, its the love. However, it caught my attention that a country that is so over populated would have a day to encourage people to get together, and most likely, get it on.
Nov 16- Icelandic Language Day (Iceland). It would have been better if this day came before World Post Day, because I have no idea if Jon Dicdican knows any English. But the least I can do is raise awareness to his native language, and maybe he'll get some letters written to him in Icelandic on World Post Day 2013.
Nov 20- Universal Children's Day. This day was established in 1954 to protect children from working long hours and in dangerous circumstances. There have been a lot of changes in child labor laws in the US, but not every country has followed. Be conscious of this, and give Junior the night off from washing the dishes. He can do them in the morning.
Nov 21- World Hello Day. The idea of this day is that by saying "Hello" to at least 10 people, we are setting an example for world leaders to use communication rather than force to settle conflicts. Nov 21 is a bad day for World Hello Day though, because Nov 21 is also:
World Television Day. If you choose to celebrate World Television Day by only venturing off your couch for a bathroom breaks in instances like the commercial break before the showcase showdown on The Price Is Right, the only people you may say 'hello' to are your boss when you call off work, and the 2 people you talk to when you order and receive your pizza delivery.
Dec 14- Monkey Day. Eat some bananas. Watch King Kong. Pull little bugs out of your children's hair. If you go all out and fling poo, don't invite me over for your celebration.
Dec 23- Night of the Radishes (Oaxaca, Mexico). On Noches de Rabanos, the main attraction of the festivities is an exhibition of sculptures made solely from radishes, some as big as 6 whole pounds! Sculptures can be as intricate as nativity scenes or detailed models of real buildings. And college kids waste their money going Cancun in March.
Days like this are important. Of course we all know when the big holidays are, like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Presidents' Day ( you ever notice how every mattress dealer has big Presidents' Day sales? Why is that? What is the correlation between Washington, Lincoln, and mattresses? Topic for another time I suppose). But there are other noteworthy days that don't quite get the national recognition that they should. That is until now. Having nearly missed National Milkshake Day last week, I decided I'd bring to your attention some other big days (mostly American) from now until New Year's so that nobody looks foolish when the actual day comes, like today.
Sept 19- International Talk Like a Pirate Day. What a world we live in where we honor the people that raped, pillaged, stole, murdered, and did many more unethical and unsanitary things by simply adding an "aaarrgh" or "matey" to our sentences. The best part is that this is recognized world wide, so people in France, Germany, and Japan will also be talking this way.
Sept 22- OneWebDay. This is an annual day of Internet celebration and awareness. Somewhere there is a grown man in his mother's basement not feeling quite so guilty about looking at porn all day.
Sept 28- World Rabies Day. There is no joke here. I'm just curious why they named it World Rabies Day. Certainly sounds like the disease is being celebrated doesn't it? Shouldn't it be called World Rabies Awareness or Prevention Day? Who was in charge of naming that one?
Sept 28- Ask a Stupid Question Day. No, really. Its a real day. This may require a separate blog all to itself. Please send your stupid question to the My-Randomalities facebook page and lets see what fun we can have with this one.
Sept 29- International Coffee Day. Prepare for this day by staying up all night on Sept 28 annoying your friends with stupid questions. And its another international day, so you can sample some fine Colombian coffee, or even better, have an excuse to drink several cups of Irish coffee.
Oct 9- World Post Day. This day is in remembrance of the creation of the Universal Postal Union in 1874 in Switzerland. It began the communications revolution as people could begin to write to others all around the world. To celebrate this monumental occasion, write a letter to:
Jon Dicdican
Hammersminni 18
765 Djupavogi
Iceland
Yes its a real address and person, and hopefully one who will appreciate a little extra mail.
Oct 16- Boss's Day. I encourage you to celebrate Ask a Stupid Question Day at work, bombarding your boss with so many stupid questions he/she gets to the point of nearly hurling a stapler at your face. But today take it easy on them. Show up on time and don't say much. They'll probably appreciate that, and if all goes well, in turn, leave you alone. Oh and guys, take out the trash before the Mrs has to tell you.
Oct 21- International Day of the Nacho. Dios mio!! Spend your day eating heaps of nachos with some beef and ooey, gooey cheese on top. May as well call it Get Fat Day.
Nov 2- Statehood Day (North & South Dakota). On this day in 1889 both states were simultaneously admitted to the Union. For one day each year, the people of North Dakota & South Dakota (the real Dakota) can set aside their differences.
Nov 11- Singles Day (China). This day gets its name from the four 1's in the date. On this day many people choose to say good bye to the single life by attending blind date parties. If there is one thing My-Randomalities is all for, its the love. However, it caught my attention that a country that is so over populated would have a day to encourage people to get together, and most likely, get it on.
Nov 16- Icelandic Language Day (Iceland). It would have been better if this day came before World Post Day, because I have no idea if Jon Dicdican knows any English. But the least I can do is raise awareness to his native language, and maybe he'll get some letters written to him in Icelandic on World Post Day 2013.
Nov 20- Universal Children's Day. This day was established in 1954 to protect children from working long hours and in dangerous circumstances. There have been a lot of changes in child labor laws in the US, but not every country has followed. Be conscious of this, and give Junior the night off from washing the dishes. He can do them in the morning.
Nov 21- World Hello Day. The idea of this day is that by saying "Hello" to at least 10 people, we are setting an example for world leaders to use communication rather than force to settle conflicts. Nov 21 is a bad day for World Hello Day though, because Nov 21 is also:
World Television Day. If you choose to celebrate World Television Day by only venturing off your couch for a bathroom breaks in instances like the commercial break before the showcase showdown on The Price Is Right, the only people you may say 'hello' to are your boss when you call off work, and the 2 people you talk to when you order and receive your pizza delivery.
Dec 14- Monkey Day. Eat some bananas. Watch King Kong. Pull little bugs out of your children's hair. If you go all out and fling poo, don't invite me over for your celebration.
Dec 23- Night of the Radishes (Oaxaca, Mexico). On Noches de Rabanos, the main attraction of the festivities is an exhibition of sculptures made solely from radishes, some as big as 6 whole pounds! Sculptures can be as intricate as nativity scenes or detailed models of real buildings. And college kids waste their money going Cancun in March.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Meet The Press This Ain't
Election season is upon us once again. For some voters, their choice was made months ago. I however do not subscribe to the ideologies of either the Republican or Democratic parties enough where they simply have my vote. After all, I've always been a staunch supporter of the Whig Party (they may not have won an election in 164 years, but you don't hear people bitching about Zachary Taylor much either, do you?!).
I'm not going to say who to vote for, nor do I want this blog to become an open forum for political debate, as its purpose has always been and always will be for amusement (hopefully) purposes. Naturally I'm interested in fixing the economy, the environment, education, etc. But there are other less prevalent issues that are very dear to my heart as well. My very logical yet modest proposals should not be high priorities on any political agenda, but adopting a similar stance on these topics can't hurt a candidate's chances either.
TRANSPORTATION:
#1- According to my calculations, 82% of stress in the world is a direct result of an ill placed NO TURN ON RED sign, which, by the way, are always ill placed. Come on, whats the big deal about that really? Come to a stop, yield to traffic and pedestrians, and if the coast is clear, go. Why must I sit there for 3 eternity-like minutes, only to have your Aunt Edna, in her beat up Oldsmobile with cigarette tinted windows, finally putt putt her way through the intersection, and then have to coast behind her 15 mph below the speed limit? Take down all those useless signs, send them to a recycling plant and have them turned in to slides and placed in various playgrounds throughout the country.
#2-Who really knows how long a yellow light lasts. Four seconds? Six seconds? Seventeen seconds? Nobody knows! And while the purpose is to signify caution, a yellow light is basically just a green light on steroids, telling you to hurry up and floor it, regardless of the speed limit. Who hasn't trucked along through a 25 mph zone, only to to see a yellow light and floor it (especially if you have to make a right turn, but are prohibited for some reason), topping out at 50 mph, eyes looking straight up to see if you made it, only to slam on the brakes once through, and continue driving responsibly-ish?
Why not put a countdown of numbers within the yellow light, so you know exactly when the light will turn red and you can better gauge your chances of making it through at your current speed?
#3- City bus drivers will all get a small piece of power that many would envy. I propose each bus be equipped with a button that the driver can use at their discretion, to jam all cellphone signals. All too often a sense of decorum is lost in public settings, and some people feel the person on the other end of the phone isn't the only one who wants to hear their story, or even worse, they use language that would make a Hell's Angel blush. That's all fine and dandy when you are home, but chances are the 34 other people on the bus don't want to hear that noise.
FAMILY WELFARE:
I believe some pressure needs to be applied to the makers of children's movies, most notably Disney, to re-release a version of at least one movie where the mother does NOT die, helping to ease up the creation of clinging children and their separation anxiety. I don't care which movie - Bambi, Brother Bear, Finding Nemo, anything. Its rough on mothers to deal with a child having a melt down when they leave, and a bit of a blow to a father's self esteem too to see a child be reduced to tears when told they will be left with me, I mean him. In fact I'd be for more Disney fathers being killed off to even things out a bit, actually. The Lion King is a nice start, but I think its time for some more fictional fathers to be whacked.
MEDICARE:
I don't have the answers to solve our nation's problems regarding health care. But I have an answer to stop the asinine questions you are asked when you enter a doctor's office. Manners are great, but do you really need to ask how I am? Isn't that obvious? I'm at the doctor's office. I need medical attention!
How am I? Well this barf is fresh, but this shirt already had a puke stain from a kegger in the woods last month, so I'm not too worried about it. Can we open that window?
How am I? I cleaned my ear this morning and blood has been trickling out ever since, but a pint of blood really isn't that much right? Mind if I sit down?
How am I? My knee is bent 45 degrees the wrong way, but its OK because I have an audition with Cirque Du Soleil this afternoon.
Such increased stress to your existing malady is an unnecessary annoyance which should not go unpunished. If anyone in the physician's office asks you how you are doing, you should be allowed-no, legally obligated to kick them in the shins, unless of course you are there due to a foot injury, in which case a charlie horse shall suffice.
And should your physician ever have the stones to ask you why you are sick (it happened to me, as I was asked why I repeatedly got a certain infection), not only will be the visit free, the cost of the visit, whether it were to be paid by you or your insurance company, will paid in full to you. That's only fair, since you are being asked to do the doctor's job.
All in all, I think solving these little problems will result in a healthier/happier nation. Stress and anger as a whole will be significantly reduced (unless you are a polite nurse/doctor who forgets to wear shin guards to work).
God Bless America.
I'm not going to say who to vote for, nor do I want this blog to become an open forum for political debate, as its purpose has always been and always will be for amusement (hopefully) purposes. Naturally I'm interested in fixing the economy, the environment, education, etc. But there are other less prevalent issues that are very dear to my heart as well. My very logical yet modest proposals should not be high priorities on any political agenda, but adopting a similar stance on these topics can't hurt a candidate's chances either.
TRANSPORTATION:
#1- According to my calculations, 82% of stress in the world is a direct result of an ill placed NO TURN ON RED sign, which, by the way, are always ill placed. Come on, whats the big deal about that really? Come to a stop, yield to traffic and pedestrians, and if the coast is clear, go. Why must I sit there for 3 eternity-like minutes, only to have your Aunt Edna, in her beat up Oldsmobile with cigarette tinted windows, finally putt putt her way through the intersection, and then have to coast behind her 15 mph below the speed limit? Take down all those useless signs, send them to a recycling plant and have them turned in to slides and placed in various playgrounds throughout the country.
#2-Who really knows how long a yellow light lasts. Four seconds? Six seconds? Seventeen seconds? Nobody knows! And while the purpose is to signify caution, a yellow light is basically just a green light on steroids, telling you to hurry up and floor it, regardless of the speed limit. Who hasn't trucked along through a 25 mph zone, only to to see a yellow light and floor it (especially if you have to make a right turn, but are prohibited for some reason), topping out at 50 mph, eyes looking straight up to see if you made it, only to slam on the brakes once through, and continue driving responsibly-ish?
Why not put a countdown of numbers within the yellow light, so you know exactly when the light will turn red and you can better gauge your chances of making it through at your current speed?
#3- City bus drivers will all get a small piece of power that many would envy. I propose each bus be equipped with a button that the driver can use at their discretion, to jam all cellphone signals. All too often a sense of decorum is lost in public settings, and some people feel the person on the other end of the phone isn't the only one who wants to hear their story, or even worse, they use language that would make a Hell's Angel blush. That's all fine and dandy when you are home, but chances are the 34 other people on the bus don't want to hear that noise.
FAMILY WELFARE:
I believe some pressure needs to be applied to the makers of children's movies, most notably Disney, to re-release a version of at least one movie where the mother does NOT die, helping to ease up the creation of clinging children and their separation anxiety. I don't care which movie - Bambi, Brother Bear, Finding Nemo, anything. Its rough on mothers to deal with a child having a melt down when they leave, and a bit of a blow to a father's self esteem too to see a child be reduced to tears when told they will be left with me, I mean him. In fact I'd be for more Disney fathers being killed off to even things out a bit, actually. The Lion King is a nice start, but I think its time for some more fictional fathers to be whacked.
MEDICARE:
I don't have the answers to solve our nation's problems regarding health care. But I have an answer to stop the asinine questions you are asked when you enter a doctor's office. Manners are great, but do you really need to ask how I am? Isn't that obvious? I'm at the doctor's office. I need medical attention!
How am I? Well this barf is fresh, but this shirt already had a puke stain from a kegger in the woods last month, so I'm not too worried about it. Can we open that window?
How am I? I cleaned my ear this morning and blood has been trickling out ever since, but a pint of blood really isn't that much right? Mind if I sit down?
How am I? My knee is bent 45 degrees the wrong way, but its OK because I have an audition with Cirque Du Soleil this afternoon.
Such increased stress to your existing malady is an unnecessary annoyance which should not go unpunished. If anyone in the physician's office asks you how you are doing, you should be allowed-no, legally obligated to kick them in the shins, unless of course you are there due to a foot injury, in which case a charlie horse shall suffice.
And should your physician ever have the stones to ask you why you are sick (it happened to me, as I was asked why I repeatedly got a certain infection), not only will be the visit free, the cost of the visit, whether it were to be paid by you or your insurance company, will paid in full to you. That's only fair, since you are being asked to do the doctor's job.
All in all, I think solving these little problems will result in a healthier/happier nation. Stress and anger as a whole will be significantly reduced (unless you are a polite nurse/doctor who forgets to wear shin guards to work).
God Bless America.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
A Call for a Hero
The Center for Disease Control reported this week that thousands of people are at risk of contracting the deadly hantavirus after visiting Yosemite National Park this summer. This mouse-borne virus is rare, but deadly. So far it has claimed two lives, with so many more people having been exposed to the virus, that number will likely rise.
Sitting in my home thousands of miles away, I feel helpless, as thousands of people may unknowingly be infected, and more campers continue to roll in to Yosemite. Well, almost helpless that is. I feel it is my civic duty to help my fellow Americans, and with the power of the Internet, I think I can. So I will use this blog like a beacon in the night sky, calling upon an unlikely hero to rise again in this dark hour. And it is my hope that by the grace of God, this blog will find its way to Little Bunny Foo Foo.
Little Bunny Foo Foo, you have been cast as a bully, a ruffian, a thug of the woods, responsible for blatant, unwarranted rodent-on-rodent violence. The Good Fairy, most likely a pawn of PETA, has chased you to obscurity, with the threat of turning you into a goon should you bop any more mice on their heads. And look what has transpired in your absence. Mice, small in stature, but as large in numbers as they are arrogant, have run rampant on the campsites of Yosemite, happily urinating and defecating wherever they damn well please with no respect to human life.
Only you can strike fear in to the mice, Little Bunny Foo Foo. Only you can rid the land of the "Cockroaches of Rodent Family". Only you can eradicate these vile, uncouth vermin. You are our only hope. The mice are many and strong, and Aquaman's powers have already proven to be useless against them.
So go Little Bunny Foo Foo. Hop through the forest. Even skip if you must, we won't judge you. Bop those mice on their heads. Bop the heart they say you never had out. Bop heads like you've never bopped heads before. Bop field mice, deer mice, white footed mice, brown mice, chipmunks ( I know they were in on it too). Bop them all I say. Bop until you can bop know more. Then give them purple nerples, noogies, Indian burns, whatever it takes to get them to leave.
You need not worry about that Good Fairy, mouse apologist that she is. I have dispatched Aquaman to run interference. Turns out he is useful for something. Despite living under a coral reef, the saltwater hasn't hurt that head of pristine blonde hair. I mean seriously, it just keeps coming at you like waves of gold. Even the brawniest of lumberjacks would be distracted. Oh and those eyes...
Umm, but getting back on track, your nation needs you Little Bunny Foo Foo. Your story is not done being written. Your legacy has not been set in stone. Goon is no longer your destiny. Hero is.
Good luck and Godspeed.
Sitting in my home thousands of miles away, I feel helpless, as thousands of people may unknowingly be infected, and more campers continue to roll in to Yosemite. Well, almost helpless that is. I feel it is my civic duty to help my fellow Americans, and with the power of the Internet, I think I can. So I will use this blog like a beacon in the night sky, calling upon an unlikely hero to rise again in this dark hour. And it is my hope that by the grace of God, this blog will find its way to Little Bunny Foo Foo.
Little Bunny Foo Foo, you have been cast as a bully, a ruffian, a thug of the woods, responsible for blatant, unwarranted rodent-on-rodent violence. The Good Fairy, most likely a pawn of PETA, has chased you to obscurity, with the threat of turning you into a goon should you bop any more mice on their heads. And look what has transpired in your absence. Mice, small in stature, but as large in numbers as they are arrogant, have run rampant on the campsites of Yosemite, happily urinating and defecating wherever they damn well please with no respect to human life.
Only you can strike fear in to the mice, Little Bunny Foo Foo. Only you can rid the land of the "Cockroaches of Rodent Family". Only you can eradicate these vile, uncouth vermin. You are our only hope. The mice are many and strong, and Aquaman's powers have already proven to be useless against them.
So go Little Bunny Foo Foo. Hop through the forest. Even skip if you must, we won't judge you. Bop those mice on their heads. Bop the heart they say you never had out. Bop heads like you've never bopped heads before. Bop field mice, deer mice, white footed mice, brown mice, chipmunks ( I know they were in on it too). Bop them all I say. Bop until you can bop know more. Then give them purple nerples, noogies, Indian burns, whatever it takes to get them to leave.
You need not worry about that Good Fairy, mouse apologist that she is. I have dispatched Aquaman to run interference. Turns out he is useful for something. Despite living under a coral reef, the saltwater hasn't hurt that head of pristine blonde hair. I mean seriously, it just keeps coming at you like waves of gold. Even the brawniest of lumberjacks would be distracted. Oh and those eyes...
Umm, but getting back on track, your nation needs you Little Bunny Foo Foo. Your story is not done being written. Your legacy has not been set in stone. Goon is no longer your destiny. Hero is.
Good luck and Godspeed.
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