Monday, April 27, 2009

I Just Found Out DP Means Disabled Person And Not What I Thought Before I Got Punched

If The Internet Was Real Life

Cory walked into the convenience store. "Soft ball seasons starts tonight." He said to the clerk.
"Excuse me?"
Cory walked on. As he made his way to the cooler he paused and stopped in front of a man browsing the potato chip rack. "At the 7-11."
Cory got some beer and began walking back to the cashier. Upon passing a woman, he paused and blurted out "BREAKING: SWINE FLU CATCHING ON IN THE STATES!" The woman panicked and dropped a bottle of Evian.
When he reached the counter, Cory blurted again to the cashier "ASK REDDIT: WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SONG TO DREAM TO?"
"Get out." The cashier looked at Cory and then gestured to the door.

Yeah, They're Swim Trunks

So, I'm walking down the street the other day and all these cars are honking at me. So, I get out of the road and onto the sidewalk and this chump comes up to me and goes "Are those swim trunks, dude?" And then he laughs to his friend.
"Yeah, they're swim trunks." I said. "You want to make something of it?"
Then they kinda looked at me and then I started walking in the middle of the road again and then they were kinda scared because who in their right mind walks in the middle of the road. But, you see, I had a secret: I was way drunk.

It's Been Awhile Since I Wrote About Dinosaurs

Someone once said that the difference between men and women is that men like robots and dinosaurs. I think that's true. But does it mean writing about dinosaurs or robots is hackneyed crap?
Of course it does, that's why this time I'm going to write about guys who write about robots and dinosaurs.

The Writing Project

Stan and Bill were shooting the breeze in the offices of their studio where they wrote movies.
Stan had an idea about this robot movie about robots.
Bill had a similar idea, but about dinosaurs.
That's when they got the idea for

Robots V. Dinosaurs

It's the year 28934 and man has long since been wiped out by sun spots that got all mad big in the year 29489 and went back in time to kill man.
Yet, one man still lives as he traveled forward in time from the year 1996. Will Smith is probably that man, but it could be that dude from that shitty movie Crank.
That man finds a world left to the robots. But the robots have a problem: dinosaurs that were cloned in the year 30000000 and also sent back in time to the year 28934. No one knows who cloned them, so if you're gonna crack wise, do it on your own time, cuz I'm not thinking that up.
OK, wait, so mammoths cloned them. Because they were lonely. But humans cloned the mammoths first, back in 2045, then sent them forward in time because mammoths reek. OK, this is more of a mammoth project.
Bill, let's think about this.

Wait – Let Me Think About It

Have you had a "Wait – let me think about it" moment? It's when you accept an offer at face value and then you realize you're pretty bad at decisions, and even though the giant pig mascot with the bowl of free candy seems like he doesn't mean any harm, and even though you hired him for the kid's party – you'd better think on this one.

Swine Flu Is For Suckers

There's two schools of thought: it was engineered to kill us all for the N.W.O. or it's just another scare tactic by the N.W.O. to help them sell drugs and panic the populace into letting them create FEMA camps to enslave us.
Basically, it's a lose-lose situation.
Unless you roll with the punches and don't believe the hype – right now I have a fever, I don’t feel like eating, I'm tired, I have a runny nose, I'm vomiting – but as long as I keep drinking I can psyche myself into believing this is alcohol related and not succumb to the N.W.O.'s plan to take my turtle.
Read more in my new book: Things I Know.

If You Got This Far

I would like to hear from you. Please just leave a "4" in the comments and I'll know that this was worthwhile.

I Don't Like To Brag

In fact, I purposely tell people bad things. Like when I had crabs. I would talk about it freely, so that the next time I bragged about something cool I could say "Hey, wait Stan, you didn't call me a braggart when I told you I had crabs."
Then Stan reminded me that I told him I got them from his wife. Then I realized I was bragging.

Stan's Wife Doesn't Really Have Crabs

But I did sleep with her.

So I Started the Twitterings

I recently started to Tweet or Twitter or whatever. It's OK so far. Rob Corddry told me he had no idea what I was talking about when I made a comment to him about something.
That was kinda the mission. I mean I have Facebook for friends, but Twitter is all about getting attention from celebrities. I'm very in to it now. But if I don't confuse another celebrity in the next week or so I'll probably quit. That's how I roll.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Notes On Wild At Heart

William Dafoe Broke My Pen

"Nah, I don't do that."
"Just sign my luggage tag."
"I really don't do that."
"Look, here's my pen."

I Hate Medical Waste

Most people do. But I really hate it. Just the other day my buddy Bobby handed me a peanut. I was very grateful because I was starving. But low and behold – it was really medical waste. Bobby has played this joke on me millions of times. I don't know why I keep falling for it. Either I really like peanuts or I really like kidney stones.

LBJ Was A Good President

It's true. But did you know he was the only President to kill a bear with his bear hands?
Yes, that's right, he owned another bear's hands from a previous fight.

Laura Dern Is The Hottest Woman In Showbiz

Just so you know.

I'm Positive I Haven't Seen This

I thought I was a Lynch aficionado. But I don't think I've seen this.
Know what gave it away? A black guy in a Lynch film.

I'm Pretty Sure This Is My Worst Movie Review

It's true. However, I caught the movie at the end. Also, there's so much going on that I can't concentrate. I mean I have a pizza in the microwave, a cigarette burning, and Xanax kicking in. Oh, plus, Dafoe's head got blown off, Sailor went to jail, and now my pizza is done.

There's Nothing Hotter Than Making A Woman Weep

So, Sailor is leaving her after she waited six years for him. I mean, if you're gonna abuse a woman this is the way to do it. He even abandoned his son to fight people in the International District. That's badass.

There's Wizard Of Oz Shit Going On

But the truth is Nicholas Cage knows he's a shitty actor and wants to exit the movie to save it.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Senator

Flight to Mexico. Pink and purple playing cards. The clouds outside the plane pass like unnamed cities. I look in my billfold and find more pink and purple from some Canadian city I can't remember. I look up and order a beer from a stewardess who may have been on my last plane. I might even know her name. I unfold the tray table and find a dead rose. I examine it and put it in my wallet. The man behind me is mentioning the in-flight magazine to what I can only assume is his wife. I want to warn you that nothing extraordinary happens on this flight. But, it just goes to show that it doesn't, but it just might. I head to the bathroom to wash my armpits. This sounds offensive, but I have this slick feeling and it annoys me. When you wear thousands of dollars of clothing it's a waste to have pits that are constantly ruining them. In the bathroom I find three lines of coke that someone has left on that little spot on the left of the sink where soap would go. I photograph them with my phone and then use an Amex card to send them down the sink. I don't like drugs and I feel that they cheapen my overall experience of anything, even this cheap flight into a third world hellhole. I feel the same about the homeless and pigeons. Everything can be so perfect and then some unwanted disturbance comes and wrecks it. I think I would feel the same about the cockpit opening up and sucking the crew, and finally myself out of the plane. There's really no difference to me. Everything is pure or it's not. In fact, I feel so upset about the coke that I just stare in the mirror until I feel it's an appropriate time to leave the washroom. My armpits mean nothing now. I start to cry. The trip has been sullied and there's nothing I can do to stop that. I have little to no hope that when I reach Mexico anything will make up for any of this. I suppose I don't blame the person who left the coke; I can see that this is just a part of my life and I'll have to cope. I shudder when I think of the clouds outside the plane and how for a few moments I felt good about my surroundings. On my way back to my seat a steward confronts me, or at least I think that's what you call them. I think, briefly, that this man might be gay and instead of feeling threatened I try to be as friendly as possible. He's telling me that I need to return to my seat. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure he emphasized, "seat". I continue to be non-threatening, even though his very existence is like the coke in the bathroom. As he ushers me to my seat I remind myself that I subscribe to a higher law. Back at my seat the stewardess hands me a bottle of Budweiser and a glass. I will not only not drink this beer, I will also dump it on the floor as I exit the plane to punish these people for even thinking that I would drink such a thing. I know how this might sound, but I am a US Senator. Having said that, I'm sure I have changed the vibe of this narrative. However, there is a certain tradition, along with the Constitution, that needs to be upheld. Namely, in this instance, the idea that a leader of peoples isn't treated like the people. I'm sure this comes off as arrogant, but if you are entrusted to preserve a state, you must respect yourself. Those that think any different might as well be state senators or congressmen. There's a real lack of respect for myself and other higher officials. I won't say what party I subscribe to, because it doesn't matter. We operate under the same narrative: we are the horns of this beast you might call America. I slide the Budweiser to the side of my tray table so that the stewardess knows I don't want it. When she comes by for glasses I explain that I'll drink it when we are landing. She doesn't get my humor: that the landing will be rough and I'll need an alcoholic drink to get through it. I nod and ask for a Perrier. I'm fully aware that Perrier is an elitist drink, but I want to drive home the point that I'm not just another passenger. My suit should say this, but I'm flying coach, so I understand that I should be treated like your average Joe. Even though I'm not. Even though I should be on a private jet, but after some calls for budget restraints I must fly on this flea circus to prove to your common man that I am the salt of the people. Even though I'm not. I am the gold standard of society. Never touched a dollar I didn't earn. Never touched a woman that wasn't my wife. I am on a trip to Mexico to deliver a briefcase I am not allowed to open to a general on the orders of my President whom I do not like or trust: more lines of coke on a sink in an airplane. I believe I was chosen because I am not corrupt. Or, rather, I am the lighting rod of Christianity and good morals. I play cards. The only relief I get from my obligations. A lot of men only play cards for money. I, on the other hand, will only play when there is no money on the table. Gambling – more coke on a sink. As the plane prepares to land I try to think of more things I'm interested in - golf, but only on TV. Some of the cooking shows you see, but only if it's not seafood. It seems to me that when they get seafood going anything goes. They'll start with salmon and then it's eel in kelp sauce with flecks of dolphin. More coke on the sink. Of course I'm interested in our Lord Jesus Christ, but I don't like getting into it too much, because most of the time you end up with these Catholics and all their stained glass windows and stuff about Mary and you just want to stab them with a pen – but the plane has landed and it's time to pick up, dump a beer on the ground and wave at NAFTA's orphans. I stand behind a man who has stowed a bag that is obviously too big for the overhead compartment. The rage that seethes in me is very hard to control. But I must hold it in. Another fiasco like New Orleans and I could get in some very hot water. And I have things I must accomplish on this trip and cannot be sitting in an airport jail as the world burns.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Post Its Presents: The Torture Memos

RE: Torture


Johnny down here in D489. Just got done torturing 384. Don't let anyone read this memo, but we fed him Arby's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He enjoyed it at first, but then the food began torturing him. He didn't seem to mind the Smashing Pumpkins we had piped in, but Agent 33 had to leave the room and vomit. Man, that was some badass torturing. Again, don't let anyone read this memo. I don't even know why I'm writing it. Oh, brother!


Hey, thought I'd write you another memo about the torturing we got going on down here. Halloween is tomorrow so we took out that movie Pumpkinhead and played it all day for 384. He was upset, but he didn't really seem totally tortured. I played Gameboy most of the time. The movie was a lot tamer than I thought. I had a nightmare I got impaled by a shotgun! But, other than that, Pumpkinhead was a lousy excuse for torture. We could go back to normal stuff like toenail hanging, but I'm still thinking that these newer forms of torture will pan out. Plus, it's part of my 04 Smart Goal for Central. If I blow this I'm gonna be back in the field. Anyway, burn this torture memo after you read it. It was probably a bad idea to post it on your computer with a post it – OK running out of room


OK, this by far is my best torture. So, what we did is we maxed out his bank account and then told him we'd give him 1000 dollars of overdraft protection. Then we told him he needed to buy his meals for the rest of the month. This was back in October. Well, he continued to buy as he needed and then at the very end of the month, today, we blew all his 25$ overdraft fees all over the cell with a fan. It was so fucked up! There was a cheeseburger that cost him 28 bucks – oh, and a tube of toothpaste that ran him 27. This was VERY effective. We got the location of a small arms dealer that I have included in the second post it note under this one. I hope you understand why I'm now putting my memos on the underside of your keyboard. This torturing business must be kept on the DL. Hope this finds you well and you remember to burn this up or shred it. Maybe just eat it.


So, I'm thinking about stopping writing all these memos. I mean, I totally don't want to get caught torturing people. But then again, I feel you should be filled in on what's up down in the world of torture and all. I know we don't know each other that well, but you're pretty hot and I thought love notes were kinda gay. Speaking of gay, Agent 28 is. I just now found this out. This could probably complicate his whole deal, and put him in jeopardy, so pour some grape juice on this particular torture memo before you send it through the shredder. Agent 28 is a family man and it would ruin his attempt at higher office. Oh, plus we've been shipping a bunch of coke from the AFB to Castro. PEACE!


I'm totally on track for my Smart Goal. I have implemented 87 new torture methods. Like the one today. We are currently working on a self checkout line for the prisoners during chowtime. Well, we first put 384 in line behind 45 prisoners who had no idea how to use the system, then once he got to the front, we made him help the other prisoners learn how to use the system. After hours of aggravation, followed by around 4 fights, the prisoner gave up the whole 911 plot. BTW: Bush was totally in on it. I probably shouldn't IM this, but whatever. I'm on vacation for the next two weeks! Just delete and then delete all your DELETE RECOVERED. I think it's in TOOLS. You'll have to check, I'm IMing on my cellular phone. I probably shouldn't be. Well, lesson learned.


Torturing is a bitch sometimes. Apparently, we can't use any of that Bush pulled the 911 trigger stuff. So now we have to torture him into believing otherwise. We had him watch a 2 year old for a weekend, but that did no good. Then we showed him all the Kubrick movies, explained how intricate and masterful they were, then we popped in AI. This worked. 384 has changed his story. However, I've been implicated and may face some time. Please send this memo to the media or something. Also, if you decided not to burn all the other memos that would be rad. You can FedEx them to the media or something. Get that Woodard and Bernstein Bear guy. Also, I love you.


What up? I'm being totally tortured. I'm in a cell and they are letting me continue my correspondence, but I have to use an old Texas Instruments computer's email option. Each line I write I have to send separately using code, and it's so far taken about 3 days to write this. How are you? I would write more, but I may be getting released by the time I finish this. Nope.


It's been far too long! After nine hours of Smashing Pumpkins and Arby's I have given you up Ms. Rice. Please don't hate me. I guess it was mainly watching that one poet lady at the inauguration. I was projectile vomitting most of the month. Then the shitty food and music, and now they seem to be creating a makeshift airport security line that I imagine I'll have to go through in order to use the restroom, and if I pee my pants I'll probably be forced to go to the back of the line. After five years I have a pretty good idea what they are up to. Like, for instance, if I see a box set coming out for Chris Cornell's solo career I'm probably gonna have to listen to it. And that happened. And there were two discs of demos and covers. And then those were all remixed by Timbaland. And then sung by Clay Aiken. Then Simon Cowell came in and judged my entire life so far. This was Christmas 08 I think. Don't know. Anyway. Last letter as I am going to slit my wrists with that CD Hole came out with after Live Through This which they play at 9 every night. Again, all my best.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I Shit On Your Tea Party

Many of you may be wondering just what a "Tea Party" is. A lot of words have been thrown around, like "Federalism" and "Taxes" and "Horsefucking". In addition, a lot of names: "Ron Paul", "Newt Gingrich", and "Archie Bunker".
Wikipedia describes the Boston Tea Party as an act by British American subjects where tea was dumped in Boston Harbor to protest taxation without direct representation. Or, taxation by a Government not elected by the people. Or, taxation by a bunch of dudes that over the ages had become foreigners to the expat Brits in the colonies.
One thing Americans are known for is their absolute brutal fear and loathing of foreigners.
The argument against this is that America is a country of foreigners. That may be true. But ask any immigrant their opinion on the most recent immigrant and you'll see that I'm right.
Basically, after about ten years in this country everyone but you becomes a damn dirty immigrant and you'll stop at nothing to make sure they can't boss you around.
It may be some Indian curse on anyone who should defile their land by living on it. Or maybe that's just the cold pills talking.

And so it went with the early Americans.
But today, we have a brand new set of Americans, all vying to make sure they are no longer taxed by what many of them believe to be another foreign power.
Your typical Tea Partyer will tell you that our President is not an American. Or that Israel is indirectly taxing Americans. Or that Ron Paul discovered Jupiter.
Some even believe he is Jupiter - the Roman God, Zeus.
All that from just the first paragraph of this flyer that was duct taped to my car by what I can only describe as a very disgruntled Nugent fan.
Fair enough. Being an American, I subscribe to the golden rule: You believe what you want to believe, and I'll believe that you're wrong.
However, I must point out that there was a large absence of tea parties when America really had problems.
To all of you Chuck Norris' out there:
Where was the high tea when we passed the Patriot Act?
Where was the butter and biscuits when Enron collapsed?
Where was the dainty dresses and talk of Austen when we invaded Iraq?
Where were the witticisms and "pardon"'s when we found out our President used fraudulent yellow cake reports to get us into Iraq?
And when the secret prisons and torture began, when we found out "contractors" were mercenaries for hire from a political fringe group – could you pass the wafers?
No, these tea parties are not about freedom and they are not about taxes. If they were, you would have began partying the second Bush ran our country into the red.
When the first bailout occurred I would have expected something of a tea rave – but, alas, no. And not to excuse Obama the second and third, but that first bailout was under Bush watch.
So, what are we really seeing here? We're seeing more media puppets: Rush, Gingrich, Beck, etc.
What better way to establish yourself as the voice of a generation than rallying a group of something for nothings around some idealistic battle between good and evil.
There's been other tea baggers: Al Sharpton, Shelley Rubin, William Donohue, and good old David Duke. Americans love their hatred of foreigners, or foreign skin, or foreign beliefs, or foreign religions. There is nothing more satisfying than picking a group of people and hating them. And these men know this. And if you run out of groups use the euphemism "Taxes."
Taxes, when you run out of terrorists to blame, symbolize all those programs and advantages put in place to make sure some one you feel is lower on the social ladder than you is gonna use to get over your head, take your job, and fuck your wife.
Your typical "voice of..." has been feeding you this and using it for years to make you feel small, make you feel threatened, and make sure you'll only put your foot down when there is absolutely NOTHING on the line. Protest some stupid buzz word like "Taxes", but you better for damn sure not protest how those taxes are being used.
You're all being separated by huge egos that have only money to gain and power to take.
You shout fire into a crowd and they will stand around. You shout it three more times and you'll have yourself a tea party.
Happy partying!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Slumdog Millionaire: A Review

I know it's a little late.
However, this is when I get to my movies: once they come out on DVD.
It's a rarity that I will go to a theater and shell out money to be without smoke or drink for three hours. It's just retarded (the movie part, not me).
So, let me start out by saying that if you paid to see this movie in the theater you're stupid.
However, it was not a bad movie.
If you haven't seen it, here's the plot:

It starts out that this one dude is on India's version of American Idol. He's down to the final countdown – the song. He's singing it and everything goes well, but as he sings he thinks about what it was like to grow up in the 80s and listen to Europe.

We're leaving together: At this point the main character, let's call him Abner, thinks about how he grew up as a Muslim in a predominantly Hindu part of India. The Hindus have a holiday like Halloween, but everyone dresses up as Hindu Gods. This one chicks scares the crap out of Abner with a bow and arrow and he vows to go live in Dubai with his brother Pat and this one chick.

But still it's farewell: On this line of the song, Abner thinks about his Mom and how he left her with all his college debt. He feels bad, but is looking forward to "life in paradise" as his Dubai handlers call it.

And maybe we'll come back: At this point Abner, Pat, and the one chick realize Dubai sucks and they are just legal slaves to a corrupt system. So, they start forming a plan to sell corn dogs until they get enough money to buy back their visas.

To earth, who can tell?: Abner recalls how in Dubai the lead singer of Europe bought a corndog off him and then maimed him with it. From that day forward, Abner learned that Westerners would pay double for corndogs if they got to strike him with them.

I guess there is no blame: The one chick becomes a hooker.

We're leaving ground: Abner gets high and eats all his supply. This leaves Pat and Abner in more debt. Pat ditches Abner and opens a Jewish singles bar. I know – it doesn't make sense.

Will things ever be the same again?: Abner looks forlornly at a corndog stick.

It’s the final countdown: Abner's next shipment of corndogs comes in, but he finds out that it's actually heroin. The packages got mixed up because Dubai is so fucked. Abner phones his brother and convinces him to come work for him. Together they sell smack to Jewish singles. Along the way they hunt down that one chick and debase her in a myriad of ways that I'm not going to get into here. Point is: happy ending.

So, that's the plot. I guess the Jewish singles part didn't make sense. I was under the impression both Abner and Pat were Muslim. Also, it was a little too convenient to get a shipment of heroin instead of corndogs. I mean, that happens like 0.000000000001% of the time when you're selling corndogs, and trust me – I know. Also, there could have been more development in the character of that one girl. I mean, I don't even remember her name. First she's this chick taking calculus with Abner and then she's a hooker going down on the entire supergroup Europe.
The pace also was a bit much. I could barely keep up that drinking game where you drink every time a child is maimed.
All in all – is it worth it? Well, my Mom bought it and let me borrow it. So…I didn't want her to pay me money for having to sit through it. However, if I were to go back in time and have to rent it knowing what I know now, I don't think I'd pay more than two dollars to see it.
However, if it was on TBS I would probably watch it until the next commercial break.
So, like a 7 out of 11?
Anyway, join me back here next week when I review this one episode from the original Buck Rogers.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Nine Stories...About Apes


Have you ever wanted to punch a man so badly that you just punch yourself in the face because you're too lazy to go find the guy? That just now happened. I've never been so angry at that guy in my life. Especially after I punched myself in the face because of him.


I know what you're thinking: this is gonna have something to do with aliens, time travel, or robots. It's not. Those are too popular of targets for this essay on Margaret Thatcher.


Sometimes I blow my own mind. Like the other day I was walking home and I thought what if I walked this way, and then instead of walking that way, I walked another way, so I purposely disobeyed my own free will. Which was cool. But then I started thinking, what if I really was just obeying my free will, but through in that weird move to make it seem like I have a headache.


There's a lot of debate about religion in the world today. A lot of people don't believe this thing and a lot of people only believe the other thing. I think that this is good and I encourage the debate. But sometimes it can get out of hand. Just the other day I encouraged some debate by asking a saleswoman if she believed in God. Well, she said it was none of my business. So, I told her that I didn't believe in God to make it all better, so she knew I wasn't trying to push God on her. But then she got even more offended because she really did believe in God, but just didn't want to discuss it with me. So then I accused her of being ashamed of her God. Then she accused me of harassment. Then the store security accused me of harassment. Then they all found out I was shoplifting the whole time. Oh, brother!


Imagine watching an alien being attacked by a lion. I'll bet you've never imagined that. I'm talking about the bulb headed white aliens.
What's even harder to imagine is what the alien would be thinking? They've probed so many humans that have given little to no fight, so when this giant mammal attacks them they must be taken completely off guard. And the violence…Well, that's all I know about Africa.


They say the best way to figure out if something is male or female is to turn it over. That's just not the case with humans. We walk upright. So, really to find out if a person is male or female you just need to walk right up to it. Of course we wear clothing, so you would have to take that off first. But if you get that far, you might as well have sex with whatever it is. I'm just saying.


I know what you're thinking. Yes, I did get my car washed at a Brown Bear. How could you tell? Well thank you. Anyway, enjoy the movie.


It's true that the Chinese first invented spaghetti, but did you know what for? Mops. It turns out that the ancient Chinese found it offensive to ever actually eat the noodles. Then this dirty European came over and was destitute. One day he saw this Chinese woman mopping the floor and noticed that there were large chunks of tomatoes and spices that were being collected in the mop. So, when she wasn't looking, he ate the mop and called it spaghetti. So you can see why I could never write about how great Marco Polo was, because he was kind of a bum.


Many people think they know a lot about driving, but did you know this: the fuel it uses is actually ancient seaweed. I bet a lot of gearheads would be less prone to polluting the ocean if they knew that the ocean sustained the very nutrients that their cars need. If not now, eventually. Which begs for another question: if they can make fake diamonds, why can't they make fake oil? Do you get what I'm saying here? It takes eons to make a diamond out of coal, but they can put it in a time machine and make a cubi…a zirconian….that thing. So why not the same with oil?

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

C'mon Big Corporations - Give Us Our Spring Break!

Many people think Easter is a holiday celebrating the resurrection of Christ.
Of course, this is true, but Easter's roots run deeper than that.
Consider the dinosaur. Really, think about him.
Now that your mind is clear, think about this: Easter is in the spring. Just like Christmas is in the winter, Halloween in the fall, and my birthday in the summer. These arch holidays all have one thing in common – they usher in the coming of the new season.
Think about the symbols of Easter – the egg (rebirth), the bunny (promiscuity), and the Cadbury egg (sugar). All of these symbols point to the coming of the next generation of crops. The time when the Earth says, "Hey, here's some food."
Not only that, but it's also the time you pay taxes. Coincidence? Of course not. What's going on is the government is thinking – Passover, Easter, Bunnies…they won't notice a good taxing.
And we don't. We're out busy buying candy and thinking about dinosaurs.
But let's consider the dinosaur.
So, Jesus gets iced and he comes back from the dead. This is very important because no one has done this before, and no one will do it again. So, that's also a good reason for a holiday. But that holiday should be different than the regular Easter. It should be a total bummer on Good Friday. Like everyone goes around egging people's houses and toilet papering their trees; and then on Sunday, everyone goes around and cleans it up. That would make more sense. I'm sure you can think of some better ideas, but you see where I'm going with this.
But let's consider the dinosaur.
Now, Passover is not the Jewish equivalent of Easter. So get that out of your head. Passover is the time when Jews recall how God spared them while killing all the Egyptians. Imagine, you are part of this secret club and God goes "Hey, dudes, I'm gonna wipe out everyone but you – isn't that sweet?" So you can see why the Jews find this cool. They commemorate this by eating unleavened bread (nachos). What kind of cool religion gets nachos on a holiday? I mean, the chocolate is cool and all, but hey Jews – sign me up!
But let's consider the dinosaur.
So, now you have the Muslims (because we know that only three religions really count according to CNN). They have Mohammad's birthday on March 9 (well, this year). It's called Mawlid an-Nabi. I have no idea what they do on this day, but if they don't like him being depicted in art, it's probably not all that festive. However, it is a birthday, so that's kinda cool.
But let's consider the dinosaur.
So, what am I driving at? I'm driving at the need for four separate holidays: one for Spring, one for Jesus, one for God exterminating Egyptians, and one for Mohammad's bday. Now, you throw in Good Friday and you get a week off.
In this nation we have too diverse a culture to not let everyone celebrate everyone's holiday. Jews should be able to get their Jesus on. Christians should be able to throw back some Mani…Menes…Manneshevitz (thanks Google). And Muslims should be able to eat some Cadbury eggs.
Sure, some people (big corporations) would like to deprive us of this week off. But wasn't God like a big corporation? Wasn't his people – Jew, Muslim, or Gentile – just his employees? Wasn't his holidays (killing and birthing) just employee appreciation? I think that corporations need to get off their butts and quit acting like kings and more like Gods.
That's just what I'm saying.
But consider the dinosaur. He had fuckall for holidays. That's why he died. The human race cannot succumb to such a fate.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

I Can't Imagine Being Gay in Vermont

There's a lot of things I can imagine. I can imagine a donkey riding a horse. A cold pill becoming sentient and committing suicide once it discovers its job is to rid the world of snot. I can even imagine our President pausing during a State of the Union and quickly performing a magic trick with a nickel and Hillary Clinton's ear.
But I can't imagine being gay in Vermont.
As you might have read in my previous article, I realize there is a gay agenda. But I really didn't think it had anything to do with Vermont.
Wait – before you turn away in disgust, let me explain that it's not so much the gay aspect as much as I can't imagine being ANYTHING in Vermont.
I don't know anything about Vermont. Think about it. I know gay people – they are exactly like me except they prefer to argue and whine to people of the same sex. But I know next to nothing about Vermont.
I guess if you even clicked on this link you probably agree.
You probably also thought of one thing and one thing only: Newhart. Remember? Larry, Daryl and Daryl? That's what we think of when we think of Vermont.
Now imagine a gay person. I don't care which one, but imagine that person being gay in Newhart. That probably makes you think of Peter Scolari. But he wasn't gay on that show.
From what I gather about gay people is that they are more urbane and less tolerant of folksy people that own bed and breakfast joints.
This comes from having about three gay friends.
But what if you're uber gay? Like short shorts and tank tops? It's a cold state. You'd be screwed.
So, I guess the purpose of this article is to figure out weather I'm prejudice about gays or Vermont? Or both?
Real quick, I'm gonna ask my gay friend if he's ever been to Vermont or would ever want to go…
I'm still waiting on that reply. It could probably get me fired, so I may not finish this article.
But what about Vermont?
According to Wikipedia it's in the United States. There's gay people in the United States. Let's probe further: it's capitol is Montpelier – that sounds gay, or French. It's colonial. Or was. Meaning a bunch of dudes came over to be away from other people because of persecution – verdict: gay. There's quarrying. That sounds pretty not gay, but I don't really know for sure. There's 2682 non-profit agencies – that could go either way. Wait, my buddy has emailed me back.

My answer is: I don't know any paraders in Vermont. I don't know where Vermont is. I might go for a weekend if they have nice Bed and Breakfasts that accommodate our dog and some schweet antique shopththththts.

-----Original Message-----
From: Uninformed Straight Guy
Sent: Tuesday, April 07, 2009 10:30 AM
To: Gay Dude
Subject: I'm doing the article you suggested

So, have you been to Vermont? Would you want to go? Do you know any fellow paraders from Vermont?

Whoa! So, Bed and Breakfasts are a gay thing.
So, in conclusion, I was way off. Vermont is pretty fucking gay. Not only that, I know nothing about gays.
Therefore, there's a good chance I'm an ill-informed prejudiced douche. Not only about gays, but about Vermont. I think I need to do some more research into differing lifestyles and state culture.
Next topic: I can't imagine being a Vegan in Texas.