In a fit of originality, I’ve decided to post 10 of my resolutions for the upcoming year. I should probably include something about not using lists to avoid having to really think about what I’m writing, but I just wouldn’t be human if I eliminated all of flaws. I did take the numbers out of the lists, so just think of it as a series of short paragraphs.
Spend More Time With the Kids — If for no other reason than the fact that they will someday choose my nursing home.
Eat Less Dairy, More Fiber — Yeah, fat fucking chance. Let’s move on.
Exercise More — Ditto.
Dance — Ok, that was the last complete bullshit resolution. I promise.
Spend Less Money on Frivolous Things — I’m jumping right on this one, just as soon as I can find a way to categorize porn as something other than frivolous.
Sell My Possessions and Run Away to Mexico — This should probably be more of a 5-year plan, but I’m going to give it my best shot.
Eliminate Credit Card Debt — Yeah, hilarious…
Leave the Country at Least Once — Ideally, I won’t be leaving under a cloud of suspicion, unable to return. If that’s the only way it will happen, though, I’m cool with it. I hear Roman Polanski is free–just not free to come back.
No More Resolutions — This is how you can tell that I’m an idiot. If I had any sense, this would have been the first one.
Happy New Year everyone. Try and make it home safely tonight.
As we drop the curtain on another year, it’s time to go introspective. Here’s my 10 questions raised by events of 2007. Good luck to everyone in 2008.
Does it really matter who we elect president? We’re still over 10 months away from elections, there’s been more debates than anyone can remember, there’s more candidates raising more money staying in the race longer to collect more federal matching funds than before. There has been more reports & suspicions of viable candidates that aren’t mainstream being shut out by the media than ever before. And one half of the most scandal-ridden White House couple ever is still a front-runner? Never has it been more apparent that our presidency is simply for sale to the highest bidder.
Can you see that Andy Warhol was right? Reality TV is only getting bigger. In related news, my 15 minutes of fame is for sale to the highest bidder.
Do you think we care too much about sports? What sport hasn’t been hit with a cheating scandal this year. Curling? Maybe if professional athletes weren’t paid so much while schoolteachers exist around the poverty level, they wouldn’t feel so much pressure to do anything to get ahead.
Are we really that stupid? Do Americans really want to know that much about Brittney Spears, Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, etc.? Really? I was born in the wrong time.
Do I look old to you? My mom once told me that the older I got, I would have more people I know die. It made sense then, but I didn’t understand what it would mean to me. Now I’m starting to understand. My first high school classmate passed away recently. A friend that I had lost touch with over the years. First, I was stunned. But upon reflection, I was amazed that we had all made it this far. Matt, here’s to you bro.
Can’t we all just get along? In a world that is supposed to progress in enlightenment & tolerance, we seem to revile people for their differences instead of appreciate them. And it’s getting worse. People keep getting killed over their sexual orientation, color of their skin, side of the street they live on, etc. People have body parts ripped off because they root for the wrong team? Come on people.
Where’s the pride gone? At the same time, there’s things that we need to take a stand for. America was built by immigrants. But immigrants that worked for the privilege of citizenship. Not those that snuck into the country & siphoned off resources from taxpayers. There’s a fine line to be trod here that we should seek to be on. But selling off large portions of the US to foreign interests & putting signs & documents in 2 languages so that people here illegally can get services is stepping way over that line.
Is the US really the biggest issue in the middle east & the Muslim world? All the civilians killed in Iraq by other Iraqis. Bhutto assassinated. We may not be helping, but we ain’t the cause.
Can we see past our own noses? We are the real ‘Me’ generation. Parents who don’t care about their kids. Politicians who don’t care about their constituants. Businesses that don’t care about their customers. The proliferation of bloggers. How many things are driven by one core behavior? Selfishness. Everyone wants more for them. More money, more power, more material goods, more fame. As Rodney Dangerfield once said ‘Always look out for #1. But be careful not to step in #2.’ We can take care of ourselves & still be good to our fellow men.
Can’t we see that we’re the disease & the cure? It’s corny, but it’s true. The answer to all my questions is people wanting to change. Nothing gets better in nobody does anything about it. And nobody will do anything if they don’t look beyond themselves & see what we’re doing to our world. I’d really like to not have this question next year.
Because today was the first day of my Christmas vacation and Manda had to work, I was charged with attending her son’s Christmas program. The conversation went like this:
A: Hey, could you go to Alien’s Christmas program on Friday? It’s during work for me.
M: Sure, that sounds like fun. What time is it?
A: 8:30 in the morning.
M: Khaaaaaaaaaaaaan!
I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist of it.
So, on my first day of vacation, I got up earlier than I do on workdays so that I could shower and return to the campus that hosted the bulk of my early childhood shame.
While there, it occurred to me that there are 4 kinds of kids in these programs:
1. The Rank & File — These kids are the most plentiful. Much like The Dukes of Hazard, they’re making their way the only way they know how, and that involves singing as quietly as possible while aping the actions of the the teacher assigned to completely shred her dignity in front of the parents.
2. The Performer — These are the kids in the front row who are way too into the experience. They usually take dance classes, and when they grow up, would like to be both a ballerina and a veterinarian. Predominantly female.
3. The Robot — The Robots are given speaking lines, usually because they are among the loudest kids in the class. They speak said lines with a cadence best reserved for 50’s sci fi robots.
4. The Choke Artist — There are usually 1-2 choke artists per program. These kids were also given speaking lines. However, the responsibility has now overwhelmed them, and on the big day, they freeze. Despite thousands of recitations the previous few days, the lines have disappeared from their minds, and nothing but the whirring of video cameras can be heard, recording their shame. The choke artist is also referred to as my favorite.
Also noteworthy was the final skit, in which Alien, being the freakishly tall kid of his class, was the star on their Christmas tree. I noticed a strong similarity between their setup, and an iconic part of our culture:
Someday, we’ll address the fact that my posts have been forced to follow a myriad of topics that fall into the ‘tough act to follow’ category. But I don’t mind. I relish the challenge like Joey Chestnut relishes a Nathan’s Famous. And since this is the last Friday before Christmas, it’s time for me to post my ‘If it were only possible’ Christmas list. The 10 things, in no particular order, that I know won’t come to pass this next year, but I really wish they would.
A good sushi restaurant within 30 minutes of my home. Why is this not possible? I live in rural Missouri. Of every 10 people I mention sushi to, 9 will make a joke involving fish bait.
Congress & the President work for the actual good of the people instead of their own parties & interests. Most unlikely thing on the list.
Barry Bonds has a body part actually explode. Most likely thing on the list.
Tom Cruise gets caught in bed with Neil Patrick Harris. Oh we all know it’s going on. But they hide inside the Scientology complex to leave no shot for the paparazzi.
Will Ferrell apologizes for not being funny. And millions of people realize they’ve been had.
Celebrity reality show death match. My money would be on Gene Simmons to take down Danny Bonaduce in the finals.
A lot of people ask me about my process. Ok, that’s a dirty lie; nobody asks me about my process. Hell, I don’t even know a lot of people. But humor me, ok? Otherwise I’ll just make these paragraphs longer.
Anyway, about my process. I generally try to post at least every other day, but sometimes I fall down to weekly. Having something like a weekly haiku post is handy, because they’re relatively easy to write, and it boosts my already tenuous self esteem to have a recent post.
I get my ideas from a lot of sources. Sometimes I’ll have an idea for something that stews in my head for days or weeks, and other times it takes me less than half an hour from idea to posting. The ideas can come from news stories I find, Youtube, my personal experiences, or sometimes just random stuff that I make up.
Other posts come about through sheer serendipity. Today is a great example of timing, luck, and general idiocy combining to write a blog entry for me.
Joboo says:
Holy cow. You know that feeling that you get taking a dump after eating something spicy.
Joboo says:
You know, the ring of fire.
Joboo says:
Now imagine getting that when you haven’t eaten anything spicy at all. I’m a little concerned.
M says:
Hmm…
M says:
Is this a metaphor, or is your ass really burning?
Joboo says:
The ‘O’ in my Ohio St tatoo feels like it’s made of napalm.
M says:
So when did this start?
Joboo says:
Freakin’ condescend me.
Joboo says:
Um, today.
M says:
No, this is serious concern on my part. Ignore the monotone.
Joboo says:
Today when I made my first sacrifice to the porcelin god.
M says:
And no spicy food? Sometimes I forget.
Joboo says:
Nope. I’m sure of it.
M says:
Are you sleepeating again?
Joboo says:
Now you’re just trying to embellish.
M says:
I’ll put that down as a maybe.
M says:
You don’t gotta get all defensive about it. It’s not like you’re sleepvomiting or sleepshitting.
M says:
Wait. Are you?
Joboo says:
No & no.
M says:
Good. That’d have been awkward.
Joboo says:
Especially for my wife.
M says:
Sounds like your O-ring is injured.
Joboo says:
Great. “Hey honey, can you look at something for me?”
M says:
You’ve been married a while. Might be ok.
M says:
Or you could squat over a mirror.
Joboo says:
She might have caught a glance at one time or another.
M says:
If you’re caught, just tell them you’re exercising.
Joboo says:
Exercising what would be the question.
Joboo says:
Or rather, for what reason.
M says:
Exercising your lack of shame?
Joboo says:
Please. I think the fact that we’re having this conversation shows that is in good shape.
M says:
Can we start over and call it a metaphor? In the Choose Your Own Adventure version of this conversation, that’s really where we fucked up.
Joboo says:
If you want to call it a metaphor, fine. Call it a metaphor.
M says:
It’s a metaphor for rectal burning.
Joboo says:
I’ma gonna go get some ice for my metaphor.
M says:
Go right ahead. I’m firing up the soldering iron for my eyes.
This week, I’m honoring a request by none other than Joboo. He wanted a donkey punch dirty haiku. So, with the help of Eric, I give you my first collaborative dirty haiku:
need a little boost
Donkey Punch in your bitch head
anal squeezing wheee!
Second off, I don’t know which is the insult, or which is the injury. On the one hand, the monkey is being sent back to the roller coaster ride of living with, and relying on, a bipolar person. Every day will be punctuated by the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, bouts of uphoria offset by agonizing despair.
On the other hand, it’s Fort Worth. Ouch.
And no, I didn’t read the story; the headline and picture combo were enough for me.
As I was taking my stroll along the digital yellow brick road that is the internet the other day, I stumbled upon a story that caught my attention. That was the purpose of my mental stroll so I wasn’t shocked, but I still feel compelled to share. It was Time Magazines top 10 oddball stories of the year. Nestled among the jewel-encrusted skull, naked sleepwalkers, & the woman with a pencil in her head for 55 years was #9. It was mainly about a Kansas City man being arrested for possessing Sonoran Desert toads which are used to produce a certain hallucinogenic drug. But at the end of the paragraph, it makes a brief mention of a drug called jenkem. Which is basically the fumes from fermenting human sewage. Hence it’s alternate name of butt hash. You can read more about it here. Wow! There’s so much to be said. But to keep this post from turning into a Michener novel, let me focus on one thing. The legalization of drugs.
I’ve always been a proponent of legalizing drugs in America. I’ve never used any recreational drugs stronger than alcohol many years ago, & I won’t. For me, they’re morally wrong & cause physiological damage. Some of which is horrific. But I feel equally strong about forcing your opinion & beliefs on others. And considering the present drug situation in the US which results in ruined lives, violence, & an unwinnable drug war that siphons millions of dollars away from causes which can be helped, I believe that the legalization & control of recreational drugs would have great positive effects & be a help to the country. So what does that have to do with jenkem? It just furthers my belief in legalization. Because it adds to the benefits I’ve previously thought of (safer production, cleaner & cheaper drugs, tax income, decreased violence, etc.) positive rural economic impact. ‘How?’ you might ask. By taking advantage of natural resources found in many rural areas. For you metropolitan dwellers reading this, I’m referring to lagoons, catch pools, sewer ponds. You could even turn your septic system into an income producer. Struggling farmers could supplement their income by putting the natural outcome of good food to profitable use. The costs to begin production seem to be relatively low, so the up front investment would be minimal for such a high return. And just like bottled water, you could have artesian butt hash. With descriptions like ‘Its smooth taste comes from the dry air of the New Mexico desert.’, ‘Fresh from the Ozark hills.’, or ’As pure as the Idaho mountains.’ Of course we’d have to guard against Japanese interests buying up land to produce their own high quality jenkem, but since the supply is linked to the raw materials, we should be able to avoid that.
As you can see, it’s all pluses hear & no minuses. So what are you waiting for? It’s good for America. Let’s reclaim the lost glory & return to greatness. Join me people. Join me in promoting ‘Butt Hash, For America!’
If Harry Caray were alive today, this would both delight and horrify him. That’s right, my beloved Cubs have signed Kosuke Fukudome.
Now I won’t discuss whether or not it’s worth it for the organization to spend $48 million on a dinged-up outfielder from Japan. Instead, let’s get into his name. It’s actually pronounced Foo Koo Doe May, but if you think that would have stopped Harry, you clearly had better things to do with your time growing up than I did. At least once a game, we would have been drunkenly informed that Go Sucky Fuck You Do Me is now batting. If Fukudome were to jerk a backdoor slider into the rightfield bleachers for a walk-off home run, we could have seen the Unintentional Comedy perfect storm.
Alas, Harry’s dead, and Fukudome will likely wind up having an elbow ligament replaced before the All Star break. Real life sucks; more Harry.
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