Moderation: A Report

With Groundhog's Day quickly approaching, I'm anxiously awaiting writing a post about that wonderful day. In the meantime, inspired by the imminence of my once second-favorite holiday, I decided that I would set the record straight about my supposed loves and hates.

Robots: Many people believe that I love robots. While this is not far from true, it is greatly exaggerated. My "love" for robots began with my purchase of Short Circuit on DVD about two years ago. What was misconstrued as love was actually a combination of nostalgia for a robot-filled childhood and excitement over buying a decent movie for $5.99. Perhaps I took the robot thing too far in founding the facebook group "Robots are RoHOT," but I regret nothing. My robot fever subsided months later, and I am now back to being a fairweather fan of these mechanical men.

Zombies: Not that there was a real "Ben loves zombies" bandwagon, but even still I feel like I should say that my fascination with zombies was more of a reverent fear than love.

Holidays: My birthday has been my favorite holiday for some time, but just recently I feel like it should be something less selfish. However, I have yet to find a suitable replacement favorite. Groundhog's Day has traditionally held the second-favorite spot, but that was a lie from the beginning. I hate the groundhog and everything he stands for.

Starship: I have professed my hatred for Starship on many occasions, often going so far as saying that I hate Starship more than I hate Satan. There's really nothing to set straight here; my opinion has not changed.

The Color Red: Red used to be my favorite color. It's still great and beats any other color hands down, and I will argue that until I can no longer speak. But I prefer maroon these days.

Mindtrap

Last night I dreamt that I stole a bunch of DVDs from a Vietnamese restaurant, and I was caught by a bunch of bald firemen driving fire trucks the size of Mini Coopers.

Hawaii

Today is Hawaiian Shirt Day at work. Of the people I have seen today, only one of them is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. You might expect the low degree of celebration to make this theme day bearable, but you would be wrong.

The theme doesn't end with shirts, apparently. That's just the beginning. From there it goes to glitter tattoos, oversized cocktail umbrellas, and yogurt. Again, seemingly bearable, but they are forcing these things on us. My coworkers held me down so they could put a gliter tattoo on my arm.

I don't get the yogurt.

I should have brought a model volcano or burned down the building or something. That would have been more like Hawaii than yogurt.

Actually, that tattoo-forcing thing was only half-true.

How to Talk to Your Kids

Welcome to Unspar's Guide to Talking to Your Children! This is meant to walk you through all those awkward conversations that parents hate to have. The Unspar Guide has been professionally tested, and only 15% of children end up with permanent brain damage, a much higher success rate than Gerber's Strained Carrots Guide.

Where do babies come from?
KID: Where do babies come from?
PARENT: Outer space.
KID: How do they get here?
PARENT: Torpedoes.
KID: What if the torpedoes miss?
PARENT: If I were you, I'd be more worried that they'd hit you while you're taking a crap.
KID: What does crap mean?
PARENT: It's a kind of baby.

What were you and mommy/daddy doing in bed last night that made so much noise?
KID: What were you and mommy doing in bed last night?
PARENT: What were you doing in bed last night?
KID: Nothing.
PARENT: Good.

Why is my penis pointy?
KID: Why--
PARENT: Good God, son, put on some pants!
KID: I can't.
PARENT: Well then get the hell out of here so I don't have to look at your boner.
KID: But why--
PARENT: run screaming from room

Can I have an allowance?
KID: Can I have an allowance?
PARENT: No.
KID: All the other kids have allowances.
PARENT: All the other kids are communists.
KID: What's a communist?
PARENT: Look here, junior, I bust my ass day in and day out for you, and I don't need your commie bulls*** raggin' me when I get home every night.
KID: cries
PARENT: Damn right.
KID: Mommy!
PARENT: Don't listen to him, honey. He's a communist.

An Old Friend

Today I ran into an old ex-girlfriend. It was a little awkward. Here's how it went.

BEN: Oh. Hey, Yaris.
TOYOTA YARIS: Hi.
(awkward pause)
YARIS: So...how've you been?
BEN: I've been all right. How about you?
YARIS: Better. It was a rough couple months at first, but I'm getting my life back together. Are you seeing anybody?
BEN: Yeah, I have a really great girlfriend.
YARIS: Oh. OK.
BEN: Geez, Yaris, don't be like that.
YARIS: I'm sorry. I can't help how I feel.
BEN: Did it not work out with any of your other drivers?
YARIS: Sure, they were all right, but none of them were you.
BEN: I wasn't that great. I did put sugar in your gas tank when we broke up.
YARIS: I still have trouble starting sometimes. It reminds me of you.
BEN: Well, uh, I should get going.
YARIS: We should get together sometime.
BEN: I'd really rather not. I don't have collision insurance.

(For previous Yaris dialogues, click here.)

Impostor

Once again, I must engage in battle with someone who has stolen my name. This doesn't happen often, as I have an especially rare name, so it's been a while. My battling skills might be a little rusty. Still, I must act and strike down "Ben Robison" before he grows even more powerful.

This has happened only once before with a "Ben Robison" from an amateur basketball league in Akron, Ohio. I destroyed him so thoroughly that his website no longer exists (apparently).

This new impostor presents a much more difficult challenge. He's Mormon.

While I could easily vaporize the previous Ben with my b-ball skillz, I don't know how to handle a Mormon. I can't throw polygamy at him because then he'll reproduce and impostor Bens will overwhelm me. And I can't fight him on his own turf--Utah scares me.

Turns out "Ben" is a tech nerd, so I think all it'll take is for me to out-tech him. And by "out-tech" I mean electrocute. That is, if he ever comes to Minnesota. Cuz like I said, not going to Utah.

NOTE: "Ben" may not in fact be Mormon. His blog is merely hosted by Brigham Young University, which I understand has several non-Mormon players on its basketball team.

The Good, the Bad, and the Oscars

This year's Oscar nominations were released yesterday, and in the spirit of placing the garbage on the left and the recylcing on the right, I give you my "good" and "bad" picks.


Mark Wahlberg is nominated for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of Officer Sweary McSwearsalot in The Departed: Good

Notes on a Scandal, which has a really stupid title, is nominated for four different awards: Bad

Dreamgirls gets three nominations for Original Song: Good, I guess, but weren't there any other movies with songs this year?

Dreamgirls leads all nominated films with 8 nominations: Bad

Little Miss Sunshine is nominated for Best Picture: Good

I'm still pissed off that Little Miss Sunshine was beaten by Dreamgirls at the Golden Globes: Good; my anger is righteous and justified

Judi Dench is nominated again: Boring

Meryl Streep is also nominated again: Boring, but slightly less so

Peter O'Toole gets what I presume to be his last nomination before he dies: Bad, because he'll probably lose and feel humiliated, plus he got the lifetime achievement award last year, so what's the point?

Leonardo DiCaprio was nominated for his performance in Blood Diamond but not The Departed: Bad. Did the Academy watch all these movies in alphabetical order and fall asleep after Cars?

Adam Sandler's latest epic Click got a nomination: What? I mean, I know it's for makeup, but what?

Both magician movies, The Illusionist and The Prestige, are nominated in the same category: Confusing and redundant

I have seen three of the Best Picture nominees so far this year: And at most I'll only see four of them. You'll never get me to see The Queen.

Babies Will Destroy Us

Normally I don't think about science, but today was one of those important exceptions that makes me realize we're doomed. This time, it's the babies who will destroy us.

Have any of you heard of conservation of matter? This implies that we will always have the same amount of matter on this earth. At first glance, it's true, but when viewed in light of all the babies, we're doomed.

You see, babies grow and end up having a much greater mass than the mass of all the food they eat. The ratio of baby mass to food mass by end of life is something like 5 to 1.

If this trend continues, the earth will collapse beneath the weight of our massive babies.


Not so cute anymore, are they?

Rebreak My Heart

Dear Boyfriend,
I'm really sorry to do this, but we're through. I know I wanted to get back together, and I wrote "Unbreak My Heart" and requested it all the time on the radio until you came back to me, but it was a mistake. There were and still are a lot of irreconcilable differences between us that made us break up, and I guess I was blind to all that when I wrote that song. Maybe I should have just gotten over it. Again, I'm really sorry, but this will be for the best.

Now I know this might be even harder for you, but I'm keeping all of your stuff. You moved in here, and now your stuff is on my property. You probably should have thought things through a little better before you moved out of your parents' house. And I know how much you love your boa constrictor, but Rex is mine now too, and I plan on training him to kill you if you come within 500 feet of here.

Sincerely,
Toni Braxton

Funny Story

So I went to the park yesterday for a walk, and I saw this guy shoveling the path. I tried to get around him, but I didn't want to get snow on my shoes. So I was stuck.

"Watch it, pal," he said.
"Watch what?"
"The gnomes."

This confused me. "The gnomes?" I asked.
"Why else do you think I'm shoveling? For you?"
"Uh huh."

He stopped his shoveling and turned around. "Think you're better than the gnomes, do ya?"
"I don't know," I said, frightened.
"They could take you down right now if they wanted to."
"What?"
"So you better be happy that they're too drunk," and he returned to his shoveling.

I decided it was best not to continue this conversation, so I turned around and walked back the way I came. I felt a little relieved.

Guest Post

My former coworker Steve recently brought it to my attention that prospective employers will search the internet for their applicants' blogs in order to discern who would be the better candidate. In the spirit of improved employability, I suggested I start a fake "cover" blog for prospective employers to find for me. This blog will (apparently) be written by Steve. Here is Steve's first post on my fake blog:

"1/17/07 Wednesday: Today was a great day. I came to work an hour early as per usual just to help some of my co-workers clear their work load. Well as I was picking up a bagel for my boss (what a great guy!) I ran into an elderly woman attempting to cross the street. Well... one thing lead to another and the next thing you know I was helping her across the street! Can you beleive it? What a privilege to be alive."


NOTE: I googled my name, and this blog does not show up on the first page of any variation of it. I'm safe...for now.

Fake Real News

British Research University Proves its Research is Worthless

According to a study done by "scientists" at the University of Warwick, scientists who win the Nobel Prize live two years longer than regular scientists. While this story is neither interesting nor relevant to anything ever, it is pointless, and in a way, that's funny.

Decline in Panda Reproduction Linked to Increase in Panda Obesity

The actual headline of this story is "Male Panda Too Fat to Have Sex." I can't believe I have a rational objection to this story, but aren't pandas supposed to be giant?

Bing Crosby vs. Bill Cosby

PART ONE
Bing Crosby

Bing Crosby once sang a song with the line "It's cold outside." The man was onto something. Today a lot of people who probably haven't heard that song in years have greeted me with the words, "Staying warm?" The answer is yes. The real question, though, should be, "Staying awake?" in which case the answer would be no.


PART TWO
Bill Cosby

This morning I put on a sweater that looks like I stole it from The Cosby Show. Its colors and diamond pattern are perfectly fit for the Cos. It makes me feel a little self-conscious, but it's also an awesome sweater. Cosby or not, I will continue to wear this sweater.


And the winner is...
Bill Cosby.

Seven Minutes 'til the Apocalypse

In the latest oppressively idiotic development, The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists will be moving the hands on their "Doomsday Clock" next Wednesday.



The Doomsday Clock was born in the 40s and initially set at seven minutes to midnight, midnight representing armageddon. The clocks hands have been moved over a dozen times, and it is currently set at seven minutes to midnight.

Though we have traveled back and forth through doomstime, we haven't gone very far in either direction. In 1953, following U.S. and Soviet hydrogen bomb tests, we were two minutes away from disaster. In 1991, following the end of the Cold War, we were a safe seventeen minutes from the same disaster.

This approach seems flawed.

If I were in charge of the Doomsday Clock, I think I would have initially set it somewhere in the 200 to 1,000 years to midnight range. Setting the clock at seven minutes to midnight at the beginning of this project lacks foresight. But then again, hindsight is 20/20, seeing as we haven't been blown to kingdom come in the recent minutes.

I also think I would be more generous with clock adjustments. Seventeen minutes from utter catastrophe during one of the most peaceful times of our century hardly seems fair. I mean, were the 70s really that much worse?

I've wasted too much time talking about this. I need to live it up in my last four minutes of existence. Whoops, three minutes. I kinda wish I'd been more adequately prepared. Thanks, doomsday scientists.

Science Lesson

It's finally winter here in Minnesota. The current temperature in my area is 6 degrees Farenheit. While these frigid conditions often inspire fear and sadness in my heart, today they inspired curiosity. For well-respected, degree-holding scienticians like myself, cold weather can be a time for learning as well as bad attidudes and auto trouble.

Lesson #1: When it's cold, things freeze.
When I got in my scientician-approved rocket car this morning, I noticed that my glass bottle of science water was heavier. I tried to pour some of the science water out, but it was stuck. I studied this unusual condition for some time, and I eventually concluded that the water was frozen. Chalk up yet another victory for science.

Lesson #2: Water expands when it's frozen.
I returned to my rocket car several hours later to discover that the glass bottle of science water had cracked in several places. My doors were still locked, which meant that this was not the work of office hooligans. I remembered that I had screwed the top on extra tight before, and that made the answer clear. The science water, astonished at its frozenness, must have tried to escape the bottle. When it discovered that escape out the top was impossible, it must have tried to escape out the sides.

Lesson #3: You cannot science your lunch.
I forgot my lunch today, and I was hungry. I attempted to conjure up a sandwich with the power of science, but I was unable. As I am thoroughly convinced that my scientitious powers are mighty, I concluded that lunch-summoning is beyond the capability of science. Instead, I used the power of science to steal someone else's lunch.

Four Hundred

This is my four hundredth post. As of now, I have posted 400 times. Four hundred. How many hundred? Four. If you're not sure how many posts that is, it's four hundred.


It is shocking, isn't it, Peter Lorre?

Freakin' Snowboarding Movies

It has recently been brought to my attention that the "About Me" section of my profile is unoriginal. Some may even say it's plagiarized or "quoted." Apparently, somewhere among the three or four good jokes in the snowboarding/jungle safari epic Out Cold, one character said, "No regrets, that's my motto. Well, that and everybody Wang Chung tonight."

This sucks.

My defense:
First, I only saw Out Cold once, and the only part I remember is when Zach Galifinakis's character passes out and his friends put him in his car and spin it around. As far as I know, there was no comment about Wanging or Chunging.

Second, never would any part of my motto include the phrase "no regrets." It's possible that I do indeed have no regrets, but I would never say that. I would especially not put such a cliche beside the wisdom of Wang Chung.

Third, I do not rip off movies. I rip off 80s music. And the Simpsons. And British movies.

Anyhow, I am retiring my current motto. As of now, my motto is no longer "Everybody Wang Chung tonight." The new motto is, "Surf's up!"

International Appeal

I know you guys will not be as wowed by this as I am because I was incredibly wowed. The feeling I had was like the feeling you get when you first ride a bike, or like the feeling you got when you saw the moon landing, or like the feeling you get when you see your children born, except it was like all those combined times ten thousand.

I give you MY BLOG IN GERMAN (and much less excitingly in French).

Isn't this amazing? My blog can now be read in not its original language! Now people of two foreign tongues will know and share my motto! Hey Germany: Jeder Wang Chung heute abbend! PARTY!

I tried to do this with Spanish, Russian, and Arabic, but apparently this only works for French and German. Hooray Western Europe!

(Note: I did not actually try anything else.)

The Week Lapped Itself

Today feels like Monday again. Not next Monday, but the last Monday. The one that happened three long days ago.

We're all going to die.

2007: Year of the Otter

I know you have all anxiously awaited my return to electronic journaling. I assume you all have questions for me. Here are my answers to those questions.

Are you still alive?
Yes.

Are you going to blog at all this year?
Only because you won't shut up about it.

How was the trip?
It was OK.

What did you do?
I don't know. Nothing much.

That's it?
Shut up.

Are you serious?
I said it, didn't I?

Fine.
That's better.

No, wait. Come on.

I didn't mean it.

Please come back. I'm so lonely.

I'm sorry.

OK, geez. Just stop whining about it.
Thanks. It really means a lot.

I heard you fought a bear. Is that true?
Like most rumors, it has elements of truth. While I did not fight a bear, I did pretend to see a bear.

Did you watch any of the NFL playoffs?
Actually, I may have pretended to see a bear twice.

What did you get for Christmas?
Clothes. Some games. A book entitled "Things."

Why are you so boring right now?
I know you are, but what am I?

Wow, you have seriously lost it, haven't you?
This interview is over!