To Live in South Korea

The South Koreans are at it again.

First glowing cats, now this: a brawl in Parliament.

Actually, "brawl" is kind of an understatement. Here's what I think happened, based on the articles I skimmed: the ruling party introduced a bill for a free trade agreement with the U.S., but the opposition party was opposed (obviously, right?), so the ruling barricaded themselves in the committee room so that the opposition party couldn't get in, so the opposition party started fighting in the hallway and eventually took a sledgehammer to the door, and when they finally knocked the door in, they discovered that a lot of furniture had been piled up as a second line of defense.

This, friends, is why democracy is awesome. Maybe if this happened in the US, people would actually watch CSPAN.

Let's look at some pictures of the event, fresh with blogged commentary! What an original idea!


How do they know who to fight? They all look the same! I mean, they're all wearing the same thing. Also, if I were in this fight, I would be really upset at all those photographers and reporters for A) pinning us in so we don't even have room to throw a punch, and B) not helping out AT ALL.


What do you wanna bet that they're all shouting in perfect unison? If you're betting that they are, then you just lost however much money you bet on that. What do you wanna bet that they're not shouting at all, they're just waiting for someone to spoon-feed them a meatball? If that's the case, guy needs to open wider.


I don't need to comment on these pictures at all. This is completely absurd in its own right. This is a legislative situation that required the use of a sledgehammer. I'm lost for words. And yet it gets even more bizarre.


OK, let's not even talk about the fire hose. We can all tell that that's pretty stupid. But look at the bottom of the furniture-barrier pile. Is it just me, or is that a bed? That opens a whole new dimension of what-the-hell-is-going-on-here.


This, to me, is the pinnacle of the whole thing. The ruling party takes this standoff to a new level by spraying the opposition with a fire extinguisher. There is no hope for the opposition in this one. They're just effed. They can't even burn the building down cuz they know the guys inside can extinguish the fire.

And apparently this happens pretty regularly.

I Had a Dream

Last night I had a dream. I dreamt that it was 68 degrees outside. All the snow had melted, and all the grass was green. We went outside for a walk, and we laughed because life was full of joy. The lakes were beautiful. Everyone smiled as we walked by. It was comfortably warm, we didn't have a care in the world, and it would never be cold again.

It's quite possible that I died for a little while and went to heaven.

Then I woke up and it was less than 60 degrees in my house.

My subconscious is so cruel.

When We Were Armless

Have you ever imagined what it would be like if your arms fell off while you were playing basketball? I haven't...until now.

It'd probably suck a lot. You couldn't dribble, shoot or touch the ball. And if you went out for a burger later, wouldn't be able to pick up the burger and bring it to your mouth, nor could you pull out your wallet to pay for it. And when you went back to your apartment, you wouldn't be able to turn your key in the door, but even if you could, you wouldn't be able to turn the knob to open the door.

So I decided to make a list of things that armless people can do that people with arms cannot do. Here it is.

-Nothing.

Seriously, if our arms fell off in the middle of a basketball game, we'd be so screwed. We should probably go ahead and surrender to the Japanese now. At least then we'll still have our dignity, even if we don't have arms.

There's a Hole in the Bucket

HENRY: Hey Liza, there's a hole in the bucket.
LIZA: Cain't you see I'm busy, Henry?
HENRY: I'm tellin' you, Liza, there's a hole in the bucket!
LIZA: Well what do you want me to do about it?
HENRY: I--I just thought I should tell ya is all.
LIZA: Maybe insteada whinin' to me you could just go on and fix it!
HENRY: Well maybe if I knew how to fix it I would'na come whinin'!
LIZA: Henry, I am sick and tired of yer constant complainin'! I'm on my knees here in the kitchen day after day, and not once do I get a thank you, and now you come to me and tell me there's a hole in the bucket. Well excuse me, dear Henry, if I don't give a flying horse pattutie!
HENRY: But you know how I need the bucket, Liza!
LIZA: Henry! What did I just now say? And what do you need the gosh-darned bucket for, anyway?
HENRY: Them aliens out there said they wanted it.
LIZA: Why didn't you just give it to 'em?
HENRY: Like I been tellin' you, Liza, there's a hole in the bucket!
LIZA: But they're aliens, Henry! Don't they have a magic fix-up-the-bucket ray?
HENRY: Would I be tellin' you there was a hole in the bucket if the aliens fixed it up with a fancy ray gun?
LIZA: I wouldn't be surprised if you did.
(The aliens enter the kitchen)
ALIEN #1: We don't want your bucket anymore.
HENRY: How come?
ALIEN #1: We found one that didn't have a hole.
ALIEN #2: Also, we ate your dog.
(Exit aliens)
HENRY: If you'da just done fixed the bucket for me, Rupert'd still be alive.
LIZA: Just get a new bucket. I mean, dog. Get a new dog.

The Mayor

You may have noticed that I'm not writing as consistently as I used to. Let me assure you, faithful readers, that this is not my fault. It's because the Mayor of my blog, in an effort to reduce municipal spending, has cut the power to this blog for weeks at a time. I've invited him here to explain himself, and he's finally taken me up on the offer.

Hi, I'm the Mayor.


That's me right there in that picture, hanging out in my office. I had an aide take that picture after I bashed in that steel cube. I remember that being a good day--had a Wendy's hamburger, bashed that cube, watered the plants. Come to think of it, that's probably the best picture of me in existence.

But let's not dwell on how awesome I look, though it's certainly one of the main reasons I got elected. We're here to talk fiscal policy, an issue very important to my administration. The biggest challenged I've faced as the Mayor is getting this blog's budget under control. You would not believe the wild spending that's gone on here under the previous administration. Ice cream socials, square dancing, lizard racing. You name it.

I was elected to bring some discipline to this blog, but honestly, I've been really busy, so spending has gotten even more out of control. The writer of this blog would have you believe that I cut the power in order to save money, but actually, I just haven't paid our electric bill in months, so the energy company cut us off. Maybe if I hadn't eaten so many Wendy's hamburgers on the taxpayers' dime, this wouldn't have happened. But who am I kidding, those hamburgers are too good to pass up.

Hope this explains things. I'll see you next election season!

Your Wonderful Mayor,
Mayor Rod Stodder

Dear Man-Eating Catfish

Letters from various losers to a man-eating catfish


Dear Man-Eating Catfish,
Are you really a catfish? My friend told me you were a whale shark. Is my friend a liar?
Sincerely,
Jimmy

Dear Jimmy,
Let me answer your question with a question: why would they call me The Man-Eating Catfish if I was actually a whale shark? That seems pretty stupid to me. If I was a whale shark, it'd make a lot more sense to call me The Man-Eating Whale Shark.

In response to your second question, the only way I could know if your friend was a liar is if I ate him. Please mail him to China so I can eat him, and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Yours,
Man-Eating Catfish

Dear Man-Eating Catfish,
Why did you eat two of my friends?
Sincerely,
Boy in China without name

Dear Boy,
The first one was so tasty, I had to eat another one. It's like you and when you get to eat. Assuming you are distributed more than one potato chip, it tastes so good that you have to eat another one. So it is with me when I ate your friends. If you would like to be eaten, feel free to stop by later. I know you aren't busy because I ate your friends.

Yours,
Man-Eating Catfish

Dear Man-Eating Catfish,
My family is enslaved in a salt mine. We've been here as long as I can remember. I have heard tales of your heroism. Please come and rescue us.
Sincerely,
Slave #341

Dear Slave #341,
I think you made that all up just now. But I can't be sure unless I eat you. A lot of people think it's weird that I have to eat them to know if they're telling the truth, but they shouldn't make such a big deal about it. I could be of great help to your country's justice system by eating their witnesses in order to verify their testimony. I suggest you write to your home country's goverment and tell them about how I eat people.

Yours,
Man-Eating Catfish

Dear Man-Eating Catfish
I think you're a liar. Maybe you should eat yourself.

Dear Whoever-you-are,
That would be very stupid. A man-eating catfish eating a man-eating catfish? I've never heard of anything more absurd. Good luck with asking stupid questions in the future, and better luck getting eaten by me.

Yours,
Man-Eating Catfish

The Revenge of Winter 2: The Revenge

As you may or may not know, I hate winter. This year, though, it's gotten much worse. While in the past winter has only gone after me, this year it decided to go after the things I love.

This morning it took out my cattle herd.


Yes, that is a picture of my cows. You can barely even tell, after what winter did to them. Led them out into a valley and then dumped fourteen tons of snow on them. The ones that didn't freeze to death died from not being able to look at anything (a common cause of death among cows). I loved those cows so much.

First my ant farm and now this. Why are people and seasons so intent on destroying my attempts at farming? Pretty soon I'll have nothing left to farm but tofu and half-eaten beans. And if any of you even thinks of touching my tofu farm, I'ma break your arm right out of its universe.

The Life of a Sea Lion

When I was 13, I became a sea lion for about three weeks. That's what I want to tell you about today. I've kept it a secret for a long time because it was one of the more embarrassing times of my life, but it's time I come clean. I hope you can still respect me, even though you now know that I was once a sea lion.

I just woke up one day on a dock in San Francisco, and I was a sea lion. Though I wasn't expecting to become an animal two time zones away from my house, I wasn't that upset about it. I figured I'd just go with the flow, sit on the dock with the other sea lions. Once I adjusted to the fact that I was a sea lion, I figured I'd just spend my days resting on the dock and eating fish until maybe I'd turn back into myself. But life as a sea lion isn't that easy.

Apparently sea lions are responsible for the majority of car thefts along the whole West Coast. After about an hour of sitting around on the dock, one of the other sea lions spoke up. "Whose turn is it this week?" he said. I had no idea what he was talking about, but someone said, "It's Ninglemuffy's turn!" Someone else, presumably Ninglemuffy, said, "No, I stole the '95 Accord last week!"

It turned out to be my turn, of course. And how a sea lion steals cars without arms or legs is still beyond me. But I ended up pulling a guy out of his Saturn at a stoplight and taking the car. Drove it straight into the ocean, which is apparently what these guys do with the cars they steal. Since the ocean usually isn't clear, you can't tell, but there are something like 800 cars submerged in the San Francisco bay.

Three weeks later I woke up as myself. I explained it all to my brother and asked him if a sea lion had taken over my body for those weeks. He told me that I'd actually tried to become an Olympic speed skater. And truthfully, that wasn't too different from what I wanted to be all along.

To the Greenish Fields of Canada

Dear Sir or Madam,
I regrettably must decline your offer to apply for your credit card as I will be indisposed for approximately the next three and a half years. You see, I am in quite the bind, as I owe my cable company over one million dollars, and, in their attempts to collect, I have accidentally murdered at least three cable guys. (I say "at least" because I'm not sure how many cable people were in the cable van that exploded near my house.) As a result, I must flee the country and seek political asylum before law enforcement officials arrive.

You may think that a new credit card would be an integral asset for such a journey, to which I reply, cease your endless product-pushing! I am a human being. I am not a pumpkin, to be toyed with, abused, or mocked. I cry. I bleed. I am not very different from you, sir or madam. You and I, we don't need good interest rates to lead fulfilling lives. We just need to make it to Canada, and I should leave soon, at that.

I respect your position, though, credit card supplier company, and I can understand your confusion at receiving a letter refusing your offer, let alone a letter from an alleged felon with mountains of debt most likely never to be paid back. I write you because I respect you and have sympathy for your position. It's probably not an easy job, sending out letters that most people will never open, paying for so much postage and getting so little return. I want you to know that you are valued, unlike some employees of a certain cable company. Fight the good fight, sir or madam. Don't give up just because it's hard and you never get the recognition you deserve.

When I told some of my friends that I was going to Canada, they suggested that Mexico would be some hundreds of miles closer, but the Mexicans are not my kind of people. I belong with the Canadians and their eight-month winters, their plain-looking high school students, their lack of representation in the United Nations Security Council, and their presumably free cable. Maybe someday we'll meet their under its hazy skies and recount the days of credit card offers and running cross-country from bloated police officers. We'll laugh, and our grandchildren will play together in Canada's relatively clean, infrequently mowed fields.

Until then,
Robert Louis Stevenson

Rock Bands of the '80s Interview Series: Part 1

Interview with REO Speedwagon

ME: Thanks for coming, guys!
DAVE AMATO: What? Where the hell are we?
KEVIN CRONIN: Mmmhmm...grmmm....
DAVE AMATO: Wake up, Kevin!
NEAL DOUGHTY: Kevin! Wake up!
KEVIN CRONIN: What? What's going on?
NEAL DOUGHTY: We don't know. We just woke up here too.
BRUCE HALL: Hey, let us go, man!
ME: So what would you say are your guys' biggest influences?
KEVIN CRONIN: Was I drugged?
DAVE AMATO: We all were.
BRUCE HALL: We're all tied up too!
KEVIN CRONIN: Why is it so dark? Where's Bryan?
BRYAN HITT: Hello?
NEAL DOUGHTY: Bryan? Are you awake?
BRYAN HITT: I think so. Are we still playing that show tonight?
DAVE AMATO: I don't know, Bryan. I don't know.
BRUCE HALL: So are you gonna untie us, or what?
ME: Guys, guys, calm down. Let's talk about your first album.
NEAL DOUGHTY: This guy's completely insane.
BRUCE HALL: We're gonna have to try to escape. Bryan, you distract him while we make a run for it.
BRYAN HITT: How come I'm always the distraction?
KEVIN CRONIN: Cuz you didn't play on any of our good albums.
BRYAN HITT: Neither did Dave.
DAVE AMATO: Shut up!
KEVIN CRONIN: Oh man, I think I'm gonna throw up.
BRUCE HALL: Are you gonna torture us or something, man?
ME: Great story, fellas. Well, that's all the time we have! Thanks for making it out here, REO Speedwagon. (Gets up and leaves)
BRUCE HALL: Hey! You can't just leave us here! We're REO Speedwagon!
NEAL DOUGHTY: Technically only Kevin and I are REO Speedwagon. We're the only original members.
KEVIN CRONIN: (pukes all over himself)
BRYAN HITT: There's no way out, is there?
DAVE AMATO: Guys, since we may not make it out of here alive, I just want to say, I'm sorry for writing "Take it on the Run."
NEAL DOUGHTY: Dude, Gary wrote that song.
DAVE AMATO: I know, but since I took his place, I take responsibility for it.
NEAL DOUGHTY: You're such a douchebag. If I didn't play keyboards, I would so kick you out of the band.
BRYAN HITT: Guys?
BRUCE HALL: Yeah Bryan?
BRYAN HITT: Do you think anybody's gonna miss us?
(pause, during which Kevin mumbles the lyrics to "Keep on Loving You" to himself)
NEAL DOUGHTY: No.
BRUCE HALL: Yeah, probably not.
KEVIN CRONIN: I've wasted my life.

The War for Wikipedia

Gordon Remote was hanging out in the high school library one day, bored, when all of a sudden it hit him: why not rally the masses for an all-out assault on Wikipedia? It was just there on the Internet, waiting to be prank-edited en masse. He had made several fake edits of his own only to check back five minutes later to see they'd been reversed. This time, though, he'd get so many people together that the editors couldn't possibly keep up.

The plan came together so effortlessly it was like it had been divinely inspired: start a facebook event that declared the date of the attack, invite all his nerdo facebook friends to join in, have them invite all their nerdo friends, and then wait for the day when they could go at it. He ran to the computer room and created the event. "The War for Wikipedia," he called it. A self-important smile crept across his face as he filled in the details. The date was set: 1/11.

Later that day, a Wikipedia editor performed a facebook search for "Wikipedia," a task the staff was required to do once every five minutes every day. When this editor discovered the facebook event so recently created, he shuddered in horror. He quickly alerted the rest of the Wikipedia super-staff.

"What are we going to do?" he asked.
"The only thing we can do," the Wikipedia boss answered. "Start a counter-event on facebook and get as many people as we can to join our side and fight for the truth and sanctity of freely editable information."

Over the following weeks, the facebook events' attendance grew, but it was clear from the beginning that Wikipedia would be fighting an uphill battle against Gordon and the vandals. By the day before the attack, the latter group, nicknamed "The Lunchroom Liberators," outnumbered the former, "The Champions of Wiki," at least 3:1. It seemed the Wikipedians would have too much to handle.

"I don't think I can do it," said one of the more cowardly Wikipedians. "There are too many of them."
"We have to fight, Jimmy. We can't let those commies do whatever they want."
"I...I guess you're right."
"That's the spirit, Jimmy. Now keep practicing your edit maneuvers. We all need to ready for tomorrow."

They waited for the battle in the morning. The Wikipedia staff and their recruits gathered in computer rooms around the country, anxiously refreshing the edit history of popular articles, waiting for the first shot to be fired. Then it came--somebody replaced every other word of the Twyla Tharp article with the word "fart." So the editing and re-editing began.

After hours of fiercely chasing down and undoing edits, the Wikipedians lost pace. The work of the vandals nearly doubled, then tripled, as reinforcements arrived. The Wikipedians tried to keep up, but it seemed like the effort was lost. They fought valiantly into the night, but at approximately 9:05 PM, they surrendered.

Gordon demanded at first that he be declared King of the Internet with power to do virtually anything he saw fit. When they informed him that such a position was impossible to hold, he settled on acquiring dominion over the Wiktionary and getting every other word in Wikipedia changed to "fart."

And peace was once again restored to the Internets.

Prophet Ben

Holy canoli, guys. I just noticed that I correctly picked the winner of the World Series at the beginning of July. The post in which I made the prediction is mostly garbage, but check out the end where I suggest that we celebrate The Day Before Independence Day with the Phillies winning the World Series. I was right!

Even though I don't really follow baseball, and I wasn't even trying to make a pick for the World Series, this is pretty amazing. At the time I said that, the Phillies were a relatively mediocre 44-39, and they'd just come off a streak where they only won 2 of their last 13. It was a gutsy pick, but it paid off.

While I still have this spirit of prophecy, I'd like to make a few other bold predictions. Feel free to react as if these were true, because they almost certainly will be at some point in the future.

-Mustard will overtake ketchup as the most popular condiment.
-Australia will replace the United States as the dominant world power.
-Brazil will become the first country to send a samba musician to the moon.
-Zombies will take over the entirety of Europe and Asia, but Africa will be spared because the zombies are afraid of water and will not cross the Suez canal.
-Huey Lewis and the News will make a dramatic comeback, and their album will reach number one on the billboard charts. Shortly thereafter they will begin a war against all other musicians to cement their position at the top.
-Dogs will finally learn to talk.

Christine + Jim

Recently, Jim and Christine, a couple good friends of mine who happen to be getting married (and who appear to have stopped blogging), asked me to write the history of their relationship and read it at their wedding. I'm pretty sure only about half the wedding party and a couple other people would laugh, so I'm blogging it as a test run. These things tend to work better in writing (my speech at my friend's wedding did not go over well), but let me know if it totally sucks turtles.

This is truly--and literally--a match made in the heavens. Jim was born on Mars, and Christine was born on Venus (which, incidentally, explains why Christine loves volcanoes and acid rain and why Jim is red). Contrary to popular convention that suggest men are from Mars and women are from Venus, these two were the first human beings ever born on either planet. Shortly after their birth, they were launched toward the earth on a collision course with love.

I knew Christine fairly well in junior high and high school. I remember one time when we were hanging out in Uptown and she went to see that crazy fortune teller. Christine went in alone, and when she came out, she said the fortune teller told her that she'd fall in love with a man named James Schofield. That was bad news for our friend Geronimo McRobots, who had a crush on Christine at the time, though after an Internet search for James Schofield produced no results, he still foolishly believed he had a chance. The fortune teller also told Christine that her first born child would be raised by wolves...but only time will tell on that one.

I've only known Jim for a couple years, and I still remember when we first met. It was at a men's retreat in the Pacific Northwest. We were all crying and sharing our feelings, when all of a sudden a giant bear broke through the wall and swallowed one of our friends whole. Most of us were too frightened to do anything, but Jim leaped into action. He threw his hatchet at the bear, nailing it right in the skull, and then he ripped apart the bear's chest and stomach with his bare hands, setting our friend free. I remember thinking, this guy might be good for my friend Christine. You may be interested to know that they served that very bear for the wedding dinner.

Then there was that fateful moment when Jim and Christine first met, about an hour ago. How lucky they are to have found each other, and that everybody else there was so nicely dressed.

Here's to you, Jim and Christine! I look forward to being a frequent and unwelcome guest at your house for the rest of your lives!

First Coffee in Two Years

Almost two years ago, I quit coffee forever. I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it, and all my closest friends had their doubts, and today I finally proved them right. After almost two full years of not drinking coffee and sticking to tea, I caved.

And it's been a total disaster. I seriously feel like my limbs are all going to break free of my body and fly away at any second, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's more like I'm on speed or cocaine.

The problem with having all this nervous energy is not having anywhere to channel it. If you've read much of this blog, you know that my job requires almost no actual work, so it's not like I can just be more productive than usual. Looks like all I have is blogging. And while caffeine gives me energy, it does not give me motivation to blog more.

See you tomorrow if my heart doesn't explode

The Tyranny of Cats

Dear Cat Fancy Magazine,
Thank you for printing quality material month after month. I have a subscription, and when each new issue arrives, my cat Buttons and I sit down and read the whole thing together. The only thing missing is a crossword puzzle, and I believe Buttons is ready for it. He seems to be getting bored with the jumble. The point being, we are both great fans of your work.

However, I have two complaints. First, the pictures your magazines publishes set the standard of cat beauty far too high, and because of this, Buttons has developed an eating disorder. All too often when we find pictures of skinny cats in your magazine, Buttons turns to me, and I always ask him, "How come you're so much fatter than those cats?" only to later find a pile of puke on my pillow. Your depiction of the cat form is doing serious physical, emotional, and psychological damage to cats around the world.

Second, why are there no dogs in your magazine? Cats are not the only household pet, you know. I personally don't own a dog--Buttons wouldn't have it. But what about the millions of dog owners out there who wish they could sit down with their dogs and read Cat Fancy together? I know you don't care much about the bottom line, but including some dogs could potentially double your readership!

Sincerely,
Weymouth Hanley Bruderson

--------------------------

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Bruderson,
Thank you for your letter. Your idea of pumping our magazine full of dogs and fatter cats is, on the surface, one of the worst ideas we've ever heard. But as we're trying to appeal more to the hipsters and indie kids and other cat-owning losers, exploiting the irony angle may be the way to go.

Please do not think that your letter contained any modicum of intelligence or held any actual merit for our magazine. This is purely an accident of circumstance. We needed to adapt to the economy, and you are an idiot. Surely this would never have worked in any other situation, but time makes fools of us all.

Also, I am a cat. Meow.

Yours,
Monsieur Paisely Q. Geraldo

Casper the Friendly City in Wyoming

Welcome to Casper, Wyoming. We're glad you came, even if you might not be. We have several facts about our city with which to bore you.

Did you know that Casper was once the largest city in the state of Wyoming? It is now the second-largest, after Cheyenne, Wyoming's other city.

The original Fort Casper was founded in the mid-19th century as a sort of rest stop for pioneers on the way to better places. At one point it served as the base of operation for a military garrison in charge of guarding the telegraph and mail service.

In the 1840s Casper was the location where several ferries brought settlers across the North Platte River. Later, a bridge was built across the river, and the fort was decomissioned and renamed Platte Bridge Station.

Casper once figured prominently in the Western American sheep industry, though it was not quite as prominent as Moorcroft or Routt County. Casper is also home to one of the largest malls in central Wyoming.

At least two former Major League Baseball players have made their homes in Casper at one time or another.

Be sure to visit Casper again in the not-too-distant future!

Haircut

I got a haircut this weekend. The following conversations about it did not actually happen.

SOMEBODY: Hey, you got a haircut.
HAIRCUT BEN: Nope.
SOMEBODY: Really? I swear you got a haircut. Unless...oh wait, I thought you were someone else.
HAIRCUT BEN: No, I was joking. I did get a haircut.
SOMEBODY: Wait a second, you're that guy that stole my girlfriend!
HAIRCUT BEN: No, that wasn't me. I'm just the guy with a haircut.
SOMEBODY: Sorry, honest mistake. The guy who stole my girlfriend gets haircuts all the time.

SOMEBODY: Did you get a haircut?
HAIRCUT BEN: My hair has always been this short.
SOMEBODY: No, dude, it used to be like two inches longer than that.
HAIRCUT BEN: I'm serious. I've never had long hair. I'll show you my driver's license.
SOMEBDOY: Whatever, man, if you wanna be--
Haircut Ben slips on a banana peel and falls, breaking his neck, and exposing him to be an evil robot in disguise.
SOMEBODY: Oh. He was an evil robot.
REAL BEN: Hey guys.
SOMEBODY: Thank God you didn't get a haircut.
REAL BEN: Yep. Oh, looks like that evil robot got a haircut though.
SOMEBODY: Really? It said its hair was always that short.

SOMEBODY: Whoa.
HAIRCUT BEN: Whoa what?
SOMEBODY: You got a haircut.
HAIRCUT BEN: Actually, I traded my hair.
SOMEBODY: For what? A stupid face? laughs with his punk friends
HAIRCUT BEN: I traded it to a dragon, actually.
SOMEBODY: A dragon?
HAIRCUT BEN: Yeah. He wanted some hair, and I figured I'd could use a dragon to incinerate my enemies.
SOMEBODY: Why does a dragon want hair?
Dragon flies in and incinerates them all, including Haircut Ben

SOMEBODY: Why don't you get a haircut, hippie?
HAIRCUT BEN: I did.
SOMEBODY: Oh sorry, I was talking to that hippie over there.
HAIRCUT BEN: Oh, sorry about that. I'm just really excited about this haircut I just got.
SOMEBODY: And well you should be. That's gotta be the best haircut I've seen in ten years.
HAIRCUT BEN: Thank you.
SOMEBODY: No, thank YOU. You just made my day.

First Snow

Today marks the first snow of this winter. Normally, I'd be pretty upset. After it snowed twice in May--May--snow and I haven't gotten along very well. But after a lesson from my friend Jim on being more joyful, I've compiled a list of things I like about snow.

-It looks pretty on the trees.
-It makes the day look brighter.
-It can't murder you while you sleep.
-You can go sledding on it.
-It doesn't hurt very much when it lands on you.
-It melts eventually.
-It's better than dinosaurs coming to life and breathing fire on everything (but not by much).
-It only snows for six months out of the year.
-I can stay inside and avoid it forever if I want.

Coconut Face

Hey everybody, check it out! It's the Duke of Coconuts!


I think he has something to say.

"I, the Duke of Coconuts, hereby declare today to be coconut day! Free coconuts for everyone!"

And look! He's got a monocle!

You're welcome.

Voting: A Retrospective

I voted at about 7:45 this morning, almost an hour after I got in line. But hey, the system works, unless my write-in vote for Soil and Water Commissioner ends up breaking the ballot box. But if you wanna make an omelet, you gotta break a few eggs.

Anyway, in celebration of our democratic system, I've decided to post a little look at the history of the American vote. I hope you enjoy it as much as I am indifferent to it (which is quite a lot).

1820: To prove that one vote indeed makes a difference, John Quincy Adams cast a decisive vote in the electoral college against incumbent president James Monroe. He voted for himself. Monroe won in a landslide, 228-1.

1824: In the first election to be decided by the House of Representatives, John Quincy Adams defeated Andrew Jackson, despite the fact that Jackson received more votes in the electoral college, though neither had a majority. Four states opted to go without a popular vote that year, realizing its utter futility.

1876: In one of the most controversial elections in American history, Rutherford B. Hayes stole the election from Samuel J. Tilden, though Tilden won the popular vote. With three states in dispute, Tilden also held the majority in the electoral college. The votes in those states have still never been counted accurately, and a winner of 1876 election has yet to be declared.

1948: With Republican Thomas Dewey heavily favored over incumbent Democrat Harry Truman, the American voter outsmarted even the candidates themselves and elected Truman in one of the greatest election upsets in history. Pollsters have since refined their craft to restore faith in the polling system so that everyone can be sure of the results weeks before the election and that such a stirring finish will never happen again.

1973: Richard Nixon resigns from the office of president, elevating Gerald Ford to the position, making Ford the only president to never have won a national election. When he ran for a second term (not re-election, since he'd never been elected), the people elected Jimmy Carter, proving that voting does not always produce the superior result.

Enjoy your election day, everybody!

Nature's Wonders

Wanna guess what this picture is? Give up? It's a picture of a Burmese Python that exploded after it ate an alligator in the Florida Everglades. That's the back end of a gator hanging out the middle of the snake. Also, the python was decapitated at some point.

According to National Geographic News:
"Wildlife researchers with the South Florida Natural Resources Center found the dead, headless python in October 2005 after it apparently tried to digest a 6-foot-long (2-meter-long) American alligator. The mostly intact dead gator was found sticking out of a hole in the midsection of the python, and wads of gator skin were found in the snake's gastrointestinal tract."

And I thought whale explosions were cool. The only way this would have been better is if the alligator subsequently exploded, or maybe if the snake had tried to eat two alligators.

This story is pretty cool in its own right, but seriously, "headless python"? How the heck did that happen? The whole "python couldn't hold its gator down" theory doesn't account for a decapitation. Some researchers--people with real science careers--suggested that the beheading was a retaliation job by another alligator. However, according to other real scientists, alligators don't make such clean cuts when they rip the heads off their prey. We may never know what really happened, but nature is a mystery, so don't let it bug you.

And while we're wondering what happened to the snake's head, we're missing the real question: what is a Burmese Python doing so far from its native Burma (now Myanmar)? The answer: disgruntled python owners are dumping their pets in the Florida swamp. I am not making this up. In a couple decades, we are going to have a full-blown Burmese Python crisis on our hands. Why are the presidential candidates not addressing this?

Halloween Game Show

Well, it's Halloween for the fourth year in a row, which means that we should probably do something special here at my blog. I decided to sponsor a Halloween Game Show, something similar to that dating show with the three bachelors and the lady who gets to pick one of them to be her boyfriend. Except the three bachelors are Dracula, a zombie, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I call it "Hallo-win a Date with a Monster!"

GIRL: So, bachelor number 1.
DRACULA: Hiya.
GIRL: What's your idea of the perfect date?
DRACULA: Baby, anything with you would be the perfect date, as long as it ends with me sucking your blood and you joining my ever-growing army of the undead.
GIRL: Oh, um, I'm not really into politics.
DRACULA: Baby, the only politics I'm talking about is the politics of sucking your blood and getting you into my ever-growing army of the undead.
GIRL: Trying to talk me into bed, huh? I'm not that kind of girl. On to bachelor number 2.
ZOMBIE: Grrghh...
GIRL: Which do you look for more in a girl--brains or body?
ZOMBIE: BRAINS.
GIRL: Good answer. Are you just pretending to be sensitive, or is this the real you?
ZOMBIE: BRAINS!!
GIRL: Then on a date, how would you let me know that you're into my brains?
DRACULA: Because he's going to eat them!
GIRL: You had your chance, bachelor number 1.
ZOMBIE: Grrhmmm...brains.
GIRL: OK, let's see what bachelor number 3 has to offer.
CREATURE: I'm gonna make bachelor number 2 look like that fat guy from those Austin Powers movies.
GIRL: You sound pretty confident.
CREATURE: Believe me, if you could see these other contestants, you'd be confident too.
DRACULA: You're a fish-person! At least we're wearing clothes!
GIRL: Hmm...already down to the birthday suit, huh bachelor number 3?
CREATURE: You'll have to find out for yourself, honey.
GIRL: (blushing a little) OK, so your question. If we got married, where would we spend our honeymoon?
CREATURE: Probably Jamaica, cuz you're Ja-makin' me crazy!
DRACULA: BOOOOO!!
ZOMBIE: (getting up, staggering around) BRAINS!
GIRL: Whoa, calm down fellas.
CREATURE: Just because I've fallen in love with you and plan to drag you back to Amazonian lagoon doesn't mean I can't make bad puns.
ZOMBIE: Muuurrhh! BRAINS!!
GIRL: Bachelor number 2, I'm yours!
Zombie proceeds to eat girl's brains, she joins his army of the undead instead of Dracula's, which frustrates Dracula SO MUCH, and the Creature, realizing that there are no options left to him, leaves to star in a remake of his original film with Bill Paxton.

I Wish I Were Pac-Man

Life would be so much easier if I were Pac-Man.


Think about it. All I'd have to do is eat pellets, fruit, and pretzels all day. No more office, no more "casual Fridays." Just beeping along, chomping on whatever I come across.

Yeah, there are the ghosts, but every life has to face some adversity. I probably wouldn't want to be Pac-Man if there wasn't at least a little bit of a struggle. And I can deal with ghosts. Desk jockeying, however, is getting to be too much for me.

The only thing I'd miss is the third dimension. I've really come to cherish that third dimension. The other two are OK, don't get me wrong, but they're not much without the third. But I'm pretty sure Pac-Man isn't as cool in three dimensions. I'll just have to deal with it.

Miss Pac-Man seems all right too.

Haystack: Results

I spent the last three days (including the whole weekend) immersed in a haystack, looking for things. A friend dared me to do it, after a really long and bizarre needle-in-a-haystack joke he told me. It was probably the worst non-racist joke I've ever heard.

But back to the haystack. Before I tell you what I found there, I want to say that this was easily one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life. Three days in a haystack with no food or water, and it's really cold out, and haystacks are scratchy. Still I doubt I would have done anything better with my weekend.

What I found in the haystack:
-A puppy (Found that one within the first ten minutes, highlight of the weekend. But it ran away as soon as I released it from the haystack.)
-Bird poop
-Hay
-The smell of hay
-This itch that is still driving me crazy
-A lot of dirt
-A sombrero
-A single fingernail clipping
-Straw
-A talking piece of hay (It told me that it used to be a person before it turned into a piece of hay.)
-Different-smelling hay

If I keep skipping work for stuff like this, I'm definitely going to get fired. But I may get fired sooner for smelling like hay.

Hotcakes

This morning I made the world's largest pancake*.


It was delicious, and I have leftovers that will last me and all of Minneapolis for the rest of our collective lifetimes. Now more than ever does it suck to live in the suburbs. It also sucks to not own a microwave, because no one wants to eat cold pancakes.

You may be wondering a number of things about this pancake, but I'd like to encourage you to just enjoy its splendor. Don't worry about how I would flip a giant pancake, where I would cook it, or exactly how big it was. Just look at it. Dream about it. And if you live in the city, you can try some of it. I bet you wish you had a giant pancake in Apple Valley now, don't you?

*The pancake featured in this picture is actually a different pancake than the one I made. I don't take credit for this 2.5 ton Canadian endeavor, because the Canadians are lame. Also, they probably used goat eggs instead of real eggs.

Adventures in Polling

Seeing as everyone in the world (as far as I know) won't shut up about the upcoming election, I can't think about anything else. And though I'm growing increasingly opposed to democracy in general, I recently decided to get involved and see what all this to-do is about. That's right, I conducted my own poll.

Polling is a very complicated process, requiring all kinds of controls and measures to make sure the poll isn't skewed in any way. Normally I would quit such a difficult endeavor within a few minutes, but since this seems important to the future of our country, I decided to stick with it. And now I can report my results.

YOU: 0% of votes
EVERYONE BUT YOU: 100% of votes

Some analysis
Unlike most recent polls, mine does not predict a clear winner. But one thing is clear: the number one loser in this election will be you. This year, American voters prefer to vote for anyone else. Aside from the occasional accidental vote or votes from felons that will ultimately not count, no one will be voting for you. You lose.

Why?
It's not personal or anything. It's probably because everyone else has run more successful campaigns. Also, you made several inappropriate comments about Jenny's mom when you were in junior high, so anyone who would have considered voting for you decided to not vote for you instead. So I guess it is kind of personal.

Your political future
Most politicians no longer make viable candidates after losing a bid for the presidency, and you should prove no exception to the rule. In future elections, people will only remember how badly you blew it 2008 (remember--you only got 0% of votes). However, you may have a bright political future on the municipal level. I envision slogans like, "I ran for president, so I'd make a pretty good city councilperson," or, "I meant to run for city council last time!"

Democracy in Action

While this whole election thing has comlpetely burned me out on democracy in general, I'm not sure I can stand to make fun of it anymore. I can only take so much boring crap that I can't relate to before I start to think I'd be better off somewhere like Jupiter.

There are some non-incessantly-boring things still going on in this country, though. Like, the race for PRESIDENT OF MONKEYS.

It's Smooth Bob O'Chimpsalot vs. Clyde Pollock-Huckleberry. Let's take a look at their campaigns to this point.

Clyde Pollock-Huckleberry


On the Economy: "Look at my fancy suit! Bananas for everyone!"
On Healthcare: "Doctors are bad!"
On Education: "I have no idea how I learned to talk. Also, don't I need an MBA for this job?"

Smooth Bob O'Chimpsalot


One the Economy: "I'm the richest monkey who ever lived!"
On Healthcare: "One time I went to hospital when I broke my leg doing a stunt on a movie set. I'm in the movies!!"
On Education: "Who needs school when you're RICH?"


This is ABSOLUTELY RIVETING. Get off your lazy butts, CNN, and cover some real news for once!

A World Gone Mad

In the midst of a global economic catastrophe, a presidential election that far too many people seem to care about, and a new Star Trek movie, I don't think anyone would doubt that society as we know it is going to collapse very soon. But these signs of the apocalypse are not as disturbing as some others that are actually much more obvious.

Canadian Geese


They're everywhere! The only thing more ubiquitous than Canadian Geese is goose poop. Pretty soon we'll all be buried in it. Not to mention that I'm pretty sure Canadian Geese are on a campaign to eliminate every other variety of goose from the geosphere. Seriously, when was the last time you heard about a non-Canadian goose? I'd also like to ask, how come the Canadian Geese don't go back to Canada where they belong?

The Veritable End of PassengerRailroad Travel


Granted, I still know some people who take the train, but it's pretty much only when taking any other form of transportation would be the stupidest thing you could do in that situation. Remember the Golden Age of American History when towns would boom or bust based on the placement of a railroad line? Of course you don't, cuz that hasn't been the case for almost 150 years. But the world was probably a lot safer from apocalypses back then.

Three Teams from Extremely Warm Climates and the Detroit Red Wings Winning the Stanley Cup over the Last Four Seasons


I'm not usually a fan of professional hockey, but I've grown an interest because of the apocalyptic implications of the championship. Isn't it a little bizarre that teams from California, Florida, and North Carolina won the Stanley Cup in three of the last four years? Where do they practice? Three miles beneath the surface of the earth? Sounds diabolical to me. And something is wrong with the universe when Detroit succeeds at anything (except for basketball and destroying the economy).

Bingo History

This day in Bingo history...

On October 15th, 1992, exactly sixteen years ago today, there occurred what is known as the St. Augustine's Retirement Center Bingo Massacre of '92 (not to be confused with St. Benedict's Church Bingo Massacre that occurred three years earlier) when Agnes Hochmeier won what became the last Bingo match ever played in St. Augustine's.

Several rounds into this particular match came the "blackout" round, in which participants try to cover every space on their board. Many people had already won prizes, but among the two who had not yet won were Agnes Hochmeier and Richard Charleston. As the round went on, it became clear that Agnes and Richard were in a dead heat for the win, and when the announcer called "B-12," Agnes shouted, "Bingo!" at the top of her feeble lungs.

The agony of this particular defeat burned Richard far more than any other he had yet known. He needed only one more square to cover his board, and had the announcer called "O-63," that Bingo win would have been his. And since he had never been so close to a "blackout" win before, he was ready to go crazy on the place.

And go crazy he did. He yelled like a beast out of hell and overturned his Bingo table. He embarked on a maniacal rampage that involved pushing everybody else's Bingo cards on the floor, pulling the hair of his fellow residents, punching out the Bingo announcer, and trying to suck Agnes' blood like a vampire. Had his tantrum not taken so much of his energy, he may have succeeded in killing Anges and burning the whole building down, but he passed out shortly after he leapt at his Bingo rival's neck.

Two hours later a staff member arrived to escort the residents to dinner. In the aftermath of the massacre, however, most of the residents were not as hungry as usual. After dinner, Agnes was declared the winner and awarded her prize. Richard was given a one-hour timeout during social time the next day. Bingo was banned forever.

Rivers and Streams

Today's commute to and from work is far too jammed and tedious. According to a recent survey, the average American owns 2.5 cars and drives all of them to work every day, thus filling our streets and highways with several unmanned vehicles. I have tried to convince some American drivers to take only one car to work, but to no avail.

In lieu of a more reasonable solution, then, I suggest we take row boats to work!


The rivers and streams that fill our modern metropolises are currently wide open for the row boat commuter. Sure, they may not take you directly to your destination, but the benefits of taking a row boat to work (being in a row boat, rowing your own boat, no pollution) cancel out the fact that you may never arrive at work.

And rowboats are cheap! You could probably make your own out of aluminum foil and balsa wood for less than $20! Or, for those of you who are used to the luxury vehicles, you could purchase your own pre-made rowboat for what is probably a totally reasonable price.

If you ever see me driving to work again, please yell at me for my failure to take a row boat. And I will yell back something to the effect of, "You're right! Thank you, model citizen," or "How come you're not taking a row boat to work?"

Clash of the Titans

Whatever happened to Mt. Olympus? I mean, I know those Greek gods weren't real and everything, but they made for some pretty interesting stories. You could make a great sitcom about the misadventures of Zues and Hera. But it seems like everybody cares more about the latest presidential election than what the fake gods might be doing if they were starring on a network television show. For shame, America.

Let's take a brief glimpse into what this sitcom might look like. I haven't decided what to call it. I'm thinking something along the lines of The Gods Are Married. That's creative, right?

Zeus enters his palace home on Mt. Olympus.
HERA: Where have you been?
ZEUS: Sorry I'm late, honey. Hephaestus challenged me to a drinking contest again.
HERA: (laughing) If only mankind could hold its liquor like the gods can.
ZEUS: But alcoholism is hilarious. Why do you think I created it?
fake audience laughter
HERA: How come you have feathers all over you?
ZEUS: Um...after all the drinking, we, um, went to the chicken factory--
HERA: You didn't transform into a swan and rape that poor girl again, did you?
ZEUS: Well, so what if I did. I like being a swan.
HERA: Last time you did that, she gave birth to Helen, and the whole civilized world practically destroyed itself because she was so beautiful.
ZEUS: Hehe, yeah, that was pretty great.
fake audience laughter again
HERA: You should know better than to let that happen again.
ZEUS: Well maybe if I was getting any at home I wouldn't have to take the form of a swan and knock up the human chicks.
fake audience oohs
HERA: Keep it up, mister, and I'll wipe out every female on the planet.
ZEUS: That's what she said.
fake audience laughter
Zeus's head explodes, and Athena is born.

Fun with History

My favorite thing about the Internets is how they're totally public domain. Anybody can say anything they want without having to back themselves up with facts or credible witnesses, and people will take it seriously. I'm pretty sure this is what society has always wanted but never been able to express.

So today, while reading about Egyptian demagogue Anwar Sadat, I saw a brilliant example of this. At the end of the summary paragraph at the top of the page, some adorable little punk had added, "All-around cool guy Anwar Williams is named after him." I don't know who Anwar Williams is, and if the Internets weren't giving every free-range chicken a voice, then I never would have.

The real crime is that this comment lasted not two minutes before it was deleted. Totally bogus. How will the Internets survive if they're so vigilantly moderated? Just like a chicken is not as delicious if it is not given free range, so a random comment is not as hilarious if it is deleted.

And we're worried about the economy. If this is how we treat our Internets, we don't deserve an economy.

Hot Air Balloon Ride

Who wants to go for a hot air balloon ride?


I certainly do, and now I can whenever I want, thanks to my new hot air balloon pilot's license! I decided to take today off from work and go through an intense course in hot air balloon pilot training. Whether or not it was worth it, only time will tell.

I can't wait to spend the rest of this fall days floating above the colored trees, eating a sandiwch, reminiscing about life on the ground. I'll make friends with the hawks and the eagles, and they'll tell me tales of old kings and talking volcanoes. Of course I'll never come down because it's way too hard to land a hot air balloon.

One day, when I'm really old and my fame for being that old guy in the hot air balloon has spread around the country, I'll have a really long beard that will hang outside of the hot air balloon, and it will get caught in the power lines and my hot air balloon will crash and burn. There will be a blackout in the whole city and everybody will miss the series finale of Lost. Just like the prophets foretold. If only I had listened to them and not skipped work today and gotten my hot air balloon pilot's license.

Bridges

I drove over the new 35W bridge for the first time last week. It was like a trip down memory lane, back when I used to take the old bridge to friends' houses. Those were simpler times. Anyway, I like the new bridge. It definitely feels a lot sturdier.

But I am deathly afraid that this new bridge is ripe for troll habitation. There weren't any problems with trolls on the old bridge, but I'm not so sure about this new one. What if some billy goats try and cross the bridge? I don't know how that story ends, but those goats may have goaded the troll into eating everyone it sees.

The other thing I hate about trolls is the troll tax. As if living with the threat of being eaten by trolls isn't enough, you also have to pay the troll tax. And what does it pay for? Wildlife protection. I can protect my own wildlife without paying the trolls for it, thank you very much.

I, for one, refuse to pay the troll tax. What are you going to do about it, America?

Panic Day!

Did you hear that Congress rejected the bailout plan? And did you also hear that stocks took a record-breaking single-day drop? And have you read any hilarious blog entries about it yet?

Me neither. Mostly the hilarious blog entry part, though. Which is a shame, cuz what's funnier than a global economic collapse? Maybe guinea pigs being shot out of cannons, but that's all I could think of.


This is the funniest cartoon I could find about the economic crisis. My favorite part is, "Bank failures continue."

We're dead.

Cake vs. Pie

When I was a young lad, I always hated pie and loved cake (unless it was angelfood cake, which is gross). Eventually, I came to see the two as polar opposites, like matter and anti-matter. This, of course, is not true.

But wouldn't it be hilarious if they were polar opposites? It would probably start with extended families being divided over serving pie at Thanksgiving or cake at some birthday party, then there'd be wars over which dessert should be served more often, and pretty soon the universe would end when cake and pie touched each other. Intense.

So hey, how come people never eat birthday pie? How come it's always birthday cake? If it's because falling face-first into a cake is safer than falling face-first into a pie, then that was remarkably well-thought out by whoever thought it out.

Ode to Natural Flavoring

When I take a drink of this soda,
Sometimes I wonder what it tastes like.
Most of the time it's impossible to tell
What the flavor might be. Maybe it's
Chocolate, or pineapple, or granite,
And I've never tasted granite before,
So I guess if that's the flavor they used,
I would be forever stumped.
Indeed, it could very well be any of those,
For this soda refuses to reveal
The secrets of its deliciousness.
But then again, it probably isn't
Any flavor I could name, because
The flavors are all artificial, which means
I might not be tasting anything at all.

Oh, artificial flavoring, you poison
My sodas and crackers and jellies
With, I don't know, platypus eyes?
You seduce me with something delicious,
And I eat it, but you won't tell me
What you used to make it so tasty.
It's really not fair. Stop being a jerk.
Are you from outer space? If so,
We should completely destroy outer space
So I can go back to natural flavors,
The flavors I can understand, the ones
That won't trick me into eating Chinese food
When it's actually yesterday's garbage.
You think you can hide in outer space, but
I'm smarter than you, whatever you are.

Return to me, natural flavors, I beg you.
I never should have tasted anything else.
You always tell me the truth, even when
It's gross and makes me cry, and you won't
Leave me when I get fat and annoying,
Or when I forget our anniversary or
Your favorite color. (I totally remembered,
But you just put me on the spot, and that
Makes me a little uncomfortable.) You taste
Way better than that artificial crap,
And you don't yell at me when I want to go out
With the guys or spend some time alone
In my room. Thank you, natural flavoring,
For loving me for who I am.

There's Trouble A-Brewin'

NAIVE GENTLEMAN: Wow, look at those clouds.
GRIZZLED OLD DIRT-FARMER: Yep. There's trouble a-brewin'.
GENTLEMAN: Well, a storm's coming, if that's what you mean.
DIRT-FARMER: You stole the idol, didn't ya?
GENTLEMAN: What idol?
DIRT-FARMER: The idol in the temple. The one that appeases the storm gods. Where is it?
GENTLEMAN: I didn't take it. I don't even like idols.
DIRT-FARMER: Well it don't rain here unless the idol's outta place. Did you help somebody take it?
GENTLEMAN: Honestly, I just stopped here to use the restroom, and I really have no idea what you're talking about.
DIRT-FARMER: The ninja probably got it agin.
GENTLEMAN: Ninja?
DIRT-FARMER: Yep. There's a ninja lives 'round these parts. Pulls a lotta pranks like this.
GENTLEMAN: He's probably not a real ninja.
DIRT-FARMER: Careful, sonny. I know a couple too many people who ended up in mighty big trouble cuz they underestimated the ninja.
GENTLEMAN: I think I'll get going now. (Notices his car is gone) Hey, where's my car?
DIRT-FARMER: Ninja musta got it.
GENTLEMAN: Great. Now I have to walk to college.
DIRT-FARMER: College, huh?
(The gentlemen is suddenly struck with a dozen shuriken.)
DIRT-FARMER: What's a college degree good for if it don't even teach ya how to fight ninjas?
NINJA: (appears out of nowhere) Shut up, dad.
DIRT-FARMER: Boy! What'd I tell you about stealin' idols and killin' city folk!
NINJA: Don't do it.
DIRT-FARMER: Now you put that idol back right now or you ain't gettin' no taters for breakfast tomorrow!
NINJA: (slinks off in shame to return the idol to the temple)
DIRT-FARMER: If only you'da been a dirt farmer like you're old man. Who's gonna inherit the dirt farm when I pass on?
NINJA: Joe-Joe wants to be a dirt farmer like you, pa.
DIRT-FARMER: Joe-Joe's a gorilla, son.

De-Renouncing the Internet

Internet, you are no longer dead to me. I know I said some pretty harsh things a few weeks ago when I kicked you out of the house, but I take it back. I was just angry about all the porn you had lying around. And I'm still angry about that, actually. You should clean yourself up.

But no matter how I feel, it was wrong of me to say that I hated you and would never contribute to your infinite pages of blogdom anymore. I shouldn't have covered you with all that melted cheese. Maybe in a different context that would have been funny, but this time it was from a cruel and bitter heart. I'm sorry.

Do you forgive me?

Thanks. Next time I get mad, I'll just yell at the cat, and then we can all go get some ice cream together.

In Lieu of Real Creativity, I Blog about Golf

In the midst of my barely-endurable boredom at work today, I noticed a headline about Tiger Woods. I'm not going to out my sources, but rest assured that this a real quote. It said something like, "Finally Tiger Woods has something to celebrate--his wife is pregnant with his second child."

So yeah, finally something turns out good for Tiger Woods. I wouldn't be that excited about being the world's richest athlete, having tons of golf championships (cuz golf is stupid), or shooting a Gatorade commercial on the moon either. I am in complete agreement that, until now, life has been pretty lame for Mr. Woods.

But what that first child? Some day he or she is going to read that article and be like, "Hey Dad, I know that you were never that big on owning four island nations or having perhaps the most precise hand-eye coordination of any non-video gamer on the planet, but the first thing that was worth celebrating in your life was the kid who came after me? Did I used to have Down Syndrome?"

Maybe that first child thing didn't work out too well in the long run. I can understand that. I'm sure Stalin's parents eventually soured on that whole thing. But even then, they must have celebrated his birth. Tiger couldn't have given up on child #1 before it'd even drawn a breath in this world. I can, however, imagine him saying, "Big deal, baby. I'm waiting on #2," which I believe were his exact words following his first championship.

Real Capitalism

People say our capitalist society is evil, and to prove them right, I am putting my vote up for sale. If I get particularly industrious about this (unlikely), I may even post it on craigslist. Because, my friends and countrymen, and I am more than willing to sell my country out.

I was inspired by a discussion last night in which a couple of my friends explained that one of their drunken coworkers promised to pay them $200 to vote for a certain candidate. It made me realize what an idiot I would be for voting for free. Why should I not get paid for wasting my vote when someone could pay me to waste it? This idea, while fundamentally opposed to the values of our constitution, is utterly brilliant and without flaw.

I realize that with our secret ballot system, I could ostensibly sell my vote and still vote for whoever I want. But I will freely tell you that I would not vote if I was not paid to vote. Voting is inconvenient, confusing, and all the old people at the voting places talk really slow. So unless I can make a profit, I'm not going to deal with it.

Better yet, if you're too young to vote, a convicted felon, or just feel like voting twice, I'd be willing to lend you a copy of my ID and a pair of glasses that look like mine (they're actually my roommate's) so you can vote in my place! This one comes with an extra charge, though, as all involved would probably get arrested.

To be honest, I would be willing to sell my vote for a McDonald's hamburger. My vote is worth at least that. Come on, McCain and Obama campaigns, you can at least take me out for a hamburger.

Cold

Well, August is almost over, and winter has finally returned in Minnesota. Though the temperatures still tend to peak in the 70s, do not be deceived. Winter is upon us, and it's time to look forward to another 18 straight months of dirty-carpet-colored skies and squirrels freezing to death in our roof. I know I'm excited.

You skeptics out there probably think I'm overreacting. But don't try and tell me this is just autumn. I know winter when I see it. We definitely missed autumn this year, so we'll have to catch next time around. Stop arguing with me and lay out the plastic yard covers before the snow hits.

I'm glad we got a good four months of spring and summer, but I'm ready to get back into the good ol' Minnesota winter groove. Shoveling and de-icing the sidewalk, wearing three layers of jackets, shielding yourself from the bitter wind, not leaving the house for weeks, developing several paranoid fantasies about the neighbors trying to steal the buried treasure, eating raw deer carcass--those are the things that Minnesota is all about.


Who's ready for a swim?

New Phone

I got a new phone yesterday. Thankfully I didn't have to pay for it. Because, while this is definitely a good phone, it's lacking a few important things. I should say too that I'm not very high maintenance when it comes to phones--I don't need a camera, the internets, music, or holograms. There are, however, a couple things that I expect every phone to have, and this phone does not have them.

Most conspicuously missing is a jet propulsion system. I can't stand having to lift my phone to my ear and keeping it in my pocket. Pretty much the only way I'll use a phone is if it hovers by my ear and jets around behind me so I don't have to carry it. How can you even call a cell phone convenient if it doesn't float around? Having to hold it and everything is really more of a nuisance than it's worth.

Also, I'm extremely disappointed that it doesn't have lasers. I can understand why you wouldn't put lasers on a phone that doesn't have a jet propulsion system cuz they kind of go together, but then why don't you just install both? I mean, a phone without jet propulsion is bad enough, but a phone without lasers is just plain unsafe. What if I'm about to be crushed by a meteor? Looks like I'd be out of luck cuz my phone doesn't have lasers.

Dress-up

I lament that people do not wear suits more often. Suits are cool, as demonstrated above, but following the end of the Cold War, they seem to have earned a reputation for being worn by heartless arms dealers and coke fiends. This reputation is undoubtedly entirely deserved.

The poor people of this nation must redress this issue and make suits cool again. The problem is that suits are not cheap and that we, the poor people, cannot afford them. Rich people keep being uncool, keep making money, keep buying suits, keep wearing their suits while being uncool, and keep kicking us poor people in our low-quality pants. I have no solution to propose to this issue; I'm just commenting on how much it sucks.

I look forward to the day when suits are cheap. For once suits are cheap, regular poor people like us would be able to buy them, and we'd be able to beat the rich people at their own game: polo.

I Know a Ninja

One of my roommates may or may not be going to Japan to become a certified ninja. He has already gone through some extensive ninja training, and this is a very exciting prospect for his ninja development.

I must say, though, that I am now deathly afraid of living in my house. I haven't slept in days in fear that my ninja roommate would sneak into my bedroom while I was sleeping and turn all my stuff upside down. There is little that scares me more than waking up in the middle of the night to discover all my stuff turned upside down with Mark's ninja head detached from his body and floating in my room like a balloon.

I've started being really careful to check around corners before I walk into a room to make sure Mark doesn't leap out at me and slice my arms off with a ninja sword. But if he really wanted to do that, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to see him from around the corner. I think he's practiced extra hard on his invisibility. I, however, have practiced embarrassingly little at keeping my arms attached to my body.

I really hope he does make it to Japan, though. His skills are wasted on soon-to-be-armless patsies like me. He needs a true test, something that only Japan can offer. Gamera.

Put a Bag on Your Head

About a week ago, a friend and I caught this movie called Baghead, which I won't comment seriously on, but is a movie about a serial killer who wears a bag over his head. And it's good. More importantly, it made me wonder, when is it OK to wear a bag on your head? So I came up with the following list at about 3AM last night.

Situations where it's OK to wear a bag on your head
-At the Baghead premiere
-When you're going to the paper bag parade
-At any official meeting of the Green Party
-If you're planning on traveling back in time
-When you're in Utah

Situations where it's NOT OK to wear a bag on your head
-When you're eating a hot dog (or a hamburger)
-When you're cashing a check at the bank
-While swimming
-When all your friends are dressed like robots and you don't want to feel left out
-If someone you know is lighting paper bags on fire

Situations where I don't really care if you wear a bag on your head or not
-In your math and science classes
-If you don't have any better ideas for a Halloween costume
-If you want to mess with your pets
-To reduce wind resistance while riding your bike
-If you think it will give you superpowers

Scruffy

I haven't shaved in about five days now. That's kind of a lot for me. It's not that I've gotten too lazy to shave, or even that I decided to grow a beard. It's that I discovered that I like it when I look sruffy. Kind of like a terrier.


Next time you see me, you'll remember this picture, and you'll think to yourself, "Hmm...Ben really does look kind of like a terrier now that he stopped shaving. Maybe I should get a terrier, but not because it would remind me of Ben. It would be very strange to own a dog that reminds me of Ben, especially when it's licking my face to wake me up in the morning, or when it's peeing on a tree in my backyard." And since I can read your thoughts, I would be disgusted.

I have a feeling, though, that if I keep up this not-shaving business past this week, I'd end up leaving Scruffy Town for Beard City, and no one would like that. Then I'd look less like a terrier and more like some loser with a beard.

Adventures in Napping, Part 4

I'm not sure naps are cutting it anymore. I think I'd rather just sleep forever. In that spirit, allow me to recount the most recent napsite I visited.

Nap #4: Abraham Lincoln's top hat


The first thing I'd like to note about napping with Abe Lincoln's hat is that you have two napping locales to choose from. One, inside the hat, and two, on top of the hat. Both offer excellent napping accomodations, and of course inside the hat is better for those who prefer not to be rained on.

For my first nap, I opted for the top of the hat. The only negative thing was that I was shaken awake when Abe wrestled an alligator into submission. The bonus for that was, after Abe snapped the alligator's neck and roasted it on a campfire, he shared the bountiful meal with me. I have a feeling that if I had been napping inside the hat during all that, I wouldn't have woken up.

This experience was so life-changing for me that I've decided to buy a large hat and rent it out to a bed & breakfast.

Overall rating: 9/10 (lost a point for my assumption that I would not have been fed alligator had I been inside the hat)

Adventures in Napping, Part 3

I'm almost feeling a little over-napped at this point, having recently enjoyed a doze in a cup of coffee and a video game, but I must press on.

Nap #3: a woolly mammoth


After my previous two napping experience, I really felt like napping with a blanket, but I didn't really want to drag a blanket around with me. How could I possibly have the warmth and comfort of a blanket without actually having a blanket? Of course the only option was to find me a woolly mammoth in which to nap.

The problem with woolly mammoths is that they look a lot more comfortable than they feel. The biggest problem was the mammoth's skeleton. I got wrapped up in its fur (or would you call it hair?), but its spine was like a dozen diamond foosball men digging into my back. Not to mention that its hair was greasy and smelled like Utah's garbage.

But words cannot express how great it felt to sleep in its fur. It almost made me forget feeling like I was resting on a foosball table that stank of rotting fish. It was heaven with tusks.

Overall rating: 5/10 (minus two points for the tusks)

Adventures in Napping, Part 2

Though I'm not as tired as I was after napping in the Lemmings video game, I must press on in my napping odyssey. Which brings us to yet another wonderful nap zone.

Nap #2: a cup of coffee


As you may expect, this was not so conducive to napping. First of all, I could not breathe as easily as would need to breathe in order to nap because my lungs kept filling with coffee. Thankfully the coffee had been sitting out for about twenty minutes, so it wasn't scaldingly hot, but it still wasn't comfortable. I still prefer it to taking a nap in salt water.

Secondly, there were other things living in this cup of coffee, which made the experience unpleasant in every way. Right when I thought I could settle into a napping groove, some ugly monster-shaped creature would show up and asked if I wanted to join him for lunch. When I politely declined, another one showed up a few minutes later and asked me the same thing. Can't I just be left alone to nap in my cup of coffee?

If it wasn't for the caffeine, I wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all.

Overall rating: 3/10