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.