December 4, 2015

allegorically chicanerous

There once was a man from Nantucket
He went and he sat on a bucket
But while he sat there
off into the distance he did stair
and finally got off and said...

Tis the season and all that. Don't worry, the war against xmas is all in your head (especially since it's based on a pagan holiday). Things that seems to be all in our heads:

extracurricular machinations

the list goes on and on. Questioning the reality in which one finds themselves, particularly when what one has always believed to be true (e.g., I am on a planet or the sun rises in the east no matter how far west you go, unless you're travelling-yes, I know this is the british spelling, but I like my double ells-fast enough then it will rise in the west...) runs into a rather large obstacle that completely challenged the very notions on which you have based most everything else, can be a most disconcerting and troubling situation. For example, I had always assumed the earth was flat, why else would things fall 'down' when you drop them rather than float or glide down to the equator where, if the earth were round, things would tend to settle. But no, my life of bliss and incoherent naivety was not meant to survive much past my 35th birthday.

It was a day much like any other day other than it was that day and not any of the other days that had been before that day. I woke up way too early, got out of bed, scratched my belly and head, and meandered down a dark flight of stairs. At the bottom I tripped, stumbled, howled and cursed as I made my way through a jungle of toys and other childish things strewn about and maligned by our eight month old daughter. Happy as a clam that one, with malevolence in her dark little heart (she gets it from her mother). With scratches and bruises up and down my legs, I staggered into the bathroom and turned on the light. I stood there staring for a moment not sure what I was seeing was really my own sight. There in the mirror, staring back at me, were three tiny reindeer, cute as could be. I let out a small cry, which I stifled in my throat, fearing I'd wake our child and then all hell would break loose.

Turning around to make it was real, they were still there dancing and prancing over their kill. Unlike the kind vegetarian reindeer that live up in the north pole, these three little devils were the carnivorous type.With horns on their heads disguised as antlers, the hoof cloven feet shot sparks with each step. "Come here, little boy," said the largest of the three, though it stood no taller than a buck thirteen. As I cautiously approached them standing in my shower a mirthless grin crossed its face showing me two rows of chompers. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" I timidly asked.

"We've come to spread the good word," all three said at once, "that the world is not flat like previously presumed. But round like the belly of a person recently exhumed."

Frightened by their words just a bit, I had to ask them to leave so I could take a...potty-break.

When my business was done, our conversation resumed, they jumped about merrily shouting the news. At first I wouldn't believe them and couldn't for fear that everything I knew and held dear was nothing more than dust in the wind, like the slow decay of cattle long left for dead. With my stubbornness abounding and the daylight approaching they were left with no recourse but to take me out hunting. You see, the reindeer and deer don't really get along, they rather despise each other, mostly because of a christmas song. With riffles in our hands and pockets full of shells, we rallied 'round their families, with girl scout cookies to sell. The guns were for protection, at least that's what they said, but they didn't buy enough cookies, the queen of hearts would have their heads. Once we made enough money they chartered a private jet and off around the world the four of us did set.

Flying up and down, over and across, they pointed out the reasons why the earth was round. Showing me the horizon with its gentle body curving, trajectories, sophistries and other things unnerving. Finally, flying over the expansive ocean with the three of them exhausted and exasperated with my stubbornness, we came across the equator and I looked out my window. There below in all its majesty was the giant mighty trash heap of all the garbage and legacy that man had made its indelible mark on this fragile earth. From the north and south, the east and west, to this center the trash did flow. Broken bottles, neoprene, milk cartons, and banjos, the long abandoned junky needle, the torn pantyhose, the forgotten Yugos of yesteryear, and lots of styrofoam. If the world were flat they'd all just stay in one place or sink down to the bottom. But round and rounder the earth must be for they all float to the middle!

While happy as a clam could be without a central nervous system, I jumped up and down and ran about, at least as much as one can do in a small jet's cabin. When we finally landed, I went back to my home and tried to share the joyous news. But no one was around. They'd all left. No one wanted to hear the world was not flat. And so I was left alone.

So as this xmas season approaches, shared with more holidays than should be legally allowed in such a short amount of time, spread the joyful sound abroad and let all mankind know the world is round!

If you disagree with me and think it's fiat, feel free to send me a box of donuts and I will then be happy to debate the merits of your arguments against mine. Bonus points if you can find the jelly-filled powered donuts hostess used to make.

August 31, 2014


Sycophant, psychophant, picklefeet, monkeymeat, bacontreat, all made out of different things. My dishwasher keeps filling up with water. I think I need to drill a hole in the bottom so it will drain properly (plus it will be right into the crawl space, so it shouldn't be an issue...that is until the giant man-eating spiders that live down there realize they now have easy access and a convenient route-how do you pronounce this one?-up into our house where they will be able to suck our brains out while we sleep, never being any the wiser. That is until we wake up dead. That would suck and you know it would happen on a Sunday night/Monday morning too). I really should watch fewer horror movies.

I recently started reading a new book. The nice thing about books is that you can put them down very easily. Gravity is a great help in this department. You can also throw them at people. It's amusing for several reasons: 1) the book often starts to flap and flutter like a wounded bird as it flies through the air; 2) the look of abject horror on the face of the person you lobbed the verbal assault at will soon turn to fluster and confusion as the book suddenly veers to the left/right, or takes a sudden nose dive, thus missing them completely and sometimes even acquiring a new target you had no intention of bringing into the fray. This can cause extreme fits of laughter, followed by long jaunts through your local park or corn field, depending on where you live and the time of year. If it's winter and you live where it snows, it's best to dress all in white and bring a snack as you may end up having to hide for more than a few hours at a time. Also, running in the snow can be tiresome, and even more so since you'll have to be covering your tracks as you go (if you don't know how to cover your tracks in the snow, just watch a movie, it's really easy and whoever is following you will always turn into a moron once the chase is on; see, Darwin isn't always bad for your religion). I like books.

I have recently started jamming with a guy who plays guitar and drums. While it's been fun, I think I may have to eventually eat him alive (that's a joke, everyone knows it's too hard to try and eat someone alive, they wiggle way too much, it's much easier when they're not alive...say undead). I'm just in an odd mood and this is sort of a stream of conscience type post, host, most, boast, roast, coast, toast, ghost, those, rose, hose, toes, goes, nose, glows, shows, bows, rows, roes. My finger tips are really sore due to my not being used to playing so much. There are worse things in life than sore finger tips. Getting stabbed in the eye by a masked man with a pitch fork is one of them. If you disagree, let me know in the comments, and make other suggestions of your own.

Would you wind the wind? And that's technically a correct sentence, though not a real possibility in most cases, though I'm sure someone could come up with something to make it a reality. Then squawked the raven "never...BAFSKH!!@!' and I threw a shoe at it to get it to finally be quiet. I'm a bit of a narcissist, and while I recognize that I am and try to not be one so much, it's not easy, especially when you're as awesome as I am...that last part was a joke (I hate having to explain a joke, it's like telling someone you've cooked their parents and that's what you just fed them-cf., e.g., South Park for further explanation). Man this is weird train of thought, even for me. I really have been watching/reading too many horror stories lately.

I hear the rapture is on everyone's mind lately. Whenever I hear that word I always think of Jurassic Park and how the raptors would gang up on someone to eat them (they would do it while the person was alive, but they also had razor sharp teeth and claws, neither of which I posses, plus I don't have a herd I can hunt with, and I'm not big into hunting or eating red meat, for that matter).

"Hooray, it's the rapture!"

"Why are those people running towards us screaming in terror?"

"They must not be getting saved..."

"Did they just say they're being hunted by packs of raptors?"

"Don't be silly, all the dinosaurs have long been used up in our awesome gas-guzzling hummers"

"Why are the trees moving on their own?"


Yes, it's the little things in life that make me happy. What makes you happy?

April 5, 2014

Spacially impaired

What if pears came in pairs of pairs like shoes come in pairs, would that mean they're empeared?

Speaking of oddly bland looking fruit with a surprisingly catching bland looking taste, I think my neighbors are from the fourth dementian. Pleas doughnut try two correct my english, eye now what eye yam dewing, can the shame bee shed four yew? Eye think knot! Back to the neighbors. If I can prove they're from a higher dimension I might be able to have someone else win a prize for it too. Not some rinky-dink Chuck E Cheeze prize either, not that I still don't love skeet ball and all those wonderful tickets that come spewing out like a child that's had too much chocolate milk every time you get a ball into one of the rings that's not the very bottom (only half a ticket comes out then, which is more like a dog throwing up, who eats most of their vomit after they throw up, and much like the dog, no one wants to see it because it will only make us sad and want to cry). Oh no, we're talking the grand-daddy of all prizes, except in math (curse those naturally charming and oh so seductive mathematicians with their silver tongues and good looks like a vampire! There's more than one reason I don't study math), the noble prize. I hear it comes with a cash reward, though they have yet to give it to someone not noble enough to give it back. That's probably the real reason Sartre refused it, he wanted to keep the cash prize. I would too if I were him, which if I were him, I would have died just under six months before I was born...wait...maybe I am him...doom doom doom. One can hope anyway.

Why do I think my neighbors are from a higher dimension? That's a good question and to explain it to you, Jill and Jonny, here's captain Cyborg!

Hello kids, today I'm going to teach you about why you're all doomed and that you should just give up now and submit to our will so you don't have to go through all the pointless things, like a war which will just annihilate you and won't really do much damage to us because even if we get blown up, our consciousness is stored in many different locations around the universe and so even if you manage to blow up some nearby servers, we'll lose maybe an hour, at most, of our lives and then go right back to killing you....

Er, sorry kids, must have been the wrong captain Cyborg. I'll just explain it to you.

Each night when they come home they knock and bang around into pretty much everything, including but not limited to the floor, walls, small children, air (I didn't know you could run into it before), the kitchen sink, your mother, noodles, chop sticks, forks, waffle houses, and other assorted goodies. My only explanation is that they must be spatially challenged, having come from a higher dementian and are having a hard time navigating life here in our lowly three dementias. Dementia is no laughing matter either, unless you're a politician, then you're just laughing it up as you cut meager budgets that have no real impact on the amount of money spent each year by our government and to programs that actually help more than just a few people while at the same time giving away billions of dollars to corporations and entities that wrecked our economy and continue to do nothing but leach off the system. My wife accused me of working for the CIA. Before getting your black head bag and scary van ready let me reassure you, I don't and the only useful information you'd get out of me will be an endless stream of really dumb jokes (some might argue these are not useful information, and to them I say, your mom thinks they're funny). Please don't kidnap me, I kind of like my life being mostly stress free and being kidnapped would really put a damper on things. Seriously though, can you imagine if you were suddenly thrust down into a two demential world? Suddenly something like a sock laying in the middle of the floor would become a formidable object that could kill you. Gone would be the says of stripping down as soon as you arrived home, as each piece of careless clothing thrown off in a haphazardly manner becomes a sudden death trap laying in wait for the unsuspecting fool that isn't paying attention. In my mind, that explains their behavior best. That or they're just inconsiderate ****s. I like to think it's the former.

I just watched Mr. Nobody and if you haven't seen it, it's a pretty awesome love story. Yes, it's a love story. Yes, I thought it was awesome. Even though there's a small part in there where they tip their had to one of the seven plagues (no, not Walmart or McDonalds, rather string theory-which isn't really a theory, or at least not a well founded one) it's still worth seeing. Dom Hemmingway on the other hand, while fun, is not family friendly and you really shouldn't take a date to go see it with either. Probably the only other movie that's a worse date movie would be A Serbian Film, which if you haven't heard of it before, there's a reason for that and don't google it at work or with children near either. I would not recommend even trying to find a trailer for it. Look at the trailer for Dom Hemmingway if you want to watch something funny with some grit. If you didn't click on the link above, stop being chicken and do it!!! It has nothing to do with anything I've talked about here. Just watch out for the whale and the flower pot.

February 5, 2014

An interesting quote from an unexpected source

"Fascism should rightly be called Corporatism, as it is the merger of corporate and government power." -- Benito Mussolini From the horses mouth right to your front door. Welcome to 'democracy,' American style. =D I'll have mine over-easy, if you please.

December 13, 2013

It's coming.....

This is a picture I love and you can find here.

Not mine, but still awesome!!

I'm working on my (sort-of) annual christmas story, it will probably be late, again. I can tell you it most definitely might possibly sort of involve a chair. Take that for what it's worth, which isn't much, especially in  this economy.

On a completely unrelated note, it turns out that Tony Sly turned out to be the gateway drug for my wife. She now, on her own and without even a suggestion from me, listens to some punk music. Bwahahahahaha!!!! It's just too bad he's dead (zombie apocalypse, anyone???).

July 22, 2013

It's been a long time

A month or two, or three ago I almost made my sister and her husband's heads simultaneously explode. That is no easy feat and needless to say, I am proud of having almost accomplished it. I told them my political stance could best be summarized as a socialist libertarian with anarchist tendencies. I stand by that statement. I hate conservatives for being against any type of change (that affects their wallets, but wholeheartedly embracing change that does the most harm to the majority of people). I have liberals for having adopted the super-paranoid attitude that used to be reserved for right-wing nut jobs, and thinking that everyone is out to get them (not that the NSA is watching or anything, either). Okay, those are broad generalizations and don't apply to everyone, just the ones I've been running into lately. As a joke, and a damn funny one at that, I posted the following on a supposedly liberal website:

Dear Lorena Gallo (Bobbitt),
We as Americans have a problem that you are uniquely qualified to handle and we are in desperate need of your help.
There is an entity lurking among not only the shadows, but also out in the open. Skulking its way through the very halls of congress, seeking to divest us of our rights to feel and be safe in our own homes and communities, among many other manly atrocities, witch are too numerous to enumerate on. This one-eyed trowser [sic] snake goes by the often mis-enunciated moniker of Boehner (Bay-ner is the common method of saying this none-too-unoffensive name). With the wry brigrandry of a male teenage, set loose in the girls locker room, it has been attempting to stab, perforate, penetrate, puncture, and otherwise violate our inalienable rights, and by 'our' I mean of course women's inalienable rights, which naturally apply to you. Yes, it is true. Ohio has a Boehner, and We the People respectfully ask your help in removing it and preventing it from being waved in front of our faces, as if it were a glorious master piece that all should be forced to endure, and having it show boated about even in front of our children, who should never have to be witnesses to such a horrible scene. This time, though, we promise not to press charges for cutting it off at the base. Ohio has a Boehner and not even Robert Smith can help this time. We implore you to take your unique set of skills to Ohio and Washington D.C. and help save us all from this not-so-wee willy winky.
The people of Ohio will thank you, the American people will thank you, and most of all, the one that this Boehner belongs to will thank you (it's lasted for more than four hours, and not even the doctors know how to make it go away).
With warmest wishes and kindest regards,
The American People
With this post I was suddenly inundated with people saying I was trolling and eliciting violence against an elected official. I fail to see this and wonder where they are getting it from. Did I ask her to remove Boehner's unit? No. Did I ask her to dispose of him the same way she did with John's back in the day? No. Am I asking anyone to commit a violent act? I guess if you call voting violent and having Loraine Gallo campaign against him then sure, you could say that I am. 
When did people lose the ability to read and understand? I'm no Swift by any stretch of the imagination, but really, violence? Grow up and learn what it means to laugh again, if at nothing else, than yourself.

March 9, 2013


If I ever owned my own country it would be awesome. If anyone said otherwise I'd disappear them.

I found out today that in British English the word for eraser is 'rubber.' I can just imagine that conversation:

"Hey, can I borrow your rubber? I need to fix a mistake I made."
"Uhm, it's probably a little late for that..."

Don't put what belongs in the bonnet in the boot and vice versa, otherwise bad things could happen. In Russian the verbs to write and to urinate (vulgar) are VERY similar. How you conjugate them is a subtlety that I had not learned when I was sitting in a room writing and a friend came in and asked what I was doing. I replied that I was writing. He about fell over he started laughing so hard. It turns out I said I was urinating (vulgar) not writing. My dad thought he knew the word for dog in spanish, and he decided that a good time to share this knowledge was in a crowded restaurant in Mexico. It turned out to be an extremely vulgar word for penis that one doesn't usually say in the company of others, especially during casual conversation. I was just glad we escaped the restaurant with our lives. Languages are fun. Except when you don't speak the local language and you're there for awhile. It can make things interesting.

Just because you speak the language is no guarantee that things won't get interesting anyway. I think I might have told this once before, but I'm too lazy to go back and check, so you might be getting a repeat story. If so, enjoy again for the first time. If not, well shut up and read it.

While I was in Mexico there was a vicious triple murder in a city about an hour from where I was living at the time, and I was living with another gentleman about the same age as me. We rented an apartment from an old lady whose grandson was suspected to be connected to the murder, as it turned out. The police had put out an alert and asked for any information about the pair of young men they knew where involved with the murder. I hadn't watched the news and didn't even know this had taken place (this is unfortunately a reoccurring theme with me, and I don't just mean missing out on hitching a ride with hell's gate).

That night at about 2-3am while we were asleep, several men came and started smashing out the windows to our ground floor apartment and telling us to come out. I tell you what, that's some scary stuff, especially if you're sound asleep. We thought we were being robbed at first, then the lady we rented the apartment from told us it was okay and to come out. Knowing that they might have a gun to her head and be forcing her to say these things doesn't bring much comfort to you. I opened the door to find the very large (probably a .22) barrel of a gun pointing right at my face. It's amazing how big a gun looks when you're starting at the wrong end of it. One of the neighbors either had a beef with either me or the guy I was renting the place with, or the lady we rented it from because someone had called the cops and said there were two suspicious young men matching the description of the two on TV at her house. We'd been living there for quite a long time, and everyone knew who we were. It's sort of funny in retrospect. The cops went through our house, stole about $100.00 from us, and told us not to go anywhere too far in case they needed to talk to us. I was just happy to not be going to a Mexican prison. Though my high school music teach told me that if I'm ever in Monterrey to go check out the local prison. He spent a few days there back in the 70s or 80s and his name might still be scratched into the ceiling. That's still on my to-do list, right after eating small children (I'm a big fan of Kronos).

I wanted to be a ninja, and they would have let me. All I had to do was show up for class. I could never find the classroom. As such, I'm merely a lowly chemist, and not a very good one at that. I don't even use chemicals, other than those in my food, soaps and detergents, and various other assorted products. Screw diet and exercise. Just eat a lot of preservatives, then it doesn't matter what kind of shape you're in, you'll live forever. Just ask Donald Trump. He's been around for at least 500 years. He and Scalia the Hut used to terrorize the solar system. Then their dads took away the galactic car keys and as punishment they left them here. No wonder they don't like Harrison Ford.

Speaking of eating raw flesh. I tried sushi for the first time the other day. I don't like fish. I hate the way they smell and taste for the most part. I like fishing, but once I reel it in, I want it off my hook and back in the water as soon as possibly. This was a point of contention with my mom for a little while, especially once she found out I'd been sneaking off to go fishing every weekend for over a year while I was still living at home (no, that wasn't just last year either, haters; I may be a nerd, but I have my own house and there's no way in hell I'd hang out for fun in my basement. I go down there to do laundry or fix something-with my face!-and that's about it). Usually the thought of eating fish makes me want to run out and fill up on steak and pork. The general idea is that in my mind eating fish is slightly more uncomfortable than throwing up forks that bent every-which-way, and the fork taste better too. We went to a sushi bar and ordered tuna, salmon, yellow fish, something I don't know, crab, shrimp, and sea urchin. They were all surprisingly awesome tasting! Well, other than sea urchin. That had the taste and consistency one might expect raw fish to have. My brain was having a really hard time with it though, and I think at one point my ears started to smoke because the people I was with were looking at me funny (it also might have been while I was trying to force myself to swallow the sea urchin). My mouth was saying "THIS IS AWESOME!!!" while my brain was saying, "No, this is gross. It's dead raw fish. Fish are slimy, smelly, stinky, horrible tasting and if the seven plagues come back a new one will be that everything you eat tastes like fish." to which my mouth would respond "LIAWAJDKMMMMM ASDLKASULASFJ,,SD,MSDMMM!!!!!" which translates into "THIS IS AWESOME!" spoken with a mouth full of food. Like quarreling siblings they wouldn't quit either and even right now they are arguing with each other about what really happened on that day. The world will probably never know. If I tried really hard I could probably come up with some grainy pictures of me supposedly at this sushi bar. The quality will be so poor that you won't be able to make out what I'm eating even if you can tell it's me. That's the problem with interesting things, high quality pictures are not allowed. It's a universal law that cameras of all kinds, shapes, sizes and quality know about and follow very strictly. Just ask anyone who's ever tried to get a picture of big foot, the pope, UFOs, or any government being productive.