Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

My teeth are clean. I just thought you might like to know. I had my six-month dental check-up (the official check-up-from-the-neck-up) and I was pronounced "Good for another six months." So, those of you who may be planning on doing something with me after June 13th ... I really can't commit to anything right now.

That really screws with the trip to Wakarusa I was planning this summer. One day at a time, I guess.
I made another appointment for June 27th, so I guess the joke is on them!

While I was in the dental chair, they allowed me to watch the TV. There was a minor earthquake just outside of Reading, PA; in Berks County. The local Action News reporter was there, on the scene. He chose to interview a guy who was in the area at the time.
REPORTER: So, you were here at the time of the earthqake?
GUY: Yes, I was working here from noon till now, today.
REPORTER: Did you feel the earthquake?
GUY: Nope. I didn't see or feel anything.

Breaking news, folks. Now, we're interviewing people who had no knowledge of the event and have no first-hand account to relay. Two minutes of prime local news time devoted to a guy who admittedly didn't see or hear anything. Nice job. Did you see it? Nope. Back to the studio.

Meanwhile...

In addition to (or perhaps in spite of) clean teeth, I also may be turning gay. Whatsthatyousay? Yes, gay. It seems my daily diet of soy milk and cereal is playing Hell with my testosterone level, and apparently, any day now, I will begin speaking with a lisp and develop an inate skill at home decorating. So, it may not be all bad, because my place could use some sprucing up.

This article says that those little beans are "tearing apart our culture", which flies in the face of all that "good for you" junk that scientists and health professionals say. The article goes on to say that if you're a grownup, you're already developed, and you're able to fight off some of the damaging effects of soy. It's obvious that this guy knows nothing about how developed I am. I've got news for you pal, I'm growing new shit every day, but I ain't saying where it is.

He also says that Soy is feminizing, and commonly leads to a decrease in the size of the penis, sexual confusion and homosexuality. Sexual confusion? Tell me what I can eat that will convince me that sex isn't confusing, and I'm all in. Apparently this guy hasn't tried buying a condom lately. Latex, sensitive, lubricated, polyethelyne, spermicidal ... I'm confused, and I'm not even using them. Really, I'm not.

Then, in a fit of intellectual peak, he says...Research in 2000 showed that a soy-based diet at any age can lead to a weak thyroid, which commonly produces heart problems and excess fat. Could this explain the dramatic increase in obesity today?
Well, let me think...obesity in America...yeah, it must be the soy. It can't possibly be the billions and billions of cheeseburgers that McDonald's sells to kids every day, or the Super Size everything, or the thousands of gallons of sweetwater (a.k.a. Coke or Pepsi) that we consume every day. It must be the soy beans.

So, if you suddenly find that my posts are leaning toward what color sunglasses go best with my skin tone, or I start asking if my hips are too wide, or I suddenly become obsessed with moving to San Francisco ... post a comment and tell me to lay off the soy until my penis returns to its normal size and my estrogen level decreases. After all, I don't want to miss Wakarusa or that new Rocky movie.

Because they are just too precious!

You Sure Ask a Lot of Questions for Someone from New Jersey

I ask myself many questions. I don’t get many answers, but that doesn’t keep me from asking. One I asked myself today was, “Would it be considered ‘justifiable homicide’ if I killed the guy who installed our MUZAK system at work?” I asked myself this after hearing Andy Williams sing “Happy Holidays” for the six-billionth time.

Maybe I don't want to kill him as much as I just want to smack him in the back of the head and tell him how he has contributed to the destruction of thousands of brain cells. Don’t turn your back on me, Mr. MUZAK installation guy.

How many different times can I hear “Jingle Bells” or “Frosty the Snowman” before it starts to work on my subconscious, and I am no longer responsible for my actions? Apparently, the music industry (and the MUZAK industry) feels as though we need one more version of “The Little Drummer Boy” – reggae mix, jazz mix, punk mix, pizzicato string mix or Bowie and Bing mix – but here it is, merely the 12^th of December, and I’m all parum-pa-pum-pum’ed out.

Meanwhile…

There's a line from the movie "Cool Hand Luke" that goes, "What we have here is failure to communicate. Some folks, you just can't reach.” Some of my Blogger buddies have them, and I had one of those moments at the lunch table today.

A co-worker was bemoaning the fact that Christmas (the holiest of all holidays) falls on a Monday. The moaning came when he said that he'd like to have the day after Christmas off, in addition to the day itself.

I looked at him quizzically (as I often do) and replied with my own question.

"So, what do you do on July 5th, or the day after Memorial Day? Don't you have picnics and parties on the holidays? Why doesn't it bother you that you don't have the day after those days off?"

He failed to see my logic, and could only reply with, "Christmas is different", which isn't an argument, it's just a statement. Of course, it's different, but why is it different? He couldn't articulate his point or answer my question, so we moved on.

Maybe I’m just not a big Christmas guy, since I really don’t get it. I didn’t want to get into an argument with the guy, since it was just an opinion, but I failed to see the point. Tell me, dear readers … Is it different? If so, why? If not, why not?

And…

You have one day left to make a bet with your friends that I am sure you will win. What’s the bet? I’m glad you asked. I get tired of asking all the questions around here.

The bet is that Rocky will die in the latest Rocky movie. What is it, Rocky Six Billion? Whatever. He’s going down, and he’s going down hard. He’ll die right in front of his kid in that fight that they’re showing on the TV commercials.
I’m not spoiling the ending because I don’t know the ending, I’m merely speculating. Maybe it’s a gut feeling or maybe it’s wishful thinking.

The movie premieres in Hollywood next Wednesday, so get your bets down.

Be Yourself. As Long as You're Like Me

All this talk about bliss and its consequences has stirred up quite a little firestorm in this little corner of the Blogosphere. A post here, another one there and even one over here someplace that may or may not be the spark of the whole thing. Whatever it is, it is free thinking, and nothing irritates the More-moral-than-thou bunch than individuality and free thinking. Deep down inside, they would like us all to be the same. The sames would stay with the sames, and the differents would ... well, they would be ostracized to some island where they couldn't influence the sames and make them realize that they were cheap imitations of themselves.

Ostracized is an interesting word. Without doing research (something I gave up after I graduated college) I would say that it has its roots in the Ostrich, who reacts to the different by sticking its head in the ground. The sames would probably do that, if they could get their head out of their ass long enough to put it in the ground.

Free thinking is the enemy of many things, religion among them. After all, if God had meant us to think for ourselves, he would have given us free will and a brain...

So, the sames go along, trying as hard as they can to be like themselves. It gets harder every day, because the differents are so interesting that the sames can't help but watch. Sort of like a rail crash or a really good movie sex scene. They are disgusted by it, yet they cannot turn away. The part of them that wants to watch is the part that they would like to ostracize. They do, by making the differents feel like they should be ashamed of their behavior. This empowers the sames and makes them do their little superior dance, where they spin in circles and spout their same-old tired blather about how God will punish the differents and make them burn in Hellfire until their eye sockets melt like that guy in the Indiana Jones movie who looked at the Ark of the Covenant.

It's an odd thing, though, to say that you preach peace and love while you go around making people feel like they are wrong for believing what they believe and acting in an independent fashion. It is contradictory, and I for one, have no time for anyone who wants to tell me how to feel, act or spin in a circle - if that's what I want to do.

The other thing they preach is that whole "turn the other cheek" jazz. It is supposed to be one of their main beliefs, but they cannot turn the other cheek when one of the differents is acting different. Instead, the differents turn a cheek to the sames and allow them to go about their little holier-than-thou ritual. Ironic, isn't it? The same people who are supposed to be forgiving and tolerant turn out to be the people who want to tell us how to live and what to think.

I choose to turn the other cheek.

50 Ways to Love Your Lever

Girls ... girls ... girls ... please.

A seemingly innocent post about a news story about some Indian men and their difficulties with prophylactics has started a mini-Bloggerstorm of comments, questions and concerns over the size of our junk. Katie asked a question in my comments box (no pun intended), Pam added Kerosene to the fire by answering her and Kimmyk put up an entire post asking about the average size. Penis this, penis that ... penis, penis, penis. Holy shit, Hannah.

Geez, girls - get a grip. Let's talk about shopping.

'Tis the season ... Or so it seems. I guess the season we think it is depends upon our upbringing.

Every time the Christmas (excuse me, the holiday) shopping season comes around, it makes me think about the variances in our lives and how those variances interact with those of us who get in the way.

The first thing that comes to mind is that we are all forced to drive someplace. Driving is one of those social skills that not all of us posses, but all of us must do. It puts the lesser skilled at a disadvantage when they are forced to interact with those who have a skill. Because everyone is forced to drive, they make it difficult on those of us who have the necessary skills. We deal with them because we have no choice. There are no alternatives, so we blow our car horns, point and gesture. It doesn't help them, but it makes us feel better. "Dumbass! Get off the road!" Now, I feel better.

Shopping at this time of year is a similar experience. Regardless of whether or not they want to be there, the shoppers are out. Many of them only venture to the shopping mall once or twice a year. The other time may be for a birthday gift or some special occasion, but holiday shopping is universal, and the unskilled are out and about, harassing us. They have no choice but to be there, and their cluelessness is our misery.

These are the same people who wait until the end of the checkout to start writing the check (please ... the ATM card!) or stand at the counter packing up the remaining belongings of their purse/wallet while the rest of us wait. Tedium. Buy your shit and get out of the way.

In case you don't know, I am a man (with a penis) who is well aware of the vagaries of shopping. So much so, that I am easily irritated by the clowns who venture out at the holiday season (got it right that time) to buy a gift, regardless of their institutional knowledge of the process.

And so, my trip to the local mall on Saturday was bound by the once-a-year shoppers, seemingly unaware of my existence. They were left to bump into me, brush against my arm and otherwise make my shopping experience miserable. I could see the blank looks on their faces and the clueless wander of their gait as they meandered around, unaware that there were other people or other stores available than the ones they had focused upon.

I tried to be understanding of their plight. They may spend three hours in a shopping mall in a year, and their clueless expression would bear that out. Part of me wanted to help them. "What are you looking for?" I would ask. The other, bigger part of me wanted them to get the Hell out of my way, and the obvious choice would be for them to get a computer and buy it on-line. Some of us are trying to get to the food court, and your aimless wandering in search of the Yankee Candle store is in no way helping me. I'm tired and hungry.

It's almost over, this annual clueless-man shopping trip. Soon, the mall will be mine again. Mine, and the rest of my mall brethren who are amply experienced in the ways of shopping that allow us no mercy for the clueless shoppers who step on our feet, bump into us and generally contribute to the mess that is the Christmas (holiday - damn!) shopping season.

As far as the size of their penises, I really have no clue nor interest. It's tough enough carrying this stuff around without the constant worry of whether or not my girth is adequate. First things first. Let me get a date and I'll have my girlfriend post a comment about how many girth units I am and where I stand in the vast realm of men and their peni.

In the meantime, I'll be at the mall, buying her an expensive gift that will make all discussion of penis size, girth or any other such units irrelevant.

Besides, I don't think I heard anybody mention anything about tongue size.

Sunday Stuff

The space shuttle Discovery is shown as it streaks over a marina in Daytona Beach, Florida December 9, 2006 after liftoff from Kennedy Space Center.

NEWS FLASH: VATICAN CITY (AFP) - Religious symbols should be allowed in public places, Pope Benedict XVI told a group of Italian Catholic legal experts.

Sure. And a group of prostitutes in Atlantic City thinks that prostitution should be legalized. How does this even get to the news bureaus? I guess they figure they'll go to Hell if they don't report it. OK, fine. Let's move on to property tax relief. NEWS FLASH: A hundred percent of homeowners think their property taxes are too high. Maybe they should start praying.

CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. - Stargazers will get a rare triple planetary treat this weekend with Jupiter, Mercury and Mars appearing to nestle together in the predawn skies. About 45 minutes before dawn on Sunday those three planets will be so close that the average person's thumb can obscure all three from view. And it won't happen again until 2053.
I swear, isn't it like every six months we hear about some astronomical phenomenon that "won't happen again until [fill in the year]? The biggest problem with this junk is that I have to get up at 3am to see it. Line up during the day, when we're awake, for Chrissakes. If there was a God, he'd let me get some friggin sleep.

A labourer works at a condom production line at the Human-Care Latex Corporation, which is one of China's largest producers of condoms, in Tianjin November 23, 2006. Condoms designed to meet international size specifications are too big for many Indian men as their penises fall short of what manufacturers had anticipated, an Indian study has found.

OK. Public apology to the men of India. If this is the standard for these condoms, then maybe measuring up isn't your biggest problem. Look at the size of that thing. Holy shit, Hannah.

NEW YORK - Forty years after it was made, The Velvet Underground's first recording has become a financial hit - in cyberspace. "The Velvet Underground & Nico," sold on eBay for a closing bid of $155,401. The buyer is a mystery, only identified by the eBay screen name: "jackass2006." Really -- the crap that people spend money on.

Or Won't...

Britney Spears' junior high school homework might have scored her a grade of 88 out of 100 points then, but now it isn"t worth what it used to be. The essay, based on Rex Warner"s translation of Sophocles' Antigone which Britney completed when she was a teenager, were expected to sell for between $500 and $700 when auctioned last Monday at Christie's in New York, but fell flat on the expectation when it fetched just $200.
The 24-year-old singer's paper reportedly had spelling errors, as it carried Spears' teacher comments such as "Nice cover" and "Watch out for spelling mistakes" on its back.

Nice cover and spelling mistakes. Geez ... that sounds like a literary version of Britney. Nice on the outside, but full of junk on the inside. I guess she didn't learn much in school, but it must have been lots of fun watching her get out of the school bus.

Random Musings

Frosty the Snowman. What a miserable holiday song that is. They tell us he's a "jolly, happy soul", then he dies in a horrible heat-related incident involving some kids and a corncob pipe. And why didn't that cop help him when he stopped them? I want answers! Either way, I think those kids are in for a horrible experience someday...

But he waved goodbye

Saying "Don't you cry

I'll be back again some day".

Watch your backs, kids. I think he's still carrying that broomstick around. Frosty bastard. I never trusted him. Stupid eyes made out of coal follow me around...

Actor Jamie Kennedy arrives at an awards ceremony in Burbank, California wearing a pair of women's panties on his head and holding up a sign that reads: "I found Brittney's Panties".

I'm only including this for the Google searches...

NEW DELHI (Reuters) - Condoms designed to meet international size specifications are too big for many Indian men as their penises fall short of what manufacturers had anticipated, an Indian study has found. Initial findings from a two-year study showed 60 percent of men in the financial capital Mumbai had penises about 2.4 cm (one inch) shorter than those condoms catered for. For a further 30 percent, the difference was at least 5 cm (two inches).

Japanese pianist Maiko Ichiyanagi poses with the world's smallest grand piano produced by Japan's toy maker Sega Toys. It has 88 working keys and can automatically play 100 pre-installed music songs, will go on sale 01 April 2007 with a price of 47,000 yen ($400 US).

That would never sell in India.

To play it, you'd need a 10-inch pianist.

OK, now back to your business...

Last night on my favorite TV show, My Name is Earl, a doctor was played by William Schallert, who was the dad on The Patty Duke Show. It doesn't take much to get me to thinking about junk, and this is a prime example.

On the show, Patty plays identical cousins, Patty Lane and Cathy Lane. Patty is the Brooklyn kid and Cathy is from Great Britian. We are asked to buy into the premise that they are identical cousins, because their fathers are identical twins. I have a question. How does a person have an identical cousin? The show's explanation is full of holes, if you ask me (and you didn't).

The answer I gave myself was that dad (William Schallert) had an affair with Cathy's mom (his brother's wife) while he was serving in the military overseas. Then, he comes back and has a child with his wife. Or, maybe Cathy's dad knocked up Patty's mom while he was here on vacation? Viola, Identical cousins. Whatever it is, I didn't buy into that stupid idea in 1965, and I'm not buying into it now. One pair of matching bookends, different as night and day. Yeah, sure ... that Lane family sounds a little odd to me...I never trusted them. I'll bet a hot dog made her mom lose control, too ... if you know what I mean...

And, for some real entertainment, there's always David Letterman:

Thursday Thirteen v.11

I wasn't planning a Thirteen this week, but a post by Pam inspired this one, and even as I write this introduction, I'm hoping I can finish it.

Thirteen Sliding Doors

For those of you who don't know what that means, it's a reference to the movie, starring Gwyneth Paltrow. It's about a woman who is fired from her job at a PR company, and is forced to take stock of her life. When the doors of a tube car close on her, we see what happens if she had made the train, or if she had not. Here are my sliding doors, in no particular order:

1 - 1967, my father died. Leaving my mother widowed, it changed the way I see life. A child at the age of 9, forced to deal with the death of a beloved father and best friend. It wasn't a choice of mine, I know, but still, the elusive bliss began to evade me right then. It was the day I got fired from my PR company.

2 - Didn't try out for the Jazz band. A few high school buddies wanted me to audition as the bass player of the high school jazz band. I love jazz, and the band would go on to win state championships, but I played guitar, not bass - and didn't want to take a spot from a more deserving candidate. The bass player they picked was lousy. I would have been better, and the band would have had more fun with me in it.

3 - Didn't go to college after high school. I graduated at 17, and wasn't mature enough to go. And, because mom never re-married, I had to go to work, because we could not afford school.

4 - My drafting class. In high school, I took a 3-period block of drafting instead of the college prep courses I should have taken. If you can stand a little self-indulgence; I was too smart for the class. It turned out to be full of hoodlums, and I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. The drafting was "easy", I was told, and it led to a life of...

5 - My drafting job. Right out of high school, another friend hooked me up with a job at an Engineering/Land Surveying office. I took it, because I had nothing else. I worked there 15 miserable years.

6 - The band broke up. My one and only band broke up in 1981, after 5 years. I never auditioned for another and never tried to re-form another band. That was the unceremonious end to my music career. I always regretted giving it up, and wonder what would have happened if I had continued.

7 - Never moved out. I lived "at home" until I was married at the age of 30. I never moved out, never took a chance at poverty, and never really tried what I wanted to do...

8 - The stand-up career. I have no fear of speaking in front of people, as long as I am prepared. At times, I can be very funny, and when I can't, I can hire someone to write for me so that I can be prepared. It would have been a hoot. I always wondered what would have happened if I had moved to New York, started waiting tables and doing 2am open-mic's. Even if I failed, at least I could have said I tried.

9 - Married late in life. Later than some, anyway. She was the only serious relationship I had, and several times we contemplated breaking up. Can't help but wonder what would have happened if I followed through. The marriage ended in divorce, and while I got a home out of the deal, the choices I made along the way contributed to where I am now...

10 - Finally attended college. I started at 40, and finished in August. Bachelor's Degree in Accounting. If I had gone to college when I was 18, I would most likely be teaching high school history or english now. Then, where would I be?

11 - The various girlfriends. Either I tried too hard, or not hard enough. Whatever, the choices are way too complicated and varied to disclose here. Suffice it to say, any one of them would have given me a different set of doors to slide through. And, perhaps any one of them would have been a better choice than the one I ended up marrying.

12 - Complacency. The catch-all for every decision I've made that did not require any effort to execute. Whatever is happening now is always more convenient than what could be happening later if we would let it.

13 - The Blog. After several months of careful consideration, I started this worthwhile project. Along the way, I have made many cyber-friends and even one very special one who is not so cyber. It will be another life-altering door that slides one way or the other, and as I continue, the door stays open.

Thank you, dear cyber friends, for keeping it open, and to the special one who is making it slide.