Sometimes I like to surprise myself with little gifts, preferably chocolate. But how do I do that, when I’m the one buying it? Well, what I do is I buy some chocolate — like a candy bar — and hide it somewhere. I’ll forget it, maybe for a couple of weeks, and then when I’m looking for something, I find it. “Whoa! I forgot I had that. Sweet!”
Sometimes my thoughts create more thoughts, uh, yeah. Last night as I was trying to sleep, I thought about how rapid technology is evolving, and the causes and affect it has on society’s ability to fulfill jobs. Well, another thought occurred in regards to farming. It’s always been the dream of mankind to have a true miracle grow, where food can grow near instantly. So, I wrote this down:
Some day, food will grow so quick, you can plant a seed in the ground, and five minutes later, you have a pumpkin. A Cinderella story come to life.
This is an excerpt from a book I’ve been writing for the past six months, adding and editing bits here and there. Generally, it’s similar to the stuff you read here, but bigger, fresher, and not on here. I’d like to share with you my current thoughts on “pop” music.
Are we hearing the same shit again, with a different face? Synthetic music is one of the biggest pieces of shit to hit this planet. I don’t think anyone should have the right to use a synthesizer. Ban them like we ban drugs. Let them be available only to the most ignorant masses who are willing to risk their very lives for them. It will give those “corrupt” politicians another revenue stream.
What’s with it all sounding the same? It really does, and all we do is slap a pretty face on it. But it can’t be a face older than twenty. Once a female singer is in her twenties, she either has to do stupid shit to attract attention, or get knocked up. Some would say that’s the same thing, but not me. I think having children is a great thing.
And so we call it pop music. It doesn’t fit any particular taste, like music from the south, the north, far east, or midwest. No, it doesn’t fit anywhere because it’s very name, popular, just claims that it’s what the in thing is. Some great marketer thought that shit up, and I guess it stuck. Of course, they don’t know how to spell, and lobbed off the “-ular” in the word, and just called it pop. Maybe it’s because the sound pops out at you. Or not. I don’t think it does. The only popping I hear is the stupid kid who’s got his radio too loud it’s shaking his fenders, and I can’t understand what he’s playing anyway.
So, then, they keep looking for whatever is popular, and label it as pop music. It can be country, rock ‘n’ roll, reggae, hip-hop, rap, crap, blues from Japan, they don’t care. If it has a pretty face, dress her up like a whore, or him like a douche. It will go platinum in a week! That’s how long it takes for it to make it. Just one week. If it takes longer, it won’t go anywhere, and the kid gets shit-canned.
By then, everyone’s moved on to the next fad. The next pop sensation. The next teen idol. Who are you listening to on your MP3 player? What? Dude, their music sucks. Listen to this, he just had his first concert yesterday. Isn’t that awesome? Yeah, and he’s only fifteen. He’s going places I tell ya, what an inspiration.
Download the album! It’s the same price as the CD, we’ve got to make up the cost for those digital bits somewhere. The artist has to get their royalties. We record execs need to get our fair share for making this kid into a star. Wait, wait, hold on here, we need to take something back. These expense reports are immense. I know you didn’t ask for any of it, but here goes. The models, the venue rental, the cost for ticket sales and printing, advertising, marketing, our cut, your father’s cut, my cousin’s cut, not to mention the cut of the cut that was your cut. You know what, you little punk, you owe us.
And the cycle continues. Out with the older, in with the teenager. That’s how things are made popular. Let’s feed the pedos and the pervs, give them something to watch on stage. We’ll just make sure it’s borderline okay with the FCC. Just a smidge. No foul ups here. We aren’t going to be pulling anyone’s shirt off, not all the way. Just a bit, so the kids can get their hormones in a tickle.
Oh, you’re twenty now? Well, sorry, out the door you go. Spend the rest of your life paying off your debts. You spent six years in the spotlight, and we racked up the bills for your fifteen minutes of fame, and we want the money back. Everything you got, we’re taking it. Yup, try and use your old, tired ass to earn money. But you forgot all about that, didn’t you? You didn’t have time to study, to be a kid, and learn what you needed to learn to be able to earn a legitimate income, right? Well, now go pose for a magazine and see if anyone cares.
Your music is old, it’s gone, and we’re on to the next young girl. She’ll make us millions, dare I say, billions!
It’s a day late, depending on where you are in the world, and the year 2012 is gone for me. Packed its backs and kicked it out the door. A lot has happened. So, since this isn’t your life, I’ll keep it brief.
1. I stopped eating fast food; I’ve been vocal about this, and since it’s been a year, I will happily continue this trend. Hopefully for the rest of my life. Soda and fast food are gone. Don’t expect me to give up chocolate; ever. It might be tea. I may be giving up tea because the caffeine is too much, even though there’s caffeine in chocolate.
2. I left a bad situation. This means my job. Some people didn’t like that I quit my job; mainly because I have no income. But, psychologically, emotionally, and in some ways physically, I am far better off than that disease I kept for five years. I applied for one job back in August, which was less than two miles from home, but didn’t get it; some inexperienced MIT student got it, if I’m correct. But that’s okay, because of #3.
3. I published my first novel. And, it presently is in the works of being completely rewritten and heavily expanded. Why? Why would I do that? Because I have a strange theory on ebooks and writing that has a relationship with the automotive industry. I’ll post something on that later. Not too long after that, in fact, two days thereafter, I published my most viewed short story, for free. People love it. Since then, that book has four tales; three short stories, and one 40k word novel — the revision will likely be 2-3 times as long, as I’ve learned much from my short stories.
4. My comedy writing has improved, vastly. I’ve gained and found my voice; dark humor is where it’s going to be at. For now, I’m studying voicing, so when I try stand-up (I might!) I’ll be better than a monotonous, unconvincing and boring voice.
5. I paid off my car. It’s in great condition, as I take care of my things. I usually wear out a pair of shoes after three years; $20 shoes. Not the high-quality $50-100 dress shoes one might wear with a suit. It’s a Mustang, and every time someone gets in it, they say, “Is this a new car?” Well, I don’t eat in it; I don’t smoke; and I don’t fuck in it either. I have some rules.
6. My art skills have improved vastly. You wouldn’t know it by looking at the comics I’ve posted here, but I generally spend no more than five minutes per picture, and two or three hours per comic (the long ones).
Of my resolutions, two I accomplished: not eating fast food and publishing my first work. So I’m 2/2, 100% for 2012. I don’t know what resolution I’ll make for 2013, but I know I can’t give up chocolate, pasta, oatmeal or peanut butter; I ate all three today.
Maybe I’ll take up river dancing on rain gutters.
My biggest flaw is that I hate people with authority. Not the idea of authority, because we have to have some order in this world to keep everyone from going insane. I hate people who attain authority and don’t know how to use it in a responsible manner.
Here’s the background. As a child, I was told to listen to authority and follow the rules. I hoped these authority figures would follow their own rules, but I often found them being apathetic, indifferent, and expressing vitriol only when their power was threatened. I hated teachers who didn’t stop bullying, and so I took it upon myself to do something about it; yes, the path of violence, because any kid who has been bullied knows, bullies are stupid and don’t know the meaning of the word “no,” or any other word for that matter.
Amazingly, I’m not a criminal, never done drugs, or turned to alcohol to relieve myself of the knowledge that people in authority are generally hypocritical, condescending, oppressive spoiled brats.
At a previous job, workers two to three times my age, would dump their workplace drama on me, at the time, a 19-20 year old college student. As if I could relieve them of their fears and anxieties, or at least confirm their ridiculous suspicions that someone was playing favorites. As much as I informed my boss of this immature bullshit, they gave no thought whatsoever to telling these people to shut their mouth, do their job, and grow up.
However! When I did something out of line I was punished. Never the other way around. I quickly left that job, and every job wherein I’ve run into the same problem. Much like I ran away from school.
People in authority are condescending, hypocritical, oppressive spoiled brats. I hate anyone who has things they didn’t earn, deserve, or need to live. I hate people who tell me to do one thing, and they do the polar opposite. And I despise people who think that just because they’re the boss they can talk to you like you’re a piece of worthless shit.
But you can’t go through life not listening to authority at all. Or can you? Can’t we all just learn to do what we feel is right, without having to resort to someone else telling us what is right? As adults, aren’t we supposed to be responsible? And what sort of responsibility can we have for our lives if we’re seeking the sage advice of indifferent and apathetic authority figures who’s only goal is to fatten themselves with outrageous bonuses and junk food.
This post is in response to the Daily Prompt at WordPress.com, titled, “Flawed.”
One could think, as part of Generation Look At Me!, I would be inclined to broadcast my life experiences on the Internet. After all, I enjoy writing dry humor.
Well, your expectation would be right. But I don’t ask people to look at me. I wouldn’t want to look at me for too long; I prefer not to live in vanity. What I do prefer is to look at other people.
I am entertained by the decline of human intelligence and the rise of human ignorance. And this activity seems willful. People know better, but they continue down the path anyway. What I enjoy is broadcasting my perspective to others in a way to get them to laugh.
I think insanity is finally reached in humanity when we start laughing at what we once thought as horrid. Today, there isn’t much that people find horrid. Perhaps that’s because we haven’t had a real major war since the 1940s; everything in between has been driven by political and economic motive. Whatever happened to the religious wars, where people fought for honor and human dignity?
It seems to me, this is why human ignorance is on the rise. People have lost heart. And so, I think it’s important, to try and bring people back. But people aren’t pulled in by sad scenes of bodies blown apart anymore; they usually picture Terminator and think it’s radical. But humor works. It opens the mind. And if the humor is smart, it allows intelligence in.
History is full of… historical events. Some of which have taken place on this North American continent. November 9th seems to be a day for the British and Germans.
On this day, November 9th, 1780, during the American Revolution, the Battle of Fishdam Ford took place. Now this wasn’t a fight where a Ford motor vehicle blocked a river; no, it took place in what is now Carlisle, South Carolina. Neither of which have anything to do with Henry Ford or fish.
In this battle, British forces tried to launch their — obvious — surprise attack. It, however, resulted in utter failure. One might wonder how the British were able to hide anywhere behind trees and inside bushes, what with those bright red coats and ridiculous hats. Blue was a better choice of color, and could be the reason why we won in the first place. It works better for nighttime raids.
And this ambush was in fact a nighttime raid. The British hid in the usual bushes and trees, fired a few good shots with their muskets. However, their ambition was swiftly cut down when they charged into an American camp and got their bayonets and flamboyant coattails caught in a fence. They, apparently, couldn’t get free for nearly twenty minutes, likely tossing aside all their clothes, and running off in the night, nude.
Nineteen years later, a famous short french dude by the name of Napoleon, lead a coup d’état and overthrew the French Directory. Apparently, he was fed up that his name didn’t appear in the French semaphore phonebook, an invention that resembled the telegraph by using line-of-sight.
Regardless of the reasons, this was one of the precursors to Napoleon’s reign as French Emperor. Originally, it was to be a peaceful coup, but the midget, er, short French, okay, Dictator, oh all right, General Napoleon. On the first attempt, he merely stormed the chamber of the Directory, and shouted this and that, it all doesn’t really matter. What matters most is what happened next:
Napoleon decided to storm another chamber, one filled with other French leaders arguing back and forth about stuff. During the arguments, Napoleon was smacked clear across the nose by someone else who was five-foot-seven.
Through some randomness that no longer matters — because, frankly, after you become an emperor, what does your past matter? — the French Directory would fall apart. A provisional government was put in place, with Napoleon as one of its leaders. And, as the French public hardly reacted at all, it was their way of saying, “We don’t really give a shit.” The Revolution was indeed over. All in all, it led to him becoming Emperor.
Robert Blum, of Germany, was executed in 1848. He was an opponent of antisemitism, ethnocentrism, and oppression, a supporter of democracy and equality amongst sexes; essentially, the complete opposite of Nazi Germany. After his arrest on November 4th, he was given just five days for a tribunal and execution. When the idea of hanging him failed, someone just pulled out a gun and said, “Oh, lass uns einfach hinter uns bringen.” Which, according to Google, translates into: “Oh, let’s just get this over with.”
1861: The first documented account of Canadians trying to play American football. It didn’t become as popular as American football because it had three-downs, ten extra yards, and teams could score an extra point when their ball is kicked into the endzone and not returned by the receiving team. Regardless, Canadians chose to keep Hockey as their national past time because Wayne Gretzky’s lack of teeth paled in comparison to that of NFL players.
In 1906, Theodore Roosevelt became the first sitting U.S. President to visit another country, where he inspected the building progress of the Panama Canal. This was the first sign that the United States somewhat, sort of, kind of, said to the rest of the world, “Yes, we do give a shit.”
Speaking of worldly history events, Kaiser Wilhelm gave up his throne on this day in 1918, effectively ending the German Revolution (by this time their eighth revolution).
Robert McNamara was named the president of the Ford Motor Company Nov. 9th, 1960. He swiftly gave it up a month later when he was asked to join the John F. Kennedy administration, persuaded by the chance that he’ll meet Marilyn Monroe.
And if you’re a fan of Rock ‘n’ Roll, or bands filled with old people, you’d be delighted to know that November 9th, 1967, was the first publication date of Rolling Stone Magazine. Yes, even the Internet’s throat-grab of the publishing industry can’t stop a Rolling Stone.
Speaking of rocks falling, on this day in 1989, checkpoints were opened at the Berlin Wall, allowing East and West Germans to find out that, truly, on each side, people are exactly the same.
Finally, the British, with their wonderful brilliance on the rights of mankind, declared in 1998 the end of capital punishment to all capital crimes, proving to the world that the English truly have chopped off their left nut.
In the beginning, the point was to find food and shelter to eat and live.
In the middle, it was to further the endeavors of a civilized world through knowledge and research.
Now that we know how much bullshit everything is, it’s time to get back to the one thing humans do best: complaining.
That’s all it seems to be now. Everyone looking for something to bitch about. If they can’t complain about the manufacturing process of steel dildos, they’ll complain about the endangered species. If they can’t bitch about public education going in the shitter, they’ll complain about taxes being too high.
Lo and behold, we create things just to complain about them. Government, taxes, religion, and the idea that you can’t walk up to a beautiful ginger girl and ask her for a blow job and get one.
In all honesty, there is no point, there never was, and there never will be. Humans have completely missed the point of living: to just do whatever the fuck you want without any higher meaning. But, some douchebags along the way wanted a higher meaning, and what better higher meaning than something that can and can’t be denied with fake evidence conjured from their thoughts and a lack of evidence conjured from those very same thoughts.
The only point I care about is me pointing this bullshit out the door. Thank you, and I hope I made my point.
I love English language, especially American English, and all the bullshit phrases people think up to make themselves feel more important. So, I decided, why can’t I? Here goes.
I created a bullshit generator on my computer. It takes verbs, nouns, and adjectives, and generates random combinations. Every now and then, I get some gems.
Better Blow – Better than the last one that left you satisfied.
Mellow Pen – When your boss reluctantly signs your check.
Pumped Size – The new name for the larger sized soda at your favorite fast food.
Chilly Card – A greeting card from the South Pole.
Non-discrete Punishment – Public Execution
Moaning Place – The only room in your house where you’re allowed to be a bitch.
Taboo Wish – A curse.
Hulking Kitten – Tiger
Delightful Pipe – Bong
Juicy Hobbies – Sexual Promiscuity
Alcoholic Pet – Wouldn’t you like to see this? Hey, fido, here boy! Fetch me a 6-pack.
False Prison – Public School, Employment in Corporate America
Possessive Drawer – A drawer where you put your possessions and it doesn’t open.
Efficient Love – A quickie.
Exciting Grass – Weed.
Silent Knowledge – A secret.
Receptive Cough – To catch a cold.
Defective Circle – Oval.
Cowardly Rainstorm – A light drizzle.
Knowledgeable Link – Related thoughts.
Festive Change – Redecorating the house.
Diligent Vote – A vote that takes care and understanding, but never happens in Congress.
Satisfying Sit – A comfortable chair.
Condemned Result – A jury conviction.
Limping Hope – When your hope has nearly faded away.
Obsolete Stop – When you stop at a stop light and there’s no traffic but yourself for five minutes.
Nonstop Influence – American Advertising.
Makeshift Die – To think up a creative way to kill someone.
Pathetic Make – A crappy car.
Abusive Mark – A black eye, or bruise or a welt.
Ill Connect – A bad date that ended the next morning.
Dynamic Discover – When two people find something at the same time.
Electric Buy – When you’re shocked by the credit card bill.
Late Answer – In a board meeting, to say the same thing as the last guy.
Disgusting Order – Anything on the fast food menu.
Miniature Come – Premature ejaculation.
Greasy Win – When a court case is won by a slick lawyer.
Thankful Drink – Anything alcohol.
Adamant Present – A gift box that won’t open.
Silent Win – Humble champions.
Slim Save – When you shut up just before you tell someone they’re full of shit.
Bite-sized Report – Your child’s report card after he fed it to the dog.
Numberless Cost – Free. Hey, I sell books at a numberless cost!
The glorious English language is full of phrases, and the most amusing are the idioms. Most laugh at idiots and the stupid shit they do, while others laugh at the stupid shit they say. Here are a few idioms I enjoy.
Off to the Side
This phrase means to move aside to speak with someone. But the side is never defined. Is it the left side, or the right side? Nobody knows, we just know it’s off.
Someone often pulls you off to the side for something you’ve done wrong, and they want to keep you from getting embarrassed when they criticize you. Don’t be fooled, folks. When someone pulls you off to the side they’re doing it to save themselves from being embarrassed. Not you.
What about when you pull someone off to the side, and want to tell them a little secret, only to have that person shout over your shoulder to the whole party. “Hey, everyone, Jack says he has a crush on Melody and wants to dress up in whips and chains with her!” Your heart drops, it sinks, and you think, “Holy, shit! I can’t believe everyone knows that now!”
That’s one way of looking at it. But, there are more uses for the phrase. Off to the side can be used in sports, like when the cameraman should be standing off to the side instead of blocking the wide receiver in the last play of the Superbowl.
Or how about when someone says they’ll do you a favor, but then brushes it off to the side? Doesn’t that make you feel awful? They’ve violated your trust, let you down, put your friendship off to the side. Well, you won’t be asking any favors from him for a while.
In happens to actors when their hair is parted off to the side. Completely ruins their character.
What about when you’re decorating a cake, and the icing droops off to the side? What if it’s a wedding cake? You don’t want that to be messed up. Then again, you shouldn’t have any complaints if the icing on the cake is crooked and the bride and groom are cross-eyed.
Mum’s the word
When someone tells you, Mum’s the word, they don’t want you to reveal a secret. Okay, first of all, it’s not a secret if more than one person knows, so that’s out the window. Second, who decided Mum was the word? Is my mother going to force me to reveal a secret? And if I don’t, who is she going to make me cry to to tell her? Seems to me, Mum isn’t the best choice of a word to describe a secret.
You can learn a fine lesson from the CIA: they don’t use any words about their secrets. In fact, the CIA doesn’t even say no comment, because they’re smart: they ignore it all together.
But let’s be generous here. Why does it have to be Mum? Who’s idea was it to use a word that meant mother to keep a secret from people? The last person I’d ever find myself lying to is my mother.
Let’s suppose for a moment we use a different word. Hmm… how about, Dad? Why not Dad’s the word? Dad doesn’t want to know about all the shit his kids do. Dad doesn’t care; he’s too busy working, and when he comes home, the last thing he wants to here is how you banged the neighbor’s daughter, lit the rug on fire, smashed the mailbox, and had a swat team come over about a stinkbomb. If Dad’s the word, Mum will just go to him, and he’ll speak up about anything. First words he’ll say: I’m sorry.
But let’s move on here, and pick another word. Why not… pumpernickel? “Pumpernickel’s the word.” It’s a long word, people have to think about it, and throws them off. “Hey, Billy, what did that boy just whisper in your ear?” “Pumpernickel!” Gets them every time.
Or, how about a word that doesn’t exist? Like, Goshibulodooky. If someone asked you to reveal a secret, and you say, Goshibulodooky!, they’ll wonder what that word means. It deflects them from even thinking about the secret. Then, you go into a lengthy explanation about tour aunt’s best friend’s sister’s cousin’s nephew uncle’s great grandfather’s tailor’s shoe maker’s great grandson’s little brother, told you it’s a microscopic organism in the intermediate subatomic layers of the atmosphere. They’ll think you’re way too fucking smart and leave you alone. Problem solved.
Crossed the Line
Oh, here’s one of my favorites. When someone does something so horribly wrong, they have crossed the line. But where’s the line? Nobody ever defines the line. How are we supposed to not cross the line if we don’t know where it is? And second, whoever said we crossed the line?
You can’t cross the line by going over it; you cross a line by drawing a line through another line, thus resulting in a cross, and now — and now — you have two lines. Doesn’t that mean when you cross a line with your line that their line has crossed your line? We’ve been double-crossed!
Well, which line did I cross? Your line, my line, someone else’s line? I didn’t know we had lines here and there to be crossed in the first place. Can someone please draw these lines so we can stop crossing them?
And this phrase only comes after you’ve crossed the line. It only happens after the fact; post de facto. Isn’t it illegal to punish someone after the fact? And, to avoid punishment, to avoid being told we’ve crossed the line, we have to draw the line in the sand. But what if you’re not standing on any sand? What if you’re standing in a puddle of water? You draw a line, and poof, it vanishes in the ripples. Now you got lines going everywhere and everyone in the puddle is crossing the line!
Suppose you can’t draw; suppose your drawing skills are that of a one year old and your lines are squiggles. What then? Are the lines just wherever they’re at? I think, before you start telling people they’ve crossed the line, you need to draw the line. In fact, they teach kids to color within the lines. What a great way of teaching them to not cross the line. That’ll whip them into shape as little slaves for the rest of their lives.
What if I don’t want a line? What if I want to say you’ve crossed the circle? It would cover more space, wouldn’t it? It would be easy for someone to know when they’ve crossed the circle instead of the line. A line has to be directly in front and perpendicular to your feet, while a circle is all around. Take one step in any direction and you’ve crossed the line. Rectangles and triangles work, too, but circle beats them all.
Another stupid thing people say. He’s got the upper hand. It’s related to playing poker, when one player has the advantage over others. Well, if he has the upper hand, what’s he doing with his other hand? What’s he hiding? Did his other hand cross a line, and thus it had to be brushed off to the side? Mum’s the word on that one.
‘Till the Fat Lady Sings
The phrase means something won’t be over until something happens. Supposedly it comes from a fat lady singing at the end of the opera. I don’t know about you, but many of the fat ladies I’ve met don’t exactly have the most pleasant voices. You ever meet those women who shop with their five kids, still wearing their nightgown and hair curlers, pushing two shopping carts, balancing an infant in one arm, and a cigarette in another? Their voice is hoarse and scratchy. I think if you waited for her to sing you’d find yourself wishing you left sooner.
And why is it always a fat lady? Why not a fat man? Sometimes that happens in opera, too, but suppose we used something else. Suppose we had a fat ostrich sing. Suppose we had a fat ostrich in heat and tied him to the stage with six lady ostriches prancing around. Suppose he had a really bad temper. Seems like it would make for a grand finale.
We could have the fat lady do something else, such as, It ain’t over ’till the fat lady shoots herself on stage and they close the curtains to cover it up. You’d be surprised at how few people would know it was real. In fact, she’d get a pretty big round of applause while her corpse is being dragged off stage. Then, when everyone is about to leave the theater, the host walks out on stage, and tells them it wasn’t part of the show, and the singer has really died. That would make a lot of people feel like a real dick.
Finally, I’ll close with the idiom, by chance. This phrase means something will happen purely out of randomness; nobody will decide to make it happen. And the phrase is versatile.
First, something can happen by chance. You didn’t expect it, you wanted it to happen, but in the back of your mind, you knew that you couldn’t make it happen. By chance, it will happen, or it won’t. But it’s just a chance. You take your chances.
Second, it can be used when someone asks you something. “Excuse me, by chance, do you have the time?” “Why, yes, I do have the time. It’s exactly five minutes past your last chance for me to tell you the time. Maybe next time.” Can’t miss that chance.
Or, how about this. “If by chance she does want to go out with me, will you give her my number, Dave?” “Sure, Jack, I’ll give her your number. What was that… 5-5-5 you don’t stand a chance?”
Don’t wait ’till the fat lady sings, because, by chance you don’t mum the word, you may lose the upper hand and cross the line.