Vicky and I were at South Coast Plaza yesterday – listen, I know, I’d normally never even go but Vicky had a gift card, so…
We made our way to Macy’s with the idea that we’d eat first and then watch Vicky go crazy with the shopping, but then we came upon the shoe department and, well, all was lost. So, I took off on my own.
Now, South Coast Plaza isn’t exactly a mall for men – well, not for men who aren’t clothes whores. (Would you believe that, until a few minutes ago, I thought the phrase was actually “clothes horse” and I thought it would be so much better if it were “clothes whore”… turns out, it is!) Normally, I’d hang out down at the book store or the electronic data of choice – DVD, CD, etc. – store. I’m a data whore. I love books and DVDs and CDs. I’m weird.
I would love to be a clothes whore. In fact, I think I’d make a great clothes whore. I was looking at these Armani suits yesterday that nearly made me… well, I liked them. The problem is, it’s tough to be a clothes whore when you’re fat. And I’m fat. I would never look as good in those clothes as, well, thin people would. So, I tend to admire all those cool clothes from far away… far, far away… from outside the store, actually.
My goal is to lose my “Vicky weight” – you know, all those pounds I’ve put on since Vicky and I were wed – and get back on stage. Once I get down in the 220 – 230 range, well, maybe then I can be a clothes whore, and I can start buying expensive suits and styles.
Oh, but wait, I had to return to Macy’s and find Vicky. Maybe one clothes whore is enough for one family…
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
And Santa gives toys worth $50 more this year…
According to Yahoo – you remember Yahoo? Our best source of news outside of Fox? – well, according to Yahoo’s crack team of We’ll-take-anything-and-post-it-as-a-news-story professionals, al-Qaeda is 75% gone from Iraq!
75% gone!
I’d love to know how they generated this number, because they surely didn’t just make it up!
Next thing they’ll be telling us is that Shrub has 10% more intelligence or that his humanity has increased a whopping 12%!
God is 7% more true!
Republicans are 31% less likely to be petty, hurtful, greed mongers!
And monkeys are 2% more likely to take flight from the cusp of my sphincter…
75% gone!
I’d love to know how they generated this number, because they surely didn’t just make it up!
Next thing they’ll be telling us is that Shrub has 10% more intelligence or that his humanity has increased a whopping 12%!
God is 7% more true!
Republicans are 31% less likely to be petty, hurtful, greed mongers!
And monkeys are 2% more likely to take flight from the cusp of my sphincter…
Friday, December 28, 2007
Is al-Qaeda the new Larry or Curly?...
Or Shemp?
Oftentimes, during Three Stooges shorts, Moe would do something and then blame it on one of the other guys… and then slap them in the head, of course. Nobody was ever the wiser.
Back on 9/11, very few people followed the money trail to see who would benefit most from the attack. The person who benefited most was Shrub, of course. He got his near-dictatorship (“near” so far). He got to surrender the treasury to his friends. He got to shit on the Constitution and make us all war criminals. But he said, “al- Qaeda did it!” and everyone believed him.
Yesterday, the world was plunged a little further into this mass-waterboarding with the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. General Musharraf has claimed that it’s the fault of his buddies al- Qaeda again, but who had the most to gain? Musharraf was going to lose the up-coming elections to Bhutto’s party, by all counts. He needed more chaos to keep his grip on power. And Bhutto’s family had already been wiped out by 60 or so years of tyranny, so what’s another?
What’s worse, however, is when Musharraf wants to have it both ways and has his people say that Bhutto did not die from a bullet wound or from a bomb. In an article that Yahoo, who is always good for a laugh when you look under the heading of “news”, they said she died from a bump on the head!
So… then al-Qaeda didn’t do it? She was just a clutz?
Just goes to show, as ’07 wraps up, that we will believe anything.
Oftentimes, during Three Stooges shorts, Moe would do something and then blame it on one of the other guys… and then slap them in the head, of course. Nobody was ever the wiser.
Back on 9/11, very few people followed the money trail to see who would benefit most from the attack. The person who benefited most was Shrub, of course. He got his near-dictatorship (“near” so far). He got to surrender the treasury to his friends. He got to shit on the Constitution and make us all war criminals. But he said, “al- Qaeda did it!” and everyone believed him.
Yesterday, the world was plunged a little further into this mass-waterboarding with the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. General Musharraf has claimed that it’s the fault of his buddies al- Qaeda again, but who had the most to gain? Musharraf was going to lose the up-coming elections to Bhutto’s party, by all counts. He needed more chaos to keep his grip on power. And Bhutto’s family had already been wiped out by 60 or so years of tyranny, so what’s another?
What’s worse, however, is when Musharraf wants to have it both ways and has his people say that Bhutto did not die from a bullet wound or from a bomb. In an article that Yahoo, who is always good for a laugh when you look under the heading of “news”, they said she died from a bump on the head!
So… then al-Qaeda didn’t do it? She was just a clutz?
Just goes to show, as ’07 wraps up, that we will believe anything.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
2007, a retrospective…
Long year.
Yep.
Guess we’ll be wrapping it up, huh?
Yeah, put it in the garage, next to 2006. There may be room under 2004. Just shove 2001 in the back; it didn’t turn out as cool as we’d hoped.
… where was I?
I’m going to chalk 2007 in the “Could have been worse” column. Economically, the bottom just about fell out in the US with all the foreclosures; we’ll leave that for 2008. We’ll leave the presidential election for 2008 as well, if Shrub lets us have one. The Repub-dicon nominees are a flock of people who can’t disavow all the scientific gains in the last several centuries fast enough – soon they’ll be arguing about who was the first to believe the earth was flat – while the Dems shout about the mess we’re in, while hedging over getting us out of it. There’s been only two exceptions: Kucinich and Dodd. Kucinich actually introduced impeachment papers into the House. Dodd stopped the Senate Dems from giving criminal phone companies the store after the phone companies cooperated with Shrub’s illegal wiretapping of… you. But neither Kucinich nor Dodd have a chance in hell of winning. They are not young enough, hip enough, cool enough, or unchallenging enough to be elected by a populace with an attention span that’s slipping faster than our collective IQs – wait, there goes another point. The Dems in Congress complained about Shrub’s illegal wars and continued to fund them with the verve of a closet cross-dresser at a Victoria’s Secret. Environmentally, the world came together in Bali to decide… they’ll talk about it later. Well, at least we’re consistent in our apathy. Too bad the victims of our apathy are our children – but if we really loved them we wouldn’t have global warming to worry about in the first place.
My hope for mankind was not changed in 2007. It remained in the shitter.
As for myself, 2007 was a pretty good year. I wrote three new books... and didn’t sell any… fuck. I started the year unemployed and ended it with a job I’ve learned to loathe. And Vicky and I are still together, which is a very good thing. I finished my first semester as a Junior at Cal State Fullerton and I’m still waiting for my instructor to grade my work and tell me if I passed… goddammit!
I’m 42 years old and I feel like I’ve crossed over marker in my life. I look back at all those years and I look forward to more to come. It could be many. It could be few. But one thing has grown in clarity. It may sound strange to you but the glance backwards shows me what lies on the road ahead. After over 19 years of growing up and 15 years with Rosa, four years before Vicky and more than three years with Vicky, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve lived an awfully long time. It’s hard to keep track of all those years. Some of them fall away. The older I get, the more the years will slip until it’ll be hard to keep track of any of it. Without my realizing it, my kinship has slipped from the young to the old. But that’s okay because I realize just how fortunate I’ve been. I’m not rushing to death as I once did but I’m not as afraid of it as I once was and I can live with my bride in peace and love.
I look forward to 2008 with the constant hope that things could get better. I remain optimistic… if doubtful.
Yep.
Guess we’ll be wrapping it up, huh?
Yeah, put it in the garage, next to 2006. There may be room under 2004. Just shove 2001 in the back; it didn’t turn out as cool as we’d hoped.
… where was I?
I’m going to chalk 2007 in the “Could have been worse” column. Economically, the bottom just about fell out in the US with all the foreclosures; we’ll leave that for 2008. We’ll leave the presidential election for 2008 as well, if Shrub lets us have one. The Repub-dicon nominees are a flock of people who can’t disavow all the scientific gains in the last several centuries fast enough – soon they’ll be arguing about who was the first to believe the earth was flat – while the Dems shout about the mess we’re in, while hedging over getting us out of it. There’s been only two exceptions: Kucinich and Dodd. Kucinich actually introduced impeachment papers into the House. Dodd stopped the Senate Dems from giving criminal phone companies the store after the phone companies cooperated with Shrub’s illegal wiretapping of… you. But neither Kucinich nor Dodd have a chance in hell of winning. They are not young enough, hip enough, cool enough, or unchallenging enough to be elected by a populace with an attention span that’s slipping faster than our collective IQs – wait, there goes another point. The Dems in Congress complained about Shrub’s illegal wars and continued to fund them with the verve of a closet cross-dresser at a Victoria’s Secret. Environmentally, the world came together in Bali to decide… they’ll talk about it later. Well, at least we’re consistent in our apathy. Too bad the victims of our apathy are our children – but if we really loved them we wouldn’t have global warming to worry about in the first place.
My hope for mankind was not changed in 2007. It remained in the shitter.
As for myself, 2007 was a pretty good year. I wrote three new books... and didn’t sell any… fuck. I started the year unemployed and ended it with a job I’ve learned to loathe. And Vicky and I are still together, which is a very good thing. I finished my first semester as a Junior at Cal State Fullerton and I’m still waiting for my instructor to grade my work and tell me if I passed… goddammit!
I’m 42 years old and I feel like I’ve crossed over marker in my life. I look back at all those years and I look forward to more to come. It could be many. It could be few. But one thing has grown in clarity. It may sound strange to you but the glance backwards shows me what lies on the road ahead. After over 19 years of growing up and 15 years with Rosa, four years before Vicky and more than three years with Vicky, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve lived an awfully long time. It’s hard to keep track of all those years. Some of them fall away. The older I get, the more the years will slip until it’ll be hard to keep track of any of it. Without my realizing it, my kinship has slipped from the young to the old. But that’s okay because I realize just how fortunate I’ve been. I’m not rushing to death as I once did but I’m not as afraid of it as I once was and I can live with my bride in peace and love.
I look forward to 2008 with the constant hope that things could get better. I remain optimistic… if doubtful.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Just in time for Christmas...
(Everyone! Sing along!)
(To the tune of "Up on a rooftop"... as if you needed to be told...)
Up on the rooftop, reindeers paws
Nazis on dinosaurs kill the raindeer
Santa pulls out his AK-47
Sends those Nazis right to heaven
Chorus
Ho Ho Ho
Doin some blow
Ho Ho Ho
Out in the snow
Up on the rooftop
Sniff Sniff Sniff
Seein’ some shit is what you’ll git
Way up in Heaven, God laments
Look what got in through the vents
Admission standards have been slack
Send those Nazis straight down back
Repeat Chorus
Down in Hell, Satan’s confused
At what point did Nazis get dinosaurs, anyway?
He sips his eggnog and he ponders
Maybe they’re a new Christmas thing, he wonders
Repeat Chorus until infinity
(To the tune of "Up on a rooftop"... as if you needed to be told...)
Up on the rooftop, reindeers paws
Nazis on dinosaurs kill the raindeer
Santa pulls out his AK-47
Sends those Nazis right to heaven
Chorus
Ho Ho Ho
Doin some blow
Ho Ho Ho
Out in the snow
Up on the rooftop
Sniff Sniff Sniff
Seein’ some shit is what you’ll git
Way up in Heaven, God laments
Look what got in through the vents
Admission standards have been slack
Send those Nazis straight down back
Repeat Chorus
Down in Hell, Satan’s confused
At what point did Nazis get dinosaurs, anyway?
He sips his eggnog and he ponders
Maybe they’re a new Christmas thing, he wonders
Repeat Chorus until infinity
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Everything Matters…
What if you could sum up your philosophy in two words? What if you could put down what is important to you in just two, simple, common, every day terms?
How would you react?
Because that’s what I’ve done. And I’m not entirely sure I like it.
Everything matters.
Sounds like a bad play on my first (bad) play: Everything Changes. Sounds like a bad pun. Sounds like I’m going into politics.
I don’t know.
But in a world where everything gets marginalized – or, I should say, a society that does this – so we can become more and more vapid, where this is become a virtue, I am forced to admit that it cannot be said loudly enough.
Everything matters.
I don’t know if it came in a dream or out of the blue, if I saw it in a magazine or on a billboard, but there it is.
Everything matters.
Live with it. I have to. I see a book on the horizon...
How would you react?
Because that’s what I’ve done. And I’m not entirely sure I like it.
Everything matters.
Sounds like a bad play on my first (bad) play: Everything Changes. Sounds like a bad pun. Sounds like I’m going into politics.
I don’t know.
But in a world where everything gets marginalized – or, I should say, a society that does this – so we can become more and more vapid, where this is become a virtue, I am forced to admit that it cannot be said loudly enough.
Everything matters.
I don’t know if it came in a dream or out of the blue, if I saw it in a magazine or on a billboard, but there it is.
Everything matters.
Live with it. I have to. I see a book on the horizon...
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
What can I say? I was hungry...
Deck the halls with lots of donuts
Fa la la la la la la la la
Tis the season when we go nuts
Fa la la la la la la la la
Down we now a glazed and bear claw
Fa la la la la la la la la
And a cream-filled chocolate-glazed bar
Fa la la la la la la la la
Fa la la la la la la la … burp…
Fa la la la la la la la la
Tis the season when we go nuts
Fa la la la la la la la la
Down we now a glazed and bear claw
Fa la la la la la la la la
And a cream-filled chocolate-glazed bar
Fa la la la la la la la la
Fa la la la la la la la … burp…
Insert words like “are” or “do” or “should” at your peril…
Atheists should always behave ethically. Atheists need to behave ethically.
Would you like to know why?
Atheists should always behave ethically – they need to behave ethically – because, as atheists, they do not have God on their side.
Conversely, religious people do have God on their side.
With God on their side, religious people do not need to behave ethically. They can kill and maim and steal and pillage and rape, all in God’s name. It must be great to have God on your side.
They can even kill each other, for not believing in God just the right way. Christians can kill Muslims and Jews cankill Zoroastrians or whoever they want, because they have God on their side.
Boy, atheists must sure be stupid. If they had God on their side, they wouldn’t need to be ethical at all.
(What can I say? I have fun.)
Would you like to know why?
Atheists should always behave ethically – they need to behave ethically – because, as atheists, they do not have God on their side.
Conversely, religious people do have God on their side.
With God on their side, religious people do not need to behave ethically. They can kill and maim and steal and pillage and rape, all in God’s name. It must be great to have God on your side.
They can even kill each other, for not believing in God just the right way. Christians can kill Muslims and Jews cankill Zoroastrians or whoever they want, because they have God on their side.
Boy, atheists must sure be stupid. If they had God on their side, they wouldn’t need to be ethical at all.
(What can I say? I have fun.)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Just because something is illegal doesn’t mean you can’t outlaw it…
Leave it to the idiot Democrats to pull this kind of shit.
While waterboarding is already illegal – in US Law, US Military code, the Geneva Conventions, US legal precedence – and should therefore be prosecuted, leave it to the Dems to say, “Oh, you naughty Bush, you! I don’t want to see you do that again… or I might just get mad!”
So, the motherfuckers passed legislation in the House to outlaw it… again! Instead of prosecuting a President plainly in violation of both national and international law.
They are not helping anyone.
While waterboarding is already illegal – in US Law, US Military code, the Geneva Conventions, US legal precedence – and should therefore be prosecuted, leave it to the Dems to say, “Oh, you naughty Bush, you! I don’t want to see you do that again… or I might just get mad!”
So, the motherfuckers passed legislation in the House to outlaw it… again! Instead of prosecuting a President plainly in violation of both national and international law.
They are not helping anyone.
We’re all meat…
“Eggs are meat.”
What I didn’t realize when I said that this morning, in front of a few colleagues in marketing, was how few people understood this.
“Surely, they must fall under some different category,” I was told.
“They’re dead unborn chickens,” I replied. “Chicken fetuses. What else could they be but meat?”
As odd as it seems, some people just don’t look at meat the way I do. It surprised me. I thought my perception was rather common.
But first… eggs. Wiki tells us that, “An egg is a round or oval body laid by the female of many animals, consisting of an ovum surrounded by layers of membranes and an outer casing, which acts to nourish and protect a developing embryo and its nutrient reserves. Most edible eggs, including bird eggs and turtle eggs, consist of a protective, oval eggshell, the albumen (egg white), the vitellus (egg yolk), and various thin membranes. Every part is edible, although the eggshell is generally discarded. Nutritionally, eggs are considered a good source of protein and choline.” Why are eggs a good source of protein? Because they are meat! They come from a body. They are living creatures. What the hell else could they be?
See, I look at meat as the remains of other living creatures. Chickens, cows, pigs, people, whatever… We’re killing them. We’re taking them into our bodies.
But then, someone told me, “I see us an the human kingdom and them as the animal kingdom. I don’t see any moral element to eating meat.”
No moral element? How about when the beef you’re eating is wasting most of the grain grown in the US to feed it and producing vast quantities of toxins, just so you can eat your sirloin? How about when you live in a country that can afford to eat beef while people in other countries can’t afford a glass of clean water? You bet there’s a moral element. And this moral element should be perceived with everything we do and everything we eat. If we do not look at our actions with regards to how they affect the world, how do we know if we’re living an ethical life? We don’t.
“The Buddhists have a saying,” I said and gave it to them: How much does a carrot cry? This means that every living thing has feelings and, as much as you need to eat to survive, shouldn’t you limit how much pain and suffering you cause in the world? I would add to this that the way your food is produced and shipped and packaged and prepared also has circumstances, which should also be taken into consideration.
Nobody ever said that leading an ethical life would be easy.
Which is probably why so few people are interested in living an ethical life…
What I didn’t realize when I said that this morning, in front of a few colleagues in marketing, was how few people understood this.
“Surely, they must fall under some different category,” I was told.
“They’re dead unborn chickens,” I replied. “Chicken fetuses. What else could they be but meat?”
As odd as it seems, some people just don’t look at meat the way I do. It surprised me. I thought my perception was rather common.
But first… eggs. Wiki tells us that, “An egg is a round or oval body laid by the female of many animals, consisting of an ovum surrounded by layers of membranes and an outer casing, which acts to nourish and protect a developing embryo and its nutrient reserves. Most edible eggs, including bird eggs and turtle eggs, consist of a protective, oval eggshell, the albumen (egg white), the vitellus (egg yolk), and various thin membranes. Every part is edible, although the eggshell is generally discarded. Nutritionally, eggs are considered a good source of protein and choline.” Why are eggs a good source of protein? Because they are meat! They come from a body. They are living creatures. What the hell else could they be?
See, I look at meat as the remains of other living creatures. Chickens, cows, pigs, people, whatever… We’re killing them. We’re taking them into our bodies.
But then, someone told me, “I see us an the human kingdom and them as the animal kingdom. I don’t see any moral element to eating meat.”
No moral element? How about when the beef you’re eating is wasting most of the grain grown in the US to feed it and producing vast quantities of toxins, just so you can eat your sirloin? How about when you live in a country that can afford to eat beef while people in other countries can’t afford a glass of clean water? You bet there’s a moral element. And this moral element should be perceived with everything we do and everything we eat. If we do not look at our actions with regards to how they affect the world, how do we know if we’re living an ethical life? We don’t.
“The Buddhists have a saying,” I said and gave it to them: How much does a carrot cry? This means that every living thing has feelings and, as much as you need to eat to survive, shouldn’t you limit how much pain and suffering you cause in the world? I would add to this that the way your food is produced and shipped and packaged and prepared also has circumstances, which should also be taken into consideration.
Nobody ever said that leading an ethical life would be easy.
Which is probably why so few people are interested in living an ethical life…
I believe the children are our future...
This is what I saw on my way home today: a young guy driving a huge truck alone, weaving on the freeway, smoking a cigarette he leaned his head out the window and spat a huge, brown gob that landed on his truck. And I couldn't help but think, "There we are."
Saturday, December 08, 2007
And just think what the sausages are...
This morning, Vicky and I went to breakfast.
"Aren't eggs great?" I asked, tucking into my meal. "It's like eating three, little abortions!"
Yep... Vicky loves eating with me...
"Aren't eggs great?" I asked, tucking into my meal. "It's like eating three, little abortions!"
Yep... Vicky loves eating with me...
The mysteries of death have finally been solved!...
Yes, it's time to return to Idiot Journalists and the stories they have spawned. As usual, Yahoo.
Yahoo has an article up this morning that states: The grieving that follows a loved one's death can increase your risk of death, from suicide as well as other causes, a new review shows.
And all this time I thought everyone's risk of death was, oh, about the same. Hot damn! See if you catch me grieving any more for you sorry sons of bitches! Whatever would we do without Yahoo's supreme wisdom?
... not laugh as much?...
Yahoo has an article up this morning that states: The grieving that follows a loved one's death can increase your risk of death, from suicide as well as other causes, a new review shows.
And all this time I thought everyone's risk of death was, oh, about the same. Hot damn! See if you catch me grieving any more for you sorry sons of bitches! Whatever would we do without Yahoo's supreme wisdom?
... not laugh as much?...
Friday, December 07, 2007
Stupid is the new black…
Sherri Shepherd of The View seems to think the world is flat, Jesus “came first” in history (let’s not go there), and a whole wagon full of horse manure. Shrub believes that Iran not having a nuclear policy is a threat and reason to attack. Willard “Mitt” Romney thinks that “freedom requires religion”.
The list goes on and on.
And I just have to ask, At what point did stupidity become popular? Has the backlash of youth against “poindexters” and “brainiacs” turned us into a nation of morons, or…
Wait, hold on, Fox & Friends is on…
The list goes on and on.
And I just have to ask, At what point did stupidity become popular? Has the backlash of youth against “poindexters” and “brainiacs” turned us into a nation of morons, or…
Wait, hold on, Fox & Friends is on…
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Don’t Worry Mitt… All Religion is Crazy…
Mitt Romney made this great speech today, saying that he shouldn’t be rejected because he’s a Mormon. And, you know what, he’s right.
If a person believes they talk to fictional creatures and that an imaginary being rules their life, no matter what they call it – Mormon, Christian, whatever – they should be called looney.
Point taken!
If a person believes they talk to fictional creatures and that an imaginary being rules their life, no matter what they call it – Mormon, Christian, whatever – they should be called looney.
Point taken!
The real horror…
Horror novels make me laugh. They are programmed to make you squirm, make you flinch, make you gasp – and it is that single-mindedness that I cannot help but find funny. It’s so damned artificial!
I’ve written two horror novels. One was a sci-fi horror. The other was a zombie horror. At present, I am writing a character-based horror novel, which I’ve described as being about “the serial killer you hate to love”. (Sure, it’s about far more than that – but that would be telling!)
I’m only about 16k words into the book, which should end up being about 80k in length. It gives me the skin-crackling creeps. I take these characters and twist them and tweak them and mold them into the most horrid creatures, knowing full well that each one is a reflection of my soul.
My friend, Rob, doesn’t get the concept because it’s hard to relate to a protagonist who is a serial killer. But, that’s just it, it’s not. Serial killers are people we know. They’re the people down the street. They’re our brothers, our ministers, our bosses – they’re us.
And I’d been thinking there’s something wrong with this book for a while but it didn’t quite hit me until Rob said that. I had thought, “Wouldn’t it be interesting to take the concept and turn it on its ear, make it an absurd comedy!”
When I realized how very much we can all relate to a serial killer, I realized just what made the book so absurd. The real world is so much worse! Serial killers are nothing. Think about the people we’re killing with our waste, the planet we’re destroying, the disease we find residing right there in our own hearts! Serial killers? They’re pansies compared to the shit we do.
… so… I guess I have my next book, huh?
I’ve written two horror novels. One was a sci-fi horror. The other was a zombie horror. At present, I am writing a character-based horror novel, which I’ve described as being about “the serial killer you hate to love”. (Sure, it’s about far more than that – but that would be telling!)
I’m only about 16k words into the book, which should end up being about 80k in length. It gives me the skin-crackling creeps. I take these characters and twist them and tweak them and mold them into the most horrid creatures, knowing full well that each one is a reflection of my soul.
My friend, Rob, doesn’t get the concept because it’s hard to relate to a protagonist who is a serial killer. But, that’s just it, it’s not. Serial killers are people we know. They’re the people down the street. They’re our brothers, our ministers, our bosses – they’re us.
And I’d been thinking there’s something wrong with this book for a while but it didn’t quite hit me until Rob said that. I had thought, “Wouldn’t it be interesting to take the concept and turn it on its ear, make it an absurd comedy!”
When I realized how very much we can all relate to a serial killer, I realized just what made the book so absurd. The real world is so much worse! Serial killers are nothing. Think about the people we’re killing with our waste, the planet we’re destroying, the disease we find residing right there in our own hearts! Serial killers? They’re pansies compared to the shit we do.
… so… I guess I have my next book, huh?
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Now with more giblets!...
In my continuing quest to find the dumbest headlines, I bring you THIS!
The teaser headline read “Some victims of U.S. serial killers may be overlooked, study finds.” Okay, before we continue can I just ask who’s the genius who got paid to do this study? Who was it who said, “I’m going to talk to serial killer victims and may sure they’re not overlooked,” and then got paid for it? Sweet deal, bro’!
Because that’s the point. What are they being overlooked in? Federal funds? Equal pay? A sense of accomplishment?
Before that could be answered, however, I clicked the article and found its focus very different. “Serial killers may have more victims than thought,” the headline read. The article began, “Serial killers may be responsible for up to 10 times more U.S. deaths than previously estimated…”
Now, seriously, I’m in the middle of my busy day. Do I need the intrusion of insecure serial killers? Fine! Okay! You all do a very good job, I’m sure. No doubt, you kill more than anyone else. Your “skizzles” are all “kizzles”… or whatever. The thing is, you don’t have to impress me. Hey, you kill people in far more creative and innovative ways than I could ever think of (short of my new book – end shameless plug). Congratulations.
Now, stop whining and get back to work. There are far too many people on this planet. You are our walking, talking, and killing (of course) release valves. Stop feeling sorry for yourselves and do your job.
The teaser headline read “Some victims of U.S. serial killers may be overlooked, study finds.” Okay, before we continue can I just ask who’s the genius who got paid to do this study? Who was it who said, “I’m going to talk to serial killer victims and may sure they’re not overlooked,” and then got paid for it? Sweet deal, bro’!
Because that’s the point. What are they being overlooked in? Federal funds? Equal pay? A sense of accomplishment?
Before that could be answered, however, I clicked the article and found its focus very different. “Serial killers may have more victims than thought,” the headline read. The article began, “Serial killers may be responsible for up to 10 times more U.S. deaths than previously estimated…”
Now, seriously, I’m in the middle of my busy day. Do I need the intrusion of insecure serial killers? Fine! Okay! You all do a very good job, I’m sure. No doubt, you kill more than anyone else. Your “skizzles” are all “kizzles”… or whatever. The thing is, you don’t have to impress me. Hey, you kill people in far more creative and innovative ways than I could ever think of (short of my new book – end shameless plug). Congratulations.
Now, stop whining and get back to work. There are far too many people on this planet. You are our walking, talking, and killing (of course) release valves. Stop feeling sorry for yourselves and do your job.
Keep listening to Bush…
Let’s see… he kept the report that said Iran isn’t working on nukes under wraps until someone finally released it… now, he’s telling us that we should remain “vigilant” again Iran… uh… why?
Listen, people have known Iran had no nukes for a very, very long time. They’re not looking to kill us. They never were. Why vigilant?
Vigilant, for those who might not now, means “watchful”. Bush wants us to watch Iran.
Why?
Maybe because he’s afraid of what we’ll see if we look anywhere else. Look at the illegal war he’s using to destroy our civil rights and funnel illegal profits to his friends… illegally…
GETTING THE PICTURE????
Listen, people have known Iran had no nukes for a very, very long time. They’re not looking to kill us. They never were. Why vigilant?
Vigilant, for those who might not now, means “watchful”. Bush wants us to watch Iran.
Why?
Maybe because he’s afraid of what we’ll see if we look anywhere else. Look at the illegal war he’s using to destroy our civil rights and funnel illegal profits to his friends… illegally…
GETTING THE PICTURE????
Now how much would you pay?...
Does the title sound like a pitchman? Well, I’m feeling kind of like a pitchman these days, so it’s not for nothing.
What if I told you I know what success is and how to find it? I am the first to find the answer (albeit an answer that is right in front of us all). And I’ve put it in my new book, Climbing Maya.
Does that sound like spreadable cheese or what? I might as well become a telemarketer. That’s what it sounds like to me.
But it’s true. I took a scientific approach to finding success and not only came up with a definition better than the dictionary but also found a way that every person can find success. If I die tomorrow, I will have done that much and it’s a lot.
What’s the problem?
The reactions! Not one person has been the least bit impressed. It’s like climbing Everest and having people say, “Yep. Big mountain. Did you have lunch up there?” Don’t you guys get it?! Everest! The tallest mountain in the world! “Yep. Bet’cha got some nice photos, eh?”
Vicky read Climbing Maya and said, “Yeah, it was good.”
Sean read Climbing Maya and said, “I enjoyed it.”
Um… excuse me… ?
Jenn started reading Climbing Maya… um… started…
My two mom’s (coming this fall on NBC) are reading it. Neither of them are overly impressed by the discoveries… or, as some might say, the discoverzizzles… they’re just, “Oh, golly. It’s awful nice to read about you and your pals and gee, it’s nice to read all about you now, don’cha know?”
… um… I know what success is…
Okay, seriously, I’m not that offended. This is just the way my life works. You get to be my age and you stop expecting people to be impressed. It’s harder for me to be impressed because I know how faulty I am and how much a goofball I can be.
Which is probably why I feel like such a huckster. “Success! Come on over for your success! Only $19.95 and success can be yours today.”
I once wrote a short story that was called, “You too can have spiritual enlightenment.” It was a story about a book with that title. The main character walked into a spooky, old motel one night and found it on the bedside table. He read the book and thought, “Hm, that’s it, huh? Well, that doesn’t seem like so much.” And he moved on. (I was playing with the idea of single page stories back then.)
In the end, impression is rarely a localized event. You can’t be impressed with yourself for too long. The monotony of life is far too ubiquitous for anything to chase it away. And family and friends never fall for it. You can climb Mount Everest all you want but, sooner or later, somebody is going to beat you at Scrabble. No, impression lies far over there and to the right with somebody else. And then, they won’t tell you because, well, they’re too impressed.
You just gotta deal.
Meanwhile, I’ve got to keep playing the huckster. I’ve got to start sending this book out in the hopes of impressing some agent or publisher. Maybe they can pay me some money for it…. which is not the same as success… but it’s nice just the same…
What if I told you I know what success is and how to find it? I am the first to find the answer (albeit an answer that is right in front of us all). And I’ve put it in my new book, Climbing Maya.
Does that sound like spreadable cheese or what? I might as well become a telemarketer. That’s what it sounds like to me.
But it’s true. I took a scientific approach to finding success and not only came up with a definition better than the dictionary but also found a way that every person can find success. If I die tomorrow, I will have done that much and it’s a lot.
What’s the problem?
The reactions! Not one person has been the least bit impressed. It’s like climbing Everest and having people say, “Yep. Big mountain. Did you have lunch up there?” Don’t you guys get it?! Everest! The tallest mountain in the world! “Yep. Bet’cha got some nice photos, eh?”
Vicky read Climbing Maya and said, “Yeah, it was good.”
Sean read Climbing Maya and said, “I enjoyed it.”
Um… excuse me… ?
Jenn started reading Climbing Maya… um… started…
My two mom’s (coming this fall on NBC) are reading it. Neither of them are overly impressed by the discoveries… or, as some might say, the discoverzizzles… they’re just, “Oh, golly. It’s awful nice to read about you and your pals and gee, it’s nice to read all about you now, don’cha know?”
… um… I know what success is…
Okay, seriously, I’m not that offended. This is just the way my life works. You get to be my age and you stop expecting people to be impressed. It’s harder for me to be impressed because I know how faulty I am and how much a goofball I can be.
Which is probably why I feel like such a huckster. “Success! Come on over for your success! Only $19.95 and success can be yours today.”
I once wrote a short story that was called, “You too can have spiritual enlightenment.” It was a story about a book with that title. The main character walked into a spooky, old motel one night and found it on the bedside table. He read the book and thought, “Hm, that’s it, huh? Well, that doesn’t seem like so much.” And he moved on. (I was playing with the idea of single page stories back then.)
In the end, impression is rarely a localized event. You can’t be impressed with yourself for too long. The monotony of life is far too ubiquitous for anything to chase it away. And family and friends never fall for it. You can climb Mount Everest all you want but, sooner or later, somebody is going to beat you at Scrabble. No, impression lies far over there and to the right with somebody else. And then, they won’t tell you because, well, they’re too impressed.
You just gotta deal.
Meanwhile, I’ve got to keep playing the huckster. I’ve got to start sending this book out in the hopes of impressing some agent or publisher. Maybe they can pay me some money for it…. which is not the same as success… but it’s nice just the same…
Crazy talk…
It’s hard to consider what’s normal when you’re talking about being crazy but there’s bound to be a median somewhere.
Actually, I’ve been told by professionals that I’m not crazy and this makes me feel a whole lot better.
And that’s what this is about, being crazy and feeling better.
I’ve got my annual physical next week and I’m not particularly looking forward to it. The thing bugging me the most isn’t the cholesterol they’re bound to warn me about, and it’s not the fatty fat fatness they are certain to mention, either. The thing is I saw my doctor about six months ago, desperate to get a referral to a shrink, at the end of my rope with another bout of hallucinations, sleepwalking, etc. etc. etc. I needed help.
You should have seen her face. “You’ve been hallucinating for how long?” she asked, with a look that said, “And, yet, he appears normal.”
I told her everything because, at the time, I saw no other solution than serious help.
The thing is, before I really got much help, it ended. Just like that. What had become a daily routine dropped immediately to the point where I think I still sleepwalk but I can’t say with any certainty when I last did. It’s like great beast came within inches of me – and then walked back to go sleep in its cave. I can’t really say I’m better… but I am…
The only thing is that I have to see my doctor next week and, while I can deal with her, it’s turned into this big, flashing, constant reminder, pointing its finger, glaring at me. “You’re not really better,” it says. After all, isn’t it a lot like being diagnosed with cancer and then announcing you feel better without any treatment?
It’s important for me to understand the whys and wherefores… so… Perhaps all the craziness last summer, and it’s sudden absence, can be understood better if we understand the context. My brain tends to deal with stress in its own way, let’s just say. What stressful event did I have? Last summer? Well… none. But if you go back a few months before that – I was out of work for over six months until March. Maybe that’s what started all the craziness, and it was a response to all that stress? Put in that context, it’s not so strange for it to end. Some people vomit, others break out… I hallucinate…
I just have to remember, when the doctor asks how I’m feeling, to give a wide, crooked smile and answer, my voice cracking just a little, “I feel great!”
Actually, I’ve been told by professionals that I’m not crazy and this makes me feel a whole lot better.
And that’s what this is about, being crazy and feeling better.
I’ve got my annual physical next week and I’m not particularly looking forward to it. The thing bugging me the most isn’t the cholesterol they’re bound to warn me about, and it’s not the fatty fat fatness they are certain to mention, either. The thing is I saw my doctor about six months ago, desperate to get a referral to a shrink, at the end of my rope with another bout of hallucinations, sleepwalking, etc. etc. etc. I needed help.
You should have seen her face. “You’ve been hallucinating for how long?” she asked, with a look that said, “And, yet, he appears normal.”
I told her everything because, at the time, I saw no other solution than serious help.
The thing is, before I really got much help, it ended. Just like that. What had become a daily routine dropped immediately to the point where I think I still sleepwalk but I can’t say with any certainty when I last did. It’s like great beast came within inches of me – and then walked back to go sleep in its cave. I can’t really say I’m better… but I am…
The only thing is that I have to see my doctor next week and, while I can deal with her, it’s turned into this big, flashing, constant reminder, pointing its finger, glaring at me. “You’re not really better,” it says. After all, isn’t it a lot like being diagnosed with cancer and then announcing you feel better without any treatment?
It’s important for me to understand the whys and wherefores… so… Perhaps all the craziness last summer, and it’s sudden absence, can be understood better if we understand the context. My brain tends to deal with stress in its own way, let’s just say. What stressful event did I have? Last summer? Well… none. But if you go back a few months before that – I was out of work for over six months until March. Maybe that’s what started all the craziness, and it was a response to all that stress? Put in that context, it’s not so strange for it to end. Some people vomit, others break out… I hallucinate…
I just have to remember, when the doctor asks how I’m feeling, to give a wide, crooked smile and answer, my voice cracking just a little, “I feel great!”
Monday, December 03, 2007
And you may be fat, too…
So, I went in this morning to have my blood work done in anticipation for my annual physical next week.
I walked into the doctor’s office and told the nurse why I was there. She looked at my records. Then, she looked at me. “We’ll need to do a lipid panel to check your cholesterol,” she said. Then, she looked back at my records and looked back at me. “Have you ever had a thyroid exam?”
“No,” I answered.
She looked back at my records and looked at me. “You may need a thyroid exam.” Again, she checked the records and looked me over. “Did the doctor mention a thyroid exam?”
Eventually, it was determined that I didn’t need a thyroid exam, despite the nurse’s dubious glances to the contrary.
Lady, if you want to call me fat, just come out and say it! Please! I get it!
Oh, but it gets better. Even after she was done and she was sending me on to the lab to get all my blood sucked out of me, she called out across the waiting room, “Be sure to watch the sweets!”
I didn’t tell her to fuck off, though I wanted to… but if telepathy could kill…
I walked into the doctor’s office and told the nurse why I was there. She looked at my records. Then, she looked at me. “We’ll need to do a lipid panel to check your cholesterol,” she said. Then, she looked back at my records and looked back at me. “Have you ever had a thyroid exam?”
“No,” I answered.
She looked back at my records and looked at me. “You may need a thyroid exam.” Again, she checked the records and looked me over. “Did the doctor mention a thyroid exam?”
Eventually, it was determined that I didn’t need a thyroid exam, despite the nurse’s dubious glances to the contrary.
Lady, if you want to call me fat, just come out and say it! Please! I get it!
Oh, but it gets better. Even after she was done and she was sending me on to the lab to get all my blood sucked out of me, she called out across the waiting room, “Be sure to watch the sweets!”
I didn’t tell her to fuck off, though I wanted to… but if telepathy could kill…
Devaluate-ey Spice…
Vicky had her radio on this morning where I heard this gem. Apparently, with the Spice Girls kicking off their reunion tour recently, they played some “classic Spice Girls hits.”
Okay, um, reality check, please!
How many “hits” did the salty chicks actually have? Was this show about 15 minutes long?
And how devalued is the meaning of a word like “classic” when it can be applied to people like seasoning skirts?
Should anyone find where they laid the English language to rest, please leave a flower for me.
Okay, um, reality check, please!
How many “hits” did the salty chicks actually have? Was this show about 15 minutes long?
And how devalued is the meaning of a word like “classic” when it can be applied to people like seasoning skirts?
Should anyone find where they laid the English language to rest, please leave a flower for me.
I guess a doggie bag would be right out…
Next time you’re getting your blood work done for a yearly physical, check to see if they’re asking for urine as well. If so, do me a favor.
Give your urine, of course. Hell, they’re the only people out there asking you for it so it’s the least you can do.
But, when you’re done, walk back out to the nurse or technician or starving actor who requested your juice and ask them for another cup/vial/tub. They’ll be perplexed; they’ll probably think you made a mistake. So, when they ask you why, just look at them with the most innocent face you can muster and, with a great deal of enthusiasm, be sure to exclaim, “I got more!”
Give your urine, of course. Hell, they’re the only people out there asking you for it so it’s the least you can do.
But, when you’re done, walk back out to the nurse or technician or starving actor who requested your juice and ask them for another cup/vial/tub. They’ll be perplexed; they’ll probably think you made a mistake. So, when they ask you why, just look at them with the most innocent face you can muster and, with a great deal of enthusiasm, be sure to exclaim, “I got more!”
Was 9/11 an inside job?…
… after Iraq, Katrina, the economy, Guantanamo, and our plundered civil rights –
It Might Just As Well Have Been!
It Might Just As Well Have Been!
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Double-entry blogging...
Come on. Who couldn’t see this coming? Who’s Luke’s father? That’s a guy at the end of Crying Game? The Maltese Falcon was made of what?
After leaving My Side behind two years ago, who really thought I’d give up the blog, the name, the history – Ken La Salle NOT write My Side? Come on, people.
My Side is as close to me as my own name. It was the name of my high school newspaper column, my college newspaper column, my first book – you bought that one, right? – I wasn’t about to just let it die.
But I needed a break, some time to regroup. One Path was the perfect new home after Vicky and I were married. It was a place for us to write about our love, our lives, and… but Vicky didn’t really write that much, did she? It turned mostly into… well… My Side.
Except that My Side was written pre-Vicky. It was the blog about leaving my first wife behind. It was dipped in the syrup of neurosis and ennui, surely it was best left in the past.
Yeah. Right.
Now, here’s something you won’t see every day. I’m posting this entry onto both My Side and One Path. I’m double dipping. But I’m only doing it to let you know the plan – and there is one. You see, I get people complaining about things. They say they like reading about what’s going on with Vicky and I but they hate reading all the political rants. They say they like the topical stuff but wish I wasn’t so sappy.
So…
If you’ll allow a change in programming, One Path will heretofore be the home of the sappy. It’s where I get to talk about my life with Vicky. All the trials. All the troubles. All the tribula – you know, all the shit. My Side, on the other hand, is all me, baby. It’s all my shit. You may run into Vicky on One Path. But don’t go looking for her on My Side… cause, you know, it’s hard enough to get her to write on One Path…
Who says you can’t have it both ways? I might love Vicky and want to tell you all about it… but I’m still Ken, right? So, let’s get on with it.
After leaving My Side behind two years ago, who really thought I’d give up the blog, the name, the history – Ken La Salle NOT write My Side? Come on, people.
My Side is as close to me as my own name. It was the name of my high school newspaper column, my college newspaper column, my first book – you bought that one, right? – I wasn’t about to just let it die.
But I needed a break, some time to regroup. One Path was the perfect new home after Vicky and I were married. It was a place for us to write about our love, our lives, and… but Vicky didn’t really write that much, did she? It turned mostly into… well… My Side.
Except that My Side was written pre-Vicky. It was the blog about leaving my first wife behind. It was dipped in the syrup of neurosis and ennui, surely it was best left in the past.
Yeah. Right.
Now, here’s something you won’t see every day. I’m posting this entry onto both My Side and One Path. I’m double dipping. But I’m only doing it to let you know the plan – and there is one. You see, I get people complaining about things. They say they like reading about what’s going on with Vicky and I but they hate reading all the political rants. They say they like the topical stuff but wish I wasn’t so sappy.
So…
If you’ll allow a change in programming, One Path will heretofore be the home of the sappy. It’s where I get to talk about my life with Vicky. All the trials. All the troubles. All the tribula – you know, all the shit. My Side, on the other hand, is all me, baby. It’s all my shit. You may run into Vicky on One Path. But don’t go looking for her on My Side… cause, you know, it’s hard enough to get her to write on One Path…
Who says you can’t have it both ways? I might love Vicky and want to tell you all about it… but I’m still Ken, right? So, let’s get on with it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
