Thursday, February 24, 2011

Gas Prices

Somewhere, an Arab is smiling.
How come we have cars with global positioning systems, satellite radio and voice-activated web access, but we still power them with the black goop you have to suck out of the ground? Well, I hate to say this, but gas doesn't cost too much; it costs too little. I know, I know. You hear about gas prices over three dollars a gallon and it makes you nearly choke on your five-dollar latte.

We bitch about gas, but adjusted for inflation, it's the same price it was back when the Pope was a Nazi. And that's not the fault of ExxonMobil, either. That's like Kirstie Alley saying her problem is that Arabs control all the fudge. Anyone who's been to Europe knows that the price of gas over there is just a picture of an arm and a leg. And that's because they tax it heavily there and we don't here. How come we Americans accepted that you could do that to cigarettes - overtax them because they were bad - but burning oil into the atmosphere is okay? You can't smoke in a bar, but you can drive through a restaurant? A little smoke from a cigar is intolerable, but a lot from a Hummer is no problem? Of course, the Hummer is made by General Motors, the owner of other gas-guzzling "Fuck You, Earthmobiles" like the Escalade and the Suburban. And they lost a billion dollars in one quarter. Because it suddenly got a lot less sexy to drive one of these fake macho vehicles now that it costs a hundred bucks to fill it up. And nobody's dick is that small.

Plus, has anybody read about the '70s? GM did this before. They got filthy rich selling giant cars that suddenly people didn't want because gas went up. Cut to the Japanese gloating, as they are again. Because they own the patent for the hybrid car. GM could have had a piece of it, but they said it didn't make economic sense. Hey, you just lost a billion dollars in three months. Apparently you don't have any economic sense.

So let me remind everyone of this: The most vulnerable point of the earth is the atmosphere, which acts like a giant mirror, absorbing 95% of the sun's energy. Now, when I heard that, I said, "That sounds kind of important!" And I have no one around me to talk to. If we don't protect the atmosphere, ultraviolet radiation will fry us like ants under a magnifying glass. I know these kind of facts aren't in the Bible but maybe we should think about them.

After all, it could affect Brangelina.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

To What It May Concern

I regret to inform the real world that I refuse to become bitter about society and all of it's meandering politicians. I will never base my mood and outlook of the day on gas prices and all the negativity the local news regurgitates from the television. I won't marginalize love and all of its peculiarities and power.

I will never forget what it was like to be a kid, fighting tooth and nail for self respect among other kids every day of my life and treasuring the friendship and laughs they gave me. I will never cast off a serious problem with a simple, "Life's unfair," and expect the world to side with me. And the older I get will not run parallel with how jaded I become with the fading beauty of life's infinite momentum forward, with or without me. Age will not temper my curiosity. If being angry at our world - human, animal, and nature alike - constitutes as being mature, then I refuse to grow up.

In short: I may add wrinkles, pounds and years, but my heart will always be young.

So give it your best shot, life. I won't trade hope for senility.



Saturday, February 19, 2011

"Dipshit, aisle three..."

[SETTING: In line at the grocery store...

I'm in the Express Checkout - 15 item or less - with my shredded cheese, Apple Jacks, and oranges. Behind me, in order, is an elderly lady, a man in a leather jacket and green shirt, and a mom and her kid who looks about 14. And... action.]

Man: Excuse me lady, you're not supposed to be in this line.

Lady: Um, what?

Man: The fuck you mean, "What?" Lady, you have sixteen items. Take a look at your basket for Christ's sakes.

Lady: But... I always get these and they always let me buy my things here.

Man: Lady, I don't care about your cat. It says 15 things. It's crap like this that slows people like me down.

Me: [looks back]

Lady: Well I've never had trouble before. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.

Man: I don't want to hear a sorry. I don't care. But I would appreciate it if you got the shit out of this line.

Woman with kid: Sir, maybe you could just let it go this one time...

Man: Was I talking to you? Don't say anything until I'm looking at your face. I have my shit here. Look at this: ten things. I'm following rules. This half dead---

Me: [to the old lady] Do you want to go ahead of me?

Lady: [quietly] Thank you...


[checkout kid gets on the phone]

Me: Sir, was I talking to you? Don't say anything until I'm looking at your face.

Man: Then look at my face.

Me: [turns around] Do you have a problem? There's still two people in front of you. Please just shut up and just stand in line for fuck's sake. You're annoying everyone. Please.

Man: This old bitch is breaking the rules!

Me: Fine! [grabs a stack of Enquirer magazines] ...thirteen...fourteen... I've got seventeen items here. Twenty if you count each orange here. You gonna say something to me? I'm lookin' at your face now.

Man: [looks around and smiles] Fuck... man... this ain't about you.

Me: I think it is if I'm breaking the rules and you're apparently the Albertson's Enforcer of Justice on duty.

[people in line laugh]

Man: Man, whatever... [walks away to line 13, at the other end of the store] [from across the store, points] THAT'S BULLSHIT OVER THERE!


[more people laugh]

What the fuck was his problem? The lady had like, cream of mushroom, some toilet paper, and eight or so cans of cat food. Which, for multiple items, all the checkout person does is scan one of the cans and then multiplies them by that number. So in all actuality, she had about 5 items; Less than he had. I also think that if you have to actually count to make an argument like that, then it's rendered moot to begin with. (And why do bullies always walk away when challenged?) Anyway, in the end I put the magazines back in the rack and the old lady bought me a pack of gum to thank me. Which I gave to the kid with his mom behind me.

Moral Of The Story:
Don't get in between me and my Apple Jacks.

Nostalgic wisdom

As we grow up we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Thursday, February 17, 2011


Just go to today!
I love going through the personals, but there are a few things that are getting on my nerves.

There are certain things that the vast majority of people put into their personals that are just plain stupid. Mostly I'm talking about the women, 'cause I don't read the guys very often, unless I'm very bored. But let's go through some of these idiocies:

1. "I like to have fun."
This is the dumbest thing you can say in your personal. It's sort of like saying, "I see things with my eyes". The whole point of fun, by it's very definition, is that you like it. There isn't a person on the face of the planet that will admit that they don't like to have fun. That's not exactly an amazing trait to be listing. In fact, whenever I read that I pretty much assume that the poster has the intelligence of your standard sorority barbie doll; plastic head and all.

2. "I don't like guys who play games."
I don't think that the men who play games, would rarely acknowledge that they, in fact, play games. Hell, most of them probably don't even realize they're doing it when they are. And maybe I just don't read the guys' personals enough, but I very much doubt you're going to find anyone that says, "I like to play games, and am looking to fuck with someone's head." It's one of those crap-shoots that everyone has to ante into when you do the online dating thing. Sort of like when you go to meet someone who hasn't sent you a picture, and you're really hoping that half their head hasn't been taken over by a giant mole. You just never know until you meet the person. So don't write this. It's useless. You won't see a guy writing, "I prefer a vagina that works." No duh.

3. "No Bush Supporters Please."
I'm not a massive fan or hater either way, but some of my good friends voted for him. That doesn't make them inbred retards or horrible people. I can understand that personal politics can be a big issue for some people, but it's not for everyone. By playing the anti-Bush card you immediately remove half of your possibilities, and then alienate even more who may not support Bush, but couldn't give a rats ass about politics, politicians, and the people who's lives revolve around pointing out the injustices of the powers that be. You might as well say "My ideal first date includes protesting and civil disobedience". Don't start bitching if the guy that shows up at your door has a big, messy red "A" on his shirt with a circle around it.

4. "I'm looking for a good Christian who loves Jesus."
Have you ever noticed Christians are the only people who make demands that their dates be of the same faith as they are? Seriously. Look around. You'll never find ads that say "Must be Athiest", "Buddhists Only Please", or "Looking for a nice Hindu fella". While this irks me in someway, it's also kinda nice. It plants a big billboard on your personal that screams "I'M A JESUS FREAK". Which to many of us reads as "WARNING: Poster has a loose grip on reality and a limited conversational repertoire. Proceed with great caution."

5. "I've got pictures on my website."
No you don't. You have pictures of someone on your website, but it's not you because you're a guy! That's right. I can see through your ruse. You run a porn/model site and you're trying to generate hits. If you were a woman posting a personal, who had also created your own website with pictures of yourself on it, then you would know how to post your picture with your personal. You might fool most people, but you don't fool me!

6. "I'm 18 and....."
Okay stop right there. You're 18 and you're already resorting to personal ads? Jesus, give the dating scene a chance to crush your hopes before automatically resorting to the personals. I don't care how grown up you think you are. If you're 18, you don't have enough life experience to bitch and moan about how hard it is to find the right person. You haven't been trying hard enough. Besides, most of the men who respond to 18 year olds are gonna be 40+, and you don't want to go there.

"Oh Ernie, I'll always love your dusty raisins."
7. "I like to go out sometimes, but I also like to stay in."
So you're telling me that sometimes you leave your apartment, and sometimes you don't. That's incredible because that's what EVERYONE ELSE DOES! The frequency varies from person to person, but everyone goes out sometimes, and stays home other times. Is this really worth making mention of? If you're a hermit that never goes out, that might be worth noting. If you're a wild drunken party animal that goes out every single night, that too may be worth mentioning. But making the above statement just tells me that you're trying really hard to sound normal. Which leads me to believe that you're not.

8. "BBW's without pictures."
Oh Good luck. Seriously. If you consider yourself a "Big Beautiful Woman", you'd better be able to back it up. No pictures? Eesh. Now, I am of the belief that big women can be beautiful. But I, like most men, am not attracted to overweight people. I'm average size myself, and if you're 6 inches shorter than me, and 100lbs more than me, I'm probably not going to be feeling the sparks. Being big does not necessarily denote that you are beautiful as well. And most of them are the nicest people you'll ever meet. But if you are (or at least think you are), you might wanna post a picture to prove it to the world. Otherwise 99% of the guys are gonna skip right over your message in search of someone more appropriately proportioned.

When you start using acronyms in your personals, you've been doing the personals thing for too long. When I temped at an office, you could tell who'd been there forever because they had abbreviations for everything, and you only understood them once you'd been there for a few years. I think the same thing applies to the personals. You don't want to be that person, and I sure as hell don't wanna date that person.

10. "Hi! My name is Bethany and I'm 22. If you're interested write me."
What's there to be interested in? You're giving us nothing but your name and age. I can't say that I'm overly impressed. Maybe if you're posting this in the Casual Encounters with a picture of yourself in some frilly lingerie, then maybe you could get away with that. But if you're looking for a date to meet up with at a coffee shop, you're gonna have to put down a little more than your name and age. If I'm supposed to try and talk to you for an hour or two over a cup of joe, I would hope that you can say more than "Hi! I'm Bethany! I'm 22!". Because as it stands now, I'd be surprised if you could tell me the time off a digital watch.

So if you're posting a personal ad, try and put a little thought into it. For God's sakes, do it for people like me, who get bored at 3am and like to laugh at you. And then realize that I'm just as alone if not more so, and proceed to cry myself to sleep.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


"I want to see you game, boys. I want to see you brave and manly, and I also want to see you gentle and tender. Be practical as well as generous in your ideals. Keep your eyes on the stars and keep your feet on the ground. 
"Courage, hard work, self-mastery, and intelligent effort are all essential to successful life.
"Character, in the long run, is the decisive factor in the life of an individual and of nations alike."
-Theodore Roosevelt

Saturday, February 12, 2011

AARP Brothel

When a woman over 60 has a baby, it's not a miracle from God; It's a miracle from genetic engineers, fertility experts, and the good people at Viagra. Here in SoCal, a 62-year old woman - with eleven children, twenty grandchildren, and three great grandchildren - gave birth - AGAIN - to, well, pretty much a 40 year old man who basically walked out of her vagina. At an age where most women her age are content to putter around the garden or perform the opening number at the Grammy's, Janice Wolf, age 62, told the press at a news conference, "Age is a number. Every time you revolutionize something there's going to be naysayers." At which point the reporters probably had to wave their hands and yell, "HEY! WE'RE OVER HERE!"

And lady, let me tell you something. You're not a revolutionary: You're a vagina with no off switch. Twelve kids!? You're either Catholic or a fuckin' hamster. Look, I don't wanna be the one to say this lady is too old and she's already had enough children, but ... this lady is too old and she's already had enough children.

When the doctors told her to "push", this happened.
Hey, when you're 62 and you want to have children you have two choices:

A.) In vetro fertilization.
B.) Lure them into a house made of gingerbread and candy.

But in vetro fertilization is not for 62-year old grandmothers. It's for 35-year old lesbians. I know a little about this subject because I recently patented a vibrating turkey baster "ribbed for her pleasure". (And, to everyone who came to my last Thanksgiving, I'm very sorry about the mix-up.) I wouldn't make such a big deal about it but it turns out Mrs. Wolf isn't the first over-60-year old to have a baby in the last decade. There is a virtual epidemic of Granny-Sluts who insist on squeezing out children who, when they get older, will face many uncomfortable moments, like when it's "Parents Day" at school and the kid shows up with an urn.

Why is creating life under any conditions whatsoever so applauded when there are already millions of unwanted kids around the world? C'mon, Angelina Jolie can't save them all. In fact, somebody has gotta tell this chick that sometimes, when you go to a foreign country, it's okay to bring home just a T-shirt.

It's not a crime to be an old lady, is it? In fact, one of the great things about it is that when you have sex, you don't have to worry about getting pregnant! It's like, being gay. But not as "cool". So don't think of it as being barren.

Think of it as being, "Broke Hip Mount".

Friday, February 11, 2011


•  Those soda’s you get from fast food places with those plastic lids? I always pop in every single one of those bubbles.

•  When I walk around college or work (or anywhere really), half the time I don’t hear conversations. Sometimes when people are speaking to another person, I hear two lyrics, back and forth. And I’ll hum their words in my head.

•  I read in the bathroom. Magazine, book, shampoo bottle, toothpaste ingredients, whatever. No input, no output.

•  A woman’s laugh is very important to me. You can tell a lot from it.

•  I leave the conditioner in my hair twice as long as I leave in the shampoo.

•  I still jump on my bed.

•  Math is not hard for me. But I still hate it with the passionate fire of a thousand suns.

"And this is why Eve ignored Adam for so long."
•  I often wonder if Jesus was good at sex. They say he was a "perfect being" but he never had sex with anyone. Ever. So I wonder. I mean, how good could a virgin guy be? Females don’t have to worry too much about experience either way: They’re always good. You’re not going to hear of a guy avoiding sex with a woman because it’s "bad". Even if it’s bad, it’s still damn good. She can just lay there and he won't complain. Women are the ones who constantly need sex to get better, more exciting. Guys have a lot to deal with when pleasing a woman.

•  For a talent show on a cruise to Australia, I sang the theme song for Gilligan's Island.

•  And I won.

•  I still think Michael Jackson was one of the most talented people to have ever lived.

•  I hate it when you feel like sneezing and then you don’t.

•  Once in a while, if I’m in a wide open area like a parking lot, I’ll start skipping.

•  Sometimes I like to finish solitaire on the computer all the way up to the last King and leave the computer running overnight and then finish it the next morning; just to see how low of a score I can get.

•  I put the heart and diamond piles to the right and the club and spade piles to the left.

•  I loathe my singing voice.

•  The night is the only time I can write.

•  I like to see how long it takes me to make a complete fist right when I wake up.

•  I like to try to remember the exact position I was in when I woke up. But I never can.

•  I like to watch Sesame Street at least once a month.

•  I drink the last of the milk straight out of the bowl.

•  I’m a mutt. I am eight different nationalities.

•  For every friend I know I have at least 10 songs that remind me of them.

•  You can tell my mood by listening to the song I play on my guitar when I’m alone.

•  I bite my bottom lip when I’m frustrated.

•  Sometimes I cough lightly when I never really had to.

•  I sing better at night.

•  I have severe stage fright.

•  I like writing songs about painful issues with a pop melody you can dance to.

•  I loved the movie Labyrinth, and had a crush on Jennifer Connelly when I was little.

•  I’ll never have the courage to go up to a girl and introduce myself.

•  Death doesn’t scare me. But tomorrow does.

•  I believe in God but wish I understood anything he did.

•  I believe in love but wish I understood anything it did.

•  The only way to get into a pool is to jump in. I can't walk in.

•  I never, ever, ever try new foods. I’ve never had a bagel or a strawberry. Or a Dorito. Or a salad. Or a cheeseburger. Or chili. Or any sandwich besides a peanut butter and jelly. I could go on but this is sad enough as it is.

* I have a hard time using sexual terms in general conversation. I use clever hand gestures.

* I love the physical aspect of playing football and the athleticism of basketball.

* I hate fighting.

* I am 48-3 in fights in my life.

* I will never start a fight.

* Sometimes I wonder if, when I get to Heaven, if God will have a movie made and edited about my life and all it’s key moments.

* I can moonwalk.

•  I thoroughly enjoy Shakespeare.

•  I miss Mr. Rogers.

•  I bite my nails. When someone tells me to stop and that it’s a bad habit, I lie and tell them I’m doing it for my guitar.

•  Whenever I didn’t good grades in school, my dad would always give me a stern lecture and scolding. On top of that, he’d always compare me to Mr. Abraham Lincoln. "Neil," he said. "When Abraham Lincoln was your age, he was walking twelve miles just to get to his school!" In the back of my mind, I always thought: "Dad, when Abraham Lincoln was your age, he was President!"

•  I wore a sheet with holes in it on Halloween one year and told everyone that I wasn’t a ghost, but a mattress.

•  I only sing in the car if all the windows are up.

•  I can be stubborn.

•  Yes I can.

•  Yes I can.

•  Yes I can.

•  Oh, yes I can.

• I am a perfectionist.

•  I tend to make lists about unimportant things.


Women's feet are smaller so they can stand closer to the stove.

After a little trip to the mall this afternoon and a quick stroll through Hot Topic, I came back inspired. And I did a little research. His name is Todd Goldman, but I like to think of him as a T-shirt genius. Why? Well, because Todd Goldman is the "brains" behind a line of boy-bashing T-shirts emblazoned with the slogans like these:

"Boys Are Stupid. Throw Rocks at Them!" (The image on the shirt shows a bunch of rocks flying through the air toward a stick-figure boy's head.)

"Lobotomy - How to Train Boys."

"Boys Cheat ... Cut Off Their Feet" (The T-shirt shows a girl holding a bloody butcher knife while the footless boy "stands" in a pool of blood.)

"Boys Are Stupid - Run Them Over."

"Boys Are Smelly ... Kick Them in the Belly!" (The girl in this one, as you might imagine, is doing just what the T-shirt says.)

"Boys Make Good Pets, Everyone Should Own One."

"Stupid Factory - Where Boys Are Made."

I was watching an interview with Goldman and they asked him if he had an obligation to consider the impact of the products on young boys. "No," was his answer. In fact, when people raise objections to his boy-bashing T-shirts, it makes him laugh - all the way to the bank. "I couldn't pay for this press," he said.

You see, it's nothing personal. Just business.

The fact is that we live in a time when it's become okay to belittle not only men, but future men. Never mind that in almost every negative statistical category - from failure in school to suicide - boys today are in worse shape than girls, and the gap is only increasing. Feminism has made it okay for women - and a certain kind of man - to laugh at boys. Oh, but for a male to do the same would be a chauvinistic.

And these days there are all sorts of entrepreneurs out there cashing in on the boy-bashing craze. One of them is a guy named Jim Benton, an artist and children's author who puts his put-downs on all sorts of things you can buy, like stickers and notebooks and air fresheners and clothing and who knows what else. His main character is a happy bunny icon that says things like, "You suck big time," and "Hi, scumbag." But Jim also sells stuff that say, "Boys lie and kind of stink." You wonder if he'd do a line of girl-bashing shirts or stickers or air fresheners that say, "Little Girls Are Bitter And Confused And Grow Up To Be Angry Feminists"? Surely, you jest.

But maybe I'm taking this stuff too seriously. Maybe these T-shirts really are funny. Maybe they're so funny that Benton and Goldman should expand their product lines so they can make even more money. So here are a few suggestions, which I offer to them free of charge:

"Black People Are Stupid."

"Jews Are Smelly. Kick Them In Their Belly."

"Stupid Factory - Where Mexicans Are Made."

"Homos Make Good Pets, Everyone Should Own One."

Hilarious, don't ya think? And besides, it's nothing personal, just business.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Chasing Amy

So, if you’re all in love with her, what’s the problem?

The problem is shit like that. It was one thing when it was just girls - that was weird enough. But now you throw guys into the mix - All that experience ... What am I supposed to think?

You think, "good!", because now she’ll be all true blue and shit. The girl’s tasted life, yo. Now she’s settlin’ for your boring, funny-book-makin’ ass.

Settling. That’s comforting, Jay. Thanks.

That’s what I’m here for.

I’m just having a problem with all of it I can’t get it out of my head these visuals of her doing all this shit. And I don’t know why I can’t let it go. Because I’m crazy about her, you know? I look at this girl, I see the future. I see kids. I see grandkids.

You’re scaring me.

I’m scaring myself. Because I think so much of her, and then I can’t get over shit like ‘Finger Cuffs’. [shakes his head] I don’t know what I’m doing.

Holden looks out the window. Jay continues to roll his joint. There’s silence. Then...

You’re chasing Amy.

What ... what did you say?

You’re chasing Amy. I went through something like what you’re going through. Years ago. Same kind of thing with a girl named Amy.


A couple of years ago. [to Holden] So there’s me an Amy, and we’re all inseparable, right? Just big time in love. And then about four months in, I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Dumb move, I know, but you know how it is - you don’t really want to know, but you just have to... stupid guy bullshit. Anyway she starts telling me all about him - how they dated for years, lived together, her mother likes me better, blah, blah, blah - and I’m okay. But then she tells me that a couple times, he brought other people to bed with them - menage a tois, I believe it’s called. Now this just blows my mind. I mean, I’m not used to that sort of thing, right? I was raised Catholic.

Saint Shithead.

Silent Bob almost backhands him. Jay raises his fist as if to strike.

Do something. [to Holden] So I get weirded out, and just start blasting her, right? This is the only way I can deal with it - by calling her a slut, and telling her that she was used - I mean, I’m out for blood, I want to hurt her - because I don’t know how to deal with what I’m feeling. And I’m like "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and she’s telling me that it was that time, in that place, and she didn’t do anything wrong, so she’s not gonna apologize. So I tell her it’s over, and I walk.

Fucking a'.

No, idiot. It was a mistake. I wasn’t disgusted with her, I was afraid. At that moment, I felt small - like I’d lacked experience, like I’d never be on her level or never be enough for her or something. And what I didn’t get was that she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for that guy anymore. She was looking for me. But by the time I realized this, it was too late, you know. She’d moved on, and all I had to show for it was some foolish pride, which then gave way to regret.

She was the girl. I know that now. But I pushed her away...

Everyone’s silent. Silent Bob lights a cigarette.

So I’ve spent every day since then chasing Amy... [takes a drag from his smoke] So to speak.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


Police cars have too many lights. The car on Dragnet had one light. On Adam 12, two lights. These days, police cars have blinking lights, rotating lights, strobe lights, even a spotlight. I don't know if I'm being pulled over for speeding or invited to a rave.

If the LAPD caught Rodney King today, they'd probably beat him with Glow Sticks.