Societal detritus

It's been a while since I rapped atcha

2008-08-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

So, the world keeps turning, as it is want to do, and I said: Didn't I used to type something on the internet that no one ever read? Wouldn't it be nice to type things on the internet that nobody will ever read, again?

It is kind of nice. I say to myself. Like a summers breeze. The tampon, not the actual breeze.

No, wait. I meant the actual breeze.

I should go now. But I should be back.

I forget sometimes

2006-09-23T22:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes my comedic compass gets all screwed, and I forget what’s funny to just me, and what other people find funny. When the topic gets dark, it becomes a serious issue. Without further ado:

Mistakenly suicidal

A man proposes to his girlfriend, and all goes fantastically.

He’s on cloud nine as he leaves her place early in the morning (still dark), and he decides to watch the sun rise from the golden gate bridge. As it begins to rise, his face goes from a smile to mild laughter. At which point, some couple tries to keep him from jumping off the bridge.

He of course tells him, he’s not going to, he’s just proposed marriage to his girlfriend, whereupon more people arrive on the scene and tell him not to kill himself. Everything continues in this vein until he is tackled and restrained by a group of bridge employees, and taken to jail.

His parents pick him up, apparently it had been on TV, they’re all worried and such, and he tells them to just chill out, that he wasn’t going to jump, and so on, and to just not say anything.

When he gets home, he has a message from his fiancée saying she needs to take some time, that she couldn’t believe he could be so self destructive. Don’t try to call, I’m at my sisters, she says.

He heads out to the bridge again, and watches the sun set on what was going to be a perfect day. He laughs to himself, just like before, and then walks away, towards the camera. Right in front of the camera he says: “You thought I was going to jump this time, didn’t you? Screw you”

Obviously this is just the gist of it, there would be banter involved, but is this funny? It’s essentially only 2 jokes. #1: People are as wrong as they can be about this guy’s motive, and #2: I set up a situation at the end where you really do think he’s going to jump, which brings us back to joke #1.

Still, people really do jump from the bridge, and while I am not so milquetoast that I would stop from doing something because someone might take offense, the entire bit is about suicide. What do you think?

This post is not terribly funny

2006-09-15T19:25:00.000-07:00

So the Pope had the nerve, the audacity, to recount a discussion held in the thirteen hundreds regarding Islamic conversion techniques. What’s more, the quote he recounted from this discussion claimed these tactics to be evil.

Oh Snap! No he didn’t!

That’s right, we’re no longer allowed to quote a discussion which might offend someone, let alone make the assertion ourselves. Certainly not if you are the Pope! The Pope isn’t allowed to reference or make assertions as to the absolute nature of something being good or evil!

Except, that very much is part of his duty within the Catholic church. So, Hurray! We get to have the same old arguments about the Papacy! Except this time, it’s not Puritans, Protestants, or Anglicans, telling the Catholic church how it needs to behave, but rather the media, and a bunch of primitive screwballs lighting things on fire in front of Al Jazeera cameras.

To the media, and the government, thanks for making it impossible to actually speak ones mind in a cogent manner. Oh, we all had some laughs about political correctness back in the day, about how someone wasn’t short, they were vertically challenged and whatnot, no doubt. But the joke stopped being funny when those speech codes got teeth.

Ratzinger was called a Nazi when he was selected to be the Pope. Without going into it for the 8000th time, those charges are slanderous at best. Ratzinger was as much a Nazi as someone who ditched the draft in the Vietnam war was a soldier. But he’s Catholic, and as such, is fair game. Catholics don’t burn embassies down when we get angry!

But no, he has the temerity to call forced conversion at pain of death for non-compliance evil. And that’s just not allowed. Because Muslims DO light things on fire, like buildings, bombs, themselves, in such places as Planes, Subways, and pizza parlors.

Does anyone really have a problem with calling mandatory conversion under pain of death anything other than evil? We’re not allowed to speak in moral absolutes though. I suppose we should say nothing harsher then to suggest it is tactless, and possibly a party-foul.

So in short, we are not allowed to condemn heinous acts perpetrated by a very specific group of people, but when they say that everyone who doesn’t believe their faith must die, we must accept that, and ponder why it is that they have these screwed beliefs.

To political correctness: Thanks for turning our language against us. Thanks a lot. And can someone please get rid of their matches?

This side of Hawaii 5.0...

2006-08-28T23:56:00.000-07:00

...I present to you a version of the theme from the Legend of Zelda, played on the uke.

This tune has been stuck in my head since I was about 8, give or take. It is Iconic, in a way few songs are. It's sounds mainly like a spanish folk song, but it's got a few tints of celtic in there, on account of the flats. Sure, if you didn't play video games back in the day, you might not recognize it, but I gaurantee it will stick in your craw.

The middle of the tune is the dungeon theme, the rest is the overworld theme. I really dig the last third where he really speeds it up and creates a U2 style vibe.

It was a Little Spanish Fleet

2006-08-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows someone like the guy I’m about to talk about: You feel bad for mocking this person, because they are so utterly witless, and you know no comeback is forthcoming. Too often you must zing them, because they practically force you to. I am specifically referring, in this case, to Lunchbox, a codename which probably needs no explanation.

Lunchbox was the kind of nerd who would absolutely have a fit if someone were to have the temerity to suggest the Batman could defeat Superman. I mean, how could he? Batman is just a dude, Superman could burn him to death from space with his laser vision! He once absolutely could not get his head around the fact that I do not like Meatloaf. I mean, it’s practically a hamburger!
One day, he’s quotes a line from Mallrats, and I corrected his quote, as I had just watched it last night. He would not have it. So I pull out a 20, and tell him that Andrew Jackson is certain that I am correct. The bet on, we go find the manuscript online, go to the line, and prove Andrew Jackson to be an excellent judge of veracity.

Three days later, after having begged off thrice, he still does not have a 20 for me.

“Don’t Welsh on this bet man”
“Hey, I’m part Welsh, don’t slander them like that”
“Maybe the phrase was coined because your people kept going back on debts?”
To his credit, he paid up the next day so as to not dishonor his heritage.

At the time, I had a habit of whistling “It was a little Spanish fleet”. And it drove ol’ Lunchbox nuts. I wasn’t doing it intentionally, it would just pop in my head, and I’d whistle it. One day, I was helping a customer de-brick her computer, and in the middle of a reboot, she started to hum the tune herself. So I joined in! It seemed the thing to do at the time. Lunchbox tells me to stop, and reminds me I’m on a call. I pointed to the headset, and mouthed “she started it”, then cut back in. The rep to my right had to leave the area he was laughing so hard.

It was a CENTAUR!

2006-07-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

I present you this hilarity in video format.

You can always tell someone is hip to the java bean when /. is mentioned. I've pulled the key rebinding myself. Other techie pranks: Using the marqui screen saver to say something embarassing, then password protecting it so they couldn't shut it off, changing the sound files, so instead of the email chime, you'd get a fart noise, to say nothing of various fun that can be had with reg hacking.

I never said I was a mature person.

Some explanation required

2006-07-08T00:31:00.000-07:00

So, a bunch of my old high school buddies are throwing a surprise party for our friend Dianna. I didn't want to risk spilling anything, so I decided not to go to the birthday deal she put on tonight. However, I sent an email just to further the bluff, about how I was sorry I didn't make it. Originally I inteded to just be contrite, but at some point, the whole thing turned into a joke, and from there on, I was off to the races. What follows is my apologetic email.

Dianna,

I apologize most sincerely for missing your birthday party. I could never make the flick, but I did intend to show up for the afterparty. Around 6 oclock...a shadowy man snuck up and cracked me on the back of the dome with a cinderblock. Twice.

It was 3 and three quarter hours later when I woke up, and for the life of me, I thought I was Batman. For the next 2 hours I jumped from roof top to rooftop fighting crime, paying no heed to how I didn't "know any martial arts" and "Had a 15 centimeter verticle leap". Finally, I came to, regaining my memories during a fight with "the cinderblocker" and he spilled the whole thing in an exceptionally long monologue. I cannot stress enough how talkative he was. On and on, about secret plans, and nemesii, how unfair his parents were this one time, how he totally invented the 2x4 and cinderblock impromptu table while he was in college, where he majored in art history, and so on, you know, the whole thing. As we had tea and cucumber sandwiches halfway through the speech, it all came back to me, and I wanged him in the dome with his very own cinderblock. Irony, thy name is...form molded concrete.

So, as you can see, It was actually YOU who didn't show up to MY birthday party!

Or I could just be an ass.
Hella Sorry,
Syncdata

Weekly world news

2006-07-05T23:38:00.000-07:00

This is for those of you who have seen "So I married an Axe murderer"

Area Boy's head freakishly large

San Francisco: A local boy is believed to have the largest head in the world, according to eyewitnesses.

"It's rediculous. It's like a melon with a toothpick in it" says his father, Shmidtty McShmidt, age 64.
"Imagine looking at Saturn, edge on with the ring. That's close."

Local astronomer Tad Winklestein agrees. "That's a fairly accurate physical description, but when gravitic effects are taken into account, it's quite a precise analogy. His Grandfather showed me a video tape of the boy walking. A hummingbird got too close, and eventually crashed into his enormous afro. What is fascinating is that the bird was actually trying to escape the gravity well, to no effect. Ideally I would encase his head in a bubble, to keep objects from entering this vortex, but that would kill him."

The boy's head has been the subject of much scientific curiosity, says UCSF Physics Professor Muon Chambers. "Whenever our department has a scenario involving an arbitrary volume, we measure that in units of TBH, or 'The boy's head'." He continued: "Personally, I'd like to fill his head up with helium, to see if he would float. But that would kill him."

"It's quite difficult for the boy, what with his head having a personal zip code, and the weatherman on channel 5 including it in forecasts." said his grandmother. "That man's accuracy when it comes to the boy's head is astounding" adds her husband.

The boy was only heard to mutter unintelligably.

In celebration of independance day

2006-07-04T18:07:00.000-07:00

A video celebrating George "still shorter than Syncdata" Washington, which you've probably all seen before.

Enjoy the fireworks!

Your one stop opinion shop

2006-06-29T22:17:00.000-07:00

"Thanks, and welcome to another episode of 'What passes for political debate in America today'. With us, is ACLU chair Dingle Berry, and Rand foundation member Sassy Mollasses. As you know, on this show, we discuss the pressing issues of the day in a common sense, easy to grasp way. Lets start with Dingle. What is your current take on events occuring within our nation and around the globe?"

Dingle Berry: "FORD!"

And Sassy, your response?

Sassy Mollasses: "CHEVY!"

"There you have it folks. See us tomorrow when we debate Nintendo versus Sony, and Niners versus Cowboys."

Beware, for there be harsh satire here

2006-06-05T19:53:00.000-07:00

I was actually called "The Man" over the weekend, because I'm white, and work in a bank. This was not said in a playful, jovial tone, but in an accusatorial town. (That part is altogether true. Everything which follows is false.) I responded with laughter, peals upon peals of laughter. Did I laugh because it‘s ridiculous to think that I am "The Man", part of a faceless cabal through which all discrimination is carried out? No. I laughed because I mustn't allow him to know how deeply the conspiracy runs

For instance, I keep a daily journal. Here is my entry from Friday.

7:45 am: Alarm goes off. Damn Mexicans.

9:00 am: Violently shove minority out of the way of the bank entrance. Mustn't be late!

9:20 am: After telling sexist and derogatory jokes with my co-worker, I get down to business.

9:40 am: Run a macro designed to decline loans to any applicant with an ethnic last name, or feminine first name; unless they sound hot and are in my age range.

10:00 am: Take a coffee break. On the way out to a smoke break, someone asks me a question which is well within my job description. I derisively "pfft" and continue on undaunted. What am I, their mommy?

11:30 am: Take lunch at Vic’s, the Filet minion and three martini special. Blow off work for another 45 minutes. My boss will understand. We're both in the club.

1:15 pm: On the way back to work, I strike an old woman with my car while weaving between lanes. As she rolls over the hood, I think to myself, "Eh, she's probably on Social security and medicare. I just saved tax payer money."

1:25 pm: After giving the secret handshake to the police officer who pulled me over for vehicular manslaughter, I pull into work without incident.

1:26 pm: Violently shove the same ethnic minority out of the way of the doorway. I swear, it's like he's been lying there all morning, lazily bleeding from his ear. I wish he would just get a job.

1:45 pm: Called the federal-reserve to get the interest rates raised. We have a number of wealthy clients coming in today to open CDs.

3:00 pm: Call the federal-reserve to get the interest rate lowered. We'll be getting a number of wealthy clients coming in later today to get loans.

3:30 pm: Just fired a man. Out of a cannon. Just kidding. It was a woman.

4:00 pm: Take off work early. Ran into the boss on the way out. Both of us urge the man on the ground to get a job. We both get into our seperate cars, and head to the same location; after all, why conserve gas, when ExxonMobile and Shell are part of the same conspiracy. Also, cause my BMW handles so nice.

4:15 pm: Upon entering the elks club, we give the secret handshake to Ernie, the elevator operator to take us to the unmarked 13th floor, so that we can plan the invasion of Iran.

And that was my day!

Now that I think about it, I might have killed that man by the front door. Oh well, hopefully the garbage man will pick him up. I only hope they are teamsters, and know the drill.

Interpersonal relationships are the spice of life.

2006-05-20T14:37:00.000-07:00

Have you given any thought to routine things you do everyday, and their repurcussions? Like, opening doors, walking, etc? I do.

I try to play a game every now and then, for instance: Today I am a ninja, and will do everything silently and in fluent motions. Or, Today I am going to be a gentlemen, all the way to the hilt, not just holding doors for people, as I always do, but ceding the right of way to others, with a bow and a gesture. Or, Today, I am going to strike up a conversation with anyone I possibly can. Most days, I combine as many as I can.

The last two are my favorites. It’s fun to do, and it puts a smile on people’s faces. When they get into their cars, they are going to be less susceptible to road rage, so you’re actually performing a community service. Let’s be honest, dealing with other humans is a hassle. Some lady at a deli is making sandwiches all day long and it’s monotonous. She appreciates a chat about this, that, or the other thing. And you are going to get a few extra slices of meat and cheese for your effort. People are generous when in a good mood. I even got a nickname out of this habit from my local sandwhicheur, Mrs. Kim: she calls me Mr. Bank.

So I like to put people around me in a good mood. This can be done with a held door, a wink and a nod, or an unusual word in a sentence. I’ve found that using the word “Smashing!” delivers excellent results. People don’t hear that word, so it puts them off their guard, in a good way.

It costs nothing. It gets you some extra pastrami on your sandwich, and it cuts down on traffic accidents. Why wouldn’t you do this?

Lengthy Comedic analysis regarding Steve Colbert.

2006-05-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

All this week, people have been saying “Sync, Sync, have you seen Colbert’s bit at the white house correspondent’s dinner?” The answer is yes. As a political junkie, I ALWAYS catch the white house correspondent’s dinner.

So, yeah, I saw it. And to be honest, it wasn’t that funny. I say this not from a political standpoint, but from a comedic standpoint. Colbert bombed hard. I’ve seen two bits from the dinner.

Bit #1: The better, and less funny one.

Bush steps up to the dais along with a Bush impersonator. Hackneyed right? The jokes are not really all that funny, but they get a few things right.

#1: Knowing your audience

The bit actually has some harsh jokes in it. Particularly the bit about Cheney shooting that lawyer. I wouldn’t have gone there, but who am I? The jokes are in no way as funny as the bits Colbert fired out, but they play better, because the joke writer knew his audience.

#2: They set up their jokes.

Granted, they did this in the opposite way, with the straight man (bush) explaining the joke afterward, which is usually comedic death, but in a dinner like this, it worked somehow. A bit awkward, but decent.

Now lets look at Colberts bit. Here it is, in three parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Ignore the third part, unless you want to delve into boredom. It’s just not funny. Watch the clips first, and then come back. I’ll wait.

Now that you have done that, lets deconstruct his bit. How did he manage to bomb, when he had so many funnier jokes than bush’s bit did?

#1: He has no concept of what his audience was.

He is sitting in front of a group of inebriated Washington insiders whose job it is to show a marginal amount of respect for politicians. And they have all been drinking. Look around the room, and count the wine glasses. He had a lit room and bombed, and here's why: His jokes were way too pointed, and way too harsh. I’m sure that when he and his team wrote these jokes, they were hilarious. But he wasn’t delivering the jokes to his staff. Bombing in a room that primed is hard. But he pulled it off.

#2: Set up your jokes properly!

He even acknowledges the importance of this step when he screws up once. It’s like he never even tried to set up his jokes. He just tells them. It’s like a Don Rickles bit, but he is not at a roast. It might seem like he is, but again, know thine audience. He comes off like a drunk, clinging to lampposts for support, rather than illumination. You really do have to inform your audience beforehand what the punchline is going to be.

#3: Timing.

Steve Martin said it best. The #1 rule of comedy is……wait….oh man…I totally know this…..it’s….uh……Timing! Colbert never sets up his jokes, so timing is practically irrelevant. He isn’t making jokes, so much as he is making statements of opinion. There are no riffs in his bit. He jost goes from line to non-connected line. You might think Don Rickles is a comedic hack, but you’d be wrong. He understood comedy well enough to tell his crowd they were retarded, and then got them to laugh at themselves. That is not an easy thing.

#4: Grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me, while telling me truth is not going to make me laugh.

This goes back to knowing your audience. Colbert is lecturing the audience. People don’t appreciate being told how hard they suck. He makes many truthful statements about Bush, and politics in general, but don’t expect them to thank you for it. If your job is to make people laugh, and that is indeed the entire reason Colbert was there, you should probably try to not break a bottle over their heads. He was not being a comedian, he was being a supervisor, and lets face it, we all hate our supes. Being someones boss isn't funny, especially when you violate fundamental laws of comedy.

And for the record, I saw Jon Stewart on Crossfire, and I thought he killed. Colbert should learn from his former boss.

Spooky action at a distance

2006-03-22T23:37:00.000-08:00

Everyone gets older, and circumstances change for us all. Sometimes this means that people move a few thousand miles away to achieve X, Y, or Z. Such is the case with my friend Jim.

In high school we were in the same group of friends, friends who happened to be potheads. We both partook, but I think Jim and I were the responsible ones in our group…Relatively speaking. For this reason, we got along just fine. I don’t think that I had realized the many other ways in which we were similar until yesterday.

Obviously, I’m a comedy minded kind of guy. Jim isn’t as such, but that’s not to say that he doesn’t know how to differentiate the funny from the non-funny. While I was over on the east side this past week, he asked me how I go about writing a bit, and I gave him my take. He decided to take a crack at it with me. We came up with a list of topics, and then selected two potential winners. One was a one joke pony, and was pretty funny. But the real test came with the second bit, which needed lots of jokes. Upwards of forty distinct gags. Damned if we didn’t bang that thing out in about 2 hours. I don’t want to post the whole thing, because it’s just too good. I don’t want anyone to see it until it is actually produced. I will give you the topic though.

“Television is ruining our relationship. And not that you watch too much of it, just that you are constantly role playing it.”

The bit just assembled itself as pretty as you please. We both came up with a ton of jokes, and vetoed jokes which, while funny, where not on point. Jim showed a real knack for funny production I was not aware he possessed before.

You think you know a person...

On Baptisms, Liquor, and Virginia.

2006-03-20T19:54:00.000-08:00

The baptism was a rousing success. My goddaughter has been certified by the Catholic church as to being adorable, amongst other things. 8 months old, getting ready to crawl, and to start saying dada, and mama. As if you needed any further evidence, at one point, I looked at her and said "Baby, who's the tops in my book?" And then she kinda...fell over. But it was very cute how she did it. It's really all in the execution.

Fun fact. Did you know that stores close over here? It's true! And it's so far held true everywhere I've been in the mid-west and east coast. And I dare you, I dare you, to try and find a liquor store. There are stores that sell liquor, amongst other things. But I mean a place that sells smokes, booze, and maybe some chips and other basic staples. In California, specifically the bay area, You can hardly swing a dead cat without finding a liquor store. I simply find it striking.

Also I figured out what the device does in the happytown/angryville sketch. It makes Black lights normal lights, and it makes happy kittens sad kittens. I should probably repost v2.0, as a number of items have been changed/polished.

Tradition? or Fealty? Choose one.

2006-03-13T19:22:00.000-08:00

March 17th, Saint Patrick’s day, falls on a Friday during lent. Now, foodwise, I have but two traditions. Pork-chops and Sauerkraut on January 1st (some squarehead good luck charm), and Corned beef and cabbage on St Patties.

Now, the local archdiocese has given a special dispensation to allow eating meat on the 17th, provided you choose another day in the week to abstain. Problem solved right?

Wrong. Though I am a catholic, my mother raised me protestant, in that I don’t care much for the political structure of the church. So what if the bureaucracy says it’s ok? The big man said “Hell no!” So I suppose I will have to take a special dispensation, and get my corned beef on Thursday.

Further comments on Catholicism

This Sunday, I’m going to be a Godfather. My homey Jim elected to honor me as such. I have a godfather, and to be honest, I haven’t seen him very often. So I don’t know what my domain is.

I’ve technically been an uncle since I was 2 (papa was a rolling stone. An older rolling stone.) However, only in the last few years have I had a chance to be the “Fun uncle”. Teaching the kid tricks, how to snap your fingers, whistle, skip rocks, make a paper airplane, you know…passing on the delinquent’s handbook. I get the feeling that a Godfather has to be a different type of cat. Obviously I know the major responsibilities, but Jim and his wife want me to have a more active role in Farah’s life then my Godfather had in mine. What’s the proper tact to take?

The greatest lie ever told.

2006-03-05T19:55:00.000-08:00

I don’t lie anymore. I have found that it is better to be honest, even to one’s own detriment. People appreciate an honest assessment of things.

That said, this blanket ban didn’t always exist. And I was a fantastic liar in the day. I could look my father in the eye, and fire one off, and get away with it. I’m not proud of that, but it is fact. I was damned good at it.

There is one lie I’ve told, of which I am proud. Allow me to set the scene. I’m 13 or 14, about 6’2, and on a vacation with my folks up in the heavily forested mountains, bored out of my mind, in 80 degree temperatures at night. 10 o’clock, a couple of yokels have a burning pile of leaves about as tall as myself, and the sparks are reaching up to the trees.

Me: “Hey Liz, those tards are going to start a wildfire with that thing.”
My Sister: “They probably know what they’re doing”
Me: “Like hell they do, they’re this close to setting that pine tree on fire. Give me a sec.”
I return with my jacket and hat on.
Me: “I’ll be right back.”

I light a smoke, and walk over to the two yokels.

Me: “Hey fellas, beautiful weather eh?”
Yokel #1: “Right.”
Me: “So, that pile of leaves…that’s awfully tall there fellas.”
Yokel #1: “Well, we’ve got the garden hose right here.”
Me: “Yeah, see here’s the problem. That garden hose might put out the pile of leaves, but it’s not going to do shit if a spark lights that pine over there on fire. Do you have any idea how hot that fire is? Or the height the updraft will lift a cinder coming off of this burn? 500 hundred degrees, and 40 feet I’d bet.”
Yokel #2: “Well, it’s legal for us to…”
Me: “Yeah, it’s legal to burn your leaves in an enclosed metal bin, provided you have a clearance of 20 feet. Which you don’t. You don’t have the bin, and you don’t have the clearance. Now, I’m just SFFD, I don’t have jurisdiction up here, but I’m of a mind to call the volunteer fire department if you don’t tame that burn. I know you have to get rid of excess leaves and needles, but be smart, is all I’m saying.”
Yokel #1: “Alright, we’ll cut it down.”
Me: “Thanks…enjoy the weather.”

Damn it felt good to be a gangster. Let’s count the lies. I didn’t know the temperature. I didn’t know anything about the updraft. I was not a member of the SFFD. I didn’t know what the regulations were up there. A 14 year old tells a couple of thirty year olds 4 lies, and they swallow it, and do what I say.

The main reason I am proud of that moment though, is that I used my lying prowess for good, rather than evil.

The Eternal Debate

2006-02-26T13:55:00.000-08:00

Since it’s birth, its very nature has been mired in debate. Fathers have turned against sons, friends have become foes, entire nations have been torn asunder in a quest to answer the following question.

The hot dog. Is it a sandwich?

First, we must ask. What is a sandwich? It is, at its core, a filling which usually contains meat, flanked at both sides by a piece of bread. For this reason, I believe the question boils down to a small section of bread connecting both sides of the bun. I call this the “Gaza strip”.

This strip of bread makes the whole hot dog bun a single contiguous piece of bread, rather than two separate ones. This is the crux of the problem. However, I believe that this does not prevent the hot dog from being a sandwich.

Those that believe the hot dog is not a sandwich will say “Well what about the Taco then? Is the Taco a sandwich?” No, because a taco is generally made with a corn tortilla. That ain’t bread sir. What about a quesadilla? Yes, as it is generally made with a flour tortilla, the quesadilla is technically a sandwich, and I’m curious why you keep bringing up Mexican food. When did this become a racial thing? The Pita Pocket? I submit to you that this is also a sandwich.

This question must be answered for the sake of future generations. If it is left to languish, someone who believes one way or another is going to get nukes, and that will be bad times.

I've thought of jokes I would never tell

2006-02-15T22:04:00.000-08:00

The vice president shot a man, in the face and chest.
And everyone thinks it’s HI-FUCKING LARIOUS.
Empathize for a moment. Whittington is undoubtedly shielded from all this. He’s in the hospital, with shrapnel wounds about the face and chest, and has had a heart attack already due to a pellet. This is why comedy is inappropriate. Because the punch-line is on him. He’s going to get out of the hospital, you can be damned sure he has the finest medical care possible. He’ll take it easy for a few days, and then start doing his routine, like watching the news. And he’s going to see an endless display of mirth and merriment over the fact that he almost got killed by someone he knew. And he’s going to get to hear people secretly hoping he dies, just so they can maybe charge Cheney with something.

While I enjoy black humor as much as the next guy…
I don’t hold to Mel brook’s theory of comedy, “Tragedy is when I get a paper-cut, comedy is when you fall down a manhole and die.” False. Funny is the guy getting amnesia, that’s comedy gold, and characters are fictional. But mortal wounds to real humans? That plain ain’t funny sir. At least, not as slapstick.

Deconstruct the joke:
Setup:Cheney shot a friend of his in the face! HA! And get this! The Fucker might die!
Punchline:
And if he lives, he’ll be forever scarred, physically as well as emotionally!

Not cool homey.. I agree, that the daily shows take was technically funny, it's schadenfreude at it's worst. Honestly, it’s an area I would simply avoid.

They’re like, half genius, half retarded, werewolves man!!
I love a good conspiracy theory as much as the next guy, but some people think this is some kind of hit, or coverup. I don't get it. One minute, Dick Cheney and George Bush are dumb-ass Chickenhawks, the next they are stone cold calculating kill crazy maim-bot 5000s. Which is it? If this is a cover-up, Dick is the dumbest ass ever. In front of a mess of people, he shoots someone in the face, and promptly notifies the police, confessing to the shooting.

OOH! BUT IT WASN’T THE NATIONAL PRESS!!!KEKEKE!!!1!ZERG RUSH!!1
And to the National news media? Boo Hoo Hoo! Get off your asses and start working beats you fucking hacks. You got marked by a local journo (listening to a police band, I assume), working beats, while you are used to being fed your stories through an intravenous feed. Johnny on the spot scooped you poseurs, and it’s the governments fault? I don't know that I've ever seen so many children outside of preschool in my life. Submitted, for your displeasure:

This is not from a comedy show. This is from an honest to God “Legitimate National News Media” outlet, and Dana Milbank is the asshole of his own story. Don't tell me that this didn't get cleared by someone. To the Washington press, Grow the fuck up. And to comediaticians everywhere, that’s cold. I see the humor potential but…damn.

A fatwah is issued for the murder of yours truly.

2006-02-11T17:22:00.000-08:00

These maniacs over in the middle east, I mean, europe, rioting over a set of 4 month old polical cartoons, got me all motivated. I mean, four months? As riots go, that simply shows poor organizational skills. If I were islam, I'd be embarrassed. For those looking for a fascinating read, please see the following.

I would also like to state that, four months from now, I will be in hiding for the next decade.
Salud!

The remorseless confessions of an addict

2006-02-06T18:45:00.000-08:00

It started off innocently; as a kid, I always read the paper, just to have something to do at breakfast. First it was the comics. A few years later, and I’m reading the sports section. Shortly after, I perused the Main section, and then the editorial pages. Before I knew it, I was snorting newsprint from the business section off a fresh orange rind every morning before I would go to school/work.

From then on, I couldn’t turn back. I all but stopped listening to the FM dial, for the informational succor of news, and the talk derived there from on the AM dial. I would put down the Washington times and change the station from CNN/ CNBC/ MSNBC, only when the anchorette for the local excuse for a nightly news show would come on.

Still fine, after all these years

Once I found out I could mainline my news straight off the wires over the internet, I was beyond hope. I could get every story, every Revision of every story, as it was put on the wire, right from my computer, at the cost of nothing. It was as if pure, uncut cocaine just started raining from the heavens, and a crackie never had to pay a dealer for a rock. It was euphoric.

I knew I was in trouble when I started getting cought up in the media wars, between internet commentary, and mainstream “reporting”. I was so far gone, I was interested less in the content, and was now concentrating on the Meta-News. News about the news organizations. It’s like a bleeding sport. I have my favorite teams, and rivalries. I cheered when Matt Drudge scooped Newsweek on their own story. I Booed, and hollared until my throat was sore at Dan Rather as he was ushered off of the anchor field.

But now, I wonder, where does my madness go from here? Is even the current international Screwballery capable of quenching my singular thirst for news? Will I find myself 20 years from now, a scandelous gossip, trying to know everything about everyone? Or should I apply for a job with the NSA? Now that I think of it, that sounds promising.

Oh, Sweet Cats.

2006-02-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

They've found Captain America people.

You know what this means. Captain America was one of the first superheroes to hit the scene in the day. Afterwards, hundreds of new ones came onto the scene. Spiderman, Fantastic four, God only knows how many.

This bodes ill for the future. I'm talking about mutant terrorists, fights which cause incalculable property damage, planet consuming cosmic figures, Tyrants controlling the very fabric of existence, getting involved in galactic imbroglios, Cats and dogs, living together, Total chaos!

Now, I don't want you all to panic. I have a plan.

It involves rare crystals found in an asteroid. That should take care of the one called Superman. As for the rest of them, well, I've been working with a few senators, and we think we have something that will work, in the Mutant Registration act.

Superheroes are all fun and games until someone knocks superman through your buildings foundation, and you find out that your buildings insurance doesn't cover super powered fracases, or fires started by laser vision.

I laugh about nothing for hours

2006-02-01T22:30:00.000-08:00

I’m a difficult person to make laugh. Yes, I will chuckle at your jokes, but no, I do not find them funny. I merely chortle to ease the awkward moment which would otherwise prosper. (I kid) But there are things which make me laugh, regardless of execution.

Asking, and then answering your own rhetorical question.

“Isn’t that always the way? No. No it is not.”
Bonus points for lengthening the answer.
“No. No it is not, in fact, I would suggest that the majority of the time, it is not that way.”

Creating fake words, intentionally mispronouncing words, colorful use of the English language.

This goes back to high school, with some of my best friends. We had a bundle of words which had unorthodox pronunciations. Also, we were potheads, so that figured in.

“See here Sirrrrrr, just past the double (doob-lay) chambered (chom-breyed) bong to the left hand side (syeede). Do not tell me that this budre (bood-ray) is cached, for I know that it lives on, if only in memory.”

I swear, if you get me in a room with Mo, Wayne, Dan, Jim and Terry, you will not understand a damned word we are saying. But you will be able to tell that we think it is hilarious, especially if there is a bong handy.

Singing Loudly, and poorly

This is generally something I reserve for myself. I don’t go walking around singing ineptly in public. But when I get home from work, if there is a song stuck in my head, (and there always is) regardless of what it is, I will bust that thing out with feeling, and poor pitch control. Something about singing “My kind of town”, in a Frank Sinatra cadence, terribly off key just puts a smile on my face. And believe me, I can sing. Sometimes, I just like to see how the other half lives.

How to raise a devious individual, volume I

2006-01-29T20:58:00.000-08:00

Step #1: Have hardwood floors.

Hardwood floors are an excellent deterrent towards casual deviousness. But the extraordinarily devious will view it as a challenge, a foe to be bested. All floors have foundations, do they not? It follows, logically then, that this point is less likely to creak.

Step #2: Set ridiculously early bedtimes.

Ahh, it all comes together. When I lived under their roof, they went to bed at 10 o’clock, and so did everyone else who lived within. It was not long before this became intolerable. All the good TV was on after ten, I had this from a source whose credentials were unimpeachable.

I had a problem however. My sister was merely casually devious. She would just jump out of bed and tromp over to the TV, and her friends would call her on the houses phone line (pre-cellular age). Seldom did her outings succeed.
.
So, often I would have to wait about a half an hour for my sister to try to sneak out and get caught. Once that had occurred, I was good to go. Unlike my sister, I realized that the art of sneaking out was a dance.

I had done research. I had performed thorough investigations. I wonder what my parents thought I was doing as I walked around the hallways with a note pad. “Honey, don’t walk up and down the stairs while trying to write something down in the notebook, it’s dangerous. And stop calling Rommel a magnificent bastard. Whose book did you read?”

I had a way to roll out of bed without making the mattress springs creak. Wearing socks, I could walk silently on the hardwood, provided I hit my marks.

Once I got to the kitchen, I was golden. Turn the TV on and lower the brightness, volume at a minimum. You won’t be caught for hours.

I have a map of the hard wood floor, and its pressure points emblazoned on my mind still. When I visit my folks, every once in a while I walk the path again, just to see if I still got it.

Stop saying things all the time.

2006-01-26T19:24:00.000-08:00

I’m not really a grammar/spelling Nazi on-line. I try to speak well on line, but if you don’t, I guess that’s cool. But I am one of those people, who is compelled, indeed must pounce when the word Irony, or Ironic is used online or in a dying newsprint format incorrectly. Ever since that damnable song by Alanis Morrisette, few people use the word correctly.

I try not to use the word, in an effort to play it down a little. Maybe if people don’t hear it as much, they won’t misuse it as much.

There was an example just today. So you don’t have to read the story, the executive summary: Two sets of kids were driving like assholes in two Mercedes benzes, one T-bones a cab, killing the cabbie, and the other drives away. On the seat of the crashed mercedes: a game called Need for Speed.

Choice Quote:"You have this game that's all about fast cars and racing through city streets. It's actually really ironic," he said.

You fool! Irony would be the dudes having a copy of “Drive safely, drive slowly” on the seat. Why must you anger me! Quotes like this are like a knife of tragedy to me. The only balm I draw from the statement above is Irony gets the last laugh.

Using the word Ironic to describe a scenario which is in fact, entirely fitting, is the ultimate irony.

Oh, and I guess the thing about the cabbie was tragic too.