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fabot. funny enough to read

Friday, September 30, 2005

People all over the world...

It seems like the new coors light advertising campaign is meant to harness the whole, "refreshment from the heat" ideal, but it just seems to be like if what happened were true, there would be alot of problems.

Here's the setup:
There is this train. It is silver. Perhaps it's a bullet train, seeing as how coors is the silver bullet. Anyway, it's being loaded in the snow, because everyone knows that colorado is under a year-long perpetual state of snowfall.

Next we have a bunch of people sweating at a football game, at the beach, or perhaps in an oven. The people at all these places all looked shocked that the temperature is high. I mean, no air conditioning at the beach? i know i'm not going back there... that is unless...

In swoops, like a knight in silver train armor, the coors silver bullet train bringing with it, of course, snow and a fresh breath of cool air. Because as we've all learned from peanuts, weather follows you around.

Ok, so that's fine and dandy, but here's my problem with the situation. If the commercial were true, all those people at the beach, and at the football stadium, etc... would get freaking pneumonia. And that's the extra bad kind, the kind with the "p" in the front. Ooh, and also pfrostbite. I mean, everyone is wearing a bathing suit (which, despite what you're thinking, no one is actually bathing in), or wearing tank tops (which also by the way, don't fit tanks of any size), and all of a sudden, the chill of the rocky mountains kicks in? Yeah, they're all headed for some amputations. That's a cold... dose of reality my friend.

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
I saw on HBO they were advertising a boxing match by saying "It's a fight to the finish." That's a good place to end.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Dragons, Asian for: cool...

Dragons are cool by nature. Cold blood runs through their veins... get it?

Anyway, seeing as how i got canned today... i thought i'd go do something drastic to celebrate... let me know what you guys think...

nice. my arm is now cool...
All i can say is... ouch...













my right hand that drew the picture is killing me... and i think that pen has now run out of ink...


but i'm seriously thinking about getting something like that...



Steven Wright's QotD:
When I was a little kid, we had a sandbox. It was a quicksand box. I was an only child.... eventually.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Toilet: french for poop?

How many times has this happened to you? You go to a restaurant, eat a bunch of food that for the most part looks like it's already been eaten and digested by someone else (hey, i have to eat cheap), when before you know it, you start getting a feeling in your gut. A feeling that is eerily reminiscent of that feeling you get when you're in a dark room and you turn around only to find that you're face to face with kathy-lee gifford. The "oh shit" feeling. This feeling starts a chain of events that transpire rather quickly which ends up with you taking your place as king of porcelain, perched atop the royal throne.

Following is a list of what usually transpires during this chain of events.
  1. You assess the situation, realizing that there is no escaping the situation, proceed to step 2
  2. You try to figure out where, in relation to your current position, would be the nearest place to er... alleviate your abdominal stress
  3. Once finding the nearest bathroom, you once again assess the situation i.e. is it worth it go drop trou here, or does it look like if you went in there, what comes out might actually be cleaner than what's already on the walls? (but if it's bad enough, it won't matter)
  4. Once you get into a bathroom, the "stall inspection" starts. The ceremonial, kicking of the stall doors, to 1. check if there's toilet paper, and 2. to make sure the previous tenant cleaned up after themselves.
From here, it's magical. Assuming that the poo has been brewing this whole time, it's getting down to the wire now. In one smooth motion, there is an application of toilet seat cover (or 3 layers of tp), an unbuckling of the pants, the 180 turn, the simultaneous pant and underwear grab and shove, and the almost instantaneous "sit n' shit." It's art i tell you... art.

For anyone who hasn't experienced this first hand... i can only assume that a) you are a woman, or b) you're not a man. Same thing you say? Perhaps, but i just wanted that much more of an emphasis. If you are a woman and have experienced this, i would like to hear about it... but not really, so don't tell me, cuz that's just sick. And besides, we all know that girls don't do that...


Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
I was at a restaurant and I ordered a chicken sandwich, but I don't think the waitress understood me. She asked me "How would you like your eggs?" I thought I would answer her anyway and said, "Incubated! And then raised, plucked, beheaded, cut up, put onto a grill, and then put onto a but. Damn! I don't have that much time! Scrambled!"

Friday, September 23, 2005

The republic of california...

I read in a news story somewhere (probably naked cabin boys, a very reputable news source), that california was the world's fifth largest economy. Not the fifth largest in the country, the fifth largest in the world. Let's think about that for a second.

If california were to break off from the union (possibly literally, due to seismic activity), and create it's own country, it would be a formidible force. I mean, think about it, we've got a huge citizen militia (read: gangs with guns), our governer turned president has battled, and beaten aliens on several occasions, not to mention that we have the o.c. Ok, that last one isn't that great of a reason, but still.

California by most accounts is already it's own country. We have our own language (read: spanish), our own currency (read: spanish people), and we don't give a crap about federal standards for anything. We just set our own. California has the single most strict emissions laws in the world (which is why companies like nissan won't bring over certain cars like the skyline), and the land mass is only behind alaska (with a combined population of 20) and texas (i'm pretty sure there's more cars in california than people in texas).

If we were to actually break off, i think we would fend ok. I mean, we'd own the monopoly on weather (and before you say that weather cannot be bought and sold, leave it to someone here to try), and we'd own approximately 90% of all augmented breasts (quite the precious commodity indeed). We could just live by selling sunny days and boobs to other countries while we all sit back in our bmw's sipping 8 dollar lattes going to 12 dollar movies, buying our 5 dollar gas. Yay.

And before everyone who reads this post and tries to move out here... sorry, border closed (except the one to mexico, i believe they're actually installing turnstiles in the fence).


Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
I called the hotel operator and she said, "How can I direct your call?" I said, "Well, you could say 'Action!,' and I'll begin to dial. And when I say 'Goodbye,' then you can yell 'Cut!'"

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

The smell of something new...

Whenever you buy something new, there is usually a smell associated with it. The smell of fresh baked bread, that new car scent, and of course the smell of new traffic cones.

What is it that makes these smells that bring forth memories from childhood, college, or sometimes that time you were beaten senseless by the roaming hobo with a brand new orange traffic cone? I'll tell you what it is. Chemicals.

Chemists have been hard at work for years developing new scents for different products so that you will eventually want to buy new ones. This has been true in the car industry for some time. Automobile (spanish for car) manufacturers have been banking on the fact that people driven by no other motivational factor than obtaining the "new car smell" will buy new cars to recapture that smell. Now, your "average" person will say that the new car smell is simply a byproduct of the plastic making process, and thus fades over time. Ah, such a simplified and naieve view of what is actually at work.
The truth of the matter is, evil chemists (and do we know any chemists that aren't truly evil?) have developed a scent, aptly named the "new car scent" that fades over a period of several years (except in my cars, where they don't put enough of the chemical, and it fades after 2 weeks, and it's not because i smell bad... is it?), so that when that smell fades, people will be driven to buy a new car. It's like legally selling cigarettes, where you get hooked, and can't quit (wait, cigarettes are legal? crap, why have i been buying mine from the one-armed hobo on my street corner?).

I mentioned that there were also other "new" smells, and i can assure you, that they're all the work of chemicals. That's right, chemicals. What about bread you ask? Chemicals. They put in that fresh bread chemical that releases the nice yeasty smell. A little known fact from my studies as a master chemist (that's way better than a regular chemist), is that when the bread chemical wears off, it turns green and fuzzy, and you thought it was simple mold all this time. You eediots.

And of course, onto cones. I recently ordered some cones for our office (i like wearing them on my head, don't ask), and although they were clean and brand new, they came with an unfortunate flaw... The chemist that was working on the "new" smell for the cones must have graduated from some backwoods chemical school, i think it's the university of khemicals (notice how they even spelled chemicals wrong? I think they go by uk), and instead of smelling like something that might get you high through prolonged exposure, smells like... ass.

That's right, my cones smell like ass. (That sentence, if taken out of context, would be pretty funny, so laugh imagining you were just scrolling through and read only that sentence)

There are several different scents that can be summed up by the word "ass" but at this point, what i mean, is that it smells like the factory that made the cones must have had a machine with severe indigestion and pooped out cones, much to the surprise of the workers at the factory (hey look! cones! we can sell these too! but they came out of that machines ass... ooh, i've got it, we can make them smell like ass too!)

So, unless you want your entire office to smell like ass, don't buy cones from the As-Scone-Co. There's some more i wanted to say, but i have an overwhelming urge to go sell my car, and load my new car full of bread.

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:

A lollipop is a cross between candy and garbage.

Monday, September 19, 2005

jon's survival guide...

well, after listening to a couple of people talk about it, i decided to buy the first season of "lost" on dvd. So far so good. Anyway, the show made me wonder, what i would be like should i be stranded on a deserted island with only 10-15 hot women... my thoughts follow.

First off, knowing my damn luck, i'd be stranded with a bunch of barnyard animals, delicious yes, but perhaps not the best companions. Now, more than likely, i would have been one of those guys that would have run into the woods, and at the first sight of a spider bigger than my enormous head, would probably faint and die. Oh the fate of it all, surviving a plane crash, then getting eaten by a spider.

Ok, assuming i wasn't eaten by a humongous spider, how would i react? How would i adapt? Well, i can tell you now, that i'm no doctor, who happened to take some flying lessons, and be able to give people blood transfusions with a sea urchin's spine, but, i would like to think i'd do pretty well. Assuming i had in my possession a couple necessities:
  1. probably a good knife, or a machete (nevermind that you're not allowed to take them on planes anymore, it'd still be nice to have, perhaps if someone dropped one from a passing plane without realizing it)
  2. a generator with a crank handle would be ideal ( how else am i supposed to watch tv, or get online for that matter?)
  3. perhaps an endless supply of string/twine (seems to always come in handy for people such as gilligan (r.i.p.) and other people who are able to fashion large rafts and the such)
  4. apparently all deserted islands have a huge forest full of bamboo (preferably in nice lengths where i can fashion together a hut, a raft, and perhaps a bicycle, ya know, for exercise)
  5. alot of fedex boxes full of crap (a la castaway) might be nice
  6. a camera crew (apparently, if you're going to be stranded on a deserted island, it's a good idea to become stranded together with a camera crew, because as long as the ratings are good, i'll survive)
If i had all of that, and maybe a refrigerator the size of the mgm grand hotel in las vegas full of delicious food, either that or a fishing pole (i love sushi), i think i'd manage ok for a couple of days.

There have been several movies and shows based on the subject of being left in some sort of deserted island (how come no one ever lands in like, kentucky?). Just to name a few, there's lost, gilligan's island, castaway, and the ever-so-popular temptation island.

Now, in keeping with the lost theme, here are some things i wouldn't mind not having with me on my deserted island adventure:
  1. dinosaurs, or any carniverous creatures that could eat me of any kind
  2. ghosts (like casper, or even better, casper's hot older sister)
  3. fat women (for 2 reasons, 1, they're probably not very attractive, 2, they would eat up all my food)
  4. cilantro (if faced with the proposition of starving to death or eating cilantro, i'd probably choose having sex with hot women, wait, that wasn't one of the choices? cheers for option c.)
  5. crappy cds (what's worse that surviving a plane crash with only a portable cranking generator, endless supplies of food and twine, and hot women? only having bad music to listen to while you're there. if i was stranded with only a britney spears and hilary duff cd, i would seriously impail myself on the previously mentioned bamboo)

Ok, all those things being in place, what would i do? Well first, i would attempt to assess the situation. All the hot women on this side, all the ugly women and dudes on that side, wait, that side is a bottomless pit? Oops, how did that happen? Oh yeah, and bitchy girls, you need to have this minor surgery to remove your vocal chord... i mean, to make you prettier? (one and the same my friend, one and the same).

Next, i suppose i would have to fashion together some kind of shelter. Nothing too fancy i suppose, perhaps a loft, fashioned of bamboo of course, with a couple bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom (bamboo plumbing, the wave of the future), a kitchen with a gas stove (natural gas... fart power baby!), and of course a living room (where else am i gonna put my tv and computer?).

Finally, i would attempt to fashion together some sort of salvation device a.k.a. cruise ship. Now, provided i wasn't able to find a lumber yard on the island (how inconsiderate), i would have to fashion my boat out of, you guessed it, bones. It would go along well to supporting me saying that i was a pirate if i were able to sail up in a ship made of bones. Yeah, that would be sweet "arrrr, i've been stranded on a deserted island, fashioned this ship from bones, and now am robbing you. Bring me your finest meats and cheeses."

And there you have it, jon's survival guide for the new millenium. Enjoy, and make sure you print out a copy from the deserted island if you happen to find yourself there with a nice wifi connection.

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
I flew over an island that said "S.O.S.", so I landed, because I wanted to clean their pans.

Friday, September 16, 2005

jon's guide to women...

As a part of a joint venture with rangercho, we have both decided to take a topic, and write about it. Pretty complicated huh? So here goes.

I have been studying for many years, the mythical creatures that are often referred to in folklore as women. I have advanced training in this field, even obtaining a b.a. in psychology (read: classes with lots of women in them), in my ever quest to unravel this mystical being. As far as i can tell, there are three types of women. They are all hot, but in different ways.

First, you have the hot women. These women are usually in peak physical condition, have nicely proportioned bodies, nice tans, nice smiles, pretty hair and generally smell nice.

Second, you have the hot women. These women are usually hot due to the fact that they're carrying around so much extra weight that they have no choice but to be hot... literally.

Third, you have the hot women. These women are usually about average sized, and average looking, but are considered hot because of their tempers. They are the ones who are angry that they aren't in the hot category, and decide to take it out on us helpless men by constantly arguing about something or other until we finally buckle under the constant strain and reluctantly marry one of them.

Of course, men want to be with hot women, and other women want to be them. But the fact of the matter is, hot women don't really exist outside the realm of television, movies and outside when you're driving by. Apparently, even if you slam on your brakes, run out of the car and chase after where you thought you might have seen these women, they disappear into thin air. As it happens, the only women that a man is likely to meet is one from one of the last two categories. At this point, one of three things usually happens.
  1. The man becomes discouraged at his choices, and continues to hold out hope that a hot woman will eventually come his way
  2. The man settles for a hot woman, and decides that that's as good as it's gonna get, or in california,
  3. The man turns gay
Now, there seems to be a majority of people fall into the second category, eventually deciding that that's as good as it's going to get, and marries an angry woman, all the while watching tv, wondering where the beautiful women are hiding.

I know alot of people would disagree with my seeming overgeneralization of what there is out there, and i suppose there are some exceptions to the rule, but observe the women around you, and you'll find that my scientific research comes with little error.
A bit more about the mythical hot women. Even if people have thought that they might have seen some in the flesh, or have even talked to, or interacted with one, i can assure you, you were taking some hallucinagenic mushrooms of some type (in which case, can i have some?).

Read my (typed letters on your computer screen), there's no such thing as a hot woman. Why is it that i feel so strongly about this you ask? It's of course, because i, jon, the coolest dude on the planet, don't have a hot girlfriend. No matter what anyone else says, that's the only true scientific litmus test for anything.


Mitch Hedberg's
QotD:

Is a hippopotamus just a really cool opotamus?

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Geriatrock?

There comes a time in people's lives when they feel that they need to hang it up in terms of their careers. There are lots of reasons that people might think that they should retire, whether it be that they no longer have the love and passion for what they're doing, they've achieved their goals, or sometimes simply that they don't feel like working anymore.

This is true with celebrities as well, although for many celebrities, the fans oftentimes dictate whether or not they're going to continue. This is for the most part true. There are a few instances, where actors still get roles past their prime, or musicians just hold on to their two hit singles for so long that they eventually become "cool" again, similar to a fashion victim who wears his courduroy bellbottoms so long that they're fashionable.

A prime example of this? You guessed it, the rolling stones. Mick jagger and crew, each of whom were born at roughly the same time as the invention of the wheel, have played their hit song "satisfaction" roughly the same number of times as grains of rice to be consumed in china in the last 3,000 years, to audiences reaching ages that were previously only attainable through carbon dating. The song originally made the top spot on the billboard charts in, i'm not making this up, july of 1965. 1965. I'll just let you think about that for a second. What has happened since 1965? Lyndon johnson was president in 1965, there were roughly 7 people living in california, and electricity was still a relatively experimental technology. In fact, the word technology hadn't been invented yet (somewhere around 1982 if you're wondering). And of course all of my facts are 99% accurate due to the fact that i have advanced degrees in useless historical trivia.

So i say here, mick, it's time to hang up the wrinkle jacket. Wait, that's your skin? Gross. It's bad when the least wrinkly part of your body is your ball sack. When's the last time the rolling stones had a hit song that wasn't written in the industrial age? Who cares. The rolling stones are part of abc network's kickoff for the nfl. No single player in the nfl was born when satisfaction was a hit single except maybe gary anderson (inside joke i suppose, he was one of the last players to use the single bar facemask). Is there such a lack of good musicians that we have to constantly hear these geriatric rockers over and over again? Last year's superbowl halftime show was a joke. Thanks paul mccartney, that rendition of hey jude was so much better than the last 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,041 times i heard it.

The next time i have to sit through a song that has been played more times than paris has had sex on video, i'll shoot myself in the face. Ok, maybe i shouldn't do that, cuz that doesn't solve anything, i'll shoot the guy who requested it. So, watch out abc.


Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
At the end of my letters, I like to write P.S. - This is what part of the alphabet would look like if Q and R were eliminated.

Monday, September 12, 2005

The Corporate Ladder...

It seems that my friends who have acutal... you know, jobs... always seem to be in a perpetual state of being on the way to, or coming back from, a meeting. It's strange how an entire day can seemingly be taken up by meetings, with breaks in between for lunch, smoking, getting a snack, socializing, chatting online, getting another snack, going to the bathroom to rid onself of said snacks and meals, making copies of various body parts, and other things. How do they find the time?

The other things aside, the entire concept of meetings intrigues me. I mean, who's to say what they're actually talking about in all of those conference rooms? Who knows? As far as anyone else knows, they're just in there, talking about roller coasters with the guy standing up, describing his latest trip to six flags, mapping out the course of the roller coaster with his laser pointer. There seems to be alot of food consumed at these "meetings," so perhaps the purpose of those "meetings" are for corporations to, in a sign of their dedication to be good corporate citizens, get rid of snacks that have almost reached their expiration date.

Another theory of mine is that people perhaps, three of four rungs up on the "corporate ladder" usually come to a point where they realize that they don't have a job that requires actually... doing anything, or perhaps they just haven't had a snack that morning, decide to "call a meeting" to "define objectives" and "discuss progress of objectives" set at the last meeting.

If i were to work in a corporate setting such as this, i would love to be able to "meeting crash" where i would swoop in, act like i'm contributing, by nodding occasionally and saying things such as "but were the objectives really met?" or "how can we do this better?"

I'd love to tell you more, but i have to go to a meeting (i think there might be sandwiches today).

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
Yeah, I'm not into sports. If I got athelet's foot, my first reaction would be: "that's not my fucking foot!"

Sunday, September 11, 2005

pollster mania

I think the guys at the associated press, after being asked to be taken out of the formula for the bowl championship series formula, which chooses the top two teams to face off in college football at the end of the year, has gone crazy. They decided "hey, since our poll doesn't matter anymore, let's choose our rankings by... uh, wait look a dartboard! Sweet"

edit:
and in an unrelated (sort of) story, vanderbilt is now tied for first place in the sec east.... go uh... ads?

Friday, September 09, 2005

The Phone Call Dating Scene...

People oft take something so complex as a phone call and make it out to be a simple exchange of words and ideas. Nothing could be further from the truth. When people talk on the phone, there is alot going on that perhaps most people aren't aware of. In essence, there's an entire evolution that is a relationship going on during even the most brief conversation.

- First, you have the infatuation phase. This is the time in a relationship that is usually marked with people "getting to know" each other (which for women, is a true expression of their interest, and a genuine method of becoming closer to this other person's mind and soul, and in men, is a necessary evil to get "into da pants").

In the phone conversation, this phase manifests itself by means of the "caller" and the "callee" being excited about making that first contact, and seeing how each other is doing, in an effort to get a better gauge as to whether or not they should proceed with their news about how they saw a kangeroo driving a station wagon, and just how funny it was (which generally turns out, would have been funnier if you were there).

- Next, you start having problems. Usually at this point in a traditional relationship, conflict starts in the form of the woman complaning about how the man doesn't spend enough time with her (ex: we don't talk like we used to) at which point the man generally tunes her out until she seems to be done with this round of bitching (meanwhile, in his mind, he's gotten what he wanted, a.k.a. "da booty," now he has to deal with the backlash a.k.a. "da bitchin"). Perhaps this is an overgeneralized and sexist point of view, but the truth hurts, doesn't it?

In the phone conversation, there comes a point where now the "callee" tells the "caller" about his day. When this starts happening, "caller" becomes disinterested, often putting the phone down, and doing something to get his mind off of having to hear about how the toner cartridge in the copier wouldn't fit right, even though the office supply salesman told him that it was the right one... and.. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz wait, sorry, were you saying something?

- We now get to the "gotta save the marriage" point of the relationship. Seeing that the ideal love is now fading, one member of the relationship will invariably attempt in some way to "salvage" what can possibly be left in this sham that's called a relationship, in a last ditch attempt to get back to the "good 'ole days."

In the phone conversation, this portion of the relationship shows up when the "caller" has finished telling his hilarious story, and the "callee" is getting bored, wanting to hang up. At this point, "caller," feeling the converstaion slip out of his control, tries his best to pick up the conversation by bringing up all manner of topics in order to keep the phone call going, and the minutes wasting.

- Eventually, there comes the inevitable... The breakup. As newton's fourth law states, any relationship that begins, must end, in bitter heartbreak and anger. Okay, i might have lied on that one, it's obviously einstein's theory of relativity.

This part is actually more interesting in the phone convo than in an actual relationship. It usually consists of such closing signals as "well... (sigh)" or the ever popular "(yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn)." The "dumpee" at this point, in one last ditch attempt to keep the conversation going, pulls out the "don't go, i'm so lonely, and people don't ever call me anymore. Why don't people want to talk to me? Why do i have to be so lonely? Why did i move out here, where i don't know anybody, and where all my friends are too busy to talk to me and be friends with me?" (um, that last sentence, only serves as an example, and any similarity between that and any "real" feelings are strictly coincidental)

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
The depressing thing about tennis is, that no matter how good you become, you'll never be better, than a wall. I played a wall once, that fucker relentless.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Mysteries of the Universe...

Scientists for years, have delved into those questions that fuel the curiosity of entire generations. What is the meaning of life? What is the origin of matter? How come everything tastes like chicken? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Of these, the most intriguing questions are those that scientists have grappled with for so long, that it's only known in the circles of folklore and legend. Here, i will attempt to bring to light, some of those questions that are the biggest mysteries for you, loyal reader to ponder.
  • What the hell are boogers made of, and is there a stronger adhesive in the world?
Most people don't appreciate the complexity of this question. I mean, where do boogers come from? The "simple" scientist would say that they are simply coagulated masses of dried up mucus, but that's such an oversimplification that it's hilarious, not unlike myself. And also, once you pick a boogie (don't even act like you don't), and try to shake it off your finger, it holds on like a star wars fan to the last ticket to the viewing of princess leah's bra. Once it actually leaves your finger, where the hell does it go? The military should invest in researching this type stealth technology.
  • Why is it when you drop a piece of buttered and jellied toast, it always lands jelly side down?
Again, most people would find a "scientific" rationale for this, saying that it's the gravity, but i think it's more along the lines of toast hating me. That's right, toast, and other foods, hate me. Whenever i drop something, and have a chance to catch it, it eludes me, and invariably, lands on the floor, hard-to-clean-side down. And not only that, usually, i run out of paper towels...
  • What's the deal with silent letters in words?
There seem to be too many silent letters that are just unnecessary. The (p)sychics should work on finding a solution, which might be (h)erbal in nature, or perhaps if they cannot find the solution, their dau(gh)ter mi(gh)t be able to find one in her po(t)pourri dish, or if she doesn't have one, cou(l)d buy one at the depo(t) where it can be found in the com(b) (a)isle, interestingly enough.

Mitch Hedberg's QotD:
I don't have a girlfriend, but i do know a woman who would be mad at me for saying that though.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Random quip of the day...

Why is it that when you're stepping over something, it takes quite a bit of effort for the first foot (my right foot usually, just in case you were wondering) to step, but the hind foot, infinitely smarter (my left foot, just in case you were wondering) is able to clear the obstacle without even a second thought.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Epiphanies

There comes a moment in everyone's life where they have the type of clarity of vision that usually only comes after a few cases of beer. This is it, "the natural high," "getting high on life," "the world of... something else to do with being high, but not really."
So here now, i present to you, my personal epiphany (some people might think it weird or a waste of a once in a lifetime event, but it's not me that chooses my fate, but rather the fate that... you know):

I love martha stewart.

I don't even mean that jokingly, or in any way bad, because the way i feel is shared, i'm sure, by you, loyal reader. It's not like i'm saying, i wanna marry her or anything like that (i'm no ashton kutcher), although she is still very attractive in my opinion, but i just think she's one of the coolest people on tv and in the media. She's not afraid to tell it like it is, and on top of that, she knows how to make a car out of paper mache and make easy-to-use organizational tools for the interior of the car, which would be upholstered with the leather from a cow that she raised on her own ranch since it was a calf, feeding it only natrually recycled, organic, sweet grass.

Her new show, martha live, looks like it' s going to be hilarious. I mean, i might even watch her version of the apprentice... "you're not a good thing..." genious.

Now, i wasn't in the women's correctional facility that martha was in (although that was once a dream of mine), but i would have to imagine that if had been there to observe the goings on of that particular correctional institution, i would have observed, much in the same manner that that lady did with the apes, that there was a pecking order within the kingdom of the big house. I could only imagine that martha was probably the leader, otherwise known as the "head bitch" of the cell block. I don't think she would take any shit from anybody, do you? Hell no. If someone got up in her shit, she'd take that ho down, and knit a decorative sham from her hair, and fashion a ho skin rug for her cell. Damn straight.

There's been talk about perhaps martha might have gone to jail on purpose in order to up her profile, but if anyone's ever been to woman's jail (which i should know, because i've been there, even though i said that i haven't...), and been on house arrest (which i have too, but just for fun) and it wasn't fun.

So here's the lesson for all you folks out there, don't get arrested, and if you do, make sure you get a 2 tv show deal out of it.


Mitch Hedberg's QotD:

Friday, September 02, 2005

Career education for the masses...

There only seem to be two types of commercials on tv nowadays. Ones where i can gamble all my money away playing online poker, and ones where i can get an "education" in order to get a mundane job so that i can pay for my newfound gambling habit.

This post will focus on the second part of that statement. There are alot of commercials (in l.a. at least) for community and junior colleges. I'm glad that they're promoting education (and not simply trying to get anybody in their door in the pursuit of profits, a good name for a rap group), but it seems like some of the "job skills" being offered aren't exactly what i would call... "necessary to get that job."
The following is an actual excerpt from a commercial i recently saw: "we can teach you to become a victim's advocate, a police officer, and a crime scene investigator." Now, i'm no expert, but i would imagine that chances are, if one wanted to become a police officer, the police department would, oh i don't know, train you? How many people go through 12 weeks of police academy thinking, "man, i wish i had had some more training before i got here... perhaps in a community college setting for $40 a credit."

I'm probably not the one to talk, seeing as how i don't have a job of any kind (unless you consider this blog a job, but i get nothing out of it but tired fingers and semi-acknowledgement from my friend), but it seems like community colleges are teaching people to live with mediocrity. I guess in a way it's good, because for the most part, no one actually reaches their dreams, and spend the rest of their lives feeling sorry for themselves and having wasted their lives on useless hopes and endeavors. This way at least, people will see mediocrity as a goal, and be content when they get the job as a medical transcriptionist or as a "facilities manager" which i used to be in high school (read: janitor).

That being said, perhaps i should follow my own advice, i mean, my dreams, and go back to school to learn how to become a "hotel room cleanliness specialist."


Mitch Hedberg's
QotD:
I think Pringle's initial intention was to make tennis balls. But on the day the rubber was supposed to show up, a big truckload of potatoes arrived instead. But Pringle's is a laid back company. They said "fuck it, cut em up."


 


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