Song of the Day

Ashes Of American Flags ~ Wilco

The cash machine is blue and green
For a bundle of twenties and a small service fee
I could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents
On Diet Coca-Cola and unlit cigarettes
I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a fuck
How hot and sorrowful, the machine begs for luck

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

We want a good life with a nose for things
the fresh wind and bright sky to endure my suffering
I'm a hole without a key if I break my tongue
Oh, speaking of tomorrow, how will it ever come?

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I'm down on my hands and knees
every time I hear a doorbell ring
I shake like a toothache
every time I hear myself sing

All my lies are only wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I would like to salute
the ashes of American flags
And all the fallen leaves
filling up shopping bags


Christmas Questions ... with different answers

Q. Why do reindeer have red noses?
A. They are not equipped with ABS and thus tend to bump into things on slippery surfaces. This is why Santa is often seen with a red nose (the sleigh doesn't have an airbag, either).

Q. Why does Santa use Elves?
A. There is no trade union for Elves. They're easy to exploit.

Q. Is there really a Mrs. Claus?
A. Highly unlikely. Since Santa is surrounded by male figures (Elves, reindeer named Rudolph, Donner, Blitzen etc.) his sexual preference seems to tend towards homosexuality. He is said to have some problems finding a gerontophile/zoophile Elf for a threesome with a reindeer, though.

Q. Does Santa really live on the North Pole?
A. Uncertain. However, rumor has it that the story of Santa and the North Pole has nothing to do with the Arctic, but that Santa is known to frequently ask the Elves and reindeer if he can shove his pole up north. Obviously, this is related to the cryptic description "up where the sun don't shine", which applies to both the North Pole and assholes in general.

Q. Does Santa really work all year round making toys?
A. Get real! Check the box in which the Christmas gift came! Does it say "Made at the North Pole"? ("Made in China" more likely!)

Q. Then what does he DO all year?
A. Uncertain. Chasing Elves and reindeer, most likely. Maybe he spends his winters in Florida.

Q. Is the story about the little angel and the Christmas tree true?
A. Without a doubt. Santa has a temper and can develop a nasty attitude (he doesn't take stress too well).

Q. If so, why do the little angels on Christmas trees look happy (given the fact they have a tree up theirs)?
A. Little angels are known to be kinky.

Q. Do the polar bears on the North Pole cause Santa any trouble?
A. Not since Santa equipped the guard Elves with M-61 sub-machine guns.

Q. So Santa is basically a gun-crazy, homosexual, angry old man who exploits little Elves, fools around all day, and drives around in a sleigh that lacks basic security measures?
A. You forgot about the bestiality thing.

Song of the Day

Time For Me To Come Down ~ Amy Rigby

I'm driving past a field of red poppies
Hiding my left arm from the sun
I wouldn't think of stopping now
I'm on my way to see you

All of these thoughts I've been having
Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one
I've been on top of the mountain
And I do believe

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you

I'm drinking from a can of warm soda
Trying to keep myself alert
I wouldn't dream of sleeping now
I'm on my way to see you

Coming out of anaesthesia
I wanna know how it feels to be hurt
I've been above it all
But I've changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna know you
I wanna show you
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you

Driving sixty miles and out
You can hear me ....
Now the sun is sinking down
And the road is very rough

Stopping at a fast food restaurant
Trying to feed the butterflies
I wouldn't think of choking now
I'm on my way to see you

Had enough of early retirement
I wanna know how it feels to try
I've been above it all
But I changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you
I wanna know you
I'm gonna show
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you


I totally was Sheldon tonight

So despite my dislike of most sitcoms ... I have become a fan of The Big Bang Theory.  Perhaps because I've been told I'm a perfect mix of Sheldon and Leonard.  Sheleonard, in fact, was a name given to me by a friend.  I find it amusing. I'm nowhere NEAR that smart, nor that full of useless information, but to be recognized as such for the intelligence and randomness and ability to technical on people is rather amusing.

Then again, I do support Sheldon's take on astrology:  "Yes, it tells us that you participate in the mass cultural delusion that the sun’s apparent position relative to arbitrarily defined constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality."

But anyway ...

Today, we had snow. And ice. And as anyone who lives in an area that gets such delicious precipitation in cold months can tell you, almost everyone hates cleaning off their car.  That's why they build garages and buy carports.

However, I got to use science on my (probably low-double-digit-IQ) neighbor who, as he said, plays guitar for a living.  Now that's not an insult at guitar players, but seriously ... you make a living playing guitar in Youngstown, Ohio? We're the cultural armpit of America. Hell, a local hero (Kelly Pavlik) couldn't sell out a Division II college basketball arena (Beeghley Center) for a world title fight (WBO and WBC Middleweight belts, which he holds) in his home town.

Then again, there wasn't beer at the fights because the fine people promoting the fight forgot to apply for a beer permit, assuming the venue would have one.  That's good work boys.

But back to my neighbor.  Who I've heard play guitar while he sits on his patio. I'm thinking people pay him to STOP playing, but what do I know?

I'm out there scraping my windows, in 25 degree temperature, wearing a hockey jersey, no hat, no gloves, jeans and shoes ... he's bundled up in a big-ol ghetto bubble jacket with fur-lined gloves and a hat under his hood, shivering like it's 50 degrees colder than it is ... struggling like hell to clear the ice off his windows.

I whip through my car, front, back, all four sides, and clear the snow off so it doesn't blow onto the front or back windows ... he asks where I got such a great snow scraper.  I said "Speedway Gas Station. Was all of two dollars."  He said he paid ten bucks for his, and his handle was metal and mine was wood.  I told him it's not the tool, it's how you use it.


And then, my friends, it went all sciencey:

Me:  "You're scraping your windows wrong.  Because the glass is at an angle the snow or ice forms with a bottom heavy crystal structure. You're scraping side to side, which is against the grain of crystal. I'm scraping top to bottom, therefore, attacking the offending ice crystals at their weakest point, the top. That's why my two dollar ice scraper is out performing your ten dollar one. It's knowing how to defeat your enemy and doing it with the least physical output."

Him (trying and realizing top to bottom works much better): "You're pretty smart."

Me (externally): "Thanks."

Me (internally): "Bazinga, I don't care."

From the Bizzaro Files

A little bit of something I'm reading kind of hit me as ... well ... me:

It made me kinda glad I didn't have a relationship of my own; she'd probably leave me and become a nun. Or a lesbian. Or a lesbian nun. Are there lesbian nuns in real life? I could only assume so.

Maybe I should shave my head and become a monk -- then I wouldn't have any women problems. No more crazy women, no more awkward first dates, no more awkward encounters with parents, no more backbiting female friends of hers, no more lewd comments from mine, no more sex (not that I've been having much lately anyway), no more cuddling on the bed watching a move, no more lulled to sleep by her breathing, no more everything. Instead, I'll become one of those wire-fu monks that can shatter steel with his fist, and fly from tree to tree with my super awesome kung-fu grip, and then wander the earth like Quai-chang Kane.


When I Rule The World ...

Just random things popping into my head about what will be different when I rule the world:

  • ALL candy canes will be pink and white and PEPPERMINT only. None of this fruit flavor or fruit color. NO. Candy canes are always meant to be pink and white and peppermint flavored.
  • Basketball games will have a 2-hour time limit ... with a single 15-minute add-on for the 10-minute overtime period. There's no reason the last two minutes of a basketball game should take 25 minutes.
  • The phrase "If the playoffs started today" would be outlawed. They don't start today. They start when the regular season is over. Period.
  • John Madden will be executed for dumbing down the art of broadcasting.
  • John Buccigross will be named Broadcasting Czar. His seat will allow him to execute, on the spot, morons like John Madden.
  • A select set of drivers will have their cars outfitted with Star Trek type phasers that simply make idiotic drivers vanish.
  • I will own the world's first teleportation device. After the bugs have been worked out scrambling up my enemies.
  • Great Lakes Christmas Ale and Michelob's Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale will be available year round.
  • Shitty flavorless light beers and lite beers will vanish.
  • The size 0 will not exist in women's clothing. NOBODY is a size 0.

Oh, I'm sure there are more ... these are just the beginnings. What's your list?