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Maiden of the Sea Cow
It has been widely suggested that manatees could be behind the myth of the mermaid. The theory is that sailors who were unfamiliar with manatees, after seeing one surface in a patch of seaweed, could have mistaken it for a beautiful maiden of the sea with long, flowing hair.
How much ocean water do you have to drink before manatees begin to look like attractive, young maidens? And if ocean madness isn't to blame here, how ugly were the women these mermaid-discovering sailors left at port if "woman" was a logical title for the first sea cow they ever saw draped in seaweed?
As long as I'm on the topic of manatees, I feel like I should point out how ridiculous it is that these things are occasionally categorized as "wildlife." Surfacing for air is about the wildest thing they do, and I've seen pine cones that were more full of life. It's nearly impossible to tell the difference between a manatee and a log floating at sea. The only way you can tell is if one of them appaers to smile at you for a second... that's the log.
It has been widely suggested that manatees could be behind the myth of the mermaid. The theory is that sailors who were unfamiliar with manatees, after seeing one surface in a patch of seaweed, could have mistaken it for a beautiful maiden of the sea with long, flowing hair.
How much ocean water do you have to drink before manatees begin to look like attractive, young maidens? And if ocean madness isn't to blame here, how ugly were the women these mermaid-discovering sailors left at port if "woman" was a logical title for the first sea cow they ever saw draped in seaweed?
As long as I'm on the topic of manatees, I feel like I should point out how ridiculous it is that these things are occasionally categorized as "wildlife." Surfacing for air is about the wildest thing they do, and I've seen pine cones that were more full of life. It's nearly impossible to tell the difference between a manatee and a log floating at sea. The only way you can tell is if one of them appaers to smile at you for a second... that's the log.
Cat and Mouse
The obvious solution for dealing with an infestation of mice in your home is to set up a bunch of mousetraps. But what if you don't want to burden your conscience with the knowledge that you are personally responsible for treating unsuspecting mice to sudden, neck-crunching death?
A second option for you "non-mouse-murdering" types is to buy a cat to do the killing for you. I guess that would be effective initially, but then all you’ve done is replace a tiny pest that poops in your house with a larger pest that poops in your house. And then what kind of animal are you going to have to buy to kill your cat? Where does the killing end?
Since you probably don’t want your home to become a stage where the circle of life plays out, your best bet for ridding your house of mice is to drive them out with a flood or a fire. It’s hard to justify those options when you consider that a fire or flood will also drive you from your home, but wouldn’t you rather be homeless than be a murderer or have a cat?
The obvious solution for dealing with an infestation of mice in your home is to set up a bunch of mousetraps. But what if you don't want to burden your conscience with the knowledge that you are personally responsible for treating unsuspecting mice to sudden, neck-crunching death?
A second option for you "non-mouse-murdering" types is to buy a cat to do the killing for you. I guess that would be effective initially, but then all you’ve done is replace a tiny pest that poops in your house with a larger pest that poops in your house. And then what kind of animal are you going to have to buy to kill your cat? Where does the killing end?
Since you probably don’t want your home to become a stage where the circle of life plays out, your best bet for ridding your house of mice is to drive them out with a flood or a fire. It’s hard to justify those options when you consider that a fire or flood will also drive you from your home, but wouldn’t you rather be homeless than be a murderer or have a cat?
Bursting with American Pride
It has been widely publicized in recent years that Americans are fat, but is this an accurate assessment or an unfair generalization? I looked up the statistics, and I was proud to find that nearly one in three Americans is barely fat at all, meaning that we, as a nation, score an unimpressive 67% when it comes to being overweight. Sixty-seven percent? That would earn you a D+ in most high school classrooms... hardly enough to cause your fellow students to refer to you as "the smart kid." Sure we're a little on the chunky side, but until we reach a respectable 90% obesity rate, shouldn't we be known for our cowboy hats, our poorly-made cars, and our arrogant self-importance? After all, our success rate in those fields is well above 67%.
As fat as we may seem, America isn't even the fattest country. Like most Olympic events, our chubby nation comes in third in that race. Did you know that the U.S. has more bronze medals than China, Canada, Spain, Russia, and Germany combined? We're the third-placingest country on the planet! If we ever hope to become the fattest country, we must first find a way to out-eat and under-exercise American Samoa and Kiribati. What? There's a country called Kiribati? When did this happen? Maybe we assume we're the fattest country in the world because we haven't heard of the other countries yet, and it's this disregard for the world beyond our borders that seems far more "American" to me than the two-in-three guys who have to turn sideways to get off of a bus... which raises the question... how did they get on there in the first place?
It has been widely publicized in recent years that Americans are fat, but is this an accurate assessment or an unfair generalization? I looked up the statistics, and I was proud to find that nearly one in three Americans is barely fat at all, meaning that we, as a nation, score an unimpressive 67% when it comes to being overweight. Sixty-seven percent? That would earn you a D+ in most high school classrooms... hardly enough to cause your fellow students to refer to you as "the smart kid." Sure we're a little on the chunky side, but until we reach a respectable 90% obesity rate, shouldn't we be known for our cowboy hats, our poorly-made cars, and our arrogant self-importance? After all, our success rate in those fields is well above 67%.
As fat as we may seem, America isn't even the fattest country. Like most Olympic events, our chubby nation comes in third in that race. Did you know that the U.S. has more bronze medals than China, Canada, Spain, Russia, and Germany combined? We're the third-placingest country on the planet! If we ever hope to become the fattest country, we must first find a way to out-eat and under-exercise American Samoa and Kiribati. What? There's a country called Kiribati? When did this happen? Maybe we assume we're the fattest country in the world because we haven't heard of the other countries yet, and it's this disregard for the world beyond our borders that seems far more "American" to me than the two-in-three guys who have to turn sideways to get off of a bus... which raises the question... how did they get on there in the first place?
A Pirate's Life for Me
I know A LOT about pirates. For instance, I know that they pillage and plunder and rifle and loot. I also know that they don't give a hoot about kidnapping or ravaging. And how do I know all of this? Certainly not from books. If there are books that mention pirates, I haven't read them. Turns out I'm not much of a reader. If not from books, then how? Well... pirates sang a song about it, of course. These pirates claim to be rascals, scoundrels, and such, but you don't see much to support that. What are the two things you always see pirates doing? Singing and dancing.
In Peter Pan, The Pirates of Penzance, The Pirate Movie, Muppet Treasure Island, and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride (which is based on the movie which is based on the ride), most of what we get is a kind of "Broadway at Sea." This fun-loving group of misfit marauders seems to be more interested in choreography than robbery. What's with the terror in the faces of a ship's crew when they see a pirate ship raise its flag? Afraid of a pirate flag? Just pretend it's a disco ball... it means about the same thing (which, in retrospect, is indeed rather scary).
I know A LOT about pirates. For instance, I know that they pillage and plunder and rifle and loot. I also know that they don't give a hoot about kidnapping or ravaging. And how do I know all of this? Certainly not from books. If there are books that mention pirates, I haven't read them. Turns out I'm not much of a reader. If not from books, then how? Well... pirates sang a song about it, of course. These pirates claim to be rascals, scoundrels, and such, but you don't see much to support that. What are the two things you always see pirates doing? Singing and dancing.
In Peter Pan, The Pirates of Penzance, The Pirate Movie, Muppet Treasure Island, and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride (which is based on the movie which is based on the ride), most of what we get is a kind of "Broadway at Sea." This fun-loving group of misfit marauders seems to be more interested in choreography than robbery. What's with the terror in the faces of a ship's crew when they see a pirate ship raise its flag? Afraid of a pirate flag? Just pretend it's a disco ball... it means about the same thing (which, in retrospect, is indeed rather scary).
The Killer Whale Strikes Back
Several months ago I drew a killer whale. It seemed boring to post such a drawing without accompanying commentary, so I thought up some killer-whale-ish thoughts and posted them on my blog. After that, I didn't think about killer whales for a long time. Then a couple of days ago, a killer whale, masquerading as a ten-year-old child, attacked me repeatedly with escalating hostility for the things I had written.
The temperamental whale began by writing: "this is incorrect orcas dont eat and attack eneything they want they only attack when there hungary i know that and im only 10!."
Here we find further evidence to support the claim that killer whales are one of the sea's most intelligent creatures. Isn't it interesting that this particular orca knew he could never pass himself off as an adult human due to his inability to punctuate or spell, so he claimed to be a ten-year-old instead? Ingenious! I might have bought the ruse had he claimed to be a four-year-old, but even ten-year-olds can spell "anything."
He went on: "orcas dont attack great whites and there not the number 1 preditors of the sea great whites are i can point out so meny mistakes in this. you should go on are you smarter than a 10 year old to prove me wrong if your so smart and special to dis the name of the killer whale.YOU ARE THE BIGGEST IDIOT EVER!!!!."
"Dis" the name of the killer whale? Do killer whales really think this is how ten-year-olds speak? And what's with the obsessively repetitious insistence that these messages are coming from a ten-year-old? There's only one thing that would have been more suspicious for him to continuously repeat: "I am definitely not a killer whale."
"you are putting false images in the mind's of teenagers im 10 and know better than to believe you YOU HEAR THAT TEEN'S ,SHANES TERNING YOU INTO IDIOT." I found the killer whale's specific concern for teens quite puzzling. It is possible that teens are the most delicious flavor of human. This would explain why the whale would object to me dissuading teens from swimming in the open sea.
"THEY DON'T ATTACK PEOPLE UNLESS THE PERSON PREVOKES THEM . YOU ARE THE MOST HORRIFIC URCHEN IN THE SEA GO SLITHER BACK TO THE ABASSLE PLAIN YOU INSULT TO HUMANATEY!!" If killer whales really only attack people when they are provoked, it seems I gave this particular whale a pretty solid provoking (or "prevoking"). I need to be more careful when I write about animals that I assume have no internet access. Back to the abassle plain with me.
Several months ago I drew a killer whale. It seemed boring to post such a drawing without accompanying commentary, so I thought up some killer-whale-ish thoughts and posted them on my blog. After that, I didn't think about killer whales for a long time. Then a couple of days ago, a killer whale, masquerading as a ten-year-old child, attacked me repeatedly with escalating hostility for the things I had written.
The temperamental whale began by writing: "this is incorrect orcas dont eat and attack eneything they want they only attack when there hungary i know that and im only 10!."
Here we find further evidence to support the claim that killer whales are one of the sea's most intelligent creatures. Isn't it interesting that this particular orca knew he could never pass himself off as an adult human due to his inability to punctuate or spell, so he claimed to be a ten-year-old instead? Ingenious! I might have bought the ruse had he claimed to be a four-year-old, but even ten-year-olds can spell "anything."
He went on: "orcas dont attack great whites and there not the number 1 preditors of the sea great whites are i can point out so meny mistakes in this. you should go on are you smarter than a 10 year old to prove me wrong if your so smart and special to dis the name of the killer whale.YOU ARE THE BIGGEST IDIOT EVER!!!!."
"Dis" the name of the killer whale? Do killer whales really think this is how ten-year-olds speak? And what's with the obsessively repetitious insistence that these messages are coming from a ten-year-old? There's only one thing that would have been more suspicious for him to continuously repeat: "I am definitely not a killer whale."
"you are putting false images in the mind's of teenagers im 10 and know better than to believe you YOU HEAR THAT TEEN'S ,SHANES TERNING YOU INTO IDIOT." I found the killer whale's specific concern for teens quite puzzling. It is possible that teens are the most delicious flavor of human. This would explain why the whale would object to me dissuading teens from swimming in the open sea.
"THEY DON'T ATTACK PEOPLE UNLESS THE PERSON PREVOKES THEM . YOU ARE THE MOST HORRIFIC URCHEN IN THE SEA GO SLITHER BACK TO THE ABASSLE PLAIN YOU INSULT TO HUMANATEY!!" If killer whales really only attack people when they are provoked, it seems I gave this particular whale a pretty solid provoking (or "prevoking"). I need to be more careful when I write about animals that I assume have no internet access. Back to the abassle plain with me.
Back to School
As a kid, I never remembered my bus number on the first day of school. When I got on the bus to school that morning, I was still in my sleep. I’d have climbed aboard a garbage truck if it had stopped at the right street corner. It was never until directly after school that I remembered how important that little number is. Some kids dread going “back to school.” For me the nightmare was getting home again.
Why are school buses identical? Is that some kind of joke? Wouldn’t it be easier if one bus was green, one was a double-decker, and one had a spoiler and a disco ball? If I rode a bus to school that had a giant unicorn painted on the side, I bet I could find that bus again when it came time to return home.
Identical buses… what a terrible thing to do to kids. There are lots of other terrible things you can do to kids, but I’ll save those for another day.
As a kid, I never remembered my bus number on the first day of school. When I got on the bus to school that morning, I was still in my sleep. I’d have climbed aboard a garbage truck if it had stopped at the right street corner. It was never until directly after school that I remembered how important that little number is. Some kids dread going “back to school.” For me the nightmare was getting home again.
Why are school buses identical? Is that some kind of joke? Wouldn’t it be easier if one bus was green, one was a double-decker, and one had a spoiler and a disco ball? If I rode a bus to school that had a giant unicorn painted on the side, I bet I could find that bus again when it came time to return home.
Identical buses… what a terrible thing to do to kids. There are lots of other terrible things you can do to kids, but I’ll save those for another day.
Harry Potter
This is the cover of the final book in the Harry Potter series: "Harry Potter and the Worthless Education."
It's a shame that potential employers care so little about the good grade you got in "Spell Casting," and the way they mock you when you say they haven't heard of the school you graduated from because it can only be accessed through an invisible portal at the train station. Way to prepare your students for the real world, Hogwarts.
I don't mean to imply by this that flipping pancakes at IHOP is a bad occupation... but when you're trained in the largely useless art of wizardry, it must feel like a big step down. Sorry to have spoiled the big twist at the end of the final book.
This is the cover of the final book in the Harry Potter series: "Harry Potter and the Worthless Education."
It's a shame that potential employers care so little about the good grade you got in "Spell Casting," and the way they mock you when you say they haven't heard of the school you graduated from because it can only be accessed through an invisible portal at the train station. Way to prepare your students for the real world, Hogwarts.
I don't mean to imply by this that flipping pancakes at IHOP is a bad occupation... but when you're trained in the largely useless art of wizardry, it must feel like a big step down. Sorry to have spoiled the big twist at the end of the final book.
Ocean Phobia
For someone who grew up on a planet whose surface is two-thirds water, it's surprising how much I hate the ocean. Don't get me wrong. I love marine animals, and I enjoy the sunshine and the cool breezes at the beach as much as I enjoy frolicking in the ocean's gentle tide. I guess what I don't like about the ocean is that my favorite things about it seem to want me dead. Most of the animals in the ocean could easily kill me without even trying or meaning to, the pleasant ocean breeze only masks the inevitable heat stroke and skin cancer that the sun is constantly dishing out, and the "gentle" tide tends to treat me like a washing machine treats a kitten that hasn't figured out the difference between its bed and the laundry basket. I could possibly forgive all of this if the ocean was as delicious as the sea food that resides there, but the miserable ocean even tastes gross. For such a beautiful, incredible thing, the ocean certainly is a scary, nasty place.
For someone who grew up on a planet whose surface is two-thirds water, it's surprising how much I hate the ocean. Don't get me wrong. I love marine animals, and I enjoy the sunshine and the cool breezes at the beach as much as I enjoy frolicking in the ocean's gentle tide. I guess what I don't like about the ocean is that my favorite things about it seem to want me dead. Most of the animals in the ocean could easily kill me without even trying or meaning to, the pleasant ocean breeze only masks the inevitable heat stroke and skin cancer that the sun is constantly dishing out, and the "gentle" tide tends to treat me like a washing machine treats a kitten that hasn't figured out the difference between its bed and the laundry basket. I could possibly forgive all of this if the ocean was as delicious as the sea food that resides there, but the miserable ocean even tastes gross. For such a beautiful, incredible thing, the ocean certainly is a scary, nasty place.
Pigs Are Pigs
Pigs are omnivorous, which means they'll eat anything... fruits, vegetables, hamburgers, soup, grass, VHS tapes, goats... anything you can think of. A pig would eat an airplane if he had the time for it. A pig would eat 62 hot dogs in ten minutes if it would get him on TV. A pig would even eat you if I needed to eliminate incriminating evidence after hitting you with my car (but I'm a better driver than that, so relax).
Because pigs will eat anything they can get their snouts on, they have even occasionally been known to eat each other... which is gross. Then again, if any animal can be excused for exhibiting cannibalistic tendencies, it's a pig. Certainly they too must know what the inclusion of bacon does to a cheeseburger. So whatever it is pigs are eating, whether it be moldy bread, gum wrappers, Cajun shrimp, or each other, I hope they keep it up, because those things they're eating are the recipe for bacon. If "other pigs" is a necessary ingredient, then by all means, cannibalize away, you disgusting pigs! These arteries aren't going to clog themselves!
Pigs are omnivorous, which means they'll eat anything... fruits, vegetables, hamburgers, soup, grass, VHS tapes, goats... anything you can think of. A pig would eat an airplane if he had the time for it. A pig would eat 62 hot dogs in ten minutes if it would get him on TV. A pig would even eat you if I needed to eliminate incriminating evidence after hitting you with my car (but I'm a better driver than that, so relax).
Because pigs will eat anything they can get their snouts on, they have even occasionally been known to eat each other... which is gross. Then again, if any animal can be excused for exhibiting cannibalistic tendencies, it's a pig. Certainly they too must know what the inclusion of bacon does to a cheeseburger. So whatever it is pigs are eating, whether it be moldy bread, gum wrappers, Cajun shrimp, or each other, I hope they keep it up, because those things they're eating are the recipe for bacon. If "other pigs" is a necessary ingredient, then by all means, cannibalize away, you disgusting pigs! These arteries aren't going to clog themselves!
Giant Panda
Officially speaking, there's no such thing as a panda. The animal that you were certainly picturing when I blew your mind just then is actually known as the "giant panda." Giant? Really? I mean, granted... they're pretty big. It would take a few minutes and some clever packing to squeeze one into your carry-on, but "giant" may be a bit of an over-sell for a bear that tops out at between 200 and 250 pounds. That weight range may qualify something to be a giant chipmunk, a giant toad, or a giant bacon cheeseburger, but we're talking about a bear here. For the sake of comparison, the Kodiak bear can weigh up to 1,500 pounds, and that's just the basic, non-giant Kodiak. I feel like we're potentially disappointing zoo-goers and cheapening the word "giant" with this misleading terminology. It's troubling.
I did a little research into the matter and learned that the term "giant panda" is meant to distinguish this bear from the completely non-related red panda. Non-related? Why did we use the word "panda" for two non-related animals? Was every other possible word already taken? Because I just Googled "shormshoo" and nothing came up. It's not being used for anything. And there are hundreds of other words just like it that, though stupid, could easily be attached to something like a reddish, raccoon-sized thing or a not-so-giant bear. Non-related animals should have non-related names.
I don't mean to suggest that we should start randomly changing the established names of existing animals. That would get confusing. Obviously the better solution is to force the world's entire populations of giant pandas and red pandas into a coliseum-style battle to the death... the winning species becoming the sole heir of the coveted title of "panda." If you're the gambling type, you would be wise to bet against the little red raccoons, because these bears are freaking giants!
Officially speaking, there's no such thing as a panda. The animal that you were certainly picturing when I blew your mind just then is actually known as the "giant panda." Giant? Really? I mean, granted... they're pretty big. It would take a few minutes and some clever packing to squeeze one into your carry-on, but "giant" may be a bit of an over-sell for a bear that tops out at between 200 and 250 pounds. That weight range may qualify something to be a giant chipmunk, a giant toad, or a giant bacon cheeseburger, but we're talking about a bear here. For the sake of comparison, the Kodiak bear can weigh up to 1,500 pounds, and that's just the basic, non-giant Kodiak. I feel like we're potentially disappointing zoo-goers and cheapening the word "giant" with this misleading terminology. It's troubling.
I did a little research into the matter and learned that the term "giant panda" is meant to distinguish this bear from the completely non-related red panda. Non-related? Why did we use the word "panda" for two non-related animals? Was every other possible word already taken? Because I just Googled "shormshoo" and nothing came up. It's not being used for anything. And there are hundreds of other words just like it that, though stupid, could easily be attached to something like a reddish, raccoon-sized thing or a not-so-giant bear. Non-related animals should have non-related names.
I don't mean to suggest that we should start randomly changing the established names of existing animals. That would get confusing. Obviously the better solution is to force the world's entire populations of giant pandas and red pandas into a coliseum-style battle to the death... the winning species becoming the sole heir of the coveted title of "panda." If you're the gambling type, you would be wise to bet against the little red raccoons, because these bears are freaking giants!
Dog Years
It used to bother me when neighborhood dogs would bark and howl in the middle of the night, but then I realized something. Based on the calculation that a human year is equal to seven dog years, if a dog barks at 2AM on a Monday morning, to him he's actually barking at 5PM in 2084. He's probably just trying to protect you from burglars and alien invaders who will be snooping around your backyard in sixty-eight years. Consider that for a moment. It's a fascinating thought, riddled with countless logistical holes.
How did someone figure out that a human year is equal to seven dog years? Were a lot of two-year-old dogs reading at an 8th grade level? Because that doesn't say as much about how time works for dogs as it says about 8th grade illiteracy. However this "human to dog" time relationship was determined, the discrepancy between the two explains why your dog celebrates excessively every time you return home. What seemed like a normal day at work to you lasted almost three days for your dog. Your week-long vacation? Nearly two dog months. If the people who provided my food left me home alone for unpredictably lengthy periods of time, I'd start chewing up the couch cushions too.
It used to bother me when neighborhood dogs would bark and howl in the middle of the night, but then I realized something. Based on the calculation that a human year is equal to seven dog years, if a dog barks at 2AM on a Monday morning, to him he's actually barking at 5PM in 2084. He's probably just trying to protect you from burglars and alien invaders who will be snooping around your backyard in sixty-eight years. Consider that for a moment. It's a fascinating thought, riddled with countless logistical holes.
How did someone figure out that a human year is equal to seven dog years? Were a lot of two-year-old dogs reading at an 8th grade level? Because that doesn't say as much about how time works for dogs as it says about 8th grade illiteracy. However this "human to dog" time relationship was determined, the discrepancy between the two explains why your dog celebrates excessively every time you return home. What seemed like a normal day at work to you lasted almost three days for your dog. Your week-long vacation? Nearly two dog months. If the people who provided my food left me home alone for unpredictably lengthy periods of time, I'd start chewing up the couch cushions too.
Country Music
Country music is an acquired taste. I've never met anyone who said they loved it the first time they tried it, but after they get caught up in it, it takes control of their lives to the point where they can't survive without it. Like addictive drugs, country music has a dulling effect on the human mind, and after a while, people confuse their state of disorientation and dizziness for an actual fondness toward the thing that originally caused them to gag.
I've been offered country music on many occasions by people who I thought were my friends. Even family members have tried to lure me into the inescapable, brain-cell-killing trap of country music. They've said things like, "Here, let me just play this one song for you... I think you'll like it." One song? Is that all you want me to try? Yeah, I bet... and the next thing I know, you're changing the radio presets in my car and buying me country CD's for my birthday. Then a year from now I've given up the will to fight, and my life sounds like a never ending hoedown. I've seen so many lives ruined by this kind of dependency on country music... so, no - I won't listen to "just one song." I don't need country music to be happy.
If my feelings on country music have outraged you so much that you don't even want to visit my blog anymore... please, before you leave, take a moment to consider what's causing this passionate response. Haven't I said terrible things about puppies, bears, sharks, killer whales, and everything else? And the most you've ever done is thought, "I feel sorry for his wife." Your intense devotion to country music over everything else should be an indication to you that you do, in fact, have a problem. If country music was taken from you, how much would you pay to get it back? You would steal country music from your family, wouldn't you? Look what you've become!
That being said, there are actually a few country songs that I've accidentally heard and kind of liked, but that doesn't mean I have a problem, so stop worrying about me... I can quit anytime.
Country music is an acquired taste. I've never met anyone who said they loved it the first time they tried it, but after they get caught up in it, it takes control of their lives to the point where they can't survive without it. Like addictive drugs, country music has a dulling effect on the human mind, and after a while, people confuse their state of disorientation and dizziness for an actual fondness toward the thing that originally caused them to gag.
I've been offered country music on many occasions by people who I thought were my friends. Even family members have tried to lure me into the inescapable, brain-cell-killing trap of country music. They've said things like, "Here, let me just play this one song for you... I think you'll like it." One song? Is that all you want me to try? Yeah, I bet... and the next thing I know, you're changing the radio presets in my car and buying me country CD's for my birthday. Then a year from now I've given up the will to fight, and my life sounds like a never ending hoedown. I've seen so many lives ruined by this kind of dependency on country music... so, no - I won't listen to "just one song." I don't need country music to be happy.
If my feelings on country music have outraged you so much that you don't even want to visit my blog anymore... please, before you leave, take a moment to consider what's causing this passionate response. Haven't I said terrible things about puppies, bears, sharks, killer whales, and everything else? And the most you've ever done is thought, "I feel sorry for his wife." Your intense devotion to country music over everything else should be an indication to you that you do, in fact, have a problem. If country music was taken from you, how much would you pay to get it back? You would steal country music from your family, wouldn't you? Look what you've become!
That being said, there are actually a few country songs that I've accidentally heard and kind of liked, but that doesn't mean I have a problem, so stop worrying about me... I can quit anytime.
Winter Wonderland
While stuck in traffic recently, the radio station I was listening to treated me to three different versions of “Winter Wonderland.” I like that song... or at least I did before I ended up stuck in traffic with nothing to think about but those lyrics.
You can tell the song is doomed from its very first line: "Sleigh bells ring... are you listening?" I’ll tell you what... if you can’t get more than three words into your narrative before losing the interest of your audience, that may be an indication that story-telling isn't your thing. "Sleigh bells ring... are you listening? In the lane... am I boring you?"
The socially dysfunctional narrator goes on to propose some possible activities we could fill our day with. "In the meadow we can build a snowman and pretend that he’s a circus clown. We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman until the other kiddies knock him down." Apparently we're so confident in our miserable social standing that we're not only accepting that our snowman may be demolished by everyone we know... we're planning on it! I wonder if we'd be more popular if we stopped calling them "the other kiddies." It's worth a shot.
If the first snowman-building scheme wasn't lame enough, there's a second that somehow manages to be even less enticing. "In the meadow we can build a snowman and pretend that he is Parson Brown. He’ll say, ‘Are you married?’ We’ll say, ‘No, man... but you can do the job when you’re in town.'" Not a superhero or a gladiator, but Parson Brown? Who is this kid? Dear Parson Brown... when you meet the lad who built you so he could pretend you were a parson, don't waste your precious, miraculous first words asking about his obvious marital status. That kid is and will always be single. Not only is he not dating anyone, but he doesn't have any friends, his pets avoid him, and look out... you're about to get mangled by the other kiddies for talking to him.
While stuck in traffic recently, the radio station I was listening to treated me to three different versions of “Winter Wonderland.” I like that song... or at least I did before I ended up stuck in traffic with nothing to think about but those lyrics.
You can tell the song is doomed from its very first line: "Sleigh bells ring... are you listening?" I’ll tell you what... if you can’t get more than three words into your narrative before losing the interest of your audience, that may be an indication that story-telling isn't your thing. "Sleigh bells ring... are you listening? In the lane... am I boring you?"
The socially dysfunctional narrator goes on to propose some possible activities we could fill our day with. "In the meadow we can build a snowman and pretend that he’s a circus clown. We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman until the other kiddies knock him down." Apparently we're so confident in our miserable social standing that we're not only accepting that our snowman may be demolished by everyone we know... we're planning on it! I wonder if we'd be more popular if we stopped calling them "the other kiddies." It's worth a shot.
If the first snowman-building scheme wasn't lame enough, there's a second that somehow manages to be even less enticing. "In the meadow we can build a snowman and pretend that he is Parson Brown. He’ll say, ‘Are you married?’ We’ll say, ‘No, man... but you can do the job when you’re in town.'" Not a superhero or a gladiator, but Parson Brown? Who is this kid? Dear Parson Brown... when you meet the lad who built you so he could pretend you were a parson, don't waste your precious, miraculous first words asking about his obvious marital status. That kid is and will always be single. Not only is he not dating anyone, but he doesn't have any friends, his pets avoid him, and look out... you're about to get mangled by the other kiddies for talking to him.
Two Turtle Doves
“The Twelve Days of Christmas” is a ridiculous song. If you sing at a fast tempo and skip five or six verses, you can sing the whole thing in just under 40 minutes. Yet sadly, the song's length is the most sane thing about it. I love Christmas carols... but I do not like “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
In the first seven days of the song (which, as far as I can tell, is sung in real time), a total of 59 birds are presented as gifts. Fifty-nine birds? Did I give you the wrong impression concerning my feelings for birds? I mean, I have nothing against them, but let's leave some of them outside. Maybe one of these days of Christmas I could get a truck full of bird seed, because tuppence doesn't grow on trees.
And ten lords a leaping? I don't even know what I'd do with one lord a leaping. I'm going to have to rent a bus just to take them all down to the pier. Now, nine ladies dancing... there's a gift! That's something I've wanted for a long time. See - if you personalize a gift like that, good things happen. But the lords and the drummers and the sanctuary's worth of birds... ridiculous.
Perhaps the most upsetting thing of all about “The Twelve Days of Christmas”... there's only ONE day of Christmas. December 25th. Maybe for next year's one day of Christmas I'll get my true love a calendar.
“The Twelve Days of Christmas” is a ridiculous song. If you sing at a fast tempo and skip five or six verses, you can sing the whole thing in just under 40 minutes. Yet sadly, the song's length is the most sane thing about it. I love Christmas carols... but I do not like “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
In the first seven days of the song (which, as far as I can tell, is sung in real time), a total of 59 birds are presented as gifts. Fifty-nine birds? Did I give you the wrong impression concerning my feelings for birds? I mean, I have nothing against them, but let's leave some of them outside. Maybe one of these days of Christmas I could get a truck full of bird seed, because tuppence doesn't grow on trees.
And ten lords a leaping? I don't even know what I'd do with one lord a leaping. I'm going to have to rent a bus just to take them all down to the pier. Now, nine ladies dancing... there's a gift! That's something I've wanted for a long time. See - if you personalize a gift like that, good things happen. But the lords and the drummers and the sanctuary's worth of birds... ridiculous.
Perhaps the most upsetting thing of all about “The Twelve Days of Christmas”... there's only ONE day of Christmas. December 25th. Maybe for next year's one day of Christmas I'll get my true love a calendar.
Too Much Love
Have you noticed how much we've cheapened the meaning of the word "love" by overusing it? I use that word to describe everything from my affection for my wife to how much I enjoy taking naps, not mowing the lawn, and involving myself in other inactivity-based activities. Considering the lengthy list of things I claim to love, it is clear that I am doing my part to additionally minimize the word's already tattered meaning.
Because "love" hardly means anything on its own at this point, people frequently include additional phrasing to emphasize the difference between the things they truly adore and the things they merely enjoy, such as, "I love it to death," or, "I love it more than words can say." Well, I propose we all start trampling the meaning of these phrases too... mostly because I want to find out how people will say that they really love something when even these expressions have become meaningless. I offer the following suggestions... please use these phrases and others like them as frequently as possible:
"I love my new TV with all of my heart."
"I love sleeping in to death."
"I love barbecue chicken pizza like it's my brother."
Where will they go from here? I can't wait to find out. I love where this is going like my life depends on it!
Have you noticed how much we've cheapened the meaning of the word "love" by overusing it? I use that word to describe everything from my affection for my wife to how much I enjoy taking naps, not mowing the lawn, and involving myself in other inactivity-based activities. Considering the lengthy list of things I claim to love, it is clear that I am doing my part to additionally minimize the word's already tattered meaning.
Because "love" hardly means anything on its own at this point, people frequently include additional phrasing to emphasize the difference between the things they truly adore and the things they merely enjoy, such as, "I love it to death," or, "I love it more than words can say." Well, I propose we all start trampling the meaning of these phrases too... mostly because I want to find out how people will say that they really love something when even these expressions have become meaningless. I offer the following suggestions... please use these phrases and others like them as frequently as possible:
"I love my new TV with all of my heart."
"I love sleeping in to death."
"I love barbecue chicken pizza like it's my brother."
Where will they go from here? I can't wait to find out. I love where this is going like my life depends on it!
For the Birds
Humans hate birds. When we’re not shooting them, eating them, or chasing them into the sky to dice them with our airplane engines, we’re making up phrases that highlight how lame we think they are. For instance, something that is foolish or ridiculous can be classified as “for the birds,” someone who’s not very bright may be called “bird brained,” “killing two birds with one stone” is a bird-hating substitute for the term "multi-tasking," and if you mention to someone with a gentle honk that their texting is putting your life in danger, they will almost always thank you for your courteous warning by “flipping the bird.”
As if threatening and insulting the entire bird population with phrases like these isn’t enough, consider the negative connotations that are associated with individual types of birds... like chickens, turkeys, loons, cuckoos, dodos, stool pigeons, silly geese, and lame ducks. No one wants to be called bird names. That's mean... and it's not 1955.
Are birds doomed to be loathed by mankind forever? As long as we're using phrases like "a bird in the hand is worth squeezing to death," it appears so. Which reminds me... please start using that phrase.
Humans hate birds. When we’re not shooting them, eating them, or chasing them into the sky to dice them with our airplane engines, we’re making up phrases that highlight how lame we think they are. For instance, something that is foolish or ridiculous can be classified as “for the birds,” someone who’s not very bright may be called “bird brained,” “killing two birds with one stone” is a bird-hating substitute for the term "multi-tasking," and if you mention to someone with a gentle honk that their texting is putting your life in danger, they will almost always thank you for your courteous warning by “flipping the bird.”
As if threatening and insulting the entire bird population with phrases like these isn’t enough, consider the negative connotations that are associated with individual types of birds... like chickens, turkeys, loons, cuckoos, dodos, stool pigeons, silly geese, and lame ducks. No one wants to be called bird names. That's mean... and it's not 1955.
Are birds doomed to be loathed by mankind forever? As long as we're using phrases like "a bird in the hand is worth squeezing to death," it appears so. Which reminds me... please start using that phrase.
Shark School
I never miss a TV show about sharks. Whether it's the Discovery Channel's Shark Week or a random PBS special - if there's shark information to be had, I need it. The unfortunate side-effect to this obsession is that the more I learn about sharks, the more I fear them. The only nightmares I ever have are shark-themed... and I have at least one of them a month. I can't swim in a pool without being a little afraid of sharks. I can't sit on a couch without being a little afraid of sharks. They're following me like the Jaws family follows the Brodys... I'm sure of it.
In pretty much every shark show I've seen, some shark expert shares a common message: "We really have no reason to fear sharks. They don't intend to hurt humans. Sometimes they just mistake us for seals." And then a one-armed surfer says, "I was in the shark's home. It was just curious." Just curious! Mistake us for seals? I want shark experts and victims of shark attacks to make up my jury if I'm ever on trial.
Do shark experts really think sharks are less scary because they're maiming people on accident? I don't think it's their intent that scares me as much as their ability to bite me in half.
"Help! A shark just bit my leg off!"
"Relax! He's just curious."
"Oh... well, what a relief."
You know what, sharks... I don't care what you think I am. If you bite my leg off, I'm holding YOU responsible. I don't bite the limbs off of things that come into my house. Oh, but your eyesight's miserable and you don't have hands? Well then - bite away! Take both legs if there's still some confusion after the first. And thank you, shark experts. You're right - being ripped apart and killed isn't horrifying at all when you know it's just a misunderstanding. Accidental death and dismemberment is cute and fun. Let's all swim with the idiot sharks. No need to fear - they're not mean. They're just not very bright and maybe a little bitey.
I never miss a TV show about sharks. Whether it's the Discovery Channel's Shark Week or a random PBS special - if there's shark information to be had, I need it. The unfortunate side-effect to this obsession is that the more I learn about sharks, the more I fear them. The only nightmares I ever have are shark-themed... and I have at least one of them a month. I can't swim in a pool without being a little afraid of sharks. I can't sit on a couch without being a little afraid of sharks. They're following me like the Jaws family follows the Brodys... I'm sure of it.
In pretty much every shark show I've seen, some shark expert shares a common message: "We really have no reason to fear sharks. They don't intend to hurt humans. Sometimes they just mistake us for seals." And then a one-armed surfer says, "I was in the shark's home. It was just curious." Just curious! Mistake us for seals? I want shark experts and victims of shark attacks to make up my jury if I'm ever on trial.
Do shark experts really think sharks are less scary because they're maiming people on accident? I don't think it's their intent that scares me as much as their ability to bite me in half.
"Help! A shark just bit my leg off!"
"Relax! He's just curious."
"Oh... well, what a relief."
You know what, sharks... I don't care what you think I am. If you bite my leg off, I'm holding YOU responsible. I don't bite the limbs off of things that come into my house. Oh, but your eyesight's miserable and you don't have hands? Well then - bite away! Take both legs if there's still some confusion after the first. And thank you, shark experts. You're right - being ripped apart and killed isn't horrifying at all when you know it's just a misunderstanding. Accidental death and dismemberment is cute and fun. Let's all swim with the idiot sharks. No need to fear - they're not mean. They're just not very bright and maybe a little bitey.
Google Searches
Over the years, many people have manged to stumble across my artwork after doing some fairy unconventional Google searches. I've always done the best I could to provide the information these people were looking for, in case they were to ever come back. Here are some of those searches along with my responses:
“What do cheetahs do?” Cheetahs sleep, sit, run, stand, walk, eat, lie down, breed, hunt, blink, yawn, and die.
“Zombie Cruise” Zombie cruises are currently unavailable because zombies are more interested in inflicting property damage than they are in playing shuffleboard at sea.
“Chipmunks, how it eats” “Chipmunks” is the plural form of “chipmunk.” Therefore, it is impossible to answer how “it” eats because it is a “they.” Fun riddle, though.
“When you are afraid of shark, how you called that phobia” Selachophobia is how I called when I am afraid of sharks.
“Show me the ocean sharks and things” Google's a magic mirror now? I guess you could just search for “shark” and then click on “images,” but where's the feeling of a royal decree in that? And you just want to see the ocean sharks? So, no “non-ocean-going” sharks for you then. That's pretty specific. “Things” on the other hand... maybe a little vague.
“How did cheetahs get endangered?” Lots of them died.
“How to bread chipmunks” To bread a chipmunk, dip it in milk, then roll it in flour and bread crumbs.
“Sharks or pigs which tastes better when flying” Flying pigs don't actually exist, so based purely on that fundamental logic, I would guess that a flying shark is going to taste better. Uh-oh... wait.
“What does a boxing kangaroo stand for?” A boxing kangaroo stands for truth and justice... maybe some other stuff. It's hard to say because they don't speak, but I like to think they're not just boxing without a purpose.
“How to you how draw a chipmunk?” Well, “How” to you too, Chief. Looking to add some chipmunk drawings to the outside of your teepee? Do they have stencils for that kind of things maybe? I wish I could be of more help.
“Online sketches of lizards” Do you really need to say the “online” part? Have you ever been referred by Google to a sketchbook someone's carrying around? And if you're not that specific, you're going to have to track down the guy who drew the lizard to ask if you can see it?
“How do I make my widescreen movie fullscreen?” Let's see... sit really close... move plants and bookshelves to block the sides of your TV... wear horse blinders. Plenty of ways!
“Do kangaroos have arms?” Is your internet presented in Braille? Because if not, I'm not sure how you'll ever get your answer. Well, I guess there's the “ask anyone” option, because that's who would know if kangaroos have arms.
“Did they cancel the Chipmunks?” You know, I Googled this exact thing when I woke up from my twenty-year coma too, and believe me, you don't want to know.
“I can not draw are there sketches of rabbits?” In a world this size, I imagine there must be at least a few sketches of rabbits I run slow.
“Who invented the battering ram?” I'm not sure they had patents at the time. It was probably a group of people with a common goal and a log, which would make it a tad unfair to credit just one of them.
“American Gladiator medical student” Hey, look! You came up with something not even Google can find!
“What eats what?” Compiling a comprehensive list of what eats what would take far more than I'm willing to dedicate to it... and would probably fill up the internet. One of the things I eat is blueberry muffins. There's a nice start.
“He don't have fear for sharks” Nor does he concern himself with grammar.
“Where did kangaroos come from T-rex” Unfortunately, T-Rex is too dead to answer your question, so I'll have to give it a shot in his stead. The answer is either “Australia” or “kangaroo mommies.”
“Why do people say when pigs fly” Oh, no - this is awkward. She just doesn't want to go out with you, man... probably not ever.
“How to look like the headless horseman” Have no head and ride a horse.
“Are killer whales vegetarians?” Yeah, because killer whales were named by plants.
“Bears attack hope” Well, it appears to be working, because reading that just filled me more more despair than I've ever known.
“Why tiger shark afraid of the Human Killer Whale” The Human Killer Whale? Now I'm afraid of that too, so I guess I can see where tiger shark is coming from.
“I think sharks are scary” Yeah, me too... but have you heard of the Human Killer Whale? Not even bears kill hope as quickly as that thing.
Over the years, many people have manged to stumble across my artwork after doing some fairy unconventional Google searches. I've always done the best I could to provide the information these people were looking for, in case they were to ever come back. Here are some of those searches along with my responses:
“What do cheetahs do?” Cheetahs sleep, sit, run, stand, walk, eat, lie down, breed, hunt, blink, yawn, and die.
“Zombie Cruise” Zombie cruises are currently unavailable because zombies are more interested in inflicting property damage than they are in playing shuffleboard at sea.
“Chipmunks, how it eats” “Chipmunks” is the plural form of “chipmunk.” Therefore, it is impossible to answer how “it” eats because it is a “they.” Fun riddle, though.
“When you are afraid of shark, how you called that phobia” Selachophobia is how I called when I am afraid of sharks.
“Show me the ocean sharks and things” Google's a magic mirror now? I guess you could just search for “shark” and then click on “images,” but where's the feeling of a royal decree in that? And you just want to see the ocean sharks? So, no “non-ocean-going” sharks for you then. That's pretty specific. “Things” on the other hand... maybe a little vague.
“How did cheetahs get endangered?” Lots of them died.
“How to bread chipmunks” To bread a chipmunk, dip it in milk, then roll it in flour and bread crumbs.
“Sharks or pigs which tastes better when flying” Flying pigs don't actually exist, so based purely on that fundamental logic, I would guess that a flying shark is going to taste better. Uh-oh... wait.
“What does a boxing kangaroo stand for?” A boxing kangaroo stands for truth and justice... maybe some other stuff. It's hard to say because they don't speak, but I like to think they're not just boxing without a purpose.
“How to you how draw a chipmunk?” Well, “How” to you too, Chief. Looking to add some chipmunk drawings to the outside of your teepee? Do they have stencils for that kind of things maybe? I wish I could be of more help.
“Online sketches of lizards” Do you really need to say the “online” part? Have you ever been referred by Google to a sketchbook someone's carrying around? And if you're not that specific, you're going to have to track down the guy who drew the lizard to ask if you can see it?
“How do I make my widescreen movie fullscreen?” Let's see... sit really close... move plants and bookshelves to block the sides of your TV... wear horse blinders. Plenty of ways!
“Do kangaroos have arms?” Is your internet presented in Braille? Because if not, I'm not sure how you'll ever get your answer. Well, I guess there's the “ask anyone” option, because that's who would know if kangaroos have arms.
“Did they cancel the Chipmunks?” You know, I Googled this exact thing when I woke up from my twenty-year coma too, and believe me, you don't want to know.
“I can not draw are there sketches of rabbits?” In a world this size, I imagine there must be at least a few sketches of rabbits I run slow.
“Who invented the battering ram?” I'm not sure they had patents at the time. It was probably a group of people with a common goal and a log, which would make it a tad unfair to credit just one of them.
“American Gladiator medical student” Hey, look! You came up with something not even Google can find!
“What eats what?” Compiling a comprehensive list of what eats what would take far more than I'm willing to dedicate to it... and would probably fill up the internet. One of the things I eat is blueberry muffins. There's a nice start.
“He don't have fear for sharks” Nor does he concern himself with grammar.
“Where did kangaroos come from T-rex” Unfortunately, T-Rex is too dead to answer your question, so I'll have to give it a shot in his stead. The answer is either “Australia” or “kangaroo mommies.”
“Why do people say when pigs fly” Oh, no - this is awkward. She just doesn't want to go out with you, man... probably not ever.
“How to look like the headless horseman” Have no head and ride a horse.
“Are killer whales vegetarians?” Yeah, because killer whales were named by plants.
“Bears attack hope” Well, it appears to be working, because reading that just filled me more more despair than I've ever known.
“Why tiger shark afraid of the Human Killer Whale” The Human Killer Whale? Now I'm afraid of that too, so I guess I can see where tiger shark is coming from.
“I think sharks are scary” Yeah, me too... but have you heard of the Human Killer Whale? Not even bears kill hope as quickly as that thing.
Game cinematic scripts available upon request.