Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wasn't This a Guns 'N Roses Song?
I know you’re not going to care about this because no one ever cares about what I’m about to tell you. If we bother to engage in this activity at all, we only want to talk about how the activity affects us personally. We couldn't care less when it applies to someone else. And even though it comes up as a matter of conversation every year, at the same point in the year, and somehow manages to be the topic on everyone’s lips for a two-week stretch, after those first two weeks no one cares anymore. And we certainly don’t care when other people start talking about it.
But here goes: I made a New Year’s resolution this year.
It’s the first time I can remember doing so. I know, I know. That doesn’t captivate you anymore than if I had said I make one every year. So what, right? You’re right. I’ll try harder to keep you interested.
I’ve never made a resolution before because I’ve always thought I was perfect in every way.
Ok, that’s not true. I just tried saying something outlandish to keep your attention. I’ve never really made them before, not because I didn’t think there was something I could do to better myself or the world around me, but because I just never gave it much thought. Seemed like something to do if you wanted to quit smoking or lose some weight. But this year I thought, “What the hell.”
So are you ready? Here it is: I’m finally going to tell the police about that body I found.
Ok, that’s not true either (I’ll never tell them). My real resolution is to try to be a more patient dad. The results so far have been… mixed.
After making it, it dawned on me that if I wanted to achieve my goal more easily, I probably picked the wrong year for this particular resolution. With two kids, I would have been better off making this resolution while one of them, perhaps the older one, was still a fetus. Instead I picked a year in which the younger child just turned two, and the older one will soon turn four.
But I’m finding that if I can in fact become a more patient parent, this is the year in which it will truly be an accomplishment. In the three short weeks that have passed in 2011, I’ve decided the biggest obstacle standing in my way is the questions. The constant, unending questions that force me to talk to one or sometimes even both of them.
The little one is trying to make sense of the world, so she’s curious about everything.
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“I’m getting your jammies.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your bedtime.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the end of the day and you need to rest so you’ll be ready for tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because without your rest, you’ll be cranky in the morning.”
“Why?”
“That’s just how our bodies work, sweetie.”
“Why?”
“Good night, Ada.”
“Why?”
“I love you.”
“Why?”
(Sigh).
The older one is full of questions as well, but he doesn’t even care about the answers, he just wants to be sure that three consecutive seconds never pass without filling the air around him with sound.
“Daddy, where are the markers?”
“Over on the bookcase.”
“Daddy, where are my shoes?”
“I thought you wanted the markers.”
“Daddy, what are we having for dinner?”
“I don’t kn-“
“Daddy, can we go to Grandma’s?”
“What?! Sometime, I guess. Maybe this weekend we c-“
“Daddy…”
“JACK! YOU’RE NOT EVEN LETTING ME ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS! Now enough. This is the last question. What. Do. You. Want?”
“My leg is on fire.”
“Oh. (Slight pause) Ok. Sorry I yelled. Here, let me get the extinguisher.”
Actually, the questions aren’t really that bad when they’re coming from just one source, but my kids like teaming up to try to wear down my wife and I. Their favorite method is to decide which of them is going to throw a screaming fit, and which one will then try to steal attention away from that one.
For instance, if I happen to hand one of them a blue cup instead of a green cup, he or she might start sobbing as if they just watched me run over a bunny with the lawn mower. The other child will then use that precise moment to add to the noise by any means possible; usually by peppering my ears with questions.
“Daddy (or Mommy; they don’t discriminate), can I have a drink? Daddy, can I watch a video? Daddy, why are you crying? Daddy, can I have some money?”
What follows next is either Brigitte or I, or sometimes both of us in tandem, will imitate the hitchhiker in Dumb and Dumber who regrets getting in the giant dog car as Lloyd and Harry try to out-noise each other.
“GUYS! GUYS! GUYS!”
But, since Brigitte typically has more patience, I’m usually the one acting like the hitchhiking gas man. Therefore, the resolution. After all, Lloyd and Harry are just two men trying to have a good time while they drive across the country, and my kids are just… well, kids.
That’s it. I think I just figured out how to be more patient. Patience, you see, lies in three little words.
Giant dog car.
But here goes: I made a New Year’s resolution this year.
It’s the first time I can remember doing so. I know, I know. That doesn’t captivate you anymore than if I had said I make one every year. So what, right? You’re right. I’ll try harder to keep you interested.
I’ve never made a resolution before because I’ve always thought I was perfect in every way.
Ok, that’s not true. I just tried saying something outlandish to keep your attention. I’ve never really made them before, not because I didn’t think there was something I could do to better myself or the world around me, but because I just never gave it much thought. Seemed like something to do if you wanted to quit smoking or lose some weight. But this year I thought, “What the hell.”
So are you ready? Here it is: I’m finally going to tell the police about that body I found.
Ok, that’s not true either (I’ll never tell them). My real resolution is to try to be a more patient dad. The results so far have been… mixed.
After making it, it dawned on me that if I wanted to achieve my goal more easily, I probably picked the wrong year for this particular resolution. With two kids, I would have been better off making this resolution while one of them, perhaps the older one, was still a fetus. Instead I picked a year in which the younger child just turned two, and the older one will soon turn four.
But I’m finding that if I can in fact become a more patient parent, this is the year in which it will truly be an accomplishment. In the three short weeks that have passed in 2011, I’ve decided the biggest obstacle standing in my way is the questions. The constant, unending questions that force me to talk to one or sometimes even both of them.
The little one is trying to make sense of the world, so she’s curious about everything.
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“I’m getting your jammies.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your bedtime.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the end of the day and you need to rest so you’ll be ready for tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because without your rest, you’ll be cranky in the morning.”
“Why?”
“That’s just how our bodies work, sweetie.”
“Why?”
“Good night, Ada.”
“Why?”
“I love you.”
“Why?”
(Sigh).
The older one is full of questions as well, but he doesn’t even care about the answers, he just wants to be sure that three consecutive seconds never pass without filling the air around him with sound.
“Daddy, where are the markers?”
“Over on the bookcase.”
“Daddy, where are my shoes?”
“I thought you wanted the markers.”
“Daddy, what are we having for dinner?”
“I don’t kn-“
“Daddy, can we go to Grandma’s?”
“What?! Sometime, I guess. Maybe this weekend we c-“
“Daddy…”
“JACK! YOU’RE NOT EVEN LETTING ME ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS! Now enough. This is the last question. What. Do. You. Want?”
“My leg is on fire.”
“Oh. (Slight pause) Ok. Sorry I yelled. Here, let me get the extinguisher.”
Actually, the questions aren’t really that bad when they’re coming from just one source, but my kids like teaming up to try to wear down my wife and I. Their favorite method is to decide which of them is going to throw a screaming fit, and which one will then try to steal attention away from that one.
For instance, if I happen to hand one of them a blue cup instead of a green cup, he or she might start sobbing as if they just watched me run over a bunny with the lawn mower. The other child will then use that precise moment to add to the noise by any means possible; usually by peppering my ears with questions.
“Daddy (or Mommy; they don’t discriminate), can I have a drink? Daddy, can I watch a video? Daddy, why are you crying? Daddy, can I have some money?”
What follows next is either Brigitte or I, or sometimes both of us in tandem, will imitate the hitchhiker in Dumb and Dumber who regrets getting in the giant dog car as Lloyd and Harry try to out-noise each other.
“GUYS! GUYS! GUYS!”
But, since Brigitte typically has more patience, I’m usually the one acting like the hitchhiking gas man. Therefore, the resolution. After all, Lloyd and Harry are just two men trying to have a good time while they drive across the country, and my kids are just… well, kids.
That’s it. I think I just figured out how to be more patient. Patience, you see, lies in three little words.
Giant dog car.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Popular Christmas Song Titles Interwoven in the Typical Newscast Heard Around the Country This Christmas
I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Frosty the Snowman
“The blizzard in the northeast has wreaked havoc on holiday air travel. Dozens of flights into and out of the airport have been cancelled, stranding thousands of travelers. Many people have been forced to spend the night at the airport while waiting to see when or even if their flights will be rescheduled. For more, we go to Tom Claysmith, reporting live from the scene.”
“Thanks, Jim. Lines of confused, angry holiday travelers began weaving their way out the doors sometime Tuesday and have only grown longer as the airlines have provided passengers with plenty of questions, but few answers. We spoke with one woman who feared she wouldn’t get home to see her elderly parents in St. Paul for the holidays. She said if she wasn’t on a plane within the hour, then quote: ‘Blood will rain on everyone at terminal D4.’ Back to you, Jim.”
“Thanks, Tom. Elsewhere around town, highways and interstates are buried under snow and ice, making driving treacherous. Many roads are so bad that snow plows and salt trucks can’t get through, and even a number of tow trucks have had to be towed themselves after getting stuck in snow banks. For more, we go to Diane Morningsong. Diane…”
“Thanks, Jim. Many of those gridlocked downtown are wondering why the city was so ill prepared to deal with a storm of this magnitude. Some are even holding the mayor personally responsible for allowing such a storm to hit at the height of the Christmas season - a time when millions of people take to the streets to do their holiday shopping and to visit loved ones. A majority vote from city council has already called for the mayor’s immediate resignation. The sense here is that with questions still swirling as to what exactly took place on his neighbor’s farm back when he was the city’s sanitation commissioner, Mayor Reynolds has little hope of seeing the end of his term. Back to you.”
Walking In a Winter Wonderland
Winter Is a Marshmallow World
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
“Thanks Diane. In sports, the storm has even thrown a wrench into the NFL’s regular-season schedule, as Sunday’s game between the Vikings and the Eagles was moved to a day other than Thursday, Saturday, Sunday or Monday for the first time in the history of the league and even in the history of all of sports. Some have questioned what kind of precedent this sets for future games and if anyone was thinking of the children. The move received harsh criticism from the governor, who has gone on record to declare that the entire country is made up of ‘Limp-wristed panty waists who might as well just tuck their sacks behind their legs and start drinking Mai-Tai’s all day.’ He went on to say that ‘This nation is run by a bunch of pussies who won’t stop until we’re all eating egg rolls and fortune cookies at every meal.’ This reporter happens to agree with him.
“Now for a look at our weekend forecast with Dave Blitzburg. How’s it looking out there Dave?”
“Well, there’s not much relief in sight, as another storm front is moving in from the west. By Thursday morning we should see another 2-3 inches of the white stuff on the ground, so be prepared for county-wide school closings and skyrocketing divorce rates.”
Sleigh Ride
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Frosty the Snowman
“The blizzard in the northeast has wreaked havoc on holiday air travel. Dozens of flights into and out of the airport have been cancelled, stranding thousands of travelers. Many people have been forced to spend the night at the airport while waiting to see when or even if their flights will be rescheduled. For more, we go to Tom Claysmith, reporting live from the scene.”
“Thanks, Jim. Lines of confused, angry holiday travelers began weaving their way out the doors sometime Tuesday and have only grown longer as the airlines have provided passengers with plenty of questions, but few answers. We spoke with one woman who feared she wouldn’t get home to see her elderly parents in St. Paul for the holidays. She said if she wasn’t on a plane within the hour, then quote: ‘Blood will rain on everyone at terminal D4.’ Back to you, Jim.”
“Thanks, Tom. Elsewhere around town, highways and interstates are buried under snow and ice, making driving treacherous. Many roads are so bad that snow plows and salt trucks can’t get through, and even a number of tow trucks have had to be towed themselves after getting stuck in snow banks. For more, we go to Diane Morningsong. Diane…”
“Thanks, Jim. Many of those gridlocked downtown are wondering why the city was so ill prepared to deal with a storm of this magnitude. Some are even holding the mayor personally responsible for allowing such a storm to hit at the height of the Christmas season - a time when millions of people take to the streets to do their holiday shopping and to visit loved ones. A majority vote from city council has already called for the mayor’s immediate resignation. The sense here is that with questions still swirling as to what exactly took place on his neighbor’s farm back when he was the city’s sanitation commissioner, Mayor Reynolds has little hope of seeing the end of his term. Back to you.”
Walking In a Winter Wonderland
Winter Is a Marshmallow World
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
“Thanks Diane. In sports, the storm has even thrown a wrench into the NFL’s regular-season schedule, as Sunday’s game between the Vikings and the Eagles was moved to a day other than Thursday, Saturday, Sunday or Monday for the first time in the history of the league and even in the history of all of sports. Some have questioned what kind of precedent this sets for future games and if anyone was thinking of the children. The move received harsh criticism from the governor, who has gone on record to declare that the entire country is made up of ‘Limp-wristed panty waists who might as well just tuck their sacks behind their legs and start drinking Mai-Tai’s all day.’ He went on to say that ‘This nation is run by a bunch of pussies who won’t stop until we’re all eating egg rolls and fortune cookies at every meal.’ This reporter happens to agree with him.
“Now for a look at our weekend forecast with Dave Blitzburg. How’s it looking out there Dave?”
“Well, there’s not much relief in sight, as another storm front is moving in from the west. By Thursday morning we should see another 2-3 inches of the white stuff on the ground, so be prepared for county-wide school closings and skyrocketing divorce rates.”
Sleigh Ride
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer
Friday, December 3, 2010
Santa's Wish List
For Mrs. Claus to maintain her bathing-suit weight year round. She really lets herself go this time of year
That Tickle-Me-Elmo never again sees the kind of popularity it had 10 years ago. Sweet Jesus
To not get so disgusted every time a child wets themselves while sitting on my lap
For the children to show the same restraint and decorum when I do it
To find the elf who put pot in the brownies that we passed out to the kids last year, causing me to get banned from the Midtown Mall in St. Petersburg
For the stock market to turn so I can expand the plant at the North Pole and stop outsourcing all the toy-making to China. All that lead will mess your s*#t up!
For Winfrey to hurry up and end her show already so I don’t have to hear anymore snot-nosed little punks run up to me every time they don’t get what they want and say, “Oprah would have got it for me.”
Bieber tickets
To never again get accidently locked in the barn while Prancer’s in heat
For those a-hole state troopers in Georgia to not give me another FUI (Flying Under the Influence) this year. Is it really so far-fetched to think that kids spike the milk and eggnog they leave for me? They do that ALL THE TIME! They think it’s freakin’ hilarious!
That “The Santa Clause” movies finally get taken off the Christmas television rotation. Tim Allen does the worst impression of me ever
That kids continue to fall asleep to “A Christmas Story” playing on their TVs. I love catching bits and pieces of it when I’m inside. “Fra-gee-lee. Must be Italian.” Classic!
That my agent lets me listen on speaker phone again this year when the Easter Bunny calls to ask if he can get the same royalty percentage from the department stores and candy manufacturers that I do. Laughing at that fuzzy bastard always makes my day
World peace. Nah, not really. But I would like a Kindle
That Tickle-Me-Elmo never again sees the kind of popularity it had 10 years ago. Sweet Jesus
To not get so disgusted every time a child wets themselves while sitting on my lap
For the children to show the same restraint and decorum when I do it
To find the elf who put pot in the brownies that we passed out to the kids last year, causing me to get banned from the Midtown Mall in St. Petersburg
For the stock market to turn so I can expand the plant at the North Pole and stop outsourcing all the toy-making to China. All that lead will mess your s*#t up!
For Winfrey to hurry up and end her show already so I don’t have to hear anymore snot-nosed little punks run up to me every time they don’t get what they want and say, “Oprah would have got it for me.”
Bieber tickets
To never again get accidently locked in the barn while Prancer’s in heat
For those a-hole state troopers in Georgia to not give me another FUI (Flying Under the Influence) this year. Is it really so far-fetched to think that kids spike the milk and eggnog they leave for me? They do that ALL THE TIME! They think it’s freakin’ hilarious!
That “The Santa Clause” movies finally get taken off the Christmas television rotation. Tim Allen does the worst impression of me ever
That kids continue to fall asleep to “A Christmas Story” playing on their TVs. I love catching bits and pieces of it when I’m inside. “Fra-gee-lee. Must be Italian.” Classic!
That my agent lets me listen on speaker phone again this year when the Easter Bunny calls to ask if he can get the same royalty percentage from the department stores and candy manufacturers that I do. Laughing at that fuzzy bastard always makes my day
World peace. Nah, not really. But I would like a Kindle
Saturday, November 13, 2010
It's Hard to Disagree
Ever notice how everybody is right? When they’re talking about themselves, of course. Anytime a person is talking about someone else, however, that someone else is always wrong. So, somehow, everyone is always right and everyone is always wrong.
Of course you’ve noticed this. It’s been the backbone of politics in this and every other country in the world for the last 5,000 years. And it’s not a philosophy that’s limited to just politics. We’ve all been behind a lady in Starbucks who tells a story to her friend that goes something like this:
“Oh! You’re never going to believe this. The other day I was reviving an unconscious puppy while giving a homeless man $100, when out of nowhere this jackass on his cellphone drives by and throws a dirty diaper out his window that hits me in the head! The doctor said I may be permanently blind in my left eye.”
Around that same time, on the other end of town, somebody is behind that jackass in line at Starbucks and hears this:
“Oh! You’re never going to believe this. The other day I was driving down the road with a bomb in my hand that was left outside an orphanage. I was trying to get the bomb as far away from the orphanage as possible, when all of a sudden this crazy woman runs into the middle of the road and starts stomping on a puppy and yelling at a homeless man. I swerved to miss her and when I swerved, my son, who was brilliantly changing himself, lost his grip on his diaper and it flew out the window. I think it landed right in a trash can, but can you believe that crazy woman?”
Regardless of which version of the story you hear, your initial reaction is most likely, “Oh my God! That’s terrible.” However, your initial reaction should always be, “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” And really, that should be your reaction to every story that someone tells you involving them and another person in a conflict. Do you know anyone who speaks objectively about the “other party” when they retell a story about a dispute?
I know a woman who does in fact tell the other person’s side of the story, only she tells it as if the other person talks like Beaker from the Muppets. Not only does she mockingly talk in a really high voice, but she purposefully does not use actual words. Example:
Person I know: “So I told Jane that I thought the customer needed more information, and then Jane said, ‘Be be be beeeeee be be be beeeeee.’”
My first thought is always, “Really? That’s what Jane said, huh? When she started to say something you didn’t agree with, Jane broke into squeaky gibberish to try and convince you she was right?”
And I shouldn’t leave out that this person I know also moves her hand really fast in a puppet-type fashion to add a visual of Jane’s stupidity. So you can see how hard it is to side with Jane. That is unless you’re Dr. Bunsen Honeydew – the green professor with glasses but no eyes who somehow understands everything Beaker says.
There’s no great mystery surrounding why we do this. We want the person hearing the story to agree with us, not the other guy. And it wouldn’t hurt if the person listening to our version of events eventually grew to hate the other guy; maybe even hate him more than we hate him. It’s reassuring, even empowering.
So, does it work? Depends. It rarely works when we first start out doing it. Our methods are far from refined.
“Mom! Johnny took my crayons!”
“Then why is he the one crying?”
No response.
“Did you hit him?” asks mom.
Then with the most pathetic eyes and the softest voice we can summon, we try repeating our original statement, “Johnny took my crayons.”
Our biggest mistake as toddlers is that we try to convince the third party (mom or dad) while the other toddler embroiled in the controversy is standing right next to us. As we grow older, we learn that by recapping the series of events when the other person isn’t around, it’s much harder for that person to defend themselves. Then, after a little more practice, we learn to leave out key factors and embellish others. We might even act as if our enemies talk like Beaker from the Muppets, but for me, this isn’t effective. I always found Beaker to be a sympathetic figure. He was a kind-hearted soul that got forced into questionable experiments. Poor Beaker. How was it that a dude with no eyes always got the better of him? Couldn’t he have handed Dr. Honeydew a rubber chicken and told Honeydew it was him? He never would have known the difference!
Anyway, eventually we save enough money until we can create TV ads and buy airtime to tell people how worthless our opponents are. This is often much more effective than whining about Johnny taking our crayons, but the messages always sound eerily similar.
Of course you’ve noticed this. It’s been the backbone of politics in this and every other country in the world for the last 5,000 years. And it’s not a philosophy that’s limited to just politics. We’ve all been behind a lady in Starbucks who tells a story to her friend that goes something like this:
“Oh! You’re never going to believe this. The other day I was reviving an unconscious puppy while giving a homeless man $100, when out of nowhere this jackass on his cellphone drives by and throws a dirty diaper out his window that hits me in the head! The doctor said I may be permanently blind in my left eye.”
Around that same time, on the other end of town, somebody is behind that jackass in line at Starbucks and hears this:
“Oh! You’re never going to believe this. The other day I was driving down the road with a bomb in my hand that was left outside an orphanage. I was trying to get the bomb as far away from the orphanage as possible, when all of a sudden this crazy woman runs into the middle of the road and starts stomping on a puppy and yelling at a homeless man. I swerved to miss her and when I swerved, my son, who was brilliantly changing himself, lost his grip on his diaper and it flew out the window. I think it landed right in a trash can, but can you believe that crazy woman?”
Regardless of which version of the story you hear, your initial reaction is most likely, “Oh my God! That’s terrible.” However, your initial reaction should always be, “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” And really, that should be your reaction to every story that someone tells you involving them and another person in a conflict. Do you know anyone who speaks objectively about the “other party” when they retell a story about a dispute?
I know a woman who does in fact tell the other person’s side of the story, only she tells it as if the other person talks like Beaker from the Muppets. Not only does she mockingly talk in a really high voice, but she purposefully does not use actual words. Example:
Person I know: “So I told Jane that I thought the customer needed more information, and then Jane said, ‘Be be be beeeeee be be be beeeeee.’”
My first thought is always, “Really? That’s what Jane said, huh? When she started to say something you didn’t agree with, Jane broke into squeaky gibberish to try and convince you she was right?”
And I shouldn’t leave out that this person I know also moves her hand really fast in a puppet-type fashion to add a visual of Jane’s stupidity. So you can see how hard it is to side with Jane. That is unless you’re Dr. Bunsen Honeydew – the green professor with glasses but no eyes who somehow understands everything Beaker says.
There’s no great mystery surrounding why we do this. We want the person hearing the story to agree with us, not the other guy. And it wouldn’t hurt if the person listening to our version of events eventually grew to hate the other guy; maybe even hate him more than we hate him. It’s reassuring, even empowering.
So, does it work? Depends. It rarely works when we first start out doing it. Our methods are far from refined.
“Mom! Johnny took my crayons!”
“Then why is he the one crying?”
No response.
“Did you hit him?” asks mom.
Then with the most pathetic eyes and the softest voice we can summon, we try repeating our original statement, “Johnny took my crayons.”
Our biggest mistake as toddlers is that we try to convince the third party (mom or dad) while the other toddler embroiled in the controversy is standing right next to us. As we grow older, we learn that by recapping the series of events when the other person isn’t around, it’s much harder for that person to defend themselves. Then, after a little more practice, we learn to leave out key factors and embellish others. We might even act as if our enemies talk like Beaker from the Muppets, but for me, this isn’t effective. I always found Beaker to be a sympathetic figure. He was a kind-hearted soul that got forced into questionable experiments. Poor Beaker. How was it that a dude with no eyes always got the better of him? Couldn’t he have handed Dr. Honeydew a rubber chicken and told Honeydew it was him? He never would have known the difference!
Anyway, eventually we save enough money until we can create TV ads and buy airtime to tell people how worthless our opponents are. This is often much more effective than whining about Johnny taking our crayons, but the messages always sound eerily similar.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Won't Anyone Think of the Children?!
So yesterday we took to the polls to vote for candidates for the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, in what turned out to be a milestone election. I say “milestone” because that’s what everyone else is saying. Why was it a milestone? Beats me, ask them. The election is also being described as “important,” “very important,” “gravely important” and even “historic.” So I guess we might as well throw “milestone” in there too.
The Republicans had the most to smile about, as they regained control of the House and won new seats in the Senate, and are now in charge of fixing the economy. Which means yesterday they celebrated, and today they’re asking, “I’m sorry, you want us to do what now?”
And who can blame them? No one knows how to fix the economy. Republicans couldn’t do it 5-6 years ago, the Democrats haven’t been able to do it for the last 2-4 years, so the country decided the best thing to do was to let Republicans try again. It’s like choosing to be punched in the face or punched in the crotch.
But it was that time again, time to vote for the new or the same. So we voted. The only problem is, no matter which party we vote for, we always go to the polls thinking we’re voting to see future headlines that read: “The Economy is Booming” and “Unemployment is at an All-Time Low” and “Everyone Has Affordable Healthcare from Providers that Gladly Answer the Phone Whenever You Call” and “The U.S. No Longer Has a Drug Problem, Immigration Problem, Low Test Scores or a Shared Border with Canada.” Yay!
But the truth is, we actually vote for whether or not we’ll see headlines like this: “Elected Official Tries to Sell Senate Seat” or “Elected Official Solicits a Prostitute” or “Elected Official Buys Crack from Prostitute” or “Elected Official Stabs Prostitute for Taking the Last Chocolate Swirl at Local Dunkin’ Donuts.” The best we can hope for is scandalous headlines that are different from the previous term’s scandalous headlines.
Illicit activities are so commonplace among politicians, so accepted, that their misdeeds are used against them in campaign attack ads. Now, you probably think that makes perfect sense. While negative campaign ads are endlessly irritating, it’s only natural that candidates use their opponents’ crimes against them. But think about what that means. It means that despite a candidate’s seedy, possibly criminal history, THEY KEEP RUNNING. How many ads have you seen like this:
“Remember when Gov. Tim Stinkmouth urinated on that homeless guy? That’s because Gov. Stinkmouth doesn’t care about the homeless. And he doesn’t care about you. Well Frank Organdonor won’t urinate on you or the homeless. Frank Organdonor cares.”
If Stinkmouth wasn’t running again after mistaking a homeless man for a Port-O-Pot, then it wouldn’t be necessary to use that ad. But in many cases he does run again, and if he runs in a red state, there’s a decent chance he wins.
It’s only a matter of time before candidates stop spending millions of dollars on political ads and instead try to win office the way high school kids win student-body elections: sleep with the voters.
(By the way, remember in high school there were always rumors about a student – usually a star on the football team – sleeping with a teacher, but you never really believed it? Back in the day, guys in high school struggled with long division and had senses of humor that hadn’t evolved past farting on their classmates. It was hard to imagine they had scored with a teacher. Now? You absolutely believe it happened, right? I mean look at what goes on today. The most socially awkward, unconfident students have lengthy affairs with female teachers who look like they could do a lot better. And not just the single ones. The difference today is that we have proof it's going on. I blame the Internet.)
Let’s face it, politicians sleeping with voters in order to get elected would not be a far cry from what they engage in already. Since our country’s inception, politicians have been mired in sex scandals. Here’s a small sample: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, John Quincy Adams, John Hancock (no surprise there), Calvin Coolidge (you may be wondering, “What sex scandal was Calvin Coolidge involved in?” I don’t know either, but just because we haven’t heard about one doesn’t mean it didn’t happen), Franklin Roosevelt (ditto), JFK, Gary Hart, Gary Condit, Bill Clinton, Strom Thurmond, Newt Gingrich, Elliot Spitzer, John Edwards, former Kentucky Governor Paul Patton, the guy who used to tap dance in the bathroom stalls at the Minneapolis airport, the guy who hikes the Appalachian Trail, the former mayor of Detroit, and the guy who ran for judge in my county that was accused of unethical sexual behavior whose name I don’t remember because I really don’t care.
And the female politicians haven’t been angels either. It’s well known that in the absence of a bed post, Betsy Ross sewed the stars and stripes into the flag to represent her number of gentleman callers. The story about the stars and stripes representing our number of states and the original 13 colonies was one of the first U.S. government cover-ups. Ross had friends in high places who didn’t want to see her reputation sullied. And yes, I know Betsy Ross wasn’t a politician, but what does that have to do with anything? Then there was Joan Allen’s character in The Contender. Allen played a woman running for Vice President of the United States, who happened to have a very tawdry past and I think she had to defend herself in front of Congress or something. I didn’t actually see the movie because it also stars Christian Slater. I mean, come on. Christian Slater? At any rate, you get the idea. For centuries politicians have engaged in sexual improprieties, whether they be men or women, real or made up.
So here’s hoping that if we’re going to be unemployed, have investments that aren’t worth anything, kids who can’t add, cars that fall apart and homeless that smell more like urine than usual, that we at least get some quality entertainment out of our representatives.
The Republicans had the most to smile about, as they regained control of the House and won new seats in the Senate, and are now in charge of fixing the economy. Which means yesterday they celebrated, and today they’re asking, “I’m sorry, you want us to do what now?”
And who can blame them? No one knows how to fix the economy. Republicans couldn’t do it 5-6 years ago, the Democrats haven’t been able to do it for the last 2-4 years, so the country decided the best thing to do was to let Republicans try again. It’s like choosing to be punched in the face or punched in the crotch.
But it was that time again, time to vote for the new or the same. So we voted. The only problem is, no matter which party we vote for, we always go to the polls thinking we’re voting to see future headlines that read: “The Economy is Booming” and “Unemployment is at an All-Time Low” and “Everyone Has Affordable Healthcare from Providers that Gladly Answer the Phone Whenever You Call” and “The U.S. No Longer Has a Drug Problem, Immigration Problem, Low Test Scores or a Shared Border with Canada.” Yay!
But the truth is, we actually vote for whether or not we’ll see headlines like this: “Elected Official Tries to Sell Senate Seat” or “Elected Official Solicits a Prostitute” or “Elected Official Buys Crack from Prostitute” or “Elected Official Stabs Prostitute for Taking the Last Chocolate Swirl at Local Dunkin’ Donuts.” The best we can hope for is scandalous headlines that are different from the previous term’s scandalous headlines.
Illicit activities are so commonplace among politicians, so accepted, that their misdeeds are used against them in campaign attack ads. Now, you probably think that makes perfect sense. While negative campaign ads are endlessly irritating, it’s only natural that candidates use their opponents’ crimes against them. But think about what that means. It means that despite a candidate’s seedy, possibly criminal history, THEY KEEP RUNNING. How many ads have you seen like this:
“Remember when Gov. Tim Stinkmouth urinated on that homeless guy? That’s because Gov. Stinkmouth doesn’t care about the homeless. And he doesn’t care about you. Well Frank Organdonor won’t urinate on you or the homeless. Frank Organdonor cares.”
If Stinkmouth wasn’t running again after mistaking a homeless man for a Port-O-Pot, then it wouldn’t be necessary to use that ad. But in many cases he does run again, and if he runs in a red state, there’s a decent chance he wins.
It’s only a matter of time before candidates stop spending millions of dollars on political ads and instead try to win office the way high school kids win student-body elections: sleep with the voters.
(By the way, remember in high school there were always rumors about a student – usually a star on the football team – sleeping with a teacher, but you never really believed it? Back in the day, guys in high school struggled with long division and had senses of humor that hadn’t evolved past farting on their classmates. It was hard to imagine they had scored with a teacher. Now? You absolutely believe it happened, right? I mean look at what goes on today. The most socially awkward, unconfident students have lengthy affairs with female teachers who look like they could do a lot better. And not just the single ones. The difference today is that we have proof it's going on. I blame the Internet.)
Let’s face it, politicians sleeping with voters in order to get elected would not be a far cry from what they engage in already. Since our country’s inception, politicians have been mired in sex scandals. Here’s a small sample: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, John Quincy Adams, John Hancock (no surprise there), Calvin Coolidge (you may be wondering, “What sex scandal was Calvin Coolidge involved in?” I don’t know either, but just because we haven’t heard about one doesn’t mean it didn’t happen), Franklin Roosevelt (ditto), JFK, Gary Hart, Gary Condit, Bill Clinton, Strom Thurmond, Newt Gingrich, Elliot Spitzer, John Edwards, former Kentucky Governor Paul Patton, the guy who used to tap dance in the bathroom stalls at the Minneapolis airport, the guy who hikes the Appalachian Trail, the former mayor of Detroit, and the guy who ran for judge in my county that was accused of unethical sexual behavior whose name I don’t remember because I really don’t care.
And the female politicians haven’t been angels either. It’s well known that in the absence of a bed post, Betsy Ross sewed the stars and stripes into the flag to represent her number of gentleman callers. The story about the stars and stripes representing our number of states and the original 13 colonies was one of the first U.S. government cover-ups. Ross had friends in high places who didn’t want to see her reputation sullied. And yes, I know Betsy Ross wasn’t a politician, but what does that have to do with anything? Then there was Joan Allen’s character in The Contender. Allen played a woman running for Vice President of the United States, who happened to have a very tawdry past and I think she had to defend herself in front of Congress or something. I didn’t actually see the movie because it also stars Christian Slater. I mean, come on. Christian Slater? At any rate, you get the idea. For centuries politicians have engaged in sexual improprieties, whether they be men or women, real or made up.
So here’s hoping that if we’re going to be unemployed, have investments that aren’t worth anything, kids who can’t add, cars that fall apart and homeless that smell more like urine than usual, that we at least get some quality entertainment out of our representatives.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
True Itch
Unless you tend to fall on your head a lot, you know that for the last few years nothing has been more popular than vampires. Every summer the production studios release at least 12 movies that either star vampires or are written by vampires or are directed by vampires or are seen by vampires. These movies are based on a series of widely-read novels about vampires that were also written by a vampire. HBO airs a popular drama featuring vampires that is also based on a series of novels, but a series of novels that are entirely different from the series of novels that the summer movies are based on and that are written by an entirely different vampire.
There’s no escaping them. Vampires are in our gyms, our offices, attending our law schools and passing our immigration reform. But I don’t understand the appeal. They’re not scary. And it doesn’t help that nowadays vampires want nothing but to be accepted by the rest of society. What the hell is that? Talk about a generation of pansies. In my day, vampires didn’t give a damn if you liked them; you were getting drained of your bodily fluids whether you sent them a Facebook friend request or not.
Not anymore. Now they’re all like, “Why doesn’t anyone love me? I just want to be like a normal person. Then again, I’m bad for you. You don’t want me to bite you and drag you into my world. It’s too much drama. You should find a guy who plays in a band, or that nice Jewish boy who works in the deli. I hear his dad is a dentist. I know, that’s weird that I’d put in a good word for anybody related to a dentist, right? But they’re harmless. I actually try to see one pretty regularly. You wouldn’t believe what I get stuck in my teeth. Your phone? No, I didn’t hear anything. Well, if you have to go, you have to go. Nah, I’ll be alright. That’s ok, you don’t have to come over later. Do what you need to do. I should probably work on that paper anyway. Ok, see you later.”
You know what’s a lot scarier than vampires? Mosquitoes. They suck blood too, but their bites don’t do anything cool like make me immortal. And mosquitoes are unrelenting. At least vampires can be warded off with a garlic necklace, but you could marinade for a day and a half in “bug spray” and be lucky to only have 27 mosquito bites after walking to the mailbox and back.
And evil laughs and bad Transylvanian accents are nothing compared to that buzzing sound from a mosquito that is hovering just outside your ear. So I guess it’s not enough that their itchy bites are annoying, they have to sound annoying too.
Mosquitoes are what send us running inside, fearful of the night. They’re horrifying. So why aren’t there hundreds of best-selling novels about girls falling in love with mosquitoes? Ok, you’re right. That would be stupid. There should be hundreds of best-selling novels about girls falling in love with creatures that are half man, half mosquito. And not just novels, but movies and TV shows as well. We let vampires infiltrate every outlet of entertainment, so that would only be fair.
The hunky, brooding man-mosquitoes could be forced to stay inside during the winter months, thriving only in hot, wet environments. A swarm of lake-living man-mosquitoes could take up a territorial battle against a swarm of swamp-living man-mosquitoes, and the girl-bird who is the love interest of one of the lake-living man mosquitoes could be under the spell of one of the swamp-living man-mosquitoes, so the lake-living man-mosquito has to choose between saving the girl-bird or helping his swarm defend their turf.
Or maybe the protagonist mosquito could fly into a town that’s broken off from the rest of society, and instead of having blood flowing through their veins, the townspeople are filled with some sort of green ooze. Then after biting everyone, the mosquito goes back to his swarm and starts infecting the rest of his colony with a disease given to him by the mutant humans, instead of the other way around. The possibilities are endless.
If we want scary, suspenseful forms of entertainment that are based on even a fraction of reality, then this is the only way to go. When all the kids rush to the theaters next year to watch a big budget movie about sexy, angst-ridden, teenager mosquitoes, remember that you heard it here first.
There’s no escaping them. Vampires are in our gyms, our offices, attending our law schools and passing our immigration reform. But I don’t understand the appeal. They’re not scary. And it doesn’t help that nowadays vampires want nothing but to be accepted by the rest of society. What the hell is that? Talk about a generation of pansies. In my day, vampires didn’t give a damn if you liked them; you were getting drained of your bodily fluids whether you sent them a Facebook friend request or not.
Not anymore. Now they’re all like, “Why doesn’t anyone love me? I just want to be like a normal person. Then again, I’m bad for you. You don’t want me to bite you and drag you into my world. It’s too much drama. You should find a guy who plays in a band, or that nice Jewish boy who works in the deli. I hear his dad is a dentist. I know, that’s weird that I’d put in a good word for anybody related to a dentist, right? But they’re harmless. I actually try to see one pretty regularly. You wouldn’t believe what I get stuck in my teeth. Your phone? No, I didn’t hear anything. Well, if you have to go, you have to go. Nah, I’ll be alright. That’s ok, you don’t have to come over later. Do what you need to do. I should probably work on that paper anyway. Ok, see you later.”
You know what’s a lot scarier than vampires? Mosquitoes. They suck blood too, but their bites don’t do anything cool like make me immortal. And mosquitoes are unrelenting. At least vampires can be warded off with a garlic necklace, but you could marinade for a day and a half in “bug spray” and be lucky to only have 27 mosquito bites after walking to the mailbox and back.
And evil laughs and bad Transylvanian accents are nothing compared to that buzzing sound from a mosquito that is hovering just outside your ear. So I guess it’s not enough that their itchy bites are annoying, they have to sound annoying too.
Mosquitoes are what send us running inside, fearful of the night. They’re horrifying. So why aren’t there hundreds of best-selling novels about girls falling in love with mosquitoes? Ok, you’re right. That would be stupid. There should be hundreds of best-selling novels about girls falling in love with creatures that are half man, half mosquito. And not just novels, but movies and TV shows as well. We let vampires infiltrate every outlet of entertainment, so that would only be fair.
The hunky, brooding man-mosquitoes could be forced to stay inside during the winter months, thriving only in hot, wet environments. A swarm of lake-living man-mosquitoes could take up a territorial battle against a swarm of swamp-living man-mosquitoes, and the girl-bird who is the love interest of one of the lake-living man mosquitoes could be under the spell of one of the swamp-living man-mosquitoes, so the lake-living man-mosquito has to choose between saving the girl-bird or helping his swarm defend their turf.
Or maybe the protagonist mosquito could fly into a town that’s broken off from the rest of society, and instead of having blood flowing through their veins, the townspeople are filled with some sort of green ooze. Then after biting everyone, the mosquito goes back to his swarm and starts infecting the rest of his colony with a disease given to him by the mutant humans, instead of the other way around. The possibilities are endless.
If we want scary, suspenseful forms of entertainment that are based on even a fraction of reality, then this is the only way to go. When all the kids rush to the theaters next year to watch a big budget movie about sexy, angst-ridden, teenager mosquitoes, remember that you heard it here first.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The State Disaster Panel Hears the Annual Arguments
Membership Panel that Oversees the Doling Out of American Catastrophes Hears Each State’s Argument for Why It Should Not Be the Recipient of the Next Natural Disaster
Panel Chairman: Alright, I apologize for this meeting spilling over into a third day, but there are just so many of you. These things were a lot easier when there were only 13 colonies. Anyway, just to remind everyone, now that the oil mess in the Gulf looks to be under control, it’s time to decide which of you should be next on the quote-unquote, hit list. In the last five years, Louisiana has obviously dealt with a major hurricane and the BP disaster, so it has a pass for the next six months. Also, keep in mind that even though the final judging isn’t official, Michigan is most likely off the hook this year because of its economic woes, and Ohio will probably get off easy because by all appearances it has never recovered from its last disaster. Whatever it was.
We only have two of you left to plead your case, so hopefully we’ll be out of here before lunch. Florida, you’re up.
Florida: Well, I’m sure most of you are aware that due to the economic downturn, I’ve experienced plummeting home prices the last couple years. My tourism industry was hurt this summer as well due to tar balls washing up on a lot of my beaches. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as bad as what Louisiana experienced, but still. A lot of people forget, but I also suffered damage due to a handful of hurricanes that hit my shores the same year as Katrina. Again, not nearly as bad, but I don’t think ALL the sympathy should be reserved for New Orleans. And I’m still the butt of jokes for the 2000 Presidential Election. I mean, seriously. That was 10 years ago!
(Shout from the back) Are yous kiddin’ me?! Yous assholes just got LeBron James!
Chairman (banging gavel furiously): New York, we’ve had enough of your outbursts! You’re dangerously close to getting tazed.
Alright, you’ve made your point, Florida. Last but not least, if they’re lucky (laughter trickles throughout the panel members), New Jersey. State your case.
New Jersey: Ok, well, going off what my colleague Florida was just saying, for all of his confused elderly and NASCAR-appreciating citizens, I am the butt of far more jokes than he is. New Jersey is everybody’s favorite whipping boy. And now that reality show just got picked up for a second season. You all probably think that’s a perfect reason to pick me, but let me tell you, it’s humiliating. I don’t think I’m off base when I say that choosing me would be too obvious. Be creative! Be original. Think outside the box.
Panelist #12: Hold it right there. You made a very convincing argument right up until you said, ‘think outside the box.’ How about YOU think outside the box by NOT saying the phrase, ‘think outside the box.’ You’re back on the list.
(Just then Maine drunkenly stands on its seat, uses one hand to point an angry finger at the panel and its other hand to lewdly grab itself)
Maine: Oh yeah, well you’re back on this list!
Chairman (more gavel banging): That’s enough! We warned you last time, Maine. Security, remove The Pine Tree State from the proceedings. (Puts hand over mic and turns to panelists on his right) I mean it – this is the last year they’ll be allowed to bring in outside alcohol.
Panelist #3 (whispering to Panelist #8): Wow. I can’t believe Maine was the first to get thrown out. I thought for sure it would be Nevada.
Panelist #8 (whispering to Panelist #3): My money was on Wisconsin, but man, she can really hold her liquor.
Chairman: OK, let’s get back on track, people. Each of you has had a chance to speak, so before we adjourn to make our decision, let me just address some points of interest with a few of you.
Arizona – You should know right off the bat that you’re a leading candidate. You hate all your residents, anyway. You’re practically begging for some kind of disaster to occur. And good Lord, could you be any hotter? And we’re not talking about being popular or really attractive. We’re talking about the f#@*ing heat. How can you stand it? You really think it makes a difference that there’s no humidity? That’s supposed to make up for the fact that we have to breathe sand? I think if you were suddenly catapulted to the sun, not many states would openly weep. And you wouldn’t notice a difference.
California – I think we’re split down the middle on your fate. I mean, you have your regular slate of disasters – fires, mudslides, earthquakes. On the other hand, it’d be tough for a state to be more pompous. You’ve got your beaches, your movie stars, your overpriced… well, everything. And let’s not forget your weather is almost as obnoxiously nice as Arizona’s is obnoxiously hot. Then there’s the fact that you wouldn’t convict a celebrity for double murder if he molested your child at his fantasy ranch and then videotaped himself beating you alongside a bunch of police officers after a minor traffic violation. And, you know… committed double murder.
Kansas - Sheesh. Where do I start? Let’s just say you’re lucky Darwin’s not on this panel.
And New Hampshire - That little fling you’re having with a certain Canadian province that shall remain nameless? It’s not as secret as you think it is. Turns out one of our members got a hold of an e-mail you sent her and I don’t think your wife would be too happy with what you wrote. Not only that, but you are sick, man. Absolutely sick.
Let’s see… who else, who else? Oh yeah, Oregon – Waah, waah, waah, waah, waah. Come on! You didn’t even make a case for yourself. You just went on and on about ‘Can’t we all just live in peace and love and harmony? Why do we have to have disasters and suffering?’ Auuugggghhhh (mockingly sticks finger down throat). I swear, if Lewis and Clark weren’t already dead, I’d kill them myself.
And Georgia – The panel will definitely take into account that unfortunate incident that a few of our members had when they pulled into one of your truck stops along I-75 last year. What’s that? The owners of the truck stop didn’t know who they were? Well, maybe next time they won’t get so wide eyed at the sight of ‘out-of-towners.’
Ok, I think that’s it. Rest assured, we will factor in Maine’s complete lack of respect for this panel and for all of you. We’re going to talk it over, then let’s reconvene at 11 a.m. for the big announcement. Just a reminder, the next disaster on the docket involves millions of strains of the Ebola virus being dropped into your largest city’s supply of drinking water. Keep your fingers crossed!
Panel Chairman: Alright, I apologize for this meeting spilling over into a third day, but there are just so many of you. These things were a lot easier when there were only 13 colonies. Anyway, just to remind everyone, now that the oil mess in the Gulf looks to be under control, it’s time to decide which of you should be next on the quote-unquote, hit list. In the last five years, Louisiana has obviously dealt with a major hurricane and the BP disaster, so it has a pass for the next six months. Also, keep in mind that even though the final judging isn’t official, Michigan is most likely off the hook this year because of its economic woes, and Ohio will probably get off easy because by all appearances it has never recovered from its last disaster. Whatever it was.
We only have two of you left to plead your case, so hopefully we’ll be out of here before lunch. Florida, you’re up.
Florida: Well, I’m sure most of you are aware that due to the economic downturn, I’ve experienced plummeting home prices the last couple years. My tourism industry was hurt this summer as well due to tar balls washing up on a lot of my beaches. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as bad as what Louisiana experienced, but still. A lot of people forget, but I also suffered damage due to a handful of hurricanes that hit my shores the same year as Katrina. Again, not nearly as bad, but I don’t think ALL the sympathy should be reserved for New Orleans. And I’m still the butt of jokes for the 2000 Presidential Election. I mean, seriously. That was 10 years ago!
(Shout from the back) Are yous kiddin’ me?! Yous assholes just got LeBron James!
Chairman (banging gavel furiously): New York, we’ve had enough of your outbursts! You’re dangerously close to getting tazed.
Alright, you’ve made your point, Florida. Last but not least, if they’re lucky (laughter trickles throughout the panel members), New Jersey. State your case.
New Jersey: Ok, well, going off what my colleague Florida was just saying, for all of his confused elderly and NASCAR-appreciating citizens, I am the butt of far more jokes than he is. New Jersey is everybody’s favorite whipping boy. And now that reality show just got picked up for a second season. You all probably think that’s a perfect reason to pick me, but let me tell you, it’s humiliating. I don’t think I’m off base when I say that choosing me would be too obvious. Be creative! Be original. Think outside the box.
Panelist #12: Hold it right there. You made a very convincing argument right up until you said, ‘think outside the box.’ How about YOU think outside the box by NOT saying the phrase, ‘think outside the box.’ You’re back on the list.
(Just then Maine drunkenly stands on its seat, uses one hand to point an angry finger at the panel and its other hand to lewdly grab itself)
Maine: Oh yeah, well you’re back on this list!
Chairman (more gavel banging): That’s enough! We warned you last time, Maine. Security, remove The Pine Tree State from the proceedings. (Puts hand over mic and turns to panelists on his right) I mean it – this is the last year they’ll be allowed to bring in outside alcohol.
Panelist #3 (whispering to Panelist #8): Wow. I can’t believe Maine was the first to get thrown out. I thought for sure it would be Nevada.
Panelist #8 (whispering to Panelist #3): My money was on Wisconsin, but man, she can really hold her liquor.
Chairman: OK, let’s get back on track, people. Each of you has had a chance to speak, so before we adjourn to make our decision, let me just address some points of interest with a few of you.
Arizona – You should know right off the bat that you’re a leading candidate. You hate all your residents, anyway. You’re practically begging for some kind of disaster to occur. And good Lord, could you be any hotter? And we’re not talking about being popular or really attractive. We’re talking about the f#@*ing heat. How can you stand it? You really think it makes a difference that there’s no humidity? That’s supposed to make up for the fact that we have to breathe sand? I think if you were suddenly catapulted to the sun, not many states would openly weep. And you wouldn’t notice a difference.
California – I think we’re split down the middle on your fate. I mean, you have your regular slate of disasters – fires, mudslides, earthquakes. On the other hand, it’d be tough for a state to be more pompous. You’ve got your beaches, your movie stars, your overpriced… well, everything. And let’s not forget your weather is almost as obnoxiously nice as Arizona’s is obnoxiously hot. Then there’s the fact that you wouldn’t convict a celebrity for double murder if he molested your child at his fantasy ranch and then videotaped himself beating you alongside a bunch of police officers after a minor traffic violation. And, you know… committed double murder.
Kansas - Sheesh. Where do I start? Let’s just say you’re lucky Darwin’s not on this panel.
And New Hampshire - That little fling you’re having with a certain Canadian province that shall remain nameless? It’s not as secret as you think it is. Turns out one of our members got a hold of an e-mail you sent her and I don’t think your wife would be too happy with what you wrote. Not only that, but you are sick, man. Absolutely sick.
Let’s see… who else, who else? Oh yeah, Oregon – Waah, waah, waah, waah, waah. Come on! You didn’t even make a case for yourself. You just went on and on about ‘Can’t we all just live in peace and love and harmony? Why do we have to have disasters and suffering?’ Auuugggghhhh (mockingly sticks finger down throat). I swear, if Lewis and Clark weren’t already dead, I’d kill them myself.
And Georgia – The panel will definitely take into account that unfortunate incident that a few of our members had when they pulled into one of your truck stops along I-75 last year. What’s that? The owners of the truck stop didn’t know who they were? Well, maybe next time they won’t get so wide eyed at the sight of ‘out-of-towners.’
Ok, I think that’s it. Rest assured, we will factor in Maine’s complete lack of respect for this panel and for all of you. We’re going to talk it over, then let’s reconvene at 11 a.m. for the big announcement. Just a reminder, the next disaster on the docket involves millions of strains of the Ebola virus being dropped into your largest city’s supply of drinking water. Keep your fingers crossed!
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