Monday, January 15, 2018

Civic Responsibility

I'm pretty sure Gary wants to steal my boyfriend now.

Maybe I should explain, see I came back from a trip recently and had to change the ceiling light bulb in my bathroom for the first time in....ever, I think. Anyway, it got me started on replacing some old stuff in there so I was headed into the store to get a new bathmat this morning (okay, actually this was yesterday, but the story works better if it was today, so just, you know, go with me on this, okay?); so I I'm headed into the store to get a new bathmat when I see that there's some guy with a clipboard stopping the odd passerby. Now I’m not sure exactly what his criteria are for who to stop, but I don’t really care and I’ve got Meet the Press playing in my earbuds so I’m hoping the “don’t bother me” vibe is enough to exempt me from his survey or petition or save-the-whatever signup sheet. Apparently not.

As I head towards the door, he stops me, says something and for whatever reason, lack of proper morning caffeine intake is my excuse, I half lean in and he repeats his line, “do you have a minute for gay rights?” To be fair, I do have a minute. I’ve got several. I have no job, nobody’s alerting me to an imaginary ballistic missile and if I step into a church on the Sabbath there’s a good chance I would catch on fire, so do I have a minute? Sure, but let’s be honest, the Supreme Court already handed down their verdict in Obergefell, I have no further sense of responsibility here. You’re not asking me for a wedding cake so I have about as many minutes for Gary as I do for saving the endangered Chinese river dolphins or searching out the “ghost orchid” (interesting fact, the ghost orchid doesn’t have any chlorophyll, it’s a parasite that feeds off of fungus but it is an orchid and it looks pretty cool. Google that shit).

I realize that my isn’t the fault of this kid and I really shouldn’t be taking it out on him, but anything before my first cup of coffee is too early for me to be dealing with this, so I’ve got to come up with some easy way out of this. In what I can only explain and divine inspiration or the prodct of way too many hours watching British comedy, it took me half a second to respond with “I’m sorry man, my boyfriend has a nine inch cock and I barely have time to go in here for provisions” as I did a quarter turn and walked right past him through the automatic doors. But it worked, Gary didn’t say a word, though the look he gave me suggests he very badly wants to steal my imaginary boyfriend now.

Resale Value

It costs something in the ballpark of $200,000 to raise a kid to the age of 18 these days and mine is going to be missing basically an entire week of school which is basically his only job. That means I can sell him and get my money back, right? I mean he's kind of out of warranty at this point so it's not like I can get a refund, but I'm sure I can get a decent price on Craigslist. I'm a great negotiator. Better than the President even.

Friday, January 12, 2018


Have I heard the song Despacito? Sure.
Do I know who sings it? Nope.
Do I understand what they're saying? Maybe like three words that I think I recogize from the Spanish I picked up from TV and movies and a few more I can guess from the Latin roots. 
Do I like it? Sure, it may not say much, but it's better than Coldplay. 
Why do I like it? See, now that's the tricky one because anything I say at this point is going to sound racist. 

Thursday, January 11, 2018


Through the annals of time history has recorded great events. Cave paintings were used as storytelling aids to describe the great hunts. Stone tables recorded great battles won (and in once instance these fifteen...sorry, ten, these ten commandments) and great monuments were built to honor the passage of kings and queens. And so it is that from these modern times historians will look back with great reverence and see how delicious that salad was or how great your ass looked on Instagram.

Saturday, January 06, 2018


Ugh. I should have known better. I do know better. And I have nobody to blame but myself. I mean, its Reddit. This is already a bad start. It’s like citing Urban Dictionary in a formal court filing: it’s done but should incite deep feelings of shame an embarrassment. Whatever, mea culpa, I was on a deep dive into some seafood recipes and I should have known better, but I ended up there and started clicking links and suddenly I’m looking at like a dozen pop-up windows of hentai tentacle porn. And you know what? None of them are practicing safe sex. I mean if J was a possible risk for contracting HPV I can’t imagine what kind of fucked up octopus chlamydia these people are being exposed to. This creature goes sticking tentacles in random orifices and I’m pretty sure it’s not taking a shower, let alone antibiotics. The general infections alone would be horrible. A cuttlefish UTI is not a laughing matter. All I’m saying is, if you’re going to go fuck a squid do it safely. No glove, no tentacle love. You don’t know where there suckers have been. 

Also, I’m done eating sushi for a little while now, but I’ve got a decent recipe for fish head soup if anyone is interested. 

Service animals

Outside the grocery store is a sign that says no pets or animals allowed, with an exception below for service animals in which it specifies in parenthesis dogs or miniature horses. Dogs, okay that's pretty obvious. But specifically miniature horses kind of throws me. I mean a helper monkey at least has hands. And a regular horse you could ride up and down the aisles like you're in Braveheart giving a rousing speech to some Scottish warrior poets, but a miniature horse? How is that animal of any service? What are you servicing besides the bin full of apples and loose carrots? Thing is, now I really want a miniature service horse just so I can bring it into the store.

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Stories and Statistics

A story is 22x more memorable than a statistic when trying to convey information or an idea to someone. Which I would tell you to remember for the next time you want to make an impression, except that I'd have to tell you 22x more often than if I just tell you that once upon a time, there a ninja who killed 22 statisticians, each in their own unique way. The first was beheaded, the second was poisoned, the third was strangled, the fourth was squashed with a piano. Number fifth was abandoned on a desert island, while the sixth was drowned. The seventh, and you might be surprised by this: sharks with laser beams, seriously. Number eight sat on an antipersonnel mine meticulously placed under a toilet seat, while the ninth was run over with a truck carrying tanks of helium - surprisingly heavy. The tenth was strapped to a rocket and sent into space, while the eleventh choked to death on a sea urchin. I'm not entirely sure how this was accomplished, but the twelfth was killed with type-2 diabetes and the thirteenth was shot with a bullet made from dry ice so that when the CSI team got there, nothing was left of the projectile. The fourteenth was pelted to death with cases of wine and the fifteenth, hooked up to wires connected to thousands of hamsters on wheels and electrocuted to death. The sixteenth was made to kneel behind an Emu and was kicked to death and the seventeenth was scarified at the mouth of an active volcano because the god that dwells there demands a virgin sacrifice and he was a statistician, which qualifies. The eighteen was held against my girlfriend's feet at night and instantly froze to death like he was a Game of Thrones character who ended up north of the wall. The nineteenth was repeatedly stabbed in the face with a cactus. The twentieth statistician was forced to listen to Coldplay for an hour and committed suicide and the twenty-first, in a nod apropos to the 21'st death, faced a firing squad of 21 Ricky Jay clones each armed with a four-deck shoe of cards taken from the blackjack table at Cesear's. The twenty-second and final statistician nearly escaped death by hiding in the middle of nowhere in the Yukon, but instead met a grizzly fate at the maw of a hungry bear who mistook her for a mermaid that was half-statistician and half-salmon. This unfortunate mistake brought the ninja's kills, directly and indirectly, to twenty-two, which you should remember because a story is 22x more memorable than a statistic when trying to make your point.

Saturday, December 09, 2017


You're looking at it all wrong, the RNC is a great organization. They help recovering child molesters rebuild their lives after getting fired twice from the same job by getting them new employment in the Senate. It's, like, all social justice and shit. You should give them money.


Christmas is that time of year I'd like to see everyone in the Salvation Army get dishonorably discharged.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017


It's come to my attention that the actor who played Godzilla in the first dozen movies passed away earlier this year. I wonder if it isn't just a little bit of Japanese sentimentality that would have them hosting Trump so soon after the passing of Haruo Nakajima. A crazy green lizard with little hands and a radioactive mouth is gone so they golf with a crazy orange monster with little hands and a radioactive mouth in remembrance. Or maybe it's just a wacky coincidence.


So it’s that week of the year again, where I’m repeatedly hearing the “what are you thankful for” question. And I agree that it’s good to periodically spend a little time reflecting on your life, but I’m not really sure how to answer the question.
When I used to teach programming I used to get some confusing questions that just didn’t make sense. I mean stuff that was totally random or unrelated to anything. I used to have a stock answer of “fish” for all those questions.
Why is my certificate not properly chained? Fish.
Where’s my input? Fish ate it.
What’s the data structure for that thing Greg was talking about last week? Object.Fish
I kind of want to use that old stock answer for this “what are you thankful for" question. Because I mean I am thankful for fish. It’s delicious. But appreciating something and being thankful for something aren’t necessarily the same thing. I appreciate a good steak and a glass of Lagavulin, but I’m fine with a burger and a coke. I guess I am thankful to have food. There’s a lot of people who don’t. Of course the last time I got a physical my cholesterol was a little higher than my doctor wanted and I could stand to lose about 40 pounds, but I spend about twelve hours a day in front of a monitor so standing at all seems somewhat laughable.
Am I thankful to have a job? I mean, yeah, but the pay isn’t exactly commensurate with either the crazy hours or the myriad responsibilities, so I’m thankful in the same way that I appreciate Starbucks’ burnt coffee. I’ll begrudgingly accept it as a positive even if objectively it’s not that great.
I am thankful for my health. To the best of my knowledge I don’t have any terminal cancer at the moment. No polio or smallpox or anthrax either. But that’s really more like being thankful for science than it is ‘health’. I’d have lost my vision entirely about twenty years ago if not for science. That’s health related but not entirely health’s doing. Plus I messed up my back about a month ago trying to lift to two servers at the same time and it’s been messing with me which doesn’t seem particularly healthy. So I guess that’s kind of a wash.
Home, health, job, family, blah, blah, blah. That just seems so boring. So what am I thankful for? I guess I already have a kid, so I don’t know…anal?