Friday, July 29, 2005
Random Paragraph #20
Glancing back at the now-liquefied remains of what used to be his chubby friend Ralph, Edgar was overcome with a feeling of shame... for as he raced to escape from what would soon be the “former” home of the University’s chemistry lab, the thought that kept resonating in his brain was NOT that he’d just lost one of his dearest and closest friends, but rather that teaming with a man who had a sweet tooth and an obvious thyroid problem was not the wisest course of action to take when you’ve chosen “pop rocks – untapped potential” as your senior thesis project.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
I admit, my proverbial grapes are slightly acerbic...
So… there’s a new show premiering on Bravo tonight called Situation: Comedy. The premise is pretty simple… get a bunch of schlubs to send in a script for what they think is sure to be the next great sitcom. Then, pick a few of the “best” ones, and let those writers complain, bicker, whine, and pout, all while trying to produce a pilot to pitch to NBC. Finally, let the audience vote on which one should be in the fall lineup, and watch as NBC surreptitiously finds some way to nudge it off the schedule so they can instead expose an unwilling public to the new “bound to succeed” offering from the producing team that brought you “who wants to marry my dad?”.
Anyway, more than 10,000 of these aforementioned schlubs submitted their dubious attempts at prime time bliss… and I was one of them.
I was NOT however one of the 9 finalists…
Nor was I one of the 50 semifinalists that were asked to submit a video outlining our pitch.
No… instead, my hopes and dreams languished in the abyss with 9,950 other would be writers whose end product apparently seems to be better purposed for birdcage liner than network stardom. That being said, I’d still estimate that at least 3,478 of those birdcage liners would be funnier than “Family Matters” on it’s best day… and that show lasted for years!
And that’s okay… I honestly didn’t expect to launch a new career out of this contest… I simply wanted some forced motivation to make me try something new. And I did it. I actually completed a script, which (in my estimation) wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t better than everything already on the air, but I’d wholeheartedly assert that if a somewhat large cross-section of America can sit through 30 minutes of “according to jim” (minus the commercials of course), then enduring the debacle that would have been my sitcom would probably have been preferable to at least 7 of them.
I wasn't really looking for fame and fortune, so I wasn't all THAT upset... but ya know what would have been nice? a frickin’ response… any kind of frickin’ response… but instead, I got bupkis. I mailed out my package (with a friendly word of encouragement in broken-english from the nice Japanese man at the post office no less), and was left to wonder if it had even been received…
A poorly worded rejection letter written in crayon would have been a welcome respite from the silence that greeted my submission. A piece of Hello Kitty stationary with a frowing face. A post it with “YOU SUCK” scrawled in sharpie black. A carefully wrapped piece of poo. All of these would be preferable alternatives to not knowing if my work was even read.
Yeah, yeah, yeah… the work is its own reward, I know… but I also know this…
As I sit and watch the premiere tonight, and I start to see and hear about some of the ideas that came out ahead of mine, I’m going to begin to wonder what in the world these people were thinking… I’m going to wonder what made them pick those schlubs' scripts over mine… I may even start to question the integrity of the US postal service…
In short, I’m going to complain, bicker, whine, and pout… and it’ll almost be like I’m actually on the show.
Anyway, more than 10,000 of these aforementioned schlubs submitted their dubious attempts at prime time bliss… and I was one of them.
I was NOT however one of the 9 finalists…
Nor was I one of the 50 semifinalists that were asked to submit a video outlining our pitch.
No… instead, my hopes and dreams languished in the abyss with 9,950 other would be writers whose end product apparently seems to be better purposed for birdcage liner than network stardom. That being said, I’d still estimate that at least 3,478 of those birdcage liners would be funnier than “Family Matters” on it’s best day… and that show lasted for years!
And that’s okay… I honestly didn’t expect to launch a new career out of this contest… I simply wanted some forced motivation to make me try something new. And I did it. I actually completed a script, which (in my estimation) wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t better than everything already on the air, but I’d wholeheartedly assert that if a somewhat large cross-section of America can sit through 30 minutes of “according to jim” (minus the commercials of course), then enduring the debacle that would have been my sitcom would probably have been preferable to at least 7 of them.
I wasn't really looking for fame and fortune, so I wasn't all THAT upset... but ya know what would have been nice? a frickin’ response… any kind of frickin’ response… but instead, I got bupkis. I mailed out my package (with a friendly word of encouragement in broken-english from the nice Japanese man at the post office no less), and was left to wonder if it had even been received…
A poorly worded rejection letter written in crayon would have been a welcome respite from the silence that greeted my submission. A piece of Hello Kitty stationary with a frowing face. A post it with “YOU SUCK” scrawled in sharpie black. A carefully wrapped piece of poo. All of these would be preferable alternatives to not knowing if my work was even read.
Yeah, yeah, yeah… the work is its own reward, I know… but I also know this…
As I sit and watch the premiere tonight, and I start to see and hear about some of the ideas that came out ahead of mine, I’m going to begin to wonder what in the world these people were thinking… I’m going to wonder what made them pick those schlubs' scripts over mine… I may even start to question the integrity of the US postal service…
In short, I’m going to complain, bicker, whine, and pout… and it’ll almost be like I’m actually on the show.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Math in the hood...
I have come to the conclusion that the development of new urban slang really owes much of its origination to mathematics, or more specifically, to the transitive property of equality…
Stay with me here…
If you close your eyes and concentrate, and focus on the days of yore you spent whiling away the hours in a junior high math classroom (and try desperately to block out the humiliation and disgrace that seeing what you looked like, dressed like, and acted like no doubt drums up), you should be able to remember that basically, the transitive property states the following:
If a=b, and b=c, then a=c.
It’s a simple set of rules, but for some reason, it's one that I’ve been able to derive a great amount of enterainment from over the years (and by now this should come as no surprise to you).
So what does this have to do with urban slang you ask? Well nothing really… but for the purposes of this column I’m gong to try to draw some form of loose conclusions as to why there might actually be some sort of connection between the two… in reality, if you asked the author of the latest “krunk” term to explain to you the meaning of the transitive property, he or she would most likely cock their head to one side, contort their face into a shape that resembled a grape that’s been out in the sun too long (i.e. a raisin), and stare at you with a glazed-over “why’s he talking bout old fashioned radios?” look…
Or, maybe not… maybe that’s just me generalizing about people that I don’t understand. Maybe in truth, the person in question would be more apt to start quoting Stephen Hawking’s principles on Quantum Physics, discussing how they are ignorant in their absence of incorporating the finer points of Nihilist philosophy, and how in fact, if one considered the greater evidence at hand, they would discover that the transitive property doesn’t even exist… that blue is red, dogs are in fact cats, and Emu Phillips is the only who REALLY understands the nature of the universe…
Yes, it is indeed possible that all this would happen (provided that this person was equally versed in both the greater sciences and obscure stand-up comedians from the 80s)… but somehow I doubt it…
Whatever the case, all this is beside the point (even as loosely as I’m abusing that term here)… I’m here to apply the transitive property of equality to urban slang… or actually, to the development of new slang.
Basically, the way it works is, you take a conventional known term, and determine what an existing slang phrase for that term is. Then, you come up with a synonym for the already accepted slang that has absolutely nothing to do with the original term, thereby creating an entirely new slang term via the transitive property.
Got it?
Ok, let me try to explain this another way… When we think of money, we often refer to it as “dough” (i.e. “I need to earn some more dough”). The word “dough” is already a universally accepted term to substitute for the word “money.” If we now find a new word or phrase we can substitute for dough (preferably with some brand affiliation), we will have a hip new urban slang term for money… like say “Pop n’ Fresh.”
Now you get it?
You see, if money=dough, and dough=pop n’ fresh, then money=pop n’ fresh
“Pop n’ fresh” is a kind of dough… but in the common vernacular, it has no association with the word “money.” Therefore, “Pop N’ Fresh” is now slang, for money. (i.e. “I gots ta get me some mo’ pop n’ fresh yo!”) Other accepted slang terms for money could include “yeast filler”, “whole grain”, or my personal favorite, “Pillsbury”.
And by this same philosophy we could also refer to a large quantity of money as “a herd of whitetails” (if money=bucks, and bucks=whitetail deer, then money=whitetail deer).
It’s fun with the transitive property!
Now that you know the secret to the progression of slang, you too can join in the fun… in no time at all you’ll be “hangin’ at your crib”, “kickin’ it with some peeps,” and saying interesting things like:
“Why’d you yarn my spare change, gee? I was money marketing those fo’ a post dangle nibble-fiesta!”
(Translation: Why did you consume my peanuts, sir? I was saving them so I would have a snack to eat once I had returned from the basketball game.)
Fun, isn't it!
Next week’s lesson: inflationary language and correct/incorrect use of the “fo’shizzle” modifier.
Stay with me here…
If you close your eyes and concentrate, and focus on the days of yore you spent whiling away the hours in a junior high math classroom (and try desperately to block out the humiliation and disgrace that seeing what you looked like, dressed like, and acted like no doubt drums up), you should be able to remember that basically, the transitive property states the following:
If a=b, and b=c, then a=c.
It’s a simple set of rules, but for some reason, it's one that I’ve been able to derive a great amount of enterainment from over the years (and by now this should come as no surprise to you).
So what does this have to do with urban slang you ask? Well nothing really… but for the purposes of this column I’m gong to try to draw some form of loose conclusions as to why there might actually be some sort of connection between the two… in reality, if you asked the author of the latest “krunk” term to explain to you the meaning of the transitive property, he or she would most likely cock their head to one side, contort their face into a shape that resembled a grape that’s been out in the sun too long (i.e. a raisin), and stare at you with a glazed-over “why’s he talking bout old fashioned radios?” look…
Or, maybe not… maybe that’s just me generalizing about people that I don’t understand. Maybe in truth, the person in question would be more apt to start quoting Stephen Hawking’s principles on Quantum Physics, discussing how they are ignorant in their absence of incorporating the finer points of Nihilist philosophy, and how in fact, if one considered the greater evidence at hand, they would discover that the transitive property doesn’t even exist… that blue is red, dogs are in fact cats, and Emu Phillips is the only who REALLY understands the nature of the universe…
Yes, it is indeed possible that all this would happen (provided that this person was equally versed in both the greater sciences and obscure stand-up comedians from the 80s)… but somehow I doubt it…
Whatever the case, all this is beside the point (even as loosely as I’m abusing that term here)… I’m here to apply the transitive property of equality to urban slang… or actually, to the development of new slang.
Basically, the way it works is, you take a conventional known term, and determine what an existing slang phrase for that term is. Then, you come up with a synonym for the already accepted slang that has absolutely nothing to do with the original term, thereby creating an entirely new slang term via the transitive property.
Got it?
Ok, let me try to explain this another way… When we think of money, we often refer to it as “dough” (i.e. “I need to earn some more dough”). The word “dough” is already a universally accepted term to substitute for the word “money.” If we now find a new word or phrase we can substitute for dough (preferably with some brand affiliation), we will have a hip new urban slang term for money… like say “Pop n’ Fresh.”
Now you get it?
You see, if money=dough, and dough=pop n’ fresh, then money=pop n’ fresh
“Pop n’ fresh” is a kind of dough… but in the common vernacular, it has no association with the word “money.” Therefore, “Pop N’ Fresh” is now slang, for money. (i.e. “I gots ta get me some mo’ pop n’ fresh yo!”) Other accepted slang terms for money could include “yeast filler”, “whole grain”, or my personal favorite, “Pillsbury”.
And by this same philosophy we could also refer to a large quantity of money as “a herd of whitetails” (if money=bucks, and bucks=whitetail deer, then money=whitetail deer).
It’s fun with the transitive property!
Now that you know the secret to the progression of slang, you too can join in the fun… in no time at all you’ll be “hangin’ at your crib”, “kickin’ it with some peeps,” and saying interesting things like:
“Why’d you yarn my spare change, gee? I was money marketing those fo’ a post dangle nibble-fiesta!”
(Translation: Why did you consume my peanuts, sir? I was saving them so I would have a snack to eat once I had returned from the basketball game.)
Fun, isn't it!
Next week’s lesson: inflationary language and correct/incorrect use of the “fo’shizzle” modifier.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Random thought #14
The midget/roses thing the other day got me thinking...
Is it considered insensitive to ask an amputee if he/she wants to play football?
What about offering him/her a chicken finger? Is that wrong? How about a leg of lamb? An ear of corn? A head of lettuce? ...what about tofu?
Is it considered insensitive to ask an amputee if he/she wants to play football?
What about offering him/her a chicken finger? Is that wrong? How about a leg of lamb? An ear of corn? A head of lettuce? ...what about tofu?
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Adding it up...
2005 Nissan Sentra ............... $13,000
Check Engine light that
comes on during dealer
test-drive of trade-in .............. $250
Extra sales-tax paid when
Massachusetts refuses to
recognize dealer as
legitimate, simply because
they’re from NY ..................... $300
Extra interest paid on
loan when NY bank refuses
to approve loan because you
LIVE in Massachusetts ............. $1,440
Cost of cellphone “overage
minutes” used talking to
dealers, insurance companies,
and banks while scrambling
to get new loan in less
than 48 hours ........................ $75
___________________________________________
Knowing you’re almost done
with the insanity that is
buying a car out of state
when you're currently
living in the commonwealth ..... Priceless.
Check Engine light that
comes on during dealer
test-drive of trade-in .............. $250
Extra sales-tax paid when
Massachusetts refuses to
recognize dealer as
legitimate, simply because
they’re from NY ..................... $300
Extra interest paid on
loan when NY bank refuses
to approve loan because you
LIVE in Massachusetts ............. $1,440
Cost of cellphone “overage
minutes” used talking to
dealers, insurance companies,
and banks while scrambling
to get new loan in less
than 48 hours ........................ $75
___________________________________________
Knowing you’re almost done
with the insanity that is
buying a car out of state
when you're currently
living in the commonwealth ..... Priceless.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
How to have fun test driving a new car...
While in motion, roll the windows down and stick your head out. Respond to the salesperson’s perplexed look by stating that you are trying to determine which car your dog will like best.
Ask if you can test the air bags.
Tune the radio to an open AM frequency and turn the volume all the way up. Respond to the salesperson’s concerned look by stating that you are trying to determine if the car is a suitable antenna to receive directives from the mothership.
Ask the salesperson to quote exact figures on the viscosity of the wiper-fluid.
Ask the salesperson if he/she’s ever seen “Thelma & Louise.”
Make allusions to having repeated fantasies about taking first prize in a demolition derby. Hey, this one is constructive... if the salesperson tries to grab the wheel, then they probably don’t have faith in the safety of the vehicle.
Ask the salesperson how many immigrants he/she thinks you could fit in the trunk.
Refuse to drive in any gear but reverse. Tell the frustrated salesperson you’re dyslexic, and this is the only way you can feel “normal.”
If the car has a spoiler, ask the salesperson if it’s still okay to put groceries in the trunk...
Even fresh fish?
When the salesperson instructs you which way to turn, flatly refuse... tell them you’re an adult now, and you will turn whichever direction you gosh darn well please thank you very much... then, when the salesperson starts to get worried, turn that way anyway… respond that you’re not doing it to make THEM happy, this was in fact the way YOU wanted to turn in the first place... do this every time.
Drive the salesperson to a competing dealership and ask them if they want to rumble.
Once you’ve set out on the test drive, slow the car down to a crawl... lock the doors... then, turn to the salesman, and calmly inquire as to whether or not he/she has accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal savior.
Drive with your feet.
Take the car to a car wash... when you’re halfway through, open the sunroof... tell the exasperated salesperson that you just wanted to see how the car would handle in the rain.
Ask where you’re supposed to keep your goldfish.
Force the salesperson to play the license plate game with you. Refuse to return to the dealership until you’ve gotten all the way through. When you finish, ask to test drive another car.
Take the car through a drive-thru... ask for 14 orders of fries, and then tell the salesman you forgot your wallet.
Don’t give him any of the fries.
Point the rear-view mirror directly at the salesman. Ask him to let you know if anything important happens.
Refuse to make anything but left turns. Tell the salesperson you’re training for NASCAR.
Demand to inspect the integrity of the head gasket.
Ask if you can test the air bags.
Tune the radio to an open AM frequency and turn the volume all the way up. Respond to the salesperson’s concerned look by stating that you are trying to determine if the car is a suitable antenna to receive directives from the mothership.
Ask the salesperson to quote exact figures on the viscosity of the wiper-fluid.
Ask the salesperson if he/she’s ever seen “Thelma & Louise.”
Make allusions to having repeated fantasies about taking first prize in a demolition derby. Hey, this one is constructive... if the salesperson tries to grab the wheel, then they probably don’t have faith in the safety of the vehicle.
Ask the salesperson how many immigrants he/she thinks you could fit in the trunk.
Refuse to drive in any gear but reverse. Tell the frustrated salesperson you’re dyslexic, and this is the only way you can feel “normal.”
If the car has a spoiler, ask the salesperson if it’s still okay to put groceries in the trunk...
Even fresh fish?
When the salesperson instructs you which way to turn, flatly refuse... tell them you’re an adult now, and you will turn whichever direction you gosh darn well please thank you very much... then, when the salesperson starts to get worried, turn that way anyway… respond that you’re not doing it to make THEM happy, this was in fact the way YOU wanted to turn in the first place... do this every time.
Drive the salesperson to a competing dealership and ask them if they want to rumble.
Once you’ve set out on the test drive, slow the car down to a crawl... lock the doors... then, turn to the salesman, and calmly inquire as to whether or not he/she has accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal savior.
Drive with your feet.
Take the car to a car wash... when you’re halfway through, open the sunroof... tell the exasperated salesperson that you just wanted to see how the car would handle in the rain.
Ask where you’re supposed to keep your goldfish.
Force the salesperson to play the license plate game with you. Refuse to return to the dealership until you’ve gotten all the way through. When you finish, ask to test drive another car.
Take the car through a drive-thru... ask for 14 orders of fries, and then tell the salesman you forgot your wallet.
Don’t give him any of the fries.
Point the rear-view mirror directly at the salesman. Ask him to let you know if anything important happens.
Refuse to make anything but left turns. Tell the salesperson you’re training for NASCAR.
Demand to inspect the integrity of the head gasket.
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